Disclaimers: I do not own Torchwood or any of its characters.  I am making no money from this.  It is purely for entertainment
purposes only.

Summary: Ianto has a secret.  Set during series one, after Cyberwoman.

Warnings:  MPREG!!  I am a HUGE fan of Mpreg.  There are also hints of past child abuse.

Notes: Please remember that I am just another stupid American.  Please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors as I must rely
solely on my own knowledge.

More notes: Spoilers for Small Worlds.  I didn't want to write the whole episode, so events are mentioned, but not elaborated on.


Part Nine

Jack was still trying to make heads and tails out of everything that had been going on when something abruptly slammed on his
desk in his field of vision.  It was the folder he had given to Owen last night.

"Might as well be a bunch of bloody confetti for all the information I get out of it.  Nothing but basic information, his vitals and
the like."  Owen plopped down into the seat in front of Jack's desk.  "The computer files are even worse.  Every time I tried to
get any sort of solid data, it's like I hit a major brick wall.  What the hell was Torchwood One playing at?"

Jack tapped the folder.  "I had hoped you would make more sense of it than Ianto has.  Right now, he's working on trying to
decrypt the stuff that says it's classified."  With that, he sighed.  "There's only so much he can do, though."

"Surely you have the security clearance."

Jack shook his head.  "Apparently not.  Someone high up, maybe not Yvonne, but someone with a good deal of power, went to
a lot of trouble with covering this up.  There's something going on here, something someone wanted to keep hidden."

Owen scratched the back of his neck, grimacing.  "As if Tea-Boy doesn't have enough shit to deal with already," he muttered.  
Then he added more loudly, "Wouldn't Tosh get through it quicker?"

"Probably.  Ianto's no slouch when it comes to computers, but he's not quite at her level."  Jack shrugged.  "But Ianto doesn't
want her involved.  If she's the one to crack those files open, she's bound to take a look.  He doesn't want the risk of her finding

The sound that erupted from Owen's throat was effectively a growl.  "I need that information, Jack!  The more I know about
what was done to him, and what's being done to him, the better I'll be able to help him."

Jack held up a placating hand.  "I know, I know.  I'll talk to him.  But Owen, it is his choice."

"Bloody stubborn idiot better choose to trust someone else soon.  Who knows what kind of complications will arise with using
alien tech?"  He ran a hand through his hair.  "I mean, did Torchwood One even give a shit about the kid and the baby, or was he
just a means to an end for them?"  Then he lowered his voice.  "What if there's no way of delivering the baby without killing
him?  What if just carrying the thing is killing him?  This is stuff I need to know!"

Jack clenched his hands.  "Don't you think I've already asked myself these questions?  And I'm sure those same questions came
into Ianto's mind once or twice.  The fact of the matter is Ianto will open up if and when he wants to.  All I can do is ask him to
please talk to Tosh."

Owen left Jack's office in a bad mood.

Jack had every intention of talking to Ianto, but his plans were derailed by the death of a man in police custody and the further
chaos created by the fairies.  By the time it was all over with, Estelle was dead, Jasmine was gone, and the team seemed to be
holding Jack solely responsible for everything.


It was late, gone past midnight, and Jack was sitting in his office.  He was idly twirling an empty glass with his fingers.  He
wasn't drunk, couldn't really get drunk in the first place.  At least not for long before his body worked it out of his system.  He
had needed the momentary dulling of his senses tonight.

There was the soft sound of knuckles against his door frame and he looked up to see Ianto standing there with a pair of
steaming mugs in one hand.  The Welshman was dressed for bed, in just a pair of sleep pants and slippers, a dressing gown
wrapped around him that was one of the few garments he owned that could still conceal his growing stomach.

Despite his bad mood, Jack managed a weak smile for the one person who hadn't treated him like the lowest scum of the Earth.  
"Come on in, Ianto."

Ianto strode in, looking as dignified as he could considering he was in his nightclothes.  He'd left earlier that evening, but had
returned shortly after ten with a small bag and an apologetic smile.  "I had a hard time sleeping.  I got up for a drink and thought
you could do with a coffee."

Jack pushed the glass aside and took the mug gratefully.  "Thanks.  Have a seat and talk to me for a bit.  I could use the

Ianto's smile was almost as frail as Jack's as he sat down.  "Hell of a day."  He sipped at his own mug and grimaced.  "I hate
warm milk," he muttered under his breath.

Jack frowned in puzzlement.  "Why drink it, then?"

"Because Owen won't let me have more than one cup of coffee a day, the damn sadist.  Or tea, or anything else with caffeine.  
And I wanted something warm."  He was quiet as he sipped unhappily.

