Author's Note: I'm having a typing up day, so there might be a couple of updates. Officially I'm about 10000 words behind target, so I'm trying to get a lot out today. We'll see how it goes.

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Ianto got the door of his apartment open and held it wide so that Jack could come in with the stack of pizza boxes and Ally could bring up the rear with the wine. Rain dripped from coats and bags, which were soaked from just the dash across the communal garden, and Ianto hurried to grab newspapers to stand their boots on, whilst Jack made himself at home and set the table with plates and glasses. Ianto hung his coat in the cupboard and settled for rolling his sleeves up and pulling off his tied, so he could sink down into a chair and reach for a glass.

"Cheers," he sighed. "There's to the planet surviving another day, no matter how hard it tried not to."

Jack chuckled. "It wasn't that bad. Sure, it would have completely destroyed the world's economy, killed millions of people, plunged us into an ice age and probably made England uninhabitable for the rest of the existence of the planet, but it didn't. we're fine. We're always fine, and the world never quite ends. We'll survive; trust me on that one."

Ally watched him. "What's it like? The future, when you come from?"

"Ah." He swirled the wine in his glass. "If war is the mother of invention, it's no wonder it was such an inventive time. I was born on a frontier planet. We were pushing boundaries, expanding our reach and discovering new worlds. Some of them weren't very welcoming. From a distance, it was exciting. Living in it, it was terrifying. Off the frontiers, though, they were reaping the rewards. Art, music, science, food, fashion, all living the boom time. Like the 60s, but without psychedelia. I miss the 60s."

"And what were they like? Or do you not remember?" She teased.

He laughed. "I remember. I jacked in Torchwood for a few years, got a bus from Camden all the way to India, then another up into Nepal. Met the Beatles, the Stones, the Who, Bowie..."

"How many of them did you sleep with?" Ianto asked. "Bowie, obviously."

"Yeah. He keeps in touch, actually. I get a Christmas card. The others, not so much. I don't remember a night drinking with the Who, so it must have been good. That was the 70s, though. I ended up out in Australia for a while, surfing and running a sex club. Hair down to my waist, and orgies every night. Proper 60s."

"What went wrong?"

"I grew up. We all did eventually. Usually it was the 'whoops, I'm pregnant', or running out of money. Bereavement was a big one too. By the middle of the 70s all of my friends had drifted off, and I got left behind. So I came back here." He looked over at Ianto. "It worked out in the end."

Ally shook her head. "I loved Australia. It still seems really... I don't know, if was really cool, and forward thinking. Culturally, at least. Or maybe it was just sunny and new."

"It was progressive, when I was there. We were all doing our own thing, building a new world that was just the right fit for us and the future we wanted to live in. But then they grew up, became parents and grandparents, and that really changes you, and they're in charge. And they're comfortable and happy with the status quo. Your priorities change." He pulled another slice of pizza out of the box. "Nostalgia. The past and future always looks better than the present, and before you realise it the present is the past and the future is the present, and it all looks pretty good once it's behind you and less good when it reaches you."

"That's philosophical," Ally said, eyeing him with suspicion. "Too philosophical. Drink more wine."

He laughed. "It's true what they say. You don't know what you've got until it's gone. Sometimes you get lucky, and you get a second chance. Most of the time you don't,"

"What's it going to take for people to realise that the Earth needs looking after? We trip from one disaster to another, and carry on the same way as ever. If we're not careful, it'll be irreparable. Do we ever learn?"

"We learn, eventually. Not in your lifetime." Silence fell and he reached for the wine bottle. "There's going to be a lot of loss. But so much wonder, and some of the greatest works of art the universe has ever seen. The Mona Lisa is just the start. Beethoven's ninth symphony is just the overture to what humanity can achieve."

"Shakespeare merely the opening act," Ianto suggested. "I sometimes think that I should get out more, see the world. I've not really travelled. Maybe if I retire."

Jack gave him a look and changed the subject. "Are you coming back to Cardiff tomorrow?" he asked, topping u p Ianto's glass. "Or do you need to be in work?"

"We both need to be in work, but I need to be in work in London. I'll book your train tickets before we go to bed and run you down the station on my way to work, if that's okay with you. Ally, if you want to drink more and crash over, you're welcome to do that, too."

