TW Fic: With Apples
Title: With Apples
Characters: Jack, Owen, Gwen. GENfic, can you believe it?
Rating: PG-13 for language
Spoilers: End of Days
Summary: Comfort me with apples, stay me with flagons. (Song of Solomon, 2:5)
With Apples
Owen's tears fall hot and thick, as if they are purging venom from his wounded soul. Jack feels their sting as they soak through his shirt, each droplet marking him with a remnant of Owen's shame, of his remorse. Grief is amplified by guilt, after all, and the entire Hub tolls with Owen's ringing sobs.
Looking over toward Ianto, Jack mouths the word "drink."
As if on cue, Toshiko and Gwen turn toward the cells, away from the agonizing sight of Owen breaking down in Jack's arms. Jack continues to shift his weight from foot to foot, soothing Owen with the gentle rocking motion and soft, wordless syllables whispered into his hair.
Ianto materializes as quietly as the air around them and hands a brandy snifter to Jack, who presses it into Owen's hand. He folds his fingers over Owen's, steadying the glass as Owen takes one sip, then another. Even with the combined grasp of their hands, some of the brandy splashes out of the glass and leaves amber tears among the crystal facets. The wracking sobs abate after a few more sips, but Jack still feels the tremors running through Owen's slender frame.
"Oh, Christ," Owen mumbles into the glass as if finally aware of his surroundings. His mouth curves upward into a rueful smile at the unintentional pun.
Jack ruffles his hair. "If you'd put a stone in front of the drawer, maybe." He takes Owen's glass and hands it off to Ianto, who disappears as suddenly as he had arrived.
Sighing, Owen leans his forehead against Jack's shoulder. "Are the girls still here?" he asks.
"No. It's just us."
Owen lifts his head. Jack is stunned by the pallor of Owen's face, the redness around his feverish eyes betraying a heartache he would never admit in words. Jack swallows the platitudes that rise to his lips, choosing instead to wrap his arm around Owen's shoulder - so thin, so damn thin, when had this happened? - and walk him to the office.
An offering has been left here, probably by Ianto's hand: a plate of red apples and purple grapes, and two glasses flanking an exquisite decanter. Jack picks up the grapes and smirks at Owen. "I know better than to offer you these," he says as he perches on the edge of his desk and motions for Owen to sit in the black leather chair. "You almost bit my head off when I brought you a bunch in the hospital."
Even when Owen sinks into the chair, he still can't smile back. He doesn't meet Jack's gaze. He doesn't move. Owen's hands, always so restless, are completely still.
The only sounds in the room are the ticking of the old clock and the shimmer of liquid into crystal as Jack pours two glasses of brandy. He slides one in front of Owen and lifts the other to his lips. The fumes are so heady that he almost doesn't need to drink, but he craves the sharp warmth and savors it as it glides over his tongue.
Owen doesn't reach for his glass. Jack picks it up and drinks from it, then holds it out to Owen. "See? No Retcon."
"I didn't think--"
"Owen, shut up and drink it, would you?"
Taking the glass in two hands, Owen complies. He is no stranger to fine liquor and his eyebrows raise in a silent question.
"It's for special occasions," Jack says in lieu of telling him what planet this particular bottle had come from. "I'd say coming back from the dead merits a good drink."
Splotches of red spread across Owen's cheekbones. He sets the glass down on the desk and shades his eyes with a trembling hand. "It was unforgivable," he whispers. "I killed you."
"Twice," Jack agrees breezily. He places his hand on Owen's good shoulder and squeezes briefly. "Owen, I said I forgive you. I meant it. That's not going to change."
Owen nods. The struggle to rein in his emotions plays across his face.
"Heads up." Jack picks up an apple and tosses it to Owen, who catches it deftly. Jack pulls several grapes off the cluster and pops them in his mouth. That first bite, where the skin yields to let the sweet flesh through, is always the best part. "I'm starving," he mumbles, his mouth still full. "Bet you are, too. When was the last time you ate?"
"Not sure." Owen is turning the apple over and over in his hands as if fascinated by the gradations of color.
"Or slept?"
That question earns a snort. "Yeah, right."
Curiosity overwhelms Jack. "What else happened while Gwen was waiting with me?"
Shrugging, Owen picks at the stem on the apple until it comes loose. "We watched Gwen on the CCTV. Drank so much coffee we ended up running out of it. Cleaned up the Hub, ran diagnostics. Pretended that it was going to be fine, when all we wanted to do was die right alongside you."
"I'm sorry," Jack says gently.
"For what?"
