Author's Note: I don't own Torchwood. If I did, Tosh, Owen and Ianto wouldn't have died.

xxxx

"The U.K. doesn't have slavery. Your bank account was reopened and you received three months back wages for an entry-level position." Jack put the chequebook on top of Owen's trunk. "Since no one has a record of the hours you worked, I paid for full-time wages."

"Since I don't sleep and telly gets boring, I worked close to 70 to 80 hours a week," said Owen.

"Which you were happily doing for free," said Jack.

"I'm not sure what I am going to do with the money," said Owen.

"You'll buy new clothes and get more make-up," said Jack. "And buy a cologne. When you worked for Torchwood, no one outside work knew you were dead. You're the doctor. You can figure out what cosmetics you need to look more life-like."

"I can also show Diane around. I need to find her a married man with money to blow."

"Show her around," said Jack. "Take her to films and show her which DVD's she needs to learn pop culture."

"Monty Python is a must," said Owen. "Bridget Jones, the books. The film starred an American."

Jack gave him a look.

"You taught yourself an American accent to pull off a con and kept it," said Owen. "We need to sit down with all the Disney films, except Mary Poppins. Dick Van Dyke murders the English language in that film."

"I'll sit her down for that one." Jack started humming a Spoonful of Sugar.

"The Beatles," said Owen. "Elvis Presley. Michael Jackson. Google and computers in general. Do I look that bad?"

"You shine a bit in bright light. Indoor lighting like now, you're fine, but you can do better. You've always cared about your appearance."

"Jack, I can count on your honesty." Owen looked at his hands. "I'll have to ask Gwen to give Diane Emma's number. Diane has been a bit down since Miss Earheart was relocated to the United States."

xxxx

Owen walked inside a mortuary and smiled at the clerk. "Do you know any cosmeticians? Or do any come highly recommended for beautifying corpses?"

"Are you some kind of pervert?"

"No, I'm not a pervert," said Owen. "The make-up advice is for me. I can handle a bit of foundation and rouge, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to have an expert make me up the first time."

"You're not dead," said the clerk. "I can see you breathing."

"My muscles work, so my diaphragm hasn't got the message." Owen smiled to ease the tension. "My heart doesn't beat though; then a bullet stopped it awhile ago. I can show you the wound. I decided to call because you would have hung up on me if I phoned."

The clerk said, "I'm about ready to phone the police."

"Ask for PC Andy Davidson," said Owen. "He knows me."

"Are you mental?"

"Yes." Owen lived in a mental hospital. Getting into a cage with a Weevil wasn't the behavior of a sane man. He's been disturbed since experiencing Lizzie's rape and he was, probably, not all that sane before that, thinking about when he told Gwen he tortures people in happy relationships. "But I'm also dead and in need of a makeover."

"If I give you some names, will you leave me alone?"

"That's all I ask. My boss -" Owen was about to say former boss, but he was back on payroll with a large lump sum payment for three months back-pay. "- commented that I always cared about my appearance before."

xxxx

After Owen called around, he went to the house of a Barbara the person the clerk recommended recommended. After the hellos, she asked Owen to turn around.

"I like the black jacket. Nice jeans," she said. "Your colouring says corpse. Most people don't see it because of our death avoidance culture, but I work with corpses on a regular basis. Also people tend to see what they believe they're seeing."

Owen didn't think he looked that bad. "The clerk at the funeral home thought I was a pervert."

"She must be new," said the woman.

"My hair doesn't grow, so no touching it," said Owen. "Not even a trim."

"No touching the hair," said Barbara. "Got it."

"I don't change," explained Owen. "I want you to teach me how to do my face in a manly way. I'm no drag queen."

Barbara offered him a seat in the kitchen. "Owen, I know this is uncomfortable for you."

Owen took the offered seat. "You have no idea."

"May I?" she touched his face. "You're wearing a vanish meant for treating lumber. We'll need to remove that first to have clean surface to work on."

After carefully removing the vanish, she made up his face using natural tones, so he would look make-up free. Then she used make-up remover to give him a blank slate. "Your turn. You can stay here or you can use a bathroom mirror like you would at home."

Owen did his face. "I need to do my hands and part of my arms or my face will look made-up."

After rolling up his sleeves, she did his hands, which included repairing his damaged hand. It didn't improve the function, but the hand looked good. Then she matched the colour halfway up his arms, on his neck and his chest to below the collar line. "Close your eyes. I'm going to spray you. With the sealant, dependant on the type of work you do, you should be good for a week or more."

"Can you make me up as a girl? I told you I'm no drag queen, but my boss is flaming and it would so freak him out. Do you have a wig?"

xxxx

Author's Note: Don't you love it when you say someone is mental and they agree with you? In my opinion, Owen was more than a little disturbed by the rape, but he didn't truly lose it until Diane left. Then he died and was bought back. And still he has a sense of humor and wants to do a practical joke on Jack, which I think is totally in character. YMMV.