Silent Onlookers
By Hannah
My Tribute To Tosh & Owen
The two figures stood silently, momentarily catching each other's eyes as they walked forwards, their silent feet retracing the familiar route until they paused before three people stood staring blankly at a computer screen, dead and black. The tallest, the man in the middle spoke:
"And now we carry on."
A half choked sob filled the cluttered room, littered with boxes half filled with clothes, photos and trinkets that had inadvertently been accumulated over the years. Two desks stood bare, stripped of their usual decorations and litter, reduced to nothing more than a long slab of wood that had mysteriously made its way into the midst of the unhappy scene that played before the two bystanders.
"I don't think I can." The black haired woman choked back another sob. "Not after this." The younger man sniffed in acknowledgement of his colleague's thought.
"You can." The tallest spoke again, wrapping an arm around each of the others. He squeezed gently on the woman's shoulder. In return she buried her face into his neck, her body shaking as gut-wrenching sobs racked throughout her body. "We all can. The end is where we start from."
The three stood in silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts, celebrating or mourning the lost lives of their friends. The woman broke away first. "I ... I better go home. Rhys ..." Both men looked at her, startled out of the curse, or gift, called memories. She paused and pulled her companions into a rib crushing hug. Once again she broke away first and strode away, quickly running up the stairs to the cog door before anyone could notice of the hot tears coursing down her face, running down her neck and wetting the collar of her t-shirt. The woman onlooker, stepping aside to allow her room to pass on the narrow metal walk way, noticed them and drew her breath in sharply.
The first woman stopped abruptly, her emerald eyes glancing insistently around, distracted by an indistinct figure in the corner of her peripheral vision. The tears paused for a few timeless seconds as she held her breath before rationality zoomed back into her mind. Wishful thinking. She breathed out an unchecked gasp of pain, before striding out of the open cog door.
Below her, the remaining pair stood motionless, wrapped in each other's arms. The younger of the two sighed steadying breaths into the older's tear soaked grubby white shirt.
The two onlookers moved together, the man slipping his arm around the woman's slender waist to pull her closer to him.
"Look at them. Look at Gwen. She's broken."
The man took at least thirty seconds to carefully plan his next words. The woman he was holding was even more distraught than he was at losing his best friends, and thus more vulnerable and emotionally weakened than he was.
"She'll take longer. Than the other's ... to ... get over it. Thing's touch her heart far too easily but," He uncharacteristically allowed his emotions to cloud his voice. "But she ... hasn't lost anyone before. Jack will take of her. So will Ianto." The reassurances at the end of his speech were as much to convince herself as her.
"They should have listened to my message. It's alright. We're alright." A ghost of a smile crept onto her face. She seemed to shine with an indescribable light of happiness at finally being emotionally close to the man she loved but that was masked by the sadness of her friends' evident distress. "We're together."
"Forever." The man added his own line to the jokey, yet entirely truthful, dialogue.
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, unconsciously moving closer until they were mirroring the position of the two men below them - wrapped in each other. The brief spell of peace was broken by the taller man moving away and pulling on his military coat, slipping his arms deftly into the sleeves and pulling it tight around him. The suited man watched him, opening and closing his mouth several times before choosing to say nothing at all, just letting his only comfort weave through the maze of boxes and out of the cog door.
The male onlooker peered down to look at the final man but he was already busying himself with placing the boxes into piles and marking them each with a label and passport photo of the owner of the contents.
"Come on." The woman pulled on his hand, tugging him into the wake of the military man.
"Where's he heading?"
"The roof."
The man started, frown lines appearing deep on his forehead. "He's going to jump?!"
"No." A giggle escaped her lips. "He told me once, it helps him clear his head."
"Oh." The warmth of relief spread throughout his body, while a deep red blush appeared on his pale cheeks.
They followed the military man inconspicuously, his brisk pace taking them through the quiet streets of witching hour Cardiff at twice the speed that either of them would have been able to walk on a normal day.
...
Much later they stood, one of either side of the military man, as he watched protectively over his city. The tears finally spilled, unchecked, over the brims of his eyes. The unseen onlookers reached around his back for each other's hands.
The first rays of dawn spread across the red sky.
"The world is bleeding." They heard the crack in their boss' voice as he murmured to, seemingly, himself. The woman swallowed.
"I'm glad I'm with you, Owen."
"I'm glad I'm with you, Tosh."
RIP Toshiko and Owen