The Aftermath
Title: The Aftermath
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Rhiannon, Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 700
Warnings: Spoilers for CoE
Summary: In the aftermath of CoE, Rhiannon and Jack talk.
A/N: Many thanks to stuffphile for the beta!
"Hey!" Rhiannon called hurrying down the path, after the man who had so swiftly left Ianto's funeral. He had arrived at the last minute too, and sat at the back, not speaking to anyone, only moving to bow his head a little further.
"Stop!" she called. She knew who he was, even though she'd never seen him before. She had known by the look he had worn the whole way through the service.
He stopped. Rhiannon caught up with him. He turned round.
"Jack?" she said, although she was positive who he was. Jack nodded.
Ianto wasn't kidding. She thought back to that conversation she had only last week with him. Ianto had said Jack was handsome. Somehow, that seemed like a lifetime ago.
A wind blew across them, ruffling both their hair.
"Nice coat," Rhiannon said, more to fill the uncomfortable silence than anything, but she immediately regretted it. The look of pain that flashed across Jack's face was unbearable. The funeral had been brief, and Rhiannon had insisted that nothing too sentimental was to be read, just a short, honest speech from her, and a reading of Ianto's favourite poem, "All Things Will Die", by Miranda Hallett, who had come all the way from Kent to be here on behalf on her sister. Rhiannon loved that Ianto had a favourite poem; it seemed such a contradiction that the slightly scruffy looking teenager who couldn't keep his mouth shut enjoyed poetry. But that was Ianto all over, Rhiannon thought, full of contradictions.
She sighed, looking at Jack. She knew all about him. That Gwen woman had told her what Ianto did for a living after the kids were safe, told her all about Torchwood, about how he died, trying to save the world. That didn't sound much like the kid she knew who got caught shoplifting and skipped lessons whenever the mood took him. There was so much about him she didn't know. Would never know.
"Tell me something," Rhiannon said, looking at Jack. "Did he still eat Coco Pops for breakfast?"
"Golden Nuggets," Jack said softly.
Rhiannon laughed outright. Yup, that was her Ianto; full of contradictions. He was so prim and proper and grown up, but he still ate a kids cereal for breakfast. Jack chuckled quietly, a ghost of a smile flitting across his face. He finally met her eyes. He seemed to be searching for something. What for, Rhiannon didn’t know.
"Stay for the wake," she said. Jack shook his head. "Meet some of his old school friends, his niece and nephew? Mica looks just like him."
"I know." Jack then sighed heavily; he suddenly looked much older than he was. "Your brother, Ianto, he was--" he struggled for the words, looking out over the horizon. Rhiannon saw his hand close over something in his coat pocket. "I made him a promise, the only thing he ever of asked of me, and I intend to keep it."
Rhiannon nodded with her mouth open slightly. She didn't quite understand what he was talking about, but she did appreciate the sentiment. Grief did funny things to people. She remembered Ianto, four months after Lisa died, on her sofa, looking dead inside, like all the fight had left him. Perhaps the fight had left Jack, too.
"I can't stay," Jack said. "Things I've done, I've seen--it's too much."
"After Lisa died, Ianto was a mess, but he built his life back up," Rhiannon told him. She knew it wasn’t her place to start lecturing this man, but if he was important to Ianto, then she supposed she ought to make an effort with him.
"I can't keep fighting without him, because there's left nothing to fight for.” He held her gaze for a moment, before turning his back and walking away. She watched as he reached the end of a path. He pulled something out of his pocket that looked like an old fashioned stopwatch, and bought it to his lips.
Rhiannon went to walk back inside to start organising people for the wake. She reached the door, and turned around, hoping to catch one last look at Jack.
He had already vanished.