Title: Darkness Disrupted
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: G
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto and Jack watch fireworks on an alien world.
Word Count: 350
Written For: My own prompt ‘Any, any, Darkness disrupted,’ at fic_promptly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
A/N: Set in my ‘Through Time and Space’ universe.
Overhead, the night sky abruptly explodes in every colour of the rainbow as the firework display begins, disrupting the darkness and filling the silence with sound.
It’s sort of strange; they don't go bang when they explode, they tinkle and chime, like thousands of tiny bells, then whistle in a mellow counterpoint as they fall. Ianto had never imagined fireworks being musical, but that’s the only word for these.
As they burst high overhead, they shower coloured motes and streamers through the air, silver and pink, purple and gold, red and yellow, green, blue, and orange in every imaginable shade, which erupt in their turn, over and over, in endless succession. To call them spectacular is to damn them with faint praise.
Years ago, Jack had told him that the fireworks of earth would pale into insignificance when compared to those available on other worlds. Ianto had accused him of exaggerating, but now he sees that if anything, his lover was downplaying their magnificence. There really is no comparison.
In a way it makes him a bit sad, because he’ll never be able to get as excited about earth fireworks now as he used to, but then again, it’ll probably be a long time before he’s back on earth watching a firework display. There’s so much to see out here in the wider universe and he can’t return to his own time anyway. Fireworks will probably have evolved by the time he does go home for a visit.
These fireworks are clean too; they cause no harm to the environment, what little substance they have evaporating completely. It’s a good thing, because such displays are frequent on this world; the people here celebrate every significant event this way, and the way Jack tells it, they turn everything possible into a significant event.
Lying on his back beside Jack, in a meadow of turquoise grass, hands tucked beneath his head, Ianto stares up at the twinkling sky in wonder, listening to the firework music, and hoping he’ll never become so jaded by immortality that sights like this will lose their appeal.
The End