12.

Jack woke slowly, unlike most mornings when he practically shot out of bed, ready to start the day. But he'd died yesterday, and that often left him more tired than usual. He'd been up late, too, and that had definitely left him more tired than usual, as well as pleasantly sore. With a grin, Jack opened his eyes and gazed at the ceiling, thinking about everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours.

He was in Ianto's flat, in Ianto's room, laying in Ianto's bed. Beside him, the Welshman was sprawled on his stomach, his head turned away from Jack. The covers had slipped to his waist, leaving his back and broad shoulders exposed. Jack saw the love bite he'd left on Ianto's neck, behind his ear, and was tempted to leave another. But though he now knew Ianto Jones to be far more uninhibited in bed than he was in the office, Jack wasn't sure how the other man might feel about being awakened by a tongue in his ear—or somewhere else, for that matter. They had agreed it was just this once, after all, and Jack doubted there'd be another round.

He thought about getting up, using the bathroom, and pulling on his clothes, perhaps even leaving a note and heading to the Hub. But it was still early, and he was still tired, and he was enjoying watching Ianto sleep. It was the only time he'd seen the other man so relaxed, the haunted look on his face smoothed over by the peace of sleep.

Ianto was too young to have gone through all the things he'd experienced in the last year. Jack had seen his suffering, tried to reach out, but Ianto was too much like Jack, locking away his pain and burying it deep down, then pulling on his mask and buttoning up his suit until it exploded from him, with violence or with passion. Jack had seen both the previous night, but he knew that when Ianto woke, he would go right back to the stoic butler doing his job, hiding from the world.

It wasn't right. A man as deep and passionate as Ianto Jones deserved better. Once again Ianto had proved himself capable of more than filing, more than cleaning. He'd figured out what was happening in Radyr, at the Ferret, and he had been adamant about dealing with it when he'd thrown Jack from the pub and ordered him to stay outside. Jack had to admit that it had been a remarkable turn on, but it was also obvious proof that Ianto was stronger than he let others see. He played at submissive at the Hub, but he was quite clearly capable of taking charge and displaying the strength and courage needed to get the job done.

Of course, he'd slipped at the last minute, the Savior's temptation too confusing, too beguiling. When he should have destroyed the alien and its portal, instead Ianto had snapped, sending Jack through as some sort of vengeance for his sins. And then he'd come back for Jack, which had taken incredible daring and determination. Yes, he'd condemned Jack, but he'd also walked into the Rift to save him.

It was strange, the way that made Jack feel. A little giddy, that Ianto had come back for him, even though he was furious about being sent into slavery and tortured on an alien world. Flattered, that Ianto had then come on to him in the SUV after, looking for comfort, though he was also confused that Ianto would seek it from the very man he'd just tried to kill. The man who had killed Ianto's girlfriend. Which added guilt and regret and a dozen other things to Jack's complex feelings about Ianto Jones.

Watching the younger man sleep, Jack was also filled with a sad understanding. He knew what Ianto had suffered, and he understood Ianto's need to both lash out emotionally and reach out physically. Oh yes, he definitely understood the latter, the heart's retreat into mindless sex as it attempted to feel something besides pain and darkness, to lose itself in physical comfort and pleasure. It was Jack's favorite form of denial, of relief, of release; that Ianto felt the same surprised him, but also thrilled him.

They'd come back to Ianto's flat, where Ianto had wasted no time with trivialities. There had been no awkward attempts at conversation, not even the offer of a drink. He'd thrown his keys down on the nearest table, then turned to Jack and kissed him, right in the middle of the living room.

"Are you sure?" Jack had asked as Ianto's hands started to push the greatcoat from Jack's shoulders. Ianto had stopped and met his eyes.

