Five Times Jack Harkness went to a Funeral
Title: Five Times Jack Harkness went to a Funeral
Rating: NC17 (M/M Slash and angst…)
Warnings/Spoilers: My beta says it make you cry. I dunno myself. Sex tho.
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or its characters.
Summary: Jack goes to funerals and then Jack goes to Ianto.
A/N: I haven’t posted in forever. I’m all afraid of LJ for some reason but I wrote this months ago and my gorgeous beta skullgirl013 helped me think it was alright. Also this is for thrace_adams because she’s lovely and she’s missing her husband and her sons birthday - Happy Birthday!
It’s always like this.
It’s always the same.
For the last year and a half, Jack has always come to him after. Jack has always needed him.
But it’s different every time.
Ianto’s cooking and it’s Wednesday, he has steak frying and is regretting the fact that he didn’t a put a top on after his shower as oil flicks and spits near him. Ianto sucks his beer bottle and mutes the news playing on the T.V - it’s never right anyway. He hears the front door bang and catches a flash of blue material in the corner of his eye through the half open kitchen door as Jack walks in unannounced.
He doesn’t really need to be announced, Ianto knew he would come.
So he doesn’t move from his task, he stands and waits and ignores the presence behind him, watching him, wanting him. He doesn’t move until Jack finally catches his hand and pulls him from the oven, strokes his thumb over Ianto’s knuckles as he stares at him for a second before glancing away guiltily.
Ianto notes Jack hasn’t cried this time but he is windswept, his hair is out of place ever so slightly and the hand around his bare wrist is frozen to the bone, Ianto knows who the man was, relatively ordinary and lived not too far from the Hub. Jack had been silent about it and would probably continue to be.
‘Evening.’
Jack doesn’t reply, leaning forward instead and Ianto reaches behind him to flick the switch off on the oven before turning back as Jack’s lips part and he pulls him in close and kisses him once quickly. Jack looks at him for a split second before forcing him against the pine wood surface of his kitchen with another kiss, a harder one, pushing his lips insistently against Ianto’s and closing his eyes as he leans his entire body against his and shifts his crotch gently against Ianto’s until both their breath starts to quicken.
Jack forces against him with his hips and Ianto moans softly and runs a hand up around the back of his neck, settles it cupping Jack’s cheek as he kisses him back deeply. He would roll his eyes at how easy he is if Jack wasn’t clinging to him like a life raft, with his tongue in his mouth and a hand roughly pushing down his trousers. Ianto sighs inwardly and gives up hope on dinner and sleep because he will always give Jack what he wants when he’s like this.
When he’s alone.
When he’s slightly more haunted than the last time he saw him and when Ianto is the one he comes to.
Sometimes after the funerals Jack doesn’t talk and just fucks, sometimes he won’t stop talking, sometimes he doesn’t know what to do and sometimes Ianto has nothing new to say about it, but Jack will always come to him regardless. Ianto never minds and knows tonight it will be probably just be fucking, some form of sex on the kitchen floor here, hard and fast and later slower in bed, Jack will barely say anything worth while and Ianto will come hard at least twice. He knows this will happen and when Jack tilts his head to kiss down his neck and picks him up onto the kitchen cabinet, Ianto wraps his thighs around Jack’s waist and pulls him in closer, groans loudly at Jack’s hand stroking inside his boxers and lets it happen.
Later when they lie against each other on the floor, sweaty and achy, Ianto’s hand in Jack’s, the bite marks on his chest still twinging with pain and the faint smell of burnt oil, pheromones and steak staining the air, Ianto doesn’t care that he knew all of this would happen like always, because once again he has reminded Jack he’s not alone. Because Jack needs him to.
Two Months Later
Ianto’s sofa is occupied when he walks through his front door on a Friday that has frankly seen less action than a Thursday and he wonders how Jack continually manages to get into his house without ever getting a key.
Not that he didn’t expect him.
Jack’s flicking channels angrily, he has never got the hang of ‘chilling’ and Ianto clutches his keys and braces himself for whatever comes next because today it was a young boy, five or six if he remembers rightly and so badly mauled that you couldn’t tell if he was human whether you wanted to or not.
