FIC: The Right Kind of Wrong
Fic: The Right Kind of Wrong
Title: The Right Kind Of Wrong
Characters: Owen Harper/OFC
Rating: PG right now
Warning(s): None - at the moment (still deciding exactly when this is going to fall into the TW series timeline)/ AU
Spoiler(s): No
Summary: Being an med intern is never easy. Especially if you find yourself suddenly working for Torchwood.
Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own Torchwood and its associated characters and places and things. I wish I did, but I don't.
Author note: Got inspired to write this after seeing the episode "Out of Time", which cemented my Owen-fangirl status. It's unbetaed. I welcome honest feedback and suggestions. Its AU. I didnt start with any set plan for this story.......we'll just see where the muses lead me down the path.
CHAPTER ONE
She walked slowly across the plaza in the fading daylight, a look of confusion on her face, re-reading the slip of paper in her hand for what seemed like the millionth time. She stared at the door that was supposed to be the address she was looking for. Sighing in exasperation, she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and turned to survey the entire plaza, sure she was in the wrong spot.
"Dammit," she muttered under breath. "I will kill Mr. Bryant if this was his idea of a laugh. Re-assignment, my ass. Damn bad joke if you ask me. I know they didn’t like me in the London bureau, but this is ridiculous....."
*************************************
"You're being reassigned."
Looking up from the autopsy reports she was studying, she frowned at her student advisor standing in the med lab doorway.
"Excuse me?" she replied, one eyebrow arched in disbelief.
"You heard me, you're being reassigned. Cardiff, in fact," Mr. Bryant retorted, crossing him arms, knowing an argument of some sort was coming from the med student in front of him. Inwardly, he sighed, regretting to have to lose Kayla to another assignment. When she wasn't questioning everyone and everything around her, or spouting off about beasts and creatures, she was actually one of the more intelligent college students working the crime office, completing her internship.
"Why? And why the hell all the way in Cardiff? What the hell did I do?" exclaimed Kayla in anger, rising out of her chair quickly and coming around the table to stand in front of him, hands on her hips as she glared at him.
"I don't know. All I know is the order came down the line today, you're being reassigned to another internship in a facility in Cardiff. Something about putting all those extra classes you took in parapsychology and what-not to actual use."
"In goddamn Cardiff?" she asked, unbelieving anger in her voice.
"Language, Ms. Michaels. You'll make a fine medical investigator if you learn to control your temper and your tendency towards colorful language when angry," he said, giving her a stern look, secretly chuckling at her look of immediate apology.
"When am I supposed to leave?" she asked, giving in for the moment. She turned back to the table to gather up the case files she had been reviewing, and crossed the room to return them to the filing cabinets where they belonged. Slamming the cabinet drawer shut, she turned and faced her advisor, a resigned look on her face.
"Next week."
*********************************
Light was fading fast, and night was coming on. She was still standing in the plaza, debating on what her next move should be. Go back to the hostel? Go into what appeared to be a tourist’s office and make a fool of herself? She gave herself a little shake, the feeling of being watched closely hitting her. She turned in a slow circle, frowning, not seeing anyone else in the plaza with her. The lengthening shadows in the empty plaza, combined with her frustration she decided, were making her jumpy. She turned back to the tourist office door, and with a resigned shrug of her shoulders, headed for it. If it was the wrong place, they could at least give her the directions to where she was supposed to be. She hurried across the distance, and reaching the door, put a hand out to turn the handle to open it.
Only, the door didn’t open.
It was locked.
Bloody locked.
Giving in to her frustration, she silently cursed and slumped back against the door, dejected.
"Lovely," she said to no one in particular. "Just goddamn perfect. Can anything else go wrong today?"
Unfortunately, at that moment, the universe decided to answer that question for her. Someone opened the door from the other side, and she fell backwards through the doorway at the sudden loss of the support she was leaning against. She landed hard on her backside, eyes tearing up from the pain of her tailbone meeting an unyielding surface.
"Took you long enough to make up your mind, sweetcheeks. We weren't sure if you were going stand in the plaza all night, playing statue, or finally knock on the door, or if we were going to have to come and fetch you, lost little lamb that you seem to be," a voice said from somewhere above her. She looked up and found the source of the voice to be a man grinning down at her rather arrogantly as he lounged casually against the doorjamb. "Such a burden, women always falling at my feet in adoration. I assume you are one Ms. Kayla Michaels, reporting for duty?"
He held out a hand to help her up.
"Yes, I’m Ms. Michaels," Kayla replied, reluctantly taking his hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet. Instead of releasing her hand once she was upright, he gave an extra little tug so that she stumbled and fell against him. His grin deepened and he winked at her, releasing her hand as she righted herself and took a couple of hasty steps back, taking a few moments to regain her lost and bruised dignity. Not quite meeting his eye, she spoke to him. "And you are?"
Pushing away from the doorjamb he walked past her, deliberately brushing against her, chuckling as she took a hasty sidestep away from him as she turned to watch him.
"Dr. Owen Harper, doll" he replied, stressing the doctor in his introduction. He strolled around the counter, and reaching down, pressed something, causing a section of the wall to swing open, revealing a passageway behind it. "Welcome to Torchwood, Ms. Michaels."
He gestured towards the open secret entrance and the passage.
"After you."