Title: Empty

Author: omfg_yaoi_squee

Characters/Pairings: Captain Jack Harkness

Spoilers: All of “Torchwood: Children of Earth”

Disclaimer: Not mine

Summary: There was nothing

All he could feel was emptiness, like someone had reached inside and ripped out his soul, leaving only a hole in its place. It was all his fault. Everything that had happened, everyone who had died, was because of him.

Suzie

Tosh

Owen

Stephen

Ianto

Ianto!

The tortured cry rang through his being, filling his every pore, absorbing into his consciousness and plaguing his mind. Those final words replayed over and over and over, like a broken record.

I love you. I love you. I love you. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.

Why hadn’t he said it back? An admission of love and all he could say was save your breath?

He had known that it would end at some point. That was the price to pay for his immortality, to see those he loved die before his eyes, ripped away by god or fate or simply because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Hi back hit the wall and he slid down, knees pulled to his chest as his shoulders shook with sobs.

Ianto.

The name was like a mantra, making everything else fade into the background. Nothing mattered anymore. He had nothing to live for.

Ianto Ianto Ianto. Sweet Ianto. Kind Ianto. Beautiful, loving, caring Ianto.

Seeing that smooth skin tinged in the blue veil of death had broken his heart and shattered his soul.

After it was all over, he holed himself up at Rhys and Gwen’s home, hiding himself away in darkness. Everything seemed so unreal. How could life go on normally, as if nothing had happened? The only one who seemed to remember was he, a Harkness in the darkness.

How Seuss.

His tears would not cease, his eyes were bloodshot and red, his cheeks ever moist with saltiness.

It was heavy in his hands, seeming to way a ton as he brought the cool metal to his temple. If he could not die forever, at least he could allow himself to disconnect, if only for a few minutes. A few wonderful, blissful minutes would be his with just a twitch of the finger.

He vaguely heard Gwen's scream from down below before he drifted away into blacness for the few minutes until the world came rushing to him once again.

Title: The Difference

Author: omfg_yaoi_squee

Prompt: hot pink nail polish

Pairing: none

Word Count: 138

Rating/Warning: G.

Summary: Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was like hot pink nail polish.

Beta: none

Disclaimer: I don’t own House, MD. That privilege belongs to David Shore.

Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was like hot pink nail polish.

Not, of course, in the sense that it was a hot pink quick-drying lacquer used on fingernails, but rather, because it was different. Unconventional, let’s say.

 Some hospitals were like a French manicure in that they were banal and boring in an everybody-does-it sort of way. All the doctors wore their lab coats, no misbehaviour, no one being caught making out in broom closets, no strange cases, nothing except, in a word, boring.

PPTH was exactly the opposite.

A drug addicted, misanthropic son-of-a-bitch diagnostician roamed the halls without a lab coat, catching his fellows making out in broom closets and having them assist him with a strange case by doing something that might or might not land them in jail.

Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was like hot pink nail polish.

Title: Float

Author: omfg_yaoi_squee

Prompt: “Drugs are marvelous—it’s life that’s evil. And sometimes the only way to face it is to get completely twisted”

                                    ~E. Jean Carroll

Pairing: none

Word Count: 128

Rating/Warning: PG-13. Warning: Recreational use of drugs

Summary: Sometimes he just had to get away.

Beta: none

Disclaimer: *checks under bed for ownership* Nope, still not mine.

Sometimes he just had to get away from it all, to free himself from everything that was holding him to reality, to just let go.

Vicodin served as his doorway, his guide into the world of not feeling. With the Vicodin, he could just be.

To his defense, he didn’t do it often, only when things got really bad, and then it was only when things got so hard to handle that he thought his head would just explode.

Every gate needs something to open it. His was the alcohol. Sometimes bourbon, scotch.

He always knew when to stop, where in the bottles, so he took just enough Vicodin mixed with just enough alcohol to be able to lose all of his troubles, but not all of himself.

