Archive of Our Own ^beta

Part Two

"You really think he's that pissed off at you?" Owen asked an hour and several pints later. The pub was loud and crowded, very different from the bar in Hengoed. Which was a good thing, as it was highly unlikely they'd get into another fight; Ianto's ankle had been sore for a week.

"I don't know," Ianto replied, more casually than he felt. He was worried, as he didn't like lying—especially to Jack. "Like you said, he can be somewhat unpredictable."

"No shit, Sherlock," Owen muttered. "You think he's going to be furious, and he forgives. You think he'll look the other way, and he stares right at you. Only you're sleeping with him," he pointed out. "Shouldn't you know by now?"

"Know what?" Ianto asked. "It's not like he's unpredictable in bed. He knows what he wants, what he likes, what he—"

"Enough!" Owen exclaimed, then finished his drink and motioned for another one. "Christ, you overshare."

"Sorry," Ianto replied, though he wasn't. Deep down, he enjoyed making Owen squirm, and he'd learned over the last several months exactly what sorts of things made the doctor uncomfortable. "You did ask, though."

"No, I did not," Owen protested. "I said you should know him by now, know whether or not he's mad at you."

Ianto swirled his glass, gazed around the pub. "I don't think he's mad," Ianto said, "but I think he's upset about it. Bothered."

"Upset that we didn't bring back a new alien for him to meet and greet?" Owen asked. "Or in a strop because we didn't let him play hero and save the day?"

"Neither," Ianto replied. "He kept asking why I didn't tell him about it."

"Because we didn't want to write it up and see her get in trouble," Owen answered. "Easy answer."

"That's why we didn't report to our boss." Ianto nodded in agreement. "But I didn't tell him. You know, personally."

Owen sat back, arms crossed over his chest. "You mean, you hurt his feelings?"

"Maybe," Ianto replied. "He does have them, you know, despite what Gwen may think."

Owen snorted and took another long pull of his drink. "She thinks he's a cold-hearted prick most of the time. When she isn't making eyes at him."

Ianto grunted in agreement, but did not say anything. He didn't want to open that particular can of worms, after all. Not when things had been going relatively well between him and Jack, current situation aside.

"So you hurt his feelings because you didn't talk to him personally about a work-related matter?" Owen asked. "Didn't realize it was a requirement."

"Exactly," Ianto murmured. "He's the boss and it was a Torchwood case." He probably didn't need another pint, but he ordered one anyway. They drank silently for several minutes.

"So how does that work, exactly?" Owen asked. "Shagging the boss? How do you keep things separate?"

"Don't know," Ianto replied. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."

"You ever do more than shag?" Owen asked. "Because I don't want to know about that."

"And you do want to know …what? If we sit around holding hands and feeding each other grapes?"

Owen made a face. "You're the one who referred to him as your boyfriend, mate. That would at the very least seem to imply an occasional dinner date that did not involve pizza and beer."

Ianto toyed with a napkin on the table. "Then yes, we've been to dinner, a movie, that sort of thing."

"Who started it?" asked Owen.

"Who's asking?" Ianto returned. "Because you are clearly not the Owen Harper I walked in here with."

"Just trying to figure things out," Owen replied. "Team doctor and all—should know what's going on with the team."

"Do you talk to Gwen about her sex life?" Ianto asked.

"Don't need to," Owen replied with a leer. "Been there, done that."

"That's vile and crude."

"It really was," Owen agreed. "But it was over ages ago. You and Jack are the Torchwood hook up now. Who started it?"

Ianto looked up at the ceiling, trying to stall while he considered his answer. He shook his head. "Couldn't say. We hooked up, as you so eloquently put it, before he left. That was mostly me. When he came back—that was mostly him."

"I'm surprised you didn't throw him to the dogs when he came back," Owen mused.

"I thought about it," Ianto replied. He had, and quickly set his resentment aside when it became clear Jack had left them for a reason and returned in bad shape. Ianto had not been ready to jump right back into bed with Jack, but he'd forgiven the other man, as Jack had forgiven him after Lisa's death.

"Where'd he go, then?" the doctor asked. "He keeps dropping comments about the end of the world, but what does that mean? And why do I feel like it was a lot longer for him than it was for us?"

"Because it was longer for him," Ianto said. When Owen looked surprised, Ianto shrugged and took a pull. "He's not said very much, only that it was much longer, and not particularly good."

