Brawdoliaeth - brotherhood (Welsh)
-0 days
The first thing he feels when he comes back to what can questionably be called life, is pain. His muscles are screaming, and they feel strangely hot and cold at the same time. He wants to be violently sick, but doesn't think he can handle sitting up in his state.
He can't see. He can't even feel his face.
That's the last thing he thinks before the grip of death pulls him back into the darkness once more.
The next time he's awake, he's a bit more lucid.
That's definitely not a good thing. Every inch, every centimeter, feels as though it's been stabbed, ripped apart cell by cell until he was just a pile of atoms.
There aren't words. No words for this type of pain.
He doesn't want to bear it any longer. He had never wanted it. Never wanted to bear any of it.
Dimly, he remembers pushing Ianto and Gwen out of the Hub. Ianto, Gwen… and the baby.
They must have gotten out in time. They had to have. He couldn't repeat the cycle again. The cycle of death and unwilling life, while everyone around him withered away.
They were alive. He had gotten them out in time, so they were alive.
He clings to that certainty as he dies again.
As he gasps alive, he peels his tired, stiff eyelids open, and he can see. It's not much, mind you. But he can tell he's not in the Hub anymore. He's in a well lit room. He's alone.
When he glances down, he doesn't even recognize his body. His muscles are painfully reattaching themselves, his ligaments and tendons connecting to his joints.
He's lived a thousand lives and died a thousand deaths, but nothing compares to the pain he's feeling now.
He doesn't care though. He just wants his friends-no, Gwen was family, Ianto was definitely family- to be safe.
Then, he pauses, because thinking while your brain isn't fully recreated is excruciating, and you can excuse him for being a bit slow.
Because, family.
"Where's Grey?"
-40 days
There's a silence in the Hub that none of them can fill now, but Jack tries. He really does. The only thing that came close was Tosh's video. He jokes, as if everything were normal. He still orders Gwen and Ianto around, catches weevils, and stays at the Hub. He tries.
But every time a joke falls flat, and Gwen stares at him with a slightly pitying, slightly disgusted face, every time he accidentally reprimands Owen's mess in the autopsy chamber, and Ianto's muscles tense as if to run away, a little part of him shrivels up and dies. He thinks it was the part that used to value family.
The two don't really talk to him any more, not like they used to. He pretends it doesn't hurt him.
It does.
They've just got back from another weevil capture, but since that day, the sightings have been few and far between. Jack really didn't care to speculate about them, just capture them and haul them in the SUV before any civilians need any Retcon. As he ushers the alien into the van and slams the back shut, he catches a glance that passes between Ianto and Gwen, one he is clearly not supposed to see. For one, the moment Gwen sees Jack watching, she takes off like a shot, sliding into shotgun without another word.
Jack raises an eyebrow at Ianto, who shakes his head, a warning to back off. As usual, he ignores it.
"You want to tell me what that was all about?" he asks quietly, a touch of authority in his voice. He doesn't want to pull rank to figure out what's wrong, but if that's what it takes, he will. They are the only people in his life right now that matter, and he can't let them down. Not like he did to the others.
Ianto glares at him. For some reason, this simple weevil hunt has him on edge. It's not like him to be anxious about such a simple thing. He opens his mouth to speak, shakes his head and then sighs.
"Jack, do you ever really think?" he asks tiredly. There's no judgement in his voice, only resignation, and for the life of him, Jack really has no idea what he's done this time.
He wants to make a joke, just to get that heavy expression off his lover's face, just to make everything alright, even for a moment. He's an immortal man, but that's not in his powers.
He wishes it was.
"Of course I do," he says confusedly, "What's wrong?"
Ianto just shakes his head again and heads back to the van. They have a silent ride back home.
"Coffee?" Ianto asks in a crisp voice, all signs of previous despair gone. Jack is worried about him. He knows how he got after Lisa's death, and someone as young as him shouldn't be able to shut emotions on and off like a tap.
He receives the mug gratefully anyway and blows across the top, watching the steam waft away. He gives Ianto a searching glance over the rim.
"Anything you want to tell me then?" he asks.
Ianto shakes his head crisply, then exits. "Enjoy your coffee, sir," he calls out.
Jack gives him a little smile and wraps his fingers around the perfectly warm coffee mug. He gets up slowly from the files he was sorting on the floor and glances out the window overlooking the Hub. Gwen and Ianto are chatting quietly near the cog door. He looks like he's about to see her off, and Jack can't help the surge of affection that comes for his two friends. They've been through too much, and all of it is his fault. He needs to help. It's the least he can do.
