Their Duty

He knew from the beginning that they would all die young. They all knew it. He had tried not to get too attached to any of them for exactly that reason. That, and the last time he had gotten close to someone hadn't worked out well at all. He shivered. He still hadn't full forgiven himself. He knew his intentions had never been to hurt any one, he only wanted to heal. And yet whenever he thought back to it, he could only picture what it would have been like if one of them had died that day. Two deaths were enough and if one of the team had died because of him..... He couldn't think those things. He knew they would all die young. And yet, even with everything he had seen, a part of him had believed that they wouldn't die young. After all, Jack never stayed dead. They had a dinosaur that should have died millions of years ago as a pet. Torchwood Three was special that way. And they had bought him back to life.
Everything that truly made Ianto Jones, Ianto Jones had died twice. Once at Canary Warf, and again when he realised that Canary Warf had killed Lisa. Any iota of optimism had been pulled out of him, cut into pieces, trampled on, put into a blender, blasted into atoms and sent out into the far reaches of space where he would surely never find it again.
But these people. These bloody people with their inappropriate comments, cynicism, coffee addictions and blind trust that everything they did was and would always be worth it, not only managed to rediscover those atoms, but piece them back together so that they shone even brighter than they had before.
Gwen, with almost an air of innocence about her and her life outside of Torchwood.
Owen, with all his rude comments and swearing at the world who would never show just how much doubt he had.
Toshiko, with her shy smile and that mind of pure genius and that figure she almost always managed to hide under some piece of clothing or another.
And Jack. With his double entendres, his wandering hands and his searching eyes. Only ever pushing Ianto when they both knew he needed to be pushed. Jack, who had, of all things, asked him out on an actual real and proper date, and even more amazingly had actually followed through with it! And it had been one of the most perfect nights of his life. They talked. They ate. They laughed. They danced. They kissed. And then one thing led to another...
They had had sex before of course. In the archives, in Jack's office, that one time in the Tourist Information shop. But that night was different and they both knew it. That night they made love. And that night Ianto Jones realised he was in love with Jack Harkness.
Of course he hadn't told him. He wasn't brave enough to actually say the words with no hope of reciprocation. And he knew there wouldn't be. Jack would live forever and Ianto would die. Young.
He sighed. His musings has taken him right back to where he started.
But he wasn’t ready to deal with that yet. With his impending doom. With Gwen’s impending doom. With… he chocked back a sob. He just couldn’t do it. Not yet.
“What am I supposed to do? What do I do with all your half finished reports Owen? And Tosh, I can’t understand your work! You know how much of a genius you are, how am I supposed to run your translation programs without you? If you think I’m cutting up any aliens Owen, you’re kidding yourself! That’s your job. So just come back and do your jobs! Both of you! Just stop playing this game and get back to work! If you wanted a holiday all you had to bloody do was ask, we could have worked something out.” He hadn’t noticed anything during his outburst. He hadn’t noticed his voice getting louder and louder. Or his face getting redder and blotchier and wetter. It was so very wet. Or that he had some how sunk to the ground and curled into a ball. When he did notice it, he was to far gone to care.
“You know what you did, don’t you?” He sobbed into the darkness. “You both helped to do the worst thing you can possibly do to another human being. You helped fix me. You made me hope. You can’t hope in this job, you just can’t” His rocking stilled as he felt a pair of strong arms pulls him close.
“You can hope.” The beautiful owner of those arms says. “You have to hope. And you have to believe that it’s all worth it. Even if it seems like nothing could be worth this pain and injustice of it all.” He feels the older mans tears drenching his hair and he knew that while they had done the worst thing in leaving, they had been the best.

The next morning, when Gwen comes into work she is met by the sight of two men clinging to each other, eyes as red and faces as tear stained as her own.
As she stumbles to a halt, they both look up at her. Simultaneously they out stretch an arm to her, still clutching each other with the other. And as she runs into their embrace they all know that they will keep hoping, keep dreaming, keep living and keep fighting.

Because it is their Duty.