Crying After Hours
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: G
Name: Crying After Hours
Pairing: none
Genre: angst
Summary: Toshiko is having a bad night.
She watched the minutes on the computer clock tick by, pushing the keys every now and then to pretend that she was working. She'd probably feel better if she actually was working -- something to distract her from the dull ache, some sense of accomplishment to balm her bruised psyche.
She was halfway through a sob before she even realized she had started crying, and scrubbed at her face frantically to get rid of the tears, eyes wide and head twisting to make sure no one had seen. Not that it would matter. The only person who was likely still there was Jack, and he was either sleeping or doing whatever inscrutable things a Jack did late at night. No one except maybe the dinosaur would actually notice if she cried.
She waited, then, for the next sob to come, a rebellious anger settling in her stomach, a 'fine, let's have this over with, then', only to find the moment lost, and the pain settled back to its usual there-but-not-overwhelming state.
She found she mourned the lost tears.
Instead, she went back to pretending to work, checking the rift monitors again and again, until the constant glare of the laptop screen burned into her eyes and they grew damp and blurred from the strain. It was close enough.
Rating: G
Name: Crying After Hours
Pairing: none
Genre: angst
Summary: Toshiko is having a bad night.
She watched the minutes on the computer clock tick by, pushing the keys every now and then to pretend that she was working. She'd probably feel better if she actually was working -- something to distract her from the dull ache, some sense of accomplishment to balm her bruised psyche.
She was halfway through a sob before she even realized she had started crying, and scrubbed at her face frantically to get rid of the tears, eyes wide and head twisting to make sure no one had seen. Not that it would matter. The only person who was likely still there was Jack, and he was either sleeping or doing whatever inscrutable things a Jack did late at night. No one except maybe the dinosaur would actually notice if she cried.
She waited, then, for the next sob to come, a rebellious anger settling in her stomach, a 'fine, let's have this over with, then', only to find the moment lost, and the pain settled back to its usual there-but-not-overwhelming state.
She found she mourned the lost tears.
Instead, she went back to pretending to work, checking the rift monitors again and again, until the constant glare of the laptop screen burned into her eyes and they grew damp and blurred from the strain. It was close enough.