All we didn't say

"Speak to me Jack"

I heard those words more than once from you. You wanted to understand – me, why I did things, reasons for my decisions. More than the rest of the team, because you knew me intimately, you were the person who saw the dark side of me revealed in unguarded moments and you lived with it. They would have been horrified at who I was, what I used to be but you seemed to understand that it was just part of my nature, how I survived without going mad.

Although I made terrible decisions sometimes, everyone wanted to still ultimately see me as the hero – you could always rely on Jack to come crashing through the door and save the day. I was never your hero though, Ianto Jones, I was just a man….who did get it wrong sometimes. When I dared to show flashes of the sadistic temper that I try so hard to keep under wraps these days, you'd stand back until the rage subsided, until it was out of my system. When on odd occasions decisions I'd made were difficult to live with and I'd cover my face with my hands and sob, a quiet Welsh voice would soothe "its ok." Always everyone's hero, but never yours I'm glad to say…

I explained so little didn't I? I'd tell you things and take you into my confidence but there was so much I never explained – about me, my life and my past. Hell sweetheart, you never even knew my real name did you. When things from my past did crash into the present or when the bigger picture was at stake, you'd look straight at me almost pleading, desperate to understand, "Speak to me Jack!"

I could say the same back to you, "Speak to me Ianto." You opened up to me when it was just us, you grew more confident and outgoing with the others, but you kept so much to yourself. As your boss of course I knew what was in your personnel file but what did that tell me? Besides surviving the Battle of Canary Wharf (which should have sent you clear round the bend) only fragments of your life were there in black and white about your father, your youthful shoplifting charge, giving only a clue to the more troubled you. Your capabilities for deceit was awesome; you were the man that infiltrated Torchwood Three, who kept his head down but flirted with and seduced me by way of distraction to keep you half cyber-converted girlfriend alive and hidden. I got to know you better but there were still dark areas of you and your life you didn't talk about, that you wouldn't reveal.

I wonder Ianto, did that save our sanity? – Kept us going? Despite our closeness did we both keep a good part of ourselves hidden away? I thought I knew you – what you were capable of, the brave, witty, methodical Ianto who was so different when you got him alone. I wonder though…although I knew every inch of you physically, did I really even know half of what was in your head and heart? – Did I know you?

Did you know me though? – How could you. After all this time, all these lives rolled into one, even I question who the hell I am myself. I didn't always need to keep things to myself but you know what its like – tired, don't feel like talking, leave it until tomorrow.

Then one day tomorrow comes and you're not there…

I can't regret Ianto, I can't…about you or anything or anyone else. We live by our choices. We may realise that they were right or wrong but we can't go back and change them and we cannot regret them. The normal phrase would be "life's too short" but in my case it's too long.

So much left unsaid by us both – all we didn't say. Ianto, I want to remember though all the precious times when there was no need to speak – for quiet reflection and falling asleep, for passion and laughs and silliness when there's madness all around, for looks exchanged that there was a level of understanding between us baby that didn't need to be articulated.

For all I didn't say Ianto Jones, you knew it anyway – "I love you…"