Fic: When Owen Wasn’t
Title: When Owen Wasn’t
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Owen, Ianto, Jack, Tosh.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1869
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: This time it’s Owen’s turn to be accidentally transformed into something else, and he’s not at all happy about it.
Written For: Challenge 255: Amnesty at fan_flashworks, using Challenge 48: Technology. Also for the ‘Transformation’ square on my ffw bingo card.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
“This isn’t bleedin’ funny!” Owen griped, somewhat mushily thanks to his unfamiliar and completely toothless mouth.
“Really? Depends on your point of view.” Ianto couldn’t repress his smirk, although to be honest he wasn’t really trying to. After all the times Owen had made fun of him when he’d been inadvertently turned into something other than his normal self, it made a very refreshing change for the shoe to be on the other foot, as it were. Not that Owen currently had feet, or legs for that matter. Still… “The new look definitely suits you.”
“I’m a slug!”
“Actually,” said Jack, “you’re an Ondoxican.”
“What’s one of those when it’s at home?” Owen’s four eyes, each on an individual eyestalk, swivelled to focus on Torchwood Three’s leader.
“Giant alien slug,” Jack admitted, breaking into a grin.
“Grrrr!” Owen growled. Well, he tried to; in Ianto’s opinion it sounded more like he was blowing a raspberry.
“That’s so cute!” Tosh exclaimed. “Do it again!”
“No! I’m a slug, for fuck’s sake, a giant pink alien slug! I don’t wanna be a slug!” From his petulant tone, he would have been stamping his foot like a toddler having a tantrum if he’d still had feet to stamp with. Instead, all he could do was flail his four pink ‘arms’ around in an agitated manner. They were flexible like tentacles, but each one ended in a four-fingered hand for grasping things with.
“You look like you’re trying to conduct an orchestra, or possibly two at the same time,” Jack said, highly amused.
“Stop laughing at me or I’ll punch you in the gob!” Owen closed all four of his hands into fists and waved them threateningly at Jack, whose grin only grew wider. Although Ondoxican hands were extremely dexterous, they were also boneless and soft so there was very little strength in them. Being hit by one would be akin to being punched with a handful of marshmallows. As threats went, it was never going to intimidate anyone, unless they had a serious slug phobia.
“Give it up, Owen,” Ianto advised. “I’ve seen more threatening kittens. Just accept that for now, you are what you are, a giant pink alien slug. A very fetching shade of pink, I might add; I think I’ve got a shirt that colour. Anyway, you’ll just have to put up with it. You know as well as anyone it’s not going to be permanent; Tosh is already working on turning you back into you. Right, Tosh?”
“What?” Blinking, Tosh tore her fascinated gaze away from the two-metre-long slug-like creature that had previously been Torchwood’s medic. “Oh, right, yes, I’ll get started on that immediately. I’m sure I’ll have you back to normal in no time, Owen; don’t worry about a thing.”
Owen sagged. “Easy for you to say; you’re not a big pink slug.”
“Yes, and I’m very grateful to you for pushing me out of the way when the device went off, otherwise reaching my computers might be a bit tricky.”
Although the front part of Owen’s new body was upright, he was less than a metre tall, and that included the bulbous head swelling at the top of the raised section, capped with several spiky antennae and the four round red eyes, sort of like golf balls on retractable stalks.
“Yeah, sure; I’m a real hero. Whoop de do. Wake me up when this nightmare’s over.”
Fed up with his situation, Owen folded his four arms across what passed for his chest, shut his eyes tightly, and retracted his eyestalks until all that was visible was a row of four blobs across the top of his head, arrayed like a bizarre Alice band. The wide slash of his mouth set into a surprisingly human pout, and there Owen sat, a large pink lump on the dusty grey concrete, stubbornly determined to stay right there until Tosh fixed him.
