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So I have apparently been slacking on the journal front again, what a surprise, but before I do anything useful to rectify that, here is a fic for the [livejournal.com profile] apocalyptothon challenge, for [livejournal.com profile] beggar_always. WHAT A HAPPY FIC THIS IS.

Also, when I get a prompt that asks for hurt/comfort, you know, basically I cannot be trusted not to just let all my ridiculous hurt/comfort instincts come out from where I try to keep them battened down and smash their way through a fic. CONSIDER YOURSELVES WARNED!

edit: okay, now actually fixed without a part missing, oh dear, I really shouldn't post things when I'm half-asleep.

Title: scenes from the end of the world
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: PG13, I think.
Spoilers: through the end of s2; none for Children of Earth being as this it set before that.
Disclaimer: the BBC and RTD own these characters, REM owns my summary, and I own nothing. Nothing!
Word Count: ~4300
Summary: It's the end of the world, and they know it.
A/N: well, I think I can safely say that a) this is late, b) I owe [livejournal.com profile] rionaleonhart probably more than I actually own for her endless patience and speed beta-ing skillz, and the ability to see the tiniest backbone of a fic and beta that anyway (any remaining errors, since I changed it after her beta job, are entirely my own special type of stupidity) and c) I should stop writing stuff at oh-god o'clock in the morning when I have to get up for work in the morning.







Ianto is standing in Jack's office, having a perfectly ordinary conversation in which he expressed his concern over the amount of caffeine in Jack's bloodstream ("I can't die," Jack said, "and you think caffeine is my problem?"), when there is a crash as the door behind Ianto rebounds off the wall, and Jack walks in. Another Jack. There are now two Jacks in one room, and, really, Ianto doesn't know where he should be looking.

To be honest, if he'd thought about something like this happening, Ianto would probably have thought that Jack - his Jack, which wasn't to say that Jack belonged to him but rather that he meant the Jack he knew, as opposed to this new one - would have been quite pleased to find himself presented with his exact duplicate. This doesn't seem to be the case: the Jack behind the desk stands up, frowning, and the other Jack says, "I'm sorry."

"I know," says Jack.

Glancing between the two of them, Ianto says, "I hate to state the obvious, but that doesn't sound like something good's about to happen."

*

Jack is alone when he exits the office. Ianto, who has been waiting downstairs and trying to find things to do with the coffee machine in an effort to look as though he isn't attempting to overhear anything, glances over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps on the metal stairs.

"Oh," he says. "Hello."

Jack laughs, "Ianto," he says, "it's me." Despite the joviality in his tone, something about his good humour seems strained.

"Which one of you are you?" Ianto asks, and then adds: "Sir."

Jack bares his teeth in that grin of his, the one that's feral and charming at once. Ianto looks back at the mug he's holding, busying himself by wiping it down again with a tea towel despite it already being bone-dry.

"Come on," Jack says. He steps forwards, hands held out in a question. "You think I'd let some usurper from the future nip in and run this place?"

"Well," Ianto starts. "Yes." When Jack laughs again, Ianto protests, "Well, how could we prove you had? You're still - you'd still be you."

"You make a good point," Jack concedes. "I haven't, though. Let some usurper loose on this place. I sent him back."

"Good to know," Ianto says. "Did - did you say you - the other you - was from the future."

Jack's face shuts down. Completely serious, he says, "Yes."

"Oh," says Ianto. "And, er, what did he want?"

"To tell me that the world is ending," Jack says.

There's not a whole lot Ianto can say to that.

*

After a while, when Ianto has made them both a coffee, Ianto asks, "Can we do anything to stop it?"

"The end of the world, you mean?"

"No," Ianto says, rolling his eyes. "Yes, that, what else would I be thinking about right now?"

"How you make a mean cup of coffee?" Jack tries.

"Surprisingly," Ianto says, "I'm finding myself more preoccupied by the apocalypse than by my coffee-making prowess."

"Hmm," says Jack. "I'm not."