"So he ran off and skinned his knee time traveling across the galaxy?" Owen asked. "Serves him right."

"We betrayed him Owen," Ianto pointed out. "He didn't deserve some sort of cosmic punishment just because he left without saying goodbye."

Owen shook his head. "There you go, defending him again. Guess it's easy when you're halfway up his arse."

"Sod off," Ianto murmured, without much feeling. This was much more like the Owen he knew, expected, and could deal with.

"Seriously, Ianto—he literally ran off without a word!" Owen leaned forward and lowered his voice. "It's a wonder we're all still alive, let alone that Cardiff's still standing."

"We held our own," Ianto replied, feeling defensive. It had been hard, but they'd managed well enough once they'd accepted that Jack wasn't there to swan in and save the day. "Besides, he needed to go. He needed to find the Doctor, to learn about his immortality."

"Immortality," Owen muttered. He finished his drink. "Can you believe our boss is immortal? We work for a man who can't die. It goes against everything I learned in medical school."

"He can die, you know," Ianto told him. "Only he comes back. And it's painful."

"Tell you that, did he?"

"A bit, yeah," Ianto said.

"So how long was he gone, searching for himself?"

"I couldn't say."

"Where did he actually go?"

"The end of the world, as far as I know."

"Right, where he had a rough time of it," Owen said. "Do I need to keep an eye on him?"

Ianto gave him a skeptical look. "You mean like you did for me? After Lisa?"

"Fuck off," Owen told him. "I got you sorted eventually. Does he need help?"

"What, like chemical help? Talk therapy?" Ianto rolled his eyes. "He doesn't talk much, and I don't think Prozac would make much of a difference."

"It did for you."

"I'm an average bloke from the 21st century. He's an immortal time traveler from thousands of years in the future."

"Is he really?" Owen asked, somehow sounding both surprised and uninterested. "You're saying they don't suffer PTSD in the future?"

"No, I'm saying that 51st century physiology is probably different than ours." He smirked. "Except for where it counts, of course."

"La la la!" Owen intoned, covering his ears. "I did not need to know that!"

"But I enjoyed saying it," Ianto said.

"This conversation is over," Owen said, standing up. "I'd say I enjoyed it, but I didn't. I should go back to the Hub and Retcon myself so I forget it ever happened."

Ianto stood and followed him up front to settle their tab. He felt pleasantly relaxed, enough that he'd need a cab. Or he could go back to the Hub and crash there, except that meant seeing Jack and finishing their conversation from earlier.

They stood outside together, taking in the fresh air. Owen looked around, saw a cab, and waved it over. "Need a lift?" he asked. Ianto shook his head. He hadn't decided what to do, but he didn't want to share a cab. He'd had enough conversation with Owen to last him several months.

"Thanks, but I think I might get something to eat," he said. "Take my time, drive home in a while."

"Don't do anything stupid," Owen said, climbing into the cab. "We'll deal with Pat and Jack in the morning."

"As long as you're not hung over!" Ianto called. He waved the cab away and started back toward the Hub. Passing a kebab shop, he grinned, went inside, and came back out with his favorite. Finding a nearby bench, he sat down and texted Jack. He'd said he would, and he kept his word, even if he'd prefer to go home alone.

Heading home soon.

As before, Jack replied quickly.

Where are you? Need a ride?

Ianto blew out a breath as he considered. He may as well take Jack up on it, since he couldn't drive, and couldn't avoid seeing Jack now.

Thanks. Sitting outside the kebab shop on Bute Street.

Be right there!

Sure enough, Jack was at the kerb within five minutes. Ianto had enough time to finish his food and think about the situation with Jack. He decided it was probably better to clear things up with Jack than to let it linger. It was a small thing, after all; they could always keep ignoring the bigger issues between them. Yes, Ianto hadn't told him everything about the mission to Hengoed, but there were far more important things to worry about when it came to Torchwood, or their sort-of relationship.

"Have fun?" Jack asked after Ianto let himself into the passenger side of the SUV and they'd started toward Ianto's flat. "You're not limping, so that's a good sign."

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" Ianto murmured, but he smiled. If Jack was teasing him, he couldn't be that upset anymore.

"I would pay good money to watch you and Owen in a bar fight," Jack laughed.

