Fic: Möbius Trip
Title: Möbius Trip
Summary: Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to stand in the middle of that circle of creepy statues, Jack mused
Characters: Jack, Tosh
Spoilers: Set after 'Blink' and somewhen in TW season 1
Rating: None
Word count: 916
Note 1: Thanks to my beta ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
xwingace, who made this so much better than it was before
Note 2: For agapi42, who wanted crack!fic. This is the best I could do, I fear
Fic Masterlist: Here.
"This is going to take a while," Jack grumbled to himself as he made his way across a field, his wristcomp already confirming that something had literally kicked him back through time.
One moment he'd been in 2007, investigating statues in the cellar of an abandoned house, the next he found himself somewhere else entirely: outside, much more rural, and definitely not 2007. More like 1967.
Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to stand in the middle of that circle of creepy statues, he mused. It must've triggered a time jump. And with no way to recreate the incident, he was stuck here, again. Damn.
He swore to himself that this had been the last time that he went looking into one of those Haunted House reports.
Forty years on in his personal timeline, he burst back through the door that, to any outside observer, he had very carefully opened only minutes ago. That same outside observer would then also have been wondering how Jack had managed to run down the street while still being inside, so all things considered, it was good there wasn't actually one.
Once through the door, he halted in front of the statue in the hall he was sure hadn't been there before.
"You!" he yelled, pointing at it. "What the heck are--," he blinked and then had to take a step backwards to steady himself on the suddenly uneven ground. As he turned, a cold breeze whispered through his hair, and he realized that he was standing in a field again.
Stuck in the past again. He wasn't doing his reputation as a Time Agent any good, that was certain. Well, at least the presence of the statue in the hallway seemed to confirm the theories he'd come up with while waiting for his time. He'd just have to do it again. And avoid causing any major paradoxes while he was at it.
Apparently blinking or turning his back on these angel creatures was a bad idea. It had taken him four more time jumps before he'd worked that out, of course. Jack huffed, walking through that now far too familiar field towards the nearest - now disgustingly familiar - village, in 1967.
That old lady watching the street from her window was drinking something that looked suspiciously like whiskey, taking a large gulp as she saw Jack enter the village once more. She'd been staring since the beginning, seeing him walk over the fields and down the street out of her view every five minutes for the last half an hour or so. It must look quite impossible for someone ignorant of time travel. Jack assumed that this kind of déjà-vu justified alcohol that early in the day. At least he was clearly not the only one who had a very bad day.
He had to put an end to this. If nothing else, he was running out of places to hide in the 21st century. So this time, back in 2007 he made a small detour back to the car (it took a moment to remember where he'd parked it) to take out the biggest of his emergency blasters he could find.
He strode through the door, trying very hard not to blink, slowly moving towards the statue covering its eyes in the derelict living room. He really was feeling quite vengeful by now.
"Now I'll blast you to--"
He never managed to finish that sentence. Instead, he fell onto his backside, his empty hands coming to rest on rough tarmac. The sign on the cottage in front of him wished everyone a very Merry Christmas 1949, and Jack cursed loudly. Another one of the angels must've sneaked up from behind. He thought he got it now. Don't turn your back and don't blink. Easy enough, he just wished someone had told him before he found that out the hard (and very, very long) way.
Back in 2007, he strode through the door again, picked up the gun where it had fallen (just 5 minutes, or maybe 60 years, ago), and aimed at the angel now standing on the stairs.
One shot was enough and he grinned manically when the statue dissolved into dust. He darted through the house, his back to the walls, determined to take out each last one of these creatures. His eyes were burning, but he would be damned if he blinked. He'd go mad if he had to witness the moon landing one more time.
Hours later, Toshiko made her way through the abandoned garden towards the antique doors, her gun drawn, trying to find out what was taking her boss so long.
She found Jack in the basement, a very big alien blaster (Ianto would frown if he knew Jack was driving around with it, ignoring all health and safety measures) in his hands, and sneering at what seemed to be rubble. He whipped around, pointing the gun at her as he noticed her moving behind him, his eyes wide with something that didn't look like fear, more like anxiety.
He let the blaster slip to the floor, and the bone crushing hug he caught her in made her squeak with surprise. His babbling of how much he had missed her made it seem as if they hadn't met for years.
"Don't ask, Tosh" he sighed before she found her breath again, kicking away one of the small stones at his feet. "It's been a very long day."
sick
