This second part has been lurking on my hard drive for a while, so here goes. Hope you like.
Jack finds him, always. Owen's not sure how, or even why. God knows, it's not only those days Owen shoots off as soon as the work's done. But somehow Jack knows, and by now Owen just accepts that Captain Frigging Harkness has some bloody weird radar or twisted sixth sense that tells him Harper's having a meltdown.
Jack doesn't say anything when he finds Owen, sometimes doesn't even sit near him. Just waits for whatever appears to be the right time to take him home. The method of getting home varies, in proportion to how much vodka has already gone down the Harper esophagus. If he's still at the morose stage, Owen goes meekly, occasionally blabbering on about tearstains on velvet, or why pink vodka makes him cry. Sometimes he's already into being belligerent, and it takes more effort. He's pretty sure Jack knocked him out more than once, not that he can remember the details. Once or twice he's even passed out by the time Jack arrives. The next morning Owen wakes up, alone, in his own bed. With no memory of getting there, and a post-it note on the fridge telling him to check his blood alcohol level before driving to the Hub.
Then Jack started bringing the Teaboy with him. The first time it happened, Owen didn't really know how to react. On the one hand, how dare he bring his shag-of-the-week to something so bloody personal. One the other hand, Owen isn't the sort to grudge another bloke getting his rocks off. Jack shouldn't have to suffer because of taking the time to help a mate. And surely even Teaboy wouldn't put out if Jack dumped him and ran off after Owen.
There's a weird thing, though. When Jack swans in now, Owen looks over his shoulder for Teaboy. Teaboy tags along every time now, even if he and Jack are in one of the 'off' phases of their 'on and off' thing.
Jack always gets Owen home, and he's grateful for that. But Teaboy helps. Teaboy says the right things, even if Owen can't remember what they were by morning. And sometime during those dark nights, Teaboy turns into Ianto.
Owen isn't sure about Ianto. Because Ianto knows. God, Ianto knows.
Ianto knows how it feels to love someone so much you'd happily let the world – no, stuff that, the Universe; drown as long as she floats.
Ianto knows, like Owen does, that it isn't a rational way to love. That, while you know it was the most amazing thing that ever happened to you, ever will happen to you, you'd never let yourself go there again. Because, next time, maybe you will drown the world, or burn it, and go to hell laughing afterwards. Who in their right mind would risk that? No, too bloody dangerous.
But Ianto knows. Ianto knows that on some level you do, you really do, want to love that way again. That you would, if you weren't such a coward.
Owen nearly did. He's not sure whether he's proud of that, or ashamed. Diane scared the living shit out of him. It wasn't grief he was hiding from in the Weevil cage, not completely. Or at least, he was hiding as much from having to admit he'd never have gotten into the plane with her. Not that she'd asked.
Ianto knows that. He put a bullet in Owen's shoulder because Ianto knew how far Owen would go, just to prove he wasn't that much of a coward. To prove he wasn't too afraid to fall in love again.
Ianto knows why Owen's too shit-scared to get any closer to Tosh.
But Owen knows, too. Owen's knows Ianto's new big secret. Not a cyberwoman this time, of course. Nothing in the basement, except possibly a metaphorical basement, and isn't that a big word for someone who's just drunk a bottle of Smirnoff?
It's ironic, it's bloody hysterically funny. Everyone thinks Owen's having a go at Ianto when he brings up the part-time shag thing. And he is, of course, but not in the way they all think.
You see, Owen knows that it's Ianto who keeps it part-time. It's Ianto, not Jack, who keeps just enough distance so he'll never fall over the precipice again.
Sneaky little bugger probably lets Jack think it's his own idea.
And therein, Owen believes, with vodka-induced clarity, therein lays the reason Jack keeps coming back to Ianto. The reason he always will keep coming back. Jack hasn't won yet, and Jack can't walk away from a challenge. Jack's too bloody arrogant to accept being second best, too arrogant even to consciously accept that's where he is. So Jack hangs in there, congratulating himself on his loyalty, not realizing he's trying his immortal best to knock a dead woman out of first place.
Oh yeah, Owen knows. And Ianto knows. They know the pain that festers too deep to ever be released. They know how it twists you, so that Torchwood becomes salvation instead of sacrifice. They see it in each other, those vodka-colored nights. And the knowledge burns.
Ianto turns back into the Teaboy by morning. And that's the way they both like it.
