Ianto leaned against the back of the sofa and combed the fingers of his free hand through Jack's hair, smiling tiredly when Jack tipped his head back to look up at him. Jack was looking even more tired than Ianto was, unusually, and reached up to guide Ianto around the sofa to sit next to him. They settled down against each other, with Jack's empty glass on the coffee table and Ianto's full one cradled in his lap for him to sip from periodically. Ianto put his other arm around Jack and turned him around slightly, so that his shoulder was against Ianto's chest, and his head rested against Ianto's cheek, one arm draped loosely around Ianto and the other holding onto his arm. Eventually Ianto finished his drink, and Jack took it from him and leaned forwards to put it on the table, then back into Ianto's waiting arms. "I'm sorry about this," he said quietly, with a voice thick with tiredness. "I just needed you..."

"I know," Ianto kissed his temple and cradled the back of Jack's head with one hand. "We all have days like that, and you don't have to deal with them alone. I don't want you to deal with them alone."

"Mmm," Jack hummed and nuzzled into Ianto a little more. "Just need to sleep."

"Not here; bed, now," he insisted, nudging Jack away from him and to his feet. "You tried to cover last night alone, didn't you?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Jack protested sheepishly. "Thought it'd be quiet, a chance to get some paperwork done and... stuff like that."

Ianto shook his head and turned out the living room light, then followed Jack into the bedroom and started undressing him carefully, leaving Jack slightly bewildered. "Tosh told me you died."

"Yeah."

"Several times," he added, putting Jack's braces and belt on the back of a chair and going to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. "And that was just the ones she knew about."

Jack sighed and nodded. "A lot. Really... it was a bad night," Ianto cradled his cheek for a moment. "I'm glad you weren't here to see it."

"And I hate that you had to do it alone," Ianto resumed work on the last couple of buttons and picked Jack's hands up to unfasten his cuffs, cradling his hands gently. "I should have been here for you."

With a soft smile, Jack pressed his lips against Ianto's for a moment. "You are here for me," he pointed out. "This is all I need."

Ianto took his hands back and brushes his hands up Jack's chest and over his shoulders, underneath his shirt, to push it off. "You're a simple creature, really, aren't you?" he said in an undertone. "It's so very, very easy to make you happy."

His voice had dropped to a purr, and Jack laughed, twisting to help Ianto pull his shirt off and then catching his face between his hands to kiss him deeply. "I think you just called yourself simple – which I feel is selling yourself short."

"You would think that," Ianto pointed out, reaching down to tug on the bottom of Jack's T-shirt. "Arms up."

Jack complied and dropped his arms down onto Ianto's shoulders whilst Ianto tossed the T-shirt on top of the shirt in the washing basket. "Do I get to unwrap you afterwards?"

"No, Jack," Ianto kissed him and set to work on his fly without looking down. "Tonight is about you."

"And what if I want to undress you?" he asked with a pout, playing with one of Ianto's buttons.

Ianto got his fly undone and pushed his trousers down, then pushed Jack backwards to step out of them. He rested his hands on Jack's hips and traced his thumb over the stretched cotton of his briefs, causing Jack to sigh softly. "You could redress me in the morning, instead?" Ianto offered lightly, dropping to his knees and hooking his fingers into the waistband of Jack's briefs. "Unless you want to break this off..."

Jack shook his head and combed his fingers through Ianto's hair, urging him on and holding his gaze for as long as he could.

Xxxxx

Ally was unusually early, although not as early as Ianto, who had a choice of very early or very late if he went to Cardiff by train, and eyed him suspiciously whilst she hung up her coat. He smiled at her and looked back down at his work. "Awful weather, isn't it?"

"It is," she agreed with feeling, impulsively combing her fingers through her sodden hair. "I believe that it's traditional for the weather to be awful in winter. Mind you, it's probably better than it is in Cardiff..."

