Jack and Owain spend some time together. My thanks to HuckingHarkness for the inspiration for this story.
The Name Game – Ogmore, July 4702
"But why can't I, Dad?"
"Because it's raining and you'll fall over. Go and find something else to keep you occupied." Jack looked across at his eldest son and realised suddenly how much the boy relied on soccer to keep him occupied. As he couldn't go outside to kick a ball around, he was lost for anything to do.
"Can I play with you?" Owain came closer, standing at the side of the desk and peering at the notepads and other stuff littering his dad's desk.
"No. Where's Luke?"
"Playing baby games with Konni. I'm too big for that." He puffed out his chest and looked as disdainful as a short, rotund boy could. "I could stay here with you."
"I'm busy."
"So's Tad." The boy kicked at the leg of the desk idly. "He's in the kitchen with Holly, cooking."
"Then go and join them."
"Tad told me to come and find you!" There was a wealth of hurt in Owain's voice. Neither of his parents wanted him and he was bored and fed up and feeling miserable.
Sighing, Jack put aside the report on psychic research that he was trying to read. "Surely there's something you want to do. Some programmes you want to watch on the vid-screen? Or how about a computer game?" He looked down at Owain who had crept further round the desk and was standing beside Jack's chair.
"No. Can I help you?" He looked up hopefully. "I'm sure I could."
Those large blue eyes, so like his own, worked their magic on Jack. He reached down and pulled the four year old boy onto his knee and leant back in the chair. Jack's memories of his own childhood were pretty vague – it was all so long ago – but he had one clear recollection. It had been a late summer evening and he and his dad had been patrolling the western border of the settlement, ensuring the defences were activated and working properly; animals often disturbed them during the day. Jack could only have been about five yet all these thousands of years later he could remember feeling important and useful because he was helping his dad. Maybe there was something he could do with Owain that would give him similar memories.
"What's on all those?" asked Owain, looking at the notepads strewn across the desk. He reached for one, looking round to see if it was going to be allowed, and pleased when his dad did not stop him. "It's heavy," he said, awkwardly holding it in both hands.
"All those contain are reports and analyses and forecasts and … oh, a lot of other rubbish."
Owain had the notepad on his knee and had opened the report it contained. "Oh, what's that? Looks nasty."
Looking over the boy's head, Jack tried to see what was on the screen. "Move your head, tiger, I can't see." When he got a clear view he grinned. "That is the Grupeekii ambassador. He wants us to help him in his people's war."
"Are you going to?" Owain looked up quizzically, looking older than his years.
"No, tiger. The Grupeekii and the Hestupek have been at war for over a hundred years and there's no need for us to get involved." A chime sounded from the main screen on the desk and Jack reached across to receive the incoming message. "Harkness," he said.
"Captain Harkness, glad I caught you." By one of those strange co-incidences, it was the Grupeekii ambassador, his twittery voice sounded very odd in translation. "I wanted to check –" He broke off on noticing Owain then continued, "My apologies, Captain, you are obviously off duty." The face on the screen took on a pained expression that was a Grupeekii smile.
"He looks like he's got a tummy ache," piped up Owain, staring at the screen. "Is that 'cos we're not going to help him?"
"Owain, keep quiet," said Jack out of the side of his mouth while smiling at the screen.
"Not help us!? Captain, is this true?" The twittering went up a pitch. "Our cause is a just one. The Hestupek stole the Salver of Grupeek under cover of a diplomatic mission. They betrayed our trust and -"
"Ambassador, I am sure your people believe they have a just grievance," interrupted Jack, speaking across the twittering. "But it is your grievance and not that of the people of Earth. I cannot advise the Secretary of the Earth Alliance to participate."
"But you cannot have read my submission, Captain. It is clearly sets out that our struggle to recover the Salver - ". Once more, Jack cut him off.
"I assure you, Ambassador, I have read the submission. But the answer's still 'no'. Now, if you will excuse me, I wish to spend some time with my son. Goodbye." Jack closed the link and sighed deeply.
"He's horrid," stated Owain with finality, sliding the notepad back on the desk. "I'm glad we're not helping him."
"Yes. Well, if you had been quiet he might not have been so horrid." Jack hugged the boy and tickled him until he was giggling uncontrollably. "Maybe he'll declare war on you, tiger, how would you like that?" He stopped tickling the boy and smiled down at him.
When he had recovered from the giggles, Owain twisted to sit astride his dad's knee, facing him. The exchange with the ambassador had reminded him of something. "Dad, why're you a captain? Tad's not, he's just a mister." The boy reached out and pulled on his dad's braces, a present from Ianto the previous Christmas.
"If you let those go," said Jack, eying the braces, "you'll get a smacked bottom. As to being a captain, it's because I was a pilot in the air force." None of his current children knew of his immortality yet but Jack always told them the truth as far as he could.
Owain was still playing with the braces, though he made sure not to 'ping' them onto his dad. "What's a air force?"
"Like the Airborne Defence." Jack had taken the boy to a display by the air wing of the Defence Force, now part of Torchwood, a few months before. "Some of the pilots we met then were captains."
"I remember," smiled Owain. "And space cruisers, they have captains too."
"They do. It's a rank or title given to the leader of a crew." The boy pulled another face, the one that meant he was thinking. "What have you thought of now, tiger?" He mussed his hair.
"Sometimes people call you other names."
"I'm sure they do," laughed Jack, thinking of many less than complimentary ones that had been thrown his way.
"Olly calls you Boss-man."
"That's his little joke. It's because he works for me so I'm his boss."
"And he calls you Rector." Owain was on a roll now. He had heard all these different names and titles and never understood them. His tad had only one title – mister – but his dad had lots and lots.
"Rector? Think you got that one a bit wrong."
"He did!" the boy insisted. "And Salannd does and Doctor Doug and lots of people." Owain was trying very hard to make his dad understand.
"What can you mean?" Jack mused then he realised. "You mean Director. I'm the Director of Torchwood, another name for being its leader."
"That's it!" In his enthusiasm at being right, Owain inadvertently let go of the braces and they 'pinged' into his dad's chest.
"Ow!"
"I'm sorry, Dad, I didn't mean it." The boy's face reflected his shock at what he had done.
"What am I going to do with you?" asked Jack, looking at him through narrowed eyes.
"Smack my bottom?" replied Owain in a small voice. He looked very unhappy.
"Oh, I think I might let you off," said Jack smiling. "I know it was an accident. Just don't do it again."
"Thank you, Dad." Owain knelt up and flung his arms round his dad's neck and kissed him. This was such a rare occurrence – Owain was not at all demonstrative – that Jack held him close and made the most of it.
"You want to know a secret, tiger?" he asked as the boy pulled away and sat down again.
"Yes, please, I like secrets." He grinned, eyes wide and bright.
"Of all the names people call me, the one I like best is … Can you guess?" Owain shook his head, eyes even wider. "It's dad. All the others are just names but that one is special because only you, Holly and Luke call me that."
"It's not as good as Captain," argued Owain, shaking his head. "I'd much rather be Captain Owain than dad."
"Oh, you'll change your mind. When you have a son or a daughter, you'll discover it's the best title of all because being a dad is the best job of all."
Twenty years later, when his daughter Newlyn was born, Owain remembered this conversation and agreed that being a dad surpassed all the accolades and awards he had ever received.
Please let me know what you thought of that one, I love to get feedback.
