ext_24141 ([identity profile] laligin.livejournal.com) wrote in [personal profile] laligin 2007-06-20 03:33 pm (UTC)

:) Here. 120 words in total. End of Days oriented.

Cold

Whenever he gasped in that first breath, that sudden flood of air and life, his lungs always burned for a few moments. It was cold. So cold it cut at his throat and clawed its way into his insides, ripping and tearing – but just for a few seconds. Then the cold spread out through his body and dissipated into the surrounding air. A matter of moments and he would be warm again. That was how it worked. Always. He knew that.

But Ianto knew better.

And Jack, staggering, with help, out of the collapsing Hub, and unable to shake the bone-deep, aching coldness, thanked every god he could think of that Ianto knew to grab his coat as they went.

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