Once Less, With Feeling by misura / Jack/Owen / PG-13 / round #1
Title: Once Less, With Feeling
Author: misura
Pairing: Owen Harper, Jack/Owen
Rating: PG-13 for language rather than anything else
Fandom(s): Torchwood, Doctor Who (a teensy little bit)
For: fandom_me
Elements: Jack/Owen, empathy. (I like Empathic!Owen. It explains so much, sometimes.)
Thanks: to the usual suspects
Warnings: pre-series speculative AU. An acquaintance with the case-notes on telepathy from They Keep Killing Suzie might be helpful, but isn't essential. (You can find them here, should you want to.) Gratuitous abuse of retcon. Spoilers for Cyberwoman.
Summary: Torchwood is the one job you can never quit.
"Unlike telepathy, empathy is a psychic ability that's almost impossible to detect without tests that may result in both physical and emotional harm to the subject, regardless of said subject being in actual possession of empathy. Therefore, it is my opinion that no Torchwood-employee should be subjected to these tests without solid evidence - and that any and all files in regards to empathy ought to be classified to be available to no one but the highest level of employees - "
- from: The Glass House Report, pg. 192, 1903
"Does your colleague always seem to know when you're having a bad day, and what to say to make that bad day even worse? He or she might be an empath! Don't wait another day and report your unwanted colleague to Internal Affairs (phone-number). Your cooperation is appreciated. Remember: we're here for you."
- text of a poster for internal use, 1986, reprinted in 1989, 1992, 1997. Please note that the accompanying illustration had been changed on the reprints, to better illustrate the dangers of allowing empaths to remain employed by Torchwood.
ANN: This morning, Pete told me he 'knew how I felt'
OWEN: And I should care because
ANN: Well, he might be an empath
ANN: Right?
ANN: Owen?
OWEN: Bloody hell
ANN: Yeah, I know. I mean, he seems like such an ordinary guy
ANN: The sex was kind of boring though
ANN: Do you think that's because he's an empath?
OWEN: Look, Ann
ANN: And Collin Parker from IA's pretty hot :-)
[ANN has left the conversation]
[conversation ends]
- IM transcript, date withheld.
x
"You wish to resign, because you feel that in your current job, you don't get any interaction with your patients, is that right?" The woman behind the desk - Owen thinks of her as The Bitch, although he doesn't call her that out loud, of course - stares at him over her glasses, his letter (typed, not hand-written, as required according to the regulations) in her left hand.
"That's right," he says. He'd add something about aliens smelling really bad on the inside, and that purple goop that ruined his new shoes, and Admin taking ages to file his reports (or to retrieve them when he wants to consult them) but his mouth is a bit dry. The Bitch has got that effect on people.
"When we hired you, you declared that wouldn't be a problem. Added to which, you're also working the First Aid station two afternoons a week, correct?"
"Yes." Only two kinds of people come to First Aid: people who've been infected by something creepy that they never taught him about at the University, who leak slime all over his lab-coat when they're not trying to kill, maim or molest him, and people who want him to sign a slip of paper giving them the rest of the afternoon off. Neither one makes Owen's working day any brighter. "I've changed my mind since then." There's probably a rule against that in Regulations, he reflects sourly.
The Bitch smiles. It doesn't make her look any friendlier. "Fair enough. You're aware we'll have to wipe your mind clear before you can leave?"
"And that it'll cost me a month's pay? Yeah."
She's a little annoyed at his failing to balk at that - Owen can tell, even if her expression doesn't change.
"Very well." She puts his letter down, picks up a form, signs it. "For another's month's pay, you can have someone in Admin forge you some references. It's a new service we offer resigning employees, to ease their way back into society."
"Naw, I think I'll manage. Thanks anyway."
"Should you change your mind, go see Ianto Jones. He's in the A-wing, room 271. I'll let him know you might show up." The Bitch holds out the form. "Turn this in at Admin, room 143. They'll have some other papers you need to sign, too."
Owen nods, wondering if anyone's ever been dumb enough to let Torchwood forge references for them, before wiping their memories. It sounds like a sure-fire way to lose your mind to him - it's one thing to have a gap in your memories and not know what you've done at all; it's something else again to have a gap and then see on your resume you spent that time working in a place you've never actually been to, with people you've never actually met.
