"You left me behind." said Jack blankly.
The Doctor's eyes were glazed. "But I came back for you." His voice choked, thick with oncoming tears.
He couldn't bare it. He held the Doctor, wiping away the tears that fell. He wispered words of comfort in a foreign, lyrical langyage. He held him while he cried; until the sobs and shaking breaths were accompanied by no tears.
He'd always wanted an explaination, to know why; but he left it. Now was not the time. He put the Doctor's needs before his own, like he always would.
He carried the Doctor- who had long since fallen into a restless, tear-induced sleep- to his knook in the Torchwood Hub. He sat for a while, watching him sleep. Then he left for his nightly ritual.
Grabbing the kinfe, he took the familiar path down beyond the vaults, to his personal doorway to Cardiff. He walked through the streets, which were fairly deserted. His destination was barely two blocks from the Hub- a quiet building with external access to the roof.
He sat on the edge, gazing out over the city, away from the Hub. He watched lights go on and off; cars arrive and leave again; the odd drunk stumble down a nearby street. He sat that way for hours- watching. He wasn't wearing his coat. The weather had been rather warm lately, much higher than Cardiff's usual. It was leaking through the rift, from where, he didn't acutally know.
Still watching the city, he took the knife to his wrist, making large, vertical slashes the length of his forearm. He didn't flinch. He didn't move. He let the blood poor thick and hot from the wound until he felt dizzy and sick. He lay back on the roof, dropping the knife at his side. He'd wake a few minutes after his heart stopped beating; his body wouldn't even go cold.
He lay there watching the twinkle of faraway stars- planets, really- naming their affiliated species, language and how much a good escort cost, as he let his blood run thick. His head felt heavy, so he closed his eyes. Not much later, he took his last breath. His blood continued to flow.
*
He woke with a gasping breath, having been forced through the darkness. He got up and brushed himself off, miraculously devoid of blood.
He would return to the Hub, no one the wiser. Sometimes Ianto would give him a saddened look, and he'd think back to his nightly ritual. He couldn't know. It left no marks, but then again, Ianto could always see things no one else could. He smiled. He had Ianto, Gwen, Owen... Tosh and The Doctor. He had his Doctor. Maybe he could fix him; he didn't know yet.