Here it is, finally, the sequel and conclusion to Slipping Away and Walk Right Back. So very sorry to have kept you waiting so long. For some reason this has been very difficult to write.
Thank you to everyone who has been so encouraging. I appreciate all your comments.

This is set at the end of Meat, because that episode nags me like a sore tooth, and I thought it might bother me less if they weren't together at the time.

Ianto dropped wearily into his armchair, letting his body sink into its comfort while the events of another traumatic day sank into his mind. He thought about getting something to drink. He thought about having something to eat first but dismissed it as too much effort. Takeaway wasn't an option until they had some way of ensuring that it hadn't been sourced from today's lost refugee and he simply couldn't be stuffed cooking for himself. He thought about anything except how much he wanted Jack beside him, even now, weeks since they'd backed away from the ambiguous 'thing' between them, and fell asleep, battling his unruly thoughts in dreams.

A scraping noise from his doorway brought him awake, only to slump back again seconds later as he identified it as sound of a key turning in the lock. Jack had never offered to return the set handed over rose-colored evening, and between throttled hopes, lingering sentiment and just plain awkwardness Ianto hadn't gotten around to asking for their return. No big deal anyway, he reassured himself, rising stiffly to his feet as the door opened. Most people trust a friend with a spare, and they'd at least managed to salvage that, hadn't they?

Friends, he reminded himself, as the door slid open. Friends. Colleagues. Nothing more, and it was better that way. Better for both of them.

And if he just kept telling himself that, eventually he'd believe it.

-XXX-

When Jack eased the door open, Ianto was leaning against the wall in the entryway, brow arched and foot tapping. He looked tired, Jack thought, trying a smile and finding that it wouldn't stick. Tired and yet on edge. Weary, and wary.

"If this is an alert," Ianto said, before Jack could begin to explain himself, "then Owen should have told you, I'm ..…"

"On medical suspension until at least 9am tomorrow," Jack finished, waving a dismissive hand and finding a smile after all. "See, Owen did tell me, shocking as it is to find that he's actually followed protocol for once."

Ianto smiled back, the butler smile which Jack had grown to hate, at least when he was on the receiving end. That quirk of the lips which did nothing to lift the shadows from the eyes above them. Jack's own grin slipped away again and he straightened from where he'd been copying Ianto's pose, slouched against a wall. "So, No, I'm not here for an alert," he continued, voice abominably unsteady. "I'm here for you, Ianto."

Ianto's eyelids flickered, and if Jack had expected, if he'd hoped, that the uncharacteristic admission would cause a crack in the efficient wall Ianto had constructed, then he was right. Except that it wasn't the sort he'd wanted to achieve, not by a long shot.

Far from falling into his arms, Ianto took a hasty step backwards instead, raising his chin and cloaking himself in his habitual veneer of dignity. "You can't do this anymore, Jack," he said calmly. Too calmly for Jack's taste right now. The sort of calm which cut through chaos, trailing silence in its wake. Invaluable when used in Torchwood's interest, it never failed to rouse Jack's inner smartass when projected in his specific direction.

Arching a brow of his own, Jack raised the key still dangling on its chain from his finger. "Soooo - should I go back out and knock instead?"

Ianto sighed. "This is probably exactly what I deserve for thinking you could recognise a boundary without a map and GPS narrative," he muttered.

This was a bit more like it, Jack thought, stifling an inappropriate surge of satisfaction. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the door. "I'm hoping you're in the mood to expand on that," he drawled. "Because you have to admit, cryptic hasn't been working for us lately."

Us. Ianto inhaled heavily. It had felt like Us again, just for a moment there, and it was taking far too long to remember that wasn't what he wanted. He gave himself a firm mental shake and released the breath he'd apparently been holding. "Fine, then, Jack. Maybe it is better if I spell it out for you."

Ianto straightened his sagging spine, both physically and emotionally, and hoped his voice would be steadier than his resolve. "You are, and always will be, welcome to drop by, key or no key. But what you can't do, Jack, not anymore, and God knows why I ever put up with it in the first place, is come sniffing round here after Gwen's rejected you, expecting me to stroke your….ego, or anything else."

Jack blinked, evidently too stunned to be offended. "I've never done that," he protested, frowning. "I'm sure I haven't."

Ianto ran a hand through already disordered hair, more thrown by the confusion than he would have been by anger. "Perhaps not intentionally," he conceded. "And I have to take part of the blame for letting it happen – but no more, Jack, so if that's what you're here for, please just…..just leave."

Jack shook his head, taking a sliver of hope from the way Ianto's voice had wavered at the end. "Not here for that, and not leaving," he clarified, then heaved in a deep breath of his own. "And I have to take the blame for not making it clear long ago, but it never was just for that, no matter what you've convinced yourself."

The seconds dragged on, each man waiting for the other to point the way through the confusion. Jack could feel the years stretching between them, the century-wide gulf of misunderstandings which he should have cleared up months ago.

"Gwen," he repeated thoughtfully. "Odd how it always seems to come back to Gwen, isn't it?"

Ianto gave an odd bark of laughter. "Isn't it just?" he agreed.