Jack was glad that Ianto didn't bring up the unpleasantness of the past few days, but felt the need to get something off his
chest.  "Do you still think I'm a heartless monster?"

Ianto, to his credit, didn't choke on his warm milk.  He merely gave Jack a puzzled look.  "No.  I did hate you and it was difficult
to let that anger go, but you're not a monster."  He frowned for a moment in apparent thought, then he stood and walked around
to Jack's side of the desk and took hold of his hand.  He pulled at the knot keeping his dressing gown closed, then spread the
material apart, exposing pale expanses of skin.

Jack was shocked when Ianto guided his hand to his stomach.  He almost jumped when the otherwise smooth skin rippled
slightly beneath his fingers.

"If you hadn't made that heartbreaking decision, the whole world would have been devastated.  This unborn baby would have
died before it could ever truly live."  He released Jack's hand.  "It's what you do.  You are a leader, our leader.  You make the
decisions that no one else can because you know that so many lives depend on you making them."  He sighed and shook his
head.  "I'm not making myself very clear.  I'm not much of a talker."

Jack's hand lingered a moment longer, his thumb brushing back and forth.  Reluctantly, he drew away from the warm skin.  He
was amazed that Ianto had allowed that small amount of contact, let alone that he had initiated it.

"You're being perfectly clear," Jack said.  "And thank you."

He tried to smile, wanting to reassure the Welshman that everything would be okay.  But he couldn't quite manage it.  He felt
hollow inside, the past few days leaving him tired and wrung out.  He almost felt as if he could crawl into bed and sleep for
days.  He knew he wouldn't though.  He had a responsibility.  Despite how the team felt about him right now, he had to carry on
and do what he had been doing for the past century.

His thoughts were so inwardly focused, that he failed to notice the shift in Ianto's demeanor.  By the time he did notice, Jack
was being kissed.

It was sudden and unexpected.  A pair of warm lips awkwardly pressing against his own.  Jack responded by instinct, pressing
back and opening his mouth.  He stood, wanting to be on more equal terms.  His fingers found their way to Ianto's hips, thumbs
idly grazing the waistband of his clothes.  A tongue scraped along his teeth, then slid inward with a soft moan from the younger
man.  Ianto's hands clenched at his arms, the swell of his stomach an encumbrance keeping them from pressing closer to each

It ended just as quickly as it had begun.  Ianto broke away, stepping back hastily.  He was breathing heavily and visibly shaking.  
His eyes were wide and frightened.  "I, I'm sorry.  I don't know why ... I'm sorry."  He turned to hurry away.

Jack reached out and caught his wrist to pull him back.  Unfortunately, he also caused Ianto to lose his balance and the
Welshman toppled.  Jack half-caught him, dropping with him to the floor in a tangle of limbs.  At least he'd managed to break his
fall.  They were both on their backs, Jack underneath Ianto.

He pressed a calming hand to Ianto's face and smiled down at him as best as he could with the awkward angle.  This time, he
didn't have to force the expression.  "Calm down.  Take a deep breath."

Ianto did as he was told.  Slowly, the physical signs of his agitation ebbed away.  "I'm sorry," he said again, far calmer but with
a bright blush on his cheeks.

Jack, emboldened by the allowance he had been given earlier, slid his hand across Ianto's stomach.  Now and then, he felt a faint
flutter under his palm and his smile widened.  "Don't worry about it.  It doesn't have to go anywhere.  It was nice though."


Jack chuckled.  "You could use a little practice, but overall your technique was ... invigorating."

He was rewarded by a smile.  It was a beautiful sight.

"Come on, up you get," Jack said, helping the other man to his feet.  "It's late and you should get to bed."

"Right, Sir."  He nodded and turned to go.

Jack caught his wrist again.  Though it didn't lead to them being on the floor again, it did stop Ianto.  When Ianto turned to him
again, Jack quirked a smile.  "I think after tonight, you can definitely drop the 'sir'."

A dusting of color bloomed on Ianto's cheeks.  "That's not proper, Sir."

"How about when we're alone?"

Ianto inclined his head.  "If you like, Jack."

Jack's grin widened.  The sound of his name from those lips definitely made him feel better.  "Absolutely perfect."

The faint color on Ianto's cheeks deepened and stretched to cover his ears as well.  "I should go."

Nodding, Jack released his wrist.  He brushed his hand along Ianto's back.  "Goodnight, Ianto."

Ianto moved to the door.  He paused, looking back.  "Goodnight, Jack."  He turned and hurried away back to his bed in the
Archives.  Jack watched him go, sighing wistfully once he was out of sight.  He didn't even notice as he raised his fingers to
ghost across his own lips, enjoying the faint tingling and the lingering taste of the Welshman's kiss.

To Be Continued ...