A/N: Ehhhhh. I don't know if I like this chapter so much. I like parts of it, but it's mainly just filler. We're nearing the end of this arc; chapter 30 will be the last one. I just wanted to know whether you guys would like more story after this arc has finished. I know I've already asked, but I wanted to be more specific. I have a storyline for a third arc, definitely, of 15 chapters, and I have ideas for a fourth, but I really don't want to be flogging a dead horse. Everyone who reads this, I'd love to know what you think, so drop me a review with your ideas. I don't want TPBU to overstay its welcome. ;) Anyways, song for this chapter is, shamefully, 'Parachute' by Cheryl Cole, because surprisingly, I actually like it, and the sentiment fits. Enjoy.

Charlton got a month at home, in the end.

Thankfully, he could still use a laptop, meaning he could sit fairly happily in bed with his comm on, laptop propped on his lap, typing away and keeping an eye on Torchwood from home. They take turns visiting him.

Ianto makes it a duty of his to make him breakfast every single morning, even on the weekends. Generally he uses a rota of breakfasts, coupled with the supplements and medications Daria has him on to get his strength back up, but sometimes it's a request – waffles, bagels, that kind of thing.

One day Ianto came around to find Charlton actually up in bed, talking to a very specific man seated in the trusty armchair in the corner of the room. When he entered, the pair looked up, and Charlton's face brightened, "Alright Ianto?"

The man, dressed in a blazer, bow-tie and crisp shirt teamed with faded black jeans and battered boots, gave a small wave, "Good morning. I just came to check up on Charlton here, I knew he'd gotten into a spot of well, danger."

Ianto felt his brow furrow, "Doctor. You're a lot more cheerful than when I saw you last."

"Well, I've got good news on the agenda, this time, rather than being a harbinger of doom. Always perks me right up when time and space sorts itself out again," The Doctor stood, dusting himself off, and gave a short wave to Charlton, "I've gotta be offski, Charlton. Stay off the drink; remember what I told you."

He grinned, then turned to Ianto, the grin slipping off his face slowly. He patted him roughly on the shoulder, eyes sympathetic, "Ianto. You'll see me again."

Then The Doctor left the room with that charismatic walk of his. To Ianto's surprise, when he shut the front door, he did it quietly; it was shut with a barely audible click.

Turning when he heard the rustle of fabric against fabric, he was surprised to see Charlton standing up, stretching his arms warily, so as not to disturb his ribs. Holding a hand to them briefly, he winced, "Ooft. That smarts. I was thinking we could go out for breakfast this morning, maybe. I'm starting to smell like bed, and it's distinctly worrying."

Ianto met Charlton's warm gaze questioningly, "Well, I guess so. You'll need to keep your comm on, though. If you want we could stop off at the Hub and you can say hi to everyone."

Almost by instinct, Charlton smiled, clapping Ianto on the arm and letting his hand linger, rubbing it soothingly, "Ianto. I'm feeling a lot better. I'll let you know as soon as I feel bad, but I'm going to go and have a shower."

Impulsively, Ianto leaned forward and brushed his lips against Charlton's, feeling heavy stubble scratch his clean-shaven skin lightly. Pulling back, he smiled slightly at the surprise in Charlton's eyes.

"Coffee'll be ready when you get out. Let me know if you need help getting dressed."

Charlton nodded dumbly, and then walked into the adjoining bathroom, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. All of the damn doors in the apartment seem to make that polite sound, Ianto mused, walking through to the kitchen and flicking the coffee machine into life.

It felt like he knew this apartment like the back of his hand now, having been there every morning and sometimes evenings too, to give Charlton paperwork or make sure he'd taken his meds and supplements for the day. He idly wondered at how much he worried about the other man – and how new this all was to him.

Worrying about Jack was very different, as it always felt like he had a safety mat. Jack was reckless, impulsive, and seemed so unbreakable – no, not unbreakable. He could be broken, but time and space wouldn't let him stay that way.

He always knew in the back of his mind that Jack would come back. Didn't mean the front of his mind didn't worry that he wouldn't, some day.

Charlton, on the other hand, was so familiar. He remembered being like him, inexperienced with the life Torchwood entailed; not being allowed out on field missions. Torchwood One had trained him in the computing side of the job, but Three was a new story, entirely different, and he'd meticulously worked at his weapon skills until he was good enough to join the rest of the team on the field.