Ianto glanced up at her, smirking, and turned the page. "Not that much better, we're about the same latitude, and it's a south-easterly wind that's causing it."

"You did go to Cardiff last night, right?" she checked, "Or am I misremembering?"

"I went, the weather was awful; I came back here and the weather was still awful. It's Britain, I didn't expect anything less," he closed the file and put it into his filing tray. "But Cardiff was lovely, once we got indoors. I would heartily recommend it for a holiday."

"Really?"

"No, it's a dump and it's full of Weevils," he sighed and picked up the next one. "But don't tell the Cardiff Tourist Board I said that, they'll make us change our cover office... We never did get around to changing it..."

"What's that?" Ally asked, as Ianto's voice had trailed off whilst he was talking so that she hadn't caught the end.

"Oh," he shook his head as if to clear it. "Jack and I were talking a while back about closing the TI office cover and reopening it as something else, something that didn't require one of us to cover it full time. We never got around to it, though."

"Maybe when you're back in Cardiff full time, you can sort it out, yeah?" she shook her head fondly. "Even you can't be in two places at once."

"That sounds like a good plan. And I really don't know what I'd do without Tosh."

"She's translated it for you?" Ally got up to get herself a fresh mug of coffee and leaned over his shoulder to read it, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "It all looks like a good idea."

"I know, it's brilliant and all countries should be using it, but it's stolen technology and too advanced for us and, to put it frankly," he closed the report and looked up at her and continued, "the Shadow Proclamation would slap our wrists."

"Ohh, do you mean we have to do as we're told now?" she pouted and he pushed her away, laughing.

"Yes, you do, now go and finish that cross-reference report and get it sent off to Liberty Towers, you've got about five hours before they get into work."

"Sir, yes sir," she saluted him with her mug and settled at her desk again, leaving Ianto to get on with his own work.

Xxxxx

Anthony looked up when Ianto walked in, just after lunch, and turned his attention straight back to his computer. "The Prime Minister is in the House at the moment, Mr Jones."

"I know, I just need to get him to sign these for me," he put the box file down on the clear space on Anthony's desk and tapped two fingers against the top. "It doesn't matter when he does them, he can even do them whilst I'm meeting with him in the morning, but he's got them if he wants to read through them."

"Thank you, I'll make sure he gets them," Anthony gave him a curt nod and Ianto left again, returning to the main office. "Martin, Liberty Towers have proposed a date of early January for the systems conference, start of the second week. Do you want me to forward the details to you?"

"Yes please, boss," he screwed up a piece of paper and threw it into the bin. "Where are they hosting it?"

"Chicago, I'll organise flights for you when we get closer to the date, and I'm going to talk to Jack and UNIT, see if we can get you all on the same flight – UNIT may even be able to take you over, if they're sending enough." Ianto turned to Jacqui next. "Jacs, have you had the request from the office in Peru?"

"I have," she confirmed. "I said that I'd be interested if my boss would release me for it."

"Consider yourself released," he told her. "I'll send them a reply saying that they can have you, then you can organise dates and I'll either arrange the flights or you can do an expenses form, whichever you prefer."

"Thanks, Ianto."

"Tiffany..."

"It's on your desk," she smiled winningly. "Now can I recalibrate a bomb, pretty please?"

He paused and considered her. "Yes, alright, you can go play with a bomb. But wear an apron and put newspaper down. The rest of you can get back to your projects as well, if you've filled all the requests."

Returning to his own office, he concentrated on arranging his agenda up until Christmas, as well as he could knowing that there would inevitably be at least three days when he got a call requesting an urgent meeting, and at least two unplanned trips to Cardiff (and several more planned ones, but those weren't unexpected and therefore likely to mess up any of his planning). Once that was done, he went back to the draft proposals for Christmas cover in London, and then to the proposed timetable for the changeover, running over the training that he and Jack intended to put Ally through in Cardiff.