“What is your problem, Owen?” Jack snapped. “You’re not the first member of the team to ever get turned into something else. It’s not even the first time you’ve been transformed. Everyone else just makes the best of it until they get changed back. What the rest of us DON’T do is sit around sulking and bemoaning our fate. As transformations go, I don’t think this one’s too bad; you’re still mobile, you can talk, you have hands, and you have excellent three-hundred-and-sixty-degree eyesight. If I was you, I’d be testing out this form’s capabilities, not just squatting there like a lump of used bubblegum.”
“Well you’re not me! I didn’t ask for this!”
“Ianto didn’t ask to be turned into a chipmunk that time, but he made the most of being one while he could.”
“Right,” Owen drawled. “He went around playing mean tricks on everybody; great use of his chipmunk ‘capabilities’.”
“I only did that to get back at you for making fun of me,” Ianto said calmly. “There wasn’t a lot else I could do, being only a few inches tall, and unable to speak or do my job. You don’t have any of those excuses, so stop blocking the path and go find something useful to do. I’m sure you have paperwork you could be getting on with.”
“This sucks,” Owen groused, but with a put-upon sigh he slowly turned and slithered towards his desk, leaving a trail of pink slime behind him.
Ianto eyed the slime with a surprising lack of concern. “Owen may not be happy about any of this, but the Kneebles are really going to love him.”
Jack grinned. “Need a hand with that? We should probably put them on their leashes…”
Ianto nodded. “That would be wise, can’t have them scampering all over Owen and licking him; I don’t think he’d like it, and he’s already being moody enough. We’ll have the Kneebles out four at a time until he’s himself again. They do love a nice bit of fresh slime.”
“See, Owen? You’re already providing a useful service, giving the Kneebles a tasty treat.”
“Sod off, and keep your pets under control.” Owen reached up with one hand, plucking his paperwork off his workstation and spreading it out on the floor in front of him. Another hand grabbed a pen, while two of his eyes swivelled on their stalks to give Jack and Ianto separate baleful glares that once again failed to intimidate his teammates in the slightest.
“Not exactly scary, is he?” Ianto said as he and Jack set off to fetch some of the Kneebles.
“Well, Ondoxicans are a highly civilised and peaceful people, not violent in any way. Even their defence capabilities run towards forcefields and nullification devices, large ones to protect towns and individual dwellings, and portable shields and nullifiers for personal use. They’re not really built for intimidation, they’re too soft and squishy.” Jack glanced at his lover, who was smiling contentedly. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“I’ll admit to feeling a certain amount of satisfaction that it’s Owen who’s been slugified.” Ianto glanced sidelong at Jack. “He so richly deserves it, if for nothing else then for his charming personality.”
“Karma?” Jack suggested.
“Precisely.”
It took Tosh until evening to figure out how to reverse Owen’s transformation. She might have succeeded sooner, and if there’d been a situation where the medic was desperately needed in his usual form, she would have given the task top priority, but under the circumstances she wasn’t in any rush. Ianto had let her know he’d appreciate it if she could delay restoring Owen until his paperwork was up to date and all the Kneebles had fed, and she was happy to oblige her friend. Finally, though, she announced she was ready, and Owen gave a gusty sigh of relief.
He hadn’t enjoyed his day as a slug, and his bad mood had only grown worse when he’d found out that Ondoxicans were vegans. The only things available in the Hub suitable for him to eat were lettuce, watercress, and raw spinach, none of which he’d willingly eat under normal circumstances, but it had been a choice between that or going hungry for an unknown length of time, which hadn’t been an appealing option either. So he’d sat on the floor by the coffee table laboriously chewing his lunch with his toothless gums and casting mournful glances at his friends who’d been eating pizza.
“First thing I’m going to do as me is get a pizza and eat the whole thing myself,” he claimed as he slithered alongside Tosh’s workstation to wait while the tech expert made some final adjustments to the device responsible for his transformation. “And then I’m goin’ out and getting drunk. I don’t want to remember anything about this godawful day.”
“I can Retcon you if you want,” Jack said casually, lounging in the seat at Owen’s desk, his arms folded. “Save you all the time and money it would take you to get completely blotto.”
