Sophinisba Solis (
sophinisba) wrote2009-10-28 08:57 am
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Torchwood ficlet: And You, My Love, Are Gone
Title: And You, My Love, Are Gone (The Promise Not to Promise Remix)
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/pairing: Suzie/Toshiko
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers only for episode 1x01, dark like Torchwood is dark.
Words: 200
Notes: Remix of And You, My Love, Are Gone (726 words), by
allfireburns, for
remixthedrabble. Originally posted here. Title and cut text from the Ingrid Michaelson song "The Chain".
She stops at the building thinking she'll say goodbye but ends up standing outside the door, key in the lock, not turning. Knowing there's nothing left to say, no point in going in.
Time was, if Suzie didn't want to disturb Toshiko's sleep she's slip in without a sound, leave a kiss on her brow and a note under her pillow, some rubbish about how their love made her strong, only made up more poetic like. Then she'd go back to the Hub.
It's not that she was lying. There's power in love, sure. There's power in sex, in making the quiet girl come so hard she screams (all from your touch, your hand).
But what's that to the power of bringing a dead man back to life (with your touch, your glove)? And what's that to the power of taking life away (with your knife, the one you made with steel and fire)?
Try writing a bloody poem about that. Try showing it to anyone.
"I'm off now, love," she murmurs into the dark quiet of the hallway, and puts the key back in her bag, along with the knife and the gun. She goes back to the Hub.
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/pairing: Suzie/Toshiko
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers only for episode 1x01, dark like Torchwood is dark.
Words: 200
Notes: Remix of And You, My Love, Are Gone (726 words), by
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She stops at the building thinking she'll say goodbye but ends up standing outside the door, key in the lock, not turning. Knowing there's nothing left to say, no point in going in.
Time was, if Suzie didn't want to disturb Toshiko's sleep she's slip in without a sound, leave a kiss on her brow and a note under her pillow, some rubbish about how their love made her strong, only made up more poetic like. Then she'd go back to the Hub.
It's not that she was lying. There's power in love, sure. There's power in sex, in making the quiet girl come so hard she screams (all from your touch, your hand).
But what's that to the power of bringing a dead man back to life (with your touch, your glove)? And what's that to the power of taking life away (with your knife, the one you made with steel and fire)?
Try writing a bloody poem about that. Try showing it to anyone.
"I'm off now, love," she murmurs into the dark quiet of the hallway, and puts the key back in her bag, along with the knife and the gun. She goes back to the Hub.