Author's Note: I do not own Torchwood or any of its characters. I am also citing here that some dialogue is not mine, but belongs to the good folks who wrote Day 5 of Children of Earth. It's not mine. I'm not trying to steal. Promise. Please review.

"Goodbye, Ianto," I murmur, as the confused woman looking in vain for the now gone House of the Dead walks away. I continue to stand, staring at the spot where the pub used to be. Angry at Ianto for being so much braver than I wanted him to be at that moment. Angry at myself for believing he would walk away and damn the world to ending, for being too in love to see that it was a cheap trick to save my immortal life. How could I have thought that we could actually leave it to someone else this time? I should have learned long ago that, just like the Doctor, pain and death surround me and eventually come to all of those I love. Just never to me. I'm the one left behind. The one left to face the memories and the pain. To mourn the dead and protect the living, at any cost, even my own flesh and blood. Even someone I value more than anything, who made me the best person I've ever been, and whose last words to me were almost "just go away". What Ianto said cut to the core of my being. That I was only here for my own selfish ends, to see him one more time, no matter the cost to him. He wasn't wrong.

Christ, I had come here, knowing what I would find, or at least that's what I thought. A shadowy fragment of Ianto, a specter pretending to be him. I didn't think it would be him, that it would cause him any pain or hurt or sorrow to come back, to see me. Sure, this ghost raised by the "Queen of the Dead" would have his same thoughts and memories, but there was no way it could be him. No way it could remind me of the love I so deeply felt, take my breath away, make me feel like Ianto was resurrected. Surely, I was going to see right through the ruse. I think I'm so damn smart.

Regardless of my expectations, it was inexplicably, flawlessly him. Fully developed, in all his well-tailored glory, and with no idea that he was dead and buried. At least, I assume he was buried. I fled as soon after the 456 as I could. Like I told him, I just couldn't bear it. I couldn't stand there, knowing they were lowering his body, bereft of any spirit or life, into the cold, hard ground. I don't want that memory for eternity. It's bad enough I had to hold him, watch him die, choke out "I love you", and not be able to say it back. At least not that first time. I was also ashamed, of what I'd done to Steven. I couldn't watch Ianto be buried, knowing that he might hate me for what I'd done, if he had been there to see it. Not that it would have happened if he had.

Now he's well and truly gone. Not like I didn't know that already. I knew I would never hear those lovely Welsh vowels again. See that pink tie. Play naked hide-and-seek. But I did hear those vowels again. I did see that pink tie. Admittedly, not a lot of time for naked hide-and-seek. Too much world saving to do.

I continue to stare at the emptiness where the pub used to be, reminiscent of the emptiness that is now a part of my being. All of the energy of this world is truly gone for me. Everywhere I look, I see him. I imagine him. I long and ache for him. In places we never even went, where I wish we could have gone, he's there. His invisible ghost. Seeing him again didn't change that. So much different from the one I saw tonight. It was truly Ianto, and I got to say goodbye. But it was still goodbye. Forever, no more flesh-like ghosts, nothing new to look forward to, just memories I play over and over in my head. Things I loved, things I wanted to say, things I regret.

I got to change some of them tonight. I was finally able, for the first and last time, to put my emotions into words. I should have told him every day how much I loved him, how he made me the best person I've been in hundreds or thousands of years. I didn't. Instead, I did the opposite. I downplayed our relationship, refused to use the word couple, even told him I hated it. He stiff-upperlipped it for me, claimed he hated it, too, but I know he didn't. I know I was the love of his life, but he never knew he was mine. I was distancing myself, protecting myself, and him, from the inevitability of the end. But, for one blinding moment, I got to say those words and hear them in return. I got to show him that of all the people I've known, loved, and lost, I wanted him the most. I don't know if he understood that, truly comprehended what that meant. Understood that I so badly want to be only what he knew, that I wanted his barely scratching the surface to be the whole truth, which is why I claimed it was all there was, despite how much it hurt him. He wanted to accept me, all of me, and I didn't even give him the chance. I was too afraid for both of us. I wish I could have told him those things and more: how broken I was, how I tried to kiss life back into him but mine was too far gone, how I killed my own grandson because I could not bear to feel any more of my own humanity, and because no one was there to stop me. He would have stopped me. He would have helped me find a way to avoid sacrificing my family for the good of the world. What does it say that I was able to do that, but was unwilling just now to do the same with him? How come we couldn't have more time?

