Exhibit, Part One
"It's all right," Owen whispered, "Really, Tosh, it's all right."
And it was, he supposed. It wasn't like it would hurt, right? It'd all be over and he wouldn't be stuck in this stupid in-between state any more. He faced his oncoming death with half a smile, alarms blaring around him.
Really, it wouldn't be that bad, dying - he'd already done it once, Jack did it all the time, and everyone else died sometime, and Suzie'd always had a flare for the dramatic, it wouldn't be as bad as she'd said… All he really regretted was, well, not taking into account the ventilation system, but more than that, never asking Tosh out, never getting in a relationship again like he'd had with Katie, so long ago, never, never, never….
"Oh God."
Fuck that, he wanted to live.
"Owen?" Toshiko's voice came desperately through the speaker. "Owen?!"
Owen shut his eyes, but it couldn't completely block out the blinding white light coming straight for him. The alarms were drowned out by a roaring in his ears, a whoosh as if he were sticking his head out the window of a passenger jet.
By all rights, it should have burned. It should have melted his flesh from his bones, torn him to shreds, downright disintegrated his entire body, down to the last brain cell, finally killing him for good. That wasn't what happened, and that's how Owen came to realize something had gone wrong with his death.
…again.
A lot of Owen's senses had stopped working altogether after he'd died, primarily touch and taste and fun things like that. With a lot of concentration, he could make out things like heat and pressure, but only barely. He'd even considered that those feelings were just memories, inspired by the sight of physical contact, rather than the touch itself. Really, the only sense other than sight and hearing was balance.
He was pretty sure now he felt pressure around his chest and middle, like a rope around his body was tugging him backwards, hard. And he was definitely off-balance.
Owen stumbled backwards, just barely managing to stay upright. His eyes snapped open; instead of the dull metal of the nuclear reactor or a rush of fire, there were sterile white walls, counters full of unfamiliar technology, flashing lights, and one gigantic gray archway, right in front of him. The center of the arch was sparking, bright white light flickering out, a strong wind making his jacket flutter.
"What the hell?!" said Owen, blinking more out of confusion and habit than any need to shield his eyes.
Owen became suddenly aware that he was not alone in the unfamiliar room. It was full of people, dressed in something like white has mat suits, all gesturing and shouting wildly, at the arch, at each other, at their equipment, at Owen.
The arch sparked and sputtered, and the lights at its center grew and shrank. It emitted strange sounds, almost like voices, masked by the cacophony of the room. "…orking?" Owen heard, and he almost thought he knew that voice from somewhere. "…an't tell, try agai…"
"Somebody restrain it!" came a voice from behind him.
Owen forgot the voices from the archway as one of the people grabbed both his arms from behind. He snapped out of his reverie, and instinctively whipped around, trying to see his attacker. It was too fast for him, and his knees were knocked out from under him.
"Be careful with him, he's fragile!" came another voice.
"Don't, I want it undamaged!" said yet another.
Someone else charged forwards, grasping a round, metal device with flashing green lights. He, or possibly she, grabbed Owen's head with one hand, pushing it down, and put another hand on his back while s/he clamped the device onto the back of Owen's skull.
He collapsed in a limp heap into his captor's arms instantly. That was too many arms, he thought, irrationally.
One of the men who shouted earlier ran forwards, grabbing one of the others by the shoulder. "What the hell is wrong with it?!" he shouted, gesturing at the archway. "Why hasn't it deactivated yet?!"
"I'm working on it, my friend," said the other. He resumed his frantic typing at the bizarre console in front of him. "I can’t understand what is wrong! Do not worry," he added, "I will fix the problem, even if I have to cut all the power and deactivate the Gate. Please, take our guest to be decontaminated, I will join you as soon as possible.
Decontaminated?! Owen wanted to shout, but none of his muscles seemed to be working properly. First no touch, no food, now no movement or even speech. Really, being undead forever was going to suck if he couldn't even make sarcastic comments.
The first man just nodded and backed away, snapping orders to Owen's captor as he stalked out the door. Owen was hefted onto the - creature's, definitely creature, that was a tail down there - shoulders and carried off behind him.
I must really, really suck at dying, Owen thought.
The door shut behind them with a slam.
~~
Decontamination wasn't quite as bad as Owen had thought it would be, although he wasn't altogether sure that wasn't simply because he couldn't feel pain. It involved being shoved into a device resembling an MRI machine; all Owen could tell was that it glowed an unsettling purple and made a lot of noise.
From his captors' commentary, he deduced that the device was getting rid of any radiation leftover from the power plant. He also put in some serious effort to moving something - anything - but the device on his head seemed to have demobilized him entirely. He couldn't even blink; it was lucky he no longer really needed to. By really concentrating, he was able to look around somewhat, but that was the extent of his mobility. It was rather unsettling.
What was even more unsettling was when he was removed from the decontamination unit. His captors had ditched the has mat suits, and it was now extremely obvious that none of them were human. One of them was rather lizardlike, tall and lanky, with eight fingers on each hand and a long prehensile tail; another was more like a fish, and really didn't look like it should be able to balance on such tiny feet/fin hybrids. Both of these were being bossed about by a furrier specimen, a ruddy brown color, with pointed, cat-like ears on the side of his head, two constantly moving antennae, and a prominent mustache. All three were wearing lab coats.
But Owen wasn't really too concerned with the aliens - really, they weren't unexpected at all any more, even if he they had kidnapped him from his own death. The lizard man carried him into another room at the furry one's orders, and that's when the three of them started the autopsy.
Or is it vivisection? thought Owen silently to himself. Is it still an autopsy if the subject, while technically dead, is still conscious through the whole thing?
It was a very odd experience. None of the aliens showed any acknowledgement that Owen was anything more than an object of study, only occasionally breaking the silence to request a tool or point out something within Owen's body. The doctor wondered if there'd ever been some alien back on earth, paralyzed but aware of everything, terrified as Owen had dissected it, unable to express that it was still conscious.
But then again, Owen wasn't really all that terrified himself. He couldn't actually feel any pain, and he didn't have any working hormones to affect his emotional state, so after the first shock of what the fucking hell do they think they're doing?! wore off, Owen just felt mildly annoyed at the whole ridiculous situation.
He was able to watch the whole procedure on a little screen about Furryface's head, which also displayed graphs and figures in a language Owen couldn't read. He figured they must have been measures of things like brain activity and that strange energy that kept him 'alive'. It was actually very interesting.
I really drank too much, didn't I? he thought distantly, staring at the image of his own liver.
The procedure was interrupted by another alien bursting through the laboratory doors. He looked like a cousin of Furryface, though he was a more reddish brown, much stockier, and had an even fuller mustache. His fur stood up on end beneath his suit.
"What the hell are you doing?!" he demanded, stalking inside.
My hero, Owen thought.
"I am performing the first of my studies," Furryface said calmly, not even bothering to look up from Owen's chest. "Look at this, the lungs are unnecessary, practically unusable, and yet it still retains the capacity to speak. How does that work? How does the air pass through the voice box? It's fascinating."
Fluffy frowned at his friend. "I can't believe you started without me!"
Okay, not my hero.
"You were otherwise occupied. I have already waited months for your silly little project. And I figured you wouldn't mind; biology is hardly your area of expertise."
"Well, yes," Fluffy stuttered, "But it's the principle of the thing! I wanted to be there."
"You're here now."
"Quite." Fluffy made a sort of chuffing sound and approached the operating table. He looked somewhat ill, actually, at the sight of the autopsy. Owen watched him, curiously.
Fluffy looked Owen up and down, and suddenly caught the human's eye, quite by accident. He jumped.
"Good heavens, is he still conscious?!"
Furryface glanced up. "Of course," he said. "If we disable the higher thought processes, there's no telling if we would be able to turn them back on. It would rather defeat the purpose of the study."
Nice to know they want me alive, I guess, thought Owen. …So to speak.
"But… but!" Fluffy was obviously horrified at the thought of Owen being awake. "Don't you have any idea how traumatizing this must be?! How awful! Did you even take the time to explain what you were doing? Who we are? The poor boy must be terrified!"
Not really, but thanks for caring, I totally share the sentiment.
Furryface stopped poking around Owen's ribcage and looked up blankly. His assistants hovered awkwardly by the walls, unsure what to do as their bosses argued.
"Do you want me to stop?" Furryface asked, amused. "Perhaps you would like to close all this up then."
"No, no, no," said Fluffy, shaking his hands and head. "I don't mean you should stop your research, I just, well…" He looked around, distressed, and floundered for words. He finally sighed, raising his clawed hands in surrender. "Just keep it quick, all right? And for goodness' sake, at least cover his eyes or something, nobody should have to witness their own dissection!"
