~~~~~~~xXx~~~~~~~
History books—if any history was to be written about Torchwood-Cardiff—would say that it died when the government turned on us; when they bombed the hub. But if you asked us—Jack and I… we'd say differently.
Torchwood died the day we buried Ianto Jones.
And now, standing outside of his sister's flat, her words reverberating in my chest like a punch, I couldn't help but wonder just how right she is.
"Did you know my brother at all?"
Two months ago I would have known the answer to that, but now? I lean against the car, one of Rhys', and try to remember the sound of his laugh—the exact color of his favorite shirt.
I've worked with him for nearly three bloody years; we stayed up late, pouring over the research and CCTV and climbing through the sewers. We argued and bantered through our assignments. And we followed Jack. And we—
Unbidden, the image of Ianto, cold and lifeless and laid out against the tile floor, flashed before me. It is accompanied, always accompanied, by the familiar ache, the grief that threatens to choke the air from my lungs. And the terrible knowledge that this is what comes from following Jack Harkness. This is where we all will end up one day… a sacrifice to the altar of Torchwood.
But this time there's something else. This new uncertainty…. I close my eyes, trying to conjure up his smile, trying to remember to detect what I must have missed before…. Was there something else he was keeping from us?
All those times and I never imagined…
What on earth could Ianto Jones have been hiding?
Just who was he?
~~~~~~~xXx~~~~~~~
((Ok, also a bit short but I promise, this is only the beginning… mostly because I really wanted to explore that last tantalizing tidbit about our favorite tea boy. Please read and let me know what you think. Also this is my first try at Gwen's POV so please, forgive me ))