Chapter Three: Random Acts of Kindness

"There are no little events in life, those we think of no consequence may be full of fate, and it is at our own risk if we neglect the acquaintances and opportunities that seem to be casually offered, and of small importance."

Amelia E. Barr.

Eight Months Ago (which for the sake of clarity is autumn, 2008, just a couple of months before Tony put in his appearance in More Short Stories)…

…

The sound of a child crying drew Sara's attention away from the help wanted section of the newspaper. She'd moved in with Mrs. Chandler less than a week ago and wasn't at all sure she would be able to get a job, even if she could find one (or what she was qualified to do), but at the moment, the mournful sobs coming from outside the front window seemed more important than her own problems.

The little boy was sitting on the sidewalk just outside the house, clutching his bleeding knee, huge tears rolling down his cheeks. His bicycle was lying near by.

"Hey there," Sara said as she approached the child. Although she thought she remembered seeing this particular dark haired boy walking home from school a couple of times, she hadn't met any of the neighbours even say hello. She didn't recall if she'd ever noticed which house she'd the youngster went home to – watching the neighbours had never been one of Sara's favourite pastimes, even when she had nothing better to do with herself.

The boy looked up with big tear-filled blue eyes as she got closer.

"My name's Sara," she introduced herself before kneeling down; the last thing she wanted to do was scare the kid. "You ok?"

He shook his head, his eyes swelling up with more tears.

"Would it be all right if I took a look at that?" she asked. Besides having a skinned knee, the boy's arm was scraped from his elbow down to his hand; his palm was scraped up as well. "You took a pretty good tumble, huh?" she looked over his injuries; none of them looked too bad, mostly he just seemed frightened by the fall. "Just learning to ride… or were you going too fast?" she asked with a warm smile. He looked about nine, maybe ten years old.

"Still learning. I got it last Christmas from my Tad. I still can't ride real good," he said glumly.

"I remember learning to my first two-wheeler," she told him with another warm smile, although she had no idea what a 'tad' was. "Do you live around here?"

Before he could answer a door opened up on one of the houses across the street. A smartly dressed young man came hurrying down the steps. "Jason!"

"I'm ok," the boy forced an almost convincing stiff upper lip.

"That's hardly looks ok," the man said as he joined them, kneeling down. He took the child's arm in hand and looked it and the boy's knee over with what seemed a practiced eye.

"Well," said Sara, "it looks like you've got it from here," she stood up. The man seemed brisk… but brisk was hardly the same thing as insensitive… or abusive.

Just thinking that made her realize how cynical she'd become the last few years. The first thing she looked for in almost every situation was anything that might be abuse or neglect. She gave herself a good mental shake. She had to stop looking at everybody as if they were either a perpetrator or a victim; some people were just muddling through their lives, neither good nor bad, just doing the best they could. Just like her.

The man gave her a polite smile, "Thank you… Miss…?"

"Sidle. Please… Sara," she said.

"Thank you, Sara… now," he gave the child a hand up as he stood himself. "Let's get you cleaned up before...."

"But my bike…!" Jason protested.

"I can walk it over," she offered. "If… you don't mind…?" she looked to what she presumed was the father… although the boy had an almost American sounding accent and the man was definitely Welsh... so… step father, maybe? Not that it was really any of her business.

"Thank you, again," the Welshman was saying, his tone cordial. He held out his hand. "Ianto Jones."

"Nice to meet you," she accepted before retrieving the bike then joining them as they headed across the street; the man had his arm draped around the boy's shoulders. The boy was limping a little but mostly seemed none the worse for wear.

"You have beautiful roses," she commented of the six neatly trimmed rose bushes in the front garden.

Ianto Jones flashed a warm smile over his shoulder; clearly the roses were his effort, not his wife's. "Thank you. My mam… erm…mother… always had roses," he said.

"I've never been able to keep plants alive for more than a week," she admitted.

He chuckled. "I'll have to remember that… I mean… I'll bring you some. Flowers, that is, not the whole plant. Wouldn't want to send some unsuspecting bit of flora to its doom," he teased.

