[TW Fic] Oh Captain, My Captain
Title: Oh Captain, My Captain [1/1]
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Rating: 12
Word Count: 1,712
Warnings: Character death. You might need a tissue.
Disclaimer: Not RTD, not the BBC. I don’t own anything. If someone wanted to give me Ianto though, I wouldn’t say no. Title is taken from Walt Whitman’s poem of the same name.
Summary: He is going to die. It terrifies him. But Jack is here. That’s all that matters. Jack is here.
Author Notes: Writing this made me cry. I hardly ever cry when I write. Hopefully some of that emotion has translated onto the page. Unbeta’d, please forgive any mistakes.
By the time he hears the footsteps in the alley-way, it is too late. He is trapped, and as three shots are fired off in quick succession, it’s all he can do to remain on his feet. He pulls the trigger of his gun blindly, fingers shaking, and hopes that the years of target practise mean he has hit his mark. And then the pain is everywhere as the blackness surrounds him.
***
“Ianto!”
Jack!
It’s alright now, his captain is here. He can’t open his eyes, can’t feel anything but the pain so fierce in his stomach, spreading through his body and making his head swim. But Jack is here. Jack will save him, as he has done so many times before.
But this time is different. This time, he is going to die.
The fact that he can accept it so easily surprises him. It scares him, but it’s inevitable. He’s had a good innings, after all; he’s Torchwood, and Torchwood operatives always die young. He’s managed to reach thirty, a ripe old age for his life, and he’s seen and done so, so much - things that most people couldn’t even imagine. It’s not always been easy - sometimes it’s been hard to find a reason to carry on - but it has most definitely been worth it. He wouldn’t have changed anything for the world. Hopefully he’s not going to die for nothing. Hopefully he killed the alien bastard that killed him, saved the world from one more threat.
He is going to die. It terrifies him. But Jack is here. That’s all that matters. Jack is here.
“Ianto Jones, don’t you dare give out on me!”
Jack’s voice is loud, too loud. It hurts his head, but it doesn’t matter. He hurts so much anyway; he can’t move for the pain and the weakness that has spread through his body. But it’s Jack’s voice, commanding and soothing all at the same time, and that’s the most important thing in his universe.
Jack, Jack, Jack.
And then Jack is there, kneeling by his side, tearing at his clothes to get at the wounds. Ianto laughs at that; a dry, humourless laugh that makes him sure his stomach is going to tear apart and leaves him breathless. “C-can’t wait to get my clothes off,” he whispers, voice hoarse, every word an effort. The hands leave his side, moving to gently lift his head onto Jack’s lap, holding him close.
He is going to die. He knows that Jack knows it too, even as he phones for an ambulance.
“Ianto, look at me. Let me see those beautiful eyes of yours.”
Something wet is falling on his face. Slowly, carefully, he opens his eyes to see tears falling from Jack’s beautiful face, the blue eyes he loves so much swimming, just slightly out of focus. He doesn’t want to die, doesn’t want to leave Jack; there is so much he hasn’t done yet. He hasn’t told Jack that he loves him, hasn’t found out if Jack has ever felt the same way about him. He hasn’t told anybody how to use the coffee machine in the Hub; if he dies, Jack will have to drink some shop’s crappy coffee and there’ll be nobody to get him places on time, or make sure that he hangs his coat up properly…
If he dies, Jack will be all alone again.
“I’m sorry.” It is getting harder and harder to speak now as the life drains from his body, weakening him. “Don’t…don’t cry.” Jack shouldn’t be crying for him; he doesn’t want to see his captain like this. Jack feels, yes, but he doesn’t break down. Not his captain. His captain is strong; he has to be, always living on after everyone else, looking after them all, even as they breathe their last breath. Seeing Jack so unrestrained, so clearly upset, scares him more than the thought of dying.
“Shh, shh.” Jack is rocking him gently, stroking and caressing, hands warm on his rapidly cooling face. Shouldn’t it be him who is crying, him who cannot stand the thought of the blackness beyond? But it is Jack who is going to be left behind again, just as he had been when Toshiko and Owen died, when Gwen started her family. It is Jack who has to live on without him. Without any of them.
He is going to die. Jack is going to be alone.
Jack. Don’t be sad, Jack. Don’t mourn.
