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temporal_witch and xtricks
These are from some of my fics that lurk in the ever growing WIP folder, some of which may or may not ever see the light of day.
1
There's a faint smile on Hamilton’s lips as he walks over to Ianto and unties his wrists. “He’ll live Captain, he’s young, strong.” He strokes Ianto’s hair. “One day he may even thank me for this. After all, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.”
Jack stares at him, angry, helpless.
“Take him away, leave him near their base, so he’ll be found.” He nods, and the guards reappear to half drag, half carry Ianto away.
Drawing his gun, Hamilton walks back over to Jack. “You might not believe this Captain, but I actually feel sorry for you.” He sounds amused as he releases the chain and watches as Jack falls to his knees. “It must be a terrible thing to die, not knowing what it's for, yet still being completely aware that it was all for nothing.” He releases the safety catch on the gun.
2
The Doctor’s eyes widen as he realises that it's not the entrance to a Cyberconversion factory, or even to a control centre, it’s just a single conversion unit. It’s badly damaged, functioning only because it has been augmented with medical equipment and has been wired into the mains via a tangle of cables.
Were it not a Cyberconversion unit the Doctor thinks that he’d be very impressed at ingenuity of whoever has managed to keeping it working. Only it is a Cyberconversion unit and at the moment he’s got very little patience for people meddling with technology that can’t even begin to comprehend. So it is with disgust that the Doctor realises that not only is the unit functional, it's occupied.
Strapped to the unit is a young woman, her dark skin standing out in sharp contrast to the silvery metal that has been grafted to her body. She opens her eyes as the Doctor approaches, her lips barely moving as she tries to speak.
Lying on a mattress on the floor by her side, and wrapped in a sleeping bag, a dark haired young man sleeps. Shivering, the man moves restlessly, his breathing harsh and pained in the quiet of the building.
3.
“This is a load bollocks,” Andy says shoving the paperwork back across the desk at the Inspector.
“It's a generous offer, Constable, and one that you be well advised to consider.” Detective Inspector Hale picks up the slightly crumpled document. “Emotions were running high that day. Your conduct until that incident has been exemplary, which is why we are offering you this opportunity. You deserted your post in the heat of the moment, it was a temporary lapse in judgement.”
“So what, I just sign this, and pretend I'm sorry?” Andy asks, unable to keep the anger from his voice. It feels like since that day the anger has been there just below the surface, growing, festering.
4.
The tropical heat and humidity are appalling, and even Captain Becker's normally neat appearance is suffering; his hair, damp with sweat, clings limply to his forehead as he leads the way deeper into the Carboniferous jungle.
Under normal circumstances Becker would have been against any form of expedition through an anomaly; reports from earlier incursions had indicated that it was a very unwise course of action. Sometimes though there had been no other viable choice, and today's incident is another such case.
An anomaly had opened in the middle of the track on the Piccadilly line just south of Holborn during the morning rush hour sending the train hurtling not only off its tracks, but three hundred million years into the past.
That had been eight hours ago.
5.
“I've not...” Nick stops, sounding embarrassed. “Well you know.”
“I'm hardly mister super-experienced myself,” Stephen says, pushing up the edge of Nick's t-shirt, fingers touching bare skin beneath. “It doesn't matter to me, just be yourself, that's all I want.”
“I mean I've not, not since Helen left,” Nick mumbles, wondering how Stephen can make him feel so turned on and so incredibly awkward and embarrassed at the same time; he's sure at his age he should be beyond that.
Stephen stops, looking shocked and saddened. “But that's nearly nine years. You've not let anybody touch you in nine years?”
“I couldn't, it felt like cheating, even when I was so sure she was never coming back.”
“You really think she did the same?”
Nick shakes his head, knowing that if Helen could cheat on him while they were together the chances of her staying faithful in the years they were apart is just about nil. The admission hurts though, and his voice is rough when he asks, “Can we not talk about Helen?”
“Maybe we shouldn't do this.” Stephen starts to move away, obviously uncomfortable with the mention of Helen. “I feel like I'm taking advantage of you.”