She nodded gratefully and reached for the bottle again. She'd driven them home from the Tower, rather than have UNIT chauffeur them, and they'd never really expected her to go home that night. "Thanks, Ianto. I've got a grab bag in the car, so I'll go and get it if the weather abates a bit."

"I'll make the beds up," he said, and stayed where he was. "In a bit... probably."

"I can feel the motivation. Want to watch something mindless on TV?"

"Sounds perfect." He looked around. "That's it, I'm booking an actual holiday when I get into work. A week with no aliens, no chaos. Just a pool, cocktails, sunshine. Don't worry, Jack, I'm sure your boss will let you have the time off, too."

"Will mine?" Ally asked.

"Don't push it," he told her. "You get holidays, anyway. I've not had one in... ages."

"Since France with Lisa?"

"Yeah." He drained his glass and reached to top it up again. "We've never had a couple's holiday. I'm not having our honeymoon be the first."

"We need a date for that. June 16th?"

"The date you proposed," Ianto murmured, glancing over at him. "Works for me. I'll book it into our calendars in the morning."

Jack stared at him. "You... remembered that?"

"Yes, of course." He sucked his fingers clean. "Why wouldn't I? It was a big date."

Jack nodded and stood up. "You got the right answer in the end, too."

He chuckled. "Eventually. I'm young and stupid, be patient with me."

"I'll be as patient as I need to be. You're worth waiting for, Ianto Jones."

# # #

Ianto rubbed at his eyes and shifted another pile of files from his desk into the out tray, reaching for a mug that was now cold. He sighed and stood up, easing his back. Whilst the coffee machine burbled he packed the files away into their cabinet, and groaned as the door opened again. "Whatever it is, I don't want it. I am not signing any more reports, reading any more emails, or saving any more bits of the planet." He turned to face Ally, who had her arms full of paperwork. "I said no."

"They can probably wait until tomorrow," she assured him. "But if you don't want to get them, you should stop requesting them. It's the feedback from our time with UNIT."

He sat down and held his hand out. "I'll have a look before I go. You enjoyed it?"

"Apart from the world ending? Yeah, it was good. Interesting, really interesting. It's a very different, militarised workplace. There seems to be a lot more appetite for promotion, as well, especially outside the researchers. We're all, really, doing the job we want. Promotion is something that will happen no matter how much we don't want it." She shrugged. "No one wants your job, really. Sorry."

"Not even you?"

"No. I'll take it if I have to, but I don't really want it. Neither did you, really. It just needed doing, you needed an opportunity. Or am I wrong there?"

He shook his head. "You're not wrong. Probably wise. What's that line… those who crave power are the ones least suited to it?"

"Yes. It should be Torchwood's motto. After… you know." She rubbed her hand over her hair, which had turned green over the Christmas holiday and matched her garish Christmas jumper. "UNIT is getting to the stage where it needs cutting down, possibly. They're too entrenched. Like any organisation that survives this long, I suppose."

He skimmed through the reports and hummed his agreement. "They think the same about you, by the looks of it. Talent, enthusiasm and diligence, but… not a match for UNIT. Not just you, all of you. This is why Torchwood and UNIT were never really competing for staff, and Torchwood managed to keep our existence secret from UNIT for so long. They came out of the military, of course. We came out of the Doctor being a sneaky, cunning bastard."

"Is that a technical term?"

"Very. You'll find it in the archives all the time. Ours, not UNIT's, of course." He flipped the reports shut and took them over to the cabinet. "I'll read them in the morning. You did well, anyway. The world's still standing, we didn't accidentally kill the Doctor, and my mother has only nearly worked out where I work. All in all, it's been a good week."

"Then let's celebrate with a drink." She leaned on his desk. "Drink your coffee, grab your coat and take me dancing. It's Christmas still."

He smiled at her enthusiasm and shook his head. "Not for me. Home, feet up, and a good book."

"In bed by ten, up at six. Live a little. You're only young, and your life is work and Jack, Jack and work. You are your own person, you know. It's like… you don't exist outside Torchwood. Just come out with me. Have a couple of drinks, we'll talk about the football or the cricket or something. Live a little, before you get stuck."

