A/N:

I almost lost these next three chapters while editing them so I decided they would be safer here (out of my hands) even if I don't like how they turned out. On the plus side, while trying to retrieve them I found a much shorter fic I started at some point that just needs an ending so that might be a good palette cleanser before the sequel to this begins. As always - thanks for your support!

Chapter 22 – Putting the F U Back in Funeral

Everyone gave Ianto a wide berth for the next day and a half. Eventually. Gwen offered her condolences, explained to Ianto why his feelings were inappropriate, and spent the next hour sobbing in Jack's office after Ianto told her exactly what he thought about her much touted empathy. After that, everyone gave him space.

The funeral was scheduled to begin at 10. Ianto picked up Dylan and Tom and they arrived at 9 expecting Dave's son Rick and his family to be there. They weren't. Ianto wasn't sure what the turnout would be like so he was pleasantly surprised to find several dozen mourners arrive by 9:30. Ianto, Dylan, Tom, Ice Cream, and Mick were discussing the turnout when Rick, his wife, and their two children finally arrived. Rick glared at them and went to speak to the funeral director. A few moments later Ianto spied Sid and his granddaughter Amy.

It was ten till ten when Ianto finally sat down next to Tom. He was barely seated when he felt someone sit down on the pew next to him. Too close to him. Rudely close, thigh against thigh, to him. He decided not to look, but couldn't pretend the man wasn't there as a hand shot out across him to meet Tom's in a handshake.

"Good to see you again, Tom," Jack said placing his left hand on Ianto's shoulder for balance.

"Jack! I'm glad you could make it," Tom said clearly surprised by the other man's attendance.

Ianto couldn't ignore him any longer and turned to look at him. Instead of his usual uniformed style, Jack was wearing a black suit, a white shirt, and a black and blue tie. Ianto was impressed. He was also touched that Jack would go to such effort.

"I only met Dave a few times, but he seemed like a real standup guy. I thought it was only fitting I should come and pay my respects," Jack said sincerely.

The service was short. Dave wasn't an especially religious man and they had all agreed Dave was the first one to complain about long funerals. He'd also be the last to make it to the graveside service especially during his smoking years. They also agreed, with endearment, he was the first to get to the pub afterwards.

After the service, Ianto took Jack aside before going to the cemetery for the grave side service. He wasn't sure why Jack had taken the time to come, but he was glad he had and he wanted to make that clear to him. He didn't want to apologize to him, but, as was the dynamic in their relationship, he knew he probably would.

"You put together a nice funeral," Jack said.

"The very expensive flowers I picked out for you to send came out well."

"Thanks to you the florist must think I have excellent taste," Jack replied.

"It was very kind of you to come, sir," Ianto said to keep from saying something inappropriate.

"Well, Dave seemed like a nice guy and he was your friend so it seemed appropriate to come. Besides, how often do I get to rub elbows with people who think I'm a mafia don?" He smiled and Ianto felt the familiar yearning to be closer to Jack.

Jack put a hand on Ianto's shoulder and he could tell Jack wanted to touch his face. Ianto appreciated Jack's restraint, but it made him want to hold him even more.

"And you were there for me at Estelle's funeral. I know how death affects you. I know a part of you feels guilty for still being alive. I'm here to say I'm here for you and I'm glad you're alive." Jack squeezed Ianto's shoulder. Ianto wanted nothing more than to have Jack's arms around him. He silently cursed his weakness. Jack's words did little to assuage his guilt, but the effort gave him hope that maybe someday there would be a brighter day.

"It was nice of you to borrow a jacket appropriate for the occasion," Ianto said brushing off invisible lint from Jack's lapel.

"As a matter of fact, this happens to be mine. I asked your friend Sid to make it a little less 1986. He was able to rework the lapels and cuffs and here I am looking good enough to wake the dead."

"That's in rather poor taste, sir," Ianto said raising an eyebrow. "Sid did make a miracle happen, though," he added.

"You were wrong about his granddaughter, by the way. Yes, she hates you criminal types, but she's also got a thing for one bad boy in particular," Jack winked. Ianto winced.

"Jack! Please tell me you didn't! You have no restraint..."

