fic: Twist in My Reality p1/? [G]
The last thing Ianto remembered clearly was Jack’s voice yelling,
“No! Don’t touch that!” Then the world had disappeared in a flash of darkness and an implosion of light. Ianto presumed he was awake as he could think, but he couldn’t feel his body and he couldn’t open his eyes. Strangely, someone seemed to be playing the guitar solo from ‘Sultans of Swing’ in his head which made no sense to him as he didn’t like Dire Straits. After a few more moments he realised that the music was actually not in his head, but echoing strangely outside it. He pried open his eyes. Nothing. He blinked a couple of times and turned his head in the direction of the music. There was a slight lightening of the darkness surrounding him and he was able to make out that he was in a graveyard. He was puzzled rather than frightened as he felt pretty much alive; odd, but definitely living. Having established where he appeared to be, he wanted to find out where the music was coming from, and if Jack was here with him. He cleared his throat experimentally.
“Jack?” His voice cracked, but he felt he’d been audible enough. The music stopped amidst a jangle of fumbled chords and fingerings.
“Ianto?” Jack’s voice sounded a bit strange, but was clear and strong. Ianto breathed a sigh of relief. He looked upwards in the direction he’d heard Jack’s voice. Blinked. Blinked again.
“What are we doing in a graveyard? And why is there a bat with a guitar hanging from that tree?”
“I’m a bat? That explains why I’m upside down.”
“That’s you? Bloody hell. Where are we? And Why can’t I feel my hands and feet?”
“I’m not 100% certain, but I have a few ideas about what happened and where we’ve ended up. As for your hands and feet... ummm...”
“What?”
“You don’t appear to have any right now. You’re a snake.”
“I’m a snake?”
“A rather cute one...”
“What...” Ianto’s words were swallowed in a twisting of reality that caused the graveyard to shatter into a million pieces and fly off out of the oriel window that had just appeared in mid-air. Ianto gradually became aware that he was now lying on some sort of fur rug in front of a roaring fire, and that there was another voice speaking.
“Two to the power of fifteen thousand to one and falling. We will soon achieve normality...” The rest of the sentence was lost as Jack started to make choking sounds. Ianto was worried for the 5 seconds it took him to establish that Jack wasn’t actually dying, unless you could die from laughter.
“Jack? What’s going on?” Ianto hitched himself up onto an elbow that seemed to be in the right place; he was obviously no longer a snake. Jack seemed to be more himself too, apart from the fact that he was still laughing and happened to be wearing a pink tutu, thigh high pvc ballet boots with 6 inch heels and a Hawaiian shirt. Ianto shut one eye in effort not to be blinded and decided not to look at what he appeared to be wearing, just in case.
“Infinite Improbability Drive.” Jack waved a hand at their attire, and their surroundings. “Has some interesting effects on the perception of reality in non-shielded personnel. Which is what *we* are. Enjoy the ride...” Reality twisted around them again, and then covered them in candy-floss. Ianto could no longer see Jack through the mounds of pink spun sugar, but he certainly heard him, he couldn’t avoid hearing him. Jack did not believe in airing his displeasure in a quiet manner.
“I hate this stuff. Why can’t it rain donuts?”
Reality shifted around them more frequently as the disembodied voice continued to announce falling probabilities. Ianto was pleased that they seemed to have settled into their own clothes, even though a set of carousel horses danced around them to the sound of Pink Floyd, before being chased off by a box on legs. Slowly, their surroundings resolved into plain white walls and a rather uncomfortable floor, though the purple flying pigs reminded Ianto that they hadn’t quite achieved ‘normality’. Jack dug around in the inside pocket of his coat and produced a towel, which he hung round his neck. Ianto stared at it, knowing there must be some trick as a towel that size wouldn’t fit into a normal pocket. Jack grinned at him.
“Bigger on the inside,” he said.
“Fine." Ianto let that one go over his head; it hurt too much to think about it. He latched onto the most normal part of the situation. "But... a towel?”
“You don’t carry a towel around with you?”
“With these pockets?” Ianto fingered his suit jacket. “You must be kidding. And why would I need to?” Jack stared at him incredulously, but was interrupted from saying anything by a door opening in what had appeared to be a blank wall. A decent sized stripy hand towel was shoved through the gap and a voice announced,
“Welcome to the Heart of Gold.”
