Fix it Friday (Mini-update)

[amuly]

Hai Guys.
So, here's the deal. I. FINISHED. MY. THESIS!!!!!
GAHH!! *dance dance dance*
It is approx. 105 pages long, and it is fucking GLORIOUS.
Of course, I finished it around 22:30 Wednesday night, and I've been working furiously on it all week. So I didn't get as much fic writing done as I should have. :-( But! I've got the first scene of the next chapter written, so I'll post that. And I promise to you guys that I'll have the rest of the chapter up on/around Saturday, k? I've just got 2 exams to take today and then I'm DONE! Forever! (Until grad school.)

Title: Life is All Part I: Allons-y Alonso Chapter 4
Pairing: Jack/Alonso, past Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 391
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jack organizes stuff
Warnings: Ianto!death angst
A/N: Where this chapter is going: Jack treats Alonso better briefly and opens up to him, then treats him like shit again. Also, sex. –ish.

            That night, Jack sat naked in the atrium, rummaging through his supplies, trying to put them into some sort of cohesive order. He could faintly hear Alonso snoring in the bedroom behind him, and so he worked quietly: best to keep it that way. Carefully he pulled out the combustible materials he had bought: liquids, powders, gases. He wasn’t sure exactly what he would need once down planet side, so he had just got it all. Next was the protective equipment: gasmasks, hazmat suits, the like. He slipped the gasmask on and turned to look toward Alonso, still sleeping on the bed. “Are you my mummy?” He grinned beneath the mask, but Alonso didn’t stir, so he took it off and set it aside with the other equipment. Did his best not to think about how those masks could have come in handy...

            Next came the miscellaneous: food, ropes, wires, all that random stuff which he never knew if it might come in handy or not. Finally his two duffle bags were empty. He smoothed them down and rolled them up, tying them shut with their own straps. He looked at the neat piles he had laid out. All they needed from Regis was small ship, a star-hopper, to get them to Iucundia.

            Ianto would have made a list. He liked lists. Said it made him calm, gave him something to have control over, to cling to, amidst the insanity and disorderliness that was life at Torchwood. Jack scrubbed at his face. He didn’t believe it could still hurt so much, after so many months. Months were just a drop in the bucket for him, really. It could take years, and it would still just be a drop in the bucket. He just wanted it to stop hurting. But he didn’t, at the same time: didn’t want to forget Ianto, didn’t want to stop loving him.

            He swallowed quickly. That was his cue: dwelling on Ianto meant it was time for a change in scenery. Moving quickly he bundled the different piles together, then stuffed them all into the hypercube.* There. Sorted. Jack tossed the cube into his backpack, snatching his keycard out of it at the same time. With one last backward glance toward the bedroom, Jack left the suite. Time to find some willing bodies to lose himself in.

*Special note: I totally made use of hypercubes in my philosophy thesis. Because I am just that cool.

Comments

[amuly.livejournal.com]

Haha. Thanks for the congrats! Update should be going up this evening...(I swear, I finished college yesterday afternoon, and now I'm at work 9 am on a Saturday. Where's the cosmic justice?)

[hab318princess.livejournal.com]

I left college and emigrated a month later... the bad news: cosmic justice doesn't exist (Sorry)