Fic: i've paced these ill-paved roads before - Chuck/Torchwood, Chuck/Owen, G
Title:i've paced these ill-paved roads before
Fandom(s): Chuck/Torchwood
Pairing: Chuck/Owen
Rating: G
Author's Note; For this prompt at comment_fic: "If the one thing you love would bring nothing but devastation, what would you do?" "Protect it!" Set somewhere around an AU season 4 of Chuck and three years after an AU end to season 1 of Torchwood. Spoilers for season 1 of Chuck and seasons 1 and 2 of Torchwood.
Summary: It just figures that now... Now that he's let himself imagine things actually working out... Now he comes home and there Jack sits.
AO3
He worried ‘bout it so much in the beginning, was so sure there was a retcon pill waiting for him ‘round every corner, he supposes he just stopped worrying altogether when years passed and nothing happened.
Eventually he found other things to worry about. Another high stakes job to give him reasons to jump at shadows and another team to fight the dark things with. He even found someone to tell his secrets to - the ones he used to be sure would be stolen from him at any moment.
It just figures that now… Now that he’s let himself imagine things actually working out…
Now he comes home and there Jack sits - on his couch, in his living room. In his home - his and Chuck’s - like things such as locks and home invasion laws and time don’t make a difference.
Owen doesn’t startle. He closes his door, sets down his keys. Takes off his coat. He isn’t really surprised. Jack’s always been above laws (they all were) and what’s time mean to a man who can’t die, anyway?
“Jack.”
“Owen.”
He looks the same as he did three years ago when Owen walked away from Torchwood for good. Smiles as he stands like Owen didn’t put a bullet between his eyes that same day.
Owen thinks of Chuck and hopes to god Jack’s come alone. At this point… they’ll be lucky if all that happens here is Owen getting his mind erased.
Owen doesn’t let the odds daunt him. He’s never been one to flinch in the face of danger, and he didn’t trade in his balls for his ex-pat status. He opens his arms to his old boss and one-time friend and smirks. “Let me guess,” Owen says. “You wanna go for a drink and catch up on old times.”
Jack chuckles. “We’re overdue, don’t you think?” And it’s funny how less brazenly American he sounds now that Owen’s lived in America for a while.
That’s the only thing funny about all of this. Jack’s no less charming than ever, and no less deadly for all of that. It used to strike Owen - how anyone can look at Jack and just see the handsome face, the friendly façade. (If you can call it a façade… Jack actually is quite friendly. A good mate. But he’d vaporize his best friend if he felt he had to - and, unlike Jack, none of Jack’s friends come back once you’ve killed them.) Owen used to wonder how anyone can face off against a being like Jack and not want to shit his pants just a little bit, and now he’s facing Jack and he feels calm. California’s either made him fearless or stupid, or perhaps it hasn’t yet sank in that the shit has literally just hit the fan.
“In any case, I think you know that we’re a bit past that, Owen,” Jack says, and the façade slips just a little bit. Shows Jack’s business face sitting just underneath.
‘Fuck this,’ Owen thinks. And suddenly he realizes why he’s not freaking out right now. For all the worrying he’s done, since Torchwood, ‘bout what would happen to him if Jack or one of the others caught up with him, a part of Owen’s never really thought it would be that simple. That black and white. He worked alongside Jack and Ianto and Tosh, and even Gwen, for years. They share secrets - not all of them Torchwood’s. A part of Owen must think that it all has to count for something.
Owen lets his smirk fade. “I’ll fight for him, Jack,” he says, laying it out on the line.
Easy as that, Captain Jack Harkness has faded away also and Owen’s just looking at Jack, at his too old eyes set in a sad, young face. Jack sighs. “Owen… Your boyfriend’s got alien tech in his head.”
Owen worried ‘bout being found so much in the beginning… Then he fell for Chuck and got something new to worry ‘bout. It seems like some of those worries are coming to life in front of him, and he can feel his SIG against his back, tucked into the waistband of his jeans, even if it can’t do more than slow Jack down if a real fight is what they’re headed for here.
“Modified. And I didn’t put it there.”
“You know that’s not the point.”
