Owen Harper yawned, closed his eyes and stretched out on the sun lounger. The day was hot and still, he kicked off his trainers and wriggled his toes lazily, smiling happily to himself. He liked communal gardens- no work, just enjoyment.
Somewhere behind him, he could hear the steady, rhythmic, sound of sandpaper, being rubbed across wood.
The faint hum of music, from a distant radio, barely broke the silence. His mobile was off and everything was right with the world!
Something blocked out the sun. Owen peered out from under his sun glasses, ready and more than willing, to start arguing the toss, with whoever was ruining the chances of his first sun tan, in a hell of a long time!
"Do you mind?" He grumbled, pushing the glasses up onto his forehead, his eyes now fully open and ready to inflict his best glare. He stared, then quickly closed his eyes again, shook his head and cautiously tried for a second time.
The sight that met his eyes now, was exactly the same as the first time he had seen it- and it didn't make any more sense now, then it had then.
A large, furry head, with big floppy ears, peered down at him, wriggled it's nose and tutted loudly, then tapped the glass face of a large turnip shaped fob watch.
"I'm late," it announced, in a high pitched squeal. "I'm late," it repeated, as if expecting some kind of response from him.
"Hard luck," Owen grumbled. "Tell it to the Marines," he added and rolled over onto his side, his back to the rabbit.
It must have been a heavier night last night than he had realised, he thought vaguely, closing his eyes and trying not to think about rabbits- or any other animal for that matter!
The scent of a familiar perfume wafted past his nose, he smiled, then looked up, past the jeans and cropped top, hovered briefly on the low, v neckline, and then, reluctantly, up to Gwen's face.
She smiled down at him, "Do you know there's a giant rabbit at the bottom of your garden?" she asked him.
"Nope, but you hum and I'll just join in when it gets familiar," Owen mumbled back, closing his eyes and attempting to ignore her.
"Owen," a sharp finger nail prodded him in the chest. He sighed, sat up slowly and yawned.
"You sure it wasn't a pink elephant?" he enquired, scratching his face and wishing, not for the first time, that he had gone further afield for his much- needed R & R, instead of settling for his own back yard.
"Don't be silly, 'course it was a rabbit, do you think I don't know a rabbit when I see one?" she demanded. "It had one of those old fashioned watches on a chain, and a waistcoat and everything," she insisted, impatiently grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet.
Owen sniffed the air, "Paint fumes," he mumbled, "That must be it."
"Must be what?" Gwen asked, baffled.
"Well, there must be something causing these sodding hallucinations," he grumbled, peering at Gwen from under heavy eyelids. "I'm sort of presuming here that your real, it's just that bleedin' bunny that's the figment."
Gwen glared at him, "It went behind that tree," she said, attempting to pull him towards the bottom of the garden.
Owen dug in his heels, and refused to move. "Okay, I'll concede that your real-anything for a quiet life, but the rabbit's a nonstarter, and I'm sorry to ruin your day, but my little patch of England's green and pleasant, does not now, nor has it ever, included anything that even remotely resembles a..." he turned towards the garden fence, hand outstretched, and was just about to say the word, Tree, when he stopped and stared.
A very large, and extremely decorative Oak, stood contentedly spreading its leaf filled branches skyward, looking for all the world like it had always been there, and was never likely to be anywhere else.
For once, Owen was speechless.
The rabbit chose that moment to re-appear, waved its watch at him and announced in a panic stricken voice, "I'm late," then bounded around the other side of the tree and disappeared.
"Told you," Gwen yelled.
Owen winced, this was getting beyond a joke! He was pretty sure that he was awake, and he was definitely being hauled across the patio by Gwen. What he just couldn't seem to make sense of, was the tree- well that and that damned rabbit, that he still wasn't convinced he had seen (despite Gwen constantly going on about it)
"It's a bloody figment," he yelled, trying to pull back the other way, but Gwen wasn't for giving up and Owen found himself being dragged nearer and nearer.