There is no answer for that, not really. "For what you went through."
Owen starts to laugh, his voice rough as he says, "For what I went through? Jesus, Jack, I betrayed you! I fucking murdered you in cold blood, with your own gun. Then, for good measure, I opened the rift so you'd have to die all over again...and Gwen..." He doubles over as if in pain, arms pulled tightly around his midsection. "When we caught up with Gwen, she was holding you and begging you to come back. Tosh started screaming, and Ianto...well, you can imagine."
Jack could indeed imagine, and the thought of Ianto grieving a second time makes his throat constrict.
"There was nothing I could do," Owen continued in a torrent of words. You were gone, stone-cold. Ianto and I got you back to the SUV and brought you into the Hub. It was just the way it was before...before I opened the Rift. Rhys' body wasn't there anymore, so we sent Gwen home to check on him. He's alive, he's fine, he doesn't remember anything, Gwen says."
Jack nods in relief. He had borne his own share of guilt, had washed Rhys' blood from Gwen's enervated fingers.
"I couldn't bring myself to do an autopsy - thank God - so all that was left was to clean...clean you up."
"Who undressed me?" Jack asks, arching an eyebrow.
"Ianto. He wouldn't let anyone else touch you, not even Tosh. Not me, either, not until you were in the drawer and he asked me to check your vitals one more time, just in case." He fumbles the apple and it falls on his foot, then rolls away. "No pulse, no respiration, no color, you were just gray. And so fucking, fucking cold. Ianto left your wristband on, just in case you woke up and needed to call us, but you were just...so cold..."
"Owen," Jack murmurs, reaching for but not quite touching Owen's arm. "Don't do this to yourself. You don't need to tell me any more."
Owen waves away Jack's outstretched hand. "I have to," he hisses. "Gwen wouldn't give up. She stayed the whole time, wouldn't let anyone else sit with you, wouldn't talk to - well, of course she wouldn't talk to me, but she even kept Ianto and Tosh at bay." He looks up at Jack, eyes wide and full of tears. "What happened? What changed, how did you come back after the second time you died?"
"I don't remember anything after I fell. There was no sound, no time. Nothing." Jack pours himself another glass of brandy and takes a long swallow. "It was pitch-black, and then there was a spark of something. It was so bright that even with my eyes closed I knew there was light all around me. I knew someone had helped me out of the darkness. It was Gwen."
He had been weak, weaker than he had ever found himself upon resurrection. Gwen had helped dress him, even having to tie his shoes until he remembered what it was like to have fingers that moved and lungs that took in air.
Jack swirls the brandy around in the snifter as he continues. "When Gwen found some clothes and led me back into the Hub, you weren't there. I thought you'd left. I thought you might have found Diane, after all."
The name seems to take Owen by surprise. "She was my...vision. Like Ianto told us about seeing Lisa, or Tosh seeing her mum. I came back to the Hub, it was madness to do that, and I was about to--I don't know what I was going to do, to be honest. Then I saw what had happened." He swallows hard. "I saw Rhys. On the table. And Gwen, and you were holding her, and...Christ, Jack, she was devastated, she was in so much fucking pain, she was like a wounded animal. I couldn't let her suffer like that, not when it was me who caused it. I had to open the Rift, Jack, don't you see?"
Jack sees. He sees far more than he wants to. It hadn't been the loss of Diane, in the end, that had broken Owen Harper.
This time, Owen doesn't avert his gaze when his eyes begin to fill. Jack sees all the torment in the world in those dark eyes, sees for himself the circle of hell Owen has been inhabiting. In those awful, shattering moments, Jack watches Owen's weary soul cleansing itself in a river of bitter tears.
Jack longs to gather Owen into his arms, but there are limits to what Owen's battered pride might endure. It would be so much easier to console Gwen and Tosh, who will actually express their thoughts to him, or Ianto, who responds so well to companionable silence. Owen might as well be alien, for all that Jack cannot understand how to reach him.
Their roles are reversed, with Jack the physician and Owen the walking wounded. There is no way to transfuse Jack's forgiveness and expel the sorrow and disgrace that poison Owen's entire being.
Sometimes, there is nothing for the physician to do but wait.
Jack, who has all the time in the world, waits for Owen to recover. It takes many somber minutes, but eventually Owen leans back in the chair with a sigh and wipes his face with his sleeve. Only then does Jack dare to reach out to cup his flushed, damp cheek.
"I still forgive you. It's over, Owen, it's done now."
