Fic: Bloodlines, 1/1, G
Title: Bloodlines
Author: genagirl
Rating: G
Characters: J/I
Warnings: Death!fic
Summary: It's life, Jack, but not as we know it. Ianto loves Jack - and always will.
Note: This is a very weird story - a strange thought that came to me and wanted to be written down.
Truth be told, Ianto had never expected to live to see twenty-five. When he thought back to Canary Wharf, and those were only on nights when he couldn’t shut out the horror and fear that gripped him when darkness settled too close, he marveled at his luck. And luck it had been; he’d kicked and crawled and staggered free of the clinging arms of death and disaster, dragging the shell of Lisa with him. In the end that decision had almost ended his life yet again. He’d felt himself dying only to be heaved bodily out of the dark by Jack. Twenty-five had seemed like a distant dream then.
Still, that number came and went and Ianto treasured each day, each breath, each second because he had Jack. He’d thought love would wither and die within his heart when he watched Lisa disappear beneath the monster that had entrapped her, but Jack had revived his soul. Five years more and he found himself in deeper, wanting every moment to be spent in Jack’s company, unable to fathom loving another person the way that he loved Jack. He saw that love reflected in Jack’s eyes as well, they sparkled when his gaze turned to Ianto, it never dimmed, it never changed, it wrapped him in warmth and vitality and it pushed him on and on when he didn’t think he could take another step. But he always took that next step because he knew Jack would be there with him. Jack would always be there.
That, that single thought more than anything, echoed in his brain, a mantra, a litany, a pounding truth that burrowed its way into his heart, marking each moment as poignant and precious; some day Jack would be alone. Ianto could barely allow himself to think of those days, not because he imagined himself Jack’s One Great Love, he held no illusions about himself. He was a man, one who strove to be Honest, and True, to do what he could to make the world better, but he knew in the scheme of the Universe he counted very little. Not so with Jack. He had been made Immortal, and Ianto knew Jack believed it was for a purpose, for some Greater Good. That had been his impetuous for Torchwood, for his version of Torchwood. He had seen more than Ianto ever would, and he believed in Mankind and what they could become. Jack needed someone to ground him, to help him keep his humanity, his loving heart, and his passion alive. Without that he would be lost, alone in a endless stretch of years and Ianto could not bear to think of that.
Ianto had made a vow early on, when Jack had given meaning to his life, he had pledged to do what he could to make Jack happy, to keep him from harm, to help him in his struggle. An idea formed in Ianto’s mind, in the very center of his soul and he knew what he had to do.
By age thirty, a luxury he had never expected to be granted, not after losing Tosh and Owen and finally Gwen to the threat they lived beneath, Ianto had a plan. He knew he had lived the years the others would never have, given a gift so beautiful he could never squander a moment of it. He had to do something with them; something that would insure Jack had what he needed for as long as he existed. And so Ianto began to look around the city, keen eyes scanning faces for something he could not put into words but which he would recognize when he saw it.
Jack had never been possessive, though in all their years together he had never strayed. For his part Ianto could not have looked at another person with any desire because he knew pure love in its undiluted form. Still, he sought out a person, someone whom he could share stories with, someone who would grow to know the man he loved, someone younger, someone who would remain when he had gone. He found a woman, young and beautiful, her soul like a crystal that reflected joy. He brought them together, his heart filling at the sight, knowing that when he was gone another would take his place. Her child, his child, the child who would grow and fulfill a role unlike anything ever forged, was born when Ianto turned thirty five.
He died, the years which had been plucked from the ether dissolving in a spray of blood so red it hurt to see or maybe it only hurt Jack to witness the end. Ianto’s last breath was a declaration; a thanks for giving him something bigger than his own life, for allowing him to share in what Jack offered the world. He held Jack’s hand with weakening fingers but knew that he never had to let go. His son, the boy who would be raised on the stories his parents gave him would be there and after him another child, and another - a legacy build up from a foundation of love so powerful it was meant to last eternity. He smiled, knowing that Jack would always have someone who loved him, somewhere in the world.
