Spook_me 2020 - Haunted - Chapter 2

[m_findlow]

Title: Haunted
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Gwen, Ianto, OCs
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M
Length: 50,847 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for spook_me 2020 Prompt - Ghost
Summary: The team investigate rumours of a haunted house in rural Wales.

Ah, the countryside. There really wasn't anything like it, Jack thought as the SUV sped down the dual carriageway, chewing up the miles with ease. He loved the city with all its hustle and bustle, curious people and it's cluttered mix of eighteenth century architecture and twenty first century modernism. Only on a place like Earth could the Gothic sandstone gargoyles cast their judicious gaze across the street at a monolith made entirely of turquoise glass that reflected back at them their own horrific countenances.

He'd lived many places; growing up on the sand dunes of Boeshane, surrounded by the blue waters of an ocean that beat endlessly against the shore; the spartan space ports of Ellan Five where the Time Agency and its academy called home, nothing more than a cafeteria and a bunk to lay his head with the inky starlit vista beyond the portholes no bigger than a dinner plate; a dozen worlds where the skyscrapers really did touch the clouds and the deepest depths of a war torn star system, buried in a bunker where sunlight had not touched its occupants for well over two centuries.

But this, planet Earth, with its many varied civilizations and geographical diversity was home now. The lush valleys were a sea of endless green undulating up and down, but finally beyond them, the country flattened out into vast tracts of farmland. Golden fields and pale green paddocks swept up and down the country with nothing more than squat little wire fences to keep in their numerous cattle and sheep.

It was peaceful out here and he rolled down the window so that the country air could hit him square in the face. A hundred and forty years ago it wouldn't have been his first choice of places to be stranded - it wouldn't have even made the top five hundred in all likelihood - but now he couldn't bear to leave it.

He sucked in a deep breath of cool country air and sighed contentedly. ‘Any more of that coffee left?’

‘No. And you've had three cups of it already. Plus breakfast. How you haven't needed to stop for a bathroom break yet is beyond me.’ Jack detected the ever so subtle tension in Ianto's voice and reached out to pat his knee. At the same time he afforded a quick glance at Gwen through the rear vision mirror. She was staring out the window and trying hard not to meet his gaze.

He knew they were both itching to find out where they were headed and why. Jack strung them along a little while longer. He loved leading them by their curious noses. He couldn't have asked for two better companions, though never forgetting those who were no longer with them.

‘Jack Harkness, if you don't start telling us what we're doing out here in the next ten minutes, there's going to be a mutiny of epic proportions,’ Gwen threatened out of nowhere, yet almost as perfectly timed as Jack could have laid money on the exact moment she'd finally crack. ‘Am I right, Ianto?’

He nodded. ‘And no coffee.’

‘Oh, I borrowed a jar of your secret stash, just so you know,’ Jack assured him. ‘Packed it with everything else.’ There was no way he was going a whole three days without coffee. That would definitely end in a mutiny of one kind or another.

Ianto heaved a sigh. ‘Of course you did. I could have arranged provisions if you'd only told me what we needed.’

Jack jumped on the momentary drifting off on a tangent, drawing out the big reveal a little longer. ‘I like grocery shopping. It's exotic.’

‘Like offices?’

Jack grinned. ‘But with less sex. Mostly.’

‘I can't explain why,’ Gwen began, ‘but that fills me with a strange sense of relief.’

A grin broke out on Ianto's face. ‘It's why we don't let Jack anywhere near the fresh produce section. All those bananas and cucumbers would be far too tempting.’

‘Salami is far better if you're into that sort of thing, just so you know.’ Jack chuckled in spite of himself. ‘You twenty first century humans manufacture the craziest things into foods. I love it. Scotch eggs, Wasabi peas, whipped cream in a can…’

‘They don't have whipped cream in the future?’ Gwen asked.

‘Not the kind that comes out of a can.’ He shook his head. ‘I can't understand why it didn't survive into the future. The things you can enjoy more with whipped cream…’ He let his mind drift off at the thought. He'd considered himself well traveled until he hit the nineteen fifties and hooked up with a guy in California who ran a soda shop and introduced Jack to the idea that whipped cream and chocolate sauce weren't just fine ingredients for a milkshake. His milkshake had certainly brought all the boys to the yard, that was for sure!

