"Who was she?" The question startled Jack out of his memories. Unwittingly, his hand had reached out to stroke her cold cheek. He drew his hand back and gave his lover a confident smile marred by the pain he was sure was in his eyes.
"An old friend," he said simply. He wasn't sure Ianto wanted to know about his past with the blonde on the table.
Ianto gave him a hesitant smile before he pulled up a chair next to Jack's. "You loved her, didn't you?"
Nodding in response, he swallowed hard before he could speak. "It was a long time ago. Before I knew you." He reached for the hand of the man he loved and gave it an affectionate squeeze.
"There's always someone before me, just like there will be ones after me."
"There is no one like you, Ianto. No one," Jack interrupted.
Ianto scoffed and continued. "I know I'm special, but so was she."
Jack looked back at the young woman whose body lay on the icy slab. Her blonde hair lay limp around the pale, beautiful face. Still beautiful, even in death. He reached out to her again, but didn't touch her this time. His hand fell back inches from her body and reached for Ianto's hand again.
People might think that after a long time, the memories wouldn't hurt so much. That after centuries, the memories would simply fade away. But not for Jack Harkness. None of the past had dulled with time. Not even the love of so many people who had thought him worthy of their attention. And she was one of the greats.
Even being frozen hadn't diminished her spark in Jack's mind. He could still see her smile lighting up the room and her brown eyes flashing dangerously when someone pissed her off. He could feel her hands tentatively touching his face as if he might disappear under them before their last kiss.
Sometimes, when his team had gone home for the day, Jack would sit her in front of what was essentially a graveyard for deceased Torchwood members and reminisce with the people he had failed to save. Each one was a reminder of the mortality he once possessed and never would again.
"She was very special," Jack said with an affection smile in her direction. She had proven to him time and time again how unlike most humans she was. She was probably one of the best Torchwood members he had seen. And she had been so young, only 23 when she had died. She had deserved so much more than dying like that, the whole team had. But Jack couldn't change that. He could only be thankful he had been able to say goodbye.
Ianto gave a worried look at the obviously painful emotions crossing Jack's face as he remembered her end. "Do you want to talk about it? You can tell me about her," he offered, "if you want to, at least."
It's a long story, Ianto," Jack replied with watery eyes. "And there's not a happy ending."
"That's all right. We've got our own happy ending with each other and I've got plenty of time." He crossed one leg over the other and settled in for a long story.
Jack sighed, but smiled at his boyfriend's actions. "Her name was Sylvie Peterson…"