Jack was impatient to get back to London. He'd driven for a good hour, worrying about Ianto the entire time as he tried to concentrate on the road. He didn't like leaving Ianto behind alone, in spite of his logical brain telling him that Ianto was strong, was under protection, could more than handle himself, and had proved it a dozen times over since he'd first met the man.

Yet Jack also knew that the situation was close and personal for Ianto. Sometimes Jack still couldn't wrap his thoughts around just how bad Canary Wharf had been, how much Ianto had gone through that terrible day at Torchwood One. Of course he had heard stories, but to hear it from one of his own team members, from someone he cared about, made it even more heartbreaking. And to be honest, it brought back Jack's guilt tenfold, that he had done so little in the aftermath of the devastating battle that had all but destroyed Torchwood. He had scavenged for tech, but had done nothing for the survivors. Ianto had come to Cardiff practically begging for a job with Torchwood Three, but he had rarely talked about Canary Wharf after that. Jack should have done something, should have reached out to him before everything came crashing down around them with Lisa Hallet—before Ianto went through hell a second time.

It wouldn't happen again. Jack was not going to let the ghosts of Canary Wharf hurt Ianto any more than they already had. He would do anything to stop what was happening and make sure they both made it back to Cardiff with the memory of Torchwood One firmly behind them. He would not be haunted by something he had not even been a part of; he had enough of his own nightmares to deal with.

Finally turning around, Jack flipped on the radio as he returned to London, hoping it would calm his mind. It was a repeat of the previous nights' Proms concert, and Jack let the Beethoven symphony wash over him, though that particular period of classical music wasn't always to his taste. He idly wondered if it was for Ianto's ear, and if maybe they should try to go to a concert once this was all over. It seemed like something good to do in London, once things were safe. Bit more than the dinner and a movie they had done so far, but Friday's concert sounded interesting, with Mahler and Wagner. Jack usually preferred the grandiose drama of their music as opposed to the more simple beauty of earlier music. Of course, having been to several premieres and even met a composer or two during the last part of the 19th century, he was sort of biased in his preferences.

The trip back passed quickly thanks to Beethoven, and Jack pulled into the car park where Jordan Ford had instructed him to park Ianto's car. Obviously if he parked if front of the safe house, it would be a dead giveaway of their location. So he walked several blocks west, keeping his eye out for any sign of being followed. It was dark but not late, and the streets were still busy. He did not sense anyone paying particular attention to him, but he kept his hand on his Webley just in case.

He found the safe house and was relieved to see Nigel Williamson had arrived and was talking with Jordan Ford. That meant Ianto was likely there and safe as well. Williamson must have seen something in his face that gave away his thoughts, because the doctor smiled and inclined his head toward one of the bedrooms.

"He just went in to rest a bit before you returned. He's doing fine."

Jack nodded in thanks, then glanced around with a frown. "Where's Fiona?" he asked. "You're still watching her, right?"

This time Ford answered. "She's asleep in the other room. We tried to ask her some questions, but she grew too agitated."

"And I insisted that she go to bed," said Williamson. "She's had a trying day, and by the looks of it, more than one in recent months."

"Right," said Jack, nodding. He had sensed the same thing about Fiona's mysterious yet difficult life since Canary Wharf. So nothing more from Fiona, and Ianto was asleep. "Can I check on him?" Jack half wondered why felt the need to ask permission when Ianto was his team member, not theirs. Yet he sensed he should: Williamson was a doctor who seemed protective of his patients. The old man nodded with another smile.

"Of course. He asked us to let you in when you returned. He's just as worried about you."

There was an unspoken As you are about him in the doctor's voice that made Jack grin sort of stupidly. And then the doctor winked, and it was fairly obvious that he had sussed out that something going on between Jack and Ianto, not that Jack could have said what it was, exactly. But it was something—something important, something special, something he wasn't ready to give up or lose after finding it again so soon.

Entering the room softly, Jack noticed the light on next to the bed, as if Ianto had left it on just for him. Yet Ianto appeared asleep and Jack hated waking him, so he merely tip-toed toward the bed, hoping to kiss him good night before retreating back to the main room. But Ianto spoke up from where he was sleeping on his side, facing away.

"I could hear those bloody boots of yours the moment you walked through the door," he grumbled, before turning over and blinking at Jack. "So don't bother sneaking out. I'm awake."

Jack sat down next to him, gazing at him in concern. "How do you feel?" he asked softly. Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"Not 'How did it go with UNIT?' I'm impressed."

"Ianto, you're hurt. How are you?"

Ianto sighed as he started to sit up. He was wearing pyjama bottoms and a loose tee shirt, his arm still in a sling to protect it better while he slept. He yawned. "I'm fine. I'm tired and sore and anxious about tomorrow, but I'm fine." He pierced Jack with stormy blue eyes, since Jack probably looked as convinced as he felt. "Really, Jack."

"Okay, good." Jack leaned in to kiss him, surprising Ianto yet again. Why was he constantly so surprised? Were such displays of affection something Ianto and Lisa had not really shown one another much? Or was Ianto just not used to Jack's constant need for little touches or quick kisses? Did it make him uncomfortable? Pushing the thought from his mind, Jack pulled back and smiled.

"So how did it go with UNIT?" he asked with a wink, and was rewarded when Ianto grinned and nodded.

"That's more like it. And it went frighteningly well. I'm to meet with Collins at 0800 tomorrow at UNIT headquarters."

Jack shook his head, almost regretting that it had been so easy for Ianto to get in. If he had been worried before, now he was positively terrified. Walking into the viper's nest indeed. Even if it wasn't Collins who was behind the attacks, UNIT was still a bureaucratic cesspool of half-cocked arseholes who thought they saved the world every day, even though Torchwood had done more than UNIT ever had in combating actual alien threats.

