Round one - challenge two story post
Round 1-2 story post.
Okay this is the story post, please don't post your votes in the comment to this post. The voting post is here: http://torchwood-las.livejournal.com/4423.html
#1
Title He remembered.
Word Count 453
Rating PG
Warnings Mention of adultery
Gwen thought he didn't know. Couldn't remember. Would never be able to.
But Rhys did.
He remembered: her stumbled apology when she'd told him that she'd put an amnesia pill into his drink, her confession of sleeping with somebody else, his rage at her frantic pleas to forgive her. Rhys remembered all of that after the business with the space whale.
At first he'd thought it was a dream, a strange nightmare fuelled by his own insecurities. Then the images had started to bleed into his daily life - whenever he sat on the couch in their flat, whenever Gwen called and told him she'd be home late, whenever she mentioned her male colleagues. An innocent question about Retcon had told him the truth then: her trapped look when he'd asked her jokingly if she'd ever used it on him, the forced smile that screamed 'Liar, liar, liar!' The one she'd given him when she'd told him that her mother liked him, the one she'd used when she'd said that she was just doing the filing for her new Special Ops job, the one he'd seen on her face when she'd said that the gunshot wound in her side came from an accident on the shooting range, 'my colleague, that clumsy sod'. He was sure then. She'd used Retcon on him and she'd erased her confession from his memories. What he didn't remember, though, was the name she'd said. Memories were funny that way, apparently.
So he watched. All those times he picked her up from work and was allowed down in the Hub. He saw Jack hug and wink at her, the flirty innuendos and her light-hearted answers. He saw her and Ianto smile at each other, whisper to each other and laugh about insider jokes he didn't get. He saw Owen being a bit too hands-on during basketball games and the playful banter between them. He even saw Gwen and Tosh exchange glances, sharing their pizzas and Thai food.
He never asked her, though. He didn't want to risk destroying what they had built so carefully over the last few years. He rather live with that uncertainty than losing her because he knew that whatever - whoever - it had been, it was over, and she loved him. It was in the smile she gave him when he bought her that purple dress she'd wanted for so long, it was in her eyes when they exchanged rings on their wedding day, and it was in the way she clung to him when her world fell apart around her, taking Owen and Tosh away.
It hurt but he could stand that. It would stop one day.
Or at least, he hoped so.
#2
Title Floating, Forgotten, Forever
Word Count 462
Rating PG
Warnings None
“These belong to someone else.”
Jack takes a jar (translucent purple, thick walls, bubbles in the glass) into his hands. It glows at his touch; little flecks of golden light cling to the warmth of his fingers until there are sparkling imprints across the jar’s surface. They hover there for a moment, undulating, before they drift back reluctantly.
Ianto tilts forward in his seat, his eyes fixed on the curvature of the jar.
“Who?”
Jack says, “They’re memories.”
“Whose?”
“A long time ago, someone thought it would be smart to lock away his memories of the people he’d lost. But memories, they’re all connected.”
Ianto settles back.
“The mind can’t just erase a person,” he says, frowning. “With retcon -”
Jack sighs and carefully places the jar back on top of the filing cabinet. He steps in front of Ianto and leans back against his desk, arms crossed at his chest. Ianto watches as a rigid smile creeps across his lips.
“Exactly. There’s not just a blank spot where they existed. Everything connected with them goes, too. Everything.”
Ianto fiddles with the cuffs of his shirt. “So why did - why do it, then?”
“Because some things hurt too much to remember, but are too precious to give up completely.”
Jack’s eyes are dark in the low light; it’s like looking into a void, into death itself, and it sends a chill down Ianto’s spine. He wants to ask How often? and How many? and Does it still hurt? But he doesn’t - he won’t.
“There are years, Ianto,” Jack says. “Years I don’t remember. Things I’ve had to relearn.”
“But you stopped.”
“Sooner or later, I’d have no memories left. Sometimes, I think I’d like that. A clean slate every time; too many people leave, too many die.”
“But -”
“I know.”
Ianto tries to imagine it - no Lisa, no Toshiko, no Owen. All of it stripped away. Like the retcon he’d kept in his pocket for weeks, only worse. The same instinct that stilled his hand during those long nights makes him shy away from the thought now, scattering the images in his head.
“Can you - ”
“I have no idea what’s in there anymore. I don’t know that I want to.”