"Well, it will never happen again," Ianto replied. "I'm shocked Owen wanted to go out."

"With you?" Jack gave him a knowing look. "He doesn't hate you, you know."

"I never said he did," Ianto protested.

"He's an arse to everyone," Jack continued. "Don't take it personally."

"That's what he said," Ianto replied, shaking his head. "That I'm not special." Jack gave him a warm smile and opened his mouth to reply, but Ianto stopped him, holding up his hand. "And don't say I am, that won't get you any favors in bed."

Jack laughed. "I wasn't looking for any," he said, to which Ianto glanced at him in surprise. "I figured it wasn't much of an option tonight."

"Why not?" Ianto asked. "Do you have other plans?"

"No," Jack said slowly, pulling up to Ianto's building. He put the car into park and remained in his seat. "I wasn't sure if you were still mad at me."

"I wasn't mad at you," Ianto said, confused. "You were mad at me."

"I wasn't mad at you," Jack said. "I was…disappointed."

Ianto studied him, still confused, then shook his head and decided he needed some coffee. "Coming in?" he asked. "I'll make some decaf and we can awkwardly dance around each other for an hour until the shagging part."

Jack laughed softly, leaned forward to kiss him—which startled him—and nodded. "An hour is a long time."

"We could always cut right to it then," Ianto, nipping at Jack's lower lip before turning to step out of the car. Jack followed him to the door of the flat.

"We should probably finish our conversation from this afternoon," Jack said. Ianto unlocked the door and motioned him inside.

"Is that the mature and responsible thing to do?" Ianto asked. He took Jack's coat and hung in on the hooks behind the door, then headed to the kitchen to make them coffee. He'd need it if they were going to jump back into that conversation.

"One of us has be," Jack said with a smile.

"Seeing as you're well over six times my age, it makes sense that it would be you." Ianto rummaged through his cabinets for the decaf he kept on hand for late-night emergencies. Jack huffed lightly behind him.

"Hey, I'm still a kid at heart," he protested. When Ianto turned and raised a skeptical eyebrow, Jack held up his hands. "I like cartoons."

"Everyone likes cartoons," Ianto said. He started the coffee, took out two mugs, then turned back to Jack, leaning against the counter. "Look, if we're going to be mature and responsible, then I'll start by apologizing again for not telling you about Pat. I didn't know she was going to show up today and force my hand."

"Did you even think about telling me?" Jack asked. Ianto realized too late the hole he'd dug for himself with his last comment, but he didn't want to lie anymore. He might avoid some things as much as he could, but he didn't want to lie.

"No," he replied. "I didn't. I didn't think I needed to."

"Did you ever want to?"

Ianto looked down and nodded. "Yes, at times. Other times, no."

"Why not?"

"Why did I want to, or why didn't I want to?" Ianto asked. He was deflecting and knew it, and turned around to pour the coffee as cover.

"Why didn't you want to tell me?" Jack asked. His voice was quiet, tinged with curiosity and the tiniest inflection of hurt, which was worse than anger and defensiveness. Ianto blew out a breath and handed Jack a warm mug.

"It's not like we tell each other everything," he pointed out, thinking as he said it that it wasn't the best way to respond, but it was true and he was struggling. "There's plenty we don't talk about." The look on Jack's face told him that was definitely the wrong thing to say. Jack didn't look hurt, but annoyed.

"So that's where we are, still keeping secrets from each other?" he asked.

"I wasn't keeping it secret from you," Ianto said. "I didn't report it at work."

"You didn't tell me outside work," Jack said. "That's secret."

"It wasn't relevant to…to…this," Ianto sputtered, motioning between them. "To us. Sort of like all those things you don't talk about."

"Such as?" Jack asked. He jerked his head toward the table, where they sat down across from each other, both somewhat tense. "What things that don't I talk about?"

Ianto shook his head, regretting his words as the worst deflection yet. "I'm sorry, I know this isn't about you. You keep your secrets for a reason."

"What secrets?" Jack pressed. Ianto tapped the table, trying to temper his reply, only it occurred to him he'd said what he'd said for a reason. Jack didn't tell him much, even after dating for several months; they all suspected he had secrets going back decades. Why should Ianto tell Jack something as simple as what happened in Hengoed when Jack still hadn't talked about his time with the Doctor? Was that why Ianto hadn't said anything—lingering resentment?

