SPLASH – Chapter Five
An update. Finally. Every time I sit down at the computer, I agonize over whether to read fics, write fics, or look at some more pictures and videos of series 3 filming (and laughing my head off at some of the ridiculous poses some of the actors are caught in).
But, for once, I decided that I was going to be nice and update. I hope you're grateful –laughs-. Nah, only kidding!
(A/N: I've decided to up the rating to T, so then I don't feel obliged to have
–bleep- in nearly all of Owen's sentences. I'll still keep swearing to a minimum, though. )
Disclaimer: If I did own Torchwood, then Gwack wouldn't exist. What does that say to you?
Tosh stared out of the window as they drove, idly fiddling with the zip on her jacket. The world was slipping by, trees melting into grass melting into houses and melting back into trees. She rested her forehead against the cool glass, just watching.
Ianto looked over at her. "You'll strain your eyes if you do that," he informed her.
Tosh straighted up, chewing on her lip. "I'm bored," she admitted.
"Tell us something we didn't know, Tosh," Owen said, still snappish.
"We could always play I-spy," Ianto suggested. He shrugged when everybody looked to him in disgust. "I rather like it."
Jack grinned. "I-spy it is, then."
"I'll start," Tosh said hurriedly, worried about what Jack would come up with. He had that glint in his eye. "I-spy with my little eye, something beginning with C."
Owen sighed and slumped in his seat. "Let me guess, could it possibly be 'car'?"
Tosh blushed. "As a matter of fact, yes."
"My go then," said Owen. "I-spy with my little eye, something beginning with T."
"Tree," Ianto offered.
"Nope."
"Tosh?"
"Why would I choose her?" Owen asked disdainfully. Tosh blushed (again) and looked away.
Gwen leapt in. "No idea."
"That doesn't begin with T," Ianto pointed out.
"Thankyou for pointing out the obvious, teaboy, but no, it isn't 'No idea'," Owen said dryly. "It was 'This is a complete waste of time'."
"You can't see that," Ianto said instantly.
Owen rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."
"Do I get a go now?" Jack asked hopefully.
"NO!" four voices yelped together.
"Spoilsports."
-T-
Three and a half hours later, the SUV swept into the car park of Leiver Marina and the team tumbled out. They couldn't get out of the car fast enough.
"Ianto, why didn't you tell us you felt sick?" Owen demanded.
The said tea boy looked sheepish. And green. "Sorry."
"I am not going to be the one cleaning out the SUV," Owen continued, sticking his hands in his pockets.
"Do you still feel sick?" Jack asked Ianto anxiously. "'Cos if you do, they've got some toilets here you can go to."
"'m fine," Ianto muttered, embarrassed by all the fuss and trying not to shiver.
His attempt was useless – Jack saw instantly and took off his coat, placing it around Ianto's shoulders and pressing a cool hand to his forehead.
"You're burning up," he said, beckoning Owen over.
Owen swiftly steadied the young Welshman as he stumbled. "You're ill, mate," he said. "Maybe it'd be better to call this whole thing off. Teaboy needs rest."
Ianto shook his head vehemently. "N'uh. I'll be better soon."
Owen viewed him dispassionately. "I'm a doctor, remember? I think I know best."
Jack was frozen in indecision. "Maybe Owen's right," he admitted. "We can leave this investigation for another time."
Ianto glared at him. "No way. No way are we leaving this."
He wriggled free of them and headed to the SUV. "I'll just clean this up and we can be on our way."
"I'll give you a hand," Tosh said quietly, taking off her jacket. Ianto gave her a grateful look and got out the cloths from the boot.
Jack watched him, torn between doing what Owen suggested and taking him straight home for a day or two of coddling, and doing what he knew needed to be done – tracking down these aliens and sending them on their way.
Owen stared at him. "You aren't thinking of carrying on with this?" he wanted to know. "Ianto's sick."
Jack worried his lower lip, still deep in thought. "Ianto wants to carry on," he said finally.
"Ianto refuses to ever admit when he's ill – he's hardly going to now," Owen argued, crossing his arms. "If he doesn't get rest he could be a serious liability to this investigation."
Jack half-smiled. "It's got nothing to do with the fact that you actually care, then?"
"That's irrelevant," Owen snapped. "What is important is that he gets better."
"He'll get better. I'll make sure of that."
"Fine. Maybe the sea air would be good for him," Owen admitted grudgingly. "But if he gets any worse we're turning around and going straight home."
Jack nodded. "That's fine by me."
"Stop making decisions about me!" Ianto yelled back without even turning around. "You know I hate it."
Jack laughed. "Yep, he's certainly getting back to normal."
Owen growled under his breath. "I'll go and get the keys for the boat."
-T-
The harbourmaster was a shrivelled little man with a wizened face. He was hunched over some papers on his desk when Owen marched in.
"How may I help you today?" Oddly enough, the old man had a Scottish accent. Just bloody typical, Owen thought.
"I'm, er, Torchwood," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly. "We've got a reservation."
The old man smiled, showing a couple of gold teeth, and opened up a big black folder.
"Torchwood, you say?" he mused. "Ah – berth 35, boat's name Skookumchuck."
"Skookumchuck?" Owen repeated in disbelief. "What sort of name's that?"
"I believe it is an American Indian name," the old man said. "I rather like it. Can you just sign here, please?"
He indicated a dotted line on a form. Owen took the proffered pen and scribbled a barely legible signature.
"And here are the keys." The harbourmaster slid a bunch of keys across the table. "Don't lose them."
"Right." Owen made to pick up the keys and leave, but the old man gripped his wrist.
"Beware the whales," the man whispered, his pale blue eyes intense. "They have come. So sorry."
Owen wrenched his wrist away and stared at the man. "What?"
The old man straightened up and blinked. "Is that all, sir?"
Owen frowned. "Yes, thankyou."
"Enjoy your trip."
Hope that was OK. It was meant to be even longer, but my parents are very...particular about the amount of time I spend on the computer. Meaning, whenever I am on it, they instantly want me off. But what can one do?
R&R is love.