Summary: Jack isn't the only Torchwood member with restorative powers. At least, not anymore. Jack/Ianto—Post COE.

Rating: R++ overall, this individual chapter…. PG-15ish?

Warnings for this chapter: Profanity, violence, angst… and that's it for now?

Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form do I claim any ownership over the Torchwood/Doctor Who Universe. This is a slash fanfiction. Don't like it? Don't read it!

Author's note: So, thanks to everyone for bearing with me. My plan is to get this story to about 80,000 words by December… let's see how that goes. Also, I'm adding a new feature to the chapters of this fic, a quote to set the mood. Hope everyone enjoys them—they'll be from pretty eclectic sources.

In this chapter: Ianto gets pissed, Jack gets bombarded and tries to apologize, Lois and Johnson get confused, and Gwen gets hormonal.

Also, much thanks to my new beta, ArizonaGarbage, for helping me get this chapter in viewing condition!

Chapter Eight: The Not So Fainting Violet

"Real life's nasty. It's cruel.

It doesn't care about heroes and happy endings and the way things should be.

In real life, bad things happen.

People die. Fights are lost.

Evil often wins."

Darren Shan, Cirque Du Freak: A Living Nightmare

"Jack?" Ianto was still, even as Jack began to move towards him, his steps faltering and dragging clumsy as if he was learning to walk again. God, could it really be Jack? He idly wondering if that swipe the alien had taken at him a couple of days ago released some sort of hallucinogen in his blood.

He'd reconciled himself with the fact that he would never see Jack again.

Somehow though, he'd forgotten. Forgotten the way the man made his heart pound and ache all over with regret and love and fear of the weight of his feelings. But, now, looking to Jack's devastated face, Ianto was quickly remembering.

"How?" Jack's voice was hoarse. He took another faltering step toward Ianto and the younger man nearly flinched back, unsure that he could keep himself from falling apart if Jack came close enough to touch him.

God, he wanted Jack to touch him again.

"Apparently, you're not the only one fails to find permanence in death," Ianto answered finally, his voice miraculously even despite the emotions storming through his eyes. Despite the way his vision was blurring with tears and the way his limbs began to shake.

Jack took another step forward and Ianto forgot to breathe. Jack was so close to him now. His lover let out a shaky, incredulous, joyous sound. "You-you can't be real. I'm dreaming."

"I assure you," Ianto said back, just as shakily. "I'm quite real. In fact, if one of us were part of a dream, it would undoubtedly be you." Jack had always said he was everyone's wet dream.

Modesty wasn't one of the man's strong points.

Everyone waited with baited breath for the two to finally meet. Even Johnson, who had finally lowered her gun, her threatening posturing long forgotten as the two lovers stared at each other.

Jack was an inch from him and Ianto stopped breathing again. Then he shuddered as he looked into the other man's blue eyes, the achingly familiar heady smell of all things Jack filling his senses and making him dizzy.

He was afraid Jack would touch him. He was afraid Jack wouldn't touch him. Ianto wasn't quite sure which alternative would be worse.

He had no chance to further deliberate on the topic when Jack's hands reached out, clasping onto his shoulders so deeply that it hurt. Their lips met slowly, an achingly innocent slide of mouths. It was everything. It was not enough. It was a catharsis and Ianto could feel himself melting under the delicate touch. He could feel Jack trembling. Or perhaps it was him that was falling apart? Perhaps they were falling apart together.

"Jack," Ianto whispered almost inaudibly against his lover's lips. Lips he knew better than his own. "Jack," he choked out again, emotion swelling inside of him.

"Yan," Jack whispered back so lowly that Ianto felt rather than heard the single syllable. Unable to control himself, Ianto closed his eyes, head tilting helplessly to deepen their chaste kiss.

Then a hair-raising shriek filled the air before Jack pushed him to the floor, jumping over Ianto to shield him from a snarling mass of half-starved Gyve.

The Gyve was strong, yes, but it wasn't very strategic. So when the alien turned her back to Johnson while clawing at Jack, the taciturn woman was able to get quite a few shots in—Johnson certainly wasn't one to balk at shooting her opponent in the back. Unfortunately, however, the adult Gyve was stronger than the "child" they faced before and the bullets seemed to do little more than enrage the alien further.

