Disclaimer: RTD. You gave us Jack Harkenss, and we will be forever grateful. But now you've taken too much. Myfanwy, Janet, Gray, the Hub, you desecrated Tosh's body, the SUV. Those I managed to deal with. But Ianto?? There's a coalition and, as you did to Jack, we plan to do to you. This is what happens when you betray fangirls and fanboys so. We trusted you! You wanted audience reaction? This is your reaction. Your team promised us, season 13, Jack and Ianto would marry. How can they do that now??
I won't say that I don't own Ianto or Jack, because plainly I would take better care of them. For a start, I wouldn't kill them. Not so cruelly, so early into their relationship.
Well that was probably my longest disclaimer ever. I shall no go on with the story, however I fear that no justice can ever be done anymore.
It was raining. The sky, which only days ago had blazed with a pillar of fire, now threw down water in its place, as if it could wash away the sins of the Earth. Nothing could wash away Jack's sins. Everything was his fault. He had finally begun to dare to feel happy, to dare to open up to someone else and let them in, to dare to love again, and it had all been snatched away, again. But it had been because of his stupidity. It happened time and time again, because he had let someone love him. It had been the same with Lucia.
She'd worked for Torchwood, she'd loved him, but he had destroyed her. She said she didn't care if Jack couldn't die, if when people walked past them, they thought he was her son. That was a lie. She'd drunk herself to death despite all the protection Jack had giver her to keep her safe. She'd been killed from the inside while he had tried to protect her from outside threat. This time was different. The other way round. Jack had spent too much time trying to protect Ianto's heart and not his body. Even when Ianto was in his arms, slipping away with each breath, when he had been given the perfect opportunity to confess his feelings for Ianto, he had deflected.
Ianto died thinking he was not loved. That thought was almost too much for Jack, and his legs trembled. Too much had been too much, too often. He had killed himself more times than he could remember in the past few days, just to get away from the grief. Ianto had asked if he ever thought he would "get lucky" and die. Ianto had known that Jack would choose death over life with Ianto, just to find an end to a life of too much suffering. Ianto had known Jack better than anyone for centuries. To feel pain and fear in death was better than to feel the grief and guilt of Ianto's death.
Inside the building, Ianto's body crackled in the fire, and Jack's stomach lurched unpleasantly at the fact that the smell of roasting meat made him feel slightly hungry. Oh God, what was wrong with him? Ianto… cannibals… Brecon Beacons…. It felt like so long ago, when really it was only a couple of very short years. Ianto's fear, night after night as he clung to Jack, even in his sleep.
If the smell gave Jack such nausea, and he was outside the building, merely smelling the smoke form the chimneys, how was Gwen? She was inside, dealing with paperwork – they had no morgue anymore – and pregnant. Jack remembered morning sickness too well from when he had carried a child, centuries in the future, yet millennia ago in his lifetime. A hysterical bubble of laughter choked his throat; he supposed Ianto had been his longest lover; as he had been his for over 2000 years.
He would have done it again. For Ianto, he would have carried another child. He had planned it all out, secretly. So secretly he could barely admit it to himself. He would have the child and, during the pregnancy, he would hire a team. A much bigger team, capable of handling most things that came through the Rift. If they needed him, they needed him, and he would come, but for the most part, in his plan, they would not. Then Ianto and he would look after the baby and pass on as much responsibility as they could to the rest of the team. Ianto had never liked field work and had been forced into it due to necessity. He would be spared that danger. Then they would live happily for the rest of Ianto's forever.
Jack wiped a hand over his cheeks, wiping away the tears which mingled with the rain. He was drenched through to the skin, and cold. But it wasn't like he could get sick. He knew, really, how unrealistic his dream was. A dream was all it was ever going to be. But that was what he dreamed about when he was sleeping next to Ianto. That was why he smiled.
A hand slipped into his, and he turned. He had not heard Gwen approach. "Why don't you come in? He would have wanted you there."
"No he wouldn't, because he wouldn't have wanted to be dead." It was so painfully ironic that only days ago, Ianto had been talking to him about getting old with Jack by his side. They had tempted Fate by being so happy. Fate hated Jack.
"Jack," Gwen sighed his name.