"Are you?" he'd returned with utmost confidence. Yes, this was clearly what Ianto wanted, and Jack wanted it as well. He'd been holding back for so long, even more so after Lisa's death, that he'd have been hard pressed to say no, even if he had made a token protest about working relationships being complicated. Of course, Ianto had pointed out that he wasn't looking for a relationship, which Jack had been all right with at the time. It had let them explore one another long into the night with no worries for the messy emotional consequences. It was one night only, no obligations. Only now Jack felt something stirring in his chest, and he realized that maybe he'd been wrong about what he wanted.

Ianto Jones had intrigued him from the start, and now that Jack had seen more than he'd ever dreamed of, both physically and emotionally, he didn't want it to end. He liked this strong, confident man, who stood up to him, who told him what to do, who saved him, who effortlessly topped and brought him to a blinding climax. At the same time, he wanted to comfort and protect the broken man sleeping beside him, the man who had seen his entire world come crashing down around him and somehow survived. Ianto Jones was in pieces, broken and begging to be made whole, and Jack wanted to put him back together. And he wanted Ianto to put him back together, every time he broken against Torchwood. He didn't want it to be one night of debauched comfort; he wanted more.

How much more, he wasn't sure. Sex, absolutely. Companionship? Sure. Closeness, vulnerability, support? Yes, Jack thought he might want all of that as well. In spite of Ianto's vast betrayal in the basement of the Hub, Jack still trusted him. He knew the Welshman was stronger than he looked, both physically and emotionally. And Ianto somehow understood things about Jack that Jack sometimes didn't understand himself. Ianto had quietly had his back since the beginning, and Jack didn't want to lose that; he wanted Ianto's loyalty, his love, his life.

No, that was too much. Jack shook his head and sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He was naked, and he was hard, and it was all he could do to hold back a groan as his thoughts went places they shouldn't go. Loyalty? Love? He wanted Ianto Jones more than anything at that moment, and yet he knew he could never have him, not really. It was too dangerous. Ianto was someone Jack could get lost in, both literally and figuratively. And Ianto, even if he felt the same way, would still leave him one day, and Jack would be alone yet again, nursing another broken heart. It was why he'd stopped dating years ago, refusing to grow close to people, because he knew he'd lose everyone he loved, and it was too hard to let himself fall when he knew how much the landing would hurt.

Glancing back at Ianto, Jack knew he had to leave; if he didn't, he'd do something stupid. He didn't regret sleeping with Ianto, but now that he had, it would be hard to think of anything else but their night together. Of staggering into Ianto's bedroom and falling into bed; of Ianto's mouth claiming him; of the feel of Ianto inside him and breathing his name with that devious accent; of a leisurely shower and Ianto coming undone at his touch; of the love bites Jack knew were peppered across Ianto's skin, the scar across Ianto's upper thigh, the freckle on his shoulder…

And more than that, the feeling of peace and completion he had both seen and felt, and the possibility of it developing into more. Yes, Ianto Jones was dangerous, and Jack needed to leave. He needed to go back to work, lose himself in files or phone calls or anything that wasn't Ianto, then go on the pull and forget he'd ever slept with the Welshman. Because it couldn't happen again. Jack would fall, and then he would break. Again.

With a hitched breath that felt more like a sob at the thought of setting it all aside, Jack stood and started to gather his clothing with a frantic need to run to the bathroom, get dressed, and leave. Even when all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed with Ianto and forget the rest of the world even existed.

He was halfway to the door when Ianto sat up and called his name. "Jack? Where're you going?"

Jack turned around and forced himself to grin, clothes held strategically in front of his groin to hide his obvious erection. "Thought I'd clean up and head to work. You can take your time."

He must have sounded nervous, because Ianto frowned. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Jack replied, even though inside he was screaming at himself to turn away, because he still wanted the man on the bed in so many ways, and the more he looked, the more he wanted to give in to the temptation. "I didn't want to wake you."

"You didn't," Ianto replied. He glanced at the clock next to his bed. "It's half past six, which is when I normally get up. Why do you need to go in so early?"

Jack couldn't look at him and found a spot above the bed to focus on. "Well, given last night's adventure at the pub, I wanted to check the Rift readings, make sure everything is okay, so…yeah. I should go."