“Oh for Christ's sake Stephen, I'm no some blushing virgin,” Nick says irritably, his accent becoming more pronounced. “We both know what we're doing. And if we're going to die out here I'd prefer my last time to be something other than my own hand.”
6.
“I considered myself in love once,” Becker says quietly, putting down his pint. “It's not a mistake that I'm going to allow myself to make again.”
Ryan frowns, before saying,“Someone really did a number on you, didn't they, mate.”
“It was my own fault.” Becker stares down into his drink, avoiding Ryan's eyes. “I allowed myself to believe that I meant something to somebody whom I should never have become involved with. It was deeply unprofessional. Now if you don't mind I'd rather not discuss it further.”
7.
The Hub shimmers around Jack, a transparent overlay of what once was onto the wreckage of what now remains. Memories good, bad and indifferent of the men and women who had worked there and given their lives for Torchwood bound forever within the stones.
Clutched in his hand the ghost machine hums faintly, its lights pulsing like an alien heartbeat, despite the crack that now runs through it.
Jack's breath catches in his throat as amongst the drifting images, he finally sees what he’s been waiting for: his team.
Suzie before alien technology had twisted her brilliant mind. Toshiko before his brother had taken her life just as she was starting to really live it. And Owen, so angry at a world that had taken more from him than it had given, but who'd still died to save it.
All lost to time because he couldn’t save them. The grief at losing them is fresh, the emotions stirred up by the ghost machine too strong, and Jack drops to his knees, tears wet on his face.
8.
“Do you know what this is?” She holds up a pendant, the green crystal held in its base glinting slightly in the low light of the bar.
Jack takes it from her, turning it over in his hands. It’s definitely alien, he’s sure of that, and although it construction and design aren’t particularly familiar, its function as some form of telepathic enhancer is.
“It’s how my people communicate with other races.” She holds it out to him, the fine chain dangling seductively from her fingers. “Go on, try it on.”
The pendant is cold against his skin, and the rush of voices into his mind is dizzying, as his own limited and seldom used telepathic abilities are suddenly magnified.
It leaves him breathless, disorientated, and a little disheartened by all the negativity in the people around him; people who he assumed were happy in their normal, mortal lives.
temporal_witch and xtricksThese are from some of my fics that lurk in the ever growing WIP folder, some of which may or may not ever see the light of day.
1
There's a faint smile on Hamilton’s lips as he walks over to Ianto and unties his wrists. “He’ll live Captain, he’s young, strong.” He strokes Ianto’s hair. “One day he may even thank me for this. After all, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.”
Jack stares at him, angry, helpless.
“Take him away, leave him near their base, so he’ll be found.” He nods, and the guards reappear to half drag, half carry Ianto away.
Drawing his gun, Hamilton walks back over to Jack. “You might not believe this Captain, but I actually feel sorry for you.” He sounds amused as he releases the chain and watches as Jack falls to his knees. “It must be a terrible thing to die, not knowing what it's for, yet still being completely aware that it was all for nothing.” He releases the safety catch on the gun.
2
The Doctor’s eyes widen as he realises that it's not the entrance to a Cyberconversion factory, or even to a control centre, it’s just a single conversion unit. It’s badly damaged, functioning only because it has been augmented with medical equipment and has been wired into the mains via a tangle of cables.
Were it not a Cyberconversion unit the Doctor thinks that he’d be very impressed at ingenuity of whoever has managed to keeping it working. Only it is a Cyberconversion unit and at the moment he’s got very little patience for people meddling with technology that can’t even begin to comprehend. So it is with disgust that the Doctor realises that not only is the unit functional, it's occupied.
Strapped to the unit is a young woman, her dark skin standing out in sharp contrast to the silvery metal that has been grafted to her body. She opens her eyes as the Doctor approaches, her lips barely moving as she tries to speak.
Lying on a mattress on the floor by her side, and wrapped in a sleeping bag, a dark haired young man sleeps. Shivering, the man moves restlessly, his breathing harsh and pained in the quiet of the building.
3.
“This is a load bollocks,” Andy says shoving the paperwork back across the desk at the Inspector.
“It's a generous offer, Constable, and one that you be well advised to consider.” Detective Inspector Hale picks up the slightly crumpled document. “Emotions were running high that day. Your conduct until that incident has been exemplary, which is why we are offering you this opportunity. You deserted your post in the heat of the moment, it was a temporary lapse in judgement.”
