Double Drabble: Misfire
Title: Misfire
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Tosh.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 589: Graze at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Tosh’s first time on the firing range doesn’t get off to a good start.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Don’t fuss,” Jack said, calmly disarming Tosh after her little mishap. She’d never held a gun before. Really it was his own fault; he should have double-checked the safety was on, but he hadn’t and the weapon had gone off unexpectedly.
“But your foot… I shot you!” Tosh wailed, horrified. This was the man who’d rescued her from a UNIT prison cell barely a month ago, and how had she repaid everything he’d done for her since then? By shooting him in the foot the moment he handed her a gun! She wished she could rewind time, point the gun somewhere else when he told her to pick it up.
“It’s nothing,” Jack insisted. “Barely even a graze. These boots are tough.”
Nevertheless, he took Tosh back upstairs, sat her at her desk, and fetched a glass of water, making sure she drank it. Then he headed for his office, removed his damaged boot, and checked his foot. The bullet had gone right through, lodging in the boot’s sole; the wound was already mostly closed.
Changing boots and socks, he returned to where Tosh was dozing at her desk. He’d give her half an hour, then start firearms training again.
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Tosh.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 589: Graze at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Tosh’s first time on the firing range doesn’t get off to a good start.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Don’t fuss,” Jack said, calmly disarming Tosh after her little mishap. She’d never held a gun before. Really it was his own fault; he should have double-checked the safety was on, but he hadn’t and the weapon had gone off unexpectedly.
“But your foot… I shot you!” Tosh wailed, horrified. This was the man who’d rescued her from a UNIT prison cell barely a month ago, and how had she repaid everything he’d done for her since then? By shooting him in the foot the moment he handed her a gun! She wished she could rewind time, point the gun somewhere else when he told her to pick it up.
“It’s nothing,” Jack insisted. “Barely even a graze. These boots are tough.”
Nevertheless, he took Tosh back upstairs, sat her at her desk, and fetched a glass of water, making sure she drank it. Then he headed for his office, removed his damaged boot, and checked his foot. The bullet had gone right through, lodging in the boot’s sole; the wound was already mostly closed.
Changing boots and socks, he returned to where Tosh was dozing at her desk. He’d give her half an hour, then start firearms training again.
The End