Title: A Single White Rose
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Table: 11
Prompt: 48, Rose
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own Ianto Jones or the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

***

The Doctor looked into the mirror over the sink in the bathroom, frowning at his reflection. Of course, he didn't look bad. He certainly didn't look like an over-900-year-old man. But the thought of his age had been troubling him lately.

He was grateful for his long life span, in some ways. He'd been able to do a lot of good in the universe during his lifetime, and he was probably going to do more. But there were so many drawbacks to living as long as he had.

All the people he cared about were doomed to age and die before he did -- leaving him alone. There was no escaping that stark fact, no matter how philosophical he tried to be about it. The loneliness was always there, waiting to engulf him again.

It would eventually happen with Ianto, as much as he hated to think about it. Ianto was human; he wasn't going to be here forever.

And what would he do then? How was he going to face each interminable day without his soul mate, the love of his life, by his side? That was something that he hadn't wanted to think about, but it was crowding into his mind more and more in the past few days.

Why was he thinking about this now? Maybe it was because Ianto's birthday had been just a few days ago, and the young man had insisted that the Doctor not make a spectacle of it. He hadn't wanted to do anything special.

They had celebrated quietly, just the two of them. The Doctor had been somewhat surprised that Ianto hadn't wanted to see his family, or even his old colleagues at Torchwood, but he complied with his lover's wishes in the matter.

Ianto had asked the Doctor offhandedly when his birthday was, and the Time Lord had answered just as offhandedly that he wasn't entirely sure.

The truth was, he really didn't care. Time hadn't ever been something that he took great notice of; it had always seemed rather inconsequential to him, and things like birthdays had always passed by without his really taking notice of them.

Of course, they were more important to humans, what with their life spans that seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye. He couldn't blame such a short-lived race for focusing on the milestones of age; it made sense for them to be concerned with time racing past.

He'd made the mistake of telling Ianto that he thought he was getting old; that he felt the weight of his 900-plus years at times, though they didn't show outwardly. And the young man had looked at him with a worried expression that had made him wish he hadn't said anything.

That was really a subject he should learn to avoid. Ianto was aware of the disparity in their ages already; he didn't need to point it out.

He had asked Ianto just the day before if he could see more lines than usual on his face, and the young man had vehemently denied it, saying that the Doctor looked as young as he himself did. But the Time Lord hadn't been able to believe that.

Of course, this body was younger and more handsome than any he'd had before. Still, he was sure that he could see visible signs that he had aged since he'd regenerated -- though that was entirely possible, considering all that this body had endured since then.

It was strange that he seemed to be getting younger with each regeneration, he thought, frowning into the mirror again. Though he had to admit that he could stop with this body and be perfectly happy if he kept this particular one for the rest of his life.

If only that were possible. He sighed, closing his eyes. If he could stay in this body forever .... and if Ianto could be with him indefinitely ....

That was pipe dream, he told himself sternly, looking up and scowling. My, but that was a terribly ferocious expression, he mused, trying to lighten his mood. No wonder people had told him that he could be intimiating when he was angry.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by Ianto's voice echoing in the corridors of the Tardis; his young lover was apparently back from wherever he'd gone when he'd asked the Doctor to take him to the London of his own time.

The Doctor had no idea just why Ianto had wanted to go there, but he'd obliged the young man -- and obeyed Ianto when he'd been asked to stay here and not go roaming around the city. Ianto was probably trying to keep him out of trouble, he thought with an affectionate smile.

He couldn't help but be curious as to just why Ianto had wanted to come here; surely there must be some special reason, and hopefully he was about to find out.

Ianto peered around the doorway, smiling when he saw the Doctor and holding out his hand. "There you are, love. Don't tell me you're still looking for signs of aging. Didn't I tell you that you're just as beautiful now as on the day I first saw you?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to protest, but he couldn't very well do so when Ianto had caught him in the act. So he only shrugged and raised his eyebrows at the other man in question. "And what have you been doing while you've been out?"

Ianto smiled, gesturing to the Time Lord to follow him, turning and heading down the hallway to their bedroom. The Doctor followed, more curious than ever as to just what Ianto had been doing, and what he might have brought back with him that he seemed to be taking great care fo hide.

When he reached the bedroom only seconds after Ianto did, the young man was standing there, with one hand behind his back, still smiling.

As the Doctor approached him, Ianto reached out to pull the tall, slender man into his arms, moving his hand from behind his back to present the Time Lord with a single white rose, the petals silky and fragrant, the most perfect rose that the Doctor had ever seen.

"White roses represent purity -- and, in some cultures, eternity," Ianto told him softly, his blue-grey eyes fixed on the Doctor's face. "It's my way of telling you that even as we both age and change, my love for you will still be as pure as it was on the first day I saw you."

The Doctor took the rose from Ianto, holding it to his face and inhaling its delicate scent, feeling the silken softness of the petals brush against his cheek. He was at a loss for words; and at the moment, there was large lump in his throat that prevented him from speaking.

When he could finally find his voice, he could only murmur, "That's beautiful, beloved. And so is the flower. I'll remember those words -- and I'll always treasure them."

"Those words are nothing more than the truth," Ianto whispered, his lips warm against the Doctor's throat. The Time Lord closed his eyes with a soft moan, letting his head fall back and almost melting into his lover's embrace.

What did the difference in their ages matter? The only thing that mattered was what existed in their hearts -- not in their faces, and not on a calendar. And the Doctor was sure that no matter what time they were allowed, they would spend every moment of it together.

***