Torchwood fic-Here Lies Tommy Brockless
title: Here Lies Tommy Brockless
rating:PG or teen
summary: Missing scene for episode 'To the Last Man..'
pairing: Jack/Ianto hinted at
genre: angst, missing scene
author's note-My g-grandfather, a man I wish I could've met, was a Tommy who served in the British Army during World War I. He sufferend from poison gas, starvation, but once a German soldier found him injured and carried him out of the battle zone. Maybe all hope for the human species is not lost.
Jack set the piece of paper onto Tosh’s desk and kept walking to his office. Tosh picked up the paper and scanned it, before her face brightened. “Jack?” she called.
He poked his head out. “Tosh?”
“How did you find it?”
Jack looked up and Ianto smiled down at them. “I asked Ianto to do a little digging.”
“Thank you,” she said, clutching the small paper to her chest.
“I’m only sorry it took so long,” Ianto responded with a pleased smile.
Tosh gathered her purse and was shrugging into her coat when Jack poked his head out of his office for a second time. “Tosh, would you like some company?” When she didn’t answer, he frowned. “I mean, if you don’t then that’s okay…”
“No!” she said suddenly, a small smile on her face. “No, Jack. That would be lovely.”
The team stood in the middle of an ancient cemetery on the Welsh border. On the stone in front of the kneeling Tosh, was the inscription…
Er Serchus Gof Am
Thomas ‘Tommy’ Reginald Brockless
1898-1957
Served in World War I
Hedd, Perffaith Hedd
Tosh gently touched the inscription. “I don’t understand,” she said, looking up at Jack quizzically.
Jack shrugged. “It’s why Ianto had such a hard time discovering where he was buried. There was a final shift somewhere. It maybe when you used the device at the last minute, it healed something in his mind. We’ll never know.”
“Will it effect our time adversely?” Gwen asked, pulling her collar up more closely around her neck. It was bloody cold out despite the cheerful sunshine.
“Every change causes a paradox,” Jack said, “but it’s possible it already happened. I don’t think we’ll ever know.”
“Did he marry?” Tosh asked suddenly.
“We couldn’t find any record of one.”
Ianto handed the flowers he’d carried from the car to his teammate who placed them at the base of the heavily carved tombstone. Tosh brushed some dried moss out of the ornate carvings and traced the Welsh words for a moment.
“It means Peace, Perfect Peace,” Ianto translated quietly.
“I hope he finally had peace,” she said before leaning forward to press a kiss to Tommy’s name. She moved back and accepted Owen’s help in getting to her feet, her brown eyes shining with tears. “I think I finally can have some peace as well. Thank you, Jack.”
Back at the hub, Jack was staring into his scotch as he swirled it around in the glass, lost in memories.
“Jack?” Ianto called softly.
Jack didn’t look up. “Ianto.”
Ianto stepped into Jack’s office and walked around to perch on the desk. “Lots of memories?”
Jack’s head came up, blue eyes burning in his face. “Did you know that they only pardoned those that they shot for desertion, in 2006! Almost 90 years, Ianto. Those poor men who did nothing but try and serve their country, murdered by their country,” he said, his voice rising sharply as he threw the glass against the wall, the resulting shatter so loud that Myfanwy complained.
Without hesitation Ianto put his arms around Jack, and accepted Jack’s desperate hug in return.
“It’s hard to have those memories,” Jack said, his voice muffled into Ianto’s shoulder.
Ianto rubbed Jack’s back with long strokes. “I can imagine,” he said, his lips pressed into Jack’s hair. “I want you to consider something.”
Jack moved his head back and looked into Ianto’s face. “What?”
“Try not to make your memories a burden,” Ianto began thoughtfully, letting his fingers gently trace Jack’s cheek, “but make yourself a caretaker of them. Remember all of those soldiers who died, but don’t let their deaths become like an albatross around your neck. They wouldn’t want that.”
Jack stared at Ianto for a long moment. “I remember them all, Ianto. To the last man.”
Ianto nodded and got up to fetch two more glasses, pouring a hefty shot in each. “To Private Thomas Reginald Brockless,” he said, handing Jack his glass.
