“So…” Ianto began with a sympathetic smile, “have you got that out of your system, do you think?”

Jack took his time looking up and focusing on the Welshman leaning against his office doorframe.

“Sorry?”

“The whole Gwen thing.”

“It’s not a thing,” Jack answered flatly.

“It is.  It’s…a thing.  I’ve had crushes, I know what—”

“It’s not a crush,” came the predicted response, Jack’s eyes narrowing at the perceived dismissal of…  Of what?  “It’s – it’s…real.  I’m sorry, truly sorry, I’ve never meant to…”  Hurt you?  If Ianto was hurting where were the tears and threats and, more than likely, the physical violence?  Abruptly, Jack felt uncertain, an uncertainty that grew as he gazed at Ianto’s calm countenance.  “A little rational guidance?” he encouraged, albeit apologetically.  “’Cause you seem…kinda…  Rational.  Not, for instance…  Hurt?”

“I’m not likely to be hurt by a crush, am I.”

“It’s not…!  Ianto, it feels…  Fuck.”

“That’s how all crushes feel.  Real, and huge, and overwhelming.  At least, that’s how the good ones feel.”

“A crush?”

“Yes.  And if you didn’t feel like your heart was being torn out of your chest today, then…frankly, you’ve been cheated.”

“Heart being torn out?  That’s not a crush.”

Ianto shrugged…

“Suit yourself.”

…and turned to go.

“Why can’t she just be here?  Happy here.  In fact…all of us, happy here.  And nothing changes.  Nothing.”  Ianto turned back, biting his cheek as he tried not to smirk at Jack’s uncharacteristic flailing.  Jack glared.  “It’s more than infatuation.”

“Now, that I agree with.  I don’t dispute that it’s love.  You love us all, we’re your family.  I’m sure that you want her to be happy, and…”

“Yes.  Happy here.”

“And, despite all this wallowing, and possessiveness, you want her and Rhys to have a good life together.”

Jack drew breath to make more of a fuss, but released it on a sigh.

“Yes.  I said so today, I told them.”

“See, that’s nice.  Loving.  You’re a good friend.”

“Loving but not in love?”

“Why do you want to be in love with her?”

Jack looked shocked at the question; his eyes unconsciously flickered to an old photograph on his desk.  Ianto’s attention couldn’t help but follow.

“I don’t know,” Jack said distractedly, “I just…”

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

Jack’s head snapped up.

“Are you serious?”

“Are you?”

“I…  Oh…fuck knows.”

As Jack was lost to his memories, Ianto wandered the office, hands in pockets.  He made a slow turn, knowing that the material pulled tight over his backside would instantly bring Jack back to the here and now.  Worked like a charm.  Damn, he loved how shallow Jack could be.

“Why didn’t you split them up?” Ianto suddenly asked, forcing Jack’s focus to his face.  “Let’s not fool ourselves, if you had made yourself available when Gwen was vulnerable you could have had her.”

“It wouldn’t have been right.”

“You don’t think that star-crossed soul-mates should do whatever it takes to be together, then?”  Jack gave Ianto an old fashioned look; Ianto pressed on.  “Not talking about beating all the odds here, just seeing off the boyfriend who is occasionally – sorry, Gwen – little more than a habit.”

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Jack glanced around for a possible means of escape.  Typical!  Just when you need a Weevil uprising…

“How about we leave this alone?” he suggested.  “I’m sorry I dragged you into it, I’ll deal.”

“Why did she end up in Owen’s bed instead of yours?”

“Ianto…”

“Shall I tell you why?  Because, as you said, it wouldn’t be right, and for all your faults, Jack, you do want what’s right.  More than that, you can be perfectly selfless about it.”

Jack gave a derogatory snort of a laugh.

“You think?  I doubt I do selfless anything.”

“I don’t think, I know.”

“Then what’s the resentment all about?  Why am I so pissed off at them?”

“Like you said, you want Gwen here.  You want both of them here.  A big old planet like you needs its satellites.”

“It can’t be that simple.”

“You miss her hero-worship, don’t you.  You have this facade of bluster and bravado, but beneath that you feel like shit so much of the time due to the horrendous decisions you have to make, and the people you can’t help.  No wonder you need her adoration.  Even when she’s pulling you to pieces over something you’ve done, she’s only so fervent because she refuses to accept that you’re less than perfect.”

