Title: Spilt Milk
By: Flo Wynn
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mind. Torchwood belongs to RTD and the BBC.
Spoilers: 1x13 End of Days
Summary: Based upon prompt 6: Spilt Milk.

***

People say don't cry over spilt milk, and the idea in itself is ridiculous to the point of hilarity. But those people who are laughing? They are missing the point.

It's six hours and Jack still hasn't woken up, not like the first time, the time when Owen shot him and Ianto, Gwen, and even gentle hearted Toshiko had stood by and done nothing to prevent this. The point was, it was over fast. Quick and (almost) painless, like ripping a plaster of an injury. Gwen had assured them that when he had died before in her presence that he had always revived himself within minutes, if not seconds. But this... the slow hours dragging by with Gen waiting by his death bed like a woman on the edge of a nervous break down looking for a saviour, the nervous and shaky pacing of Owen showing that he hadn't sleep and had no intention of doing so any time soon if the amount of coffee he was consuming was any indicator, and the silent weeping of Toshiko who was hunched over her computer as if it's failure to provide a cure to death was in itself a tragedy. This was a slow torture. Gwen's faith and hope was stopping Ianto from moving on and excepting the loss of his Captain, his lover. No tears were shed though, not by Ianto Jones.

That was of course until he started making the forth round of coffees. Owen (milk, no sugar), Toshiko (black, one sugar), Gwen (milk, two sugars), Jack (industrial strength with a drop of milk and three sugars...

The milk poured over the brim of Jack's coffee cup as Ianto poured it. No more Jack. He was making the man coffee, but never again would Jack drink it, or tell him or sexy he looked in the suit, or leer at him when he thought Owen and Tosh and Suzie/Gwen weren't around or kiss him or fuck him or complain to him or ask him to file his half done paperwork...

Tears poured down Ianto's cheeks. His eyes turned puffy and red like a fourteen year old girl just having been dumped by the school jock. His hands were shaking and the milk was on the floor. Ianto collapsed and let the drinks go cold as he attempted to get himself under control.

It is only when he is mopping up the spilt milk that Ianto realises he was crying over spilt milk.

That is what people who repeat the pithy saying don't realise. The milk is just the straw that broke the camels back.

***