"What happened while you were gone, for one," Ianto finally replied, unable to hold all of it in much longer. "Why you came back. John Hart and the Time Agency. How you became immortal." He took a sip of coffee and huffed. "Your birthday."

Jack rolled his eyes at that last, which was somewhat of a relief: Ianto did not pushing Jack. He tried hard to give Jack his space, to let him be who he was without imposing obligations on him simply because they were sleeping together. And to some degree, he understood that Jack was a man with a long and complicated past who didn't want to talk about it for a dozen different reasons. Ianto respected that, but sometimes it was still hard, being with someone so different and wanting something as normal as sharing his life, even his feelings, but knowing it was simply not part of who they were together.

"So if I talk about myself, you'll talk about yourself?" Jack asked. "If I tell you about my year in chains, you'll tell me why you didn't say anything about what happened in Hengoed?"

"I didn't tell you about Pat because I didn't want you to condemn me for letting her go," Ianto snapped, losing his cool as Jack casually threw down details about his time away. He'd known Jack had been through something difficult, but a year in chains? Maybe this was why they didn't talk more, because it was painful and ugly. "I went out there hoping I could do something right, find the signal and stop it, maybe save the world. To prove that I can do this—to the team, to you. To prove that I am Torchwood."

He finished his coffee in one go, then stood and took it to the sink, continuing in the ringing silence. "Instead all I got was Owen complaining the entire time. And that bar fight and my ankle and—and then we found Pat. The last Taliskotian, waiting for her ship to take her home." He turned and pierced Jack with a stare. "I was going to bring her back to Cardiff, I honestly was. Only Owen said we could let her stay, because he knew that was what I wanted to do. He said he'd take the blame, and I let him convince me, because he was right—I wanted to let her stay. She'd just lost everything and deserved to live in peace."

Running a hand through his hair, Ianto paced in his tiny kitchen. "Only it felt like a failure, not bringing her in, not following protocol. I didn't know what you would say, personally or professionally, so no, I didn't tell you. Because I didn't want you to be angry, to be upset, to be disappointed. Maybe it was right, maybe it was wrong—I hardly know anymore. All I know is that I was trying to avoid this and instead walked right into it!" He leaned back against the counter, staring at the floor some more, unwilling to see whatever it was Jack was thinking written across his face.

The silence continued until Jack rose and rinsed out his mug in the sink, then stood next to Ianto, shoulders touching. He took a deep breath.

"I said I wasn't angry, and I'm not," he started. "I guess I'm disappointed that you didn't feel like you could tell me. Not as your boss, but as me. I thought that things were different than before, that we were closer. That we didn't have to keep secrets like that, but I can see why you did. And you're right, I do it as well. Don't tell you things."

"Jack, you have more reasons than anyone to hold your cards close," Ianto said. "You don't have to apologize because I know—"

"—you know almost nothing about me, and yet, here you are with me. Dating. Shagging. Inviting me up to your flat and having it out."

"Well," Ianto offered haltingly, hoping to diffuse some of the awkward tension. "Make-up sex usually starts with a rousing argument."

Jack laughed through his nose and bumped Ianto on the shoulder. "Don't go changing the subject with sexy talk. That's my job."

"You're too busy being mature and responsible," Ianto muttered. He glanced up to see Jack smiling at him.

"Not exactly," he said. "If I was, I would have seen it: why should I expect you to tell me things when I don't do the same?"

"You don't have to say anything," Ianto said, shaking his head and trying to backtrack. "I didn't mean it that way. It's hard sometimes, but I understand."

Jack cocked his head curiously. "How can you understand when I don't tell you anything?"

"You've shared some things," Ianto replied. "You drop a lot of hints. And I did work for Torchwood One. I may not know everything about you, but I know enough. You don't ask me about my past—about Lisa, Canary Wharf, things like that. The kinds of things that are hard to talk about. I get it."

Jack sighed. "Letting a harmless alien live out her life in rural Wales isn't one of those hard things—it should have been easy to tell me about that, but it wasn't."

"I was scared," Ianto replied with a shrug.

Jack was quiet, scuffing his toe on the floor of the kitchen. "I get scared too," he said softly, crossing his arms over his chest. Ianto glanced sideways at him, but Jack's gaze was unfocused, as if he was reliving uncomfortable memories.

