Ianto straightened a few papers at Jack's desk.
He was alone.
Of course he was. Tea-boy, sent to clean up the mess no one else wanted.
But it was still cold.
I loved him, Ianto thought. I love him.
Ianto looked up slowly and silently at the coat rack and a bolt of pain shot through him. There it was.
Jack's classic WWII coat.
Ianto's lips parted ever so slightly and he slowly stepped to the rack.
His hand went out, slowly and carefully, as if the coat might dissolve if he touched it.
Thank God, it didn't.
Ianto balanced the coat in his hands for a few seconds and he had a gentle flashback. One of… Something important. When Lisa had tried to take Torchwood? But what?
That didn't matter currently, though.
Ianto pressed the coat to his mouth and nose, drinking in Jack's scent.
Coffee.
Sweat.
Lemon soap.
And something else that was always there, something sweet that Ianto could never identify.
When the team had only just found out the Captain had died, every member of the team had sobbed except for Ianto. He had just stood there, disbelief written across his face as plain as the day. But not a single tear had fallen from his blue eyes. He couldn't.
When Ianto cried, it was always in private where he could only comfort himself.
But now that everyone was gone, Ianto couldn't stop his eyes from growing damp, tear after tear falling from his eyes, onto Jack's coat.