To Jack's surprise, Owen actually leans into the caress for a few fleeting seconds. Owen's breath is warm against Jack's palm as he whispers two words: "Thank you."
The temptation is more than Jack can bear. He slides off the desk and stands in front of Owen, arms open wide. Owen surprises him again by rising and accepting the embrace, clasping Jack close and allowing himself the comfort of being held in return.
This moment does not last long. Gwen's hesitant tap on the door causes Owen to stiffen and pull away. Jack looks from Owen to Gwen and back again. Owen is looking at some point just past Gwen's serene face.
"I don't mean to interrupt," Gwen says, "but we're all going to fall over if we don't get coffee, and we ran out yesterday. Ianto and Tosh are going to Starbuck's. Anyone else want to go?"
"Yes. Definitely," volunteers Owen. He finally looks at Gwen. "You coming?"
Gwen shakes her head. "I'm knackered. Tosh is getting one for me. Jack?"
"Nah. I'm dead on my feet." Gwen's eyes go wide and Owen stands as still as marble. "Can't a guy make a joke?" Jack asks, winking at Gwen.
"Not that one," Gwen says flatly. "I'll get Ianto to put something vile in your coffee if you ever do that again."
Owen finally laughs. "Double espresso with whipped Weevil cream."
"Point taken, then," Jack says. "Owen - eat something. Here, take this." Jack hands him another apple, letting his fingers keep contact for an extra moment, one last chance to offer absolution before Owen's defenses harden in place again.
With a grateful smile, Owen takes a bite out of the apple. "We'll hold the Weevil cream, then," he says around a mouthful of fruit. "See you in a bit."
"Right. Thanks." A wave of unexpected exhaustion crashes over Jack and he sits down. The chair is still warm from Owen's body. He is aware of Gwen's presence, of the way her gaze is fixed on him as if she is examining him from the inside out. He picks up a stack of papers and studiously avoids reading any of them, shuffling them back and forth without seeing anything.
Silent but watchful, Gwen sits on the corner of Jack's desk. He doesn't dare glance into her eyes, fearful that he will remember exactly how they looked when he had denied her the wish to bring Rhys back to life. A wish that the selfish, calculating Owen had granted because he couldn't bear to watch Gwen suffer.
God help them both, Jack muses as he reaches for another grape, once Gwen figures it out.
***
Feedback is like extra sugar in my coffee. ;)
Characters: Jack, Owen, Gwen. GENfic, can you believe it?
Rating: PG-13 for language
Spoilers: End of Days
Summary: Comfort me with apples, stay me with flagons. (Song of Solomon, 2:5)
With Apples
Owen's tears fall hot and thick, as if they are purging venom from his wounded soul. Jack feels their sting as they soak through his shirt, each droplet marking him with a remnant of Owen's shame, of his remorse. Grief is amplified by guilt, after all, and the entire Hub tolls with Owen's ringing sobs.
Looking over toward Ianto, Jack mouths the word "drink."
As if on cue, Toshiko and Gwen turn toward the cells, away from the agonizing sight of Owen breaking down in Jack's arms. Jack continues to shift his weight from foot to foot, soothing Owen with the gentle rocking motion and soft, wordless syllables whispered into his hair.
Ianto materializes as quietly as the air around them and hands a brandy snifter to Jack, who presses it into Owen's hand. He folds his fingers over Owen's, steadying the glass as Owen takes one sip, then another. Even with the combined grasp of their hands, some of the brandy splashes out of the glass and leaves amber tears among the crystal facets. The wracking sobs abate after a few more sips, but Jack still feels the tremors running through Owen's slender frame.
"Oh, Christ," Owen mumbles into the glass as if finally aware of his surroundings. His mouth curves upward into a rueful smile at the unintentional pun.
Jack ruffles his hair. "If you'd put a stone in front of the drawer, maybe." He takes Owen's glass and hands it off to Ianto, who disappears as suddenly as he had arrived.
Sighing, Owen leans his forehead against Jack's shoulder. "Are the girls still here?" he asks.
"No. It's just us."
Owen lifts his head. Jack is stunned by the pallor of Owen's face, the redness around his feverish eyes betraying a heartache he would never admit in words. Jack swallows the platitudes that rise to his lips, choosing instead to wrap his arm around Owen's shoulder - so thin, so damn thin, when had this happened? - and walk him to the office.
An offering has been left here, probably by Ianto's hand: a plate of red apples and purple grapes, and two glasses flanking an exquisite decanter. Jack picks up the grapes and smirks at Owen. "I know better than to offer you these," he says as he perches on the edge of his desk and motions for Owen to sit in the black leather chair. "You almost bit my head off when I brought you a bunch in the hospital."
