A Heaven Of Hell, A Hell Of Heaven - Tosh/Sin (1/13)
Chapter title: Not A Lot To Do (1/13)
Series title: A Heaven Of Hell, A Hell Of Heaven
Fandom: A Torchwood/Paradise Lost crossover. Sounds odd, I know. Well, it is.
Characters/pairings: Sin, Tosh, and Sin/Tosh.
POV: Tosh, for this chapter
Warnings: Set after Greeks Bearing Gifts, but will probably end up reaching to Exit Wounds, so there will almost certainly be spoilers. I don't know what's going to happen, except in the vaguest possible terms, after this chapter, but this one's pretty unoffensive.
Disclaimers: Torchwood belongs to RTD and the Beeb. Paradise Lost was written by John Milton, but since that was in the seventeenth century, I'm not sure copyright laws really apply there...
Summary: Walking out by the Bay a few weeks after the 'Mary incident', Tosh is surprised by somebody who definitely doesn't belong in Cardiff - the physical (well, sort of) embodiment of Sin. This is what happens when I read Milton and write Torchwood fanfic simultaneously, in fact.
A/N: Basically, Sin turned out to be my favourite character in the whole of Paradise Lost (if you haven't read it, don't worry; it's only the character I'm using). WTF, brain? She only has like, two speeches in the whole book.
But I decided that she really needs someone to be shipped with. That isn't very normal for me - I'm a big fan of keeping single characters single - but I couldn't help thinking that what she really wanted was somebody who cared about her. So... erm... Tosh/Sin femmeslash, anyone? *sweatdrop*
Don't know how I'm going to work in the Owen issue, either. ^-^' I know very little about this fic, which is a bit shitty, since I'm the one writing it...
Series title is from Paradise Lost (The mind is its own place, and of itself can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n); chapter title is from the album Who Killed... The Zutons. Which is the only way I know there're going to be thirteen chapters, because there's thirteen tracks, and I want to make a chapter for each one. Don't ask me why. I like the album.
Woah, long A/N is long. 0.0
-------------
It was a few weeks after the Mary incident that I met the love of my life.
Well, one of the loves of my life.
Maybe.
Possibly.
Perhaps.
It’s kind of hard to tell. But it was certainly a few weeks after the Mary incident that it happened, whatever it was.
There wasn’t any sign of Rift activity; at least, no more than usual. Nine or ten o’clock, and I was out on the town, for what was, frankly, pretty much the first time since Mary that I’d dared to leave the house - or wanted to. Aside from work, which didn’t count, I’d pretty much drawn back into my shell. But it had reached the point where it was no better staying in than going out, so I had decided to take a deep breath and start over, as it were. And now - Sunday afternoon, not a lot to do, and I’d only have been sitting in my flat, watching everybody else, happy, smiling.
And that was why I was out there, that night. Even over the bright glow of the streetlights and the strobe flashes of car headlights, I could see the stars, and the bright moon, almost-full. Gibbous - isn’t that the word for it? Reminds me of apes. But it was gibbous.
The clouds were gathering on the horizon, though; the moonlight reflected off a bank of darkness in the distance. A perfect night. Like something from a film, or a photo, or something. Beautiful.
And all I could think about was her.
I’d been in love with her, I’m sure of it. It had made sense, suddenly, like the vital integer in a complex algorithm, like fitting two parts of a machine together and hearing it whir into life. Like… like I’d been incomplete, like I’d been missing that vital part of my mechanism, and it had been her.
I wasn’t sure who to hate more; Jack, for taking her away from me forever, or her, for giving me… giving me what? A lie? A hope that had to be dashed? That feeling, that outlook on life…
It didn’t matter. None of it did, not really. I reminded myself sharply of that, like a mental slap in the face. She was gone, and moaning about it wasn’t going to bring her back. Forget. Forgive and forget, wasn’t that the saying? Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do? I had to forgive.
And I really, really, had to forget.
I did consider taking Retcon, just so I could sleep at nights. But it seemed so disrespectful. So totally opposite to what I should be doing.
I had to remember. I had to remember, so I could learn from it, so that I wouldn’t make a worse mistake next time. And perhaps, perhaps, I might be able to learn to remember why I loved her. It wasn’t just the sex. It was never about the sex. Lust and love - they’re completely different concepts, alien to one another.
