1

Rhiannon was sighing softly as she picked up the toys scattered around the house.

She was never going to train these little monsters.

Johnny had left his boots by the door again and she picked them up with a soft growl, entirely sick of him, to be sure. Sweaty slob.

Taking on him and his son had been something she never thought she could do, this modern blended family shit was hard work.

She looked up as she thought idly about the evening meal she now had to prepare and found herself not alone.

He stood in the doorway watching her, his eyes hooded with anger and she felt her mouth go dry as she recognized the look.

She had seen it many times, knew he was about to explode and it also told her that he knew.

He knew everything.

She had thought it a trick of the light at the funeral, the figure watching from the shadow of the trees an optical illusion that just reminded her of him.

Bastard was here.

Right here.

Alive.

She opened her mouth to speak, to defend herself but found no words.

Mica entered the room and looked at him, then at her as she asked for the TV remote.

He looked at her, her curls, her pale skin, calculating her age.

When she looked up at him and he saw his own mother's eyes looking back, he knew that the betrayals had gone deeper than first thought.

He swallowed as he smiled at the small child who carried his bloodline.

Rhia took a deep, shuddering breath as she watched her daughter walk into the other room, brushing past him and then smiling in that way he sometimes did.

Once upon a time.

He walked calmly to the table and pulled out a chair, sitting and letting his head drop into his hands.

"I failed" he said softly.

"No. I guess, in the end sweetling, we all did" she answered, wanting to reach out and touch him, wanting to make sure she was not hallucinating.

"How long?" he asked after a few heart beats.

"I have been here, planted as a watcher for five years" she said softly.

"The wee one?"

"Mine. My … husband … Johnny came with his own son." She answered with a grimace, "I did what I had to do. You must understand. I was punished for what happened, I lost everything."

"And I didn't?" he snorted. "Gods. Johnny. Was that a subconscious thing? Or was he chosen for that name as further punishment?"

"I lost my lover, the one I hoped would be my forever mate. He left me with a child in my belly and my position in the Time Agency in tatters" she snarled, "They would have wiped me if not for that child in there!"

"So you come here and play happy families while fucking another man?" he scoffed, "The mighty Time Agency Master reduced to a … what. Whore? At least you can still scream Johnny when you cum!"

Her hand met his cheek with a resounding slap that sounded like a gun shot in the small kitchen.

He smiled, finally.

"There you are." Clarista said softly.

"No, you do not even know me" he sighed, "You might think you do, but that man is long gone."

"And yet, here you are" she smiled, "Against all odds, you sit right here at my table as though you belong."

He smiled softly and remembered her as she once was.

Intimidating, powerful and lush.

"Ris. I came to .. I don't know. Anything you have, any photos, records, anything that is a trail to Ianto Jones. I need, …. We have to put them to rest."

"The funeral, was that not enough?" she rose, busying herself at the sink, "We buried an empty coffin, weighted down with sandbags. I said goodbye to the one I had come to love as a little brother. I wept for my failure to keep him safe, for his bloody mindfulness that took him to the one place he felt safe. With him! You think I want to look at that lie now?"

"It is the only one left" he pushed away from the table, rising to walk over to her, standing and watching Mica running around the backyard, the TV still droning in the background.

Buried an empty coffin?

"Look at her" Clarisa huffed, "Just like her father. No attention span."

"Not true, she has your lovely mouth" he said softly.

"Does she heck, you should hear her when I need to brush her hair," she laughed, "Can make your toes curl, the language!"

"I came to … I came to say that I hold no ill will." He touched her shoulder, briefly.

She turned to face him tears forming as she realized he was going again.

This was not a retrieval.

It was a good bye.

"Why?" she whispered.

"We both loved him" he shrugged.

She watched as he walked out of the house and she followed him to the door, clutching at the doorframe as she watched him saunter down the road.

She closed the door and let her tears fall.

For her lost brother.

For her fallen prince.

For her beloved mate who had just walked out on her.

Again.

What she didn't know is that he wept too.

John didn't look back, crossing off another failure on his list as his mate and daughter got further away with each broken heart beat.