Characters: Nosy, Owen, Team.
Written For: Challenge 617: Sense at tw100.
Summary: Someone is in need of help.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
Something had set Nosy’s empathic sense on high alert. It checked the links it maintained with its friends and assured itself they were fine. Owen was napping, Tosh and Mickey were busy with a project, and Andy was home having a lie in because it was his day off. Jack was yelling at someone down the phone, but that was nothing unusual. Gwen was going through her emails, and there was an aura of contentment radiating from Ianto in the archives.
Even Myf in her aerie and the residents in the cells appeared fine, and yet something was still nagging. Somewhere nearby, there was someone in distress. If it wasn’t one of it’s friends, then what could it be? Nosy cast about for a location; somewhere above.
The Fluff looked around to see who was available; it would have to be Owen. Nosy woke the medic with an urgent hum.
Nosy fetched Owen’s medical bag, thrusting it at him, then tugged on the medic’s sleeve, shoving him onto the invisible lift and sending him upwards.
Bewildered, Owen blinked in the sunlight. What was going on?
A crowd of people, someone on the ground…
“Let me through; I’m a doctor!”