“What is the point? He’s not the only one’s got Intersect programming. The CIA, the NSA- Hell, soccer moms in Suburbia, USA, are playing with the technology now. Jack… The cat’s out of the bag. What harm is there in leaving Chuck to it?”
Jack looks unreasonably angry at Owen’s short diatribe, and he actually advances on Owen, stopping just short of walking right into him.
Owen holds his ground, but he can’t figure Jack’s sudden reaction. Isn’t sure what part of what he said-
“What harm is there-” Jack begins. “What harm is there to you, Owen, in ‘leaving Chuck to it?’” he demands. “Think about it!”
“I-”
“After Katie…” The words shock Owen, even if he’d been expecting them in some way. They bleed the ire out of Jack, too, though some heat remains in his voice as he says, “You’re the last person I’d expect to have to explain this to.”
And… That would be Owen’s other new worry. Owen’s mouth has gone dry and he licks his lips.
“It’s- This isn’t like that. It isn’t, Jack.”
Jack says, quietly, “You don’t know that.”
Owen’s preoccupied trying to reconcile the thought that it’s concern for him - not anger or paranoia or whatever, though some of that is undoubtedly involved as well - that’s brought Jack to the States now with years of thinking he’d ended more than just his career when he blew it at Torchwood. It’s a challenge trying to persuade Jack that what was done to Owen’s wife - and what was done to Chuck - aren’t the same and aren’t going to end the same way, when that’s the nightmare that keeps Owen awake some nights, listening to Chuck’s quiet breathing beside him, feeling the soft thrum of his pulse.
Otherwise, Owen would surely have something less ironic (considering the last conversation Owen had with Jack besides this one, about Diane) and less repetitive to say in his defense than: “I love him, Jack.”
Jack looks neither impressed nor unimpressed by the admission, as though he’d been expecting it - he just looks resigned.
And perhaps a tad bit wistful. “Does that mean you’re going to shoot me in the head again?” he asks, quirking a brow and one corner of his lips. “Cause I gotta tell you… not my favorite way to end an argument.”
Jack could always do that - when he had a mind to. Leech the tension right out of a moment like air from a balloon.
“With you getting shot in the head? I don’t know. I kinda enjoy it,” Owen teases.
He never thought he’d be doing this again - teasing Jack Harkness. It’s so surreal, Owen starts to worry again, but Jack stops him.
“I didn’t come to retcon you, Owen,” Jack says. And maybe, as sincere as he sounds (and after Owen’s replaced ever ingestible substance in his and Chuck’s apartment, and their receptacles) Owen can believe him. “Like you said, the cat’s out of the bag. The most we can do is have somebody at ground zero who knows what he’s dealing with, but Owen-”
Jack looks around. Owen tries to see what Jack sees through Jack’s eyes - his home and Chuck’s, an eclectic mesh of his tastes and someone else’s. Photographs on the wall and on the bookshelves, signs of unity and permanence - things Owen once thought (as did everybody who knew him, probably) would never be seen in him again. Never, after Katie. He’d opened up the Rift for Diane, and even she hadn’t evoked such a change in him, their romance had been so new when she left.
Jack looks back at Owen, knowing in a way that always made Owen feel at once comforted and uncomfortable - and somehow still does - and says, “When I found out about the Intersect, I didn’t know you were living with him. If there’s anything we can do when- If anything happens… You call us, Owen. Right away. Don’t wait another three years for me to come to you.”
It’s way more than Owen could have hoped for. It forces an honesty out of him that Jack might not have expected.
“I probably should have contacted you when I realized where the Intersect cypher came from.“ Owen confesses. “Torchwood’d probably do a better job of analyzing the source data for the programming than I did.”
Humility isn’t exactly Owen’s strong suit - nor is admitting need or weakness, but it’s almost worth it when Jack smiles, like all the bullets and Dianes and dead wives are behind them and says, “Our doors are still open to you, Owen. Despite what I said in the heat of a moment. You can even bring Chuck with you if you come to visit the Hub.” Jack grins. “I can almost garauntee we’ll let him leave with you.”
“Jack…”
Jack laughs. “Kidding! I’m only kidding.”
Perhaps. But even as a lightness enters Owen’s chest, he knows now one thing for certain.
