a/n: Warning, if you are a major Jack fan then you may not like what you read in this chapter and the ones after. I thought about just making Jack have a temper, but decided to make this a real Owen and Ianto fic, so Jack is going to be a real asshole—pardon the language; so keep that in mind and please don't hate me for it.

note: This chapter and the rest kinda focus on the fact that Owen is dead, since Blame was based on the episode where Owen was shot and died, but then Jack brought him back with the other Resurrection Gauntlet—so you'll hear allot of that.

Restoration
Part 2

Owen had wandered out of the Hub—irresponsible, he knew. Rift activity could be happening right now and there was no one there to report it, though he was sure that Tosh had a portable connection to the Hub's computers. Owen found himself sitting in a corner booth of the bar on the corner of Fourth and Main street. An empty cup in his hand and a half bottle of whiskey on the table, he wanted the hard stuff. For the life of him, he didn't get why he hadn't done this sooner. But after half an hour he realized exactly why he hadn't done exactly this; he was dead. Owen couldn't believe that for the past week he had actually forgotten that fact. He didn't sleep, couldn't eat, he didn't go to the bathroom, his heart didn't beat and his blood didn't flow, and sometimes he would panic over the fact that he didn't need or have to breath in the state that he was in.

The reason why he didn't drink, or eat, wasn't because he didn't have any taste buds that worked, but because if he ate or drank it would just sit in his stomach bubbling and grumbling and gurgling. The gas would sit there and if he didn't get whatever was in his stomach out, one way or another, his stomach would over time expand and he would probably explode. That wasn't a simple thing to forget, but after what happened at the Hub, Owen felt as if him in his own dead body was nothing.

What had happened to him was so Torchwood that it had actually sunk in the way that all the things that happened at Torchwood did, without your real notice. But what had happened to Ianto, Jack hitting him; that was so mundane and possible in the normal world that it was a shock. And though Owen may sill have his thought process, and may not be able to feel anything physically, he sure as hell seemed to feel thing rather emotionally now—the reason was because he couldn't feel anything else. And Owen wasn't implying that he felt the way that he did because of the Slip, because if this had happened when he was still alive he would still feel the way that he did—guilty, confused, angry and even scared—and maybe if he was still alive he might have actually stepped up, instead of being the nervous little dog that he was, and actually becoming more than a little fearful of Jack.

Since the Slip, Owen hadn't actually been alone with Jack, and for that the doctor was very thankful. He had no idea what Jack would say to him or how he would act, hell, Owen didn't even know what he would say or do either for that matter. But right now it wasn't about Owen and it wasn't really about Jack, this was about Ianto. Jack was implied—and Owen would make sure that he paid his does—but what mattered at the moment was Ianto, whatever was happening and whatever he was feeling, that was what this was all about, whether the Welshman liked it or not.

Finally deciding that after drinking a quarter more of the bottle, that alcohol was never going to do anything—he was never going to get the buzz, the one that made him happy as well as dull things—the latter was what Owen used it most for. Pills were out of the picture too, as well as injections. It wasn't the physical pain that he needed to numb, hell, he had broken three of his fingers earlier that week and Gwen had to point it out before he even noticed—they were never going to heal, so long as he was alive or dead or whatever he was considered—because it was the emotional part of him that he wanted dull and to numb, to feel absolutely nothing for a while, to have cotton in his brain, for a cloud to be in there.

But he was sure that that was never going too happened.

Owen stood from the booth, tossing a few bills on the table top before leaving via the back. He took off his jacket and folded it before he put it down on the cement by the wall—it wasn't as if he could get cold in the first place. He did a headstand, just like the one he did in the cell with Jack before and waited. He could feel the liquid in his stomach bubble and gurgle as it slowly worked its way back up his gullet. He counted to a slow five before he opened his mouth as wide a he possibly could. A spray of clear liquid arced from his mouth, traveling at least three feet before it splattered onto the concrete. He fell back onto his feet and stood, forcing a breath into his lungs so he could cough the remnants of the whiskey away and blow the liquid form his nose. He had no idea what his breath smelled, having no the sense of smell either anymore, so he popped a piece of gum into his mouth. He always carried a pack in his pocket because of that, as well showering every morning and lathering himself with deodorant and sprays.

With is hands buried deep into the tight confines of his jean pockets, Owen took from the alley and started to walk, his way illuminated by far and between street lamps.

With nothing to dull his mind and hinder his thinking process, his mind was a flurry. He had to find a way to fix this, to fix what was his fault. To apologize to Ianto for causing this and all of the things that he had done to Ianto in general. Hopefully get to the bottom of why the hell Jack had done what he had done and mend the relationship between the three of them if possible.