Author: genagirl
Rating: G
Characters: J/I
Warnings: Death!fic
Summary: It's life, Jack, but not as we know it. Ianto loves Jack - and always will.
Note: This is a very weird story - a strange thought that came to me and wanted to be written down.
Truth be told, Ianto had never expected to live to see twenty-five. When he thought back to Canary Wharf, and those were only on nights when he couldn’t shut out the horror and fear that gripped him when darkness settled too close, he marveled at his luck. And luck it had been; he’d kicked and crawled and staggered free of the clinging arms of death and disaster, dragging the shell of Lisa with him. In the end that decision had almost ended his life yet again. He’d felt himself dying only to be heaved bodily out of the dark by Jack. Twenty-five had seemed like a distant dream then.
Still, that number came and went and Ianto treasured each day, each breath, each second because he had Jack. He’d thought love would wither and die within his heart when he watched Lisa disappear beneath the monster that had entrapped her, but Jack had revived his soul. Five years more and he found himself in deeper, wanting every moment to be spent in Jack’s company, unable to fathom loving another person the way that he loved Jack. He saw that love reflected in Jack’s eyes as well, they sparkled when his gaze turned to Ianto, it never dimmed, it never changed, it wrapped him in warmth and vitality and it pushed him on and on when he didn’t think he could take another step. But he always took that next step because he knew Jack would be there with him. Jack would always be there.
That, that single thought more than anything, echoed in his brain, a mantra, a litany, a pounding truth that burrowed its way into his heart, marking each moment as poignant and precious; some day Jack would be alone. Ianto could barely allow himself to think of those days, not because he imagined himself Jack’s One Great Love, he held no illusions about himself. He was a man, one who strove to be Honest, and True, to do what he could to make the world better, but he knew in the scheme of the Universe he counted very little. Not so with Jack. He had been made Immortal, and Ianto knew Jack believed it was for a purpose, for some Greater Good. That had been his impetuous for Torchwood, for his version of Torchwood. He had seen more than Ianto ever would, and he believed in Mankind and what they could become. Jack needed someone to ground him, to help him keep his humanity, his loving heart, and his passion alive. Without that he would be lost, alone in a endless stretch of years and Ianto could not bear to think of that.
Ianto had made a vow early on, when Jack had given meaning to his life, he had pledged to do what he could to make Jack happy, to keep him from harm, to help him in his struggle. An idea formed in Ianto’s mind, in the very center of his soul and he knew what he had to do.
By age thirty, a luxury he had never expected to be granted, not after losing Tosh and Owen and finally Gwen to the threat they lived beneath, Ianto had a plan. He knew he had lived the years the others would never have, given a gift so beautiful he could never squander a moment of it. He had to do something with them; something that would insure Jack had what he needed for as long as he existed. And so Ianto began to look around the city, keen eyes scanning faces for something he could not put into words but which he would recognize when he saw it.
Jack had never been possessive, though in all their years together he had never strayed. For his part Ianto could not have looked at another person with any desire because he knew pure love in its undiluted form. Still, he sought out a person, someone whom he could share stories with, someone who would grow to know the man he loved, someone younger, someone who would remain when he had gone. He found a woman, young and beautiful, her soul like a crystal that reflected joy. He brought them together, his heart filling at the sight, knowing that when he was gone another would take his place. Her child, his child, the child who would grow and fulfill a role unlike anything ever forged, was born when Ianto turned thirty five.
He died, the years which had been plucked from the ether dissolving in a spray of blood so red it hurt to see or maybe it only hurt Jack to witness the end. Ianto’s last breath was a declaration; a thanks for giving him something bigger than his own life, for allowing him to share in what Jack offered the world. He held Jack’s hand with weakening fingers but knew that he never had to let go. His son, the boy who would be raised on the stories his parents gave him would be there and after him another child, and another - a legacy build up from a foundation of love so powerful it was meant to last eternity. He smiled, knowing that Jack would always have someone who loved him, somewhere in the world.