He spends the rest of the day reading forms - he signs them, too, eventually, but if there's one thing that working at Torchwood has taught him, it's that you should never sign anything before you've made absolutely sure you understand what it says. Ianto Jones from Admin sends him a friendly e-mail, letting Owen know that he (Ianto) is going to leave at five this afternoon, due to 'obligations of a personal nature', which Owen decides means Ianto's got a date, and that if Owen wants his forged references, he'd better drop by before then. Owen considers e-mailing back, but doesn't, in the end.
x
For all that he doesn't have any references and a two-year gap in his memories which he manages to ignore most of the time, Owen is fairly quick to find a new job. (He doesn't know it's a 'new' job, of course - it feels to him like it's his first real job, and he throws himself at it accordingly, determined to prove to himself he's made for this line of work.)
Cardiff might take some getting used to, but it's got shops, places to go for a drink, women who are looking for a quick shag without any emotional strings attached, and his apartment's at least five times the size of the closet he used to live in as a student, at twice the rent. It's got a great view, too.
Most of all though, Owen likes Cardiff because it isn't London. He doesn't know why that is, or why he felt all itchy when he was still in London, as if someone was watching him all the time - he only knows that London made him uncomfortable, and Cardiff doesn't.
He doesn't date any of his colleagues - not even the ones who more than hint at their willingness to go for a quickie in some empty room or another. It seems ... wrong, somehow; not morally so, but wrong in the same sense that inviting an alien inside your house to use your phone seems wrong; because it might get you killed, maimed or molested, and Owen doesn't know why the hell he feels that way, only he knows he usually gets feelings like these for a reason, and that reason isn't that he's paranoid.
Dating patients seems all right though. Dating patients doesn't feel like something that might get him killed, maimed or molested (not unwillingly, at any rate). Of course, it does turn out to be something that gets him fired - although Owen privately thinks it's sheer jealousy, what with hell having no fury like a woman scorned and all that jazz.
x
Owen's second impression of Captain Jack Harkness is that he's not a doctor.
"I heard you're looking for a job," Jack says, after buying him a drink and introducing himself. (Owen's let him, because he thought Jack looked pretty hot, and like the kind of guy who might be quick and easy, and because Owen figured that with the mood he's in, he couldn't afford to be too picky.)
"From who?" Owen wants to ask, but doesn't. "Might be," he says instead, cautiously.
Jack nods, sips his drink (water, Owen notices with distaste) and doesn't say anything for a while, until Owen loses his patience.
"Why?" From his clothing, Owen'd label Jack as someone too low-level for anyone to tell him he looks like someone in the military in that coat. Not the kind of person who'd be able to actually offer Owen any kind of job, although he might of course know of an opening somewhere.
"I'm looking for someone with a medical degree who's got some experience with fixing people up in a hurry," Jack says. "Good pay, flexible working hours, interesting work. Not a lot of patients to treat - mostly just research."
Two women and one man are looking at Owen by now, envious that Jack's talking to him. The bartender's smile hides a sincere desire for people go home and let him get to bed. An Asian girl is trying to ignore the man who's flirting with her, while keeping an eye on a cute brunette who's waiting for someone - her boyfriend, Owen'd bet, feeling a bit sorry for the Asian girl, who's far too pretty to be a lesbian. Ah well, maybe if he can get rid of Jack, he can go over there, try his luck.
"How many is 'not a lot'?" Owen inquires.
"Four," Jack says. "Although right now, there's only three of us."
Right. Owen sighs, then realizes he hasn't actually told Jack he's a doctor, let alone a doctor who doesn't enjoy treating patients unless they're good-looking. Jack reaches inside one of the pockets of his coat, puts a cube-shaped object on the bar next to Owen's glass. It looks like nothing Owen's ever seen before, not really, no - Owen's sure he couldn't say what it is or what it's used for, or anything.
"Sorry, gotta go. See you around, Owen Harper."
