Ianto sat at the kitchen table watching Jack and Miranda prepare dinner. Jack stood at the counter, spreading mashed potatoes over the shepherd's pie. Miranda had already yelled at him for making rude sculptures with them. He was barefoot, his boots next to the backyard door. His shirt was half undone and his braces hanging loosely about his hips. Ianto had changed into a pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt that he assumed were Jack's, they were a little big on him. He was barefoot as well, his shoes next to Jack's boots. He was using this opportunity to look at the immortal woman more closely. The Irish accent had surprised him since he and Jack were in north Wales. She was a small woman, nearly a half foot shorter than both men but he could tell that there was great strength in the small build. The delicate Asian features were on a backdrop of smooth alabaster skin. The almond shaped eyes were of a deep honey brown, flecked with gold and her hair hung like black satin around her shoulders. He had to admit that he found her stunning. I'm surprised Jack hasn't suggested a threesome yet, he thought with amusement.

No one would have believed him if he'd told them that Jack was the one who did most of the cooking. He hadn't been surprised when they'd both refused to let him help with dinner and Ianto felt a little guilty sitting at the table while they worked but he was enjoying watching Jack and Miranda interact. The only time he'd seen Jack so relaxed and himself was when they were alone. It was refreshing to see him so comfortable with someone who wasn't, well, him. The two moved around the kitchen and each other with practiced ease, chatting about old times. Jack was clearly familiar with this kitchen's layout and knew where everything was. Ianto wondered when they had lived here together and for how long.

He was still digesting Miranda's existence, both as Jack's wife and as an immortal. When he'd first learned of Jack's immortality, the concept of one immortal man had sent his head spinning. When he'd learned there were other immortals, he'd been astonished. Miranda had been right. Ianto couldn't comprehend immortality, Jack's or her's. Torchwood notwithstanding, Jack's immortal existence was fairly free from danger. Miranda was in constant peril. The evidence was hanging on a hook by the refrigerator; the sword that never seemed to be more than an arm's length away.

He'd known that Jack had been married before. Jack had confided the fact to him after Gwen's wedding. Ianto had returned to the Hub to check on Jack and had gone up to the man's office to tease him about the confetti by the cog wheel door. He'd found the older man nostalgically gazing at a black and white photo. Jack's face had been distant when he'd told Ianto that his wife had died. Curious, Ianto had done some digging on his own. His heart had broken when he'd discovered the yellowing police report detailing the suicide of Wilhelmina Harkness, who had thrown herself off the Menai suspension bridge.

After Gray and the bombs, Jack had been reluctant to hire anyone to fill their ranks. The loss of Tosh and Owen was still a fresh wound, angry and red. But it was clear that the three of them couldn't handle the rift alone. By the time two months had gone by, the three of them were utterly exhausted. Jack never slept much but Ianto knew that he hadn't even been trying. One night, he'd been unable to sleep. Gwen had been hospitalized not for an injury, but for dehydration and exhaustion. He'd climbed the ladder to Jack's office to find the older man sitting behind his desk, with an orange folder open in front of him. The orange color indicated it was an employee file… an inactive one, which in Torchwood's case always meant deceased. Ianto had caught Jack looking at such files on and off for the past week or so. He'd assumed that Jack was being nostalgic, remembering other Torchwood operatives who had come and gone.

"We're going to Caernarfon," he had said that night, pouring himself a small measure of scotch and downing it in one gulp.

With Gwen still in hospital, Jack had called UNIT for a favor… two favors; Martha Jones and Mickey Smith. Ianto hadn't been sure what was worse, having UNIT know they needed help covering the rift or being told they were heading to north Wales to offer Jack's immortal ex-lover a job, who, Jack warned, might be very unhappy to see him. Will may shoot first and not bother asking questions, he'd said.

It had been that phrase that had caused the preverbal lightbulb to go off in Ianto's head.

He believed her when she said she didn't want to come between them and that her and Jack were just friends. Ianto couldn't deny he was jealous of their long… friendship? Still, it comforted him to know that when he was gone, Jack would have Miranda either as a friend or lover, that there would be someone in his life he wasn't in danger of losing so easily.

Jack put the shepherd's pie into the oven to brown and tossed the tea towel in his hands onto the counter with a flourish. "Done and done."

"Still showing off, I see," Miranda said with a laugh.

Jack turned to Ianto and asked, "Do I show off?"

"A bit," he replied with a laugh.

"Can you two not gang up on me?" Jack whinged.

"No," they replied in unison. The two of them went into fits of laughter at the pout that crossed Jack's face.

Wiping her eyes and reaching for her sword, Miranda said, "I'm going to go collect some things from the garden for a salad. You boys behave."

"Yes, Mum," they chorused at her.

After she'd disappeared out the back door, Jack turned to Ianto and said, "Sorry about this, it's not for long."

"There's no need to apologize, Jack," Ianto replied. "She's right. We need the break."

Jack nodded and said, "There was no way she was going to let us leave. I didn't expect her to agree to come back so easy. When she left back in '05, things with us were… tense. Ianto, Will and I-"

"You don't have to explain, Jack," he said, quickly trying to spare his lover the discomfort of explaining what he already knew.

"No, Ianto. I do. I just don't know how."

Jack scrubbed his hands over his face and Ianto decided it was time to come clean. He knew Jack would panic at first but would settle down in a few minutes. He stood up and glanced out of the kitchen window. Miranda was fixing her tomato plants. He figured she'd be a while. Not turning around, he took a slow deep breath.

"I know who she is, Jack" he said quietly. "I know she's your wife."

And there it was, the look on Jack's face was pure panic followed by something Ianto didn't expect, anger.

"She told you?!" Jack said hotly.

"No, Jack! I figured it out on my own."

"How…?"

"The archives," he said simply. "It's okay, Jack. She and I… we talked."

The look of panic returned.

"Nothing bad, Jack, honestly! She… explained things. From her perspective. It was… enlightening."

"She's my ex-wife, Ianto."

"I believe the term is 'late wife', Jack," he deadpanned before he could stop himself. "Shit! Jack, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"No, I deserved that," Jack sighed. He looked out of the kitchen window, gazing at Miranda. His face was full of shame and sadness. "No matter how hard you try not to, you meet someone, you make assumptions. When I met Will, I'd just come back from the war, one not two. I was out for a walk and saw her being harassed by a pair of big rough looking guys in an alley. I thought I'd sweep in and save the day. By the time I got there, Will'd managed to knock one unconscious and dislocated the other one's knee."

"You saw a strong willed young woman in the early 20th century who kicked the arses of two blokes twice her size," Ianto said understanding, "and she saw a young soldier just returning from war who tried to save her from being raped."

Jack nodded. "She didn't see me for who I was and I didn't see her. We both fell in love with illusions; with lies based on the wrong assumptions," he said with a frustrated gesture, "and it tore us apart."

"You still love her," Ianto said simply.

Jack strode over to him and cupped his face in his hands. He looked deep into Ianto's eyes, his expression softening. Ianto could tell Jack was trying to pour everything he felt for him into that gaze and his breath caught in his throat.

"Not the way I love you," Jack said softly, pulling Ianto into a tender kiss.

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