1.

Ianto Jones sighed as he stood up, stretching his back yet again. He was only twenty-five, but sometimes he felt like he was getting too old for Torchwood. He'd spent hours picking up and replacing everything that had fallen out of place in the archives during the Riftquake that had them all out of bed at six o'clock that morning. Coming off a weekend of heavy alien activity (Weevils, space tourists, deadly viruses), he'd been exhausted before he'd even gone to sleep, and the early morning wake up had only made it worse.

Then again, he'd probably pop some pills, grab a few hours of sleep, and carry on. That's what they did, after all.

He was almost done, one last row of shelves to pick up and sort back into place. It was well past time for dinner, but Ianto was determined to finish before grabbing a snack and falling into bed. The archives were a dangerous place, in spite of several safeguards put in place to protect them. The Riftquake had shaken things up quite a bit in the lower levels, and Ianto wanted to be sure nothing had been damaged in a way that might be hazardous. He'd hate to go to bed and have something blow up while he slept.

He picked up a small square device, eerily similar to a Rubik's Cube but without any colors; it was covered instead in smaller squares of black, white, and shades of grey. Ianto half wondered if they were supposed to line up in patterns, but the tag claimed it was a broken weapon, so he rather doubted it worked like a puzzle. He turned it over a few times to see if it had been damaged falling from the shelf, which was when he noticed one of the squares was no longer dark, but a deep, pulsating purple, warm to the touch.

Resisting the impulse to drop it like a live snake, Ianto swore and dashed back into his office, placing it into a containment box and slamming it shut. He leaned over the table, his heart pounding, nervous energy escaping as a short laugh. Which was when Jack sauntered in and found him.

"You all right?" he asked, sounding both concerned and hesitant. Ianto nodded and took a deep breath. It was probably nothing, and the last thing he wanted was for Jack to worry.

"Still cleaning up and might have come across something that was damaged," he said, then stood up straight and met Jack's eyes. "Or activated."

"Did you touch it?" Jack demanded, moving closer and reaching out toward Ianto, as if he wanted to examine him. Since returning from so-called Hell a little over a fortnight ago, Jack had been more protective of the team, and Ianto in particular felt it keenly. It was strange, because he felt as if there must be a reason for Jack's solicitude, only none of them knew what had happened to him. Had he been injured in Hell? Had they? "Are you hurt?"

Ianto shook his head. "No, it didn't do anything but glow a little. I'm fine." Although he wasn't completely certain, knowing his job and the archives as he did. It was entirely possible he'd wake up with a third eye after handling the artifact.

"What was it?" Jack asked, reaching toward the containment box and glancing inside.

"It was labeled as a Xrillian cube," Ianto replied. "Listed as a weapon and catalogued as broken."

Jack frowned, as if trying to place it. He nodded. "Right. I remember that. I think. What happened?"

"My guess is that something was knocked loose when it fell during the quake. One of the squares turned purple." Ianto shrugged and held up his hands. "No webbing, tentacles, or feathers yet," he joked. After staring at him for a moment, Jack nodded and grinned.

"Good to know, although tentacles are not so bad once you get used to—"

"Jack."

"Right. I don't know what a purple button means," he said. "But have Tosh take a look at it tomorrow to be sure it's not—"

"—going to explode," Ianto finished. "My thoughts exactly."

Jack stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Ianto's waist. "Of course it was. That's because great minds think alike—"

"—and every once in a while we pull it off too," Ianto said. Jack scrunched up his face.

"Not what I was going to say," he said. He pulled Ianto flush against him so that their hips pressed against one another. "Now, are you going to keep finishing my sentences or—"

"—finish what I was working on so I can go home?" Ianto replied with a smirk. This time Jack growled and kissed him, long and hard.

"I was going to say stop now and call it a night, but if you're so determined to work, who am I to say otherwise?" He nipped at Ianto's ear, his hands resting comfortably on Ianto's arse.

Ianto thought about the last shelf of items he needed to go through and put away. Then Jack nibbled at his neck, and he decided if nothing had exploded so far, there was a pretty good chance it wouldn't before morning. He could finish after a good night's sleep. He was tired and hungry, though a certain part of his anatomy had definitely perked up with Jack's visit.

"Did you have something else in mind?" Ianto murmured, and he felt Jack smile against his skin.

"Oh, I always have something in mind when it comes to you," Jack purred, then laughed at the utter ridiculousness of it. Ianto joined him, enjoying the rare moment of openness and levity after a week of doubt and uncertainty.