Jack was already bleeding quite heavily when the alien turned around to roar at Johnson Ianto noted with a sort of shell shocked detachment, although the deep gouges in his lover's shoulders and arms didn't seem fatal. Ianto quickly pulled himself and Jack from the floor, putting distance between them and the threat with practiced ease. Jack's blood was on his hands as he watched the creature bellow and shriek, watching them all warily while clearly trying to decide which of them was the greater threat. The now tall, slender humanoid figure was given no more chance at deliberation when a rather grim-looking Gwen shot it in the head.

As the creature crumbled, momentarily overcome, everyone looked to the two men for guidance.

After a pregnant pause, Ianto began to collect himself, surprised Jack hadn't stepped in with his usual overbearing leadership. Which suddenly made sense when the other man slumped against him, unconscious, but thankfully, not dead.

Ianto's tall, lean frame buckled under the weight of the bulkier man, but he was able to regain his footing well enough to lower them to the ground rather than crashing against it.

Then he took a deep breath, regained his calm, and began to speak.

"Johnson, secure the Gyve for transport back into the cells. The lockdown should be finished soon, and we'll bring it down together. Hopefully…" Ianto hesitated briefly before regaining his stride, "hopefully Jack will have answers as to what Gyves eat. Gwen, tend to Jack while I assist Johnson, please? And Lois, go and shadow Gwen, you haven't had much chance to learn first aid and now's as good a time as any," Ianto finished with a sigh.

Gwen, her slight bulge of her stomach seeming inordinately obvious from his position on the floor, made her way to Ianto and Jack, and Ianto felt a slight feeling of dismay. Gwen could have been injured in this ordeal—her child could have been lost. That was just… unacceptable. Few Torchwood operatives lived long enough to have children, and, whether Gwen liked it or not, her unborn child had just been adopted by the whole of Torchwood Three.

And Ianto would do what he could to make sure Gwen's child was born. Perhaps Jack would have some success in convincing her to take her maternity leave in a few weeks. He couldn't, with good conscious, allow Gwen to put herself and her child in danger for much longer.

God. Jack was here. Now. In his arms.

Resisting the urge to rub at his eyes in helplessness, Ianto disentangled his body from Jack's and made his way over to Johnson, who looked utterly unflappable, but Ianto could detect a bit of uncertainty in her eyes. And Ianto knew exactly why.

A woman like Johnson lived off of 'causes'—she thrived on them. She was a soldier, willing to fight for her chosen commander so long as she knew who that commander was… and now, she was wondering how having Jack back would upset the status quo. She was wondering if Ianto was still the leader of Torchwood Three.

Ianto was wondering that himself.

He was wondering many things now, even as he donned his own unflappable mask (which was likely useless after how everyone saw him break down in Jack's arm's like a soldier's wife awaiting her absent husband's return) and checked the restraints Johnson put on the Gyve. They should hold. Then again, a steel door didn't hold against the alien's strength, so it wouldn't hurt to reinforce them a bit.

As he and Johnson hefted the unconscious alien off the floor, Ianto heard Gwen's murmurs to Lois, which cut off at a Jack's groan. Ianto stiffened his shoulders and walked a bit faster, using all of his strength not to turn back. He couldn't think of Jack, he couldn't, not when he had duties to attend to, not when he had yet to even process the events of this day…

God, Jack had returned.

How was he supposed to process that?

It didn't take Jack long to find him.

Ianto hadn't moved from his position outside of the Gyve's cell—a new cell, with quite a bit more reinforcement, as it had been their own folly in underestimating the strength of an alien just because she looked like a child. It still appeared to be unconscious, but after this night's debacle it didn't hurt to be overly cautious.

Ianto heard Jack before he saw him, the steps of the man's shoes (recognizable simply because the thick leather monstrosities had been out of fashion for nearly thirty years) falling against the slightly damp concrete. And one would think, after rebuilding the Hub from scratching using advanced alien technology, that UNIT would be able to fix the leak over the top of the containment cells.

When Jack was nearly a foot from him, Ianto figured he could no longer ignore the man's presence.

The first thing he noticed was that Jack was still wearing the shirt he had passed out in, complete with the shredded arms and bloodied gashes. For all that his clothing made him look ghastly, at least his color had improved.