One of the assistants covered Owen's eyes with a rag. Owen sighed mentally as he was enveloped in darkness.
Really, he did appreciate the thought, but it was kind of a too-little-too-late situation. And now he couldn't even watch. He listened idly to the aliens' discussion, but it soon turned back to inactive hearts and bullet wounds and fingers and congealed blood and other things Owen already knew. It was just plain boring.
~~
"Doctor Harper?" said the voice Owen was pretty sure belonged to the alien he'd dubbed 'Fluffy.' "Doctor Harper, can you hear me?"
Of course I can, you hairy git, but I can't bloody answer, can I?
"I'm going to let you up now," Fluffy continued, "Please remain calm, I'm going to explain everything, I promise. Just… stay calm."
Owen heard some shuffling as the alien moved around to behind him, followed by a click and soft hissing as the device was removed from his head. He waited a moment, wriggling his toes and blinking before trying any larger movements.
He sat up and caught the rag as it fell from his face. Owen looked around properly, blinking in the sudden light; it was clearly a small laboratory or medical bay, filled with cupboards and drawers and equipment that, although not like most Earth technology he'd seen before, looked medical. The only other occupant was Fluffy, standing back warily, as if afraid of being attacked; Furryface and his assistants must have left earlier.
"Where the hell am I?" said Owen. "And who are you?"
The alien cringed apologetically. "I'm really terribly sorry about all of this, Doctor Harper. It wasn't really supposed to occur like this, you know, but Eskar just got carried away, I think, he's been rather impatient about all this - I can't blame him really, I've been extremely excited myself, just to actually meet you, to have all this work be a success - it's spectacular! Wonderful, really, so good to meet you in person."
Owen stared at him. "Right," he said, "And who are you?"
"Oh! My apologies, I haven't introduced myself; my name is Nerranderot Uquiccax, I'm an historian, and curator of this museum. You can call me Ned, if you like!"
He beamed at Owen proudly.
Owen stared blankly at him. "Ned?"
Ned's grin faltered a little. "Is that not alright?" he asked, "I've met some humans before, they always have dreadful trouble with pronunciation, I looked into vintage Earth names and Ned rather took my fancy. Is that wrong? Should I have chosen something else?"
"No," Owen said, "Ned's fine."
"Wonderful!" exclaimed Ned. "Now, I'm certain you have many questions, this whole thing must be rather overwhelming…"
Owen scowled back at him. “I think I've got the general gist."
Ned looked apologetic. “I'm afraid we've left rather a nasty first impression on you; we really don't mean any harm, my associate - Eskar Xarchac, close friend of mine, really, he's wonderful once you get to know him - he has some difficulty interacting with others, it's quite sad. He's a doctor, yes, a biologist, quite famous in his field. He saves lives, you know, that's what he does. He's found all kinds of ways to increase the lifespans of all kinds of species, even bring some back after death if you can get to them quick enough, it's all quite amazing. And, well, he gets wrapped up in his studies, and well, with your, er, physiology…"
"I'm the perfect lab rat, is that it?"
"Well, yes, I'm afraid so," Ned finished. "But really, that's not all there is to it, you see. As I said, I'm an historian, and I'm currently studying pre-interplanetary civilizations, including Earth, it's all very interesting you know. And, well, you were there; early 21st Century, that's when everything started to change permanently, and, well, I wanted first hand accounts of what it was like! And I've read all the files, all the old reports, it's all so interesting, I've read all about you and your team and - "
"Wait," said Owen. "What do you mean 'was'?"
Ned paused in his babbling. "What?"
"You said the 21st Century was when everything started to change," Owen repeated. "That would imply that I’m not in the 21st Century. I get that I was abducted by aliens - sure, no problem, all in a day's work for Torchwood - are you saying you've kidnapped me through time as well?"
Ned returned to twiddling his fingers nervously. "Well, yes," he said simply. "We have."
The historian got to his feet, straightening his jacket and bowtie self-consciously. "Perhaps you'd better come with me, it might be easier to explain."
Ned handed Owen a garment, evidently the local hospital garb, though Owen was somewhat gratified to find that it wasn't nearly as ignominious as those he was used to; closer to pajamas than a gown. He led the way into the hallway, picking up his narrative.
"What we used to bring you here is something we've taken to calling the ‘Time Gate.’ It was donated to the museum a few years ago, and we finally finished its repairs. Though it was acting up after we pulled you through, have to have a look at that."
Ned led Owen to a large, empty room. "This is a museum, as I've said. We're currently about 2000 years from your time, and, well, light years from your planet."
He held his furry wrist up to some sort of panel on the wall; both the limb and the panel flashed green, and the wall flickered and turned transparent.
"Whoa." Owen stared out the large window into a vast expanse of stars. Around the edges of the window was brown and grey rock, shedding dust out into space that glowed with the light from the window.
"The museum is built into an asteroid, Adris One," Ned explained. "It takes up about a quarter of the asteroid itself, and is attached to a housing and public area of similar size. The other half is unbuilt upon."
Owen didn't answer. He just stared out into the unfamiliar sky.
Ned coughed, unsure of what to do. "The museum has exhibits for both science and technology and history. We brought you here to, well, be a part of it. As you know, Eskar, that is, Doctor Xarchac, he would like to look into your… condition, and as for me, well, I just want to talk to you, find out what it was like to live during your time, at your job, making first contact before First Contact… it's all so fascinating to me. The things the three of you can teach us about history, well, it's simply - "
Owen jolted and stared at Ned. "The three of us?"
Ned faltered again. "Oh, yes, well, quite. Sorry, I wasn't going to say anything until things had settled down, but… "
"But what?"
"Well, we did use the time gate twice before, you see. We knew it took up too much power to use frivolously, but we had to test it before bringing a live - as it were - subject through, so we brought the others through as well."
"What do you mean the others?" Owen demanded. "You mean like more Torchwood?"
"Well, yes," said Ned. "Part of your team, actually. Mr. Jones and Ms. Sato. Eskar has them set up in one of his recovery systems downstairs, the process should finish by this evening - "
"I want to see them," Owen snarled. "Now."
~~
The equipment whirred softly, punctuated by quiet beeps and boops, measures of heartbeats and brainwaves. Owen stepped silently between the two beds, holding the breath he no longer needed.
"The process still has a few hours to go," Ned insisted.
Owen didn't answer. He just stared at the beds and the equipment hooked up to them, taking everything in. He stopped his pacing between the two, finally leaning over to get a closer look at the occupants.
He stared down at Toshiko's still body. If not for the beeping of the heart monitor, he wouldn't have believed she could possibly be alive. Her lips were bluish, as were her fingers and toes, and the wound that had killed her was still gaping wide in front of him.
"She was shot," Ned provided, still trying to be helpful, "Just before you, well, before we pulled you out of when you would have otherwise died. Amazing story, she kept up her instructions through the whole ordeal, it's really thanks to her that the whole city wasn't -"
"I know that," Owen snarled, squeezing the side of the bed rail. "I was there."
Ned's mouth snapped shut with a click of his teeth colliding.
"Only I wasn't there," Owen continued. "I believed her when she said she was fine. I wasn't with her. She was comforting me. If I had just been there, I might have been able to save her. She must have bled to death, and none of them had the medical knowledge to save her, they'd have just watched, as she died, not one of them able to help. Not Jack or Gwen or Ianto - "
He cut himself off and whirled away from Toshiko. He stared at the other bed, not yet willing to look closer.
"What about him," said Owen. "How did Ianto die? There's not a mark on him."
"Poison gas!" Ned said, rather too loudly. He cringed and coughed again at the reverberation before continuing. "Not too sure on the details, mind you, the report was written long, long after the event, but in negotiations with a species referred to as the 'Four-Five-Six', they seem to have released some sort of toxin or possibly virus into the air, killing everyone in the building. It's quite remarkable stuff, really, according to Eskar; somewhat paralyzing, with a fairly quick kill time, and it's apparently easier for the nanites - that's the name of the little fellows fixing things up - to repair than Ms. Sato's wound."
Owen just gazed blankly at Ianto: he had a sort of respirator hooked up through his mouth, but overall did appear healthier than Toshiko, with some color already returning to the skin and a stronger heart rate. He still didn't look right, though. He didn't have the look of a patient struggling back to life and health, he didn't even look like he was asleep. He looked dead.
"I just saw them a couple of hours ago," Owen murmured. Or has it been a day by now? "They were alive, and talking to me, just a few hours ago."
His hands trembled. Not for the first time, he wished he were still able to cry, to choke, to do something that was irrational and gross and a physical coping mechanism.
"But they're alive now," Ned said softly back. "And in just a few hours from now, they'll be awake and talking to you again!"
