Torchwood: Fanfic: The waiting game

[m_findlow]

Title: The waiting game
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,226 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for badly_knitted's prompt "Any, any, patiently waiting" at fic_promptly
Summary: Jack is stuck waiting in bad weather.

Jack rushed from the car across to the other side of the street, being pelted by the torrential rain that had swept in. Of all the days to have to commute! he thought, weaving his way down the obstacle course of lofted umbrellas along the street, before finally jogging across the wide plaza out the front of the railway station. For once he didn't stop to admire the old nineteenth century frontage and the large letters that read Great Western Railway.

Once under cover he shook himself off, rather like their dog was prone to do, spraying droplets of water everywhere. His coat had take the brunt of it, but his hair was damp and he could feel the water running down the back of his neck and into his shirt collar.

Being Cardiff, it couldn't just be wet; it had to be cold and wet - freezing actually. Not even winter yet, he realised.

Inside he could hear the rain battering against the lofty curved roof of the main station foyer. The long art deco light fixtures still hung from the roof, providing what light they could against the darkened skies outside. Like the rest of the station, they hadn't been replaced since being fitted, although if local newspapers were to be believed, the whole station was to undergo a major overhaul. He was all for progress, but the mock up designs of the modern wavy fascia and the wall to wall glass and steel didn't resonate with his sensibilities. Why couldn't they just give the old gal a fresh lick of paint? Why did everything have to be torn down and started anew, giving some architect on LSD the opportunity to ruin a hundred years of history?

None of that was particularly important right now, though. His immediate task was to collect his passenger. Should have packed a brolley, he though ruefully. Ianto wouldn't be best pleased at having to walk slash run all the way to the car in the pouring rain. He poked around the small WH Smith shop, certain they'd sell them in a city that was eight tenths rainy days, but it seemed everyone else had the same idea as him, and there wasn't a single one to be found. Going to the counter for lost property seemed a bit of overkill. Who knew, maybe the rain would let up by the time the train got in.

He looked up and checked the platform, taking the overhead bridge across to the farthest platform, the London to Swansea regular. There were strangely few people for this time of night, since it was right on top of peak hour. Perhaps they were all using Queen Street Station these days. It was much more central than the ironically named Cardiff Central, and they had undercover parking to boot.

He wandered down the old platform, hearing the rain hitting the iron roofing overhead with a thunderous sound. If anything, it was coming down harder now. In the background he could hear the muffled tannoy announcements apologising that trains were experiencing significant delays on account of the weather, and that Arriva apologised for any inconvenience caused. Hardly a wonder, he thought. They'd need to be amphibious to make it through this with any sort of ease. The tracks would have been slick with excess water. He didn't mind them going slow if it meant they'd get his lover safely back home. He plonked himself down on one of the metal benches and waited, watching the sheets of rain come down. Normally from this vantage point he could see the inner city buildings poking up towards the sky. The Central Server building stood out most prominently, however today he could barely make out its imposing outline through the grey haze.

The wind gusted in and blew some of the chilly spray towards him, forcing him to button up his coat and turn up the collar against it. More tannoy announcements made even more apologies.

A lonely station porter wandered along the platform.

'Is the six fifteen from London delayed much?' Jack asked.

'No idea, mate. Everything's up the putt on account of the rain. Worst I've seen in years.'

He wasn't wrong, leaving Jack to his vigil. What a homecoming to receive after four days stuck in London. Jack huddled on the platform, kept company by a few other brave souls, but all of whom eventually drifted away as the grey afternoon skies gave way to black night. He cast a glance up at the lit display which had been scrolling endlessly useless information about delays to all services and expected arrival times, but even that had given up trying to figure out when the trains were meant to be arriving, its display now as black as the skies. Gone was its comforting orange glow that assured Jack Ianto was still on his way.

After nearly three hours of sitting on the platform in the cold and the rain, he decided to call Ianto and find out if he knew where he was. Fat lot of good waiting here would be if he was still stuck at Piccadilly.

'Hello. Still there?' Ianto answered.

'Yep,' Jack replied, shivering involuntarily.

'Shame. Spent all afternoon making lamb casserole in the hopes we might have a quiet night in.'

'Don't even joke about it,' Jack replied. 'You couldn't have picked a more miserable night to get stuck halfway home.'

'What are you talking about?'

Jack paused. 'Wait, what are you talking about? You are on a train, aren't you?'

'About six hours ago,' Ianto replied. 'Wait, don't tell me you're at the station.'

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Don't tell me I'm not meant to be here to pick you up.'

'You're not meant to be there to pick me up,' Ianto replied.

'I told you not to tell me that!'

'I did tell you. I said, "you don't need to pick me up". We got wind that the weather was going to be brutal so they cut the conference short to allow people to go home earlier to avoid the worst of it. I'm sure I mentioned this.'

Funny, Jack remembered it as "don't forget to pick me up". It was the kind of thing Ianto was always telling him. Don't forget to grab a carton of milk on the way home. Don't forget to drop off that parcel. Don't forget we're going to my sister's for tea, so make sure you shower twice to get rid of that sewer smell. Almost all his instructions started with the words "don't forget".

'I might not have computed that correctly,' Jack confessed.

'Oh, Jack,' Ianto sighed. 'You've been out there all this time? I thought you must have been still stuck at work. You must be freezing.'

'It's a little on the cold side,' Jack admitted. He had a sneaking suspicion that come tomorrow he might have a runny nose.

Ianto sighed again. 'Alright, I'm on my way to pick you up.'

'Don't bother,' Jack said, standing up and being buffeted by yet another wind squall. 'I've got the car. I'll meet you at home. Just you make sure that casserole is good and hot.'

'I'll have your dressing gown and slippers pre-warmed as well.'

'I love you.'

'I love you, too,' Ianto replied. 'Even if you are a whopping great idiot.'