He has to tell Jack how he feels now, before it is too late. What they feel for each other has never been said openly, although they are distinctly a couple now more than ever. Feelings have always been so hard for both of them to express with words, and so it has always been taken for granted, actions always preferred. It can’t be taken for granted now, though. If he doesn’t say the words, he will never get a chance to say them. He can’t leave Jack without saying them. “I lo…”
He gasps, each breath shallower than the last. He hasn’t got long now, his brain registers coldly; time is running out. Even in death, his love of timekeeping doesn’t disappear completely. How many minutes before the stopwatch runs down for good? “J-Jack, I love…”
And Jack is there, hands on his cheeks, reassuring, even though the tears are falling faster and faster and his voice is choked. “I know, Ianto. I love you too.”
He smiles then, looking into those beautiful blue eyes and wishing that he didn’t have to leave. He doesn’t want to go, doesn’t want to leave Jack. Jack is always so lonely, and to become just another of the ghosts in his past isn’t something that he has ever wanted; he wants Jack to be happy and loved, even if he can’t be there to share the happiness with him. Maybe Jack realises his worries, because he hauls him up, holding him as close to his chest as he can, running a finger over his cold, dry lips before kissing them gently.
He is so helpless. So fucking helpless. He can’t even kiss Jack back. He shouldn’t be like this; all his life, he has been the one that looks after everyone else, making sure that their needs are sorted before looking after his own, sorting everything out single-handedly. He knows everything, but there is still so much that he hasn’t learned. He is the one that is prepared for every situation, yet here he is, unable to do anything to stop the inevitable. So helpless to fight the darkness looming. Jack kisses him again; he is raining kisses over his face, trying to breathe life back into him. Making him feel alive for those moments before death strikes its final blow.
Jack’s kiss revived him once before, when he was slipping from consciousness. Every time he has kissed him, a fire has lit in his belly; warming his insides and spreading through his body. Jack’s kisses make everything better, even when the worst has happened. Maybe he hopes it will do it again, that some of the excess life Jack has will pass into him. But not this time.
He is going to die. It won’t be long now before he is consumed by the darkness.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, and now tears are in his eyes too, the pain and the sadness and the knowledge that Jack won’t have anyone too much for him to handle. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to be with Jack forever, but somehow it had never registered. Now he doesn’t want to leave. For an immortal, Jack deals with death badly; Ianto has always been there to help. Now he won’t be able to. He doesn’t want to inflict that pain upon him. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
He tries to reach up his hand to brush the tears from Jack’s cheeks, but he finds that he can’t move his arm. He is too weak, too helpless, too far gone. Instead, he grasps Jack’s shirt as tight as he can in his fist, fingers running over cotton desperately, as if the motion will give him a grasp on life too. Jack is making soothing noises, his mouth ghosting over his ear, his cheek, his lips, trying to make him forget the pain. But blood is everywhere, on the ground, on both their hands, soaking through their clothes. He can’t forget the pain, not when it’s burning him up. “I got…got blood on your shirt,” he says, making Jack smile through the tears.
It’s not Jack’s real smile, though; it doesn’t reach his eyes. Not the one that makes his stomach flip over and his heart stutter. It can’t be the real one, because Jack knows he is going to lose him. It is only a matter of time.
“That’s my Ianto,” Jack whispers back, “always my Ianto. Worried about the mess.” And the tears fall freely at that; he has no way to hold them back. There is no need to be the one to hide behind a mask of stalwartness anymore. He has every right to cry.
My Jack.
“I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry.” The words are a jumble now, each one running into the next, barely comprehensible; just a babbling mess of thoughts spilling out in his last few breaths, joining the blood on the ground. “Don’t want you to be alone. Always alone, Jack. Don’t want to die. Should’ve noticed. Should’ve stopped it. Sorry. Sorry.”
And then he can’t breathe; the pain is overwhelming him, dragging him under and he can feel the blood pool around him. He knows that this is the end. There is the faint sound of a siren in the distance, but it is too late. There’s just him and Jack in this alley, and he is going to die with those strong arms wrapped tightly around him. There are worse ways to go. He looks up to the blue eyes again, scared and sorry for the sorrow and the loss he sees in them before they slip completely out of focus.
Oh Jack, my Captain. I love you, Jack. Remember me.
“Ianto, Ianto, stay with m-”
My Jack.