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fandomweekly2022-09-26 03:47 pm
m_findlow) wrote in fandomweekly2022-09-26 03:47 pm
Entry tags:
[#151] ANGELS DANCING AT THE RITZ (TORCHWOOD)
Theme Prompt: #151 - The dance
Title: Angels dancing at The Ritz
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG. Spoilers for episode 1.12.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Tosh wonders if being rescued from 1941 was the right thing.
Tosh sipped at her scotch as she watched Jack across the desk from her. He didn't touch the alcohol he'd poured after they'd clinked glasses. Instead he stood and wandered across his office to the old radio tower, tucked in the corner behind the door. It was a strange hybrid of nineteenth century and modern technology, able to analyse alien subspace transmissions but also pick up basic radio waves. He twiddled the dials on the old radio section, a hiss and crackle as it sprung into life, locating the right frequency.
The timeless strains of Vera Lynn began to infuse the air. It was sad and beautiful all at the same time – joy and melancholy seamlessly intertwined. She watched the way Jack's expression became glazed, like he was trapped in a memory of long ago, and not something that for them had happened just hours before.
That certain night, the night we met,
There was magic abroad in the air…
In Jack's recollection, it truly was as if he'd lived a lifetime since stepping back through the rift from 1941 to the present day. For Tosh, it had been nothing more than a puddle jump from the present into the past and back again.
For Jack, there was so much more that had transpired in those few precious seconds between history that couldn't be changed, only experienced. He'd come face to face with the one person he never expected to meet – his namesake, the real Captain Jack Harkness. Famed hero of the 133rd Squadron, who would be killed in action in the most innocent of training exercises, ambushed by German fighter planes as he cut three of them down. All his men would survive, but their Captain would go down with his plane, a fireball he couldn't escape.
Jack, of course, knew all of that and more when he'd taken the man's name and identity. He'd said it was merely convenient – an American Air Force captain posted to Wales – just when Jack needed a cover for his own presence there. Tosh couldn't help but wonder if there hadn't been a little bit of ego in the decision. Jack liked being seen as the hero, and a pedigree the likes of Captain Jack Harkness would have been irresistible.
There were angels dancing at the Ritz,
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square…
Things were different now. He'd met the man; they both had. He wasn't flashy, didn't draw attention to himself, but the admiration from his men was clear. He was a leader they would willingly follow into battle, whatever the risks. Wasn't that what she was? All of their team, following Jack Harkness into danger because they wanted to; because they trusted Jack with their lives.
I may be right, I may be wrong,
But I'm perfectly willing to swear,
That when you turned and smiled at me,
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square…
Love was the one thing she hadn't counted on. Jack had a reputation. Hadn't she joked once that he'd shag anything if it was gorgeous? She and Owen had endless arguments about whether he was gay, yet Tosh couldn't bring herself to feel justified she'd been right. Instead she just felt sad. Jack had, in those fleeting few hours, fallen for a man whose life he'd stolen so long ago, and the Captain, knowing just how dangerous it was to be homosexual in 1941, had drawn Jack onto the dance floor in a lover's embrace. It was almost as if he sensed that tonight would be their last night.
Jack leaned one arm against the huge machine, his scotch glass clutched in the other as his head bowed towards the wartime serenade, remembering those brief embraces as they held one another, the crowded dance hall having fallen into a collective hush except for the band who continued to play, oblivious to the fact they were witnessing the taboo of two men swaying to the music.
Had Jack missed his chance at true love, she wondered. Could you know your heart in just a few seconds? She stood and slowly approached without breaking the magic of the moment. 'I thought perhaps you might not come back,' she said. 'You seemed so much a part of that place.'
Jack slowly tipped his glass to his lips and drank as he contemplated his answer. Perhaps he too was pondering whether he'd made the right choice. 'History is what remains in the past. You can't change it. It has to stay just as it is, no matter what you want.'
'Would you? If you could?' She wanted to know that more than anything. Could you risk the future for the sake of true love? She wouldn't have blamed him if he'd chosen to stay, no matter how much she felt that they needed him here.
The streets of town were paved in stars,
It was such a romantic affair…
'We're all soldiers, Tosh,' he replied, equally melancholic as the music issuing from the crackling radio, as if it were forcing itself across the years all the way to 2006. 'We have a duty to do what's right, regardless of the cost.'
That didn't feel right to Tosh. Duty was one thing, but happiness had to have its place as well. Why was the point of life if not to live for love and happiness? 'We're all human as well,' she reminded him. She reached out to rest her hand on his arm. 'Even you.'
He placed his larger hand on top of hers. 'It all works out in the end. Even if we only get one night. That's the beauty of embracing life as it comes. It's like a dance, beautiful and fleeting, knowing that there'll come a time when the music will stop, but until then…' He closed his eyes.
