The next hour is spent installing the unconscious girl in one of the new cells; a clean, well appointed room unlike the Weevil dungeons, and linking her up to monitoring systems that will alert Jack if there is any change in her condition. The four of them (well, five if you count Aeris, who is now peering out from the sling on Rhys' chest), stand in a row facing the plexiglass screen. It's hard to believe that such a young, innocent looking creature could have caused them so much trouble. Ianto finds himself deeply moved by her plight: plunged, confused and suffering into a new world. Like I was, he muses, relieved that things have started to become easier, that his emotions seem to be balancing, his mood improving day by day.

"Now were finished up here, I think this calls for a celebration," their leader announces, his face splitting in a huge grin, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "How about a drink somewhere fancy? It's been a long time since we did that. I was thinking about that new place down by..." he trails off. "What did I say? You all look like I've suggested a trip down the sewers for an evening's Weevil hunting!"

"I'm sorry, Jack. We just need a quiet night in together. We get precious little family time as it is in this job." Although Gwen sounds like she regrets declining, the tender look she gives her husband shows where her priorities lie.

Rhys nods, putting his arm round her shoulders. "Sorry, Boss. Another time, maybe. Once you've found us some more help and we can get regular days off." There is a challenge in his voice, and Ianto observes Jack's response with interest.

Their employer's expression transforms from disappointment to sympathy. "Yeah, you're right. I know I ask too much of you all. I am on the case trying to find new staff, but it's not easy. They've got to be just right." He pauses, looking at Ianto who still looks worried. "Why don't you just get off home now."

After the Williams have departed, they stare at each other. Ianto trying to gather up the courage to share what's on his mind. He had promised, after all. And Jack had maintained his side of the bargain, keeping Ianto's breakdown a secret.

"So? Is the idea of having a drink with me that scary? I promise to behave myself," Jack adds, archly.

"It's not that," Ianto sighs, knowing full well that Jack can behave himself perfectly well when he wants to. He has been for the last couple of weeks, to the point where he's started to miss the flirting. He's going to have to tell him. He needs help with this one, and Jack is the only one he can trust. As he begins to speak, his right hand starts to worry at his left sleeve, pulling at the fabric of his cuff and rubbing at the skin of his left wrist.

"It's just, I can't do it. I can't walk past the end of the wharf. I've tried. Every day I try, but as soon as I'm out in public view I start to feel scared. I think that someone is going to recognise me, thinking I'm him, and then I'm going to have to explain why I'm not dead and they'll be thinking I'm someone else and I might not even know them and even if I did, I don't know what the other me was doing these last few years and then what if...." Ianto's babbled monologue comes to an abrupt end when his restless fingers are taken hold of by strong, smooth skinned hands, sending a shiver up his arms and through his body. As his hands are enveloped, he has that sensation of being anchored, protected by someone with strength enough for both of them. Eyes closed, he trembles, surrendering himself to the moment, whatever that might mean. Jack's thumbs trace circles over his palms, a motion Ianto finds inexplicably both soothing and stimulating.

"About that drink?" Ianto's dazed mind finally manages to find the right words. "I think I can make it to the bar, if you promise to keep hold of my hand." He opens his eyes, looking straight into Jack's.

"I've got a better idea," Jack suggests, a slow grin spreading over his face.

Not trusting himself to speak, Ianto stares into those twinkling blue eyes, willing the other man to continue but unsure of what it is he wants to hear.

Jack lets go of one of his hands and tugs him along the corridor with the other. "C'mon, Ianto, let's go for a meal. I know a lovely little Italian place, very cosy. My treat," he adds, looking at his companion with such affection that Ianto can't help but smile in acquiescence.

He lets himself be led, knowing that for now he is safe. For now, at least, he has found shelter. He should feel peaceful, so why is his heart hammering so wildly?