A world away [fic]
Title: A world away
Author:
shadowbyrd
Rating(s): G
Pairing(s): Barely-there Jack/Tosh
Prompt: 11. Blue for
otp_100
Word Count: 510
Warning(s): This is a bit of a weird one.
Summary: Wherever she is, the colours are all wrong.
A/N: i don't know what this is, but I really want to paint it. This fic is something of a tie-in to We don't do whimsy, but in a rather different vein.
The sand continues in every direction, right up until the horizon. Toshiko’s not sure what colour it is. The sky’s clouded over and what little weak light peers through stains her skin a dull lilac and paints the sand a concrete grey. The whole landscape is made from a rainbow of greys, except the cold white sun. It makes her shiver, like metal stealing all the warmth away.
When she begins walking it’s loose, like a desert, kicking up little clouds around her feet. Further on it becomes firmer and damper, her shoes leave footprints and flick up occasional crumbs. She stops. There is no rain soaking the sand, only a shell in her hand. A beautiful white shell. The one Jack gave her all those months ago…
She holds it to her ear and hears nothing. Then, as she listens, it builds slowly. There’s a baby crying. A small child crying “Mummy!” in between its soul-wracking sobs. She puts it to her other ear. It sounds like someone calling her name, from far away. It’s probably loud where they are.
She turns it over in her hands, thinking. Jack told her it was a microphone. That was why it sounded (normally, where there was colour) like the sea and mermaids; someone had recorded it. She tries speaking into it, shushing both the child and the person calling to her.
“Shh. It’s alright. I’m here, it’s okay.”
Cold.
She squeals, almost drops her shell. She presses it to her chest and stares down at the water, the deep, deep blue waves suddenly lapping around her ankles. She wades forward, trying to make it to the sand again. The water shushes after her.
She walks quickly.
It follows.
She runs.
It surges forward suddenly, slamming into her back, rushing past and around her -
“Get back!”
Something appears suddenly, gleaming wetly black. The water jerks her away from it and the rushing crash of waves gives way to a blared horn and cars speeding across tarmac.
She was about to walk - no, run - headlong into the middle of the road.
The waves had held her safe. Now they spin her around.
“What the hell were you doing?”
There are at least six different blues swimming together in Jack’s clothes and after her colourless desert they nearly blind Toshiko.
She blinks. It’s evening. Warm. Dry. The sun is bleeding orange into the sky, and a few passers by stare at them.
She frowns. “My feet are wet.”
Jack frowns too. There’s no arguing with that; the denim’s clings to her lower legs and there’s a trail of dark, dully shining footprints on the paving stones.
But how?
Jack lays a hand on her arm, as if he needs to steady her. “What happened?”
Toshiko shakes her head. The last thing she can remember is sitting at her swirling blue screens in her concrete workspace and thinking about the sea.
She grips the stone in her left hand. She was working on it when she fell asleep.
“I think I must have been dreaming."
Author:
shadowbyrd
Rating(s): G
Pairing(s): Barely-there Jack/Tosh
Prompt: 11. Blue for
otp_100
Word Count: 510
Warning(s): This is a bit of a weird one.
Summary: Wherever she is, the colours are all wrong.
A/N: i don't know what this is, but I really want to paint it. This fic is something of a tie-in to We don't do whimsy, but in a rather different vein.
The sand continues in every direction, right up until the horizon. Toshiko’s not sure what colour it is. The sky’s clouded over and what little weak light peers through stains her skin a dull lilac and paints the sand a concrete grey. The whole landscape is made from a rainbow of greys, except the cold white sun. It makes her shiver, like metal stealing all the warmth away.
When she begins walking it’s loose, like a desert, kicking up little clouds around her feet. Further on it becomes firmer and damper, her shoes leave footprints and flick up occasional crumbs. She stops. There is no rain soaking the sand, only a shell in her hand. A beautiful white shell. The one Jack gave her all those months ago…
She holds it to her ear and hears nothing. Then, as she listens, it builds slowly. There’s a baby crying. A small child crying “Mummy!” in between its soul-wracking sobs. She puts it to her other ear. It sounds like someone calling her name, from far away. It’s probably loud where they are.
She turns it over in her hands, thinking. Jack told her it was a microphone. That was why it sounded (normally, where there was colour) like the sea and mermaids; someone had recorded it. She tries speaking into it, shushing both the child and the person calling to her.
“Shh. It’s alright. I’m here, it’s okay.”
Cold.
She squeals, almost drops her shell. She presses it to her chest and stares down at the water, the deep, deep blue waves suddenly lapping around her ankles. She wades forward, trying to make it to the sand again. The water shushes after her.
She walks quickly.
It follows.
She runs.
It surges forward suddenly, slamming into her back, rushing past and around her -
“Get back!”
Something appears suddenly, gleaming wetly black. The water jerks her away from it and the rushing crash of waves gives way to a blared horn and cars speeding across tarmac.
She was about to walk - no, run - headlong into the middle of the road.
The waves had held her safe. Now they spin her around.
“What the hell were you doing?”
There are at least six different blues swimming together in Jack’s clothes and after her colourless desert they nearly blind Toshiko.
She blinks. It’s evening. Warm. Dry. The sun is bleeding orange into the sky, and a few passers by stare at them.
She frowns. “My feet are wet.”
Jack frowns too. There’s no arguing with that; the denim’s clings to her lower legs and there’s a trail of dark, dully shining footprints on the paving stones.
But how?
Jack lays a hand on her arm, as if he needs to steady her. “What happened?”
Toshiko shakes her head. The last thing she can remember is sitting at her swirling blue screens in her concrete workspace and thinking about the sea.
She grips the stone in her left hand. She was working on it when she fell asleep.
“I think I must have been dreaming."