Jack pulled his shirt over his head and slumped down in his bed, the cool sheets pooling round his waist and just as he closed his eyelids to succumb to sleep his mobile beeped. He squeezed them shut then forced them open and turned on to his side, checking his phone and frowning.

 

 

He was unusually annoyed that one of his team was being targeted because of him and he sat back against the wall to dial Gwen’s number, running his hand through his hair as she answered.

 

‘Gwen?’

 

‘Hi Jack –RHYS! Sorry let me go outside he’s trying to cook…’

 

‘I was just wondering - did you get anything on the stalker?’

 

‘Yeah actually…I used the tracker to follow him – he’s staying in a block of flats that I know – me and Andy always used to be round there for domestics and stuff -’

 

‘Gwen…’

 

‘Sorry – yeah, so I got some information about him from his landlord and did a background check. He’s called Ben Smith –‘

 

‘Don’t recognise the name.’ Jack interrupted automatically.

 

‘Well you wouldn’t. He doesn’t exist until 4 years ago according to the paper trail. So, I called in a favour – before he was Ben Smith, he was Patrick Lewisham.’

 

‘Still not recognising him, details?’

 

‘He was a banker in Bath, had a wife, big house, flash car. Then 4 years ago, his wife divorced him and took him to the cleaners. He ends up broke, turns to drink – he has a string of drunk and disorderly and disturbing the peace convictions and one for GBH, he loses his job and falls off the radar until he turns up as Ben Smith.’

 

‘What the hell is he stalking Torchwood for then?’

 

Jack frowned frustratedly and sat up straighter. This wasn’t making sense, either something was going on that he didn’t know about or his time was being wasted.

 

‘I don’t know…I say cut your losses and ignore him – you’re right he’ll get bored of it.’

 

‘No.’ Jack shook his head.

 

‘No?’

 

‘No. He tried to follow Ianto home. I don’t like it.’

 

Gwen was silent for a second before breathing in sharply, ‘what do you want to do?’

 

‘Go on a date.’

 

‘What?’

 

Jack cocked his head, his mind running through what he knew and decided it didn’t matter what he did or didn’t know, no one was threatening his team and no one was making them feel unsafe.

 

‘I’m going to check out the wife tomorrow.’

 

‘Alright,’ Gwen agreed, ‘I’ll send you her details and see you in the afternoon.’

 

‘Thanks Gwen.’

 

‘No problem Jack - Night.’

 

Jack heard her put the phone down and flipped his shut.

 

He sighed, muttering to himself softly, ‘night, Gwen.’

 

He rubbed his thumb down the side of his mobile and opened it again, firing off a text to Ianto.

 

 

He closed his eyes and settled into his bed breathing deeply. Sleep Jack, he told himself. Sleep. You used to know how to do this. You used to sleep just fine. He shifted and fidgeted and then ran a hand down his face exasperatedly and got up, swinging his legs out of the bed and pulling clothes on. Never a bad time to stalk a woman he reasoned, maybe she would be gorgeous and fall at his feet…Not that he would take her up on it but it would be nice. It didn’t happen anymore. Everyone just constantly questioned him and he had less than no answers. He quickly downloaded the details Gwen had sent and strode out to the SUV his coat billowing out behind him. Nothing like a midnight drive.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Ianto realised he had been pacing for 19 minutes and 54 seconds and stopped, standing uselessly and looking out at the stars. Before that he had tried to sleep for 2 and a half hours and after trying every position known to mankind he had gotten up and begun pacing. Pacing was good. Repetitive and simple. Therapeutic. And not mad. He tapped his fingers anxiously against his side and reassured himself. Not mad. And his insomnia was nothing to do with his huge caffeine intake. Or not having Jack’s warm body in his bed. Jack breathing softly against his neck. Jack’s heart beat under his fingertips. Jack helping him sleep with limbs entwined, skin against skin, closeness under twisted sheets and the heaviness of shifting muscles on top of him and against him. 
This insomnia was not related to that at all. Definitely not.

Right. Excellent. Now he had reached a new evolutionary level in denial he would do something slightly more therapeutic than not sleep or pace and he picked up his car keys defiantly. Half three in the morning was the perfect time for a drive.

 

Ianto had changed and was now wearing faded jeans and a long sleeved, white shirt, his favourite necklace and a wooden bracelet on as he activated his house alarm and locked the door, bounding down his front step and admiring his car as he slipped into it. His new Alfa Romeo Mi.To Convertible CGI was black, fast and beautiful. You couldn’t get them yet - except Ianto could - because Ianto always looked good and that included his car. It was absolutely, definitely a girl and secretly named Juliet, he licked his lips, sank into the leather seat and fired the engine, pulling out of his street and heading for the nearest bypass. He breathed in deeply and turned his music up as he caressed the steering wheel and pushed the car into fifth gear, accelerating and leaning back as he relaxed his arm and drove with one hand. The road opened up when he left the city and street lights flew into the distance as he drove onwards into the night, the engine noise soothing him as he accelerated far past the speed limit - mainly just because he could.

 

The illuminated dashboard told him it was nearly 4am and he felt himself relaxing into his seat as he smoothly rounded bends, countryside surrounding him and crisply shining moonlight glanced across his face. Ianto loved to drive and he especially loved to drive fast. There was something utterly freeing about taking off in your car and going anywhere or nowhere, total control over what you are doing but at the same time giving yourself over to the power of the machine, the direction of the road, the uncertainty of what was around any bend. He loved reams of tarmac slipping under tyres in unending waves, and changing scenery torn and nourished by weather and time. He sighed happily and used his free hand to turn the heater up a little, music pounding through the speakers and filling the air. He settled back and relaxed as his head emptied of everything except the all encompassing and totally mindless task of driving in the dark.     

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Jack reached forward and turned the air con on, blasting cold air into his face defiantly. His inability to sleep had faded and he was now bone tired. He forced his eyes open and turned up the radio, more news, more death and more politics. Sometimes the 21^st century was soul destroying. He turned it off and returned to brooding on his thoughts, briefly wondering if he could ring Ianto and talk inanely for the hour it would take him to get to his first meeting with a mysterious woman for quite some time. However, it was 1 in the morning and Ianto would be in bed. And that was the problem. Ianto had a life that Jack couldn’t and wouldn’t invade. Because it wasn’t fair, because Ianto deserved more and because Jack could tell everyone in the world how important a proper life was but he couldn’t take his own advice. Maybe he would get round to being human again one day, but at the moment he couldn’t afford to, couldn’t afford to destroy what little humanity he had with Ianto at the moment, couldn’t afford to be that vulnerable again. Didn’t know how to. He had changed too much. He sighed and realised he was driving without thinking about it and turned his attention back to the road. Maybe he would get round to being human again one day. But not yet.