Torching Pies

By Michael Weyer

This is a whacky thing that just hit me when I was watching "Dead Man Walking." An alternate take on Owen's return. I'm sure some will recognize the show I'm crossing over with but I'll explain just in case as we go. Hope you enjoy.

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"He's going to rot." Martha Jones knew it was a cold thing to say but it had to be said as she gazed at the body inside the cryogenic freezer. "Even freezing him long-term will lead to damage."

"I don't see why you need to bother with an autopsy," Ianto said, trying to keep himself calm. "We all know how he died."

"Procedure," Tosh said, her eyes still red from crying. "You know how it is. We did it for Suzie."

"Didn't like it," Ianto muttered. "Where the bloody hell is Jack?"

"He said don't touch, Owen so we don't touch him," Gwen stated, her voice quiet as she stared at the man who had briefly been her lover. "Who knows why but you know Jack." The rest of the Torchwood team had to nod at that.

The facts were these:

Owen Harper had been thirty-four years, six months, three weeks, nine days, twelve hours and twenty-seven minutes old when he was shot and killed by the psychotic doctor of a clinic specializing in mixing human and alien DNA. His death had hit hard the members of Torchwood, the ultra-top secret group dedicated to protecting Earth from alien life. They had all seen death but few had felt it so close.

There was one exception, that of Martha Jones, twenty-nine years, three months and two weeks old. Technically, she was actually thirty years, two months, two weeks and thirty-seven minutes old but the rest of the world did not know of that. That extra year was one spent with Earth under the murderous yoke of an alien madman in which Martha had led a resistance against him. Due to a complicated twist in time, that year and all that occurred in it had been erased from the minds of all but Martha and a few others.

As such, young Martha Jones was more attuned to the dark specter of death than her passive demeanor let on. But even she was wishing she could put this behind her as fast as she could, which made the waiting for the leader of this organization would return from his sojourn.

As if to answer her unspoken request, the elevator leading to the Torchwood Hub base lowered to show their leader. Jack Harkness, one hundred and eighty-seven years, nine months, ten days, sixteen hours and eleven minutes old, was a time-traveler, an Immortal, a con man, a Time Agent and bisexual. With a resume so exotic, leading the Torchwood team was not that large a surprise. What was were the guests he brought with him.

"Who the hell are they?" Ianto demanded as he motioned to the three people following Jack. One was a tall and lanky young man with handsome features, short dark hair, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with an expression of bemusement on his face. His companion was a wide-eyed young lady with long brown hair and a pretty floral dress. Their companion was a heavy-set black man with a bald head and short beard, dressed in a rumpled brown suit and a sour look on his face.

"Yeah, sorry I took so long, Concord went as fast as it could." Jack motioned to the group. "This is Ned, that's Charlotte Charles but you can call her Chuck and that's Emerson Cod."

"Hi," Chuck said with a smile.

"Hello," Ned nodded.

"Where's the bathroom?" Cod growled.

"I told you not to have so many drinks," Chuck told him.

"I get sick traveling long spans of distance," Cod told her, his voice laced was a sardonic touch that made it sound like everything was an insult to him. "You've seen me on long car rides so imagine how flying over an ocean makes me feel."

"But we got first class," Chuck said. "That should have made you happy."

"I will be happy when we get the money," Cod told her. He turned back to Jack. "You realize that when I say money, I mean real money. American money, good old green dollar bills, none of this crap with pounds or pence or any of that."

"You do the job right, you'll get the money," Jack assured him.

"Jack, what the hell is going on?" Gwen demanded. She pointed at Ned. "Why bring him here?"

"I'm not comfortable with it either," Ned told her, his hands in his pockets. "I don't like to travel much."

"Well, I love it!" Chuck beamed. "I've always wanted to see England. I've been reading on it so much, I want to see Big Ben and the Tower and the Palace and…"

"This ain't sightseeing, Dead Girl," Cod growled.

"What is the rule on the DG name when in public?" Ned muttered.