He fluffed himself up importantly, and strode to Owen's side. "Come now," he said, and put a fluffy clawed hand on his shoulder, "Let's show you to your quarters, eh? You can get it all settled for the three of you, and then it'll be all ready and nice for them when they wake up. What do you say?"
"I'm staying here," Owen said simply.
Ned floundered for words. Owen just kept leaning over Ianto's bed, staring down without looking left or right.
Ned looked around as if desperate for an escape, before sighing in defeat. He went back to the corner of the room, pulled out a chair, and sat.
Beep, said the machinery, Boop.
They waited.
~~
They waited there for a long time. Ned was dozing off in the corner, occasionally falling forwards a little and muttering something in a guttural language Owen couldn't understand. Even Owen's mixture of personal and medical investment in his friends had given way to some level of boredom, and he'd given up watching the two of them lie there in favor of examining the equipment. He was fairly confident he knew what each device was supposed to do or what it was measuring, but he still jolted in surprise when one of them let off a loud blare of sound.
"What's going on?!" Owen demanded.
Ned nearly fell out of his chair as he woke. He looked around, disoriented, at Owen and the flashing lights from Ianto's side of the room.
A quieter version of the alarm rang out from his arm. He glanced at the flashing green light on his wrist before waving his other hand over it, silencing both alarms.
"It's nothing to worry about," Ned said, still a little flustered. "Quite the opposite, actually. Just an alert saying the process is complete; Mr. Jones could potentially be awoken now, though the healing isn't entirely finished, it would probably be better to wait until - "
"Do it now," Owen said, already bending over and starting to remove the devices from Ianto.
"What?" said Ned. "No, wait, we should at least wait for Eskar, he's the expert, we should really have a doctor doing this!"
"I am a doctor," said Owen. He carefully removed the tube from Ianto's throat.
Ned floundered for a moment. When Owen showed no signs of stopping, he ran forwards to assist.
"Be careful!" he pleaded, hurriedly typing away at one of the keyboards. "How - how do you even know how to work this?"
"It's medical equipment."
"But it's 2000 years from your time, and from another galaxy, you must be very careful or you could harm something!"
"I'm Torchwood," Owen reminded him. "Thought you said you studied us. Alien and future is our expertise."
Owen stepped back, unsure of what to do next. He'd disconnected everything except the heart and brain monitors, which still beeped reassuringly at him.
"What now?" he asked. "How do I wake him up?"
Ned frowned. He stepped back and muttered to himself, checking off what needed to be done on his fingers.
"Ah!" he said, and walked right up to the back of Ianto's bed. He carefully lifted Ianto's head in his claws, revealing a small, round device with green and yellow lights clamped by little spider legs to the back of it.
"This is the same sort of device we had on you," he explained. "It sends signals directly to the brain - in your case, it blocked access to your motor functions. This one is simply commanding Mr. Jones to remain asleep. It's very useful in surgery, particularly for those who have poor reactions to more chemical sedation methods."
Or, in my case, no blood flow for the drugs to take effect in, thought Owen.
"Of course, it can be used for other things as well, which is why these, er, aren't exactly in widespread use in regular hospitals."
"They're illegal?"
"Not illegal per say, at least, not when privately owned…" Ned trailed off, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "In any case, Eskar finds them very useful - he invented them, you know! - and they don't cause any lasting harm when used correctly."
Owen nodded. He didn't really care about alien legality or even the obvious moral complications of the device. "So disconnect it."
Ned hesitated. "Are you sure we shouldn't wait? The injuries are not fully healed yet, and it would really be much easier to just wait - "
"If he wants to sleep through healing, he can decide so himself," Owen said firmly. "Wake him up."
The device detached with a quiet click!
The effect was not instantaneous. Owen crouched down, watching intently for any sign of stirring or something going wrong, but Ianto lay perfectly still, fast asleep.
After a long moment, his eyelids fluttered.
"Ianto?" Owen whispered.
Ianto murmured at the sound of his name, and turned his head away. He groaned quietly, and his eyes cracked open.
"Jack?" he said, barely audible.
Owen winced at the roughness in Ianto's voice. He brought one hand up to gently brush against his arm, gaining his teammate's attention. "Ianto, can you hear me?"
Ianto turned back to face him. His eyes took a long time to focus on Owen's face. He blinked slowly, wetting his eyes and trying to make sense of things.
"Owen?" he croaked. He frowned and took another glance around the room.
"Stupid looking sort of afterlife," he said.
Owen laughed slightly, in spite of himself. "You have no idea," he said. "How are you feeling?"
"Chest hurts," Ianto answered. His voice was growing stronger, but it was still barely above a whisper, and very rough. "Throat too. Thought I'd be dead, though."
He looked back at Owen. "You're dead," he said. It didn't sound accusatory or confused, it was just a statement of fact.
"Yeah," Owen said. "A few times over, now."
"You were disintegrated though," Ianto said. "Jack couldn't find anything left."
He frowned, staring up at the ceiling. "I thought there wasn't supposed to be anything else."
Owen frowned. "What do you mean, anything else?"
"After death. You and Suzie and Jack, you all said - " he cut off, coughing.
Owen stood up, leaning over Ianto and examining his chest as best he could.
"I told you it would be better to wait!" Ned said, his voice full of concern.
Ianto swallowed, managing to quell the cough. "Whozzat?" he asked, and his voice was no more than a hoarse whisper.
"That's just Ned," Owen said. "He's… the one who brought us here."
"Oh," said Ianto, still looking vaguely around. "Where is here?"
"That's kind of a long story," Owen said. "Why don't you just get some rest for now, Ned'll explain everything once Tosh wakes up."
"Tosh?" Ianto choked on the name, sending him into another brief fit of coughing. "But she - she died right in front of us, she died in Jack's arms, she - "
He stopped, still breathing heavily. "Oh god," Ianto said, "I died the same way, I was with Jack, I was really dead. What - Owen, we're all dead, all of us, we really died, how can I be alive? How can any of us be alive?"
"Ianto," Owen said firmly, pressing him back into the bed. "I need you to calm down, can you do that?"
Ianto nodded, his eyes wide and all traces of lethargy gone in his panic.
"You're right, we… we were all dead. I still am, technically," he added, "But these people, they brought us here, they have technology that can restore people from death. But you're going to be fine, I promise. Okay?"
Ianto stared up into Owen's face with wide eyes. He had grabbed hold of the doctor's hand, clutching it to his bare chest as he panted erratically. Owen stared earnestly back into his eyes; he didn't want to sugarcoat the situation, he needed Ianto to understand, but he also needed him to calm down.
Ianto nodded slowly, still wheezing.
"I was dead," he repeated. "But now I'm not."
"Right."
"Just... Just like Jack."
Owen smiled a little. "Yeah, just like Jack. And you and me and Tosh, we're all gonna be fine, just like Jack. All right?"
"All right," Ianto whispered.
"Good," said Owen. "Why don't you try and get some rest, okay? I'm gonna be right here, you just stay put until you feel better."
"Right," said Ianto. Reluctantly, he let go of Owen's hand and sank back onto the bed.
The room lapsed back into silence, only broken by the machinery and Ianto's labored breathing. Owen longed for a stethoscope; the medical technology of the space station may have worked miracles, but the doctor still felt the urge to listen and make sure the rasping wasn't indicative of a larger problem. Instead, he stepped back, watching as Ianto slowly fell back to sleep.
It was only half an hour later when the alarm went off again.
Ned was faster this time, silencing the sound with a wave over his wrist after only a few seconds. Ianto jolted from his rest nevertheless, and sat up with an alarmed look on his face.
"What was that?" he rasped.
"Nothing," Owen said, and pushed him back down on his way over to Toshiko's bedside. "It's just an alert, like a timer. Means it's safe to wake Tosh up now."
"Tosh?"
Owen and Ned ignored him, already on either side of Toshiko's bed. Ned was practically dancing on his toes, apparently over his reservations for waking the formerly dead. He clutched the side of the bed, watching as Owen carefully removed the devices from Tosh's body.
It didn't take long. Despite the severity of her wound, Toshiko hadn't required respiratory support the way Ianto had, and the rest of the devices were easily disposed of. The readings on the heart and brain monitors remained steady, and after a long moment of study, Owen nodded.
Ned reached down and carefully detached the spidery device from the back of Toshiko's head. He put it aside and leaned eagerly over the side of the bed, looking for any sign of life.
Owen watched from the opposite side of the bed, not noticing that Ianto had sat up and was staring over from just behind him.
Toshiko's eyes flickered beneath her eyelids. Ned gasped and held his breath as if he were at the climax of a particularly exciting movie.
Suddenly, Tosh gasped for breath, her eyes flying open and her back arching against the stiff bed. She sat up in one quick movement, and her head collided with Ned's, sending them both reeling backwards in pain.
