The Fountain Watch (2/5)
Title: The Fountain Watch (2/5)
Author: winter_rose91
Rating: PG -13
Characters/Pairings: Ianto, Jack/Ianto
Genre: Timey Wimey
Summary: The Fountain Watch is an ornate and beautiful piece, but as Ianto Jones is soon to find out, it is also extremely dangerous.
A/N: Many thanks to verasteine for being an awesome beta.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2: Just Watch
Ianto woke up gasping. Beads of sweat gathered on his cracked lips. Shakily brushing them away, he sat up and cast a glance around his bedroom. Through the thick darkness, he could make out his wardrobe and his bedside table, the only other pieces of furniture in his room. Pushing off the covers, he staggered out of bed. Without bothering to put the light on, he stood by his bedroom window and opened the curtains a fraction. His usual view was distorted by droplets of rain clinging to the window, reflecting the orange glare of a street light. Resting his head on the cool glass, he took a deep breath.
CLANG!
Ianto snapped his head up. The noise came from the kitchen. Burglars. Ianto's first thought was to grab his gun by his front door. Making as little noise as possible, he opened the bedroom door and crept down the hallway. Approaching the front door, he realised there was no sign of forced entry. Therefore his burglar had a key. He went into his living room and strode through to the kitchen. He silently pushed the door open. Jack was sitting at his table, sleeves rolled up, biting a fountain pen between his teeth.
"Y'know, anyone else'd think you're a burglar," Ianto said, clearing his throat and folding his arms.
"Good job you're not anyone then," Jack said, flashing him the Harkness grin. "Item of clothing, found in the English Channel."
"Sorry?" Ianto coughed, as non-sequiturs went, it was good.
"Crossword," Jack said, indicating the newspaper in front of him. "Item of clothing, found in the English Channel."
"Jersey," Ianto said after a moment.
"Aha!" Jack said scrawling in the answer. The ink bled onto the paper. "See, this is why I hired you."
"You hired me 'cause I've got a nice arse," Ianto snorted.
"No, that’s just an added benefit," Jack said, musing over his crossword. The kitchen was silent bar the sound of Ianto's fridge humming and the tapping of Jack's pen on the table.
"Who's at the Hub?" Ianto asked, taking a seat opposite Jack.
"No-one," Jack said, shifting in his chair. "I'm keeping an eye on rift, though," he said waving his vortex manipulator in Ianto's face. “We’ve had some funny readings from Anghyswllt Tŷ, nothing serious, yet. I'm keeping an eye on it, though."
Ianto studied Jack. He shouldn't be away from the Hub for long periods of time; they needed someone there to keep an eye on things. Usually Ianto stayed with him, but tonight Ianto had gone back to his flat early as he had been exhausted.
"Like what you see?" Jack said with a leer. Ianto rolled his eyes and coughed again. "Cold?"
"Hot." Ianto shook his head. He immediately regretted it when his kitchen started to blur.
"I know I am. I meant have you got a cold?"
"Oh," Ianto said, crossing over to his sink. He caught his reflection in the shiny surface. It was distorted and ghostly, the glaring kitchen light draining his features of colour. "Probably stress induced." He reached for a clean glass. "Y'know, understaffing."
"I'm working on it, Ianto." Ianto felt the familiar sensation of Jack watching him. He filled his glass with water. "You okay?" Ianto felt Jack place his hand on the small of Ianto's back, rubbing him reassuringly.
"I'm fit, I can still work," Ianto told him, sipping his drink and turning around. Jack didn't move his hand, so he was now rubbing Ianto's hip.
"And play?" Jack arched an eyebrow.
"I'll have a couple of paracetomol and then we'll see."
"Sexy," Jack said. "Much like your pyjamas." He grinned again. Ianto looked down at his old T-shirt and trousers, both a bit too big for him. Jack really did have the oddest fetishes. Ianto gave him a reproachful glare before sloping off for some parcetomol that he kept in his bedside table for convenience. As he crossed his living room he noticed the watch gleaming of its own accord on his bookcase. He hastily shoved it in a drawer, glancing furtively to see Jack was still in the kitchen, now curiously examining a potato peeler. His blood ran cold at the though of Jack taking his watch, he couldn't let that happen, he wouldn't let it happen. Going back into his bedroom he fumbled for the pills, not bothering to turn the light on.
That was the last thing Ianto remembered, taking the pills. After that, he had no memory, until he woke in the morning on his bed, covered with his duvet. There was a note on the bedside table. Rubbing his face, he picked it up.
Ianto,
Last night's promised performance ended up a bit one sided. Very one sided. I expect a full, non-cash reimbursement. Feel free to come over and give it to me anytime you like. You never know, it might make you feel better. Have gone in early - rift disturbances, nothing major, you look like you could do with the sleep.
Jack
Ianto felt terrible as he got dressed. He looked terrible as well. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was chalky white. He chose a light coloured shirt, as not to highlight the issue. No need to draw attention to it. Ianto wasn't one to let things like this get him down, but even he had to admit defeat on this one.
He drove somewhat sullenly to the doctor's surgery. The clouds above him were iron grey, edged with golden crinkles. A fresh breeze swept through the car park. Ianto shivered, suddenly cold. The doctor wasn't terribly helpful, and Ianto felt it was a waste of his time spending half an hour in the pristine waiting room, staring a poster for cleanliness, when he was merely prescribed some pills and bed rest.
Ianto followed half of that advice. He couldn't just leave Jack and Gwen by themselves, they were stretched enough as it was.