Charlton was breakable, very breakable, and if anything serious happened, he would stay broken. He wouldn't come back. As it was, seeing him broken and bloodied on the ground that day had set a cold feeling in his stomach and sent his nerve endings alight with adrenaline. Now that he was like Jack – no, stronger, more unbreakable – it was like saving himself. The old Ianto, fragile, human.

As he lingered on that last thought, Charlton came into the kitchen, clean and no trace of the thick stubble that had sprouted on his face from lack of care. He was, however, shirtless, and despite the many multicoloured bruises that littered his torso, Ianto couldn't help but stare at the toned, tanned chest before him.

He wasn't muscular. Just…lean. Like he could see every sinew under his skin working. It was very, very different to Jack's chest – and he knew that particular chest very well.

"Sorry," Charlton said, "But could you give me a hand? I could manage everything but the damn shirt."

Dutifully, Ianto helped him pull on a black polo shirt, and gestured to the waiting coffee, "Coffee?"

"Oh, definitely."

Charlton padded over in his bare feet to the living room, thankful for the open plan of his apartment – less doors to push open with his aching arms. He gingerly touched the stitches on his forehead, humming when he realized he no longer felt any pain from the gash there. Taking out a pair of socks from the pocket of his black jeans, he pulled them on carefully, and then turned his mellow brown gaze to Ianto.

Wordlessly, Ianto handed him a coffee cup, and Charlton grasped it in both hands, while he tried to ignore the minute shake of Charlton's wrists. They were coloured, like most of his body, with bruising, and the humanness of it, the way the colours stained his tanned skin, hit Ianto in a very unpleasant way. He wondered if he still bruised.

Charlton caught him looking, "Stop worrying about it. You know as well as I do that I did the right thing. My life was worth less than Gwen's, in that moment."

Ianto frowned, cupping Charlton's now clean-shaven cheek for a millisecond, "Don't think that."

"No, really. It was very strange, somewhat surreal, when I decided what I was going to do. It was like time slowed down, and I just had this one purpose. Like my entire life, all the changes, had just been for that one moment."

Ianto sipped at his coffee, thinking about the ever-present Doctor and how right Charlton might have been.

Jack was surprised as everyone else when Ianto entered the Hub, followed by a slightly slower Charlton.

The young man didn't look bad, considering; the entire left side of his face was coloured by bruises, and he could see the ugly pattern of black sutures dotting along his forehead, but there was light in his eyes and he seemed in good spirits. Judging by the slightly stiff way he was walking, Jack guessed the left side of his body was still heavily bruised and had seized up from three weeks in bed, but the change in gait wasn't obscenely noticable. The tech expert had a beatific smile etched onto his face, and hugged Daria back tentatively when she came running.

Making his way down from his office, Jack grinned, "Charlton. Nice to see you're still with us." He drew the slimmer man into a gentle hug, careful not to hurt him, before drawing back. Daria tugged insistently at Charlton's hand, "While you're here, I think I'd like to give you a check-up. If you're going to disobey your medic's orders and go out anyway, we may as well see what the damage is like three weeks on."

As Daria tugged their youngest recruit into the autopsy bay, Jack noticed the slight shiver that Charlton let shake him as he entered the room. No doubt last time he was here, things were not so rosy.

"Charlton!" Gwen's voice rang out in the autopsy bay as the heavily pregnant woman hurried down the steps to hug Charlton to her, tears trickling down her face, "I can't even begin…you're here…thank you…"

Charlton rubbed soothing circles on her back, shushing her with a small smile, and pulling back to hold her by the shoulders. He wiped away Gwen's tears, "I don't regret it. Not never."

Gwen laughed, sniffing slightly. "I," she began, then paused, quirking her lips wryly and stroking her stomach, "No, we, can't thank you enough. You saved our lives."

Charlton smiled brightly, "Well, that was what I hoped to do at the time. Gwen, it's fine. Really. I'm a little battered and bruised but I'm still here, so it's fine."

Daria smiled slightly, wiping her eyes, before instructing Charlton to take off his shirt so she could see his injuries properly. He struggled slightly to get it over his head, but with a little assistance from their medic he was soon sitting sedately on the autopsy table, as Daria prepared to check everything.

"Ianto," Jack said, and the young man's head snapped to face him, "Come with me."

He began to walk up the steps to his office, hearing Ianto start to follow him, and when they were both in his office, he shut the door. Ianto looked at him questioningly, "Sir?"

