9

Jack wandered the orchard as he tried to control himself.

Gwen was not speaking to him, he couldn't bring himself to apologize to her.

How could he?

Ianto and Stephen.

His fault.

How could he?

And Alice, long gone now.

He was nearing the house, could see the shape of it and swallowed convulsively.

Again and again he was drawn here, had been every time it all went to shit.

Then he saw it.

Same time every day.

The spectre that moved amongst the apple trees, just as Hendry used to.

Who?

Jack thought again of Ianto, wondering why he had that name for him engrained in his mind. The only Hendry he had ever known was the lovely Prince Hendrix of his home world and he was sure nobody actually called him that to his face.

Yet still, he seemed to wind up here, brought by something beyond his control.

It didn't seem to matter where he was going, the SUV seemed to move and turn on its own until he was once more sitting in that lay-way.

The movement stilled and he could feel it staring back, as if it might speak.

Then it came.

The chiming of a glass bell and the head turned, tracking the noise and he was gone, walking off as the mist swirled and swallowed him.

Jack felt the chill and pulled his coat around himself, shaking as he struggled to control his breathing.

Silly.

Just a ghost.

This house was listed amongst his properties and had been as far back as he could trace. Although he didn't remember purchasing it, he sure as hell didn't remember selling it.

Maybe it was squatters?

He should confront them, he should at least check the house, yet ….

Something held him back.

Jack didn't know why he was so uneasy; this place between the worlds seemed ethereal.

The sound of the ocean, the smell of the woods and this place in between.

Jack wondered if it disappeared with the mist, if he waited long enough, would it fade and float away?

He snorted and looked to one side, knowing he hadn't visited Ianto's grave in a few days.

He picked the pretty wild flowers he seemed to remember picking some time before. But … he couldn't for the life of him remember why.

He moved off, heading back to the SUV.

Leaving the ghosts behind him.

As Jack climbed into the vehicle he looked back at the dense bush he had pushed through to reach his personal Shangri-La.

Would this pain ever end?

.

.

.

.

Ianto reached the veranda and scooped up the wee cub, relieving her of her bell and he looked back into the mist, amazed that the daymare had been so real that time.

He had almost spoken to it.

He laughed at the foolishness of the situation and carried Micha on his hip as they entered the house.

But god, it was Jack.

He could smell him.

He closed his eyes and swallowed it down as his lovely little girl hugged his neck.

When was this pain going to stop?