Alien like her.
Damn.
I took a large swig of the vodka in my hand, leaning on the rail around the Bay and staring out to sea. Behind me, I could hear the raucous laughs from the table of lager louts who’d been wolf-whistling at me when I walked through; next to me, a couple walked past, hand in hand, and laughed. In the distance, a dog barked.
Then, next to me, another dog barked - and another, and another, and another, as though the first was echoed into infinity. As though there was a pack of them, inches away. The guys at the bar didn’t seem to notice; didn’t even raise their voices over it. A cacophony of dogs, barking and growling and snapping at the air. Blinking, I turned to see what was going on.
And then I blinked again, this time in disbelief, and when the apparition didn’t vanish, rummaged in my bag for my mobile.
Torchwood. I needed to call Torchwood. This wasn’t something that should be allowed to roam around Cardiff, causing panic - although very little panic seemed to be being caused. Perhaps they were just too drunk to care about otherworldly creatures.
Pulling out the phone, I pressed one, quick-dialling Torchwood, and put the phone to my ear. While it rang, I watched her.
I’m no novice. I’ve worked at Torchwood for long enough that I’m no stranger to the paranormal. I’ve known ghosts, and aliens, and time-travelling omnisexual twats. I mean, I’d been mourning over my alien lover, for God’s sake.
But I’d never seen anything that looked quite so human, and yet quite so inhuman. Mary was different; she had a human form and an alien form, and you’d never think that her human self was anything but. It’s been the same with most human-shaped aliens I’ve dealt with; in human shape, there’s very rarely anything to tell them apart from any other person on the street.
She wasn’t like that. And yet, she didn’t look wholely alien, either. More like a conglomeration, a chimerical mixture of animal and human. Her torso melded seamlessly into the serpent’s tail that twined into several coils on the pavement - or it would have done, had the line not been broken by the crowd of barking dogs’ heads that seemed to burst out of her midriff, like that bit in Alien (which I turned off halfway through, because when you’ve seen real aliens, somehow the film loses its kick), like they’d pushed right through her skin.
She was naked from the waist up, apparently not even noticing the fact, and even though there was a slightly greyish tinge to her skin, above the band of snapping, growling dogs encircling her hips she might almost have been a human.
And damn, she’d be a gorgeous human. I’m not one to take things at face value, anyone who knows me knows that, but not even the most hardened cynic could deny it. She was beautiful - her long, crimson hair, pouring down her slender back like blood, her eyes, colours dancing over them like oil on water, and her fine, perfect features. I was still staring at her - although she didn’t seem to have seen me - when Jack picked up the phone.
“Hello? Toshiko?” he said, sounding more than a little annoyed. Just at that moment, the… alien? Woman? Thing? Whatever she was, she turned to face me, her eyes wide and dark and indescribably sad, and several of the dogs around her waist leapt at me, snapping for my flesh. I let out an involuntary shout of shock, leaping backwards and out of the way; the glass of vodka I was still holding flew out of my hand, shattering on the pavement with a crash.
“Toshiko? Toshiko, are you all right?” Concerned now, rather than annoyed; sharp, worried.
Breathing heavily, I nodded, although I knew, of course, that he couldn’t see me. “Y-yes. Sorry. I must have pressed the key by mistake.” I could tell from the tone of the silence that he didn’t believe me. The boys at the table had stopped talking, and were staring at me. So was the… the thing. Quickly, before Jack could protest, I ended the call and shoved the phone back into my bag. My eyes never left the spot where my glass had hit the pavement.
Because the fact was, although it had hit the pavement - that much had been clear from the sound - I couldn’t see it. It seemed to have fallen right through the snake-woman’s tail, as though she was a ghost, or a vision, or… oh, shit. How much of that vodka had I had, anyway? Congratulations, Tosh, I thought bitterly. You’ve offically cracked up.
"You can see me?” she asked, incredulously, almost before I had hung up. “But you’re human. Mortal. A child of Eve. You can’t see me… can you?”
She sounded about as sure of herself as I was. I almost smiled, just for a moment.
