Breaking Dawn: Part 3 - The Hunt for Renesmee

Jacob sits in the coffee shop. He’s uneasy and uncertain and he’ll admit it, just plain scared. Which is stupid, he knows, but he has to be honest with himself about all his emotions right now. He has to be. It’s what Carlisle had said. And as much as he still felt uncomfortable around the Cullens family he had gotten to spend a lot of time with them lately. Even more than before. It had been the only way to see her. Renesmee. Just the thought of her did it. He tried not to listen to the fearful voice echoing in the back of his mind.

* * *

“But, I mean, just what if!” Jacob was visibly frustrated as he paced back and forth.

“It’s a risk you’ll have to take.” Carlisle spoke softly.

“No! Not again!” Jacob spat with a harsh, wolfish growl, “Not after last time. And not after Bella! I couldn’t stand it to happen again!”

“Would you rather she had no choice? Like...” And Carlisle paused.

“Like me?” And Jacob’s eyes were filled with pain.

“Like some kind of machine.” Carlisle placed a cool hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “You still choose to lover her. You still choose to stay. You want her to choose you too. It means risking that rejection. But it also means that it is genuine love.”

Jacob hung his head. He knew Carlisle was probably right. He usually was about most things. But Jacob couldn’t shake the feeling like he was being talked into something he didn’t want to be talked into.

“Jacob.” Carlisle increased the pressure on Jacob’s shoulder, “You have to trust that the same fated love that helped you find Nessie through Bella will help her find you.”

Lying in a Hungry Bed

Lying in a Hungry Bed

How did we get here, Peeta wants to ask her but doesn’t. Instead he turns the light off and rolls over in the bed. It may be a cold night tonight but he will not reach for her. He could, but doesn’t. Because he already knows she’ll just shrug him off again. So, he lies there alone and stares at the ceiling and counts the passing lights that flash through the blinds and paints lines across their still bodies.

Katniss wishes he would ask her how they’d gotten there. But she doesn’t tell him that. Because he gives up so easily. She could lie there on her cold side of the bed for night after night and wonder if he’ll reach for her arm again, if he’ll still love her enough to push her to talk to him and open up. But he doesn’t. He just accepts her refusal, not seeing the actual need in it. So, she’ll pull the blanket tighter and closer her eyes and listen to his breathing, unsteady and unsure.

It wasn’t always like this, was it, Peeta wants to ask, but doesn’t. He tries to think back to brighter nights when lights were peach tinted and the world was lost in a soft honeygold glow. But he’s not sure if he’s ever taste that light. Maybe only seen it in movies. And for some reason that makes him want to cry. But he won’t. Because she won’t ask him what’s wrong. And what he does recall is his promise never to cry by himself with her next to him again.

Katniss hears him hold his breath. Hold his tears back. And she wishes he would just let them flow. Show in some way that she is still worth his tears to him. But he doesn’t and they just stay lying there in the cold of the dark. She wonders if she has ever cried with him, but that’s a silly thought because she knows she hasn’t. She wishes she could. Some part of her wishes she could force them, even fake tears would do, a way to show him it’s okay. But she doesn’t. She sighs instead, rolling on her side away from him.

Peeta wants to ask her why she’s sighing. He wants to ask her what’s the matter. He wants to know if she’s ever been to Disneyland and if she’s afraid of the dark too and if she’s ever really been in love. He’s been to Disneyland but only once on the train. And it’s not the dark he’s afraid of but the thought of lying next to her in it. And in the same way he’s been in love with her all this time. In the same round about way. But he has no idea how to say that, or where even to start.

Where did all this begin, Katniss tries to remember. She tries to remember because maybe she can fix it if she’d known where they’d gone wrong. She could ask him. But she doesn’t. He’d just take it personally or start to cry again or worse of all answer her honestly and she’s not sure she could take any of those options. So, she thinks back and realizes that there was a time when he’d reach around and pull her close. And she’d push away and he’d pull her back in. And she’d ask him what was wrong and he’d kiss her on her shoulder and tell her what was wrong. Or maybe she just wishes there was a time like that. It all feels like a lifetime ago.

