Author notes: this is my first fan fiction in a while. I still hope to finish 'Torchwood: The First Step', but it is going slowly at the moment. This is a one off Torchwood fic from the POV of Owen. SPOILER ALERT. If you have not seen Torchwood series two, there will be definite spoilers; and, if you are not acquainted with Torchwood fairly well, then you will not understand half of this story, so do your homework. Any questions, let me know. Again, feedback, give it to me ;) There may be controversial views in this story, and this isn't necessarily how I view life and death, but it's just an idea that came to me that I wanted to write out- any constructive reviews welcome.
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction based around the character Dr Owen Harper. I do not own him. Dammit. Nor do I own any of the characters included or alluded to in this story. Happy reading! )
The End Of The Line: Owen At The Pub
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Bright lights engulfed Owen. For a second- no, less than that- he was completely dazzled. He just had time to wonder whether this was heaven when everything went black- blacker than black. So black that it dazzled him as much as the light had.
He knew what was coming next; he'd been through it all once before- the first time he died. If he still had a body left to use, right now he would be scowling. He still couldn't forgive them for bringing him back- not really.
As his memories started rewinding, showing him flashes here and there from each stage of his life, Owen suddenly fought back an overwhelming pity for Jack. Did he go through this, every time? Did Jack have to re-live his life in reverse, every time he 'died', only to be yanked back again at the last minute?
If so… what an unlucky sod. Once was bad enough.
Aliens, aliens, aliens, Tosh, aliens, Tosh, aliens, Jack, aliens, Gwen, Gwen, aliens, aliens, Katie, Katie, Katie, Katie, Katie, KATIE. There wasn't much to his memories before Katie; he knew that, because he'd done this trip before.
At least, there were memories. But none of them were as significant, as important to him, as Katie had been. With Torchwood, he'd been able to get over her, mostly. But he knew now, as he knew the last time, that Katie meant absolutely everything to him.
It was weirdly meditative, being in this state… one cannot imagine, in life, what it is like to have a mind, and thoughts, but no body. This was strange for Owen, since he was more of a… physical person. Being stuck in a sort of limbo like this, Owen appreciated the art of thinking, for once. Owen smiled to himself mentally (it took a lot of getting used to not to be able to do it literally). It just amused him that he had only discovered how useful thinking was in death. He felt sorry for all those who had made his acquaintance in life!
For the first time, Owen's mind looked ahead to the future… ha! The future?! What future! He was dead! But, he realised, as he went past the memory of dissecting worms in the garden at age five, that he was coming to the end of the rewind. What happened next, he didn't know, as this was the point at which he'd been unceremoniously dumped back in his own medical studio at The Hub. Surely he wouldn't continue in this weird half existence forever? That would be terrible! And then, there were those dark patches he had experienced during his second 'life'… being sucked into the darkness, never being left alone, untouched… he couldn't cope with that, either. I thought death would be the end of it. I thought death was supposed to be peaceful. Leave me alone, dammit! Let me go!
And Owen had to wait no longer, because the Rewind was over, he'd reached the end of the line, and he was falling again, falling…
He landed with a jolt, and immediately recognised that he must have some kind of body. Groaning, he opened his eyes, and felt sickened to once again see the familiar surroundings of the Hub. And once again, he was in for a medical examination- but this time there was no one around.
"What the HELL have you brought me back for this time!?" Owen screamed, jumping off the bed (surprising himself with the strength in which he did it). As soon as his feet hit the ground, the Hub seemed to melt before his eyes, and suddenly he was in his apartment, lying on the sofa. "All right, this isn't funny, what's going on!?"
Once again his surroundings appeared to be melting around him, and they flicked from place to place, all the places that he spent his time. Finally, he stopped in an empty bar; Owen smiled grimly that this- THIS, out of all places- was the one he had stopped at. What did this say about him? More importantly, was he alive, or dead?
The door to the bar opened and Owen grabbed the chair next to him in self defence. He counted the people as they traipsed in and lined up on the other side of the room, facing him- there were nine of them. Owen stayed sitting, and studied them.