"Well," Ianto points out, "you can't die."

"There is that," Jack admits, and looks down at the cup in his hands.

"So?" Ianto prompts, when Jack doesn't seem about to offer any more information.

Jack straightens up in his chair. "Right now," he says, "an alien spacecraft is navigating away from the Earth. Three minutes ago, it emitted a sort of electromagnetic pulse, but it's much more advanced that that. The human race wasn't due to develop the technology to understand it, let alone defend against it, for years - years and years to come."

"And?" Ianto asks, clutching at his own coffee cup. The heat of it is comforting, but only a little. "What does this electromagnetic pulse do?"

Jack takes a breath. "It suffocates life," he says. "That's putting it simply, but, in effect, that's what it does. It prevents the body from recognising oxygen, and so, slowly, it suffocates."

"And that's all life?" Ianto asks. "Everything?"

"Everything," Jack confirms.

"Oh," says Ianto, because there doesn't seem to be anything else to say.

Jack shoots him an appraising glance. "You all right?" he asks.

"What about in here?" Ianto asks in return. "In the Hub. Inside. Are people safe indoors?"

"No," says Jack, with a sad sort of smile. "I wouldn't say that anywhere was safe, now. The only real difference it'll make is that it'll take longer to happen, indoors. The walls will slow the pulse down. Just a little, but enough to draw it out a bit."

"Oh," Ianto says again. He smiles too, because that's what the polite thing is to do, to not show despair. "It was just a thought." After a moment of staring down into his drink, he lifts his head and asks, "Jack?"

"Yes?"

"Did you know?"

"Did I know the world was going to end?"

"Yes," says Ianto, and his voice, treacherously, shakes.

"Yes," says Jack. "Yes, I did."

Ianto makes a sound like betrayal in the back of his throat, and presses his lips together before he can say anything else in reply.

Jack says, "Part of my past takes place in your future, Ianto." He adds, slightly desperately, "But I didn't - I didn't know when, Ianto, you have to believe me. We knew how time travel worked by then, and it was thought that, if the date of the end of the world was general knowledge, then - "

"Then people would try to stop it," Ianto finishes. "But, didn't you - " He stops.

Jack asks, very softly, "Didn't I want to stop it?"

Ianto nods, mutely.

"No," Jack says. "No, I didn't."

Ianto says, "Oh." It really is the only way he can think to respond, and, honestly, he thinks he's allowed a few communication inadequacies, faced with the imminent end of the world.

"I didn't want to change the past," Jack says. "There are - " he looks down, and smiles, remembering something, " - there are fixed points in time that can't be changed. This is one of them."

Ianto toys with the handle of his cup. The coffee is cold now. "Does," he starts, hesitantly. "Does something good come from this? Eventually?"

Jack hesitates too, just for a moment. "Yes," he says, finally. "But - not for a while."

Ianto sits in silence for a moment. "It's the end of the world," he says, testing the words as they roll out of his mouth. "Huh."

"Funny how these things happen," Jack says, smiling without any amusement behind it. Ianto suddenly, violently, wants to hold him, to draw himself in close to Jack and just hold him, simple and certain and sure when everything else seems bleak. His fingers tremble a little on the porcelain in his hands with the effort of not reaching out for Jack right there and then.

Jack has this way of making Ianto think he is aware of everything Ianto is doing without even facing his way; Ianto flexes his fingers, grits his teeth, and tries to just be still.

Then, he says, "Jack - "

The phone rings before he can finish his sentence. The curdling anxiety in the pit of Ianto's stomach turns, momentarily, to annoyance before he can shove that fleeting selfish impulse aside. Jack grabs it, up and out of his chair before the second ring.

He jabs the handset, switching it onto speakerphone. "Harkness," Jack says.

"Jack," says Gwen. Ianto is impressed: her voice is barely shaking. "Jack, I'm coming in."

