It was another one of those mornings.
One of the mornings the master would get up early, had walked down to Jack's cell with a spring in his step and had been exceptionally cruel.
One of the mornings that the great Captain Harkness had trouble not screaming, not crying, not begging.
One of the mornings that Jack's scream could be heard through the Valiant.
One of the mornings that broke the doctor's heart.
One of the mornings that Jack had been forced on his knees in agony and had prayed for death to hold him in it's darkness.
One of the mornings that death was prominent.
Black. Darkness. Death
Jack woke up, reliving the year that had not been. The year no one could remember, except those who were present on the Valiant. That year was not just present in Jack's mind. No, it had been engraved in every atom of his being. The physical scars had been healed, but he could still feel every bruise, every broken bone, every burnt inch of flesh and every piece of flesh that had been slit. He could feel them, existing at the same time. And on one of these mornings, he could not take it. He felt like screaming, crying and begging.
He woke up in sweat, tears and blood. Once again he had scratched open his arms whilst dreaming. Not really dreams, more like distant memories. Distant is years, but close in his mind.
He felt around for something familiar and could not find it in his empty bed at the hub.
As silent as he could, he turned the key in the lock, made his way through the apartment to the bedroom, took off his clothes and crept into bed. The young man didn't wake up but he did come close and in his sleep, he held Jack instinctively.
It was one of those mornings when Jack felt like being close to Ianto Jones. When he felt like telling him everything that happened. Just to tell someone. He knew he would listen, soothe him and make it just that tiny bit better. But he couldn't. Because that year never was.
Ianto Jones wasn't oblivious to Jack's tormented mind. But he never questioned.
It was one of those mornings that Jack suffered in silence. Once again, alone in the darkness.
Ianto Jones held him as he slept. But as sleep took away Ianto's soul, he did not notice Jack's sobs. He did not notice Jack's body shivering and sweating. He did not notice Jack's heart pounding so fast and so hard. He did not notice.
But he did lay beside him, holding his hand, holding him close to his own body.
It was one of those mornings that the early light had secretively shone through the curtains, awaking the shadows in the bedroom.
It was one of those mornings that Ianto woke up to find Jack in his bed, sleeping uneasy beside him.
It was one of those mornings that Jack woke up to a smiling Ianto.
It was one of those mornings that made the memories bearable.