Jack stopped short of touching him, opening his mouth to say something before seeming to think better of it and shaking his head with a rueful shake of the head.

"I don't know why I'm so surprised," Jack murmured, his voice deep and echoing against the concrete walls. "It's not like members of this team have a good track record of staying dead."

Surprised by Jack's words, Ianto nearly snorted. "I would say that we've had quite a few successes in that area as of late." Tosh, Owen, hell, even Suzie… God, it shouldn't still hurt this much to think about them.

"I supposed you're right," Jack said, smiling sadly.

"So…" Jack began before trailing off faintly, clearing not knowing what to say. Ianto didn't have the faintest clue on what to say either.

Ianto racked his brain for a way to stop this from becoming the singularly most uncomfortable awkward silence of his life.

Well, it never hurt to go with the basics. "Yes, sir?"

Jack let out an almost tearful laugh. "What would it take for you to never call me 'sir' again?"

"For you to say sincerely that you didn't like it," Ianto replied with practiced ease, smiling slightly when he saw lover's—Jack's—exasperated expression. It was a question that Jack had asked often, with Ianto always responding with the same answer. "Although…" Ianto began thoughtfully, "It might make things a bit confusing now for the team."

Jack gave him a confused look but didn't go along with that train of thought. Instead, he asked the question that had clearly been burning in him since he came down to the cells. "Yan, I saw you die. I felt you die in my arms," Jack's voice broke, the harsh sound of it nearly making Ianto flinch. "The coroner told us that your lungs were liquid, that you'd drowned in your own insides. Tell me, how could you possibly come back from that? I need to know, because a very small logical part of me wants to put you in one of those cells, and I mean that with the littlest possible offense."

Ianto, whose eyes had strayed away from Jack's to avoid the sheer pain exuding from them, turned back to look at the man who never failed to get a rise out of him. "I'm surprise Gwen didn't tell you the whole sordid tale by now. And under what authority, exactly, do you think you'd be able to lock up me up under?"

"She tried to, but I told her I'd rather hear it from you," Jack said with a frown. "And what do you mean by what authority?"

"Exactly what I said," Ianto snapped, ignoring the first part of Jack's question. "You've left the Earth—Torchwood—for the second time and this time we haven't held your place like children waiting for Tad to come home. This time we had to build this organization from the ground up without you, so I quite think that your authority lock anyone up has been effectively revoked."

"Wait. Wait! Can we just rewind for a second?" Jack asked weakly, clearly not expecting an attack. "I just wanted to know how you came back."

"After threatening to lock me up in a cell, that is quite the technique you have of making people open up to you," Ianto snarked, irrationally angry, but too tired to really get control of himself.

"I wasn't—that wasn't a threat, Ianto!" Jack snapped, his temper finally making an entrance. "What in the hell's wrong with you?"

One of Jack's arms, which had always had a mind of their own, reached up to touch Ianto's face, but the younger man moved out of the way, knowing that Jack's touch would make it hard to maintain his anger. And right now, he wanted to hold on the feeling of being so utterly pissed off that rational thought was neigh impossible.

"Nothing's wrong with me."

"Then why won't you tell me how you came back?" The man persisted, his eyes roving over Ianto's angry, tired expression with caution and concern.

"Could it ever occur to you that after dealing with a proper Hub lockdown and seeing my wayward lover return from space, I might need a good's night's rest before divulging everything terrible that's happened since you've swanned off?"

Jack reached for him again and Ianto forcefully pushed his hand away.

Jack sighed in frustration. "Swanned off? Why are you acting like this, Ianto? Honestly, all I want to do right now is make sure you're alright and you won't even let me touch you!"

"I can assure you I'm quite alright," Ianto snarled back, horrified to find that tears were burning in the back of his eyes. "I just can't do this right now."

"But—" Jack immediately started to protest.

"Just… can you control your need to know everything for one night?" Ianto shook his head. "I'd rather not be subjected to the third degree when we have a dangerous, starving alien in the Hub that's already escaped once."

Jack opened his mouth, face gaining that thunderous expression that Ianto wished he didn't know so well. However, miraculously, Jack sighed loudly and nodded cautiously. "Alright, just for the night. But first thing tomorrow…" Jack trailed off meaningly.

