Author's Note: All facts are true and courtesy of the QI Elves at Qikipedia on Twitter or CAMRA, for the booze related ones.

Tosh slipped into Jack's office and set the mug of tea down gently by his elbow. She rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"Yeah," he covered her hand with his and faked a smile at her, "so am I. These things happen."

"You're just going to let him go though?"

He closed his eyes and dropped his head, "I don't have the strength for fight for him Tosh; he's better off without me."

"If you love him..."

"How can I fight the chance to keep him safe, Tosh? How? Even if I never see him again, at least I'll know that he's not going to end up in the morgue before his thirtieth birthday."

Tosh's grip tightened on his shoulder, then she slid her hand down to rub his back gently, "You're a good man, Jack. And I know that he knows what he's losing."

He leaned into the touch and gazed blankly ahead of himself. "He's gaining more than he's losing, Tosh."

She could see when there was no use arguing with him, so she dropped her hand and stepped back, nodding meekly. "If you need me, Jack, I'm here."

His smile at that was, at last, genuine. "Thanks, Tosh, but I'll be fine."

Owen slid a plate onto the desk in front of his boss and flopped down in the seat opposite him, talking with a mouth full of bread, bacon and brown sauce. "You know, we're not going to let him go without a bloody good send-off."

Jack laughed and picked up his own bacon butty, licking off a trail of egg yolk that dribbled down his hand. "I didn't think you would, what have you got planned then?"

"Well," he caught an escaping blob of sauce, "Gwen, Tosh and I got ratted on his behalf yesterday, I thought we could do more of the same."

He raised an eyebrow, "You advise heavy alcohol consumption?"

Owen barked a laugh, "As their medical officer, no. As your friend, yes." He sobered, "Seriously, Jack, we can't just let him go like that."

Jack watched him seriously, and finally nodded. "OK, you're in charge. You know what he's like with anything too big, he'll just try to escape it. So for God's sake don't let Gwen organise it!" They chuckled, "Just a trip to the pub or something, a final pub quiz victory with the whole team. Although, I don't know if I should..."

"Jack," Owen glared at him, "You are coming, he is coming, that is final. We can't have a team celebration without our team Captain, can we? Besides," his mock glare softened slightly, "you'd regret it if you didn't go."

"If he doesn't want me there..."

"You'll be the last one to know, I won't let him hurt you more than he already has, Jack." He wagged a finger and left Jack confused and slightly worried.

Jack heard Gwen shouting greetings and closed up the files he was working on – writing a reference and signing the forms for Ianto's transfer was not one of the things he'd wanted to do this morning really, but it needed to be done – folding his arms in the doorway and watching his team – his suddenly reduced team – settling down for the day. Gwen had disappeared again, maybe to the archives, maybe to the kitchenette, Owen had his feet up on his desk and a report from UNIT in his hands, and Tosh was analysing data collected the night before, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose.

Gwen re-emerged from the kitchenette with four plates and a collection of cutlery. When she handed him a plate, he realised that the blobs on the plates were actually pancakes filled with – he lifted the corner – golden syrup, lots of sugar and mixed raspberries and blackberries. "Thanks, Gwen." He smiled at her, privately mystified – were they all trying to fatten him up or something?

She sat down at her desk and dug her fork into her own pancake, smiling up at him, "One egg does eight pancakes, and you can't just use half an egg, can you now? So there's more in the fridge for lunch. Thought we could have them with cheese and ham or something."

"I haven't had pancakes in ages." He smiled, chasing a raspberry back into its batter wrapping and mopping up the escaped syrup with his finger.

"People only ever have them on Shrove Tuesday." Tosh commented, "I always think it's a shame, but you're right, the batter mix is so time consuming, and you end up with so much of it."

"You can get it in packets and bottles now though." Owen pointed out, "Easy." They all glared at him in amusement, "What? I'm lazy, and as a result, I'm the only one who'll be able to drink coffee." He waved his mug, "You lot won't be able to go back to instant."

"Well then, Owen, seeing as you'll be functioning," Gwen started brightly before the uncomfortable silence could develop, "I'll give you the files Ianto left us on the archives. You'll be much better at it than me before long."