Tosh nodded. Jack was right. If it lasted forever, it wouldn't feel like magic any more.
And as we kissed and said goodnight,
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
Title: Angels dancing at The Ritz
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG. Spoilers for episode 1.12.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Tosh wonders if being rescued from 1941 was the right thing.
Tosh sipped at her scotch as she watched Jack across the desk from her. He didn't touch the alcohol he'd poured after they'd clinked glasses. Instead he stood and wandered across his office to the old radio tower, tucked in the corner behind the door. It was a strange hybrid of nineteenth century and modern technology, able to analyse alien subspace transmissions but also pick up basic radio waves. He twiddled the dials on the old radio section, a hiss and crackle as it sprung into life, locating the right frequency.
The timeless strains of Vera Lynn began to infuse the air. It was sad and beautiful all at the same time – joy and melancholy seamlessly intertwined. She watched the way Jack's expression became glazed, like he was trapped in a memory of long ago, and not something that for them had happened just hours before.
That certain night, the night we met,
There was magic abroad in the air…
In Jack's recollection, it truly was as if he'd lived a lifetime since stepping back through the rift from 1941 to the present day. For Tosh, it had been nothing more than a puddle jump from the present into the past and back again.
For Jack, there was so much more that had transpired in those few precious seconds between history that couldn't be changed, only experienced. He'd come face to face with the one person he never expected to meet – his namesake, the real Captain Jack Harkness. Famed hero of the 133rd Squadron, who would be killed in action in the most innocent of training exercises, ambushed by German fighter planes as he cut three of them down. All his men would survive, but their Captain would go down with his plane, a fireball he couldn't escape.
Jack, of course, knew all of that and more when he'd taken the man's name and identity. He'd said it was merely convenient – an American Air Force captain posted to Wales – just when Jack needed a cover for his own presence there. Tosh couldn't help but wonder if there hadn't been a little bit of ego in the decision. Jack liked being seen as the hero, and a pedigree the likes of Captain Jack Harkness would have been irresistible.
There were angels dancing at the Ritz,
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square…
Things were different now. He'd met the man; they both had. He wasn't flashy, didn't draw attention to himself, but the admiration from his men was clear. He was a leader they would willingly follow into battle, whatever the risks. Wasn't that what she was? All of their team, following Jack Harkness into danger because they wanted to; because they trusted Jack with their lives.
I may be right, I may be wrong,
But I'm perfectly willing to swear,
That when you turned and smiled at me,
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square…
Love was the one thing she hadn't counted on. Jack had a reputation. Hadn't she joked once that he'd shag anything if it was gorgeous? She and Owen had endless arguments about whether he was gay, yet Tosh couldn't bring herself to feel justified she'd been right. Instead she just felt sad. Jack had, in those fleeting few hours, fallen for a man whose life he'd stolen so long ago, and the Captain, knowing just how dangerous it was to be homosexual in 1941, had drawn Jack onto the dance floor in a lover's embrace. It was almost as if he sensed that tonight would be their last night.
Jack leaned one arm against the huge machine, his scotch glass clutched in the other as his head bowed towards the wartime serenade, remembering those brief embraces as they held one another, the crowded dance hall having fallen into a collective hush except for the band who continued to play, oblivious to the fact they were witnessing the taboo of two men swaying to the music.
Had Jack missed his chance at true love, she wondered. Could you know your heart in just a few seconds? She stood and slowly approached without breaking the magic of the moment. 'I thought perhaps you might not come back,' she said. 'You seemed so much a part of that place.'
Jack slowly tipped his glass to his lips and drank as he contemplated his answer. Perhaps he too was pondering whether he'd made the right choice. 'History is what remains in the past. You can't change it. It has to stay just as it is, no matter what you want.'
'Would you? If you could?' She wanted to know that more than anything. Could you risk the future for the sake of true love? She wouldn't have blamed him if he'd chosen to stay, no matter how much she felt that they needed him here.
The streets of town were paved in stars,
It was such a romantic affair…
'We're all soldiers, Tosh,' he replied, equally melancholic as the music issuing from the crackling radio, as if it were forcing itself across the years all the way to 2006. 'We have a duty to do what's right, regardless of the cost.'
That didn't feel right to Tosh. Duty was one thing, but happiness had to have its place as well. Why was the point of life if not to live for love and happiness? 'We're all human as well,' she reminded him. She reached out to rest her hand on his arm. 'Even you.'
He placed his larger hand on top of hers. 'It all works out in the end. Even if we only get one night. That's the beauty of embracing life as it comes. It's like a dance, beautiful and fleeting, knowing that there'll come a time when the music will stop, but until then…' He closed his eyes.
Tosh nodded. Jack was right. If it lasted forever, it wouldn't feel like magic any more.
And as we kissed and said goodnight,
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.