Even in the absolute end, he saved me from myself. Who in this world can do that for me now? Not Gwen. She's too blinded by love or lust or affection to truly see me for who I am and be able to help me heal. Ironically, Ianto is the only one who could have helped me heal from his loss. Tonight was a start, one less regret, but I will always regret that it came too late. That he was better than me. That I couldn't be better for him. There will never be another Ianto Jones, here or on any other planet. I mean, it's not like I'm going to stop sleeping with other people, but I can't imagine ever loving so deeply and painfully again.

Sighing, I glare at the place where the most haunted pub in Cardiff used to be and pull out my phone. I dial. I have to, though I wish I didn't. Taking a deep breath, I respond to the tentative "Hello? Jack? Is it you?" with a quick "Hey, I'm in town. I want to see you and Rhys. Take Smith St. to the west of town. It'll dead end, and we'll meet up on that hill with the view that Ianto loved so much. Say, an hour?"

"Sounds fantastic. I have somethin' for ya, anyway. It'll be good to see you," Gwen answers tentatively. I can almost hear a slight, trembling smile in her voice.

"You, too," I mumble as I hang up the phone. I hope it sounded convincing. I feel hollow, empty. I cannot even muster grief at saying goodbye to Gwen, likely forever. I care for her, certainly, but she brings back too many memories of the pain and death I give everyone around me, and I cannot bear to bring it to her doorstep as well. We've already lost so much. Owen, Tosh, Ianto, twice. He was right. It's bloody careless that I went and lost him again. I grin, half-heartedly. I want to cry. To scream. To be angry at Ianto for being noble even in death. Even when he had a chance to live again. With me. He chose death. Over us. It hurts, that he so nobly saved the world, leaving me behind in my selfish worthlessness. Despite the pain I know is there, I realize it's distant. I just can't feel anything. I'm already detaching from this life and preparing for the next. Wanting so desperately to forget Ianto, but knowing I can't. It would be too selfish. He's not a blip in time for me, he's not an old flame, he outdistances those things. He was the love of my eternal life. I have never felt this for anyone. God, I'm so glad I had enough foresight to plan an escape route before arriving here.

An hour later, after stumbling around Cardiff, hollow, broken, trying to feel anything except emptiness or intense sorrow, pain so deep I can hardly bear it, I stand atop the hill. It's a beautiful night. Stars in the sky. Ianto would have loved stargazing tonight, among the other things we did here under the stars. He knew all the constellations, and I showed him all the distant planets, shared stories of my life from some of them. I still feel a connection to this place, Cardiff, where Ianto and I started to build a life together, to fall in love despite ourselves. I just can't stay, there are ghosts everywhere.

Steven, too. My own grandson. Yet another regret. Why can't someone else ever save the world? Ianto was right, why can't we ever leave it to someone else? Even as I think it, I realize that's what I'm doing. I'm leaving it behind, just like we said we were going to as we were bringing him back to the land of the living. It's selfish, just like he said I was. It's arrogant, too, thinking the world won't keep turning without me. It will, even if mine won't, even if mine has lost all its luster. Others will rise to take up the fight. I will remain broken, hollow, reverting back to a shadow of the person he made me. Forever looking, never finding him. I watch as Rhys and Gwen stumble up the hill, he complaining the whole way, even though she looks like she's about ready to pop. I chuckle, just a little. I will miss them, but it's not fair to them for me to stay. There's no way she can cure me, and there's no way I can bear to keep caring. Not when it always ends in suffering. I tell myself I'm saving her by leaving. I hope she understands.

