Friday Free-For-All

[badfalcon]

And here we are, another week survived and another Friday Free For All so we are going to go nuts and prompt whatever the hell we want... the only limit is your imagination! Just remember to follow the rules

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So let us melt, and make no noise - Owen, G

[nevcolleil]

"It's a tradition," Owen says, "It's fun." And he says it with just enough leer in his voice, in his smirk, to ensure no misunderstanding of his meaning when he says 'fun'. "What more can you ask for? Who wants in?"

Of course, no one raises their hand. Ianto looks harried, juggling coffee cups and file folders and other sorts of detritus left to be tidied up at the end of a busy work week. Tosh looks hurts, as per usual; Gwen looks fairly disgusted.

Only Jack looks like he sees straight through Owen's bullshit (cause he does) but Owen isn't looking at Jack.

Of course, Owen knew this day would come. Was a time, nobody gave him grief bout things like this. Personal things. He's made a name for himself at Torchwood, and that name is Cocky Bastard. And probably loads of other things much less pleasant. The mask chafes now and again - but only now and again, and there was a time that a mask was all he needed. He gave Tosh a nasty leer and nobody double-checked to see if this "birthday" of his and the date of birth on his records actually match. He took a little of the piss out of Ianto and nobody stopped him to question why he's so special he gets to take off early "for no good reason".

"Come on, Jack. Owen can pull any night of the week. Why's he need a full day off to do it?" Gwen whines.

She's the problem. The reason things are changing. Owen's not sure he likes it.

"Because I say he does," is Jack's brilliant explanation. "Owen, get going."

"Gladly." With a cheeky wave at the others, Owen bids his adieus.

"Well, I'd better get a day off for my birthday," he hears Gwen grumbling as he leaves the Hub and he chuckles, though it's starting to creep up on him already. Owen walks home to delay it, breathing in long, slow breaths and making himself study the scenery around him - the streets he drives down day after day, the faces he passes and only looks twice at on the days like this.

At his apartment, he showers even though he's already showered once this morning (he's worked up a sweat). He dresses in his best suit (a somber, expensive thing Dr. Owen Harper, Torchwood wouldn't be seen in) and drives his rental out to the country. To the cemetary.

It catches up with him. The mask falls away and there's nothing to bottle in the grief he feels - still, years later - or the pain. This day isn't the anniversary of the day of his birth; it's another mile-marker past the day he buried his wife. The day he heard Jack's crazy explanations about aliens and alien police and the day he took Jack's even crazier job offer. The day he became Dr. Owen Harper, Torchwood. Cocky Bastard. Today Owen celebrates another milestone - another year he's survived as something other than Dr. Owen Harper, widower.

He carries the flowers he bought along the way and places them on his Katie's grave, then stands there, as if waiting to be acknowledged.

"Hello, love," he says, when he's come to terms with the fact (again) that no one ever will. "'s been another year already..."

Owen'd like to think that one day he'll have enough miles behind him not to feel gutted every time the day comes and goes, but he'll have to think it tomorrow. Without his mask, Owen's not so good at pretending to believe things he really doesn't.

Re: So let us melt, and make no noise - Owen, G

[samueljames]

Had to go and get a tissue after reading this one. Gorgeous and sad fill. I like that only Jack knows the real reason for the time off. Loved the comparison between Owen's public and private selves. Thank you for writing this.