Does he lay awake listening to your breath?
Worried you smoke too many cigarettes.
Is he coughing now on a bathroom floor?
For every speck of tile there's a thousand more
you won't ever see but most hold inside yourself eternal
-The Calendar Hung Itself, by Bright Eyes
Owen leaned against the wall, eyes staring up at the ceiling. A tiny, sticky alien had jumped up there, making weird chirping noises. Ianto had practically categorized it as useless, barely sentient, but cute. Owen had finished tests on the thing, and had been waiting for Ianto to come up with a name for it and stick it in a cell. But somehow Gwen had accidentally let the thing go, and now here Owen was, waiting for the thing to fall down or for something more important to crash into his life. Owen tapped a hand against the wall, watching as the cabbage-sized alien crawled along the ceiling, eerily reminding him of Spiderman.
The day had been drawn out, Rift silent, mainly filled by old autopsies, paperwork, filing, and Owen's snarky attitude. The highlight of the day so far had been Chinese takeout and the sticky alien. It's eyes were bright, big as a strange new animal. It looked like a slimy, rabid, miniature duck, minus the wings. Owen had burst out laughing when he'd seen Gwen and Ianto come in the cog door carrying it in an old dog cage. Apparently the local pound had contacted the police about what they assumed was an abused animal.
"Sticky bomb." Ianto mused to himself. Owen jerked, startled by the uncanny stealth with which Ianto had snuck up on him. "What? You named it?" "The anti-tank grenade from when Churchill was Prime Minister." Ianto had joined Owen, watching the strange alien creep along the ceiling. Owen gave him a puzzled look. "In what universe does that make sense?" He cocked his head, eyes mocking the teaboy. "Never can be sure it's harmless. I'll get a ladder then?"
Owen stepped into the washroom, hand slipping across the wall, shoes sliding on the tiled floor. He felt the world spin, flashes of light whirling through his head. He fell to the floor, head narrowly missing the sink. His hand curled into a fist, mind blurred by pain. Something was so wrong about the way the light flooded into his eyes. He pushed at the floor, slamming his weight against it, trying to propel himself away from the blood splattered on the floor. Dripping from his mouth. Owen reached a hand up, pulling it away from his mouth bloodied. Perfect. Owen twisted, trying to pull himself to his feet, failing desperately, reaching for something, anything to support him. His hand slipped in the blood, fingers stained with it, nails catching the tiled floor, elbow shooting out from underneath him as he landed flat on his back, head snapping back. Owen stared, wide eyed at the ceiling, panic rattling through his chest.
Ianto shuffled into the washroom, irritated. "Owen, you've been bloody hiding in here forever, the Sticky Bomb situation's not resolving- Owen?" Ianto froze, seeing Owen's body on the floor, still, pool of blood beside him. His eyes were half closed, glazed. Ianto fell to his knees, shock hitting him in waves. He reached a hand out, taking Owen's wrist, searching for a pulse. Owen's eyes opened slowly, unfocused. "Hey." His voice was broken, blood on his lips. "Owen, what happened?" Ianto moved closer, avoiding the blood, worried, scared. "…nothing." Owen said softly, eyes closing. "Owen?" Ianto looked closer, realizing there was something lying on the ground, at Owen's other side. "Owen, stay with me." Ianto ordered, knocking Owen in the ribs as he reached for the object.
yup, cliffie for ya. review if you want more. lol hey there torchwoodcardiff.