Title: The Simplicity of Dreams
By: Anduria Trianys
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the fictional universes or characters. I'm just borrowing them temporarily for a bit of a laugh.
Summary: Post Exit Wounds. What do Jack and Ianto dream about when they sleep?

***

It was fairly common knowledge that Ianto Jones kept a diary. It was a little book. However, there were two facts that were certainly not common knowledge.

One was that it was not the diary that sometimes lay around the Hub – the one that Jack had found once and teased him about with his comment about measuring tapes.

The other was exactly what was written inside this diary. The only person who knew this was Ianto himself and he was extremely keen to keep it that way. Inside this diary, inside this simple little red book, Ianto catalogued his most private thoughts – his dreams. But these weren't just any dreams he would write about here. These were his dreams about himself and Jack…dreams he would die for…but dreams that could never happen.

He was reading one of his more recent entries now.

18th May 2008

It's very strange, sometimes, to be surrounded by something one minute and then something else after what feels like only another minute. But I will say that it's certainly exciting, especially when you're seeing something you don't even know about, or somewhere you've never been to. What I saw tonight was almost like the stuff of fairytales, something I've only read about and seen pictures of, but never done.

Anyway, Jack and I were sitting in one of those four-wheel drive cars. I can remember feeling tired, but I couldn't quite fall asleep because the terrain was so rough. Suddenly, I heard Jack gasp in shock and I sat up. He was staring out of the window at the silhouette of the lofty peak of Mount Kilimanjaro, visible in the crimson sunset.

As the sun set, it shone like a halo above the mountain, making it brighter than a flame in the darkness. Even in the hot summer, we could still see flecks of snow shimmering red on the top. Jack said that he had often heard that the best time to see Kilimanjaro was at sunset and, looking at the view now, I agree with him. It was truly magical.

Suddenly, the jeep stopped and the driver turned round and smiled at us. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was Owen! Even better, sitting in the passenger seat beside him, smiling as I'd never seen her smile before, there was Tosh.

"Go on with you," she said, "both of you – go and spend some time with each other. Jack spent so long organizing this; it would be a shame to waste it."

I was stunned, but before I could ask, Jack took my hand and led me into the park. We walked silently for about ten minutes, just enjoying the peace surrounding us. It was so simple, so ridiculously simple, but it was so perfect.

Finally, Jack spoke. "Look."

I followed his gaze. What I saw took my breath away. I couldn't even gasp. There, less than five yards in front of us and completely unaware of their surroundings, was a mother elephant and her baby. The baby fitted comfortably under the mother's body.

But that wasn't the only thing to catch Jack's eye. Further back, but still clearly visible in the slowly fading light, I could see a lioness and three cubs playing in the grasses, protected by the figure of an enormous lion, his mane blowing slightly in the wind.

I leaned towards Jack and rested my head on his shoulder, just standing and watching the scene. "It's beautiful," I whispered. "It's so simple, but –"

"So perfect," Jack nodded and kissed the top of my head. "I know."

I don't remember much of what happened next. All I know is that the scene suddenly changed and Jack and I were in the middle of an African bazaar. It was quite amazing; to one minute be standing in the peaceful sunset and gazing at Kenyan wildlife and the next to be in the blazing sunshine, standing in the middle of crowds of people calling out to us in languages I couldn't understand. Jack was loving it, of course; he was staring at all the fantastic souvenirs and snacks on display, inhaling the strange scents surrounding us.

He bought me a beautiful red linen shirt with black elephants on it and insisted that I wear it for dinner that night. I was about to ask why, but he silenced me with a finger to my lips and a cheeky smile. Of course, after that, I had to get him a matching shirt, only in blue and white. Jack looked as though he could have kissed me right there. He didn't, but he more than made up for it that night in our tent.

Ianto smiled slightly as he thought about the dream. Not only had he been able to enjoy some quality time with Jack and seen something so amazing, but Owen and Tosh had been there too…and they'd been so happy. For the first two weeks since their deaths, Ianto had dreamt about them repeatedly, but so often those dreams had been nightmares. He had seen Tosh at Canary Wharf, in the same half-converted state that Lisa had been, even heard her screaming as he tried to rescue her. Once, he had even remembered shooting Owen as he had opened the Rift…only this time, it had not been a shot to the shoulder, but a fatal wound. That night, he had woken up screaming in terror and Jack had spent the whole time holding him and comforting him.

But now, after seeing them so happy, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Owen and Tosh may have missed each other repeatedly in life…but at least in death they could be together – and they could be happy together as well. There was hope in death – all you had to do was look for it.

"A dream is so simple sometimes," he mused. "But it says a thousand words."