"Everyone does, I think," Ianto offered. "It's hard not to in our line of work."

"I'm scared you'll judge me," Jack continued as if Ianto hadn't said anything. "That you'll be angry, disappointed." He paused. "Disgusted."

"Judge you for what?" Ianto asked, thrown by Jack's unexpected confession.

"For my past," Jack replied. He shrugged, hunched in on himself. "For the time I was gone."

Ianto shook his head, amazed at Jack's response. "I can't think of anything you could tell me that would cause me to judge you," he said. "Because I know you, I know who you are now. Why would I judge who you were in the past?"

"I wasn't always the man I am now," Jack said. "I wasn't a good person. I've done terrible things."

"And I've done stupid things that ended terrible," Ianto replied.

"I left you," Jack said so softly Ianto barely heard him. He replied in kind.

"And I betrayed you."

They were silent for a long moment, the tension thick in the air. Ianto could practically feel Jack wrestling with his thoughts next to him. He was still too confused by the unexpected turn of the conversation to get a hold of his own.

"I want you to be able to talk to me," Jack finally said. "I want to be able to talk to you."

"You don't have to—" Ianto began, but Jack cut him off, standing straight and turning to face him with an agitated slash of his hand.

"But that's it—I don't have to, I want to!" he exclaimed. "Only I'm not sure that you do, or that you believe me when I say I do."

He placed his hands on Ianto's upper arms, piercing him with an intense look. "I don't know how many times I can keep telling you, but I want this. Us. And I want to talk more." He dropped his hands and stepped back. "You still don't believe me."

Ianto shook his head to clear it. "It's not that I don't believe you," he said, but didn't continue as he tried to straighten out his thoughts. He hadn't planned on saying as much as he had and felt uncomfortably vulnerable. Jack waited a moment, then raised an eyebrow.

"Then, what's the problem? 'It's not you, it's me?'" He sounded skeptical, but the cliché was spot on.

"Well, yes," Ianto replied. "It's complicated, isn't it? We're such different people, in such different places, that sometimes I…" He trailed off at the exasperated look on Jack's face. "What?"

"We're not that different, not really," Jack said. "We both like a lot of the same things, for one, and—"

Ianto couldn't help but snort. "Just because we both like James Bond films, good scotch, and a blowjob doesn't mean much aside from a great night on the sofa."

"It means much more than that!" Jack protested. "It means we're compatible, and we enjoy spending time together. We wouldn't have nights like that if one of us didn't like watching movies, or drinking scotch, or—"

"Yes, I know," Ianto said, suddenly distracted by the last. "And I like those nights, I do. I didn't mean to make light of them." He paused. "Would you like a glass of scotch?" he asked. "Or a blowjob?"

Fortunately, Jack smiled at Ianto's attempt at humor. "Maybe later," he said. "Once I can convince you that I meant what I said."

Ianto shrugged. "I don't know what else to tell you, Jack."

"Tell me why," Jack insisted.

"I already did!" Ianto said, throwing his hands up in the air and trying not to sound frustrated. "What more do you want from me?"

"Tell me again." Jack said. "Apparently I'm too dense to understand, so explain it."

Tired of the constant back and forth, Ianto took a deep breath. What the hell. He'd say what he had to say and accept the consequences. Maybe he would feel better, knowing where things stood and even where they were going. Maybe he wouldn't worry as much, constantly wondering when it would end, and could simply enjoy what they had while they had it.

"It's not that I don't believe you," he said quietly, repeating his statement from earlier and then amending it. "But that I won't let myself believe you. You said we're more similar than different, that we like the same things…but I don't know what you really want, deep down. And even more, I don't see how it could possibly be me, be this, when I'm…I'm…" He struggled to find the right words, words that wouldn't hurt Jack. "I'm who I am. Awkward and inexperienced and scared and…" He took a deep breath and met Jack's eyes. "Mortal."

Jack's eyes widened, his mouth quirking into a half smile. "That's what this is about?" he asked, sounding surprised. "My immortality?"

"It does change things," Ianto pointed out.

"For me, maybe," Jack returned. He crossed his hands over his chest, clearly feeling defensive. "Unless it's something that bothers you so much you don't want to do this anymore."

"No!" Ianto exclaimed, blowing out an explosive breath. "That's not it at all. It doesn't bother me, it scares me! Every time it happens, what you go through, what it means, if you'll—" He stopped himself before voicing that one, damning fear out loud. "So there you have it—I'm nothing but a coward in the end."