"This dude knows about your little talent already," Cod said, pointing to Jack. "He made it clear when he showed up at the diner. When he wasn't hitting on that munchkin you've got as a waitress that is."

"Hey, she may be short but she's got it where it counts," Jack said with a grin.

"So he knows of your talent," Cod continued to Ned. "Thus the nickname rule does not apply which means I can call her Dead Girl as much as I like. And I likes to a lot."

"Whatever you say, Pooh Bear," Chuck said with a giggle. Ned managed a smile at her while Cod's scowl grew larger.

The Torchwood team exchanged baffled glances at this behavior. "Jack, I know you must have some reason to fly all the way to America and bring these three here. What is it?"

"Simplest reason there is," Jack said with a grin. "We're bringing Owen back."

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The facts were these:

The man named Ned, twenty-nine years, seven months, three weeks, two days and fourteen minutes old, was a Pie-Maker who, when he was a young lad, discovered he had a gift. Where it came from and why it chose him he had never truly questioned. The Pie-Maker's gift was that whenever he touched someone who was once dead, they would come back to life. It was a gift he did not use that often, keeping to his pie shop.

Emerson Cod, who preferred his age not be mentioned, was a private investigator who had stumbled upon the Pie-Maker's gift. He quickly realized the benefits of one his profession might enjoy being able to question a dead body. Thus, their partnership was born. The Pie-Maker would bring a corpse back to life long enough to discover the identity of their murderer, then put them back to their eternal rest. Armed with the knowledge, Emerson Cod would find the perpetrator and he and the Pie-Maker would split the reward money.

An exception to that rule was the girl named Chuck. Charlotte Charles had been twenty-eight years, four months, six days, eight hours and twenty-nine minutes old when she was strangled and thrown off a cruise ship. When they were children, the Pie-Maker and Chuck had been close and she was still his first love. Thus, after bringing her back to life, the Pie-Maker was unable to bring himself to send her back.

Their reunion, though blissful, had a troublesome aspect. For you see, part of the Pie-Maker's gift was that should he touch someone he brought back a second time, they would be dead for good. Thus, no matter how much he wanted, the Pie-Maker could not give the girl named Chuck a kiss nor a hug nor even a tap on the shoulder or he would lose her forever.

The Pie-Maker attempted to put those ideas aside as he prepared once more to bestow his strange gift.

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"He doesn't look too bad," Ned said as he gazed at Owen's body.

"Really?" Martha said.

"Girl, you don't want to know what kind of corpses he's brought back to life," Cod remarked. "Burned to a crisp, frozen solid, buried in jam, all types."

"He's kind of handsome," Chuck observed. At Ned's look, she shrugged. "Well, in the British way, that is."

"Oh, let's not start that whole American bias," Ianto moaned.

"Oh, yes, because I'm always eager to aid the people who put my people into slavery," Cod growled.

Martha glared at him. "Not all of us use skin color as an excuse."

Jack chuckled. "Ah, to think in a few hundred years, you won't even care about that as long as you're still human."

"He acts like he knows that for a fact," Chuck said.

"He does that a lot," Gwen said.

"Can we just get on with this?" Cod said. "I want to get back to a nation that serves decent food soon."

Ned checked his wristwatch, noting exactly where the seconds hand was. As soon as it hit 12, he placed a finger onto Owen's chest. There was a spark as if energy flowed from Ned and to Owen, the man's entire body flashing grey for a moment. His eyes blinked open as he sat up with a start. "The bloody hell?"

"Oh my God," Tosh whispered, eyes wide. She had seen resurrections before but not like this. "Owen?"

"Hi," Ned said. "Sorry but I was talked into doing this."

"Doing what?" Owen rubbed at his chest. "Oh, bloody hell, am I dead?"

"You were," Ned said. "Well, you kinda are but…"

"Do you have any last wishes or messages you wanted to pass along?" Chuck asked in her bright but sympathetic tone.

Owen blinked at her. "Funny, thought angels dressed differently."

"Oh, sweet Lord have mercy," Cod rolled his eyes.