"Hey," Jack interrupted. "I didn't! I could have. You know if I turned on the charm I could have anyone, but I was a good boy. I meant she has a thing for you." Jack poked two fingers into Ianto's chest. "Apparently after hearing about you from your chums, she has the image of you as a tragic, romantic figure. Women her age really go for that. You should practice that pensive, distant stare look. She'd probably swoon over that."

Ianto rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. It would be so easy to tell Jack that Ianto wasn't interested in attracting Amy or anyone else. He knew on an instinctual level that Jack didn't want to hear Ianto's declarations of love. Ianto was glad he'd managed to get by with his declaration of adoration. He assumed Jack thought he was joking, but knowing he'd said it, regardless of how Jack took it, made him feel a little better.

"We need to get a move on, Jaunty," Dylan said stopping Ianto from struggling through the conversation with Jack. Dylan gave him a strange look. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Uh, no..." Ianto fumbled.

"I was just giving him some tips on wooing women," Jack said. "He has a secret admirer," he stage whispered. Dylan chuckled.

"Good for you lad," Dylan said. "I don't know what I'd do without my Erzsi. It's good to hear you're up to dating again."

"Oh no no," Ianto quickly corrected. "I never said that. Jack thinks it's funny to tease me. Don't encourage him." Jack opened his mouth to say something and Ianto held up a hand. "And you can stop right there. This is hardly the time or the place to mock my social inadequacies."

"Fine, I'll wait and mock you later. Dylan, sorry about your friend," Jack said shaking Dylan's hand. "I've got to get back to work. I'll call you if we need you and I expect you to call me if you need me, understand Soldier?"

"Yes, sir," Ianto said. "We probably should get to the cemetery. I'll see you later, sir." Ianto caught Jack's brief smile and knew he understood what he meant. Beyond a promise of later sexual thrills, it was Ianto's way of apologizing and Jack's way of accepting. Ianto marveled at their silent communion and how they seemed to communicate better when they didn't speak.

The graveside service was brief, but as a tradition, the old friends and Ianto stayed by the grave until the casket was lowered and the grave filled.

"Dave was my best friend," Mick began, "and he was my mentor. I'll miss him more than I can say." Mick swallowed down the emotion so clearly written on his face. He pulled out a silver flask. "We will all miss you, my friend." He took a swig from the flask and passed it to Dylan. They each took a drink and when the flask returned to Mick he poured the rest of the contents on the grave.

The Dragon's Tale was a traditional pub. Ianto had never been there, but based on stories Mick and Dave told he had a slight feeling of déjà vu when he walked in. When Mick was first starting out, the Dragon was one of his first jobs. In exchange for 'insurance', Mick 'encouraged' the owners to buy their glassware from a particular source. With Dave's help, the potentially adversarial situation became a friendly partnership. At some point Dave and Mick had become silent partners in the pub. They didn't spend as much time there in recent years, but Mick still made the effort to pop in at least once a week.

"Jaunty Jones, this is Paul Jones, everyone favorite publican," Mick said introducing the large man walking out from behind the bar.

"Jaunty Jones! Nice to put a face to the name and voice," the barman said shaking Ianto's hand in a powerful grip.

"It certainly is, Mr. Jones," Ianto agreed trying not to wince as his fingers were smashed together. Paul Jones looked nothing like he expected. He was tall, powerfully built, and Ianto guessed in his early 30s. Ianto had been expecting someone smaller and older. "Did the food arrive alright?"

"It certainly did," Paul enthused. "They set up those heat table things by the billiard table. You know, I just might start hiring them in for like a Friday lunch or something. People are always saying they want more than a cold sandwich for lunch. That might really bring the lunch punters in."

"There was a time when Paulie's mother, God bless her, would be back in that kitchen whipping up a feast anytime day or night," Mick reminisced.

"It's just too much of an expense to run a kitchen," Paul said. "We can make up sandwiches and we have a deep fryer so we get by with some snacks, but it would cost too much to bring the kitchen back up to code, hire a full time cook, stock the food..."

"I know," Mick sighed, "but it doesn't mean I don't miss the old days. I still remember sitting at that booth," Mick said pointing to a booth in the back that was on a platform raising it about a foot higher than the other booths, "with Dave, Big Paul, and Tom trying to get some business done, but stopping every two minutes to taste test some new concoction Sarah came up with." Mick brought his fingertips to his mouth and threw a kiss in the air. "She was an angel in the kitchen."