Jack stared at him, his jaw set before a small smile started to grow. "This is stupid," he said. "Most people don't have these problems."

"Most people aren't born three thousand years apart, time travel, and fight aliens for a living," Ianto replied as dryly as he could. "We aren't most people."

"No, we're definitely not," Jack agreed. He moved closer, a slight saunter to his hips. He leaned in close, almost whispering. "We're better."

"We are?"

"Oh yes," Jack said, reaching down for Ianto's hand. "You know, I'm scared too. So maybe we can be scared together, as long as we talk to each other a little bit more." He placed a gentle kiss to Ianto's lips before pulling back with a smile. "Now let's go have make-up sex." He turned and started to tug Ianto toward the bedroom.

"What?" Ianto asked in surprise. "That's it? Talk's over?"

"For now," Jack replied. "I'd like to talk more later, though. I want to tell you what happened while I was gone." When Ianto only nodded in continued shock, he went on, pulling Ianto close against him. "And maybe you can tell me something."

"Like what?" Ianto was skeptical. He couldn't think of anything pressing for him to confess, after all. Jack cocked his head and smiled.

"How about your birthday," he said, laughing when Ianto couldn't help but show his surprise. "Mine's in March, but I want to know about your birthday—your childhood parties, your favorite gifts, everything."

"Why?" Ianto asked, stretching it out. Jack started unbuttoning Ianto's shirt. Still slightly dumbfounded at the sudden turn the night had taken, Ianto did not stop him.

"Because you're not a coward," Jack replied, kissing him on the cheek. "You're one of the bravest men I know." He offered a quick nibble to Ianto's ear. "And because your birthday is next week, and I'd like to do something special, to show you we can do this." He nuzzled at Ianto's neck as he pushed the shirt from Ianto's shoulders.

"Jack, you—"

"I don't have to, I know," Jack said, gazing into Ianto's eyes. "But I want to. So believe me, okay?"

There was nothing but sincerity in Jack's face, in Jack's voice. Ianto knew it was still his own fears holding him back—the fear of Jack not resurrecting after one of his many deaths, of watching Jack leave the planet again, of Jack simply ending whatever it was between them. In some ways, no matter what Jack said, those fears would never be laid to rest. Jack could die one day, in spite of what he'd said about his immortality being forever. Jack might leave Earth, return to his own time, his own planet. And if Ianto didn't die an early Torchwood death, surely Jack would leave him once Ianto grew old and withered.

But maybe it didn't matter. Maybe he needed to set aside those fears and take that next step with Jack, hand in hand. He trusted Jack, had faith in him as a man and as their leader. Now he needed to believe Jack—believe in Jack, as his partner. Jack did not want to hurt him, though that didn't mean it wouldn't happen someday. Yet that was the risk with any relationship, wasn't it? Giving your heart to another person, knowing that there was always that possibility of it being returned and broken.

Surely if Jack, an immortal destined to live forever, could take that risk with Ianto—and the outcome for him was surely inevitable—then the least Ianto could do would be to take that risk as well. And deep down, Ianto wanted to take that risk, because he wanted to be with Jack. It was worth whatever time they had together. He nodded and started to undo Jack's shirt.

"I don't like ice cream," he said as he focused on the buttons. "Too cold. But I love chocolate—"

"Especially dark?" Jack teased.

"Naturally." Ianto pushed Jack's braces down and then his shirt before he started to work on Jack's trousers. "And especially with whip cream and raspberries."

"Raspberries?" Jack undid Ianto's trousers as well. "I like raspberries."

"Then I look forward to sharing them," Ianto murmured. They both kicked off their shoes before stepping out of their trousers. Moving toward the bed, Ianto laid down and pulled Jack down next to him, kissing him soundly before removing the rest of his clothing.

"We've got to the make-up sex now, right?" he asked, trailing kisses along Jack's chest.

"Absolutely," Jack groaned.

"Should be pretty good after all that."

"It always is," Jack replied, grinning down at him. "We're good, right?"

"Yes," Ianto said, punctuating it with another long kiss. "We're good."

At least until the next conflict, personal or professional. It wouldn't be smooth sailing and easy, but it would be what it was: messy, complicated, but good.