Disclaimer: If I owned Torchwood, it would never have come to America.
[Author's Note: So it has been brought to my attention that using lyrics in my stories is frowned upon, so basically, I wrote this to follow Christina Perri's song "A Thousand Years", so keep that in mind while reading.]
Jack was at a bar. It wasn't surprising to find the immortal surrounded by alcohol and beautiful women, men, and aliens; a thousand years had passed since Jack had left Torchwood for good and his habits hadn't changed much. He wasn't flirting. Sure, he was still as handsome as ever, give or take a couple grey hairs (but not too many). Tonight was a night of remembrance.
Jack could still feel himself walking up to the glass cage of the 456. He should have known. He should have had a plan. He had sworn to fight… it was his fault.
Jack sighed into his drink, drawing the attention of the man next to him at the bar. "You okay?" He waved off the concern, easily throwing him a smile and evading the question. Was he okay? The simple answer was no.
Jack numby felt himself falling to his knees. He was falling, lost in the moment, lost in his memory that would be forever so real to him. The minutes that he held him in his arms, as he begged him not to leave, not to go, not to… die. Because the man he loved was dying. He was dying in his arms, and Jack could do nothing. Only promise. He promised to never forget. And how could he? He was everything to him. And he was gone.
So every year for a thousand years, Jack went to a bar. He sat by himself and remembered. And he drank to the memory of Ianto.
Poor Jack! He and Ianto were just so cute together, and then the 456 had to come along and ruin my plans for the two.
[Curse them nasty 456es! We hates them! We hates them all! Gollum, gollum!]
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