"You could call her and say hello," Paul said. "She isn't dead, you know." Ianto was surprised to hear that. From the way Mick was talking he assumed she was dead.

"She's in Florida! Might as well be dead! Honestly, Jaunty, can you imagine living with all that sunshine? It must be like living the same day over and over."

"I wouldn't mind suffering through that," Ianto replied.

"You'd be bored in week! You are far too Welsh to really enjoy that kind of happiness," Mick said.

Ianto smiled and scanned the crowd while Mick and Paul chatted. He was happy to see Dave's son on the other side of the bar. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to him, but Ianto felt it was important for him to express his condolences.

"So Jaunty," Paul said slapping him on the back, "what can we get you to drink?"

"Did Dave have a usual drink," Ianto asked hoping it wasn't something unpalatable.

"He liked his bourbon," Mick said. "Back in the day we use to drink Boilermakers like mother's milk."

"Ok," Ianto said thinking one couldn't hurt. "A round of Boilermakers on me so we can give Dave a proper send off." Paul stepped behind the bar and helped his bartender pull pints and pour shots. Mick, Ianto, and Ice Cream handed out the drinks for Dave's salute. Ianto noted Dave's son refused in favor of his lager. Ianto hoped he just didn't drink spirits and not that he was making a statement. His intuition told him it was the latter.

Paul rang the bell at the bar and called for silence. He gave Mick the floor.

"I'd like to thank everyone for joining us in our celebration of Dave's life. As most of you know, he was my best friend. He could be a right pain when he wanted to be, but I'm going to miss him. I…" Mick choked on the words and clutched Ianto's elbow. Ianto immediately stepped in.

"I didn't know Dave as long as I would have liked, but I think that's true for everybody here. We'll always want to hear one more story, play one more hand, or hear him make one more complaint," Ianto said smiling. Several "here here"s and a few chuckles were heard. Ianto held up his beer and his shot. "If Dave were here he'd tell me to stop wasting everybody's time and get to the good part. To Dave," Ianto said as he carefully dropped the shot into the beer mug. There was a chorus of "Dave" and a dozen or so accompanying splashes.

An hour later, Ianto was feeling the continuous drinks people were pressing into his hand as they complimenting him on his speech, thanked him for his efforts in honoring Dave's memory, and told him their favorite Dave stories. He was embarrassed by the number of people who had assumed he was Dave's son or grandson. It reminded him he had yet to speak to Dave's real son. He scanned the room and found him at the bar drinking a shot of what Ianto thought was tequila.

"Hello," Ianto said holding his hand out to Dave's son. "Ianto Jones. I'm terribly sorry for your loss." He glared at Ianto's outstretched hand.

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you? You seem to have made yourself a nice little place in his life," he said angrily slurring his words. Ianto bit his lip and tried to think of something to say. Rick plowed on before Ianto could think of anything. "I hear you're the one responsible for that ridiculous funeral. Maybe I should send you the bill! I don't know where people like you come from dropping in and making yourself at home in other people's lives…" Rick picked up his beer chaser and drank a healthy gulp giving Ianto an opportunity to speak even though he still wasn't sure what to say.

"He was my friend, Rick. I liked him. We've already paid for his funeral so don't worry about the expense. And," Ianto added trying not entirely successfully to sound bitter, "people like me have to make ourselves at home in other people's lives because we don't have the luxury of family and happiness on our own."

"Oh poor you! How your life of crime has made you suffer! You probably expect me to say I don't want your blood money burying my father, but you know what? It's fitting! He was a thieving, untrustworthy bastard when he was alive so it's fitting for it to follow him to the grave," Rick spat, literally, at Ianto.

"I think you've had enough to drink," Ianto said grabbing his arm none too gently as he signaled the barman. "Spirits and grief clearly don't agree with you."

"How dare you," Rick said pulling his arm out of Ianto's hold.

"Let's go outside and get some air," Ianto said as he realized everyone was staring at him.

"Everything alright," Mick said forcing himself between Ianto and Rick. He put a friendly arm around each man's shoulders. Before Ianto could respond, Rick pushed Mick away. He stumbled and landed on the floor.

Ianto stepped into the space vacated by Mick and grabbed Rick by his jacket lapels.

"Watch it," Ianto said in a dangerous voice. "Maybe we should step out for something other than air."

"It's fine, Jaunty," Mick said as two of the guests helped him up. "Rick is just upset. No harm, no foul. He's working through his loss."

