(
shinodabear.livejournal.com posting in
slashthedrabble Jul. 10th, 2008 04:22 pm)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Three Wounds and a Stitch
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jack/unnamed canon character, Ten/Master, Jack/Ianto, Ten/Jack
Disclaimer: RTD is the proud owner of these characters.
Warning: Character deaths, mostly canon
Time heals all wounds, they say, but he’s a Time Agent, and this is one wound that isn’t going to get anywhere near remotely better. For one, his best friend is dead. Tortured. By them.
He tries to remember the first time they kissed, but those lips are torn. He tries to remember the first time they touched, but his hands are broken. He tries to remember the color of his eyes, but they are closed. (He might not have eyes anymore. )
Feeling pained and guilty, he sings a melody from their childhood, and holds him in his arms.
©©
He's holding him in his arms, and the blood is soaking through his clothes, and people are staring at him, and there is an emptiness in his mind, and there is a pain in his chest, and there is a heavy weight dragging him down and down and down, and he swears that he isn’t going to lose it. He isn’t going to lose it. He isn’t going to lose it. He isn’t going to lose it.
He’s not been shot, but he’s been wounded.
“It hurts,” he whispers because it needs to be said aloud. “It hurts. It hurts.”
©©
“It hurts, Jack.”
Jack knows this.
“But it’ll stop.”
Jack knows this, too.
He knows how much blood is in the human body, and he know how long it takes for all of it to escape through a bullet hole near the liver. He’s been around a while. He's learned.
“It’s been a good life.”
Too short, Jack thinks, for you.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Ianto,” he chokes more than the man dying in front of him. “Fine. It’s gonna be fine.”
He holds Ianto’s hand until someone pries him away. All these years, and he still hasn’t learned to let go.
©©
He still hasn’t learned to let go. The Doctor is reminded of Jack’s past he still battles, and of the way Jack clutched his hand at Ianto’s memorial service. He’ll learn.
For now, he has to content himself with holding Jack’s body. It’s a silly thing to do. Jack will be fine. Just a flesh wound, something in him sniggers.
“Oh, but it’s more than that. You can’t save them all, Jack. Not even me.” His words are unheeded. Jack is still indisposed. “Time heals all wounds. All that jazz.”
And Jack breathes.
“I’ve got you, Jack. I’ve got you.”
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jack/unnamed canon character, Ten/Master, Jack/Ianto, Ten/Jack
Disclaimer: RTD is the proud owner of these characters.
Warning: Character deaths, mostly canon
Time heals all wounds, they say, but he’s a Time Agent, and this is one wound that isn’t going to get anywhere near remotely better. For one, his best friend is dead. Tortured. By them.
He tries to remember the first time they kissed, but those lips are torn. He tries to remember the first time they touched, but his hands are broken. He tries to remember the color of his eyes, but they are closed. (He might not have eyes anymore. )
Feeling pained and guilty, he sings a melody from their childhood, and holds him in his arms.
He's holding him in his arms, and the blood is soaking through his clothes, and people are staring at him, and there is an emptiness in his mind, and there is a pain in his chest, and there is a heavy weight dragging him down and down and down, and he swears that he isn’t going to lose it. He isn’t going to lose it. He isn’t going to lose it. He isn’t going to lose it.
He’s not been shot, but he’s been wounded.
“It hurts,” he whispers because it needs to be said aloud. “It hurts. It hurts.”
“It hurts, Jack.”
Jack knows this.
“But it’ll stop.”
Jack knows this, too.
He knows how much blood is in the human body, and he know how long it takes for all of it to escape through a bullet hole near the liver. He’s been around a while. He's learned.
“It’s been a good life.”
Too short, Jack thinks, for you.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Ianto,” he chokes more than the man dying in front of him. “Fine. It’s gonna be fine.”
He holds Ianto’s hand until someone pries him away. All these years, and he still hasn’t learned to let go.
He still hasn’t learned to let go. The Doctor is reminded of Jack’s past he still battles, and of the way Jack clutched his hand at Ianto’s memorial service. He’ll learn.
For now, he has to content himself with holding Jack’s body. It’s a silly thing to do. Jack will be fine. Just a flesh wound, something in him sniggers.
“Oh, but it’s more than that. You can’t save them all, Jack. Not even me.” His words are unheeded. Jack is still indisposed. “Time heals all wounds. All that jazz.”
And Jack breathes.
“I’ve got you, Jack. I’ve got you.”
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
*Cries*
*hugs you*
From:
no subject