Author's note: This was originally going to be a songfic based on "Everybody Hurts" by REM, but my plot bunny met a lady bunny and they had lots of babies...this is the result. It's a (very belated) birthday present to GwenCooper456 because she is awesome :P I believe in happy endings, but what we believe in doesn't always come true (just look at Children of Earth) unfortunately this fic didn't want one (trust me I tried). If you want a time frame I would say very early in series two, that's as close as I can give. All the chapters have been written but it's up to you guys whether or not I post them...please review

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Ianto squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tears trickling down his cheeks. He stuck out the tip of his tongue, tasting the salty droplets as they dripped into his open mouth. Everything hurt. There was not one part of his body that wasn't in pain – even his mind hurt. He couldn't bare it; not now, not after everything. He thought of Jack, strong brave Jack: strong brave Jack who had left him once and would leave him again, telling him it would be alright.

"Everybody hurts, sometimes, everybody cries."

He had let Ianto weep, till his shirt was plastered to his skin with tears. Stroking his hair softly and murmuring sweet nothings into his ear.

"Sometimes everything is wrong. Hold on."

It had been such a comfort, someone's warmth, their understanding, but now he was alone. And alone he couldn't hold on. Not in this cold, dark flat, that held so many memories of all the things he had lost. Not in the hub, that still held the echo of those screams, the metallic smell of blood. Everywhere he went the memories followed him, filling his head, until he was sure he was going crazy – it was too much.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

His tears were more frequent now, and he clutched the knife tighter in his hands, feeling the metal, cold against his skin.

"I'm sorry Jack, Tosh, Owen, Gwen. I'm sorry mam, Rhi and Lisa; oh Lisa." He felt the familiar tightness in his chest, that thoughts of her always bought, a metal band tightening around his heart. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'll be with you soon."

He knew he was being selfish, incredibly selfish, but for once he didn't care. They would get over it, they would learn to forget. And Jack? He had lived so long, lost so many, surely another could be forgotten, surely another wouldn't hurt too much. Anyway what was he? An office boy, an easy shag? Certainly nothing worth crying over, certainly not someone he'd loved...had he? And he found that the thought of being forgotten by Jack hurt even more then the thought of Lisa. His mind drifted back.

"Don't let yourself go. You're brave Ianto, I know you, I know how much it hurts, but hold on."

He felt his breath hitch. How he wished he would be the man Jack thought he was, how he wished he could be brave. But Jack was right – everybody hurts, and sometimes it was so much easier to be a coward.

He lifted the knife a little higher, running his finger along the blades edge. The metal sliced easily through the pale skin, leaving an angry red line. The physical pain was a relief – now at least something showed.

In the moments before it happened everything was crystal clear. The blood pumping through his veins, the gentle caress of the cool air against his damp skin, the lapping of the bath water around his chest. Then slowly, deliberately, he leaned forward and placed the blade against his exposed wrist. For a moment he left it there, feeling its weight, then, in a well practiced move he pulled, twice.

The last thing he noticed before the world went black was the thin trickle of liquid from his arms, slowly turning the bath red.

In the darkening room with his eyes closed and a peaceful smile decorating his face, Ianto Jones could have been asleep. But if you looked closer you would notice three things. Firstly the colour of the water surrounding him – the same colour as the blood that dripped from his wrists; secondly the lack of movement. His body showed none of the tell-tale signs of life, not the gradual rise and fall of the chest, no flicker of hair as he breathed out, not even the steady tick of a pulse along his neck.

You could peer into the room for a good ten minutes before you noticed the final thing, tucked neatly onto a chair in the corner of the room. A note, placed atop a pile of neatly folded clothes, and across the top a single word, written in Ianto's neat, clear hand.

"Jack."

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So... is he alive or dead? I know the answer you have to wait to find out, remember reviews = update. Also while I have posted this under T for now, I will need to move it to M soon, so tag it if you want to, as I know how hard M rated stories are to find.