Well, except for Canary Wharf, of course. Everyone had failed at that.

Ianto was watching him funny, and so Jack tried to smile, but Ianto nodded as if he knew exactly what Jack was thinking and agreed. "I know. It was almost too easy. Which makes me wonder."

"Wonder about what?"

"Wonder what the endgame is," replied Ianto. "I've just been lying here turning it over and over in my mind. Collins offered a bit of resistance, but then some of his reactions seemed genuine. So he's either a very gifted and calculated actor, or he may not be involved after all."

Jack shook his head. "It's got to be him. He's the one with the right access. It makes sense."

"There are three others at UNIT," Ianto reminded him. "If UNIT is even involved."

Jack didn't even want to think of the possibility that they were running in the wrong direction. "One of those people is off planet," he replied. "And you said yourself one is a glorified secretary."

"And then you pointed out just how good I was at being a glorified secretary," Ianto replied. "We PAs can be brilliant, you know."

"Don't I know it," murmured Jack, thinking about just how much Ianto had done to not only make Torchwood better, but save lives, save the planet even. "But her personal file had nothing in it to indicate the motivation or ability to pull this off."

"Neither did mine," Ianto reminded him, and Jack just rolled his eyes now.

"Fine, at the very least, she could be in on it, but my guess is that's all. This is bigger, somehow."

"Katherine Young," said Ianto, naming the final Canary Wharf survivor who had transferred to UNIT. "She's in Research and Recovery. An officer would have better access to resources like men in inconspicuous suits and poison dart guns, but it's still possible."

"Oh, she'd have access to the tech," said Jack, shaking his head and trying to put his finger on something niggling at the back of his mind. Motivation: they needed a motivation. "And she's probably good at blending in, becoming invisible and erasing her tracks. Researchers tend to be good like that."

He gave Ianto a very pointed look, and Ianto glanced away, knowing full well Jack was referring to the Junior Researcher from the ruins of Torchwood One who had somehow managed to save his half converted cyber girlfriend, bring her to Cardiff, and install her in the basement of the Hub. If it was one thing that Jack had learned that horrible night, it was that he could never underestimate people again, let them surprise him. Anyone could do anything if they put their mind to it, whether they were scientists, secretaries, or military officers.

"I guess we are," Ianto finally replied. He leaned back and sighed, rolling his shoulder in discomfort. "Jack, what have I got myself into? Honestly?"

Jack started to scoot up toward Ianto, to put his arm around the man's shoulder. "Shoes," Ianto murmured absently. And then, "Coat too. Love it but it's itchy."

Jack obediently shed his shoes and coat, took a seat neat to Ianto on the bed and leaned against the headboard with him, pulling him close. "I don't know, Ianto. But you'll be fine, I know that."

"Know it or believe it?" Ianto asked, without looking up.

"Both," answered Jack with a kiss to Ianto's temple. "I won't deny I'm worried sick, but that's because you've been shot. I have no problem sending you into a sewer full of howling Weevils, after all."

"Weevils are dumb animals," Ianto replied. "Whoever is behind this is not."

"And neither are we," said Jack, although he certainly felt a bit blindsided by it all. "Neither are you. I'm just about convinced you could talk the Queen into letting us have the Torchwood Christmas party at Balmoral if you tried."

Ianto burst out laughing. "Christmas in Scotland? What the hell, Jack? We don't even have a Christmas party. Where did that come from?"

"I don't know," Jack grinned. "Sounded good in my head though."

"I'll give it a try next time I speak to her if you want to start a new tradition," Ianto replied. He had sat up to turn around and look at Jack, grinning and rolling his eyes at the same time. Jack was glad he could bring a smile to Ianto's face at that moment when they both needed it and leaned over to kiss him.

"Not really," he replied against Ianto's lips. "Been there, done that."

A very inelegant huff escaped Ianto, though their lips did not part. "Of course you have."

"The things I could show you, Ianto Jones," Jack murmured; Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"Anything you could share in spite of the hole in my shoulder?" he asked.

And now Jack was the one who burst out laughing. "That's not what I meant, but I am capable of being gentle, if that's what you meant."

Ianto gave a mock sigh. "I'm not going to be able to sleep until Tosh gets here, so let's see what you can do and what I can handle." He pulled back and made a face. "And please don't say 'You can handle me anytime'."

"I wasn't going to!" Jack protested.

"Oh yes you were," said Ianto. "But I'm down to one hand, so…"

"So?" returned Jack.

"So just don't let me lose my balance," Ianto murmured with that rare wink, and he leaned forward again to kiss him. "It's still my birthday, after all, and I've a busy day tomorrow."

Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto and pulled him close with a little growl, and together they put behind them the long day, the close calls, and the dangerous morning ahead. As Ianto finally drifted off to sleep, too exhausted to wait for Tosh, Jack vowed once more to make it up to him; Ianto Jones deserved a happy birthday more than just about anyone.

Author's note:

Bit of filler, but it turned out longer than I anticipated so here it is, peppered with a few more clues, I hope. I'll start the sting in the next chapter. And cross my fingers they survive somehow or I'll have to add an AU tag.

Oh! And I just have to point out that the Proms concert Jack listened to really did have Beethoven 6 on it, with Mahler and Wagner on the following Friday. Not sure which Jack really would have preferred, but having lived through Mahler and Wagner, I could see him enjoying it. I just like making those real life connections.

Thank you so much for reading! I've been bad at responding to reviews as it's busy back-to-school time here, but I appreciate all the reviews, I truly do.