If I owned Torchwood, Ianto would still be alive.

Jack knows Ianto is dead. He knows and all the grief and regret and anger and pain that accompany that fact follow him constantly, becoming unbearable when he has to see Stephen die in front of him and slowly becoming less intense as the days pass, the Hub is rebuilt and he pushes them to the back of his mind with all the rest of his pain so work can continue.

This knowledge is always there, like a constant ache, never more, never less, but always there like when Jack walks through the entrance of the new Hub for the first time and Ianto isn't by his side, or when Jack decides to recruit only two more new members because no one he has seen has quite the flair for his work that Ianto did.

He knows but it sinks in only a week after the Hub has reopened and Jack is in his office staring down at piles of paperwork when he suddenly realizes that it's five minutes past eleven and there's no coffee on his table.

And then he can't breathe.

He literally can't breathe, there's no air in his lungs and his hands are clutching the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles turn white and he's gasping, desperately trying to get air into his lungs, but suddenly all he can see are a pair of blue eyes and a blinding smile and he can't breathe.

He pushes away from the table, his hands clutching his throat, his stomach, grasping at thin air until one hand touches his chest and he understands. Understands that the reason he can't breathe is because all the tiny pieces of his shattered heart have landed right on top of his lungs.

Then he starts choking and something shifts and he can breathe so he takes in great, big, greedy gulps of air. Sometime during noaircantbreathe he's fallen on his knees on the floor with one hand supporting his weight and the other still holding his heart together.

He doesn't realize that he's crying. His tears come faster and heavier than Gwen's did when she identified Ianto, but he doesn't figure it out just then and when he does, he stays where he is, waiting until the tears stop, until it's safe to move, until he can see past blue eyes and hear anything other than a deep voice with lilting Welsh tones.

Jack's immersed in paperwork by the time the other three come in complaining about a wild goose chase, and because two of them are new, they brush it off as completely normal, but Gwen gazes up at her boss, knowing exactly what it is that Jack is trying so desperately to forget.