Even when Owen sinks into the chair, he still can't smile back. He doesn't meet Jack's gaze. He doesn't move. Owen's hands, always so restless, are completely still.
The only sounds in the room are the ticking of the old clock and the shimmer of liquid into crystal as Jack pours two glasses of brandy. He slides one in front of Owen and lifts the other to his lips. The fumes are so heady that he almost doesn't need to drink, but he craves the sharp warmth and savors it as it glides over his tongue.
Owen doesn't reach for his glass. Jack picks it up and drinks from it, then holds it out to Owen. "See? No Retcon."
"I didn't think--"
"Owen, shut up and drink it, would you?"
Taking the glass in two hands, Owen complies. He is no stranger to fine liquor and his eyebrows raise in a silent question.
"It's for special occasions," Jack says in lieu of telling him what planet this particular bottle had come from. "I'd say coming back from the dead merits a good drink."
Splotches of red spread across Owen's cheekbones. He sets the glass down on the desk and shades his eyes with a trembling hand. "It was unforgivable," he whispers. "I killed you."
"Twice," Jack agrees breezily. He places his hand on Owen's good shoulder and squeezes briefly. "Owen, I said I forgive you. I meant it. That's not going to change."
Owen nods. The struggle to rein in his emotions plays across his face.
"Heads up." Jack picks up an apple and tosses it to Owen, who catches it deftly. Jack pulls several grapes off the cluster and pops them in his mouth. That first bite, where the skin yields to let the sweet flesh through, is always the best part. "I'm starving," he mumbles, his mouth still full. "Bet you are, too. When was the last time you ate?"
"Not sure." Owen is turning the apple over and over in his hands as if fascinated by the gradations of color.
"Or slept?"
That question earns a snort. "Yeah, right."
Curiosity overwhelms Jack. "What else happened while Gwen was waiting with me?"
Shrugging, Owen picks at the stem on the apple until it comes loose. "We watched Gwen on the CCTV. Drank so much coffee we ended up running out of it. Cleaned up the Hub, ran diagnostics. Pretended that it was going to be fine, when all we wanted to do was die right alongside you."
"I'm sorry," Jack says gently.
"For what?"
There is no answer for that, not really. "For what you went through."
Owen starts to laugh, his voice rough as he says, "For what I went through? Jesus, Jack, I betrayed you! I fucking murdered you in cold blood, with your own gun. Then, for good measure, I opened the rift so you'd have to die all over again...and Gwen..." He doubles over as if in pain, arms pulled tightly around his midsection. "When we caught up with Gwen, she was holding you and begging you to come back. Tosh started screaming, and Ianto...well, you can imagine."
Jack could indeed imagine, and the thought of Ianto grieving a second time makes his throat constrict.
"There was nothing I could do," Owen continued in a torrent of words. You were gone, stone-cold. Ianto and I got you back to the SUV and brought you into the Hub. It was just the way it was before...before I opened the Rift. Rhys' body wasn't there anymore, so we sent Gwen home to check on him. He's alive, he's fine, he doesn't remember anything, Gwen says."
Jack nods in relief. He had borne his own share of guilt, had washed Rhys' blood from Gwen's enervated fingers.
"I couldn't bring myself to do an autopsy - thank God - so all that was left was to clean...clean you up."
"Who undressed me?" Jack asks, arching an eyebrow.
"Ianto. He wouldn't let anyone else touch you, not even Tosh. Not me, either, not until you were in the drawer and he asked me to check your vitals one more time, just in case." He fumbles the apple and it falls on his foot, then rolls away. "No pulse, no respiration, no color, you were just gray. And so fucking, fucking cold. Ianto left your wristband on, just in case you woke up and needed to call us, but you were just...so cold..."
"Owen," Jack murmurs, reaching for but not quite touching Owen's arm. "Don't do this to yourself. You don't need to tell me any more."
Owen waves away Jack's outstretched hand. "I have to," he hisses. "Gwen wouldn't give up. She stayed the whole time, wouldn't let anyone else sit with you, wouldn't talk to - well, of course she wouldn't talk to me, but she even kept Ianto and Tosh at bay." He looks up at Jack, eyes wide and full of tears. "What happened? What changed, how did you come back after the second time you died?"
"I don't remember anything after I fell. There was no sound, no time. Nothing." Jack pours himself another glass of brandy and takes a long swallow. "It was pitch-black, and then there was a spark of something. It was so bright that even with my eyes closed I knew there was light all around me. I knew someone had helped me out of the darkness. It was Gwen."
