Rating: PG

Word count: ~ 3,000

Warnings: Writing under the influence of insomnia and too much stargazing. *cough* Absolutely nothing.

Summary: Ianto is seven the first time he catches a falling star.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the creators, and no copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: Hmm, it seems that magical realism takes over my brain whenever I get less than two hours of sleep a night. But, hey, writing weird fics is infinitely more productive than staring at the clock and watching the numbers change, so that's one good thing to come from it. I apologize for any overly ornate/complicated wording or excessively flowery/cheesy phrases—I think I caught them all and axed them, but some always seem to escape. -.-

Starfall

Ianto is seven the first time he catches a falling star.

He's small for his age, a little weak, and walking home from school alone, because Rhiannon is too busy with her friends to walk with him, and his mother is working, and his father never comes to pick him up.

("That drunken layabout," he heard his teacher call Tad once, and while he doesn't understand exactly what she means, he understands enough.)

But Ianto doesn't mind. He's seven, old enough to walk home alone, even if it is going dark already.

There are stars out, though, bright and beautiful and so clear, and Ianto stares up at them whenever he isn't in danger of tripping over his own feet. On the dark road, with all the street lights out, they seem so close he could reach up and touch them.

And then a blaze of light streaks across the sky from the east, straight for him. Ianto knows he should be scared—because people always tell him what he should feel, how he should react, since he never reacts the right way—but he's not, because the falling star is silver light and golden fire, a knot of brilliance like a heart ablaze, and it tumbles from the sky right over Ianto's head.

Ianto can't bear to let such a lovely thing land in the dirt at his feet, so he reaches up and catches it in his cupped hands.

It's hot, the star, so hot against his skin even though it doesn't burn him. Ianto stares down at it, cradled close to his chest as it casts shifting light over his face, and thinks that he can see all the colors that have ever been in its fire. He's never seen anything so beautiful, so pure, and even touching it feels a little wrong, like someone somewhere forbid him to do so but he's mostly forgotten.

But the night is cold, and Ianto's jacket has holes in it, and the star is very, very warm and lovely. He brings it up to his eyes, watches the silvery brilliance shift and change. It's no less brilliant now, no less beautiful, but different.

And then the star whispers against his skin, 'What is your wish, child? I will give you anything you want if you let me go.'

Ianto is only seven, but he knows what it's like to be held back, to want to go somewhere that he can't, so he opens his cupped hands and says solemnly, "Go on, Star. Fly away."

The star darts out of his grasp like a firefly, or a fairy from the stories his mam used to tell before she was so tired all the time. It flickers around his face, dancing, and Ianto laughs, spinning where he stands as he tries to follow it with his eyes. It's too fast for him, though; he loses his footing and falls into the dust with a plop.

The star follows him down and hovers there, shimmering. 'What's your wish, child?' it asks, and its voice is sweet and cold and warm and lovely, star-song gifted upon human ears.

Ianto blinks at it where he sits in the dirt, and thinks for a long moment.

What does he wish for?

If he could have any wish, what would it be?

"Be happy, Star," he says at last, and smiles at it, gap-toothed. "Don't let anybody else catch you, because they might not let you go!"

There is a ripple of sound, so perfect and crystalline and gorgeous that Ianto's heart aches to hear it, and the star darts forward and then whirls up into the sky, streaking towards the heavens.

Back on the ground, held firmly to the Earth, Ianto raises a hand to the cheek that the star kissed and hears its parting whisper.

'Someday, Ianto Jones, I will return this favor, and grant your wish.'

But, Ianto thinks, smiling, it already has.

The next time, he's fourteen, and his mother is two months dead. Rhiannon is gone, moved out of their lives and in with her boyfriend, and it's only Ianto and Tad left in the small building that used to be a house, used to be a home.

It hasn't been since Mam died.

Ianto spends as much time as possible outside the house, wandering through the roads and fields and forests. He knows the area well, and never gets lost, even if sometimes he wants to. But he can find all the best places to watch the stars now, knows exactly where to stand so that it feels like he's drifting free and unfettered amongst them.

Tonight, he wanders with no destination in mind, no thought but to escape and have a moment's peace. His eyes are on the stars—always, always, that never changes—but he has no thought for reaching them, for pulling them down to him.

Perhaps that's why it happens again.

Silver burns across the sky, a tiny comet as bright as a captured sun. Ianto gasps, heart in his throat, because he knows what it is, and he never expected for this to happen to him again. He's heard stories of people catching falling stars and having their wishes granted, met several of them, but it never happens more than once.

