On the Auspicious Occasion of His Twenty-Seventh Birthday
It's not like he's ever really made a big deal about his birthday. He'd never been the type for big parties, or expensive presents. Over the past few years, he'd even forgotten a couple of times, so caught up in work that he was lucky he remembered what year it was, let alone what day.

He'd thought that maybe this year might be different, though. There was so much less stress here in Margate. He'd remembered. Thought that maybe he'd have a little get-together, some cake, maybe a bottle of wine, something like that. Alex would remember just enough to wish him a happy birthday, which was all that Ianto wanted from him.

But Alex isn't here. Neither is Jack. The two most important people in his life, not with him on his birthday. He'd abandoned the idea of any kind of party weeks ago. He couldn't invite Alex and not Jack, or Jack and not Alex. And he certainly couldn't invite both of them, not unless he wanted to end up with a brawl instead of a party. He isn't sure if Alex would have shown up, anyway.

He sighs. It doesn't really matter, anyway. He's not really turning twenty-seven today. The readings Jack had taken with the rift monitor showed that he had lost months when he fell through to Margate; he's months past twenty-seven now, even if he doesn't remember any of it.

He's still got his diary that Jack gave him weeks ago, a record of all those missing months, the hidden story of his past, that he's been too busy or too sad or too frightened to read since then. Oh, well, no better time than the present. He takes it from where he's put it, in the top drawer of the night table, and opens it to the last date he can remember (so long ago), and begins reading.