Grace
Title: Grace
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Notes/Summary: In which Ianto mourns and Jack makes arrangements. References to Doctor Who 2x12 - "Army of Ghosts", takes place between Torchwood 2x13 - "Exit Wounds" and Doctor Who 4x13 - "Journey's End." Written for the July 13 prompt at horizonssing.
The summer wind, came blowin' in from across the sea
It lingered there to touch your hair and walk with me
All summer long we sang a song and then we strolled that golden sand
Two sweethearts and the summer wind
Like painted kites, those days and nights, they went flyin' by
The world was new beneath a blue umbrella sky
Then softer than a piper man one day it called to you
I lost you, I lost you to the summer wind
The autumn wind and the winter winds, they have come and gone
And still the days, those lonely days, they go on and on
And guess who sighs his lullabies through nights that never end
My fickle friend, the summer wind
The summer wind
Warm summer wind
Mmm, the summer wind
- Frank Sinatra, "Summer Wind"
Ianto answered his mobile without looking at it. He was too busy staring up at the gleaming tower in front of him.
“Nothing’s changed, Jack,” he said. His voice cracked under the strain of the words. “It’s all still here. Everything is still here. It’s like nothing ever happened.”
“Do you need me to come get you?”
He swallowed hard and shook his head. All around him, men and women in suits and slacks were criss-crossing Canada Square on their way to work, newspapers under their arms, carrying lattes and attaché cases and messenger bags. “No. No, it’s fine. I just thought that maybe there might be something, or that someone might remember it. It was only two years ago. But there’s nothing. No one. Her family doesn’t even know.”
Ianto turned away and leaned against a concrete barrier. “We used to have lunch down here together on nice days. We’d talk about how strange our work was, and I’d tease her for buying coffees at Starbucks. God, Jack. 800 people murdered, and I’m the only one who remembers.”
The words were no more out of his mouth than he saw a woman in jeans and a smart black blazer. She held a bundle of flowers and stared at the tower. She looked somewhat at a loss.
“Jack, what’s Martha doing here?”
“Did you know Adeola Oshodi?”
Ianto paused and tried to tease the name from his memory, but came up blank. “No. I don’t think I did.”
“She was Martha’s cousin. She worked on the floor that handled the ghost shift. This is Martha’s first year knowing the truth of it. I, uh…well, I might have pulled some strings to make sure she had the week off from UNIT to be in London with her family.”
He watched as she wavered, and nearly turned away. She looked down at the flowers, and then let her eyes wander around the plaza. She caught sight of him and he raised a hand in a small wave. She waved back.
“Jack?”
“Yeah?”
Ianto took a shaky breath and started toward Martha. He would show her where he’d left his own flowers this year, and the year before. Maybe they could talk for a little while. “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you when you get back,” Jack said. “Drive safe, and send Martha my love.”
“Will do.” Ianto let his phone snap shut and took Martha’s hand.
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Notes/Summary: In which Ianto mourns and Jack makes arrangements. References to Doctor Who 2x12 - "Army of Ghosts", takes place between Torchwood 2x13 - "Exit Wounds" and Doctor Who 4x13 - "Journey's End." Written for the July 13 prompt at horizonssing.
The summer wind, came blowin' in from across the sea
It lingered there to touch your hair and walk with me
All summer long we sang a song and then we strolled that golden sand
Two sweethearts and the summer wind
Like painted kites, those days and nights, they went flyin' by
The world was new beneath a blue umbrella sky
Then softer than a piper man one day it called to you
I lost you, I lost you to the summer wind
The autumn wind and the winter winds, they have come and gone
And still the days, those lonely days, they go on and on
And guess who sighs his lullabies through nights that never end
My fickle friend, the summer wind
The summer wind
Warm summer wind
Mmm, the summer wind
- Frank Sinatra, "Summer Wind"
Ianto answered his mobile without looking at it. He was too busy staring up at the gleaming tower in front of him.
“Nothing’s changed, Jack,” he said. His voice cracked under the strain of the words. “It’s all still here. Everything is still here. It’s like nothing ever happened.”
“Do you need me to come get you?”
He swallowed hard and shook his head. All around him, men and women in suits and slacks were criss-crossing Canada Square on their way to work, newspapers under their arms, carrying lattes and attaché cases and messenger bags. “No. No, it’s fine. I just thought that maybe there might be something, or that someone might remember it. It was only two years ago. But there’s nothing. No one. Her family doesn’t even know.”
Ianto turned away and leaned against a concrete barrier. “We used to have lunch down here together on nice days. We’d talk about how strange our work was, and I’d tease her for buying coffees at Starbucks. God, Jack. 800 people murdered, and I’m the only one who remembers.”
The words were no more out of his mouth than he saw a woman in jeans and a smart black blazer. She held a bundle of flowers and stared at the tower. She looked somewhat at a loss.
“Jack, what’s Martha doing here?”
“Did you know Adeola Oshodi?”
Ianto paused and tried to tease the name from his memory, but came up blank. “No. I don’t think I did.”
“She was Martha’s cousin. She worked on the floor that handled the ghost shift. This is Martha’s first year knowing the truth of it. I, uh…well, I might have pulled some strings to make sure she had the week off from UNIT to be in London with her family.”
He watched as she wavered, and nearly turned away. She looked down at the flowers, and then let her eyes wander around the plaza. She caught sight of him and he raised a hand in a small wave. She waved back.
“Jack?”
“Yeah?”
Ianto took a shaky breath and started toward Martha. He would show her where he’d left his own flowers this year, and the year before. Maybe they could talk for a little while. “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you when you get back,” Jack said. “Drive safe, and send Martha my love.”
“Will do.” Ianto let his phone snap shut and took Martha’s hand.