Jack stands so still on the rooftop he could be mistaken for a statue if not for the wind stirring his coat. Not that anyone would spot him up there, a slightly darker shadow against the night sky. Ianto can only see him because he knows Jack’s there. He was there too just a short while ago.
He’d been trying to persuade Jack to come down, but the immortal had remained motionless and silent, staring at nothing. Failing to save someone always hit him hard.
Ianto wishes he could do something, anything, other than leave Jack to his lonely vigil.