"Are you sure?" Ianto asked, standing and finding a pair of boxers before pulling on a shirt as he walked over to Jack. He appeared completely nonchalant about his state of dress, and nothing but concerned for Jack. "You seem upset."

"Just tired," Jack replied unconvincingly.

"Then you don't have to go," Ianto told him, taking another step closer. Jack stepped back.

"No, I really do," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Because I don't know what I'll do if I don't leave now." He finally looked into Ianto's face, and the Welshman's eyes widened slightly.

"I see," he said, stepping back. "I'm, er…I'm sorry," he offered. "If I pressured you in any way…" He trailed off, since they both knew the thought of Jack doing something he didn't want to do was completely ridiculous.

"You didn't," Jack said with a sigh. "But I can't do this…us…" He ran a hand through his hair, completely at a loss for words. Ianto frowned at him again.

"I know," Ianto said. "You said that last night. No promises. Just this once."

"Just this once," Jack laughed bitterly, gazing up at the ceiling to avoid looking at Ianto. "I don't know why I said that, because right now I really wish I hadn't."

"Oh," Ianto said again, crossing his arms and glancing at the carpet. "I didn't realize one night would be a problem."

Ianto had it all wrong, and Jack didn't want him to think he regretted their night together, that he was running because it had been a terrible mistake. Maybe it was, but only for Jack, and only because he couldn't forget about it. He caught Ianto's eyes, smiled, and lied. "It wasn't a problem. It was amazing. Honestly. The problem is…well, me. I'm the problem."

"You're not a problem, Jack," Ianto said. "But…I'm not looking for anything more. If that helps."

"No, not exactly," Jack blew out a breath and looked away as Ianto's eyes went wide again. He understood, and Jack wished the floor would open up and swallow him. "Look," he said, hating the awkwardness, "It's fine. It was a great night, but it was one night, and that's it. I know that, and I'm fine." If he sounded like he was trying to convince himself, he was.

"Okay," said Ianto. "I'm still sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean for it to end like this."

"Not your fault, and not your problem," said Jack. "But I'm feeling awfully exposed here, so I can use the bathroom now?"

Ianto nodded and Jack turned away before Ianto called him.

"Jack," he started, then cleared his throat. "It was amazing for me too. I wish—" He shook his head, stopping himself. Jack's heart leapt at the thought of what Ianto had been about to say. "Thank you," Ianto finished instead. "For understanding. For forgiving me. For staying." He cleared his throat, and met Jack's eyes, and for a moment, Jack thought he saw something more there, some of the same things he was feeling. But it didn't matter. It couldn't happen, no matter what either one of them might think or feel. "Thank you."

Jack nodded, burying his sadness and pulling on the mask of confidence and charm he hated wearing at times like this. "I'll see you at work," he said, then added a wink. "I'll pick up some pastries if you'll make the coffee."

Ianto smiled in understanding. "Absolutely, sir. Back to normal. I'll be in soon."

Jack hurried to the bathroom, where he washed his face, rinsed his teeth, and pulled on his clothes. He could shower and change at the Hub; right now he needed to get away, find his bearings. He needed to put the night behind him, forget about Ianto and how much he still wanted him. It couldn't happen. It wasn't right, it wasn't healthy, and he knew that.

But he also knew that he wanted Ianto Jones like he'd wanted very few people over the years, and it would be damn hard working next to him knowing it could never happen. With a sigh, he left the flat behind him and dashed out to the SUV, refusing to give in to tears or anger. He didn't pound the steering wheel, he didn't pull away with a squeal, and he didn't drive recklessly back to the Hub.

He did, however, think about everything he wanted and everything he was giving up instead, and he hoped the Doctor would arrive soon to take him away from the constant pain and heartbreak that was his life.

Author's Note:

Another possibility, though I don't particularly believe it myself. This one is supposed to contrast the last one. I would like to write one more sometime, the real one, but I can't say when as I'm going to work on finishing some other stories first. I hope you enjoyed these twelve possibilities – thank you for reading!