Torchwood -- Final Request
Title: Final Request
horizonssing Challenge: Day Twenty-Four
Date Written: 7/30/08
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 374
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: For Season 01
Warnings: Angst, character death, mention of m/m sex
Author Notes: Uh, no idea where the angst came from.
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
Excerpt from, "The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock"
T. S. Eliot
Ianto asks to be the one to prepare Jack's body for the vault when he lies still for twenty-four hours. They let him without a fuss -- it's his job anyway, right?
He serves the rest of the still shell-shocked team coffee and fairy cakes for teatime, then heads down into the medical bay, Jack's body stretched out on the metal autopsy table. The captain is still in the clothing he died in, the trademark coat wrapped around his body like a blanket. He shifts his lover's -- his captain's -- Jack's body, carefully, reverently stripping him, tags the tech on the strap he always wears (wore) around his left wrist.
The last time he did this, undressed Jack, he'd been full of cheek, teasing him endlessly over doing this at work, how scandalous, and what would the others think? Ianto had laughed and said that he'd claim the Captain seduced him and then Jack would be the one at fault.
Now, he is so quiet, so pale, so cold underneath his hands.
He doesn't cry -- can't cry -- as he carefully washes Jack's body, still hearing Jack's teasing voice ringing in his ears.
"You little toppy minx! It always is the quiet ones."
He dresses Jack in the paper gown, slides the plastic bag around his body and fills out the paperwork, morbidly wondering if Gwen and Owen will argue over who does the paperwork or if he should just forge someone's signature to make things easier.
He can hear the others upstairs in the meeting room, starting to move about. He leans down to Jack, touching his pale face. "Captain. Jack, please, wake up." He gets no response, and he leans over to press his mouth softly against Jack's still, cold lips. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, tracing a finger along Jack's mouth, expecting to feel teeth nibbling at the digit, the wet swipe of a tongue against the pad.
One last stolen kiss, one single tear dripping down his face to fall on Jack's cheek. "Good-bye, Jack. I love you."
All serious professionalism when Owen pops his head into the medical bay. "Ianto?"
Ianto nods and makes a final notation on his clipboard. Name: Captain Jack Harkness. Age: Unknown. "He's ready."
horizonssing Challenge: Day Twenty-Four
Date Written: 7/30/08
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 374
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: For Season 01
Warnings: Angst, character death, mention of m/m sex
Author Notes: Uh, no idea where the angst came from.
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
Excerpt from, "The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock"
T. S. Eliot
Ianto asks to be the one to prepare Jack's body for the vault when he lies still for twenty-four hours. They let him without a fuss -- it's his job anyway, right?
He serves the rest of the still shell-shocked team coffee and fairy cakes for teatime, then heads down into the medical bay, Jack's body stretched out on the metal autopsy table. The captain is still in the clothing he died in, the trademark coat wrapped around his body like a blanket. He shifts his lover's -- his captain's -- Jack's body, carefully, reverently stripping him, tags the tech on the strap he always wears (wore) around his left wrist.
The last time he did this, undressed Jack, he'd been full of cheek, teasing him endlessly over doing this at work, how scandalous, and what would the others think? Ianto had laughed and said that he'd claim the Captain seduced him and then Jack would be the one at fault.
Now, he is so quiet, so pale, so cold underneath his hands.
He doesn't cry -- can't cry -- as he carefully washes Jack's body, still hearing Jack's teasing voice ringing in his ears.
"You little toppy minx! It always is the quiet ones."
He dresses Jack in the paper gown, slides the plastic bag around his body and fills out the paperwork, morbidly wondering if Gwen and Owen will argue over who does the paperwork or if he should just forge someone's signature to make things easier.
He can hear the others upstairs in the meeting room, starting to move about. He leans down to Jack, touching his pale face. "Captain. Jack, please, wake up." He gets no response, and he leans over to press his mouth softly against Jack's still, cold lips. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, tracing a finger along Jack's mouth, expecting to feel teeth nibbling at the digit, the wet swipe of a tongue against the pad.
One last stolen kiss, one single tear dripping down his face to fall on Jack's cheek. "Good-bye, Jack. I love you."
All serious professionalism when Owen pops his head into the medical bay. "Ianto?"
Ianto nods and makes a final notation on his clipboard. Name: Captain Jack Harkness. Age: Unknown. "He's ready."