Author's Notes: Dedicated to Harriet once more, for being Harriet and to say GET WELL SOON HUN! To Hotflower901, for constant, brilliant support and the genius idea with the bone thing, and to Lizzy, for almost betaing, but not quite because we couldn't get it to work. So this chapter is the usual, unbetad.

By the way, uni life is great until you start seeing motorbike accidents and missing lectures because you're incapable of reading your timetable.

The notes for artifact 304-657-1982 were fairly basic. They explained simply that it was found by Bella Scott on university property and that it had been classified as medical because of its apparently sole use in healing broken limbs. It also carried the warning, added on in the unmistakeable scrawl of Captain Jack Harkness, that it should under no circumstances be used on anyone with concussion. It was another of those questions that he couldn't answer, beyond a vague "I think it turned out to be a bad idea."

It was basically a tube with a lot of wires between the two layers and lights all the way up it. No one knew how it worked, but when you slid it over the broken bone and pushed the button at the bottom, it mended the break. Ianto called it the Salve Sleeve; Owen called it the boney thing, and tended to hum "the toe bone connected to the foot bone" whilst he used it.

Ianto sighed out his name, date of birth and address for the twenty-fifth time (this time – he was up to somewhere around five hundred in total) and winced as Owen prodded his arm. The medic was unsympathetic as he straightened it in preparation for healing it. "I take it I don't need to warn you by now?"

"It would have been nice," he gritted out as lightening bolts of pain lanced up his arm and made black spots dance in his vision.

"Wouldn't have helped though," Owen pointed out, picking up the sleeve and wrapping it around his arm. "Alright then, usual drill, this should sting. If it hurts more than usual, yell."

"Thanks, Owen," he helped to support his own arm and watched the lights lighting up. "I'm clear then?"

"Nah, still concussed, I want to find out why we're not allowed to use this thing on people whose brains are funny, fill in the gaps in Jack's extensive medical knowledge by experimenting on his boyfriend," he scoffed. "Of course you're clear. Surely you know the symptoms of concussion by now?"

"Self diagnosis is a bad idea when one's brain is funny," he rolled his eyes. "It's stinging."

"More than usual?"

"Does this sound like yelling?"

"No, but Jack will once he's convinced that it won't make your brain fall out of your ears," Owen told him seriously. "He was furious yesterday; scared mostly."

"Yep," Ianto agreed. "I could tell."

"No, because he didn't come down to see you until he'd calmed down. He was scary," he followed the lights up the sleeve with his finger. "Nearly done."

Ianto wiggled his fingers and felt the pain the action caused lessen. "Neat trick."

"Yeah, wish I knew how it worked," Owen slipped it off and checked his arm again. "You're all done."

"I'm just glad that it does," Ianto told him, pulling his shirt on. "I'm going to find Jack and let him yell at me for a bit, do you want a coffee?"

Owen leaned on the table and frowned. "You're far too relaxed about it, you could have been killed. I don't think I've ever seen you properly worried about the fact you could have died."

Ianto shook his head and didn't look up at him. "On suspension after Lisa, nearly slit my wrist, didn't, dropped the knife on my foot instead. Sometimes, a little irony is good to put things in perspective. So many times I've nearly died, I've stopped worrying," he fastened his final cufflink and nodded his thanks. "Shit myself in the moment, of course, but I am human."

Owen smiled. "You'll be alright."

He nodded once more and climbed up to the main Hub. Martin and Tosh had their heads down over something that Gwen had brought in, Jacqui was at Gwen's desk, sucking on a pen and thinking deeply about something, whilst Gwen was in her cubbyhole, sticking post-it notes to the wall and drawing lines between them. She spotted him between two rows of orange and gave him a wave, pointing with her pen towards Jack's office. He nodded his thanks and looked up to Jack standing in the doorway, watching him.

"Tosh," Jack called without breaking eye contact, "what's the predictor looking like for tonight?"

"Quiet," she told him, looking over her shoulder. "We can handle it."

He jutted his chin and nodded. "Okay, guys, don't work too late. Ianto, home?"

Ianto smiled tightly, grateful that he'd phrased it as a question, especially as it wasn't. He went to the coat rack and pulled his own on, then picked Jack's up and held it out for him. With his arm like this, still weakened by the break, the coat felt heavier; it was a long time since he'd really noticed the weight. He helped it onto Jack's broad shoulders, brushed it down and gave him a fleeting smile. Jack returned it and brushed his hand once, then turned and walked towards the door, jingling his keys over his shoulder. "Play nicely, kids."

