Lost and Found
Well this is it, my losing entry for writerinadrawer.
Title: Lost and Found.
Rating: PG
Characters: Ianto, Owen.
Prompts: Innovative - something is being used for a purpose other than what it was intended for. A hand gesture, and 600 words or less.
One minute he’d been helping Ianto lift a crate out of the SUV, the next Owen had woken up on a mountainside, in the rain, with Ianto asleep across his legs.
That had been about half an hour ago by Owen’s reckoning, although he can’t be sure as his and Ianto’s watches, and phones have stopped working, presumably as a result of their teleportation.
Since then all they have done is argue about the best course of action, their already strained friendship fading fast.
“We should stay here,” Ianto says firmly, sitting down on a boulder, “Tosh will be able to calculate…”
“Calculate what?” Owen snaps, pushing cold hands into the pockets of his jeans and wishing that he jacket wasn’t still laying on the back seat of the SUV. “You’ve got no idea how we got here or where here is, we could be in Outer bloody Mongolia or Timbuktu for all you know.”
Ianto looks like he is going to argue for a moment, then he hangs his head, saying quietly, “You’re right, we might not even be on Earth.”
Any elation that Owen might have felt about Ianto telling him he is right is quashed by the fear that he could be right, and that they might never see home again.
“Jack would know what to do,” Ianto says wanly as he looks around at their bleak, and featureless surroundings.
“Well Jack’s not here, Jack pissed off and left us,” Owen says angrily, although whether that anger is directed at Jack for leaving or Ianto for mention him he’s really not sure.
Ianto glares at him, hands clenched into fists, fighting to control his temper, “Fine, lets get going then.”
They walk in silence, following a ridge of high ground, hoping to see some signs of life.
The ridge gets narrower, the slate scree is loose beneath their feet, and Owen is about to suggest that they should find another route when the ground slips from under him and he is sliding, and then falling down the slope.
A moment later and Ianto is scrambling down the slope after him, crouching down next to him as they reach the bottom.
Striping off his tie, Ianto is bandaging Owen's hand almost before he realises that he has done any damage to it.
“You’ve ruined it, you know.” Owen looks at the blood that has already soaked through the silk.
“It doesn’t matter.” Although something in his tone suggests that it really does.
“Jack gave you it didn’t he?”
Ianto just smiles faintly and nods, then helps Owen to his feet and over to a depression in the rock face.
There is precious little protection offered by the overhang, but it’s enough to shelter them from the biting wind.
“Did I ever tell you how much I hate the bloody countryside?” Owen complains as sits down on the damp rocks.
“Only about a million times.” Ianto settles at the front of the overhang, protecting Owen from the worst of the weather.
Owen hadn’t been aware that he’d fallen asleep, only of closing is eyes for a moment, until he’s jostled awake by Ianto standing up and shouting, “Here, we’re over here.” And, to Owen’s amazement, mostly at why on Earth he has it with him, trying to use his stopwatch to reflect beams of light from their torches and catch their attention.
An hour later, and finally something like warm again, Owen sits in the back of the SUV, looking at Ianto who has fallen asleep, glad for once that he’s there.
Title: Lost and Found.
Rating: PG
Characters: Ianto, Owen.
Prompts: Innovative - something is being used for a purpose other than what it was intended for. A hand gesture, and 600 words or less.
One minute he’d been helping Ianto lift a crate out of the SUV, the next Owen had woken up on a mountainside, in the rain, with Ianto asleep across his legs.
That had been about half an hour ago by Owen’s reckoning, although he can’t be sure as his and Ianto’s watches, and phones have stopped working, presumably as a result of their teleportation.
Since then all they have done is argue about the best course of action, their already strained friendship fading fast.
“We should stay here,” Ianto says firmly, sitting down on a boulder, “Tosh will be able to calculate…”
“Calculate what?” Owen snaps, pushing cold hands into the pockets of his jeans and wishing that he jacket wasn’t still laying on the back seat of the SUV. “You’ve got no idea how we got here or where here is, we could be in Outer bloody Mongolia or Timbuktu for all you know.”
Ianto looks like he is going to argue for a moment, then he hangs his head, saying quietly, “You’re right, we might not even be on Earth.”
Any elation that Owen might have felt about Ianto telling him he is right is quashed by the fear that he could be right, and that they might never see home again.
“Jack would know what to do,” Ianto says wanly as he looks around at their bleak, and featureless surroundings.
“Well Jack’s not here, Jack pissed off and left us,” Owen says angrily, although whether that anger is directed at Jack for leaving or Ianto for mention him he’s really not sure.
Ianto glares at him, hands clenched into fists, fighting to control his temper, “Fine, lets get going then.”
They walk in silence, following a ridge of high ground, hoping to see some signs of life.
The ridge gets narrower, the slate scree is loose beneath their feet, and Owen is about to suggest that they should find another route when the ground slips from under him and he is sliding, and then falling down the slope.
A moment later and Ianto is scrambling down the slope after him, crouching down next to him as they reach the bottom.
Striping off his tie, Ianto is bandaging Owen's hand almost before he realises that he has done any damage to it.
“You’ve ruined it, you know.” Owen looks at the blood that has already soaked through the silk.
“It doesn’t matter.” Although something in his tone suggests that it really does.
“Jack gave you it didn’t he?”
Ianto just smiles faintly and nods, then helps Owen to his feet and over to a depression in the rock face.
There is precious little protection offered by the overhang, but it’s enough to shelter them from the biting wind.
“Did I ever tell you how much I hate the bloody countryside?” Owen complains as sits down on the damp rocks.
“Only about a million times.” Ianto settles at the front of the overhang, protecting Owen from the worst of the weather.
Owen hadn’t been aware that he’d fallen asleep, only of closing is eyes for a moment, until he’s jostled awake by Ianto standing up and shouting, “Here, we’re over here.” And, to Owen’s amazement, mostly at why on Earth he has it with him, trying to use his stopwatch to reflect beams of light from their torches and catch their attention.
An hour later, and finally something like warm again, Owen sits in the back of the SUV, looking at Ianto who has fallen asleep, glad for once that he’s there.