"Owen," Jack said as he moved up.

Owen stared at him. "Jack? Oh, damn, I've gone to the other side."

"Forty-eight seconds," Ned intoned, glancing at his watch.

"Owen, I need you to listen," Jack said. "We don't have much time." He took a deep breath. "What's the code to the computer system?"

Ned and Owen both gave him looks of disbelief. "You brought me back for that?" Owen sputtered.

"You brought him back for that?" Ned asked with a frown.

"Owen, you're the only one who knows them!" Jack said.

Rolling his eyes, Owen gave the code. "Anything else you want, Jack? My alarm code for my flat?"

"Nah, already have that."

"Thirty seconds," Ned called out.

"Owen," Gwen said, moving up to him, new tears in her eyes. "I….I'm sorry he ended the way it did and…"

"I'm sorry I kept ignoring you all this time," Tosh stated.

"Sorry I kept needling you," Ianto sighed.

"Twenty-five seconds," Ned called out.

"What is that for?" Owen asked.

"How much time you got before going back to the great beyond," Emerson stated sardonically.

Owen stared at Ned for a moment, before his arm reached out to grab a pan set up by the medical table. He swung it out, the chrome catching Ned right on the forehead, sending him down in a heap. "You can't send me back that quick!" he yelled.

"Ned!" Chuck cried out, rushing to his side, stopping herself at the last minute from holding his head in her hands.

Emerson's eyes were fixed on the watch and the seconds ticking away. "Oh, hell," he muttered, his face going pale. He began to back up, calling out. "If any of you values your life, get the hell out of here!"

"Why?" Gwen asked, confused.

"Just do it, girl!" Cod yelled, grabbing at Chuck to try and drag her off as he looked for the nearest stairway.

The reason for their conseration was this. There was a third rule to the Pie-Maker's gift. He could only bring a dead thing back to life for one minute. Death, like so much of nature, abhors a vacuum. Should that person or animal or thing remain alive for sixty-one seconds, something or someone else would have to die in order to maintain the cosmic balance. He had broken that rule unknowingly as a youth when he brought his mother back and Chuck's father had died one minute later. He had done it again when bringing Chuck back, the corrupt owner of the funeral home the unlucky fill-in.

It was beyond the control of the Pie-Maker who would die as it was random and someone within the proximity. Thus, as the seconds counted down and the Pie-Maker lay motionless, Emerson Cod was quick to get his sizeable frame out of said proximity.

"Jack, what the hell are they on about?" Gwen demanded.

"I don't know!" Jack said. "I thought he'd come in, bring Owen back and…"

At that instant, the Pie-Maker's watch hit the one minute mark and Jack Harkness immediately dropped dead without a word.

Emerson Cod stopped by the stairs as he saw the body fall. "Oh. Well, there we go then." He shrugged as he went down to head over to the others, looking down at Jack's body. "Hope somebody here's gonna pay me."

Chuck smacked his arm before looking down. "Ned? Are you all right?"

"Head. Hurts. Pain." Ned moaned as he sat up, rubbing at it. He looked at Jack's body and blanched. "Dammit. I didn't want that to happen."

"Wait…what's going on?" Gwen said, knowing she was repeating herself but too thrown by all this to care.

"Usually, Ned here sends them back before a minute goes, otherwise someone else has to die. Due to his being laid out, he was unable to do so. Thus, if you blame anybody for your boss being dead, blame the newly reborn corpse here."

Tosh looked hopefully toward Owen. "Then…he's going to stay alive?"

"Well, he gets shot again, he'll die," Ned said. "At least, I'm pretty sure he will. He'll only die for sure if I touch him again."

"And as we are getting our asses to the States, that will not be happening," Cod said. "Now, about the money…"

There was a loud gasp as Jack sat up, rubbing at his chest.

"Aw, hell no, not again!" Cod cried out, ready to run.

"Ned!" Chuck cried out.

"I didn't touch him!" Ned backed up, hands held up high. "I didn't!"

"It's okay, it's okay," Jack said. "Damn…didn't know that would work."