Xxxxx

He left work at six, leaving himself just enough time to walk the short distance to UNIT's central London hospital during a break in the weather. He was still very cold when he got into the building, but not as wet as he would have been half an hour earlier, and arrived with enough time before his appointment to get himself a hot drink and dry off a bit.

The massage therapist was a cheerful young woman called Joyce, whose corded forearms, when she opened the door for him, contrasted with her larger figure. She was a ray of sunshine, though, and Ianto found himself forcefully and fondly reminded of one of the nuns in Sister Act as she laughed and joked through the introductory interview. "Now, Mr Jones," she leaned forwards and he cut her off.

"Ianto, please."

She beamed. "Alright, Ianto. You've had a deep massage before, I take it?"

"Yes I have," he blinked away some of the less professional massages he'd had from Jack and focussed on some of the ones he'd had in physio after a couple of his more creative injuries.

"Alright, then. You know what to do, let's get your shirt off and get you on the table, tell me if it hurts too much."

He nodded and got up, pulling off his shirt and folding it carefully on top of his waistcoat and jacket over the back of the spare chair, whilst she adjusted the table and set out the freshly warmed towel over it. Lying face down on the table, he rested his chin in the support and crossed his arms over his head, mostly zoning out whilst she chattered.

The best bit about going to a UNIT therapist, for whatever reason, and the main reason that he chose to, was that they didn't blink at the scarring, inside or outside. He knew, although he'd never seen them clearly seeing as they were on his back, that he had burn scars from the fall of Canary Wharf, a gunshot wound from a shoot-out with the local alien drug gang, a short, jagged scar from when he got a bit too close to a Weevil and one that looked suspiciously like a knife scar but was actually caused by shrapnel from a bomb that Jack hadn't been able to disarm last year. Oh, and the tiny exit wound from when Henry Jackson shot him. Fun times.

Joyce, brilliant Joyce, tutted once and got to work, starting at his shoulders and working her way down from there, unknotting the tension he'd been holding. He was just drifting off completely when she dug her thumb in and he grunted. "Sorry, but does that feel better now?"

He shifted slightly and grunted again. "Mmm, much better."

"I bet it does. When did you last have a massage?"

"Properly, about five months ago, I think," he moaned as she found another tense patch and worked it loose. "But my boyfriend gives great massages."

"I bet he does. And do you reciprocate?" she asked, amused.

He hummed in agreement. "I make great coffee."

"We could hire you here, the coffee's awful," she laughed.

"I know, I tried it," he laughed and gave another moan. "But he'd be annoyed if I let UNIT poach me."

"Does he know what you do, then?" Joyce sounded surprised.

"Yeah, he's the head of Torchwood Cardiff," he sighed. "We have a long distance relationship at the moment."

"Ah, that's a shame. No massages for you, or coffee for him. You don't want to move closer?"

"I am doing, moving in June," he smiled to himself. "You don't read the newsletters, I take it?"

"What? Oh, no, can't be bothered with all that. They pay better than the NHS and need me more," he could feel her shrug in the movement of her hands. "I don't ask more than they tell me, and that's the way they like me. Means that I can take patients out of the office, as well."

"Always convenient," he agreed. "But our engagement was announced in the newsletter."

"Would be, wouldn't it, him being the head of the branch. Well, I hope you get back to him soon and that you stay happy together. Now hush and let me concentrate."

xxxxx

Having decided that he didn't feel like eating in his flat, even if he got take-away, Ianto stopped by a Greek restaurant on his way home, a couple of streets off-route between the station and his flat. He regretted it quickly, though; finding himself surrounded by groups of friends and by couples dining out together, he felt even more alone than usual. Settling for just a main course, he finished quickly and paid his bill, then walked home in the rain, cold and miserable. By the time he got in, it was nearly ten o'clock, so he stripped quickly and went straight to bed, to stare at the ceiling and wish he were back in Cardiff.

"A day in the life of Ianto Jones," he muttered to himself. "Winter of discontent and loneliness."