Ianto ignored him quite studiously. "Now, our records on Gyves are a bit spotty, so—"

"Spotty? I wrote that report myself," Jack immediately protested, though Ianto was sure it was mostly for show.

"Which would be half the problem," Ianto responded drily. "As interesting as it was to read up on your sexscapades with dangerous alien life forms, it hardly told me what I was supposed to feed the Gyve to keep it from going on a starving, murderous rampage."

"I suppose you're right," Jack said quietly, and Ianto noticed that the man was quickly invading his personal space. "I know what they eat. It's pretty exotic for these parts, but I can get what a need fairly quickly. Don't worry about it."

Ianto nodded reluctantly, turning to look at the still unconscious alien. He hoped Jack was able to get it some food before it woke again, the last thing they needed was a repeat of—

Ianto was startled from his thoughts when Jack's hand reached out for his arms, pulling the Welshman almost harshly into his arms before Ianto could protest. The smell of sweat and blood and Jack hit him before he could offer up any resistance, and Ianto was unable to do more than make a token attempt to move away from the man.

He froze, however, when he felt the telltale feel of hot tears wetting the skin above his collar.

"Just let me hold you for a moment," Jack choked out, his words muffled against Ianto's neck. "Just let me... for a few minutes." Jack's voice had a pleading quality to it that Ianto hadn't quite heard for a while. Ianto wished he had the power to push away, but he wasn't quite that strong yet. He wasn't sure he would ever be.

"Just for a bit," Ianto said reluctantly, unable to stop his body from relaxing in Jack's powerful arms.

A bit of time passed before either of them moved, although Jack's tears had long stopped. When the older man's grip on him began to loosen, however, Ianto figured it was time to move away from the intoxicating embrace.

Jack didn't let him get very far. In fact, he maintained a few bit of contact by running a gentle hand over Ianto's lightly curling hair, following the loose curls as they fell over Ianto's ears. "The hair's new."

Ianto unconsciously closed his eyes at the intimate touch. "I need a trim," Ianto admitted.

"Don't," Jack appealed softly. "I like it. Makes you look… young."

Reason came back and Ianto moved out of Jack's reach, almost angry with himself for enjoying the attention. "More the reason to cut it," Ianto said decisively. "Can't have everyone thinking the new leader of Torchwood just left his teens." And oh, yes, Ianto had said that just to see the uncomprehending look on Jack's face.

"…What?"

Jack wasn't quite sure what had happened. One minute, he was running into Torchwood, knowing his lover was dead, sure that some tasteless bastard of an alien was taking his form, and the next thing he knew, Ianto was alive due to some mysterious circumstance—and whatever had brought him back had done something rather significantly bad to his attitude.

Well, perhaps that wasn't fair.

He could see the lines of stress running through the lean frame he knew so well, noticed the way that Ianto's eyes shone with desperation and love and sadness (for although Ianto had a wonderful poker face, his eyes always gave him away), and he knew that Ianto still loved him. That he missed him.

But things had changed. And Jack hadn't been here.

Hell, Ianto was in charge of Torchwood now.

And wasn't that a bitter pill to swallow? It was something Jack found difficult to digest even as he looked into getting some prime Gyve grub (they lived off of a type of plankton that was only indigenous to the Mediterranean on Earth mixed with a few semi-rare medicinal herbs) on the Hub's mainframe. A few clicks and it was on its way, overnighted. One crisis averted then.

Gwen was gone, convinced by Jack and Lois to go home after the night's excitement. She was looking out for two now after all. Lois had gone as well, her nervousness around him quite sweet, and Jack would have tried to flirt a bit more had he been in a better mood.

The only people left in the Hub were him and Ianto. Johnson had left only after Ianto ordered her to, as she seemed to think the Gyve might manage to escape again. No one had quite explained how she managed to become Torchwood, although the look on Gwen's face said it definitely hadn't been a unanimous decision.

Ianto seemed be avoiding him though. He had been since everyone else left and he explained how he came to be Torchwood's new leader—not that Jack didn't think him capable, of course he did. But, well, now that Jack was back…

And how funny was that? He returned to Earth against his will, sure he wasn't going to stay, and now there was no way he would leave.

