Excerpt: Gravitational Potential

Ianto paused, looking down the street behind them, tugging on Jack's hand. “I thought I heard something,” he insisted, smiling.

Jack shook his head fondly and followed the tug of Ianto's hand, drawing close behind him. “It's a beautiful view,” he commented, resting his chin on Ianto's shoulder. “And so are you.”

With a laugh, his young lover swatted at him, but left his hand there, resting on his arm. They looked at each other for a moment, then Ianto turned away and tugged Jack further up the hill, away from the harbour to watch the sunset over their city.

If Jack closed his eyes, he could almost have believed that Ianto was standing next to him, sharing the view of an alien planet, were it not for the fact that every time he did so he saw and heard Ianto's final breath. He looked over his shoulder, wishing for a miracle, for anything, but the deserted street of the ghost town gave him no comfort.

He kicked a stone down the street and watched it bounce and skitter away from him, losing sight of it before it came to a halt. Everything in his life now seemed like some twisted, hurtful metaphor; from the sound of his feet crunching on gravel to the empty, towering buildings of the city, from the weeds growing rank on every patch of open land and snarling the road to the call of a wild bird high above him. With happier eyes, he would have seen the promise of what this city would eventually become, but now he only saw the pain and emptiness of what it had so recently lost. He carried on his way, following the path of his stone, seeking it out even though he knew he wouldn't be able to recognise it, one stone among so many, but he had to look. He had to, because it was either that or slip away again.

For months, he had stumbled from drinking den to drinking den, lost, frightened and alone, seeking out the oblivion of drink for those precious few moments when Ianto was beside him again and all was right with the world, apart from the fact that he was steaming drunk. Even drinking to oblivion, some other drinkers had seemed to find him an attractive prospect, some had even dared to take a chance, but he had pushed them away just as he pushed away everyone else; he had made a promise, and he would keep it any way he could. Bitter and hurting, he turned his back on the world, and the world turned its back on him. Eventually, the moments of oblivion he sought became too hard to reach, he gave up too much each time, and he started the long, painful journey back to himself. He was lost, drowning in the world he had created for himself. The time had come to flee to the stars.