Jack sat in his study. The rain hammered the windowpanes and the wind howled, endangering the gardens. On his desk were two pieces of jet black stone. No one could have guessed that the smooth dark surfaces had once been clear and coruscating. The life within had gone, and with it, the light.
Jack knew that had he been anyone else, he would have perished with the catalyst. The old man's surprise had told him as much. Yet there he was, immortal. At least he hadn't been reduced to ashes; it was always a real nightmare to come back from those. But the catalyst had; the black sand on the beach hadn't been sand.
What had followed, the pain, the guilt, he knew he could never get rid of. No matter how long he lived, he would never forget that a life had been given so he could spend a few minutes with Ianto. Had it even been five minutes? He couldn't tell, yet they felt like the most precious moments of his entire existence. He hated John as much as he was grateful for what he had done.
He constantly replayed the whole thing in his mind. Would a different decision have given the boy a few more years? There was no clear answer and it was slowly driving him mad.
He had sought peace and forgiveness. Of the two, only one had been granted.
The other, he would never achieve.