Fic: The Needs Of The One Outweigh The Needs Of The Many
Title: The Needs Of The One Outweigh The Needs Of The Many
Series: Torchwood
Characters: Owen, Ianto, Jack, Tosh
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season 1 TW
Beta: luvinthe88and20
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or the characters therein, they belong to the BBC and RTD. Any original characters and places are my property.
Summary: When all Owen cares about is his pithy life, danger can be had by others.
Author's Note: Written for the "Sloth' prompt for tw_lucky_7.
The Needs Of The One Outweigh The Needs Of The Many
Owen sprawled out in the chair next to his desk, legs spread, arms hanging down, his labcoat open. He let out a hearty yawn and scratched at the three days worth of growth on his chin. He sure as hell didn’t care about shaving, and no one said a thing to him. Heck, no none noticed the fact that the clothes he was wearing were the same as yesterday.
Owen idly stared at the stack of files from St. Helen’s Hospital. A new bronchial infection seemed to be gaining some momentum, but at first glance it looked like barely a thing, certainly nothing Torchwood would have to deal with. There had to be an easier way of perusing the files and making Jack happy.
Spotting the red package amongst the clutter of his desk, Owen grinned. He slowly walked his fingers across the cluttered desk to a pack of Malteasers. Picking one of the milk chocolate malted balls out, Owen rolled it over to himself and then tucked it away into his mouth. Rather than having to chomp down on the candy, he let it dissolve in his mouth.
Barely flicking his eyes towards the movement across the Hub, Owen yawned as Ianto came over dropping a take away container haphazardly onto a pile on Owen’s desk. Owen poked at it with a pen, making it drop down to the same level as his hand. He propped open the lid and picked up a stick of teriyaki beef.
“Next time you want something as specific as that, you can go get it yourself, but that might actually involve getting up off your arse,” Ianto stated in a clipped tone.
Owen shrugged his shoulders, biting at the steak. He barely registered Ianto stalking away - probably to bitch and then shag Jack. Owen found himself wishing he was home with some youtube and a bottle of Glenmorangie than chewing on now cold teriyaki steak and his special rice at work. Owen did not want to do the work that night, nor any of the other stacks of work that waited for him to at least peruse it.
Suddenly, an idea hit him. He pushed his chair across the metal grating, not even bothering to get up out of it, over to Tosh’s desk. He pulled open the top drawer and was pleased he wouldn’t need to search much. There was the little beauty, the little alien scanner she had mentioned to him a couple of months ago. He snatched it up and scuttled the chair back to his desk, pushing it with his feet.
Without letting go of the device, Owen tugged a somewhat dirty spoon out from under a stack of file folders on the corner of his desk. He wrinkled his nose at the dried brown glob of goo, or gravy, or something that had solidified and was stuck to the edge of the spoon. Not even caring anymore, Owen wiped the spoon against the corner of the desk, knocking the goo to the floor. With the same spoon he dug into the rice mixture, slurping down a huge spoonful.
Dropping the spoon into the rice, he opened the files from St. Helen’s and held the device over them. Once he felt that he had scanned enough medical reports, Owen held the alien device up to the computer and if he would have crowed with delight if he could have done it without moving a muscle. His eyes glinted as page after page of medical reports appeared on the screen.
Using only one finger, Owen tapped a couple of keys and set up a preliminary scan of the reports and instructed the computer to text him if anything showed up. Pushing away from the desk with a whimper, Owen grabbed his leather coat and dragged him and the coat out of the Hub.
After his mobile rang for the fifth time, Owen finally turned over in his bed, and picked up the phone. He scratched the ever-growing stubble on his chin which was rapidly turning into a beard. He could shave tomorrow. Yawning, he flipped his mobile open.
“What?” Owen answered, not wanting to mince words.
“Glad to know you’re still alive,” Tosh reprimanded.
“Whatever,” Owen stated, burrowing his head back into the pillow.
“It’s almost one o’clock in the afternoon, Owen!” Tosh sounded angry. “We need you.”
“Fuck,” Owen said, pulling the sheet up over his naked body.
“There’s a problem at St. Helen’s. Apparently there’s an outbreak,” Tosh stated.
“No,” Owen replied, as he scratched his arse with his other hand.
“Yes. Even Jack is quarantined. Ianto says he’ll shoot you again if Jack dies one more time,” Tosh said.
“Hmpf,” Owen retorted, barely listening. Jack would survive. Owen could check on him later.
“Owen, there’s an alien virus running amok at St. Helen’s! It’s already claimed three victims,” Tosh said quietly.
“Shit,” Owen said as he sat up in bed.
“Are you coming in?”
“No.”
“You have to. None of us have ever seen som-”
“I’m going straight to the hospital,” Owen said as his legs slid over the side of the bed.
