Torchwood: Fanfic: The sands of time

[m_findlow]

Title: The sands of time
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 983 words
Content notes: Spoilers for Adam
Author notes: Written for ncisvu's prompt "Any, any, can't remember if a particular event happened in a dream or reality" at fic_promptly
Summary: Jack's memories are slipping away, like grains of sand through his fingers

The box was heavy and light all at the same time, so intricately carved in geometric patters and designs that he couldn't tell if it was a single piece of wood, or incredible craftsmanship that slotted dozens of tiny pieces together, fused like an impossibly complex jigsaw puzzle.

Lifting it up properly, a tiny little piece fell from the evidence bag, the one marked "Adam's property" - as if someone had used the bag to store their lunch - tumbling onto his desk with a small wooden sound, like a pencil dropping. He picked it up, examining the oddly shaped fragment, wondering where it had come from. Adjusting the hand with which he held the box aloft, he spied the tiny hole. Turning the piece over in his hand, he matched it up to the small opening, slotting it back in place, wondering if it was like a key, about to reveal the box's intriguing contents. There was a tiny click and he held his breath.

Nothing.

Oh well, he thought, putting the box back on his desk and turning away. He supposed not everything could be astonishing and full of amazement. Plus, he could always go and find Ianto, tease him about measuring tapes, and reminding him all of the reasons it really didn't matter who was bigger. If he liked, they could spend a few hours finding out just how little it mattered.

As he went to leave his office, there was the thunk of something behind him. Turning back, he saw that the box had now split open along the middle, sliding outwards to reveal the hidden inner compartment. Ah ha, so it was more interesting after all. Taking a quick peek inside, he couldn't see exactly what it was. He tipped it, letting a shower of coarse ochre sand spill out into his hand and onto the floor. He frowned, feeling it pour through his fingers. It was warm, like it had been lying out in the afternoon sun, not tucked away in the darkness of their archives for who knew how long.

Home. That was the first thought that flashed into his mind. He remembered the endless sand dunes and long stretches of beach that he'd grown up on. He and Gray had spent hours and hours racing kites along the shore, scouring the beaches for unusual shells and sea glass, trinkets and driftwood. When they couldn't travel that far, they'd made their own amusement out in the dunes just beyond the village. Mounds and mounds of ochre coloured sand and spinifex grasses surrounded them, an endless playground for them to play catch. They'd spent many afternoons chasing each other around, tagging and running, tumbling until their hair was full of sand, and it trickled out from the folds of their clothes and filled their shoes.

How it drove their mother mad, trying to constantly sweep the sand from their apartments. Still, she could never be mad at them, and often joined them once the day's work was done, the three of them sitting out amongst the dunes, campfire warming flatbreads made by hand, and watching as the twilight faded into night, the stars twinkling into existence one by one, until the sky was overflowing with them.

This time was different though. There was a man playing with them in the dunes. He was older, probably around the same age as their mum. He had a smiling face and kind eyes, handsome in his own way. Jack watched and laughed as the man tore across the sand, trying to catch Gray, and knowing Gray was too fast for him. They'd never had a dad, but he imagined this would have been what it would have been like. They would have played catch together, all three of them, laughing and playing until they were exhausted. Then their mum would bring them dinner and she would sit there, wrapped in the arms of their dad, whilst she cuddled them and told them stories of the princes and princesses that lived out amongst the stars.

It felt so real, as if they'd truly done those things, but he knew if couldn't be real. Yet it felt real, as if he could feel a loving feeling towards the man, and felt loved and wanted in return, like they'd always been together. It felt like he was suddenly indelibly painted into every memory Jack had from his childhood, even though that was impossible. It had only ever been just the three of them, and he wondered why he was even thinking about it now. He'd never stopped to wonder where his father was, or what had happened to him, for surely they must have had a father once upon a time, but he'd never featured in their lives, and Jack had never given it a second thought.

As the last few grains of sand trickled through his fingers, he couldn't help but feel as if there was something he'd forgotten, some crucial part of his memories of his mum and Gray that he'd misplaced. It felt like the memories in his mind were slipping away, just like the grains of sand through his fingers. What was he missing? No, he shook his head, telling himself that it was just a guilty conscience, trying to hanker for the past - before he'd lost Gray - when everything in his life had been just perfect. Not anymore, though. He'd ruined it all, and they'd taken Gray away from him. That was what was missing. He should've held Gray's hand.

The memory of it soured in his mouth, and he no longer cared why the box was filled with sand, or where it had come from. He just had to get out of there for a while, wishing he could banish those memories from his mind. It didn't do well to linger on the past, lest it consume him whole.

Comments

[bk_forever]

Oh, the cuelty of Adam knew no bounds, taking away Jack's memories of his father =(