That thought swirls around in his mind for a bit, and he realizes he's been staring. Gwen still hasn't left yet, and from her animated gestures and hushed tones, Jack can bet she's talking about what's bothering her. It did hurt a bit that she wouldn't come to him, but as long as she gets the help she needs, he's fine with it. He takes a swig of coffee and winces a bit as the strong flavor rushes over his tougue. It's the first thing he's tasted today, and he can't really suppress the gag reflex that comes after it. He really needs to stop skipping meals. They just seemed to slip past him, now that Tosh and Owen weren't arguing about what to order in.
His eyes blur a bit and he has to sit down, attempting to land in his chair, but instead sliding down to the floor. Belatedly, he hears two sets of feet on stairs and groans. If the Doctor and Rose saw him on the floor, there would be no way of escaping the jokes in the coming weeks. After all, there was only so much room in the TARDIS.
His eyes crack open and he stares at the shiny industrial surfaces in alarm. Rectangular walls and clear windows replaced the TARDIS coral and control panel, and a wave of panic engulfs him before he remembers what year it is.
Gwen is kneeling beside him, shining a penlight in his eyes like Owen- no, Martha- no, Owen would do. Jack just groans again and tries to swipe her hand away, grunting slightly when his body refuses to cooperate. Ianto's voice seems to come from underground. Either it's a figment of his imagination, or Ianto's on his other side. For some reason, he can't seem to bring himself to turn his head.
"Is he alright?" Ianto asks in a shaky voice. Jack wants to take his hands and reassure him, but he can feel himself slipping deeper into the fog in his head. He can't move a muscle, and his eyes are fixed on one point.
Gwen's reply from his other side takes even longer. "His pupils are dialating fine, he doesn't look like he has a concussion. He's almost slipped under right now." She looks at Ianto, and for a second, Jack sees them as they truly are. Gwen's lost weight in the past few weeks, and dark circles underline her slightly swollen eyes. He can't see Ianto, but he imagines that his lover looks much the same. They are haunted. How could he have been so blind?
He wants to promise them that he's going to try to help. Maybe he can try to bring Tosh back with another glove, or open the rift and sneak her and Owen back into their time. That would tear the fabric of the universe, but it would save them, and wasn't that a price he was willing to pay? Of course, he can do none of that lying immobile on the floor. He's surprised he's been down for that long. A few skipped meals shouldn't have made this much of an impact, should it have?
His eyes slip closed, and he clings to his last grasps of consciousness, his hearing faint and tinny.
Ianto gives a sound, a sigh, or a little hum, Jack has no way of knowing.
"I should have stayed with him, to make sure he didn't fall. I don't think he's eaten anything, either."
There's a rustling on his side, and Gwen's voice responds. "We should be glad the tranquilizer didn't kill him straight off. It's four times the given dose, and that's for elephants."
What?
There is a click that sounds surprisingly like a stopwatch starting, and Jack's heart stutters along with it before Ianto responds.
This cannot be happening.
"Well, based on Owe-the old estimates, we have fifteen minutes. We'd better head down."
No.
A hand brushes over Jack's forehead and he wants to scream and shout and cry. As he lies there, silent, a familiar accent shoots through his memory.
"Enjoy your coffee, sir."
His stomach clenchs painfully, and he shifts minutely, stretches, and lets the darkness steal him away.
Jack wakes up with a throbbing headache and no sense of how much time has passed. Someone's placed a pillow behind his head, and he wakes up slowly, not all at once. It's not like dying at all, when everything comes back to you in a rush. It's more like a trickle, like a well being slowly filled up, instead of a downpour.
He feels sick.
He can feel the blood thudding in his ears, drowning out any noise he could have heard. Downstairs. Downstairs.
He rolls over and swallows his nausea, shoving himself off the floor. Somehow, he finds himself in the stairwell, holding the wall like it's the only thing holding him up.
It is.
When he gets downstairs, there's a drawer rolled out, and he sees his brother's motionless face, and he thinks he's too late.
Then he notices the lack of blood and the gun Ianto has trained on him right now, which makes him feel ten different things, none of them good. Gwen has one trained on Grey, and for a moment, fear claws its way up his throat and doesn't let him speak. Or maybe that's the tranquilizer.
