Chapter 7

Unexpectedly, after spending three weeks in bed, in his coma, Owen slept the whole night through. It was obvious his body was still trying to heal itself. He'd missed Toshiko's presence by his bedside, last night, her voice a gentle background noise that soothed him. He'd understood that while she'd been watching over his recovery, she'd been unable to do any work, so he accepted her message about being called to work as genuine.

It didn't quite ring true when, the next morning, a strange, Welsh man entered his room, unannounced.

"Morning Owen."

"Who are you?" the stranger did look slightly familiar. A light bulb turned on in Owen's brain, helping identify the smartly dressed man, "Ianto Jones! We work together. The coffee boy, right?"

Ianto rolled his eyes, "Teaboy, but close enough," Owen raised a bewildered eyebrow.

"That's the name you gave me when I first started working for Torchwood, and it seemed to stick."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

Ianto was taken aback by Owen's sincere sounding apology. He never said sorry. It was an Owen thing, but of course, Ianto reminded himself, Owen was different, at least for now.

"No worries. So how are you recovering?"

"Tosh told me I'm remembering things about my work, but not a lot else. I vaguely recognised you from a dream I had yesterday. We work with two other people right?"

"Gwen and Jack, yes?"

"So how come you're here?" asked Owen, quickly changing the subject, "You haven't visited me before today."

"I did, when you were first injured. We all did. We wanted to keep an eye on you. We were all worried. Tosh most of all."

"Where is Toshiko?"

"She...had some things she needed to do?"

"What kind of work is she working on?"

"I'm – erm not quite sure what she's working on at present," stuttered Ianto, unsure what to say.

"You're not very good at avoiding the truth are you?"

"Well-I"

"Would you tell me the truth? Put us both out of our misery."

"She has a few things she needed to deal with at home. Not work related. She asked me to keep you company."

Ianto settled himself in Tosh's chair.

"Can we talk? See if, maybe something sparks any memories?"

"Sure. What do you want to know?"

"I'm a Doctor?" Ianto nodded, "What am I like?"

"A caring person who'd always help someone in physical need."

"Tosh said something similar. What about emotional need?"

"Emotion isn't really your strong suit."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you may feel emotion, but you're very limited at expressing it. You talk a lot, but you never say much that matters."

"Is that your opinion, or a consensus?" Ianto eyed Owen critically. What was going through his mind for him to ask something like that?

"Consensus."

"Tosh feels that way too?"

"She's very good at hiding emotions, but she feels them readily enough. She'd never say what she thought, but I know her well enough. She'd either agree or say you express them in a different way."

"I tried to ask her a question yesterday and she was angry with the answer. If you're as good a friend as you say, then maybe you'll know the answer."

"I'll try, but won't promise anything."

"Have we ever been more than friends?"

"No."

"Did I ever show any signs of interest in her? Before the accident?"

"No."

Owen started to look uncomfortable with Ianto's answer, but pressed ahead with the questions, he needed answers to.

"Did she ever show any interest in me?"

"That I can't answer."

"But-"

"You need to talk to Tosh. If she won't give you an answer, come at the question from a different angle, but the answer you need won't come from me."

Owen spent the rest of the morning asking more questions about the person he had been. Ianto didn't try to sugar coat his answers, and definitely wasn't afraid of hurting Owen's feelings. By mid-morning Owen found himself dipping into a depressive slump. Hearing it from someone else's mouth he sounded like an unfeeling, loud mouthed, offensive Londoner who seemed to enjoy making an obvious point about his own and other people's misery. A womaniser, trawling bars for easy lays, it appeared he was really only out to get himself a good time. And he still had no memory of doing anything like that.