And just like that, Jack's gone, leaving Owen with a Gasculan memory-cube standing next to his glass of beer, and a headache that's several hours too early to be a hang-over. Owen wishes he dared leave it, turn his back on it together with Jack bloody Harkness and his job-offer.
The pretty Asian girl is talking to a brunette - a different one from the one she was looking at earlier, since that one's been joined by a guy who's probably her boyfriend, and has been that for a long time, too, judging by the way they act around one another. Owen finishes his beer and goes home alone.
x
Over the next four days, Owen buries the memory-cube under old newspapers - a new layer for every day - and reads the job-ads for something that doesn't sound completely boring. On the fifth day, he removes the newspapers to throw them away, and decides that he's got nothing to lose but his sanity.
The memory-cube's empty, leaving him feel cheated, somehow. He knows what it's called, and he can see the face of the woman who first showed him one, but the rest of his memories are still fragmented and foggy - like, he knows Canary Wharf means something, only he doesn't know what, and he knows that a blue police-box is involved in this somehow, except that museums are the only place where you can find police-boxes nowadays, and he actually remembers someone coming out of it, someone who's really important to lots of people, except not to him.
On the sixth day, Owen gets a visitor.
"My name's Ianto Jones," the man says. He's wearing a suit and a tie, and one of those briefcases that you really can't use for anything else than papers, because it's a lot smaller on the inside than it looks on the outside. ('Unlike the TARDIS,' Owen thinks and wonders why.) "Jack asked me to come over, tell you a bit more about the job he'd offered you."
"You're bloody Torchwood," Owen says.
Ianto doesn't even blink. "Torchwood Three isn't like Torchwood One," he says. There's something he's not telling Owen, something connecting Torchwood One and Three.
"What, you don't wipe people's memories?" Owen sneers. His headache's getting worse.
"You'll find Torchwood Three far less formal and bureaucratic than Torchwood One," Ianto says. "Jack doesn't believe in too many rules - he believes in getting results, the sooner, the better."
"Good for him," Owen says.
"I've brought you some papers you might want to read through." Ianto opens the briefcase and places a stack of paper on the table. "If you have any questions, you can call Jack."
Once Ianto's gone, Owen relieves his stress by tearing the papers to shreds before throwing them away, telling himself he's not doing it because he's been trained not to throw away any paper without having put it through a shredder first. Then, he calls Jack.
"Give me one good reason why I'd take this job," he says.
"Because the twenty-first century is when it all changes," Jack says. "And you've gotta be ready."
"You're really full of it, aren't you?" Owen says.
"There was a map on one of the papers you threw into the trash," Jack says. "Be nice to me, and I might let Ianto e-mail you a new one."
x
The pretty Asian girl, it turns out, is named Toshiko Sato. When Owen shakes her hand, he remembers her name in the header of an autopsy report. He also realizes she thinks he looks kind of cute, which makes him hold her hand a little longer and smile at her - the brunette next to her (another familiar face) keeps her face straight, but Owen can tell she's annoyed. (Not jealous though, which is interesting and a little puzzling.) Jack tells him Toshiko's only signed up two days ago, which explains why she's looking so cheerful and enthusiastic.
Suzie Costello shakes hands the way most people would go picking through their own garbage to find the pieces of a bloody map - grimly, determinedly and with distaste. She doesn't quite crush his hand.
Ianto gives him a cup of coffee, and Jack shows him his work-station, suggesting Owen will spend the rest of the day browsing the digital archives and reading the reports Ianto's copied for him, which should bring him up-to-date on the main-differences between London and Cardiff.
The next day, Owen dissects his first (dead) Weevil, wondering who the hell has named a six-foot tall murder-machine after a more or less harmless insect. (Ianto looks slightly pained as Owen shares his opinion, from which Owen concludes that he's the guilty party.)
He goes for a drink after work, to get the smell of dead Weevil out of his nose, and runs into Jason, who gives him a blank look and claims to never have seen Owen before in his life with a hint of panic and fear, but not even a spark of recollection. A quick call to the hospital informs him that, according to their records, no Doctor Owen Harper has ever worked there.
x
"You have got no bloody idea what it's like," Owen tells Jack, who's sipping water again, although Owen's the one who bought him a drink this time around.
