Title: Every Time We
Say Goodbye
Author: Marguerite
Word count: 1815
Rating: PG-13 to be on
the safe side, suggestion of sex
Characters: all,
suggestion of Jack/Gwen
Spoilers: all
currently-aired episodes (up to 1.10). This will be
rendered AU shortly, if
my guess is right.
Beta: christinekh, who
is worth her weight in gold AND Ianto's coffee.
Summary: Every time we
say goodbye, I die a little. (Cole Porter)
The twenty-first
century ticks along as usual, at least in the eyes of
the billions of people
who don't work for Torchwood.
Jack tells his team, as
he locks the office door for the last time,
that the hazard of
doing your job incredibly well is that no one
notices.
Torchwoods Two, Three,
and Four - the "missing" Four had turned out to
be a couple of rogue
FBI agents freelancing across the United States -
manage to outlive their
own usefulness. They hoist the alien invasion
on its own petard,
technologically slick though it may be, thereby
making Torchwood
redundant. Competence can be a real bitch.
None of the others is
completely sure where Jack ends up. Owen's
theory is that Jack
still lives at the remnant of the base, tossing
raw hamburgers at
Myfanwy. It's not as if he could send her to the
RSPCA, after all.
Toshiko thinks Jack might be traveling to someplace
sunny after all his
years in the darkness and the fog. Gwen agrees
that he's traveling,
but she hopes it's in time, with his old friends.
If Ianto knows Jack's
whereabouts, he keeps that information to
himself.
Toshiko takes up
teaching neural computing at Cardiff University. Gwen
rejoins the police
force and works her way up to Deputy Inspector.
Ianto, to no one's
surprise, becomes a librarian.
There is one surprise.
Out of the group, only Owen marries. At one of
their impromptu
get-togethers he tells them that he's marrying another
doctor at St. David's
Hospital. Everyone looks at Gwen. Rhys couldn't
deal with the job in
the end, and she's been alone ever since. Gwen
splashes her drink on
Owen, calls him a bastard, then throws her arms
around him and wishes
him all the best in the world.
A year later, she and
Ianto are John Harper's godparents. As the
minister blesses the
dark-haired baby, Gwen thinks she sees Jack
standing at the back of
the church.
Gwen often thinks she
sees Jack. Sometimes she can almost see him
standing next to her
desk, hands in his pockets, braces slipping down
his shoulders. Every
night she is so sure that he's sitting on the
edge of her bed while
she brushes her hair, so, so sure that she
thinks she could catch
a glimpse of him if only she could look into
the mirror just the
right way. He's close, she thinks every night for
eight years, so close
she can smell the wool-and-cognac scent of his
gray coat.
Bollocks, she says to herself every night for eight years.
Ianto takes Owen's son
camping some weekends, because Owen still hates
the outdoors. John is
an imp like his father, mercurial and energetic.
He is a little afraid
of Toshiko and her endless stream of questions
about school, but he
adores "Auntie" Gwen, never understanding why his
mother doesn't feel the
same way.
Auntie Gwen is the only
one John can tell about The Man, the one who
lives just beyond the
boundaries of John's eyesight. You don't need to
be afraid, she says.
He's the good kind of man. Sometimes, she
confesses to the solemn
little boy, I see him too, and it makes me
glad.
In the ninth year after
the end of Torchwood, they suffer their first
loss.
It is Ianto. No hero's
death, he merely steps out into traffic at
exactly the moment when
a drunk driver squeals the wrong way down the
street, and he's gone.
Gwen puts on black and
brushes her hair. She picks up the
wool-and-cognac scent
again and shakes her head wistfully. It's not
time for bed yet, Jack.
I know.
And it's him, voice and
body and weary blue eyes with the weight of
History in them. I had
to come, Jack says. I had to say goodbye.
Come with me, Gwen offers, and they attend the service hand in hand.
Jack looks exactly the
same. Tosh has lines around her eyes, Owen's
hair is thinning, and
Gwen isn't as lithe as she used to be, but Jack
is Jack is Jack and he
came to her.
