m_findlow

Title: Too many tears
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack, mentions Gwen and Ianto
Word Count: 500 words
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for Challenge 108 - Dry at anythingdrabble
Summary: Jack can't stop his grief from overwhelming him.

Jack rubbed the back of his hand under his nose again, before using the heel of his palm to wipe away the rest of the tears blurring his vision. He would have cursed out loud except that his voice felt too shaky and his throat clogged full of everything that hadn't managed to drip from his nose.

He wanted desperately to be able to pull himself together but it felt impossible. He knew he was allowed to be sad at having lost two of the people he cared about more in this world than anything, but sad was one thing. Unable to function without turning into a blubbering mess every time he touched something that reminded him of them was another matter entirely.

At least he wasn't alone. There'd been barely a dry eye to be found anywhere these past few days. Gwen seemed to be in a permanent state of tears, even though she continued to work as much as she could, letting them stream freely down her face as if they'd always been there and weren't hindering her efforts in the least. He'd lost count of how many times he'd seen her just standing there in front of her computer, openly sobbing whilst running searches or rift analyses.

Ianto was equally diligent, but somehow keeping his own welled up without letting them fall, as if they'd irritate him with the mess they'd make when they spattered onto the pages in front of him. For all his stoicism, Jack had observed him disappearing for hours at a time, ostensibly working, yet returning just as red-eyed and sniffly as the rest of them.

Jack didn't try to hide it, but nor could he do anything to ease their pain. If he attempted a smile he knew it would crack before he even got halfway. Just raising his cheeks that much would only squeeze more tears from his eyes. For all his tactile nature - always there with a hand to reassure and comfort - now he couldn't bring himself to touch either of them in case this should all be some terrible hallucination in his mind where they might turn to smoke at the slightest touch. For now they were real and he wouldn't do anything to jeopardise that.

They all blamed themselves for what had happened. If only I hadn't trusted John so much, if only I'd gone in Owen's place, if only I hadn't let go of Gray's hand. If only, if only, if only. All the if only's in the world couldn't bring Tosh and Owen back. All Jack had was his grief and the tears that fell from his face to prove that they'd meant something to him and that their lives had meaning. They had meant something to him, and they had meant something to Gwen and Ianto.

An unexpected hand held out a tissue box toward him and he grabbed several, sniffing and drying his eyes before the next wave of tears could spring from nowhere.