Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone for reading and alerting so far. Please review and let me know if you're enjoying it. Reviews encourage me to keep writing and post more quickly :-). Thanks again to Prothrombintime for invaluable support and encouragement.

Chapter Five

January 10th, 2004

Sitting alone on the Hub's sofa, Ianto finished writing the latest entry in his diary and closed the cover, sliding his pen back into his jacket pocket. He enjoyed the process of keeping a diary, and he tried to set aside time for it each day. It allowed him to organise his thoughts, providing a measure of clarity for his nimble but often restless mind.

With a weary sigh, he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to ease the dull ache that had taken hold several hours earlier, and slumped back against the cushions. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was almost seven p.m. He sighed once more. Jack would undoubtedly give him a bollocking for staying beyond his curfew again, assuming he returned any time soon. Jack had dashed out of the Hub two hours earlier when an alert came in about three Weevils on the loose in Bute Park.

Ianto had offered to accompany his boss, but as always the man had firmly refused the offer of assistance. Ianto was worried, and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't go home until he knew the situation was under control and that Jack was all right. While he sometimes wryly wondered if the Captain was indestructible, the man was still only human... at least Ianto thought he was, and he was holding onto that assumption until he found evidence to the contrary. He didn't like that Jack took it upon himself to deal with every threat Torchwood Three faced on his own. No matter how strongly Jack denied needing help, it was obvious that in actual fact he did. Ianto had quickly decided that Jack's belligerent stubbornness and general bloody mindedness could rival even the most tenacious of Welshmen.

Almost three months had passed, and Ianto had settled into a familiar routine. Each morning began with delivering coffee to Jack's office, followed by checking the overnight logs and forwarding any alerts to Jack which might require his attention. If there was any laundry or dry cleaning to be done, he'd take care of that too. Mid-morning was the second delivery of coffee for the day, accompanied by a biscuit or two – Jack's favourite being custard creams or anything coated with chocolate – or something a little more decadent if he'd been out earlier that morning. He provided lunch if the Captain wasn't out and about, otherwise Ianto ensured there was something waiting in the refrigerator for when he returned.

Cleaning was an inevitable part of each day, and Ianto did his best to keep at least the main areas of the Hub clean, organised, and tidy. Sometimes it seemed like he was fighting a losing battle, but he'd made measurable progress. The rest of his time was spent on his archiving and administrative duties, unless Jack assigned him any special tasks, which he did on occasion. But for the most part, Ianto was left to manage his work hours as he wished.

Every Friday morning, he submitted his weekly report to Yvonne Hartman, after consulting with Jack on its contents. He suspected the Captain was withholding information about some of the more dangerous artifacts and technology in Torchwood Three's possession, but he hadn't pressed the issue, conceding to Jack's judgement.

Twice a week, both time and the Rift permitting, he had training sessions with Jack. The Captain had proven himself to be a tough and uncompromising instructor, but also fair and patient. From the very beginning, he hadn't gone easy on Ianto, always pushing him to his limits. Ianto was now well used to the ache of previously underutilised muscles, accompanied by the tenderness of bruised flesh. Jack didn't teach him fancy fighting styles, he kept it simple, showing Ianto how to use his size, agility, and strength to their best advantage. Being tall but slimly built, Ianto was at a natural disadvantage, especially when compared to Jack's superior strength and physique. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd ended up flat on his back on the ancient training mats, Jack grinning smugly down at him before offering a hand and hauling him back to his feet. He'd managed to take Jack by surprise a few times though, and what he lacked in strength, he made up for in determination and sheer cunning. He'd felt quite proud when Jack had complimented his fierce right hook. While it wasn't in Ianto's nature to be violent or aggressive, he'd be lying if he said he didn't occasionally find satisfaction in hurling his fist in Jack's general direction.

He'd also become proficient with a wide range of projectile weaponry, honing his marksmanship skills. Jack wasn't effusive with praise, but Ianto thought the older man seemed pleased with his progress so far. He was surprised by how much he enjoyed the sessions with Jack, and while the Captain often showed a distinct lack of respect for personal space, Ianto admired his obvious skill and combat experience. Jack was a soldier and could probably handle just about any situation he was thrown into. Ianto couldn't imagine anyone better to train and guide him.

Ianto liked and respected the Captain, but he also found him frustrating and confusing. Jack could be a moody bastard, and Ianto never quite knew what to expect from one day to the next. Sometimes Jack was friendly and flirtatious, complimenting Ianto on his suits and appearance. Other times he was cold and distant, barely acknowledging Ianto's existence. It was obvious Jack still didn't trust him, and he often caught Jack watching him, seemingly observing his every move. He could understand that, especially given Jack's distrust of Yvonne Hartman and Torchwood One, but he couldn't help wondering if it was something more... if Jack simply didn't like him, but was resigned to them being stuck with one another. He wondered if he'd been a bit too eager in trying to get into the Captain's good graces, casting himself in an unfavourable light as a result.

