5
Ianto opened his eyes, and the light stabbed through his retinas to the back of his skull like a rusty sword.
Damn, Ianto thought, I hadn't felt that bad since my college days.
He staggered into the bathroom and took one look at himself, figuring it must have had one hell of a time. His hair was a mess, his eyes looked like piss holes in the snow and for some reason his mouth was beyond dry. Oh man... was he snoring?
He wondered if Owen had anything to do with this as it reeks of past Uni days and he vaguely remembered stuffing dollar bills into a g-strings back in the day. Owen was behind this… right? Did they go out for a drink or two last night? Man, was the medications finally giving him those side effects they warned him about?
Yessiree, the bloody match was today and the entire village would want to go support the team against Midwitch. Go Woodies. Erg. God, gotta take those pills.
What the hell time was it?
Ianto staggered into the bedroom and saw that he had plenty of time. Thank the Gods for small favours, his mother always said.
The game was an afternoon affair, with the cup ceremony around five. Ianto had some time to recuperate. The clinic was a morning thing so he would be back in plenty of time. Ianto lay back down and closed his eyes, pleased that he'd had the foresight to know he'd be feeling like crap with Jack gone and not being able to sleep properly without him, and, as such, had arranged to take the day off from work all together, after all… Scan Day.
So… get up and shit, shower, shave. Drive into the clinic and get the fucking scan, sit and listen to drivel about it working or not working and percentages and fucking parameters or whatever sounds most pretentious, then more pills are handed over for consumption… some healthy lunch and the popping of said pills… would rather have a milkshake and damn it all… he misses bacon. SIGH.
Then back here in time for the game, cheering, after math function and then the evening quiz. At least it would be a busy day, no time to miss Jack today. No time to dwell on the morning's activity.
Like a band-aid, best ripped off quick right?
He was just lying there waiting for the sea sick feeling to go away, when he thought about the time again.
The clock showed that it was just after eight, which meant he'd only gotten about four hours sleep, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that the digital readout, which showed the day-and-date along with the time, read SAT for Saturday, not FRI for Friday, and the date read 25, not 24.
Ianto knew he was probably not entirely awake yet, and he had no contacts in with his glasses still by the bed too… but he didn't think he was still so sleepy that he couldn't read the fucking clock correctly.
Painfully, Ianto swung another look. Man, his body ached like he had run a marathon in his sleep or something, every joint was aching, his head was pounding still, but he now knew the old drinking days were over and whatever this was… he was addled.
Right: SAT and 25, not FRI and 24.
Okay, someone was screwing with me. Somehow, some way, one of those jackass friends of mine had gotten in to my home and messed around with the clock just to frost my doo-dads. Well it worked.
Did Jack put someone up to this?
Ianto closed his eyes again and tried to catch a few Z's, but the time thing gnawed on him and when something gnaws on him he has got to get to the bottom of it. Ianto knew the Z's would evade him until he solved this little conundrum. He turned—damn, his head hurt—and grabbed the remote off the nightstand, flipping on the huge thirty inch TV screen jack had insisted on.
Cartoons.
Since when did they run cartoons on a network station on a Friday morning?
Where were Matt and Meredith?
Inside his brain, Ianto went, "Oh-oh."
Ianto stood up and scratched his balls, denying there was any possibility that he'd slept through an entire day and completely missed the day. The pain in his head suddenly took a back seat to the pain in his heart, which had sunk into his stomach and lay there like a dog turd on a suede shoe.
There had to be some other explanation.
Ianto shuffled to the front door and opened it. Sure enough, there lay a copy of the Saturday Press, along with a copy of the New York Times Jack ordered.
Ianto almost didn't dare to pick up either of them.
When he did he compared the date on both papers and they were the same: Saturday, September 25th.
Wait a minute.
Jesus H. Christ. I've been asleep for an entire day?
Ianto reached for his phone and to his confusion, even though it was plugged in to the charger and therefore should be fully charged and then some…
It was flat.
Oh god… wait.
Where is Jack?
Fuck, the clinic …. Oh god.
He'd missed taking his medications?