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fandomweekly2024-12-15 03:12 pm
m_findlow) wrote in fandomweekly2024-12-15 03:12 pm
Entry tags:
[#242] IN MEMORIAM (TORCHWOOD)
Theme Prompt: #242 - Tragedy
Title: In memoriam
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings:PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Jack feels obligated to observe the full burden of Torchwood and what it costs others to do the job.
‘Why do I have to be here?’ Owen griped, slumping in the passenger seat, arms folded like a petulant child. ‘Why couldn’t you have dragged along Tosh or Suzie?’
‘Tosh is busy recovering as much of the data from Canary Wharf’s systems as she can and see if she can’t restore the stuff that’s been corrupted,’ Jack replied. ‘And Suzie is up to her eyeballs in salvaged technology, figuring out what works, what doesn’t, and what the hell half of it does.’ He paused to sigh. ‘God knows what they were inventing in there and whether any of it is safe.’
‘Weapons, weapons and more weapons,’ Owen replied. ‘I think we know the answer to whether any of it is safe will be no.’
Jack shrugged. ‘Depends what Tosh can recover on the files, I suppose. But yeah, Torchwood One did love a good offensive device.’
Owen snorted. ‘Fat lot of good that did them, eh? Still doesn’t explain why I'm here.’
‘You didn’t have anything better to do.’
‘Lucky me.’ He looked out the window. ‘It's pissing down cats and dogs out there. You brought an umbrella?’
‘Nope.’
Owen scowled. ‘Well, sod that. You can go but I'm going to stay here in the car. Give my regards to Lady Muck.’
Jack didn't bother arguing with Owen's resistance, simply pushing open the door and stepping out into the rain. Someone had to be there, and that someone should probably be him.
Through the rain and the rows of neat headstones, he could make out a small party of people gathered in one spot, one large black umbrella between them. As he got closer, he noticed that the man standing under the canopy was the priest and that the other three men were either side of the coffin, helping to winch it down into the ground.
The umbrella tipped up slightly to look at Jack. ‘Apologies,’ the priest said. ‘We waited and then decided it was best to lay her soul to rest before the weather got worse. It never sits well with me when the departed have no one to mourn them.’
‘No need to apologise,’ Jack said, catching the last glimpses of the coffin disappearing into the earth. Empty, of course, since there was no body to put in it, but weighted down inside for appearance sake. None of the converted cybermen could be allowed to exist in any form. All of them had been shredded, crushed and melted down. There weren't even any flowers on top, just polished wood and brass fittings. You never were one for sentiment.
‘Can I offer you the Lord's Prayer, my boy?’ he asked as the winch finished its work and a green covering was draped over the hole to keep off the rain until they could return to finish the job.
‘No, that’s okay.’
‘Then I shall leave you to your own quiet contemplation and prayer.’
Jack started at the now covered grave, headstone still pending placement. Despite the notices in the paper, not one person had come to pay their respects, not even family. Jack knew all too well the burden of the job that made maintaining relationships near impossible. Perhaps Yvonne had known that when the time came there’d be no one here to make the arrangements.
‘Clever making me your executor,’ Jack remarked. ‘The one person you knew would carry out everything to your exacting standards, right down to the burial without a body. Torchwood to the core,’ he added, admiring the foresight.
‘At least you went down fighting,’ he said as the rain soaked through to his scalp, droplets leaking from the ends of his hair like teardrops. ‘Gotta give you that much. We didn’t see eye to eye on much, but we never stopped fighting.’
‘Eight survivors. At least that's what we found, and all of them retconned back to before they even knew what Torchwood was. It was for the best,’ he said, answering the silent question that he knew would have been forthcoming. ‘A waste of good resources, perhaps, but it was better for them this way. Better that they don’t remember what happened. Eight people out of over six hundred. All those wasted lives, wasted potential. How you ever got that many people to keep a secret this big I’ll never know.’
He turned his head skywards, searching for answers but there was only the rain to hit his face in reply so he lowered his head back to the ground. ‘I spent so long trying to divorce myself from you. I saw what happened at the millennium – how one tiny piece of technology could rip apart a whole team. I vowed I wouldn't let that happen again. And yet I let you carry on, knowing deep down that it was inevitable we’d trip over something we didn’t understand. Thousands would pay the price for our stupidity. I should have kept you close, watched your every move, stepped in to stop you before it got out of hand. Perhaps I was too trusting, though we both knew we could never fully trust one another. You gave as good as you got. I had to admire that. You knew how to rule the roost and take no prisoners, all in four inch heels. Must’ve been that military family upbringing.’ Jack paused and cast a look around the cemetery. ‘You father isn’t here now though, is he? Where’s that pride in your achievements?’
He shivered as water soaked into the collar of his coat. ‘I’m sorry. All of this is my fault. If I could go back and do things differently…’ But he couldn't, he knew that. The blood of so many was on his hands now. Yvonne wasn’t to blame, not entirely. She was just another victim of Torchwood; of their hubris. He would learn this time. He wouldn’t let any of it out of his sight from here on in. He couldn't afford to.