He had been weak, weaker than he had ever found himself upon resurrection. Gwen had helped dress him, even having to tie his shoes until he remembered what it was like to have fingers that moved and lungs that took in air.
Jack swirls the brandy around in the snifter as he continues. "When Gwen found some clothes and led me back into the Hub, you weren't there. I thought you'd left. I thought you might have found Diane, after all."
The name seems to take Owen by surprise. "She was my...vision. Like Ianto told us about seeing Lisa, or Tosh seeing her mum. I came back to the Hub, it was madness to do that, and I was about to--I don't know what I was going to do, to be honest. Then I saw what had happened." He swallows hard. "I saw Rhys. On the table. And Gwen, and you were holding her, and...Christ, Jack, she was devastated, she was in so much fucking pain, she was like a wounded animal. I couldn't let her suffer like that, not when it was me who caused it. I had to open the Rift, Jack, don't you see?"
Jack sees. He sees far more than he wants to. It hadn't been the loss of Diane, in the end, that had broken Owen Harper.
This time, Owen doesn't avert his gaze when his eyes begin to fill. Jack sees all the torment in the world in those dark eyes, sees for himself the circle of hell Owen has been inhabiting. In those awful, shattering moments, Jack watches Owen's weary soul cleansing itself in a river of bitter tears.
Jack longs to gather Owen into his arms, but there are limits to what Owen's battered pride might endure. It would be so much easier to console Gwen and Tosh, who will actually express their thoughts to him, or Ianto, who responds so well to companionable silence. Owen might as well be alien, for all that Jack cannot understand how to reach him.
Their roles are reversed, with Jack the physician and Owen the walking wounded. There is no way to transfuse Jack's forgiveness and expel the sorrow and disgrace that poison Owen's entire being.
Sometimes, there is nothing for the physician to do but wait.
Jack, who has all the time in the world, waits for Owen to recover. It takes many somber minutes, but eventually Owen leans back in the chair with a sigh and wipes his face with his sleeve. Only then does Jack dare to reach out to cup his flushed, damp cheek.
"I still forgive you. It's over, Owen, it's done now."
To Jack's surprise, Owen actually leans into the caress for a few fleeting seconds. Owen's breath is warm against Jack's palm as he whispers two words: "Thank you."
The temptation is more than Jack can bear. He slides off the desk and stands in front of Owen, arms open wide. Owen surprises him again by rising and accepting the embrace, clasping Jack close and allowing himself the comfort of being held in return.
This moment does not last long. Gwen's hesitant tap on the door causes Owen to stiffen and pull away. Jack looks from Owen to Gwen and back again. Owen is looking at some point just past Gwen's serene face.
"I don't mean to interrupt," Gwen says, "but we're all going to fall over if we don't get coffee, and we ran out yesterday. Ianto and Tosh are going to Starbuck's. Anyone else want to go?"
"Yes. Definitely," volunteers Owen. He finally looks at Gwen. "You coming?"
Gwen shakes her head. "I'm knackered. Tosh is getting one for me. Jack?"
"Nah. I'm dead on my feet." Gwen's eyes go wide and Owen stands as still as marble. "Can't a guy make a joke?" Jack asks, winking at Gwen.
"Not that one," Gwen says flatly. "I'll get Ianto to put something vile in your coffee if you ever do that again."
Owen finally laughs. "Double espresso with whipped Weevil cream."
"Point taken, then," Jack says. "Owen - eat something. Here, take this." Jack hands him another apple, letting his fingers keep contact for an extra moment, one last chance to offer absolution before Owen's defenses harden in place again.
With a grateful smile, Owen takes a bite out of the apple. "We'll hold the Weevil cream, then," he says around a mouthful of fruit. "See you in a bit."
"Right. Thanks." A wave of unexpected exhaustion crashes over Jack and he sits down. The chair is still warm from Owen's body. He is aware of Gwen's presence, of the way her gaze is fixed on him as if she is examining him from the inside out. He picks up a stack of papers and studiously avoids reading any of them, shuffling them back and forth without seeing anything.
Silent but watchful, Gwen sits on the corner of Jack's desk. He doesn't dare glance into her eyes, fearful that he will remember exactly how they looked when he had denied her the wish to bring Rhys back to life. A wish that the selfish, calculating Owen had granted because he couldn't bear to watch Gwen suffer.
God help them both, Jack muses as he reaches for another grape, once Gwen figures it out.
***
Feedback is like extra sugar in my coffee. ;)