4

Ianto decided to take the child for a little shop. He would need a warmer coat as it was winter still and the bitter airport breeze would cut though the thin one his mother had got him a size or two earlier.

Harrods, ah. Ianto was wandering the kid's section of … well… everything when his cell phone rang and he looked at the caller display to see who is was… someone he didn't really want to see, sighing as he hit the button anyway "Owen."

"Hey, where are ya? The paperwork came back, they want a different photograph for the passport since he's older than the last one"

"What? By what… a few months?" Ianto spluttered.

"Red tape. Come on… where are ya?"

"Shopping with Damo. I am trying to get him a coat and maybe something else so he can have something specula for here before we shove him on a plane and zoom him away for everything he knows. Hard enough packing up her apart…ment" Ianto turned, wondering if the child was in the next aisle, little bugger knew not to wander off.

"Owen, shut up. Can I call you back?" Ianto had inadvertently stopped in front of a rack of furry unicorn teddies and Damo had picked one up and was examining it with an expert eye.

"What are you doing in that God awful place?"

"I've got to get some things for Damo… don't you listen…"

"Are you getting him new pyjamas?"

"Yes. When did I …"

"You've got to buy good quality pyjamas or they won't last ten minutes," Owen chided. "And it needs to be cotton. So his skin can breathe."

Ianto sighed, "Yes, Mum. Look, I've got to go."

"I thought you'd be buying something for yourself." he paused. The pause was a comment, as much as the tone was too. "From your suit place you miss so much. You've lost weight ya know… might be time for a new one or two. A treat."

Ianto wondered if this was the real reason he had called. "As a matter of fact, Jack has just bought me something."

"Oh, good. Good." A pause. "He's not completely useless then."

"Owen, don't say things like that …"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Where's your sense of humour? It is Friday, after all."

"Owen, I'll talk to you later …" Ianto crouched by his child and looked at the toy in his hand "Shall I get it?"

Another solemn nod. he was tentatively sucking his thumb.

"Okay," Ianto said, then looked at the other aisle. "Now we need to get you some new pyjamas. Because those old ones you have are falling apart. Stop sucking your thumb. It's not hygienic."

Still sucking his thumb, Damo shook his head forcefully.

"I said stop sucking your thumb, please. Germmy germs. Eww" Ianto sighed and Damo lowered his hand to stare at his thump with equal disgust now.. Ianto pointed "I know you like your pyjamas ..."

"I don't want to get new pyjamas."

Ignoring the fact the boy chose to finally speak, Ianto took his hand and moved down the room to a wall featuring an array of practical boy's pyjamas. Ianto picked one at random to try and distract Damo "Look at these blue dinosaur print pyjamas …"

A noise made Ianto turn. It was the start of a protest, abruptly cut off. Ianto was expecting to turn around and see that he had fallen over, hit his head or bitten his tongue. Damo was prone to doing all three on a regular basis at this age. The sound was a known precursor to a piercing screech that would bring every concerned mother within a thirty foot radius to him like moths to a flame.

"Honey …"

Instead, what confronted him was so terrifying that it felt as if Ianto had been hit by something. Some force. His whole body slammed into itself, at least internally, but Ianto didn't move at all. He couldn't. He was frozen to the spot.

The two men were now right in front of him. The shorter one was staring at him with an intensity that was terrifying in itself. His eyes darted everywhere at once, as if he was in a hurry to memorize every detail about Ianto for a test. An unconscious, thin-lipped smile split his face. His tall friend stood slightly behind him, pressed up against one of the shelves. Dimly Ianto registered that he was blocking the view of then from anyone else who might be in the shop.

He also had one hand over Damo's mouth; the other held a small pointed knife to his throat.

Damo didn't look scared. Not yet. He couldn't know what was going on, not really.

"Give me your wallet," the short one said.