Peeta turns so slowly and with so much creaking that she almost feels her own bones moaning in response. But like her, they give none. He moves as slowly as he can because he’s afraid to accidentally touch her. And tempted too. And he fights with that temptation to brush her arm and pretend that he hadn’t. But he doesn’t. He simply turns in place and looks towards her. He wishes that she’d look back, and dreads it at the same time and hopes against hope that she doesn’t. Because he has no idea what he’d say or do then. What do you say when you’ve run out of questions and words? How can you start over with something that never really felt like it began.

Katniss turns too, as if finally responding, and dreading it herself as she does. She faces across the cold expanse, a demarcated landscape of tear stained bedsheet and a broken and tomorrowless hope. She doesn’t want to meet his eyes so she does, and she feels a quiver of hope that maybe he’ll say something. But he doesn’t. He’s just looking back at her. As if he feels just as dry and as dead as she does.

Peeta knows he should say something, anything at all. But his heart’s been hollowed out and he can already taste the formahalyde on his tongue. He knows already. And the sad truth is final and reassuring. He knows that they won’t speak tonight. As they didn’t the night before. Or the night after. They will keep on like this. Lying cold and lonely and counting the cars and hoping against the hope that something might change and dreading it all at the same time.

And Katniss knows that he won’t say anything. And she knows neither will she. She let’s out another sigh. And she knows that one day they’ll lie like they lie right now, cold and stiff and wordless next to each other in the hard, clay ground. And even then when they’ve been freed from all this fleshy heat and moisture. Even then she’ll gaze over at him and he’ll gaze right back. And neither will speak with their mute, tongueless mouths. Neither will ask the other what is the matter. Neither will share the blanket or any warmth. He will still hold back his tears while she will still try to figure out how to cry.  

A Hunger Games Fanfic, Inspired by "The Bed Song" by Amanda Palmer and the Grand Theft Orchestra on their album Theatre is Evil. Thanks to IHEARTTHISPAGE for image found on Favim.

While You Were Gone

The rain falls off his jacket and pools beside his boots on the linoleum floor. As the doors close behind him, he is greeted by the wash of warm air and the smell of onion and spices rising from the cafeteria. His boots squeak uncomfortably as he walks towards the rows and rows of tables and chair, his eyes searching. It’s been a long day. He could really do with some cheering up right now.

“What’ll you be having, hon?” The greasy cook asks from the other side of the glass.

“A hotdog, please.” He says, still scanning the faces, many he knows, but still not the two he’s looking for.

He takes his hotdog on his small grey tray and begins to walks along the rows of tables and chairs, the same plastic red over and over again. And then he seems them. The shock of blond hair and the curving wave of brunette. They’re not sitting in the normal spot today. He walks over to the table around the corner, surrounded by the potted plants.

They are both quiet. They look at each other. His best friend and his girlfriend. It’s that awkward pause when you walk into a conversation that suddenly stops. Usually because it was about you. But he doesn’t think too much about it.

“Hey guys, what’s going on? Why aren’t we at the usual spot today?” Squall asks as he looks from one to the other.

“Oh, er, well, there was someone sitting there.” Rinoa says glancing towards the blond boy again.

“And they left but we didn’t wanna move since we already had our food and stuff.” Zell says looking down at his plate. “How was the mission?”

“Oh, you know, same old same old.” Squall takes a large bite out of his hotdog, “I’m glad I’m back though. I can’t believe they’re sending us out with this hurricane basically on top of us!”

“Yeah, you were gone for awhile.” Zell glances quickly at Rinoa, before Squall can notice.

“I missed you, baby.” She says, throwing her arms around his shoulders and kissing his neck, his jawline.

“Babe, I’m eating,” Squall smiles around his mouth full of hotdog as she kisses him anyway. “I missed you too.”

