Own nothing. Written by Inkinhart (with input from x - torchwood's baby blue - x)

It should have been raining. But, of course, the universe doesn't work like that. The bright and sunny atmosphere didn't suit the absolute desolation of the small congregation gathered by the pit. Only eight people assembled around my Ianto's grave. That very fact incensed me; he deserved a posthumous knighting from the Queen. He deserved flowers from every single soul he saved.

He deserved the whole world, and more.

I watched his coffin being carried to the grave, knowing that it was only filled with rocks. His body would remain in the morgue forever. Those who came here to grieve wouldn't even be near him. Bloody Torchwood.

His coffin was slowly lowered into the earth, and I couldn't take it anymore. I dropped to my knees, trying to contain the pain ripping through every fibre of my being.

As soon as the first tear touched the grass, the heavens opened. I would like to think that some immortal being – the universe itself, maybe – was mourning the loss of such a pure, giving soul. But I knew it was purely coincidence, and that made it all the worse.