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fandomweekly2017-05-07 02:33 pm
m_findlow) wrote in fandomweekly2017-05-07 02:33 pm
Entry tags:
[#040] EMERGENCY AID (TORCHWOOD)
Theme Prompt: #040 - Quick and dirty
Title: Emergency aid
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 499 words
Summary: Owen is left with no tools, no time, and no choice.
Ianto wasn't sure what shocked him more, the razor-sharp tail that whipped past his head, or the gunshots a moment later that put an end to the beast. Strangely, it was his knees buckling beneath him that caught him most by surprise. Lying there in the grass, it would have been a nice night for watching the stars twinkle overhead in between the gaps in the tall trees. Instead, it felt like his throat was on fire.
Owen dropped the gun as soon as it was spent. Jack had the bag over its head, thinking it subdued, then it lashed out wildly, claws going everywhere. Owen didn't hesitate. Some things were just too dangerous to save. He was about to make a snide comment to Jack when he saw his teammate fall.
Owen rushed over to Ianto's side. Even in the darkness, he could see the deep red colour seeping into his pristine shirt collar, the deep slash just an inch above it, where the creature's tail had sliced through the tender skin.
'Oh God,' he heard Jack say as he knelt on the opposite side, watching Owen frantically tugging away the tie and buttons.
'Jack, stick your hand there and apply as much pressure as you can,' Owen instructed. He did so, feeling the thick, hot blood against his palm, seemingly doing nothing to quell it from bubbling out.
Ianto tried to speak but nothing came out. In fact, he couldn't find breath for anything, his lungs beginning to burn. His head lolled and his eyes rolled backwards.
Jack dialled for an ambulance with his spare hand, looking just as pale as his lover beneath him.
'No time,' Owen replied. 'His trachea's been severed. He'll asphyxiate before they can get here.'
'Go get your stuff from the SUV, then. I'll stay here.'
'No time for that either.'
Owen began rifling through Ianto's jacket until he found what he wanted, gripping the pen tightly, and unscrewing the ends, tipping out the ink refill and springs.
'What are you doing?'
'Making an airway,' he said, pulling his pen knife from his own back pocket, flipping it open.
He looked down at his tools in the dark. They weren't sterile, no alcohol, and no knowing he wouldn't do more damage. It was against all his medical training except for one principle: save lives. With that in mind, he pressed the knife into the skin just above the collarbone, piercing it deeply, before shoving in the pen casing, finding the right spot.
Ianto arched up underneath him, lungs slowly heaving in air through the tiny metal tube, bringing lucidity and a newfound awareness of his pain. Too much to bear, he gently slipped into unconsciousness.
Jack's hand was slick with blood, but he could feel Ianto breathing. He wouldn't die, not tonight.
'Thank you, Owen,' he said, sounding breathless himself.
In the distance Owen could hear the approaching sirens. His battlefield treatment had bought them time, and time was all they needed.
Title: Emergency aid
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 499 words
Summary: Owen is left with no tools, no time, and no choice.
Ianto wasn't sure what shocked him more, the razor-sharp tail that whipped past his head, or the gunshots a moment later that put an end to the beast. Strangely, it was his knees buckling beneath him that caught him most by surprise. Lying there in the grass, it would have been a nice night for watching the stars twinkle overhead in between the gaps in the tall trees. Instead, it felt like his throat was on fire.
Owen dropped the gun as soon as it was spent. Jack had the bag over its head, thinking it subdued, then it lashed out wildly, claws going everywhere. Owen didn't hesitate. Some things were just too dangerous to save. He was about to make a snide comment to Jack when he saw his teammate fall.
Owen rushed over to Ianto's side. Even in the darkness, he could see the deep red colour seeping into his pristine shirt collar, the deep slash just an inch above it, where the creature's tail had sliced through the tender skin.
'Oh God,' he heard Jack say as he knelt on the opposite side, watching Owen frantically tugging away the tie and buttons.
'Jack, stick your hand there and apply as much pressure as you can,' Owen instructed. He did so, feeling the thick, hot blood against his palm, seemingly doing nothing to quell it from bubbling out.
Ianto tried to speak but nothing came out. In fact, he couldn't find breath for anything, his lungs beginning to burn. His head lolled and his eyes rolled backwards.
Jack dialled for an ambulance with his spare hand, looking just as pale as his lover beneath him.
'No time,' Owen replied. 'His trachea's been severed. He'll asphyxiate before they can get here.'
'Go get your stuff from the SUV, then. I'll stay here.'
'No time for that either.'
Owen began rifling through Ianto's jacket until he found what he wanted, gripping the pen tightly, and unscrewing the ends, tipping out the ink refill and springs.
'What are you doing?'
'Making an airway,' he said, pulling his pen knife from his own back pocket, flipping it open.
He looked down at his tools in the dark. They weren't sterile, no alcohol, and no knowing he wouldn't do more damage. It was against all his medical training except for one principle: save lives. With that in mind, he pressed the knife into the skin just above the collarbone, piercing it deeply, before shoving in the pen casing, finding the right spot.
Ianto arched up underneath him, lungs slowly heaving in air through the tiny metal tube, bringing lucidity and a newfound awareness of his pain. Too much to bear, he gently slipped into unconsciousness.
Jack's hand was slick with blood, but he could feel Ianto breathing. He wouldn't die, not tonight.
'Thank you, Owen,' he said, sounding breathless himself.
In the distance Owen could hear the approaching sirens. His battlefield treatment had bought them time, and time was all they needed.
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