"Why?" Jack asks. "What is it?" Ianto is confused at first - the world is ending, isn't that a good enough reason? - but then he remembers that, to everyone else on the planet, nothing seems quite as finite as it does here. He wonders, briefly, if the military knows yet, the government. No-one has contacted them: either they can't be aware of what's happening, or they know enough to understand that there is just no point in telephoning Torchwood, that there's just nothing to be done.

Gwen scoffs, like normal, like every other day when she's calling Jack on something he's said. "Jack," she says, again. "People are dying. I'm coming in. What is it, how can we stop it?"

Jack hesitates on one slow inhale of breath. Ianto can almost hear the exact moment when Gwen realises. "Oh," she says, and, perversely, Ianto is pleased to discover that other people have the same underwhelming reaction to the discovery that this - this is it, really it.

"You're going to say 'don't bother', aren't you?" It's not a question, Ianto knows. Jack answers Gwen anyway; perhaps he wants to offer her something when there's really nothing to give.

"Right," he agrees. He grins, though she can't see him. Maybe it's for Ianto's benefit.

"Good, then," says Gwen. "It's not like I want to spend my last hours underground with some immortal guy rubbing my face in that fact that he can't die, anyway."

She is joking, Ianto can hear it in her voice, all misplaced wry amusement, but something tightens around Jack's eyes even as he laughs. The light-heartedness of it all makes Ianto shudder, once, with a swift sense of nausea; he shrugs it off, because, being honest, he doesn't have the time to waste on feeling like that.

They all stay silent for a moment, until Jack, in a much quieter voice, says, "Say goodbye to Rhys for me, won't you?"

"Of course," says Gwen. "Where are you, Jack? Is anyone with you?"

Ianto knows this is where he should say something, knows he should have said something earlier, but his throat is too dry. The words won't seem to come out. Jack glances over at him; Ianto opens his mouth, and closes it again, ineffectively.

"Ianto's here," Jack says. It's as though this answers both of Gwen's questions, like Ianto is person and place in one. It is both buoying and poignant; it makes Ianto want to cry.

Gwen says, with an air of finality, "Good."

"Yes," Jack replies.

"Well, then," Gwen says, sounding like she's chosen how she wants to spend her last living minutes, and this conversation isn't part of it. "I guess this is it."

Ianto can hear the tears in her voice.

"I guess so," Jack tells her, softly.

Gwen laughs again, tremulously. "I don't know what to say."

Jack fidgets, turning slightly away from Ianto. Ianto understands. He doesn't know how he personally could knowingly have a final conversation with someone, would find it near impossible with someone listening, even if the someone were Jack.

Gwen starts, "Jack," but Jack talks over her.

"Gwen Cooper," he proclaims, with his usual theatrics. The name sounds savoured as he says it, like he's trying to memorise the sound. It's like he knows it's the last time he'll say it. "Torchwood was lucky to have you."

"You're bloody right it was," Gwen replies, not missing a beat. There is a long moment in which the only sound is the crackling of the phone line; then, muffled, the soft hitching of breath through the speakers, and Gwen gets out, barely audible, "'Bye."

The call is disconnected.

Jack stares at the soundless phone, motionless. Ianto can hear him breathing, slow and measured. He gets to his feet and takes the phone from Jack. It seems strange. A thought hits him; his own hand shakes, the phone clatters onto the desk.

"I never said goodbye," he says.

Jack turns to him, picking the phone back up. His knuckles are white, Ianto notices. "We could call her back."

"No," Ianto says. "Don't - we can't."

"No," says Jack. He sets the phone down again. "You're right."

There's that urge again, that little impulse to grab onto Jack and not let go, holding on like a lifeline, trying not to drown. It's Ianto's turn to fidget, interlacing his fingers so he can't do just that.

Jack looks from the silent phone to Ianto's face. Ianto tries hard to look impassive. He wonders when exactly he decided he shouldn't seem perturbed by the apocalypse, his own encroaching demise. It seems strange, but then again, a lot of things have seemed strange about this job so why should the end of it break the habit?

