Fine Lines
Title: Fine Lines
Characters: Owen, Ianto
Summary: Flat Holm is a place of refuge for those damaged by the Rift, people pulled from their lives and their homes and unable to reintegrate as normal members of society.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word Count: 500
Beta:demotu
Authors Note: This was written for the WIAD round 4.04. The prompt was a 'There's No Place Like Roam'. The team needs a new Headquarters. The Hub has been destroyed OR made uninhabitable for at least a month. The added element 3 of the 6 colours of the rainbow... despite indigo and violet making it 7 rainbow colours!
Grey-green fog hung thick about the surface of the island, welcoming the hours of the morning when Laura came off shift. After a night caring for the guests at Flat Holm, the drifting patterns of light and shadow played games with her mind. There was nothing for it, though, but to endure the looming monsters as she trudged towards the dock that would lead her back to sanity and reality.
A crunch of dry grass ahead of her, more tangible than the dragon growing off to her right, pulled Laura's gaze forward. Ahead of her, nearly lost in the mist, was the figure of a human male. He was slender and although there was nothing otherworldly about his blue jeans or untucked button-up, fear coiled in the base of Laura's stomach.
Inside the safe walls of the dormitory, every new patient, guest, on the island meant challenge, someone wounded who needed her help. Out here everything was different. There was no hesitation as she speed-dialed security.
"Hey!" The guest called out to her. "Which way is north?"
Laura froze as he jogged towards her, but the forms of the orderlies began to define themselves in soft edges of darkness and she relaxed.
"Are you lost?" she asked, not unkindly.
"No." He sounded offended by the idea. "Just..." The man jerked away as the orderlies slid in to secure him. "Hey!"
"It's OK. We're going to help you home," Laura tried to assure him, but by the lines of his face and the set of his stance, he had seen more terror than she could even imagine.
The guest eyed the orderlies with contempt, not fear. "You can't. Home is flooded with piss-yellow, homicidal, biomass. That's why we're here. Just let me go and I'll be on my way."
Laura smiled sadly. He was damaged and he knew it, ripped from his home and society, but he hadn't stopped fighting. Maybe it was part of his condition.
"I'm so sorry. We'll try to make you comfortable." The guest's eyes widened at the sight of an orderly uncapping a syringe, and his voice took on a red edge of panic.
"No. Wait. JACK. GWEN."
"Stop."
Laura recognized the shouted command as Ianto's, even before he appeared, well dressed and a little out of breath. Of course he'd come to get the new guest settled.
"They can go," Ianto directed, and the orderlies melted back as if the mists had consumed them.
"I said left from the helipad, Owen," Ianto reprimanded. He picked up the man's, Owen's, left hand and let it drop.
"Left. Yes. Right. Left." Ianto pointed, and Owen moved off, only slightly less than compliant, kicking at the grass and grumbling.
Ianto turned to Laura with a tight grin and a quiet dismissal. "Boat's waiting."
Laura nodded, relieved of this responsibility, sympathy aching in her chest for both of them. Eventually, she forced her thoughts homeward, towards her husband and her bed and, with luck, a day free from nightmares.
Characters: Owen, Ianto
Summary: Flat Holm is a place of refuge for those damaged by the Rift, people pulled from their lives and their homes and unable to reintegrate as normal members of society.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word Count: 500
Beta:demotu
Authors Note: This was written for the WIAD round 4.04. The prompt was a 'There's No Place Like Roam'. The team needs a new Headquarters. The Hub has been destroyed OR made uninhabitable for at least a month. The added element 3 of the 6 colours of the rainbow... despite indigo and violet making it 7 rainbow colours!
Grey-green fog hung thick about the surface of the island, welcoming the hours of the morning when Laura came off shift. After a night caring for the guests at Flat Holm, the drifting patterns of light and shadow played games with her mind. There was nothing for it, though, but to endure the looming monsters as she trudged towards the dock that would lead her back to sanity and reality.
A crunch of dry grass ahead of her, more tangible than the dragon growing off to her right, pulled Laura's gaze forward. Ahead of her, nearly lost in the mist, was the figure of a human male. He was slender and although there was nothing otherworldly about his blue jeans or untucked button-up, fear coiled in the base of Laura's stomach.
Inside the safe walls of the dormitory, every new patient, guest, on the island meant challenge, someone wounded who needed her help. Out here everything was different. There was no hesitation as she speed-dialed security.
"Hey!" The guest called out to her. "Which way is north?"
Laura froze as he jogged towards her, but the forms of the orderlies began to define themselves in soft edges of darkness and she relaxed.
"Are you lost?" she asked, not unkindly.
"No." He sounded offended by the idea. "Just..." The man jerked away as the orderlies slid in to secure him. "Hey!"
"It's OK. We're going to help you home," Laura tried to assure him, but by the lines of his face and the set of his stance, he had seen more terror than she could even imagine.
The guest eyed the orderlies with contempt, not fear. "You can't. Home is flooded with piss-yellow, homicidal, biomass. That's why we're here. Just let me go and I'll be on my way."
Laura smiled sadly. He was damaged and he knew it, ripped from his home and society, but he hadn't stopped fighting. Maybe it was part of his condition.
"I'm so sorry. We'll try to make you comfortable." The guest's eyes widened at the sight of an orderly uncapping a syringe, and his voice took on a red edge of panic.
"No. Wait. JACK. GWEN."
"Stop."
Laura recognized the shouted command as Ianto's, even before he appeared, well dressed and a little out of breath. Of course he'd come to get the new guest settled.
"They can go," Ianto directed, and the orderlies melted back as if the mists had consumed them.
"I said left from the helipad, Owen," Ianto reprimanded. He picked up the man's, Owen's, left hand and let it drop.
"Left. Yes. Right. Left." Ianto pointed, and Owen moved off, only slightly less than compliant, kicking at the grass and grumbling.
Ianto turned to Laura with a tight grin and a quiet dismissal. "Boat's waiting."
Laura nodded, relieved of this responsibility, sympathy aching in her chest for both of them. Eventually, she forced her thoughts homeward, towards her husband and her bed and, with luck, a day free from nightmares.