"In a thousand's years' time, you won't remember me."

Those were his last words. His life was rapidly slipping away and he attempted to be logical. He wasn't sure how the young man had meant them, whether he doubted his importance or just couldn't believe it possible for a man to remember a person for a millennium but it was so Ianto. Even in... the end, he tried to keep his dignity and apply reason. It pained him to think he couldn't keep his promise. A thousand years was a very long time but somehow he would do it, he had to, he owed it to that man, the man that subtly forced his way in and carved away as far as he could get. He laughed without humour at the thought. That stubborn Welshman dug deeper than he allowed anyone else in his extended life and left him with a deep chasm. The ironic part was that being him, lead Ianto to believe he only scratched the surface. Truth was, as much as he fought it tooth and nail, Ianto was one of few who got that much. For all of his existence, he kept most from getting close enough to even begin to glimpse the surface. Truth was, he didn't even know what was beyond that point.

He quietly approached the back of the smaller group of mourners, keeping a fair distance. There wasn't a spot to hide and the bright open cemetery contrasted the sombre atmosphere that seemed almost tangible, hitting him square in the chest. The force choked him. It was just cruel having both of these on the same day. He felt the cosmic joke the day was appearing to be. The stoic grace he wanted to present to the world since leaving the shit-hole of a hotel he woke up in vanished in sight of the recognisable people lost in their own thoughts, people he had only seen in photographs in tearful silence, a welsh priest speaking a prayer and a grey box to with a picture of the man that was too young to be taken so soon.

Gwen Cooper was awkwardly searching the grounds, most likely for him as her husband kept a shaking hand clamped to her knee. Martha Smith-Jones was clinging to a man who could never know the wonder to which they were saying goodbye. The police-constable friend of Gwen's was sitting with her, Andrew Davis he recalled. Then there was Rhiannon Jones, clinging to her tissue like it was the only thing keeping her afloat as her husband kept a strong arm around her shoulders. There were a few others that he couldn't recognise. The scene was inadequate. There was a whole planet of people oblivious to the heroics of another person who died trying to save their miserable species.

It was Gwen who spotted him first as the group began to disperse. He ignored her red-eyed and running mascara looks of sympathy. He didn't know how much more he could take of her compassion; it was still hard to look at her. He sighed as he felt the hesitant hand of Martha run along his right arm. Mickey briefly gave his left shoulder a squeeze, offering an awkward sort of comfort. It was confusing really. At all the same time, these people gave him a small sense of reassurance he needed and the urge to just shout at them to let him be.

He shrugged off all the gentle touches and walked toward the grey box. He laid his hand on the smooth metallic surface. He wasn't sure if the... if Ianto was actually in there. He had told Gwen and Martha to deal with it, telling them to use their judgment if they should follow Torchwood protocol and keep Ianto somewhere until the Hub could be rebuilt or allow him to be released to the family. His only request...order was that no government organisation, especially UNIT were allowed to retain Ianto and that he was to maintain his dignity with a suit. It really didn't matter, the box in front of him was symbolic to the fact the man was lost in the darkness. He thought he should probably cry more, he should be able to produce more than a few tears but there was nothing more than the dead weight of his body.

He became fixated on the box, the casket. The sound of the timid steps drew him back to the present. He could barely suppress his wince as the Welshwoman took his free hand in hers.

"You're late. Where were you?" She asked after a drawn out silence, her accent thick with emotion.

He flicked his gaze to look at her from the corners of his eyes. He knew she did not mean to be crass but how could she honestly chide him on being late. That was the last place he wanted to be. He was barely functioning as it was.

"Jack?" He tried to respond, tell her it was alright but his throat clinched.

She released a painful sigh. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Of course I am. I'm always alright." It sounded false even to his own ears but he managed to keep his face relaxed.

"Bollocks!"

"Gwen," he bit out quietly, warning her of the dangerous territory she was crossing.

"Jack, you show up late. Smelling ripe of whiskey. You act like you don't even care." He averted his eyes to a spot directly over her shoulder catching the abashed Rhys start over to come to the rescue. His head told him she was just acting out of grief and the need to make this day perfect, all things considered but it infuriated him and broke him all the same. He closed his eyes shut tightly to block out the remaining group of people with shocked looks displayed.

"Come on sweetheart. Leave Jack in peace. He doesn't need this right now." Jack mouthed the words 'thank you' as Gwen focused on the ground in shame. Rhys met his eyes. "I'm sorry. Ianto was a good bloke." At Jack's responding nod, he dragged his wife away.

Taking a deep sigh and a final look at the picture of the young Welshman, he ran his fingers along the sleek surface until they reached air and turned his back toward the honorary shrine of irises, walking away. In the safety of the church parking lot, away from the prying eyes of the priest, the insensitive caretakers waiting with shovels and the people whom he called family, he let the tears he'd been holding back slowly fall free.

"You must be boiling in that coat," Mickey stated from somewhere behind him. He schooled his features, wiping his eyes dry, he turned to face the young man who was taking off his own jacket, draping it over his arm. It was warm but his old coat became a security blanket of sorts and this new one was his life-line.

"Little price to pay for looking this dashing." he chuckled. It actually felt good even though he didn't feel it.

Martha gave him a knowing look that says that his light-hearted banter wasn't fooling her. He sighed and went with the honest answer. "He… he bought it for me."

The dark woman nodded in understanding then sent a look to her nervous husband. With a returned nod, Mickey patted the captain on his shoulder and turned away, walking to where Rhys was hugging Gwen at the grave site. He relished at their non-verbal communication. He couldn't begrudge her of her happiness even as he felt that prickle pain. He never met that Tom but Martha seemed happier since meeting Mickey. Her eyes twinkled albeit still not the level as before the Year-that-never-was, but that bit of sparkle was there again. With Mickey she had someone she could share the wonders of the universe as he could understand exactly what she meant as he his own to share. He had to admit when he got the news that she was seeing Mickey, it threw him a bit but he realised that it was inevitable. The Doctor's companions had a special bond.

He was broken out of his thoughts as Martha pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, laying his chin on top of her head. He felt safe enough to break down. The quiet sob began at full force.

"He told me he loved me." Why did he admit to that to her? That was private. Martha pulled back slightly. If she was surprised, she didn't show it. "I'm... I"

"Even I could have told you that." She gave him a smile that was latent with sadness. He returned the smile. He always knew how the younger man felt but he chose to ignore it. "Jack, how are... you coping?"

"I'm..." Fine? His first instinct was to lie, deflect or anything but the I don't know because, he had no idea how he was feeling. It was too much but a fine would have thrown a red-flag to Martha. She knew him too well. He guessed it didn't matter. It was most likely obvious he wasn't trying, he wasn't doing anything. "I'm... not... doing so well. Steven's was today."

She gave him that look of pity. "Oh Jack, I'm sorry."

"Please, don't. I need...time."

"I could call Him."

"NO!" he growled. He immediately regretted his tone as she recoiled. He lowered his voice. "Sorry...Just don't. He's the last thing I need."

"Please, just let me know if there's anything I can do."

"Thank you." He pulled her back for a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek before releasing her. "Go on Minnie. Your man awaits." He gave a small smack on her bottom to encourage her to go ahead.

"Are you coming?" At his confused stare, she elaborated. "Ianto's family is having a wake."

"I...I don't know."

"Jack, you of all people should be there."

"I suppose you're right. He was my friend and employee." He breathed out looking away from Martha missing her head shake in annoyance and roll her eyes at the labels he supplied.