Ned fell to the floor, surprised, and Toshiko screamed, huddling at one end of her bed and clutching her head.
"Tosh!" Owen shouted, echoed by Ianto, and he rushed forwards, grabbing her hands away from her face.
Toshiko kept screaming, interrupted by sobs and hiccoughs, her eyes squeezed shut.
"Oh God," she cried, gasping for breath. "Oh God, oh God!"
"Tosh, Tosh calm down, listen to me!"
"I was shot!" she choked. "He - he shot me, I died, there was nothing! Nothing!"
"I know, Tosh, I know," Owen said, holding her as best he could from his awkward position, leaning over the side of the bed. "It's okay now Tosh, look at me, look at me!"
Tosh choked again, sobbing, but managed to raise her wide, tear-filled eyes to stare into Owen's face.
"Owen?" she said with a gurgle. "Oh God, Owen, I thought I'd never see you again."
She hurled herself forwards, burying her face in his hospital clothes as she wept. "You were dead," she sobbed, "The radio died and I couldn't hear you and I was dying, and Jack and Gwen and Ianto - oh God, Owen, we really died, didn't we?"
"It's alright, Tosh," Owen coaxed, "You're going to be fine, promise. Your wound's already almost gone, see?"
She pulled away, twisting to look at the bullet hole in her flesh. It was still there, raw and scabbed over, but no longer lethal by any means. She stared at it, not quite comprehending, and reached down to test it.
"Hey, it's not healed quite yet," Owen said with a quiet laugh as she flinched from the pressure. "But give it time, you're going to be fine."
"But - " Tosh paused to swallow nervously and wipe the tears from her cheeks. "But I was dead, I know I was. What happened? How are we still here?"
She looked around the room, bewildered. "Where are we?" she said. Her eyes wandered back to her own machinery-lined bed, filled with the professional curiosity that had defined her career before widening with shock as she noticed her own body.
"Where are my clothes!?" she squeaked, and huddled back into a ball as she tried to cover herself with her limbs.
Owen laughed, half in relief and half in exasperation. "Ned, could you get Tosh and Ianto some clothes?"
Ned fidgeted from his place beyond Toshiko's bed. "Er," he said awkwardly.
Tosh jumped and whirled around to face the alien, hugging herself even tighter. He waved back at her with a nervous smile.
"Clothes, Ned?"
"Well, yes." Ned said. "But, well, you know. I probably shouldn't just..."
"For fuck's sake, Ned!" Owen snarled. Tosh flinched again as he grabbed the rail and leaned over her towards Ned. "You can leave us alone for five minutes, lock the door, post guards, whatever! We're on a goddamn asteroid, where are we even going to go? Just go get the fucking clothes!"
Ned hesitated, trying to think of a response, but he nodded at Owen's glare and hurried out the door, muttering.
Owen sighed and slumped over Toshiko's bed, shutting his eyes. He was suddenly mentally exhausted, even if he couldn't’ be physically. He longed for the ability to sleep, or at the very least for the comfort of his own apartment.
"Owen?"
He looked up to find Tosh staring at him, concerned. She had grabbed his hand, self-consciousness more or less forgotten. He smiled wearily at her.
"I'm fine," he assured her. "Just had a bit of a long day."
Toshiko turned his hand over in her own. "Your fingers," she said quietly.
He looked down at his hand. The fingers he'd snapped still lay uselessly at awkward angles, immobile.
"They must not have bothered putting the dressing back after my examination," he muttered, and if Tosh noticed his hesitation before the last word she didn't comment. "I'll see if I can convince Ned to get me something."
Tosh just frowned, still holding his hand, palm up. Her fingers wandered to his wrist, before reaching up to tug open the front of his pajamas.
Her hand dropped, resting gently just below the hole in his chest.
"They didn't fix you," she whispered. "They brought me back from being dead and fixed my wounds, but they didn't..."
"I don't think they can," Owen murmured.
She let her arm fall away. Scooting back against the back of the bed, she wrapped her arms back around her legs and looked around the room.
"What is this place?"
"Did you say we were on an asteroid?" Ianto piped up.
Toshiko blinked in surprise at his hoarse voice and leaned to the side to see around Owen.
"Yeah," Owen said, and turned around so he could face them both. "We're on an asteroid. And 2000 years in the future."
"What?"
"Yeah, basically... Ned and his crazy mad scientist buddy snatched us from right after our deaths - well, no, before, in my case - so that we can be studied and interrogated about our time for some museum."
"Museum?" Ianto echoed, but his voice was failing him again, and he rubbed his throat with a wince.
"Not really sure on the details," said Owen, waving his hand dismissively. "We'll have to ask Ned when he gets back. I was a little distracted when I found out the two of you had been dead."
"How," Tosh said quietly, as if afraid to speak up, "Were you killed, too, Ianto?"
He swallowed again and nodded. "Few months after you two," he whispered. "Tell you later. When I can."
"Ned mentioned poison gas," Owen said, and walked over to the other bed to have a look.
Ianto nodded wordlessly. Owen frowned at the raspy sound of his breath, but didn't push any further. Better he save his throat until it was fully healed.
His examination was interrupted by Ned coming back through the door, carrying two more pairs of the hospital pajamas. He hurried over, grinning, and politely handed the first set to Toshiko.
"We do have some other garments available, in your quarters, that may be more to your liking," he said, as Tosh accepted the pajamas with a quiet nod. "But I thought perhaps these would do for now, as you are both still under observation. How are you both feeling?"
"Fine, thank you," Tosh said softly, slipping into the shirt as quickly as she could.
"Bit sore," Ianto croaked.
Owen took the clothes and shoved them in his face. "Don't talk if it hurts," he chided. He turned back to Ned. "Is this thing going to be able to fix their remaining injuries? Or is Ianto going to be whispering insults at me for the rest of his life?"
"Oh, no," Ned assured, waving his hands. "The biggest trouble has been taken care of, the nanites will finish the rest in due time. Everything should be back to full health by next week at the latest."
"What about Owen?" Tosh asked.
Ned fumbled as he turned to look at her. "Well, you see," he said awkwardly, "That's rather a whole different issue. We don't really know just how it is that Doctor Harper continues to, well, continue, I suppose, and we therefore have no idea how to fix it."
"But you could try," Tosh insisted.
Ned's ears drooped, though his trying-to-be-reassuring smile remained firmly in place. "We would like to, Miss Sato, really we would, but, well, we simply don't have enough information. Eskar would need to run many more tests first, I think, and find out exactly what it is that can be fixed, if it's possible at all. I know he's dying to try!"
"Eskar?" Ianto repeated, and Owen glared at him for talking again.
"My companion, a very close friend of mine, and co-curator. Doctor Eskar Xarchac, brilliant man, invented more than half the devices in here. He's the one responsible for the nanites as well, quite amazing stuff if you ask me."
"But who are you?" Tosh asked. She swung around out of the bed, leaning on the rail to stay upright.
"Oh, quite. I am Nerranderot Uquiccax, but please call me Ned. I am an historian, and I am one of the head curators of the Adris One Museum of Science and History."
"Why did you bring us to a museum?" Tosh continued. She gripped her side as she stumbled towards him, but waved Owen away when he moved to help.
"Well, I am a student of your civilization," Ned said proudly. "I'm very interested in pre-First-Contact civilizations, particularly that of Earth, as it had so many encounters before the general public was even aware of peoples on other planets. Torchwood in particular really caught my interest, and, well, when the Time Gate was donated, I thought, why not? So I had it repaired and brought you in to speak to you all personally."
He beamed at the three of them. Toshiko glared back.
"What exactly does that mean? You're going to interview us and study us? And then what? Where do we go?"
Ned started fiddling again. "Ah… Well, you see…"
Tosh clenched her fists. "You're not going to let us go, are you? You're just going to keep us here for your stupid little exhibit."
This time, Ned's whole face drooped, ears and antennae and whiskers. "I'm afraid I can't allow you to leave in the foreseeable future. As far as the law is concerned, the three of you are… well, museum property. I certainly don't feel that way myself!" he added, holding his claws up in defense. "But as it stands, the only legal options we have are keeping you here or, um, returning you to your previous state."
They all stared at him as he trailed off.
"You mean, kill us again," Ianto said.
Ned nodded miserably.
"But, really, it shouldn't be too bad," he insisted. "We've got your quarters all set up, you'll have access to the computers and most of the museum… it should all be very comfortable, and I'll do anything in my power to help out."
Nobody answered. Owen stared blankly at Ianto's pajamas, stuck somewhere between blinding rage and logical understanding.
"So show us to our rooms, then," he said, after a long silence.
