Thank you to everyone who is still reading and reviewing. Special thanks to Marian Locksley for brilliant advice, suggestions and filling plotholes.

Jack lingered at the very back of the church. He hated churches. Hated what they symbolized, when he'd seen the darkness beyond life so many times. False hope, it seemed to him. But he'd had to come. Had to. Had to see if it helped, being with other people who were mourning Ianto as much as he was.

At the front of the church, the woman from the photos in their bedroom. The sister he'd been supposed to meet. Before the world ended. His world, anyway.

The words of the service floated meaninglessly through his head. It wasn't helping. But it was better than most Torchwood funerals. At least this family had a body. The right body. He'd made sure of that. Protocol had directed that even though the Torchwood 3 morgue was a crumpled mess somewhere in the bottom of that crater, the employees' body should be placed in government storage. But Jack was still leader of Torchwood 3, he'd claimed his beloved Welshman's body for his family, and sent the bureaucrats a cryo-corpse. Hadn't told anyone. Not even Gwen. Perhaps that was why she hadn't come to the funeral.

The service ended. Jack watched hungrily as the family departed. They were going to be my family, he thought brokenly. Ianto had it all planned. The children, David and Micha, he'd have been "Uncle Jack" to them. His throat closed again. Like he'd been to Stephen. They were better off without him.

He waited off to a side, giving them all time to get to their cars. He still had the ostentatious black sports car he'd stolen. Though by now the theft had been officially converted into a 'required Government seizure' and the owner had a new one. But Jack didn't want anyone to see him using that car, not today. Too frivolous. His eyes burned, remembering Ianto beside him in the passenger seat, wind ruffling his hair. Off to 'stand up to them.' He shouldn't have taken him. He shouldn't…

"Captain Jack Harkness, is it?" Jack turned blurred eyes on the woman who had appeared in front of him.

He nodded. "I am. You must be," he swallowed, remembering how this was supposed to be, how it would never be. "You must be Ianto's sister. Rhiannon."

She nodded. "Didn't want to meet you like this." Tears spilled from her eyes.

"You shouldn't want to meet me at all," Jack said hoarsely. "It was my fault."

"He knew you'd say that," she answered, trying to smile. "That you'd always blame yourself when something happened to him. And he said that I mustn't, whatever happened. So I don't. I want you to know that."

Jack eyes filled. "Thank you."

She turned to watch the hearse depart. "He's with Dad now, at least."

Jack's hands formed into fists. "I hope not," he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

Rhiannon turned back to him, determination in her eyes. "He told you then?"

Jack nodded.

"You were there, weren't you? When he…."

Jack nodded again.

"Did he cry?" she demanded

Jack shook his head. "No."

Rhiannon's face crumpled as if she'd been hit.

"He didn't have to," Jack added firmly. "I did it for him."

Rhiannon swayed on her feet. Jack put an arm around her in unthinking support. She leaned against him. "He did tell you," she repeated. "He trusted you." She pulled away. "That's good enough for me then. Are you coming back to the house?"

"No," Jack said. "Thank you, but no. I can't."

"Tomorrow then," Rhiannon said insistently. "Will you come tomorrow?"

"I…"

"He sent me things," she insisted. "He sent something for you."

The refusal died on his lips. Something for me. Something of his, perhaps. Their flat –their home - had been stripped bare by the time Jack had gotten back to it. Government protocol again – or perhaps even while Torchwood had been in hiding. Nothing left. Nothing tangible of their life together. Not so much as a photograph.

"I will then," Jack agreed. "Thank you."

An ordinary house. Rhiannon met him at the door.

"Come in, Captain Harkness," she invited. Her eyes were still swollen.

"Jack," he offered. "Please call me Jack."

Two children bounded past, herded by a man who was obviously their father. Micha, Jack remembered. David. And her husband was Johnny.

"This him?" Johnny asked coldly, eyes raking Jack from head to toe. "The Boss?"

"Yes," Rhiannon answered. "Jack, this is Johnny."

Jack extended a hand, which was ignored. But Ianto had warned him about Johnny. You'd end up with your fist in his face. He dropped his hand, forcing his face into impassiveness.

Rhiannon sighed. "He loved him too, Johnny," she said firmly.

Johnny grunted.

"Out," Rhiannon ordered tiredly. "If you can't be civil, get out. And take the kids."

Jack waited in silence while the family departed. Not his family. Never would be, now.

"Coffee, Jack?" she asked. "Not up to his standard, but he used to drink it, so it can't be too bad."

Jack forced a smile. She was trying so hard. But all he could think about was how it should have been. Charm them into submission Ianto had said.

