Ficlet: First Contact
Title: First Contact
Author: Ry (dreamsforlease / curseangel)
Rating: ~PG-13
Warnings: Kissing, spoilers for "Reset"/"Dead Man Walking"/"Day in the Death".
Characters/Pairings: Jack Harkness, Owen Harper / Jack/Owen
Notes: A little something that came to me when considering Owen's ability to sense or use touch. He can't feel, but he can know.
Owen is stubborn. That's fine, because Jack is, too, and in the end, he will out-wait the young doctor if he needs to. His self-destructive spiral is not so severe that he won't eventually want to be pulled out of it by the hand Jack's offering him, and both of them know it, circling the inevitable like animals in a fight.
When he returns to work, Jack thinks it might be a sign that the resolve is crumbling, but Owen somehow manages to keep avoiding him even within the Hub. When he finds him in the med bay, after hours, it's a little surprising, and he wonders if they weren't each expecting the other to be elsewhere. No one else is in the Hub, and Owen is finishing an autopsy on the corpse of something that had fallen through the Rift, a vaguely humanoid shape half-hidden by a white sheet, presumably either for its dignity or Owen's ease of mind, whichever came first.
As he makes the first incision, Jack spoke up. "You can't feel it, can you?" he asks, the question on the tip of his tongue, and he's not sure if he should feel sorry or not about the way Owen jumps at the sound of his voice. "The blade." He can't comprehend how one might function without the sense of touch, and Owen's noncomittal shrug doesn't elucidate anything for him.
"I know it's there," the doctor replies simply, shifting his grip on the scalpel as if to prove his point. As usual, his work is flawless, and Jack leaves soon after, back to his office, where it doesn't take long for Owen to find him again. This time, it is the medic that seeks him out, and not the other way around, and Jack wonders idly if this means that he is planning on taking that hand.
Of course, Owen isn't going to admit it if he does; Jack is going to have to be patient, and keep an eye on the cliffside, and be ready to pull if and when he does reach up for help.
Jack stands when Owen comes to his office, rounding the desk so he can address him at less of a distance. Usually, staying behind the desk would be his choice, given how temperamental Owen can be, but he has a feeling that the impersonality of it would do nothing to help now. His doctor is still coping, and he needs to step out from behind the desk and help if he can. He's the one who put him in this situation, after all.
"Jack, why the hell.." Owen sounds like he's going to ask one of the more important questions he could now. He doesn't. Instead he swallows dryly and looks away, waiting for an answer to a question he doesn't speak all of. But Jack knows what he's going to ask, and he doesn't give a direct answer - what answer is there for this, what motivations could he possibly admit that would cover it?
So he does what he can, touching two fingers to Owen's chin to turn his face towards him again, pressing a firm but unfelt kiss against pale, cold lips. Owen doesn't startle like he, forgetting conditions for a moment, expected him to. But he stares at Jack when he pulls away, regarding him like something new entirely.
"I can't feel it," he says, almost as if he would have liked to, but it's hard to tell. Harder still to determine is whether he would have liked to feel it because it was a kiss or because it was Jack or because it's dark all around and he's very alone lately. Jack doesn't think it matters.
"But you know it's there," he says, simply.
Author: Ry (dreamsforlease / curseangel)
Rating: ~PG-13
Warnings: Kissing, spoilers for "Reset"/"Dead Man Walking"/"Day in the Death".
Characters/Pairings: Jack Harkness, Owen Harper / Jack/Owen
Notes: A little something that came to me when considering Owen's ability to sense or use touch. He can't feel, but he can know.
Owen is stubborn. That's fine, because Jack is, too, and in the end, he will out-wait the young doctor if he needs to. His self-destructive spiral is not so severe that he won't eventually want to be pulled out of it by the hand Jack's offering him, and both of them know it, circling the inevitable like animals in a fight.
When he returns to work, Jack thinks it might be a sign that the resolve is crumbling, but Owen somehow manages to keep avoiding him even within the Hub. When he finds him in the med bay, after hours, it's a little surprising, and he wonders if they weren't each expecting the other to be elsewhere. No one else is in the Hub, and Owen is finishing an autopsy on the corpse of something that had fallen through the Rift, a vaguely humanoid shape half-hidden by a white sheet, presumably either for its dignity or Owen's ease of mind, whichever came first.
As he makes the first incision, Jack spoke up. "You can't feel it, can you?" he asks, the question on the tip of his tongue, and he's not sure if he should feel sorry or not about the way Owen jumps at the sound of his voice. "The blade." He can't comprehend how one might function without the sense of touch, and Owen's noncomittal shrug doesn't elucidate anything for him.
"I know it's there," the doctor replies simply, shifting his grip on the scalpel as if to prove his point. As usual, his work is flawless, and Jack leaves soon after, back to his office, where it doesn't take long for Owen to find him again. This time, it is the medic that seeks him out, and not the other way around, and Jack wonders idly if this means that he is planning on taking that hand.
Of course, Owen isn't going to admit it if he does; Jack is going to have to be patient, and keep an eye on the cliffside, and be ready to pull if and when he does reach up for help.
Jack stands when Owen comes to his office, rounding the desk so he can address him at less of a distance. Usually, staying behind the desk would be his choice, given how temperamental Owen can be, but he has a feeling that the impersonality of it would do nothing to help now. His doctor is still coping, and he needs to step out from behind the desk and help if he can. He's the one who put him in this situation, after all.
"Jack, why the hell.." Owen sounds like he's going to ask one of the more important questions he could now. He doesn't. Instead he swallows dryly and looks away, waiting for an answer to a question he doesn't speak all of. But Jack knows what he's going to ask, and he doesn't give a direct answer - what answer is there for this, what motivations could he possibly admit that would cover it?
So he does what he can, touching two fingers to Owen's chin to turn his face towards him again, pressing a firm but unfelt kiss against pale, cold lips. Owen doesn't startle like he, forgetting conditions for a moment, expected him to. But he stares at Jack when he pulls away, regarding him like something new entirely.
"I can't feel it," he says, almost as if he would have liked to, but it's hard to tell. Harder still to determine is whether he would have liked to feel it because it was a kiss or because it was Jack or because it's dark all around and he's very alone lately. Jack doesn't think it matters.
"But you know it's there," he says, simply.