Hovering at the door, Ianto could see Gwen, sat with Jack's body. She'd been sat with him for hours, laid out, cold and ready to go into storage.
Jack- Ianto swallowed. The idea that Jack was dead- that he'd been taken as well was more than Ianto could bear. It was another piece of him being cut off when he'd already borne so much. What would they do without Jack? What would he do? Who could he turn to- he'd plugged the gaping holes in his life with Jack and work. Now one was dead and the other was sure to follow.
He couldn't see Jack properly, just a shock of dark hair beside Gwen. He'd not prepared himself for it to be the last time he saw him when they laid Jack out. He hadn't said goodbye.
Ianto stepped towards Gwen. She turned to look at him. "He's coming back." She said to him with utter conviction- her eyes met his.
"Can I get you anything? Coffee-" he asked. It was his job. Right now it was all he could do.
She shook her head, then reached out for Ianto's hand.
He stepped closer and saw Jack properly. He was dead, the pallor robbing his body of everything Ianto liked about it. He took a brief gasp, Gwen squeezed his hand. He wanted to wail uncontrollably, but not in front of Gwen.
"Why don't you stay for a bit." She said. If Ianto could see, could understand then they could wait together. Maybe Jack needed more than her.
He shook his head, "Can't-"
"Ianto," She said, "You saw. You saw Owen shoot him and he lived."
He played it back in his head. Jack was dead, then he wasn't. He and Gwen had pulled Jack up and onto the street with them, and standing together in the street Ianto had held onto Jack, for a brief moment their hands squeezed together. As Jack left he caught a whiff of pheromones.
All Ianto could smell now was disinfectant. That hand would be cold, limp. Because he was dead. Dead.
"First time I met Jack," He whispered, "The first time, he was bleeding- then he wasn't."
He reached forward and touched Jack's hand. It was an icy, lifeless appendage. He flinched backward.
His lips were wrong. The colour was wrong. They weren't what he'd launched himself at after the night at the Ferret, the sudden reciprocation a millisecond after Jack's surprise at Ianto's forwardness and sudden change from murderous hatred to utter passion. They weren't the same. He'd wanted to kiss him one last time but- no. Not like this. He wanted to remember him warm, salacious and dangerous. Not like this.
"He's gone, Gwen." Ianto breathed before leaving the room.
She turned and watched him leave. Ianto had lost so much already, he couldn't have believed right now if he tried.
He can't smell Jack any more. It's the worst of all of this. Jack's been taken from them in every way. He goes into the office- the scent lingers there. He'd hung Jacks coat up when Gwen had dragged him back- he hadn't known what else to do.
Now he reached for the coat, the scent wasn't strong enough- he could still smell disinfectant, the clinical smell robbing him of the last traces of his boss and lover. Starting to weep, Ianto buried his head in the fabric.
Then Jack walks out, holding Gwen's hand- alive. Just for a minute, Ianto thinks he's gone insane with grief, that everything has finally added up to one big breakdown.
Tosh runs to Jack and they embrace.
No. Not just Ianto seeing this then.
He approached him quickly, but then slowed. He offered his hand- was the life back in Jack's hands? Jack's expression changed microscopically, he pulled Ianto into his arms. And there they were. Pheromones. Oh God he really was alive. Ianto squeezed back. He was alive. Jack pulled back and then- his lips. Oh god, he was alive. And kissing him, in front of people. Well then. This was a new development.