He lightly puts his keys down with his wallet and carefully takes off his coat; Jack continues to stare forward at the television screen for no reason in particular other than all he’s done all day is watch people so he may as well continue in a similar, if less real, vein. Ianto knows that tonight Jack’s more absent then here - staring straight through the hollow television voices and quite clearly more involved in his own thoughts but still, Ianto reasons, physical presence is more than enough because he’s exhausted and Jack’s inner turmoil can wait until at least a Friday.
‘Evening.’
Ianto loosens his tie and glances around, quickly judging the situation, Jack’s here - like always, he’s still got his boots on but his coat is off and draped across the sofa so he’s not completely prepared to leave or stay but a quick exit is always an option.
‘Did you lock up the Hub?’
‘No I left it open - Security exercise.’ Ianto replies conversationally, taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, ‘Myfanwy objected as Head of Defence but I reminded her how good a guard dog she was and she backed down.’
Silence greets his sarcasm and Ianto shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his feet, watches Jack watching him from the sofa with a blank expression.
‘Sooooo…How was it?’
‘A funeral.’
Ianto nods and wonders why he feels uncomfortable in his own house - why Jack makes him feel so insignificant and sighs as he wonders if they will ever be normal or if Jack will continually torture himself for as long as Ianto can stand to watch him.
‘Nice hymns?’
‘Does it matter?’ Jack glances back to the telly and Ianto scowls even though he’s not really angry, just annoyed that Jack won’t be angry. Jack won’t be sad and won’t be upset and Ianto doesn’t know how he wants him to react, he just wants something.
‘You tell me. You go to them all.’
Jack sighs and pulls him down to the sofa, moving until they are both lounging across it and he tucks Ianto’s head under his chin, runs his fingers through his hair and Ianto waits until Jack’s comfortable and breathing steadily before relaxing into it.
‘Sorry, I’m not angry with you. I just…’ Jack sighs and Ianto looks up at him waiting. ‘It was just a long day. I’m sorry.’
Ianto nods. He knows.
‘Do you want dinner?’
Jack’s voice sounds small and quiet, tired and like he’s very, very old. The sky outside the window darkens to navy blue as they sit and watch the night come and Ianto realises how exhausted he looks.
‘Do you?’
Jack shifts down into the cushions and exhales instead of yawning, shakes his head as he leans across to kiss him slowly and murmur against his mouth.
‘Not really. Maybe some rest.’
Ianto nods in agreement and leans his head against Jack’s shoulder - watches as he closes his eyes and drifts off while Ianto wonders when exactly it was that Jack started falling asleep against him in the dark. He realises he doesn’t mind as he listens to Jack’s rhythmic breathing and counts the stars appearing outside.
He couldn’t mind when Jack needs him.
Six Months Earlier
Ianto’s eyes are shut tight even though the small room is already dark enough to only see shadows and shapes unless he focused. He breaths shallowly as Jack grips his sweaty calf and brings it slowly higher, thrusts inside him and Ianto smothers a cry by burying his head in Jack’s shoulder and digs his heel into the small of Jack’s back, pushes it hard into Jack’s skin and wills him in deeper. Ianto hears him groan back and gasp, he moves his hips and Jack shoves violently back into him, ignores everything else and loses himself in Ianto.
It’s been like this since he arrived - Ianto letting him in after hearing insistent banging on his front door on a Monday night that’s technically a Tuesday morning. A visit that he knew was coming and knew would be Jack trying to forget and Jack using Ianto to do it.
Except Ianto’s all too willing to oblige - he won’t miss being kissed like he’s a dying man and having Jack strip him with frantic hands up his shirt and down the back of his trousers, grabbing and strewing clothes across the floor before they even reach the bedroom door.
He bites his lip as Jack runs a hand across his stomach and down between his legs, jerks his cock twice to bring him back to the present and he lets out a loud groan with another push of hips and thrust hard inside him, scratches his nails down Jack’s back in response and grips Jack’s biceps, wraps his thighs around Jack’s waist and flips him back into the mattress. Jack moans deeply as Ianto leans over him and opens his legs wider, repositions and kisses Jack’s chest with just a hint of teeth as he rolls his hips and takes him deeper.
‘Fuck Ianto,’ Jack groans loudly and hooks his arms around his shoulders, pulls him down and kisses him hard.
‘Shhhhhh.’