Ned blinked at him hopefully.
Part Two
Master Post
And it was, he supposed. It wasn't like it would hurt, right? It'd all be over and he wouldn't be stuck in this stupid in-between state any more. He faced his oncoming death with half a smile, alarms blaring around him.
Really, it wouldn't be that bad, dying - he'd already done it once, Jack did it all the time, and everyone else died sometime, and Suzie'd always had a flare for the dramatic, it wouldn't be as bad as she'd said… All he really regretted was, well, not taking into account the ventilation system, but more than that, never asking Tosh out, never getting in a relationship again like he'd had with Katie, so long ago, never, never, never….
"Oh God."
Fuck that, he wanted to live.
"Owen?" Toshiko's voice came desperately through the speaker. "Owen?!"
Owen shut his eyes, but it couldn't completely block out the blinding white light coming straight for him. The alarms were drowned out by a roaring in his ears, a whoosh as if he were sticking his head out the window of a passenger jet.
By all rights, it should have burned. It should have melted his flesh from his bones, torn him to shreds, downright disintegrated his entire body, down to the last brain cell, finally killing him for good. That wasn't what happened, and that's how Owen came to realize something had gone wrong with his death.
…again.
A lot of Owen's senses had stopped working altogether after he'd died, primarily touch and taste and fun things like that. With a lot of concentration, he could make out things like heat and pressure, but only barely. He'd even considered that those feelings were just memories, inspired by the sight of physical contact, rather than the touch itself. Really, the only sense other than sight and hearing was balance.
He was pretty sure now he felt pressure around his chest and middle, like a rope around his body was tugging him backwards, hard. And he was definitely off-balance.
Owen stumbled backwards, just barely managing to stay upright. His eyes snapped open; instead of the dull metal of the nuclear reactor or a rush of fire, there were sterile white walls, counters full of unfamiliar technology, flashing lights, and one gigantic gray archway, right in front of him. The center of the arch was sparking, bright white light flickering out, a strong wind making his jacket flutter.
"What the hell?!" said Owen, blinking more out of confusion and habit than any need to shield his eyes.
Owen became suddenly aware that he was not alone in the unfamiliar room. It was full of people, dressed in something like white has mat suits, all gesturing and shouting wildly, at the arch, at each other, at their equipment, at Owen.
The arch sparked and sputtered, and the lights at its center grew and shrank. It emitted strange sounds, almost like voices, masked by the cacophony of the room. "…orking?" Owen heard, and he almost thought he knew that voice from somewhere. "…an't tell, try agai…"
"Somebody restrain it!" came a voice from behind him.
Owen forgot the voices from the archway as one of the people grabbed both his arms from behind. He snapped out of his reverie, and instinctively whipped around, trying to see his attacker. It was too fast for him, and his knees were knocked out from under him.
"Be careful with him, he's fragile!" came another voice.
"Don't, I want it undamaged!" said yet another.
Someone else charged forwards, grasping a round, metal device with flashing green lights. He, or possibly she, grabbed Owen's head with one hand, pushing it down, and put another hand on his back while s/he clamped the device onto the back of Owen's skull.
He collapsed in a limp heap into his captor's arms instantly. That was too many arms, he thought, irrationally.
One of the men who shouted earlier ran forwards, grabbing one of the others by the shoulder. "What the hell is wrong with it?!" he shouted, gesturing at the archway. "Why hasn't it deactivated yet?!"
"I'm working on it, my friend," said the other. He resumed his frantic typing at the bizarre console in front of him. "I can’t understand what is wrong! Do not worry," he added, "I will fix the problem, even if I have to cut all the power and deactivate the Gate. Please, take our guest to be decontaminated, I will join you as soon as possible.
Decontaminated?! Owen wanted to shout, but none of his muscles seemed to be working properly. First no touch, no food, now no movement or even speech. Really, being undead forever was going to suck if he couldn't even make sarcastic comments.
The first man just nodded and backed away, snapping orders to Owen's captor as he stalked out the door. Owen was hefted onto the - creature's, definitely creature, that was a tail down there - shoulders and carried off behind him.
I must really, really suck at dying, Owen thought.
The door shut behind them with a slam.
~~
Decontamination wasn't quite as bad as Owen had thought it would be, although he wasn't altogether sure that wasn't simply because he couldn't feel pain. It involved being shoved into a device resembling an MRI machine; all Owen could tell was that it glowed an unsettling purple and made a lot of noise.
From his captors' commentary, he deduced that the device was getting rid of any radiation leftover from the power plant. He also put in some serious effort to moving something - anything - but the device on his head seemed to have demobilized him entirely. He couldn't even blink; it was lucky he no longer really needed to. By really concentrating, he was able to look around somewhat, but that was the extent of his mobility. It was rather unsettling.
What was even more unsettling was when he was removed from the decontamination unit. His captors had ditched the has mat suits, and it was now extremely obvious that none of them were human. One of them was rather lizardlike, tall and lanky, with eight fingers on each hand and a long prehensile tail; another was more like a fish, and really didn't look like it should be able to balance on such tiny feet/fin hybrids. Both of these were being bossed about by a furrier specimen, a ruddy brown color, with pointed, cat-like ears on the side of his head, two constantly moving antennae, and a prominent mustache. All three were wearing lab coats.
But Owen wasn't really too concerned with the aliens - really, they weren't unexpected at all any more, even if he they had kidnapped him from his own death. The lizard man carried him into another room at the furry one's orders, and that's when the three of them started the autopsy.
Or is it vivisection? thought Owen silently to himself. Is it still an autopsy if the subject, while technically dead, is still conscious through the whole thing?
It was a very odd experience. None of the aliens showed any acknowledgement that Owen was anything more than an object of study, only occasionally breaking the silence to request a tool or point out something within Owen's body. The doctor wondered if there'd ever been some alien back on earth, paralyzed but aware of everything, terrified as Owen had dissected it, unable to express that it was still conscious.
But then again, Owen wasn't really all that terrified himself. He couldn't actually feel any pain, and he didn't have any working hormones to affect his emotional state, so after the first shock of what the fucking hell do they think they're doing?! wore off, Owen just felt mildly annoyed at the whole ridiculous situation.
He was able to watch the whole procedure on a little screen about Furryface's head, which also displayed graphs and figures in a language Owen couldn't read. He figured they must have been measures of things like brain activity and that strange energy that kept him 'alive'. It was actually very interesting.
I really drank too much, didn't I? he thought distantly, staring at the image of his own liver.
The procedure was interrupted by another alien bursting through the laboratory doors. He looked like a cousin of Furryface, though he was a more reddish brown, much stockier, and had an even fuller mustache. His fur stood up on end beneath his suit.
"What the hell are you doing?!" he demanded, stalking inside.
My hero, Owen thought.
"I am performing the first of my studies," Furryface said calmly, not even bothering to look up from Owen's chest. "Look at this, the lungs are unnecessary, practically unusable, and yet it still retains the capacity to speak. How does that work? How does the air pass through the voice box? It's fascinating."
Fluffy frowned at his friend. "I can't believe you started without me!"
Okay, not my hero.
"You were otherwise occupied. I have already waited months for your silly little project. And I figured you wouldn't mind; biology is hardly your area of expertise."
"Well, yes," Fluffy stuttered, "But it's the principle of the thing! I wanted to be there."
"You're here now."
"Quite." Fluffy made a sort of chuffing sound and approached the operating table. He looked somewhat ill, actually, at the sight of the autopsy. Owen watched him, curiously.
Fluffy looked Owen up and down, and suddenly caught the human's eye, quite by accident. He jumped.
"Good heavens, is he still conscious?!"
Furryface glanced up. "Of course," he said. "If we disable the higher thought processes, there's no telling if we would be able to turn them back on. It would rather defeat the purpose of the study."
Nice to know they want me alive, I guess, thought Owen. …So to speak.
"But… but!" Fluffy was obviously horrified at the thought of Owen being awake. "Don't you have any idea how traumatizing this must be?! How awful! Did you even take the time to explain what you were doing? Who we are? The poor boy must be terrified!"
Not really, but thanks for caring, I totally share the sentiment.
Furryface stopped poking around Owen's ribcage and looked up blankly. His assistants hovered awkwardly by the walls, unsure what to do as their bosses argued.
"Do you want me to stop?" Furryface asked, amused. "Perhaps you would like to close all this up then."
"No, no, no," said Fluffy, shaking his hands and head. "I don't mean you should stop your research, I just, well…" He looked around, distressed, and floundered for words. He finally sighed, raising his clawed hands in surrender. "Just keep it quick, all right? And for goodness' sake, at least cover his eyes or something, nobody should have to witness their own dissection!"
One of the assistants covered Owen's eyes with a rag. Owen sighed mentally as he was enveloped in darkness.
