Ianto stepped off the TARDIS. He breathed in the salty air and blinked so that his eyes could adjust to the bright sun. Then, he murmured, though there was no one around to hear him other than the TARDIS and the Mainframe, "This is it." For a moment there, he felt queasy. He swallowed, and the moment passed.

The Mainframe had informed him with a great deal of certainty that Jack's family would be less than half a kilometer to the north, just beyond the dunes, near the shoreline, but Ianto hesitated. He wasn't even sure what they looked liked. All he had was a few vague descriptions from the stories Jack told. He considered aborting the whole excursion and going back to his own time. He told himself that being in Boeshane was a stupid idea to begin with. It was so very selfish and intrusive.

But he was there. He even bought the linen pants and the tunic just for the occasion. As if that was reason enough to stay, he clenched his hands into fists, then relaxed, trying to get rid of the tension in his body. He adjusted the linen scarf around his neck and took the first step.

The moment he saw them, he just knew that the people enjoying a pleasant day at the secluded beach was Jack's family. Of course, he may have drawn his conclusion from his overactive imagination, but then again, he may have gotten that idea from TARDIS herself who often penetrated his psychic barriers in order to share information. He could almost hear her warn him, "Don't make a mess of things."

The two boys played baseball on the sand, and much to his surprise, Ianto found himself feeling vaguely disappointed, which was silly. But baseball? Of all the sports that could have lasted and spread across the universe, why couldn't it have been rugby? Well, at least he now understood Jack's fascination with Joe Dimaggio and Derek Jeter.

Actually, the boys were having a hard time of it. The little one wasn't a very good pitcher and often threw the ball wide much to the consternation of his older brother who had to chase every wild pitch when all he wanted to do was practice his batting.

"Come on, Grey!" Jack shouted. "You've got to find the strike zone."

Ianto glanced at the two adults lying on the blanket, not too far from the children at play. The woman read a book out loud while her gentleman companion listened intently. Though Ianto wanted to move close enough to hear what she was saying, it didn't seem right to intrude. It was bad enough that he was there to begin with.

However, he sat down at what he hoped was a respectful distance anyway, pretending to be thoroughly fascinated by his watch.

He wondered if the woman was reading poetry. Sometimes, Jack would recite a few fragments, but could never remember an entire poem, which was a source of frustration for the man whose brain was crammed with so many memories. It would have been nice to hear the complete versions and finally get a clearer impression what the poet was trying to say.

Of course, Jack's descriptions of the peninsula were like those fragments. Ianto got a detail here and an anecdote there, but in the end, he could never put the pieces together to form the bigger picture. Who could blame him for wanting to take a small peek at his lover's formative years?

The air was warm and arid. Time just seemed to drift at a lazy pace. Maybe Jack had once described this place as a backwater, but the scene in front of Ianto was perfection - the kind that never lasted. Of course, he could be romanticizing the place because he wanted to believe that Jack had been completely happy and perhaps even innocent at one stage of his life. For everything Jack's life had become, Ianto wanted at least that much for his lover.

Grey tossed the ball again while his older brother was taking a few practice swings.

"I wasn't ready!" the older child insisted.

"Sorry," Grey shouted.

Jack tossed the ball at his younger brother and took his position again.

"Ready?" Grey asked.

"Not yet." Jack spit in his hands before gripping his bat.

"Ready?"

"Not yet." Jack took another practice swing.

"Ready?"

"Okay!"

Grey tossed the ball with all of his might, and Jack swung.

"Dad! Dad!" Jack yelled in excitement. Then, he froze. "Uh-oh!"

Ianto ducked as the ball flew past his head. It bounced a couple of times on a patch of grass before coming to a complete stop.

"Oops!" Grey yelled.

Jack's father rose to his feet and shouted, "Stay right there."

It occurred to Ianto that it would be incredibly easy to fetch the ball and toss it back, and any interaction could be over in a matter of seconds. Instead, he sat there as if the man's instructions were meant for him as well. His mind raced with too many questions that he wanted to ask:

When was your oldest son born and where? What was his first word? What's his favorite food? Who are his mates? Who does he resemble the most, his mum or his tad? What's his name? What's your name for that matter? And your wife's? Do you have any photos?

But asking all of that would be interpreted as creepy.

He also considered giving Jack's father a warning:

Please. Take your family as far away from here as possible.

