The room was cold.

Too cold for Jack's liking.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his slender fingers dug into his own chocolate tresses. He stared intently at a single spot on the hardwood floor in the moonlit room. His head was pounding and his heart was racing. The throbbing in his head that can only be brought on by his guilt could drive any man insane. The only thing keeping the Captain even remotely grounded was the soft sound of Ianto breathing as he restlessly slept on the other side of the double bed. He dropped his arms down, looking at his hands. It'd had been hours since the tragedy, but he could still feel Tosh's blood on his hands, the sound of her last breath echoing in his subconscious. He could have saved her. He could have saved Owen. He could have stopped Gray and stopped the decimation of Cardiff. Captain Jack Harkness. He was supposed to be the hero.

Movement.

Jack turned to look at the man who lay behind him as he turned in his slumber. The soft moonlight from the neglected curtains poured onto Ianto's face. In sleep, the Welshman looked almost peaceful. But not quite.

The Captain, a fixed point in time and space, cursed to live forever while everyone he knows or loves eventually dies, watched Ianto sleep. Ianto, of course, would never know. There were many things Ianto Jones would never know. Like how the only reason he was even asleep now is Jack put a mild sedative into his coffee. Ianto would need his rest. Like how that, without any uncertainty or question, from the pterodactyl incident, he loved Ianto. He needed Ianto from the beginning. It was killing him. Every second of every day that he and Ianto grew closer. The fact that he had almost forgotten the beauty of love making, and not just meaningless sex. And it was for those reasons, that, from tomorrow, Jack would begin to distance himself from Ianto. Push him away.

It wouldn't hurt as much when he had to bury Ianto.

Jack moved his hand to Ianto's face, his fingers tracing the outline gently. He tried to convince himself it would be easier this way. It would hurt now, but then Ianto could move on. He'd already been through so much. Lisa. Torchwood One. The Battle at Canary Wharf. He deserved better. Maybe if Jack pushed enough, Ianto would go.

No. Not even Jack believed that one.

Jack sighed loudly as he moved back to a laying position, facing his younger lover.

"I love you, Ianto Jones. But you'll never know." Jack whispered, taking Ianto's hand in his. He squeezed his eyes shut. Heroes didn't cry.

Jack would never know that Ianto smiled in his sleep that night. He would never know that Ianto somehow heard him. He would never really know just how much Ianto reciprocated the feelings.