I've never written for Torchwood before – probably should have, because I've followed it for goodness know how long, but honestly never knew where to start. I have all the audiobooks, and I've loved this show from the moment it aired - I've recently spent some free time re-watching every episode and rekindling a spark.
These are just my thoughts on why Jack made the choice he did in Children of Earth. I always kind of felt like he might have reacted differently if he hadn't lost Ianto (especially as he would have been there), and I always felt like their was something missing between this scene and the 'six months later' snippet. I'm not even going to start on my thoughts from 'House of the Dead' – because we'll end up here for too long, and my spelling will be all wrong, because I want to be able to read through teardrops. So, this is my best way of getting those thoughts out, and if you want, you can let me know what you think (because I seriously mulled over whether to even post this)? Who knows, if you all like it, I might write more for this fandom, since I do love it so, so let me know.
I'd love to say that this was a fix-it fic, but I don't know where I would start on that. Also, I've just realised that this has obviously been trying to get me to write it for a while, because now I have, my brain is receptive to other ideas… funny thing, the human brain.
As I'm new to this community, I'll let you know: I have proof-read this, but I maintain that any errors are my own. I don't mind constructive feedback, nor people picking up anything I might have missed. I will then correct them! Sorry for the long introduction too.
Major spoilers for Children of Earth, slight spoilers for 'Out of the Shadows' and 'House of the Dead'.
Summary: Cursed was he to live with the things he had done. An immortal man, had a lifetime - and more - to remember. And to regret.
If he could go back… turn back the hands of time and fix everything, then he wouldn't be stood here.
He wouldn't be standing here with the devil on one shoulder, and an angel upon another. He wouldn't be battling with choice of who was worth more, of who got to live and who had to die.
But, that was always his choice, was it not? He was the man who couldn't die, and as such, his only option was Life. He liked his philosophy too, and he knew what they said about giving life, taking life. Hell, he'd seen it through the power of the glove he now wished they've never fished out of the bay. If he applied that philosophy to himself; for every death which ultimately allowed him life…
"Nevermind the philosophy."
…Then that was why Ianto died.
Because of him.
Because of them.
And now, someone was offering him a solution – a way to be rid of them, to fix everything. It wasn't too late…
So the choice was obvious.
It had to be, there was no other way. And he was Torchwood – that was what they- he dealt with: the impossible, daily. There was only one way out, and he would have to take it.
It was millions of children, for one.
(Blood relation or not.)
It was the 456, for one.
(They needed to be gone.)
It was Ianto…
(He had to.)
He didn't want to disappoint her, but he had to now.
Maybe it really was better that she'd never let him near Steven, never given him a chance to know him… Cut him out like the cancer he was, and given them the best chance of remission... He was looking at a little boy in a red coat. Just a little boy, one that he didn't really know.
To save millions of children, took only one.
To kill the 456, took only one.
That made this decision far easier to wrestle into submission.
He didn't know Steven; now he never would. But he'd save the world, he'd blaze in like he always did, Torchwood to the rescue, and he could fix this.
He couldn't say it, but he showed it. It was a yes.
He could fix this.
It was all about Ianto.
To avenge Ianto, he had to kill the 456 – who had so brutally taken his lover from him - and to do that he had no choice but to use Steven.
It was Steven or Ianto.
And, for him, it would always be Ianto.
His Angel, who was gone.
But, when it was all over - when the cries of a mother losing her child were all he'd heard for the past eyes, and his own tears had run dry – he realised.
He was wrong.
It would always be Ianto.
He would always have chosen Ianto.
But this time he hadn't.
He'd sent an innocent little boy to his death, and though it may have succeeded in meeting the aims – the 456 were gone, the children were being sent back home, and the government were in a flurry trying to work out what do to now – it hadn't brought Ianto back, not like when Ianto pulled him from the clutches of Hell.
This wasn't victory.
It wasn't even avenging.
It was all about revenge.
(And his own guilt.)
In that moment, blinded by anger, and hatred for them, and this situation, and himself… In that moment, with all clarity leaving him for the split second it took to decide on something- he should have chosen for Ianto. But he didn't think, didn't look for another way, instead choosing for himself, passing it off as being the way to avenge his fallen love, because somehow that made it okay to nod and say yes for that split second.
He couldn't say it was about Ianto, or for Ianto - not a decision like that, not one made out of his own hatred, and anger, and desperation for revenge. He'd wanted to avenge Ianto, yes, but that wasn't the way… he could never put Ianto's name on an act like that. This was his own doing.
All of it had been.
The immortal man who could always be the hero.
Heroes avenged the fallen. He'd tried to do that, and made himself a villain. The villain that, maybe, Ianto had always seen deep down.
"You're worse than anything locked up down there."
Ianto would never have done what he just did; or at the very least, if he had to, he wouldn't have done it quite like Jack just had. Ianto was…
Well, that was exactly it. Ianto was a great many things which he was not, and being with the Welshman had made Jack feel a little more like them too.
But he was not.
(He was to blame.)
Ianto's death – though not at his hands – was his fault.
Now so was Steven's.
Has it made things any better? He asked himself, as he sat in the dark corridor, waiting.
It had changed nothing.
He had his revenge, but that was nothing. It wasn't what he'd wanted deep down. It wasn't why he'd brought Steven into all this, destined him to meet an early end.
He wanted to avenge Ianto; he'd only ended up disappointing him instead.
Jack didn't need to be able to see that to know it was true.
He could see it, clear as day, as though Ianto still walked beside him.
And he would still.
But it had all been his fault.
All of it.
And blinded by anger, and guilt, and loss, and pain – because he had loved, really loved, and this time he would have stayed - he'd just added one more name to the long list.
Steven, and Ianto… and Owen and Tosh, and Suzie…
All that defined him now were the names of the dead.
Because he lost his love, and sense of 'living' along with him.
Cursed was he to live and name the dead whose lives were lost at his hands.
Cursed was he to ever keep stock and vigil.
Cursed was he to be himself.
Would Ianto forgive me? He asked himself as he waited, as light moved in the doorway and his eyes fell upon her. She said nothing. That was enough of a message.
Whether Ianto would have forgiven him or not, no longer mattered.
He couldn't forgive himself.
He'd wanted to avenge the fallen, Ianto, the only one who had mattered; he'd allowed himself to exact pointless revenge which only hurt those it was close enough to touch.
To truly avenge Ianto, he'd have to think of something else.
Cursed was he to live in an empty world.
Cursed was he to live.
Cursed was he…
Steven, and Ianto, and Owen and Tosh, and Suzie…
The names of the dead were endless; but if he could bring anyone back, there was only one name he would call.
But cursed was he to live with it on the edge of his tongue.
He need absolution. He needed- wanted to die. What more was there?
He was a stage act, 'the immortal man' and cursed was a man who could never die, but always remember.
And remember that he had chosen wrong.