"Don't 'sir' me, Ianto, we're past that, surely," Jack sighed tiredly, falling into his chair and steepling his fingers, propping his elbows on the desk, "I wanted to talk to you about the Basement and what they did to you. And how that's affected you since."

And me, he left out, but both men knew it was there.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Jack."

"I want you to tell me you're still the same Ianto. My Ianto."

"Oh Captain my Captain, you know I can't say that. I'm yours if you want me but we fall at the first hurdle."

There was a pregnant pause wherein Jack glanced down at Charlton. He changed the subject, watching the young man getting prodded by Daria, while Gwen watched anxiously, "How's he been, these past few weeks?"

Jack felt Ianto's disdain in the air before he heard it in his voice, "You'd know if you'd visited. The Doctor stopped by today."

Jack stiffened out of habit – it was a sore topic, for him. He'd loved the Doctor so fully once upon a time that the Doctor's rejection – calling him 'wrong', casting him out – still hurt even now. He tried to sound nonchalant, "Oh really? Did he have anything interesting to say?"

"Only that I'd see him again. Nothing more."

With a sigh, Jack turned from the laughing picture that Daria, Gwen and Charlton formed, him covered in patches of colour yet smiling through the pain. He looked at Ianto carefully, "I don't know what I want anymore. I wanted the romance we never got the chance to have. I wanted to love. I wanted you, Ianto, but now…"

Now I don't think you want that. And that scares me.

Ianto sighed too, and rubbed his eyes tiredly, before leaning over the desk to cup Jack's cheek and kiss his forehead, "Now things are different. I think I'll always want you Jack, even if I don't always love you. Just let me know when you figure out what you want."

With that, Ianto swept out of his office, and Jack was left in silence, feeling his chest tighten unbearably with sadness.

"It looks intense up there," Daria commented to her colleagues, as she shone a light into Charlton's pupils to check the dilation. He glanced up briefly as black spots danced in his vision, "Ianto and Jack?"

"They're always intense," Gwen mused, chewing on a doughnut meditatively, "Always have been, probably always will be. I'd say it's Jack's bad influence on Ianto; he can be a real live wire sometimes."

Daria laughed, "Well, I'd love to see that some day. Does he even drink?"

"His favourite's straight Jack Daniels, though when he gets in a funny mood – and by funny, I mean not funny at all – he's a vodka man. Although, I don't think alcohol affects him the same way, since he got back from the Basement," Gwen said, pensive, while Daria asked Charlton to lie down to take an x-ray.

"Gwen, you ought to move away from here, I don't want to take any risks with your baby because of Charlton's busted ribs," Daria smiled, and Gwen obliged, moving to the upper levels of the autopsy bay. While the x-ray was taken, Charlton sighed.

"I wish I knew what it was like for him. To be so different, that is," he paused, grinning, "There was something beautiful about him, when he fought that creature."

"Beautiful, eh?" Gwen looked at Daria and both women grinned, "He's got you smitten, cariad."

Charlton sat up, wincing slightly, and ran a hand through his curls, "There's just something about him, something more real than anyone I've ever met. He's tangible in a completely new way."

Daria looked quietly at Charlton for a second, as if caught in thought, before grinning, "Well, the good news is the ribs seem to be on the mend. It's strange, there's not been as much movement as I'd expect with 4 fractured ribs…maybe you're just a lucky healer. Be careful with them anyways, it'll take another month until they're fully back to normal."

He slid off the table, and she helped him put his shirt back on. Movement caught his eye – Ianto moving swiftly down the stairs, and a cursive glance at Jack in his office let Charlton know something had gone awry. Luckily, Daria was his saving grace, calling out to the Welshman.

"Ianto! I'm sorry to bother you, but could you take Charlton home again? I've got to write up his progress now, and Gwen's well, pregnant, and I don't want her waters to break or anything," Daria laughed as Gwen elbowed her sharply in the ribs, "Would that be okay?"

The Welshman gave a terse smile, and soon he and Charlton had departed with a wave from Charlton. Gwen and Daria took in Ianto's tensed shoulders as they left, and exchanged frowns, glancing up at Jack. Jack was watching Ianto leave too, arms folded and resting on the desk, frowning intently.

They looked away, and Gwen quipped, "Lord. What tangled webs these young lovers weave. Want to go and get something to eat? I've a monster craving for a cheese and marmite Panini."

They ended up taking a slight detour.

They'd been walked along perfectly fine, talking perfectly normally, when Charlton had stopped and looked at Ianto carefully, a slight frown creased in between his brows.

