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fandomweekly2024-10-13 03:54 pm
m_findlow) wrote in fandomweekly2024-10-13 03:54 pm
Entry tags:
[#237] THE MORNING AFTER (TORCHWOOD)
Theme Prompt: #237 - Hangover
Title: The morning after
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: After losing three days of their memories, the team has to find a way to move on from the events.
Jack completed a lap of the hub, making sure that things were in order. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been. Seeing something out of place might trigger some deeply buried memory from his subconscious and he felt disturbed enough as it was. He planned on just giving the place the once over and then going to brood for a few hours on his favourite city rooftop, where the fresh air and the nauseating heights would provide a good distraction for him, allowing his mind to simply wander as his eyes did the same, casting their way across the city to take it all in. Being up there gave him such a sense of peace, but also of duty, knowing he was responsible for keeping the people that inhabited those city blocks safe from whatever the universe prepared to throw at them next.
He’d already sent the others home for the rest of the day and told them to take tomorrow off as well. That they’d all woken up this morning and realising that they’d been retconned was troubling. There’d been something very dangerous that they couldn’t afford to remember. Even Jack had found himself subject to the same disquieting awakening. Something so terrible that none of them, not even Jack, could be allowed to remember. A few days at home would be for the best. It was the one place that wouldn’t trigger memories from the past few days, and retcon always worked best when it was allowed a few days to really work its magic, making sure that nothing could re-trigger those memories from returning.
He took one last look around and then dashed up the spiral staircase, taking the stairs two at a time. Just a quick trip to the little boys room before heading out. As he pushed through the door, he heard the deeply masculine sound of retching. He recognised the sound immediately and waited for a break in the noise as it carried on in fits and starts for a full minute, before falling silent, and then followed by a groan.
Jack leaned against the cubicle door. ‘Ianto? Are you okay in there?’ There was another groan and then the sound of toilet paper being tugged from the holder. ‘Ianto?’ Jack repeated. ‘Can I come in?’
Jack waited a moment and then he heard a click as the latch on the door was twisted, allowing him to pull the door outward. Ianto was sitting by the bowl, legs tucked underneath him and a wad of toilet paper crumpled in his fist. ‘You okay?’
‘I’m fine. I’m…’ Ianto paused and then grabbed the edge of the bowl as another wave of retching started up. This one didn’t last as long as the first, but there was still the unpleasant sound of something coming up and hitting the small pool of water at the bottom. Ianto finally sat back, leaning backwards until he found the cubicle wall and slumping against it. ‘Not fine,’ he confessed.
Jack reached over and caught the briefest glimpse of the contents before hitting the flush, and getting rid of it. The smell alone was enough to make Jack taste the tang of acid reflux. The sooner that smell was gone, the better. He knelt down next to the young man.
Ianto leaned his head backward and closed his eyes. ‘I think it’s the retcon.’
Jack nodded. ‘Hangover-like symptoms aren't common, but they can happen sometimes.’ No fear that Ianto would vomit up the retcon. It was already in his blood, having done its work. Jack knew just how tricky it was to mix doses of retcon for specific purposes. It was such a delicate balance that had to be perfect down to the milligram. Doses that would erase three hours, three days, or three years of memories. Doses that could wipe out everything, and doses that could target specific parts of the brain that housed certain neural pathways. Getting it wrong could be disastrous; even kill people if not administered carefully. Using it on his team, and even himself, was the most risky of all. Precious memories could be erased forever.
‘I haven’t been this hungover since a pub crawl in Basingstoke in 2002.’
Jack couldn't help but grin. ‘You party animal.’ He watched Ianto for a few moments, gauging whether there was likely to be another round. ‘Think you can get up? Some fresh air would probably do you good.’
Ianto nodded, eyes still closed as he pushed against the cubicle wall, trying to use it as leverage to slide up to his feet. Jack was there with a hand on his hip to steady him lest his legs buckle underneath him, guiding him out and over to the wall of sinks. Ianto flipped the tap on and cupped his hand underneath it, slurping the water noisily and spitting it back out, before repeating the process twice more and then splashing more water on his face. He turned off the tap and gripped the edges of the sink, head bowed. Jack held out some paper towel for him and he took it, patting his face dry. ‘I’ve been retconned before,’ he said. ‘Don’t ask me how I know that, I just do. Never felt like this before, though.’
Jack silently wondered what formulation he’d given them all. He could probably find out pretty easily. Rectcon was heavily regulated and they accounted for every last pill. A quick inventory would tell him, but he knew enough already. Three days of their lives had vanished from their collective memories, all computer and CCTV records wiped clean, as if the world had simply skipped over them.
‘How awful a thing can you imagine that would make us wipe our memories?’ Ianto finally asked, already with slightly more colour in his face after having emptied his stomach.
