Chapter Forty-Five
I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I've been really ill this past week and have had writer's block on this chapter… I hope this makes up for the wait! :-)
Disclaimer: Well, sad as I am to admit it, I don't own Torchwood and it is highly unlikely that I ever will.
Ianto froze, head spinning.
"Ianto?" Lisa's voice, thin and worried, trickled out the phone held loosely in his right hand. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"
"I…" he croaked. "'m fine."
"Are you sure?" Lisa asked, sounding concerned. Ianto gritted his teeth, pressing his fingers to his temple and willing the headache to go away. "Do you want me to pick you up?"
"I'll be fine," he said, although it sounded false to his own ears. "See you later."
"Ianto—" she started, but he quickly flipped the phone shut, cutting her off. He didn't put it back in his pocket, but instead sat himself down on the curb, staring blankly into space. The cotton-wool was gone now, replaced with a deafening numbness. What the hell's going on?
His mobile rang again, vibrating in his palm. Without thinking, he answered. "Ianto Jones."
"Oh, sorry, must be a wrong number," an American answered, sounding confused. "Sorry for bothering you."
"No problem." He hung up, still acting more on autopilot than anything else. What the hell's going on? he thought again.
Once more, the phone shuddered. Ianto frowned. This really isn't a normal occurrence. "Ianto Jones," he said again, starting to feel fractionally more clear-headed.
"Again?" The American man sounded irritated this time. "This must be a wrong contact. Sorry—"
"Who were you trying to call?" Ianto asked, cutting him off mid-apology.
"Dr Harper," the man answered, "Dr Owen Harper."
"He's probably still working," Ianto said, "but I know him."
"Can you give me his number?"
Ianto considered. "What's your name?"
There was a pause; a significant one if Ianto was superstitious like that. "Jack Harkness."
A sudden burst of pain behind Ianto's eyes stunned him for a moment; the phone slipped from his fingers and clattered into the gutter.
Jack.
-T-
Jack frowned. "Hello?" he asked. The other end of the line was silent. "Ianto?"
Funny coincidence, that name, he thought distractedly, too many Ianto Joneses in Cardiff.
He sighed and flicked an impatient glance at the clock over the door, growling under his breath when he realised he would be late home.
A knock sounded at the door; Sylvia looked in, barely managing to hide a smug smirk as she took in his irritation. Jack wondered why he was always the one stuck with disrespectful employees. Surely most headmasters don't get this.
"Any luck?" she asked, faux-polite.
"None," he said, not bothering to keep the grumpiness out of his tone. "It's a wrong number."
Sylvia shrugged, widening her eyes in pretend sympathy. "Well, we can always try Ms. Sato," she said. "I'm sure that they wouldn't make it impossible to contact them."
"Why haven't we discovered this before?" Jack demanded. "Surely there've been checks?"
Sylvia spread her hands in a 'what can one say?' gesture. Jack noticed, sidetracked for a second, hat she had forgotten to put eye-make-up on her left eye. That's unlike her. What's going on?
"I want you to contact Ms. Sato," he ordered. "I'm taking a call."
She raised her eyebrow but didn't object, and withdrew from the office.
Jack picked up the phone again; luckily, the call hadn't been disconnected. "Hello? You there?" he asked, and was relieved when he heard a weak affirmative. "What happened?" he pressed, anxious. "Are you okay? Should I phone for an ambulance?"
"No, I'm fine," the Welshman said, sounding shaken.
"What happened?" Why do I care so much?
"Just had a dizzy spell and dropped the phone," came the reply.
"You sure you're okay?"
"You sound like my girlfriend," he said, sounding tiredly amused.
"What's her name?" Jack didn't know why he wanted to know. He just asked before he realised what he was saying.
"Lisa." A pause. "She teaches at the Grammar."
"I know here." Maybe don't tell him that he's chatting to his girlfriend's boss…
"You're the headmaster, right?" Ianto sounded curious.
So much for not telling him, Jack thought ruefully. "Yeah, that's me."
"An American teaching in Cardiff?"
Jack smiled. "You have no idea how many times I've heard that," he informed the Welshman. "I live here with my partner."
"What's their name?" Ianto didn't seem nosy, just curious.
Jack chuckled. "Believe it or not, he's called Ianto Jones too."
"We're common as muck," the Ianto down the phone said with relish. "Like rats."
Jack grinned. "Like small children."
"I'm offended," Ianto laughed.
"No, you aren't." Jack felt a twinge of surprise as he realised that he was chatting away to a complete stranger as if they'd known each other for years.
"No, I'm not," Ianto agreed, "but I really should be getting along."
"Sorry for keeping you," Jack said. "Nice talking."
"Bye."
Only when the drone of the disconnected call complained in his ear did he realise that he'd never asked for Dr Harper's contact.
-T-
That night, Ianto dreamed that he was standing on the top of a cliff by the sea, the rosy horizon stretching out in front of him and the scent of brine strong in the air.
Beneath his feet, the turf was springy; sea-lavender mixed amongst the short grass like common weeds.
Warm arms wrapped around his waist and held him close against a muscular body. A voice breathed in his air – a voice with an American accent – and soft lips kissed his neck.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Jack murmured. "Just look at that sunrise."
"It's going to be stormy later," Ianto said.
Jack chuckled, the vibrations rumbling right through Ianto's body. "That's so Welsh."
"That's so practical," Ianto retorted, smiling.
Jack just laughed again, not saying anything in response. They stood there, Jack with his chin resting on Ianto's shoulder and his arms encircling Ianto's waist in a possessive ring.
"We really should be getting back to Cardiff," Ianto said, not making a move to get away.
"We should," Jack agreed, "or poor Tosh might well be driven insane by Gwen and Owen's bickering."
Ianto closed his eyes and breathed deeply, relishing the clean scent of the air and sea. "How did you find here?"
Ianto never got to hear Jack's reply. As at that time a sharp peal ripped through his dream, an impatient voice of reality.
Groggily, he flopped out an arm and fumbled for the 'sleep' button on his alarm clock. "Bloody thing," he muttered.
Lisa's side of the bed looked unslept-in, the sheets cool. Ianto frowned; hadn't she come home last night?
He rubbed a hand over his face, grimacing as his palm rasped against the stubble. He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, and was about to wander into the bathroom for a shower and shave when the phone rang.
"Hello, Ianto Jones."
"Mr Jones, this is St. Helen's Hospital. We're afraid that Miss Hallet has been admitted to the emergency—"
"What the hell happened?" Ianto demanded, interrupting. "How is she?"
There was a pause, one that seemed to stretch on for infinity to Ianto, before the answer came. "It's better if you come and see for yourself."
*evil laugh* Okay, then… you all know what to do! ;-) Reviews are loved, especially con-crit. :-D