"Ha," Rick exclaimed. "And what would you know about working? You're as useless as my old man! Neither one of you did an honest day's work in your pathetic lives! It won't be long before you're burning in hell right next to him!"

"Right," Ianto said forcing Rick's arm behind his back and pushing him towards the door. "Time for us to have that little chat outside." Ianto manhandled him through the door and gave him a shove. "I don't care what your issues are, but you are going to calm down, go back in there, and remember the occasion."

Rick turned and caught Ianto by surprise with a right hook to his left eye. Ianto reacted and punched Rick in the abdomen. Another punch to his kidney made Rick's knees buckle. Ianto bent down to help him up, but Rick sucker punched him in the mouth. He didn't have a lot of force behind the punch, but he did manage to split Ianto's bottom lip. Ianto hit him with a left jab quickly followed by a right roundhouse. Rick was on the sidewalk puffing.

"I don't know what your issues are," Ianto said smoothly standing over Rick, "but at the moment, I don't care. You're going to either get up, get some manners, and get in there and apologize to Mick or I can call you a taxi."

Ianto offered Rick a hand, but he refused it.

"I think you broke my ribs," he finally huffed wrapping his arms around himself.

"Not hardly," Ianto answered. "Mind you, if you don't change your attitude I could."

"I didn't take you as, what do they call it, 'muscle' especially after seeing you with your boyfriend at the service." Rick struggled to get up and finally accepted Ianto's help.

"He's not my boyfriend. He's my boss. He'd probably shoot you if he heard you say that." Ianto wondered if anybody else had made that kind of observation.

"Pretty friendly for a boss," Rick said leaning against the brick building. Ianto was a little concerned it was taking so long for the man to get his breath back, but not enough to completely alleviate his annoyance.

"He's American," Ianto said.

"Ah," Rick nodded. "I thought it must have been something. Are you going to kill me for thinking you were gay? My dad would have."

"Comes with the territory of being neat, well dressed, and polite," Ianto said. "If I killed everyone who jumped to conclusions I'd have to buy ammo in bulk." Ianto didn't mention he already bought ammunition in bulk. Even a hired killer didn't go through as many bullets as Torchwood did.

"I'm not going to thank you for burying my father in that carnival ride casket," Rick began, "but I suppose I should thank you for planning it."

"It was symbolic of his prized Thunderbird," Ianto said.

"Oh," Rick said. "I guess he would have liked that. Still, it didn't look very dignified." He adjusted his tie as he spoke.

"I thought it was fitting and it would have been more undignified to have a funeral that didn't take his personality and style into account." Ianto stepped forward and re-adjusted Rick's tie. He pulled out an extra handkerchief and handed it to Rick and pointed at a smudge on his face. Ianto was glad he had it even if he'd slipped it into his pocket in case he had to offer it to a bereaved funeral goer. Rick looked at his reflection in a window and licked the handkerchief before scrubbing against the smudge.

"My kids hate me," Rick still looking at his reflection.

Ianto cursed whatever it was about him that made people feel not only comfortable enough around him to tell him their secrets and inner demons, but the need to confide in him. He placed a well-practiced hand on Rick's back.

"I'm sure they don't hate you. Family dynamics are always more complicated than that. I'm sure you don't really hate your father or," Ianto quickly added as the man stiffened, "at least, you don't only hate him. I hated my father, but especially after he died, I found I did love him. I didn't like him, but he was my tad. You'll probably get there eventually."

Ianto tensed as Rick abruptly turned to him. He was prepared for another round of violence, but Rick grabbed him in a hug and cried on his shoulder. Ianto patted the man on the back and after a few moments the man stopped crying and pulled away with an apology for being a soppy drunk. Ianto suggested they go back inside and Rick allowed him to steer him back to the door.

With the emotional outburst over, Rick was able to listen to a few funny stories about Dave and even shared a humorous story about Dave teaching him how to drive then teaching him how to outdrive the cops. Ianto felt a pang of guilt as Dylan talked about how energetic Dave had been in his last few days. Dylan insisted it was a kind of gift from the Universe or God or Nature so Dave could truly enjoy his final days. Everyone agreed. Outwardly, Ianto agreed, too. Inwardly, he thought the split lip and lightly blackened eye wasn't nearly punishment enough for his part in Dave's death.