Short: "In Mid-Wales"

[cyus]

Title: In Mid-Wales
Characters/Pairing: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness
Type/Setting: Gen
Rating: G
Length: 760
Summary: Things don't last, not really.
Notes: experimenting, horizonssing summer challenge, day five prompt



"Here- what do you think? You can put a tie across here, a tie in stone?" Ianto laughed.

"Ianto."

"Jack."

They stopped, standing where they were, the wind coming in from the sea. Two hours from Cardiff, somewhere in the nothingness of mid-Wales where forests were still forests and the hills sloped up with a person every now and then, and more sheep, they stood at the edge of an overhang. Ianto crouched, looking out at the valley below while Jack wandered among the graves behind them, old stones with green mould, the names barely comprehensible, letters worn down from age.

"You said you wanted something proper," Ianto said with a shrug.

"I just-"

Ianto turned to look up at Jack who was standing with his hands in the pockets of his coat. "You said."

Jack shrugged. "It came up."

"You're not doing this for me. I couldn't care less where my body ends up."

Sullen, Jack kicked at a stone. It rolled down the slope. "Thought it'd be nice to have a place, that's all. For you- for-"

"You're sentimental." It came out a little mocking.

Jack looked at him, eyes hard. "I'm human."

Silence stretched between them that the birds filled with cries as Jack huddled deeper into his coat, staring at the forest ground, then up.

"I'm sorry." Ianto straightened to step up to Jack, glancing at him glancing out over the valleys.

Jack's finger traced over one of the headstones, fingernail scratching at mould. His jaw worked, tight. He shrugged, a non-answer to an unasked-question, like an internal monologue unrolling.

"Come on." Ianto gestured, stopped short of taking his hand.

Weaving between overgrown graves Ianto led them from the cemetery back to the village. Old houses stood side by side, some worn down to the barest walls by age. The people that still lived there, most of them well past sixty, living on the milkman and the grocer that came by every week, were watching with distrust, following the strangers' every step, the man in the suit and another in a military coat. The sandy road swallowed their footsteps as they walked through the village, passing the forgotten houses. An abandoned children's playground, an old swing, half fallen away, a rusted metal grate for climbing sat at the edge of the village, just before the road weaved off towards the nearest town.

"I used to come here. Not just as a kid." A bird soared overhead. "Later, when Cardiff seemed too big and London too busy. You know how it gets. Well, maybe you don't. Haven't been back in a while." An elderly woman passed by them, not paying them any thought. "I remember them, they don't remember me. Strange how that-" He cleared his throat. "If you need a place-" Ianto shrugged and twirled the swing hanging from one metal chain. The chain jangled.

"It doesn't last," Jack said, gesturing at the playground. "Ten years, maybe twenty, but then..." He trailed off, rubbing a thumb over the rust of the metal poles holding up the swing

"But I won't last either, Jack." Ianto stepped close to Jack, tapping his fingers to Jack's head. "Ten years, maybe twenty, in here." He shrugged, and closed the distance between them. "You've loved before, you've lost before. You don't stop but- it fades." He shrugged. "I guess. I wouldn't know, really."

Jack nodded even as he made to shake his head.

"It's not now. It's not tomorrow but then, and ten years later, twenty years later. It'll be good it will be gone."

Jack turned from the close contact and walked away. Ianto watched him: the coat flapping in the wind.

*

Years later, the swing holding on by a thread, a man in a greatcoat walked through the village. They watched him, wary, the man with the military coat. He stood by the old playground for a few minutes and knotted a pink tie around the chain just holding the swing up. Then he left and the tie blew in the wind.

He came back, every few months, then every few years until they didn't remember when he came and when he didn't, until the village stood nearly empty and the buildings were rotting, somewhere in mid-Wales.

The tie, then grey and thread-bare, had slid to lie in the grass and mud as he crouched next to it, the wind chasing clouds over the sky.

"Everything's gone, son," an old woman said, her hand on his shoulder.

The man in the military coat looked up and nodded. He touched the strip of fabric, not nearly pink or a tie any longer, then stood and walked away with a polite nod to the woman and a last look over his shoulder.

He never came back.

Comments

[kenazfiction.livejournal.com]

Oh, christ. You just completely broke my heart.

[cyus.livejournal.com]

Glad it worked then. It was just an idea, really, and I didn't know what to do with that pink tie prompt. So hey, am glad it broke your heart, in some roundabout way.

[momebie.livejournal.com]

Urgh. Ties. I love you.

[jo02]

Damn, you made me just burst into tears ... grr

[alba17.livejournal.com]

Ohh. My. That was heartbreaking. Yep, I've got tears too.

[tawabids.livejournal.com]

I kind of want to post a rather inappropriate macro-speak comment like "OMG WINNA!!!!1!", but I won't. Just know that, deep in my heart, I can't find intelligible English to compliment this.

