[ficlet] if only in my dreams
Title: if only in my dreams
Author: noscrubs12345
awdt Christmas Quickie #19: carol singing
Word Count: 400
Rating: R
Summary: Christmas onboard the Valiant isn't how Jack thought he'd be spending the holiday.
Warnings: character deaths, non-graphic torture, sexual situations, spoilers through Last of the Time Lords and Torchwood series two
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Russell T Davies and the BBC. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made. Title and lyrics from "I'll be home for Christmas" by Buck Ram, Kim Gannon and Walter Kent.
Notes: Unbeta'd. Please point out any mistakes you may find.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'll be home for Christmas;
You can count on me
There is no sense of time on the Valiant. His days are filled with pain and death. Some days the sense of hopelessness is smothering and he longs for the moment when the Master kills him, silently taking his taunts and tirades and frustration in his chained stride and thinks of his team.
He tries to measure the days in deaths, but he loses count all too soon.
Days begin to feel like months and months like eons.
It isn’t until Tish brings him a breakfast of gruel, humming Ianto’s favourite carol slightly off-key, does he know the day.
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents on the tree
While the Master mocks him with “news” of his team’s whereabouts, Jack drowns him out. Instead of, for once, thinking of the deaths he knows they can’t escape, he thinks of how Christmas with Ianto could have been.
Instead of cold metal and twisted Time Lords, it’s warm and toasty gathered around a brightly lit tree and Ianto’s family welcoming them both with open arms.
Instead of white hot pain, it’s ineffable pleasure that rips through his body as Ianto moves above and inside him, soft, gravelly vowels whispering words of love and devotion as they slowly make love.
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love-light gleams
Post-coital bliss would replace light-headedness from loss of blood, and it would be Ianto’s soft laughter as they lie together in lieu of the mad cackles escaping the Master’s lips as he plunges a knife into Jack’s side.
His hiss of pain could have been that of renewed arousal as a soft hand teases him. Ianto’s sobbed name escapes his lips as a phantom touch brushes his cheek.
The tears come when the Master stalks towards him and backhands him, shouting “He’s dead, you idiot!”
The Master’s words cut like the blade through Jack’s skin and his heart breaks anew.
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
When he gasps back to life, his cheeks are wet and a hole behind his heart, all he thinks of is bright blue eyes so full of the emotion they’ve never allowed a name to.
He loses himself in memories of their last Christmas, still so full of death. He remembers the feel of Ianto in his arms, giving and taking comfort as needed, and how they’d made love instead of feral fucking.
He loses himself in memories and promises of putting words to the things left unsaid when all is righted, knowing he’ll go mad if the Master’s words go unignored.
Author: noscrubs12345
awdt Christmas Quickie #19: carol singing
Word Count: 400
Rating: R
Summary: Christmas onboard the Valiant isn't how Jack thought he'd be spending the holiday.
Warnings: character deaths, non-graphic torture, sexual situations, spoilers through Last of the Time Lords and Torchwood series two
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Russell T Davies and the BBC. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made. Title and lyrics from "I'll be home for Christmas" by Buck Ram, Kim Gannon and Walter Kent.
Notes: Unbeta'd. Please point out any mistakes you may find.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'll be home for Christmas;
You can count on me
There is no sense of time on the Valiant. His days are filled with pain and death. Some days the sense of hopelessness is smothering and he longs for the moment when the Master kills him, silently taking his taunts and tirades and frustration in his chained stride and thinks of his team.
He tries to measure the days in deaths, but he loses count all too soon.
Days begin to feel like months and months like eons.
It isn’t until Tish brings him a breakfast of gruel, humming Ianto’s favourite carol slightly off-key, does he know the day.
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents on the tree
While the Master mocks him with “news” of his team’s whereabouts, Jack drowns him out. Instead of, for once, thinking of the deaths he knows they can’t escape, he thinks of how Christmas with Ianto could have been.
Instead of cold metal and twisted Time Lords, it’s warm and toasty gathered around a brightly lit tree and Ianto’s family welcoming them both with open arms.
Instead of white hot pain, it’s ineffable pleasure that rips through his body as Ianto moves above and inside him, soft, gravelly vowels whispering words of love and devotion as they slowly make love.
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love-light gleams
Post-coital bliss would replace light-headedness from loss of blood, and it would be Ianto’s soft laughter as they lie together in lieu of the mad cackles escaping the Master’s lips as he plunges a knife into Jack’s side.
His hiss of pain could have been that of renewed arousal as a soft hand teases him. Ianto’s sobbed name escapes his lips as a phantom touch brushes his cheek.
The tears come when the Master stalks towards him and backhands him, shouting “He’s dead, you idiot!”
The Master’s words cut like the blade through Jack’s skin and his heart breaks anew.
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
When he gasps back to life, his cheeks are wet and a hole behind his heart, all he thinks of is bright blue eyes so full of the emotion they’ve never allowed a name to.
He loses himself in memories of their last Christmas, still so full of death. He remembers the feel of Ianto in his arms, giving and taking comfort as needed, and how they’d made love instead of feral fucking.
He loses himself in memories and promises of putting words to the things left unsaid when all is righted, knowing he’ll go mad if the Master’s words go unignored.