"Oh, I missed that, the Welsh complaining," I say, walking down to meet them. We murmur some pleasantries. I tell Gwen she looks good, she complains about being huge, Rhys calls her gorgeous. I grin, thinking about how Ianto and I would have loved to watch this moment. Also, to hide the grief I am suddenly feeling anew.

I think she still picks up on it. "You okay?" she asks. There are so many answers I could give. Almost none of them are true.

I keep it simple. "Yeah."

"Did it work?" she asks, almost plaintively. I want to ask what she means. Did I forget Ianto? Did I suddenly overcome hundreds, no, thousands of years of grief and loneliness? Did I forgive myself for Steven? I give as honest of an answer as I can.

"Traveled all sorts of places. This planet is too small. The whole world is like a graveyard." Particularly this corner of it, I want to say, but I don't. Might lead to more questions or talking, or her wanting me to share feelings I can barely articulate for myself. What I said doesn't work though.

"Come back with us." To what? To who? Her and Rhys and baby, be Uncle Jack? I can't even hear that name right now. Not put together like that. Torchwood was a death trap, can't keep doing that. Not that there would be a point with the rift being closed. Ianto, sealed away behind it forever. It's time to tell Gwen, to break the news of my escape plan.

"Haven't traveled far enough yet. Lot of dirt to shake off my shoes." I look away. I can't bear to see her face when I tell her. "Right now, there's a coal fusion cruiser, surfing the ion reefs, just at the edge of the solar system, just waiting to open its transport dock." She's not looking at me now. I can tell I won't be able to avoid her emotions. "I just need to send a signal."

Gwen hands me my vortex manipulator, talking about fixing it, Rhys grumbling about money. I barely hear the words, give a curt reply to Rhys. Then, she asks what I know she has to.

"Are you ever coming back, Jack?" I know what she wants me to say. I wish I could lie, could be selfish, and avoid the scene that's surely coming. I can't. I hid too much, lied too much, was too selfish before. It's selfish enough that I'm going in the first place. Instead of telling her the truth right out, I say one of the cruelest things I can think of.

"What for?" She looks like I've punched her. She's starting to cry. I'm trying not to. Doesn't she understand I'm protecting her? Saving her from the same fate as Ianto, Owen, Tosh, and Steven? Doesn't she realize there's so much more to this simple question. What for, to hurt you, to get you killed, to ruin your family? What for, to keep dying and watching others die? Then, comes a very Gwen-like thing to say.

"It wasn't your fault." Is she smoking something? It must be some good shit.

"I think it was," I tell her. Then I start listing my victims. "Ianto and Steven and Owen and Tosh and Suzie and all of them because of me." Because until he showed me by dying, I forgot what it was to be mortal. I put everyone else in peril, so I could be the hero.

"But you saved us, didn't you?" She's grasping at straws. I think she knows it. What she doesn't understand is that the fact that I saved them is precisely the problem.

"I began to like it, and look what I became." A selfish, arrogant bastard. Someone who couldn't share his feelings with others for fear of looking (and being) vulnerable. Who let his guard down to one person, still couldn't manage to do it far enough, and lost him entirely too soon, because he wanted to be the hero and save the world from the 456. Because he overestimated his own abilities to save the day, and lost everything in the process. I have to move on. I can't take the pain of knowing what I became, of knowing that I thought he made me a better person, but I still wasn't good enough. "Still," I go on. "I have lived so many lives. It's time to find another one."

"But they died and I am sorry, Jack, but you cannot just run away. You cannot just run away." She thinks she can help. I can tell. She doesn't condone the running away. She'll miss me, I know, or the image of what she thinks I am. The image I project. Not the mess I really am inside. If she knew the whole story, that I had just come from seeing him and saying goodbye again, would she get it then? It's too new, too raw. I can't talk about it, can't tell her. I don't even bother to tell her the rift is closed.

I can't run, eh? "Oh yes, I can. Just watch me." Of course, she's probably right. It's not like I can abandon my inner turmoil here on Earth. I take that with me.

I step back. Take one last look at her, in tears. Then I'm being transported, away from Earth, away from her and Rhys and all the ghosts, and I leave without even looking back.