Torchwood: Fanfic: Grieving

[m_findlow]

Title: Grieving
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 757 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for m_findlow's prompt "Any, any, comfort received for comfort given" at fic_promptly
Summary: Ianto didn't know who to turn to in his hour of need.

Ianto wasn't sure what to do with himself. He wasn't even sure he was himself, anymore. After everything that had happened he felt disembodied, like he was sort of floating overhead, but disconnected from the real world. The real world was currently beyond his comprehension. How could the world be the way it was? Where was the fairness in that?

He'd kept going, because he knew he had to rather than because he wanted to. There was still a whole city to be fixed in the wake of Gray's destruction. There was little he could practically do. The police and emergency services had a job to do, and they were the ones best placed to do it. Hospitals would be overflowing, their A and E departments stretched beyond anything they'd ever experienced. There'd be casualties, he knew that much. Each one should have hurt, but there were only two casualties on his mind. Selfishly, they were the only ones that mattered. All the others had family and friends to grieve for them. For Tosh and Owen, he was the only family and friends they had. It was his job to grieve for them.

Gwen had been sent home, or more to the point, Rhys had insisted she come home. It would be good for her to go home and away from here. Tomorrow would be hard enough and come all too soon.

He walked across the hub, so empty and silent now, a long slow procession towards the last place he'd seen his friend alive. Gone was the blood on the steps, cleaned away, as was the detritus from trying to save Tosh. He'd done that. The monitors overhead were switched off, the feeds from the now defunct nuclear power plant someone else's problem. He didn't want to see them and be reminded that Owen had died there alone. He walked along the steps and sat down on them, halfway between the top and the bottom.

John Hart was thankfully gone. Jack had dealt with him whilst Ianto was down in the morgue, putting Tosh's broken body to rest. He didn't care how much John Hart claimed innocence; this was his fault. None of this would have happened if he'd just stayed out of their lives. More to the point, if he'd stayed out of Jack's life. Whatever good intentions he'd had, trying to find Jack's brother had all come to naught. Ianto knew better than anyone that sometimes it was best just to let go of loved ones. Some things couldn't be fixed. It was better to remember them as they'd been, not as what they'd become.

He'd avoided Jack for that reason. Jack and John had history. What happened when the dust settled wasn't for him to get involved in, but he was glad John was gone, all the same.

There was a sound of familiar footsteps pacing across the concrete. The sound of them got louder, dropping down the steps until they were right next to him. Ianto caught a glimpse of the dark pants and shirt. Jack had changed his clothes, donning the dark shades as if in mourning. Wordlessly, Jack sat down beside him.

What did they do now? Ianto wondered. Was there anything they could do? Were they even the same people they'd been yesterday? What would all of this mean for Jack, buried for two thousand years and then forced to confront this? Was this the end for Torchwood, and more importantly for them? How did they go on from here?

He needn't have continued wondering. Jack's head leant in against his own. Arms wrapped around him and the silent sobbing began, Jack's body shaking against him. Apart from a few tears shed when the light had left Tosh's eyes, Jack had been stoic and almost unemotional. Ianto should have known it was all a front. It was what Jack did best, keeping a smile on his face even when everything was falling apart. He did it for their sakes, more than for his own.

Ianto's own tears welled up and fell silently down his face. He'd held them in reserve so long he thought perhaps they'd never come. It turned out all he'd been waiting for was someone to share them with. He turned his body toward Jack's, holding it as the weight of all his grief came crashing down on him. He needed Jack just as much as Jack needed him. Now that nobody else needed either of them, they could finally find time for each other.