Disclaimer: Not mine; never will be. I'm just borrowing it.

Life and Other Things That Never go as Planned.

Chapter Three — Of all the people in the world…

"What were they doing here?"
Owen jumped.
"Jesus Gwen. You trying to give me a fucking heart attack?"
"Why are you still in my house?"
"They were moving furniture. And we need to talk"
"Talk about what?"
"Is it mine?"
Gwen avoided his eyes.
"I don't want to talk about it"
"You shouldn't be out chasing after weevils"
"I'm fine"
Owen pulled out a kitchen chair.
"You almost got gutted. Should still be in bed. Sit"
"I'm not a dog that you can order around"
"14 stitches in your back," he pulled the chair out further "more than 35 in your side. Sit"
Gwen sank into the chair. Owen placed a mug in front of her. She eyed it suspiciously.
"Chocolate, it's mostly milk"
"How do I know you haven't put ret-con in it?"
"I'd need Jack to authorise it. I haven't told him-"
"I suppose you want a thank-"
"Yet"
Gwen rolled her eyes, finally sipping the drink.
"Get over yourself Owen"
He sighed.
"Have you told anyone?"
"My doctor"
"I want his name and number"
"She is none of your business"
Owen lets her win that one.
"Anyone else?"
Gwen hesitated.
"Martha Jones"

Jack had bought Martha down to the Hub; less than a month after he'd returned and never said how they had met. There was something about Martha Jones that Owen didn't like, he respected her, just didn't like her. She'd made Tosh laugh again, with jokes about family and arrogant interns. Tosh's laugh; almost a giggle, a counter point to Martha's; low and husky.
When a weevil had run through a busy street, Martha had been an extra pair of steady hands and a calm voice. Almost too steady and calm in Owen's opinion. He'd asked her about it. Martha had given a lopsided smile, shrugged and only flinched later, when a ball had flown over her head.
But what ever had happened to Jack, it had been bad. He'd lost weight, was sleeping less and if it had been anyone else Owen would have said he had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Martha had taken one look at Jack and with a cold voice and an even colder pair of eyes, she'd had pulled Ianto into Jack's office and shut the door in their faces.
Martha had Owen's respect; she still had to earn his trust.

"That's all? Your GP and Martha Jones?"
"Martha guessed. And it's not anyone else's business"
Owen took a calming breathe.
"Is it mine or Rhys'?
"Mine" Gwen slammed her hand on the table "Not yours. Not Rhys'. Mine"
"So what are you going to do? Take a few months vacation time? Disappear, then come back like nothing happened?"
"It's my life Owen"
They were yelling at each other.
"Or is it going to be a repeat of this morning? But instead of a few stitches," Owen slid the sonogram pictures across the table "I'll be doing an emergency C section!"
"Get out!"
"And what do I tell the kid Gwen? That you didn't let any-"
Owen ducked sideways as the mug flew at his head, smashing against the cupboards.
"Christ Gwen!"
"Get out now" Her voice shook with anger.
"I'm giving you a week" Owen reached for his jacket "You need to tell Jack. Or I'll tell him for you"

To be continued