Saturday, Day 194, 02.59GMT
Latitude: 51° 27' 9" N
Longitude: 3° 9' 9" W

"A word, Owen."

It wasn't a question. There was no inflection at the end of his sentence and even Owen wasn't pig-headed enough to ignore the grim tone of Jack's voice.

Looking up from the remains he'd unloaded earlier from the SUV, he saw Jack leaning over the railings of the Autopsy Bay. That in itself wasn't unusual, the team often hung about if he was performing a particularly interesting or gruesome autopsy, but the look on Jack's face was new.

He looked almost...penitent.

Despite that, Owen couldn't find it in himself to extend an olive branch and his voice was brusque when he spoke. "What?"

Jack sighed. There was no way this was going to be pleasant. Or easy. Owen and he were too alike, too stubborn and passionate to let arguments lie.

"UNIT are here." It was as neutral a beginning as Jack could come up with.

"So? Do they want their monthly physical?"

"No," Jack pushed the word past his teeth.

Owen glared belligerently at him.

"Look, about earlier," Jack ran his hand through his hair, tugging viciously at the strands, "I was out of line."

"Too bloody right you were."

"But you were insubordinate."

"Excuse me?"

Jack shook his head feeling Owen's glare blister into his skin. "You were questioning my command and implying that my professionalism was compromised by my personal feelings. And, just for the record, nothing clouds my judgement."

"Sure it doesn't."

Snapping on his latex gloves, Owen shuffled to the corpse on his table. Jack followed out of habit, poking at one gelatinous limb with his finger.

"Don't."

"I killed it," Jack responded petulantly.

"Yeah, it smothered you to death and choked. And the award for Most Heroic Act goes to..." he mocked, his expression vicious and twisted. Owen wasn't classically attractive and most definitely couldn't hold a candle to Jack, but in that moment he was truly ugly, his inner hate and loathing spiralling and painting themselves on his face.

"Listen," Jack hissed, reaching over the table and grabbing Owen's hand before the scalpel could cut into the alien. "You might not like me very much at the moment but you will do as I say. It's bad enough that London are crawling around my base without you making things worse."

"Yeah, well blame the Tea-boy. He started this mess."

Jack growled and pulled Owen closer, "He tried to save his girlfriend!"

"She was a Cyberman!"

"Not according to Ianto."

Breaking free of Jack's grasp Owen shoved off the autopsy table, bearing his teeth, his eyes wild and black. "Yeah, and he's leading you round by your dick! Of course he told you she wasn't converted but I did the autopsy and as your Chief Medic I'm telling you that she was. She was a fully functional Cyberman with the capability to take down this base!"

"That may be-"

"I'm not done Harkness," Owen snarled. "I accepted that you didn't kill him. I could even see the wisdom in you keeping him on here. What I can't accept is that he's allowed to shoot me and get away with it! That he's allowed to do God knows what to One and we all have to pretend he's a saint who couldn't have possibly done anything to merit this!"

"That's not-"

"Yes it is!"

Oddly enough, the angrier Owen got the lower his voice dropped. Owen wasn't one of those people who shouted when he was angry. He shouted when he was pissed off, but when he was angry he was quite and spiteful like a spitting cobra. He snaked out, striking for the vein, filled with toxic venom and curled malice.

"That's not..." The worst thing about the situation, now knowing most of the facts, was Jack could see his point. Ianto hadn't given Owen any reason to trust him. He'd bonded with Tosh and Jack, was friendly to Gwen but Owen and he maintained an uneasy alliance.

But Owen didn't know all the facts.

"Owen, listen: Ianto helped the Doctor."

"Your Doctor?"

"Yes."

The medic laughed. "Can this get any bloody better? All we need now is Hart and all your fuck buddies will be in on this mess."

"It's not like that!" Jack protested.

"Yeah, tell that to someone who gives a damn!"

"I thought I was!" Jack's voice was soft and for a split second Owen got to see past the Captain's tarnished armour. He saw the man Ianto saw. "Ianto needs our help." Or at least Jack hoped he was. He wasn't willing to believe that Ianto had gone after the Doctor to hurt him. "He was doing the right thing and you're right: he has made some bad decisions but Owen, he's twenty-four. He's twenty-fucking-four! And he cleans up and looks after us like he's the adult round here!"

Jack paused, panting like a champion race-horse and desperately holding on to his passionate flow. He had to get this right.

Jack wasn't a conman for nothing.

"If Torchwood One catches him before we do they won't just kill him. They won't put a bullet between his eyes and stuff him in a morgue drawer. Oh no, they'll break him first." He fixed Owen with a steely look. "They'll fill him to the gills with alien drugs that'll box his liver and fry his brain but will make him spill his guts. He'll tell them everything he knows and once he does that - how long do you think it'll be before they're breaking the door down and we're next?"

Owen shook his head, denial holding him firmly in its grip. "I don't-"

"Sure you do Owen." Jack whispered, his voice low and seductive: charming as a devil and twice as vindictive. "Sure you do. When Ianto tells them about the Weevils and Diane and how you opened the Rift - despite Ianto's objections. How you shot your superior officer - a capital offence - and opened the Rift again letting out Abaddon." Jack smiled. "And when he's told them all that...what do you think is going to happen to you?"

As he spoke Jack watched with a perverse satisfaction as Owen's skin paled and his pupils blew. He thrilled in the way the doctor staggered back and braced himself on the tiled wall. But he didn't like the calculating look that came over the young man's features.

"If I help you get Jonesy back - make sure we get him back safe and sound with not one hair out of place on his pretty little head - does that mean I can give him a good bollocking?"

Jack laughed, relief swamping his gut like a biscuit being dunked in tea. "Yes! You can say what the hell you want!"

Owen smiled, and Jack felt slightly uneasy. "Let's get our Tea-boy back!"