Jack looks up from buttoning his shirt to find Kelly waving a scrap of faded material in his direction, eyes round with curiosity.
His fingers still as he realises what it is. The bedroom tie.
It had been pink once, the most vibrant pink he could find. A shade which, though Ianto privately confessed to loving, Jack knew he would never actually wear, at least not in the traditional sense. He’d bought it as an apology after they’d managed to ruin yet another of the young Welshman’s favourites the night before. He’d loved it. They’d used it well.
Kelly’s voice snaps him back to the present and he takes a shaky breath before answering.
“It’s nothing,” he says softly, “just a memory.”
Crossing to the bed he gently takes the tie from her and sinks down, running the strip of silk through his fingers and remembering how Ianto always loved the cool softness of it against his skin.
“Where’d you find it?” He asks.
“Under the mattress,” She answers quietly, “it looks pretty old.”
He smiles at that, curious Kelly, bright and innocent, always eager to learn. So very different to his quiet, knowing Ianto.
“It is.” He says simply. She lets it drop.
The mattress dips beside him as she leans across to retrieve her top before pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.
“A memory isn’t nothing, Jack.” She whispers, “See you tonight.”
And then she’s gone, leaving him alone with the memory of blue eyes and welsh vowels and pink silk on pale skin.