Because Ianto was back. He still couldn't get his head around it. Ianto was back, alive. Alive enough to kiss him when they first saw each other, Jack thought with a smile.

Then he frowned.

He wanted to run up to Ianto, who was still puttering around in the Archives (stalling, no doubt), ravage him within an inch of his life, take a breather, and then do it again. That was what he dreamed of, in the moments when imagined how things might be different if Ianto had lived. He imagined showing Ianto just how much he had been missed, of giving him so many orgasms that he passed out before Jack was done—that plan was hindered somewhat by the fact that Ianto would hardly let him within an arm's length. If he didn't know any better, he would say that Ianto had been grieving for Jack as much as Jack had been grieving for him, and yet, something was holding Ianto back from him.

Was it the way he came back to life? It couldn't have been pleasant considering how much Ianto avoided the topic.

That was part of it, he was sure. But he was just as sure that Ianto was avoiding him because of what had happened the day he died, or at least the day Jack thought he'd died. Because, really, who responded to their dying lover who had just professed love to him with "Don't?" What kind of a bastard did that?

Jack ran a tired hand across his face. Apparently, he was just that kind of bastard.

Well, then.

There was only one thing for it—one hell of an apology. Preferably with makeup sex.

Ianto had just finished administering another dose of sedative to the Gyve via the air of its cell when he heard Jack heading for him again.

God. Was there no reprieve?

"I thought you were dealing with that food situation," Ianto called out before the man could make to him.

"Done and done, oh fearless leader," Jack said, a shadow of a smirk on his face.

Ianto glowered silently for a moment before speaking. "If you want to mock, you might as well leave."

Jack frowned, which somehow only seemed to accentuate the dimple in his chin—the dimple Ianto loved. Damn it. "I wasn't mocking. Promise."

Ianto gave him a tired look. "Did you want something?"

Jack seemed to gather himself up for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, as a matter of fact I did. There seems to be a bit of something," Jack gestured between them, "unfinished here."

Ianto swallowed uncomfortably. Was Jack really going to draw this out? "Well, don't fret, sir. I assure you that can be easily remedied—it's finished." He turned slightly so that the grief on his face wouldn't be quite so apparent.

"W-What?" Jack stammered and it was slightly gratifying to hear. "I'm not—I don't want to break up, Ianto! What's wrong with you? I know that things were said, that I could have handled the situation better—"

"And what situation might that have been exactly?" Ianto snapped out, turning back to face Jack completely.

"Well, you know," Jack muttered uncomfortably.

"You can't even say it can you? What I clearly feel and what you clearly don't."

"I came down here to apologize, Ianto! So that we can figure this out together and—"

"And what, Jack? So that we can go back to Weevil hunting with a bit of shagging on the side? Back to how it was before?" Ianto mocked.

Jack paced, clearly frustrated. "And what's wrong with that? Things weren't so bad that you can just want to walk away. I mean, Ianto, I want this, I want us. All that time I was gone, you can't tell me that you weren't feeling the same thing."

"Half of that time I was dead!"

Jack stepped back slightly, either surprised by his words or the volume of them. "The dead don't exactly desire anything, Jack."

Ianto continued, laughing bitterly. "And what did you expect, exactly? I wake up and everything's different—you're gone, Torchwood's in shambles, and it's all I can do to help Gwen put it back together. I'm not the shrinking violet you're used to—I won't wilt just because you're not here. Or fall into your arms when you decide to stop gallivanting around the galaxy." Ianto knew he was being a bit unfair, but he couldn't make himself care very much. He was tired of being the rational one, the one who never lashed out because he was too busy cleaning up behind everyone else's shit. Jack was standing in front of him with those damned eyes, beautiful and sorrowful and Ianto just couldn't take it.

He couldn't allow himself to be taken in by Jack so easily—it hurt too much.

"And you say that as if I knew you were alive and left anyway. I wouldn't have left if you hadn't… if I hadn't thought… I just… explain to me what I've done wrong!" Jack pressed on, too persistent to be deterred.

Ianto wanted to hit him.

"Because Jack! I was here, alone and scared, and I know you didn't leave out of spite—I know you really thought that I was dead—but you were still gone. You still left, escaped. Do you really expect to pick up where we left off when I don't even know what I am anymore? Really? Have you lost your mind?" And there's the fact that I said I love you as I died, but let's forget that, please?

