Fic: You are loved (1/1)
Title: You are loved (1/1)
Author: talkingtoatwig
Spoilers: Reset onwards
Characters: Mostly Owen with a few mentions of the other team members
Warnings: A bit of swearing, hints of suicide
Summary: Owen reflects on his life. A bit of angsty fluff fic really...
Author's Notes: This was something I wrote in the space of an hour and a half. Seriously, my hands hurt so much now...Anyway, hope you enjoy. It's partly inspired on the song by Josh Gorban called 'You are loved'.
At the end of the day, Owen realizes, all he’s got is memories. Life is frozen, in one second. His heart doesn’t move, just sits there mid-pulse. His blood is a frozen traffic jam on a motorway, except the lights aren’t turning green anymore. Nerves sit in boredom, no longer keen to alert him to the great bloody slash across his hand. All he’s got is memories-good or bad- that’s left of him anymore.
Owen can remember everything now, like his life is flashing before his eyes in slow motion. He remembers his Mother’s face, screwed up in anger as she yells and yells at him.
“YOU IDIOT, YOU STUPID IDIOT!”
He broke her ashtray, the one with the Queen’s face in that was given to her by her Mother. He didn’t mean to. Well, that’s a lie, he did. He wanted her to stop filling their house with putrid smoke that got into his lungs and made his head spin. He thought that breaking the ashtray would make her stop. He’s five when his Mother hits him for the first time.
His cheek stings, but his heart hurts more. She’s never hit him before, only threatened to. All over a bloody ashtray. She locks him in his room for the rest of the evening. He climbs up onto the windowsill, opens the latch and sits on the edge. He wants to jump, but not because he wants to die. Owen just wants to escape.
She apologises later on, buys herself a clean glass ashtray from the corner store and gets through a whole packet. Then she calls him out, kisses his forehead and tells him she loves him more than life itself. She doesn’t look at the red mark on his cheek and in the morning he can’t see it in the mirror. But it’s not gone. Never went away, even when he was unable to feel anything.
Owen remembers everything now, like his story being played on a reel of film in front of him. He wishes he had some popcorn to eat with it. He remembers school, the big grey building with the gates. The slogan written across it in flaky paint; Work sets you free. He remembers the chanting boys as he stands inches away from disaster.
“JUMP. JUMP. JUMP.”
It’s a steady pulse. Like his heartbeat. The roof is higher up here, and the playground is a mess of children watching with fear, anticipation. He wants to give up, the world’s too heavy on his shoulders. He just wants to be heard, but no one can hear him over the boy’s chanting for him to end his life.
The teachers are trying to get up to him, but he’s locked the roof door with his own padlock. No one is stopping him this time. He wants it to end so he doesn’t hurt anymore. He steps forward, one foot curls round the edge, his legs bend in anticipation. Humans weren’t built to fall. They were built to jump, to fly. Away. He’s ready to leave. Then there’s a yell.
“YOU ARE LOVED,”
Owen never found out who shouted that. Did it matter? Of course, she saves his life that day. Because he hesitates, heart thumping along with the chant. Then the door flies open behind him and hands pull him back. He finds himself on the floor, pinned down by his maths teacher.
“You stupid bastard,” he spits into his face.
Owen now knows he’s not stupid. Sure, he might be a bastard but he is most definitely not stupid. He’s saved the world after all. But at the time, it wasn’t exactly what he needed at that moment. Now he wishes he died back then. Because his boss wouldn’t have brought him back and left him to cope without a heartbeat, without breath, without anything.
Because he’s died, he remembers everything. It’s like a story being read out loud to him. Except this one doesn’t end with ‘and they all lived happily ever after’. There’s no happily ever after when there’s no life left to live it in. He remembers his Father’s funeral. The coffin shines and flickers under the church candles. He remembers the tissues he passes to his mother; they’re crumpled from sitting in his pocket for days. She blows her nose loudly. He feels nothing.
“And we shall remember those who have passed on through the footsteps they’ve imprinted on this planet,”
It’s raining of course. The grave is filling with water so quickly that they have to skip the service to the bit where the coffin’s lowered in. Owen doesn’t mind that his coffin is already filthy with mud, that his father’s being buried in such a mess. His father left a long time ago. Now all he has left to care about is himself. And it feels good.
His Mother still tries but his cheek still stings and he still sees her face screwed up with anger everytime he looks at her. In short, its not worth the pain. He’ll just wait until she dies. Then he’ll remember what it means to love her when she’s no longer able to let him down.
Owen remembers his life because it’s over. The list of events is finished. He wanders through his multiple memory lanes, wondering why he’s here and not there. He wants to be the fresh faced medical student again, who sits on the front row and writes pages of notes. It doesn’t matter if people tease him, the human body fascinates him. Until he kills his first patient. Then it fills him with fear.
He remembers the beeping slowing into one dead tone. He remembers the breath shooting out of her mouth in one flurry as her lungs stop working. He remembers the clatter of the scalpel hitting the floor because his job is over.
