All it can be is babysitting
Owen sat on the floor of the compound with Jackson in his lap as he read him a book about counting, which didn't make much sense as he doubted Jackson was really old enough to understand what was going on anyway, but he was doing it. How else would the baby learn?
So he read 'Ten Little Ducks' or something like that, a book that was apparently by the same guy who'd written the one about the hungry caterpillar who kept eating the book. Owen couldn't help but feel a little bitter about this whole situation, but there wasn't anyone to blame but himself. Himself and Daniel. Stupid Daniel.
No. Stupid Owen, thinking that everything would work out for a change, that he'd actually come out ahead. But no, he'd mucked up for the last time and she left him. Didn't that just figure.
Soon, Owen was just holding Jackson to him while the little boy gummed the cardboard book happily. He loved that little boy more than life itself and it killed him, it absolutely killed him to be away from him so often now. He felt like he was missing so much. He didn't want to let him go, didn't want to give him back to Tosh even though he knew that soon he'd be hungry and he'd have to return him to his mother.
Owen didn't know if he should be angry or sad so he teetered on the edge of sanity, trying to keep from stepping into either emotion and just remaining comfortably numb to the whole situation.
Except he wasn't numb at all.
So he read 'Ten Little Ducks' or something like that, a book that was apparently by the same guy who'd written the one about the hungry caterpillar who kept eating the book. Owen couldn't help but feel a little bitter about this whole situation, but there wasn't anyone to blame but himself. Himself and Daniel. Stupid Daniel.
No. Stupid Owen, thinking that everything would work out for a change, that he'd actually come out ahead. But no, he'd mucked up for the last time and she left him. Didn't that just figure.
Soon, Owen was just holding Jackson to him while the little boy gummed the cardboard book happily. He loved that little boy more than life itself and it killed him, it absolutely killed him to be away from him so often now. He felt like he was missing so much. He didn't want to let him go, didn't want to give him back to Tosh even though he knew that soon he'd be hungry and he'd have to return him to his mother.
Owen didn't know if he should be angry or sad so he teetered on the edge of sanity, trying to keep from stepping into either emotion and just remaining comfortably numb to the whole situation.
Except he wasn't numb at all.