Zell’s hotdog is left untouched. He’s looking down in his lap. Chewing on the corner of his lip. Tapping his finger on the table. Something is bothering him, and Squall makes a mental note to ask him about it later during practice.

“Alright, enough, babe.” Squall has to forcefully remove Rinoa from his lap, “What’s gotten into you? You’re awefully frisky tonight.”

“I just missed you.” She hugs herself as she says it, “Didn’t you miss me?”

“Course I did.” Squall says, pulling her closer until their noses are touching. “But I think we’re making Zell uncomfortable.”

“No, not at all.” Zell says, standing up and picking his plastic tray with his uneaten hotdog up, “But I just remembered that I have training with Quistis tonight so I really ought to get going. Catch you two later.”

“What’s up with him?” Squall barely has time to ask the question before Rinoa captures his mouth again with a fervor bordering on desperation. “Hmmm, wow, if this is the welcome home I get” Squall says through his teeth, “I can’t wait to see what I get after my next mission.”

Rinoa pulls back, “You’re leaving again? When?”

“Next Monday.” Squall says, reaching up and running his hand through her hair and letting it rest on the base of her neck, “It’ll be a bit longer. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course I can.” She pulls her head to the side and kisses the back of his hand as he let’s it trace to her cheek. “You have to do what you have to do. Pull your points up. I get it.”

“And you’re not mad that I have to leave so soon again after just coming back?” He looks up in her eyes and he hopes to see some sadness or hidden struggle, but no, she just takes it all in stride it seems.

“Of course I’m not mad. Zell and I will be fine without you here. Hurry back though.” And she leans forward to capture his mouth again before breaking the kiss with a nibble on his lips, “Because when you get back I’m gonna––”

* * *

Squall watches the clock on the wall as it ticks by the seconds. He can’t wait until the last class of the day is over. He waits for the moment when Quistis looks away and makes a face at Zell two chairs away. Over the last few years they’ve developed a whole code of faces behind Quistis’ back. But Zell isn’t watching. He’s doodling. In his notebook. Which is odd because Zell hasn’t opened his notebook once since they’ve started classes together. Ever.

The bell rings and it’s a scattering of bodies and textbooks and papers and backpacks as Quistis tries to throw in a few last words on assignments due next week. But no one is listening because it’s the start of the weekend. Squalls last few days before he leaves on his next mission. He catches Zell in the hallway as the blond haired boy is making a beeline between the students.

“Hey, man, hold up!” He grabs his arm to stop him, “Carefully, you almost ran over like five people back there. What’s the hurry?”

“Oh, nothing.” Zell shifts his bag to his other shoulder. “Just a lot to do. Wanna get to the Training Center before anyone else can reserve the afternoon slot.”

“Cool, I was gonna hit it up today too.” Squall stretched his arms behind his back, “Gotta stay limber and on point if I’m gonna get decent points this time. Last mission sucked. Mind if I join you?”

“No, not at all.” Zell looks miserable as they walk down the hallway.

They’re in the Training Center, standing on either end of the sparring mat. Overhead the bright white lights make every bead of sweat visible. They’d been going at it for hours and they’re both soaked. But neither of them has managed to land a blow yet. So they’re not going anywhere yet.

“So, you gonna tell me why you’ve been acting so weird and avoiding me since I got back?” Squall throws another kick and Zell quickly sidesteps it.

“I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been busy.” Zell leaps forward and Squall dives out of the way.

“Busy with what?” Squall goes for Zell’s chest, an Zell blocks him, tries to throw him, but Squall lands on his feet.

“Just stuff, okay. You’re not the only one in the program with missions to do.” Zell is panting hard, quickly wipes the sweat from his eye.

“Wait, you got a mission?” And Zell uses the moment of astonishment to kick at Squall’s legs, almost throwing him off his feet.

Squall flips backward and manages to catch himself on a hand, landing crouched and ready to spring out of the way of the kick Zell launches at him next, “No. But I’m close. I’ve been training one on one with Quistis.”

