Torchwood drabbles, Jack-centric gen
Title: Blackest of Rooms
Author: Kate Shelby
Characters: Jack Harkness. In various ways.
Challenge: tw100 Challenge 3, Hub photos.
Rating: Um. PG-13? R? I’m bad at rating fic.
Notes: General setting, there’s a little spoiler from the pilot. I’ve been playing around with the best way to tell this story, which might be in more of a ficlet, but where’s the fun in that? These are kind of sister drabbles. Let me know what you think. Title's from a Death Cab for Cutie song. I have a feeling it's a really obvious one, but I can't remember which.
- - - - - - - -
The clunk of his shit kickers echo around the hallway, dark, abandoned. He’s drawn to this tiny light at the end despite his instinct saying run. He gets close enough to know it’s remnants of light reflected in a round picture window; closer still overhead old fluorescents flicker on, except he knows like people do in dreams that they aren’t old.
Through the flood he sees, through the window, himself years ancient and dangling from a rope. Long minutes keep him frozen, and then his older self opens his eyes.
He runs, then, stumbling and staggering like a scared kid.
- - - - - - - -
Title: Blackest of Rooms
Author: Kate Shelby
Characters: Jack Harkness. Still.
Challenge: tw100 Challenge 3, Hub photos.
Rating: Um. PG-13? R? I’m bad at rating fic.
Notes: Same as above.
- - - - - - - -
The first thing he’s aware of is this scraping thud slowly advancing on his position. Eventually, he thinks he recognizes it as the awkward shuffle he adopted when he was a teenager wearing second-hand steel-toed boots. Why not?
The noise stops, but it’s another few minutes before he can open his eyes.
Which, it turns out, isn’t such a good idea. It sends his first hope of rescue running away like a scared mouse. A mouse-like child.
He drags his arms up to the rope to take the pressure off his neck thinking, “Well, hanging myself was a stupid idea.”
Author: Kate Shelby
Characters: Jack Harkness. In various ways.
Challenge: tw100 Challenge 3, Hub photos.
Rating: Um. PG-13? R? I’m bad at rating fic.
Notes: General setting, there’s a little spoiler from the pilot. I’ve been playing around with the best way to tell this story, which might be in more of a ficlet, but where’s the fun in that? These are kind of sister drabbles. Let me know what you think. Title's from a Death Cab for Cutie song. I have a feeling it's a really obvious one, but I can't remember which.
- - - - - - - -
The clunk of his shit kickers echo around the hallway, dark, abandoned. He’s drawn to this tiny light at the end despite his instinct saying run. He gets close enough to know it’s remnants of light reflected in a round picture window; closer still overhead old fluorescents flicker on, except he knows like people do in dreams that they aren’t old.
Through the flood he sees, through the window, himself years ancient and dangling from a rope. Long minutes keep him frozen, and then his older self opens his eyes.
He runs, then, stumbling and staggering like a scared kid.
- - - - - - - -
Title: Blackest of Rooms
Author: Kate Shelby
Characters: Jack Harkness. Still.
Challenge: tw100 Challenge 3, Hub photos.
Rating: Um. PG-13? R? I’m bad at rating fic.
Notes: Same as above.
- - - - - - - -
The first thing he’s aware of is this scraping thud slowly advancing on his position. Eventually, he thinks he recognizes it as the awkward shuffle he adopted when he was a teenager wearing second-hand steel-toed boots. Why not?
The noise stops, but it’s another few minutes before he can open his eyes.
Which, it turns out, isn’t such a good idea. It sends his first hope of rescue running away like a scared mouse. A mouse-like child.
He drags his arms up to the rope to take the pressure off his neck thinking, “Well, hanging myself was a stupid idea.”