"I do, actually," Jack says.
"You do not," Owen says.
"I used to work for ... an organization," Jack says. "Not Torchwood - they didn't even ask people's permission before they erased their memories; they just did it. I quit when I woke up one day and found out I couldn't remember anything that had happened less than two years ago."
Torchwood didn't and still doesn't ask either, Owen thinks. He tries to picture Jack in a black suit, with black sunglasses, black shoes, the whole she-bang - one of the Men in Black that defend the United States of America against the threat from outer space. His imagination's not quite up to the task - it's probably all bollocks anyway; the movies never get anything right.
"And then you came here and signed up for Torchwood," Owen finishes the touching story from Jack's past, told to show Owen how caring and understanding and terrifically good at bullshitting other people Jack is. "Because you wanted to help save the world." It's an American thing, that - and it's be much more of a positive character-trait if the Americans were actually any good at it, instead of making things even worse than before.
"Because I wanted to make sure Torchwood wouldn't make the same mistakes," Jack agrees or disagrees with him. Owen wonders if all Americans are so good at hiding their emotions - Jack's harder to read than any other person Owen has ever met.
"Didn't do a very good job, did you?" Owen says. Ianto's shown him the footage of what's happened at Canary Wharf, all the while keeping his expression so utterly neutral that Owen just knows there's something there, some deep, dark secret connecting Ianto to the fall of Torchwood One - or maybe Ianto's just lost someone dear to him, and feels guilty about not having saved them.
Jack says nothing, simply finishing his glass of water, before he rises and leaves it up to Owen to follow him or stay behind. (Owen follows; he's always hated to be left behind, which is why most of the time, he's the one to leave first, to keep from getting attached to someone else solely because that someone else has gotten attached to him.)
x
During the next six months, Owen makes several discoveries.
Firstly, Suzie is a bitch. She's also brilliant and knows far too much about his job for comfort, and Owen can't quite shake the impression that her reasons for sleeping with Tosh have got nothing to do with love, lust or any of the other socially acceptable reasons for sex.
Ianto is scarily efficient, not to mention a wizard when it comes to coffee-making. Another thing Ianto's good at is hiding his emotions - Owen's not fooled, but it gets bloody annoying to have to pretend not to notice anything amiss when Ianto's walking around like he's seen his girlfriend getting tortured to death a few minutes ago. (He's asked Jack, and Jack mentioned Canary Wharf, and Owen's filled in the blanks and reached the conclusion that Ianto's problem is that he lives in the past - and it's too late to wipe his memories, because retcon's not that selective, and Ianto's too essential to the smooth running of Torchwood Three, besides of which Jack doesn't see what Owen's seeing.)
Tosh is an IT-wizard. She's bloody great at Sudoku. She's got a sense of humor, and a lousy taste in lovers and people she develops crushes on - Suzie and Owen, respectively. When he's too long around Tosh, Owen finds himself thinking happy thoughts, which is more than a little unsettling, especially since he genuinely likes Tosh - compared to Suzie and Ianto, that is.
Jack is actually as good in bed as he thinks he is. Owen never catches him at having any emotions, any possessiveness or indication that Jack's in it for more than the sex - and Owen knows he's hardly the only one Jack sleeps with, which is fine with Owen, even if it makes him wonder sometimes, because there's no strings attached and then there's are you even human?
(Lastly, Owen discovers there's a Cyberwoman in the basement of the Hub. In fact, he discovers this several times over, but the one time he'll remember later is when Ianto was right on his heels, telling Owen that this was Lisa, and that he loved her, and that she wasn't dangerous, and that Owen should drink this coffee right now, unless he wanted Ianto to blow his fucking head off.)
--------------
Notes: Why did I give Owen a job at Torchwood One? Basically, because of his reaction to the conversion-unit in Cyberwoman - he was seriously freaked out, and I didn't feel it was quite in the way someone'd freak out at seeing something he'd only heard about. (Of course, Owen being an empath might mean he picked up on the pure Evilness of the machine, but uhm I thought of that a bit too late.) Jason is one of the people from Owen's background check. Ann, however, is entirely fictional .. er, fictionally fictional? (I made her up?) as are The Glass House report of 1903 and the poster-quote, in case you were wondering.
