2.

With a shocked cry, Ianto sat up in bed, unable to breathe due to the tightness in his chest and gasping for air. He felt the pain of the knife twisting in his gut and clutched his stomach before he turned toward the side of the bed and wretched. Holding up shaking hands, he expected to find them covered with blood, only they were clean. Not a drop anywhere. It had all been a dream.

He shuddered, his body shaking uncontrollably as he stared around the dark room. It had seemed so real, felt so real. His heart was racing and his body ached from the thrust of the knife, the fall to the floor. The image of Jack, standing over him with a bloody knife, was stained on the back of his eyelids, and he pressed his palms against his eyes with a sob, trying to erase the nightmarish vision.

And then Jack was there, sliding down the ladder into his bunker and leaping toward the bed, sitting down next to Ianto and saying something, but Ianto couldn't hear him. His ears were buzzing, and when he opened his eyes and looked into Jack's face, he shied away from the other man's touch, shaking his head and trying not to moan out loud as the image of Jack grinning down at him, knife in hand, overwhelmed him once more.

It couldn't be happening, not after such an amazing night, after everything they'd been through since Jack had returned. Why would he dream such a thing? What in the world was his subconscious trying to tell him?

Ianto took several deep breaths to try and calm his panicked, racing heart. When he glanced up again and saw Jack's face, he almost broke from the hurt and confusion he saw shining out from Jack's eyes. Shaking his head, he tried to climb out of the blankets, but found himself tangled. Jack steadied him with a light touch as he struggled.

"It's all right," Jack said. "Whatever it was, it was a dream. You're here at the Hub, you're safe."

"Right," said Ianto, nodding to try and reassure himself that none of it had been real, and that he was in fact safe. "A dream. A really, really horrible dream."

Jack's hand reached around his shoulder and gently pulled him closer, so they were sitting side by side. Ianto stiffened, the feel of Jack's hands almost repellant after watching them plunge a knife into his chest. "Want to tell me about it?" Jack asked quietly.

"God no," said Ianto, tensing even more. Jack's fingers traced light lines over his arm and shoulders, obviously trying to relax him, as if he were a skittish cat. Ianto wanted to curl into it, but then he remembered the flash of the blade, the pool of blood, the look on Jack's face…

He pulled away, shaking off the blankets and standing up. "I'm fine," he said, though he swayed on his feet and knew he wasn't. The dream unnerved him like few other nightmares had. Jack stood and placed a steady hand at his back.

"What do you need?" he asked. Sometimes Jack really did know what he was doing. Sometimes he was astoundingly clueless when it came to interpersonal relations—Gwen being a prime example—but other times he knew Ianto so well it was almost frightening. Ianto didn't want to be told what to do right now—calm down, take a deep breath, talk to me—he needed control. And he needed the time and space to figure it out himself before he did anything else, including talk about it, which he wouldn't. Jack knew this about him, which was why the dream Jack had been so shocking. The blank look on his face, in his violet eyes, was nothing like the concern flowing from Jack right then.

Ianto shivered, suddenly freezing cold as his overheated body began to cool and the adrenaline surge left him feeling weak. He hurried over to the armchair in the corner and began pulling on his clothes from the day before, trying not to shake. Jack was watching carefully, clearly wanting to help but also still giving Ianto his space.

"I need to shower, get clean," Ianto said as he buttoned up his shirt. Jack nodded.

"You can use mine—" he started, and Ianto's head snapped up, eyes wide.

"No!" he said, unable to stop himself from glancing toward the ensuite, imagining the blood swirling into the drain as he died.

Jack knew. Or rather, he sensed that whatever had upset Ianto had something to do with the bathroom. He moved slowly toward Ianto, as if telegraphing his moves to a nervous colt, then stood blocking the view to the door. "Do you want me to take you home?" he asked.