They picked Chinese up on the way home, avoiding each others' gazes in silence, wondering what they would say to each other. Like a storm, Ianto could feel the fight brewing, rolling towards them with growling, roaring thunder and flashes of lightening... He shook his head and rubbed his temples, closing his eyes as the movement rocked him. Jack's hand rubbed lightly up and down his spine and he leaned into the touch. When he opened his eyes, it was his turn to gaze at the counter and Jack's to watch him. "You alright?" Jack asked him seriously.

He chanced a glance at him and gave him a small smile. "Yeah, just dizzy."

"I'm not surprised," Jack told him, removing his hand and leaning on the counter again. "When did you last eat?"

He shrugged. "Does it count if I brought it straight back up again?"

"Ianto..." he trailed off with a sigh. "Give me strength."

The silence returned, thick and heavy. Above and behind Jack, a mediaeval television was showing the day's football scores, complete with a victory for Cardiff City, and Ianto realised maybe for the first time that his attempt to escape Torchwood had just mired him in it ever more deeply. "Who won the FA Cup last year?" he asked suddenly, losing what little interest he'd had when it got to the Coco-Cola league.

Jack looked at him sharply, concern deepening the blue of his eyes. "I don't know, why?"

"No reason," he shrugged. "Just realised that I don't know."

"I thought you knew everything?" Jack teased him gently. "Anyway, I didn't think you liked football."

"I don't," he agreed. "But it's the sort of thing you're supposed to know, isn't it?"

"I guess. What brought this on?"

He flicked his gaze up to the TV and Jack followed it this time, nodding in understanding when he spotted the cricket scores. "Ah, damn."

"Yeah, I really thought we stood a chance," Ianto sighed. "God help me, Welsh and interested in cricket."

Jack laughed and grinned at the woman behind the counter as she brought a carrier-bag full of takeaway towards them. He paid for the food and picked the bag up with one hand, taking Ianto's and tugging him out of the shop with the other. They walked the short distance back to the flat still holding hands, enjoying the sharp autumn evening, the sounds of companionship coming from the pub on the corner, the smells of the Chinese drifting out of the bag and the warmth of each other's company. Back at the flat, they flopped into their usual seats at the table, opposite each other, and spread the containers out across the table, digging in hungrily; it didn't escape Ianto that Jack was making sure that he, Ianto, got more than half of everything, often by feeding him across the table. He chuckled and reached across to wipe a dribble of sauce off Jack's lip where it had escaped with a noodle. "Messy."

Jack laughed and caught his hand, pressing a fast kiss to the palm, then turning it over and kissing the back of his fingers more gently. "Ianto..." he started, then brought their hands down to the table, still joined, and rubbed the back of his hand with the side of his thumb. "Don't do that to me. By rights, I should be giving you the dressing down of your life, but I'm just so glad you're safe that I can't bring myself to be angry."

Ianto's eyebrows shot up and he laughed sharply. "You want to be angry with me for taking risks? That's rich."

"It's different for me," Jack snapped. "I can't die, it doesn't matter if I get hurt..."

"It matters to me!" Ianto pulled his hand back, shaking his head in disgust and despair. "Can't you see that, Jack? Why do you think I cling to you so hard when you come back?"

"But you know I will come back, Ianto, I know that you won't!"

"I don't know," he pushed his chair back and stalked across the small kitchen and back, running his hand through his hair. "Every time I see you die, or get hurt, I hope you'll come back to me, maybe even believe it, but I can never know for certain. Every time, I wonder what the last thing I said to you was, the last thing you said to me, if you know just how much I love you. Every time, it feels like the last..."

"You've never said that before," Jack blurted out, stopping him.

Ianto stared at him and thought back over what he'd been saying, then realised what he'd said and turned away. "I never thought it needed saying."

He heard Jack sigh, then the sound of a chair being pushed back and heavy footsteps crossing the kitchen to stand behind him, then Jack's arms wrapped around him from behind and held him. He clutched Jack's right hand tightly in his own. "It needs saying," Jack whispered harshly in his ear. "I love you to distraction, Ianto Jones, and the idea of losing you scares me more than anything."

Ianto closed his eyes tightly and turned in Jack's arms, framing his face with his hands and kissing him, tender and fierce at the same time, he never wanted to stop. In the end, it was Jack who broke them apart, pulling back to run his thumbs across Ianto's cheeks, down his jaw and over his lips before leaning in for one more long, slow kiss and then tugging him even closer, hugging him tightly – possibly even cuddling. Ianto hesitated, his hands hovering briefly, then returned the hug awkwardly. Jack laughed and squeezed him, then released him. "You're not a hugger, really, are you?" he asked, brushing his thumb over Ianto's cheek again in that tender, possessive gesture.

