Who: Ianto Jones & Jack Harkness What: Visits in a lonely dream Where: Dreamland When: Tuesday night Warnings: None; will update
Jack had a series of ups and downs since arriving to the prison. Most of the time he spent making weapons that could be used against the threats on the prison, of which he knew there could be many. Vampires, werewolves, that was just the beginning. He had someone who locked an angel up in death row and the poor thing screamed at night, making the most ungodly noises he'd ever heard. But, he'd made a promise to that angel, never to let him out no matter how much he begged or how loud he screamed for help. It usually came at night, when everyone else was sleeping, but right now everything was quiet. The prison was completely silent like it had been the night before the attack by Buffy. The night he'd been shot in the heart, again, and someone else had found out about his ability.
He'd become increasingly paranoid in the past months about the people that had held him captive tracking him down. He knew Faith had thought rationally when she told him that the government had bigger things to worry about, but he knew, somewhere out there they were coming. Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but it was going to happen.
Tonight he wasn't tinkering with any new technology (despite the mess strewn about his desk of different components, pieces and scrap electronics), just flipping through old files, the only files he managed to take out of Torchwood before he let the whole thing go to Hell.
With a drink in hand, his fourth or fifth of the night, he sifted through the photos. One was of Toshiko's birthday; they'd taken a photo of the four of them, himself, Owen, Ianto and her with a film camera on a timer. They were all grinning like idiots, wearing party hats and drinking champagne. There was Toshiko's favorite cake in front of her, the vanilla kind with rainbow sprinkles.
Jack smiled a little and rubbed at his eyes to keep the tears from coming as he grabbed the second photo, slowly going through them until tears were steadily streaming down his face. He downed the rest of the scotch and poured himself another, almost missing the glass in his drunkenness. He drank that back, too, and was barely steady enough to make it to the small cot in the back of his office as the blackness began to set in, tears still streaming down his face.
“I did everything I could. Everything I could to stop it... 'm sorry I failed.” He muttered to no one, getting himself mostly on the bed and closing his eyes, quickly falling into a drunken slumber.
In a moment he woke again, in his dream world this time, breath curling from his mouth in white puffs, snow falling silently to the ground. He was in a wooded area with snow covered pines in the middle of a clearing, rubbing his arms to bring some feeling back to them. Everything around him was silent and still and Jack couldn't have felt more alone if he tried.