Double Drabble: Only Hate
Title: Only Hate
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Gray, Jack.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 846: Bitter at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: After years of torture, Gray knows only bitterness and hate.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
Gray still remembers his childhood on the Boeshane Peninsula, the endless beaches, the bright sunlight, the wild, churning ocean. He remembers the love of his parents, the hero-worship he felt for his older brother, who seemed to know everything, and was willing to share that knowledge with him. Those had been good days, good years, growing up happy and safe, despite the enemy’s occasional incursions, but by now those memories are faded, unreal, more like a dream he once had.
He remembers more clearly the day it had happened, the enemy flyers screaming through the atmosphere, the people scattering, running for their lives, his father placing him in his brother’s care. He remembers running, trying to keep up with his brother’s longer strides, remembers stumbling in the loose sand, remembers his brother letting go as he fell.
And he remembers what followed. The years of captivity, the torture, watching other prisoners weaken and die. He remembers waiting for his brother to come and save him, and the bitterness when he realised that was never going to happen, that he would die a prisoner, never see his home and family again.
So now, seeing his brother, all he feels is hate.
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Gray, Jack.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 846: Bitter at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: After years of torture, Gray knows only bitterness and hate.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
Gray still remembers his childhood on the Boeshane Peninsula, the endless beaches, the bright sunlight, the wild, churning ocean. He remembers the love of his parents, the hero-worship he felt for his older brother, who seemed to know everything, and was willing to share that knowledge with him. Those had been good days, good years, growing up happy and safe, despite the enemy’s occasional incursions, but by now those memories are faded, unreal, more like a dream he once had.
He remembers more clearly the day it had happened, the enemy flyers screaming through the atmosphere, the people scattering, running for their lives, his father placing him in his brother’s care. He remembers running, trying to keep up with his brother’s longer strides, remembers stumbling in the loose sand, remembers his brother letting go as he fell.
And he remembers what followed. The years of captivity, the torture, watching other prisoners weaken and die. He remembers waiting for his brother to come and save him, and the bitterness when he realised that was never going to happen, that he would die a prisoner, never see his home and family again.
So now, seeing his brother, all he feels is hate.
The End