Ianto kisses him again and straightens up, rides him slowly, bites back soft moans and let’s Jack forget as they both lose themselves in sex and silence and sweat. Jack pulls him down again to kiss him, thrusts his hips up hard and pushes his dick deeper into Ianto’s willing body, he watches Ianto work his hand around his cock firmly and murmurs encouraging sounds as they increase their rhythm. Ianto places his other hand on Jack’s chest, it heaves up and down under his palm and Ianto clenches his internal muscles until he feels Jack come.
His thighs shake and he breathes hard as Jack arches off the bed and holds Ianto’s hips, muffling a strangled cry in his chest as he climaxes, hard. Ianto rocks against him and works him through his orgasm, moves his hand faster around his own cock, fists it harder, his neck taut as he raises his head to the ceiling and presses Jack into him at just the right angle until he’s coming too, Jack slowly moving inside him as Ianto gasps into the night and keeps his eyes closed tightly until his breathing returns to normal. They end up lying together in a tangle of sheets until Jack slowly pulls him away and gently rearranges him so they can fall asleep together. He rests his head on Ianto’s chest and holds him like he needs him as they both slip into dreams.
Fourteen Months Before
Ianto has nearly always known better. He really shouldn’t track down Jack and see where he’s going. But Ianto has nearly always known better and done it anyway, not to mention that this Thursday is the most boring one on record with little more to do than paperwork and cleaning and when Jack takes off with barely a word, Ianto watches carefully and knows that the few words he does say are lies.
Jack’s been off all morning, hasn’t flirted or smiled and Ianto found him shining his shoes at six. He knows better than to question him as a leader but as his lover, Ianto rationalises, finding out where he is, is fair game. It takes him three and a half hours to discover everything he needs and when he finally steals quietly into the Church his gaze lands on Jack straight away in the back of the room, with his hands in his pockets, staring quietly at the service.
The procession leaves slowly, led by a man in tears, he’s wearing a ring on his wedding finger but there’s no one by his side and Ianto bows his head as they walk past. In the end there’s just him and Jack left on other side of the Church, a row of pews separating them and Ianto looks across at him.
‘Did you know her?’
His voice sounds distant in the empty air, warped and not as comforting as it was meant to.
‘Do you remember ten days ago?’ Jack smiles forlornly and sighs. ‘The woman who got killed in the office basement? She was a secretary called Marie.’
Ianto frowns, remembering - there had been an alien threat warning that had turned into a small war between Torchwood and suit clad aliens. Ianto remembers the woman apparently called Marie and Jack continues quickly. ‘That was her. Her husband’s called Paul. She was three and a half months pregnant.’
Jack turns to leave and Ianto follows, the large wooden doors lead out to a blinkingly bright sun after the dust filled air of the Church where shadows were large and cold and the light was either tinted through intricate stained glass windows or in the form of flickering candle flames.
‘Is this what you do?’ Ianto calls after him.
‘What?’
‘Go to their funerals.’ Ianto replies blankly.
Jack stops and looks at him for a second, the SUV is around the corner and concealed as much as it can be and he sets off towards it quickly.
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘They died because of Torchwood.’ Jack explains, opening the door and sitting in the drivers seat. He turns to look at Ianto next to him and puts the keys in the ignition but doesn’t turn them.
‘That isn’t your fault.’
‘I didn’t say it was.’
‘Then why torture yourself like this? Because you are. I can see it in your eyes.’
Jack holds his gaze steadily before looking out through the windscreen into the empty street. ‘I’ll forget them. Those people in Marie’s life, her husband, her parents, they will never forget her and they shouldn’t, because she mattered to them.’ Jack explains, gesturing his hand firmly against the steering wheel. ‘She died because of Torchwood and that should matter but it won’t. Her family won’t know she sacrificed herself to save her best friend, it’s a truth that can never be told. She was important, she was brave and no one will know. Worse than that - I will know but I’ll forget her in a thousand other faces and names that are just as important and brave. So I remember them at their funerals for a day. Torchwood remembers them. Because they should matter.’
Ianto sits in silence as he listens and when Jack turns back to look at him sadly he leans across and kisses his mouth, closes his eyes against the feel of Jack’s hand moving up to cup his cheek and linger against his throat.
‘Stay the night?’
Jack nods against his lips, kisses him again slowly and pushes his tongue into Ianto’s mouth, Ianto makes a small noise in the back of his throat and breathes in sharply as the kiss deepens and Jack’s thumb drags down his neck.