Ianto nods, because he isn’t sure what else he can say. He wonders what sort of man Jack would be, how the memories stored away might have altered him had they remained. Jack was right - they did belong to someone else: a man that could have been, a man whose shape they’ll never know.
He settles on, “Will you do it again?” (When I die? When Gwen dies? Will you now?)
Jack shakes his head slowly, like it weighs too much. “Some people aren’t meant to be kept under glass.”
#3
Title A Shadow Passed
Word Count 459
Rating PG
Warnings canon character death
The image appears so often in his mind that Ianto has given up on pushing it away. Instead he lets Lisa stand there, her body wrapped and molded in metal. Her skin is a muddy, bruised purple where the silver makes contact with her thigh, her hip, her breasts.
He wishes he could purge it from his memory, that he could somehow not remember her this way, but the form she takes in his mind’s eye is solid and immovable. Perhaps it’s fate. Perhaps she’s come back to haunt him. He’s sure he deserves it, for all the suffering he’d caused her. The promises he’d broken.
Instead of the bruises, he wishes he could remember how smooth and unblemished so much of her skin had remained, undisturbed by the conversion. He wishes he could remember exactly how her lips had felt.
He doesn’t remember this though, doesn’t remember her kindness, either - not really, not enough. He thinks that maybe if he allows enough time to pass, this will pass, too. This monster wearing her skin who stares at him with eyes he doesn’t recognize, with a voice that is nothing like what he remembers of the woman he loves, loved.
As a rule, Ianto doesn’t speak of Lisa. He’s afraid he won’t do her justice, just as his memory doesn’t do her justice. But one night Jack asks him what he’s thinking and Ianto tells him, just comes right out with it.
He’s sure it’s a mistake as soon as the words leave his mouth. But Jack just stares past him, into the empty hub, past the coffee machine and the empty workstations.
“Memory is a tricky thing,” Jack says eventually, and then he moves towards Ianto, into his personal space - too close. With one finger, he traces the thin line of a bruise on Ianto’s left temple.
Bruises, it would seem, are an essential element of the human condition. Unavoidable, especially in this line of work.
“At least you haven’t forgotten her completely.”
“This is worse,” Ianto says, not sure if he feels sorry for himself because Jack is indulging him, or if he started out that way.
His throat tightens, stops him from saying anything else, which is just as well. He swallows. Jack leans in and presses his lips against the skin just under his ear. The tightness uncoils, dissipates.
“No,” Jack says. “Trust me. Forgetting her completely would be worse than you can imagine.”
Ianto can’t imagine anything worse than this, but he believes Jack anyway. Jack speaks of some things with such authority, he feels like he doesn’t have a choice.
“She was beautiful,” Jack says, warm breath against his neck. “That’s what I remember.”
Ianto just nods and closes his eyes.
#4
Title: It Has No Hold
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Word Count: 500
Gwen leaned across his desk, eyes darkened, palms flattened on the hard wood surface, heedless of the papers, shoulders tense. "You don't do this, Jack. You don't."
"I do," he replied hotly, leaning forward in his chair to meet her glare, the space between them shrinking with each word. "Gwen, we have to," he stated firmly. "He won't be able to stand it if we don't." Jack paused, leaning back in his chair and looking into her eyes. "Look, imagine if it were you. You wouldn't want to know."
Gwen was about to respond, but Ianto's voice, low and firm as he walked into Jack's office, said, "I wouldn't want to know." He paused as both of them turned to face him. "But I wouldn't want you to Retcon me, either." He handed each of them a cup of coffee.
"So what the hell do we do?" Gwen retorted, putting her hands on her hips.
Tosh came in at that moment and added, "I don't know, but he's going to be devastated if we don't." She took a sip of her coffee and then continued, "If we don't Retcon him then we have to accept that we may lose him." As Jack stood and came around his desk she added quietly, "I don't want to lose him."
Jack leaned against the desk and nodded, "No one wants to lose him. So we do it."
Gwen stepped back and ran her hand through her hair. "It's wrong."
Ianto agreed, "We're stealing from him. Those memories make him who he is."
Jack turned and slammed his fist down on the desk, rage darkening his cheeks to a purple tinge, "No. Experiences make us who we are. If we don't remember it then we didn't experience it and it's got no hold on us. None. We're removing an experience because it's going to cost him his sanity. You do realize that, right? His sanity is at stake."
"Jack, we don't know that. He may come through. He's tough," Gwen insisted.
"How long will he be sedated, Jack?" Ianto asked.
