Work Text:
Ianto. Dead. The words refused to connect in his mind.
Heavy, and limp, and staring at nothing at all. A kiss and he never moves. His chest doesn't rise or fall. His heart doesn't beat, doesn't pump blood to his cheeks, blushing them. His skin is not warm, and he is not shaking with cold.
Ianto. Dead.
A caress and his expression never changes. A squeeze to his hand that is not returned.
Ianto is gone.
Into the black that Jack knows all too well.
Never coming back.
Ianto is dead.
Why can't this be the Year That Never Was?