Ianto spent the rest of the week thinking about what would happen on Saturday. He really did feel confident that he could help, even if it wouldn't be to the whole extent he hoped, at least he would be able to offer more support. But this was Jack. He was the single most important person in his life, and the last he would want to hurt. What if he failed him somehow? What if he made things worse? But at the same time he really couldn't stand seeing Jack suffering like that any longer. He knew the prospect of writing the book was taking a huge toll on the man, and he had absolutely no idea why, considering how easy it was for him (and apparently had always been) to write to the magazines, or his blog. He considered he knew Jack pretty well by now, but he knew that in truth they hadn't known each other that long. There still were a lot of things about himself that Jack didn't know, and he was sure the same was true for the other man. Ianto would never want to pry on his life, he knew Jack trusted him, that was never the problem, so he assumed that anything he didn't know, it was for a reason. But he just couldn't stand back any longer. All he could do was hope that it would work out as he wanted, and that he wasn't pushing any unseen boundaries.

xXxXx

The rest of the week hadn't gone much better. The bad mood stayed, only now he couldn't tell if it was for the same reason as before, or because he was nervous about Ianto's proposition. He trusted him, he really did, it was himself he was unsure of. This was such a sore topic. He really liked the idea of writing the book, that's why he hadn't given up, but it was so different from the rest of his work. Usually his work was full of joy. He loved the travelling and he loved the writing. He loved being able to be himself for a living, enjoying his trips, not focusing on boring sightseeing, or evaluating hotels and restaurants, but testing himself to see how much trouble he could get himself into, and what he'd do to get himself out. And then write about it in the most exciting and funny way possible. He felt blessed that he could have this job, it made him incredibly happy. He would forever be grateful to his granddad for that, if it weren't for his (very generous) inheritance, he'd never have been able to choose this career. Having the means to support himself and pay for his trips in the beginning had been essential, giving him the time he needed to see as much of the world as possible and find his voice as a writer, before being forced to start pitching ideas to different publications. And when he was ready to do so, it was his particular angle that made him interesting, and even though it took a while, people started noticing. Now he even had quite a substantial number of fans who made sure to read everything he wrote, buying every single magazine and newspaper he was featured in, and frequently visiting his blog. That was the whole point of the book, they were the ones who had given him the idea in the first place. And he figured that if there were so many people interested, they'd probably be pleased to have a whole lot of his stories in just one place. It all seemed very simple, really. He'd just have to do what he'd been doing for the past ten years, only without deadlines, word counts and demanding editors.

He'd started planning it two years before, around the same time he decided to settle in Cardiff. He had the idea, and then he plotted how he would make it work. In the end, he'd decided to take a really long trip (ten months), work his damn ass off, writing while travelling so he could keep with his three most important contracts, and keeping the blog so he wouldn't lose the fans, and then he would take some time off from the travelling so he could start the book. Now he only had to write three articles a month and one weekly for the blog (he'd made sure he got himself into enough adventures in those ten months so he wouldn't run out of material), and forget about all the other freelance work. When he made these plans, he thought it would be perfect, because this would give him a lot of free time to focus on the book. Except it hadn't gone according to plan. Three months since he'd come back and he had practically nothing to show for it.

He knew Ianto had the best intentions at heart. But that didn't stop him from being truly scared. For starters, he had no idea why writing the book was so hard. What if they didn't achieve anything with these exercises, and Ianto got frustrated, thinking it was his fault? Jack would feel like he would be disappointing him. But even worse, what if it did work, and they found out something terrible about Jack, that could put Ianto off him? Only thinking about it would fill Jack's heart with dread. Nothing would be worse than losing the man who had filled his life with joy in the past two months because he's just not good enough. Even never finishing the book would be better than that. But Ianto was right, this whole situation was clearly affecting him, and it would start affecting his relationship with Ianto sooner or later. Jack felt that either way, 'the problem' was in danger of putting their relationship in jeopardy, and he couldn't have that. So if Ianto wanted to try to help, he just might as well let him.

xXxXx

Saturday, after lunch, they sat on the sofa to start the 'exercise'. They were both pretty nervous, but Ianto was trying his best to calm himself and Jack down. They were sat one on each end of the sofa, but facing each other. This was the smaller couch, so Ianto could reach Jack easily if he needed to (which he probably would).

'Okay, Cariad, the most important thing you need to remember is that one, I will not push you in any way. Two, your mind will protect you. If there's anything too complicated that you're not ready to see, we just won't get there.' Ianto gave him his most reassuring smile.