"You really don't have to…" She re-evaluated her assessment. He was wearing a ring… divorcee, maybe? Cute. But way too young.

"The last of the blooms will be dying soon with winter anyway. Might as well give them away to our hero of hour," he gave said. "Would you like to come in? There's should still be some coffee in the pot."

"I don't want to impose."

"No imposition," he opened the door and stepped aside, making Jason do the same, so she could go first. "Forgive the clutter," he asked as she went inside. "My partner has yet to discover what clothes hangers are for," his exasperated tone made Jason giggle. While he was talking, Ianto scooped the big blue coat up off the banister. "Kitchen's through there," he nodded. "Help yourself to a cup of coffee. We'll be back down in a tick… Jack…!" he hollered up the stair. "We've company! If you're not dressed, please put a shirt on…"

(Sara blinked, but kept a straight face, even as her mental picture of Mr. Ianto Jones' life rearranged itself in her mind again.)

Ianto turned back to Jason. "Let's get you washed up."

"Can you do it, Yan? Please."

The child's plea made Sara stop and give them a second look until she heard the Welshman's soft chuckle. It was anything but unkind. "As scared of your Papa's first aid skills as the rest of us?" he asked the boy.

"I heard that!" called a male voice with an American accent form somewhere upstairs.

Ianto gave her another warm smile, promised they'd just be a few moments, and said that she should help herself to coffee.

Feeling a little awkward, Sara made her way into the strange kitchen. It was painfully neat. There were cups hanging from pegs over the counter… coffee in the pot. It smelled heavenly.

She was just pouring herself a cup when she heard the American voice behind her. "At least he has good taste."

Sara whirled around startled. The man standing there with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face was wearing just trousers, a white t-shirt and suspenders.

"I beg your pardon?" she queried in his direction.

"If Ianto's going to start inviting in strangers into our house, at least he picked someone as pretty as you," he raised his eyebrows slightly. "Captain Jack Harkness," he said by way of introduction, striding forward, extending one hand towards her.

She accepted his handshake, although she wasn't quite sure what to make of his comment. "Sara Sidle."

"An American."

"You too."

One side of his mouth quirked up just a little higher; he got himself down a mug and filled it with coffee. "So what brings you to Cardiff, Miss Sara Sidle?"

She hesitated… but it seemed like an innocent enough question despite the look on his face. "I needed to make some changes in my life."

Jack's smirk warmed into a genuine smile, "Cardiff is a good place for that."

"Only if I can find a job," she leant against the counter keeping a respectable distance between them. It was hard to tell if he was actually flirting or if it was just some act that had been so well practiced he didn't know how to drop it. A quick glance at his left hand revealed that he was indeed wearing a wedding ring, just like she'd expected.

"What do you do?" he asked.

Instead of answering the question, she told him that she was looking for something new. "Something different," she added.

"Any ideas what you're looking for?"

"Not really."

He leaned in a little closer. "What're you good at?"

His tone made that sound like a come on, but the look on his face betrayed nothing but sincere interest.

She still found herself blushing. Or maybe it was his aftershave… "My degree is in physics. I ended up going into forensics after college," she gave the simplest answer she could. "But… I'm tired of dealing with death. Tired of not being able to help the victims."

He raised an eyebrow.

She just shrugged. "I got burned out."

"Where'd you go to school?"

She shot a wary look.

"We've got a friend who's a… hmm… I think all around forensics goddess is her current title," Jack explained.

"That's quite a title."

"She's quite a goddess."

Sara regarded him a moment more, sipping her coffee, before answering the initial question. "I went to Harvard but did my graduate work at Berkley."

"I love California," he said with a winsome smile.

"I would have pegged that accent as more mid-west," she observed.

He chuckled, "Illinois. But I've done a bit of travelling. You?"

"This is my first time outside the U.S. It's the furthest I've ever been from home." Not that she felt as if she knew where home was any more.

"Home isn't necessarily the place you're born," he commented, as if understanding her expression and the thoughts behind it.