The laughter was strained, but genuine, and they skipped quickly onto safer waters – UNIT, Rhys, pancakes and kittens, not necessarily in that order and not entirely related. "Kittens creep me out." Owen announced.

They stared at him, "Hang on, you will happily chat to Janet, and kittens freak you out?" Gwen checked.

"Yeah, creepy little buggers, they're trying to take over the world with syrupy cuteness. They're all little and fluffy and chasing shoelaces and then suddenly you've got an adult cat who is happy to let you know that they rule the house and no, you're not sitting in that chair." He scowled and shuddered theatrically, "Horrible animals."

"You're allergic, aren't you?"

"Yes I am, moving on?"

Jack laughed and picked Tosh's plate up, heading for the kitchenette, "Yeah, leave poor Owen alone guys, we all have irrational fears. We're just not all brave enough to talk about them." He ducked a half-hearted swipe from the medic and collected his plate too. "Back to work now, the world won't save itself."

"Wish it would." Gwen grumbled, "Life would be so much simpler."

Ianto pushed open the door of the pub and rolled his eyes theatrically as Owen pushed him towards their usual corner. In the two weeks since he left Jack and Torchwood, Owen had been round to cajole and threaten him into coming tonight, Tosh had helped him pack his stuff up, and Gwen had been to offer support and food. That Jack hadn't been round was an unsurprising relief – he wasn't an idiot, he knew how much he'd hurt Jack. Tonight, though, could quite easily be the last time they ever saw each other. His fault or not, that still hurt.

Gwen stood up to hug him, leaving the seat next to Jack free, but Owen sank into it whilst he was busy with the greetings, leaving him to take the seat either next to Tosh or next to Gwen, who settled on Owen's other side. He settled for Tosh, jokingly sitting too close to her before shifting over to give her more room and reaching for his pint. He met Jack's eyes and smiled slightly, "Jack." He raised his glass slightly.

Jack grinned and did the same, looking him over calmly, "Ianto. You all set?"

"Yeah." His smile fell, "All organised, just got to load the last bits into the van tomorrow and go." He tried to lighten the conversation, "So you'd better not let me go home with the trophy tonight. What is this, by the way?" He gestured to his beer.

"Rhymney Dark." Gwen supplied, "Made not far..."

"Yeah," he interrupted with a smile, "I know the Rhymney Brewery. Prefer Hobby Horse, but the Dark's a damned good beer. Beer of the Festival at the Abergavenny Beer Festival in... 2007?"

She nodded, "Rhys and I were there. We..."

"OK, OK, put the wellies away and step away from the binoculars." Owen buried his face in his hands, "And shut up with the CAMRA weirdness! It's beer, it looks like beer, it tastes like beer, it smells like beer. It's beer. Just drink it!"

Jack laughed into his drink (Gwatkins Cider – CAMRA Gold Award in 2009, courtesy of Gwen Cooper, alien hunter and CAMRA enthusiast extraordinaire) and swatted Owen lightly, "Hey, the beer's good, let them be. Just be glad she knows her stuff." He winked at Gwen.

Owen rolled his eyes, "Yeah, cos otherwise I'd have to remain oblivious to the fact that the beer I'm drinking didn't win a CAMRA award or something, I can't taste the difference. Honestly, him with his coffee, her with her beer, Tosh with her computer cables. I think we're the only sane ones here."

"Says the one who keeps records on the entertainment value of surgical gloves." Ianto pointed out, "Yeah, you and Jack are practically normal."

"OK, so what are my weirdnesses?" Jack laughed.

Ianto raised an eyebrow, "How long have we got?"

Not long at all, was the answer, as the quiz master called for their attention just as Jack opened his mouth to reply. He closed it quickly and grabbed the pen before Gwen could get it, bending his head to write "The Innuendo Squad" at the top to hide his face. Throughout the day, he'd got gradually more nervous about seeing Ianto again, for the first time since the night on the rooftop, and presumably the last time ever – unless conferences and meetings conspired to bring them together or, God forbid, he was called to Ianto's side as next-of-kin, surely Ianto would avoid all contact – the light-hearted banter was a painful reminder of what they had had.

