This came from the idea about what Jack would have done when he came back from the end of children of earth. Hope you like it.

There was a hiss of dispersed, heavy air, a faint blue light issuing from the space around it. A couple of seconds later, and Captain Jack Harkness appeared in the cemetery. The snow that covered the ground made the place look eerie, yet beautiful.

He made his way to a place he wished with all his heart wasn't there. His shoes were making noises that should have accompanied by someone else's.

It was freezing. Jack rubbed his hands together to try and warm them up. He knew that his hands should have been encased in someone else's flesh, not his.

He shouldn't be making this journey. Not here. Not now. Not him.

Jack passed an old couple holding hands, their faces protected from the biting nip of January wind by red beanie hats. They were carrying a bouquet of dead flowers, presumably heading toward the big black bins that people put old flowers in.

Flowers- no, that would make it final. Besides, it would just remind him of Valentines Day.....

'Jack, you didn't have to, I-'Ianto started to say, but Jack silenced him with a kiss

'I wanted to, you mean so much to me, and besides, it's Valentines Day!'

Ianto laughed and hugged jack tight, treasuring these moments.

'Yeah, but you do know I would have preferred the chocolate!' he whispered into his ear.

Jack chuckled out loud, and the couple scowled at him. Jack mouthed sorry, and made his way further up. He stopped next to a smart, grey stone gravestone. He took a deep, steadying breath, and looked at the inscription, written in small, neat black letters:

Here lies Ianto Jones


Forever in our hearts

Gone, but not forgotten

Jack didn't even realise he was crying.

Why? That was the question that had haunted jack more than anything else. Ianto should be here, enjoying the snow, enjoying New Year, trying to lose weight after the Christmas period. The same thing he did every year.

It wasn't fair. Jack took out a smart, blue silk handkerchief out of his pocket, and rubbed at his eyes and dabbed his nose. He would never blow his nose in it.

It was Ianto's handkerchief.

He had to have something to remind him. He had the memories, the photos, the mementos, but he had to have something that belonged to him.

He sniffed it.

It smelt of Ianto.

Jack crumpled; he made his way to a bench and sat. He put his head in his hands and wept. He don't how long he stayed like that, but in the time he made a promise.

He got up, and started to make his way out of the cemetery, all the while thinking to himself.

He wouldn't have Ianto's coffee again.

He wouldn't sleep in his bed again

He wouldn't hold his hand again

He wouldn't laugh with him again

But he would have the memories

He would have photographs

He would have his coffee machine

As he made his way to the exit, he said his promise out loud

Ianto Jones- gone, but never forgotten.

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