[thrace-adams.livejournal.com]

OMG I think that broke me. He came back utnil there wsa nothing left to come back to. Oh Jack.

[cinderblock42.livejournal.com]

Yep, heartbreaking describes this story pretty perfectly. Making me cry before I have to leave to work isn't very nice, you know? ::sniffels::

Thank you for posting your beautiful story.

[blackbird-song.livejournal.com]

Oh, god, this is hard. And so very beautiful and true. It's easy for us, in our obsession with the powerful feelings between these characters, to lose sight of or ignore the devastation that would come to Jack when Ianto must die, and of his need to remember as best he can, for as long as he can, those who were so important to him. Thank you for addressing this so perfectly here. I won't be able to sleep now, of course, but it was well worth reading this.

Catherine

[dvanulya.livejournal.com]

Beautifully done.

[hab318princess.livejournal.com]

Heartbreakingly beautiful, poor Jack.

[adjovi.livejournal.com]

jesus...ouch. beautiful, but ouch!

[takenatwork.livejournal.com]

Even though it's going to hurt Jack, I like how Ianto tries to keep it real. Lovely and sad, thank you.

[calanthe4642.livejournal.com]

This breaks my heart. I have just discovered your fic...you are truly talented.

[cyus.livejournal.com]

Thanks for saying that, and hey- cool that have you have found my fiction and enjoyed it. I appreciate the time you took to comment. Thanks.

[lawsontl.livejournal.com]

This is the first time I've read a post-death Ianto fic that wasn't schmaltzy, and this one really did hit where it hurts. Man, you have a way with words - and an economy of them, as well.

[cyus.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

it was important to me to make this as real as possible. Both Ianto and Jack strike me as people that mourn, and feel pain, but they are not the types to be overly sentimental (mostly because they don't have time for that) and I like the idea of Ianto helping Jack to deal with Ianto's own death (apparently I do see Ianto as the more pragmatic of the two). And it hurts, because death does, but when you are part of Torchwood and when you are Jack it won't be the first and it won't be the last time.

Thanks for the comment, I appreciate it. And glad you like the technical aspect of the writing as well.

[parmanya.livejournal.com]

One thing that is important to me about TW deathfic, that you never fail to incorporate and for which I am grateful, is acknowledged in this fic: Human memory (and Jack *is* Human!) - is not built on the scale of decades, never mind centuries or millenia. Love is essential, critical, but - it is *true*, that Jack can't remember Ianto forever, not in any sort of detail. And that's - all right. It may not be what *we* want to think about, but it's healthy and human and all right. He will have other people in his life to fill the emptiness. That may not be what we want to read about, or think about, but for Jack's reality, it is necessary. And for a personal reference - yeah. Try to remember the people who were in your (I mean the general you not the specific you) life ten or twenty or (depending on your age) thirty years ago, the people you loved, who were most important to you. Think of examples of times you spent with them, conversations you had with them. Experiences you shared. Try to recall the most explicit details you can... And that's only a quarter of a century... And Jack and Ianto, at best had - what, three years together? It's a tragedy, but - it's a hard fact. It isn't what I wanted, but it's the reality.
Of course, we'll always have AU's...and fanfic.
This doesn't mean we have to *dwell* on these aspects, but - I _do_ like the idea of Ianto trying to prepare Jack, and trying to comfort him. It feels right, to me. Even though he could use some comfort himself, and I don't honestly think he got it. But that's in character too. Maybe a bit from Tosh, or Gwen even. They were his *friends*, and there's canon evidence that they talked/spent time together. I'll stop rambling on your comment thread now (sorry for the sleep-deprivation-induced philosophical meandering...)

[cyus.livejournal.com]

PS. For non-economy of words (or at least a different economy of words), try Notebird. I'm not always as contained as all this in fiction.

[traciaknows.livejournal.com]

I have just found your fic. It's sharp and stark, and offers an alternative to the typical Torchwood fic out there. You have a given us a glimpse into the painfully real side to our show, and even though I like my fic just slightly softer, I really look forward to reading more. Thank you.

[cyus.livejournal.com]

Now this was a surprise comment. I'm kind of curious how you ended up on this fic. And you're probably the first to read this since CoE - must be kind of strange, but hey, glad you found me and gald you enjoy my stories. The interest in writing fanfiction for Torchwood has always come from looking at the dark places within in Torchwood for me, it's always been about looking behind things and into corners and illuminate the bad stuff. It's there in canon and I know other authors ignore that often, and without being judgmental, because it's cool that they do, I've always wanted to show what I don't find in a lot of other fiction. So I'm glad to hear that that works and that it works for you even if you usually prefer the edges softened a bit (having recently had a spree of, well, domestic fic, I suppose, I can relate, maybe).

Sharpness and darkness and a valid alternative, I'm gladly taking those as compliments, and thanks very much for taking the time to leave them here.