Jack says, suddenly very earnest, "If there's anywhere you'd rather be..." His voice trails off. "Family, or something."

"No," says Ianto, and Jack raises his eyebrows.

"No?"

"No," Ianto tells him, firmly. "I mean, they're either dead, in which case there's no point my being there to simply die with them, or they're dying, and either they'll be dead before I can get to them, or I will. My sister's got children; she won't answer the phone. I wouldn't. I'd want all the time I could get with them, once I knew what was happening - and she must know what's happening, now. So. No. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

Jack rakes a hand through his dark hair, not taking his eyes off Ianto. "All right."

"All right," Ianto repeats, and sits down.

Jack grins briefly, out of place and brilliant. "You're such a pragmatist. I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

"I don't think it was just that, was it?" Ianto flushes as Jack raises an eyebrow at him: apparently no matter what the situation, Jack really can muster up some innuendo.

"It wasn't just that," Jack concedes.

"Exactly," Ianto says. "What would you have done without me? You'd have had to make your own drinks, for a start."

"God save me," Jack says. "What would I have done?"

*

Ianto has the feeling that Jack doesn't want him to see what's going on outside. He hasn't said anything, but he's kept Ianto talking, kept him away from the computers. Now, with Jack gone to check on the Weevils in the cells, Ianto boots up the CCTV program and waits. The picture flickers on and off once or twice, but finally it clears, and Ianto can see the street just above the Hub. At first glance, everything seems fine; it is anti-climatic, in a terrible sort of way, not to see anything obviously, dreadfully amiss.

A woman walks past the camera. Wearing a suit, a Marks and Spencers salad in one hand, glancing at her watch, she is apparently on a lunch break. Maybe she's been away from the worst of it - Ianto remembers with a jolt that it has only been an hour, less, perhaps, since Jack sat him down and told him there was nothing to be done. She closes her eyes as the wind brushes her hair off her face, tilting her head into the breeze like she's been cooped up in an office all morning and isn't relishing the idea of going back. It's very ordinary: Ianto wonders for a moment whether this has all been some deeply involved hallucination. He wouldn't rule anything out, working here.

Then, without warning, the woman falls. First to her knees, then flat to the floor, she crumples down. It takes less than a minute: as Ianto watches, horrified and slightly sick, her legs kick out awkwardly, weakly, on the ground, and then she lies still.

Ianto turns the screen off. His hands are shaking: shock, he supposes, although he's seen worse things in his time. Still, if it's not shock, then it's something Ianto doesn't quite want to think about yet, not with the image of that woman still bright in his mind. He glances up involuntarily at the computer monitor, as though he can still see the woman lying facedown, lifeless on the pavement, or as though, by looking back, he could change something.

Out of nowhere, Jack grips Ianto's hand. Ianto jumps, startled, but grips back, tight. Neither of them looks at the other. It helps.

Ianto says, choked up, "I didn't think it would be that fast."

By his side, Jack says nothing.

"I mean," Ianto continues, "she just died."

Jack reminds him, gently, "It's not the first time you've seen someone die."

"I know," says Ianto, " but - "

Jack kisses him. Jack's hands come up to hold the sides of Ianto's face, and Ianto makes this tiny, soft sound in the back of his throat like relief and tugs Jack's hips in towards him. Jack laughs, warm and satisfied into Ianto's mouth. It's as though there's nothing, in that moment, except Jack's body flush against Ianto's own, and Jack's mouth on his. Ianto feels himself relax, body slumping into Jack, because he can, because Jack is there.

"Is this an end-of-the-world kind of thing?" Jack asks him, smiling.

"No," Ianto tells him, as honestly as he can without his voice cracking. "No, it's not."

"Ah, well," Jack says. "Can't have it all. I always liked a bit of a romp at an apocalypse."