Outside of work, Ianto had settled into the apartment, furnishing it to his liking and creating a small sanctuary for himself. He lead a solitary existence in his off hours, but he'd always been somewhat of a loner, and that hadn't really changed. Since the heartache of his breakup with Lisa, he wasn't ready to think about trying to date again. His life was Torchwood and Jack, and for the moment, that felt like enough. He spent his days off reacquainting himself with Cardiff, indulging in shopping or the cinema, reading, watching telly, or busying himself with household chores. While he wasn't especially lonely, and he'd always been more or less content being on his own, he missed having some companionship. He'd never been much of a talker, but sometimes he thought it might be nice to have someone to chat to and share a laugh with. He wasn't unhappy, but it seemed like a long time since he'd genuinely laughed about anything.

Thoughts of his own reclusive existence often caused him to wonder about Jack's life outside of Torchwood. From what he could tell, Torchwood was Jack's life. The older man had never mentioned any romantic interests, family, or even friends or acquaintances, but they never really talked about those subjects anyway. There had been rumours at Torchwood One about certain proclivities of the enigmatic Captain, and Ianto suspected that Jack was gay, or perhaps bisexual. A man who pranced around in 1940's regalia and that ostentatious coat probably wasn't entirely straight, but Ianto prided himself on not making such superficial judgements. Besides, he really did like Jack's coat.

As long as Jack didn't try anything on with him – and he never had in the three months since they'd met – Ianto didn't care about the other man's sexual orientation. To each his own as far as Ianto was concerned, and despite Jack's occasional flirting, Ianto knew he didn't have anything to worry about. Someone like Jack, who could probably have anyone he set his sights on, would never be interested in an unremarkable man such as Ianto Jones.

However, he was intensely curious about Jack's apparent longevity. He'd found almost nothing about Jack in the archives so far, and he suspected the Captain had attempted to remove any files pertaining to his background and activities. But there had been a couple of nuggets of information he'd stumbled upon... as impossible as it seemed, they suggested that Jack had been involved with Torchwood for a little over a century. Ianto had tried to come up with theories on how that was possible, but each one seemed more preposterous than the last.

Looking down at the diary sitting in his lap, he trailed his fingers over the thick, soft leather, and a small smile graced his lips. It had been a thoughtful, albeit belated, Christmas gift from Jack. The Captain had banished him from the Hub for the few days over the Christmas and New Year break, much to Ianto's annoyance. With no other alternative available to him, Ianto had been forced to spend Christmas Day with his sister and her family. He supposed it had been pleasant enough, and she seemed happy that he was back in Cardiff, but he would have preferred to be at the Hub instead.

He'd been unsure of the appropriate gift-giving etiquette since he and Jack weren't actually friends, but he'd decided to take the initiative, and on Christmas Eve he'd nervously presented Jack with a neatly gift-wrapped bottle of expensive Scotch. He still remembered the look of astonishment on the older man's face. On his return to the Hub after Christmas, he'd found the new leather diary waiting for him on his desk with a hastily scrawled note: "Ianto, I saw this and thought you might like it. Jack."

Captain Jack Harkness was a mass of contradictions, and even after three months, Ianto felt no closer to understanding him. He thought it was quite possible he never would.

The sound of the opening of the cogwheel door abruptly interrupted his thoughts. Ianto jumped to his feet and hurried forward, but almost immediately froze at the sight before him. Jack was standing just inside the door, staring back at him, his clothes, neck, and face covered in blood.

"Shit!" Ianto said, returning to his senses after the moment of initial shock had passed. He dashed towards Jack. "Oh, my God. Jack, what happened? Are you all right?"

Ianto reached his hand up to examine Jack's neck where dried blood was heavily caked to the skin, but Jack stepped back, pulling away from him. "You shouldn't be here, Ianto."

Ianto ignored the admonishment, not caring for the moment about Jack's pedantry over his working hours. He frowned as he peered at Jack's neck, looking for any sign of a wound, but other than the blood the skin appeared to be intact. "It looks like you were bleeding."

Jack shrugged and started making his way up to his office. "Had worse from shaving."

Ianto only barely managed not to roll his eyes as he followed behind him. "What happened?" he asked again.

"Weevils," Jack replied. "One of them was a tough son-of-a-bitch. Took me by surprise."

"You could have been killed!" Ianto struggled to keep the hysteria from his voice. He couldn't understand how Jack could be so casual about it all, or how he'd ended up covered in so much blood, and yet didn't seem to have a scratch on him. "We should get you to the hospital. Get you checked out."

"I'm fine, Ianto." The exasperation in Jack's voice was evident, but Ianto chose to ignore it.

