It was a cold winter morning. Jack Harkness rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It was 10 AM and he had had a restful night. He turned to see a beautiful Welshman sitting next to him with a mug of coffee in his hand, and another cup on a tray. A scent as sweet as the Welshman's kiss drifted through the air.
In peace, they drank their coffees, and huddled together for what seemed like hours. Ianto kissed Jack's mouth. Jack's phone buzzed. He ignored it. If everything goes to hell, he'd still have Ianto. They curled up closer. Everything was peaceful.
It was a freezing-ass morning. Jack Harkness rubbed the sleep from his eyes. God knows what time it was, and he had slept like shit. He rolled over to see a metal floor in his metal cage; a tiny ship. He looked around and found a grimy bottle of stale beer, and downed it in one.
A smell like rotting meat drifted through the air. He sat up on his bunk and shivered. His phone buzzed. It was probably Gwen or the Doctor trying to find him. No one else cared.
Well everything had gone to shit. And he had no Welshman to curl up next to. Ianto was dead.
And nothing mattered.