Ianto took his time as he made his way to the bakery and brought several pastries, he might as well pick up a few spares in case Jack was still there when he got back. He'd also stopped for a coffee since he wasn't in any hurry to rush back when felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Checking the caller ID he smiled faintly. 'Hello Jack.'

'I have slain your dragon. Where are you?'

'Your not very observant Jack, I can see you.' He watched the man turn slowly and smile as he started walking towards him. Ianto tucked his phone back in his pocket and met him halfway.

Jack started to pull him into a hug but he stepped back when Ianto stiffened in his arms.

'We need to talk Jack, that's all.' He handed him a pastry. 'I thought you might like some breakfast.' He let them into his flat, John nowhere to be seen. 'You didn't really murder him did you?'

Jack shook his head as he shut the door and flicked the lock for good measure. 'We exchanged words and he chose to leave.' Leaving out one or two details, like the black eye John was now sporting as he looked around the main room, something was different. There was a painting on a wall where before it had been, naked. 'Did he?'

Ianto nodded. 'It was my favourite, he always had a camera with him and he took a photo of some daisies in a park the very first time we ran together. He gave me that the next day. It was before I started to fall in love with him.' He looked at Jack and wondered if the man was listening to what he was saying. That this painting was not a reminder of the man he loved, but of a man who was his friend.

'I hadn't looked at it or any of the stuff in that room, in over a year. I'd packed it all away and put it into storage after he.' He sighed. 'Well, I didn't want to remember, I wanted to forget. Except I hadn't realised how much I had forgotten myself, how much of me I lost too.' Ianto took a breathe and closed his eyes. Perhaps it would be easier if he couldn't see Jack. 'I thought if I forgot I'd be okay. But it was as if someone had stolen all the colour from my world.'

Jack groaned softly, and he'd over-reacted seeing him sitting there surrounded by memories of his past. 'Ianto -.'

'Mills reminded me of who I used to be, of who I really am.'

It dawned on him, his voice soft, almost as if he was talking to himself. 'The red shirt.'

Ianto nodded.

'I thought.' Jack stopped.

'Did you? Or did you think I wanted someone I buried, rather than the man who was in my bed at the time?'

Jack winced at the chill in Ianto's tone. Perhaps he'd deserved that, he hadn't really thought at all. Rather, he'd reacted as if Ianto was just like John. Getting in before he got hurt, again had become a self fulfilling prophesy. Maybe he wasn't ready for a relationship after all. 'So where does this leave us?' It was killing him to be so close to Ianto and not touch him.

'I'm not sure Jack. Are you going to freak out every time I'm reminded of my past? React as if the devil painted the pictures on my walls because I used to be in a committed relationship with the painter?'

'I don't know.'

'And how many more times is John going to pop into the forefront of your reactions?'

'Yeah, about that.'

Ianto walked around the room and looked back at Jack. 'About that. Okay, I'm listening.'

Jack shook his head. 'He's part of my history, of who I was that made me who I am. He's not in my heart, not any more. There hasn't been room for him for a long time. It just took me a while to catch up to that.'

'And your the only one with a history, with someone who you loved but aren't in love with any more. Is that what I'm supposed to believe?'

Jack sat on the sofa and looked up at Ianto, blue eyes swimming with hope and fear.

Ianto sighed as he moved to sit next to Jack. 'Why are we fighting?'

'So we can have angry make up sex?' Jack flashed a quick grin as Ianto rolled his eyes. He reached out and took Ianto's hand in his. 'I really didn't think I'd be the one freaking out after sex.'

Ianto rolled his eyes again. 'Me either, but I also wasn't expecting John on my doorstep. He's persistent, I'll give him that much.'

'I don't know that I recognise him any more, you know.'

Ianto felt the sadness in Jack as much as he heard it from the words spoken. 'There's a lot of that going around.'

'Can we start again?'

Ianto considered what Jack was asking him. 'How do I know you aren't going to freak out on me, again.'

Jack shrugged. 'You don't, just as I don't know if you wont remember Dylan when your kissing me.'

'Is that what you think I'm doing when we kiss?'

'I don't want to.'

'Jesus Jack, he's gone, I finally said goodbye to him when I unpacked the photo albums he put together.' He watched Jack processing his words, the man was pointing at the spare room and frowning.

'You didn't make the scrapbook album thing.'

Ianto shook his head as if should have been obvious. 'I wasn't the artist, I studied business and worked in the archives of a museum.' He rose to his feet and pulled Jack up with him. 'Come on.' Leading him into the spare room.

'I'm not sure I want to do this Ianto.'

'Do what? Face your competition?'

Jack heard a warning tone in Ianto's voice and decided to see where this was going.

Ianto pulled a painting out of the crate and handed it to Jack. It was a woman laughing.

'Mills?'

Ianto shrugged as he picked one of the photo albums up and flicked though to a photo of five people. He took the painting from Jack and handed him the album. 'That's us, standing outside our flat, although I use the term flat loosely. Mills you've met of course, and me, Dylan. And the other two girls are Sophie and Jen.'

Jack looked from the black and white photo and back to the painting Ianto still held. All three women had shoulder length hair and friendly smiles, like the woman in the painting. 'I don't get it, she could be any one of them.'

'It's just a painting Jack. Canvas stretched over a frame and covered with paint. That's all it is.'

'Not sure I see where your going with this.'

'I'm not sure either. But if you face your fears it's supposed to make them go away, isn't it.'

Jack looked down at the photo again. Dylan, this man had been his emotional competition and he was just an ordinary looking man. 'This would have been easier if you'd been on facebook.' He muttered softly, turning the pages of the album. Most of the pictures were of Ianto, with ticket stubs stuck around theatre programs and paper flowers. There was a colour photo of Dylan and Ianto running in a park, someone had excellent timing as it captured a smile on both men's faces. Dylan was the shorter of the two, where he and Ianto were the same height.

Jack looked at the photo and saw a slight man who looked like a single gust of wind would blow him away. Perhaps no further than he'd already gone. There was another photo of them together, it felt voyeuristic to be looking at photos of Ianto with another man. They looked comfortable and he felt a stab of envy digging into him, into his heart.

Ianto closed the album and put it back in the box it had been packed in. 'They are just memories of who I once was Jack. Was, being the operative word, not who I am now.'

Jack looked at Ianto and smiled. 'Are you saying the past is the past?' He moved his hands up to cup Ianto's face as the Welshman nodded. 'Then, I guess I'm asking you if you think you could fall in love again.' He waited the moment it took Ianto to smile at him before he leaned in and brushed his lips over Ianto's. It was a soft kiss, the merest brushing of hopefulness.

Ianto sighed as he found himself responding to the hint of a kiss, pulling Jack closer as he kissed him back. Hunger dominated as lips met and tongues duelled, each seeking dominance, demanding submission. They pulled apart, panting as each man struggled to catch his breath.

Jack grinned. 'And that was just a kiss.'

'Your very confident this will work out.'

Jack kissed him again. 'That's why.' He looked around him. 'Hang on, are there any naked pictures of you in all this?' He watched as Ianto blushed. 'Really!'

'I lived with an artist Jack, what do you think he used as his muse on occasion.'

'Your penis apparently.'

'Does it bother you that I still talk about him, still have the paintings and sketches?'

Jack considered how to answer that without being thrown out of the flat again. 'I guess I should ask you if it bothers you that I kept John's name, as it were, and he still works for me.'

'I can't pretend it doesn't bother me some, but neither of us are the person we were when we were with them. Who we are is defined by our actions, not just our pasts.'

'Fall in love with me Ianto.'

'I think that could be arranged.'