Author's Note: So this is set during The End of the World, (Doctor Who S1E02). Jack is not the Face of Boe. This is very short... stuff like that.

This can be taken as a coda to any of my stories.


Jack took his partner's hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it without taking his eyes off the scene before them. The other man shifted closer to him, nearly into his lap, and held him, giving the comfort Jack sought. They'd brought their bedding into the observation deck and laid it out on the floor with the viewing panel completely open, and were lying together with their backs against the wall, arms around each other and gazes fixed on the spectacle. The viewing panel was filled with fiery red and gold, sparkling and dancing and burning as the Earth died.

"I'm sorry," Jack said at last, tightening his arms around his partner's waist. It made him feel like the most selfish man ever, but he couldn't have let go. He'd give him anything else he asked, but not that – not freedom.

"What are you sorry for?"

"For bringing you with me, to this." He swallowed hard. "For dragging you through so much, for so long. No one should have to have lived that."

"You had to live it too," he pointed out.

"I had you, though," Jack smiled sadly and held him tighter, resting his cheek on his hair. "That made it worth it."

"Jack... can't you understand that it's the same for me?" he snuggled closer and waved one hand briefly, then rested it back against Jack's chest. "You gave me the stars and all of time. And you gave me yourself."

He swallowed. "It's all I have to give."

"It's all I ever wanted," Ianto assured him.