He flipped the mobile shut, stretching his arms above his head. Glancing up at the phone, he didn’t see an alert that he had gotten a text message. Owen grabbed the same jeans he had worn the last two days and slid them on. Slumping past his closet, Owen pulled out a shirt and threw that on, not even bothering to undo the buttons. Putting on socks was too much trouble, so he stuck his bare feet into a pair of boots and tromped out the door for the hospital.
Later that day, Owen watched over Jack in the quarantine ward as the man lay dead. With a shuddering gasp, Jack’s body convulsed back to life. His lungs rasped for air, as Owen watched the spectacle slumped in a very uncomfortable vinyl chair. Jack pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked at Owen through angry eyes.
“What are you doing in here?” Jack asked.
“Checking on you,” Owen drawled out.
“There are other people infected. I told you to take care of them before even worrying about me.” Jack sat up on the stretcher, working out the kinks in his back.
“I did,” Owen stated, looking down at the floor.
“What time is it?”
“Almost 4:00 a.m.,” Owen replied as he squinted at the clock on the wall. He hadn’t even bothered putting on his watch when he left his flat.
“What happened?” Jack asked, pulling another disgusting vinyl chair up next to Owen and sitting down in it. “How did this become an epidemic so quickly?”
“It’s been brewing for several days,” Owen said, staring down at the hands clasped in his lap. “I happened. If I had taken the time and not fobbed off the interns when they reported something seemed wrong… If I had taken the time to actually look at the medical reports rather than taking the easy way out I would have seen it.”
Owen could feel Jack staring at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jack lean closer towards him, hands on his knees. Owen let out a sigh, scratching his beard which suddenly felt very itchy.
“How many people died?” There was a hard edge to Jack’s voice.
“Not counting you, six by the time we got an antidote concocted and distributed,” Owen mumbled.
“What exactly happened to me?”
“After breathing it in while investigating the first strange death, you didn’t stay dead long enough for the virus to not want to stick around. It kept infecting you, over and over again.”
“Too bad I can’t make you go through what that felt like,” Jack stated. “It’s all gone now?”
“Yeah, you were the last, but the scanner shows it’s gone from your system,” Owen stated. “But just in case, we gave the hospital staff several extra doses of the antidote. It’s all done with.”
“Not until six people died,” Jack said as he pushed himself out of the chair and exited the room.
Owen slowly stood up, a full-body sigh exiting through him as he did so. “Forgive me father for I have sinned,” he muttered under his breath as he slumped out of the room.
Series: Torchwood
Characters: Owen, Ianto, Jack, Tosh
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season 1 TW
Beta: luvinthe88and20
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or the characters therein, they belong to the BBC and RTD. Any original characters and places are my property.
Summary: When all Owen cares about is his pithy life, danger can be had by others.
Author's Note: Written for the "Sloth' prompt for tw_lucky_7.
The Needs Of The One Outweigh The Needs Of The Many
Owen sprawled out in the chair next to his desk, legs spread, arms hanging down, his labcoat open. He let out a hearty yawn and scratched at the three days worth of growth on his chin. He sure as hell didn’t care about shaving, and no one said a thing to him. Heck, no none noticed the fact that the clothes he was wearing were the same as yesterday.
Owen idly stared at the stack of files from St. Helen’s Hospital. A new bronchial infection seemed to be gaining some momentum, but at first glance it looked like barely a thing, certainly nothing Torchwood would have to deal with. There had to be an easier way of perusing the files and making Jack happy.
Spotting the red package amongst the clutter of his desk, Owen grinned. He slowly walked his fingers across the cluttered desk to a pack of Malteasers. Picking one of the milk chocolate malted balls out, Owen rolled it over to himself and then tucked it away into his mouth. Rather than having to chomp down on the candy, he let it dissolve in his mouth.
Barely flicking his eyes towards the movement across the Hub, Owen yawned as Ianto came over dropping a take away container haphazardly onto a pile on Owen’s desk. Owen poked at it with a pen, making it drop down to the same level as his hand. He propped open the lid and picked up a stick of teriyaki beef.
“Next time you want something as specific as that, you can go get it yourself, but that might actually involve getting up off your arse,” Ianto stated in a clipped tone.
Owen shrugged his shoulders, biting at the steak. He barely registered Ianto stalking away - probably to bitch and then shag Jack. Owen found himself wishing he was home with some youtube and a bottle of Glenmorangie than chewing on now cold teriyaki steak and his special rice at work. Owen did not want to do the work that night, nor any of the other stacks of work that waited for him to at least peruse it.
Suddenly, an idea hit him. He pushed his chair across the metal grating, not even bothering to get up out of it, over to Tosh’s desk. He pulled open the top drawer and was pleased he wouldn’t need to search much. There was the little beauty, the little alien scanner she had mentioned to him a couple of months ago. He snatched it up and scuttled the chair back to his desk, pushing it with his feet.
