Title: Fallout, Part Fifteen

Author: Emma

Characters: A whole bunch of folk.

Rating: Starts PG, but hey, it’s got Jack in it!

Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?
Author's Note: This fic is CoE compliant

Author’s Note: This is a little longer than usual but I didn't think I should break up the conversation!

Part One is here; Part Two is here; Part Three is here; Part Four is here; Part Five is here; Part Six is here; Part Seven is here; Part Eight is here; Part Nine is here; Part Ten is here; Part Eleven is here; Part Twelve is here; Part Thirteen is here; Part Fourteen is here

            “Thank you for inviting me.”

 

            Ifan poured two large mugs of coffee. “I know I said dinner and a movie…”

 

            “The dinner was fabulous, and I’d rather sit and talk.” Jack rested his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. “I’m tired.”

 

            “You’ve been working eighteen hour days for the last six weeks, Jack. Even your fabled constitution must be feeling the strain.” He set the tray down on the large ottoman that doubled as a coffee table. “As your personal minder I am prescribing a cup of coffee with a shot of Penderyn, a chocolate biscuit, and a full ten hours of sleep.”

 

            “I have to…”

 

            “You have to rest, Jack. It’s either this or Martha shoots you full of tranquilizers when you least expect it. I’ve cleared your calendar for tomorrow. Kathy’s meeting with the Americans, which as assistant director she should do anyway. Martha’s reviewing the personnel files, and Tish is taking a break from her research and helping her. It’s all taken care of.”

 

            “It sounds like a conspiracy.”

 

            “Yep. Here.” He handed Jack one of the mugs.

 

            “Oh. It’s… it tastes like…”

 

            “Turns out Ianto and Rhiannon learned to make coffee from their mam. Rhi taught me the last time I went down for the weekend.” He gave Jack a little smirk. “I’ve been wanting to throw away the canteen rubbish for days.”

 

            “Why haven’t you?”

 

            Ifan sipped his own coffee. “I didn’t want to add to your troubles. I know how hard you’re working at keeping us separate in your mind.”

 

            “That bothers you?”

 

            “I watch you flirt with the others, natural as breathing, and I remember when you used to do it with… Ianto. It bothers me that we’ve lost that easy friendship. Then I remember it wasn’t with me.”

 

            “It must be hell for you at times.”

 

            “What?”

 

            “Trying to play the roles we need while at the same time trying to integrate everything that’s in your head.”

 

            “Martha’s been a lifesaver. She listens.”

 

            Jack set aside the mugs and took one of Ifan’s hands in his. “I’ve been staying away because I didn’t want to add to your troubles, either. Ianto is… was… so very important to me. I’m afraid to make you feel I expect him back. I’m afraid of… expecting him back.”

 

            “I know. It’s why I don’t wear suits and keep my hair long.” Ifan rubbed at the scruffy two-day worth of beard on his jaw. “Even this thing, though it itches something fierce at times. It’s me, mind you. I’m comfortable like this. But…”

 

            “It’s also your way of giving me visual cues?”

 

            “Yeah. Jack, you know what’s really hard for me? Watching you become a little more distant every day.”

 

            “Ifan…”

 

            “Jack, I’m not so fragile I’m going to break if you slip and call me Ianto, but the kids… Mica, Kyna, the boys… call me Uncle Yan. It’s half-way between Ianto and Ifan. I’m comfortable with it.”

 

            “Yan…”

 

            “Yes, Jack?”

 

            “May I kiss you?”

 

            “Well, finally!”

 

            “Cheeky brat.”