She just shrugged again and they lapsed into a brief exchange of small talk until Jason came bounding into the kitchen and straight into his father's arms.

"Hey there, Buddy!" Jack scooped him up. "I hear you had spill… nice job picking up a pretty lady, though," he added in a not-quite-hushed voice, shooting a wink at Sara that made her blush a deep shade of crimson, although she had no idea why.

Ianto groaned and rolled his eyes, "Please don't frighten the neighbours, Cariad. It's too early in the morning."

"Does that mean I can frighten them later on? Tonight maybe…?" he flashed a lascivious smirk in the younger man's direction, his eyebrows raised suggestively.

Ianto made a point of ignoring him. "Thank you again, Sara."

"I didn't really do much, but you're welcome. And you," she took a step closer to Jack and Jason, her attention focused on the child, "be more careful next time, ok? I don't want to have to pick you up off the sidewalk again."

Jason nodded.

Ianto cleared his throat, fixing him with a stern look.

"Thanks for helping with my bike, Miss Sidle," he said a little shyly.

"You're very welcome."

"All right," the Welshman said, "I have to go…"

"Would you put on another pot of coffee before you leave? Please?" Jack set down his son and pressed his hands together. "Pretty please?"

"I'm late as it is, Jack," he sounded exasperated.

He slid in close, tugging at his partner's lapels until he had the other's lips captured in a kiss. "You could tell them I had you tied up all morning," his tone suggested that he meant that literally. "There are certain advantages to being married to the boss you know," he added with another smirk followed by soft, sensual kiss to his Welshman's lips.

Watching the two men, Sara felt the heat rising in her cheeks. She wasn't used to open displays of affection.

"They're always like this," Jason advised her. "It's gross."

She gave him a more scrutinizing look… but no, it didn't seem as if Jason was bothered by his father and his father's male partner kissing, he was bothered the same way most kids that age were bothered by their parents kissing.

"All right… all right…" said Ianto, in between kisses. "I'll put on a pot, but then I have to go."

"He makes the best coffee," Jack explained to their blushing guest.

"It's the only reason he married me," Ianto quipped back.

"I told you, it was the suit," countered the other. He turned back to Sara, leaning against the counter, his cup still in one hand. "So where abouts are you from?" he asked her.

"Just outside San Francisco originally, but I've lived most of the last few years in Las Vegas."

"Some town," Ianto commented.

"Tell me about it."

"There," said the Welshman, having set up the coffee. He turned to Jack. "Oh… with all the excitement, I almost forgot to mention, your mother called. She won't be home until after lunch, so you two are on your own for breakfast."

"Must've been some hot date she had," he smirked.

"I didn't press the issue."

Jack just continued smirking.

"See you later…"

"Hey," he reached out and caught the Welshman up in another kiss, completely heedless of the stranger standing in their kitchen. "I love you. Take it easy out there today."

"I will. I love you too." After extracting himself from his partner, again, he turned to their guest. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Sara. I hope we see you again sometime…?"

"I'm sure you will." She drained the last of her coffee. She had to admit, it was good.

Ianto nodded and turned to Jason; he wrapped the boy up in a hug. "No more spills, ok? It's bad enough your Papa's always trying to give me a heart attack."

The boy had a smile very much like his father's. "I'll try," he promised.

"Just take it easy. And you two behave yourselves," he shot both Jack and Jason a warning glance that made them both grin, mirrored attempts at innocence that not even a complete stranger found believable.

Then Sara watched Jack watching his partner walk out of the house. The Captain's gaze seemed to take in and caress every inch of the other man...

Jack, having noticed her watching him, just smiled, even when she blushed. "More coffee?" he offered.

"I…"

Before she could refuse, he refilled cup. "I was about to start an old fashioned American breakfast. Care to join us?"

A/N:

I don't know about any one esle's experiences, but watching my own daughter start to call her step father "my Dad" to her friends was one of the most amazing things... she still calls him by name to his face, but the way his face lights up when he hears her talking to her friends...