"He went in there," she said nodding towards a large hole, partly hidden by a tangle of roots and grass.
Owen groaned, took off his glasses and pushed them into his shirt pocket. "Remind me not to drink Vodka any more, I think they're starting to put something in it," he murmured peering down into the darkness.
"Oh, stop being such a wuzz," Gwen said, glaring at him and then pushing him hard in the back, propelling him forwards and down into the hole.
Owen scrabbled desperately at thin air as he fell. He could hear Gwen giggling somewhere above him, he grabbed at various shoots and branches that were sticking out of the side of... whatever it was, but somehow, he always seemed to miss them.
Everywhere was lit by an eerie green light, he tried to work out how deep the hole was, but it was almost impossible to tell. There had to be a bottom, he just hoped he wasn't going too fast when he finally hit it!
Gwen squealed with delight, and hurtled past Owen, then suddenly slowed, and hovered, as if waiting for him to catch up.
"Use your arms like wings," she grinned, "Weeeee... I can fly..." She laughed, then plunged downwards again.
"Bloody hell! Gwen!" He yelled after her, but she was now out of sight.
Gwen experimented waving her arms around, trying to work out which angle gave the best speed, she glanced down, still unsure of how much further the end of all this could be, she was hoping for a nice soft landing, but if she was going too fast, it wasn't going to be all that comfortable- whatever she managed to land on!
Holding her arms out and to the side, she angled her wrists slightly forwards, that seemed to give her a nice gentle drop, and hopefully, a good landing.
A vaguely familiar blur, that was swearing loudly, tumbled past her. Slamming into one of her arms he sent her spiraling dizzily downwards. She finally managed to regain control, and heaved a sigh of relief.
Gwen heard Owen yell, looking down, she could just make out something vaguely familiar sticking up in the air, she didn't usually see it from this angle, and didn't realise until it was too late, that she was looking at the red patch- on the back pocket of his jeans.
Gwen landed on top of Owen, who yelled, swore, and began flailing around, clearly convinced he was being attacked by something.
"Its okay, its me Owen... Owen," she yelled, pushing off him and onto a pile of soft leaves.
Owen lay still, then rolled quickly to one side, and stared at her.The dim green lighting gave her a strange, ethereal look, that he wasn't altogether comfortable with.
"I hate to sound like a cracked record, but this is a dream, right?"He murmured, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Gwen shrugged, "Well, to be honest," she said looking around, trying to spot a way out, "I wouldn't like to say. I don't think I can remember one like this, with you in it," she murmured, standing up and brushing off her jeans.
Owen lay watching her, as she adjusted her clothing, he grinned, "I had no idea I had this good an imagination," he said smirking up at her,"I was beginning to think we were running out of alternative venues... remind me to check out those trees in the park when I wake up."
"Yeah, well, I really don't think this is a dream, " she murmured, then spotting what looked like a way out, moved towards it.
Owen stood up, reluctantly, and followed her, there was no point in getting separated, dream or not!
"Well if it isn't, what are we talking? Alien device with a liking for fairy stories? Someone who's acquired the technology to build the ultimate theme park?" he mumbled, pushing past her and glancing out into a badly lit corridor.
The white rabbit suddenly appeared, rushed past them and round the corner. Owen sighed, this dream seemed to have some rather odd specifics (if that's what is was). Gwen and rabbits-or to be precise a rather large white one, if this was his brain's way of telling him, that his biological clock was ticking, then perhaps it was time to close his eyes, stick his fingers in his ears and start humming very loudly!
"Well come on then, we can't go up, so we might as well follow it," she said impatiently, moving around him into the corridor.
"Just be careful, I'm not armed-presume your not either," he enquired, glancing at the back of her jeans.
"Nope," she said, "Not that Id want to go shooting a white rabbit that talks, but I know how fond you are of shooting first and asking questions later," she said archly.
Owen glared back at her, if that rabbit was some kind of metaphor, then he would be more than happy to despatch the damned thing, as rapidly as possible.
