Chapter 2

The worst part of his relationship with Jack, Ianto had decided, was going home afterward. The captain had made it clear he could stay the night, but he didn't have any extra clothes to put on the next day. And why give Owen any more material to work with? It was nearly two in the morning now, and he hugged his arms to his chest, squinting through the darkness. Jack had obviously offered him a ride home, but he had declined, wanting to clear his head. Owen's hurtful words still echoed in his mind, making his stomach twist.

Fuck Buddy… He still couldn't believe Jack hadn't stuck up for him. But the more he thought about it, the more Ianto began to think that's all he really was. They had sex, he left afterwards, then they would flirt lightly the next day with no mention of the night before. He felt silly for ever thinking he was anything more to the captain. He was a Fuck Buddy, plain and simple.

He wasn't proud, per say, of being put in that situation. If anything, it made Ianto feel appalled at himself. People were always told not to toss their bodies around. That sex was meant for two people who loved each other. Well, he thought grimly, we're halfway there. Then again, he'd decided to forget the Sex-Only-With-Love rule long ago, so he used that thought to finally decide that the situation was okay. That, and he really didn't want to stop. However humiliated he had felt when Owen insulted him, he still loved being with Jack. Despite knowing that he wasn't special because he was having sex with his boss, Ianto didn't think he was going to stop any time soon. It wasn't like he had anyone better.

So caught up in thoughts about his captain and his soft brown hair, hungry blue eyes, and that damned sexy coat, Ianto didn't notice the sleek black car trailing slowly, quietly, behind him. He was too busy picturing Jack naked and panting to notice the vehicle beginning to pull up beside him. And he was certainly too engaged in his daydreams to have noticed that the driver had been following him from the moment he left the door of the tourist center.

"Awfully late to be taking a stroll, isn't it?" Ianto, startled, looked to his right and backed away from the street. A stark-black car was hidden slightly by the night, but was there nonetheless. Leaning across from the driver's side of the car and peeking out the passenger window at him was a curly-haired man with big, dark eyes. He smiled in a friendly manner and looked at Ianto, waiting for a response.

"Awfully late to be taking a drive, too," he said, earning a chuckle from the other man. His voice was deep and smooth, melting through the air and settling warmly around Ianto.

"I work night shift at a factory up the road," he pointed with his thumb. "I'm taking my lunch break." Ianto started to step towards the car, tired of straining to hear him. When he came up to the passenger side, he peered in at the man, taking in his old-looking black sweatshirt and faded jeans. His curly hair was dark brown, matching his ebony eyes. They stared back at him, almost invisible in the night. "Why are you out so late?" The man's voice was barely above a whisper, and he squinted up at Ianto curiously. His mind whirled as he tried to think of a reasonable explanation, though it was hard to think at all while he was so groggy. It was two in the morning, after all.

"I, uh, was working late up at the tourist center. Just closed up a little while ago and thought I'd head home." That was believable, right? He studied the man's face closely, waiting for an indication that he thought he was lying. Luckily, there was none.

"Hop in. I'll give you a ride," he said, sitting back in his own seat. Ianto leaned down to look in at the man, ready to protest politely. The man held up his hand, looking at him sternly. "Don't argue, mate. It's late, dead cold, and you don't have a jacket. It's really no problem." Ianto was hesitant for a moment, then nodded submissively. He was incredibly tired, anyway. Sex with Jack had the tendency to wear him out.

"Thanks," he muttered, buckling his seat belt. The car started up, and the man drove off.

Jack was really starting to hate Weevils. The way their dark eyes followed his every move, the way bullets never seemed to affect them for very long, and especially the way their hot, rancid breath felt on his face when they lunged at him. He jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding the mangled teeth of one Weevil. It roared in response, taking a heavy step forward. Behind it, two other Weevils stared straight at him, exposing their fangs and hunching over, ready to spring.

"Why are there so many of you?" He shouted exasperatedly, pointing his gun at the closest. When the gunshot rang out, echoing in the dark alleyway, the Weevils sprang into action, running directly forward. Jack groaned and turned heel, sprinting off and avoiding boxes and trashcans.

He would have called in the other Torchwood members to help, but it was nearly three in the morning and he had figured he could handle a couple of pests. As he came up to a chain link fence, he wished at least one other person was there to help.

Jack jumped up, wrapping his fingers eagerly around the thin, cold metal. It shook under his weight, trembling back and forth as he tried to get his boot into one of the small diamonds so he could boost himself higher. Just when his fingers curled around the bar at the top of the fence, he felt a heavy weight around his ankle. He looked down, barely catching a glimpse of the Weevil's hungry eyes before he was violently pulled down.

Jack hollered out loudly as his head bounced off of the pavement like a rubber ball. But he set it aside, pulling himself up to stand. His vision was cross, and he strained to see anything clearly, though the strain was futile. Blinking hard, Jack backed away until his spine was pressed against the chain link fence. The metal diamonds dug into the back of his head, pressing against the already-present bruise and making him wince. That was the least of his worries, however, as he began to see clearly again.

The three Weevils roared in unison, sending a chill through Jack's body. As they lunged forward, he stared down the throat of one Weevil, sucking in a deep breath and shutting his eyes, waiting for the familiar darkness.

Ianto stared lazily out the car window, watching the blur of quick-moving trees and homes as he struggled not to fall asleep. That'd be one hell of a story; a complete stranger having to carry him off to bed because he had passed out cold. He felt a blush creeping up just thinking about it. To keep his mind clear, he tugged at his shirt collar and turned to the man beside him, clearing his throat.

"So," he started, catching a quick glimpse at his dark brown eyes before they turned back to the road ahead, "what's your name?" Ianto was slightly startled as he realized he didn't know the man's name. In fact, he hadn't a clue about this man at all. He had gotten into a complete stranger's car, then told him where he lived; his mother would be ashamed.

