wind in the wires; forever, what does that mean?, r
Series: Wind In The Wires
Title: Forever, What Does That Mean?
Characters: Owen, Jack
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Summary: Jack takes Owen home.
Author's Notes: This series is backwards, starting after 2.08 and ending after Owen got recruited to Torchwood. It is made up of 5 drabbles. Betad by naddypants.
"So this is it then? I destroy a generator with my bare hands and I don't feel the electricity in my body, firing up my neurones and possibly frying my brain; none of it." Owen placed both his hands on the back of the sofa with his head down, unconsciously biting his lips as Jack closed the door behind him after having walked into Owen's flat.
"When I get shot," Owen lifted his head up and walked towards the kitchen, opening one of the drawers and carefully taking out a knife. He placed the blade flat on his palm, peering at the scratches and gazing at the distorted blank expression reflecting off the shiny, smooth surface. "My guts will fly out," he said as he turned around and leaned against the counter, turning his gaze at Jack while still holding the blade lightly on his palm. "And I won't be able to feel anything." He demonstrated by lifting his left index finger and pressing it to the tip of the knife. Owen watched as Jack watched, blood seeping out of the little cut he had made.
He didn't feel a thing.
"I won't even have the bile to vomit when I see my innards because I can't eat and fuck you, Harkness. I know I’m a doctor and I dissect aliens. I’m not supposed to be squeamish about those things." He retorted at Jack's smirk. "Just strictly speaking." Owen spread the blood on the blade with same finger that he had punctured. "Is this it, Jack? I'm basically just my brain now, my mind."
"Stop complaining. At least you're still here."
"But I’m not living."
"But somehow, your mind is. And your memories." Jack's smirk turned into a grimace. "You've still got your memories."
"Am I going to be like you, Jack?"
"I'm not dead, first of all." Owen scoffed and put down the knife on the counter top as Jack sighed. "I'm not delicate, fragile. Every time I get shot or hurt, I heal again. You," Jack looked down and back up to Owen's face. "You don't. You might still have your body slightly intact for a couple of decades, maybe even a century for it to not cause any suspicions - if you're careful - but knowing you, you probably won't. I've got forever, Owen. As for you? I honestly have no idea."
"You're bollocks. Pure, utter bollocks."
"It amuses me how you can say that with a blank expression."
"Get the fuck out of here, Jack,” Owen said through gritted teeth.
"I expect to see you at work tomorrow." Jack watched the other man turn around and place the knife back in the drawer. When he started messing with the plates and putting them in order from smallest to largest, Jack got the signal that he should probably leave. He did so, and with another glance at Owen, Jack disappeared out into the hallway, closing the door firmly on his wake.
Title: Forever, What Does That Mean?
Characters: Owen, Jack
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Summary: Jack takes Owen home.
Author's Notes: This series is backwards, starting after 2.08 and ending after Owen got recruited to Torchwood. It is made up of 5 drabbles. Betad by naddypants.
"So this is it then? I destroy a generator with my bare hands and I don't feel the electricity in my body, firing up my neurones and possibly frying my brain; none of it." Owen placed both his hands on the back of the sofa with his head down, unconsciously biting his lips as Jack closed the door behind him after having walked into Owen's flat.
"When I get shot," Owen lifted his head up and walked towards the kitchen, opening one of the drawers and carefully taking out a knife. He placed the blade flat on his palm, peering at the scratches and gazing at the distorted blank expression reflecting off the shiny, smooth surface. "My guts will fly out," he said as he turned around and leaned against the counter, turning his gaze at Jack while still holding the blade lightly on his palm. "And I won't be able to feel anything." He demonstrated by lifting his left index finger and pressing it to the tip of the knife. Owen watched as Jack watched, blood seeping out of the little cut he had made.
He didn't feel a thing.
"I won't even have the bile to vomit when I see my innards because I can't eat and fuck you, Harkness. I know I’m a doctor and I dissect aliens. I’m not supposed to be squeamish about those things." He retorted at Jack's smirk. "Just strictly speaking." Owen spread the blood on the blade with same finger that he had punctured. "Is this it, Jack? I'm basically just my brain now, my mind."
"Stop complaining. At least you're still here."
"But I’m not living."
"But somehow, your mind is. And your memories." Jack's smirk turned into a grimace. "You've still got your memories."
"Am I going to be like you, Jack?"
"I'm not dead, first of all." Owen scoffed and put down the knife on the counter top as Jack sighed. "I'm not delicate, fragile. Every time I get shot or hurt, I heal again. You," Jack looked down and back up to Owen's face. "You don't. You might still have your body slightly intact for a couple of decades, maybe even a century for it to not cause any suspicions - if you're careful - but knowing you, you probably won't. I've got forever, Owen. As for you? I honestly have no idea."
"You're bollocks. Pure, utter bollocks."
"It amuses me how you can say that with a blank expression."
"Get the fuck out of here, Jack,” Owen said through gritted teeth.
"I expect to see you at work tomorrow." Jack watched the other man turn around and place the knife back in the drawer. When he started messing with the plates and putting them in order from smallest to largest, Jack got the signal that he should probably leave. He did so, and with another glance at Owen, Jack disappeared out into the hallway, closing the door firmly on his wake.