"Just," Ianto mutters, hands at Jack's belt, mouth at the slant of Jack's jaw, not even entirely aware of what he's saying, "just, please, just - "

"Hey," Jack says, in the sort of voice he'd use to quiet a skittish animal, tender and kind, and he pushes Ianto carefully backwards so that the small of his back bumps into the edge of the desk, and then he starts to unbutton Ianto's dark shirt, steady and confident as he ever is. Ianto's heart is beating erratic and fast: he reaches almost blindly out for Jack, and Jack gets an arm around him and kisses him again.

It's like Jack's trying to tell him something, but knows he can't explain it. Ianto thinks, I know, I know, and surrenders, needing and tired and wanting.

Afterwards, changing clothes into the spare outfit he always keeps at work - they never did quite manage to get undressed - Ianto feels Jack step up behind him, loop his arms around his waist. Ianto leans back against him instinctively.

It is easier to ask this, not being able to see Jack's face. "Will you," Ianto tries. "Will you die too?"

Jack hesitates.

"Tell me," Ianto presses,

"I already have," Jack confesses. "While you were watching the CCTV feed."

Ianto turns tersely around. "What?"

"I didn't want you to see it," Jack tells him. "I didn't want you to know."

Ianto feels suddenly short of breath. He stumbles slightly, abruptly aware that the griping, rolling nausea he felt when Gwen called had never quite left him, that he's dizzy enough that he really needs to sit down.

"Jack," he chokes, and then Jack's hands are strong at his elbows, Jack's weight a reassuring presence at his back, and then Ianto blacks out.

*

Ianto can't have been out for very long, because when he groggily opens his eyes, Jack is just straightening up, apparently having just eased Ianto into the chair he finds himself in now.

Jack's mouth is set and miserable. He draws a hand across his eyes before he sees Ianto looking; when he does, he smiles.

"Hey," he says.

"Hello," Ianto says, on a shaky grin. He tries to push himself out of the chair, but his arms won't seem to cooperate. He frowns, but perseveres, and finally stands up. "Well. This is exciting."

"Isn't it just?" says Jack. His eyes are worried, creasing like they do when he doesn't want Ianto to think anything's wrong.

"I," says Ianto, on the verge of another joke, but he shivers instead, and stops.

Jack's gaze flicks from Ianto to the walls around them, like he's trying to distract himself, or - or like he's trying not to cry. His throat is working, Ianto can see, and for the first time, Ianto is afraid.

"So, this is it?" he asks, voice cracking. He swallows down, hard.

"Yes," Jack says, simply. He is looking steadily at Ianto now; he sounds perfectly collected. It is a talent Jack has, to focus when it's important.

This is important.

Ianto nods. "Right then." It was only a matter of time, he supposes, but that doesn't make it any the less upsetting. He drags in another breath, slow and deep, and tries to stay calm.

"Hey." Jack takes him by the shoulders. Ianto can feel the heat of his palms even through his suit jacket, his neat shirt. Jack is looking at him with a painfully intense sympathy. It would seem horrifically clichéd - the tight, manly embrace, gazing at the last into each other's eyes - were it not actually the end of the world. As it is, most of the things Jack does are clichéd, but then he's got that sort of irrepressible charisma that can get away with it. Ianto has the charisma of a coffee boy, and, as such, cannot.

Jack says, "Ianto."

Ianto cannot, absolutely cannot look up from his shoes. Once he does, he has a vivid, vicious suspicion that that might be it for his control and if he can do anything about it, he'd really rather not spend his last few minutes alive weeping, thanks. Instead, he says, "Mmm?"

Jack's voice always has an edge to it, a motive snaking in under the accent and the constant flirting. Ianto likes it. Now, though, there's nothing more to what Jack is saying than what he says, which is: "Ianto."

Ianto gives this awful sort of laugh; it hiccups up out of him, unbidden and helpless. "I wish you wouldn't keep saying my name like that."

"How am I saying it?"

