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A Eulogy for the Dearest Ianto Jones

dear everyone:

Tomorrow I will be holding a very small funeral for the adorable, the private, the loyal-to-a-fault, the charming, the pleasing, the self-doubting self-depreciating Ianto Jones. Ianto--you swiftly became my favorite character in Torchwood. You didn'd even get an "I love you" in the end. (Don't think no one noticed, Russell. If ever I see you on the street, you're getting a well deserved slap across the face). I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

Ianto, Ianto. In five days the Whovians and the Woodies have gained more insight into a quietly enigmatic character. Everyone's always so hung up on Captain Jack Harkness, they never stop to wonder where Ianto came from and what he left behind--and I'm not talking about Lisa. I'm talking about a sister he loved, his troubled relationship with his father that he tried to conceal in vain. I'm talking about the thrill he gets when Jack embraces him; the restraint, the  "decorum and tranquility" he exercises around not only his peers, but himself. Never disgraced.Even in the poor decisions, the rampant tears, the determination to cling to what was lost so very long ago--Ianto Jones was never disgraced. He held fast to his principles, his convictions. He held fast to his great loves--Lisa, even when she was all but dead; his dear Captain, when all seemed lost. He held fast to his obligations--To Torchwood, to his family, to the Captain, Gwen, the world--despite overwhelming pressures to let go. Even if it meant shooting Owen Harper to preserve the balance of time and space. Even if it meant never seeing his sister or his niece and nephew to avoid reminding them of past pains. Even if it meant becoming a fugitive, accepting a relationship that was not entirely equal, dying not knowing if you died for love or for mere companionship. Even if it meant putting yourself in danger, time and time again. Even if it meant offering up your life.

Ianto Jones was never disgraced.

So take this man, I implore you, as a model not of how to live, how to think, how to be, but as a model of what to admire. A model of what to tip your hat to on the street. Welcome his kind with bowed head and warm heart. Give them the nod. Somewhere out there, there is a Ianto Jones looking for a "Well done" and a handshake. GIve it readily. There is not anywhere a man or woman that has not dedicated their very being to something only to be grossly underappreciated and unrecognized for their true merit. Think of them. Think of Ianto.

If nothing else, think of how good he looked in a suit.

(note: This small funeral basically consists of wearing all black and watching torchwood series 1&2 with a box of kleenex. I will be in a pitiful mood. My sister will no doubt join me, though she will most likely forget to wear black and will forget to finish Children of Earth. Yeah, so it's a pity party of one, pretty much. I'll manage.)

To quote Gwen Cooper:

"There's gotta be something that you can do, 'cause otherwise what's the fucking point of you? You bring him back, do you you understand me, Jack fucking Harkness? Do you?"

(Granted, this was series 1, End of Days, upon Rhys' momentary death, but the sentiment still applies.)

Okay, Okay, I'm done.