Fic: Twisted Mind 16/21
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“meddwl v to think.”
“Hiya, love,” Rhys greeted cheerily, tucking the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he continued to try and unlock the door with one hand, ‘three for ten quid’ bottles of wine clanging inside the bag dangling from his wrist - Rhys had always been weak willed when it came to alcohol.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Gwen sounded tired to Rhys’ ears, which was nothing new considering the job she did. Rhys had found himself feeling guilty on more than one occasion, moaning about having to drive all the way to Portmadog and back in a day when Gwen had probably been to Mars and back.
“I just thought I’d let you know I probably won’t be back tonight,” Gwen said, sounding highly apologetic. It was a tone Gwen used far more often than necessary nowadays, old habits died hard though.
“I thought as much,” Rhys replied as he dumped the Tesco bag on the sofa and tried to shrug out of his coat one handed.
“Look, Rhys.” Gwen sighed, obviously gearing up for another apology, clearly not in the mood to placate her husband at this moment in time, because she had far more important things to attend too. For once, though, Gwen had got the wrong end of the stick.
“No, love,” Rhys interrupted. He too was tired and not in the mood for an argument that could be avoided. “It’s just when I saw Ianto earlier on I figured it would be a late one, what with all that sorting you had to do.”
There was a pause down the phone and Rhys was suddenly unsure about whether he’d said more than he should have over the phone, concerned that someone was listening in who shouldn’t be.
“Ianto?” Gwen questioned, the name sounding foreign in her mouth, like she had forgotten who he was. Rhys was unnerved for a moment - Gwen had told him about retcon but Gwen was soon babbling quickly, asking questions of him that sounded downright bizarre.
“Are you alright? Nothing happened did it? Ianto didn’t hurt you did he?”
Rhys’ jacket was hanging off one shoulder as he stared at the picture on the table beside the one of Gwen and he at the top of the Eiffel Tower. It captured Gwen and Ianto squashed into the frame like there wasn’t enough room for both of them to be contained within the photograph. Both of them were sporting rare easy-going smiles that lit up their faces, the exertion of dancing together flushed on their cheeks as a rainbow of colour from the DJ booth lit up the background. Butter wouldn’t melt in either of their mouths.
“Hurt me?” Rhys asked eventually, the incredulity in his voice blatant. “He took delivery of scrap metal. He didn’t clock me on the head with any of it by accident if that’s what you mean.”
“Scrap metal?”
“Aye, last minute delivery down to the old docks in Roath. I recognised Ianto’s name on the delivery sheet, thought I might get to see my wife, but he said you were off picking up something else. Is everything alright?” Rhys sounded concerned now because he could hear Gwen muttering something over her shoulder, apparently including Jack in the conversation, which was never good as far as Rhys was concerned.
Gwen chose to ignore her husband’s concern. “Did he say anything else to you?”
“Ianto? No, not much. He seemed a bit distracted to be honest with you, love.”
“Rhys,” Jack’s voice came out of nowhere, and Rhys realised he must have been put on loudspeaker some time ago. “What’s the address that you met Ianto at?” Rhys could hear the no nonsense tone to Jack’s voice that led Rhys to believe that Ianto was going to be in serious trouble when Gwen and Jack caught up to him. It suddenly made Rhys question whether Ianto had been himself when he spoke to him earlier on as he reeled off the address of the place. It would be unlike Ianto to incur the wrath of Jack Harkness readily.
There was the scrabbling of paper and the scrape of metal on metal in Rhys’ ear, and he was suddenly worried he was going to be hung up on now he’d served his purpose. “Gwen?”
“If Ianto calls you for another delivery or anything don’t take it, please,” Gwen implored, almost begging. “Just call me.”
“I will do,” Rhys reassured. Rhys knew better than to ask, but he couldn’t help himself. “Is Ianto alright though?”
“He’ll be fine,” Gwen reassured with false cheer that Rhys could detect, even down the phone. “I’ll tell you about it when I get home.” There was a slight pause, like Gwen wanted to tell Rhys when that would be, but she wouldn’t make promises she couldn’t keep. “Love you.”
“I love you too,” Rhys found himself saying to the dial tone. Rhys had a feeling that Gwen would thank him for stopping off at Tesco when she eventually got home.
