A/N:

Once again, many thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed and a HUGE thank you to the brilliant Kitsa who helped with a lot of this story. It was her idea to have Jack make Ziva a much needed liaison to UNIT.

Epilogue

"No matter what you've done for yourself or for humanity, if you can't look back on having given love and attention to your own family, what have you really accomplished?"

Elbert Hubbard

Jack got home later than he'd intended—but he was prepared to defend himself, he had not 'swanned in' and taken over. Martha had asked for his help on a couple of things. Then he'd introduced her to Ziva and let the two of them get to know each other a little (he shuddered to think what Martha might be telling the other woman about what it was like to work for him), while he took Shane out for a late lunch. His great grandson had a bad habit of forgetting to eat, especially when he got into something interesting at work. It was no wonder he was so skinny.

The Captain spent the rest of the afternoon and on into the early part of the evening giving Ziva an overview of Torchwood before leaving her with Sarah Jane and Luke Smith for the night. Tomorrow, Sarah Jane would drive her out to meet Sir Alistair, then Ziva would spend a few weeks training with Martha in London before coming back to him in Cardiff for a while, and eventually heading out to New York. Martha planned to go with her, just for a couple of days, to introduce her around to the people she used to work with, give her an idea of who she could trust. Sir Alistair had promised to check in with her as well, just to make sure nobody was giving her any trouble—Jack suspected that once the retired brigadier met Ziva David, he would worry less about her ability to handle herself.

Pulling up in front of his house after a long productive day, Jack was filled with the feeling of accomplishment. Satisfaction. Down right pleasure at the way things had turned out… except for the fact that he'd completely missed dinner with his family. Again. Still, once he got the chance to tell Ianto the whole story, he was (mostly) certain he would be forgiven. Just to be safe, he'd stopped by the florist shop on the way home. Ianto never stayed mad at him long when he came in bearing gifts. It was terribly cliché, but the younger man seemed to favour red roses. He'd had the girl at the shop mix in some baby's breath and pink carnations. He didn't suspect that his husband had any idea of flower meanings, but he knew what he was saying. I will always love you. I will never forget you.

"Don't forget to empty the bins," he mused aloud as he put his key in the door. Inside, the house was quiet and dark. Jack pulled off his boots and set them next to the door where they belonged; he shrugged out of his coat and hung it neatly on a hanger—

"Well there's a sign of a guilty conscious if ever I saw one," said a familiar Welsh voice in the dark. "Either that or the world is coming to an end," he added. "You never hang up your coat without me nagging at you."

He jumped, startled by the unexpected appearance of the younger man. He hadn't heard him creeping down the stair. "Sorry I'm late," he apologized, handing over the bouquet and hoping for the best. The other's expression was difficult to read, but he didn't sound very happy.

Ianto just shook his head and wrapped his arms around his husband's shoulders. "I wasn't honestly expecting you in until late, Cariad," he told him. He only let himself be held for a few moments before pulling away, gently, and taking the bouquet, heading into the kitchen with it. "You missed quite a day," he said over his shoulder in a deliberately casual tone.

"Oh?" Jack followed him, worry tingeing his voice. Ianto looked all right. He hadn't called—he would have called if someone was hurt…wouldn't he? "What happened?"

"You'd better sit down."

He swallowed hard, trying desperately to squash the rising panic that caused his chest to tighten. "Ianto—" if something had happened, he wanted to know. Sitting or standing, it wouldn't matter, if somebody was hurt or…worse…

The younger man regarded him a moment. As much as he wanted to make Jack squirm, he couldn't stand the look of fear in those gorgeous blue eyes. "Sit." He ordered. "Everything's fine," he added, but waited until his partner had put his butt in a chair to continue. "She wanted to tell you herself, but you didn't come in today—" he began.

Jack cut him off: "Who wanted to tell me what?"

"Well if you'd let me finish," he gave over a stern look—then poured water into a vase for the flowers and deliberately fussed with them for a few seconds while Jack stewed. "Abby's pregnant," he finally told him.

Jack blinked. Grinned. Grinned harder. Abby…Abby and Tim… "The rest of the team?" he asked, wondering how they'd taken it or if she'd even told them yet.

"Oh, they know," the other replied casually. He set the vase on the table and fussed for a few more seconds until he felt a pair of hands on his waist, tugging at him gently; he allowed Jack to draw him into his lap and wrapped his arms around the older man's shoulders. "You are the dead last person to find out," he couldn't help his grin. They all knew that Jack liked to be the first to know anything, even more so than him. "Bobby insisted on re-doing the blood work, despite the fact that Wendy assured him that she'd figured it out a week ago. Her scent changed," he answered the questioning look on his husband's face. "And of course you can imagine what Abby had to say when Bobby questioned her ability to do a simple blood test on her self."

"Do we need a new medic?" Jack asked him, grinning all the more.

The younger man chuckled, pulled in just a little closer. "He'll recover—although she did threaten to feed him to Myfanwy. Funny enough, Wendy offered to help."

Jack laughed. Tim and Abby were going to make great parents.

"I've already re-worked the schedule," Ianto told him, then. "It's going to be a bit tight, but Gwen said she'd come back early if we needed her." Her and Rhys' second child, a little girl, was due in a little over a month. She'd just gone on maternity leave, mostly to help Rhys out with RJ who seemed to be going through 'a phase'.

"We'll be fine," said the Captain. "We held it together with four people not so long ago, remember?"

He just shook his head. "Sometimes I'm not sure how did it, Jack. How you did it," he hadn't been much of a field agent in the beginning.

"It doesn't matter. We did it. We could do it again if we had to." But I'm glad we don't. There were so many things he was glad of…He looked up at the man sitting in his lap and thought about all the things he never wanted to forget. Those beautiful blue grey eyes. The turn of his nose. The way his hair always looked when he just got out of bed, mussed and out of place… the way he smiled just as he leant in. The softness of his lips…the way his tongue played gently at his mouth, seeking access… his body's reaction to his Welshman's kiss. "I love you," he whispered as their mouths parted.

"I love you too, Jack. With all my heart. Oh…and I saved you some dessert," he added with a wicked little grin. "It's upstairs." He slid out of his husband's lap and took his hand hand, giving it a gentle tug to bring him to his feet.

"Pineapples and whipped cream?"

"You know they're my favourite… and you, Sir, are the sexiest plate I have ever eaten off of."

With an offer like that, Jack didn't have to be asked twice…