Alright, so as my States-side compatriots know, the Fourth of July approaches, and many people in my neighborhood have been pre-gaming our independence by setting off large firecrackers (illegally, of course) in heavily populated areas

Alright, so as my States-side compatriots know, the Fourth of July approaches, and many people in my neighborhood have been pre-gaming our independence by setting off large firecrackers (illegally, of course) in heavily populated areas. I was, of course, inspired to write this little piece by those fireworks, not because I'm particularly patriotic, but because I just really like fireworks. In conclusion, to those Americans reading this, Happy Fourth of July! And to those Brits reading this… sorry. NERVOUS LAUGHTER.

Of course, since "Torchwood" is set in Wales, this piece ISN'T set during the Fourth of July (because it wouldn't make sense, that's why). So…just imagine that there's a fireworks display sometime in October for…something. I'm too lazy to research holidays.

Disclaimer: Usual words apply. I don't got anything.

Fireworks burst over the bay, glowing flowers of radiance on the blank night sky. The crowd on the streets below clapped and cheered at each new explosion, transported by joy and wonder at the pyrotechnic display.

Gwen Cooper watched the fireworks with Rhys. It felt slightly odd to her to be just another couple in the crowd and not one of few who held the future of the world (or Cardiff, at least) in their hands. But despite this sense of oddness, a small smile danced on her lips as she noticed her fiance's enthusiasm for the display. A huge grin split his face, and his eyes shone with pure, unadulterated excitement. He let out one of those laughs that she loved–the big-bellied ones that held nothing back. Wordlessly, Gwen reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. She tried as hard as she could to put all of her love and affection for the man into that contact, because it was moments like this–the simple moments when Rhys was just being Rhys and there were no aliens in sight–those were the moments that gave her something to fight for.

Owen Harper watched the fireworks on the flat-screen telly in his apartment. He was sprawled out on the sofa with a beer in one hand and the remote control in the other. Every time the picture cut to the image of a happy couple enjoying the celebration, he let out a snort of derision, though he didn't know why. There was no one around to hear, to be convinced of his cynical attitude. He was alone. If he had been feeling emotional (and he wasn't, he told himself), he might have reasoned that his scorn was just a coping mechanism to help him ignore that painful, empty ache in his chest and the pair of sweet, soft, almond-shaped brown eyes that danced before his vision every time he closed his own eyes.

Toshiko Sato watched the fireworks through the big picture window in her flat. Each fresh burst of color made her smile a little more, both from childish wonder and from amused relief that the skyborne explosions were not caused by any sort of alien invasion. She stretched in her armchair, feeling her vertebrae pop, and a yellow firework lit her with an ethereal glow. Tosh ran the fingers of one hand through her hair, pushing it back out of her face and reached out to pick up one of her favorite books–Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Cracking it open to the book-marked place, she began reading, her smile continuing to light her features more vividly than any firework.

Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones watched the fireworks together, stretched out on blankets on one of Jack's favorite roofs. Ianto had an extra blanket wrapped around him to ward off the chill of the October night–Jack was content in his large RAF coat.

"I told you it would be better from up here," Jack told the younger man. Ianto didn't reply. He was studying the sky with an intensity that almost startled Jack, blue eyes sharp and focused on the bursts of color dancing across the night.

"Something wrong?" Jack asked. Ianto blinked at him, concentration broken.

"What? Oh–sorry. No–I just haven't really been to a fireworks show since I was a kid. I forgot what it was like." He shot Jack a smile that damn near took the older man's breath away.

"Jesus, Ianto," he whispered, wriggling closer to the Welshman. "You really shouldn't be allowed to do that."

"Do what?" Ianto asked, snuggling up to Jack and resting his head on the other man's chest. Jack wrapped an arm around his lover's shoulders.

"Look so damn good," he said, chuckling. He couldn't feel the heat that flooded into Ianto's cheeks through his heavy coat and the two shirts underneath, but in the sudden light of an orange fireburst he could see the younger man blushing.

"D'you suppose that this counts as a date?" Ianto asked after a brief pause. Jack considered this for a moment.

"I don't think so," he said. "I mean, we've just wandered up to a roof after work. If we'd brought dinner or something–"

"Dinner?" Ianto cut him off. "You mean like this?" He produced two sandwiches and a thermos of what, knowing Ianto, was most likely coffee. Jack took one of the sandwiches with a grin.

"My, oh my," he said. "Aren't we prepared?"

Ianto shrugged, starting to pour the coffee into two plastic cups. Steam rose from the containers in deliciously scented swirls. Before he could respond further, Jack leaned forward and captured his lips in a searing kiss. He pulled away only as a bright red firework burst overhead, illuminating the scene magically.

Ianto grinned back at him. "Always impeccable timing, sir," he said.

"I try my best," Jack said, loving the way that Ianto smiled when he recognized the words. Jack accepted the cup of coffee that the younger man offered him. "Happy date, Ianto."

"Happy date, Jack." They clinked cups and drank, never once breaking eye contact.

Fireworks burst through the nighttime black, lighting Cardiff from above like some sort of extraterrestrial Las Vegas. For the citizens of Cardiff, it was magical and exciting and wonderful.

For the members of Torchwood Three, it was so much more. The fireworks were love. They were loneliness. They were comfort. They were the reason to carry on.

I hope a lot of things. I hope that I will survive my first year at college. I hope that David Tennant will return for another season as the Doctor. But most of all, I hope that you enjoyed this! If you did, think of what little effort it would take to leave a review! Yaaaaaaaay!