"Put the guns down!" He means to say it with authority, but it comes out as pleading. "Please, if you kill him, he won't come back. He's not like me."
Gwen stares at him with wide eyes, then exchanges a glance with Ianto.
Ianto clears his throat, but doesn't relax his arm in the slightest.
"You're right, Jack, he'll never come back. That's exactly what we need right now."
"You can't kill him!" Jack surges forward immediately, but Ianto moves his gun to Grey, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes sparkle as he glares defiantly at Jack, and it's the Cyberwoman and the Rift Opening, all rolled into one giant betrayal. It's Gwen who breaks the silence.
"I mean, you can't really mean that, though. If he wasn't here, Tosh and Owen would still be alive!"
Jack's mouth goes dry and he moves an inch closer to Grey. He needs to be able to grab his hand, this time at least.
"He's my brother." he whispers back. Ianto's expression crumbles, and for the first time, Jack sees the devastation beneath.
"The people who died in the bombings, they had families, too, yeah?" he asks, his voice rising, "Owen was our family! Tosh was our family! Does your brother get to live while they die?"
Jack can't speak. There's nothing he can say to that, nothing when two guns are trained on the person whose life he ruined, and the person who ruined his life.
It would have been easy, if they hadn't been the same person.
"Please," he manages to force through trembling lips, "Just- please!"
"Please, what, Jack?" Gwen asks, sounding as exhausted as he feels, "Please show some mercy? This is no less mercy then he showed them."
When he doesn't say anything to that, she keeps going, her voice getting stronger. "Why should we show him mercy? Owen and Tosh deserve justice."
"This isn't justice," Jack growled, finally finding his voice, "This is murder. He's just lying there. If you want to hurt someone, hurt me! I'm the reason he turned out this way."
Not surprisingly, the guns don't shake. He's trained then well. Too well.
"It's not your fault, Jack," Gwen says in a tone that he would almost call kindly if it wasn't coming from a person with a gun trained on Grey, "You couldn't have seen this coming. You can't save us every time."
That thought pierces his heart, drowning out his throbbing headache.
"We can't lose what we have now," Ianto says earnestly. When he looks at Jack with an honest open face, Jack almost wants to believe him.
Almost.
He takes a step forward. "Either of you lay a hand on Grey, and you'll lose me."
He delivers the line with a steady air that surprises even him. Ianto's eyes fix on Jack as he takes another step. Gwen lowers her gun slightly, but both it and her eyes are trained on Grey.
Jack wobbles slightly on his feet but manages to stay standing. He feels sick and a bit dizzy, as if he's been spun in circles and chucked underground for a few extra years.
"I mean it!" he says firmly, and with a bit of panic now, "You shoot him now and you'll never see me for the rest of your life!"
Ianto drops his aim from Grey to the floor, but the gun stays in his hand. It's not until a moment after until he registers the incredibly pained expression on the other man's face.
"You care about him more than us, then?" he asked, "You'd blame us for killing the man that killed our best friends? The man that killed so many people in this city?" Gwen's watching them now, eyes flickering back and forth. Her gun arm wavers a bit.
He knows how the Doctor feels every day now. Armed against the universe he loves with only words and desperation. There's no right answers to the questions Ianto gives.
Jack's silence speaks enough. Ianto stares at him for a second, and scoffs. It's quiet, but it feels like a needle piercing his heart. Ianto just walks up to Jack, until they're almost nose to nose, and presses the gun to his chest. Wordlessly, he's up the stairs. Gwen's gaze trails after him uncertainly. She gives Jack a curt nod and shoves the gun into her holster.
"I can't do this, Jack," she admits, studying Grey's face. Just like this, he's still a little boy, the one that used to fall asleep in Jack's arms. Jack just shakes his head, tries a sympathetic smile. It feels strange on his face.
"Then don't." he responds simply.
She stares at him like he's grown an extra head. "You can't fire me, now," she says quietly, "we're much too short staffed already, and I doubt Ianto's going to be following orders any time soon."
"I'm not firing you!" Jack shakes his head tiredly, "Torchwood needs you, both of you. I just think it would be good for you to go on a vacation or something."
"A holiday?" The incredulous look has returned, somehow intensified.
Jack just nods patiently. "I think we could all use some time away from here. Wherever you're going, take Ianto with you. He's not as well as he pretends he is."
"I know," Gwen says firmly, "He's my friend, you know."
