A/N – Back after a little break. With a certain anniversary last week, I wasn't in the mood to write a sad-type story. Then I watched 'Exit Wounds' on Saturday and… Well anyway. Here is Track 6 finally. And good news, I've worked out what I'm writing for the track I was drawing a blank for. Yay. So, every track is roughly sketched out – just gotta get writing.

6. After You, Who?

Ianto unlocked the door to his flat and stepped inside. Jack followed slowly and closed the door behind him. The older man had been surprisingly quiet on the entire ride to the flat. Not in the mood for one of Jack's brooding sessions, Ianto headed down the hall to the bedroom without saying a word. He took off his suit jacket and stretched, groaning as he did so.

From what seemed like nowhere, Jack appeared at his side. "Ianto, are you okay?" He asked anxiously.

Ianto sighed and pushed past Jack to continue getting undressed. "For the five hundredth time, Jack, I'm fine. Just completely exhausted." He removed his sweat soaked dress shirt and tossed it in the hamper, quickly followed by his trousers. "Chasing after that… whatever it was, we've probably run the equivalent of the Cardiff marathon tonight." He stepped into the en suite and closed the door before Jack could follow him.

"You're sure you didn't get hurt? We all had to separate to contain it." Jack called through the closed bathroom door.

Having finished washing up and brushing his teeth, Ianto opened the door and brushed past the older man. "Jack, stop." He grabbed a pair of pajama pants from a drawer and put them on. "I'm fine. You're fine. Tosh, Owen and Gwen are fine. Everyone is perfectly fine." He crossed to the bed and pulled back the covers. "If you feel the need to go brood on a roof somewhere, make sure you lock the door behind you, and bring a key if you plan on coming back. I'm knackered."

Jack watched as Ianto settled under the duvet and within minutes soft snoring could be heard.

Jack sighed and took off his coat. He tossed it on the chair in the corner of the room. Taking off his clothes and made sure to neatly fold them before adding them to the pile on the chair. He grabbed a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt from the drawer and put them on. He stood for a moment just watching the younger man sleep before moving to his own side of the bed and pulling back the covers and sliding under.

Staring at the white expanse of ceiling, he understood Ianto's frustration. Despite the rigorous (and lengthy) chase, it had been a relatively easy capture. No one had been injured and the alien was safely sleeping it off in a cell at the Hub. But, he couldn't seem to turn off all the 'What if' scenarios buzzing around his head.

What if the alien had been armed?

What if it had been aggressive?

What if they hadn't gotten to it in time?

What if HE hadn't been there?

Jack shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. Ianto always told him off when his thoughts began to spiral downwards. He rolled onto his side to face the sleeping man beside him. Scents of Ianto wafted up from the pillow – detergent, soap, shampoo and so on. Taking a deep breath, Jack turned his gaze to the younger man. When Ianto slept, all of the worries and concerns vanished from Ianto's face and he looked his true age. He looked like he could be fresh out of university, just starting out on the road of life. Instead, because of Torchwood, he was probably nearing the end.

Jack shuddered. Maybe a roof would have been a better choice tonight – winds clearing out the darkness of his mind. He couldn't bear to think that someday far too soon, he'd be left without Ianto. He couldn't bear to think of what he'd do without that sly grin… without those sarcastic comments… the eyerolls… the kisses. All of it. All the little things that made up Ianto Jones.

This twenty first century Welsh man had been the first to know so much about Jack Harkness (even the fact that he wasn't even really Jack Harkness) and loved him anyway. He didn't care that Jack couldn't stay dead. He mourned him each and every time he died, then scolded him for his carelessness when he revived. He knew Jack was from the fifty first century and probably not completely human and didn't bat an eye. He knew Jack never wanted to be leader of Torchwood and supported him in any way he could.

Jack knew there'd be others after Ianto was gone, just as there had been others before. He also knew that right here right now, he completely belonged to the man snoring softly next to him. Shuffling closer to the Welshman, Jack put his arms around Ianto and pulled him against his chest. The younger man stirred slightly, then settled in Jack's embrace. Jack smiled. One day he'd be forced to say goodbye to Ianto. But not tonight. Tonight, he held on.

End.

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