Fic: The Perfect Drug 1/1 [G] Torchwood
Title: The Perfect Drug
Author: A Lanart
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Torchwood Team, ofc
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: ummm none really. A bit of mary-sue
Summary: There's someone in The Hub who isn't a member of the team
Disclaimer: Anything you might recognise is not mine.
A/N: This piece of mary-sueish crack has never seen the un-flocked light of LJ before, but despite her dubious origins I have plans for this ofc so I'm daring to post it in public.
~*~
Jack was not best pleased when he noticed the black-clad resident of Owen's medical bay.
"Just what is *she* doing here? And what are *you* doing?" Owen briefly glanced up before continuing to stitch up the wound on the woman's arm.
"I am suturing a laceration. What does it look like?"
"Don't we have hospitals for that?"
"Yes, but when she got the bloody wound helping to catch an alien I think that entitles her to the best care she can get."
"Retcon, Owen. Procedure, remember."
"Resistant. Look it up. Helen Evans, 18 months ago."
"Just what is it with Welsh people and Retcon?"
"I'm not Welsh," said Helen in an accent that had more in common with Lily Savage than Charlotte Church. Jack took a closer look at her, taking in the pale skin, dark eye make up and multiple piercings. She looked to be in her 30s but that was not something he would like to place a bet on; in his experience keeping out of the sun meant a goth's skin didn't always age like everyone else's, despite other things they were rumoured to use in copious amounts.
"Drug interaction?" He asked Owen curiously.
"Possible," replied Owen, not taking his eyes off what he was doing. There was an indignant sounding cough from his patient.
"Doctor Harper, I am ashamed of you! Not everyone with sub-cultural inclinations uses illegal drugs, you know."
"No illegal drugs; that leaves the legal ones. Nicotine, alcohol?" Owen managed to sound completely disinterested as he asked the question. Helen glared at him.
"Theobromine," she said curtly.
"What the hell is theobromine?" Jack asked disgustedly. There was a stifled snort from behind Jack, and then he received his answer as Ianto came to stand beside him.
"Chocolate." Any reply was lost in the chorus of giggles echoing around the med bay.
Author: A Lanart
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Torchwood Team, ofc
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: ummm none really. A bit of mary-sue
Summary: There's someone in The Hub who isn't a member of the team
Disclaimer: Anything you might recognise is not mine.
A/N: This piece of mary-sueish crack has never seen the un-flocked light of LJ before, but despite her dubious origins I have plans for this ofc so I'm daring to post it in public.
~*~
Jack was not best pleased when he noticed the black-clad resident of Owen's medical bay.
"Just what is *she* doing here? And what are *you* doing?" Owen briefly glanced up before continuing to stitch up the wound on the woman's arm.
"I am suturing a laceration. What does it look like?"
"Don't we have hospitals for that?"
"Yes, but when she got the bloody wound helping to catch an alien I think that entitles her to the best care she can get."
"Retcon, Owen. Procedure, remember."
"Resistant. Look it up. Helen Evans, 18 months ago."
"Just what is it with Welsh people and Retcon?"
"I'm not Welsh," said Helen in an accent that had more in common with Lily Savage than Charlotte Church. Jack took a closer look at her, taking in the pale skin, dark eye make up and multiple piercings. She looked to be in her 30s but that was not something he would like to place a bet on; in his experience keeping out of the sun meant a goth's skin didn't always age like everyone else's, despite other things they were rumoured to use in copious amounts.
"Drug interaction?" He asked Owen curiously.
"Possible," replied Owen, not taking his eyes off what he was doing. There was an indignant sounding cough from his patient.
"Doctor Harper, I am ashamed of you! Not everyone with sub-cultural inclinations uses illegal drugs, you know."
"No illegal drugs; that leaves the legal ones. Nicotine, alcohol?" Owen managed to sound completely disinterested as he asked the question. Helen glared at him.
"Theobromine," she said curtly.
"What the hell is theobromine?" Jack asked disgustedly. There was a stifled snort from behind Jack, and then he received his answer as Ianto came to stand beside him.
"Chocolate." Any reply was lost in the chorus of giggles echoing around the med bay.