“Are you saying…”

“Hmm.  She has a bit of a crush on you, haven’t you noticed?”

Jack pointedly ignored the teasing, delivered as it was beneath a facade of innocently sharing necessary information.

“Why should I need her to make me feel better about myself?  Don’t I have you for that?”

“You wish!  Sorry, but I see Jack Harkness, warts an’ all.  I know you’re a good man, but I openly recognise that that’s often…despite.”

“No!” Jack protested.  “No, no, no!”

“No?”

“Don’t you dare…start…making…sense,” Jack staggered to a pouting halt.

A thought-filled pause ensued.  Ianto eventually broke it.

“You said I was different when you came back, and you were right.  What you don’t know is that Gwen was the one who made that happen.  As a team – as people – we were in pieces, and she was the one who pulled us back together.  She comforted Tosh, and got Owen through his breakdown, and made me feel good about myself.  She drew me out, she encouraged me to be the person I was before…”  Ianto shrugged; they both knew how that sentence ended, and Jack respected that Ianto didn’t want to go there.  “All I’m saying is…I know why she makes you feel good, and why you’d hate to lose her.  I don’t want to lose her either.”

“But you don’t have a crush on her.”

“No.”

“But apparently I…  What about the jealousy?  I get jealous.”

“Jealousy…” Ianto began thoughtfully, “is very often due to the fear of loss.  I can sympathise.  You know how jealous I can be.”

“But you’re not jealous of Gwen?”

“Nope.  Or maybe…just a touch, of what she has with Rhys.”

“You want Rhys?” Jack whispered, horrified at the thought of Ianto – his Ianto – being smitten with the innocuous Mr Williams.

“I envy what they have.  Once upon a time, that was what I was going to have, and I’d’ve been very satisfied with it.”

Ianto looked to where Jack was watching him, eyes watery in empathy.

“I’m sorry, Ianto.  I’m so sorry for everything you lost.”

“Perhaps…perhaps I could get it back,” Ianto said airily.  “After all, your doctor has a time machine, you could ask him to take me…”

“No, I couldn’t,” Jack said fiercely, “it doesn’t work like that.”

“But surely…”

“I won’t let you go.”

“What?” Ianto asked artlessly.  “The way you let Gwen go today?”

“I…”  Jack stared at Ianto, mouth opening and closing several times in unspoken protest.  A protest that would prove to be sheer nonsense in light of the point that had been too effectively made about pitching reality against fantasy.  Abruptly, he felt a rush of appreciation.  Followed by a familiar guilt.  “How do you stand this?” Jack’s voice was tinged with anger, but it wasn’t directed at Ianto, they both knew that.  “Why should you have to?  Why don’t you just tell me to fuck off?”

Ianto strolled over and squeezed between the captain and his desk, easing himself into Jack’s lap and settling comfortably as grateful hands welcomed him.

“You silly sod,” he whispered affectionately.

Jack swallowed hard, offered a self-deprecating nod and a weak smile, and gave himself over to Ianto’s consolatory kiss with a quiet, happy to be defeated, groan.

“I’m going to miss my crush,” Jack whispered into Ianto’s neck as he was further fussed and coddled.

“Never mind, love,” Ianto sympathetically crooned, “we’ll find you another one, I’m sure.”

“You’re the best boyfriend.”

“Yes, I am.”  Ianto picked up and admired the aged wedding photograph from Jack’s desk.  “Memories,” he murmured.  “The happiest are often the saddest.”

Jack sighed and forced his eyes open, blinking and focusing on what Ianto was studying.

“Today, I…  Today was difficult,” Jack confessed.

“It was,” Ianto agreed, for entirely his own reasons.  A few self-indulgent reminiscences later, he was blanking his own past, and smiling at Jack’s.  “You look very handsome here.”

“Aren’t you supposed to comment on the beautiful bride?”

“I’m rather fixated on the beautiful groom.  Beyond that…you tell me what you choose to tell me.  I’ve no leading questions; you won’t be interrogated by me.”

“Thank you.”  Jack meant it.  “Thank you,” he stressed.

“Know why?”

Jack looked into Ianto’s eyes and saw the emotion there; it stole away every clever quip, every defence he had at his disposal.  He shook his head and, despite his own foolishness, selfishly willed Ianto to be brave enough to be utterly honest.

“Because this…”  Ianto kissed him again, tender and unhurried.  “This…is no crush.”