Chuck is never stepping foot in Cardiff.
“Right.”
[end.]
Fandom(s): Chuck/Torchwood
Pairing: Chuck/Owen
Rating: G
Author's Note; For this prompt at comment_fic: "If the one thing you love would bring nothing but devastation, what would you do?" "Protect it!" Set somewhere around an AU season 4 of Chuck and three years after an AU end to season 1 of Torchwood. Spoilers for season 1 of Chuck and seasons 1 and 2 of Torchwood.
Summary: It just figures that now... Now that he's let himself imagine things actually working out... Now he comes home and there Jack sits.
AO3
He worried ‘bout it so much in the beginning, was so sure there was a retcon pill waiting for him ‘round every corner, he supposes he just stopped worrying altogether when years passed and nothing happened.
Eventually he found other things to worry about. Another high stakes job to give him reasons to jump at shadows and another team to fight the dark things with. He even found someone to tell his secrets to - the ones he used to be sure would be stolen from him at any moment.
It just figures that now… Now that he’s let himself imagine things actually working out…
Now he comes home and there Jack sits - on his couch, in his living room. In his home - his and Chuck’s - like things such as locks and home invasion laws and time don’t make a difference.
Owen doesn’t startle. He closes his door, sets down his keys. Takes off his coat. He isn’t really surprised. Jack’s always been above laws (they all were) and what’s time mean to a man who can’t die, anyway?
“Jack.”
“Owen.”
He looks the same as he did three years ago when Owen walked away from Torchwood for good. Smiles as he stands like Owen didn’t put a bullet between his eyes that same day.
Owen thinks of Chuck and hopes to god Jack’s come alone. At this point… they’ll be lucky if all that happens here is Owen getting his mind erased.
Owen doesn’t let the odds daunt him. He’s never been one to flinch in the face of danger, and he didn’t trade in his balls for his ex-pat status. He opens his arms to his old boss and one-time friend and smirks. “Let me guess,” Owen says. “You wanna go for a drink and catch up on old times.”
Jack chuckles. “We’re overdue, don’t you think?” And it’s funny how less brazenly American he sounds now that Owen’s lived in America for a while.
That’s the only thing funny about all of this. Jack’s no less charming than ever, and no less deadly for all of that. It used to strike Owen - how anyone can look at Jack and just see the handsome face, the friendly façade. (If you can call it a façade… Jack actually is quite friendly. A good mate. But he’d vaporize his best friend if he felt he had to - and, unlike Jack, none of Jack’s friends come back once you’ve killed them.) Owen used to wonder how anyone can face off against a being like Jack and not want to shit his pants just a little bit, and now he’s facing Jack and he feels calm. California’s either made him fearless or stupid, or perhaps it hasn’t yet sank in that the shit has literally just hit the fan.
“In any case, I think you know that we’re a bit past that, Owen,” Jack says, and the façade slips just a little bit. Shows Jack’s business face sitting just underneath.
‘Fuck this,’ Owen thinks. And suddenly he realizes why he’s not freaking out right now. For all the worrying he’s done, since Torchwood, ‘bout what would happen to him if Jack or one of the others caught up with him, a part of Owen’s never really thought it would be that simple. That black and white. He worked alongside Jack and Ianto and Tosh, and even Gwen, for years. They share secrets - not all of them Torchwood’s. A part of Owen must think that it all has to count for something.
Owen lets his smirk fade. “I’ll fight for him, Jack,” he says, laying it out on the line.
Easy as that, Captain Jack Harkness has faded away also and Owen’s just looking at Jack, at his too old eyes set in a sad, young face. Jack sighs. “Owen… Your boyfriend’s got alien tech in his head.”
Owen worried ‘bout being found so much in the beginning… Then he fell for Chuck and got something new to worry ‘bout. It seems like some of those worries are coming to life in front of him, and he can feel his SIG against his back, tucked into the waistband of his jeans, even if it can’t do more than slow Jack down if a real fight is what they’re headed for here.
“Modified. And I didn’t put it there.”
“You know that’s not the point.”
“What is the point? He’s not the only one’s got Intersect programming. The CIA, the NSA- Hell, soccer moms in Suburbia, USA, are playing with the technology now. Jack… The cat’s out of the bag. What harm is there in leaving Chuck to it?”