"Don't," Jack snapped abruptly. He wrenched his hand from Gwen's and shoved it into his pocket. He ignored the flash of misery on Gwen's face and the way she turned into Rhys' embrace as they headed back inside out of the rain. He did not care. She was not Ianto. That was all he had room to care about today. If he cared about anything more, he would have to face up to all the other things he had lost. His home had been taken from him. Any chance of saving his younger brother, as he had promised himself, had vanished in the same explosion. And one of his grandchildren just a day after Ianto. His lip trembled, his resolve failing, and he had to force his thoughts away. In a cemetery miles away from this spot, the tiny body of Stephen lay buried. He hadn't been invited to the funeral, he hadn't expected to, and he hadn't forced his presence on his daughter. She didn't need to hate him more than she already did. He had sacrificed children before; Jasmine, the girl he had given to the fairies… her mother had screamed and raged and sobbed at him, and the only excuse he could give was that it was for the greater good. It had been for the greater good this time too, but it didn't stop it hurting.
He didn't know how long he stood there in the soaking rain, before Rhiannon, her husband and children emerged from the crematorium. In Rhiannon's arms was clutched the urn which held Ianto's remains. It was a smart, black, jar. Ianto would have approved. "You're him, aren't you?" came the thick Welsh voice. Thick with grief and thick with accent. "You're Ianto's boss."
"Jack, I'm Jack. Captain Jack Harkness." At least, that was what Ianto referred to him as, most of the time. In private, one dark night, when there was no one but Myfanwy and Janet to hear, Jack had whispered to his Welshman his real name. Sometimes, when they were alone, Ianto would revert to using it.
Jack offered his hand, but Rhiannon refused to take it. "Tell me, if Ianto hadn't been working for you… would he have died?" she demanded.
"No." How was there any other response?
"So it's your fault," she said, bleakly. Jack raised his head from where he had been staring at the level somewhere around her knees, and saw how her mascara had run. She looked like Ianto. His colouring. A slight hint of the curve of his lips. "Go on, Mica, David. Get in the car." Mica was dressed in a small black dress, whereas David was in school trousers, school shirt and a black tie he had plainly borrowed from his father. They obeyed her wishes without argument, though# the man Jack presumed to be her husband took a longer moment to glare at Jack before leaving to escort his children, and then she carried on. "No one in our family's ever been cremated. We've always been buried."
"Yeah, well, we've always had a thing about being buried," Jack said, his voice irritatingly strained. After he had come back from vault number 003, he had been coaxed into talking about it by Ianto. The terror or that time had haunted Jack for months, to the point where Ianto had noticed how tense he was every time they went down to Jack's "hole" of a bedroom to make love, and had instead begun inviting Jack back to his flat. Jack's descriptions had been vivid, and enough to make Ianto shiver at the thought of being buried. It was not just the constant suffocation and slow death, followed by the panic and pain of coming back to life, but also the fact that he had been a constant source of nutrition for all manner of hungry creatures that lived under the ground. To wake up each time, and feel the tiny bites both inside and outside of him slowly heal… he shivered. Ianto had wanted to know, to help Jack to talk, and Jack had scared him. He had said too much. Ianto had not changed his last requests on his will because he had presumed his body would be maintained in the morgue, but he had made a joke about being glad he was never going to be buried. "It's what Ianto would have wanted."
"And why do you think you know Ianto better than us?" exclaimed Rhiannon, folding her arms. Behind her, Gwen and Rhys had emerged and were under the shelter of the crematorium's roof. Jack knew Ianto's sister she needed someone to be angry with, someone to blame, and that was always going to be him, It had been him so many times. He knew that he deserved it this time, but he didn't need the grief.
"Arrogance," Jack stated, "Plain and simple. But I came here today to a man I… held very deep feelings for. You don't need to make me feel worse."
"He loved you!" Rhiannon cried out, as Jack began to stride away. He didn't think he could handle this. "He loved you and he died because of you and you 'held very deep feelings' for him? Bollocks! You didn't deserve him."
"No I didn't," Jack whispered to himself, staring straight ahead into the sheets of gray rain. It beat down upon him, tiny bullets, punishing him with each pellet. Legions of soldiers come to destroy the monster with their needle sized sabres. He could feel Gwen's pitying eyes on him, as Rhiannon continued to rage at him, and Jack assumed that the pregnant woman would be moving forwards to comfort the shouting woman. He ignored the words, listening only to the torrents of rain falling upon the ground. He barely knew where he was going, but as he walked, he passed no living person, only a few cars. The government had been exposed, and people were demanding change and reform, but it gave Jack no pleasure. Ianto had loved him, and Jack would have to live wit his regrets concerning the Welshman forever. He hadn't seen his suffering at Lisa, he hadn't done enough to comfort him after Lisa, he had never told him how much he had loved him, and he had put him in danger. There was no forgiveness or absolution anyone could bring him. He deserved none, and above him, the sky wept.
A/N: Please review. I need some happiness.
Anyone who was upset with RTD, do this: community. livejournal. ?thread=12232936#t12232936