"Scott Walker," he replied smoothly, sending him a crooked smile. Scott had a sort of beard going on. It was past the stubble stage of facial hair, but not quite at the full-on beard phase. It was sexy. Ianto looked straight ahead, his eyes wide. He hadn't just thought that, had he? He was just tired, that was all. Just tired. "You?"

"Huh?" He looked back at the man, his jaw slack. Scott chuckled.

"Your name?"

"Oh, right," he muttered, pulling again at his shirt collar. Why was it so warm in there? "Jones. Ianto Jones."

"No shit?" Ianto looked over to the man beside him, furrowing his brow. Scott had a peculiar look in his face, like he was so shocked that that was his name.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, no," he quickly replied, looking ahead at the road again. He couldn't manage to get rid of the goofy grin on his face, though, which made Ianto kind of nervous. "It's a nice name. Ianto Jones," he stretched out the syllables, trying on the name for size. He nodded approvingly, smiling at him in a friendly manner. His teeth were incredibly straight, the Welshman noticed.

He looked back out the window, deciding that fighting slumber was better than the awkward chat with the stranger. The moment he began to watch the houses, however, his felt his eyelids start to grow uncomfortably heavy, and he battled to keep them open.

"So you work night shifts at the tourist help center?" Ianto jerked his head up and blinked several times, trying immensely hard to stay awake. It took him a moment to realize the man had spoken to him.

"No," he said, yawning. "I mean, I work day shifts, just sometimes I work really late." He glanced out the window, noticing that they were, thankfully, nearly at his home.

"You must have a mean boss," Scott said, his voice unusually somber. When Ianto looked over, the dark eyes were staring at him inquiringly. The Welshman looked away again, getting an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"No, he's alright," he muttered, leaving it at that. The black car pulled up into his driveway, much to his relief. He mumbled a quick thanks and grabbed the door handle, stopping only when a large fist wrapped around his other wrist. He followed the huge arm over to Scott, who was smiling with his very white, very straight teeth.

"Are you free tomorrow for lunch?"

"Um…"

"Why don't I come and pick you up, and we can go have a bite to eat? Your lunch time, of course. I promise I won't show up at your doorstep at two in the morning," he insisted, chuckling deeply. The sounded vibrated throughout his body, even passing through his hand to Ianto. The tremor sent a small shiver down Ianto's back, though he wasn't sure why.

"Uh," he was about to argue, but he knew Scott would persist, and he wasn't awake enough to dispute convincingly. With a sigh, he nodded slightly, making the other man grin.

"Good. I'll pick you up, then." Ianto nodded, getting out of the car and shutting the door behind him. Even as he opened his front door and listened to the black car drive off, he couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Scott seemed like a nice enough guy, though he was perhaps just a tad pushy; but that didn't explain the small fear hiding in his gut.

Deciding to ignore it, Ianto shut his door and shuffled off, glad to be able to go to bed.

That first breath always hurt the most, Jack thought as he sucked in a lungful of air. It seared down his throat, setting off all of his newly awakened nerves and making everything expand painfully. After being dead for a little while, his body tended to get pretty comfortable, becoming stiff and silent. That first breath always intruded on that comfort; it moved everything that didn't want to be moved.

He groaned as he sat up, stretching his aching muscles and tensing every time something cramped. No matter how many times he died, he'd never get used to feeling like he did now. His body tingled with every movement, and his skin felt like it was stretching out. When he stood, pinpricks picked obnoxiously at his feet. He looked down at himself and sighed.

"Well, damn," he muttered, pulling at the tattered, bloody clothing; nothing was intact. His white undershirt was still sticky with the red substance, and it clung to his chest like a nuisance. His pants were ripped and torn down the sides, splattered with blood and God-knows what else. He tugged at his blue button-up shirt, which was completely soaked in blood and littered with Weevil bite marks. Even his beloved coat had clumps of dried Jack all over.

He was afraid to look down, but he knew he had to. Much to his dismay, Jack was standing in a deep pool of crimson liquid, and he hated reminding himself that it was his own. The Weevils had really done some damage to him.

"Mess with me, fine," he said with a frown. His finger slipped into a hole at the crook of his elbow, and beneath it he felt his own flesh. "But lay a finger on my coat, and you've just crossed the line."

For the first time since the painful first breath, Jack looked up, staring at the sky. It was brighter than it was before, though it still couldn't be any later than five in the morning. He gave himself one more glance, then shrugged and walked off, trying to ignore the crude scent he was emitting. He only hoped nobody would stop him on the way back.

He had most definitely lost the three Weevils. As he walked through the streets, there was no sign of them. No screaming, no chaos, and no frightened people running for their lives. Actually, he was the only atypical thing around. He still couldn't get a grip on why there were suddenly so many of the damned things. They were usually fairly good at keeping out of the way; they'd just stay in the sewers or something. Even when they did come out, they'd stay somewhere relatively deserted. But these Weevils were just roaming around the streets. He just didn't get it.

As he stepped up onto the invisible lift, Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He paused, his eyes sweeping the layout ahead of him. Everything seemed normal, apart from one thing. He pretended to ignore it, but the sleek black car not one hundred meters away seemed to blare at him that something was wrong. He pressed a small button, and the lift began to descend. As his head disappeared under the pavement, he couldn't help but wonder if the person in the car could see him, and wonder what they were looking for.

"I need him."

"I'm working on it; it'll be just a little longer."

"How much longer?"

"I need a little more information, then I'll get him. I just need some time."

"We'll have all the time in the world once we've got him."

"I know; that's why I'm doing this in the first place."

"Just promise me you'll hurry. Please."

"Fine, I promise."

"Good. Now go."