Late afternoon, Jack walked into the Hub dragging a chair-sized metal frame behind him, all that was left of one of the smallest spaceships he’d ever encountered.  It smelt of fuel, smoke and all-encompassing oddness, but he had an interest in the few charred markings that remained so here it was.

Toshiko and Gwen trailed in behind him, weary and mud-soaked.

“Why don’t these things ever land anywhere dry or clean or…catered?” Gwen groaned as she sank onto the sofa and stretched her legs out, studying her ruined shoes.

“I’ll take a marsh over a Portaloo,” Toshiko reminded her of one of last year’s prime landing spots, and together they grimaced.

Owen emerged from the autopsy room and wandered over to Jack, examining the frame and making no sense of it.

“How d’you get on?” Jack asked him.

“Cause of death was asphyxiation.  I found a few grey granules lodged into a neck wound that correspond to last year’s Morphathings.”

“Morphathings?” Jack asked incredulously.

“You told me to call them something.”

“But Morphathings?”

“They’re things that morph, get over it.  Not good, eh?  I thought we had them all.”

“We’ll go out later, see if we can spot any more hedges with teeth.  Here, hold this.”  Owen cautiously grasped the nearest strut of the frame while Jack hurried into his office and began to turn out his desk.  “I’ve got a page of manuscript that came through the Rift a couple of decades ago.  If it isn’t exactly the same language it’s close enough to—”

Jack caught his breath as his fingers wrapped around something soft and silky that was pushed to the back of the bottom drawer.  Curious about the truncated sentence, Owen strained to see what had happened and observed as Jack sank into his chair and cradled something in his hands.

“What is it?” Owen called.  Jack shook his head, unable to speak.  “Shit, what now?” Owen murmured as Gwen came to join him, and they both peered into the office.

As they watched, Jack unravelled the item, and whether they recognised it or not, they knew.  One of Ianto’s ties.  The fact that it was so carefully tucked away allowed them to take a good guess at its significance.  Gwen and Owen exchanged a worried look, and even as they were telling themselves that Jack was strong, he was holding it all together, business as usual, the man in question gave a bone-deep shudder, crossed his arms on his desk, and dropped his head onto them.

For the first time, the depth of Jack’s mourning became public: he clung to the tie and unashamedly wept.

There was a clang as Owen released the frame and fled to his autopsy room; Gwen glanced around to Toshiko for help, but Toshiko was determinedly carrying on with her work, tears streaming down her face as she bit her lips and pounded away at her keyboard.

Unsurely inching her way forward, Gwen stopped in the office doorway, wanting to comfort Jack, urgently wanting Ianto back, but at a complete loss how to achieve either.  Backing away with the same uncertainty, she floundered before heading to the kitchen to make tea.  Only tea: no-one ever seemed to want coffee anymore.

It seemed a long time before Jack felt himself start to recover.  The rush of memories and emotions had hit him so fast and hard that the last dregs of energy were sapped from his body; in all honesty, it was a relief to finally stop struggling, to give himself over to the bitter amalgamation of loss and loneliness, grief and anger, and let the misery pour from him.  He didn’t question the necessity, just cried himself out and felt much better for the release; he certainly wasn’t embarrassed to express his feelings so openly.  This was about Ianto: everyone understood.

He wiped his eyes and nose on a cotton handkerchief which was no longer pristinely pressed, and studied the first-time tie with tearful relief.  Jack had been afraid to look for it in case he found that Ianto had reclaimed it, knowing that would have been taken as a symbol of Ianto’s regret over the first time ever having occurred at all.  But here it was.  A few more sniffles came and went as Jack thought back, recalling a cryptic sentence about a stopwatch and the happiness it had led to.

A mug of tea appeared at his elbow, and Gwen dithered before finally sitting opposite him.

“Thanks,” Jack said, still a little hoarse.

“You all right?  Please feel free to answer my stupid question with a stupid answer.”

“I am all right, yes.”  He sipped his tea and studied her, seeing the weight of his sadness upon her shoulders.  “Breaking down doesn’t mean giving up,” he assured her.

“I know.”

“He’ll be back, we have to stay strong and see this out.”

Gwen agreed with a weak smile and a meaningless nod.

They finished their tea without another word.  When Gwen moved to collect Jack’s mug she instead placed hers on the desk and leaned down to give him a hug.

“We need hope,” she whispered.

“I have plenty.  Draw on it.”

“I need…more.”

Gwen hugged tighter for a few moments then slowly let Jack go, stroking her hands over his shoulders and appreciating the affectionate smile he gave her.  Distracted by her own troubled thoughts she took the mugs back to the kitchen and washed up before collecting her belongings and leaving the Hub.

As Jack reminisced, as Tosh frantically reviewed every avenue she’d explored in the wake of Ianto’s disappearance, as Owen paced the autopsy room wondering if it was safe to emerge, Gwen hurried home, threw away her contraceptive pills, and proposed to Rhys.

Attrition 33       Attrition Index       Attrition Notes

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