They moved off in the same direction that the rabbit had taken, there seemed little point in going anywhere else. Dream or not, it clearly had some kind of destination in mind, which hopefully meant a way back.
"I never thought I'd hear myself saying this, but where the bloody hell has that damned rabbit disappeared to?" Owen grumbled, peering up at the roof of the corridor.
Tree roots twisted down, grabbing at his hair, the odd thing was, he was convinced that they hadn't been there when they had turned the corner, in fact that wasn't the only thing he was convinced of either.
He somehow had the impression that the corridor had a high, vaulted ceiling, but now it wasn't, now it was roughly curved and quite low, and those damned roots seemed to be reaching out and trying to grab him.
Finally making up his mind about something, he took hold of Gwen's hand. She smiled, then leaned against him. Owen's fingers meshed with hers, then he stopped and she stopped too. He smiled and pulled her towards him.
For once, he had something else on his mind, when he pulled her close and nuzzled her neck- he was checking for a pulse! Still not convinced that this really was Gwen.
Momentum took them towards the wall, Gwen's hand moved down and behind him, something cold hit her fingers, puzzled she grabbed at it, it turned, and the 'wall' gave way and they both fell through hitting the ground with a thump.
Owen groaned, "How come you always end up on top?" He grumbled.
Gwen sighed, and slowly stood up. Looking back she saw two massive, ornate doors, looming over them. Well that was one way to find a way in! She thought.
She turned, blinking in the bright sunlight, they were surrounded by a huge garden, that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. Neat gravel paths wound their way in intricate patterns. They circled flower beds, all full of multi coloured blooms, and in the centre of each bed stood several rose trees, their branches drooping with the weight of the flowers.
Owen got to his feet, they seemed to be standing on a stone bridge, bright blue water ran beneath it. Goldfish leapt up into the air, every now and then.
Gwen stared into the water, "This is weird," she said backing away nervously, as one of the fish suddenly froze mid-leap and grinned at her, before completing its elegant loop and splashing back into the water.
Looking up at the perfect blue sky, with its white fluffy clouds, Owen watched, mesmerised, as one seemed to be moving vertically upwards, almost like a balloon making its escape. Then it stopped, something flashed below it, he stared, trying to get it into focus, then realised that there was a fine, silver thread, attached to the bottom of the cloud. The thread led down to a rose bush, he wasn't sure, but it looked for all the world like it was tied to it!
He stared at the bush, then suddenly a figure blundered past him, knocking him sideways, something slopped from a can it was carrying, leaving a huge red blotch across his toes.
"Oy!" he yelled, looking down at his feet. Gwen stared after the running figure, although it wasn't really a figure, it was a playing card, with arms and legs and a head... and it was carrying a large pot of red paint in one hand and a brush in the other, which it waved desperately, paint dripping from it onto the ground.
Suddenly every single path was alive with more of them, all identical. Some carrying paint and brushes, others planks of wood. Each and every one of them was clearly panic stricken.
Owen moved forward, his paint splattered foot forgotten, a trail of red marks followed him, as the pain dripped between his toes and onto the path. Wincing, as the sharp stones from the path dug into the underside of his foot, he moved onto the grass verge, then turned and waited for Gwen.
Gwen watched them, "You do realise what they're doing?" she murmured, glancing over at Owen, who nodded, "Yep, I remember the story- and the film," he sighed.
She gripped his arm, "Me too, which means that somewhere there's..." she didn't get the chance to finish.
A shadow fell across the path, they both stared at it, then back at each other. The dark outline of an axe was clearly visible, along with the huge, bulk, of something neither wanted to turn and see the original of.
The shadow moved, Owen pulled Gwen downwards, at the same second, something whizzed above their heads, and a deep, rough sounding voice, growled, "Stand still for the executioner," the rush of air signalling that he had taken another swing at them with his axe.
