Spoilers, spoilers, spoilers. This is my reaction to what happened on Thurs 9th and Friday 10th (Children of Earth Days 4 and 5). If you haven't watched it and don't wish to be spoilered, don't read.
Also, it is quite raw. But that is how I felt after the series. So, excuse the lack of polished finishes.
Comments, reviews here or at my Livejournal would be welcome.
Forget-me-not
He can't sleep. His body is tired, aching even, every muscle crying out for rest; his mind drifts from the overdrive of memories to the numbness of denial to the panic of emptiness, and keeps him tossing and turning in his bed.
He can't remember the last time he slept a whole night without waking up, as if from death, heart pounding, hoping it was all nothing more than a bad dream. No, that's not true, of course he can. Closing his eyes, he lets the memories hit him. The last night in the London hideout Ianto found for them, after the Hub was blown up, after Ianto had proven once again that he'd rather die by his side than let him face death alone.
It had been a complicated, exhausting day. Too many recent deaths still in his system, the most gruesome of them driving Ianto's quest for answers and comfort and life affirming sex, just before the realization of what was indeed happening sank. By the time Ianto and he collapsed on the old mattress they shared in a corner of the warehouse, as far away from Gwen and Rhys as they could, in definite need of some well earned privacy, hiding from the horrors of the world under Jack's coat, they were exhausted, cold and in need of each other.
That night seems to be etched in his mind with crystal clear clarity. He can barely remember the days that followed, but every detail of that night – his last night with Ianto – is stored and treasured as the rare gem it is. Ianto's body pressed against his back, arms around him, lips hot on his neck, hands wandering, wanting to map the body he knew so well, committing it to memory once again. Looking back, the quiet, nearly desperate sex they shared that night was full of foreboding and fear and the need to feel alive once more before it all, quite possibly, went to Hell.
His lips curl in a painful smile as little details hit him one by one, each weighing his soul a bit more. The feel of Ianto's hands holding his head in place as they kissed, just like he always did when Jack died, as if to convince himself his lover was really back from the darkness, alive and warm, as if the writhing body under him were never enough. The words barely whispered in his ear, muttered reassurances of life and needs and hopes. Ianto's eyes boring into his, so expressive, so peaceful, no longer bothered by what the world may or may not think about him for who he is and who he loves.
Who he was and who he loved. He stops breathing at the thought, until his chest hurts so badly he gasps for air again. It still hurts to think of him in the past. He swallows hard, tries to force his mind to happier memories of stolen moments in the Hub ever since Ianto joined Torchwood. Even when he found out about Lisa and part of him wanted to believe everything they had shared was nothing more than Ianto's way of distracting him, he never managed to convince himself of it. The smile, troubled but genuine, in Ianto's face when they ran into each other in the bowels of the Hub after he returned to work, the involuntary swallowing when fingers brushed as mugs of coffee and takeaway containers were passed around, Ianto's eagerness to stand by Jack and support him in every way he could, told a different story.
Images flash in his head, and, like every night, a sob catches in his throat. Panic sets in when he tries to remember Ianto's reply to a comment and the words escape him. His hands curl into fists and he hits the wall, hard enough to hear bone crunching. Pain courses through his body, and he nearly welcomes it. It takes his mind off his betrayal for a moment. He promised Ianto he'd remember him, and he is already slipping from his memory.
Tears streaming down his face, he gets out of bed and gets dressed, leaving the greatcoat and all the other clothes Ianto bought for him behind. He doesn't want to get them damaged; he doesn't have much left of Ianto, other than those clothes, memories and the few things he collected when he packed up Ianto's flat. With a sigh, he grabs the gun he sneaked out of the armoury earlier and steps out of his quarters. John won't be happy if he shoots himself there again.
Not that he cares.