“No! Don’t touch that!” Then the world had disappeared in a flash of darkness and an implosion of light. Ianto presumed he was awake as he could think, but he couldn’t feel his body and he couldn’t open his eyes. Strangely, someone seemed to be playing the guitar solo from ‘Sultans of Swing’ in his head which made no sense to him as he didn’t like Dire Straits. After a few more moments he realised that the music was actually not in his head, but echoing strangely outside it. He pried open his eyes. Nothing. He blinked a couple of times and turned his head in the direction of the music. There was a slight lightening of the darkness surrounding him and he was able to make out that he was in a graveyard. He was puzzled rather than frightened as he felt pretty much alive; odd, but definitely living. Having established where he appeared to be, he wanted to find out where the music was coming from, and if Jack was here with him. He cleared his throat experimentally.
“Jack?” His voice cracked, but he felt he’d been audible enough. The music stopped amidst a jangle of fumbled chords and fingerings.
“Ianto?” Jack’s voice sounded a bit strange, but was clear and strong. Ianto breathed a sigh of relief. He looked upwards in the direction he’d heard Jack’s voice. Blinked. Blinked again.
“What are we doing in a graveyard? And why is there a bat with a guitar hanging from that tree?”
“I’m a bat? That explains why I’m upside down.”
“That’s you? Bloody hell. Where are we? And Why can’t I feel my hands and feet?”
“I’m not 100% certain, but I have a few ideas about what happened and where we’ve ended up. As for your hands and feet... ummm...”
“What?”
“You don’t appear to have any right now. You’re a snake.”
“I’m a snake?”
“A rather cute one...”
“What...” Ianto’s words were swallowed in a twisting of reality that caused the graveyard to shatter into a million pieces and fly off out of the oriel window that had just appeared in mid-air. Ianto gradually became aware that he was now lying on some sort of fur rug in front of a roaring fire, and that there was another voice speaking.
“Two to the power of fifteen thousand to one and falling. We will soon achieve normality...” The rest of the sentence was lost as Jack started to make choking sounds. Ianto was worried for the 5 seconds it took him to establish that Jack wasn’t actually dying, unless you could die from laughter.
“Jack? What’s going on?” Ianto hitched himself up onto an elbow that seemed to be in the right place; he was obviously no longer a snake. Jack seemed to be more himself too, apart from the fact that he was still laughing and happened to be wearing a pink tutu, thigh high pvc ballet boots with 6 inch heels and a Hawaiian shirt. Ianto shut one eye in effort not to be blinded and decided not to look at what he appeared to be wearing, just in case.
“Infinite Improbability Drive.” Jack waved a hand at their attire, and their surroundings. “Has some interesting effects on the perception of reality in non-shielded personnel. Which is what *we* are. Enjoy the ride...” Reality twisted around them again, and then covered them in candy-floss. Ianto could no longer see Jack through the mounds of pink spun sugar, but he certainly heard him, he couldn’t avoid hearing him. Jack did not believe in airing his displeasure in a quiet manner.
“I hate this stuff. Why can’t it rain donuts?”
Reality shifted around them more frequently as the disembodied voice continued to announce falling probabilities. Ianto was pleased that they seemed to have settled into their own clothes, even though a set of carousel horses danced around them to the sound of Pink Floyd, before being chased off by a box on legs. Slowly, their surroundings resolved into plain white walls and a rather uncomfortable floor, though the purple flying pigs reminded Ianto that they hadn’t quite achieved ‘normality’. Jack dug around in the inside pocket of his coat and produced a towel, which he hung round his neck. Ianto stared at it, knowing there must be some trick as a towel that size wouldn’t fit into a normal pocket. Jack grinned at him.
“Bigger on the inside,” he said.
“Fine." Ianto let that one go over his head; it hurt too much to think about it. He latched onto the most normal part of the situation. "But... a towel?”
“You don’t carry a towel around with you?”
“With these pockets?” Ianto fingered his suit jacket. “You must be kidding. And why would I need to?” Jack stared at him incredulously, but was interrupted from saying anything by a door opening in what had appeared to be a blank wall. A decent sized stripy hand towel was shoved through the gap and a voice announced,
“Welcome to the Heart of Gold.”