"Because I care about you, Ianto! Whatever's going on, whatever brought you back, we can deal with it together—"

"You care about plenty of things, Jack. You care about the entire bloody world and I'm supposed to believe I'm somehow special? Especially when you've made it explicitly clear that I'm not? You always brag about your sexual prowess, about how getting laid is child's play for you—well, perhaps you should find someone who doesn't care if you remember their name in the morning."

Jack look so wounded and hurt by his words, but Ianto could only take some sort of perverse satisfaction in the fact. God, what did that say about him? "Do you really mean that, Ianto?"

"I said it, didn't I?"

Jack's eyes hardened. "But you don't mean it, do you?"

Ianto hesitated, deflating slightly. "I…"

"You know that you can't just walk away from me," Jack said quietly. "You can't pretend like we have nothing together."

"And what do we have, exactly, Jack?" Ianto cried out desperately, his blue eyes shining out almost unnaturally behind the film of tears. "The days the 456 began the attack, even before, I must have heard 'I don't do relationships' a million times! And if it's not a relationship, then what is it, this thing between us? A game? I can't—I can't play games, Jack. Not again, not anymore. Not even for you."

Ianto stopped speaking for a moment, the words he was trying to say caught in his throat momentarily before he found the strength. "Because I love you, Jack, although it makes me a fool. And it h-hurts to much to be with you when you don't feel the same."

Jack stood there, mouth agape slightly. The sight almost made him want to laugh, if his throat hadn't been clogged up with pain and tears. He'd said it again—that dreaded "L" word, and this time he couldn't blame it on dying. Now all he had to do was wait. He wouldn't have to walk away from Jack, for once the man regained his senses, he would be the one running. Jack Harkness was fearless, but there was one thing that would send him running for the stars: any mention of love.

And so Ianto waited. Waited for Jack to leave, so that he could fall apart in peace and find a way to put himself back together again. He'd done it once before, with Lisa, and he could manage it again.

But Jack didn't leave. He pinned Ianto with a pained, intense gaze, and spoke. "Is that what you really think? That you're just a game to me?"

Ianto shrugged, his face an indiscernible mask. He moved to turn around and make his escape to Archives, not prepared to deal with Jack's platitudes or special brand of emotional baggage, when a steel grip attached itself his arm, pulling him back to face Jack.

Ianto tried to pull away, thinking that Jack was going to yell, but he should known better. Instead, the man did what he did best.

Ianto's mouth was attacked, his resistance melting away as if it had never existed to begin with. The feeling of Jack's lips against his, their tongues twirling together in a familiar and ferocious dance—the most passionate dance he'd ever taken part in—caused Ianto to moan as he reached up, putting a hand in Jack's hair as he held on for his life. Jack's hands were against his waist, his strong fingers spread and digging into Ianto's skin like claws through the layers of his suit, but that somehow made everything better. It was the truth. Amidst the euphoria that was Jack Harkness, there was pain, always pain. But… Ianto groaned as Jack bit into his lower lip before licking at it in apology and carefully remapping his mouth tenderly… but the pain was never quite enough to stop.

This feeling. Jack gasped into his mouth as if he felt it too. This feeling. Ianto once thought it was the love between them that burned and hurt so wonderfully. When Jack kissed him like this, he could feel the most powerful of emotions, and it was hard to imagine that they were all coming just from him. Every time Jack kissed him like this, it felt like an "I love you".

Then it ended far too quickly. Jack stopped, still holding onto him painfully, their lips glistening with each other's saliva. Almost as if he couldn't resist, Jack touched his mouth again with a short, tender kiss. Still touching lips, he whispered, "Now tell me that isn't the kiss of a man that loves you."

Ianto sobbed, shaking his head before burrowing his face into Jack's neck. Ianto held onto Jack desperately. He didn't quite believe him, but Jack had always been his weakness, his drug. The Welshman had promised himself that he would be strong, that he would never fall into this trap again, but when he felt Jack's arms around him he likened it to the feeling of a sticky and treacherous web, and he realized—suddenly—that he'd never escaped Jack's web in the first place. Perhaps he never would.

But when Jack held him like this, he didn't care so much.

TBC