Jack straightened, stung enough by the sarcasm to accept that he could hardly make things worse. "Gwen chose Rhys over Torchwood tonight," he stated, watching Ianto through narrowed eyes. "Just as she always does, as she always will, and whatever you seem to think, I'm good with that. Same as you'll always choose Lisa, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm good with that, too."

Ianto's head shot up, blatant confusion running rampant on his face. It might not be the expression Jack had hoped to inspire, but it was still the most honest reaction he'd shown the entire evening.

"And it would appear," Jack continued, somewhat ruefully, "That I've fallen into the habit of choosing you."

Ianto bit his lip. That was good. That was definitely good. Encouraged, Jack hurried on before he lost his nerve. "So today I watched someone hold a gun to your head," he continued intensely. "I wanted to rip his arms off you, hell, rip 'em off him altogether and bake them into one of his own God-damned pies, and that was before he pulled the trigger."

Ianto licked the lip he'd just bitten. Jack's heart did something anatomically improbable. "I think that was when it hit me," he continued, "that you weren't mine to choose anymore." He raised his shoulders and dropped them again in a helpless shrug. "And I didn't like the way that felt," he finished. "I really didn't, Ianto."

There was silence again. Jack shifted on his feet. Maybe he hadn't found the right words. Or maybe he'd said them too late.

Ianto cleared his throat. "I supposed you'd better come in then," he said quietly, and took himself out of the doorway.

-XXX-

The sofa had borne their combined weight countless times, but this was possibly the first time they'd chosen different ends to perch on instead of being sprawled together in the middle.

It felt wrong in a way that Ianto didn't have the energy to analyse, beyond a vague sense of gratitude that Jack had chosen to respect his need for space. And the sense of being annoyed at feeling grateful. Neither of which helped the resolve which had been splintering since the second he'd heard Jack's key in the door.

Nor did it help that the vast majority of his long-held grievances were currently lying in metaphorical shards around his feet. Yes, he'd chosen Lisa again and again, for love and loyalty, in betrayal and illusion, and he'd faced Jack after with his head held high, feeling wronged and righteous every time.

Only he hadn't expected Jack to be good with it, anymore than he'd been happy about the repeated demonstrations of what he'd considered Jack's preference for Gwen.

But they weren't in the same league, surely?

Apparently Jack thought so.

Ianto didn't feel quite so righteous anymore.

-XXX-

Jack sank into his corner of the sofa, watching Ianto from the corner of his eye. The silence was beginning to grow prickles again. Ianto, however, seemed in no hurry to break it. Jack spent a few restless minutes weighing up whether it was better to let Ianto process whatever it was he was churning over in his mind against the risk of having the stubborn Welshman use the interval to rebuild the walls he'd been hiding behind all these weeks.

Impatience won. Jack turned so that he was facing Ianto more directly. "So, how bad is it?" he asked crisply.

Ianto blinked at him. Jack was sorely tempted to roll his eyes. "You're on medical leave," he prompted. "Owen doesn't do that on a whim. So, what are we dealing with here? And why did he send you home at all?"

Ianto burrowed more deeply into his corner, tucking his hands under his arms as he went. "It's nothing to worry about, really," he protested. "Just a few lacerations from working free of those ropes. Owen treated it already."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "And yet Owen is back at the Hub cleaning up after himself," he said. "That's a whole new level of severity, right there."

Ianto's lips twitched. Jack saw them, and damn it, he'd gotten less of a buzz from spotting a Weevil before it leapt. He extended both hands, palms up, and was pleased to note they weren't actually shaking in anticipation. "So hand 'em over," he urged.

Ianto rolled his eyes. Jack smiled, the first smile that had come naturally since he'd stepped into the flat, but his hands remained implacably extended, fingers flexing in invitation.

With an exaggerated sigh of resignation, Ianto reached across the expanse of upholstery between them, letting his hands slip free of the sleeve cuffs which hung unbuttoned around his wrists. Jack cradled the pale wrists within his palms, the touch familiar and newly awkward. With one accord, their eyes dropped to where an opaque dressing covered skin closer to the pink of mild sunburn than the lacerations left behind by struggling against poor quality rope.

"Looks good," Jack said softly, making no move to release the pale limbs resting within his own.

"Told you so," Ianto muttered, wriggling his fingers until Jack's grip loosened. "They weren't that bad to begin with, and Owen insisted on having a go at them with his cellular regenerator," he continued, shrugging. "And I let him because…well, I think he might have been trying to keep himself busy. It hit him hard, having to euthanize that poor creature today."

Jack merely nodded, his eyes fixed on the hands now twisting in Ianto's lap. He couldn't have given himself a better opening if he'd scripted it himself. This was his chance to say what he hadn't had the words or the courage for when they'd faced each other on the Plass. Besides, he could hardly make things worse between them, after all. Could he?

Of course he could. On the other hand, he could make them so much better. Better than before, even. Worth the risk. Maybe worth any risk.

Ianto fidgeted on the other end of the sofa. Jack swallowed against a dry throat. He knew he wasn't doing himself any favors letting the silence stretch out again, but so much depended on what he said next that it was an effort to push the words past his lips.

