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tellitslantTitle: Past the Setting Sun
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tellitslant
Recipient:livii
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who (spoilery through S2 of DW and 1x08 of TW)
Pairing: Suzie Costello/Rose Tyler
Rating: PG
Word count: 1300
Disclaimer: RTD's, not mine.
Summary: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
femslash07.
**
There is always something coming in the dark.
Sometimes Suzie can sense it, see it; other times she can only react as it passes her by. And sometimes it doesn't pass by. Sometimes it just hovers there, waiting.
This time, it's a flicker of light that catches her attention. It's rare enough that it shocks her out of her somnolescence: light doesn't usually penetrate this – place, this presence, this wherever existence that she's stuck in, been stuck in for she doesn't know how long, flashing backwards and forwards along her timeline till she doesn't know what's real and what's hallucination, waiting, sensing, thinking wondering, wondering if she's going mad –
The light flashes again, piercing her reverie, and she curses herself. She's getting soft, caught up in this formless nothing. But even distracted, she can tell that this flash is larger. It almost – well, she thinks it is made up of people. She also thinks that this would sound crazy if she didn't know what she knew. Nothing sounds crazy to a woman who has died twice.
It seems like a very short time – relatively, relatively short, relatively speaking, relative to nothing – before Suzie sees the light again, and this time she can definitely make out figures in the flash that passes her – going the other way, it seems, if there are directions at all in this limbo. She doesn't know if she's slowed time – time? – down somehow or if her senses are heightened now that she's concentrating so hard on this one thing, but for a split second she sees three figures distinctly.
A man, a woman, and a girl.
They're there and then they're gone and Suzie almost, almost feels as if they're pulling her along, but not deliberately, as if she's nothing but debris in the riptide of their passing. It's the first sense of movement she's experienced since – well, since the rest of the Torchwood team used the glove to bring her back to life. Gwen used the glove. Gwen pulled her out of this in-between state she's stuck in, pulled her towards herself, towards life. The memory energizes her, and when the girl suddenly flashes back across her field of vision, Suzie reaches and something connects. She trails along for just a moment – even sees a room of some sort appear, before she loses her grip.
It's frustrating and elating all at once, more so because Suzie has no idea where these visitations are coming from. She's uncomfortable with anything she can't control, and worse, she can't swear that they've never happened before – can't even swear that they're progressing in a linear time – but she's afraid that she's lost her chance even as she's learned to exploit them.
Another spark of light, and she's ready. The man arcs past and Suzie attaches herself to him. He materializes in the same room she saw before, but there's no time for Suzie to make sense of the scenario before they're off again, back the way they came. This time the girl is along for the ride as well. Suzie can feel the waves of emotional energy rolling off the girl. Despair, she thinks, almost tasting it. Despair and loneliness and some small, tiny spark of hope. Just like Suzie herself.
Suzie hangs on with all the strength she can muster, still unsure what she's hanging on with or what to. She doesn't know where she's going, only that the glimpses she's had of the destinations that these flashes seem to be aiming for are far more real and appealing than the formless waiting dark. Suzie's will has always been a formidable one, and nothing is getting in the way of her escape this time.
When they scatter out into the warm, natural sunlight, Suzie could weep for joy. The man and the girl stagger and fall to the ground, but Suzie keeps moving. Something draws her – pulls her – through the air, through walls, along the streets. It looks like London, but something is different. Suzie can't tell what – she's disoriented, sweeping through the air, not sure what or where or who she is. Is she going to wake up on a slab again, bleeding from multiple wounds this time? Or worse, have they buried her? She thinks, hysterical for a moment, of the old custom of burying people with bells they can ring from their coffins. If she ends up alive under the ground, will anyone be around to listen for her ringing?