Owen stopped and pulled his hands from his pockets and pinched the bridge of his nose—for someone who couldn't feel, he sure had a headache. He looked up from the ground and realized that he was standing in front of someone's flat and his other hand just came from the door bell. Owen looked around himself in a panic; he had no clue as to where he was. He turned to leave, maybe run before it was too late, but as it turned out it was too late, him spending too much time in his little panic.

The door behind him opened and light streamed out, "Oh. What do you want now, Owen?" his voice sounded tired and subdued, no real emotion in there.

Owen was frozen for a second before he slowly turned back around to Ianto, his eyes slightly widened. Owen had no idea or recollection of how he had come here; he didn't even know that he knew where Ianto even lived. Owen's mouth was slightly open, trying to get his vocal cords to work; it was just like at the Hub—like everything just fell out of his ears. Ianto looked at him, his posture stiff as he raised a perfect brow at Owen, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. Owen looked at him, now just noticing the fact that Ianto wasn't in his usual suit but instead a pair of green pajamas bottoms and a blue long sleeve, his feet bare and his hair slightly mussed.

"Uh," Owen finally croaked out, "Can we talk?"

Ianto's eye brows rose in surprise, why? The doctor wasn't sure—maybe because he had finally spoken and like two minutes. But then they came down, level over his eyes and Ianto's jaw clenched, his muscles bunching. He was silent for a longer period than Owen had been until finally,

"Come in; it's late and getting cold outside."

Owen looked confused for a second. "I'm dead, I don't get cold."

Ianto sent him an exasperated look. "Do you want to talk or not?" the Welshman demanded.

Owen just barely stopped himself from slapping his forehead; maybe being dead really was effecting his brain and thought patterns. He gave nod, slipping past Ianto in the doorway and into his flat. Ianto closed his door and padded after him. There was a short hall that from the door and after a few steps to the left was the kitchen further down the space opened into the living room, from there, there was another hall which Owen assumed had the bedroom and bathroom. He stopped midway between the kitchen and the living room, pressing again the wall and letting Ianto choose where they went.

Ianto looked at him from the corner of his eye as he passed Owen and into the living room. He took a seat on the red love seat that was next the matching chair and looked expectantly at Owen. Owen stood that the entrance of the living, not sure whether it was better to stand or to sit. He hands went up, intending to put them in his Jacket pockets—figuring he could clench them into fists out of Ianto's sight—but came up empty.

Ianto looked at him. "Where's you Jacket?"

Owen looked down at himself a realized that he was just wearing his over shirt. "I must have forgotten it at the bar." he said—the alley behind the bar, he corrected himself silently.

"I thought you couldn't drink." Ianto said in confusion.

"I can't," Owen opted for sliding his hands into his jean pockets. "I was halfway through a bottle of whiskey before I even realized where I was."

Ianto didn't comment and instead cut to the chase. "What I had said earlier in the Hub was the truth, Owen. Mine and Jack's relationship is none of your concern." he stood from the couch when Owen spoke,

"That's where you're wrong." the doctor said firmly. "It is my concern because it's my fault."

"You didn't so anything wrong." Ianto said, his shoulders slightly tense.

"If I had left you alone, if I had never opened my mouth . . ." Owen shook his head.

"You didn't do anything." Ianto insisted, "I was the one who said something that I shouldn't have and I paid the consequences."

Owen looked at him aghast. "How could you even say that, Jack beats you and you let him!"

Ianto's whole body stiffened and he stared straight at Owen. "You read my Journal," he realized and if Owen could pale he would have. "That's my personal property!" Ianto exclaimed, his tough exterior cracking.

A nervousness corked the corner of Owen's lips. "I had to," Owen started.

Ianto glared at him. "You had no right."

"Well, maybe if you would stop avoiding me and talk, it never would have happened." Owen told him, "We may not be the best of friends, but this is serious."

"You're right," Ianto agreed and Owen was surprised. "We aren't friends." okay, so that wasn't surprising.

"Look, I know that I've always been an asshole—especially since I died. The truth is that Jack scares me, Gwen would kick my ass and Tosh would get depressed, so that leaves you." Owen paused and Ianto stayed silent. "Don't ask how I know, but I know that you can take it. But a week ago . . ."