Author: misura
Pairing: Owen Harper, Jack/Owen
Rating: PG-13 for language rather than anything else
Fandom(s): Torchwood, Doctor Who (a teensy little bit)
For: fandom_me
Elements: Jack/Owen, empathy. (I like Empathic!Owen. It explains so much, sometimes.)
Thanks: to the usual suspects
Warnings: pre-series speculative AU. An acquaintance with the case-notes on telepathy from They Keep Killing Suzie might be helpful, but isn't essential. (You can find them here, should you want to.) Gratuitous abuse of retcon. Spoilers for Cyberwoman.
Summary: Torchwood is the one job you can never quit.
"Unlike telepathy, empathy is a psychic ability that's almost impossible to detect without tests that may result in both physical and emotional harm to the subject, regardless of said subject being in actual possession of empathy. Therefore, it is my opinion that no Torchwood-employee should be subjected to these tests without solid evidence - and that any and all files in regards to empathy ought to be classified to be available to no one but the highest level of employees - "
- from: The Glass House Report, pg. 192, 1903
"Does your colleague always seem to know when you're having a bad day, and what to say to make that bad day even worse? He or she might be an empath! Don't wait another day and report your unwanted colleague to Internal Affairs (phone-number). Your cooperation is appreciated. Remember: we're here for you."
- text of a poster for internal use, 1986, reprinted in 1989, 1992, 1997. Please note that the accompanying illustration had been changed on the reprints, to better illustrate the dangers of allowing empaths to remain employed by Torchwood.
ANN: This morning, Pete told me he 'knew how I felt'
OWEN: And I should care because
ANN: Well, he might be an empath
ANN: Right?
ANN: Owen?
OWEN: Bloody hell
ANN: Yeah, I know. I mean, he seems like such an ordinary guy
ANN: The sex was kind of boring though
ANN: Do you think that's because he's an empath?
OWEN: Look, Ann
ANN: And Collin Parker from IA's pretty hot :-)
[ANN has left the conversation]
[conversation ends]
- IM transcript, date withheld.
x
"You wish to resign, because you feel that in your current job, you don't get any interaction with your patients, is that right?" The woman behind the desk - Owen thinks of her as The Bitch, although he doesn't call her that out loud, of course - stares at him over her glasses, his letter (typed, not hand-written, as required according to the regulations) in her left hand.
"That's right," he says. He'd add something about aliens smelling really bad on the inside, and that purple goop that ruined his new shoes, and Admin taking ages to file his reports (or to retrieve them when he wants to consult them) but his mouth is a bit dry. The Bitch has got that effect on people.
"When we hired you, you declared that wouldn't be a problem. Added to which, you're also working the First Aid station two afternoons a week, correct?"
"Yes." Only two kinds of people come to First Aid: people who've been infected by something creepy that they never taught him about at the University, who leak slime all over his lab-coat when they're not trying to kill, maim or molest him, and people who want him to sign a slip of paper giving them the rest of the afternoon off. Neither one makes Owen's working day any brighter. "I've changed my mind since then." There's probably a rule against that in Regulations, he reflects sourly.
The Bitch smiles. It doesn't make her look any friendlier. "Fair enough. You're aware we'll have to wipe your mind clear before you can leave?"
"And that it'll cost me a month's pay? Yeah."
She's a little annoyed at his failing to balk at that - Owen can tell, even if her expression doesn't change.
"Very well." She puts his letter down, picks up a form, signs it. "For another's month's pay, you can have someone in Admin forge you some references. It's a new service we offer resigning employees, to ease their way back into society."
"Naw, I think I'll manage. Thanks anyway."
"Should you change your mind, go see Ianto Jones. He's in the A-wing, room 271. I'll let him know you might show up." The Bitch holds out the form. "Turn this in at Admin, room 143. They'll have some other papers you need to sign, too."
Owen nods, wondering if anyone's ever been dumb enough to let Torchwood forge references for them, before wiping their memories. It sounds like a sure-fire way to lose your mind to him - it's one thing to have a gap in your memories and not know what you've done at all; it's something else again to have a gap and then see on your resume you spent that time working in a place you've never actually been to, with people you've never actually met.