"I'm not stuck," he insisted, but her words had struck a sore point. "I'm happy, I've found my groove."

"You don't sound it. You're always saying you wish you'd travelled more, you wish you had more time to explore things you enjoy, but you'll do it all when you retire, like that's ever going to happen. I know you say all of that for Jack's benefit, but what about you? What good is it if you only ever say you want to do things, and never actually consider doing them. When was the last time you did something just because you wanted to, not because someone expected you to?"

He glared at her. "You are not my mother."

"No. You talk to me. Christmas is a time for family, but did you see them because you had to or because you wanted to? Did you make that choice?"

"I chose Jack. He is my choice, a very conscious and deliberate choice that makes everything else harder. I can't walk away from Torchwood, because I know too much. I could never go back to life like it was before Torchwood, because I would never stop looking over my shoulder. It wouldn't be safe. But I can choose to spend my life, however long it is, with him. And what about you? You said you don't want the job, but you'll do it because it needs doing."

She shrugged. "A job's a job. I have to do a job, so it might as well be one that pays well, lets me see the world, and lets me make a difference. Where else would I be? Torchwood will give me the life I want. It seems to be taking that away from you."

"I love my life. Where did this come from, anyway?"

"Like I said, Christmas. I was thinking about where I most wanted to be, and it wasn't in the Tower of London collating reports from spies across the world, but it wasn't really anywhere else, either. But you, I knew where you wanted to be, and I knew damn well you were going to get called in anyway." She looked up at him, eyes sad. "Ianto, who are you? Do you even know?"

"No. Should I?"

"I don't know. Maybe. You're young still, aren't you? Like… twenty three. You're barely older than I am, but you act like you're twice my age. It doesn't suit you."

"You're imagining things."

"I'm going to the pub." She turned and headed for the door. "You can come with me or not, your choice."

He groaned and drained his coffee. "You said you wanted me to make my own choices, and now you're pressuring me to go to the pub. That's a bit…"

"So where do you want to go?"

"Me…" He licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair. "Um… dinner? Moroccan, maybe? Let's head… we'll go to Soho, see what takes our fancy. I'll call a car."

"Is that you making a decision?" She grinned. "Deal. You're buying. I'll get my coat."

"Little minx," he grumbled, but he couldn't help smiling back. "And Ally?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll retire at thirty. You can hold me to that."

# # #

"The thing is," Ianto said, waving his third whisky at Ally, "the thing is that you have to compromise. If you have a dream, or a hard choice, you have to, hate to, be prepared to do whatever it takes. And I will be happy. I'm not now, sure, but I will be, and so it's worth it."

Ally had not had as many drinks as he had, and raised her eyebrow. "So what do you want? What is the grand plan of Ianto Jones?"

He thought about it and peered at the bottom of his glass. "I want another drink. And I want to be a museum curator. Travel the world collecting artefacts from sunny places over the winter, and spend the summer organising them. I want to write a book on the history of Torchwood, and open a Torchwood museum, and not ever get covered in alien slime or shot at or wonder if I'll make it home. But mostly I want to be Indiana Jones, but in space. That would be cool, wouldn't it?"

"That would be cool," she agreed. "Would you have a hat?"

"No. The Doctor has worn all the interesting hats. There is nothing left for the rest of us. How many of them are there, do you think?"

"Versions of the Doctor? I know of... fifteen, maybe? I wonder if anyone knows what order they come in. Probably not even him. He's a funny one."

"He's a pain in the backside. I know he's been because the milk empties and the living room is a mess. I have the most focused burglar In the universe." He frowned. "He can't be trusted around doughnuts, either. It's very annoying."

"If you want to work in a museum, how did you end up at Torchwood? It's kind of working out, but I can't see the logic to it."