“I can see you,” I confirmed quietly, painfully aware of how stupid I must look, talking to thin air. “I can hear you as well. And your dogs.”
Looking down at the still-barking dogs that burst out of her, she sighed and ran long, pointed fingernails through her red hair. “Ah, they’re my plague. My curse,” she said, looking downcast. Glancing up at me from under long-lashed eyelids, she gave me a little smile. “At least they’re outside of me, tonight. It’s a thousand times worse when they turn their attention inwards, biting, lacerating, snarling and growling…” I could see her shudder, then she appeared to regain control of herself.
I swallowed, my throat dry. “Will they hurt me?”
“I don’t think so.” She shook her head, looking thoughtful. “I don’t think they’re real to you, corporeal to you. Perhaps…” Leaning forwards, she passed a hand straight through my face. I didn’t feel cold, or warmth, or flesh. I didn’t feel anything; only the breeze blowing in from the Bay, and the metal of the railing I had caught to steady myself. She gave another of those sad little smiles, as though she had expected it. “No. I’m not really here, you see. Not to a mortal.”
There it was again. That word. Mortal. My brain caught up with my ears this time, and I frowned. “What do you mean, mortal? If you’re not mortal, what are you?”
She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand; a very human motion that somehow I hadn’t expected her to make, and looked down at the pavement. “It’s… a long story.”
I don’t know what it was, but something made me say softly, “I can’t stand here talking to you, not if they can’t see you. Would you like to come home with me, and tell me the long story when we’re there?”
She looked up, looking entirely shocked, and then she nodded, and for a moment her eyes were just a little less sad.
“What’s your name?” I asked, shoving my hands into my pockets and starting back the way I had come. Something familiar about her was nagging at me; she reminded me of something I’d read, or heard, or something…
She worried at her lip for a moment, uncoiling and gliding after me, still with that unholy racket coming from the hounds around her belly. Then she looked up, speeding up slightly so that she was beside me rather than behind me.
“I’m Sin.”
-------------
A/N no. 2: Beta'd, once again, by the wonderful yarukage. Who has never read Paradise Lost.
Please, Abstract-religious-concept, send me a beta who knows the subject matter!
Until then (and even after then), I'll settle for concrit. Please. Amen.
Series title: A Heaven Of Hell, A Hell Of Heaven
Fandom: A Torchwood/Paradise Lost crossover. Sounds odd, I know. Well, it is.
Characters/pairings: Sin, Tosh, and Sin/Tosh.
POV: Tosh, for this chapter
Warnings: Set after Greeks Bearing Gifts, but will probably end up reaching to Exit Wounds, so there will almost certainly be spoilers. I don't know what's going to happen, except in the vaguest possible terms, after this chapter, but this one's pretty unoffensive.
Disclaimers: Torchwood belongs to RTD and the Beeb. Paradise Lost was written by John Milton, but since that was in the seventeenth century, I'm not sure copyright laws really apply there...
Summary: Walking out by the Bay a few weeks after the 'Mary incident', Tosh is surprised by somebody who definitely doesn't belong in Cardiff - the physical (well, sort of) embodiment of Sin. This is what happens when I read Milton and write Torchwood fanfic simultaneously, in fact.
A/N: Basically, Sin turned out to be my favourite character in the whole of Paradise Lost (if you haven't read it, don't worry; it's only the character I'm using). WTF, brain? She only has like, two speeches in the whole book.
But I decided that she really needs someone to be shipped with. That isn't very normal for me - I'm a big fan of keeping single characters single - but I couldn't help thinking that what she really wanted was somebody who cared about her. So... erm... Tosh/Sin femmeslash, anyone? *sweatdrop*
Don't know how I'm going to work in the Owen issue, either. ^-^' I know very little about this fic, which is a bit shitty, since I'm the one writing it...
Series title is from Paradise Lost (The mind is its own place, and of itself can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n); chapter title is from the album Who Killed... The Zutons. Which is the only way I know there're going to be thirteen chapters, because there's thirteen tracks, and I want to make a chapter for each one. Don't ask me why. I like the album.
Woah, long A/N is long. 0.0
-------------
It was a few weeks after the Mary incident that I met the love of my life.
Well, one of the loves of my life.
Maybe.
Possibly.
Perhaps.
