Warnings: Huge spoiler for Series 2 episode 13. Character death. Don't like, don't read. You have been warned.
Character(s): Toshiko, team Torchwood 3
Disclaimer: British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) and Russell T Davies own Torchwood. I don't. You no sue.
She felt cold, but he was warm — burning, shaking.
She could smell the sharp tang of antiseptic and medicine, and Owen's clean scent from their lime extract handwash. It was heady and impersonal and familiar and comforting; more home than home. She managed to ignore the taste of iron at the back of her throat.
There was white, fluorescent-blue, and the man who always called her name the proper way — the man she had enslaved her time to. Her leader. Friend.
She barely felt a trembling hand on her knee while the distant sound of badly controlled breathing reached her ears.
She could not save him but the two of them had averted yet another catastrophe and kept people safe. Kept her family safe.
It was all right, really. She hoped he could see it in her eyes because she had no strength left to speak. Tomorrow the sun would rise, it would be just another day in good old Cardiff, and the world would be none the wiser.
She forced a smile, trying to reassure her captain, who was doing the same for her even as she began to lose focus of his face.
All will be right, really.
fin.
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