Jack looks unreasonably angry at Owen’s short diatribe, and he actually advances on Owen, stopping just short of walking right into him.
Owen holds his ground, but he can’t figure Jack’s sudden reaction. Isn’t sure what part of what he said-
“What harm is there-” Jack begins. “What harm is there to you, Owen, in ‘leaving Chuck to it?’” he demands. “Think about it!”
“I-”
“After Katie…” The words shock Owen, even if he’d been expecting them in some way. They bleed the ire out of Jack, too, though some heat remains in his voice as he says, “You’re the last person I’d expect to have to explain this to.”
And… That would be Owen’s other new worry. Owen’s mouth has gone dry and he licks his lips.
“It’s- This isn’t like that. It isn’t, Jack.”
Jack says, quietly, “You don’t know that.”
Owen’s preoccupied trying to reconcile the thought that it’s concern for him - not anger or paranoia or whatever, though some of that is undoubtedly involved as well - that’s brought Jack to the States now with years of thinking he’d ended more than just his career when he blew it at Torchwood. It’s a challenge trying to persuade Jack that what was done to Owen’s wife - and what was done to Chuck - aren’t the same and aren’t going to end the same way, when that’s the nightmare that keeps Owen awake some nights, listening to Chuck’s quiet breathing beside him, feeling the soft thrum of his pulse.
Otherwise, Owen would surely have something less ironic (considering the last conversation Owen had with Jack besides this one, about Diane) and less repetitive to say in his defense than: “I love him, Jack.”
Jack looks neither impressed nor unimpressed by the admission, as though he’d been expecting it - he just looks resigned.
And perhaps a tad bit wistful. “Does that mean you’re going to shoot me in the head again?” he asks, quirking a brow and one corner of his lips. “Cause I gotta tell you… not my favorite way to end an argument.”
Jack could always do that - when he had a mind to. Leech the tension right out of a moment like air from a balloon.
“With you getting shot in the head? I don’t know. I kinda enjoy it,” Owen teases.
He never thought he’d be doing this again - teasing Jack Harkness. It’s so surreal, Owen starts to worry again, but Jack stops him.
“I didn’t come to retcon you, Owen,” Jack says. And maybe, as sincere as he sounds (and after Owen’s replaced ever ingestible substance in his and Chuck’s apartment, and their receptacles) Owen can believe him. “Like you said, the cat’s out of the bag. The most we can do is have somebody at ground zero who knows what he’s dealing with, but Owen-”
Jack looks around. Owen tries to see what Jack sees through Jack’s eyes - his home and Chuck’s, an eclectic mesh of his tastes and someone else’s. Photographs on the wall and on the bookshelves, signs of unity and permanence - things Owen once thought (as did everybody who knew him, probably) would never be seen in him again. Never, after Katie. He’d opened up the Rift for Diane, and even she hadn’t evoked such a change in him, their romance had been so new when she left.
Jack looks back at Owen, knowing in a way that always made Owen feel at once comforted and uncomfortable - and somehow still does - and says, “When I found out about the Intersect, I didn’t know you were living with him. If there’s anything we can do when- If anything happens… You call us, Owen. Right away. Don’t wait another three years for me to come to you.”
It’s way more than Owen could have hoped for. It forces an honesty out of him that Jack might not have expected.
“I probably should have contacted you when I realized where the Intersect cypher came from.“ Owen confesses. “Torchwood’d probably do a better job of analyzing the source data for the programming than I did.”
Humility isn’t exactly Owen’s strong suit - nor is admitting need or weakness, but it’s almost worth it when Jack smiles, like all the bullets and Dianes and dead wives are behind them and says, “Our doors are still open to you, Owen. Despite what I said in the heat of a moment. You can even bring Chuck with you if you come to visit the Hub.” Jack grins. “I can almost garauntee we’ll let him leave with you.”
“Jack…”
Jack laughs. “Kidding! I’m only kidding.”
Perhaps. But even as a lightness enters Owen’s chest, he knows now one thing for certain.
Chuck is never stepping foot in Cardiff.
“Right.”
[end.]