Triple Drabble: Impossible Injury
Feb. 2nd, 2025 04:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Title: Impossible Injury
Author:
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Characters: Ianto, Owen.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 850: Hurt at
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Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto suffers a nasty injury.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Triple drabble.
Reorganising the archives was a slow and painstaking job, many of the objects that had been labelled at one point no longer were, their labels having fallen off or faded until they were unreadable. Ianto’s new cataloguing system would be better, and wouldn’t rely on handwritten tags, but first he needed to identify, where possible, all the things he was trying to catalogue.
Halfway along one row of shelves, he found a mysterious piece of alien tech on the floor; assuming it had fallen off one of the shelves, he picked it up… Immediately a sharp, narrow blade burst from the top, impaling his hand!
“Bloody hell!” Instinctively he let go of the device, which fell to the floor, and gripped his wrist with his other hand to slow the flow of blood. “That hurt!” Resisting the impulse to hop around, doubled over, clutching his injured hand, and swearing, which wouldn’t help, he headed for the stairwell, hoping he could make it to the med bay without passing out from blood loss. He was going to need stitches.
The throbbing in his hand was spreading all the way up his arm and into the rest of his body, so he took deep, steadying breaths, and concentrated on the uneven concrete stairs in front of him. Tripping on them wouldn’t improve his situation.
Passing through the main Hub, he yelled for Owen.
“What did you do?” Owen grumbled.
“Piece of alien tech stabbed me through the hand.”
“Right, let’s see.” Owen examined his hand. “Oh, very funny. Is it Prank the Doctor Day?”
“What’re you talking about?” Ianto checked his hand; there was no trace of a wound. “That’s impossible! The blade went right through!”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m covered in blood!”
“Don’t know what to tell you. You’re not bleeding now…”
The End… or is it?
Halfway along one row of shelves, he found a mysterious piece of alien tech on the floor; assuming it had fallen off one of the shelves, he picked it up… Immediately a sharp, narrow blade burst from the top, impaling his hand!
“Bloody hell!” Instinctively he let go of the device, which fell to the floor, and gripped his wrist with his other hand to slow the flow of blood. “That hurt!” Resisting the impulse to hop around, doubled over, clutching his injured hand, and swearing, which wouldn’t help, he headed for the stairwell, hoping he could make it to the med bay without passing out from blood loss. He was going to need stitches.
The throbbing in his hand was spreading all the way up his arm and into the rest of his body, so he took deep, steadying breaths, and concentrated on the uneven concrete stairs in front of him. Tripping on them wouldn’t improve his situation.
Passing through the main Hub, he yelled for Owen.
“What did you do?” Owen grumbled.
“Piece of alien tech stabbed me through the hand.”
“Right, let’s see.” Owen examined his hand. “Oh, very funny. Is it Prank the Doctor Day?”
“What’re you talking about?” Ianto checked his hand; there was no trace of a wound. “That’s impossible! The blade went right through!”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m covered in blood!”
“Don’t know what to tell you. You’re not bleeding now…”
The End… or is it?