Jack shrugged as Owen's voice growled, "Who the fuck sedated me?" as he came storming into the office, face pale and shirt bloodied.
Everyone stiffened and Gwen stepped toward him, reaching out. "Owen, you shouldn't be up."
"Yeah? Why not? I feel okay," the medic said, sounding puzzled.
Suddenly Gwen, Ianto and Tosh looked over at Jack.
He shrugged and said, "Owen, you were in a lot of pain earlier. I sedated you as a precaution. You're okay, though."
Owen looked at the others. They were having trouble meeting his gaze. "Right. I'm gonna go shower. Then I'd love it if someone told me what the fuck just happened." He stormed out of the office and down the stairs.
Gwen whirled, "You had no right!"
Ianto rubbed his hand down his face, adjusted his tie, and picked up the empty coffee cup on Jack's desk.
"I won’t lose him," Jack replied, sitting back down.
#5
Title Nothing Changes
Word Count 455
Rating G
Warnings None
Notes AU.
She figured everyone felt like this occasionally. Surely everyone had this same nagging feeling in the back of their minds, this sensation of having forgotten to do something important. Lately it was stronger than ever, tugging at her during the strangest moments. It distracted her during work hours; it lingered at the edge of her consciousness when she sat on the sofa with Rhys, watching reality TV and eating take-out pizza. Once, when she was doubled over, trying to regain her breath after a hopeless chase down by the bay, it hit her so hard it made her head swim. She straightened and span around, searching for some threat she had overlooked, but all was calm: just a couple of fishermen, and the unassuming façade of the Tourist Office. Police Constable Gwen Cooper reassured herself that everything was exactly as it was supposed to be.
Captain Jack Harkness surveyed the city of Cardiff, sprawled out beneath him, looking deceptively peaceful in the purple-grey light of dawn. He was spending more time on the roof these days. It didn’t matter which roof, as long as he could see for miles. He was hoping that if he looked down over the city for long enough, he’d start to care about it. Recently he’d felt a nagging urge to be more than he was: to be something other than just a scavenger. The captain wasn't sure whether it was the earnest requests of co-operation from the cute but naïve policewoman he’d had to retcon a couple of months ago, or just the passing of time that was making him feel this way. He’d tried to bring it up with his team, to float the idea of changing their focus a little, but it had been met with disinterest. He wasn’t surprised; Tosh was always quiet, his new office boy seemed oddly distracted, and Owen and Suzie weren’t exactly known for their bleeding hearts. It didn’t matter anyway, he supposed, seeing as he couldn’t seem to muster up any genuine concern for the inhabitants of the city below.
Not for the first time, the captain wondered what things might have been like if he had done things differently with the cop, if he had offered her a place on the team instead of drugging her. Probably nothing would have changed. He was too old, too cynical and too damn tired to be anything other than what he was. But still, as he stood alone above the city on his chill twilight vigil, he couldn’t dispel the thought that the Doctor would not be all that proud of him if he could see him now. And he couldn’t quite reassure himself that everything was how it was supposed to be.
#6
Title Her Favourite Colour
Word Count 100
Rating G
Warnings Spoilers for Exit Wounds, mention of Character Death
Jack’s hand reaches out and purple silk slides through his fingers like cool water. It is the first thing in her wardrobe that catches his eye. In fact, it is the only colour that catches his eye.
He smiles as the light from the bedroom illuminates several outfits all in varying shades of purple; try as it might, the wall of colour cannot hide the orange-red glow that brings back a slew of memories he’d rather forget.
It may not be typical Torchwood protocol, but Tosh deserves a funeral that gives her family and friends a chance to say goodbye.
#7
Title If I Don’t See You Everywhere, It Doesn’t Mean I Don’t Still Care
Word Count 157
Rating G
Warnings None.
Ianto took one last look around his flat to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Behind the curtains... Lisa had left her favorite purple nail polish there once when she’d been painting her toenails in the bay window. By the time she’d found it, it had been baked hard by the sun.
Under the bed... they’d spent a good day and a half looking for the TV remote before they’d realized Lisa must have knocked it off of the nightstand in her sleep.
In the closet... he smiled when he remembered how he’d hide Lisa’s Christmas pressies in there because she never hung anything up and would never find them.
“Ianto!” Jack’s voice cut through the memories just before his head popped round the corner. “Ready to go? I just put the last box in the SUV.”
“Yep.” Ianto nodded as much to the flat as to Jack as he closed the door and followed him out.
