Torchwood: Fanfic: Out of stock

[m_findlow]

Title: Out of stock
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 866 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for badly_knitted's prompt "Any, any, sorry, we've run out" at fic_promptly
Summary: Solving problems is a lot easier with retcon

Jack tapped his comms.

'Ianto, gonna need some retcon here,' he said, looking down at the tangle of teenagers, covered in a bright pink substance that was sending them all off in a fit of endless giggling.

The aim had been to get here before the Narbolo Atomiser went off but, as usual, the rift had other ideas. One of the teenagers looked up at him, pointed and then burst into another fit of giggles. What was so funny about him? he thought, feeling irritated not to be in on the joke. On the whole he liked jokes, but being the butt of one was somewhat more irksome than he'd expected. Another one saw whatever the first one was looking at, and try as they might to hold the giggles at bay, they failed, sending the first and third into another round of raucous laughter.

'Anytime now, Ianto, would be good,' he said, sighing, certain that there was nothing untoward in his appearance.

'Sorry, Jack,' came the delicious voice behind him, slowly approaching, and looking apologetic. 'We've run out.'

'Huh?' He felt like he'd gotten his wires crossed, and heard Ianto say that they'd run out.

'Retcon. We've run out. No more. All gone. Do not stop, do not collect two hundred pounds,' Ianto repeated.

Jack stood there, confused. 'But.... how?' Theyd never run out of retcon before, not ever. It was unprecedented.

'Have you forgotten yesterday, already?' Ianto reminded him.

Oh, that's right, Jack thought, remembering having to dose the entire Welsh Assembly. Damn whatever it was. Politicians would believe just about anything, but they were never going to believe that. There was only one thing for it, slipping it in every last cup of tea, coffee and orange juice, before loading them all onto a hire coach, and putting them up in a local hotel for the night. The expense of booking out an entire hotel was going to be passed straight back to the Welsh government. Torchwood was a business, not a charity.

'We exhausted our entire supply and Owen is racing to prepare a new batch,' Ianto explained. 'We'll be okay in a few days but there's no trying to rush things anymore than they already are. We both know how devilishly tricky that stuff is to mix.'

Jack knew all too well. He was just glad that they had a proper medic cooking it up these days. Back when he'd been running Torchwood as a one man band, he'd had to make the stuff himself. Granted it was a recipe he'd picked up from his Time Agent days, which had made all their lives a lot easier over the years, but getting it even a little bit wrong was disastrous. He'd rushed more than one batch over the years, and a few people had lost a lot more than just a few hours of their memories as a result. Long term retcon was even harder to mix, the results of getting it wrong were quite explosive, and they used it sparingly.

It was just one of those things that Jack had come to take for granted. They'd been using it for so long now, they didn't know how else to resolve situations without it. More importantly, it was less a solution for them, as it was to ease the burden of those who got caught up in Torchwood. Better that they not know in most cases. Everyone slept easier when they didn't know they were living in a city full of aliens and monsters. There were some nights when even the team wouldn't mind slipping themselves a low dose just to take the edge off, but it was seen as a last resort only. Jack got the final say on when it was okay. Better to have slightly confused staff than ones about to have a complete mental breakdown.

'He talks funny!' one of the teenagers remarked, referring to Ianto, before laughing again.

'Scousers,' Ianto muttered, trying and failing not to be offended. Even Jack had to agree. No one mocked his lover and the way he spoke. He could have listened to Ianto talk for hours, adoring those Welsh vowels.

'Okay,' Jack sighed, watching the teenagers fall all over each other in their failed attempts to regain their composure. 'S'pose they'll be okay once it wears off. Could be a few hours, though. We should probably take them home to sleep it off. '

'New party drug,' Ianto supplied. 'I doubt they'll think it was anything else. Probably fortunate for us.'

Jack began hauling the first one up, and his semi glazed eyes looked up at Jack.

'You dressed for a party or something?'

'Or something,' Jack replied, unenthused. He wasn't having nearly as much fun as they were.

'Yes, sir,' he laughed, giving a mock salute, giggling some more.

'Do as he tells you,' Ianto ordered, 'or he'll have you locked up. If you're lucky, he'll let you ride in the back of his tank.'

'Cool! Let's go! Quick march, lads! We're off to war!' he told his cohorts.

Sweet goddesses, Jack thought, feeling the excited teen now tugging on his arm. Their next batch of retcon couldn't come quick enough.

Comments

[bk_forever]

Well, at least those teenagers are happy rather than traumatised; the situation could have been quite a bit worse.

Thanks for the fill!