The ironic thing was that Ianto knew for the fact that Jack had never touched Gwen that way. Jack had respected Gwen’s relationship with Rhys, way more than Gwen herself. But that didn’t make Ianto feel any better. It seemed only to prove Owen’s point: that he had only been a part-time shag for Jack.
Would he otherwise had fallen for the other, the real Jack Harkness as hard as a schoolboy at his first crush? During the last week Tosh had found the time to tell him everything that had happened in the past. She felt that he had the right to know, and Ianto was grateful, even though it broke his heart.
There had doubtlessly been a great deal of hero worship on their Jack’s part, and there could be no doubt that the real Captain Jack Harkness most likely deserved it. He had been a hero. But that didn’t change the fact that Jack had only returned to their time because duty called.
He had not come back for Ianto. He had possibly completely forgotten about Ianto’s very existence.
And now he was lying in the morgue, dead, shielded by Gwen from everyone else, and Ianto couldn’t even say his farewells. It was almost too much to bear. Losing Jack, now that he had finally begun to overcome the loss of Lisa, the loss of all his friends at Canary Wharf…
Jack had given him purpose, after he had lost what was still there from Lisa. What was he supposed to do now, that Jack was gone, too?
He took Jack’s greatcoat from the coat rack behind the desk (he had advanced from the main Hub area to cleaning the office, not that it would have needed cleaning, just to occupy himself with some blessedly mindless task), and buried his face in the thick wool. It still held Jack’s unique scent, those blasted fifty-first century pheromones that could make him weak-kneed, even now.
He didn’t even realise when his tears had started to fall.
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branchandroot
... and the second part of it...
Date: 2011-10-02 12:37 pm (UTC)Would he otherwise had fallen for the other, the real Jack Harkness as hard as a schoolboy at his first crush? During the last week Tosh had found the time to tell him everything that had happened in the past. She felt that he had the right to know, and Ianto was grateful, even though it broke his heart.
There had doubtlessly been a great deal of hero worship on their Jack’s part, and there could be no doubt that the real Captain Jack Harkness most likely deserved it. He had been a hero. But that didn’t change the fact that Jack had only returned to their time because duty called.
He had not come back for Ianto. He had possibly completely forgotten about Ianto’s very existence.
And now he was lying in the morgue, dead, shielded by Gwen from everyone else, and Ianto couldn’t even say his farewells. It was almost too much to bear. Losing Jack, now that he had finally begun to overcome the loss of Lisa, the loss of all his friends at Canary Wharf…
Jack had given him purpose, after he had lost what was still there from Lisa. What was he supposed to do now, that Jack was gone, too?
He took Jack’s greatcoat from the coat rack behind the desk (he had advanced from the main Hub area to cleaning the office, not that it would have needed cleaning, just to occupy himself with some blessedly mindless task), and buried his face in the thick wool. It still held Jack’s unique scent, those blasted fifty-first century pheromones that could make him weak-kneed, even now.
He didn’t even realise when his tears had started to fall.