But, even though this star is not falling towards him, Ianto knows he has to catch it. There's a lake nearby, cold water deep and dark enough to drown even the brightest star, and Ianto refuses to let that happen. Just as he couldn't let that first star fall into the dirt, he won't let this one go out.

So he runs, tripping and stumbling in the dark, scratching his face on branches and feeling brambles sting his hands. He knows this place, though, knows how fast the star is falling and how high it is above the dew-slick grass, and manages to stagger directly into its path as it reaches the edge of the lake. A moment before it skips into the water, he scoops it up, cradling it carefully against his chest, and staggers back, falling on his rump in the wet field.

"There you are," he whispers to it, heart thudding fearfully beneath his ribs. "I've got you, you're safe, I've got you."

The star quivers against his palms, as though in reaction to its close call, and whispers to him in a trill of star-song, 'Thank you, child. I owe you my life. What can I give you in return?'

Ianto hesitates for a moment. Bring my mam back to life, he could say. Or take me away from this place. Maybe even make my life happy forever. And the star would do it, because stars always grant people's wishes, no matter what they are.

But the star trembles in his hands like a heartbeat, its fire soft on his skin, and it burns like a dream in the darkness. It's a pure thing, a good thing, untouched by greed or selfishness, and Ianto can't bear to taint that.

"Go," he tells it, opening his hands and lofting it gently into the air. "Be happy and live a good, safe life. That's my wish. But be careful, or something might happen to you without someone around to save you."

The star hovers for a moment, and then darts down to touch a bleeding cut on his wrist. It tickles, a little, like a butterfly's kiss, and Ianto laughs in surprise. The star laughs right along with him, sweet and trilling and so very, very joyful, and flickers over his hands and face, touching each of his scrapes and cuts before it comes back to dance in front of his eyes.

'Thank you,' it sings to him, flames already changing from red-shot silver to pure gold as it prepares to rise into the sky once more. 'Someday, Ianto Jones, I will grant your wish and repay my debt.'

And then it's gone, a flash of light that rises and disappears into the heavens.

Left behind in the cold darkness, Ianto closes his eyes and tries not to cry, though even he can't tell if his tears are born of sadness or joy.

"Just fly," he whispers, though it's doubtful the star will ever hear him. "Be free. That's all I want."

There is no answer from the night sky, no answer from the wind. Nevertheless, Ianto turns to head home with his skin chilled but his heart incredibly light.

As soon as he's able, Ianto leaves home for London, and after that he doesn't see another star until long after his life has gone to hell. He's back in Cardiff, a new member of Torchwood Three, with Lisa hidden away in one of the unused rooms in the Hub. She's wracked with pain, half out of her mind with it, and although it's selfish, Ianto needs just a few hours to himself. He give her morphine, prays that it's strong enough to help her for even just a little while, and flees the Hub and team to seek out the roof of the Millennium Center.

It's a clear night, fairly warm, and Ianto stands as close to the edge of the rooftop as he dares, breathing in deep lungfuls of air that is as clean as it ever gets in Cardiff. This high up, he feels like he can see the curve of the world falling away, the diamond-strung stars leaning down towards the world's embrace.

It's moments like these that Ianto aches for what used to be, for the simplicity of an open field and cold grass and the beauty of something pure and good. He remembers the stars he caught, remembers the decision to let them go without taking anything from them, and for just a moment he smiles at the happy memories. Because they are happy. He made a choice that was right, that was honorable, and he doesn't regret it at all. No matter what difference one wish would have made in his life, or two wishes, he wouldn't unmake his choice for all the world.

Ianto takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, too heavy to be a sigh. He's feeling far more at peace now, able to face what waits for him inside the Hub, so he turns back towards the door.

There's something flickering in the shadows near the roof's edge, though, something he hadn't noticed before. With a faint frown, Ianto picks his way over to it, and somehow can't find it in himself to be surprised by what he finds.

It's a star, dappled drab, its fire gone grey as it lies on the cold cement. Ianto watches it for a moment, thinking he's never in his life seen anything quite so sad, and then leans over to carefully, gently gathers it up in his hands. The ashes that surround it stain his hands and slip through his fingers, but Ianto holds the star between his palms and brings it up to his lips, breathing on it as softly as he can.

"Don't die," he tells it fiercely, pausing for a moment between breaths. "You're a star, you should never die. You're free. Don't ever let that go."