They were all men. The first man was old, with long grey hair pulled back behind his head. He had big ears, and high eyebrows. He was wearing a black coat.
The second man was younger and had a bowl haircut- black, but verging on dark grey. He was wearing a light blue shirt and dark grey suit.
The third man was quite extravagant- white curly hair adorned his head, with an older face and larger nose. He wore a brilliant brown velvet jacket and a massive brown bowtie. Owen smiled to himself- all these guys seemed rather old fashioned!
The fourth man also had a mop of curly hair, but his was brown. He gaped back at Owen and gave him an encouraging smile, before the fifth man nudged him and whispered, "We're here to do our duty!"
This man had blondish hair in a strange side parting and in Owen's opinion was dressed rather strangely. A V-neck jumper with a red stripe along the V, and a beige suit, also with red stripe, along with an odd posy of some green flowers or leaves. He gave Owen a hard look.
The clothing of the next three men were just as extravagant: orange suit, blue tie, curly hair; red tie, woolly jumper, bowler hat; black DJ, and silky brown scarf.
The ninth man stepped forward and extended his hand. He had short brown hair, large ears and nose, and a mole on his right cheek. His teeth glinted when he smiled, and he seemed to think himself the epitome of cool in his leather jacket.
Owen stood up at last and eyed them all wearily. "Who are you people?"
They stepped forward, and in unison replied: "I am the Doctor."
Each one shined bright in his own light, and then all the lights merged together; when Owen opened his eyes again (he hadn't even realised they had been shut, the light was so bright), there was just one man standing there, and he looked like none of the others. Mop of brown hair, brown pinstripe suit, large brown trench coat, and trainers.
This newcomer looked at him wearily, and clapped a hand to his shoulder. "All right. We don't normally do this, and I don't have much time. What do you want to do?"
"What?" Owen was completely bewildered. What was going on?!
"Is there anyone you want to see, anywhere you want to go?"
"Where's Jack?"
The man gestured at the door from which the nine others had appeared (and, presumably, disappeared). "Have a look. It might shock you."
Owen strode over to the door and yanked it open. It opened onto a fairly large room, with lots of people sitting around talking. He would never find Jack through all these people! "JACK?" he shouted, and took a step back when everyone in the room turned to face him. Each man- for, again, they were all men- each man… was Jack. Owen couldn't fathom it. They were all dressed slightly differently, and here and there he looked older, or had a beard. But they were all, undisputedly, Jack.
Owen stumbled backwards into the room from which he had come from.
He turned around to face the stranger, who was still there, and had what seemed to be a pitying look on his face. "Look, what's going on? Why are there so many Jacks, are you having a laugh? And where even am I- am I dead? What's going on?"
The other man scuffed his feet against the wooden floor and looked at Owen, hard. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"That I can't do anything to help you."
"Where am I?"
"You're still in limbo. Jack wanted to give you a last chance to see people before you move on."
"Am I dead?"
"Yes."
"Am I free to go where I like?"
"No."
"Then what the bloody hell am I supposed to do here?!"
"Tell me where you want to go, and I'll tell you if it's possible. Quickly now, time's almost up."
"I don't want to do anything. I just want to die!"
"You're already dead."
"So how am I here?!"
"I can leave now, if you want me too. I'll leave you to move on."
Owen felt angry. "Just tell me what's going on!"
The other man looked sad, as he walked away to another door. "You're dead, Owen. I'm sorry. I have to go now. Just know that all you did during your life was amazing- you were a great doctor, and a great person. All the work you did for Torchwood- you were amazing, Owen. Remember that. And remember you were loved, by everyone. No matter how it appeared to you. You'll be sorely missed, and always remembered. Katie would be proud."
"HOW DO YOU KNOW HER NAME? Where is she, can I see her??" Owen roared…
"I'm sorry, Owen. You did, so good." The man raised his hand in goodbye, and disappeared through the door.
Owen ran after him and ripped the door open; there was nothing, literally, nothing. Owen fell, and finally, for the first time, he felt peace slipping over him.
Dr Owen Harper, reporting for service.