They'd reached Jack's office, and Ianto stepped forward, determinedly tugging off Jack's blood-stained coat. Jack didn't resist, but then he turned away and started descending through the round hatch in the floor to what Ianto had discovered were his tiny quarters below. "I'm going to take a shower and change into some clean clothes. You need to go home."

"No. I'll... um... I'll make you some coffee." It seemed like a ridiculous thing to say under the circumstances, but he wasn't convinced that Jack really was okay, and it was the one thing he knew Jack would never refuse.

Jack sighed, glancing up at him. "Okay. I won't be long," he said before disappearing into his bunker.

Ianto folded the greatcoat neatly and left Jack's office. Retrieving a black garbage bag from the kitchen, he put the coat inside. He'd have to try to remove the worst of the bloodstains, and then take it to their regular dry cleaner in the morning. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had to be creative about explaining the condition of Jack's soiled clothing, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. Fortunately, they were very good customers.

Leaving the coat for the moment, Ianto ran his hand distractedly through his hair, only belatedly remembering that his hands were stained with traces of blood. Whether it was Jack's blood or that of a Weevil, he didn't know. His mind conjured up horrific images of Jack sprawled on the ground in the park, dead, his body ripped open and a pack of hungry Weevils descending upon him. Shuddering involuntarily, Ianto shook his head and tried to bring his thoughts back to the task at hand. Jack was fine, he reassured himself. He didn't want to think about what would happen if Jack was killed or incapacitated. Torchwood needed Jack... Cardiff needed Jack... and although he was somewhat loath to admit it, he needed Jack too.

Grimacing at the red stains on his skin, he washed his hands thoroughly, then busied himself with preparing coffee. He took his time, knowing it would take Jack a while to shower and change. When he finally saw Jack emerging from his bunker dressed in a fresh pair of grey trousers and one of his customary white undershirts, he filled their mugs and carried them over to the office.

"Here we go, sir," he announced with false cheer, placing Jack's usual mug down on his side of the desk, and sitting down opposite him.

Ianto sipped at his coffee before putting it down on the desk and looking up to meet Jack's eyes. Jack was watching him with obvious disapproval, but Ianto was relieved to see that other than looking tired, he appeared to be his usual self once again.

Ianto's eyes drifted from Jack's face for a moment, taking in the stretch of Jack's t-shirt over his broad, muscular chest. He couldn't help but envy Jack's impressive physique. His own wiry frame was a far cry from Jack's proportions, although he'd managed to tone up a bit since beginning the training sessions. Nevertheless, he sometimes couldn't help feeling self-conscious in Jack's presence, especially when they were training and he didn't have the benefit of a suit to hide beneath. He supposed plenty of people would feel intimidated and inadequate when confronted by Jack Harkness.

"Thanks." Jack picked up his mug and took several sips, but he was still looking far from happy. "You shouldn't be here," he said after a moment, repeating his words from earlier and narrowing his eyes. "I've warned you before about your insubordination."

Ianto clenched his hand into a fist under the desk, struggling to hold back an angry retort. "I was worried about you," he said evenly, marvelling not for the first time at his ability to remain stoic and detached in the face of Jack's unpredictable moods. "I only stayed because I wanted to make sure you were all right." He paused and looked at Jack searchingly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Jack's expression cleared a little. "I'm fine. Stop fretting. It takes a hell of a lot more than a couple of Weevils to take me down." He sighed and took a mouthful of coffee. "I've been doing this for a long time. I know what I'm doing."

Ianto nodded. "Just... just be careful out there, yeah?"

Jack gave him a grim smile. "I'm always careful."

Ianto nodded again, but he wasn't sure if he believed Jack's words. From what he'd observed, Jack was too reckless at times. "I can stay for a bit," he suggested, still not quite believing that Jack was fine, despite all evidence to the contrary. "Keep you company?"

Jack shook his head and Ianto hoped his disappointment didn't show. "No, you should go home. I'm going to turn in and get some rest."

Ianto reluctantly rose to his feet and collected his half-empty mug. "All right. Well, I'd better go then."

He was surprised when Jack also stood up and moved around the desk, standing directly in front of him. Jack rested his hand on Ianto's shoulder and squeezed it gently. Jack smiled, all trace of his earlier annoyance apparently gone. "I appreciate your concern. You're a good man, Ianto Jones." He patted Ianto's shoulder and moved back to the other side of the desk. "Enjoy your day off. I'll see you on Monday."

Ianto smiled back, astonished by Jack's abrupt change in mood. "Um... call me if you need anything. I'll drop your coat in at the cleaners in the morning."

Jack sat down at his desk again. "Okay. Thanks."

Ianto nodded and moved to the doorway. He briefly turned back towards the older man and their eyes met for a moment. There was something odd about Jack's demeanour that he hadn't seen before. Jack seemed diminished... vulnerable even. "'Night, sir," he murmured.

"Goodnight, Ianto," Jack replied quietly, lowering his eyes and turning away.