He’s not sure if the kiss is comfort or not but he whispers thank you when their lips part briefly and Ianto knows Jack needs him as he rests their foreheads together for a second and Jack moves in to kiss him again.
Four Years Later
Jack wraps his coat around himself and turns his face to the wind. The tears on his cheek dry salty against his skin and he doesn’t know why he’s here. He went back to Ianto’s house but he couldn’t stand the silence, the empty rooms and old memories, it was cold and dark and lifeless and he left before he went mad.
He turns and looks across at the horizon, it’s heavy with clouds, there was no sun today and no rain, no thunder and lightning, just overbearing gloom and Jack thrusts his hands in his pockets as the sky darkens and a cold gust of wind sweeps around his position above Cardiff.
His phone rings loudly and he ignores it, it’ll be Gwen. Again. He can’t be there for her right now, he can’t fix this or make it better or make her feel okay, he’s too tired. He’s too tired of people he loves dying and having to look after everyone else when no one looks after him. Not anymore anyway.
Not now Ianto’s dead.
He swallows thickly past the recurring lump in his throat and breaths in hard. Thinking about it is still to difficult, he spent the funeral in a trance, trying not to think as everything played out around him. He has been to a lot of funerals, far too many, has seen coffins and flowers and mourners and cremations, services of every kind you can imagine and for as many different people as you can think of. He has watched parents and lovers and siblings and children come and go, he has listened to eulogies and hymns and poems and tributes and all of them have devastated him in a million little ways but its been a long time since one has made him truly heart broken.
Jack stands there until he can’t feel anything anymore, numb from the cold. He looks down from the rooftop and watches the streets below, there are people everywhere, the universe is vast and yet Jack has never felt like it was smaller. Like there is only one person he needs and he’s not here anymore and Jack doesn’t know what to do with himself because it would be Ianto that would remind him and it’s Ianto who isn’t here.
Ianto’s gone and Jack didn’t realise how much he had needed him until now.
He closes his eyes for a second before opening them to look up into the sky, there are no stars tonight either, the skies too grey but he can see the moon. He stares at it and wishes he could feel something, some hope for this, for Ianto, but he knows there isn’t. There’s just darkness. Ianto’s not out there anywhere and Jack rubs his eyes quickly and turns his collar up, leaving the rooftop and heading back to Torchwood alone.
Rating: NC17 (M/M Slash and angst…)
Warnings/Spoilers: My beta says it make you cry. I dunno myself. Sex tho.
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or its characters.
Summary: Jack goes to funerals and then Jack goes to Ianto.
A/N: I haven’t posted in forever. I’m all afraid of LJ for some reason but I wrote this months ago and my gorgeous beta skullgirl013 helped me think it was alright. Also this is for thrace_adams because she’s lovely and she’s missing her husband and her sons birthday - Happy Birthday!
It’s always like this.
It’s always the same.
For the last year and a half, Jack has always come to him after. Jack has always needed him.
But it’s different every time.
Ianto’s cooking and it’s Wednesday, he has steak frying and is regretting the fact that he didn’t a put a top on after his shower as oil flicks and spits near him. Ianto sucks his beer bottle and mutes the news playing on the T.V - it’s never right anyway. He hears the front door bang and catches a flash of blue material in the corner of his eye through the half open kitchen door as Jack walks in unannounced.
He doesn’t really need to be announced, Ianto knew he would come.
So he doesn’t move from his task, he stands and waits and ignores the presence behind him, watching him, wanting him. He doesn’t move until Jack finally catches his hand and pulls him from the oven, strokes his thumb over Ianto’s knuckles as he stares at him for a second before glancing away guiltily.
Ianto notes Jack hasn’t cried this time but he is windswept, his hair is out of place ever so slightly and the hand around his bare wrist is frozen to the bone, Ianto knows who the man was, relatively ordinary and lived not too far from the Hub. Jack had been silent about it and would probably continue to be.
‘Evening.’
Jack doesn’t reply, leaning forward instead and Ianto reaches behind him to flick the switch off on the oven before turning back as Jack’s lips part and he pulls him in close and kisses him once quickly. Jack looks at him for a split second before forcing him against the pine wood surface of his kitchen with another kiss, a harder one, pushing his lips insistently against Ianto’s and closing his eyes as he leans his entire body against his and shifts his crotch gently against Ianto’s until both their breath starts to quicken.
