Jack ran his hand through his hair. It came back covered in plaster dust. He gave a nervous laugh as the pub's foundations shook more violently. He stumbled and glass smashed behind the bar.
It was almost time.
He wrestled the shoebox back out of his coat pocket. It looked even more battered than it had when it went in. He tried to straighten it out a bit but only ended up distorting the shape even more. Once upon a time, this would have caused a droll comment from Ianto that hid his frustration, but not today. The Welshman was still staring at his dust-covered shoes.
Oh well. It didn't matter. The box itself wasn't important, rather the content that it held. It would all be over soon, anyway.
"You and me, Ianto Jones," he said, and he raised the box as if he was giving a toast. "Together at the end. How it should be."
Ianto looked up at him and raised a questioning eyebrow.
"In a few seconds, Syriath will rise. I'll trigger this device, destroying her and sealing the Rift forever."
"You're not planning on coming back, are you?" Ianto asked quietly.
Jack gave a humourless hollow chuckle. There was his Ianto, the man who knew everything. "No," he admitted, feeling his trademark grin stretch painfully across his face. "It'll be a pretty big bang."
"You can't die."
Jack heard the edge of panic in Ianto's voice, despite the Welshman trying to hide it behind his calm formal tone. He pushed it aside. It didn't matter. Nothing would matter soon. At last, everything would be over, for him at least.
"Next best thing," he whispered, grin contorting painfully into a smirk.
The man who died and died again would finally find eternal peace. He was already pretty close. Jack no longer felt as old or as tired as he had when he'd first walked through the door earlier this evening. He was no longer drowning in grief or haunted by the reality that was worse than any nightmare. The weight that pulled him down each second had been lifted as soon as he'd seen Ianto again. Even his rejection hadn't added to that weight. Well, not for long at any rate.
"Eternal oblivion. Lost in the space between worlds forever," he continued and smiled again at Ianto. "And come on, it's quite a way to go!"
Ianto palled at his words, but Jack couldn't let it bother him. Instead, he laughed. He wasn't frightened of death anymore. For the first time in six long months, he had hope.
"I think I've lived long enough. I've seen you once more – what else is there?"
Ianto swallowed, smoothed out his shirt and fiddled with his simple silver cufflinks. "Well," he said, standing up and straightening his already straight tie. "We could just go."
Jack laughed slightly hysterically as he leaned back on the table behind him for support. "Never," he said, and for the first time, he found himself smiling without having to force himself. "You're kidding, right?"
Ianto just cocked his head to one side and raised his eyebrow.
"You mean leave here?" Jack asked, more serious as he recognised the familiar look Ianto was giving him. It was a look that Jack knew well and loved, even if it did mean 'can you possibly be any more stupid, sir?'. It was a despairing look with just a hint of disappointment and was almost always aimed at Jack now that Owen was gone. At least he did admit to having a habit of doing something idiotic and reckless when if he'd just thought about it for a moment there was a much simpler resolution. It was a look that only Ianto could pull off. Jack had thought he would never see it again.
"Why not try it?" Ianto said with a shrug. The rumbling from the ground increased and outside it started to rain heavily. "The Rift, ancient evil, magic pebbles," he said with a smile, gesturing to each in turn. "Just for once, let someone else deal with it."
"Can we do that?"
"I'm real, aren't I?" Ianto reached out his hand. Jack took it hesitantly and Ianto gave a reassuring gentle squeeze. Jack let him guide him back to his feet. Unlike the other times when he'd touched Ianto tonight, Jack couldn't help but shiver. He was ice cold. Dead cold.
"Well..." he started to say but paused. Ianto was a ghost. But he seemed so much more than that. Unlike the other spirits Mrs Wintergreen had called out to, Ianto hadn't known he was dead. And just like every other living person at The House of the Dead, Ianto had been visited by a ghost of his own. Who had ever heard of a ghost being haunted by another ghost?
Whatever Syriath had done to create Ianto, Jack couldn't deny that he was different from her other creations. Perhaps Syriath didn't just bend time to create the ghosts but also latched on to the minds of the people present so she could view their most painful memories. This could be why the apparitions knew each of their deepest fears and regrets. It had certainly helped turn the dead into deadly weapons.
