Ianto had been awake nearly all night trying to keep the nightmares away for Jack, and now he was paying the price. Organizing yet another shelf of the archives, his eyelids began to droop. No, it's only five in the afternoon, he told himself. No matter how dark it is down here, or how tired you are, this is not the time for a nap. You have work to do.
Two hours later, Ianto was sitting on the floor, his head resting against the corner of a shelf, neck at an uncomfortable looking position. He was fast asleep.
Two hours after that, a quiet set of footsteps made their way down the archive stairs. "Ianto?" Jack called quietly, looking around. The motion sensitive lights, dim as they were down there, had all gone off, and only then began to brighten. The captain's hands were shaking. He didn't like being down in the archives anymore, it was too...enclosed, too underground. Definitely too dark. But Ianto hadn't come back up since lunchtime, and it was nine thirty now, and Jack was getting a little worried. "Ianto?"
Then Jack's gaze fell onto the sleeping young man on the floor. He felt an irrational burst of fear before seeing the steady rise and fall of Ianto's chest. He walked quietly over to his lover and knelt down next to him. "Doesn't seem like the most comfortable place to take a nap," he murmured.
Ianto stirred slightly. "Mm...but I was tired," he mumbled back.
Guilty for being the reason Ianto had gotten no sleep the night before, Jack replied quietly, "I know you are. Come here, I'm sure I make a better pillow than the metal shelf."
Still not fully awake, Ianto shifted over so his head rested on Jack's shoulder. "You r'ly do, Jack…"
Jack smiled, not daring to move lest he disturb the sleepy young man. However, when Ianto sighed slightly and settled closer to him, falling back into a deeper sleep, Jack did not hesitate before lifting him up and carrying him up the stairs, across the Hub, into his office, and (carefully) down the ladder, laying him on the bed. Instead of lying down next to him, Jack sat down on the floor, leaning his head against the bed. He wasn't going to risk falling asleep and waking Ianto up with his nightmares. They'd had enough of that last night, and Ianto needed some rest.
He tried not to let his mind wander, but it was so difficult. It was so hard not to think about the darkness, and how it felt when he would jolt back to life and gasp for breath but only have earth pour into his lungs. So hard not to think about how his chest would slowly feel like it was set on fire, and the haziness he would experience before fading away again. For how long this time? A minute, an hour, a day, a century? Who knew how long, for time blurred down there, blurred and looped itself around again and again until he couldn't tell one second from the next, and everything was just a neverending cycle of pain, and oh, God, he missed them so much. He had to keep himself grounded. He had to keep himself grounded, he couldn't let himself slip away. One more death. One more death.
Think about Toshiko. Think about her quietness, her incredible genius, her adorable crush on Owen. How she'd push her hair back from her face when she was working on a particularly interesting computer program. How her glasses would sometimes tilt slightly to the side. How brave she was, locked away alone in that prison for so long. How her shyness receded when she got comfortable with someone. How amazing that spark of amusement in her eyes was. Remember that spark, when she figured something out so easily that had everyone else stumped. How she, of all people, proved to be so clear-headed and useful in the field. One more death.
Think about Owen. Doctor Owen Harper, the man who got to die forever. Which was easier, dying forever or living forever? Owen would say the latter. He'd say, "You'll be rescued eventually. Do something useful in the meantime, Harkness." But what was useful? Remembering Owen. That was useful. His constant snarkiness that covered up his continuing grief for Katie. His pretended lack of interest in what he was working on, but then how his eyes would light up when he found something unusual or fascinating. That one eye roll that meant he was amused but would never laugh out loud, no, that would be beneath him. One more death.
Think about Suzie. Poor Suzie. Torchwood had destroyed her, but think about how wonderful she had been at the beginning. A constant support as a right hand woman, how she would follow orders until she thought of something better. How easily she could be painted as a villain now, how often she would be, but in reality, she was just human. How could anyone call her evil? One more death.
Think about Gwen. That policewoman turned Torchwood agent, all because she was so curious. Her curiosity and her humanness; that was why they needed her. Torchwood needed a bit more human in its ranks. Remember Gwen. How her smile would light up a room with that sweet gap between her two front teeth. She would always see the people, want to help them. She hadn't realized yet that not everyone can be helped. Her frankly wonderful husband-wonderful, because how many people would put up with Gwen's work? That just showed how much he loved her. There should be more people like Rhys in the world. One more death.
Think about Ianto. The beautiful teaboy who had stolen his heart. Think about his knowing little smirk, the eye flicks that said "I know better than you, but I'm going to be kind and not correct you because it's better for your self-esteem." His gorgeous suits, his wonderful coffee. He always knew whether to talk or to be quiet, always knew what to do to help. Remember him. How it felt to kiss him, to flirt with him in front of the others and watch him blush. How tightly he clung in the night, when both of them were plagued with bad dreams. How often he would still be sad about Lisa and how hard he tried to hide it. How obvious it was he loved him, so obvious that everyone else could see it but neither would admit it because that would mean everything. One more death.
Tosh, Owen, Suzie, Gwen, Ianto. Tosh, Owen, Suzie, Gwen, Ianto. Who was he holding on for? If he could just remember those five names, those five faces, maybe he could bear it. One more death.
Did Suzie's hair curl, or was it straight? One more death.
Which words did Tosh's accent affect the most? He used to know that, it was so sweet sounding. One more death.
He couldn't recall Owen's face like he once could. One more death.
He couldn't hear Gwen's laughter. One more death.
What did Ianto's hands feel like in his? One more death.
Who had come before them? There had been others. One more death.
Toshiko...S-something. One more death.
Did Gwen really get married, or was she only engaged? One more death.
What had Ianto named that pterodactyl? No, no, that wasn't right. Ptera...ptera...how many times had Ianto corrected him? "Not pterodactyl, those didn't really exist. Ptera…" One more death.