"What?" Owen said. "Wait…you knew that would happen?"

"Hey, think I'd turn to a guy like this without knowing everything about how his gimmick worked?" Jack got to his feet. "Someone had to die for you to come back, might as well be me."

"But…how?" Chuck asked.

"Death and me have…an arrangement," Jack said with a smirk that didn't quite meet his eyes.

"But, how'd you know it'd be you?" Ned asked. "I can't control it, it's just a random proximity thing. It could have been anyone here."

The rest of the Torchwood team bugged their eyes out at Jack. For his part, the man just smiled. "I'm lucky that way."

As they stared, Owen sniffed. "Oi! You're saying none of you would give your life for mine? Thanks a lot, mates."

"We don't mean it that way," Tosh said. "It's just…I mean…"

"How can you not die?" Chuck asked. "I mean, wow, I thought I was special but…"

"Forget the dying deal," Cod snapped. "Do I get my damn money or not?"

"Sure," Jack said with a smile. "Come to my office, we can get the cash and even share a drink." He gave the Torchwood team a meaningful look as they walked off.

Owen sighed as he adjusted the sheet around him. "Don't suppose I can get some clothes?"

"I'll find a pair," Ianto said, heading out, trying to be calm.

Tosh hugged Owen hard, followed by Gwen. "Thought you were gone for good," Tosh whispered.

"Not getting rid of me that easy, luv," he smiled back. His grin remained at Martha. "Knew you'd find an excuse to see me naked."

She punched his arm while looking at the office. "You think it's safe, letting them know about us?"

The others exchanged knowing smiles. "Oh, don't worry," Tosh said. "I don't think they'll be telling anyone about this at all…."

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"Morning, Olive," Ned said as he saw the door to the Pie Hole open. Olive Snook was entering, her not-quite-five foot frame clad in a green dress that showed off her sizeable chest. Her blond hair framed her pretty face, which was in a sour mood for her.

"Something wrong, Olive?" Ned asked.

"I would appreciate a warning, next time," she snapped.

"Sorry?" Ned asked in confusion.

"Next time you leave town," Olive intoned.

Ned blinked. "Sorry?"

"I like to think I'm a loyal and committed worker," Olive went on. "Here every day without much complaint, do my work, even put up with that girl pretending to be dead, wherever she is."

"Upstairs, headache and where is this going?"

"I would just think that when you leave town, you can give me more advance warning than a sign on the door."

"Leave town?" Ned frowned. "When did I leave town?"

"Yesterday," Olive said.

"Yesterday."

"Yes as in the day before today. The day that two days ago would have been tomorrow only it's not tomorrow as tomorrow is tomorrow, that yesterday."

"I don't remember going out of town yesterday, Olive." Ned frowned. "In fact, I don't remember much of anything yesterday. I think I must have been sick."

"And her?" Olive sniffed.

"I guess she was sick too."

"Must be catching," Emerson Cod rumbled as he entered the pie shop. "Was tired out all night, head stuffed up."

"Maybe you should try tea," Olive suggested.

"I don't want no tea, I want a damn pie and coffee. Get on it, shorty."

"As you wish, hefty," Olive said as she paced away.

"You okay, Emerson?" Ned asked.

"Actually, pretty good," Emerson said as he settled into a booth. "It appears that I cracked a case yesterday and got a sizeable payday for it."

Ned frowned. "What case?"

"That is the question," Emerson said as he opened a newspaper. "But a question that was settled when I saw the cash."

Ned frowned. "You're a detective? Aren't you supposed to be curious about things like being paid for something you don't remember?"

"Someone wants to pay me a boatload to not remember something, son, my answer is to nod and not remember." He glanced over the paper. "Never question where money comes from, pal, just accept it as is."

Ned shrugged. "What will you have?"

"What have you got?"

"A new recipe actually," Ned said as he walked toward the kitchen. "I don't know why but today…I'm in the mood for English muffins."

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Torchwood owned by BBC.

Pushing Daisies owned by ABC.

All comments welcomed.