"Shit" Jack muttered.

He must have missed something along the way. He knew he had but he was damned if he knew what it was. Sure, Ianto had been moody for weeks but tonight he'd asked him to dance and Jack had thought it had meant something. In blissful ignorance, he'd spent a glorious few minutes making plans, deciding to hang the consequences, find a way to have it all. Except now it seems Ianto hadn't even been on the same page.

He found him outside, leaning against the stadium wall, one foot resting against a steel pillar, there for show rather than for any necessity to support the building. He looked as if he didn't have a care in the world and that confused Jack even more. He took the younger man's hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb.

"Please tell me, what's wrong," he soothed, "whatever it is, we can sort this."

Ianto very carefully and deliberately moved his hand out of Jack's reach. He shook his head.

"Not this time, Jack."

"At least let me try."

Ianto stared at his feet.

"Rhys saw you with her," he mumbled.

"With who?"

"Your girlfriend." he raised his eyes to meet the other man's, "Your pregnant girlfriend."

Jack's face frowned in confusion for a few seconds before realisation dawned.

"When?" he growled.

"Huh?"

He grabbed a fistful of Ianto's tee-shirt, "When did he see me?" he yelled.

"Gerroff me." Ianto squirmed.

Jack let him go with an exasperated sigh.

"When did Rhys see me?" he repeated.

"About 3 weeks ago."

His head shot up,

"Three weeks ago, three fucking weeks." He placed his palm flat against Ianto's chest pinning him to the wall.

"Stop yelling, Jack. You're scaring me."

Jack gave him a push before moving away, pacing up and down a few times and muttering profanities. He finally came to halt again in front of the Welshman.

"Three fucking weeks. And you never thought to discuss it with me." He paused. "Wait, is this why I've been going through hell with you."

Ianto's bottom lip quivered but he didn't reply.

The American glared at him.

"I can't believe you," he hissed, "You fucking, sanctimonious bastard. Have you got any idea what I've been through?"

"What you've been through, what about me?"

"Oh, yeah. 'cause it's always all about you, isn't it Ianto. Let's all feel sorry for poor little orphan Ianto. Mommy's dead and Daddy doesn't care. Well you know what, it's getting very old, very quick and quite frankly I'm bored with it. Your Mom died 20 years ago, don't you think it's time you got over it."

"Why are you saying these things?" Ianto whimpered.

"Because I can, because you're pathetic, because you make like a doormat and then you wonder why people walk all over you. Three weeks, three fucking weeks and you let me......... You knew and you never said anything. What we're you thinking?"

The Welshman appeared to spring to life at that and he screwed up his face in anger.

"Oh I don't know," he spat. He moved towards Jack, yelling in his face, "maybe I thought we we're all going to live together like one big happy family. Me, you, your whore and your fucking whore's baby."

Jack grabbed him by the front of his shirt, drew back his arm and thumped him square in the jaw sending him sprawling to the ground.

He froze.

"Oh god. Shit, I'm s..."

Ianto scrambled backwards on hands and feet, stopping only when his back hit the wall with a thump. He stared at Jack in wide eyed horror.

Ianto, please. I would never....." Jack broke off, realising with a gut wrenching twist that he just had.

He ran a trembling hand through his hair.

"Look, stay there don't move.......please." He turned around and ran back into the stadium.

He ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Throwing open the function room door, he looked around desperately and spotting Gwen by the bar, he rushed over to her. She was talking to a women he recognised from one of her match night evenings and with a curt "excuse me," he took her by the arm and lead her to the other end of the bar.

"Where's Rhys?" he asked.

"Rhys? Why? What's going on?"

"I haven't got time to explain, I need him. Or what's his name, Ianto's doctor."

"Owen? I haven't seen him all night but Rhys is around here somewhere."

"Okay, Gwen, listen to me. I've fucked up, fucked up badly. Ianto's outside. Please just go stay with him while I look for Rhys or Owen, don't ask me why, just go."

And without waiting for a reply, he turned around and ran off.

Ianto felt sick. He knelt on all fours breathing heavily and trying to swallow the bile in his throat. Hearing the tip tap of a pair of stiletto heels approaching, he pulled himself up off the floor using the side of the stadium for support.

"Gwen," he spewed between gasping breaths, "Come to gloat?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not. Why would you even think that? Jack sent me."

He laughed, a little hysterically. "Jack sent you!" He shook his head incredulously "that's a good one. That man really has no clue has he?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, Gwen. We all know you fancy him. I wouldn't be surprised if you're sleeping with him behind my back all ready and you know what; you're welcome to him, although you should know, he's been cheating on both of us."

"No, I don't believe you. Jack wouldn't do that."

"Oh Gwen. Poor little innocent Gwen. Always ready to see the best in everyone. Well listen up missy," Ianto prodded her in the chest with his index finger, not hard, but enough to force her to take a step backwards. "Jack," another prod, another step backwards, "is a cheating," prod, step backwards, "bastard." A final prod sent Gwen on a little tumble...........

.............straight into the arms of her waiting husband.

There was a moment of stunned silence as Rhys looked down at his wife and smiled. He swept the hair back from her face, "You okay?" he asked. She nodded once. He turned towards Ianto, wiping the smile from his face.

"Nobody gets to push my wife about, Jones. Not even you."

Ianto looked as if he was going to cry.

"Rhys. I'm sorry. Gwen please," he begged her, "tell him I didn't mean it."

Gwen stayed silent,

"I think you should go home Ianto," Rhys suggested.

Taking his wife's hand, he turned them both around and walked away.

Ianto sank to his knees.

"No, Wait, Rhys. Come back, please. I'm sorry. Rhys. Don't leave me, please. RHYS RHYS!" Ianto let the final Rhys out in a strangled yell.

"Just go home," the older Welshman shouted over his shoulder.

Ianto, heedless of the cold concrete beneath him, curled up into a ball and wept.