Really, he did appreciate the thought, but it was kind of a too-little-too-late situation. And now he couldn't even watch. He listened idly to the aliens' discussion, but it soon turned back to inactive hearts and bullet wounds and fingers and congealed blood and other things Owen already knew. It was just plain boring.
~~
"Doctor Harper?" said the voice Owen was pretty sure belonged to the alien he'd dubbed 'Fluffy.' "Doctor Harper, can you hear me?"
Of course I can, you hairy git, but I can't bloody answer, can I?
"I'm going to let you up now," Fluffy continued, "Please remain calm, I'm going to explain everything, I promise. Just… stay calm."
Owen heard some shuffling as the alien moved around to behind him, followed by a click and soft hissing as the device was removed from his head. He waited a moment, wriggling his toes and blinking before trying any larger movements.
He sat up and caught the rag as it fell from his face. Owen looked around properly, blinking in the sudden light; it was clearly a small laboratory or medical bay, filled with cupboards and drawers and equipment that, although not like most Earth technology he'd seen before, looked medical. The only other occupant was Fluffy, standing back warily, as if afraid of being attacked; Furryface and his assistants must have left earlier.
"Where the hell am I?" said Owen. "And who are you?"
The alien cringed apologetically. "I'm really terribly sorry about all of this, Doctor Harper. It wasn't really supposed to occur like this, you know, but Eskar just got carried away, I think, he's been rather impatient about all this - I can't blame him really, I've been extremely excited myself, just to actually meet you, to have all this work be a success - it's spectacular! Wonderful, really, so good to meet you in person."
Owen stared at him. "Right," he said, "And who are you?"
"Oh! My apologies, I haven't introduced myself; my name is Nerranderot Uquiccax, I'm an historian, and curator of this museum. You can call me Ned, if you like!"
He beamed at Owen proudly.
Owen stared blankly at him. "Ned?"
Ned's grin faltered a little. "Is that not alright?" he asked, "I've met some humans before, they always have dreadful trouble with pronunciation, I looked into vintage Earth names and Ned rather took my fancy. Is that wrong? Should I have chosen something else?"
"No," Owen said, "Ned's fine."
"Wonderful!" exclaimed Ned. "Now, I'm certain you have many questions, this whole thing must be rather overwhelming…"
Owen scowled back at him. “I think I've got the general gist."
Ned looked apologetic. “I'm afraid we've left rather a nasty first impression on you; we really don't mean any harm, my associate - Eskar Xarchac, close friend of mine, really, he's wonderful once you get to know him - he has some difficulty interacting with others, it's quite sad. He's a doctor, yes, a biologist, quite famous in his field. He saves lives, you know, that's what he does. He's found all kinds of ways to increase the lifespans of all kinds of species, even bring some back after death if you can get to them quick enough, it's all quite amazing. And, well, he gets wrapped up in his studies, and well, with your, er, physiology…"
"I'm the perfect lab rat, is that it?"
"Well, yes, I'm afraid so," Ned finished. "But really, that's not all there is to it, you see. As I said, I'm an historian, and I'm currently studying pre-interplanetary civilizations, including Earth, it's all very interesting you know. And, well, you were there; early 21st Century, that's when everything started to change permanently, and, well, I wanted first hand accounts of what it was like! And I've read all the files, all the old reports, it's all so interesting, I've read all about you and your team and - "
"Wait," said Owen. "What do you mean 'was'?"
Ned paused in his babbling. "What?"
"You said the 21st Century was when everything started to change," Owen repeated. "That would imply that I’m not in the 21st Century. I get that I was abducted by aliens - sure, no problem, all in a day's work for Torchwood - are you saying you've kidnapped me through time as well?"
Ned returned to twiddling his fingers nervously. "Well, yes," he said simply. "We have."
The historian got to his feet, straightening his jacket and bowtie self-consciously. "Perhaps you'd better come with me, it might be easier to explain."
Ned handed Owen a garment, evidently the local hospital garb, though Owen was somewhat gratified to find that it wasn't nearly as ignominious as those he was used to; closer to pajamas than a gown. He led the way into the hallway, picking up his narrative.
"What we used to bring you here is something we've taken to calling the ‘Time Gate.’ It was donated to the museum a few years ago, and we finally finished its repairs. Though it was acting up after we pulled you through, have to have a look at that."
Ned led Owen to a large, empty room. "This is a museum, as I've said. We're currently about 2000 years from your time, and, well, light years from your planet."
He held his furry wrist up to some sort of panel on the wall; both the limb and the panel flashed green, and the wall flickered and turned transparent.
"Whoa." Owen stared out the large window into a vast expanse of stars. Around the edges of the window was brown and grey rock, shedding dust out into space that glowed with the light from the window.
"The museum is built into an asteroid, Adris One," Ned explained. "It takes up about a quarter of the asteroid itself, and is attached to a housing and public area of similar size. The other half is unbuilt upon."
Owen didn't answer. He just stared out into the unfamiliar sky.
Ned coughed, unsure of what to do. "The museum has exhibits for both science and technology and history. We brought you here to, well, be a part of it. As you know, Eskar, that is, Doctor Xarchac, he would like to look into your… condition, and as for me, well, I just want to talk to you, find out what it was like to live during your time, at your job, making first contact before First Contact… it's all so fascinating to me. The things the three of you can teach us about history, well, it's simply - "
Owen jolted and stared at Ned. "The three of us?"
Ned faltered again. "Oh, yes, well, quite. Sorry, I wasn't going to say anything until things had settled down, but… "
"But what?"
"Well, we did use the time gate twice before, you see. We knew it took up too much power to use frivolously, but we had to test it before bringing a live - as it were - subject through, so we brought the others through as well."
"What do you mean the others?" Owen demanded. "You mean like more Torchwood?"
"Well, yes," said Ned. "Part of your team, actually. Mr. Jones and Ms. Sato. Eskar has them set up in one of his recovery systems downstairs, the process should finish by this evening - "
"I want to see them," Owen snarled. "Now."
~~
The equipment whirred softly, punctuated by quiet beeps and boops, measures of heartbeats and brainwaves. Owen stepped silently between the two beds, holding the breath he no longer needed.
"The process still has a few hours to go," Ned insisted.
Owen didn't answer. He just stared at the beds and the equipment hooked up to them, taking everything in. He stopped his pacing between the two, finally leaning over to get a closer look at the occupants.
He stared down at Toshiko's still body. If not for the beeping of the heart monitor, he wouldn't have believed she could possibly be alive. Her lips were bluish, as were her fingers and toes, and the wound that had killed her was still gaping wide in front of him.
"She was shot," Ned provided, still trying to be helpful, "Just before you, well, before we pulled you out of when you would have otherwise died. Amazing story, she kept up her instructions through the whole ordeal, it's really thanks to her that the whole city wasn't -"
"I know that," Owen snarled, squeezing the side of the bed rail. "I was there."
Ned's mouth snapped shut with a click of his teeth colliding.
"Only I wasn't there," Owen continued. "I believed her when she said she was fine. I wasn't with her. She was comforting me. If I had just been there, I might have been able to save her. She must have bled to death, and none of them had the medical knowledge to save her, they'd have just watched, as she died, not one of them able to help. Not Jack or Gwen or Ianto - "
He cut himself off and whirled away from Toshiko. He stared at the other bed, not yet willing to look closer.
"What about him," said Owen. "How did Ianto die? There's not a mark on him."
"Poison gas!" Ned said, rather too loudly. He cringed and coughed again at the reverberation before continuing. "Not too sure on the details, mind you, the report was written long, long after the event, but in negotiations with a species referred to as the 'Four-Five-Six', they seem to have released some sort of toxin or possibly virus into the air, killing everyone in the building. It's quite remarkable stuff, really, according to Eskar; somewhat paralyzing, with a fairly quick kill time, and it's apparently easier for the nanites - that's the name of the little fellows fixing things up - to repair than Ms. Sato's wound."
Owen just gazed blankly at Ianto: he had a sort of respirator hooked up through his mouth, but overall did appear healthier than Toshiko, with some color already returning to the skin and a stronger heart rate. He still didn't look right, though. He didn't have the look of a patient struggling back to life and health, he didn't even look like he was asleep. He looked dead.
"I just saw them a couple of hours ago," Owen murmured. Or has it been a day by now? "They were alive, and talking to me, just a few hours ago."
His hands trembled. Not for the first time, he wished he were still able to cry, to choke, to do something that was irrational and gross and a physical coping mechanism.
"But they're alive now," Ned said softly back. "And in just a few hours from now, they'll be awake and talking to you again!"
