Just read it.

Chapter 14: So Long and Farewell

John woke in the morning and knew immediately that something was wrong. Sherlock was chucking clothes at him and muttering rapidly into his mobile where it was wedged between his ear and his shoulder.

"Look, I don't know exactly what happened, but you boys need to get over here pronto." Jack was pacing in the Hub, looking worriedly at Ianto...his abdomen was glowing

The younger boy was already dressed, pacing the floor. "We're coming, be there as soon as possible," he said, hanging up and looking at John. "It's happening. We have to go now."

Ianto looked down at his stomach. There was a light emanating from just below his ribcage. "Jack..." He didn't know what was going to happen to him.

John tugged on his jeans, struggling with his jumper and shoes. As soon as he was put together he followed Sherlock out of the flat, both of them sprinting to the Hub.

Jack was pacing, fretting, glancing at Ianto. "What did you eat today? What did you drink? Did you have any contact with water at all?"

Gwen made it there first, red faced and gasping for breath. One look at Jack and Ianto and she knew. Sherlock was running as fast as he could, making sure John was keeping up.

Ianto looked up. "I took a shower this morning." The coffee boy glanced at Gwen. "Morning," he said half-heartedly.

John nearly fell as he and the boy burst into the tourist shop, letting themselves in.

Jack's heart sank. "Here? At the Hub?"

Sherlock tore into the main chamber and skidded to a stop, his face falling when he saw Ianto.

Ianto nodded. "Yes, here," the words setting off a round of wet coughs; it felt like there was liquid in his lungs.

John went pale, standing by Gwen as Sherlock knelt by the man. Jack fought tears. "The water here's contaminated. Don't touch it. Any of it."

Suddenly a strange look passed over Ianto's face, his eyes glazing over as he opened his mouth to speak. It was his voice but with something slightly off about it. "We will never leave him. The master says there is only one way."

John froze, the distinctly alien timbre of his voice terrifying him. "Sherlock, it sounds like he's underwater..."

Jack wanted to touch Ianto but almost jumped as Sherlock slapped his hand away. "It's after you; the least I can do is get it out of Ianto," the immortal snarled.

"It will just spread, Jack. It chose its host," Sherlock replied sternly.

Ianto's turned to his lover. "Poor thing, he loves you, he wants you to save him. But you can't."

John's hands curled into fists. "Why do you want us so badly? Why can't you just leave us alone?"

Jack froze, face hardening as he glared at his lover, directing his gaze at the alien inside. "Leave him and come to me. It'd be easy. I won't fight or struggle." He reached his hand out to hold Ianto's again. Sherlock stood, putting his hands on John's shoulders to calm him.

Ianto stood, walking to Jack and staring into his eyes. "You're immortal. We can't have any fun with you; this is much more interesting. He can die, and oh he will. You will have to kill him, watch him die, and have his blood on your hands forever," the alien told him, a wicked grin spreading across Ianto's face.

John forced himself to meet Sherlock's gaze, letting the boy calm him. "Don't do anything stupid," he murmured.

"I won't." Sherlock promised.

Jack's eyes burned as Ianto (no, not Ianto, he thought) sauntered up to him, the gurgling voice with a stolen Welsh lilt taunting him. "I won't. You can't make me do it. I'll destroy you, make no mistake, you and your master. I thought you were after the boy. Why take the man?"

"Oh but they are so similar after all. Broken, used, worthless. He does not matter, so why not finish what was already started?"

Gwen gasped, grabbing onto John as he lunged for the man. "TAKE IT BACK!" the blonde roared.

"He is not broken or worthless. And of course he matters. Everyone matters you sadistic prick!" Jack was red with fury now, and Sherlock was shaking, fists clenched at his sides. The thing was hitting him right where it knew it would hurt.

"He is. He is broken. There is so much pain, misery. It feeds us, makes us strong...and there's only one thing you can do to stop it. He is screaming...why can't you help him, Jack? Why can't you stop his pain?"

John was fighting Gwen, desperate to hit the creature; Jack was trembling from the effort of holding back, tears starting to leak from his eyes. "Let me talk to him. Please, just let me speak to him."

"You can have back your little pet in a moment. First-" Ianto turned to Sherlock, his eyes burning cold for the briefest of moments, "-Moriarty sends his love." Then Ianto fell to the floor, coughing terribly, back in control of his head and body once more. "Jack," he gasped, sucking in air.

The captain was at his side in an instant, crying. "I'm here, I'm here love."

Ianto turned to him, his eyes swimming. "I'm so sorry. You have to do it."

Jack shook his head. "Don't make me do this, Ianto. Please...I don't want to live anymore if you aren't here."

