A/N: Am I actually doing this? Oh good Godstiel, yes, I am, even if I already know that some people will hate me for this idea.

So, this story was born out of some stories I read here on FFnet and elsewhere that kinda touched this topic but never really reached the … depth I'd wanted. So I started writing down what I liked to see, and the outcome of it was this story in 13 parts/chapters. It's finished in German and I'll translate the chapters slowly, probably posting them once a week. So, I know where everything will end ;-)

Setting: Starts around the middle of Series Two, but definitely before "Reset", but the plot spans until CoE. Technically an AU.

Wordcount: About 14.000

Disclaimer: Torchwood © BBC/Starz; inspiring music © The Fountain/Clint Mansell; plotline and details of the idea © Me.

WARNING: Death of a main character. Really, guys, I cried while writing, and again while translating it. If you're mentally unstable right now and don't know if you should read this, CLOSE THIS FUCKING WINDOW IMMEDIATELY!

My Overcoat of Clay

+TW+

Exposition – Waking Up

"This should be everything, but … are you sure you want to tell him alone? I could at least … you know…"

"Yes, I'm sure. Although … I think I need a coffee first."

+TW+

There was a quiet knock on the office door, and Jack looked up from the Unit report he had been trying to fill out for the last two hours, without much success. It had been lying on top of his daily paperwork pile on his desk this morning, decorated with a brilliant yellow post-it saying "Urgent!" in Ianto's neat handwriting. Everyone in Torchwood Three knew by now that Jack couldn't be arsed to do his paperwork and thus Ianto had to do the lion's share of the things that needed to be archived or sent to the Crown or UNIT, but sometimes the young Welshman wanted to show his boss, with little gestures such as this, that the paperwork remained Jack's task and that he was not his PA.

Therefore, Jack had sat down dutifully and tried to concentrate on that stupid report, but there were just so many things floating around in his mind. Again and again he had found himself staring out of the window into the main room of the Hub. However, he didn't want to accept why he was so restless, so shaken.

So it wasn't really surprising that Jack greeted the younger man with a not very honest smile when the latter entered the room with two steaming mugs of coffee.

Likewise, the frantically upturned corners of Ianto's mouth couldn't be called a smile, either.

Jack recognized the well-known mask in the blink of an eye; a mask he thought had been destroyed long ago. Something wasn't right, and still he made a choice – it was a way to keep the feeling of security just a bit longer – and used some small talk as a greeting.

"Ianto Jones, I could set my clock to you bringing the coffee!" Jack's own smile got a bit broader, a bit more honest. Ianto's features smoothed, too, and he seemed to accept the possibility of an escape thankfully.

"And I thought that was included in my job description," he said, getting closer to the desk, Jack watching him like a hawk. Ianto's movements were strangely clumsy, as if he didn't know anymore how to move his arms and legs, and his shoulders seemed to slouch; just enough to fool a more unobservant watcher.

But Jack noticed it. Since the incident with the Cyberwoman, he had learnt to read Ianto like the proverbial open book, and he really didn't like the things those special pages told him about the situation.

Still, he smiled and added a short laugh at the younger man's remark, which sounded even to his ears false and feigned. Ianto tried to laugh with him, but made the mistake of looking directly into Jack's eyes, which in turn allowed Jack to look back into Ianto's.

His eyes were all red and puffy, as if he had been … crying.

"Ianto…" Jack used the opportunity and grabbed the wrist of the other man just as he had put the second mug on the desk. For a second, they remained in that position, Jack still staring into Ianto's eyes, which showed him that the world behind the mask was in turmoil. The gnawing feeling in Jack's stomach became a thick lump in his throat.

"What did Owen find out?" He was slightly amazed that the sentence didn't come out as a raw croak, so much did he feel the noose around his neck. All of this was happening because Ianto had woken up with a severe headache this morning, and hadn't been able to walk two steps straight without supporting himself on something. It didn't last long, maybe ten minutes, but a whimpering Ianto, curled up on the bed and totally disorientated after the incident, had scared Jack so much that the first thing he did after he got them to the Hub was pass Ianto to Owen and order a thorough check-up for the young Welshman.

Since then, more than two hours had passed, in which Jack had hoped and prayed that Ianto had caught some terrestrial virus and nothing … else.

But Ianto didn't support that small hope when he broke the eye contact and turned his head to the side. Immediately, Jack stood up, walked around the desk, not letting go of Ianto's hand for a second, and pulled the younger man into a tight embrace. It was the anchor in the storm that Ianto had summoned with that wordless action.

"Please… just tell me…" Jack said quietly, stroking Ianto's back as if this could change that the younger man's fingers were digging into Jack's shirt. He knew Ianto was trying to stifle his sobs by biting into the fabric, and for a short, fleeting moment Jack actually thought he would soon feel tears seeping through it, but then Ianto raised his head again and looked at him.

First, he didn't recognize what clouded Ianto's eyes apart from the tears, but then he thought he could see it, very clearly even.

Despair.

"I'm going to die, Jack."

+TW+

On the way to death, everyone experiences the Five Stages of Dying:

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.

Not necessarily in that exact order.

www(dot)youtube(dot)com/ watch?v=SXpnI52cLEc