Jack swallowed hard, but nodded anyway. He was clearly very tense, worry clear in his eyes. By that point, Ianto decided that he was approaching this too formally, so he moved over, so he could loop his arms around Jack's shoulders and cradle him. Jack moved so he could settle comfortably in Ianto's arms, and clearly relaxed. Ianto placed a soft kiss on the top of his head.

'Better now?' Ianto asked softly.

'Much.'

'Okay, let's try and start this. Remember that you're safe. I'm here and I love you. I will not hurt you.'

'I know that.' Jack let out a long breath and tried to relax more.

'So, start telling me about the book. Anything you want to say, it doesn't matter where you start. And it also doesn't matter if you want to say something I already know.'

Jack thought for a while, not really knowing what to say. Then he just started talking all of a sudden, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

'I've always loved travelling. Never had much of a chance when I was younger, my parents aren't the biggest fans of the whole 'leaving their nest' thing, but we travelled a bit around the US. I enjoyed every second of it, but it was never enough. When I was in high school I started buying travel magazines and I would devour them, read every single page, dreaming of when I'd be able to go to all the places depicted there. When I had to go to college, I had no idea what major to pick, but I had piqued an interest in writing, so I chose journalism, but I wasn't really thinking about it. It just seemed simple enough, considering the classes I'd already taken before. Then, my last year of college, my granddad died, and left a small fortune for me and my little brother Gray. We didn't even know he had that much money. Apparently he was very good at making investments. So then I decided, that as soon as I graduated, I'd start travelling, like I'd always dreamt of doing.'

He stopped talking for a while, apparently lost in thought. Ianto just waited, not wanting to pressure him, while slowly stroking his back, and arms.

'I've always had a knack for getting myself into trouble. I'd never sit still for too long, and I've always been curious, so any stupid idea I had, I'd attempt to do it, usually with bad results. Except I had a great lot of fun doing that, no matter what kind of punishment I'd get in school or from my parents. I also loved telling the stories of the things I got myself into, and the more I was able to capture the attention of whoever was listening, the better I felt. I loved being the centre of attention, admired, and every once in a while I'd feel that people envied me, and I loved that as well. During my first year of travelling, all of that started coming together. My travels became much more a list of small adventures than me doing tourist-y things, and I got immense pleasure in writing back home telling my family and friends everything that was happening to me. They would write back saying how much they loved my stories, how I made them laugh, and feel like they were there with me. After several months, I finally realised that that's what I wanted to do. I wanted to entertain people with my stories. And then I started focusing on writing articles or chronicles, remembering all the magazines I'd read when I was younger. In retrospect, I can't believe it took me that long to figure that out. At first I just cared about writing, not worrying about sending the pieces anywhere, as I didn't need the money. But after almost two years of travelling and writing, I started sending them out. I got some of them published, but always freelance. Until one year later I got my first contract. I'd write a monthly column for their magazine, telling my most outrageous stories. Another year, another contract, and then again another year later. That's about the time I decided to start writing the blog. It didn't take long for it to start getting some steady traffic, and people would leave comments. Very soon I started getting comments from lots of people saying how much they loved everything I wrote, and why didn't I write a book. At first I thought the idea was funny. I was pretty satisfied with how my life was going, I had as much of a steady job as one can have in my line of work, and I was settled in my ways. Most of all, I felt happy.'

Jack took a breath at this point, preparing for what he'd say next. The whole book idea had become so filled with dread for him, that even talking about it was hard.

'But the idea kept coming back to me. And I'm not really one to turn down a challenge. So two years later I decided I should give it a go. So I planned my next two years in order to make it work. It all seemed to be working perfectly well, until I got back home three months ago. First, knowing that I wouldn't travel in a while kind of got to me. The idea of sitting still for a long period of time wasn't the most comfortable one. Second, I had gotten used to all the deadlines, and people breathing down my neck waiting for the next piece. Like I said, I like the attention. Now, I only have three pieces to worry about, and a whole lot of free time in my hands. Time that should be devoted to writing the book. Which made me realise that I don't have the best attention span. If I don't have people demanding my work, I get kind of lost. I mean, I did that in the beginning, but one, I was very young and excited with the whole idea, and two, the pieces were always short. Another thing, with the book, it feels like I'm talking to myself. When I first started, with the emails home, I would get the positive replies pretty soon, and it was as if it all kept me in a constant high. And the truth is, I got used to that. Now, it's just me and me for long periods of time, and the only feedback I'm getting is from myself. And the feedback is beginning to be really bad, I just feel more and more incompetent as time goes by. I don't know, this all sounds so stupid to me. Like, I'm giving you a list of reasons, but it all seems so silly. I thought I would just be doing what I've always done. But it's not like that at all. All I have now is hour after hour of staring at the blank screen, not a single word coming to mind, as if I'm in some kind of trance. And I can't get out of it. And every new day that it happens, I just feel angrier and angrier.' He finally stopped, with a long sigh.