And somehow that thought terrified Ianto even more. Yes, his dream had taken place in the Hub, but the Hub was in fact where he felt safest. And If he admitted it to himself, Ianto didn't want to be alone with Jack, not at his flat where no one could help him if Jack pulled a knife from behind his back. Which was ridiculous, of course, but the vision was still strong in his mind.

Ianto found himself staring at Jack, who was watching him with a look of deep concern. Ianto shook his head, forced himself to answer.

"No, I'd rather stay. I'll use the communal showers."

"Do you need…do you want me to come with you?" Jack asked. He sounded hesitant, and Ianto wondered if Jack had sussed out that the bad dream not only had something to do with the shower, but with Jack himself. He hoped not. He didn't want something so trivial as a bad dream to come between them now. It was a nightmare, nothing more. Jack would never hurt him.

"I'll be fine," Ianto replied, and offered what he knew was a poor attempt at a smile. "I do want to get clean, after all, not dirty again."

"Hey, I'm perfectly capable of keeping my hands to myself in the shower," Jack protested as Ianto turned and started up the ladder. He was starting to feel more calm, and knew a return to their normal banter would help settle him even more.

"I doubt it," he called down, and was glad to hear Jack laugh. It was much better than frowns and concern. The weeks since Jack had been to Hell had been filled with them as Jack had often fussed over him, and Ianto didn't want to add to it. Just like he didn't want to think about the dream and what it could possibly mean.

Hurrying through the Hub, Ianto tried to put it from his mind, but the images were so intense, the feeling of betrayal so visceral, that he was breathing hard by the time he reached the showers. He grabbed the toiletries he kept in the locker room they all shared and hurried toward the shower stalls. Tossing his suit carelessly on a nearby bench, he stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water full blast, letting it pound his neck and shoulders.

When it came down to it, he was angry—furious that something as ridiculous as a dream could rattle him so badly. Because as much as he was trying not to think about what it meant, it made perfect sense. Jack, so much more affectionate and attentive since his trip to Hell. And then the dream Jack, cold and distant, stabbing him in the heart. He didn't need a degree in psychology to see it, and seeing it hurt. He'd tried to move past his doubts and fears when it came to this thing with Jack, but apparently not. And he probably never would.

An unexpected noise outside startled him, setting his heart racing. He braced himself, half expecting Jack to come bursting in with a knife. Nothing happened, and he finished as fast as he could, feeling ridiculous for being spooked by nothing more than old pipes. He didn't want to be scared in the Hub. It was supposed to be his safe place, and Jack a pillar of strength for them all, not a murderous boss. Ianto dressed in a clean suit and hurried upstairs, needing to be around others, wanting to feel safe again.

After making coffee and scrounging up something to eat from the kitchen, Ianto knew he should return to the archives to finish the cleanup from the previous day. But he didn't want to be alone downstairs, and though he hated that feeling, he also couldn't shake it long enough to head to the archives. Instead, he did as much cleaning as he could around the main area of the Hub, and when Tosh came in a little while later, he immediately took her the artifact he had placed in containment the night before.

It turned out there had been another small Riftquake that morning, barely enough to register on their instruments. Tosh said it was nothing to worry about, but that the Rift was apparently going through an unstable period which they should keep an eye on. It was certainly not something they needed then, given how tired and run-down everyone was already; hopefully nothing major would come through.

They worked on the cube together for most of the morning. The purple light was still pulsating, as well as a second one right next to it, and Ianto found it fascinating in a sick sort of way; it was as if the cube had a beating heart, though Tosh could pick up no signs of anything on her machines. He helped her with test after test that grew increasingly complicated as each failed to turn up any results, finally giving up when he could barely understand a word of what she was talking about.

He debated going down to the archives, or opening the tourist office. Instead, he stood for a moment looking around, trying to find something else to do in the main part of Hub. When he found nothing, he went to the sofa and sat down with a frustrated sigh. He even leaned back and closed his eyes, the fatigue and anxiety of the morning catch up with him. Violently interrupted sleep was sometimes worse than no sleep at all, which was probably why he was out of sorts. So much so that he jumped when Jack appeared in front of him.