Jack forces against him with his hips and Ianto moans softly and runs a hand up around the back of his neck, settles it cupping Jack’s cheek as he kisses him back deeply. He would roll his eyes at how easy he is if Jack wasn’t clinging to him like a life raft, with his tongue in his mouth and a hand roughly pushing down his trousers. Ianto sighs inwardly and gives up hope on dinner and sleep because he will always give Jack what he wants when he’s like this.
When he’s alone.
When he’s slightly more haunted than the last time he saw him and when Ianto is the one he comes to.
Sometimes after the funerals Jack doesn’t talk and just fucks, sometimes he won’t stop talking, sometimes he doesn’t know what to do and sometimes Ianto has nothing new to say about it, but Jack will always come to him regardless. Ianto never minds and knows tonight it will be probably just be fucking, some form of sex on the kitchen floor here, hard and fast and later slower in bed, Jack will barely say anything worth while and Ianto will come hard at least twice. He knows this will happen and when Jack tilts his head to kiss down his neck and picks him up onto the kitchen cabinet, Ianto wraps his thighs around Jack’s waist and pulls him in closer, groans loudly at Jack’s hand stroking inside his boxers and lets it happen.
Later when they lie against each other on the floor, sweaty and achy, Ianto’s hand in Jack’s, the bite marks on his chest still twinging with pain and the faint smell of burnt oil, pheromones and steak staining the air, Ianto doesn’t care that he knew all of this would happen like always, because once again he has reminded Jack he’s not alone. Because Jack needs him to.
Two Months Later
Ianto’s sofa is occupied when he walks through his front door on a Friday that has frankly seen less action than a Thursday and he wonders how Jack continually manages to get into his house without ever getting a key.
Not that he didn’t expect him.
Jack’s flicking channels angrily, he has never got the hang of ‘chilling’ and Ianto clutches his keys and braces himself for whatever comes next because today it was a young boy, five or six if he remembers rightly and so badly mauled that you couldn’t tell if he was human whether you wanted to or not.
He lightly puts his keys down with his wallet and carefully takes off his coat; Jack continues to stare forward at the television screen for no reason in particular other than all he’s done all day is watch people so he may as well continue in a similar, if less real, vein. Ianto knows that tonight Jack’s more absent then here - staring straight through the hollow television voices and quite clearly more involved in his own thoughts but still, Ianto reasons, physical presence is more than enough because he’s exhausted and Jack’s inner turmoil can wait until at least a Friday.
‘Evening.’
Ianto loosens his tie and glances around, quickly judging the situation, Jack’s here - like always, he’s still got his boots on but his coat is off and draped across the sofa so he’s not completely prepared to leave or stay but a quick exit is always an option.
‘Did you lock up the Hub?’
‘No I left it open - Security exercise.’ Ianto replies conversationally, taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, ‘Myfanwy objected as Head of Defence but I reminded her how good a guard dog she was and she backed down.’
Silence greets his sarcasm and Ianto shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his feet, watches Jack watching him from the sofa with a blank expression.
‘Sooooo…How was it?’
‘A funeral.’
Ianto nods and wonders why he feels uncomfortable in his own house - why Jack makes him feel so insignificant and sighs as he wonders if they will ever be normal or if Jack will continually torture himself for as long as Ianto can stand to watch him.
‘Nice hymns?’
‘Does it matter?’ Jack glances back to the telly and Ianto scowls even though he’s not really angry, just annoyed that Jack won’t be angry. Jack won’t be sad and won’t be upset and Ianto doesn’t know how he wants him to react, he just wants something.
‘You tell me. You go to them all.’
Jack sighs and pulls him down to the sofa, moving until they are both lounging across it and he tucks Ianto’s head under his chin, runs his fingers through his hair and Ianto waits until Jack’s comfortable and breathing steadily before relaxing into it.
‘Sorry, I’m not angry with you. I just…’ Jack sighs and Ianto looks up at him waiting. ‘It was just a long day. I’m sorry.’
Ianto nods. He knows.
‘Do you want dinner?’
Jack’s voice sounds small and quiet, tired and like he’s very, very old. The sky outside the window darkens to navy blue as they sit and watch the night come and Ianto realises how exhausted he looks.
‘Do you?’
Jack shifts down into the cushions and exhales instead of yawning, shakes his head as he leans across to kiss him slowly and murmur against his mouth.
‘Not really. Maybe some rest.’