‘Wish me luck, Yvonne. I’m going to need it.’
Title: In memoriam
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings:PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Jack feels obligated to observe the full burden of Torchwood and what it costs others to do the job.
‘Why do I have to be here?’ Owen griped, slumping in the passenger seat, arms folded like a petulant child. ‘Why couldn’t you have dragged along Tosh or Suzie?’
‘Tosh is busy recovering as much of the data from Canary Wharf’s systems as she can and see if she can’t restore the stuff that’s been corrupted,’ Jack replied. ‘And Suzie is up to her eyeballs in salvaged technology, figuring out what works, what doesn’t, and what the hell half of it does.’ He paused to sigh. ‘God knows what they were inventing in there and whether any of it is safe.’
‘Weapons, weapons and more weapons,’ Owen replied. ‘I think we know the answer to whether any of it is safe will be no.’
Jack shrugged. ‘Depends what Tosh can recover on the files, I suppose. But yeah, Torchwood One did love a good offensive device.’
Owen snorted. ‘Fat lot of good that did them, eh? Still doesn’t explain why I'm here.’
‘You didn’t have anything better to do.’
‘Lucky me.’ He looked out the window. ‘It's pissing down cats and dogs out there. You brought an umbrella?’
‘Nope.’
Owen scowled. ‘Well, sod that. You can go but I'm going to stay here in the car. Give my regards to Lady Muck.’
Jack didn't bother arguing with Owen's resistance, simply pushing open the door and stepping out into the rain. Someone had to be there, and that someone should probably be him.
Through the rain and the rows of neat headstones, he could make out a small party of people gathered in one spot, one large black umbrella between them. As he got closer, he noticed that the man standing under the canopy was the priest and that the other three men were either side of the coffin, helping to winch it down into the ground.
The umbrella tipped up slightly to look at Jack. ‘Apologies,’ the priest said. ‘We waited and then decided it was best to lay her soul to rest before the weather got worse. It never sits well with me when the departed have no one to mourn them.’
‘No need to apologise,’ Jack said, catching the last glimpses of the coffin disappearing into the earth. Empty, of course, since there was no body to put in it, but weighted down inside for appearance sake. None of the converted cybermen could be allowed to exist in any form. All of them had been shredded, crushed and melted down. There weren't even any flowers on top, just polished wood and brass fittings. You never were one for sentiment.
‘Can I offer you the Lord's Prayer, my boy?’ he asked as the winch finished its work and a green covering was draped over the hole to keep off the rain until they could return to finish the job.
‘No, that’s okay.’
‘Then I shall leave you to your own quiet contemplation and prayer.’
Jack started at the now covered grave, headstone still pending placement. Despite the notices in the paper, not one person had come to pay their respects, not even family. Jack knew all too well the burden of the job that made maintaining relationships near impossible. Perhaps Yvonne had known that when the time came there’d be no one here to make the arrangements.
‘Clever making me your executor,’ Jack remarked. ‘The one person you knew would carry out everything to your exacting standards, right down to the burial without a body. Torchwood to the core,’ he added, admiring the foresight.
‘At least you went down fighting,’ he said as the rain soaked through to his scalp, droplets leaking from the ends of his hair like teardrops. ‘Gotta give you that much. We didn’t see eye to eye on much, but we never stopped fighting.’
‘Eight survivors. At least that's what we found, and all of them retconned back to before they even knew what Torchwood was. It was for the best,’ he said, answering the silent question that he knew would have been forthcoming. ‘A waste of good resources, perhaps, but it was better for them this way. Better that they don’t remember what happened. Eight people out of over six hundred. All those wasted lives, wasted potential. How you ever got that many people to keep a secret this big I’ll never know.’
He turned his head skywards, searching for answers but there was only the rain to hit his face in reply so he lowered his head back to the ground. ‘I spent so long trying to divorce myself from you. I saw what happened at the millennium – how one tiny piece of technology could rip apart a whole team. I vowed I wouldn't let that happen again. And yet I let you carry on, knowing deep down that it was inevitable we’d trip over something we didn’t understand. Thousands would pay the price for our stupidity. I should have kept you close, watched your every move, stepped in to stop you before it got out of hand. Perhaps I was too trusting, though we both knew we could never fully trust one another. You gave as good as you got. I had to admire that. You knew how to rule the roost and take no prisoners, all in four inch heels. Must’ve been that military family upbringing.’ Jack paused and cast a look around the cemetery. ‘You father isn’t here now though, is he? Where’s that pride in your achievements?’
He shivered as water soaked into the collar of his coat. ‘I’m sorry. All of this is my fault. If I could go back and do things differently…’ But he couldn't, he knew that. The blood of so many was on his hands now. Yvonne wasn’t to blame, not entirely. She was just another victim of Torchwood; of their hubris. He would learn this time. He wouldn’t let any of it out of his sight from here on in. He couldn't afford to.
‘Wish me luck, Yvonne. I’m going to need it.’
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