"Lunch break!" he said cheerfully, tossing Ianto his coat. Ianto frowned. Usually he ordered out for lunch and either had it delivered or picked it up while running other errands. He was about to point that out when Jack shook his head, holding out a hand.

"I ordered us some sandwiches, and we're picking them up together. A walk would do you good."

Ianto took the offered hand and stood. "I'm fine, Jack. I can get them up if you like."

"I'd like it if you joined me," Jack said, helping Ianto into his coat. "I haven't seen you all morning."

Which was true. Ianto had barely talked to Jack since leaving his room in such a hurry after waking up. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Jack, or that he was afraid of Jack; but he was uncomfortable nonetheless, all because of an irrational dream.

Gazing at the earnest look on Jack's face, Ianto nodded with a small smile. He realized he missed not talking to Jack all morning—no banter, no flirting, no small touches or inappropriate groping. And maybe Jack was right, that a walk would do him some good. He swallowed any fear of being alone with Jack, telling himself that it was absurd. Jack would never hurt him, and besides, they would be in public, and he was armed. Not that he needed to worry; it had been a dream, nothing more.

Gwen and Owen were out on a Weevil call, so they left Tosh working on the cube and monitoring the Rift. Taking the lift to the street, they were silent until they reached the boardwalk. And then Jack casually took Ianto's hand, not even breaking step, and finally brought it up.

"You want to talk about it yet?" he asked quietly, eyes on the water as they walked along the quay. Ianto thought about it.

"I'm not sure what there is to talk about. I had a nightmare. It's just taken longer than usual to shake it off."

Jack glanced sideways at him. "I'm sorry," he said, and Ianto met his eyes in surprise.

"What for?"

"For it happening," Jack replied. "I know how tough nightmares can be." Ianto squeezed his hand in understanding, and Jack shrugged in response. "And I know it must have had something to do with…well, with Torchwood, or the Hub, or with me. You've been spooked all morning and avoiding me."

Ianto sighed. "I didn't mean to," he replied quietly. "But yes…it had to do with Torchwood, and yes, you were there."

Jack was silent for a long moment as they walked. "Was it about Lisa?" he asked. "The night she died?"

Again, Ianto was surprised. "No, of course not. I stopped having those dreams months ago."

This time Jack squeezed his hand. "Good. I'm glad those stopped." They walked in silence for a bit, until Jack spoke again. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"Yep," Ianto said. "I already feel better being out of the Hub."

"Me too." He paused again, that hint of uncertainty Ianto had heard several times now coming into his voice. "What do you say we go out tonight too? Dinner that doesn't involve leftovers in bed?"

Ianto smiled. "Sounds good. Anyplace in particular?"

"Actually, I was thinking your place," Jack said. He was looking off into the distance, avoiding Ianto's eyes as if unsure of his suggestion, or Ianto's response. "I could make us something, if you didn't mind."

"Mind what, an actual home cooked meal?" Ianto teased. "Or the mess?"

"How do you know I'll make a mess?" Jack asked.

"I've seen you make breakfast," Ianto replied with a laugh, feeling remarkably better after a few minutes outside with Jack. "I can only imagine what the kitchen would look like after dinner."

"It will look amazing," Jack said. "Because I'll clean up, so there." Ianto half expected him to stick out his tongue.

"It sounds great, Jack," said Ianto, and he meant it. Jack cooking him dinner…the others would never believe it. Of course, they probably wouldn't believe half the things he and Jack got up to some days, especially the ones that didn't involve sex of some sort, but Ianto was finding more and more that their relationship wasn't only about sex. It was slightly alarming how normal and domestic they seemed at times, although Ianto doubted Jack felt the same sense of closeness and contentment that he did. Which was probably another reason for the dream he'd had that morning.

