Stimulus: Distance
Spoilers: Series one, I suppose
POV: Ianto
Dedication: My lovely ma, who has not only persuaded dad to get me a Blackberry for my birthday (Wednesday, if you want to know ;) x) but also inspired this fic. Ta!
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood. Today, I'm not caffeinated enough (where's that teaboy when you need him?!) to think of any plots or canivingness, so I guess it won't happen today…
AN: I'm stuck, people. To those of you that actually read this, I could really use some help: please, PLEASE, send in a little description of how you'd like to die? Don't ask. Make it dramatic.
-x-
Distance was something he'd had to learn quickly. He had to know how to separate work with Sir from sex with Jack. He had to learn to divide home and family from the Hub and whatever their relationship meant. He couldn't not have figured out how to disconnect the idea of beeping, metal cyberwoman – alien – from the Lisa that he'd bought a ring; a ring that was still lying in his desk drawer, not so much as glanced at since…
Distance was easy.
Just how long would it take to learn 'close'?