"Morning, sleeping beauty," Jack boomed, echoing in Ianto's head as he made his way through the Hub. Ianto smiled weakly. "Anghyswllt Tŷ research today," he said, looking at Ianto expectantly.
"I'll get onto it," he said hoarsely, leaning on a nearby desk.
"There's something about that place," Jack mused, looking over Ianto's shoulder, staring intently at the blank wall behind him. "Did you feel it last night?"
"Er-" Ianto said, casting his mind back, the arm he was leaning on shaking. "Not that I recall," he lied. The watch was concealed carefully in his waistcoat pocket.
Jack snapped his attention back to Ianto. "Maybe you should get some rest," Jack said, placing his warm hand on Ianto's shoulder. "You're all pale and sweaty, not that I mind you sweaty, but normally under happier circumstances, or under me, or on top."
"I told you last night," Ianto said. "I'm fine to work." And as to demonstrate this he stood up straight. His knees immediately shook.
"You don't look fine," Jack pointed out.
"I went to the doctors this morning, they gave me some pills," Ianto said quickly, patting his chest pocket where his pills were. It rattled. Jack narrowed his eyes. The hourglass on Jack's desk sinisterly winked at him. This was the last thing that Ianto remembered before darkness enveloped him. Jack's voice echoed through it, calling his name.
Jack. Darkness. The two were pretty much synonymous.
1891
A combination of the boiling sun and thick smog meant that he was trapped in a prickly and suffocating heat. He was sitting in his watch shop on an uncomfortable high backed chair, sorting through various boxes he had found in the back. Not one inch of the shop wall was visible; it was hidden behind hundreds of clocks, all ticking steadily and casting twisted shadows. A mountain of boxes took up what little floor space existed.
The bell above the door tinkled. He looked up. Standing there were two women, one fair-haired, the other dark, both observing him with a haughty air.
"Can I help you, ladies?" he said, standing. His chair scratched across the hard floor.
"Mr Jones, isn't it?" the dark haired one said. She had a very slow, deliberate manner of speaking. It unnerved him slightly.
"Yes."
"Miss Alice Guppy," the woman said, offering her hand. With some trepidation, he took it. She withdrew quickly. "This is Miss Emily Holroyd." She gestured behind her. He nodded politely, but Miss Holroyd made no move whatsoever.
"You run this shop," Miss Guppy said. It wasn't a question. He made a non-committal noise in his throat. Miss Holroyd had not said anything but was staring at him intently. He wished she'd stop. Sweat was starting to form on his forehead.
"We need your help," Miss Guppy said, her voice dripping with venom. She was looking around the shop, without really seeing it.
"Do you have a broken watch, or clock?"
"No, Mr Jones." She seemed to find this amusing, for a small smile, devoid of any warmth crept onto her lips.
"Do you want to buy a watch?" he ventured with the air of talking to someone extremely dim. But somehow, these women didn't strike him as stupid. Never underestimate what you do not understand. Wasn't that what he was taught?
"Wrong again, Mr Jones." She snapped her head to him, walked over to the counter and smiled again. "We need you to be sharp."
"‘Sharp?'" he repeated incredulously.
"Observant," Miss Guppy said, locking eyes with him. His first thought was to back off, but he held his nerve.
"I don't -"
"You are a watch maker, are you not?" Miss Guppy interrupted. He surveyed her silently. "Watch makers are renowned for their attention to detail." This was true he was quite pedantic. "We need you to keep a lookout."
"A lookout for what exactly? Goblins? Pixies?"
Miss Guppy gave him a smile that could have extinguished the baking sun. "Not today, Mr Jones. We need you to keep an eye out for a man."
"Can you be more specific, for you see, half the population of Cardiff are male."
"Very funny, Mr Jones," Miss Guppy said without the slightest hint of amusement in her face or voice. "You need to keep an eye out for Captain Jack Harkness."
"Captain Jack Harkness?" he repeated slowly.
"You know him?"
"Never heard of him," he said, quicker than he intended. Miss Guppy narrowed her eyes. "Why do you need me?"
"Your talents are considerable," she said simply as though that cleared the matter. "We need them."
"Why do you need this Captain bloke?"
"That's our business, Mr Jones."
"And what exactly is that?"
"Torchwood." He snapped his head up. Miss Holroyd had spoken for the first time. Her face was concealed in the shadows.
"For Queen and country, Mr Jones, you will follow Mr Harkness -" Miss Guppy continued.
"Captain."
"What?" Miss Guppy said, slightly, he was pleased to see, a taken back.
"You said he was a captain."
"Quite right." She paused, as though contemplating how best to strike. "You will follow Captain Harkness, he will be in the pub across the road from here at nine tonight. He has an American accent. You will listen to him, you will tell us exactly what he said."
"Why shall I?"
"Because, Mr Jones, it is your duty." Miss Guppy said, drawing herself to her full height.
"And if you don't," Miss Holroyd, "We'll tell everyone your secret."
"My secret?" His pulse quickened. His amnesia? He hadn't told anyone. He'd end up in a madhouse. Providence Park. Like his...
"We know you're not who you say you are," Miss Guppy said. Something must've stirred on his face, for Miss Guppy was watching him with the air of a cat tormenting her prey before she killed it.
"Why don't you enlighten me then, who am I?" he said, hoping he retained his composure.
"That'd be telling, Mr Jones," Miss Guppy said, giving him one last piercing glance before turning her back. Miss Holroyd made to leave too. However, she paused in the doorway, silhouetted by the scorching sun.
"Nine o'clock tonight, on the corner." She turned her back, and left. The bell tinkled as the door snapped shut, leaving the shop in darkness. He sank down into his seat, his breath ragged.
Chapter 3