Ianto knew he had feelings for Jack, even if he refused to name them. He couldn't even say what it was between them—casual dating, serious relationship, monogamous, open, going anywhere, going nowhere? He couldn't label it because he knew the moment he did it would be over. That was the kind of man Jack was: a man who had forever ahead of him, but who lived day to day with those around him because one day they would all be dead and gone, leaving him with nothing but heartbreak and memories.

Sometimes Ianto wanted to grab Jack and shake him and make him realize that while Jack had forever, Ianto didn't. A part of him wished Jack would commit something, anything, to whatever time they had together. But he had no frame of reference for the scope of Jack's loss over the many decades of his long life, and felt he had no right to make demands. Ianto had lost only Lisa and could understand not wanting to be involved again; he'd felt that way after she'd died. He'd only hooked up with Jack out of loneliness, for comfort, and as Jack had been as broken as him, it had worked.

Jack was the one who'd asked for more, though, and sometimes Ianto resented him when Jack refused to offer it. Still, he was being supportive and understanding at that moment, and had offered to cook Ianto dinner back at his flat. Once again Ianto accepted the present and told himself to stop worrying about the future.

Putting everything from his mind, he decided to enjoy the rare time alone with Jack during the day. He'd go back to the Hub, enjoy lunch with the team, and maybe head down to the archives to finish his work there. He and Jack would go back to Ianto's flat, Rift willing, and enjoy a home-cooked meal and a night off.

And there would be no worries, no nightmares.


The pleasant sensation of a warm body lying on top of him slowly brought Ianto out of a dreamless sleep. He smiled, imagining Jack leaning down to kiss him the moment he knew Ianto was awake, and opened his eyes. He went to stretch his arms and wrap them around broad shoulders, but found them pinned to his side by Jack's strong thighs. So it was that sort of wake-up call, then.

Only when he glanced up at Jack's face, he knew immediately that it wasn't. Jack's eyes were a deep shade of indigo, his face wearing that same blank look as he had in Ianto's dream the previous morning. Ianto immediately struggled to escape, fearing the worst, but the moment he moved, Jack's hands shot forward and wrapped themselves around Ianto's neck.

The same awful smile appeared on Jack's face as he leaned forward, squeezing the life from Ianto. He tried to move, to push him off, but Jack had him pinned in all the right ways by his greater body weight, and was still holding Ianto's arms tight against his side with muscular legs. Ianto kicked his feet and tried to buck his hips, but he had no leverage; he was only expending energy.

Though every bone in his body screamed in panic, he forced himself to relax into the bed, gratified when Jack fell forward enough for Ianto to twist his head and neck, loosening Jack's iron grasp. "Get off me!" he gasped, turning his head back and forth so that Jack couldn't get hold of him again. "Get off, you bastard!"

Jack regained his balance, bearing down. One hand went to Ianto's throat in a violent chokehold, thumb and forefinger pinching hard. The other covered Ianto's nose and mouth. Eyes widening as his only hope for air was cut off, he tried to bite at Jack's palm, to no avail. Jack was pushing hard, pressing him into the bed, and Ianto had no way to force him off.

His lungs began to burn, the instinct to breathe, and then to panic when he could not pull in any air, finally kicking in. He shook his head, eyes wide, but Jack simply stared down at him, eyes impassive, and squeezed harder.

There was no blood swirling away this time. Instead, darkness filled Ianto's vision as he began to lose consciousness. His muscles grew heavy and slack, unable to resist any more, as his body craved air that was not available. Jack was forcing the life from him without a care in the world. It vaguely crossed his mind that maybe it was another dream, but it didn't matter. Jack was killing him, and as Ianto lost consciousness his last thought was once again why.


Author's Note:

Don't worry, they won't all end like this! Or maybe they will, who knows. I'm posting a quick update to whet interest, then I'll be updating every few days as I edit what I have and finish up the last few chapters. Thank you for all the kudos and reviews, I really appreciate it!