And The One Time He Did
"Goodbye, Ianto," Jack whispered to the night. The woman beside him walked away, still searching for the House of the Dead, the most haunted pub in all of Wales, insisting it was nearby. She would never find it, never talk to her loved ones again—just like Jack.
It was strange: he'd built a bomb to destroy the pub and seal the Rift, and yet after the initial explosion, it was as if nothing had happened. There was no fire, no smoke, no rubble. Just an empty lot where a pub had once stood for hundreds of years. Where Jack had last seen, kissed, and said goodbye to Ianto Jones.
With a savage growl, Jack kicked at the ground and sank to his knees. This wasn't right, wasn't what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to be dead, too. One last farewell, and then eternal darkness, floating thru space and time forever. Ianto wasn't supposed to trick him into living and then sacrifice himself instead to save the world.
Of course he had, though. Jack should have known better. Real or not, even a recreation of Ianto Jones would have tried to save the world—tried to save Jack. It was in his blood, who he was, and it was how he had died. God, it had seemed so real, seeing Ianto again. Jack had truly believed they could be together, had wanted nothing more than to walk out of that pub hand in hand with the one man he'd loved more than any other in decades. The one man he wanted to be with, wanted to marry and spend a lifetime loving.
Only Ianto was dead. Again.
Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out the stopwatch they'd once played with. He'd found it in Ianto's flat and taken it to remember. He'd promised, after all—a thousand years, and he would remember. He also took out a simple platinum ring, polished grey with a brushed finish inlay, inscribed with a set of initials he would remember forever. He would keep the watch, but he would not keep the ring. Not anymore.
Taking a deep breath, Jack stood and slowly walked back toward the empty lot of the lost pub. Though the building was gone, sucked into the Rift, the grounds had survived more or less intact. There was a small garden bed near a corner of the former foundation, and a group of daffodils were blooming, as if daring the universe to deny them the right to live. Which was when Jack remembered: it was St. David's Day. He choked back a sob as he stood before the flowers.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to the night. "I said I would ask, and I never did. And now it's too late." He let his head fall to his chest and swore. "I should have said something sooner, only I was too scared. I kept joking about it, putting it off. I knew you weren't immortal, and yet I still waited. I'm an idiot and a fool."
He held up the ring. "I love you. I have for a long time, and I will for a long time more. I won't forget you, even though you think I will. You were different. You knew me, accepted me. You walked into the fire with me, and it's my fault you're gone." He took a shaky breath. "I will never forgive myself for that. You didn't deserve to die there. You didn't deserve to die at all. You should have had a normal life, away from Torchwood. Marriage and family and a house and god I wanted to get a dog…" Jack choked up again, the last coming out on a sob as he could no longer hold his emotions in check. "I'm sorry we didn't get a dog."
Above him the stars shone brightly, mocking him with their light in a world that seemed so dark now. He'd wandered for six months, trying to find peace, and when he'd finally returned to Wales to seal his fate, it was only to find it completely turned on its head. He didn't know what to do now, where to go, but he had no choice: he could not follow where he could never go. Perhaps he would leave again— but leave Earth, for good.
Jack closed his eyes and prepared to let it all go. He clasped the ring tight one last time and held it to his heart, then raised his hand, opened his fingers to let it fall…and felt another hand encircle his wrist, callused fingers he'd know anywhere caressing his pulse point.
"What's this, then?" asked a familiar voice. Jack didn't dare open his eyes, until the grasp on his wrist was released. Ianto Jones stood before him, holding the ring Jack had been about to leave behind, examining it curiously.
"Ianto?" Jack whispered. "You…what…you're still here!" He would have swept the man off his feet if he believed it was real; it was more likely a hallucination, born of his grief.
"And so are you," Ianto replied. "Despite your misguided attempt to find eternal oblivion in the Rift."
"But how?" Jack asked. "I don't understand. The bomb…the explosion…Syriath is dead, the Rift is closed! How are you here? What happened?"
Stepping closer, Jack saw that Ianto still looked like the man he had known and loved, the man he had met in the pub; he was also dirty, with a cut on his face, his hair messed up and suitcoat torn at the elbow. Jack reached out a tentative, shaking hand. He felt the solid flesh of Ianto's fingers and held tight, wanting desperately to believe it was real.