"Actually, I was thinking we could polish off those leftovers in the fridge and then crash here, if you don't mind staying?"

"On that delightfully comfortable slab of rock you call a bed?" Ianto replied, then laughed again as Jack slapped him lightly in the arse. "Of course not. It's late, so I may as well stay here, then I can get an early start on cleaning up these last few artifacts."

"Glad I can help you out with a play to stay," Jack drawled as he dropped his arms and turned to leave. "Ianto Jones, practical to the core. And here I was going to make it worth your while."

Ianto grabbed his jacket, turned off the lights, and followed Jack back toward the main part of the Hub. "If you'd like to come back to mine, you're more than welcome," Ianto replied. "But I suspect by the time we get there I'll be too tired to do anything else but go right to sleep. And snore. Loudly."

Jack's head whipped around, and Ianto grinned as he continued. "So it's practical to stay here. Saves time and energy and leaves us better able to engage in more…recreational activities."

Jack placed a hand over his heart. "I've gone from a matter of convenience to a recreational activity! I must be moving up in the world!"

Ianto stepped close to Jack, palming his crotch as Jack had done to him last month when Rhys Williams had been in the Hub. "I'd say you're definitely up, sir," he murmured.

Jack smiled warmly, running a hand across Ianto's face before kissing him softly on the lips. "Come on," he said. "Let's take some food downstairs and eat in bed."

"Just eat?" asked Ianto.

"I hope not!" Jack laughed. "And if you're not careful with that smart mouth of yours, I might eat right off your stomach!"

Ianto cocked his head and thought about it, then nodded.

"All right," he said, enjoying the look of surprise on Jack's face. He walked past him, went to the refrigerator and plucked out the leftover pizza plus some beers and a slice of cake from somewhere, and headed toward Jack's office.

"Well, come on then," he said. "I couldn't find any whip cream, but I have cake."

Jack grinned, and with a quick sprint caught up as Ianto stepped into the office, looking forward to whatever Jack had in mind.

Ianto stepped into the shower, too tired to whistle but feeling as if he could. He'd spent the night with Jack, which was becoming a more and more common occurrence, and in spite of two grown men trying to fit themselves into Jack's cramped bed, they'd managed rather well. It had been brilliant, in fact, from their messy but sensuous late night snack, to the amazing sex that followed, to waking up tangled together under the warm blankets. Jack usually woke up before him, but this time he'd been snuffling into Ianto's pillow when Ianto had opened his eyes. After watching for a bit and marveling at the peaceful stillness on Jack's face, Ianto had pressed a kiss to Jack's forehead and decided to shower. He was hoping Jack might hear the water running and join him.

As he washed his hair, he contemplated everything that had happened with Jack recently and wondered once more what was really going on between them. Jack had been back for several months, and since the night he'd returned he'd made clear to Ianto that he wanted things to be different. First a date, then another. Little looks and touches. Nights spent at the Hub, or more often at Ianto's flat. And then a trip to Hell, to save Jack with nothing more than blind faith in the power of forgiveness.

It hadn't been easy, trying to navigate a new course for their relationship. Like the others, Ianto had been hurt by Jack's abrupt disappearance, even if he did understand Jack's need to find the Doctor. And he'd had his doubts about getting involved with Jack again, as much as he'd wanted to. He still did. Before Jack had left, they'd been two lonely people offering nothing more than comfort and distraction through sex. Ianto hadn't kidded himself that Jack thought any more of him than a willing partner, and he hadn't been looking to Jack to provide anything more either.

Now it was more, though how much more he couldn't say. But it was enough that he worried about it, because every day he wondered when Jack would tire of him, of Torchwood, and run back to the stars. He was an immortal man from the 51st century; what Jack was doing there, with them, when he could be doing so much more? Ianto was incredibly glad to have the chance to be with Jack, but he tried not to put too much stock into it, knowing that when Jack left, he could end up more broken than after Lisa had died.

Jack too, had needed time to settle in. The Hub had changed while he'd been gone, as had the team. He'd had to earn everyone's forgiveness, not only Ianto's. And Ianto knew Jack still grappled with his feelings for Gwen, though he wasn't sure what it was exactly between them. He'd struggled with Jack and Gwen's confrontation after Rhys had been shot, questioning everything—his job, his competence, his relationship with Jack. He'd even been close to ending it with Jack, tired of having so many doubts, until the reappearance of Billis Manger.

