Title: Colorless
Author: blacatk
Fandom: Torchwood
Episode: Greeks Bearing Gifts
Character(s): Toshiko Sato, Mary
Rating: PG, possibly even G
Word Count: 236
Notes: Here's my first Torchwood fic ever. It was going to be a drabble, but I sort of ran over. Oops. This is #20 on My Table.
Summary: Based upon prompt 20: Colorless.

***

There is so much sound, so much noise that she sees stars, burned across the back of her eyeballs. It's all one giant roar of white noise that just keeps expanding. She can feel it building and growing and spreading rapidly out of her ears, nose, and mouth. The overwhelming fullness of mind explodes down her throat and into her chest, through the rest of her body and to the tips of her fingers and toes.

Distantly, she can feel her eyes watering and her head fall back against the wood behind her. That pain is more acute and focused. She pulls on every ounce of Torchwood training and centers herself around the pain and determination. Her hands clench on the seat cushion and she tries to ground herself on that feeling, too. And suddenly, everything folds back in. The impossible to ignore blast implodes and there are words in her head. There are voices running across her mind splashes of color across her vision, each chased away and replaced by the next. The color spectrum paints itself across her mind in flashes, never repeating, an endless variation of hues.

Her mouth falls open and words tumble out, but she can't hear them.

"They're people's thoughts." The quiet whisper stands out in contrast. "They're people's thoughts, Toshiko." And amid the rainbow, the words are beautifully colorless. She curls her fingers around it and holds on tight.

***