"I'm not sure," Ianto replied, frowning. "I set the bomb down and turned to run out, thinking maybe I had half a chance. I remember the explosion, and then darkness and light, so much light. I kept falling into the light, until I landed. On the ground not far from here." He pointed toward where the back of the pub had once stood. "It must have spit me out, the Rift. Didn't like the way I tasted, I suppose."
Jack stared at him. How could he make jokes at a time like this?
"Sorry," said Ianto, lowering his eyes. "But it's true. I think…I think the Rift took me, and the Rift brought me back. And now it's closed, so I suppose I'm here to stay." He paused. "Again, if you'll have me."
Jack let a smile slowly creep across his face, stepping closer and raising his other hand to Ianto's face. "I can't believe it," he said. "You went back in, you left me all alone—"
"I'm sorry," Ianto interrupted. "But I couldn't let you do it. You know I couldn't."
"—and now you're back, holding my hand, alive." He shook his head in wonder. "It's like a dream, a miracle."
Ianto scrunched up his face. "It's not a miracle, it's a freak accident of the space-time continuum, like something from a second-rate sci-fi show."
Jack almost laughed out loud. "I don't care what it is! You're alive, that's all that matters."
Ianto smiled sadly. "Only everyone thinks I'm dead. You said so yourself—it's been six months."
"Doesn't matter," Jack said. "We can start over, do anything we want, anywhere we want. Hell, we can start over off planet!" It had been his first thought, to leave Earth. It held too many painful memories, though one was slowly improving.
"Jack, my family is here, my friends, my…" Ianto stopped. "We don't have a job anymore, do we?"
Jack shook his head. "I wouldn't go back even if I could," he said.
"What about Gwen?" asked Ianto.
"She's safe," Jack told him. "She's with Rhys, happy and healthy, and due in two months."
Ianto looked at the ring he was holding. He saw the initials and sighed, his eyes slipping closed. "You never asked," he murmured. "You said you would, and you never did. Until it was too late."
"It's not too late anymore," Jack said. He reached for the ring and took a deep breath. Ianto's eyes went wide as Jack took his hand and slipped the ring onto his fourth finger. "Ianto Jones, will you marry me?"
There was a long silence with no answer as Ianto gazed at their hands. "You really mean it, don't you?" he whispered.
"And you're not even on your deathbed," Jack replied with a crooked grin, remembering something Ianto had once said.
Ianto frowned. "That's not funny, you know."
"But it's true," Jack told him. "I'm not asking because you're dying, I'm asking because you're alive, because I don't want to miss my chance again. I want to be with you for as long as we have." He paused. "And there is no Torchwood now, which means you could be stuck with me for a long time."
Ianto started to smile. "That's true, isn't it. No Torchwood." He ran a finger over the ring. "There's also no wine or roses," he pointed out. "You said that, once."
"If I'd known, I'd have brought flowers," Jack replied with a matching grin.
"I'm not really a flowers type of guy," Ianto said. He met Jack's eyes. "I wish I had something for you."
"You came back," Jack replied. "That's all I need. You." He took Ianto's hand and lead him away from where the pub had once stood. People were starting to gather, and he could hear sirens in the distance. They would find nothing but a mystery, the ancient pub no longer there, as if it had disappeared into the air. Something Torchwood might have investigated once.
"I don't know," Ianto said, trying for casual and failing. "I could go for a good cup of coffee. And maybe a matching ring?"
"Is that a yes?" asked Jack, earning a small laugh from Ianto.
"Yes," said Ianto, squeezing his hand. "Yes."
"Then we can do that," Jack said as they walked in the dark. "We can do anything."
"Together?" Ianto asked, as if he were still unsure of their future even as Jack toyed with the ring on Ianto's finger.
"Together," Jack said. He'd told the Welshman months ago, the night after Gwen's wedding, that Ianto would get married someday. Jack had promised himself that someday he would be the one to ask. He'd almost lost his chance, but now they could build a life, get a dog, and travel the stars.
Together.
Author's Note:
For summerstar, Miladydragon, and cozsheep (for helping with Outbreak), with daffodils for miss-loves-a-story.