She stops suddenly, with a bone-jarring thump, and then she realizes that she has bones again. Looking at her reflection in the nearest window confirms it. This is her own body, although it seems to be missing some of its latest defining characteristics, like gunshot wounds to the head and chest. Has she gone back in time? She's heard of such things happening – mostly from Jack, when he's been in the mood to regale the team with things he's done that they never will – and she'd certainly welcome the chance to re-do a few parts of her life. Not sign up for Torchwood, perhaps. Or start planning earlier when she did join up.
The thought of Torchwood brings her up short, because instead of the Hub, an entirely different set of associations flash through her mind at the word – tunnels, bunkers, the Houses of Parliament, secret entrances to the Robing Room and the Peers' Lobby and a long history of their abuse. She has memories she doesn't remember ever making. It's a disconcerting feeling, to remember herself in a way that doesn't belong to her. As she probes these new pockets of knowledge, names she's never heard begin to associate themselves with faces she's just seen, puzzle pieces slotting together in a framework that she wants to understand.
The man – Pete Tyler. She knows as soon as she names him who he is and what he does – knows that Torchwood has investigated his companies, knows it as well as she knows that she still works for Torchwood, this different Torchwood that she remembers without knowing. The woman – Jacqueline Tyler. She knows, too, that Jackie Tyler is dead, died as a result of Cybus Industries, and then she knows that she has travelled in time, but perhaps not only time, because so many things are different here, but so many are the same, and after all where did this body with its unexpected memories come from?
Suzie finds that though she searches her new memory, the girl with the powerful emotions is nowhere in there. But as she starts settling into her new skin, her new chance, she knows that the woman come back from the dead and the mysterious girl attached to her are the cornerstones of her new existence. She reaches for the drawer where sense memory that is hers and not-hers tells her she'll find her purse and id. She needs to know more about them, especially the girl. And with her access to Torchwood still unrestricted in this – this universe, she thinks, this world, this new and exciting possibility – and with her ability to play their computer systems, she's sure what she needs will be right at her fingertips.
As she leaves the flat, she idly wonders if her father is alive in this universe. It's only a fleeting thought. Right now she needs to devote all her time and attention to that girl.
Author:
tellitslantRecipient:
liviiFandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who (spoilery through S2 of DW and 1x08 of TW)
Pairing: Suzie Costello/Rose Tyler
Rating: PG
Word count: 1300
Disclaimer: RTD's, not mine.
Summary: Written for
femslash07. **
There is always something coming in the dark.
Sometimes Suzie can sense it, see it; other times she can only react as it passes her by. And sometimes it doesn't pass by. Sometimes it just hovers there, waiting.
This time, it's a flicker of light that catches her attention. It's rare enough that it shocks her out of her somnolescence: light doesn't usually penetrate this – place, this presence, this wherever existence that she's stuck in, been stuck in for she doesn't know how long, flashing backwards and forwards along her timeline till she doesn't know what's real and what's hallucination, waiting, sensing, thinking wondering, wondering if she's going mad –
The light flashes again, piercing her reverie, and she curses herself. She's getting soft, caught up in this formless nothing. But even distracted, she can tell that this flash is larger. It almost – well, she thinks it is made up of people. She also thinks that this would sound crazy if she didn't know what she knew. Nothing sounds crazy to a woman who has died twice.
It seems like a very short time – relatively, relatively short, relatively speaking, relative to nothing – before Suzie sees the light again, and this time she can definitely make out figures in the flash that passes her – going the other way, it seems, if there are directions at all in this limbo. She doesn't know if she's slowed time – time? – down somehow or if her senses are heightened now that she's concentrating so hard on this one thing, but for a split second she sees three figures distinctly.
A man, a woman, and a girl.
They're there and then they're gone and Suzie almost, almost feels as if they're pulling her along, but not deliberately, as if she's nothing but debris in the riptide of their passing. It's the first sense of movement she's experienced since – well, since the rest of the Torchwood team used the glove to bring her back to life. Gwen used the glove. Gwen pulled her out of this in-between state she's stuck in, pulled her towards herself, towards life. The memory energizes her, and when the girl suddenly flashes back across her field of vision, Suzie reaches and something connects. She trails along for just a moment – even sees a room of some sort appear, before she loses her grip.