Okay this is the story post, please don't post your votes in the comment to this post. The voting post is here: http://torchwood-las.livejournal.com/4423.html
#1
Title He remembered.
Word Count 453
Rating PG
Warnings Mention of adultery
Gwen thought he didn't know. Couldn't remember. Would never be able to.
But Rhys did.
He remembered: her stumbled apology when she'd told him that she'd put an amnesia pill into his drink, her confession of sleeping with somebody else, his rage at her frantic pleas to forgive her. Rhys remembered all of that after the business with the space whale.
At first he'd thought it was a dream, a strange nightmare fuelled by his own insecurities. Then the images had started to bleed into his daily life - whenever he sat on the couch in their flat, whenever Gwen called and told him she'd be home late, whenever she mentioned her male colleagues. An innocent question about Retcon had told him the truth then: her trapped look when he'd asked her jokingly if she'd ever used it on him, the forced smile that screamed 'Liar, liar, liar!' The one she'd given him when she'd told him that her mother liked him, the one she'd used when she'd said that she was just doing the filing for her new Special Ops job, the one he'd seen on her face when she'd said that the gunshot wound in her side came from an accident on the shooting range, 'my colleague, that clumsy sod'. He was sure then. She'd used Retcon on him and she'd erased her confession from his memories. What he didn't remember, though, was the name she'd said. Memories were funny that way, apparently.
So he watched. All those times he picked her up from work and was allowed down in the Hub. He saw Jack hug and wink at her, the flirty innuendos and her light-hearted answers. He saw her and Ianto smile at each other, whisper to each other and laugh about insider jokes he didn't get. He saw Owen being a bit too hands-on during basketball games and the playful banter between them. He even saw Gwen and Tosh exchange glances, sharing their pizzas and Thai food.
He never asked her, though. He didn't want to risk destroying what they had built so carefully over the last few years. He rather live with that uncertainty than losing her because he knew that whatever - whoever - it had been, it was over, and she loved him. It was in the smile she gave him when he bought her that purple dress she'd wanted for so long, it was in her eyes when they exchanged rings on their wedding day, and it was in the way she clung to him when her world fell apart around her, taking Owen and Tosh away.
It hurt but he could stand that. It would stop one day.
Or at least, he hoped so.
#2
Title Floating, Forgotten, Forever
Word Count 462
Rating PG
Warnings None
“These belong to someone else.”
Jack takes a jar (translucent purple, thick walls, bubbles in the glass) into his hands. It glows at his touch; little flecks of golden light cling to the warmth of his fingers until there are sparkling imprints across the jar’s surface. They hover there for a moment, undulating, before they drift back reluctantly.
Ianto tilts forward in his seat, his eyes fixed on the curvature of the jar.
“Who?”
Jack says, “They’re memories.”
“Whose?”
“A long time ago, someone thought it would be smart to lock away his memories of the people he’d lost. But memories, they’re all connected.”
Ianto settles back.
“The mind can’t just erase a person,” he says, frowning. “With retcon -”
Jack sighs and carefully places the jar back on top of the filing cabinet. He steps in front of Ianto and leans back against his desk, arms crossed at his chest. Ianto watches as a rigid smile creeps across his lips.
“Exactly. There’s not just a blank spot where they existed. Everything connected with them goes, too. Everything.”
Ianto fiddles with the cuffs of his shirt. “So why did - why do it, then?”
“Because some things hurt too much to remember, but are too precious to give up completely.”
Jack’s eyes are dark in the low light; it’s like looking into a void, into death itself, and it sends a chill down Ianto’s spine. He wants to ask How often? and How many? and Does it still hurt? But he doesn’t - he won’t.
“There are years, Ianto,” Jack says. “Years I don’t remember. Things I’ve had to relearn.”
“But you stopped.”
“Sooner or later, I’d have no memories left. Sometimes, I think I’d like that. A clean slate every time; too many people leave, too many die.”
“But -”
“I know.”
Ianto tries to imagine it - no Lisa, no Toshiko, no Owen. All of it stripped away. Like the retcon he’d kept in his pocket for weeks, only worse. The same instinct that stilled his hand during those long nights makes him shy away from the thought now, scattering the images in his head.
“Can you - ”
“I have no idea what’s in there anymore. I don’t know that I want to.”
Ianto nods, because he isn’t sure what else he can say. He wonders what sort of man Jack would be, how the memories stored away might have altered him had they remained. Jack was right - they did belong to someone else: a man that could have been, a man whose shape they’ll never know.