They'd had their moments during the Tretarri case, though for every time Jack had actually shared something with Ianto, he had also gone distant and held back. And then Idris Hopper had got involved, and Jack had almost seemed to enjoy the awkward sexual tension between the three of them. Bad enough the unresolved situation with Gwen; sometimes Ianto was tired of Jack's former lovers showing up to make a confusing situation even worse.

But something had happened with Manger, something to do with Jack, and Ianto knew that he couldn't leave Jack, not then. And then Jack had been sent to Hell, and Ianto had somehow known that he could bring him back—that he, and only he, could forgive Jack and save him. As if he had done so already, but didn't remember. Jack had come back so attentive and even affectionate that Ianto sensed something terrible must have happened. But it had been nice, in a way, so he hadn't pressed Jack for details. He'd enjoyed the extra attention while it lasted, always waiting for the day it would end.

Instead it seemed as if they had settled into a strange sort of domesticity. It was an unconventional and even kinky domesticity much of the time, but it was more than anything they'd shared before Jack had run off, more than anything Ianto had ever thought possible with a man like Jack. Sometimes he still couldn't believe it, and too often he wondered why—why him?

Thinking about it too much would very likely jinx it all, knowing Jack and his thoughts about such things, so Ianto tried to put it from his mind. Whatever it was, it was good, and Ianto knew in this job and with this man, he needed to enjoy the moments they had, not second guess the past and worry about the future. For them, it was all about the present, and the present was good. He tilted his head back to rinse the soap from his hair, wondering if Jack was awake or if he'd have to wake him up in some creative way, when he heard the door to the ensuite finally open. Ianto grinned to himself.

"About time you got up!" he called to Jack as he watched the other man's silhouette move toward him through the frosted glass of the shower door. "Care to join me?"

The silhouette stopped. Jack didn't reply, and Ianto felt a tiny stirring of doubt. Why wasn't Jack speaking? Was something wrong? He was usually far more talkative in the morning.

"Jack?" he said, quickly rinsing the soap from his body. "Is everything all right?"

There was still no answer, but Jack opened the door and stepped inside. Only he was still wearing his shorts, and the look on his face was alarming. It was too blank, cold and distant, whereas Jack's expressions sometimes said more than his words ever could.

"What's wrong?" Ianto demanded, turning the water off behind him. "What's happened?"

Jack shook his head as he smiled, too big and too forced to be real; it turned Ianto's stomach. He was hit with the sudden need to run, to get as far away from Jack as possible. Something was wrong with Jack, and Ianto was in danger.

Yet before he could say another word or even think of forcing his way out of the shower, Jack's right arm flew out from behind his back, a long knife clenched tightly in his fist. Ianto stared at it, instinctively stepping backward as Jack moved closer, the knife slashing forward so quick and unexpectedly that Ianto didn't even have a chance to try and stop it.

It plunged into his gut, a strong upward thrust into his abdomen with a sickening twist, cutting through skin and muscle. Ianto grunted, his hands clutching at his waist as he felt a sticky wetness pouring from the wound, dripping between his fingers. He stared down at his torso, his hands covered in bright red blood. Then he met Jack's gaze in shocked silence.

Jack wasn't really looking at him. The feral grin was gone, replaced by the blankness once more. His eyes looked more violet than blue, and he raised the knife higher time, plunging it into Ianto's chest, between his ribs, just shy of his heart.

Ianto fell to his knees, surrounded by blood and water as he gasped for breath. Jack stood above him, drops of crimson falling from the tip of the knife to land on the tiles and splatter over his bare feet. Ianto felt his heart break, both literally and figuratively, as Jack gazed down at him and watched him with nothing more than a curious look on his face.

Blood seeped through Ianto's fingers, the pain overwhelming him. He toppled to the ground, gasping as life left him, swirling down the drain in a ghastly red stream. It was not how he thought he'd die. Not by Jack's hand, not now.

"Why?" Ianto whispered.

He thought he heard laughter as his eyes closed and everything faded away into nothing.

Author's Note:

All right, I think this is about ready to go, so buckle up! I really wanted to write a scary story for the season, as most of my Halloween stories tend to turn humorous. I hope this is it. If there are small errors here and there, I apologize, but sometimes when I've been looking at something for so long I miss them. I have tried to do my research as well, but do remember I'm not an expert in alien tech, medicine, weaponry, rifts in space and time, or any other number of things that may come up. If you are curious about some of the stories referenced here, you can probably read about them at the Tardis Wiki to get a general idea of the plot. I referenced the novel The Twilight Streets and the audiobook In The Shadows. Enjoy and thank you for reading!