Ianto doesn’t know how Jack’s talked him into this, but then Jack is a law unto himself.
Jack leads him down the gangplank, to the wooden double doors. The Doctor tactfully stays at the controls, giving them privacy. Jack’s arm goes around Ianto’s shoulders, but it isn’t till Jack reaches for the handle that Ianto realizes his intent.
“Wait, is that a good — “ he says, just as Jack twists the latch and throws the doors wide open.
Nothing happens. “ — idea,” he finishes, somewhat lamely.
“Forcefield,” Jack says, succinctly. “D’you think I’d open it otherwise?”
“With you, one is never sure,” Ianto says, his mouth on autopilot. The rest of him is taking in the sight before them: the Earth, half in light, half in darkness, filling his field of view. The detail is exquisite: swirling clouds, the crinkles of mountain ranges, the glittering fairy-dust of nightside cities. Photographs don’t do it justice.
Jack’s arm tightens, pressing their sides together. He rests his head against Ianto’s, their temples touching. “I wanted you to see this, just once,” he said, his voice low and affectionate in Ianto’s ear. “I wanted you to know exactly what you’re fighting for.”