He settles on, “Will you do it again?” (When I die? When Gwen dies? Will you now?)
Jack shakes his head slowly, like it weighs too much. “Some people aren’t meant to be kept under glass.”
#3
Title A Shadow Passed
Word Count 459
Rating PG
Warnings canon character death
The image appears so often in his mind that Ianto has given up on pushing it away. Instead he lets Lisa stand there, her body wrapped and molded in metal. Her skin is a muddy, bruised purple where the silver makes contact with her thigh, her hip, her breasts.
He wishes he could purge it from his memory, that he could somehow not remember her this way, but the form she takes in his mind’s eye is solid and immovable. Perhaps it’s fate. Perhaps she’s come back to haunt him. He’s sure he deserves it, for all the suffering he’d caused her. The promises he’d broken.
Instead of the bruises, he wishes he could remember how smooth and unblemished so much of her skin had remained, undisturbed by the conversion. He wishes he could remember exactly how her lips had felt.
He doesn’t remember this though, doesn’t remember her kindness, either - not really, not enough. He thinks that maybe if he allows enough time to pass, this will pass, too. This monster wearing her skin who stares at him with eyes he doesn’t recognize, with a voice that is nothing like what he remembers of the woman he loves, loved.
As a rule, Ianto doesn’t speak of Lisa. He’s afraid he won’t do her justice, just as his memory doesn’t do her justice. But one night Jack asks him what he’s thinking and Ianto tells him, just comes right out with it.
He’s sure it’s a mistake as soon as the words leave his mouth. But Jack just stares past him, into the empty hub, past the coffee machine and the empty workstations.
“Memory is a tricky thing,” Jack says eventually, and then he moves towards Ianto, into his personal space - too close. With one finger, he traces the thin line of a bruise on Ianto’s left temple.
Bruises, it would seem, are an essential element of the human condition. Unavoidable, especially in this line of work.
“At least you haven’t forgotten her completely.”
“This is worse,” Ianto says, not sure if he feels sorry for himself because Jack is indulging him, or if he started out that way.
His throat tightens, stops him from saying anything else, which is just as well. He swallows. Jack leans in and presses his lips against the skin just under his ear. The tightness uncoils, dissipates.
“No,” Jack says. “Trust me. Forgetting her completely would be worse than you can imagine.”
Ianto can’t imagine anything worse than this, but he believes Jack anyway. Jack speaks of some things with such authority, he feels like he doesn’t have a choice.
“She was beautiful,” Jack says, warm breath against his neck. “That’s what I remember.”
Ianto just nods and closes his eyes.
#4
Title: It Has No Hold
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Word Count: 500
Gwen leaned across his desk, eyes darkened, palms flattened on the hard wood surface, heedless of the papers, shoulders tense. "You don't do this, Jack. You don't."
"I do," he replied hotly, leaning forward in his chair to meet her glare, the space between them shrinking with each word. "Gwen, we have to," he stated firmly. "He won't be able to stand it if we don't." Jack paused, leaning back in his chair and looking into her eyes. "Look, imagine if it were you. You wouldn't want to know."
Gwen was about to respond, but Ianto's voice, low and firm as he walked into Jack's office, said, "I wouldn't want to know." He paused as both of them turned to face him. "But I wouldn't want you to Retcon me, either." He handed each of them a cup of coffee.
"So what the hell do we do?" Gwen retorted, putting her hands on her hips.
Tosh came in at that moment and added, "I don't know, but he's going to be devastated if we don't." She took a sip of her coffee and then continued, "If we don't Retcon him then we have to accept that we may lose him." As Jack stood and came around his desk she added quietly, "I don't want to lose him."
Jack leaned against the desk and nodded, "No one wants to lose him. So we do it."
Gwen stepped back and ran her hand through her hair. "It's wrong."
Ianto agreed, "We're stealing from him. Those memories make him who he is."
Jack turned and slammed his fist down on the desk, rage darkening his cheeks to a purple tinge, "No. Experiences make us who we are. If we don't remember it then we didn't experience it and it's got no hold on us. None. We're removing an experience because it's going to cost him his sanity. You do realize that, right? His sanity is at stake."
"Jack, we don't know that. He may come through. He's tough," Gwen insisted.
"How long will he be sedated, Jack?" Ianto asked.