It’s kind of hard to tell. But it was certainly a few weeks after the Mary incident that it happened, whatever it was.
There wasn’t any sign of Rift activity; at least, no more than usual. Nine or ten o’clock, and I was out on the town, for what was, frankly, pretty much the first time since Mary that I’d dared to leave the house - or wanted to. Aside from work, which didn’t count, I’d pretty much drawn back into my shell. But it had reached the point where it was no better staying in than going out, so I had decided to take a deep breath and start over, as it were. And now - Sunday afternoon, not a lot to do, and I’d only have been sitting in my flat, watching everybody else, happy, smiling.
And that was why I was out there, that night. Even over the bright glow of the streetlights and the strobe flashes of car headlights, I could see the stars, and the bright moon, almost-full. Gibbous - isn’t that the word for it? Reminds me of apes. But it was gibbous.
The clouds were gathering on the horizon, though; the moonlight reflected off a bank of darkness in the distance. A perfect night. Like something from a film, or a photo, or something. Beautiful.
And all I could think about was her.
I’d been in love with her, I’m sure of it. It had made sense, suddenly, like the vital integer in a complex algorithm, like fitting two parts of a machine together and hearing it whir into life. Like… like I’d been incomplete, like I’d been missing that vital part of my mechanism, and it had been her.
I wasn’t sure who to hate more; Jack, for taking her away from me forever, or her, for giving me… giving me what? A lie? A hope that had to be dashed? That feeling, that outlook on life…
It didn’t matter. None of it did, not really. I reminded myself sharply of that, like a mental slap in the face. She was gone, and moaning about it wasn’t going to bring her back. Forget. Forgive and forget, wasn’t that the saying? Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do? I had to forgive.
And I really, really, had to forget.
I did consider taking Retcon, just so I could sleep at nights. But it seemed so disrespectful. So totally opposite to what I should be doing.
I had to remember. I had to remember, so I could learn from it, so that I wouldn’t make a worse mistake next time. And perhaps, perhaps, I might be able to learn to remember why I loved her. It wasn’t just the sex. It was never about the sex. Lust and love - they’re completely different concepts, alien to one another.
Alien like her.
Damn.
I took a large swig of the vodka in my hand, leaning on the rail around the Bay and staring out to sea. Behind me, I could hear the raucous laughs from the table of lager louts who’d been wolf-whistling at me when I walked through; next to me, a couple walked past, hand in hand, and laughed. In the distance, a dog barked.
Then, next to me, another dog barked - and another, and another, and another, as though the first was echoed into infinity. As though there was a pack of them, inches away. The guys at the bar didn’t seem to notice; didn’t even raise their voices over it. A cacophony of dogs, barking and growling and snapping at the air. Blinking, I turned to see what was going on.
And then I blinked again, this time in disbelief, and when the apparition didn’t vanish, rummaged in my bag for my mobile.
Torchwood. I needed to call Torchwood. This wasn’t something that should be allowed to roam around Cardiff, causing panic - although very little panic seemed to be being caused. Perhaps they were just too drunk to care about otherworldly creatures.
Pulling out the phone, I pressed one, quick-dialling Torchwood, and put the phone to my ear. While it rang, I watched her.
I’m no novice. I’ve worked at Torchwood for long enough that I’m no stranger to the paranormal. I’ve known ghosts, and aliens, and time-travelling omnisexual twats. I mean, I’d been mourning over my alien lover, for God’s sake.
But I’d never seen anything that looked quite so human, and yet quite so inhuman. Mary was different; she had a human form and an alien form, and you’d never think that her human self was anything but. It’s been the same with most human-shaped aliens I’ve dealt with; in human shape, there’s very rarely anything to tell them apart from any other person on the street.
She wasn’t like that. And yet, she didn’t look wholely alien, either. More like a conglomeration, a chimerical mixture of animal and human. Her torso melded seamlessly into the serpent’s tail that twined into several coils on the pavement - or it would have done, had the line not been broken by the crowd of barking dogs’ heads that seemed to burst out of her midriff, like that bit in Alien (which I turned off halfway through, because when you’ve seen real aliens, somehow the film loses its kick), like they’d pushed right through her skin.
