Lest We Forget

Jack leaned back on the wooden railing, facing towards the Oval Basin. The water trickled down the fountain as it always had. The tide lapped lazily at the moorings, as it always had. The wind whipped across the bay in its normal fashion, swirling the fallen leaves into little maelstroms that had nowhere to go.

The sun was beginning to set, casting an orange hue across the Plas. It had been many years since Jack had last been in Cardiff. There had been no reason to go back. And something he had learned in his long life was that he could never go back. He was cursed to go ever forwards, ever on.

But he could go back in his thoughts, he could remember. He could remember them all. Wives, lovers, friends, family. Lives not lived to their fullest extent. Lives contaminated by his presence in them. For a fleeting moment, he wished Owen was by his side, punching him gently on the arm, knowing instinctively that something was wrong, hoping Jack might open up and talk to him.

Jack sighed. He longed for someone to talk to. Someone from the old days. He hesitated to call them "happy days" but, looking back on them, he realised that it had been as good as it got when you were immortal and felt obliged to save the earth on a daily basis. Tosh, Owen, Gwen, Ianto. All long gone.

An icy dagger cut into him as he thought of his young Welshman. It always did but the memory came unbidden. He had never tried to suppress it. He didn't want to, and he knew there was no point. It would come anyway. The closely-shaved, smartly-dressed Ianto during the week. Stubbled, hoodie-wearing Ianto when he was off duty.

Jack pushed himself off the railing and walked under the bridge to the Plas. He stood by the water tower, rebuilt after the Hub was destroyed. It was no longer modern art, it was now considered classical sculpture. He remembered it being constructed. And reconstructed. He reached out to touch it, allowing the water to trickle over his hand. It occurred to him that it was almost a ritual, purifying gesture but he felt no better for it.

A small figure suddenly came hurtling across the Plas towards him. "Whoa!" he said, bending down with open arms to catch the little boy. He swept him up in him arms and kissed him on the forehead before taking a big lick from the ice cream cone the child was holding.

"Da!" exclaimed the child, indignantly. "If you wanted an ice cream you should've got one like what I did."

"Like I did," corrected Jack, absently, his mind still on Ianto.

"But you didn't get one!" exclaimed the child, even more indignantly. "That's why you was eating mine."

Jack smiled, and swung the child round and round in his arms, relishing the very real scent of the freshly shampooed hair, now mingled with strawberry and chocolate icecream. The sun completed its journey and dipped below the horizon. Jack pushed aside thoughts of times past and brought them back to the present

He lowered the child gently to the ground and held out a hand. "I'll do you a deal," he said "give me the rest of that cone, and we'll go get you another whole one. Three scoops. What do you say?"

"Thanks, Daddy."

"What flavours do you want?"

The four year old thought deeply about what was clearly the most difficult decision of his life so far. His face was screwed up in concentration. "Chocolate, coconut and vanilla. With a flake! And with monkey's blood. Please."

"Monkey's blood?" questioned Jack.

"Daddy, you KNOW that is strawberry syrup!"

Jack smiled, suddenly overwhelmed with love for the little boy, and turned away from the water tower. "Let's go find Mum and see if she wants one too. Coming, Ianto?"

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

We will remember them.