Ianto Jones should have died aged 10.
He had gone too far from home, he knew that, and he wasn’t allowed to play in the woods, by the rocks; everyone else was, though, and when you’re young what everyone else does matters. So he ran down when his parents were busy, and played with the others. But Ianto wasn’t used to climbing trees, and he fell from the top branch and pummelled onto the rocks below. His friends ran away, and when his father found him later, his head was in a pool of blood. Only luck made him survive.
Ianto Jones should have died aged 19.
He was in university, and was unused to the drinking, drug-taking ways of his city-friends. They were in a club, the music was pounding, and everyone around him was off their heads on ‘E’. He knew he shouldn’t join in, his parents had always warned him that to do that meant pain and destruction, but the call of the crowd was too much. The lights glittered around him; they made his mind sparkle and dance and sing. When the ambulance came, he was on the brink between life and death, so nearly lost.
Ianto Jones should have died aged 24.
When the men clad in metal arrived, he and Lisa were in the cafeteria. The man they thought was a long lost colleague reached out and murdered his closest friend, and he and Lisa ran. They hid in a closet, too scared to move, hardly daring to breathe whilst alarms and gunshots rang around them. When they were found, they never let go of each other’s hands. But Ianto was taken left, and she was taken right. He found her, later on, and wished that he had been in the queue before her.
Ianto Jones should have died aged 25.
He was so scared, with his leader's gun against his head, his blood running cold through each vein, knowing that he had lost her forever. He battled on, running and crying and pleading, trying to find a way through Lisa’s armour, to the gentle her that he knew was hidden inside. But he never found her. He knew then that Lisa was gone had been since the second she was forced into that machine. His rescue had only made it worse. When Jack came later, he knew his corpse should be by hers.
Ianto Jones should have died aged 84.
He was in his bed, curled up with his older lover, safe and secure. Jack held him tight.
‘If only I could swap places with you, I would,’ Jack murmured as he watched the rise and fall of the man’s chest, weakened now in his old age. Ianto was so close, and Jack couldn’t bear to blink, scared to let go for a moment in case he missed a second of his lover’s life. He’d loved Ianto so long now, couldn’t believe that now they would be torn apart. Their hearts slowed together.
Ianto Jones shouldn’t have died in that room, scared, and in Jack’s arms. Jack should have made it better.