"It was the other way around." Ianto sighed and looked over at the bar. "I was at university, doing English Language because... I don't even know why, now. It seemed like a good idea, but it was really dull. I got in with the wrong crowd, or maybe the right one. Bunch of piss artists who bunked off lectures to disparage the pre-Raphaelites and drink really terrible wine whilst singing the praises of Banksy imitators and Tracey Emin wannabes, so I got into art. And we did a bit of urban exploring around London, broke into a Torchwood site and got spotted. They recruited me first to work in one of their shell companies, an estate agent in Islington, and by the start of third year I'd dropped out and I was working in the archives. Started out as a database gopher, became an archival assistant after a year, and was interviewing for Team Leader when the Battle happened." He peered into his empty glass again and tightened his grip. "I'd never seen an alien in the flesh before the Battle. Most of us hadn't. For most of my friends, it was the last thing they saw." He stood up and collected their glasses. "And I stayed. If it weren't for Lisa, I doubt I would have survived. I wouldn't be here, definitely."

Ally watched him head to the bar with her head on one hand, and wisely said nothing.

He came back with refilled glasses and sat down. "Torchwood liked to pull people out of university. It leaves you stuck, because you can't divulge that you';re working for Torchwood. Without a reference approved by Human Resources, you just looked like you dropped out of uni and did fuck all for a couple of years. Not great on your CV."

"It worked out okay for you."

"Wouldn't have if I hadn't talked Jack into giving me a job in Cardiff. I mean, I was headhunted from there and it was fine, but when I went back to Cardiff I had nothing. Well, a flat in London with a massive mortgage, so I could have sold and moved somewhere else, but no job, no reference for two years' worth of work, nothing I could tell anyone. I don't think I ever told him that. He gave me a reference when I left, though, would have if I wanted to work at Tesco. We made up the stupidest cover stories, if we ever had free time to do professional development. Gwen's idea. I've got a collection of CVs I can't ever use. Chief Dinosaur Wrangler. Might come in useful if they ever remake Jurassic Park."

"They wouldn't."

"They will." He turned his glass around in his hands slowly. "It was fun, dreaming of lives I can't have. Like the prisoner who paints landscapes. Am I getting old, Ally?"

"You're too busy, and you need a holiday. A proper holiday, not camping in Wales or a business trip to Australia. When was the last time you got away from Torchwood?"

"Properly?" He shrugged and thought back. "Before Cardiff. Lisa and I went to France for a week, camped in Brittany. I was going to propose in Paris, but Lisa wanted to go to Mont St Michael instead, so we had an argument and I didn't."

"I'm sorry. That's... really sad. And you've never been on holiday with Jack?"

"Never even thought about it. Well, thought, but only recently. We were pretty casual until he proposed, at which point I fucked off to London. It's not like you can predict Torchwood, and we didn't have enough staff to spare for holidays. Gwen managed, but that ended up being a bit of a sore point. We need more staff. And a new base first."

"There must be stuff you can do, though? Paris, or New York, or something, surely?" Ally trailed a finger through a puddle on the table. "I'm off to Norway next month, to see the Northern Lights, and then in summer I want to go to Thailand and that region./ See some temples and get a tan. Don't you ever want to just go?"

"Well, yes, of course. It's just always been... honestly, I just stopped planning for a future I didn't expect to have. Now, planning the wedding, I've had to start thinking beyond the end of the week. I can't take every day as it comes any more, and that's scary. i was absolved of all responsibility for my own decisions." He rubbed at the tension in the back of his neck. "And now my decisions are shaping the future of the planet."

"Adulthood. It's a lot to get used to."

"I keep realising that it's all real. I'm just carrying on, doing whatever seems logical, minding my own business, and then I wake up in the middle of the night and realise that people are listening to me, and I'm actually making a difference." He looked over at her. "Do you ever get that?"

She shook her head and had to brush her hair back out of her eyes again. "I'm just getting on. Is that weird? Like, I'm still at the stage of being surprised that I don't need an adult to be able to go to the cinema."

He snorted. "Yeah, I know that one. You mean I'm allowed to use a craft knife without supervision We're too young for this level of responsibility, aren't we? I can't even be trusted in the supermarket. Always come home with junk food and no fruit. It drives Jack crazy. And now I'm throwing you straight in the deep end. When I was your age I was just filling in forms and spreadsheets, not facing down aliens and running the organisations."

"Just don't get me killed and it'll be fine. When I rule the world, I'll open a Torchwood museum for you to putter around in . How's that/"

He smiled and raised his glass to her. "My retirement project? It sounds good to me."