Every Death is Mine
Jack died in the rain.
He came back to life with his head on Ianto’s lap. The young Welshman knelt beside Jack, leaning over him, trying to keep Jack’s face dry.
“Hey gorgeous,” Jack said huskily.
Ianto stood up without speaking and extended a hand to help Jack rise.
Jack looked at his chest where the weevil slashes were already healing. “This shirt’s ruined,” he lamented. “And it was my favourite.”
Ianto continued to stare at him without speaking.
“What? He didn’t get you too, did he?” Jack’s eyes darted over Ianto’s body, looking for injuries.
“You know full well you threw yourself between me and the weevil,” Ianto told him shortly.
“So?” Jack asked in confusion.
“I had the situation under control! You did not need to sacrifice yourself for me!”
“I was trying to help!”
“I didn’t need your help!”
The two men stared at each other, faces stormy.
Ianto finally looked away, then crossed the alley in two long strides. He clutched the lapels of Jack’s great coat, pulling the other man closer till their faces were just inches apart.
“Would you be more careful!” Ianto demanded. He shuddered, from the cold, from emotion. “Every time you die a part of me dies too.” He leaned forward till their foreheads touched. “Every single time,” he breathed.
“Ianto,” Jack sighed, and put his arms around Ianto. He held him close, reminding them both that he was alive.
He was alive.