London, 2077

When he opened his eyes, Ianto wasn't surprised. What he felt was more like a sense of closure. Of ending. Now he finally was at peace.

"I was waiting for you," he said, a painful pause to breathe between every word.

Jack squeezed his hand even harder. "Really?" he asked, tears in his eyes.

"Yeah. I knew you were going to break your promise." Or, at least, he hoped so. Jack looked exactly the same as the last time he saw him. Only his eyes were older. "You still have your coat."

Jack smiled, "I could never throw it away."

They looked at each other for a moment, decades of unsaid things and heartbreak passing between them.

"I'm sorry," Jack finally said in a whisper.

"About what?"

"I don't even know. About breaking my promise. About everything." Jack placed his hand on Ianto's face. He was surprised at how soft it still felt under his fingertips. He was still his Ianto, nothing could change that.

Ianto closed his eyes and sighted, his breathing getting slower. "I'm happy you're here. I couldn't go without seeing you again. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. I've missed you every day."

"I don't believe you. I bet you've had thousand of lovers that were way more fun then me." Yes, he was still his Ianto. Still a sarcastic ass.

"Trust me on this, no one could be more fun than you, Ianto Jones."

They didn't say anything else, they just kept holding hands, looking at each others. Words didn't mean anything. Not in a moment like this.

Ianto fell asleep after a few moments. Jack could tell it was close. He had seen it happen again and again, but it still hurt. He never got used to it.

He wanted to scream at how unjust it all was, how it wasn't fair that Ianto had to get old and die and leave him behind, again.

He stood there four two hours, never leaving Ianto's side, never letting go of his hand.

"Jack?" Ianto called out when he woke up again, his voice scared and full of pain.

"I'm right here." Jack touched Ianto's old, wrinkled face.

"I just had a beautiful dream. I was young again, and we were in hour house. There was our old couch. Do you remember it?"

"Of course I do." Jack was smiling through the tears.

"We were just sitting there. It was so peaceful. For a moment I thought that must be what heaven looks like. Our home. And you. I'd like that."

"I'd like that too."

"Jack, I'm scared." Ianto's voice broke, and it wasn't just from the pain.

"Don't be. It's not going hurt, it's going to be like falling asleep."

"I..." he couldn't finish the sentence cause a fit of cough stopped him.

"Don't talk. Save your breath."

"I love you. I've always had." His voice was so low he was barely audible.

Jack kissed his forehead, like he used to do when he was barely more than a kid. "I love you, Ianto. I'll never forget you."

Ianto felt Jack's tears on his own skin. He gave him a little nod before falling asleep again.

He never woke up.

Ianto Jones died at 4 am on a Tuesday morning, at the age of 87. Jack Harkness held his hand until his last breath, then walked away from the hospital into the cold morning air, leaving behind the ghost of a life he foolishly dreamed he could have had.