“Oh,” Squall winks devilishly, “So that’s what’s been going on! Zell, you perv!”

“It’s nothing like that!” Zell blushes and sends another kick at Squall, who catches his foot and throws him across the room.

“Well, do I have to ask Rinoa what have you been getting up to while I’ve been gone?” And he takes the moment of shock registering on Zell’s face to land a pretty decent kick that ends the fight.

“Good match.” Squall says helping Zell up, “Let’s hit the showers.”

“I’ll just shower back at the dorm. I gotta run. I forgot to hand in my keycard to Quistis from the last test!” Zell grabs his bag and his lucky sweatshirt and runs out of the training area.

* * *

The beams of blue and white light from the patrols outside move the shadows of the blinds across the messy and rumpled bed in horizontal lines that rise and fall with their bodies. He kisses her and brushes a brunette strand out of her face. She leans up and kisses him again, hungerly, devouring his mouth.

“Hold on.” He smiles white teeth against her pecking lips. “We gotta slow down. I’m gonna need a break or something first.”

“Sure.” She kisses him again. And then another peck.

His hands run through her hair as she snuggles against his chest. Her breathing is still coming fast, her fingers play across his chest. She seems uneasy. He sits up agains the pillows and reaches past her to flick the light on. Her room is messy and covered in their discarded clothing. He smiles as she looks at his shirt lying in the corner. He’ll have to sew new buttons on. But he’s not complaining.

“What?” She looks up into his face. “What are you thinking?”

“That maybe I should go away more often.” He kisses her again, “I mean, since I’ve been back. Every night. I can barely keep my eyes open during my morning classes now.”

“That shouldn’t be too bad. You never did anyway.” She smiles as she leans back against him.

“I guess you’re right. But I better watch out otherwise my grades will start to look like Zell’s.”

His comment is met with cold, uncomfortable silence. Normally she’d laugh at something like that. Or at the very least have some kind of witty remark to make. But she just stays quiet and keeps playing with his chest. He doesn’t know why but suddenly he feels warm. Too warm.

“We were sparring yesterday.” He says to fill the space as he shifts his weight, realizing that the heat isn’t coming from him but from Rinoa next to him. “He seemed distracted.”

“Oh, really?” She still doesn’t say more. She still just keeps playing her fingers over his chest.

“Yeah, I think he’s seeing someone.” And her fingers stop playing and she’s holding her breath.

“Really? Who?” She is trembling as she says it.

“Quistis.” But he’s turning on his side and placing a hand on her forehead, “Are you feeling alright? You’re warm and you’re shaking.”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine.” She says leaning forward for a kiss.

“Hey, now.” He stops her with a finger on her lips, “If you’re getting sick we can wait until tomorrow before I leave. We don’t have to do it again tonight. Besides, you want me to be able to do my best when I’m on my mission right? Can’t risk my health.”

“Right.” She says, biting her lip as he stands up and finds his clothes again, rummaging around her floor.

She catches her breath as he picks up the sweatshirt. Zell’s lucky sweat shirt. He looks at it and frowns for a second, already knowing exactly what it is but not understanding why it would be in Rinoa’s bedroom.

“Is this Zell’s sweatshirt?” Squall puts in on the bed as he pulls on his pants and boots.

“Yeah.” She says softly, “He, uh, dropped by the morning to cheat on my answer keycard. He must have forgotten it.”

“Man, that guy.” Squall smiles at her that smile that’s all dimples and white teeth, “Sometimes I think he’d forget his own head if it weren’t attached to his body.”

“Yeah.” She whispers.

“Hey, get some sleep tonight.” He leans over and kisses her forehead. “I’ll get this back to Zell. You just focus on getting better before I leave, okay?”

* * *

The mission took much longer than he had thought. Three weeks of tracking and infiltration across the mountains. Three weeks of extreme focus and concentration. Three weeks to put the puzzle pieces together. The gravel crunched under his boots as he walked back up the path. Back towards those same doors he had stepped through three weeks ago.

