Anythingdrabble Challenge 174 - Uncertain future

[m_findlow]

Title: Uncertain future
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack, Ianto
Word Count: 500 words
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for Challenge 174 - Orb at anythingdrabble
Summary: A trip to the local fair gives Jack an opportunity to see his future.

‘Don't you just love county fairs?’ Jack asked, slipping his hand in Ianto's and holding it tight lest his lover think of trying to pull it away. Who cared what other people thought? They were in love and that was all that mattered.

‘I don't think this qualifies as a county fair,’ Ianto replied, taking in the view of the smattering of stalls selling bootlegged items they'd bought in bulk off eBay from slightly disreputable Romanian sellers. ‘We're not in the counties, we're in a closed off section of St Mary Street. It's more of a car boot sale than anything.’

It wasn't exactly the cottage industry jam and perry maker's guild, but Jack didn't care. Perhaps there was no one making candy floss and there was no games alley where he could test his strength and win a teddy bear for his lover, but it was nice all the same. Anything that wasn't strictly work where he got to spend time with Ianto was a plus.

‘Seen anything that tickles your fancy yet?’ Jack asked. He didn't expect Ianto to be overawed by candles or baby clothing and fake leather goods, but there was something for everyone.

‘There's a second hand book stall over there,’ he said, pointing at three large tarpaulins spread over the pavement, and rows of books stacked on their sides with the spines facing upward.

They wandered over and Ianto got lost in perusing the titles. Jack wasn't nearly as interested. He'd read half of them and the other half weren't worth his time. He cast his gaze further afield. ‘I'll be back,’ he said, which received only a mild hum of acknowledgement.

The velvet tent tucked in a far corner had caught his eye. Fortune teller, it screamed, and Jack couldn't help himself. He loved messing with fraudsters.

He pulled back the curtain and spotted the clichéd old woman dressed in layers of cloth and beads, her tent full of opium scented smoke.

‘Tell you your future, is it?’ The Welsh grammar spoiled the illusion somewhat but Jack nodded and parked himself on the mountain of cushions opposite her table.

She slipped a black cloth off her crystal ball and began to run her inch long fake nails over it. This should be good, Jack thought. You'll meet a tall, dark, handsome man? He already had one of those. Something you lost will turn up soon? He could always hope Torchwood Four would eventually reappear. He'd always wondered where they went.

The fortune teller frowned as she continued to consult the orb without looking at him. Jack peered into it himself, wondering whether there really were futures to be seen. The glass began to change from clear to misty, and then grew darker and more smokey. It turned completely black and then cracked down the middle, smoke issuing from the shattered remains.

The fortune teller gasped. ‘You broke my crystal ball!’

‘Oops,’ he apologised. ‘Guess I have more future than it could cope with.’