They rolled across the grass verge and into the stream, puzzled goldfish began circling them, "Your not allowed in here," one grumbled, flicking its tail angrily, then displaying a perfect set of very sharp, white teeth.
It snapped at Owen's arm, he yelled and flailed around, trying to push Gwen behind him, and fend off the fish.
The fish leered at him, then thrashed its tail, scooping up water and sending it directly at Owen's face, he gulped and fought for breath, desperately reaching for Gwen, at the same time trying to guess how close the fish's teeth were.
"Oh, for goodness sake, Owen, its only a bit of water," a voice with a soft, Welsh accent berated him.
Owen opened his eyes, he was lying on his back on the grass, next to his sun lounger, Ianto standing over him clutching an empty cup.
Jumping to his feet, Owen stared around him, "Where's Gwen?" he yelled, spinning around desperately.
Jack tapped the face of his fob watch, clearly more bothered with it, than Owen, "She's back in the hub," he murmured, "Where else would she be?" He tutted and then sighed, "I'm going to have to get it checked over, its losing time."
Owen stared at him, horrified. Jack saw his reaction and laughed, "It's not a big problem, just a couple of minutes every now and then."
Owen glared at Ianto,then pushed his feet hurriedly into his trainers, and headed towards the entrance to his flat, Ianto trailing after him.
"Why did you ask about Gwen?" Ianto asked.
Owen shrugged, "No reason," he murmured vaguely, then stopped and stared at the doorway.
A man wearing white overalls turned and smiled at him, nodded, then moved out of the way.
"Careful," he said cheerfully,"Wet Paint," and pointed his brush at the door, "The frameworks dry though," he added.
Owen nodded, murmured, "Thanks," and carefully passed the newly painted door.
"Change of colour this year," the man commented.
Owen turned back and smiled, "Yeah, red-nice," he mumbled and headed for the staircase.
Ianto turned and went back towards Jack, who was still trying to adjust his watch.
. . . .
Gwen woke with a start, then sat up. For a moment she wasn't sure where she was, then realised she was sitting on the settee in the hub, she shook her head, must have dropped off for a couple of minutes.
She glanced towards the autopsy archway, none of the lights were on, Owen clearly wasn't in yet. She yawned, and then stared at her hand, there was something red smeared across it, puzzled, she touched it, it looked like paint! She couldn't remember being near any red paint- well apart from that weird dream.
Standing up and stretching, she walked towards her workstation, might as well get something done while she was here.
. . . .
Ianto glanced idly at a line of bushes, all in full bloom, he smiled, all perfectly identical red roses.
Jack nodded to Ianto, "We'll wait in the SUV," he said, marching off towards the gate, Ianto close behind.
A gentle breeze wafted across the garden, nudging the head's of the roses, they bobbed slightly in response. One of the plants lower blooms drooped, as if it were heavier than the others, red paint dripped, slowly, from the tips of its petals and splashed to the ground underneath the bush.
The rose bounced upwards, as if it had been suddenly released, white petal now visible, where the red had once been.
The painter stepped back from the door, admiring his handy work, then turned and glanced over at the roses, and smiled.
The Oak tree shimmered, then slowly faded away to nothing, leaving no sign that it could ever have been there.
The sound of footsteps made the painter look towards the staircase.
Owen walked towards the doorway, nodded briefly as he passed the man, then looked towards the bottom of the garden, "No tree," he murmured.
"Sorry?" the painter queried, as if he hadn't heard what Owen had said.
Owen smiled, "Nothing mate, you finished now?"
The other man nodded, "Oh yes," he smirked, "All done."
Glancing down at the base of the rose bush, Owen saw the small pool of red paint, and stared, he turned back to say something to the other man, but he was gone. That was quick! He thought, trotting towards the gate.
A voice suddenly echoed through his head, "I'm painting the roses red," it chanted, "painting the roses red."
Owen stopped, shaking his head, seemed the combination of sunshine and Vodka was one he really would have to avoid from now on!
The End