Ianto nods in agreement and leans his head against Jack’s shoulder - watches as he closes his eyes and drifts off while Ianto wonders when exactly it was that Jack started falling asleep against him in the dark. He realises he doesn’t mind as he listens to Jack’s rhythmic breathing and counts the stars appearing outside.
He couldn’t mind when Jack needs him.
Six Months Earlier
Ianto’s eyes are shut tight even though the small room is already dark enough to only see shadows and shapes unless he focused. He breaths shallowly as Jack grips his sweaty calf and brings it slowly higher, thrusts inside him and Ianto smothers a cry by burying his head in Jack’s shoulder and digs his heel into the small of Jack’s back, pushes it hard into Jack’s skin and wills him in deeper. Ianto hears him groan back and gasp, he moves his hips and Jack shoves violently back into him, ignores everything else and loses himself in Ianto.
It’s been like this since he arrived - Ianto letting him in after hearing insistent banging on his front door on a Monday night that’s technically a Tuesday morning. A visit that he knew was coming and knew would be Jack trying to forget and Jack using Ianto to do it.
Except Ianto’s all too willing to oblige - he won’t miss being kissed like he’s a dying man and having Jack strip him with frantic hands up his shirt and down the back of his trousers, grabbing and strewing clothes across the floor before they even reach the bedroom door.
He bites his lip as Jack runs a hand across his stomach and down between his legs, jerks his cock twice to bring him back to the present and he lets out a loud groan with another push of hips and thrust hard inside him, scratches his nails down Jack’s back in response and grips Jack’s biceps, wraps his thighs around Jack’s waist and flips him back into the mattress. Jack moans deeply as Ianto leans over him and opens his legs wider, repositions and kisses Jack’s chest with just a hint of teeth as he rolls his hips and takes him deeper.
‘Fuck Ianto,’ Jack groans loudly and hooks his arms around his shoulders, pulls him down and kisses him hard.
‘Shhhhhh.’
Ianto kisses him again and straightens up, rides him slowly, bites back soft moans and let’s Jack forget as they both lose themselves in sex and silence and sweat. Jack pulls him down again to kiss him, thrusts his hips up hard and pushes his dick deeper into Ianto’s willing body, he watches Ianto work his hand around his cock firmly and murmurs encouraging sounds as they increase their rhythm. Ianto places his other hand on Jack’s chest, it heaves up and down under his palm and Ianto clenches his internal muscles until he feels Jack come.
His thighs shake and he breathes hard as Jack arches off the bed and holds Ianto’s hips, muffling a strangled cry in his chest as he climaxes, hard. Ianto rocks against him and works him through his orgasm, moves his hand faster around his own cock, fists it harder, his neck taut as he raises his head to the ceiling and presses Jack into him at just the right angle until he’s coming too, Jack slowly moving inside him as Ianto gasps into the night and keeps his eyes closed tightly until his breathing returns to normal. They end up lying together in a tangle of sheets until Jack slowly pulls him away and gently rearranges him so they can fall asleep together. He rests his head on Ianto’s chest and holds him like he needs him as they both slip into dreams.
Fourteen Months Before
Ianto has nearly always known better. He really shouldn’t track down Jack and see where he’s going. But Ianto has nearly always known better and done it anyway, not to mention that this Thursday is the most boring one on record with little more to do than paperwork and cleaning and when Jack takes off with barely a word, Ianto watches carefully and knows that the few words he does say are lies.
Jack’s been off all morning, hasn’t flirted or smiled and Ianto found him shining his shoes at six. He knows better than to question him as a leader but as his lover, Ianto rationalises, finding out where he is, is fair game. It takes him three and a half hours to discover everything he needs and when he finally steals quietly into the Church his gaze lands on Jack straight away in the back of the room, with his hands in his pockets, staring quietly at the service.
The procession leaves slowly, led by a man in tears, he’s wearing a ring on his wedding finger but there’s no one by his side and Ianto bows his head as they walk past. In the end there’s just him and Jack left on other side of the Church, a row of pews separating them and Ianto looks across at him.
‘Did you know her?’
His voice sounds distant in the empty air, warped and not as comforting as it was meant to.
‘Do you remember ten days ago?’ Jack smiles forlornly and sighs. ‘The woman who got killed in the office basement? She was a secretary called Marie.’
