DYING IS THE ONLY CERTAINTY
OWEN
Dead is dead, isn't it? Dead, no longer alive, no longer breathing, eating, drinking, fucking and sleeping. No longer...
No longer feeling.
It didn't matter if everything else worked, when the feeling wasn't there, what was?
Dead, death, the absence of life, carked it, croaked, popped clogs or belly up. None of it mattered really.
Owen understood all of those things, he was a medical man, a scientist and a Torchwood operative. He saw death every other day in the blood and gore all over the pavement kind of way, usually. But mostly in the laid out kind of way, on his metal table like some macabre meal set out for his consumption. Dead meant past caring, scalpels and knowledge, a problem solved, a formality.
No longer feeling.
Owen knew death. He'd seen it in his mother's eyes after his dad had walked out that final time. Caught it haunting him, just beyond his peripheral vision in the weeks after Katie... well, what did anyone expect? He'd seen it in Ianto's eyes the first day he met him and it had never left him. Owen knew his own personal horrors paled by comparison and his own were bad enough.
How the hell had he got onto this train of thought? Oh yes, Jack, who couldn't stay dead. Owen had marvelled at Jack's body... not in 'that' way... definitely not. But the man was... a miracle? It wasn't a word Owen liked, but he had no other that would do it justice.
Watching Jack come back to life from such horrific injuries was just... miraculous.
He had watched somewhat dispassionately at first because really the whole scene was pretty surreal. A bizarre accident, a drunk driver whose vehicle had mounted the midnight pavement and Jack shoving Ianto clear of what would have been certain death or crippling serious injury. The car had hit him and his body was thrown across the street like the proverbial rag doll. What was truly odd was the way Ianto reacted.
They had both run to Jack's side. His body was twisted, broken and bloody. Jack was hauled into Ianto's arms as the younger man sat on the cold wet tarmac and lovingly embraced exposed flesh and bone, blood mingling with the rain. He spoke to Jack soothingly through his last breaths and cradled him in death.
Dead.
Owen had been more concerned by Ianto's apparent calm acceptance as the man he loved died in his arms.
The car had sped away and Owen rang Andy Davidson and reported the registration number. Andy promised to sort it and Owen knew he would. Andy was a good copper.
Owen then watched as Ianto carefully straightened Jack's limbs and tugged away at his clothes, clearing the gaping wounds of fabric, ignoring the gory spectre of it as he worked. Once done he resumed cradling him and fussed with his hair, gently whispering assurances and endearments in Welsh. Under the orange glare of the street light Owen was transfixed by the painful sadness of Ianto's voice and his dead boss healing right before his very eyes. Bones, sinews and flesh pulling together with a faint and slightly stomach churning gurgling sound. It was some time before he realised that Ianto's soulful gaze had turned to him.
"...Owen, the SUV, get the SUV!"
Owen shook himself perturbed by what he was seeing.
"Oh right... maybe I should wait?"
Ianto looked frightful with his wet hair plastered against his white forehead, his suit a soggy, bloodied mess. He was shaking his head.
"There's towels in the back and blankets. Jack will need them."
Owen was still rooted to the spot.
"Owen!"
He suddenly found himself and baulked at the fact that Ianto hadn't lost his calm. He turned and ran as fast as he could, suddenly the rain came down a whole lot harder. The SUV wasn't far away, only a couple of streets and Owen was wholly conscious of his heart thumping against his ribs, of his rapid, sharp breaths and the soles of his boots hitting the pavement as the impact jarred its way through his wiry body.
Life and death.
As he ran he found himself wondering where exactly it was Jack went to during his 'absence of life'. He ran as fast as he could, he drove back like a maniac.
Jack was screaming, his cries ripping through the night. Owen was horrified by the pitiful sound that was punctuated with Welsh whispers of comfort. He spread the towels out on the back seat of the SUV and yelled across to Ianto.
"Tea boy is he ready to move?"
Ianto was shaking his head, still holding Jack as he writhed through his healing process.
"He needs morphine Owen, there's a preset syringe in the glove compartment."
Owen grabbed it and ran over to his colleagues and knelt in a puddle at their side. He noted that Ianto had not lost his calm serenity as he anchored his lover. The large dose was administered with well practiced efficiency and Jack finally sagged gasping like a fish out of water.
"Thank you Owen."
It was ground out as Jack appeared to snuggle deeper in Ianto's embrace, the younger man's hold never more sure, a hand carding at dripping hair.
"Are you able to stand Jack?"
Eventually Jack nodded, spinal breakage was always a bitch to come back from until the nerves stopped finding themselves again. Jack visibly gathered his resolve.
Between them Jack was hauled to his feet and supported into the back of the SUV. Ianto got in beside him and immediately began to carefully get the wet clothes off him. Owen keyed the ignition trying to ignore the tenderness with which Ianto worked as he eased the soft thermal blanket around Jack. It was one of these intimate moments that shouldn't have witnesses. Owen concentrated on his driving. His next glance toward the back seat and Jack was nestled in Ianto's arms apparently asleep.
Ianto caught his look and Owen was taken aback by the intense gratitude in his eyes. He saw Ianto stripped of his veneer, raw, young and too old at the same time. As he drove the medic found himself considering how many times Ianto had dealt with Jack's deaths alone.
The journey to the Hub was finished in silence and when Owen parked up the SUV he discovered that his friends were both sound asleep, arms around one another.
Life and death.
Immortal and mortal.
Brought together by tragedy and suffering and eventually to be parted in the same way. Owen finally understood why they were so protective of one another. He was reluctant to disturb them. So he left them there.