Jack raised his head just in time to see Ianto's drop. "Sometimes," he said deliberately, feeling his pulse hammer in this throat. "They're just too far gone to be saved."

The words hung between them, a lifeline tossed out and waiting to be grasped.

Ianto looked up slowly, eyes narrowing. "We aren't talking about the space whale anymore, are we?"

Jack bit his lip, scrounging for the right words and wondering if he'd ever find them. "The space whale," he said. "But Beth, too." He swallowed. "And Suzie. And yeah, Lisa as well. All of them. All the ones I couldn't save. Couldn't save, Ianto, not wouldn't."

Ianto sat silent and still. Thoughtful. A good sign. Progress. Jack heaved in a breath. "That night," he said slowly. "After Beth. You asked me why I tried to help her, and Carys, and you accused me of only making the effort 'cause Gwen asked."

Ianto shifted uneasily. He'd hardly needed the clarification. He'd replayed 'that night' over in his head so many times, trying to make it come out differently. And failing.

"Do you still expect me to believe me she wasn't a factor?" Ianto asked finally, unable to hide the bitterness as today's events insisted on marching through his mind, ticking imaginary boxes as they went. Proof enough, surely, that what Gwen wanted, Jack would break not only rules but whatever else got in the way to get for her.

Jack watched the shutters rising and felt irritation prickle through him along with creeping fear that nothing would be enough. "I told you then, and I'll say it again now, because obviously it didn't take, it had nothing to do with Gwen," he retorted. He heard his voice rise in volume and didn't do a thing to steady it. This little bit of irrationality felt damned good, after all these weeks of cool, calm, polite, reasonable. "It was because Beth asked for help, Ianto. Carys too. They wanted to be saved, they asked for help, and that's proof enough for me that there's something left to work with."

Ianto's mouth opened.

"Suzie didn't ask," Jack ploughed on, satisfied when Ianto's mouth closed into thoughtful lines immediately. "Suzie threatened."

"She threatened Gwen," Ianto pointed out mildly.

Jack huffed out a sigh. "She threatened one of my team," he corrected. "And if you honestly believe I'd have reacted any differently if she'd grabbed anyone else then I really am wasting my breath here."

Ianto's mouth twitched again. "No-one else would have gone with her," he pointed out.

Jack risked a smile. Just a little, wry one. Just a hint of agreement.

"Jasmine didn't ask either," he added, after a pause.

"Jasmine," Ianto repeated thoughtfully. "I'd forgotten about Jasmine."

"Gwen asked me to save her, too," Jack added significantly. "But Jasmine didn't want to be saved, Ianto, and in the end, that's what counts the most."

In the silence that followed Jack could have sworn he heard the tinkle of barriers breaking.

"Lisa wanted to be saved," Ianto said softly. "She did, Jack. Starting from the moment I found her…" His voice choked off.

"I don't doubt that for a second," Jack agreed gently, fighting both the knot in his throat and the urge to pull Ianto into his arms. "But tell me, Ianto, what did she want when I found her?"

"She wanted to be with me," Ianto mumbled. He curled even deeper into himself, drawing his feet up beneath him, and Jack found himself bridging the space between them before any further stupid doubts had the chance to get in the way. He drew the dark head onto his shoulder and wrapped both arms around the shaking Welshman, feeling an almost painful joy when Ianto's hands twisted into his shirt.

"She did," Jack agreed. "Even right at the end, she wanted to be with you, and please believe me, Ianto, for her to still be able to want that shows how hard she fought." It was true, if only partly true, and in any case this wasn't the time to mention that the same woman – creature - had previously thrown Ianto across the Hub and left him to drown. This was the time for comfort and healing. Later would be the time for reflection and evaluation, and as soon as Jack had a foot free he'd kick himself for letting this fester for so long.

"But she didn't just want you to be with her," Jack pointed out instead, carefully, gently. "She wanted you to be like her, and I couldn't let that happen." He drew his lips through the soft hair, reveling in the fact that he could, that Ianto wasn't pulling away, that the tense muscles were relaxing against his own. "She was too far gone, Ianto, and I couldn't let her take you with her."

It hurt to draw away, physically hurt, though that might have had something to do with how long he'd stayed motionless, not wanting to so much as twitch a muscle in case Ianto took it as a cue to retreat, but eventually Jack pulled back enough to be able to look the younger man in the eyes, seeing the questions there, the doubts that lingered.

"She was past saving," Jack reiterated.

Ianto nodded, the barest dip of the chin, not even enough to break eye contact.

Jack swallowed. "Are we?"

Ianto tipped his head to the side, drawing his lower lip between his teeth, that outer sign of inner concentration. "Quite likely," he answered eventually.

Jack had been stabbed more times than he could count, but he didn't recall it hurting quite like this. "Ianto, I…," he began, but there truly wasn't anything left to say, and the knot was back in his throat. And nothing would have made it past the finger Ianto laid across his lips anyway.

"So I suppose it's just as well," Ianto said gravely, "that I've never been the sort to let that stop me."

Thank you so much for bearing with me. Hope you enjoyed.