He wasn’t stupid. He could read into things just like anyone if he wanted to. But these were the two people he trusted the most in the world. He wasn’t even going to let himself go there. Not until the morning before he left for his mission. When he stopped by Zell’s to drop off the sweatshirt.

The doors opened and Zell was lying on his bed, talking on the phone. He stopped when he saw Squall. Then hung up. Which wasn’t too weird but then he sat upright. Like he had a pole in his back or something.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Zell looked down as he said it, not making eye contact with Squall.

“Everything okay? If now’s a bad time I can come back later.” Squall was concerned for his friend. Something had obviously been bothering Zell.

“Nah, it’s fine. Just talking to Quistis about the exam. What’s up?” Zell had tried to be his usual perky self but he failed miserably.

“I just wanted to drop this off.” Squall had tossed him his sweatshirt.

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Zell flushed but kept talking. “I must have left it in the training center.”

“Actually it was at Rinoa’s.” Squall sat down next to him. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You’re my best friend and if something’s going on then you need to tell me. I’m here for you, man.”

“I’m fine. Really. Thanks man.” Zell had put the phone away, but not before Squall saw the name of the last call made. “Good luck on your mission.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Then Squall had gotten up and left.

The last call hadn’t been to Quistis. It had been to Rinoa. It starts raining as he stands before the doors and waits for the security clearance to let him in. He grinds his teeth together, feels the beating in his neck. They are keeping something from him. He doesn’t know what and he doesn’t want to let his imagination run away with itself. But he knows they are hiding something.

The rain falls off his jacket and pools beside his boots on the linoleum floor. As the doors close behind him, he is greeted by the wash of warm air and the smell of herbs and spices rising from the cafeteria. His boots squeak uncomfortably as he walks towards the rows and rows of tables and chair, his eyes searching. It’s been a long three weeks.

“Squall!” He hears them before he sees them. They’re at the usual spot this time. They’re waving at him, both beaming. It’s not as bad as last time but he still feels it. It’s too artificial. They’re both trying just a bit too hard.

“Hey, buddy! How was it!” Half of Zell’s face is just teeth as he smiles.

“Pretty sucky actually.” Squall pulls out the chair and sits down.

“Well, you’re back now and that’s all that matters.” Rinoa wraps her arms around his neck and leans in for a kiss, but he turns his face.

“I’m sorry. I just, I can’t. I’m sorry.” And she backs back into her chair.

“Well, umm, guess what!” Zell still hasn’t lost his stupid smile. “I got into A Class!”

Squall doesn’t say anything. He is just staring at the floor. Rinoa squirms in her seat.

“And this is the part where you say,” And Zell mimics his voice, “Congrats, pal! You did swell Zell!”

“Good job.” Squall still doesn’t meet their gaze.

“But there is one bad side to it.” Rinoa glances to Zell as she says it and he nods, “Zell will have to be transfered to Galbadia.”

“What?!” And Squall looks up and suddenly he doesn’t care anymore that they’re hiding something from him or about being mad at them, “No, Zell. You can’t. You’ve heard the rumors about what happens at Galbadia!”

“There he is!” Zell winks at Rinoa. “Finally he’s back!”

“I’m serious, Zell!” Squall feels his pulse jumping.

“Calm down, I’ll be fine. It’s for the better this way.” And he looks at Rinoa when he says the last part.

Squall feels like there is so much more to that statement. He feels like he’s intruding on some private moment. He feels like he wants to run away. He feels like he would rather say anything than what he says next.

“When do you leave?”

“Couple of weeks.” And the air is suddenly somber with the realization that their group is soon going to be breaking apart.

“For how long?” Squall tries not to let his voice beak and he sees Rinoa clutching the table till her knuckles turn white.

