As you can see from my profile, this isn't a fandom I write for - but I just can't help but feel.. at one with Tosh. So I wrote this when I was angry and alone and just more than a little bit sad. Writing is safer for my soul, I find. I finally finished it and.. I don't profess that it's magnificent. It's just who I see Tosh to be and why I see Tosh to be who she is. I love her, if that's not a wee bit obvious.
I adore favourites, reviews... like any writer. It's nice to hear what you think. However, I know from myself that I hold you under no obligation to leave them. Do what you prefer and I will be happy regardless. Just knowing you are reading it is a nice enough feeling.
When you're asked to join a secret organisation, against your will, to save your life, you do it. No questions asked. After all, a life of servitude in the outside world is better than one trapped in a five by five cell, clothes worn by thousands others (with the stains to prove it) and no contact except for a shining blue orb set into the ceiling – one that talked but never answered.
You sign up because your life is worth more than this, damn it. You know you're clever, you've always known but when someone tells you that you're special – that's a reason to fight. Fight back against people who used you and lied, people who got you trapped in a red jumpsuit.
It's been five years.
The hardest five years of your life. You've run further than you ever thought possible and you've pushed yourself to the edge of your limits and beyond. You've taken leaps of faith for yourself, for your colleagues and you'd do it over again. You've seen things far beyond the realms of imagination but just as real as yourself and you've fought creatures written about in story books and comic strips. You've damn well gone and fall in love with one – although it appears there is a fine line between love and persuasion. Something you'll never forget; it's never a good idea to hear the innermost thoughts of those around you. Eavesdroppers, as they say, never hear things they want to. Affairs are secret for a reason or else they threaten to destroy.
You've lost your reason for fighting; she's too far away now, too different from you, too mundane but it doesn't mean you love her any less. After all, she's the reason you're here – because you wouldn't stop fighting for her, no okāsan, who never deserved anything that happened to her. She's better off without you – she's too much leverage. People can use her, have used her and will use her again. It's dangerous to be too close.
You destroy your heart over and over, falling in love with the unattainable. You watch yourself from above make mistakes you never thought you'd be able to. You give your heart willingly to a man who will never be strong enough to hold it properly – he is as irrevocably damaged as you are. Now he's dead but then he's not and that just adds more distance to the chasm that is your never going to happen relationship. To distract, once a year, you have a chance to give your heart to someone who could love you, respect you, protect you but that, like everything else, is swallowed by the organisation that has claimed your life.
It is only appropriate that you die for them too. Saving lives over and over because, hell, if you're going to go down, might as well prevent millions of others joining you. You never knew you'd bring him down too. That you'd drown in the onslaught of pain together. You wish that it wasn't that way and listening to him accept his fate kills you from the inside out, ripping your remaining strength apart until you realise that there's little tethering you anymore. Your heart leaves with him and the shell that was your life remains, empty. You become a forgotten file, lost in the ether of the computer system.
It was a good life though, despite everything.