What alias was he using now? He was a captain. Jack, he thought. Jack...Harkness. Captain Jack Harkness. Captain Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones and Gwen Cooper and Owen Harper and Suzie Costello-no, she's dead. One more death.
Remember them, come on. Say their names again. Gwen. Owen. Ianto. Tosh. One more death.
It was getting harder and harder to remember them. No more faces, no more voices. All he had were names, and he could barely remember those anymore. Sometimes there were last names, sometimes not. One more death.
Sometimes he could catch a glimpse of one of them, but when he looked harder, it would hurt too badly and they would disappear, leaving him with nothing but darkness. One more death.
Owen. Ianto. Toshiko. Gwen. Don't let them go. They're waiting, remember them, or they might not be there in the end. One more death.
All there was left was the want of some sort of contact with them. He could barely recall what it felt like to speak with them, to see their faces and to hug them, and he was so lonely now. How long had it been? Would they ever come for him? One more death.
Voices, accents. Ianto was Welsh. Gwen was, too. Owen was London. What did that sound like? Tosh had an accent that mixed between Japanese and English. Words were getting difficult. One more death.
Tosh. Gwen. Owen. Ianto. Sato, Cooper, Harper, Jones. Can't let them go. One more death.
Don't let go. One more death.
Don't…
"Jack…" One of their voices. Which one? Why could he remember it now, and why was it so clear? A sensation other than pain and crushing. What was that? "Are you alr…" Suddenly it was bright, the blackness chased away. "What...it...t's wrong?"
Remember that voice... "Ianto…" Suddenly, everything snapped into place. He was half-sitting, half-laying on the floor, and Ianto was knelt beside him, speaking gently, his hands on the captain's shoulders. Jack grabbed his hands tightly. "Ianto, I'm so sorry-"
"Jack, what's wrong, you don't have to apologize to me, why-"
"I'm so sorry, I was forgetting you, I forgot all of you, I'm so-" Jack cut himself off, pulling Ianto close and burying his face in the young man's shoulder.
"Whoa, okay, Jack, what are you talking about?" Ianto asked, returning the hug. "What happened, was it a nightmare or something?"
"No, no, just a memory, I'm sorry, I…" Jack was shaking with the realization that if it only took him two thousand years to forget someone, and he was going to live forever...how could he remember them in ten thousand years time? A million? How could be bear living without their memory?
"Alright, okay. Sit up here with me now, come on, it's got to be more comfortable on the bed. There you go. Why were you down there in the first place, cariad?" inquired Ianto.
After taking a moment to reassure himself that yes, he was breathing and yes, Ianto was really there, Jack replied, "I was trying not to fall asleep."
"Why?"
"I didn't want to wake you with any nightmares I might have," Jack admitted.
"Don't worry about it." Ianto looked at him for a minute, noting how the captain trembled and pressed his hands to his forehead before bringing them back down into his lap, and reached out to clasp them together between his own. Jack rubbed his thumbs over the back of Ianto's hands, memorizing exactly how they felt. He closed his eyes in concentration, willing himself to remember it forever. "Jack, what's wrong?" asked Ianto finally. "You're acting as if you haven't seen me in ages."
"It feels as if I haven't," Jack told him, eyes still closed. "Ianto, I'm gonna be honest with you. When I was buried-"
"You don't have to talk about it right n-"
"No, shush, I'm going to talk about it, just...shush. I tried so, so hard to keep thinking about you, about you and Gwen and Tosh and Owen, when I was conscious-and I wasn't always conscious, sometimes I was completely unaware of myself and I was in a kind of, almost trance-like state, but when I could think, I would think about you. All of you. And I would imagine your faces and your voices." Jack reached up, touched Ianto's cheek, and kept talking, eyes still shut. "Everything about you, and I would force myself to remember, because I knew you were waiting for me, and I knew John had put the ring with me, and I would be found eventually, and that I would need to remember you when it happened. But it was so hard, Ianto, and I would start to forget about you. Just little things, at first, but then it was your names, and the sound of your voices, and your faces, and how you smiled-" Now he opened his eyes. Ianto stared at him, sorrow and compassion written all over his face. "Smile, goddammit," Jack said. "I need to remember you, I need to remember you happy, please."
But Ianto couldn't. He leaned forward and kissed Jack instead. Jack tilted his head and closed his eyes. Remember this, he ordered himself.
Ianto wouldn't pull away first, and neither would Jack. Somehow, they found themselves falling backwards onto the bed, still kissing. Their arms were around each others waists.
"I told you once…" Ianto breathed. "That I'll be just a blip in time to you. I didn't think how much that might hurt."
"And I told you that would never happen."
"It already has."
"No, it hasn't."
"Don't lie to me."
"I never could lie to you, Ianto Jones."
"Even that's not the truth." Ianto tried to stop himself talking, but couldn't. He sat up again. Jack followed. "You've lied to us so many times, Jack. About everything, who you are, what your name is, so many times. And I don't mind. But I do about this."
"I won't forget you."
"You can't promise me that, not yet."
"When can I?"
"When I need to hear it. Do you understand, Jack?" Ianto clarified. "You promise me again when I most need to hear it."
"I understand," Jack responded. And he did.
I am so so sorry I haven't updated anything in so long. I've been ridiculously busy, but I have been writing. Hopefully, I'll update a couple other stories in the next few days and maybe publish a couple more one-shots. This is, however, the last chapter of this story. I originally planned to make it longer and take them to even darker places (figuratively), but my inspiration kind of faded away after writing this and getting no prompts or ideas for further chapters. So...here it is. I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you so much for reading and even more for reviewing! Seriously, reviews make me so unreasonably happy. I love you all, and DFTBA!
~Clare