There were voices in the wind. That was one reason Jack spent so much time in high places. He could hear them more clearly there.
He knew them all.
They were his family, long gone and yet unborn. The friends who’d passed on and the lovers he’d left before he had to watch them grow old and die while he remained the same.
They were the people he’d failed; those he couldn’t save and those who would have been better off if he hadn’t.
They were the ones whose lives he’d taken with his own hands. He remembered every one.
Through his childhood on Boeshane, his years with the Time Agency, and the centuries since Rose had saved and cursed him with a single act, he had loved and lost so many good people.
Through work and war he’d been responsible for more deaths than his conscience could bear. They haunted his dreams
But there remained one voice that would never become an echo on the wind; that of the man who stood beside him now, as unchanging as Jack himself.
He would be eternally grateful for the sacrifice Ianto had made in order to stay by his side forever.