Strange, how two years could pass – two thousand, in Jack's case – and suddenly for it to seem like no time at all.
That was how it was, Ianto realised. That was how it was for Jack. No time at all. Why should a man with all eternity stretched in front of him have cause to remember two little years? It would seem nothing to him. Nothing.
But he isn't Jack, and it means everything to him. Suddenly it means too much – all the thoughts and questions and answers and prayers that he's been storing up for a later date bubble up and explode in his foggy mind.
Because there is no later date.
This is it. A blip on the radar of Jack's existence is all that he will be in a few moments.
He wants…
He needs…
He has to ask… who are you? Did you ever love me? Did I mean anything? Are the tears on your face just an echo of past grief? Is this my fault? Is it yours? Will you look back and regret me?
Who will look after you, when I'm gone?
Will you lock me away in that morgue with all of my friends? Will I cease to exist? What will you do, when I'm gone?
Most of all, he wants to scream out… needs to…
Remember me.
I love you.