“Thanks but no thanks; I’d rather lose my memory the old-fashioned way.” Ondoxican faces weren’t set up for scowling, but Owen gave it his best shot anyway. Unsurprisingly, no one noticed.
“Suit yourself.” Jack idly swivelled Owen’s chair back and forth.
“I plan to.”
“Alright, I’m ready,” said Tosh. “Everybody step away from Owen; we don’t want to risk transforming anyone else into an Owen clone.”
“Perish the thought,” Ianto agreed. “One of him is more than enough.”
“Oi! I heard that; I’m right here!”
“I noticed; you’re not exactly inconspicuous.”
“Just get on with it, Tosh,” Owen demanded, waving all four arms around again. “I want my own body back!”
“Then keep still. Flailing about is not helping me to get you centred in the transformation field.”
Owen scrunched in on himself, something Ondoxicans were pretty good at, and kept as still as he could.
“Here we go then,” said Tosh, triggering the device, and Owen’s giant slug form was bathed in red-tinged light. From where they were, the rest of the team could see Owen changing shape within the light beam, a process that took several long minutes, but eventually the light faded away to reveal Dr Owen Harper lying face down on the concrete. Naked.
“Thank fuck that’s over.” Owen got to his feet, his back to the team, dusting himself off, then caught sight of his hands, and other parts. “I’m still pink!”
“Um, yes, you are,” Tosh agreed, looking him up and down appreciatively, a smile hovering around her lips. “Nothing to worry about though; according to this, skin pigmentation often takes a few days to return to normal. It should wear off by the end of the week.”
“I can’t go out drinking lookin’ like this!”
“I don’t know, if you pick a dimly lit bar, maybe no one will notice.”
“Not helping, Harkness!” With a brief backward glare Owen stalked away in the direction of the locker room, in search of clothes.
“Was it something I said?” Jack called after him.
“Screw you!”
Jack sighed and shook his head. “You’d think he’d be happy not being a slug anymore. There’s just no pleasing some people.”
“Mm,” Ianto murmured. “I still think he’s a very nice shade of pink.”
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Owen, Ianto, Jack, Tosh.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1869
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: This time it’s Owen’s turn to be accidentally transformed into something else, and he’s not at all happy about it.
Written For: Challenge 255: Amnesty at fan_flashworks, using Challenge 48: Technology. Also for the ‘Transformation’ square on my ffw bingo card.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
“This isn’t bleedin’ funny!” Owen griped, somewhat mushily thanks to his unfamiliar and completely toothless mouth.
“Really? Depends on your point of view.” Ianto couldn’t repress his smirk, although to be honest he wasn’t really trying to. After all the times Owen had made fun of him when he’d been inadvertently turned into something other than his normal self, it made a very refreshing change for the shoe to be on the other foot, as it were. Not that Owen currently had feet, or legs for that matter. Still… “The new look definitely suits you.”
“I’m a slug!”
“Actually,” said Jack, “you’re an Ondoxican.”
“What’s one of those when it’s at home?” Owen’s four eyes, each on an individual eyestalk, swivelled to focus on Torchwood Three’s leader.
“Giant alien slug,” Jack admitted, breaking into a grin.
“Grrrr!” Owen growled. Well, he tried to; in Ianto’s opinion it sounded more like he was blowing a raspberry.
“That’s so cute!” Tosh exclaimed. “Do it again!”
“No! I’m a slug, for fuck’s sake, a giant pink alien slug! I don’t wanna be a slug!” From his petulant tone, he would have been stamping his foot like a toddler having a tantrum if he’d still had feet to stamp with. Instead, all he could do was flail his four pink ‘arms’ around in an agitated manner. They were flexible like tentacles, but each one ended in a four-fingered hand for grasping things with.
“You look like you’re trying to conduct an orchestra, or possibly two at the same time,” Jack said, highly amused.
