Disclaimer: I don't own Ianto or Jack, or Torchwood. :(
First ever Torchwood story! Be nice please :)
Darkness:
Warmth. It was the first thing he felt. It was always warm, just enough to make him feel safe. Enough to make him feel numb, oblivious to everything except for the light touches soothingly drawing unknown patterns on his chest. He was never sure, but he got the impression that it was dark all around the two men. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he'd done this before, but something stopped him from thinking about it. Probably the knowledge that this- whatever it was- was about to end and he needed to enjoy it. He opened his mouth to say something, but it didn't need to be said. Nothing ever did. Closing his eyes, he let more of the darkness surround him. Allowing himself more peace, more forgiveness for his many mistakes, than he ever got while awake. A light haze filled his senses, leaving him blissfully unaware of anything but the scent of coffee.
Then came the blinding light. The light that always forcefully dragged him out of his peaceful darkness; and it hurt. There was burning, always burning, like being frozen and electrocuted at the same time. Next the haze transformed into a crippling dizziness. Every nerve ending in his body left on fire, like something was being ripped away, while at the same time, more was being forced in. Choking on the air that entered his lungs, and holding his aching head, he tried to remember what had been on the other side. Not only did he ask others, but he asked himself, trying to find something that would make dying worth it. Wishing for pearly white gates, or fluffy white clouds, but mostly, wishing for another chance to be with his Welshman. But all he remembered was feeling lonely. All he remembered was the darkness.
TWTWTWTW
Ianto sat alone once again. It seemed that Jack was visiting him more often. He wasn't sure whether to be worried, or happy, but he did know neither would be true. He just knew that he felt everything in those few minutes before jack was ripped from his side another time. He also knew he would be back soon. He clung to that thought, all of their memories, and for once, it didn't matter that Jack couldn't remember once he was revived. All that matter was that he'd come back to him every time.
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Make sense? Probably not… oh well! It's late anyways :P Let me know what you think :)