“To Tommy,” Jack agreed and they drank to Tommy, and to every other soldier who died in what had been mistakenly called, ‘The war to end all wars’.
rating:PG or teen
summary: Missing scene for episode 'To the Last Man..'
pairing: Jack/Ianto hinted at
genre: angst, missing scene
author's note-My g-grandfather, a man I wish I could've met, was a Tommy who served in the British Army during World War I. He sufferend from poison gas, starvation, but once a German soldier found him injured and carried him out of the battle zone. Maybe all hope for the human species is not lost.
Jack set the piece of paper onto Tosh’s desk and kept walking to his office. Tosh picked up the paper and scanned it, before her face brightened. “Jack?” she called.
He poked his head out. “Tosh?”
“How did you find it?”
Jack looked up and Ianto smiled down at them. “I asked Ianto to do a little digging.”
“Thank you,” she said, clutching the small paper to her chest.
“I’m only sorry it took so long,” Ianto responded with a pleased smile.
Tosh gathered her purse and was shrugging into her coat when Jack poked his head out of his office for a second time. “Tosh, would you like some company?” When she didn’t answer, he frowned. “I mean, if you don’t then that’s okay…”
“No!” she said suddenly, a small smile on her face. “No, Jack. That would be lovely.”
The team stood in the middle of an ancient cemetery on the Welsh border. On the stone in front of the kneeling Tosh, was the inscription…
Er Serchus Gof Am
Thomas ‘Tommy’ Reginald Brockless
1898-1957
Served in World War I
Hedd, Perffaith Hedd
Tosh gently touched the inscription. “I don’t understand,” she said, looking up at Jack quizzically.
Jack shrugged. “It’s why Ianto had such a hard time discovering where he was buried. There was a final shift somewhere. It maybe when you used the device at the last minute, it healed something in his mind. We’ll never know.”
“Will it effect our time adversely?” Gwen asked, pulling her collar up more closely around her neck. It was bloody cold out despite the cheerful sunshine.
“Every change causes a paradox,” Jack said, “but it’s possible it already happened. I don’t think we’ll ever know.”
“Did he marry?” Tosh asked suddenly.
“We couldn’t find any record of one.”
Ianto handed the flowers he’d carried from the car to his teammate who placed them at the base of the heavily carved tombstone. Tosh brushed some dried moss out of the ornate carvings and traced the Welsh words for a moment.
“It means Peace, Perfect Peace,” Ianto translated quietly.
“I hope he finally had peace,” she said before leaning forward to press a kiss to Tommy’s name. She moved back and accepted Owen’s help in getting to her feet, her brown eyes shining with tears. “I think I finally can have some peace as well. Thank you, Jack.”
Back at the hub, Jack was staring into his scotch as he swirled it around in the glass, lost in memories.
“Jack?” Ianto called softly.
Jack didn’t look up. “Ianto.”
Ianto stepped into Jack’s office and walked around to perch on the desk. “Lots of memories?”
Jack’s head came up, blue eyes burning in his face. “Did you know that they only pardoned those that they shot for desertion, in 2006! Almost 90 years, Ianto. Those poor men who did nothing but try and serve their country, murdered by their country,” he said, his voice rising sharply as he threw the glass against the wall, the resulting shatter so loud that Myfanwy complained.
Without hesitation Ianto put his arms around Jack, and accepted Jack’s desperate hug in return.
“It’s hard to have those memories,” Jack said, his voice muffled into Ianto’s shoulder.
Ianto rubbed Jack’s back with long strokes. “I can imagine,” he said, his lips pressed into Jack’s hair. “I want you to consider something.”
Jack moved his head back and looked into Ianto’s face. “What?”
“Try not to make your memories a burden,” Ianto began thoughtfully, letting his fingers gently trace Jack’s cheek, “but make yourself a caretaker of them. Remember all of those soldiers who died, but don’t let their deaths become like an albatross around your neck. They wouldn’t want that.”
Jack stared at Ianto for a long moment. “I remember them all, Ianto. To the last man.”
Ianto nodded and got up to fetch two more glasses, pouring a hefty shot in each. “To Private Thomas Reginald Brockless,” he said, handing Jack his glass.
“To Tommy,” Jack agreed and they drank to Tommy, and to every other soldier who died in what had been mistakenly called, ‘The war to end all wars’.