"Only trees," Ianto joked dryly, feeling like a bit of an ass for it. "Not standing anyway, not since I got taller than my mam."

Jack laughed and moved around so that he could prop one hip against the kitchen counter next to Ianto. Silence descended, broken only by the sound of the kitchen clock as they searched for what to say next. Ianto took Jack's hand and a deep breath at the same time. "I know that being left behind, being... it's the worst thing for you, I know that. But you need to let me let you... Hang on," he sighed, licked his lips and started again, more slowly. "I don't want to hurt you, I want to be able to help you. You have to let me help."

"I..." Jack looked away and nodded distractedly. "You're right, being abandoned has always been my worst fear, being alone. They say that 'Hell is other people', it really isn't. I've been to Hell, so many times. Hell is being alone, being the only survivor, being the one who fell behind or got left behind. Can you imagine, I know that I will always be the one who is left behind, I will always be alone, and the only person who could understand, he understands too well, he left me behind..." Ianto squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. "There's no escape."

"I know," Ianto told him. "I think that's why you throw yourself into danger like you do, because you believe you'll come back, but you don't know it for certain, and you want to be wrong."

Jack finally looked up at him. "I wouldn't do that to you, Ianto."

"I never believed you knew you were doing it, but that's what it looks like," he told him with a shrug. "I couldn't watch it any more, it was bad enough knowing that this might be the last time, but once I started thinking that you wanted it to be the last time..." he turned away from Jack and sighed heavily, slumping against the counter. "It felt like I wasn't doing enough to help you, like I wasn't enough."

When Jack tugged him in, he went willingly, tucking his head against Jack's neck and wrapping his arms around him in return. They held each other, Jack swaying to some silent music. Finally, Jack broke the silence; "This brings us back to the original issue, Ianto. Why do you do it? Why did you throw yourself in front of it today, when you didn't need to?"

"I didn't mean to," he frowned, not letting go so that he didn't have to lie to Jack's face. "It all happened too fast."

He felt Jack shake his head. "If it were the only time, maybe I'd buy that, but it's not, is it?" Ianto didn't answer and Jack resumed his swaying. "Why do you do it, what are you trying to prove?"

"Someone has to," he said, at last. "No one out there knows what we do, what we face, and I don't want them to. But to keep them from knowing, we have to keep them safe."

"Ianto, you're a hero. You don't need to try any harder to prove that," Jack told him.

He pulled back and shrugged. "But I have know that I'm doing all I can, that there's nothing more I can do to keep this world safe, and then do more. That's why..."

"Why what?" Jack asked.

"Why no matter how much I want to, I can't come back here," Jack's face fell. "Not yet, anyway. The things I've seen in London, they're not ready for me to leave yet."

"Yet?" Jack checked hopefully.

"Well," Ianto teased, "that's assuming you want me back..."

Jack laughed and kissed him. "Yes, oh yes. More than anything."

"Me too," he told him, kissing back. "Stay here."

"Here?"

"Right there," he instructed from the door, "don't move an inch." He heard Jack laugh as he hurried up the stairs to find his bag in their room, and shifted things aside until he found what he was looking for. He sat on the end of the bed and opened the box, studying the contents and convincing himself that he was doing the right thing, then he closed the box and took it back down to the kitchen. "Close your eyes," he instructed from the doorway.

Jack did so and grinned. "I like surprises, most surprises..." Ianto had crossed the kitchen nearly silently and leaned in to kiss him, just a soft touch of lips. "Definitely like that surprise." He opened his eyes. "Am I allowed to open my eyes now?"

Ianto chuckled and took Jack's hand, putting the box in it. "Open it," he swallowed and jutted his chin slightly, nervously, then opened the box without looking at it. "You're allowed to look."

"Ianto..." he looked down and straight back up. "Ianto?"

"You..." he swallowed. "You asked me to marry you, and I said no," he started. "And I was wrong. I can't do it whilst I'm still working in London, but I will come back to you, so..."

Jack beamed and pulled the ring out of the box, taking Ianto's hand and slipping the ring onto his finger. "Ianto Jones, will you come back to me and marry me?"

He leaned in again and kissed Jack once more, securing the ring in place as he did so. "I'm sorry it took so long."

"You were doing what you thought you had to do," Jack told him. "And you still are."

"There's a long road ahead of us," Ianto agreed.

Jack grinned and threatened, "I'll sing." Ianto laughed and kissed him to shut him up.