He fluffed himself up importantly, and strode to Owen's side. "Come now," he said, and put a fluffy clawed hand on his shoulder, "Let's show you to your quarters, eh? You can get it all settled for the three of you, and then it'll be all ready and nice for them when they wake up. What do you say?"
"I'm staying here," Owen said simply.
Ned floundered for words. Owen just kept leaning over Ianto's bed, staring down without looking left or right.
Ned looked around as if desperate for an escape, before sighing in defeat. He went back to the corner of the room, pulled out a chair, and sat.
Beep, said the machinery, Boop.
They waited.
~~
They waited there for a long time. Ned was dozing off in the corner, occasionally falling forwards a little and muttering something in a guttural language Owen couldn't understand. Even Owen's mixture of personal and medical investment in his friends had given way to some level of boredom, and he'd given up watching the two of them lie there in favor of examining the equipment. He was fairly confident he knew what each device was supposed to do or what it was measuring, but he still jolted in surprise when one of them let off a loud blare of sound.
"What's going on?!" Owen demanded.
Ned nearly fell out of his chair as he woke. He looked around, disoriented, at Owen and the flashing lights from Ianto's side of the room.
A quieter version of the alarm rang out from his arm. He glanced at the flashing green light on his wrist before waving his other hand over it, silencing both alarms.
"It's nothing to worry about," Ned said, still a little flustered. "Quite the opposite, actually. Just an alert saying the process is complete; Mr. Jones could potentially be awoken now, though the healing isn't entirely finished, it would probably be better to wait until - "
"Do it now," Owen said, already bending over and starting to remove the devices from Ianto.
"What?" said Ned. "No, wait, we should at least wait for Eskar, he's the expert, we should really have a doctor doing this!"
"I am a doctor," said Owen. He carefully removed the tube from Ianto's throat.
Ned floundered for a moment. When Owen showed no signs of stopping, he ran forwards to assist.
"Be careful!" he pleaded, hurriedly typing away at one of the keyboards. "How - how do you even know how to work this?"
"It's medical equipment."
"But it's 2000 years from your time, and from another galaxy, you must be very careful or you could harm something!"
"I'm Torchwood," Owen reminded him. "Thought you said you studied us. Alien and future is our expertise."
Owen stepped back, unsure of what to do next. He'd disconnected everything except the heart and brain monitors, which still beeped reassuringly at him.
"What now?" he asked. "How do I wake him up?"
Ned frowned. He stepped back and muttered to himself, checking off what needed to be done on his fingers.
"Ah!" he said, and walked right up to the back of Ianto's bed. He carefully lifted Ianto's head in his claws, revealing a small, round device with green and yellow lights clamped by little spider legs to the back of it.
"This is the same sort of device we had on you," he explained. "It sends signals directly to the brain - in your case, it blocked access to your motor functions. This one is simply commanding Mr. Jones to remain asleep. It's very useful in surgery, particularly for those who have poor reactions to more chemical sedation methods."
Or, in my case, no blood flow for the drugs to take effect in, thought Owen.
"Of course, it can be used for other things as well, which is why these, er, aren't exactly in widespread use in regular hospitals."
"They're illegal?"
"Not illegal per say, at least, not when privately owned…" Ned trailed off, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "In any case, Eskar finds them very useful - he invented them, you know! - and they don't cause any lasting harm when used correctly."
Owen nodded. He didn't really care about alien legality or even the obvious moral complications of the device. "So disconnect it."
Ned hesitated. "Are you sure we shouldn't wait? The injuries are not fully healed yet, and it would really be much easier to just wait - "
"If he wants to sleep through healing, he can decide so himself," Owen said firmly. "Wake him up."
The device detached with a quiet click!
The effect was not instantaneous. Owen crouched down, watching intently for any sign of stirring or something going wrong, but Ianto lay perfectly still, fast asleep.
After a long moment, his eyelids fluttered.
"Ianto?" Owen whispered.
Ianto murmured at the sound of his name, and turned his head away. He groaned quietly, and his eyes cracked open.
"Jack?" he said, barely audible.
Owen winced at the roughness in Ianto's voice. He brought one hand up to gently brush against his arm, gaining his teammate's attention. "Ianto, can you hear me?"
Ianto turned back to face him. His eyes took a long time to focus on Owen's face. He blinked slowly, wetting his eyes and trying to make sense of things.
"Owen?" he croaked. He frowned and took another glance around the room.
"Stupid looking sort of afterlife," he said.
Owen laughed slightly, in spite of himself. "You have no idea," he said. "How are you feeling?"
"Chest hurts," Ianto answered. His voice was growing stronger, but it was still barely above a whisper, and very rough. "Throat too. Thought I'd be dead, though."
He looked back at Owen. "You're dead," he said. It didn't sound accusatory or confused, it was just a statement of fact.
"Yeah," Owen said. "A few times over, now."
"You were disintegrated though," Ianto said. "Jack couldn't find anything left."
He frowned, staring up at the ceiling. "I thought there wasn't supposed to be anything else."
Owen frowned. "What do you mean, anything else?"
"After death. You and Suzie and Jack, you all said - " he cut off, coughing.
Owen stood up, leaning over Ianto and examining his chest as best he could.
"I told you it would be better to wait!" Ned said, his voice full of concern.
Ianto swallowed, managing to quell the cough. "Whozzat?" he asked, and his voice was no more than a hoarse whisper.
"That's just Ned," Owen said. "He's… the one who brought us here."
"Oh," said Ianto, still looking vaguely around. "Where is here?"
"That's kind of a long story," Owen said. "Why don't you just get some rest for now, Ned'll explain everything once Tosh wakes up."
"Tosh?" Ianto choked on the name, sending him into another brief fit of coughing. "But she - she died right in front of us, she died in Jack's arms, she - "
He stopped, still breathing heavily. "Oh god," Ianto said, "I died the same way, I was with Jack, I was really dead. What - Owen, we're all dead, all of us, we really died, how can I be alive? How can any of us be alive?"
"Ianto," Owen said firmly, pressing him back into the bed. "I need you to calm down, can you do that?"
Ianto nodded, his eyes wide and all traces of lethargy gone in his panic.
"You're right, we… we were all dead. I still am, technically," he added, "But these people, they brought us here, they have technology that can restore people from death. But you're going to be fine, I promise. Okay?"
Ianto stared up into Owen's face with wide eyes. He had grabbed hold of the doctor's hand, clutching it to his bare chest as he panted erratically. Owen stared earnestly back into his eyes; he didn't want to sugarcoat the situation, he needed Ianto to understand, but he also needed him to calm down.
Ianto nodded slowly, still wheezing.
"I was dead," he repeated. "But now I'm not."
"Right."
"Just... Just like Jack."
Owen smiled a little. "Yeah, just like Jack. And you and me and Tosh, we're all gonna be fine, just like Jack. All right?"
"All right," Ianto whispered.
"Good," said Owen. "Why don't you try and get some rest, okay? I'm gonna be right here, you just stay put until you feel better."
"Right," said Ianto. Reluctantly, he let go of Owen's hand and sank back onto the bed.
The room lapsed back into silence, only broken by the machinery and Ianto's labored breathing. Owen longed for a stethoscope; the medical technology of the space station may have worked miracles, but the doctor still felt the urge to listen and make sure the rasping wasn't indicative of a larger problem. Instead, he stepped back, watching as Ianto slowly fell back to sleep.
It was only half an hour later when the alarm went off again.
Ned was faster this time, silencing the sound with a wave over his wrist after only a few seconds. Ianto jolted from his rest nevertheless, and sat up with an alarmed look on his face.
"What was that?" he rasped.
"Nothing," Owen said, and pushed him back down on his way over to Toshiko's bedside. "It's just an alert, like a timer. Means it's safe to wake Tosh up now."
"Tosh?"
Owen and Ned ignored him, already on either side of Toshiko's bed. Ned was practically dancing on his toes, apparently over his reservations for waking the formerly dead. He clutched the side of the bed, watching as Owen carefully removed the devices from Tosh's body.
It didn't take long. Despite the severity of her wound, Toshiko hadn't required respiratory support the way Ianto had, and the rest of the devices were easily disposed of. The readings on the heart and brain monitors remained steady, and after a long moment of study, Owen nodded.
Ned reached down and carefully detached the spidery device from the back of Toshiko's head. He put it aside and leaned eagerly over the side of the bed, looking for any sign of life.
Owen watched from the opposite side of the bed, not noticing that Ianto had sat up and was staring over from just behind him.
Toshiko's eyes flickered beneath her eyelids. Ned gasped and held his breath as if he were at the climax of a particularly exciting movie.
Suddenly, Tosh gasped for breath, her eyes flying open and her back arching against the stiff bed. She sat up in one quick movement, and her head collided with Ned's, sending them both reeling backwards in pain.
