Dear Sir (2/?)
Title: Dear Sir (2/?)
Rating: Call it a PG. For the moment it isn't really, but it'll get there (and possibly further)
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood. I do however own a lovely coat just like Jack's, which unfortunately, doesn't count.
Warnings: Spoilers abound. Anything we've seen so far is fair game in my books.
Summary: In a man's letters his soul lies naked - Samuel Johnson
Part One
Dear Sir,
I wonder if you got my last letter? I don’t imagine so.
Things have been mad here without you. Sometimes I think the whole universe is against us, but then I think perhaps it’s just hoping to cause a big enough disaster to make you come back.
I’ve been keeping on with therapy. I don’t know if it’s doing me any good, but it’s nice to talk to someone. Someone who doesn’t know about Torchwood, or the rift, or you or anything like that. Owen quit a while back. Never his sort of thing to talk about his problems. I don’t know about Tosh. She has different ways of coping.
I’ve been giving them all decaf.
Remember what I said about the weevils? They’ve been doing it again. They somehow manage to get out, do this sort of wrestling/mating thing and then straight back into their cells, like it’s nothing.
You haven’t heard of weevils going on heat have you? Gwen got all maternal when I mentioned it. She’s trying for a baby you know. Owen pointed out weevil babies might be cute, but they could probably rip your head off too. I think I’d rather the weevils didn’t reproduce, if it’s all the same. I don’t fancy playing nanny to an alien that could disembowel me at any given moment.
I still don’t know about Tosh. I know she misses you, we all do. (Yes, even Owen, in his own strange way) But Tosh, she never shows it, never says anything. I’m worried about her. The other day, she came in practically in tears, sat down at her computer and just started typing. Not one word.
Should I try and talk to her, or should I just leave it? Renee (that’s my therapist) says people grieve in different ways. She says it’s normal that Tosh doesn’t want to think about it. If she doesn’t think about it, than she doesn’t have to admit it’s true. Funny how the human mind works isn’t it? I still worry though. Perhaps it’s in my nature.
Well Jack, I’ll stop here. I imagine my waffling on about us is boring you no end.
I really do miss you.
Ianto
Rating: Call it a PG. For the moment it isn't really, but it'll get there (and possibly further)
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood. I do however own a lovely coat just like Jack's, which unfortunately, doesn't count.
Warnings: Spoilers abound. Anything we've seen so far is fair game in my books.
Summary: In a man's letters his soul lies naked - Samuel Johnson
Part One
Dear Sir,
I wonder if you got my last letter? I don’t imagine so.
Things have been mad here without you. Sometimes I think the whole universe is against us, but then I think perhaps it’s just hoping to cause a big enough disaster to make you come back.
I’ve been keeping on with therapy. I don’t know if it’s doing me any good, but it’s nice to talk to someone. Someone who doesn’t know about Torchwood, or the rift, or you or anything like that. Owen quit a while back. Never his sort of thing to talk about his problems. I don’t know about Tosh. She has different ways of coping.
I’ve been giving them all decaf.
Remember what I said about the weevils? They’ve been doing it again. They somehow manage to get out, do this sort of wrestling/mating thing and then straight back into their cells, like it’s nothing.
You haven’t heard of weevils going on heat have you? Gwen got all maternal when I mentioned it. She’s trying for a baby you know. Owen pointed out weevil babies might be cute, but they could probably rip your head off too. I think I’d rather the weevils didn’t reproduce, if it’s all the same. I don’t fancy playing nanny to an alien that could disembowel me at any given moment.
I still don’t know about Tosh. I know she misses you, we all do. (Yes, even Owen, in his own strange way) But Tosh, she never shows it, never says anything. I’m worried about her. The other day, she came in practically in tears, sat down at her computer and just started typing. Not one word.
Should I try and talk to her, or should I just leave it? Renee (that’s my therapist) says people grieve in different ways. She says it’s normal that Tosh doesn’t want to think about it. If she doesn’t think about it, than she doesn’t have to admit it’s true. Funny how the human mind works isn’t it? I still worry though. Perhaps it’s in my nature.
Well Jack, I’ll stop here. I imagine my waffling on about us is boring you no end.
I really do miss you.
Ianto