Jack sighs and steps past her. Pressing a button , he restarts the cooling process and the drawer slides shut. Like a tomb door closing for the last time.
"And what about you?" Gwen asks. Jack nearly jumps. He'd forgotten she was there.
He shrugs. "Someone's got to hold down the fort."
Gwen watches him for a second, and her expression softens. She reaches over and gives his shoulder a squeeze. He just stares at the wall.
"Stay out of trouble, alright?"
He doesn't answer, even after minutes have passed and she backs away up the stairs.
It's only after he hears the cog door roll shut that he allows a sob to slip through his lips.
-35 Days
Rather predictably, trouble seems to find him. Jack hasn't slept in days, partially because there's no one else in the Hub, but mainly because he can't stand the nightmares. He traps a couple of weevils, paces listlessly in his office, running on empty. He can't even drink coffee anymore.
Even the smell makes him nauseous.
He'd never regret sending his friends off for a break, but he can't help but wish that he had someone to talk to. He spends hours in the morgue.
He doesn't do much there. Doesn't speak, doesn't pace, doesn't even think. He just sits on the lowest step of the stairs, and stares at the drawers on the wall. He'd never really registered how many coffins were full down here.
He hates that he recognizes all the names. Some he put there, some he failed. There are two drawers to the far right, drawers that were filled too soon to be even looked at right now.
So instead, he just stares at the names until they swim in front of him, twisting and curling around until they form a noose around his neck. When the alarms blare on, he's relieved. He takes the stairs three at a time, sliding into the main area, his coat flapping behind him. There seems to be an alien signature that's crashed into the harbour, barely twenty paces from the tourist shop. He grabs a gun, shoves it in a holster, lets the cog door close tight behind him. He's alone, but he can handle this. He still has friends, he still wants to do good.
Jack needs to do good.
Even as he steps onto the Plass, he can tell something is wrong, or rather, more wrong than usual. There's smoke coming from the water in the harbor, and that can never be a good sign. For a second, he lets himself wish that Ianto and Gwen were here. He lets himself wish that Tosh and Owen were here.
Then he shakes himself, and pushes through the crowd that's started to gather near the railing close to the wreckage. He hears some mutters of "Bloody Torchwood," and a few other eloquent comments, but he chooses to ignore them as he stands in front of the crowd and looks out into the water.
There's a plume of smoke about six feet away, steadily climbing up into the sky, but that isn't what worries him, no. What sends him into a panic is the steady stream of air bubbles, popping up just next to the smoke.
Without a second thought, he dives in. Underwater, he thinks he can hear the crowd scream.
He holds his breath until his lungs burn, and then some, refusing to let his human body betray him. Dimly, he realizes that he probably should have told the crowd to back away, set up a perimeter. There was a breathing device back in the Hub; he should have brought it out to begin with. The darkness is creeping into his vision and all he can think about is all the mistakes he has made.
The weight of the water is heavier than he had thought it would be, and suddenly, it's pressing down on him, choking him, like the weight of the earth on his shoulders, and he's felt this way before, and it didn't stop, not for years, and years, and years, and-
He drowns. Alone.
Jack wakes up with a rattling gasp as he always does, coughing and hacking the water out of his lungs. He's on land now, and his head is spinning from the lack of oxygen, but he can still see the smoke in the water. The air bubbles nearby are gone.
He tries to stand up unsteadily, but as the ground shifts beneath him, gentle hands hold him down. His bleary blue eyes meet confused dark ones.
"You drowned," the officer says. He's the one Gwen used to work with- Andy? All of a sudden, Jack feels ashamed that he doesn't remember the other man's name. To be fair, it had been thousands of years since they had seen each other, but it wasn't like he had a lot to think about.
He tries to speak, but his lungs still have water in them, so he coughs and hacks a bit more. Andy still kneels beside him rather awkwardly. They're on the other side of the Plass, and he can see the Millenium Center in the distance.
"You can't move the wreckage," he breathes, tears leaking out of his eyes with effort, "You can't-"
"Hey, relax!" Andy holds up both his hands looking mildly alarmed, "I sent all the officers away, they all know that Torchwood is taking care of it. No one's stupid enough to go near that thing anyhow."
Jack nods, and coughs again weakly. He sits up and the world spins around, but the sky stays where it is, so he thinks he's recovered enough. He clutches his arms around himself instinctively, and frowns, feeling the material of a nylon coat instead of the soft fabric of his greatcoat. Looking down, he almost flinches at the sight of the bright Welsh Police jacket.
