Chapter 2

Jack opened his eyes. Disoriented, he looked around to realize that he was still sitting in the bathroom. Fresh tears sprung out of his eyes. He let them roll as he got up. His back was killing him. Sleeping sitting up on cold marble probably hadn't been the best idea ever. He looked at himself in the mirror. Even in the darkness, he could tell that his eyes were red and puffy. He ran the water, waiting for the lukewarm water to give way to icy cold water from the well. He splashed his face and rinsed his mouth. He wiped his face with the soft white towel hanging from a hook and distracted left it by the sink, not noticing when it slipped to the floor. It was now completely dark outside, or so he presumed as no more light was coming from between the heavy curtains. He walked to the windows and pulling back the curtains he looked at the night sky. Strangely, the sky was clear and the stars were visible. He pushed the latch and pulled the window open. The night air entered the room, carrying with its fresh scent, the sound of crickets and frogs singing in unison. He wondered if Ianto would have liked a night like this one.

Turning his back to the beauties of the night, he walked to a small table on which several expensive looking glass decanters filled with amber liquid rested. He hesitated a moment, not sure of which to choose. Then setting his heart on the simplest one, he removed the lid and poured the golden liquid in a finely chiseled glass. He raised his glass up as if toasting to something or someone, then swallowed the alcoholic beverage in one long gulp. He then proceeded to fill his glass anew.

And so, he repeated these steps a great many times until he was unable to stand anymore. He eventually came to sit surrounded with empty expensive antic decanters and a few broken murano glasses. He had cut himself a few times in the process but healing as fast he did, he had not paid attention. He was now completely drunk, dangerously walking the line between consciousness and oblivion.

"What a sight. Where is the Jack Harkness I know? Where is the man who only drinks water to be ready to save the universe at any time of the day or night?"

The familiar voice startled Jack who dropped his glass which shattered with a marvellous sound on the pale marble. The man struggled to get to his feet but finding himself unable to do so, he gave up and raised his hand, blindly searching for another glass on the top of the cabinet. Finding none, he decided to drink directly from the decanter. Whoever the voice belong to, the entity did not approve.

"Have you seen yourself? You're truly pathetic."

Jack, who had been close to dozing off, jerked his head up, trying to locate the origin of the voice. He scrutinized the hazy room and his tired eyes finally fell on the shape of a man sitting in an armchair by the window. He concentrated to see the intruder but this only contributed to make him feel dizzier. The decanter still in hand, he resolved to get closer to the voice by walking on all four. The operation proved to be nearly impossible and it was a miracle if he managed to get close enough to the chair without spilling most of his drink or slipping forward and slicing his face of a shard of glass. Unable to get any closer for fear that he would be sick all over the thick carpet; he sat up about two meters away from his visitor. He raised his eyes to look at him and was only mildly surprised when he saw cold blue eyes looking back at him in disapproval.

"I know y… you. You… you… work for… for me."

The man nodded although Jack's slur made most of his words incomprehensible.

"How… How did you…"

A loud belch interrupted his inquiry and for a moment he looked like he was going to be sick. The moment passed but he seemed to have forgotten his question. The young man looked at him.

"You called me here, Jack."

The way the man had pronounced his name broke his heart. Only one person ever said his name with this much love.

"Ianto?"

The young man nodded. Jack's face twisted in to a painful grimace as fresh tears spilled from his eyes. He tried to reach forward but Ianto stopped him before he could start moving.

"You don't want to do that, Jack."

Jack did not understand but he felt a pang of pain.

"Are you here, Ianto? Are you real?"

Jack looked at his lover intently. He wanted to take him in his arms, caress him, kiss him, burry hi head in neck and smell his soft skin. Tears rolled on Ianto's cheeks.

"I'm real, Jack. I'm real as all the memories your brain holds."

Jack covered his face with his hands and let out a sob.

"I'm a manifestation of your imagination. A form created by the memories you have of me and what you wish I were, were I still alive."

"No! Stop it!"

Jack covered his hears with his hands, burying his head in his knees but the voice continued, from within his head.

"I love you…"

Ianto's voice broke, just like it had broken when Jack had been holding him as he was slowly dying. Jack roared with pain.

"STOP IT!"

He could hear Ianto cry. He was sobbing, just like when they had shot Lisa. Except now, his sobs were for Jack. He wanted it to stop, but he knew he was the one making it all happen. In his current state of inebriety, he had no way of collecting his thoughts and make the madness stop. But it had to stop, or he would go mad.

Suddenly, and idea popped into his painful head. Yes. That would work perfectly.