[Fic] Lots 'o Ficlets
This writing exercise has been floating around for a while now and I found myself interested.
1.Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.
3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over.
I decided to do one for each of Torchwood’s main characters, and then one for John Hart, too. (Because he’s too fun not to write.) Spoilers abound, so beware if you haven’t seen all of Torchwood and “The Last of the Time Lords.” So here are my little ficlets, unbeta-ed and in all their unpolished glory. I actually had a lot of fun doing this. Might do it again sometime.
All the music I used can be found here.
Ianto
“Prélude” - Ehma
The rain falls down all around him. It thuds on the nearby rooftops, soaks into his clothes, collects in his hair. He makes no effort to move, to find shelter. He’s waiting out the storm in the midst of it all. Because once in a while it feels good to do this. To give into the chaos and fear, to feel it all around him, to let it break through his calm façade, and watch as thewater washes everything away.
When the rain lets up, he feels an empty sort of calm, like he felt after one of the rare occasions when he lets himself cry. He walks back to the hub and notices that his sticky, cold clothing doesn’t bother him anymore. He’s too numb.
As he drifts nearer to the tourist office, he sees someone waiting for him under the shelter of the roof.
“Feel better?” Jack asks.
Ianto doesn’t know how to answer, so he simply nods.
Owen
“Bad Moon Rising” - Creedence Clearwater Revival
This is such a bad idea.
Gwen’s his co-worker. She’s in a (supposedly) happy relationship. And she doesn’t waste time in rubbing it in her (single) co-workers’ faces. So he really can’t help himself when they’re hiding from that cyberwoman. Hell, they’re both going to die anyway. Might as well go out happy. He kisses her and she kisses back, waiting for the blow to fall.
But neither of them die.
Days later, out in the woods they’re looking for some unknown danger and he can’t stop looking at her curves through her thin camping gear. She refuses to look him in the eye, berating him for revealing her secret. So he shoves her up against and tree, hissing something about how her (supposedly) happy relationship isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s a bluff, and he knows it’s a bluff, but she doesn’t contradict anything and he finds himself breathing heavily into her mouth, and the tight grip she has on his hair feels wonderful. She’s something pure and good, or at least that’s what she’d like to think, and somehow he can’t resist the urge to sully that, just a little. She’s Torchwood’s innocent little new girl.
This is such a bad idea.
(But he’s going to do it, anyway.)
Tosh
“A Window to the Past” - John Williams
She sits there by herself, away from the chaos of it all. She can see the blue and red lights of the police cars, hear the murmur of faraway voices and above it all, she still has the heavy scent of raw flesh in her nose. She’s alright, she knows that. Not shot, like Gwen, or beaten like Ianto, so she supposes she’s lucky. It could have gone much worse. The finger shaped bruises on her throat are proof of that.
But even so, she can’t help the tears that spill over her cheeks. Another ideal gone, gone to be buried in the graveyard that is swiftly becoming her mind.
A hand suddenly falls on her shoulder and she looks up, instinctively jumping away. “Ianto,” she says, confused. “What are you doing here?” Wasn’t he supposed to be with the medics?
But he’s right here, stiffly lowering himself to sit beside her. He won’t meet her eyes, so it gives her a few moments to look over his bruised face without interruption. “I don’t know,” he says, in answer to her question. “I’m sorry, Tosh.”
“For what?” She can’t imagine anything he should be sorry for.
He doesn’t answer, so she silently weavers her fingers through his and holds his hand tightly. It’s warm, and that’s all she lets herself feel.
Gwen
“Giorni dispari” - Ludovico Einaudi
When Rhys tries to get down on one knee, she knows what’s coming. A ring. A promise. And an end to whatever vague hopes had flitted through her mind. Not that she’d ever given them much thought-just a few moments in between waking and sleeping, wondering what it would be like to wake up in someone else’s arms, to hear her name on someone else’s lips. It was a seductive fantasy. But when she walked into work every day, he wasn’t there. Their leader was gone, leaving them behind without a note or a phone call. They tried to get on without him, pretending that none of them felt the hurt or the rejection. Not good enough to stick around for. And Gwen watched as the one person that had allowed himself to be involved with the captain became a mere ghost of himself, drifting through the hub like a boat without an anchor. It hurt her to watch, because she knew that could have been her.
When Gwen looks down at Rhys, she knows he would never do that to her. He is her safe place to come home to, the quiet amidst the chaos, the normal amidst the insanity.
She presses her lips to his and whispers, “yes,” and feels his mouth curve into a smile.
Jack
“You’re a God” - Vertical Horizon
When the doctor offers to take him along, it’s like being offered a train ticket to anywhere. He can go anywhere, anytime, do anything. And looking into the doctor’s face, it’s a little strange, because he doesn’t know that face-and yet he does. He could go with him. Run as far from his wrongness as he can possibly go. Lose it in the whirling chaos of the universe.
But as he stares out at the city, he can distantly see the coffee shop where he once took Ianto. With the coffee machine broken and caffeine withdrawal threatening, it had been a last resort. The drinks had been horrible and Jack found himself looking at Ianto’s scandalized expression. “You expect me to drink this?” Ianto asked, staring at the froth and foam and sugar masquerading as coffee.
Jack remembers laughing so hard he spilled his own cup all over the sidewalk.
So he turns back to the doctor and tells him no. He’s got responsibilities, friends, and just maybe, someone waiting for him. He grins and walks in the direction of home.
John Hart
“Niveneh” - E.S. Posthumus
John makes silent bets with himself, trying to figure out who Jack must have been sleeping with. It had to be one of them-Jack wouldn’t put together a team without hitting on at least three and bedding one or two.
His first inclination is toward the dark haired female, Gwen or whatever her name is. Pretty face, bright smile, that kind of energy could be very fun when put to the right uses. And when Jack begins warning her about John, he can’t help but grin to himself. She’s got to be the one.
But then she’s calling her ‘boyfriend’ (which is so archaic it’s almost funny), and she’s got that warm tone of voice, one that John never hears. Okay, so she’s probably not Jack’s little bed buddy if she’s got someone else. Probably.
When he moves onto the next two-the smart Asian female and male doctor, and finds them engaged in a serious conversation about taking lovers, of all things. It only takes about two seconds to know that neither of them is with Jack. And that leaves one.
He approaches the last male with interest. He’s very attractive, yes, but there’s something bland about him. He’s too easy to surprise, too easy to hold at gunpoint. He’s Eye-Candy, which is nice to look at, but there’s nothing of substance there. He presses the ‘down’ button on the lift and smirks. But then Eye-Candy is lunging at him, holding the lift doors open and snarling at him, demanding an explanation.
Whoa. Didn’t expect that. And abruptly Eye-Candy seems stronger, more dangerous, and John can see the appeal. It has to be this one. He strokes his gun along Eye-Candy’s cheek, and watches as he doesn’t flinch away. John begins to feel something akin to respect for this man. So he tells him how to find his friends, something he hadn’t intended to do before-killing him would have saved time-and lets him live.
After all, he can always play with Jack’s toys later.