The Black Pot

You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die.

There's supposed to be a second part to that quote. Nor you for me. But there isn't. Not for him. Not for Jack. Jack will be able to give that to him, but he won't be able to do the same. Assuming he lives long enough for that to become a problem, which he doesn't really expect to. He hasn't really pictured himself growing old, and especially not since he joined Torchwood. It's just too much a high-risk job.

And what will happen if he does? Jack will watch him age and wither away, become an old man with grey hair and wrinkles. But Jack won't age, won't change hardly at all. Maybe a year or two, over the whole span of Ianto's life. And while no one really looks forward to aging, some comfort can be gained from having someone to grow old with. Supposedly. That's what people say. It's just that the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, well, has much more life than he does. It doesn't seem fair, but then, since when has life been fair?

It's fear, that's what it is. Fear of the unknown, and of facing it by himself. He doesn't really know what's coming; everyone he's known has either died young or aged prematurely. And as much as he trusts the fact that Jack will love him always, regardless of how old he is or what he looks like, how can he ask that of Jack? How can he ask Jack to stay with him like that?

His voice shakes a bit when he finally speaks. "I don't want to get old. No one does. But it beats the alternative." He pauses and almost sits down again before adding, "I hope."

Q stands up. “A very astute man once made the observation: ‘What a drag it is getting old’. And I have to say I agree. Your body aches, your eyesight deteriorates, and you start to go deaf.” He nods at Reg. “Your clothes don’t fit and you forget things. Who wants to go through all that? Not me. No thanks.” He shakes his head. “Growing old gracefully is an oxymoron if you ask me. Not that I want to live forever,” Q frowns. “I don’t think I would anyway. Unless it would be possible to read everything I wanted to before I died.” He sighs. “No, I just don’t see how that could work. I think living forever would be bloody boring. I got a few extra years, even though I didn’t ask for them. I’ll take what I’ve got and hope I die before I get old. Or at least before I start to wear my pants on my head.” He sits back down, brooding.

Growing old. Aging.

... Hell.

Jack has plenty he could say about it, but none of it is something he wants to say. Growing old, aging process, time travel— yeah, fantastically cheerful stuff. Growing old? Doesn't apply to him, he thinks. What aging process? Maybe in a long, long time from now he'll have a few more fine lines, a few more grey hairs mixed with the brown, but that seems to be all the aging his body's capable of and maybe it's just stress wearing on him a bit, no real cellular degeneration. And even the stress lines that suggest a bit of aging of a history of laughing a lot smooth out so much when he's truly relaxed, so he's not sure if they count, either. Growing old is something other people do because they're mortal and he isn't.

Then again, he hasn't even seen much of other people growing old, not truly. He only spent the first couple decades of his life around Boeshane, and that wasn't much time to see anyone age considerably. His father never got the chance; his mother, no idea, aged quicker than usual by grief but never old in the time he knew her, and he has no idea how long she might've lived to be. And— Gray. Yeah. A kid, and then some twenty years later for Gray and over a century for Jack, jumped to psychotic adulthood. Estelle had been a young woman when Jack knew and loved her, and then when he knew her again, an old woman, missing the gradual aging decades in between. Seeing pictures and films of royalty aging over the decades wasn't like seeing someone you knew, although he'd hit on a couple of them from time to time. With everyone around him in Torchwood dying young, Jack has no idea what it's really like to see someone he knows aging from young to old and he can't experience it himself.

If he had the choice of aging? Yeah, he much prefers being locked into his looks to growing older. It'd really suck to be a withered old man forever, much better having his strength and looks still. The very gradual aging, though, has him worried. Maybe someday he'll be that.

Not something he's going to tell just anyone about, though. As far as most of them know— obviously the Doctor and Ianto are exceptions with how he feels about them, and "Death" is, well, yeah, knows otherwise because that's what that being does. He isn't going to consider for long the one who knows differently from testing out his resurrecting over and over. The rest of them, though, can just go on thinking he's as mortal as them. It isn't a good idea for them to know otherwise.

He clears his throat and smiles in a way that doesn't really touch his eyes. "Do any of us really have a choice about the aging process?" Or lack thereof. "Not counting Data's systems, of course. And come on, just look at me. Who wouldn't want to look this good as long as they could? That's about all I've got to say about that. Although, time travel? I don't know what our favorite waitress thinks time travel's going to do for aging. If you do a lot of time travelling, yeah, your body will accumulate a lot more artron energy, undergo cellular changes, develop a really improved immune system. A friend of mine got in a tough spot because someone figured that out about her and— anyway, besides the point, point is that you aren't going to erase the aging you've already done with time travel."

Data stands up. “I do not grow old as you mean the phrase. There has been a progression of time since my activation, but that is strictly a chronological measurement. My systems do not deteriorate as biological cellular structures do. I have an aging program that is designed to simulate the external effects of aging in my physical appearance, but that is strictly cosmetic. It can be disabled any time I wish.” He looks around the room. “I do have to watch the people around me growing old however. And I know that, in time, they will die and I will not. Everyone I have ever known or will know will predecease me. Fortunately, with my memory, I shall never forget any of them.” He sits back down and resumes taking readings with his tricorder.

Sorry for the delay, but you know how time flies when you're hiding in the pantry so you don't have to-. Well, I'm sure I need not go into details.

So, this month I think we shall all share our feelings on growing old. Do you see yourself growing old gracefully, or refusing to give up the robes you had when you were seventeen because they're of exceptional quality and they just don't cut them like they used to, thank you very much? Would you opt out of the aging process entirely if you had the choice? Or how about a bit of time travel?

The tag for this month is growing old and don't forget to claim your character here