Fandomweekly Challenge 83 - Priority delivery

[m_findlow]

Title: Priority delivery 
Fandom: Torchwood
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG.
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Challenge 83 - Below zero at fandomweekly
Summary: Wales needs Rhys Williams to keep life as they know it going even in the worst weather conditions. 


'Blimey,' Rhys muttered as he pulled his beanie lower over his ears, jogging through the driving snow towards the small office. He shut the door quickly behind him and finally dug his hands back out of his pockets.

'Ruth?' he called out, looking for his absent-minded excuse of a secretary. He often wondered what he'd done to deserve her, or how she'd ever gotten the job to begin with. A good heart, but a mind that was as unreliable as a Channel 4 weather forecast.

He stared past the empty desk, and the one opposite it. Ruth's partner in crime, Large Mandy, was off on a Saturday. She was far sharper than Ruth, but bloody nosy and opinionated. He could swear that they shared a hive mind and each was incapable of operating without the other.

'Ruth?' he called out again. Where was that blasted woman?

Right on cue, just as he was about to attempt to navigate his way through her system of paperwork, she appeared in the doorway, clutching an oversized mug that smelled of Bonox.

'Where mine then, eh?' he joked, before wishing he hadn't. Next thing she'd start bringing him mugs of the stuff. Why she couldn't drink tea like everybody else was a mystery.

'Oh, Rhys!' She almost sounded surprised to see him. 'I'm so glad you put your hand up for a shift.' She had a Swansea accent thick as any he'd ever encountered. Every R was rolled for two whole seconds and the letter H simply didn't exist in the pronunciation of any word. 'They're dropping like flies today. It's the snow, see?'

Rhys rolled his eyes as if that wasn't possibly the most obvious statement that had ever been made in the history of obvious statements. Even a half decent driver took one look out the window, saw the blanket of white and noped out. Driving a normal car on ice-sheeted roads was bad. An eighteen wheeler that took three elephants to stop it was a bastard nightmare on snow covered roads. There was no putting chains on a vehicle that large. You just had to brick it and pray that the tiny red lights in front of you weren't a fiat looking to find out what happens when you break suddenly in front of a machine that will crush your car like a soda can.

Gwen of course had been bordering on apoplectic. 'Rhys Williams, I finally get a morning off and you're telling me you've got to go to work?'

'They're short of drivers, love. The trucks won't drive themselves.'

'Yes, but… in this weather? I got a text from Ianto saying he had to get the SUV dug out of the driveway last night to pick up dinner, and that was before the snowstorm. I doubt he and Jack will leave the house until the snow melts about three days from now.'

Rhys pouted. 'Would you rather your husband become a poor, destitute former manager of a once proud, reliable haulage firm?'

'I'd rather he get on the phone and tell some of those drivers of his to get their sorry arses out of bed so that he didn't have to.'

He smirked at her. 'How's it feel knowing that for once the world needs me and not you, eh?'

'Aye, it's a bit wintry out there,' Rhys agreed, joining Ruth in the battle for the most obvious statement.

'Oh, this is just the start, they're saying. Snow all through February is what they're predicting.'

Rhys hummed thoughtfully, wondering if the inclement weather was anything to do with Torchwood. Surely if it was, they wouldn't all be sitting around at home having a snow day. Still… freak weather, Torchwood… The argument for climate change was looking less and less likely. He thought about asking her why she never wondered why Cardiff was always suffering from the unexplained and then reconsidered whether there was any merit in wasting oxygen. If a weevil rolled up to her door and rang the bell she'd probably just assume it was a Jehovah's Witness on his way to a costume party.

'Can I get you a cuppa, love? You look half frozen.'

'Just trying to find the manifest and I'll get going.' Parking himself behind his desk for a twenty minute morning tea break was only delaying the inevitable. He'd check the van was loaded properly before leaving, as was his habit. That it meant standing out in the driving snow was unfortunate.

Ruth pawed through an arch lever file from her drawer. Her mysterious filing system itself was probably a case for Torchwood. Finally she extracted the pale yellow carbon copy docket. 'Here you are. It's only a short trip, Rhys love. Abergavenny. I would have rung them and told them we'd get it there tomorrow, only they're one of our best customers.'

'I know, Ruth.' He wouldn't be much of a manager if he didn't know who was worth bending over backwards for. 'Still, there and back before tea.'

'I'll have a cuppa waiting.'

He grabbed the keys and braced himself for another onslaught of cold, jogging from office to van at a speed that would have impressed Gwen. He shut the cab door and shuddered as the inside of the cabin was almost as cold as the outside. The heater would take ages to get going. They always did in these trucks, but better to start now whilst he was checking his load.

He flipped the radio dial over to Barry Beat FM, his go-to station for short trips. "Not a good time to be hitting the road if you can avoid it," the announcer reported. "Long delays out on the M4 and the A468 with the Met Office issuing warnings for blizzard conditions and poor visibility across most of South Wales from the Rhondda to Monmouthshire."

'Brilliant.' Rhys studied the docket again and shivered. 'Well, not exactly saving the world, but at least Abergavenny won't run out of microwave ovens.'