Jack reached out, gently kissing Ianto’s forehead. ‘The best advice I can give is that it's best not to think about it. We did what we had to do.’
Title: The morning after
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: After losing three days of their memories, the team has to find a way to move on from the events.
Jack completed a lap of the hub, making sure that things were in order. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been. Seeing something out of place might trigger some deeply buried memory from his subconscious and he felt disturbed enough as it was. He planned on just giving the place the once over and then going to brood for a few hours on his favourite city rooftop, where the fresh air and the nauseating heights would provide a good distraction for him, allowing his mind to simply wander as his eyes did the same, casting their way across the city to take it all in. Being up there gave him such a sense of peace, but also of duty, knowing he was responsible for keeping the people that inhabited those city blocks safe from whatever the universe prepared to throw at them next.
He’d already sent the others home for the rest of the day and told them to take tomorrow off as well. That they’d all woken up this morning and realising that they’d been retconned was troubling. There’d been something very dangerous that they couldn’t afford to remember. Even Jack had found himself subject to the same disquieting awakening. Something so terrible that none of them, not even Jack, could be allowed to remember. A few days at home would be for the best. It was the one place that wouldn’t trigger memories from the past few days, and retcon always worked best when it was allowed a few days to really work its magic, making sure that nothing could re-trigger those memories from returning.
He took one last look around and then dashed up the spiral staircase, taking the stairs two at a time. Just a quick trip to the little boys room before heading out. As he pushed through the door, he heard the deeply masculine sound of retching. He recognised the sound immediately and waited for a break in the noise as it carried on in fits and starts for a full minute, before falling silent, and then followed by a groan.
Jack leaned against the cubicle door. ‘Ianto? Are you okay in there?’ There was another groan and then the sound of toilet paper being tugged from the holder. ‘Ianto?’ Jack repeated. ‘Can I come in?’
Jack waited a moment and then he heard a click as the latch on the door was twisted, allowing him to pull the door outward. Ianto was sitting by the bowl, legs tucked underneath him and a wad of toilet paper crumpled in his fist. ‘You okay?’
‘I’m fine. I’m…’ Ianto paused and then grabbed the edge of the bowl as another wave of retching started up. This one didn’t last as long as the first, but there was still the unpleasant sound of something coming up and hitting the small pool of water at the bottom. Ianto finally sat back, leaning backwards until he found the cubicle wall and slumping against it. ‘Not fine,’ he confessed.
Jack reached over and caught the briefest glimpse of the contents before hitting the flush, and getting rid of it. The smell alone was enough to make Jack taste the tang of acid reflux. The sooner that smell was gone, the better. He knelt down next to the young man.
Ianto leaned his head backward and closed his eyes. ‘I think it’s the retcon.’
Jack nodded. ‘Hangover-like symptoms aren't common, but they can happen sometimes.’ No fear that Ianto would vomit up the retcon. It was already in his blood, having done its work. Jack knew just how tricky it was to mix doses of retcon for specific purposes. It was such a delicate balance that had to be perfect down to the milligram. Doses that would erase three hours, three days, or three years of memories. Doses that could wipe out everything, and doses that could target specific parts of the brain that housed certain neural pathways. Getting it wrong could be disastrous; even kill people if not administered carefully. Using it on his team, and even himself, was the most risky of all. Precious memories could be erased forever.
‘I haven’t been this hungover since a pub crawl in Basingstoke in 2002.’
Jack couldn't help but grin. ‘You party animal.’ He watched Ianto for a few moments, gauging whether there was likely to be another round. ‘Think you can get up? Some fresh air would probably do you good.’
Ianto nodded, eyes still closed as he pushed against the cubicle wall, trying to use it as leverage to slide up to his feet. Jack was there with a hand on his hip to steady him lest his legs buckle underneath him, guiding him out and over to the wall of sinks. Ianto flipped the tap on and cupped his hand underneath it, slurping the water noisily and spitting it back out, before repeating the process twice more and then splashing more water on his face. He turned off the tap and gripped the edges of the sink, head bowed. Jack held out some paper towel for him and he took it, patting his face dry. ‘I’ve been retconned before,’ he said. ‘Don’t ask me how I know that, I just do. Never felt like this before, though.’
Jack silently wondered what formulation he’d given them all. He could probably find out pretty easily. Rectcon was heavily regulated and they accounted for every last pill. A quick inventory would tell him, but he knew enough already. Three days of their lives had vanished from their collective memories, all computer and CCTV records wiped clean, as if the world had simply skipped over them.
‘How awful a thing can you imagine that would make us wipe our memories?’ Ianto finally asked, already with slightly more colour in his face after having emptied his stomach.
Jack reached out, gently kissing Ianto’s forehead. ‘The best advice I can give is that it's best not to think about it. We did what we had to do.’