“No sayin. Could be a couple of months. But if the rumours of war are true then I might be deployed from Galbadia. Could be a couple of years even.” And the pressure in the room seems to find its way directly into Squalls eyes and try to push past in the form of tears.

“Zell.” Squall doesn’t know what to say. Rinoa’s eyes are dissolving into tears too.

“Hey, come on you two. If you start then I’m gonna start and you know how ugly I look when I cry.” Zell tries to make light of the situation and Squall can’t help but wonder what they’ll do without him there to lighten the two of them up.

“Come on you two.” Rinoa finally speaks and somehow manages to sound stronger than either of them, “We are not going to waste Zell’s last few weeks here sitting and moping in the cafeteria.”

“Right.” Squall draws from her strength.

And as the three walk out of the cafeteria their thoughts are all the same and also far removed from each other. The secrets they carry and the worries that threaten to overwhelm and drown them at any moment are a hair’s breadth away. And individually they each struggle with it and fight to stay above the crushing rush of emotion. They each steel themselves and force a smile and say that they will enjoy the last moments together. They practice their smiles because they know all too soon they’ll need them more than ever.

The door closes behind them. Behind them the secrets and the uneaten hotdogs. They walk out into the rain of the night. The gravel crunches underfoot. The rain hides the tears that run down their cheeks. They still have each other, for now.

Memories in the Kitchen

He picks up the cup and places it in the saucer where it belongs. He places both cup and saucer on top of the stack he’s already carrying. He may be a teaboy but Ianto refuses to use a tray. That just seems to be too much ammunition for the likes of Owen. Instead he stacks them neatly, carries his tower of china to the kitchen, and proceeds to wash the used cups out.

And standing there in the kitchen it hits him again. This was the place. This was where he and Lisa had come after his first mission with the team. They had come and taken a celebratory cup of tea in the privacy of the kitchen. It had been the first time Lisa had talked to him. He had loved the sound of her voice from the start.

He starts scrubbing the cups, washing away every single speck of anything that had ever been on them. He tries to forget but it keeps happening. Everytime he’d come into the kitchen he’d think of her. He places the cups down to dry and remembers all the times she’d sneak away from her desk to come talk to him. She’d always pick up the rags and start drying his cups, even though she was using the dirty rags and he would have to end up washing the cups again when she left. He had never told her. He had never minded.

He puts the cups down and leans against the sink and breathes hard. He will make it through this. Even if everything reminds him of Lisa. Even if everything brings the pain back fresh and sharp, twisting in his gut until he feels like he is going to throw up. He will make it through this. This is his life now and he’d just have to accept it. No more richness in colors. Everything tasting bland. Nothing left but death everywhere. Lisa’s death everywhere.

He has to get out of the kitchen. He walks back up and grabs the black plastic bag on his way out. Time for another trash run. He gathers up all of the discarded pizza boxes, the empty soda pop cans, discarded tissues. He leaves Owen’s desk for last. Lately Owen’s been getting into a bad habit of leaving his discarded condoms on his keyboard. No doubt thinking its funny that Ianto has to toss them. It’s bad enough having Owen and Gwen sneak off every few hours to “go check on the servers in the basement” but this has gone too far. He uses on of the tissues to pick up the used condom and throws it with the trash where it belongs.

And then it’s back to the kitchen to toss the whole bag. He stops in the doorway. And again it triggers another memory of him and Lisa. The first time they’d kissed. He had been trying to go through the door when she was coming out of it. They’d tried going around but kept bumping into each other and he’d smiled his stupid smile and she’d smiled her beautiful smile and then she’d said that if he wasn’t careful she would end up kissing him. And so he moved purposefully in front of her this time. A pause. And then the kiss.

Ianto has to bite his lip as he steps into the kitchen, a tear escaping his eye. He grips the side of the kitchen table until his knuckles turn white. He gasps for breath as more tears trickle down his cheeks. God, he hates being weak like his. The others have all lost people but they all manage to keep it together. He feels like he is the only weak one.

“Ianto?” The voice comes from the doorway.