And while Jack had experienced more than his fair share of grief in his long lifetime, Ianto had been the only one he'd wanted to see tonight. Perhaps the overwhelming strength of his grief channelled into that one desire was what was making Ianto different. He'd experienced more than enough grief to fill several lifetimes, easily enough to fill two ghosts. Or perhaps Syriath just wasn't used to working with immortals.
But Ianto's cold hand in his was a strong reminder of what he truly was.
"It'll never work," Jack said, dropping his hand, yet wishing he had the strength to just hold on and never let him go again. "We cross that door we will be back in the real world. W-what if you vanish?"
"That's no reason for not trying," Ianto said with a shrug, dislodging some of the larger flakes of plaster that had fallen from the ceiling and settled on his shoulders. Jack caught the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Seems a shame, you know, to get me back only to lose me again. A touch careless."
"Huh, true," he admitted with a small smile that matched Ianto's. And just like that, Jack started to forget his fears. Stood next to him again was the man he loved. "Syriath, the last remnant of a dead universe. Ah, she's not so special. But there's only one Ianto Jones."
"And there's only ever been one Captain Jack Harkness."
For once, Ianto wasn't rolling his eyes at him. Instead, Jack openly saw that fond look in his eyes that he'd only ever caught glimpses of before. Ianto blushed slightly but didn't look away or try to hide it. Whilst Jack had always tried to be open about his affection for Ianto once he'd realised how deep his feelings went, Ianto had always been more reserved. But now everything had changed.
Jack laughed with delight. "Oh, screw it!" he said. What did they have to lose? He had Ianto Jones back in his life once more. What more could he ask for? "Worth a try. Let's leave the device here for Syriath."
He placed the shoebox on the table. When the Rift opened, the energy stored within the stones would be released as the detonator went off. If Jack was good with his hands, and he usually was, then he could make it detonate remotely as the two worlds collided. He didn't need to stay here with it.
Thunder rumbled outside and the foundations shook. Bottles behind the bar smashed as they fell. A large chunk of plaster fell from the ceiling with a crash, causing Ianto to leap backwards out of the way.
"This whole place is falling into the Rift," he shouted, stumbling over toppled barstools.
Ianto was right. When the Rift opened, it would take the pub with it. They needed to get a move on. He set the timer for the detonator.
"We better go now." He held out his hand to Ianto.
Then the electricity blew again, plunging the pub into darkness only for it to be illuminated by a bright flash of lightning, thunder crashing outside almost simultaneously.
A wooden beam from the ceiling splintered, causing part of the room above them to come crashing down, Jack on one side, Ianto unharmed on the other. Another flash of lightning lit Ianto as he made shoeing motions towards him. Jack took the hint and started to make his way towards the old wooden door.
"Cross that doorway and there's no coming back," Ianto called from behind him, but he didn't sound scared.
"Why would I want to?" Jack asked as he made his way to the old wooden door. "I've got you back, Ianto. Let's do this."
He flung the door open. The heavy rain was mixed with hail which was coming down so heavily that it ricocheted on impact, bouncing back off the ground. He turned and held out his hand to Ianto, only to quickly snatch it back again as another timber beam fell from the ceiling. "Come on, Ianto! Be brave."
"Always," he replied without hesitation.
Jack ran out through the door, coat flying behind him like a cape in the strong wind. His pale blue shirt was plastered to his chest as the cold rain soaked him to the skin. He didn't look back. He knew Ianto would be one step behind him, just as he always had been.
Soon 'The House of the Dead' would be gone. The bomb would detonate, and the Rift would be sealed forever. For the first time in his life, Jack would be free. And Ianto would be by his side again.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Ianto Jones," he cried as he came to a stop in the middle of the pub's small car park. He opened his arms wide and spun in a circle with his eyes closed and head tilted up to the sky, letting the rain wash away all his pain and grief. "Has it worked? Are you real again?"