One more careful breath, and then between one heartbeat and the next the ash-grey has turned to deep, dark gold, and fire spills over Ianto's hands like molten metal, beautiful and glimmering, touched with the kiss of emerald at its heart. The star quivers, trembles, and then rises from Ianto's gentle grasp, swift and sweet and completely free of anything but joy.

Ianto laughs as it goes, whirling and twisting and weaving, a dart of gleeful brilliance spilling golden light across the roof. There is such relief in his chest that he thinks he might fly, too, buoyant and feather-light, even as the release of tension leaves his knees weak.

Another flicker of golden brilliance, and the star is whirling around his head, singing to him. 'You gave me the gift of your breath to bring me back to life,' it says, like a ripple of light and a choir of angels and everything good and natural and beloved all speaking at once. 'I have no gift that can come close, but I can grant you any wish your heart desires.'

Again, Ianto thinks of what he could ask, what he could demand in return for saving this single, precious life. But there's nothing—not even saving Lisa—that could be worth tainting this act, tainting this memory. There's little enough joy in this world that he'll risk staining even a small portion of it. So, just like the last two time, Ianto shakes his head.

"No," he says, "there's nothing that I want except for you to be free. Go, and be happy."

'I am in your debt, Ianto Jones.' The star dips down just enough to touch his forehead, like a mother's kiss, a father's benediction. 'But someday, if you need me desperately and all hope is lost, I will help you.'

"Thank you," Ianto tries to say, but the star is already gone, golden light vanishing into the darkness.

In the distance, a bell-clear morning is approaching, the determined dawn chasing back the night, and Ianto faces it with a smile and a soft laugh, because he has helped ensure there is just that little bit more delight in the new day.

Ianto can feel himself dying, can feel his heart slowing in his chest. There's a wound in his stomach that's spilling blood on the dew-damp grass, a spreading poison stealing his breath even as Jack cradles him close. Drips keep falling on him, Ianto thinks distantly, even though it isn't raining.

Jack, he thinks, and it's sad, because he had always known he would have only a short time with this wonderful, sweet, funny, brave, gorgeous man, but he'd never thought it would quite this short, dying only a few months after Jack's return.

"No, Ianto, hold on!" Jack murmurs frantically, cradling Ianto close against him. "Just hang on a little longer, Owen's almost here, he can fix this. Just hold on for another minute, do you hear me?"

Ianto wants to tell him that no matter how good a doctor Owen is, he can't fix everything, and this is beyond help. But he can't find the breath to speak, not past the pain and the vise on his lungs, so he just smiles a little sadly, trying to speak everything that's in his heart with his eyes instead of his voice.

"No," Jack whispers, but it's a hopeless denial.

Ianto closes his eyes, thinking of Jack's good, beautiful face, and welcomes the darkness.

But then the darkness is broken by silver and gold fire, with every color in the world at its heart. Ianto opens his eyes with a painful gasp to see a star—his star, the first one he ever caught—whirling around them.

'Ianto Jones,' it whispers. 'You saved me from falling to the earth and dying there. I give you the same.'

The pain is not gone, but Ianto is no longer fading, and he cries out at the fierce pain, but it's welcome, because it means he's alive.

Another dart of light joins the first, this one silver as bright as a sun. It flickers down to touch Ianto's wound, and the touch tickles like a butterfly's kiss.

'Ianto Jones,' it echoes, 'you saved me from a death in the darkness, even when you had to hurt yourself to do so. I take that hurt from you, and leave light in its place.'

The absence of pain is a balm, shocking in its suddenness, and Ianto hisses through his teeth as clenched muscles suddenly relax. He collapses back into Jack's grasp, blinking up at the two stars he caught—years ago, now—but before he can say anything a third is darting down to dance in front of him.

'You gave me breath, Ianto Jones,' it says softly. 'You shared your life with me and saved me from death, so that I could be as I was meant to. So I do the same to you. Live, Ianto Jones, live forever with the one who hold your heart, and be happy.'

The three stars dip down, one after another, to touch Ianto, and then whirl up in a bright dance and vanish into the sky.

Ianto lies back in Jack's arms, wide eyes on the heavens, and listens to the Captain's shaky breathes into his hair. Their fingers are entwined, wound inseparably together, and Ianto has to close his eyes to keep from laughing.

Forever, he thinks. You're right, stars. If I could have had one wish, ever, it would have been to have forever with Jack. Thank you. Thank you so much.

Then Jack kisses him, sweet and warm and gloriously alive, and Ianto can think of nothing else for a long time.