"What you had said hit deeper than you realize." Ianto told him, a slightly pained expression passed over his face before he got it under control. "I knew that you were just upset about the fact that Jack took you from the field and that I was 'taking your place'. I thought that I was just keeping your spot warm while we figured out how to fix this. But what you said, about me and Jack and that I now had everything and you had nothing . . . You guys only think of me as the Tea Boy, that all I do is clean up after you—but I can do so much more than that, be more than that." Ianto couldn't believe that he was actually saying this—and to Owen no less.

"I was jealous," Owen admitted when Ianto didn't say anything more, lost in the emotion. But he looked up when Owen said this, though his gaze was full of suspicion. Owen looked away from the piercing gaze as he spoke, his voice lower than usual. "Your relationship with Jack—I'm not jealous of the sexual part, but he pays attention to you and cares for, keeps you in the Hub to keep you safe instead of sending you to your potential death. I mean look at me! That night, the gun could have been pointed at you, luckily it was pointed at Martha and I shoved her away in time. I'm dead Ianto, but I'm alive at the same time; I should be dead, wished that I was dead because at least I'd actually be something real. Jack loves you, in his own way—maybe; but that doesn't give him the right to hit you, you should never lay a hand on the people that you love, Ianto."

Ianto had been a little shocked when Owen had commented on the fact that he would rather be dead than whatever he was now, but when he talked about him and Jack, he felt an ember of anger inside him. Jack did love him and Ianto loved him back, and you do things for the people that you love that you wouldn't do for others. And Jack did love him; he just had a slight temper sometimes. The rest of the team didn't really know Jack, and Ianto wasn't saying that he did know Jack better, but was just saying that he just understood Jack a little. Ianto wasn't saying what Jack did was right and that he stood for people who abused others, but it was different when you were on the other side.

"I've told you this before and I'll tell you again," Ianto said, his voice hard and clear as he spoke. "Mine and Jack's relationship does not concern you, it is none of your business, Owen. Why can't you get that through your thick scull?"

"It's not going through my thick scull, because what Jack is doing is wrong!" Owen told him, his voice going a little high in volume with anger and fear.

Ianto looked at him, his jaw clenched. "What Jack does is none of your business!" he snapped.

"Au Contraire! Jack is my boss, the leader of Torchwood 3 and how do you expect me to work with him if his judgment is impaired?" Owen said.

"Jack's judgment is in no way impaired." Ianto protested.

"I think that beating you would count as a major judgment call!" Owen shouted back.

"You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"No?" he barked, "Then tell me!"

"Jack loves me and I love him, but I guess you wouldn't know anything about that."

Owen's heart may not be beating, but he still felt the hurt pang that resided there at the comment. There had been something that only Jack had known and the rest of the Hub didn't, but he blurted it out any way in the heat of the moment. "I had a fiancée once, a woman that I loved, that I was going to marry and have children with, she was going to be a stay at home mom and I was going to be a real doctor. An alien parasite was taking her over, slowly but surely and each and everyday she would either loose her memory or gain it back. I had no idea about Torchwood back then, just thought that it was a brain tumor. She was in surgery, the parasite was going to be taken out from her brain and everything was going to be okay; she was going to live and we were going to have a family together. But before that could happen Jack barged in and stopped the surgery, letting the parasite take her over and kill her. That was the first time that I had ever loved anyone, and Jack killed her, taking away that love! Ianto, I know that you think that you love him, maybe you actually do and maybe he loves you back, but that love doesn't give him the right to do that to you—no one in this world has the right to that to you or anyone else." if Owen could cry, tears would be running down his cheeks at this moment. "He's bad, Ianto, you have to see it." something flickered through his eye, something so sad and hurt, something old, but so close to the surface.

Ianto was shocked; he had never known that before, not about Owen and especially not about Jack. Ianto would never have thought that he and Owen had something as big as that in common, how could he? He and Owen were never friends and they never talked about anything personal to each other or with anybody for that matter. Ianto didn't know what to do or say as Owen spun around and ran from his apartment, the door slamming shut behind him.

Ianto looked down from the spot where Owen had stood moments before in concern for Owen's safety, to his find his hand had been out stretched, reaching. He let in fall down limply to his side; Owen had looked really upset, more upset than Ianto had ever seen him. He had no idea what the doctor would do in the mood that he was in, it wasn't like Owen could drink away his sorrow, or burry his feelings in sex. Ianto knew that Owen would still have mind enough to not do anything physical—but after all the things that Owen had said, he was concerned about two things: That he may actually try to kill himself.. And the fact that Owen kept mentioning Jack.

Quickly, Ianto slipped on his shoes and put a Jacket on over his long sleeve shirt. He quickly shut and locked the door behind him before he started to walk at a quick pace.