"That's an awfully small body you're burying," Sarah Jane remarked before she really came out of the trees. She'd nearly decided to go off to the second island again, but something had told her to stay put. At least, her French lessons. She didn't think she could just go hopping off as often as she was. That was how she'd come across the scene that she did.
Sarah Jane was not a very romantic women. Not now, not ever, and so she took it very literally, eyes widening just a perk of a bit. "Human or alien?" she couldn't help ask. "Where'd you find it?"
Owen rolled his eyes and looked at the girl as if she were the dumbest bint he'd come across since the last time he went clubbing. Which, by the by, he couldn't do here because everyone who ran the club was one of Tosh's friends. Fucking great.
"Metaphorical," he said, sneering just the slightest bit.
He flashed a dirty smirk at Owen nd stepped closer. "I have. I can. I'm just better at controlling other people."
His eyes darted to Owen's fist and it was an opportunity too good to pass up--he had no idea if people knew he'd spent the night with Tosh, but it seemed there was more of a rumour mill regarding him than he'd realized.
Maureen of course had no idea what day it was. All she really knew about Owen's breakup, actually, is that there had been one. As in, Jack had let her know that her services as a stripper would no longer be required. She didn't really mind. The "audition" process had been the fun part, anyway.
"Doing some gardening, sugar?" she asked him when she passed back on her way from the beach. Her hair was still wet from swimming, and she had a thin sarong tied around her waist over her bikini.
Owen pondered this for a moment. "You know what? Yeah, actually. Tons." It helped to get rid of that last little bit of hope so he wouldn't spend the rest of his days pining after someone that he couldn't have anymore.
They hadn't talked about it much at all. In fact, they'd mostly avoided the subject. In part, he assumed that was because Owen didn't like to speak of it. But in equal part, it was because he had so little comfort with the entire situation, as wrapped up in Daniel as it was.
So when the date on which the wedding had been slated to take place drew near, and Owen became increasingly churlish (it was sometimes hard to tell with Owen, but they were mates now and he saw things others didn't; he could only assume Owen saw things about him others didn't, and he really didn't much like that thought), Mohinder began looking for an opportunity to talk.
He found when, on Tuesday, he found Owen standing outside the hut with a small shovel and his wedding rings in his hand.
"You do realize those won't grow if you plant them, don't you?" Shooting Owen an inquisitive look, one kinder than the words he spoke over top of it, he continued, "Because I could be wrong, but it looks like you think you might actually be able to grow precious metal
At that, Owen actually smiled. He dropped the rings into the hole and started burying them again. "Maybe not, but we're on a freaky magical island where all sorts of shit goes haywire all the time. Golden trees shouldn't be much of a stretch of the imagination."
"It pains me to admit you have a point." Both eyebrows arched for emphasis, Mohinder folded his hands under his arms. "I won't ask if you want to talk about this, because I know the answer. Instead, I'll suggest that perhaps we ought to talk about this."
Tosh had gone to see Owen, out of some strange desire to see if things were alright. She knew what day it was as well as he likely did. What she'd not expected to find was him digging a hole outside of his hut. She'd really not expected that at all. "Lose a bone?"
"Yeah," Owen said as he leaned against the shovel. "You know, it happens. I suppose I should work on my sense of smell or my memory. One of the two. How've you been?"
"Or create a marker system, more likely to help," she said as if there were nothing strange about the scene or their conversation. "Since yesterday? The same I suppose. You?"
"Doing better," Owen said, shrugging. Getting over you, he thought bitterly. Owen would ask how Jackson was, but he'd just seen him the day before and it didn't make much sense to ask when he knew very well how his son was doing. Fine and dandy without him.
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He closed his hand around the rings and looked down at the hole instead of at the girl. "Don't need a very big hole when you're only burying a heart."
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"Metaphorical," he said, sneering just the slightest bit.
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Even as he teased, he took note as he got closer. Shovel. Small hole. A glint of metal in the man's palm.
And Jack was well aware of the date.
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"Please, like you've ever really been able to control yourself, Harkness."
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His eyes darted to Owen's fist and it was an opportunity too good to pass up--he had no idea if people knew he'd spent the night with Tosh, but it seemed there was more of a rumour mill regarding him than he'd realized.
"Gonna hit me?"
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"Doing some gardening, sugar?" she asked him when she passed back on her way from the beach. Her hair was still wet from swimming, and she had a thin sarong tied around her waist over her bikini.
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"Feeling better?" she asked brightly, not quite sure what you're supposed to say in these sorts of situations.
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So when the date on which the wedding had been slated to take place drew near, and Owen became increasingly churlish (it was sometimes hard to tell with Owen, but they were mates now and he saw things others didn't; he could only assume Owen saw things about him others didn't, and he really didn't much like that thought), Mohinder began looking for an opportunity to talk.
He found when, on Tuesday, he found Owen standing outside the hut with a small shovel and his wedding rings in his hand.
"You do realize those won't grow if you plant them, don't you?" Shooting Owen an inquisitive look, one kinder than the words he spoke over top of it, he continued, "Because I could be wrong, but it looks like you think you might actually be able to grow precious metal
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