m_findlow: (Default)
[personal profile] 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 [livejournal.com profile] spook_me 2020 Prompt - Ghost
Summary: The team investigate rumours of a haunted house in rural Wales.

Everything in Ianto's body hurt. His world had spun around like he'd been thrown in a tumble dryer and then it came to an abrupt and painful stop. He reasoned that he must have fallen down the staircase, even if he couldn't figure out how that was possible when he'd been running in a straight line.

He pushed himself to his feet, relieved that at least the voices had stopped. In fact, everything had stopped. There wasn't a sound to be heard anywhere. His world wasn't just black but now it was silent as well. It wasn't right. Where was Gwen? For that matter, where was Jack? He yelled out their names, relieved that he could at least hear his own voice ring out. It echoed in the large space. even if it was hoarse and not as measured as he'd like.

He found the last four steps that ran perpendicular to the main staircase, leading down to the foyer. Whatever hadn't already been in pain was now added to with the inelegant tumble down those last four steps onto the parquet floor. Just when he thought his dignity couldn't take anymore of a battering.

‘Jack!’ he cried out again, feeling desperate. ‘Anybody?’ There was a pregnant pause as he waited for a response. ‘Please.’

He took a deep breath. He wouldn't panic. Panicking wouldn't help him. ‘It's just a, uh… spooky old house. Full of creepy noises and blood pouring out of the taps. That's all. And there's the small matter of not being able to see anything.’

He drew around in a slow circle, trying to make out anything at all in the darkness. He wasn't sure what to do. If he couldn't see, should he stay where he was or try to find the others for help? And whatever had been upstairs that had been chasing him was presumably still there.

As he turned, something finally did enter his field of vision. As first he thought he must have imagined it, but a tiny prick of light appeared, like a twinkling star in an endless empty sky. It slowly grew a little brighter, forming into a large indistinct ball. Okay, so not completely blind. That was good. Just something in his eyes perhaps, dust or something dislodged from the furniture upstairs. God alone knew what kind of chemicals were in the lacquer and the paint, and the place was positively crumbling.

‘First aid kit in the car,’ he told himself. There'd be tubes of saline he could use to irrigate his eyes. Not that far away, he tried to convince himself. A bit to the left or roundabouts there was the front door. The SUV was parked right out front, not fifteen yards away. ‘But no keys,’ he said, patting himself down and remembering dropping them somewhere upstairs.

The light still hovered off in the distance. He wondered what it was. Reaching out his right hand he finally found the end of the banister with its rounded timber end, helping to orient himself in relation to the rest of the space. If he was facing east he should have the sitting room directly in front of him. If he could see light, then why was there nothing but darkness in that direction? The fire might be down to embers but the lamps in the room would all still be on, unless the power had gone out. And if the power had gone out, what was the source of the light he was seeing now?

He turned his head towards the light source. It was more diagonally right of him, towards the breakfast parlour and kitchen. It didn't make any sense, but he hoped that the kitchen might at least provide water that didn't run with blood. Anything that might improve his sight.

Reluctantly he let go of the banister, relinquishing the solid feel of the polished timber. It felt like letting go of a lifebuoy in the middle of an endless ocean. By rights there should be nothing blocking his path yet each step was hesitant, his arms held out in front of him lest they find something or be ready to break his fall. He kept following the light source which neither glowed brighter nor changed in size. He couldn't understand what it was but he felt no fear in letting it guide him.

The foyer seemed to stretch on for an age. Just like upstairs, the house seemed to have changed or his perception of its dimensions had warped. It was surely not more than ten or twelve yards diagonally across but he'd lost count of how many measured steps he'd taken. He kept going until his hand brushed something. It was rough beneath his fingertips but as he moved them a little further he felt something more raised up. A framed painting, he confirmed, running his hand up the length of gilt picture frame. He was close. He kept pawing the wall until it came to an end, feeling the door frame.

He let his photographic memory take charge, navigating through the breakfast parlour and into the long kitchen. The light hovered near where he expected the door to be. Perhaps it was an external floodlight. Jack might have switched it on before heading out. Eyes first; sticking his head out the back door and yelling for Jack came second.

He took a few more steps, finding the long table that ran the length of the kitchen and feeling his way around its rough timber edges. He took a wild guess, turning about halfway along and moving towards where he thought the sink must be. He wasn't disappointed, laying his hands on the old metal faucet on the first attempt.

He twisted the stiff handles, holding one hand under it and waiting for ice cold water to trickle out into his palm. He could hear the water begin to run, hitting the deep metal basin but there was none falling into his waiting hand. He moved it around, twisted the tap harder and moved his hand all the way up to the spout but there was nothing coming out. So why could he hear it?

There were other sounds too now. Strained breathing, a sound of… teeth chattering, perhaps. He couldn't tell which direction it came from. Something else hit his senses. He could almost smell Jack, like he'd been here, or was here. He looked around still trying to see anything. The light continued to hover where it was, though dimmer now, fading. He worried his sight was deteriorating. Jack could be here, somewhere nearby and in trouble and he couldn't even see him!

‘Jack?’ He tried to use his keen sense of smell. He knew Jack's scent better than anyone. It was useless trying to sneak up on Ianto, he always knew Jack was there. He didn't need cologne with such an alluring natural fragrance. Fresh from the shower or having just trawled his way out of a dumpster, Jack would smell just as strongly.

He fumbled around the kitchen bench, relying totally on his nose. Across the other side of the room it felt stronger, filling his head with that happy, foggy sensation of Jack's presence. He stepped carefully, using his feet to explore the floor, searching for a Jack that might be lying there unconscious just inches away. His urgency increased as the light over his shoulder faded more and more. If he hadn't searched most of the far side of the kitchen by now he wasn't far off.

Jack's scent pervaded his remaining senses more strongly. There was one place he realised he hadn't checked. The boiler down in the cellar. He crawled along the wall, finding the door. It hung open and the sound of something living was clearer now, coming from down inside there. ‘I'm coming,’ Ianto said, feeling his way down the first steep step and into a darkness where his lack of vision suddenly didn't seem to matter. ‘Just hang on.’

Next chapter...

June 2025

S M T W T F S
123456 7
8 910111213 14
1516171819 20 21
22232425262728
2930     

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags

Most Popular Tags