What terrifies him the most is that they don’t care. They simply tell him bad luck and send him to fix a girl’s broken leg with the same hands that just killed a woman, a wife, a mother. He doesn’t want to be a doctor anymore. Then he saves a dying child’s life and suddenly it’s the best job in the world. He just wishes they had fired him when he wanted to leave.
Failure stings as he leaves the hospital for the last time. He’s left London, his family, his friends behind to work in Cardiff. Only for it to all go down the bloody drain. Literally, because he pours all the medical instruments he stole down the drain. Except for one scalpel; the same razor sharp scalpel that cuts open his bloodless hand years later.
Owen doesn’t want to, but he remembers the day his Mother died. It plays in his mind like a sick merry-go-round spinning eternally in his head. He remembers the phone call, the way her voice tremors up and down like a mountain range.
“I’ve taken 30 sleeping pills, you work out the rest Doctor,”
Owen doesn’t reply, instead he listens to the sound of his Mother throwing her life away. Its ironic, because Owen remembers how his Mother yelled at him for hours on end everytime he tried to top himself. Then in the end, she’s the one who succeeds.
Her funeral is empty. She pushed everyone away. Owen comes because he has an obligation, or so he feels. He puts tulips on her fresh grave, plants a kiss on the gravestone because, unlike his Father, he knows she can see him. People who give up are punished by not being allowed to leave completely. Owen knows that because he’s felt them scrabbling in the darkness for some sort of purchase so they can drag themselves into the dead abyss. That’s why he stops Maggie, the girl on the roof, from following his Mother there. He holds her hand, the light from the pulse spinning around them gracefully, and he says three words.
“You are loved,”
Cardiff is colder now. Owen thinks its telling him to move on. Torchwood died a long time ago, or his Torchwood did. Gwen lives until an alien device stops her heart, thinking that the pregnant woman with two heartbeats inside her needs fixing. Ianto never had a chance against a dalek, he died instantly and stayed crumpled on the pavement until Jack found him and cradled him in his arms. Tosh typically lived until 89, then she died peacefully in her sleep with Owen and Jack watching from the sidelines.
Owen remembers one more thing, because he doesn’t want to end his story on a low. He remembers the taste of Chinese takeaway, he remembers his friends laughing round the table in the break between aliens and he remembers cutting his hand and it hurting. He remembers words murmured as Tosh leaves him behind to move on into the darkness.
“Remember one thing Owen. Whatever happens, wherever you are, you are loved,”
Everybody wants to be understood, and Owen knows now that even in death, he is loved. And he’s not giving up yet.
END
Author: talkingtoatwig
Spoilers: Reset onwards
Characters: Mostly Owen with a few mentions of the other team members
Warnings: A bit of swearing, hints of suicide
Summary: Owen reflects on his life. A bit of angsty fluff fic really...
Author's Notes: This was something I wrote in the space of an hour and a half. Seriously, my hands hurt so much now...Anyway, hope you enjoy. It's partly inspired on the song by Josh Gorban called 'You are loved'.
At the end of the day, Owen realizes, all he’s got is memories. Life is frozen, in one second. His heart doesn’t move, just sits there mid-pulse. His blood is a frozen traffic jam on a motorway, except the lights aren’t turning green anymore. Nerves sit in boredom, no longer keen to alert him to the great bloody slash across his hand. All he’s got is memories-good or bad- that’s left of him anymore.
Owen can remember everything now, like his life is flashing before his eyes in slow motion. He remembers his Mother’s face, screwed up in anger as she yells and yells at him.
“YOU IDIOT, YOU STUPID IDIOT!”
He broke her ashtray, the one with the Queen’s face in that was given to her by her Mother. He didn’t mean to. Well, that’s a lie, he did. He wanted her to stop filling their house with putrid smoke that got into his lungs and made his head spin. He thought that breaking the ashtray would make her stop. He’s five when his Mother hits him for the first time.
His cheek stings, but his heart hurts more. She’s never hit him before, only threatened to. All over a bloody ashtray. She locks him in his room for the rest of the evening. He climbs up onto the windowsill, opens the latch and sits on the edge. He wants to jump, but not because he wants to die. Owen just wants to escape.
She apologises later on, buys herself a clean glass ashtray from the corner store and gets through a whole packet. Then she calls him out, kisses his forehead and tells him she loves him more than life itself. She doesn’t look at the red mark on his cheek and in the morning he can’t see it in the mirror. But it’s not gone. Never went away, even when he was unable to feel anything.
Owen remembers everything now, like his story being played on a reel of film in front of him. He wishes he had some popcorn to eat with it. He remembers school, the big grey building with the gates. The slogan written across it in flaky paint; Work sets you free. He remembers the chanting boys as he stands inches away from disaster.
“JUMP. JUMP. JUMP.”
It’s a steady pulse. Like his heartbeat. The roof is higher up here, and the playground is a mess of children watching with fear, anticipation. He wants to give up, the world’s too heavy on his shoulders. He just wants to be heard, but no one can hear him over the boy’s chanting for him to end his life.
