Bored writings
Five Two things that never happened to Owen Harper on an Island.
1. He remembers the plane crash most of all. It was a bright and sunny day, a break in the storms that hadn’t ceased ravaging the little island that was beginning (just barely) to feel like home. He was actually outside, marvel of a thing really because he’d spent all these long months cooped up in the lab or in the clinic or anywhere else that would let him avoid being near bugs and dirt and all the unpleasentries of the outside world. Maybe it was the combination of rarities that did it, or maybe it was just Owen’s karma coming back to smack him in the face one last time. He can’t forget the sound of the engine as it popped into existence high above much of the island. A little bi-plane that looked disturbingly familiar. For a moment he felt a swell of hope rising in his chest. It would figure that now that he was finally well on his road to recovery from her loss in the first place that she’d show up. He’d never really expected, never hoped…never dared to because he knew he’d never get it. The pilot must’ve been as disoriented as well…everyone who arrived here without rhyme or reason. “Pull up,” he can still hear himself whisper, but whispering would do no good. Shouting wouldn’t even help. Whatever was going on in that cockpit, even if the pilot was trying it was too late. The explosion that followed could be heard all the way across the island. And if by some chance someone had missed that low sound or the bright burst of flame and smoke that followed, there was certainly no mistaking the soul shattering scream that tore itself from Owen’s throat.
He doesn’t remember how he got to the mountain itself. He doesn’t remember running, but he knows his legs hurt and he should get up and move. He has no clue how he ended up curled up around a piece of wreckage with the words “Sky Gypsy” clearly painted on it. He doesn’t remember throwing up even though he can taste bile in his mouth.
It was Jack who found him inevitably. Always was Jack, wasn’t it? Owen doesn’t remember falling asleep or how long he’d been there in the first place. An hour? Four? Days? Weeks? He doesn’t remember ever hurting this deeply either, not even that day he finally figured out why everyone was upset with him.
He doesn’t remember how he got back to the treehouse either. He assumes that Jack must’ve carried him, or Ianto…or somehow between the two of them and perhaps even someone else he’d been brought back from the wilderness. Gwen might’ve even joked that it was lucky he was light like a girly. All he can remember are his dreams, nightmares really, where he watches that crash over and over behind his eyelids. He can practically hear her screaming and then he wakes up with a start only to realize that any screams he’d heard were his and not hers.
2. The first time Owen saw Rhys, he was on a tiny little screen in the rec room. Well…no, his naked arse was on a tiny little screen in the rec room. He didn’t understand what Gwen was doing with him in the first place. Cute little thing like her with an oaf like him, it wasn’t right. But Rhys was probably the sort who didn’t mind the gap either and after awhile it got on Owen’s nerves. Still, it had to make flossing fairly easy and he probably wouldn’t have minded nearly so much if he hadn’t had Jack’s perfect American Grin to compare it to.
The second time Owen saw Rhys, he was wandering, bewildered in the forest much like every other poor unfortunate soul who’d arrived here did at first. He’d offered him, begrudgingly an escort to the compound and later a trip to the tree house to find Gwen at which point Owen bailed because he didn’t want to be there anyway. He returned back to his room, to his spot in the lab to wherever else he could be to distract himself from the fact that Lisa would probably be around soon and then everyone else would be happy, but not Owen because it never fucking worked that way for him.
The third time he saw Rhys, he was on the floor, dabbing at his suddenly bloody nose. Rhys had punched him, hadn’t he? So that meant that either Gwen had told or he’d seen the films. His thoughts were quickly cut off by the presence of a foot in his gut. Yup, he’d seen the films all right. At least he could take comfort in the fact that the oaf’s aim was absolute bollocks. He left with a growling warning to stay the hell away from Gwen. Owen couldn’t help but chuckle a laugh once he was gone. Stay away? Like he hadn’t already been doing that anyway? That was also the last time he saw Rhys, and he was glad for it because he never liked the man much to begin with.
