Stimulus: Blood
Spoilers: S2E13
POV: Jack
Dedication: The mop in the cupboard under the stairs, which I have a lot of issues with.
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood. The episode on which this is based is strong indication that I probably should for the good of all that is Tosh/Owen. (thank you to )
AN: I'm not normally one for griping, but this is quite unfair. I provided y'all with three chapters (which a LOT of people read, judging by the hit count) and what do I get? Not a SINGLE review! PLEASE! I would love you more than anything... :')
-x-
Blood. Just a trail of blood down the autopsy room steps… that was all that was left of Tosh, now. And as for Owen? There was nothing left of the doctor, now. Just a box of medical equipment with his name scrawled in a distracted way that had made Jack smile through his tears.
A trail of blood, Jack mused. That was all he left behind him. Who would remember the list of alien invasions he'd helped to prevent when it was compared with the equally hefty list of dead he'd swept away with a bucket of soapy water, trying to ignore the already permanent stains on both the floor and his existence?
Ianto had offered, of course, but Jack had declined as politely as he could. He was really regretting it now. If he'd taken him up on his offer, he wouldn't have been having this fight with this – sodding – mop - !
As he threw it down in defeat and collapsed in a pool of angry tears, Jack had to admit that it wasn't only the mop that he'd been battling against.
"Jack? I left my keys…"
Ianto's voice trailed off as he took in the older man, slouched on the floor with the mop at a reasonable distance. He hurried over to take his face in his hands.
"I knew I should have insisted…"
Jack gave a watery chuckle as Ianto sat next to him with a huff. They sat in silence. That was the nice thing about Ianto – you could just sit with him, and he wouldn't be tempted to say things like 'it wasn't your fault' (which, if he was being perfectly honest, left him in no doubt that it usually was).
"I never should have let go of his hand."
"Hey, now," Ianto crooned, rubbing the older man's arm in what he really hoped was a comforting way. "I would have thought you, of all people, would have realised by now that you can't change time. You let go of his hand. That was the way it was meant to be."
"But - "
"Shh." He smiled weakly against the top of his head. "Anyway… that day made you who you are, Jack Harkness, and I have to tell you… I wouldn't change you for the world."
Jack smiled, worries finally dimmed. "Thank you," he whispered, leaning up to smile into Ianto's lips. They remained there for a long while, forehead's touching, as they probed one another's eyes. Jack was the one who eventually broke the silence.
"You know, I once had an incident with a toaster."
The younger man frowned. "Really?"
"Best night of my whole damn life."