Ned fell to the floor, surprised, and Toshiko screamed, huddling at one end of her bed and clutching her head.
"Tosh!" Owen shouted, echoed by Ianto, and he rushed forwards, grabbing her hands away from her face.
Toshiko kept screaming, interrupted by sobs and hiccoughs, her eyes squeezed shut.
"Oh God," she cried, gasping for breath. "Oh God, oh God!"
"Tosh, Tosh calm down, listen to me!"
"I was shot!" she choked. "He - he shot me, I died, there was nothing! Nothing!"
"I know, Tosh, I know," Owen said, holding her as best he could from his awkward position, leaning over the side of the bed. "It's okay now Tosh, look at me, look at me!"
Tosh choked again, sobbing, but managed to raise her wide, tear-filled eyes to stare into Owen's face.
"Owen?" she said with a gurgle. "Oh God, Owen, I thought I'd never see you again."
She hurled herself forwards, burying her face in his hospital clothes as she wept. "You were dead," she sobbed, "The radio died and I couldn't hear you and I was dying, and Jack and Gwen and Ianto - oh God, Owen, we really died, didn't we?"
"It's alright, Tosh," Owen coaxed, "You're going to be fine, promise. Your wound's already almost gone, see?"
She pulled away, twisting to look at the bullet hole in her flesh. It was still there, raw and scabbed over, but no longer lethal by any means. She stared at it, not quite comprehending, and reached down to test it.
"Hey, it's not healed quite yet," Owen said with a quiet laugh as she flinched from the pressure. "But give it time, you're going to be fine."
"But - " Tosh paused to swallow nervously and wipe the tears from her cheeks. "But I was dead, I know I was. What happened? How are we still here?"
She looked around the room, bewildered. "Where are we?" she said. Her eyes wandered back to her own machinery-lined bed, filled with the professional curiosity that had defined her career before widening with shock as she noticed her own body.
"Where are my clothes!?" she squeaked, and huddled back into a ball as she tried to cover herself with her limbs.
Owen laughed, half in relief and half in exasperation. "Ned, could you get Tosh and Ianto some clothes?"
Ned fidgeted from his place beyond Toshiko's bed. "Er," he said awkwardly.
Tosh jumped and whirled around to face the alien, hugging herself even tighter. He waved back at her with a nervous smile.
"Clothes, Ned?"
"Well, yes." Ned said. "But, well, you know. I probably shouldn't just..."
"For fuck's sake, Ned!" Owen snarled. Tosh flinched again as he grabbed the rail and leaned over her towards Ned. "You can leave us alone for five minutes, lock the door, post guards, whatever! We're on a goddamn asteroid, where are we even going to go? Just go get the fucking clothes!"
Ned hesitated, trying to think of a response, but he nodded at Owen's glare and hurried out the door, muttering.
Owen sighed and slumped over Toshiko's bed, shutting his eyes. He was suddenly mentally exhausted, even if he couldn't’ be physically. He longed for the ability to sleep, or at the very least for the comfort of his own apartment.
"Owen?"
He looked up to find Tosh staring at him, concerned. She had grabbed his hand, self-consciousness more or less forgotten. He smiled wearily at her.
"I'm fine," he assured her. "Just had a bit of a long day."
Toshiko turned his hand over in her own. "Your fingers," she said quietly.
He looked down at his hand. The fingers he'd snapped still lay uselessly at awkward angles, immobile.
"They must not have bothered putting the dressing back after my examination," he muttered, and if Tosh noticed his hesitation before the last word she didn't comment. "I'll see if I can convince Ned to get me something."
Tosh just frowned, still holding his hand, palm up. Her fingers wandered to his wrist, before reaching up to tug open the front of his pajamas.
Her hand dropped, resting gently just below the hole in his chest.
"They didn't fix you," she whispered. "They brought me back from being dead and fixed my wounds, but they didn't..."
"I don't think they can," Owen murmured.
She let her arm fall away. Scooting back against the back of the bed, she wrapped her arms back around her legs and looked around the room.
"What is this place?"
"Did you say we were on an asteroid?" Ianto piped up.
Toshiko blinked in surprise at his hoarse voice and leaned to the side to see around Owen.
"Yeah," Owen said, and turned around so he could face them both. "We're on an asteroid. And 2000 years in the future."
"What?"
"Yeah, basically... Ned and his crazy mad scientist buddy snatched us from right after our deaths - well, no, before, in my case - so that we can be studied and interrogated about our time for some museum."
"Museum?" Ianto echoed, but his voice was failing him again, and he rubbed his throat with a wince.
"Not really sure on the details," said Owen, waving his hand dismissively. "We'll have to ask Ned when he gets back. I was a little distracted when I found out the two of you had been dead."
"How," Tosh said quietly, as if afraid to speak up, "Were you killed, too, Ianto?"
He swallowed again and nodded. "Few months after you two," he whispered. "Tell you later. When I can."
"Ned mentioned poison gas," Owen said, and walked over to the other bed to have a look.
Ianto nodded wordlessly. Owen frowned at the raspy sound of his breath, but didn't push any further. Better he save his throat until it was fully healed.
His examination was interrupted by Ned coming back through the door, carrying two more pairs of the hospital pajamas. He hurried over, grinning, and politely handed the first set to Toshiko.
"We do have some other garments available, in your quarters, that may be more to your liking," he said, as Tosh accepted the pajamas with a quiet nod. "But I thought perhaps these would do for now, as you are both still under observation. How are you both feeling?"
"Fine, thank you," Tosh said softly, slipping into the shirt as quickly as she could.
"Bit sore," Ianto croaked.
Owen took the clothes and shoved them in his face. "Don't talk if it hurts," he chided. He turned back to Ned. "Is this thing going to be able to fix their remaining injuries? Or is Ianto going to be whispering insults at me for the rest of his life?"
"Oh, no," Ned assured, waving his hands. "The biggest trouble has been taken care of, the nanites will finish the rest in due time. Everything should be back to full health by next week at the latest."
"What about Owen?" Tosh asked.
Ned fumbled as he turned to look at her. "Well, you see," he said awkwardly, "That's rather a whole different issue. We don't really know just how it is that Doctor Harper continues to, well, continue, I suppose, and we therefore have no idea how to fix it."
"But you could try," Tosh insisted.
Ned's ears drooped, though his trying-to-be-reassuring smile remained firmly in place. "We would like to, Miss Sato, really we would, but, well, we simply don't have enough information. Eskar would need to run many more tests first, I think, and find out exactly what it is that can be fixed, if it's possible at all. I know he's dying to try!"
"Eskar?" Ianto repeated, and Owen glared at him for talking again.
"My companion, a very close friend of mine, and co-curator. Doctor Eskar Xarchac, brilliant man, invented more than half the devices in here. He's the one responsible for the nanites as well, quite amazing stuff if you ask me."
"But who are you?" Tosh asked. She swung around out of the bed, leaning on the rail to stay upright.
"Oh, quite. I am Nerranderot Uquiccax, but please call me Ned. I am an historian, and I am one of the head curators of the Adris One Museum of Science and History."
"Why did you bring us to a museum?" Tosh continued. She gripped her side as she stumbled towards him, but waved Owen away when he moved to help.
"Well, I am a student of your civilization," Ned said proudly. "I'm very interested in pre-First-Contact civilizations, particularly that of Earth, as it had so many encounters before the general public was even aware of peoples on other planets. Torchwood in particular really caught my interest, and, well, when the Time Gate was donated, I thought, why not? So I had it repaired and brought you in to speak to you all personally."
He beamed at the three of them. Toshiko glared back.
"What exactly does that mean? You're going to interview us and study us? And then what? Where do we go?"
Ned started fiddling again. "Ah… Well, you see…"
Tosh clenched her fists. "You're not going to let us go, are you? You're just going to keep us here for your stupid little exhibit."
This time, Ned's whole face drooped, ears and antennae and whiskers. "I'm afraid I can't allow you to leave in the foreseeable future. As far as the law is concerned, the three of you are… well, museum property. I certainly don't feel that way myself!" he added, holding his claws up in defense. "But as it stands, the only legal options we have are keeping you here or, um, returning you to your previous state."
They all stared at him as he trailed off.
"You mean, kill us again," Ianto said.
Ned nodded miserably.
"But, really, it shouldn't be too bad," he insisted. "We've got your quarters all set up, you'll have access to the computers and most of the museum… it should all be very comfortable, and I'll do anything in my power to help out."
Nobody answered. Owen stared blankly at Ianto's pajamas, stuck somewhere between blinding rage and logical understanding.
"So show us to our rooms, then," he said, after a long silence.
Ned blinked at him hopefully.
Part Two
Master Post