Dear Ianto,
Jack paused, staring at those two little words for several minutes. He crossed them out and began again.
My Dearest Ianto Jones,
He huffed irritably, then scribbled that out too.
Ianto,
There is really no good way for me to start this. I don't see how it matters anymore, but I can't help it. This has to be perfect, but it can't be. I wish it could be, but if it was I wouldn't be writing this. You'd be sitting next to me, making some joke about the 456.
But you aren't sitting next to me. You're in a freezer at UNIT. And it's all my fault.
Two drops of water fell and stained the paper, but the writer continued. If he stopped now he knew he'd never finish.
I really thought I could save you, Ianto. I let myself get cocky. Thought I could save your life, just because I've saved a few people. I am so, so sorry.
You want to know something funny? For a second, when I was holding you… I thought… Just for a second… That maybe I could die too.
And the worst part… The worst part is that I… I was actually glad. I miss you. Ianto,
He paused, staring at the name. Five little letters, spelling out… Everything.
I promise you, I won't forget. Never.
All of My Love, Forever,
Jack
He stared at the paper, unable to rip his eyes away. How long did he watch it? He'd never be able to tell. But when he at last did, he stood. He'd been sitting on a bench, on Earth. He lied to Gwen. She thought he'd left for good. But really, how could he?
Without much thought, his feet took him down the road, along the sidewalk, through Cardiff, until at last he came to a small, quiet cemetery. Ianto's sister had insisted on burying Ianto, even though his body was actually at UNIT. But there was a marker with his name on it. That helped her. Jack hadn't been able to fathom why.
But now, here, standing above the actual rock… He could. The pain and the lose burned in his chest, worse than any other pain. Worse than when he lost Tosh and Owen. Worse, it seemed, than when he lost Grey, not once but twice. He wasn't sure how he could stand it. How had be not been torn in half? Torn the pieces by it?
"So, I wrote you a letter," Jack laughed weakly, saying it aloud. Like this rock, this meaningless rock, could, or even would care. Still, he continued. "I… I know you'll never read it. I know that. But… I don't know, maybe I'm crazy," He was crying again. Would the tears ever stop? Would the pain ever lessen? "You always thought so. I just… I just wish you were here now, telling me that."
He sighed and set the letter down, propped up against the stone. When he bent to place it, he froze. Ianto Jones, carved into the sleet, black stone, stared back at him. And at that instant, something in him broke.
"I'm so sorry," He whispered before standing again. "I… I wanted you to live. I wanted to watch you grow old. How selfish is that? Me, young and healthy forever, watching you die. But it would have been better than this," He lowered his head, ashamed. "Anything would have been better than this."
If anyone would have walked by at that moment, maybe they would have seen him. A broken man, on his knees, sobbing in front of a gravestone. Maybe they would have found it odd that the man stood a moment later, the tears gone. Maybe they would have thought it strange that, as the man passed, he wave politely. And they would have seen the letter, placed carefully against the marker, bright against the dark stone.
They might have walked up to the stone, curiosity too much to bear. They'd have opened the letter, read it. And their heart would go out to the mourning man, who clearly loved this Ianto Jones.
But no one walked by. No one saw Jack. And no one besides this man, it seemed, cared that Ianto Jones was dead. Not a single person knew the sacrifice he made.
No one but a broken man, desperately trying to repair himself and his broken heart.