Ianto coughed and cleared his throat. He clearly thought Jack was daydreaming about their own whipped cream adventures, although Ianto was more of a salted caramel guy, not that Jack was complaining. ‘So, now that we've drunk all the coffee and had a decent serving of shameless innuendo, can you please tell us where we're going?’

Jack grinned. He loved this part. ‘Abercrafen.’

‘Never heard of it.’

‘Of course not. Population three dozen and that's if you include the pets.’

‘So, what's there?’

‘Abercrafen House, from which the tiny hamlet earned its namesake. A house that for the last fifty years has been the site of unnatural events and rumors of ghosts.’

Gwen’s facial expression was barely suppressed as Jack clocked it in the rear vision mirror. ‘A haunted house out in the middle of nowhere. Great.’

‘Yeah, because nothing bad has ever happened to us out in the middle of the remote Welsh countryside,’ Ianto added. ‘And that's before you add ghosts into the mix.’

‘Relax, you two. There's no haunting and no ghosts. Aliens, or alien tech at the very least, but that's it. I'm certain of it.’

Jack caught Gwen's little frown in the reflection. ‘So, why now? What's our interest in it all of a sudden?’

‘The place has been on the market for the past eighteen months but no one has lasted there more than a few weeks. They say they've heard the ghost of its last long term occupant haunting its halls. Or so they claim.’

‘And who was the last occupant?’

‘Don't know. But he was there for nearly five years before he hung himself one night. Ever since... Well, you get the picture.’

‘And how did you hear about this?’ Ianto enquired. ‘I assume you weren't perusing the rural real estate market late at night when you should have been in bed.’

‘Email from an old friend.’

Jack waited for the trademark Ianto Jones smirk. ‘Ah, another one of your old friends. How old exactly?’

‘Down boy. Father Michael is in his seventies. And celibate. He's the local parish priest. Asked if we could take a look so that's what we're doing. Maybe it's an alien projection unit, or a crack in the walls between dimensions, or spores from a plant causing hallucinogenic side effects. Our job is to find out.’

It only took two seconds before the pair of them had their phones out, checking the place out. He knew neither of them could resist getting a preview of the place. And he had to admit, it was very preview worthy.

‘Unique nineteenth century two storey country farmhouse,’ Ianto read from the real estate website. ‘A once in a lifetime opportunity to own a piece of heritage Welsh architecture. Home comes fully furnished with period furniture and dressing. And by period they probably just mean old. I've seen estate agents talk up a rubbish dumpster in Splott as high-end living. No pictures of the inside. Curious. Inspection by appointment only. ’

‘I can't find anything on record for the land title,’ Gwen announced.

‘Probably all still handled by the local parish council,’ Jack replied, ‘stuffed in a tin with every other document relating to the town since the seventeen hundreds.’ That was their idea of administering local affairs. He doubted anyone had ever moved from the town let alone sold a piece of land. They were born there, lived there and died there. A little bubble of people locked in time forever. History preserved. God he hoped they didn't all speak Welsh.

Ianto was studying his phone again. ‘Where's this bed and breakfast you've booked us? Or do they have a local pub?’

A grin broke out over Jack's face as he held his silence and let his expression do all the talking for him.

‘Oh, you didn't.’

Jack put on his best mockery of an innocent face. ‘Didn't what, Ianto?’

‘We're staying there? In the haunted house?’

‘It's fully furnished! Why not? Unless you want to sleep in the SUV.’

Gwen raised her hand. ‘For the record I vote for not sleeping in the SUV.’

‘There you are, Ianto. We have a majority vote. Besides, it's just a house.’

Ianto folded his arms across his chest in a distinctive show of petulance, which Jack found endlessly adorable. ‘I reserve the right to sleep in the car if it ends up being a dump.’

Jack smiled. Dump or not, he pressed the accelerator pedal a little firmer. He couldn't get there quick enough now just to see the reaction on Ianto's face.

Next chapter...