"Oh, Jack!" Gwen caught sight of the team name and groaned at him, reaching for the pen again. "We can't be the Innuendo Squad."

"And why not?"

"Because we've won it every time we've come as the Innuendo Squad, they'll think it's rigged when we win again."

He laughed and double underlined the name, pitting the pen in his shirt pocket with a flourish. "We are the Innuendo Squad, and we shall hold our heads high when we win."

"Jack..." she looked up as the Quiz Master announced the start and reached across, "Pen, Jack."

He pouted at her and quickly wrote the numbers 1 to 15 in the margin, "Mine."

"Children." Owen chided, "Play nicely."

"Question one. How is Saint Agatha usually depicted?"

Gwen tapped the table, "With her breasts on a silver platter."

"How do you know that?" Owen gaped at her.

"You know, my first response was 'eeew'." Ianto looked disgusted.

"Shears too, I think." Gwen continued, "Because she had them cut off with shears for some reason."

"Nice."

"Question two. Why are Frenchmen rats?"

"Same word in Irish." Ianto whispered, "Don't ask me what it is though."

Jack chuckled and wrote it down, "No bonus points for us then."

"Question three. What did the first vending machine sell, and when?"

Jack grinned and wrote quickly, "I know this one, it was water. First century BC."

"Question four. Who succeeded General Bare as president of Niger in 1999?"

Owen clicked his fingers, "Major Wanker." They stared at him, "Oh come on, it's not the sort of thing you forget, is it?"

"Whatever floats your boat, I'm sure, Owen." Tosh demurred with a smile hidden behind her hand.

"Question five. Where do carrots originate from?"

Owen groaned, "Here goes my reputation, Afghanistan."

They stared at him and Ianto chuckled, surprised, "Yep, there went your reputation."

"Question six. When was the aeroplane invented?"

Owen rolled his eyes, "19..."

Miles off, Jack grinned up at him as he wrote, "1848. In Somerset."

"They don't give us bonus points any more, Jack." Tosh reminded him, "Not since we got 200%"

"Do I want to know how you know that?" Owen snorted, "No, I think I can guess."

"I saw its maiden flight." Jack smiled wistfully, "It was inelegant, but amazing to be present for."

"Question seven. What time is standard for most wrist watch advertisements?"

"Ten past ten." Ianto informed them. "But not always, just usually."

"Question eight. Who is the patron saint of Boy Scouts, Beirut and sheep?"

"Saint George." Gwen told them.

Tosh giggled, "You only know that because of the sheep." Gwen blew a raspberry at her.

"Question nine. Where was champagne invented?"

"France?" Tosh asked.

"No," Gwen shook her head, "England. Nowhere else could make the bottles strong enough."

"Well I never." Jack muttered.

"Question ten. How many times can a sheet of paper be recycled?"

"Six." Jack said as he wrote. "Usual rules, don't ask me how I know that."

"I love pub quizzes, repositories of useless information." Owen chuckled.

"Yeah, and speaking of which, when's QI back?"

"Lol." Tosh giggled, leaning on him, "We are teh leet quiz monsters."

"Whatever you say dear."

"Question eleven. What does the Milky Way taste of?"

They all looked at Jack. He blinked, "Would you believe me if I said lemon?"

"Do you know?" Ianto asked.

"Haven't the foggiest, anyone?" They shook their heads. "We'll go with lemon then."

"No, go for Teen Spirit." Owen grinned, "Might as well be spectacularly wrong."

Jack scribbled out 'lemon' and put 'Teen Spirit' down instead. "And if it's lemon I'm blaming you."

"It'll be worth it." He shrugged.

"Question twelve: What do you call an adder bite?"

"A sting." Owen yawned. "Easy one."

"Question thirteen: Who invented squirting lapel flowers?"

They stared at each other. "I have no idea." Owen frowned, "Mr Smiffy?"

"Best guess we've got, I suppose." Jack looked to the other for confirmation, then wrote it down. "I think we dropped that one."

"Question fourteen: How many people need to be present for a riot in Nevada?"

"One?" Tosh asked.

"Two, I think." Gwen smiled, "Andy and I used to wish we could arrest some of the drunken idiots for rioting, but there weren't enough of them."