The teachers are trying to get up to him, but he’s locked the roof door with his own padlock. No one is stopping him this time. He wants it to end so he doesn’t hurt anymore. He steps forward, one foot curls round the edge, his legs bend in anticipation. Humans weren’t built to fall. They were built to jump, to fly. Away. He’s ready to leave. Then there’s a yell.
“YOU ARE LOVED,”
Owen never found out who shouted that. Did it matter? Of course, she saves his life that day. Because he hesitates, heart thumping along with the chant. Then the door flies open behind him and hands pull him back. He finds himself on the floor, pinned down by his maths teacher.
“You stupid bastard,” he spits into his face.
Owen now knows he’s not stupid. Sure, he might be a bastard but he is most definitely not stupid. He’s saved the world after all. But at the time, it wasn’t exactly what he needed at that moment. Now he wishes he died back then. Because his boss wouldn’t have brought him back and left him to cope without a heartbeat, without breath, without anything.
Because he’s died, he remembers everything. It’s like a story being read out loud to him. Except this one doesn’t end with ‘and they all lived happily ever after’. There’s no happily ever after when there’s no life left to live it in. He remembers his Father’s funeral. The coffin shines and flickers under the church candles. He remembers the tissues he passes to his mother; they’re crumpled from sitting in his pocket for days. She blows her nose loudly. He feels nothing.
“And we shall remember those who have passed on through the footsteps they’ve imprinted on this planet,”
It’s raining of course. The grave is filling with water so quickly that they have to skip the service to the bit where the coffin’s lowered in. Owen doesn’t mind that his coffin is already filthy with mud, that his father’s being buried in such a mess. His father left a long time ago. Now all he has left to care about is himself. And it feels good.
His Mother still tries but his cheek still stings and he still sees her face screwed up with anger everytime he looks at her. In short, its not worth the pain. He’ll just wait until she dies. Then he’ll remember what it means to love her when she’s no longer able to let him down.
Owen remembers his life because it’s over. The list of events is finished. He wanders through his multiple memory lanes, wondering why he’s here and not there. He wants to be the fresh faced medical student again, who sits on the front row and writes pages of notes. It doesn’t matter if people tease him, the human body fascinates him. Until he kills his first patient. Then it fills him with fear.
He remembers the beeping slowing into one dead tone. He remembers the breath shooting out of her mouth in one flurry as her lungs stop working. He remembers the clatter of the scalpel hitting the floor because his job is over.
What terrifies him the most is that they don’t care. They simply tell him bad luck and send him to fix a girl’s broken leg with the same hands that just killed a woman, a wife, a mother. He doesn’t want to be a doctor anymore. Then he saves a dying child’s life and suddenly it’s the best job in the world. He just wishes they had fired him when he wanted to leave.
Failure stings as he leaves the hospital for the last time. He’s left London, his family, his friends behind to work in Cardiff. Only for it to all go down the bloody drain. Literally, because he pours all the medical instruments he stole down the drain. Except for one scalpel; the same razor sharp scalpel that cuts open his bloodless hand years later.
Owen doesn’t want to, but he remembers the day his Mother died. It plays in his mind like a sick merry-go-round spinning eternally in his head. He remembers the phone call, the way her voice tremors up and down like a mountain range.
“I’ve taken 30 sleeping pills, you work out the rest Doctor,”
Owen doesn’t reply, instead he listens to the sound of his Mother throwing her life away. Its ironic, because Owen remembers how his Mother yelled at him for hours on end everytime he tried to top himself. Then in the end, she’s the one who succeeds.
Her funeral is empty. She pushed everyone away. Owen comes because he has an obligation, or so he feels. He puts tulips on her fresh grave, plants a kiss on the gravestone because, unlike his Father, he knows she can see him. People who give up are punished by not being allowed to leave completely. Owen knows that because he’s felt them scrabbling in the darkness for some sort of purchase so they can drag themselves into the dead abyss. That’s why he stops Maggie, the girl on the roof, from following his Mother there. He holds her hand, the light from the pulse spinning around them gracefully, and he says three words.
“You are loved,”
Cardiff is colder now. Owen thinks its telling him to move on. Torchwood died a long time ago, or his Torchwood did. Gwen lives until an alien device stops her heart, thinking that the pregnant woman with two heartbeats inside her needs fixing. Ianto never had a chance against a dalek, he died instantly and stayed crumpled on the pavement until Jack found him and cradled him in his arms. Tosh typically lived until 89, then she died peacefully in her sleep with Owen and Jack watching from the sidelines.
Owen remembers one more thing, because he doesn’t want to end his story on a low. He remembers the taste of Chinese takeaway, he remembers his friends laughing round the table in the break between aliens and he remembers cutting his hand and it hurting. He remembers words murmured as Tosh leaves him behind to move on into the darkness.
“Remember one thing Owen. Whatever happens, wherever you are, you are loved,”
Everybody wants to be understood, and Owen knows now that even in death, he is loved. And he’s not giving up yet.
END