Over drinks,
afterwards, Jack confesses his secret to Toshiko and
Owen. They linger over
the concept of eternity, of forever, of Jack
outlasting them all and
still looking the way he does tonight, all
cleft chin and strong
shoulders that will always have to carry the
burden of life. He'll
always be here, watching them leave him one by
one.
One by one they will
leave him, and every time, he promises, he will
come to say goodbye.
He doesn't have to make
good on that promise for many years, until
John Harper is a doctor
himself and his father simply puts down his
books one day and stops
breathing. Jack steps up to the coffin, one
arm linked through
Tosh's and the other wrapped around Gwen's
shoulders, as they look
at the face that never looked that still or
peaceful when Owen was
alive. John Harper never gets a straight answer
about this Captain
Harkness, who can't be Dad's famous Captain
Harkness because surely
he was just a story.
John sees the Captain
again three years later when they come to bury
Toshiko. Her casket is
closed, as Ianto's was, because she had been
stricken by a form of
leukemia that no one had ever seen. Gwen has it,
too, and there is talk
that the same disease carried off Owen as well
as the old man from
Torchwood Two and the Americans from Torchwood
Four. Gwen, gray-haired
and frail, is the only one left.
Gwen wears a hat with a
veil and won't let Jack see her face, even
when they are back in
her own bedroom after the burial. Jack dries her
tears with his
immaculate linen handkerchief, trying to peek at her,
but she keeps her head
lowered. Why the subterfuge, he asks as he
kneels at the foot of
the bed and clasps her arthritic hands in his
smooth, strong ones.
Because I'm a fright,
and I'll never see you again. The next time you
say goodbye, it'll be
to me, but I won't know it, and I don't want you
to remember me like
this.
He pushes the hat off
her head with two fingers, then lifts her chin
so she has to look at
him. She catches sight of herself in the mirror
and groans, putting a
mottled hand over her face.
Jack moves, sitting
behind her on the bed and wrapping his arms around
her waist. Now see what
I see, he tells her. With his cheek against
hers, he coaxes her to
look into the mirror again.
Reflected with him, she
is young and vibrant once more, dark hair
spilling over her
shoulders, her eyes wide and sparkling.
This is how I'll
remember you. He leans over and brushes her neck with
a feather-soft kiss.
And this. If...if you want me. My Gwen.
Jack has loved her,
then, all this time. He'll always love her. He'll
always remember her
smiling up at him with her hair scattered on the
pillow, loving him with
all the passion of her long-gone youth. What
more could she hope for
than the way Jack whispers her name?
My Gwen.
She hears him weeping
just before dawn, as she falls into eternal
sleep in his arms. Jack
holds her and keens, mourning for lost time
and the damnation of
spending eternity without her.
My Gwen.
Two days later, flowers
still fresh in the chapel from Tosh's funeral,
Gwen watches Jack lean
over her coffin. He looks old, God, he looks
old, once you get
beyond the beauty of his face and see his soul. His
lips move.
My Gwen.
She can't feel Jack's
tears falling on Old Gwen's face, for she is
hovering just at his
side, her iridescent fingers using the last of
their corporeal
strength to stroke his dark, mussed hair.
My Gwen.
She's going to see the
rest of them soon. She can feel them gathering
to greet her, just a
few feet away, beckoning to her from where the
light warms her and
makes her whole again.
My Gwen.
John Harper puts his
hand on Jack's shoulder. Dad said he knew a
Captain Jack Harkness,
who'd never get old and would never die. That's
you, isn't it? You're
real? You're going to live...
Forever. Without my Gwen.
Gwen can't stay in this world any longer. Owen and Tosh are beckoning
her, and Ianto is
waiting with fresh coffee. Coffee and almond
biscotti, the way Gran
always made for Christmas.
Goodbye, Jack, Gwen
calls, although her voice is the merest suggestion
of a whisper.
Jack and John turn.
John's eyes are wide and fearful, but Jack's are
alight with wonder. He
knows. He was wrong. Something is waiting
there, something that
will be there for her, for them both, if only he
can get to her.
Goodbye, Jack.
Jack is calling to her,
hands outstretched. Tell Owen that John will
help me. I'll find a
way.
I know.
But in the meanwhile, they have to say goodbye.
END