"I bet that looks safe now, doesn't it?" Owen laughed, "When all you had to worry about was violent thugs. Now you have violent alien thugs."

Ianto looked away, suddenly uncomfortable, and waited for the next question to rescue him. The silence from the table indicated that he wasn't the only one.

"Last question for this round, what is an Adamite?"

Owen frowned, "Isn't that a fossil?"

Ianto smirked and looked round at Jack, who was writing with his eyes carefully averted. When he'd finished, he looked up and met Ianto's gaze. "I told you that would come in useful eventually."

"You did, this is true." He smiled, "Should have known it would be here."

"Hey," Jack pointed at him with the pen, "I was going to take you to planets where entire civilisations are Adamites." He looked away, then back, shrugging, "You still could, if you wanted. The Doctor would take you if I asked, any of you."

"What is an Adamite though?" Tosh asked, squeezing Ianto's knee under the table.

He covered her hand and squeezed in reply. "It's someone who doesn't wear clothes for religious reasons. Jack likes Adamite societies."

"Some." His grin was blatantly fake, but he was trying to make it easy for them, "Only in beautiful species. Some are just ugly."

"Ah, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder." Ianto smiled, equally fake. "They probably love it."

Jack shuddered, "Yeah, but really, I'm never going to Xclontagsty again."

"Exclawhat?"

"You think that's bad," he smiled at Tosh, "You should try Raxacoricophalipatorious."

"Raxacoricophalipatorious." She repeated, smiling at his shocked expression, "Space pig."

"Ah yes, space pig. Thanks." He added to the girl who came to collect their answers. "Ready for the music round?"

"Not usually." Ianto groaned, "My round?"

He leant on the bar and waited for the landlord's attention, checking the guest beers and grinning when he spotted that they did have Hobby Horse on. As Terry sorted their drinks, he felt a hand touch his shoulder gently and turned slightly to look at Jack. "I've got you a Biddingden's, that alright?"

"Thanks." Jack smiled at him, "Thought I'd give you a hand." He hesitated, and his eyes remained fixed on the bar, "Look, if it's making you uncomfortable, I'll go, I don't..."

"Jack." He squeezed his arm and sighed, wishing he could lean against him, "Don't ever think I don't want you here."

Jack searched his face, then finally nodded, relief and sadness mingling, "OK, good. Well... Drinks?"

"Oh, yeah." He paid for them and carried three of the drinks back to the table, Jack taking the last two. "Have the results been announced yet?" He asked, ignoring their slightly worried and questioning looks.

Owen shook his head, "Not yet, looks like they're nearly there though. I think they're trying to find a way to disqualify us again."

"Not again." Ianto rolled his eyes, "They will bow to our superior intelligence whether they want to or not."

"Inevitably." Jack nodded, "Here we go."

"OK, well done to some of you, not so well done to others. In reverse order, Don Quizote were entertainingly and completely wrong, you didn't get any points." The group in the corner cheered anyway, "Three O Levels and a Budgerigar got you a grand total of three. Those of you who had Hardly any Time To Prepare showed it in your results, three and a half, for getting the wrong sort of Milky Way. We Thought It Was A Disco showed a wide range of very little knowledge but got four. Electric Sheep managed roughly half with seven, and the A Team were the other side of half marks on eight. The Knights Who Say Ni were entertaining and intelligent with ten questions right and five questions hilarious, No Oestrogen Here got twelve, but, and no surprise here really, the Innuendo Squad won it with thirteen." There was a round of applause, and a couple of salutes and shaken hands from teams close to them. Jack and Ianto caught themselves grinning at each other in excitement and looked away, high-fiving the team and preparing for the next three rounds.

In the end, it was a close run thing between the Torchwood team and No Oestrogen Here, with a round and a draw apiece, until Jack singlehandedly wiped the board on the final history round. The group of students from Cardiff University came over to congratulate them and invite them to a quiz night at the university. Ianto got caught up in the plans and excitement, before he saw Jack look out the now darkened window sadly and realised that he wouldn't be here to help them defend their honour.