He spends the rest of the day reading forms - he signs them, too, eventually, but if there's one thing that working at Torchwood has taught him, it's that you should never sign anything before you've made absolutely sure you understand what it says. Ianto Jones from Admin sends him a friendly e-mail, letting Owen know that he (Ianto) is going to leave at five this afternoon, due to 'obligations of a personal nature', which Owen decides means Ianto's got a date, and that if Owen wants his forged references, he'd better drop by before then. Owen considers e-mailing back, but doesn't, in the end.
x
For all that he doesn't have any references and a two-year gap in his memories which he manages to ignore most of the time, Owen is fairly quick to find a new job. (He doesn't know it's a 'new' job, of course - it feels to him like it's his first real job, and he throws himself at it accordingly, determined to prove to himself he's made for this line of work.)
Cardiff might take some getting used to, but it's got shops, places to go for a drink, women who are looking for a quick shag without any emotional strings attached, and his apartment's at least five times the size of the closet he used to live in as a student, at twice the rent. It's got a great view, too.
Most of all though, Owen likes Cardiff because it isn't London. He doesn't know why that is, or why he felt all itchy when he was still in London, as if someone was watching him all the time - he only knows that London made him uncomfortable, and Cardiff doesn't.
He doesn't date any of his colleagues - not even the ones who more than hint at their willingness to go for a quickie in some empty room or another. It seems ... wrong, somehow; not morally so, but wrong in the same sense that inviting an alien inside your house to use your phone seems wrong; because it might get you killed, maimed or molested, and Owen doesn't know why the hell he feels that way, only he knows he usually gets feelings like these for a reason, and that reason isn't that he's paranoid.
Dating patients seems all right though. Dating patients doesn't feel like something that might get him killed, maimed or molested (not unwillingly, at any rate). Of course, it does turn out to be something that gets him fired - although Owen privately thinks it's sheer jealousy, what with hell having no fury like a woman scorned and all that jazz.
x
Owen's second impression of Captain Jack Harkness is that he's not a doctor.
"I heard you're looking for a job," Jack says, after buying him a drink and introducing himself. (Owen's let him, because he thought Jack looked pretty hot, and like the kind of guy who might be quick and easy, and because Owen figured that with the mood he's in, he couldn't afford to be too picky.)
"From who?" Owen wants to ask, but doesn't. "Might be," he says instead, cautiously.
Jack nods, sips his drink (water, Owen notices with distaste) and doesn't say anything for a while, until Owen loses his patience.
"Why?" From his clothing, Owen'd label Jack as someone too low-level for anyone to tell him he looks like someone in the military in that coat. Not the kind of person who'd be able to actually offer Owen any kind of job, although he might of course know of an opening somewhere.
"I'm looking for someone with a medical degree who's got some experience with fixing people up in a hurry," Jack says. "Good pay, flexible working hours, interesting work. Not a lot of patients to treat - mostly just research."
Two women and one man are looking at Owen by now, envious that Jack's talking to him. The bartender's smile hides a sincere desire for people go home and let him get to bed. An Asian girl is trying to ignore the man who's flirting with her, while keeping an eye on a cute brunette who's waiting for someone - her boyfriend, Owen'd bet, feeling a bit sorry for the Asian girl, who's far too pretty to be a lesbian. Ah well, maybe if he can get rid of Jack, he can go over there, try his luck.
"How many is 'not a lot'?" Owen inquires.
"Four," Jack says. "Although right now, there's only three of us."
Right. Owen sighs, then realizes he hasn't actually told Jack he's a doctor, let alone a doctor who doesn't enjoy treating patients unless they're good-looking. Jack reaches inside one of the pockets of his coat, puts a cube-shaped object on the bar next to Owen's glass. It looks like nothing Owen's ever seen before, not really, no - Owen's sure he couldn't say what it is or what it's used for, or anything.
"Sorry, gotta go. See you around, Owen Harper."
And just like that, Jack's gone, leaving Owen with a Gasculan memory-cube standing next to his glass of beer, and a headache that's several hours too early to be a hang-over. Owen wishes he dared leave it, turn his back on it together with Jack bloody Harkness and his job-offer.