"Like I'm going to die," Ianto blurts, which is ridiculous, because he is going to die - he knows it, and Jack knows it - and so it is not outside the bounds of acceptability that they acknowledge this fact, and yet - and yet, Ianto finds that he is crying, now, and there's not a whole lot he can do about it. He has to bring his hands up to cover his face, embarrassed; his fingers brush against Jack's chest, as close as they are standing, but Jack doesn't move.

Behind his cupped hands, everything seems quieter, like the hush in an intensive care unit, or the pall of equal parts fear and reverence in a leafy, isolated graveyard, like the tombstones are watching the mourners, and are disapproving. What is it about silence, Ianto wonders, that makes him think of dying? Is it simply that the dead are silent themselves, or is silence itself the sound of the dying, echoing out empty and still and lifeless? Ianto's heart quickens; trapped by mortality, he is suddenly afraid.

"What's it like?" Ianto blurts, dropping his hands to his sides. The air feels clean on his prickling hot skin. "Dying, I mean."

Jack's fingers dig in imperceptibly harder, and he doesn't reply. He is close enough that Ianto almost flinches at his every breath. Ianto's face is tight with tears; he pats down each pocket of his suit, knowing he has a handkerchief somewhere about him - he always has a handkerchief somewhere about him, and isn't it just the way for him to be unable to find it now?

"Ianto," Jack says, in that same softly worried tone, and he presses the very tips of three fingers just underneath Ianto's chin, suggesting Ianto raise his head. Ianto swallows; he can feel the press of Jack's fingers gently obtrusive above his Adam's apple. He exhales - it is almost more a sob - and looks up.

"Well?" asks Ianto, on the verge of another laugh, and coughs. Everything outside his immediate field of vision is gently out of focus. It makes sense, in a grim sort of way, for Jack to be the last piece of Ianto's clarity.

This job, it eats away at you and your life, taking your time and your energy and your passion into it until you can't remember what it was like to sleep more than five hours a night, and only five if you're lucky, or want to spend your evenings on a sofa, maybe, rather than underground surrounded by dripping walls and a fucking pterodactyl screeching around the roof, but then, then there's Jack. He pulls you in, again and again, like he's gravity, or the sun, but Ianto can't find the words he wants to finish this slightly melodramatic train of thought.

"Well?" Ianto repeats, and then, "Jack?"

The expression on Jack's face is frightening Ianto. He looks furious, and vengeful, and vulnerable. He shakes his head like he doesn't know what to say: Jack, Captain Jack Harkness, at a loss, and that's almost more frightening than the thought of the apocalypse quietly raging outside.

Jack shakes his head and whispers, so softly that Ianto can only barely hear him, "Ianto," and wraps his arms around him, holding him close enough to bruise them both. Jack turns his face against Ianto's neck, kisses the pulse point, and Ianto feels the sweep of his eyelashes (long enough to be indecent, you know, Ianto had told him, one night, curled content half over Jack's side) as Jack shuts his eyes.

It is this kiss that makes Ianto aware of how slowly his heart is beating.

"Jack," he says, but the word has no sound to it.

Jack kisses him again, his mouth burning against Ianto's clammy skin. "Shh," he says, warm and reassuring, though his voice is shaking. One of them is trembling, but they are pressed so tightly together than Ianto genuinely cannot tell which.

"It'll be all right," Jack tells him, and he sounds so sure, so certain, that Ianto closes his eyes -



fin

Date: 2009-07-23 01:34 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lo0o0ony-lauren.livejournal.com
so this just made me massively cry! You are amazing. urk.

Thus end my thoughts.

Date: 2009-07-23 05:58 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] moogle62.livejournal.com
When I say, "ahgsjhdg hooray", I am of course not pleased to have made you cry so much as I am pleased... to have made you cry? What? I don't know what happened to that sentence. THANK YOU, I think, is what I mean here.

ilu <3333

Date: 2009-07-23 04:20 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hold-onhope.livejournal.com
You're alive! :D

*scuttles off to read*

Date: 2009-07-23 06:01 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] moogle62.livejournal.com
Hi! I am alive! How are you?