He couldn't wait to have Ianto in his arms once more. He blinked the rain out of his eyes and turned to find him. The car park was dimly lit by a few yellow streetlights that lined the road that ran alongside the pub and one black lamppost from a bygone era that stood near the entrance to the car park.
But he couldn't see Ianto.
Jack called out his name, but he didn't reply.
Another fork of lightning lit the sky and Jack saw him standing in the open doorway of the pub.
"Ianto?" he called. Why was he still there? Could he not cross the threshold after all? And why did he have the shoebox tucked under his arm? Jack had told him that the device needed to be at the heart of the implosion when the Rift opened, or Syriath would be free to escape and destroy the Universe.
"I'm not coming," Ianto said calmly.
"Ianto, no! Come on; there's still time!" he pleaded. But before he'd taken more than a few rushed strides back to the pub, intent on dragging him out himself if he had to, Ianto raised a hand and Jack found himself frozen in place.
He hated that man. He'd never had any intention of leaving. Of course, he hadn't. He was Ianto Jones: the man who always completed the job.
"Sorry, Jack," he said, and a flash of lightning lit his face to show his sad smile. "Someone's got to destroy the Rift." He brought his hand up to shield himself as more debris fell around him. "It's quite a way to go!"
"No!" he cried. "Not like this!" The tears that he'd fought all night started streaming down his face, their warmth mixing with the cold rain. There were better arguments that Jack could have come up with, several that he'd played out in his mind the past six months, but all he could plead was, "don't leave me like this!"
"Got to go!" was all that Ianto replied, shouting over the noise of the building shaking as the power of the Rift bled through. Through his blurred vision, Jack could see his silhouette ducking for cover and moving back inside the building. The old stone walls of the pub were shaking now.
"Ianto!" Jack yelled again. He willed himself out of the shock that had frozen him in place, forcing his body to move back towards Ianto. He could still save him. He stumbled as he half-ran, half-fell back down the cobbled path to the door. The ground was shaking violently now, and the rain still poured, flooding the area. "No!"
But he stumbled to a stop several meters before the open doorway. Lightning showed that Ianto had returned to the threshold, box clutched to his chest. A splash of red blood stained his right cheek.
It was all over.
The ground still shook, the rain still poured, and the pub was still standing.
But Ianto Jones wasn't going to make it out alive.
He was never going to leave the device unattended. He wasn't going to let Jack walk back in to drag him out. Even Jack didn't want to spend the last moments of his life fighting with him. And that's what would happen if he tried to go back to 'The House of the Dead'. Ianto would do everything in his power to stop Jack from dying there tonight. He'd fight past his very last breath to save him. And in a way, he already had.
The ghost of Ianto Jones was saving him one last time.
And Jack wanted to hate him for it. But he couldn't. He never could.
"I never said it properly before," Jack yelled.
But Ianto dismissed him, just as he always had whenever Jack had tried to start that conversation. "It doesn't need saying."
"Yes, it does," he insisted, voice becoming horse. Time was running out.
He took a deep breath and said it.
"Ianto Jones, I love you."
Lightning lit Ianto's sad smile.
And in that moment, everything seemed to stop. The falling debris made no sound, nor did the shattering of multiple glasses and bottles. There was nothing else except for Ianto Jones and Captain Jack Harkness, and the infinite gap between them that they could never cross.
They gazed at each other, both knowing that this was the end. They knew that it was over. They could never touch one another. They would never see each other again. They should have said their last confessions long ago.
This was the final scene in the life of Ianto Jones. It was an epilogue hidden on the last page of a book that had already finished its final chapter.
They only had a few seconds left. A few words to spare. The silent moment between one heartbeat and the last.
"And I love you too, Jack," Ianto said softly. A single tear fell from his eye as he smiled.
Ianto took a final slow breath in, and the outside world returned.
"Right then, let's get a move on," he bellowed as the tiled roof collapsed and the top level of the pub caved inward. "Goodbye, Jack!"
Ianto waved one last time before ducking under the fallen beam and scrambling back into the heart of the building.
Jack fell to his knees.
It was over.
The House of the Dead exploded.