Jack shrugged as Owen's voice growled, "Who the fuck sedated me?" as he came storming into the office, face pale and shirt bloodied.
Everyone stiffened and Gwen stepped toward him, reaching out. "Owen, you shouldn't be up."
"Yeah? Why not? I feel okay," the medic said, sounding puzzled.
Suddenly Gwen, Ianto and Tosh looked over at Jack.
He shrugged and said, "Owen, you were in a lot of pain earlier. I sedated you as a precaution. You're okay, though."
Owen looked at the others. They were having trouble meeting his gaze. "Right. I'm gonna go shower. Then I'd love it if someone told me what the fuck just happened." He stormed out of the office and down the stairs.
Gwen whirled, "You had no right!"
Ianto rubbed his hand down his face, adjusted his tie, and picked up the empty coffee cup on Jack's desk.
"I won’t lose him," Jack replied, sitting back down.
#5
Title Nothing Changes
Word Count 455
Rating G
Warnings None
Notes AU.
She figured everyone felt like this occasionally. Surely everyone had this same nagging feeling in the back of their minds, this sensation of having forgotten to do something important. Lately it was stronger than ever, tugging at her during the strangest moments. It distracted her during work hours; it lingered at the edge of her consciousness when she sat on the sofa with Rhys, watching reality TV and eating take-out pizza. Once, when she was doubled over, trying to regain her breath after a hopeless chase down by the bay, it hit her so hard it made her head swim. She straightened and span around, searching for some threat she had overlooked, but all was calm: just a couple of fishermen, and the unassuming façade of the Tourist Office. Police Constable Gwen Cooper reassured herself that everything was exactly as it was supposed to be.
Captain Jack Harkness surveyed the city of Cardiff, sprawled out beneath him, looking deceptively peaceful in the purple-grey light of dawn. He was spending more time on the roof these days. It didn’t matter which roof, as long as he could see for miles. He was hoping that if he looked down over the city for long enough, he’d start to care about it. Recently he’d felt a nagging urge to be more than he was: to be something other than just a scavenger. The captain wasn't sure whether it was the earnest requests of co-operation from the cute but naïve policewoman he’d had to retcon a couple of months ago, or just the passing of time that was making him feel this way. He’d tried to bring it up with his team, to float the idea of changing their focus a little, but it had been met with disinterest. He wasn’t surprised; Tosh was always quiet, his new office boy seemed oddly distracted, and Owen and Suzie weren’t exactly known for their bleeding hearts. It didn’t matter anyway, he supposed, seeing as he couldn’t seem to muster up any genuine concern for the inhabitants of the city below.
Not for the first time, the captain wondered what things might have been like if he had done things differently with the cop, if he had offered her a place on the team instead of drugging her. Probably nothing would have changed. He was too old, too cynical and too damn tired to be anything other than what he was. But still, as he stood alone above the city on his chill twilight vigil, he couldn’t dispel the thought that the Doctor would not be all that proud of him if he could see him now. And he couldn’t quite reassure himself that everything was how it was supposed to be.
#6
Title Her Favourite Colour
Word Count 100
Rating G
Warnings Spoilers for Exit Wounds, mention of Character Death
Jack’s hand reaches out and purple silk slides through his fingers like cool water. It is the first thing in her wardrobe that catches his eye. In fact, it is the only colour that catches his eye.
He smiles as the light from the bedroom illuminates several outfits all in varying shades of purple; try as it might, the wall of colour cannot hide the orange-red glow that brings back a slew of memories he’d rather forget.
It may not be typical Torchwood protocol, but Tosh deserves a funeral that gives her family and friends a chance to say goodbye.
#7
Title If I Don’t See You Everywhere, It Doesn’t Mean I Don’t Still Care
Word Count 157
Rating G
Warnings None.
Ianto took one last look around his flat to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Behind the curtains... Lisa had left her favorite purple nail polish there once when she’d been painting her toenails in the bay window. By the time she’d found it, it had been baked hard by the sun.
Under the bed... they’d spent a good day and a half looking for the TV remote before they’d realized Lisa must have knocked it off of the nightstand in her sleep.
In the closet... he smiled when he remembered how he’d hide Lisa’s Christmas pressies in there because she never hung anything up and would never find them.
“Ianto!” Jack’s voice cut through the memories just before his head popped round the corner. “Ready to go? I just put the last box in the SUV.”
“Yep.” Ianto nodded as much to the flat as to Jack as he closed the door and followed him out.