Lying in a hospital bed, Owen had plenty of time for introspection. It wasn't something he was used to or comfortable with; his usual methods of dealing with what life threw at him were booze and sex, usually in conjunction with each other.
He stared out of the window. Tosh had been to see him and brought a few of his favourite magazines, and for all he tried to pretend he didn't care, it had been a sweet gesture that had cheered him up briefly, because she'd known that what he needed was a distraction. But he'd read them all cover to cover, and he was bored, and he really didn't want to think about how he'd got himself into this mess.
Why couldn't Jack have let him go? Guilt that his request for Owen to go undercover had led to him being trapped in a cage with a weevil? Wanting to be the hero? Some warped kind of God complex?
He was still staring out of the window when a bag of grapes was unceremoniously tossed onto his table. He glared up at Jack. "You shouldn't have." At the flick of one eyebrow, he went on, "No, really, you shouldn't have. I hate grapes." He knew he was being an ungrateful, ungracious bastard when Jack was trying, in the awkward way he sometimes did when he was trying to show he cared without admitting he cared, but everything was hurting inside and out.
"They reckon you're ready to go home."
"Doctors, what do they know?" Just because he was one himself - or maybe because he was - didn't mean he thought they always knew best. He thought, with an almost nauseating wave of grief, of Katie; the arguments he'd had on her behalf, insisting on further tests. For all he'd claimed there was nothing he could have done to save her, he still wondered sometimes what would have happened if the doctors had listened to Jack and not operated, but let him take over, deal with the alien parasite somehow.
As always, when he thought of Katie, the loss of her hit him like a freight train. There was a reason he'd veered towards picking up blondes for his one night stands - brief moments when he could almost kid himself, if he'd drunk enough, that it was Katie in his bed again. He wondered how many he'd called by her name.
And then there'd been Diane, so beautiful and adventurous and vibrantly alive, and even though he'd been shit-scared of loving someone again, he'd fallen hard for her. And she'd left him anyway.
Gwen… he didn't love Gwen any more than she loved him. Both just scratching an itch, nothing more. He knew she'd ended up with him because she didn't love him; it was less of an infidelity in her mind than it would have been if she'd fallen into Jack's arms for comfort, because they could all see that she loved him, even if she couldn't. Even if he couldn't, or wouldn't.
God, they were all screwed up.
"I didn't want saving," he told Jack, flinching a little inside because, even though he hadn't wanted to be saved, his friends had put their lives on the line to save him. And deep down, he didn't think he was worth it.
"You want us to apologise?"
"For a few seconds in that cage, I felt totally at peace. And then you blunder in. D'you always know best, Jack? Is that what you believe?" He hates himself for saying it, because Jack usually is right, however much he resents it. But in that moment, he honestly can't see how Jack can be right this time.
As usual, Jack doesn't answer that - he knows he doesn't really need to, because he knows Owen knows the answer to that, and is just lashing out like an angry child at the parent who's not letting him get his own way for his own good.
It's a thought that startles him. His father walked out of his life so long ago that he barely ever thinks of him, of the lack of that authority figure in his life as he grew up. Psychology was never his strong point, but is that what this is? He does see Jack as an authority figure, even if he kicks against that authority; Jack's his leader, his captain. If he was going to respect anyone, it would be Jack. He resents him, sometimes even hates him, for that most of the time, even though beneath all of that, hidden away to protect it from himself, he sort of hero-worships him a bit, too.
Because ultimately, Jack has never given up on him. Believes he's worth saving with enough fervour for both of them. Like a father not giving up on the prodigal son, it doesn't matter what he does, Jack still believes in him. And he hates that he loves him for it.
"Want you back in work tomorrow."
Part of him wants to call Jack back, part of him is relieved he's gone. Just to torture himself further, he eats a grape, and is annoyed when he discovers he doesn't actually hate them as much as he thought he did. Does Jack even have to be right about fruit? He pushes the bag away in disgust at himself, and does the sensible thing. He phones Ianto.
"Yeah, mate? They've said I can go home and I want out of here as soon as I can. Any chance you could pick me up from the hospital?" He could have asked Jack to wait - except he couldn't. But Ianto will pick him up, drop him home, and probably do the grocery shopping while he's at it. He might even come in for a beer. And he certainly won't make him have any more introspective thoughts that make him uncomfortable and confused and wondering if he'd feel better if Jack would hug him and tell him it would all be okay, even though Jack wouldn't, because he knows it won't be.
But like a prodigal son, he'll still be back at work tomorrow.