Echoes With No Apologies

Part I

The harsh morning sun combined with my dusty and smeared window was, suffice to say, an unpleasant sight to wake up to. I really ought to get curtains, I probably won't though.

After a moment, I caught what awoke me, a ceaseless banging on my front door. I supposed I should get that. My eyes fell shut and once more the comforting embrace of sleep enveloped me.

My hateful window hadn't improved in appearance, and the addition of an annoyed, cheap-suited pathologist hardly added aesthetic value. I wondered what he wanted and why he was in my bedroom, but then again, I didn't really care. I really ought to get my locks changed. I pulled the duvet over my head and hope that he would leave if I ignored his existence. That'll be the day.

"Gabriel, if you don't get up now I'm going to make you a cup of tea, and then I'm going to pour it over your head."

"No, you won't, Ianto, you're far too middle class for that." I hissed from under my pillow.

"Don't test me, Wilde, I'm not in the mood today."

'Wilde' eh? He must be having a bad morning. I heaved my lanky limbs from under the covers to look him in his dreary face, he returned my gaze with a hardened stare, he was tired- no, exhausted, and stressed, a few fresh grey hairs amongst the dark brown, probably still hadn't finished that report on the latest ripper victim. His face was more vacant than usual, dark circles under his eyes, he clearly hadn't slept well. In my experience, that meant one thing and one thing alone.

He has a brand-new body and no idea who stopped its heart.

"No." I stated, positive that I wouldn't get dragged into another of his wild goose chases. It's not going to happen. "You know the way out," After a though I added, " and leave your key on the table."

"Come on, Gabe, you know I wouldn't be here if I had another option." His deep brown eyes widened as he pulled out a face that, ten years ago, could have been called 'puppy eyes'. Now it just looked sad. Even so, it still had the power to bend my will.

I flopped back into my bed, berating myself for falling for his ludicrous antics once again.

"Give me five minutes, I expect tea."

I could tell without looking that those sad eyes and that tight frown had been replaced with a triumphant smirk. When he left and I heard my kettle beginning to boil, I pulled on some clothes. She'd once said that my 'girly hair' hardly fitted with my 'grandfatherly style'. I learnt at a young age that I should ignore other people's opinions, but at the time she'd been rather difficult to dismiss.

Still battling with my jumper, I stumbled to my kitchen and snatched my mug from Ianto's grasp. I knew it was my mug because Ianto was one of those anomalies, the ones who drink their tea without milk.

"Where are my glasses?" I asked, looking in the usual places: key bowl, coffee table, biscuit tin, the top of my head, et cetera.

"Have you seen your face?" He responded, sipping his tea, leaning against my counter, smirking.

I couldn't quite tell if he was just being childish or if I was suffering from post-sleep puffiness and bed-hair. I glanced into my toaster's shiny exterior.

He wasn't just being childish.

I rolled my eyes and headed to the bathroom, beginning to tug a comb through my tangled hair one-handed whilst trying to drink my breakfast. I resolved to get a haircut, it reached my shoulders and every blasted centimetre had at least fifteen knots.

I looked in the mirror and sighed. I could do with a shave, but I couldn't summon the energy. My skin looked grey, not like the cheerful man I saw in the photos around my house. Even my once bright blue eyes seemed to have dulled and faded, new creases and lines spread out from their corners. I suppose after a while everyone begins to look how they feel.