The pretty Asian girl is talking to a brunette - a different one from the one she was looking at earlier, since that one's been joined by a guy who's probably her boyfriend, and has been that for a long time, too, judging by the way they act around one another. Owen finishes his beer and goes home alone.
x
Over the next four days, Owen buries the memory-cube under old newspapers - a new layer for every day - and reads the job-ads for something that doesn't sound completely boring. On the fifth day, he removes the newspapers to throw them away, and decides that he's got nothing to lose but his sanity.
The memory-cube's empty, leaving him feel cheated, somehow. He knows what it's called, and he can see the face of the woman who first showed him one, but the rest of his memories are still fragmented and foggy - like, he knows Canary Wharf means something, only he doesn't know what, and he knows that a blue police-box is involved in this somehow, except that museums are the only place where you can find police-boxes nowadays, and he actually remembers someone coming out of it, someone who's really important to lots of people, except not to him.
On the sixth day, Owen gets a visitor.
"My name's Ianto Jones," the man says. He's wearing a suit and a tie, and one of those briefcases that you really can't use for anything else than papers, because it's a lot smaller on the inside than it looks on the outside. ('Unlike the TARDIS,' Owen thinks and wonders why.) "Jack asked me to come over, tell you a bit more about the job he'd offered you."
"You're bloody Torchwood," Owen says.
Ianto doesn't even blink. "Torchwood Three isn't like Torchwood One," he says. There's something he's not telling Owen, something connecting Torchwood One and Three.
"What, you don't wipe people's memories?" Owen sneers. His headache's getting worse.
"You'll find Torchwood Three far less formal and bureaucratic than Torchwood One," Ianto says. "Jack doesn't believe in too many rules - he believes in getting results, the sooner, the better."
"Good for him," Owen says.
"I've brought you some papers you might want to read through." Ianto opens the briefcase and places a stack of paper on the table. "If you have any questions, you can call Jack."
Once Ianto's gone, Owen relieves his stress by tearing the papers to shreds before throwing them away, telling himself he's not doing it because he's been trained not to throw away any paper without having put it through a shredder first. Then, he calls Jack.
"Give me one good reason why I'd take this job," he says.
"Because the twenty-first century is when it all changes," Jack says. "And you've gotta be ready."
"You're really full of it, aren't you?" Owen says.
"There was a map on one of the papers you threw into the trash," Jack says. "Be nice to me, and I might let Ianto e-mail you a new one."
x
The pretty Asian girl, it turns out, is named Toshiko Sato. When Owen shakes her hand, he remembers her name in the header of an autopsy report. He also realizes she thinks he looks kind of cute, which makes him hold her hand a little longer and smile at her - the brunette next to her (another familiar face) keeps her face straight, but Owen can tell she's annoyed. (Not jealous though, which is interesting and a little puzzling.) Jack tells him Toshiko's only signed up two days ago, which explains why she's looking so cheerful and enthusiastic.
Suzie Costello shakes hands the way most people would go picking through their own garbage to find the pieces of a bloody map - grimly, determinedly and with distaste. She doesn't quite crush his hand.
Ianto gives him a cup of coffee, and Jack shows him his work-station, suggesting Owen will spend the rest of the day browsing the digital archives and reading the reports Ianto's copied for him, which should bring him up-to-date on the main-differences between London and Cardiff.
The next day, Owen dissects his first (dead) Weevil, wondering who the hell has named a six-foot tall murder-machine after a more or less harmless insect. (Ianto looks slightly pained as Owen shares his opinion, from which Owen concludes that he's the guilty party.)
He goes for a drink after work, to get the smell of dead Weevil out of his nose, and runs into Jason, who gives him a blank look and claims to never have seen Owen before in his life with a hint of panic and fear, but not even a spark of recollection. A quick call to the hospital informs him that, according to their records, no Doctor Owen Harper has ever worked there.
x
"You have got no bloody idea what it's like," Owen tells Jack, who's sipping water again, although Owen's the one who bought him a drink this time around.
"I do, actually," Jack says.
"You do not," Owen says.
