Torchwood drabble: Be Prepared | Rhys/Gwen | G
Title: Be Prepared
Author: rustydog
Characters: Rhys/Gwen
Rating/warnings: G, takes place post-Children of Earth
Words: 200
Notes: For travels_in_time, who wanted a Torchwood solstice story. (I have another coming, but it won't be in the same fandom as my previous solstice stories. This double-drabble is an epilogue to the previous two.)
On a night in December, Gwen brings home a large box of candles and the only explanation she will give is she wants to "be prepared." She's distracted and spends most of the evening pacing, looking out of the window and glancing back at their lamp.
His wife and Torchwood have taught Rhys that there's usually worse to prepare for than a freak storm and power cut. He finally coaxes from Gwen a tale of an alien artefact that can steal all the light from the city on the longest night of the year - only because it wants nothing to distract from its own glow. But it's too late now, it's not going to happen, Gwen tells him, starting to cry. She'd wanted to show him this phenomenon because it's beautiful, and it reminds her of them.
He pets her, kisses her belly, her face, her hair. "It's been a dark year," he says. "Let's light them all." So they fill every table and sill with candles and pad around, lighting them, till the air smells of match smoke and Gwen's gorgeous dark eyes reflect a hundred flames.
The darkness will not creep in. Not if Rhys can help it.
Author: rustydog
Characters: Rhys/Gwen
Rating/warnings: G, takes place post-Children of Earth
Words: 200
Notes: For travels_in_time, who wanted a Torchwood solstice story. (I have another coming, but it won't be in the same fandom as my previous solstice stories. This double-drabble is an epilogue to the previous two.)
On a night in December, Gwen brings home a large box of candles and the only explanation she will give is she wants to "be prepared." She's distracted and spends most of the evening pacing, looking out of the window and glancing back at their lamp.
His wife and Torchwood have taught Rhys that there's usually worse to prepare for than a freak storm and power cut. He finally coaxes from Gwen a tale of an alien artefact that can steal all the light from the city on the longest night of the year - only because it wants nothing to distract from its own glow. But it's too late now, it's not going to happen, Gwen tells him, starting to cry. She'd wanted to show him this phenomenon because it's beautiful, and it reminds her of them.
He pets her, kisses her belly, her face, her hair. "It's been a dark year," he says. "Let's light them all." So they fill every table and sill with candles and pad around, lighting them, till the air smells of match smoke and Gwen's gorgeous dark eyes reflect a hundred flames.
The darkness will not creep in. Not if Rhys can help it.