“Stop laughing at me or I’ll punch you in the gob!” Owen closed all four of his hands into fists and waved them threateningly at Jack, whose grin only grew wider. Although Ondoxican hands were extremely dexterous, they were also boneless and soft so there was very little strength in them. Being hit by one would be akin to being punched with a handful of marshmallows. As threats went, it was never going to intimidate anyone, unless they had a serious slug phobia.
“Give it up, Owen,” Ianto advised. “I’ve seen more threatening kittens. Just accept that for now, you are what you are, a giant pink alien slug. A very fetching shade of pink, I might add; I think I’ve got a shirt that colour. Anyway, you’ll just have to put up with it. You know as well as anyone it’s not going to be permanent; Tosh is already working on turning you back into you. Right, Tosh?”
“What?” Blinking, Tosh tore her fascinated gaze away from the two-metre-long slug-like creature that had previously been Torchwood’s medic. “Oh, right, yes, I’ll get started on that immediately. I’m sure I’ll have you back to normal in no time, Owen; don’t worry about a thing.”
Owen sagged. “Easy for you to say; you’re not a big pink slug.”
“Yes, and I’m very grateful to you for pushing me out of the way when the device went off, otherwise reaching my computers might be a bit tricky.”
Although the front part of Owen’s new body was upright, he was less than a metre tall, and that included the bulbous head swelling at the top of the raised section, capped with several spiky antennae and the four round red eyes, sort of like golf balls on retractable stalks.
“Yeah, sure; I’m a real hero. Whoop de do. Wake me up when this nightmare’s over.”
Fed up with his situation, Owen folded his four arms across what passed for his chest, shut his eyes tightly, and retracted his eyestalks until all that was visible was a row of four blobs across the top of his head, arrayed like a bizarre Alice band. The wide slash of his mouth set into a surprisingly human pout, and there Owen sat, a large pink lump on the dusty grey concrete, stubbornly determined to stay right there until Tosh fixed him.
“What is your problem, Owen?” Jack snapped. “You’re not the first member of the team to ever get turned into something else. It’s not even the first time you’ve been transformed. Everyone else just makes the best of it until they get changed back. What the rest of us DON’T do is sit around sulking and bemoaning our fate. As transformations go, I don’t think this one’s too bad; you’re still mobile, you can talk, you have hands, and you have excellent three-hundred-and-sixty-degree eyesight. If I was you, I’d be testing out this form’s capabilities, not just squatting there like a lump of used bubblegum.”
“Well you’re not me! I didn’t ask for this!”
“Ianto didn’t ask to be turned into a chipmunk that time, but he made the most of being one while he could.”
“Right,” Owen drawled. “He went around playing mean tricks on everybody; great use of his chipmunk ‘capabilities’.”
“I only did that to get back at you for making fun of me,” Ianto said calmly. “There wasn’t a lot else I could do, being only a few inches tall, and unable to speak or do my job. You don’t have any of those excuses, so stop blocking the path and go find something useful to do. I’m sure you have paperwork you could be getting on with.”
“This sucks,” Owen groused, but with a put-upon sigh he slowly turned and slithered towards his desk, leaving a trail of pink slime behind him.
Ianto eyed the slime with a surprising lack of concern. “Owen may not be happy about any of this, but the Kneebles are really going to love him.”
Jack grinned. “Need a hand with that? We should probably put them on their leashes…”
Ianto nodded. “That would be wise, can’t have them scampering all over Owen and licking him; I don’t think he’d like it, and he’s already being moody enough. We’ll have the Kneebles out four at a time until he’s himself again. They do love a nice bit of fresh slime.”
“See, Owen? You’re already providing a useful service, giving the Kneebles a tasty treat.”
“Sod off, and keep your pets under control.” Owen reached up with one hand, plucking his paperwork off his workstation and spreading it out on the floor in front of him. Another hand grabbed a pen, while two of his eyes swivelled on their stalks to give Jack and Ianto separate baleful glares that once again failed to intimidate his teammates in the slightest.
“Not exactly scary, is he?” Ianto said as he and Jack set off to fetch some of the Kneebles.