Date: 2009-07-23 10:27 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hold-onhope.livejournal.com
I am alive as well, which is good news! XD

Date: 2009-07-23 11:07 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sal101010.livejournal.com
I think you just broke my heart! That was, however, excellent - I think...

Date: 2009-07-24 05:30 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] moogle62.livejournal.com
Well, thank you, and apologies for your heart. I'm glad you, er, sort of enjoyed this? <33

Date: 2009-07-25 04:25 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] beggar-always.livejournal.com
So...you totally broke me.

But it's a beautiful kind of hurt and I love this fic. THANK YOU for doing such an awesome job with my request! It's really gorgeous.

*squishes fic* *squishes you*

Date: 2009-07-25 01:35 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] moogle62.livejournal.com
My normal response to fic comments is 'I'm glad you enjoyed it!', which has been no use whatsoever when replying to comments about an END OF THE WORLD fic, skfgshjgfjd communication failure. NEVERTHELESS, I am glad you liked it, despite, er, the angst. And you asked for Ianto not to die! I am sorry! I, just, er, got the end in my head and then couldn't un-get it.

also, if you stick around on my journal, there may possibly, possibly be a fix-it fic turning up. I DID NOT LIKE KILLING IANTO, BECAUSE I AM A SAP.

Date: 2009-07-25 03:24 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] beggar-always.livejournal.com
Well, I said I'd prefer it if he didn't die, unless everyone had to die. And since you killed everyone, it's okay. And you did it so beautifully as well! (I mean...if there can be beautiful deaths...)

Do you mind if I friend you? I definitely don't want to miss it if a fix-it fic turns up! *is a sap too* :)

Date: 2009-07-25 03:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] moogle62.livejournal.com
Of course I don't mind if you friend me :D

(also, 'since you killed everyone, it's okay' made me laugh quite a lot. LOLPOCOLYPSE)

Is it all right if I friend you back?

Date: 2009-07-25 03:31 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] beggar-always.livejournal.com
That statement's a bit morbid, isn't it? Silly apocalypse. :)

Feel free to friend me back! :D

Date: 2009-07-25 03:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] beggar-always.livejournal.com
Hi new friend! :D

Date: 2010-01-03 04:40 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kita0610.livejournal.com
Well.

Shit.

(I think it's funny, now, that I call this icon 'baby's first slash will end in tears'.)

Date: 2011-01-26 11:56 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] moogle62.livejournal.com
Forgive the ridiculously late reply, but thank you so much for reading and commenting! I apologise for, er, the whole ending in tears thing. <3

Date: 2010-03-19 06:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] boysinperil.livejournal.com
Hi from random stranger! I found this reading through last year's stories in prep for trying out this year's fest, and omg you broke my heart.

Poor Ianto, poor Jack....poor everyone!

Date: 2011-01-26 11:57 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] moogle62.livejournal.com
Suuuuper late reply, apologies, but thank you for your comment! Apologies for the ridiculously bleak ending?

Date: 2011-01-29 09:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] boysinperil.livejournal.com
No apologies needed, either for the bleak ending or the long reply time - just made me come read the story again! It's a cycle!

Date: 2011-01-26 09:32 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] holdsustogether.livejournal.com
I genuinely thought that the Doctor was going to pop up and whisk them away or save the day or something. I don't know why, but something in your writing was so gentle, reassuring, and... soft that I honestly believed that Ianto just wouldn't die. Then he did and I'm just *cries*

Date: 2011-01-26 11:59 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] moogle62.livejournal.com
I wanted the Doctor to come in and save the day! I have been sort of toying around with a fix-it fic ever since I wrote this :p

Thank you for your comment, it's so nice to see that people are still reading this way after I wrote it! Thanks for your lovely words and, er, apologies for killing Ianto?

Date: 2011-01-27 12:59 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] holdsustogether.livejournal.com
Apologies accepted. :)

(Also, a fix-it would be amazing.(

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