Disclaimer: Torchwood is owned by BBC
A/N: I am a day late in posting this, because today is the 4th anniversary of Ianto Jones' death in Children of Earth. I am still really upset about it (Yes, I'm completely aware he's fictional.) I thought this story would be more apt if published today.
*.*.*
Captain Jack Harkness sat in a crowded space bar, drinking what must have been his thirtieth hyper vodka of the night. He was headed straight towards alcohol poisoning, but what's the worst that could happen? He'd die, slumped over the bar or something equally mundane. Then he'd just get up and walk away—horribly, painfully sober.
Alcohol was really the only thing that made the ache go away these days.
He'd tried running. He'd wandered all over the Earth for months, saving people when he could but mostly just running away as if the hounds of hell were at his feet. They were, in a way. If he stopped for too long, he'd start to notice blond-haired boys being chased by their mothers or handsome young men in well-tailored suits and then it just hurt.
Rumours of a well-publicized séance in Wales reached him and he couldn't stop himself from going, even if he lied to himself about his motivations. And he was there. Just there. Ianto. But just as quickly as the hope bubbled up within him, it was crushed. Ianto was gone. Again.
He couldn't stand Earth after that. He couldn't handle the sight of humans, couldn't stand to look at the dirt that had entombed him for millennia, couldn't even cope with seeing clouds because they reminded him too much of looking through the windows of the Valiant. He hopped on the first passing shuttle and stumbled from bar to bar ever since.
For the first time, he thought he really understood what eternity felt like. People always thought of how very lovely it would be to never have to die. No one ever thought of the excruciating endlessness of constant loss.
It was like a demented form of destiny—a never-ending cycle. He'd lose everyone he ever cared about.
Some left him willingly, like Lucia and the Doctor.
Some he had to abandon for their own safety or for timelines, like Estelle, Stella or the real Captain Jack.
Some betrayed him, like Suzie, Angelo and the Duchess.
But worst of all, most of the time they were just ripped right from his arms, like Alex, Tosh, Owen. Like Ianto.
Ianto.
When he'd been in Ianto's arms, Jack had honestly felt like they'd been together forever and would still be together when the Earth was nothing but a fond memory throughout the universe. It was easy to forget how young his Welshman was, how little time they'd spent together.
Jack cursed himself for a fool every day since that horrible virus was released in Thames House. They'd known each other less than two years and Jack's heart clenched painfully every time he remembered how much of that time he'd just...wasted. First with suspicion and distrust over the Lisa incident, then by disappearing with the Doctor and then simply by being an insensitive jerk.
Ianto hadn't even had the chance to wrap his head around the idea of being a couple with him. He'd been so awkward at the beginning of that horrible week about being a couple, after that Patanjali bloke and Gwen both opened their traps. Jack should have realized, should have seen that Ianto was seeking out reassurance, looking for some kind of confirmation that it wasn't just him that felt this way.
Just like he had as he lay dying.
But no, Jack was too much of a coward. He was too afraid that if he said the words out loud, everything would just fall apart.
It fell apart, anyway. Ianto...his sweet, snarky Ianto had died without even knowing how much Jack loved him.
And Jack would have to carry that within his soul for all eternity.
*.*.*
A/N 2.0: So this was originally supposed to end with Ten and Alonzo at the bar, but I decided against it. I wanted it to be about Ianto, not about moving forward. This story's prompt was "eternity."