She was naked from the waist up, apparently not even noticing the fact, and even though there was a slightly greyish tinge to her skin, above the band of snapping, growling dogs encircling her hips she might almost have been a human.
And damn, she’d be a gorgeous human. I’m not one to take things at face value, anyone who knows me knows that, but not even the most hardened cynic could deny it. She was beautiful - her long, crimson hair, pouring down her slender back like blood, her eyes, colours dancing over them like oil on water, and her fine, perfect features. I was still staring at her - although she didn’t seem to have seen me - when Jack picked up the phone.
“Hello? Toshiko?” he said, sounding more than a little annoyed. Just at that moment, the… alien? Woman? Thing? Whatever she was, she turned to face me, her eyes wide and dark and indescribably sad, and several of the dogs around her waist leapt at me, snapping for my flesh. I let out an involuntary shout of shock, leaping backwards and out of the way; the glass of vodka I was still holding flew out of my hand, shattering on the pavement with a crash.
“Toshiko? Toshiko, are you all right?” Concerned now, rather than annoyed; sharp, worried.
Breathing heavily, I nodded, although I knew, of course, that he couldn’t see me. “Y-yes. Sorry. I must have pressed the key by mistake.” I could tell from the tone of the silence that he didn’t believe me. The boys at the table had stopped talking, and were staring at me. So was the… the thing. Quickly, before Jack could protest, I ended the call and shoved the phone back into my bag. My eyes never left the spot where my glass had hit the pavement.
Because the fact was, although it had hit the pavement - that much had been clear from the sound - I couldn’t see it. It seemed to have fallen right through the snake-woman’s tail, as though she was a ghost, or a vision, or… oh, shit. How much of that vodka had I had, anyway? Congratulations, Tosh, I thought bitterly. You’ve offically cracked up.
"You can see me?” she asked, incredulously, almost before I had hung up. “But you’re human. Mortal. A child of Eve. You can’t see me… can you?”
She sounded about as sure of herself as I was. I almost smiled, just for a moment.
“I can see you,” I confirmed quietly, painfully aware of how stupid I must look, talking to thin air. “I can hear you as well. And your dogs.”
Looking down at the still-barking dogs that burst out of her, she sighed and ran long, pointed fingernails through her red hair. “Ah, they’re my plague. My curse,” she said, looking downcast. Glancing up at me from under long-lashed eyelids, she gave me a little smile. “At least they’re outside of me, tonight. It’s a thousand times worse when they turn their attention inwards, biting, lacerating, snarling and growling…” I could see her shudder, then she appeared to regain control of herself.
I swallowed, my throat dry. “Will they hurt me?”
“I don’t think so.” She shook her head, looking thoughtful. “I don’t think they’re real to you, corporeal to you. Perhaps…” Leaning forwards, she passed a hand straight through my face. I didn’t feel cold, or warmth, or flesh. I didn’t feel anything; only the breeze blowing in from the Bay, and the metal of the railing I had caught to steady myself. She gave another of those sad little smiles, as though she had expected it. “No. I’m not really here, you see. Not to a mortal.”
There it was again. That word. Mortal. My brain caught up with my ears this time, and I frowned. “What do you mean, mortal? If you’re not mortal, what are you?”
She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand; a very human motion that somehow I hadn’t expected her to make, and looked down at the pavement. “It’s… a long story.”
I don’t know what it was, but something made me say softly, “I can’t stand here talking to you, not if they can’t see you. Would you like to come home with me, and tell me the long story when we’re there?”
She looked up, looking entirely shocked, and then she nodded, and for a moment her eyes were just a little less sad.
“What’s your name?” I asked, shoving my hands into my pockets and starting back the way I had come. Something familiar about her was nagging at me; she reminded me of something I’d read, or heard, or something…
She worried at her lip for a moment, uncoiling and gliding after me, still with that unholy racket coming from the hounds around her belly. Then she looked up, speeding up slightly so that she was beside me rather than behind me.
“I’m Sin.”
-------------
A/N no. 2: Beta'd, once again, by the wonderful yarukage. Who has never read Paradise Lost.
Please, Abstract-religious-concept, send me a beta who knows the subject matter!
Until then (and even after then), I'll settle for concrit. Please. Amen.