"You're off. Something Jack said?"

Ianto made a non-committal noise in his throat, and Charlton blinked, "Ah. I'm sorry. I'm sure I've not helped, with whatever's happening between us."

Here Ianto looked shocked, and looked at him, "What? No, no, don't say that. It's not anything you've done, and not even really anything I've done. More like something I am."

Suddenly Charlton winced in pain, doubling over, "Ahhh, that doesn't feel good."

Ianto's brow creased in concern, "Charlton? Can you make it home?"

"Ahhhh, it's not looking that way right now mate."

"Right, okay, I'll take you to mine, I guess."

They carried on, Ianto supporting Charlton slightly and chiding him ("You can't crouch over, you need to straighten out!"), until they reached Ianto's flat, and took the small lift. As soon as they were inside, Charlton straightened up with a grin, "I'm going to have a look around, if you don't mind."

Realization dawned on Ianto as Charlton began to peruse his small living room, in particular the DVD and CD collections on one wall, "You faker. Why would you do that? I thought you were fucking hurt!"

"Calm down, Ianto, I know I was dishonest, but I wanted to find out more about you. Gwen keeps making these comments that made me want to know you better." The young man turned, his black clothes making him a stark silhouette against the stacks of DVDs. A tiny smile broke over his face, "I don't know if you remember the part where I'm in love with you, but let me tell you, that was quite a large factor."

Having Charlton exploring his flat was very different to Jack, when he had last been around. It had seemed like Jack found the very idea that Ianto had a life alien; Charlton just wanted to know what that life was like.

Taking off his jacket and waistcoat, Ianto hung them on a coat rack and loosened his tie, and was somewhat surprised when Charlton walked straight up to him and kissed him with impressive force. Regardless, he wrapped his arms around him, kissing back with all the emotions that were spinning around his mind. He remembered to breath and pulled back slightly only to have Charlton kiss him again, and he ran his fingers through the other man's mass of dark curls and thought, I could actually want this –

Drawing back, Ianto studied Charlton's face with a question in his eyes. Slate met chocolate and he tried to find the answer he wanted in those thick-lashed eyes.

Could I take advantage of this? Should I?

It was yes.

Shit. He had to make this right.

Jack had ran as fast as he could to Ianto's flat and pounded on the door until he got an answer. It was late at night, nearing three am, far too late in any sane person's mind for this kind of thing, but Ianto had to answer. He just had to.

Sure enough, the door swung open, and there stood Ianto, in his pyjamas, hair mussed from sleep and eyes dazed.

"Jack?"

"Ianto." Jack wanted to go in but there was something strong and insistent in Ianto's posture that made him feel as though he wasn't allowed. "Listen, about what I said – "

"Jack. I am going to say this once. I love you. I know what I want, but you clearly don't. I don't want to be all girly, but I need to think about me right now." Jack tried to interrupt but Ianto's steely gaze silenced him in a moment. "I need space. You made it clear that you can't handle what I've become. I respect you enough to admit that I'm finding it hard to deal too, but you're not making it better. Come back to me when you're certain you know what you want – even if it's not me. But I won't be changing any time soon."

And with that, Ianto shut the door in his face, while Jack swore he saw a line of silver trace it's way down his cheek.

Ianto wiped his eyes, sighed deeply, and slumped against the front door for a moment, until he heard Jack departing. The flat was darkened, a lone light shining from his room.

Suddenly, a silhouette broke the stream of light, and Ianto took in the tanned form of Charlton, wrapped in a duvet against the cold. He could just see a sliver of bruised chest between the blankets, and licked his lips nervously. The younger man commented wryly, "You dressed quickly. Do you do this often?" There was a strange tone to his voice; it was tinted with uncertainty. Ah, that's right; Charlton had never done anything like this before.

"I try not to make a habit of it," Ianto said, turning with a quirk of his eyebrow, "It was Jack. I…don't want to tell him. About this."

"You ashamed?"

Ianto smiled slightly, "I was shagging my boss. I don't get ashamed anymore." When Charlton still looked uncertain, he calmly wrapped his arms around him, and said, "Calm down. No. I don't know what this, this thing between us is, but I'm not ashamed of it. Go back to bed, I'll be in in a moment."

Charlton smiled slightly, kissing his cheek and holding a hand to it for a moment, "Things will get better, Ianto." He shuffled back into the bedroom, leaving Ianto bewildered
and hoping that this time
that was true.