“So what, I just sign this, and pretend I'm sorry?” Andy asks, unable to keep the anger from his voice. It feels like since that day the anger has been there just below the surface, growing, festering.
4.
The tropical heat and humidity are appalling, and even Captain Becker's normally neat appearance is suffering; his hair, damp with sweat, clings limply to his forehead as he leads the way deeper into the Carboniferous jungle.
Under normal circumstances Becker would have been against any form of expedition through an anomaly; reports from earlier incursions had indicated that it was a very unwise course of action. Sometimes though there had been no other viable choice, and today's incident is another such case.
An anomaly had opened in the middle of the track on the Piccadilly line just south of Holborn during the morning rush hour sending the train hurtling not only off its tracks, but three hundred million years into the past.
That had been eight hours ago.
5.
“I've not...” Nick stops, sounding embarrassed. “Well you know.”
“I'm hardly mister super-experienced myself,” Stephen says, pushing up the edge of Nick's t-shirt, fingers touching bare skin beneath. “It doesn't matter to me, just be yourself, that's all I want.”
“I mean I've not, not since Helen left,” Nick mumbles, wondering how Stephen can make him feel so turned on and so incredibly awkward and embarrassed at the same time; he's sure at his age he should be beyond that.
Stephen stops, looking shocked and saddened. “But that's nearly nine years. You've not let anybody touch you in nine years?”
“I couldn't, it felt like cheating, even when I was so sure she was never coming back.”
“You really think she did the same?”
Nick shakes his head, knowing that if Helen could cheat on him while they were together the chances of her staying faithful in the years they were apart is just about nil. The admission hurts though, and his voice is rough when he asks, “Can we not talk about Helen?”
“Maybe we shouldn't do this.” Stephen starts to move away, obviously uncomfortable with the mention of Helen. “I feel like I'm taking advantage of you.”
“Oh for Christ's sake Stephen, I'm no some blushing virgin,” Nick says irritably, his accent becoming more pronounced. “We both know what we're doing. And if we're going to die out here I'd prefer my last time to be something other than my own hand.”
6.
“I considered myself in love once,” Becker says quietly, putting down his pint. “It's not a mistake that I'm going to allow myself to make again.”
Ryan frowns, before saying,“Someone really did a number on you, didn't they, mate.”
“It was my own fault.” Becker stares down into his drink, avoiding Ryan's eyes. “I allowed myself to believe that I meant something to somebody whom I should never have become involved with. It was deeply unprofessional. Now if you don't mind I'd rather not discuss it further.”
7.
The Hub shimmers around Jack, a transparent overlay of what once was onto the wreckage of what now remains. Memories good, bad and indifferent of the men and women who had worked there and given their lives for Torchwood bound forever within the stones.
Clutched in his hand the ghost machine hums faintly, its lights pulsing like an alien heartbeat, despite the crack that now runs through it.
Jack's breath catches in his throat as amongst the drifting images, he finally sees what he’s been waiting for: his team.
Suzie before alien technology had twisted her brilliant mind. Toshiko before his brother had taken her life just as she was starting to really live it. And Owen, so angry at a world that had taken more from him than it had given, but who'd still died to save it.
All lost to time because he couldn’t save them. The grief at losing them is fresh, the emotions stirred up by the ghost machine too strong, and Jack drops to his knees, tears wet on his face.
8.
“Do you know what this is?” She holds up a pendant, the green crystal held in its base glinting slightly in the low light of the bar.
Jack takes it from her, turning it over in his hands. It’s definitely alien, he’s sure of that, and although it construction and design aren’t particularly familiar, its function as some form of telepathic enhancer is.
“It’s how my people communicate with other races.” She holds it out to him, the fine chain dangling seductively from her fingers. “Go on, try it on.”
The pendant is cold against his skin, and the rush of voices into his mind is dizzying, as his own limited and seldom used telepathic abilities are suddenly magnified.
It leaves him breathless, disorientated, and a little disheartened by all the negativity in the people around him; people who he assumed were happy in their normal, mortal lives.
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