A/N: I wrote this for diy_prompts on livejournal, where you pick a fandom and pairing and create your own prompt table to use. I picked Jack/Owen, obviously, and this is the first fic I wrote. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood, much as I would love to own Owen.
The first time Owen sees Jack regenerate – well, he doesn't. It's three weeks after Owen joined the team and frankly, he hasn't been doing well. He doesn't know how to handle Katie's death. He has no idea how to restart his life after losing the one person who made his life worth living.
Jack has an interesting way of cheering people up. Today his method of distraction is taking Owen on his first field assignment, trying to apprehend sailors who Jack suspects of illegally smuggling aliens – yes, actual aliens from other planets – into Wales. Owen still can't wrap his head around the idea of aliens.
Unfortunately, the smugglers aren't happy about Jack and Owen trying to stop their operation. Then, thanks to Jack, his idiotic, reckless boss (what the fuck was Owen thinking when he joined Torchwood?), Owen finds himself thrown off a ship with a rock around his ankle, straight into Cardiff Bay.
Owen is conscious for a few minutes after he hits the water. Forcing himself to open his eyes, he sees that they've tossed Jack overboard as well. Who the hell do they think they are? Fucking pirates? Bloody hell.
His lungs are screaming for air and Owen opens his mouth, trying to breathe, to scream, anything. Only water floods in, filling his throat, his nose, his lungs. He can't breathe. Panic sets in and all he can think about is how to get to the surface but he can't. Jack's already unconscious beside him, probably close to death.
As Owen feels himself slipping away, he wonders if death is such a bad thing. Then he doesn't have to try to live with the pain. Then the blackness hits and he feels nothing.
Next thing Owen knows he's soaking wet and lying flat on his back on the shore with Jack's mouth on his. His first reaction, of course, is to punch Jack (for more reasons than just the mouth thing, come to think of it), but his arms feel weak so all he can manage is a light slap to the side of Jack's head. Then he's choking and sputtering, coughing back up the water he inhaled.
"Owen!" Jack puts his hand on Owen's face, still bent over him. "You okay?"
"I will be," Owen says hoarsely, gingerly raising himself onto his elbows. He takes a few deep breaths, grateful for the fresh air.
"Took your time coming around," Jack says, sitting back down next to him.
"Well, excuse me for nearly drowning," Owen snaps back irritably. "Thanks, Jack." Furiously he wipes water out of his face. "How 'bout you actually have a plan next time we go in for something like that?"
"Hey, I had a plan!" Jack says. "Things just didn't go according to plan."
Owen lets himself slump back to the ground. His limbs feel like jelly. Then he realizes – "You were dead!"
"What?" Jack looks down at him.
"You shouldn't - !" Owen struggles into a sitting position and looks at Jack incredulously. "I saw you, Jack! They threw you in straight after me! How did you - ? We should both be dead!"
Jack's face goes stony, like he's trying to hide any emotion he feels. "I can't die," he says flatly.
"Come again?" Owen says, staring at him.
"Something happened to me awhile ago, and now I can't die," Jack says with the air of one who has explained the same thing far too many times. "I don't know how it works or if I'll live forever, but all I know is that as far as I can tell, nothing will kill me. I just keep coming back to life." He pauses. "What do you think of that, Dr. Harper?"
Owen lies back down and drapes his arm across his eyes with a groan. "It doesn't make any sense, that's what I think of that," Owen snaps. What makes Jack so special that he's the only person who can't die? What right does he have to that gift?
"Yeah," Jack says shortly. "Welcome to Torchwood. Nothing makes sense. But we keep on going."
"Do the girls know?" Owen asks, thinking of Tosh and Suzie. He wondered how they felt about working for an immortal man from the 51st century.
"No." Jack gives Owen a stern look. "And I'd like to keep it that way, if that's all right with you. It's not something I advertise."
Owen lifts his arm off his face to squint at Jack. "You don't think it's something you might want to mention when you hire people to work for you?"
"Hey, I had a hard enough time getting you to trust me," Jack laughs. "Torchwood needed a medic, and you were our best option. I wasn't about to scare you off."
"Fair enough," Owen grumbles, still feeling irritable.
"And it's lucky for you I can't die," Jack continues. "If I could, we both would have drowned back there."
"Yeah, guess so." Owen sits up. "Thanks," he mumbles, not meeting Jack's eyes. "For….you know."
"Don't mention it." Jack gets to his feet and holds out a hand. Owen takes it and lets Jack help him up.