"I used to work for ... an organization," Jack says. "Not Torchwood - they didn't even ask people's permission before they erased their memories; they just did it. I quit when I woke up one day and found out I couldn't remember anything that had happened less than two years ago."
Torchwood didn't and still doesn't ask either, Owen thinks. He tries to picture Jack in a black suit, with black sunglasses, black shoes, the whole she-bang - one of the Men in Black that defend the United States of America against the threat from outer space. His imagination's not quite up to the task - it's probably all bollocks anyway; the movies never get anything right.
"And then you came here and signed up for Torchwood," Owen finishes the touching story from Jack's past, told to show Owen how caring and understanding and terrifically good at bullshitting other people Jack is. "Because you wanted to help save the world." It's an American thing, that - and it's be much more of a positive character-trait if the Americans were actually any good at it, instead of making things even worse than before.
"Because I wanted to make sure Torchwood wouldn't make the same mistakes," Jack agrees or disagrees with him. Owen wonders if all Americans are so good at hiding their emotions - Jack's harder to read than any other person Owen has ever met.
"Didn't do a very good job, did you?" Owen says. Ianto's shown him the footage of what's happened at Canary Wharf, all the while keeping his expression so utterly neutral that Owen just knows there's something there, some deep, dark secret connecting Ianto to the fall of Torchwood One - or maybe Ianto's just lost someone dear to him, and feels guilty about not having saved them.
Jack says nothing, simply finishing his glass of water, before he rises and leaves it up to Owen to follow him or stay behind. (Owen follows; he's always hated to be left behind, which is why most of the time, he's the one to leave first, to keep from getting attached to someone else solely because that someone else has gotten attached to him.)
x
During the next six months, Owen makes several discoveries.
Firstly, Suzie is a bitch. She's also brilliant and knows far too much about his job for comfort, and Owen can't quite shake the impression that her reasons for sleeping with Tosh have got nothing to do with love, lust or any of the other socially acceptable reasons for sex.
Ianto is scarily efficient, not to mention a wizard when it comes to coffee-making. Another thing Ianto's good at is hiding his emotions - Owen's not fooled, but it gets bloody annoying to have to pretend not to notice anything amiss when Ianto's walking around like he's seen his girlfriend getting tortured to death a few minutes ago. (He's asked Jack, and Jack mentioned Canary Wharf, and Owen's filled in the blanks and reached the conclusion that Ianto's problem is that he lives in the past - and it's too late to wipe his memories, because retcon's not that selective, and Ianto's too essential to the smooth running of Torchwood Three, besides of which Jack doesn't see what Owen's seeing.)
Tosh is an IT-wizard. She's bloody great at Sudoku. She's got a sense of humor, and a lousy taste in lovers and people she develops crushes on - Suzie and Owen, respectively. When he's too long around Tosh, Owen finds himself thinking happy thoughts, which is more than a little unsettling, especially since he genuinely likes Tosh - compared to Suzie and Ianto, that is.
Jack is actually as good in bed as he thinks he is. Owen never catches him at having any emotions, any possessiveness or indication that Jack's in it for more than the sex - and Owen knows he's hardly the only one Jack sleeps with, which is fine with Owen, even if it makes him wonder sometimes, because there's no strings attached and then there's are you even human?
(Lastly, Owen discovers there's a Cyberwoman in the basement of the Hub. In fact, he discovers this several times over, but the one time he'll remember later is when Ianto was right on his heels, telling Owen that this was Lisa, and that he loved her, and that she wasn't dangerous, and that Owen should drink this coffee right now, unless he wanted Ianto to blow his fucking head off.)
--------------
Notes: Why did I give Owen a job at Torchwood One? Basically, because of his reaction to the conversion-unit in Cyberwoman - he was seriously freaked out, and I didn't feel it was quite in the way someone'd freak out at seeing something he'd only heard about. (Of course, Owen being an empath might mean he picked up on the pure Evilness of the machine, but uhm I thought of that a bit too late.) Jason is one of the people from Owen's background check. Ann, however, is entirely fictional .. er, fictionally fictional? (I made her up?) as are The Glass House report of 1903 and the poster-quote, in case you were wondering.