It's frustrating and elating all at once, more so because Suzie has no idea where these visitations are coming from. She's uncomfortable with anything she can't control, and worse, she can't swear that they've never happened before – can't even swear that they're progressing in a linear time – but she's afraid that she's lost her chance even as she's learned to exploit them.
Another spark of light, and she's ready. The man arcs past and Suzie attaches herself to him. He materializes in the same room she saw before, but there's no time for Suzie to make sense of the scenario before they're off again, back the way they came. This time the girl is along for the ride as well. Suzie can feel the waves of emotional energy rolling off the girl. Despair, she thinks, almost tasting it. Despair and loneliness and some small, tiny spark of hope. Just like Suzie herself.
Suzie hangs on with all the strength she can muster, still unsure what she's hanging on with or what to. She doesn't know where she's going, only that the glimpses she's had of the destinations that these flashes seem to be aiming for are far more real and appealing than the formless waiting dark. Suzie's will has always been a formidable one, and nothing is getting in the way of her escape this time.
When they scatter out into the warm, natural sunlight, Suzie could weep for joy. The man and the girl stagger and fall to the ground, but Suzie keeps moving. Something draws her – pulls her – through the air, through walls, along the streets. It looks like London, but something is different. Suzie can't tell what – she's disoriented, sweeping through the air, not sure what or where or who she is. Is she going to wake up on a slab again, bleeding from multiple wounds this time? Or worse, have they buried her? She thinks, hysterical for a moment, of the old custom of burying people with bells they can ring from their coffins. If she ends up alive under the ground, will anyone be around to listen for her ringing?
She stops suddenly, with a bone-jarring thump, and then she realizes that she has bones again. Looking at her reflection in the nearest window confirms it. This is her own body, although it seems to be missing some of its latest defining characteristics, like gunshot wounds to the head and chest. Has she gone back in time? She's heard of such things happening – mostly from Jack, when he's been in the mood to regale the team with things he's done that they never will – and she'd certainly welcome the chance to re-do a few parts of her life. Not sign up for Torchwood, perhaps. Or start planning earlier when she did join up.
The thought of Torchwood brings her up short, because instead of the Hub, an entirely different set of associations flash through her mind at the word – tunnels, bunkers, the Houses of Parliament, secret entrances to the Robing Room and the Peers' Lobby and a long history of their abuse. She has memories she doesn't remember ever making. It's a disconcerting feeling, to remember herself in a way that doesn't belong to her. As she probes these new pockets of knowledge, names she's never heard begin to associate themselves with faces she's just seen, puzzle pieces slotting together in a framework that she wants to understand.
The man – Pete Tyler. She knows as soon as she names him who he is and what he does – knows that Torchwood has investigated his companies, knows it as well as she knows that she still works for Torchwood, this different Torchwood that she remembers without knowing. The woman – Jacqueline Tyler. She knows, too, that Jackie Tyler is dead, died as a result of Cybus Industries, and then she knows that she has travelled in time, but perhaps not only time, because so many things are different here, but so many are the same, and after all where did this body with its unexpected memories come from?
Suzie finds that though she searches her new memory, the girl with the powerful emotions is nowhere in there. But as she starts settling into her new skin, her new chance, she knows that the woman come back from the dead and the mysterious girl attached to her are the cornerstones of her new existence. She reaches for the drawer where sense memory that is hers and not-hers tells her she'll find her purse and id. She needs to know more about them, especially the girl. And with her access to Torchwood still unrestricted in this – this universe, she thinks, this world, this new and exciting possibility – and with her ability to play their computer systems, she's sure what she needs will be right at her fingertips.
As she leaves the flat, she idly wonders if her father is alive in this universe. It's only a fleeting thought. Right now she needs to devote all her time and attention to that girl.