"Jack, if you don't do this it's going to spread. Please. I feel like I'm drowning," he whispered, tears falling down his face.

A sob caught in Jack's throat. "How? How do I do it?" He hated himself for even thinking the words, let alone saying them.

"I don't know. Shoot me, do something," the Welshman begged. "I love you."

Jack broke, slowly pulling the gun from his holster and aiming it at the glowing place on Ianto's abdomen. He couldn't even kiss the man goodbye. Ianto was sobbing. He wanted Jack to hold him, to kiss him, but he couldn't. "Goodbye," he choked out. "Goodbye. I love you."

Jack pulled the trigger, an anguished cry ripped from his chest was water and blood poured out of Ianto. The younger man fell back, watching the blood leave his body, staining the suit, the tie. "Jack..." he whispered as his heart slowed down...his last moments on earth.

Jack knelt next to him, not caring if he got infected anymore as he gathered his lover in his arms. "I've got you. It'll stop hurting soon, I promise."

Ianto nodded. "I l-love you," he repeated. "P-please don't...f-f-forget me."

"Not even if the world ends. I love you too." Jack saw the light leave the man's eyes, disbelief and denial shining in his own. "No. No, please, please come back," he sobbed, pressing a kiss to Ianto's cooling lips, crying even harder as he rocked the corpse back and forth.

At that moment, Ianto Jones was gone from the world.

Sherlock turned to John, not able to watch while the blonde checked his watch, numb. "Time of death, seven twenty-seven." he said, voice shaking slightly. Jack didn't hear him, the roar in his ears far too strong as he cradled the dead man.

Sherlock felt awful, like somehow this was his fault; it was his fault for agreeing to join Torchwood, for dragging John with him, his fault Ianto was now dead. These things were targeting him and now they had lost a very dear member of the group. John opened his arms and embraced Sherlock, crushing him close, relieved that the boy was alive and hating himself for it at the same time. "This was not your fault," he whispered, finally breaking down and sobbing. "That thing was trying to get into your head. Don't let it. Don't let them break your spirit. Not again. I couldn't...I couldn't bear it if that happened."

"Okay," the younger boy agreed, resting his chin on John's shoulder and holding him back; John was upset, and he needed to be strong for him. The blonde breathed in Sherlock, struggling to calm down. Ianto's body would get locked in the vault with the others, they'd need someone to man the shop now, maybe Gwen, god they'd never get a decent cup of coffee again...he almost chuckled at that. He needed out, a distraction, anything to get away from the hub and forget..."We have to take care of this, Sherlock," he murmured, "and then can we go dancing? I need a distraction. Please..."

"Sure." The pale boy released John and walked over to Jack cautiously. "Jack..."

The immortal didn't hear him until the boy put his hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Sherlock, his face soaked in tears, nose running, eyes dead. "I-he's-I can't-"

"I know. I'm sorry. This isn't your fault, though. This is nobody's fault." Except my own.

"His blood...My blood...Sherlock, I killed him."

"Jack, he was drowning. It was going to kill him slowly and infect other people. This is not your fault!"

Sherlock's words felt like a slap to the face, and Jack slowly stood, holding the Welshman's body in his arms to carry him to the morgue. Sherlock followed, watching from a distance and giving Jack room to say his goodbyes.

The ex-Time Agent packed the body himself, sliding it into the bag and laying it in the drawer. "Ianto," he whispered, voice breaking, "you were-you were the best thing that ever happened to this old man. I owe you so much. You brought out the best in me, right from day one." He choked back a sob, a few tears landing on Ianto's face; he closed the man's eyes. "I loved you the entire time I knew you, even though it took me far too long to tell you. You will never be just a blip in my timeline. You were my world and always will be." He kissed the man's lips once more, still crying as he sealed the bag and closed the drawer.

Sherlock went back to the others, staring at the pool of blood and water on the floor. The last physical reminder of what had just happened. John doused the puddle with lighter fluid and lit it. "Fire is the opposite of water," he said dully, Gwen's hand on his shoulder. "Precautions," he muttered. The blaze glowed violet, giving off an acrid smell for a few moments until it dissipated. A dull stain on the floor was all that was left, the only monument to their fallen comrade.

Sherlock sat down on the sofa, letting out a shaky breath. What was even going on? Fifteen minutes was all it took, and now somebody was dead and gone. John sat next to him after a few moments. "So...Moriarty. Do you think he's the one behind all this?"

"I think so. You ever heard of him?"

"Nope,"

"Me neither."

As soon as we realized we'd have to kill Ianto, we both freaked, but then when we realized just /how/ we would do it...well, it killed us both. I don't think either one of us wrote this scene with dry eyes; I do remember a good amount of snot and tears on my end. We're sorry, but we still regret nothing.