He could see her back. Picking her out of the rushing crowd by her coat. The white of it a source of light amongst the dark police uniforms the plaza was inhabited by. The satin ribbons tied tight, making out the shape of her. The shape of Gwen. She turned to him, hair flying around her face. Eyes locked, and she remembered what it was like to be held by Jack. In his arms. Safe. She smoothed the front of her soft jacket. A gift.
He had kept her safe all this time. Through everything. But he was not hers to take. Rhys called her name from behind her, another man at her back. And in that moment she found herself faced with a choice. Jack called to her with his eyes, viciously.
But she turned again. She turned and ran to Rhys. Wrapping her arms around his neck as he lifted her. And in that moment Jack felt new eyes on the back of his neck. And he too turned away from the scene. Too painful to linger on, to see that face of Ianto. His Ianto. Who reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers.
And as Jack looked into the eyes of his perfect man, he saw the tiniest glimmer of pity, understanding, and pain. And as they walked away from the plaza, Jack wondered if Ianto knew. Really knew. Or if all of this was imagined. A dream based on obsession.