Title: The Rainbow of James Wilson

Author: omfg_yaoi_squee

Prompt: colour table

Pairing: House/Wilson if you squint

Word Count: 781

Rating/Warnings: PG

Summary: Wilson’s life is filled with colour

Beta: None

Disclaimer: House, MD and all related characters are property of David Shore and FOX

<table border=1 cellpadding=3 cellspacing=2>

<tr>

<td>1.</td><td>Blue</td>

<td>2.</td><td>Red</td>

<td>3.</td><td>Yellow</td>

</tr><tr>

<td>4.</td><td>Purple</td>

<td>5.</td><td>Orange</td>

<td>6.</td><td>Green</td>

</tr></table>

1. Blue

On some days he saw in shades of blue:

The sky was azure. His slacks were navy.

The hallways were robin’s egg.

Cuddy’s blouse was periwinkle.

But the blue most prominent in his life had no name. No one word could describe the ever-changing hue, sometimes dark as midnight, other times bright as the sky, and still other times so pale it was grey

Even on days when the entire world seemed bathed in blue, no matter how long he thought and mused, James Wilson could never choose just one word to describe the colour of Gregory House’s eyes.

2. Red

James Wilson had a dream.

He was walking down a hallway at work, though it wasn’t any hallway he recognized. After reaching the end of the hallway, Wilson found himself at his own wooden office door though the name printed upon it in those golden letters was in an unrecognizable language. Wilson pushed open the door to reveal the inside of House’s apartment.

House was at the piano, fingers dancing across the keys. Wilson approached cautiously, calling out his friend’s name. House stood from the piano, but the keys continued to compress in a haunting melody. Wilson took a step back when he saw that his friend’s eyes were solidly sapphire blue, the lack of pupils giving him the look of a madman. House stepped closer, his right arm stretched in front of him.

Wilson found himself backed against a wall, House’s fingers ripping holes in his shirt and digging into his flesh. A loud booming filled his ears like the banging of a million drums. There was a tug at Wilson’s chest and he let out a gasp. There in his chest was a clean, black hole and House stood before him with a heart in his hand. Wilson’s doctor brain dimly noticed that hearts were not supposed to be that bright fire engine colour before he blacked out, promptly waking up for real in his hotel room.

He sat up, eyes wide, his breath coming in gasps. He felt along his sweat-covered chest, assuring himself that there was no gaping hole there. His arms were still shaking as he lay back down. Wilson eventually drifted back off into a dreamless haze. He woke up the next morning with the image of House holding a bright red heart imprinted on the inside of his eyelids.

3. Yellow

He didn’t notice it at first, and it was Cuddy who had to point it out to him. The whites of his eyes were turning yellow. Immediately, he ran to House.

“Kidney failure,” Wilson said in a panic, pointing to his yellowing eyes.

“Always tired, sore limbs, constant headache, blurry vision,” Wilson said, listing symptoms he just realized he had.

“We’ll run some tests,”

House’s voice was calm, but, as his eyes met Wilson’s, the oncologist could see the fear clearly shining there.

4. Purple

A loud yell broke through the silence of the morning. Gregory House woke with a start. Despite being woken up too early for his liking, House grinned.

“House!”

The door to House’s room slammed open revealing his temporary roommate, James Wilson, a towel around his waist, his face crumpled into a frown.

“Nice hairdo,” House smirked.

“You are going to pay for this,” Wilson grumbled through gritted teeth, turning on his heel and leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

 House lay back, grinning, trying o imagine the look on Cuddy’s face when she saw the new purple colour of Wilson’s hair.

5. Orange

He wasn’t sure what convinced him to do it, but, as it happened, he did.

When he had seen that one Friends episode, he had laughed at Ross’ plight, thinking that it would never really happen to somebody. Yet here he was with four coats of spray on his front and none on his back.

But while Ross’ had turned brown, Wilson felt that his own spray-tan mishap made him look like a carrot.

6. Green

Julie hated green.

House knew this. Wilson knew that House knew this.

So when Wilson wore his favourite green silk tie, he knew that House would notice. But House didn’t quite make the connection Wilson had hoped. The diagnostician had realized that Wilson was trying to get someone’s attention, but he kept listing off names of the women in radiology and of the oncology nurses (surprising Wilson with house much of the staff House actually knew). No matter how much Wilson denied the allegations, no matter how think Wilson layed it on, House just didn’t get it. For a diagnostician, he could be pretty unobservant. Wilson figured that it all boiled down to one fact.

House loved green.

He just didn't know that Wilson knew it.