He smiled tightly and turned to talk to one of the members of the team next to them, the magnificently useless Don Quizote, who had managed no points out of sixty. They shared a joke about one of the bands in the music section and then he let slip that he was leaving Cardiff. He hadn't realised until that point just how many of the people there knew him. Five of the teams, not counting theirs, had been to the quiz with them before, and the Innuendo Squad were easily recognised. Now faced with it – in the form of a toast from everyone in the pub, wishing him well for the future – he recognised how many times he'd bumped into people from the quiz in the street, or at the supermarket, the occasions when a couple of them had popped into the Tourist Information Office for information about festivals in the city and ended up chatting over a cup of coffee and hiding from the weather. When he went to London, he'd be leaving all of this behind – not just Jack, not just Torchwood, not just having his family close by, but everything, everyone who knew him was here. As soon as the attention dwindled again and people went back to their conversations, he excused himself and fled outside.

High heeled footsteps followed him the short way down the side of the pub and he turned back to smile at Tosh. "I didn't really think about it before, just how much I'm leaving behind."

"It's like leaving home really, in a way."

"Yeah." He sighed. "The idea of leaving Jack and Torchwood behind was enough to cope with I guess."

"Why are you doing it, Ianto?" She frowned, looking tired and upset, "Why do you have to go?"

He leaned back against the wall and stared up at the dark sky, all the stars obscured by light pollution. "Because he loves me, Tosh. And he's a good man, if I stay, he'll stay with me in the hope that one day I'll love him back. And he doesn't deserve that. He needs someone who can love him as much as... As much as he loves."

The rest of the team emerged from the pub at that moment, cutting off Tosh's unformed response. She held out her arms to hug him and he held her close for a moment before moving on to Gwen. Owen glared at him when he opened his arms for the medic, then grinned as he clasped his hand and thumped his shoulder. "Take care, Ianto." Tosh smiled at him. "And keep in touch."

He saluted, aware that Jack had hung back. "I will do. And warn me if the world's ending, yeah?"

"We'll try not to end it too soon." Owen laughed. "OK, guys, our honour is defended. Want a lift home Tosh, Gwen?" Ianto rolled his eyes.

"Thanks, Owen." Gwen grinned.

"Yes please, Owen." Tosh clutched her bag to her shoulder and looked up at Ianto again, "We'll miss you Ianto."

"Yeah, you'd better." He grinned and reached out to ruffle her hair, laughing when she ducked. "I'll see you again. And I expect the reports to be on time and full of juicy gossip."

They laughed and it was just him and Jack, standing together in the darkness. Jack appeared to be drinking in the sight of him, and he wondered for the first time whether they'd ever see each other again; he wouldn't blame Jack for avoiding contact. Finally, Jack nodded towards Ianto. "Let me walk you home?"

He didn't hesitate, just smiled and accepted, falling into step with Jack and letting himself get carried away in his own thoughts. Their silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it was painful; he wanted to fill it with words he might never have the chance to say again, but suddenly they were back outside his apartment and the chance had flown.

They didn't look at each other for a moment, until Jack stretched out his hand. "I guess this is 'goodbye', then?"

Ianto bit his lip, then gripped Jack's shoulder and pulled him into a hug, sighing into soft dark hair as Jack buried his face in Ianto's shoulder and clung onto him. He held on just as tightly, running through every reason he was leaving, whilst every reason this was agony ran through his mind like a wildfire, leaving him unaware of everything except Jack, their shared pain, the desperate desire to drag Jack up to his flat and forget every silly notion of leaving, fighting with the impulse to run as far as possible. He settled for pulling his hand up Jack's back to hold the back of his neck and pulling back enough to kiss him once, lingering longer than he could stand but not long enough. "Goodbye, Jack."

Jack shuddered in his arms once, then sighed and pulled back. Ianto released him, sliding his hands down Jack's arms and letting go only at the last minute. They watched each other for a second more, then he turned and headed into the building, not looking back until he was in his living room and he could look out of the window to the lone figure on the other side of the street, shoulders bowed and hands gripping onto the fence as if it was all that was holding him up. He dropped the curtain and turned out the light, before crying himself to sleep in the bed that still smelt of Jack.