Another unknown fact, except to Ianto, was that Jack also kept a dream diary, inside which he wrote his dreams about his young partner. However, he did not reveal all the details of his dreams, just the stories of his favourite ones. Interestingly, these were not the steamy wet dreams that one might associate with the omnisexual Captain.

Well, he had a few of those in there, of course, but most of them were just day to day events; the sort of mundane things that everyone did from time to time. Every single dream of a date or a picnic or just a country walk was catalogued in there.

But this dream…this one was a little different. Jack had just finished writing every detail of it he could remember seeing and he was re-reading it with a lump in his throat.

21st May 2008

It's amazing how the small things can have the greatest impact on you. Most of the dreams I've written in here are just the ordinary things that people do. But they're the things I've always wanted to do with Ianto, but we've not been able to do them properly.

Yesterday morning, I was reading the paper and I found something in the Arts section about an exhibition at the British Library of manuscripts from the 'Ramayana', an ancient Indian epic that Ianto's always been fond of. He really does love his ancient history so much and there was nothing I wanted to do more than to take him straight down to London and surprise him with it. I've always felt guilty every time the Rift gets in the way of our plans, even though Ianto never makes a fuss.

Anyway, the idea of this exhibition stayed with me all day and even entered my dreams. I haven't been to the British Library for some time, but I could see it so clearly it was like…I don't know how to explain it…like a photograph captured in my mind for ever. I could see the palm trees in the galleries I was walking past; hear people whispering to each other in awe. I felt like I had walked back in time.

When we arrived at the right gallery, the first thing I heard was a gasp from beside me. I turned to find Ianto staring at me, his eyes round with shock and utter joy.

"Jack…how did you –?"

"I knew you'd want to see this," I said. "I just wanted it to be a surprise." I rested a hand on his shoulder. "Just go and enjoy yourself; forget about Torchwood, forget about the Rift – for now, just be you. You just have to be Ianto Jones, a young man with a passion for history. Because that's who you are – and don't forget it."

I knew he would want to look at these on his own and immerse himself in the images of the story he had loved for so long, so I followed him at a slower pace, staying at least three cases behind him. The enraptured expression never once left his face, and I could understand that. It's one thing to read something, but it's another thing to see it in art. Mentally, I mused that I would have to take him to the British Museum after this.

We spent an entire day just walking around and staring at these pictures as if we wanted to commit the images to memory so we could paint them ourselves. Well, we wanted to commit something to memory – but it was the images of the day itself.

It was just us, together, acting like a normal couple; two ordinary people in love.

Today, we weren't Captain Jack Harkness, leader of Torchwood Three, or Ianto Jones, Head Archivist. We were just Jack and Ianto.

Jack smiled sadly as the memory of the dream washed over him like a wave cascading onto the shore. Going out to an exhibition might seem like such an everyday thing to get so happy over, but for Jack, it was that simplicity that was so charming, because it was precisely what he would always want, but could never have, because of Torchwood and his own immortality.

Even though he was so happy with Ianto, the thought that he would be alone when the younger man finally died broke his heart so many times.

But even despite that, he knew that he wouldn't change it for anything. As wonderful as it would be for Ianto to be immortal and never leave him, Jack would never wish it on him. He knew only too well what it was like to see all the people you love the most die and know that there was nothing that could be done and there was no way he would ask Ianto to go through that, especially not for him.

"All I can do is make the most of what we have now," he murmured as he shut his diary. "And that means appreciating the simple things, even if it is just in a dream."

That night, Jack and Ianto lay in each other's arms, their hearts beating as one, but their subconscious minds in very different places…

Ianto smiled as he leaned into Jack's arms, looking upon the view of the Canadian Rockies as the snow whirled around them. They were standing on a viewing platform, gazing out over a shimmering glacier.

"It could melt at any moment," murmured Ianto, resting his head on Jack's shoulder.

But that didn't matter. It was the here and now that mattered. And in the here and now, Jack and Ianto were together.

Jack laced his fingers gently through Ianto's as their eyes were fixed on the stage in front of them. Neither of them had seen 'The Lion King' before, but they had heard great things about it and, watching the climactic finale, they realised just how true they were.

As the audience suddenly rose to their feet and joined in with the final song, Jack suddenly pulled Ianto into his arms and started to dance with him, stroking his long fingers and never once letting go. He had no idea how long this could last; this beautiful moment could transcend time – and surely it must – but even he, a time traveler, didn't know how much time.

But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered as long as they were together.

At the same time, though neither of them knew it, both men smiled as they shared the same thought.

Life is special, but equally special is the simplicity of dreams.

***