“Well, Ondoxicans are a highly civilised and peaceful people, not violent in any way. Even their defence capabilities run towards forcefields and nullification devices, large ones to protect towns and individual dwellings, and portable shields and nullifiers for personal use. They’re not really built for intimidation, they’re too soft and squishy.” Jack glanced at his lover, who was smiling contentedly. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“I’ll admit to feeling a certain amount of satisfaction that it’s Owen who’s been slugified.” Ianto glanced sidelong at Jack. “He so richly deserves it, if for nothing else then for his charming personality.”
“Karma?” Jack suggested.
“Precisely.”
It took Tosh until evening to figure out how to reverse Owen’s transformation. She might have succeeded sooner, and if there’d been a situation where the medic was desperately needed in his usual form, she would have given the task top priority, but under the circumstances she wasn’t in any rush. Ianto had let her know he’d appreciate it if she could delay restoring Owen until his paperwork was up to date and all the Kneebles had fed, and she was happy to oblige her friend. Finally, though, she announced she was ready, and Owen gave a gusty sigh of relief.
He hadn’t enjoyed his day as a slug, and his bad mood had only grown worse when he’d found out that Ondoxicans were vegans. The only things available in the Hub suitable for him to eat were lettuce, watercress, and raw spinach, none of which he’d willingly eat under normal circumstances, but it had been a choice between that or going hungry for an unknown length of time, which hadn’t been an appealing option either. So he’d sat on the floor by the coffee table laboriously chewing his lunch with his toothless gums and casting mournful glances at his friends who’d been eating pizza.
“First thing I’m going to do as me is get a pizza and eat the whole thing myself,” he claimed as he slithered alongside Tosh’s workstation to wait while the tech expert made some final adjustments to the device responsible for his transformation. “And then I’m goin’ out and getting drunk. I don’t want to remember anything about this godawful day.”
“I can Retcon you if you want,” Jack said casually, lounging in the seat at Owen’s desk, his arms folded. “Save you all the time and money it would take you to get completely blotto.”
“Thanks but no thanks; I’d rather lose my memory the old-fashioned way.” Ondoxican faces weren’t set up for scowling, but Owen gave it his best shot anyway. Unsurprisingly, no one noticed.
“Suit yourself.” Jack idly swivelled Owen’s chair back and forth.
“I plan to.”
“Alright, I’m ready,” said Tosh. “Everybody step away from Owen; we don’t want to risk transforming anyone else into an Owen clone.”
“Perish the thought,” Ianto agreed. “One of him is more than enough.”
“Oi! I heard that; I’m right here!”
“I noticed; you’re not exactly inconspicuous.”
“Just get on with it, Tosh,” Owen demanded, waving all four arms around again. “I want my own body back!”
“Then keep still. Flailing about is not helping me to get you centred in the transformation field.”
Owen scrunched in on himself, something Ondoxicans were pretty good at, and kept as still as he could.
“Here we go then,” said Tosh, triggering the device, and Owen’s giant slug form was bathed in red-tinged light. From where they were, the rest of the team could see Owen changing shape within the light beam, a process that took several long minutes, but eventually the light faded away to reveal Dr Owen Harper lying face down on the concrete. Naked.
“Thank fuck that’s over.” Owen got to his feet, his back to the team, dusting himself off, then caught sight of his hands, and other parts. “I’m still pink!”
“Um, yes, you are,” Tosh agreed, looking him up and down appreciatively, a smile hovering around her lips. “Nothing to worry about though; according to this, skin pigmentation often takes a few days to return to normal. It should wear off by the end of the week.”
“I can’t go out drinking lookin’ like this!”
“I don’t know, if you pick a dimly lit bar, maybe no one will notice.”
“Not helping, Harkness!” With a brief backward glare Owen stalked away in the direction of the locker room, in search of clothes.
“Was it something I said?” Jack called after him.
“Screw you!”
Jack sighed and shook his head. “You’d think he’d be happy not being a slug anymore. There’s just no pleasing some people.”
“Mm,” Ianto murmured. “I still think he’s a very nice shade of pink.”
The End