"Where's my-?"
"Your coat? It's in my squad car, I put it under the heater, it might dry a bit faster," the officer frowned, "It might not be any of my business, but where are the rest of you?"
"The rest of me?" Jack wipes a hand over his face and shivers.
Andy gives him a once over. "You look to be in one piece, mate, or at least I hope you are. But where's the rest of Torchwood? I can't imagine-"
"They aren't here," Jack interrupted, forcing himself off of the paving stones and onto his feet. He swayed, nearly falling, and then corrects himself. He hands the jacket back to Andy. "Thanks for pulling me out."
"That's it?" the other man asks, as Jack staggers to the car and pulls his jacket out. It might be too much to hope that the contents of his pockets are still intact, but the coat looks decent. Nothing a good drying can't solve. "I fish you out of the water, you come back to life, say thanks, and leave?"
"Pretty much," Jack shakes his coat out and shrugs back into it, failing to keep the annoyed tone out of his voice, "Why, do you want a reward?"
Andy opens his mouth and closes it, looking almost comically offended. "Actually, an explanation would be nice. Gwen's on vacation, and I know your bloke went with her-"
Jack snorted.
"-but that still doesn't explain why you would jump into the harbor and try to swim to the bottom."
In the distance, a siren sounded, and suddenly, the water weighed him down, and it was almost like he was on the sands of Boeshane again.
"You do your job, I'll do mine," Jack said finally, a detached tone in his voice, "Keep people away from the wreck, I'll get it collected in a few hours."
He pulled his cloak closer to his chest, wrapping it around himself like a lifeline. It was still slightly damp, and smelled nothing like it should, but he'd take whatever comfort he could get.
The water, as he passes, is still. No more smoke, no more air.
He's failed.
Again.
He makes it five steps into the Hub before he collapses into a chair, lowers his head into his hands, and sobs.
-33 days
"-ause he's a prick, that's why." A familiar voice startles Jack from his uncomfortable sleep in his narrow bunk. "Why would he do that?"
"Can't imagine," another voice responds, and for a second, through the walls, he thinks- Well, it doesn't matter. He's been sleeping on and off for the last 24 hours (Dying always takes a lot out of him, and he's not surprised to see that it's almost 4 in the afternoon). He pulls himself out of his bunk reluctantly and climbs up the ladder, rubbing his eyes.
"You were saying?" he stared at Ianto and Gwen, who were giving him twin looks of anger and pity. It wasn't a good combination. "Please, don't stop on my account."
He walks past them with a few strides, pouring hima cup of bitter black coffee, and not even bothering to look at their faces.
"How was vacation?" he asks with a lilt in his voice, and that's the last straw for Ianto, who grabs Jack by the shoulders and turns him around to face them. Instead of the anger that he expected, though, all he sees is grief.
"What about you, Jack?" Ianto's voice breaks, and Jack has to look away. He did this to them. "How was work?"
"Andy called us in the middle of the night, even Rhys is worried about you, if that says anything," Gwen explains, "You drowned yourself."
Jack scoffs and pulls out of Ianto's grip, taking a big gulp of his bland, bitter coffee. "Hardly. I may have drowned, but that doesn't matter. I can do retrieval in the early morning-"
"Doesn't matter?" Tears were filling up in Ianto's eyes, "Jack, I was angry with you, and I still am, but you died. Because we weren't here."
"No," Jack shakes his head vehemently, because there's no way he'll let Ianto take the blame for this, no way someone so incredibly good will get bogged down with guilt, "I died because I was stupid and-"
"-Because you didn't care," Gwen interrupted, looking horrified, "You really don't care whether you live or die."
Jack tries to smile at her, but it settles more into a grimace. "Gwen, that's the point. I always live. Everyone around me always dies. It doesn't matter whether I care or not, about myself, or about anyone. Nothing is going to change."
That's when Ianto pulls him into a tight hug, and Jack is so surprised he can't do anything but stand there stupidly. When Gwen joins in, it should feel like more weight piled on him, but instead it feels the exact opposite.
He feels free.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, screwing his eyes shut, not letting himself look around the room, see the gaping holes. He doesn't let himself pull them in tighter. "I'm sorry I couldn't-" His throat closes. "-save them."
