Fic: Une Vie de Bonheur Fugace **WIAD Week 6**
Title: Une Vie de Bonheur Fugace
Author: dr_is_in
Rating: PG
Character: Ianto
Authors Note: Survived another week! Took second place, but happy with that. This was a tough one this week, literally written last minute. The title means "A Life of Happiness Fleeting" (or at least its supposed to).
It had been a long time since he’d walked through the streets of Paris.
Ianto remembered the first time he’d brought Lisa there, as a surprise for her birthday. He could see her face, awash with joy and delight, as they’d walked hand in hand over the Seine via the St-Michel Bridge. The sunlight had danced on the water while a soft breeze gently stirred the spring air, carrying the sound of the laughter and life of the city around them. It was that memory and others like it that had kept him sane while he fought to save her broken body and mind after Canary Wharf. They had sustained him through the months of agony, as she laid hidden in the bowels of Torchwood Three, a prisoner in the modified conversion unit that kept her alive. Then the nightmare of reality was brought crashing down around him in a hail of bullets and splashes of crimson blood on the floor.
He’d found himself drawn to Paris once again after Jack had disappeared, leaving them all searching to find their way without him. As he stood there on that same bridge, cold wind swirling up from the dark water below as the moon glinted icily off its surface, he searched for even a trace of the happiness he’d felt once in that city. He knew the rest of the team, like himself, were searching for some reason for their abandonment in those private moments where they found themselves alone with their thoughts. Those few moments where they weren’t working themselves to exhaustion, physically and mentally, and doubts had time to creep in and stir at the edges of their minds.
Continuing his silent way across the bridge, Ianto felt as empty and cold as the barren city streets that stretched out around him in the wee hours of darkness. It had been a mistake to come back to Paris. Any ghost of happiness there that he’d once had was flown beyond his reach, moments in time left to fade and crumble away to forgotten dust. It was time to let them go, return to Cardiff and his duty, and take whatever fleeting and empty happiness that fate chose to grant him next.
**********************************************
And courtesy of ephyse, some amazing photos of St. Michel and the area around it.
Author: dr_is_in
Rating: PG
Character: Ianto
Authors Note: Survived another week! Took second place, but happy with that. This was a tough one this week, literally written last minute. The title means "A Life of Happiness Fleeting" (or at least its supposed to).
It had been a long time since he’d walked through the streets of Paris.
Ianto remembered the first time he’d brought Lisa there, as a surprise for her birthday. He could see her face, awash with joy and delight, as they’d walked hand in hand over the Seine via the St-Michel Bridge. The sunlight had danced on the water while a soft breeze gently stirred the spring air, carrying the sound of the laughter and life of the city around them. It was that memory and others like it that had kept him sane while he fought to save her broken body and mind after Canary Wharf. They had sustained him through the months of agony, as she laid hidden in the bowels of Torchwood Three, a prisoner in the modified conversion unit that kept her alive. Then the nightmare of reality was brought crashing down around him in a hail of bullets and splashes of crimson blood on the floor.
He’d found himself drawn to Paris once again after Jack had disappeared, leaving them all searching to find their way without him. As he stood there on that same bridge, cold wind swirling up from the dark water below as the moon glinted icily off its surface, he searched for even a trace of the happiness he’d felt once in that city. He knew the rest of the team, like himself, were searching for some reason for their abandonment in those private moments where they found themselves alone with their thoughts. Those few moments where they weren’t working themselves to exhaustion, physically and mentally, and doubts had time to creep in and stir at the edges of their minds.
Continuing his silent way across the bridge, Ianto felt as empty and cold as the barren city streets that stretched out around him in the wee hours of darkness. It had been a mistake to come back to Paris. Any ghost of happiness there that he’d once had was flown beyond his reach, moments in time left to fade and crumble away to forgotten dust. It was time to let them go, return to Cardiff and his duty, and take whatever fleeting and empty happiness that fate chose to grant him next.
**********************************************
And courtesy of ephyse, some amazing photos of St. Michel and the area around it.