Rating: Teen probably for now, but that may change later
Pairing(s): just Jack/Ianto for now
Summary: Jack has never really been alone, even if he hasn't known it himself.
Notes: Title and basic concept shamelessly borrowed from Jude Deveraux.This is my first ever attempt at Jack/Ianto or even slash fanfiction, so please be gentle. No beta I'm afraid, but I hope you'll give it a go anyway.
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or An Angel For Emily either, everything belongs to the BBC and Jude Deveraux respectively.
A/N: I am so sorry for completely ignoring this fic. I've just been having trouble with writing in general :( I am here with the next part though; it's very very weird and doesn't follow on well from the last part - this is intentional. Just go with it please? I'm working on the next part which will hopefully explain things a bit better.
Previous part: Prologue, Chapter 1
‘Who are you? How do you know me?’
‘I’ve always known you Jack. Always’
He felt the brush of fingertips against his cheek.
‘Don’t you know me Jack?’
Jack closed his eyes against the whisper in his ear, against the barest shiver of a touch on his face.
You’re mine Jack.’
The figure on the bed tossed and turned, sheets twisted tight beneath clawed fingers. He lay there, trapped beneath the covers, tied down to reality, tied down to this existence. New breath after breath of air seeping in to an air locked vessel. The impossible made possible. Man constantly fixed
She was beautiful. Walking through the crush of dancing couples he caught a glimpse of that smile, in space and time. Alone. Lone.
‘You’ve always been mine Jack’
heard a snatch of her laughter, ringing clear as a bell over the heads of everyone else, calling to him like a siren.
Estelle. Her name was Estelle.
She glittered in her beaded dress, twirling under the chandeliers in the Ritz ballroom. She blinded him. He wrangled an introduction.
‘No one can hold a candle to you tonight Miss.’
‘Oh, hark at you Captain Harkness!’
The tinkling of chimes washed over him like a baptism. Her scent, her sound engulfed his senses. He lost all sense of reason.
He fell in love.
He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t stand to watch her die or see the expression of disbelief turn to horror on her face when he didn’t. He never thought if he truly loved her then he might’ve allowed her the courtesy of making her own decision.
‘You’re mine Jack.’
He never thought in all his noble self sacrificing that perhaps he just didn’t love her enough, or maybe not in the way that she deserved.
No, the thought never crossed his mind.
Don’t you know Jack?
You’re mine Jack.
I’m never letting you go again.
So why was he thinking it now?