Without letting go of the device, Owen tugged a somewhat dirty spoon out from under a stack of file folders on the corner of his desk. He wrinkled his nose at the dried brown glob of goo, or gravy, or something that had solidified and was stuck to the edge of the spoon. Not even caring anymore, Owen wiped the spoon against the corner of the desk, knocking the goo to the floor. With the same spoon he dug into the rice mixture, slurping down a huge spoonful.
Dropping the spoon into the rice, he opened the files from St. Helen’s and held the device over them. Once he felt that he had scanned enough medical reports, Owen held the alien device up to the computer and if he would have crowed with delight if he could have done it without moving a muscle. His eyes glinted as page after page of medical reports appeared on the screen.
Using only one finger, Owen tapped a couple of keys and set up a preliminary scan of the reports and instructed the computer to text him if anything showed up. Pushing away from the desk with a whimper, Owen grabbed his leather coat and dragged him and the coat out of the Hub.
After his mobile rang for the fifth time, Owen finally turned over in his bed, and picked up the phone. He scratched the ever-growing stubble on his chin which was rapidly turning into a beard. He could shave tomorrow. Yawning, he flipped his mobile open.
“What?” Owen answered, not wanting to mince words.
“Glad to know you’re still alive,” Tosh reprimanded.
“Whatever,” Owen stated, burrowing his head back into the pillow.
“It’s almost one o’clock in the afternoon, Owen!” Tosh sounded angry. “We need you.”
“Fuck,” Owen said, pulling the sheet up over his naked body.
“There’s a problem at St. Helen’s. Apparently there’s an outbreak,” Tosh stated.
“No,” Owen replied, as he scratched his arse with his other hand.
“Yes. Even Jack is quarantined. Ianto says he’ll shoot you again if Jack dies one more time,” Tosh said.
“Hmpf,” Owen retorted, barely listening. Jack would survive. Owen could check on him later.
“Owen, there’s an alien virus running amok at St. Helen’s! It’s already claimed three victims,” Tosh said quietly.
“Shit,” Owen said as he sat up in bed.
“Are you coming in?”
“No.”
“You have to. None of us have ever seen som-”
“I’m going straight to the hospital,” Owen said as his legs slid over the side of the bed.
He flipped the mobile shut, stretching his arms above his head. Glancing up at the phone, he didn’t see an alert that he had gotten a text message. Owen grabbed the same jeans he had worn the last two days and slid them on. Slumping past his closet, Owen pulled out a shirt and threw that on, not even bothering to undo the buttons. Putting on socks was too much trouble, so he stuck his bare feet into a pair of boots and tromped out the door for the hospital.
Later that day, Owen watched over Jack in the quarantine ward as the man lay dead. With a shuddering gasp, Jack’s body convulsed back to life. His lungs rasped for air, as Owen watched the spectacle slumped in a very uncomfortable vinyl chair. Jack pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked at Owen through angry eyes.
“What are you doing in here?” Jack asked.
“Checking on you,” Owen drawled out.
“There are other people infected. I told you to take care of them before even worrying about me.” Jack sat up on the stretcher, working out the kinks in his back.
“I did,” Owen stated, looking down at the floor.
“What time is it?”
“Almost 4:00 a.m.,” Owen replied as he squinted at the clock on the wall. He hadn’t even bothered putting on his watch when he left his flat.
“What happened?” Jack asked, pulling another disgusting vinyl chair up next to Owen and sitting down in it. “How did this become an epidemic so quickly?”
“It’s been brewing for several days,” Owen said, staring down at the hands clasped in his lap. “I happened. If I had taken the time and not fobbed off the interns when they reported something seemed wrong… If I had taken the time to actually look at the medical reports rather than taking the easy way out I would have seen it.”
Owen could feel Jack staring at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jack lean closer towards him, hands on his knees. Owen let out a sigh, scratching his beard which suddenly felt very itchy.
“How many people died?” There was a hard edge to Jack’s voice.
“Not counting you, six by the time we got an antidote concocted and distributed,” Owen mumbled.
“What exactly happened to me?”
“After breathing it in while investigating the first strange death, you didn’t stay dead long enough for the virus to not want to stick around. It kept infecting you, over and over again.”
“Too bad I can’t make you go through what that felt like,” Jack stated. “It’s all gone now?”
“Yeah, you were the last, but the scanner shows it’s gone from your system,” Owen stated. “But just in case, we gave the hospital staff several extra doses of the antidote. It’s all done with.”
“Not until six people died,” Jack said as he pushed himself out of the chair and exited the room.
Owen slowly stood up, a full-body sigh exiting through him as he did so. “Forgive me father for I have sinned,” he muttered under his breath as he slumped out of the room.