He thinks about all the blood on his hands. Every single person he's loved has either died or left. That's on him. That's all on him. And he didn't sign up for this deal, this never ending cycle of torture and lies, but he could defintely have used it better. If he had gone in their place, no one else needed to have died.
"Jack," Ianto whispers, as he pulls away, "Jack, it wasn't your fault. It wasn't any of ours." He swallows hard. "It was Grey's."
Jack goes rigid and immediately takes two steps back, not even flinching when the back of his legs press up against the sofa.
"It was Grey's fault, and I've thought a lot about that," Ianto shrugged, "But we can't kill him. I remember what I felt like after Adam made me think I'd killed all those people, and-"
His voice trails off, and he swallows hard, but he's still looking straight at Jack.
"I wouldn't wish that feeling upon anyone, and I don't want to feel it again. I don't want to kill Grey."
Jack lets out a shaky breath, then another. He feels like someone's pulled him out of the frigid waters, and all he can do is breathe.
"But Jack," Gwen is looking at them with exhaustion evident on her face, "Jack, you've got to promise that you won't try and bring him back. No matter what."
Jack shakes his head slowly. "I won't, I wouldn't," he looks around the room, "God, I miss them."
They know he's talking about Tosh and Owen, and he knows they feel it, too.
Together, they sit quietly in the Hub, and allow themselves to mourn.
-28 days
The Doctor calls, and with him, the planet is in danger again. As the destruction grows closer, he pulls Ianto and Gwen closer.
He doesn't want them to die. Later, he watches, heart in his throat, as people nearly die all around him, but somehow, everyone lives. The Doctor, Donna, Sarah Jane, Rose, Ianto, Gwen...everyone.
Just like that day back in 1941, during the Blitz.
Just twice, everyone could live.
-23 days
They've fallen into a routine now. As the weeks pass, something resembling normal comes to shape, and Jack no longer feels the urge to spend hours in morgue, staring at names. Instead, Ianto learns his way around Tosh's protocols. He's not as good as her with computers, but no one could be. They all try their hand at a bit of field medicine, and there's definitely a few more badly wrapped sprains and hastily stitched cuts, but they make do. It's what Torchwood has always done.
They're falling into a rhythm now, a melody that plays the right harmonies most of the time, even though its missing a few notes. He doesn't think of finding new staff to replace what they've lost.
Gwen leaves out to go have dinner with Rhys.
Jack takes Ianto out on a date.
They are enough.
-20 days
He doesn't think about his past as much as he used to. If he does, he thinks he might never be able to get through it.
The present is a gift, he reminds himself, given to him by an ancient power, and he's always going to see it.
-18 days
He catches Ianto with a few tears down his face in the archives, filing away old memories. But when Ianto sees him, nods, and smiles weakly, it feels like a piece of them has finally come back.
-14 days
They eat together most of the time, spread out on an old plaid cloth that might have been from the side of a Uxariean ship, but is reasonably clean now. Gwen complains that all of the food that they choose gives her stomach aches, but Jack just teases her back about her weak stomach. He makes sure to get some bland noodles next time, though.
The Rift seems to respect them, spewing out alien junk only occasionally. They cycle through pairs of retrieval: one week it's Jack and Ianto, the next Jack and Gwen, and the one after that Gwen and Ianto. He doesn't die as often. They follow leads.
-7 days
It's been quiet.
Jack is relieved, but worried.
It's the calm before the storm.
-1 day
They are coming. It's a message he hasn't heard before, nothing he's ever seen before, but he can stop it. He knows he can.
He checks in with Alice and Steven, works with Gwen and Ianto.
They almost don't find out about the bomb until it's too late.
-0 days
His brain's reformed enough to remember now, remember everything that happened and how much he had failed his brother, and failed the rest of his family. After losing him once, and then again, he never imagined that losing Grey for the third time would sting as much as the first time.
Or maybe that was just his ripped tendons knitting themselves back together. Everything was the same now. He thought he had been lost when he let go of his brother's hand, lost when he was stuck on the gamestation, lost when he faced down an ancient darkness.
Myfanwy is dead, too, or will be. The thought hits him hard, and he can't breathe. Another member of Torchwood, killed because of him. There's a slight chance she's escaped, but even if she has, Cardiff isn't the best environment for a pterodactyl.
His mind hangs on a different family, family of choice that he could and couldn't save. Everyone isn't dead, he reminds himself, Ianto is alive. Gwen and her baby are alive.
They are enough. He can be enough.
As long as his family is alive, he will keep fighting.