"Coffee would be fine," he agreed.

"With a stiffener, perhaps?" She raised a brandy bottle.

Jack nodded. "Thanks."

They settled into two armchairs, with a coffee table between them. On the table, an archive box. Rhiannon smiled thinly.

"He left all this in the boot of my car. Knew it would get returned to me. Clever, he was." Jack wondered if speaking of Ianto in the past tense hurt her as much as it was hurting him.

Rhiannon reached into the box and drew out a velvet bag.

"This is for you," she said, passing it over.

Jack took the bag gingerly. Opened the drawstring and poured the contents into his hand. His throat closed. The stopwatch.

"It belonged to our grandfather," Rhiannon explained. "He and Ianto were very close."

"I know," Jack answered. His hand closed tightly around the metal case, remembering. Lots of things you can do with a stopwatch, Sir. The first time Ianto had stayed with him at the Hub. His eyes closed. I'd wanted him for so long, but he kept making those jokes about harassment, only I wasn't sure they were jokes. I had to back off. But that night with the stopwatch, Ianto had made the first move. Their first time…..

Jack's eyes opened, banishing the memories. The stopwatch was a family heirloom. He had no right to take it. He wasn't family. But somehow he couldn't make his fingers release their grip. "Are you sure?"

Rhiannon nodded. "Granddad gave it to Ianto. It was his to pass on as he liked. And he wanted you to have it. He said so." She leaned into the box again and pulled out a leather bound book. "He said so in here," Rhiannon elaborated.

"His diary," Jack said, eyes hungry. Ianto hadn't let him find that again. Had he written in it, those last few days? Had he forgiven me, really? His hands reached out unconsciously.

"Not for you," Rhiannon warned, pulling it back. "He left instructions in this, for me. Like giving you the watch. And I'm going to follow them. Last thing I can ever do for him. God knows I didn't do enough when he was alive, but I'll not fail him now." She clutched the book to her chest for a moment, breathing heavily, sobs near the surface.

"Sorry," she said, recovering. "But I wanted you to know I had it. That I'd read it. So you'd understand I know everything about – you two. And the work you did. All of it. I know all of it now." She smiled tentatively. "There's a lot of stuff about you in there. Wouldn't let you read it anyway. Give you a swelled head."

Jack hadn't expected to be able to smile yet, but he did. She had the same sense of humor as her brother.

Rhiannon breathed deeply again. "He was a bloody hero, wasn't he?"

Jack nodded. "He was. He didn't think so, but he was."

They finished their coffee in a silence that was beginning to feel comfortable. Jack realized in those few moments that they would have been friends, if they'd had the chance. It would have made Ianto happy.

"What will you do now?" Rhiannon asked eventually.

Jack shrugged. "Travel, I suppose." He passed a hand over his eyes tiredly. "Nothing to stay here for anymore."

"I'd like you to come back." Rhiannon said, fixing him with a determined dark stare. "Keep in touch."

Jack regarded her silently. "I don't think so," he answered finally.

"You must. Just once. Will you?" Brown eyes, not blue, but the same depth of purpose in them

"Why?"

"Something he asked me to do. Can't tell you until it's done. If it works. Will you come back?"

Jack sighed. For him. "All right."

"Four months," Rhiannon directed. "Come back here in four months."

"I'll try."

"No. You must. Promise me you will. He said you never break a promise. Please."

"All right," Jack surrendered. "All right, I promise. Four months from today."

Four weary months. Stuck on an Earth that had grown too small, too dark. Held by a promise. And now he was back. Rhiannon answered the door again.

"I'm here," Jack said. "As promised."

Rhiannon smiled. "Thank you. Come in." She looked different. Tired. And she'd put on weight. Grief did strange things.

The house was silent.

"Kids are at school," she explained. "Johnny's at work."

Same armchair, same coffee table. Coffee, chat. Jack wondered wearily why he was here.

"In his diary," Rhiannon said. "He talked about wanting children. Did you know?"

"I knew he'd planned to have kids with Lisa," Jack admitted. "But…" he trailed off.

"Medical science," Rhiannon commented, "For all its progress, it can't give two men a child, can it?"

Jack shrugged. "We might have talked about adoption once or twice. For the future. Maybe."

"But it wouldn't have been his, would it?" Rhiannon persisted. "You'd need a surrogate for that." Her hand strayed meaningfully to her abdomen.

Jack's eyes widened. Even in the 51st century, some things remained taboo. The extra weight. The tiredness, not just lack of sleep, but….

"You're having Ianto's baby? That's….you're his sister!"

"God no," Rhiannon protested. "I'm having his clone."

…..one more to go….I think.