“Jack.” He quickly wipes his face and turns to start washing the dishes, hoping that his boss didn’t see his tears and knowing that Jack must have.

He keeps washing and he can feel Jack’s warm gaze on his neck and back. He bites his lip and sniff, and keeps scrubbing at the last cup in the sink as if he somehow can’t get the last bit of coffee off of it. As if he is lady Macbeth and the blood won’t come off. And then he feels them. Jack’s strong arms wrap around him, pressing his own arms to his sides, biceps flexing as they encircle him like two anacondas of muscle.

“Ianto.” And he can’t help to shiver as Jack’s warm breath pools in the shell of his ear.

“Y-yes?” He stammers, feeling the warmth radiating off of Jack.

“You do such a good job of keeping it all together.” And Jack’s throaty chuckle sends chills down his spine, “You almost fool me sometimes.”

“W-well, gotta keep things together f-for the job. Gotta be p-professional.” Ianto still not sure why he feels so terrified.

“You do.” No more chuckles from Jack, just the warm breath again, “You do a good job of hiding it. But you’re hurting on the inside. I can tell. And I just wanted to let you know. It’s okay. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay.”

And Ianto doesn’t know why but it’s as if ever since Lisa died he’s been trying to keep a flood back, and as if with those words Jack suddenly broke the dam. And the little bit of pain and sorrow he’s been letting himself feel each and everytime he’d think about Lisa. It all washes over him and he’s turning around and pressing his face against Jack’s strong chest as the tears spill out and he can’t stop crying and he doesn’t remember the last time he cried like this as he clings to Jack and let it all just flow out of him. And Jack just keeps on hugging him, keeps on saying that it will all be okay. And Jack is crying too. As if he feels every stab of pain Ianto feels. As if he loves Lisa just as much and he carries every memory of her too and as if he has to watch her die everytime he closes his eyes.

Somewhere in the mess of snot and tears and red faces and strong arms they’ve slid to the kitchen floor, their backs pressed against the cupboards. Jack is holding his hand, fingers interlaced. And as Ianto looks into Jack’s eyes he tells him about each and every memory in the kitchen. And after each one Jack holds his hand a bit tighter, as if giving him a bit of his own strength to keep going.

“You love her so much.” Jack whispers.

“Yeah, I did.” Ianto sniffs again.

“No.” Jack turns and takes his face in his large hands, “You still do. She may be gone but you have all those memories of you two. And they are precious. Don’t ever let them go. Don’t ever forget. Never stop loving Lisa.”

“But it hurts so much.” And another tear flows from Ianto’s eye.

“I know. I know.” Jack hugs him close and kisses the top of his head, “But that’s what makes you human. That’s what makes your love deep and strong and true. And when you love someone else. That love of Lisa will only make it stronger. Deeper. Truer. Let her go but never let your love for her go.”

And Ianto pulls away and looks up into Jack’s eyes. And Jack knows that look. It is the look that says that Ianto already has found someone to love. Someone to love stronger, deeper, and truer. Someone whose eyes he is gazing into right then and there.

“Hold on there, “ Jack whispers as he places a finger on Ianto’s lips, “You’re upset right now. Maybe now isn’t the best time to be looking at me like that.”

And Ianto shifts until he is on top of Jack, leaning over him, looking deep into his eyes because it’s vitally important to him that Jack understands that he knows what he’s doing and he knows what he wants. And he leans forward and places a soft, gentle kiss on Jack’s chapped lips.

“Easy there, Ianto.” Jack smiles up at him, “Is that a pocketwatch in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

Ianto struggles inside his trousers and pulls out something silver, “Actually it’s a stopwatch.”

“Hmmm, is that what they’re calling it these days?” Jack winks back at him.

“I can if you like.” Ianto smiles as he readjusts himself on Jack’s lap.

And Jack leans forward and places a kiss on Ianto’s lips in return before smiling up at him and saying, “Let’s make some new memories in this kitchen.”