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Too Many Words (TW SA)

Title: Too Many Words
Rating: pg?
Summary: Jack can't help but regret all those words that he didn't say....
Characters/Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Disclaimer: the characters all belong to RTD and the BBC, etc, I don’t own them.
Author’s Notes: post COE, another 'how does Jack feel' sort of thing, inspired by Take That's The Circus (song). Very short, but found it sitting on my computer, finished and wondered why I hadn't posted it before. It's been a while since I've posted something! Have a couple of half started long fics I may finish too. Anyway....


‘I love you was too many words to say’.

It was too late now, too late to go back and change a thing. There was nothing that Jack could do.

He blamed himself, of course he did. He had no one else to blame. And for once it was all his fault. He knew it was.

Yet, would he have done it all differently? If he had more time.

He was always destined to be the man who was too late, the one who kept his feelings to himself, and stupidly didn’t say a thing. That was just who he was. He was the man who had waited a hundred years, and then missed anything else that came his way. He was selfish.

They were just three too many words that he didn’t know how to say.

How could he ever utter those words and really mean them? He knew at the end of the day, he would be left behind. This happened time after time. It did when you were destined to live so long.

So Jack paced up and down, ignoring the aching in his feet – he deserved it after all – trying to make a reason or a sense for this.

Yet in all his long life, it seemed that there was never a reason, not for anything. Time would heal, eventually, wouldn’t it?

That was the problem he thought. He had grown too detached. He hadn’t cared enough. He wasn’t human enough anymore. He forgot... it was so easy to forget, when you lived like he did, that other people were frail, their lives were like a thread, hanging perilously and able to break at any moment, whilst he kept on going, no matter what he trampled over.

That was what it was.

Or had he cared too much?

Too much to turn it into a lie, and say... if he had said it, he would have meant it. He would.

He was just too cowardly. Too late. Always in the wrong time.

And now he was alone again.



Comments

( 8 comments — Leave a comment )
owensheart
Sep. 7th, 2010 01:21 pm (UTC)
Both your story and your icon broke my heart.
sophie_03
Sep. 8th, 2010 09:31 pm (UTC)
aw I'm sorry, thank you for reading! :)
jooles34
Sep. 7th, 2010 02:07 pm (UTC)
Oh, lovely little fic. Great way of looking at this time. Nicely done.
sophie_03
Sep. 8th, 2010 09:32 pm (UTC)
thank you very much :)
aviv_b
Sep. 7th, 2010 07:10 pm (UTC)
Great story. So much said in just a few sentances.
sophie_03
Sep. 8th, 2010 09:32 pm (UTC)
thank you so much :)
badly_knitted
Sep. 8th, 2010 08:52 pm (UTC)
So sad. Jack has too much time, and those he loves never have enough.
sophie_03
Sep. 8th, 2010 09:32 pm (UTC)
I know, very sad indeed. Thanks for reading!
( 8 comments — Leave a comment )

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quotes and things

“He’s like fire and ice and rage. He’s like the night and the storm and the heart of the sun…

He’s ancient and forever. He burns at the centre of the time and he can see the turn of the universe…and he’s wonderful.”

“They say you’re supposed to talk to people when they’re in a coma, don’t they? I have absolutely no idea whether you can hear me Jack.

I never heard of anyone coming out of one and carrying on the conversation. So I suspect it’s probably something the doctors tell us to do. To make us feel better, rather than help you. We don’t feel quite so useless and helpless. We get the feeling there’s still some sort of purpose in our lives. We’re not just waiting. Waiting for the science to work. Or the miracle to happen. Or the nightmare to end.

I’m not much of a talker Jack, you know that, but I’ll talk to you now on the off chance that it helps.

Just promise me, if you’re hearing this, that when you come round - and you’re going to Jack. You’re gonna come out of this - just promise me you’ll bring up anything I say to you now. How’s that? We got a deal?

This must be the longest I’ve ever looked at you and not see you smile. I’ve watched you in your sleep, did you know that? So many times.

Just woken up beside you in the middle of the night, and watched you. Watched your eyes move behind your eyelids as you dreamed. I tried to imagine what a man like you could possibly dream about. Things you’ve seen. The lives you’ve lived. The people you’ve loved. I wondered if you were dreaming about me, I hoped you’d be dreaming about me.

But let’s be honest Jack. I’m nothing more than a blip in time for you. Everyday I grow a little older. But you’re immortal. You’ve already lived a thousand lifetimes. How could you watch me grow old and die? How can I watch you live and never age a day?

I suppose we both know that will never be a problem. Not in this job. No-one in Torchwood ever lives to draw their pension, do they? Even if, by some miracle, I survive to see my hair turn grey, or god forbid fall out, I don’t kid myself that you’d still be around to see it.

One day you’ll go again, just like you did before, and this time you won’t be back.

Maybe that’s what you’re dreaming about those nights when I watch you sleeping. Maybe that’s why, even when you sleep, I see you smile. But you haven’t gone yet, Jack. I know that. I know you’re coming back to me.”

"But you never will be just a blip in time, Ianto Jones. Not for me."
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