It seemed to happen immediately. The suction pulled Ianto back away from the world that only six months ago he had been alive and free to enjoy. Though to him it felt like only this morning.

There was a strange cloud in his mind. It was a space that separated what Jack told him was true about his untimely demise, and what Syriath lead him to believe. He wanted to believe his own mind more than anything. He wanted to believe that he had woken up at six sharp and put the coffee on. He wanted to believe he was alive. He looked down at himself. He looked real, he looked alive. He looked out at Jack. He saw pain etched across his features. He looked more broken than he had ever seen him.

He would believe Jack.

He steeled himself, took one last look at Jack, knowing his lover was likely the last thing he would ever see before falling into the void. Jack was nearly sobbing out heaving breaths, though no tears were falling down his face. His arms were limp at his sides in a deliberate manner, as though he was keeping himself from reaching into the pub's doorway and retching Ianto from it. The force pulling Ianto backwards into the rift seemed like nothing compared to the tugging at his heart that told him he should stay on Earth. Not only for Jack, but honestly, he was scared. The energy in his legs was surging to step forward and meet the pavement only a few feet away. He was shaking and his mind did nothing to calm him. Every thought he had was another awful way that he might perish in the rift. He only vaguely knew of what it had in store, and what he did know he dreaded to face.

Like a stab in the gut he remembered the others who had been sucked through, and where they lived out their pain filled lives. They had gone mad in the heart of stars, a burned shell of what they had been. He had heard the screaming, had seen the crying and brokenness of Flam Holm. He didn't want to end up like that. If he did end up in some far reach of space like they had, he couldn't even count on getting back home to face out his life on the island.

The rift would be shut behind him. Something so constant in his life would be wiped clean off the face of the Earth. Even before he knew what the rift was, he swore he remembered feeling it. It was the slow winding tick beneath his feet, as familiar as the stopwatch's weight that was almost constantly in his pocket. It would be gone now. Torchwood wouldn't be needed anymore. He wouldn't be needed at Torchwood. Everything he had accepted into his life and identity was being erased in one blast. He didn't know what he would be without Earth, without the rift, and without Jack.

All his musings and fears stopped dead in their tracks as the world around him faded into nothingness. No matter how much he thought about the universe he was now leaving, nothing could prepare him. However, no force on Earth or any other planet could stop it. He closed his eyes and wound his limbs in tightly around himself. After a few seconds or hours spent in the awkward fetal position, he drew his legs down away from himself.

The strangest feeling encircled him. He had no means of knowing up from down. He wasn't even sure he had a body to maneuver. He could see nothing. It was a strange combination of dark and light that allowed no hints to his surroundings. If he didn't get out of this soon he was sure to go insane. But what was soon? He had been here for ages, or had he just gotten here? It was impossible to tell. Vertigo was starting to take its toll on his stomach. Blood began rushing up to his head and back down again in a way that was making his eyes go fuzzy and his mind go blank. He could feel himself losing consciousness and fought against it. It was unsure if he would ever wake up. He opened his eyes wide and refused to even blink, sure if he closed his eyes he would not be opening them again.

After what seemed like longer than he had been alive, he heard something. It was a boom of voices and noises from a busy street. From what he could tell, it was English. Better yet, it was English with Welsh accents. He closed his eyes tight in concentration. Was it his imagination trying to occupy himself, echoes of the rift closing and swallowing up his home, or something else?

Suddenly the insides of his eyelids began to glow red. He opened his eyes and saw a thin beam of light a distance away from him. He tried to move towards it, but found he could not. He found he didn't need to, as the light was growing and rushing forward to meet him.

Thanks for reading :)