What she means: Ianto Jones was a vital, under appreciated character, who was only 24 when the woman he loved was nearly murdered in front of him. He dragged her from the wreckage, only to watch her slowly die in front of him for months, and then get brutally killed before his very eyes. All of this, going on while Ianto spent months being treated like a glorified butler, completely unacknowledged (no matter how he intended it to be). He then started to sleep with the man WHO KILLED THE WOMAN HE HAD LOVED (if that isn’t unhealthy I don’t know what is), who kissed him like he mattered and then left for three months WITH NO WARNING. When Jack came back, he asked Ianto on a date, despite not having yet earned forgiveness, and then AND THEN they were beautiful together and AGH JANTO and they healed together slowly BUT THEN OWEN AND TOSH WHAT THE FUCK MY BABIES WHYYYYY and THEN CHILDREN OF THE EARTH HAPPENED and ianto finally talked to his sister and they were kinda close again AND THEN and fUcking THEN MY BEAUTIFUL CINNAMON ROLL WAS GONE TOO PRECIOUS FOR THIS WORLD THAT HE DIED AT TWENTYSIX WHAT THE FUCK BITCH WHAT THE FUCK
Torchwood really missed its chance to have fun by not letting the team fall through the Rift more. Because imagine the team interacting with a displaced younger Jack, or meeting their alternate selves, or traveling somewhere rather than everything coming to them.
Damn. That could have been awesome.
Owen moved to the right, leaving enough space for Ianto to slip into the room and move to the left. They separated, each one moving in a different direction around the gallery that encircled the walls. The creature wasn’t sure which one of them to go for, moving its ‘head’ uncertainly from one to the other and back again.
He and Ianto were about ninety degrees apart now, and the creature was still uncertain which of them to concentrate on. Perfect. From behind his back Owen pulled out the alien device that Toshiko had found in the Archive, the one that looked like a pumped-up clover leaf with a stalk hanging down, the one she said projected small electrical shocks along an ionised path, like a low-power ray gun. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘get ready to—’
With a sickening lurch in the pit of his stomach, Owen suddenly realised that he and Ianto had kept on moving past the ninety-degree point and were now almost in a straight line with the autopsy table in the middle. That would have been fine if the creature had had just the one head and had to still keep looking at both of them, but Paul effectively had two heads, one at each end. And with both Owen and Ianto now safely under observation, it attacked, flinging itself off the table and propelling itself through the air at fantastic speed using its insectile wings.
For the @we-are-torchwood celebration of Jack! Wednesday was an open prompt, so I’m writing about Jack’s trip back to 1941, his meeting with the original Jack Harkness, and what happens afterward between him and Ianto.