Ianto frowns, remembering - there had been an alien threat warning that had turned into a small war between Torchwood and suit clad aliens. Ianto remembers the woman apparently called Marie and Jack continues quickly. ‘That was her. Her husband’s called Paul. She was three and a half months pregnant.’
Jack turns to leave and Ianto follows, the large wooden doors lead out to a blinkingly bright sun after the dust filled air of the Church where shadows were large and cold and the light was either tinted through intricate stained glass windows or in the form of flickering candle flames.
‘Is this what you do?’ Ianto calls after him.
‘What?’
‘Go to their funerals.’ Ianto replies blankly.
Jack stops and looks at him for a second, the SUV is around the corner and concealed as much as it can be and he sets off towards it quickly.
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘They died because of Torchwood.’ Jack explains, opening the door and sitting in the drivers seat. He turns to look at Ianto next to him and puts the keys in the ignition but doesn’t turn them.
‘That isn’t your fault.’
‘I didn’t say it was.’
‘Then why torture yourself like this? Because you are. I can see it in your eyes.’
Jack holds his gaze steadily before looking out through the windscreen into the empty street. ‘I’ll forget them. Those people in Marie’s life, her husband, her parents, they will never forget her and they shouldn’t, because she mattered to them.’ Jack explains, gesturing his hand firmly against the steering wheel. ‘She died because of Torchwood and that should matter but it won’t. Her family won’t know she sacrificed herself to save her best friend, it’s a truth that can never be told. She was important, she was brave and no one will know. Worse than that - I will know but I’ll forget her in a thousand other faces and names that are just as important and brave. So I remember them at their funerals for a day. Torchwood remembers them. Because they should matter.’
Ianto sits in silence as he listens and when Jack turns back to look at him sadly he leans across and kisses his mouth, closes his eyes against the feel of Jack’s hand moving up to cup his cheek and linger against his throat.
‘Stay the night?’
Jack nods against his lips, kisses him again slowly and pushes his tongue into Ianto’s mouth, Ianto makes a small noise in the back of his throat and breathes in sharply as the kiss deepens and Jack’s thumb drags down his neck.
He’s not sure if the kiss is comfort or not but he whispers thank you when their lips part briefly and Ianto knows Jack needs him as he rests their foreheads together for a second and Jack moves in to kiss him again.
Four Years Later
Jack wraps his coat around himself and turns his face to the wind. The tears on his cheek dry salty against his skin and he doesn’t know why he’s here. He went back to Ianto’s house but he couldn’t stand the silence, the empty rooms and old memories, it was cold and dark and lifeless and he left before he went mad.
He turns and looks across at the horizon, it’s heavy with clouds, there was no sun today and no rain, no thunder and lightning, just overbearing gloom and Jack thrusts his hands in his pockets as the sky darkens and a cold gust of wind sweeps around his position above Cardiff.
His phone rings loudly and he ignores it, it’ll be Gwen. Again. He can’t be there for her right now, he can’t fix this or make it better or make her feel okay, he’s too tired. He’s too tired of people he loves dying and having to look after everyone else when no one looks after him. Not anymore anyway.
Not now Ianto’s dead.
He swallows thickly past the recurring lump in his throat and breaths in hard. Thinking about it is still to difficult, he spent the funeral in a trance, trying not to think as everything played out around him. He has been to a lot of funerals, far too many, has seen coffins and flowers and mourners and cremations, services of every kind you can imagine and for as many different people as you can think of. He has watched parents and lovers and siblings and children come and go, he has listened to eulogies and hymns and poems and tributes and all of them have devastated him in a million little ways but its been a long time since one has made him truly heart broken.
Jack stands there until he can’t feel anything anymore, numb from the cold. He looks down from the rooftop and watches the streets below, there are people everywhere, the universe is vast and yet Jack has never felt like it was smaller. Like there is only one person he needs and he’s not here anymore and Jack doesn’t know what to do with himself because it would be Ianto that would remind him and it’s Ianto who isn’t here.
Ianto’s gone and Jack didn’t realise how much he had needed him until now.
He closes his eyes for a second before opening them to look up into the sky, there are no stars tonight either, the skies too grey but he can see the moon. He stares at it and wishes he could feel something, some hope for this, for Ianto, but he knows there isn’t. There’s just darkness. Ianto’s not out there anywhere and Jack rubs his eyes quickly and turns his collar up, leaving the rooftop and heading back to Torchwood alone.