1. He remembers the plane crash most of all. It was a bright and sunny day, a break in the storms that hadn’t ceased ravaging the little island that was beginning (just barely) to feel like home. He was actually outside, marvel of a thing really because he’d spent all these long months cooped up in the lab or in the clinic or anywhere else that would let him avoid being near bugs and dirt and all the unpleasentries of the outside world. Maybe it was the combination of rarities that did it, or maybe it was just Owen’s karma coming back to smack him in the face one last time. He can’t forget the sound of the engine as it popped into existence high above much of the island. A little bi-plane that looked disturbingly familiar. For a moment he felt a swell of hope rising in his chest. It would figure that now that he was finally well on his road to recovery from her loss in the first place that she’d show up. He’d never really expected, never hoped…never dared to because he knew he’d never get it. The pilot must’ve been as disoriented as well…everyone who arrived here without rhyme or reason. “Pull up,” he can still hear himself whisper, but whispering would do no good. Shouting wouldn’t even help. Whatever was going on in that cockpit, even if the pilot was trying it was too late. The explosion that followed could be heard all the way across the island. And if by some chance someone had missed that low sound or the bright burst of flame and smoke that followed, there was certainly no mistaking the soul shattering scream that tore itself from Owen’s throat.
He doesn’t remember how he got to the mountain itself. He doesn’t remember running, but he knows his legs hurt and he should get up and move. He has no clue how he ended up curled up around a piece of wreckage with the words “Sky Gypsy” clearly painted on it. He doesn’t remember throwing up even though he can taste bile in his mouth.
It was Jack who found him inevitably. Always was Jack, wasn’t it? Owen doesn’t remember falling asleep or how long he’d been there in the first place. An hour? Four? Days? Weeks? He doesn’t remember ever hurting this deeply either, not even that day he finally figured out why everyone was upset with him.
He doesn’t remember how he got back to the treehouse either. He assumes that Jack must’ve carried him, or Ianto…or somehow between the two of them and perhaps even someone else he’d been brought back from the wilderness. Gwen might’ve even joked that it was lucky he was light like a girly. All he can remember are his dreams, nightmares really, where he watches that crash over and over behind his eyelids. He can practically hear her screaming and then he wakes up with a start only to realize that any screams he’d heard were his and not hers.
2. The first time Owen saw Rhys, he was on a tiny little screen in the rec room. Well…no, his naked arse was on a tiny little screen in the rec room. He didn’t understand what Gwen was doing with him in the first place. Cute little thing like her with an oaf like him, it wasn’t right. But Rhys was probably the sort who didn’t mind the gap either and after awhile it got on Owen’s nerves. Still, it had to make flossing fairly easy and he probably wouldn’t have minded nearly so much if he hadn’t had Jack’s perfect American Grin to compare it to.
The second time Owen saw Rhys, he was wandering, bewildered in the forest much like every other poor unfortunate soul who’d arrived here did at first. He’d offered him, begrudgingly an escort to the compound and later a trip to the tree house to find Gwen at which point Owen bailed because he didn’t want to be there anyway. He returned back to his room, to his spot in the lab to wherever else he could be to distract himself from the fact that Lisa would probably be around soon and then everyone else would be happy, but not Owen because it never fucking worked that way for him.
The third time he saw Rhys, he was on the floor, dabbing at his suddenly bloody nose. Rhys had punched him, hadn’t he? So that meant that either Gwen had told or he’d seen the films. His thoughts were quickly cut off by the presence of a foot in his gut. Yup, he’d seen the films all right. At least he could take comfort in the fact that the oaf’s aim was absolute bollocks. He left with a growling warning to stay the hell away from Gwen. Owen couldn’t help but chuckle a laugh once he was gone. Stay away? Like he hadn’t already been doing that anyway? That was also the last time he saw Rhys, and he was glad for it because he never liked the man much to begin with.