Ianto had been quiet the whole time, just paying attention to Jack, trying to keep the connection. Which required no effort at all, if it was almost natural with people at work by now, with Jack it was the same as breathing. He didn't even notice he was doing it. What he did notice, however, were all the feelings that started overwhelming him while Jack talked. He already knew most of what Jack told him, but it was different when it came all on a roll. Especially because it allowed the emotions to run freely inside Jack, something that really didn't happen that often. Now he had a pretty good grasp of why things had gotten so hard for Jack, and even though Jack seemed very confused and frustrated, to Ianto now it all made perfect sense. He'd felt the huge conflict the man was in, even if it was mostly in an unconscious level. Listening to Jack talk freely, for the first time he realised that the Jack he knew was in fact two different people. Everyone knew the extravagant, full of energy Jack, but Ianto also saw the quiet, introspective, sensitive one. Except now he'd noticed for the first time that these two parts were in immense conflict, because Jack could only allow that other part to appear in front of Ianto. But Ianto knew how important that part was, and that's why they were fighting. Especially now that Jack was forced to be more in contact with it, being alone so much of the time. He just wasn't so sure how to approach that with Jack. He had the feeling that if he just came out and told him all he had felt, the man in his arms would have a major freak out, and shut off completely. Maybe he needed some time to figure out what to do. Maybe they both did.

They'd both been quiet for a long time, so Jack finally looked up. 'So, is it working?'

'Yeah, yeah...' Ianto was still lost in thought.

'You said you'd need to ask me questions, but you've gone completely quiet.'

'I don't think I'll need to. I think I understand the situation a lot better now. But I'm not so sure what exactly I can do to help you. I think I need to think about it all for a while.' Ianto looked worried, thinking that Jack would feel he'd failed to deliver, that he'd put him through all this for nothing. 'Would that... would that be okay with you?' He was practically pleading with his eyes.

'Yeah... yeah, do whatever you need to...' Jack looked down, kind of lost, kind of insecure. Had Ianto found something terrible that he was scared to tell him? Why did he need time? Was it time away from him that he needed? Was he that disappointed?

Ianto couldn't really tell why Jack felt so insecure, now his own feelings were disturbing the whole process. But at least he could try and reassure him.

'I'm proud of you for what you did today. I know it wasn't easy. Thank you for trusting me. I love you.' He said, pulling him closer and placing a lingering kiss on his forehead.

Jack gave a sigh of relief, but he was still tense. Something was nagging at him on the back of his mind, and he couldn't let it go. He just held Ianto closer, and let his warmth comfort him, hoping he'd be able to make it all better, like he usually did.

Ianto tried to be at his most loving the rest of the weekend. He knew he couldn't do anything to help Jack with his problem at the moment, but he could at least show him as much support as possible. He couldn't help but feel slightly miserable, worry constantly growing that he would fail Jack after all. He just hoped Jack wouldn't notice.

Jack knew that Ianto was trying to be supportive, and he appreciated that, he really did. He tried to enjoy his company as much as possible, but at the same time he felt a wall growing between them. He knew it was his fault, he knew it was him who was drawing apart from Ianto. He was just so scared of losing him, and all he could feel now is that he wasn't good enough, never would be, and Ianto had finally noticed.

'Why don't you take some time off? Go away for a few days. Travel for yourself and not for work for once.' Ianto offered late Sunday night, trying to help Jack take his mind away from things until he could find a way to help him. He noticed that Jack was behaving differently, and he assumed it was because he felt even more hopeless about the book since Ianto hadn't been able to offer a solution right away.

Jack looked up from the book he was reading in surprise. Was that it? Was Ianto trying to push him away? 'That might be a nice idea,' He said hesitantly. 'Would you come with me?'

'You know I can't, Cariad. I couldn't leave work, especially not on such short notice.' And I need time to be able to think.

Jack swallowed. It really was it. He really was trying to push him away. There was a small voice in the back of his head telling him he was being paranoid, but he had already gotten himself in too much of a state to pay attention to it. 'I'll think about it.' He finally replied, with a sorrowful look. Which Ianto noticed, but didn't quite know what to make of it.