Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral;
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.

-W.H. Auden, "Lullaby"

When Ianto dropped the tray, Jack knew.

Because Ianto just stood there, three cups worth of coffee slowly forming a tan lake around his shoes, and stared down at the broken mugs.

Then he seemed to snap back to himself. He silently stepped out of the puddle and went for a rag.

Gwen saw, too; she looked from Ianto's retreating back to Jack, standing in the doorway of his office. The question was in her eyes: 'What just happened?'

Ianto had frozen. That was what happened. That familiar, blank look on his face.

Ianto had frozen.

- - -

At the end of the day, Jack blocked Ianto's exit, leaning against the gate before the rolldoor, his arms folded across his chest. Ianto blinked at him, uncomprehending.

"Hello?"

"Hello." Jack's face was serious. He looked calm, but – Ianto could feel a Discussion coming on. Ianto did not want a Discussion.

"I'd like to go home."

"I'm sure you would."

They stared at each other, neither yielding. Ianto, the confusion in his expression not entirely honest. Jack, the calm in his posture not totally sound.

Ianto sighed. "I'm tired, Jack. Please let me go."

Jack didn't move. He just looked at Ianto, unsmiling. "You dropped a tray earlier." He sounded almost conversational.

Ianto faked exasperation. "Is this about broken mugs? Take them out of my paycheque."

"You know what this is about."

Ianto glared at him. He did know. He turned. "I'm taking the lift, then. Good night." He walked off.

Jack called after him, "I disabled it." He held up his wrist strap when Ianto turned around. "And only this will enable it again."

Ianto stared at him, seething. "Can't you leave well enough alone?"

"No."

"I've gathered."

Again, Jack only looked at him.

Ianto threw his coat on the ground. "Fine. What? What do you want?"

"The tray," Jack prompted.

Ianto, fifteen feet away from him, threw up his hands. "It was a tray, Jack! I lost my grip! I cleaned it up, what more do you want from me?"

Jack dropped his arms to his sides and started toward Ianto, his voice still calm. "Talk to me."

"What about? There's nothing to say, Jack. Please, just let me go home, I just want-"

Jack's hand fell on Ianto's shoulder. Ianto looked up at his face.

Jack said very quietly, "You broke Tosh's mug."

The change in Ianto's face was slow. Anger fell to shock, which fell to some impossible combination of emotions – they traced their way over his face so quickly that Jack couldn't tally them, couldn't keep track – and finally, grief. Horrible grief.

"Let me go," he whispered. His voice was terrified.

"No."

Ianto pulled away from him, stumbling back, looking around desperately. Trying to get away. His breath came in hitching gasps that would turn to sobs in a moment. "Let me go, Jack!"

Jack came toward him again. "No. Talk to me."

"No!"

Ianto's shout echoed in the cavernous hub.

"Why?"

Ianto looked wildly around. "It's not – I'm not-" Then, it collapsed. The wall fell.

Ianto crumbled to his knees, his face in his hands. "Oh God, Tosh – I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry-"

Jack was with him in seconds, his arms around Ianto's shoulders, holding his face against his chest. Ianto gripped Jack's shirt in two balled fists and let himself lose control. Let the quiet countenance fall. Let himself fall apart out loud.

They sat so for minutes, Jack holding on to Ianto as tightly as he could. The only sounds were the echoes of Ianto's cries and the natural shifts and sighs of the hub.

Finally, Ianto pulled away from Jack. He didn't stand, but stayed on the floor, the occasional odd breath still catching in his chest.

Jack asked him, "How long have you been holding that in?"

Ianto didn't answer, only stared miserably down at the stone floor.

Jack pulled Ianto back against him and rubbed comforting circles into his back with the tips of his fingers. "The look on your face today, when you dropped the tray. That blank look. I don't like to see it."

Muffled against Jack's chest, Ianto asked, "Would you rather I were dancing?"

Jack smiled sadly and pressed his lips against Ianto's hair. "No. It just means that you're keeping things in. Hiding."

Ianto pulled away a little, looking up at him. "It isn't hiding," he said. "It's just – I do things – quietly. I'm not Gwen."

"No," Jack agreed, the smile still present. "You're not as easy as that."

Ianto pressed his forehead against Jack's chest and coughed a short laugh.

Jack continued, "But it is hiding. Not letting anyone see how you're feeling."

Ianto sighed. "You've seen me in tears enough for one lifetime, Jack."

"I have a lot of lifetimes. I have to stock up."

This earned another muffled laugh.

Jack took Ianto by both shoulders and held him away a little bit, so he could look into his face.

"I need you to talk to me, Ianto. When things are bad. And they're going to be bad. I'm here. You don't have to hide behind that blank expression. That was finished a long time ago." Jack held his eyes with an earnest expression. "Okay?"

Ianto looked back at him for a moment, studying the seriousness of his face, the care in it. He breathed out. He nodded. "I will."

"Good." Jack pressed one final kiss to Ianto's brow, then stood them both up. "Still want to go home?"

Ianto hesitated, looking back at the rolldoor. Then he turned to Jack and shook his head, a very small smile forming on his lips.

Jack beamed. He took Ianto's hand.

"Good."