< Chapter 15 | Chapter 17 >
“meddwl v to think.”
“Hiya, love,” Rhys greeted cheerily, tucking the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he continued to try and unlock the door with one hand, ‘three for ten quid’ bottles of wine clanging inside the bag dangling from his wrist - Rhys had always been weak willed when it came to alcohol.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Gwen sounded tired to Rhys’ ears, which was nothing new considering the job she did. Rhys had found himself feeling guilty on more than one occasion, moaning about having to drive all the way to Portmadog and back in a day when Gwen had probably been to Mars and back.
“I just thought I’d let you know I probably won’t be back tonight,” Gwen said, sounding highly apologetic. It was a tone Gwen used far more often than necessary nowadays, old habits died hard though.
“I thought as much,” Rhys replied as he dumped the Tesco bag on the sofa and tried to shrug out of his coat one handed.
“Look, Rhys.” Gwen sighed, obviously gearing up for another apology, clearly not in the mood to placate her husband at this moment in time, because she had far more important things to attend too. For once, though, Gwen had got the wrong end of the stick.
“No, love,” Rhys interrupted. He too was tired and not in the mood for an argument that could be avoided. “It’s just when I saw Ianto earlier on I figured it would be a late one, what with all that sorting you had to do.”
There was a pause down the phone and Rhys was suddenly unsure about whether he’d said more than he should have over the phone, concerned that someone was listening in who shouldn’t be.
“Ianto?” Gwen questioned, the name sounding foreign in her mouth, like she had forgotten who he was. Rhys was unnerved for a moment - Gwen had told him about retcon but Gwen was soon babbling quickly, asking questions of him that sounded downright bizarre.
“Are you alright? Nothing happened did it? Ianto didn’t hurt you did he?”
Rhys’ jacket was hanging off one shoulder as he stared at the picture on the table beside the one of Gwen and he at the top of the Eiffel Tower. It captured Gwen and Ianto squashed into the frame like there wasn’t enough room for both of them to be contained within the photograph. Both of them were sporting rare easy-going smiles that lit up their faces, the exertion of dancing together flushed on their cheeks as a rainbow of colour from the DJ booth lit up the background. Butter wouldn’t melt in either of their mouths.
“Hurt me?” Rhys asked eventually, the incredulity in his voice blatant. “He took delivery of scrap metal. He didn’t clock me on the head with any of it by accident if that’s what you mean.”
“Scrap metal?”
“Aye, last minute delivery down to the old docks in Roath. I recognised Ianto’s name on the delivery sheet, thought I might get to see my wife, but he said you were off picking up something else. Is everything alright?” Rhys sounded concerned now because he could hear Gwen muttering something over her shoulder, apparently including Jack in the conversation, which was never good as far as Rhys was concerned.
Gwen chose to ignore her husband’s concern. “Did he say anything else to you?”
“Ianto? No, not much. He seemed a bit distracted to be honest with you, love.”
“Rhys,” Jack’s voice came out of nowhere, and Rhys realised he must have been put on loudspeaker some time ago. “What’s the address that you met Ianto at?” Rhys could hear the no nonsense tone to Jack’s voice that led Rhys to believe that Ianto was going to be in serious trouble when Gwen and Jack caught up to him. It suddenly made Rhys question whether Ianto had been himself when he spoke to him earlier on as he reeled off the address of the place. It would be unlike Ianto to incur the wrath of Jack Harkness readily.
There was the scrabbling of paper and the scrape of metal on metal in Rhys’ ear, and he was suddenly worried he was going to be hung up on now he’d served his purpose. “Gwen?”
“If Ianto calls you for another delivery or anything don’t take it, please,” Gwen implored, almost begging. “Just call me.”
“I will do,” Rhys reassured. Rhys knew better than to ask, but he couldn’t help himself. “Is Ianto alright though?”
“He’ll be fine,” Gwen reassured with false cheer that Rhys could detect, even down the phone. “I’ll tell you about it when I get home.” There was a slight pause, like Gwen wanted to tell Rhys when that would be, but she wouldn’t make promises she couldn’t keep. “Love you.”
“I love you too,” Rhys found himself saying to the dial tone. Rhys had a feeling that Gwen would thank him for stopping off at Tesco when she eventually got home.
< Chapter 15 | Chapter 17 >