But without a proper explanation, that would make him sound like a lunatic. However, if they had believed him, that might change everything, and to be perfectly selfish, Ianto didn't want his life to be any different even as he gazed at that sweet, little boy who obviously worshipped Jack. He reminded himself about all of those lives Jack had saved because of a journey that began with the loss of a father and brother.

I am so sorry.

"You okay?" Jack's father asked. "You didn't get hit, did you?"

"Oh, no." Ianto replied as he got up. He quickly got up and dusted the sand off his bottom. He frowned. The sand was going to take a long time to wash away.

"Sorry about that," Jack's father muttered as he searched for the ball. "I didn't expect the little slugger to hit the ball that hard."

"No, not a problem. You should be proud. The boy has a good arm. This has got to be what… a home run?"

"Probably a foul," the other man replied with false modesty. He picked up the ball and tossed it from one hand to the other. He was about to go back to his family, but he hesitated. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"The accent. Dead giveaway."

"Um… no, I'm not from here."

"So what brings you to the peninsula?"

"Just… passing through."

"Oh?"

"Yep."

Jack's father appeared to be friendly, but Ianto's evasiveness was making him wary. Made sense, actually. Small community. Everyone knew everyone else, and they were protective of each other. Ianto had been so intensely interested in the boys. God, he hoped that he didn't seem like a pedophile.

"Dad, toss the ball!" Jack shouted.

"I should be moving along," Ianto said. "I've got friends who are expecting me."

"Take care," Jack's father said.

"You too," Ianto replied with a casual salute.

The other man smiled and tossed the ball back to his son before running down the dune. Just like that, the conversation was over. Ianto returned to the TARDIS. He fired up her engine and went back home.

~~o0o~~

Jack was waiting for him. He was leaning on the doorjamb of the storage room that usually housed their little miss. "There you are," he said, the corner of his mouth curled up in a teasing grin. "Taking a little trip without me, are you? Okay. I see how it is."

"Just a small excursion," Ianto replied. "You know how restless she gets when we don't take her for a spin."

"So where'd you go? Do anything fun… like meet Bridget Bardot in San Tropez?"

"You know we planned on meeting her together."

"What about floating down the Nile? Or riding dune buggies through the desert?" Jack asked with the enthusiasm of the child Ianto saw just a few minutes earlier. He walked across the room and placed his hands on Ianto's hips. "More importantly, did you at least get me a souvenir?"

However, Jack's smile faded, and a small crease formed in between his eyebrows. He seized Ianto's scarf and sniffed it. Then, he ran his nose over Ianto's neck, his hair, and his clothes.

"Where…" But the rest of the sentence never made it past Jack's lips.

He grabbed Ianto by the wrist and dragged him down the twisty hallways to their bedroom on the time machine.

"Lie down," Jack said, his voice having lost all of its playfulness. Yet, he didn't sound angry either. His voice was calm and flat.

Ianto sat down and slowly removed his boots. As he did, he glanced at Jack, trying to read the other man's face, waiting for Jack to say something else; however, Jack was silent and his face frighteningly solemn. This wasn't seduction, far from it. It wasn't punishment either, although Ianto would have never stood for it if it was.

Once Ianto was lying on the bed, Jack sat down and removed his boots as well. He, then, crawled on the bed and settled his head on Ianto's chest. He inhaled deeply.

"Jack?"

"It's home," he said. "You smell like home."

Ianto wrapped his arms around the other man and squeezed him tightly. Jack whimpered softly, wanting, needing that scent, and the more he breathed in, the more his body relaxed so that his limbs became heavy and limp.

"I was going to wait for your birthday…" Ianto said as he took off his watch. "But I suppose it doesn't matter when I give it to you since we chose that date at random." He pressed one of the side buttons, and the watch projected a hologram of the video he took of the family on the beach.

Jack shifted his body so he was lying next to Ianto. His eyes were transfixed on the images, and for the longest time, he didn't say anything. His mouth just hung open in shock. Eventually, the tears began to fall.

"Since you can't cross your own timeline," Ianto said. He handed the watch and his scarf to Jack, and Jack continued to watch the video with the scarf over his mouth and nose.

Ianto tried to get up from the bed to give his partner a bit of privacy, but Jack whispered, "Don't go."

The words wrapped themselves around Ianto's heart and squeezed.

"I've never told you my real name, have I?" Jack said, smiling as the forgotten memories were coming back to him.

Ianto kissed his lover's forehead. "No."

Jack pressed the button and played the video again as Ianto made himself comfortable and listened to the stories that suddenly felt so real.