fic: Behind the Curtain 1/2 [PG-13] Torchwood/Highlander/multi xover
Behind the Curtain
There was light, pressing against the skin of his closed eyes with the determination of a summer sun. There was sound; what sounded like voices babbling in the distance, though what they said made no sense to Owen as he lay there.
“He just came through now, looks in a pretty bad way.” Owen thought this was a bit odd, of course he was in a pretty bad way, he was dead; twice over.
“He’ll heal, they always do.” The second voice was matter of fact, but sounded friendly. There was a vague beeping, and the first voice cursed unintelligibly.
“There’s a hell of a lot of activity today, I’d better get back. You going to stay with this one?”
“Yeah, doesn’t look like he’ll be long now...” There was the sound of footsteps retreating, and then Owen felt someone settle next to him on the ground. He processed that thought for a second; ground. Not floor, ground. Outdoors, not indoors. It didn’t make a hell of a lot of sense to Owen, but then nothing really had since he died and was brought back. He wondered if they’d managed to do it again, but the voice, though American, had sounded nothing like Jack. He struggled; to move, to open his eyes, to take a useless breath. That was when he realised it hadn’t been a useless breath, and he screamed, lurching upright and grabbing hold of the person next to him. He opened his eyes but had to scrunch them closed immediately as the bright light was hurting them, and then realised that the unknown person had pulled him into a hug, sheltering his eyes from the light against his shoulder.
“Easy now. Easy. You’re OK. I’ve got you. That’s it, just take deep breaths, you’ll be fine. I know this might sound weird to you, but whatever happened to you, you’re OK now. You aren’t dead anymore. That’s it, just take it easy.” Owen realised he’d been hyperventilating, and nearly laughed out loud. He gets another chance to be alive, to actually breathe again, and the first thing he does is mess it up. He concentrated on slowing his breathing, calming his thundering heart. Then it hit him, and he pushed away from the man holding him gently to feel his pulse. It was rapid, but slowing. Owen smiled to himself and raised his hand to his face, to feel his breath on his hand. Still not quite wanting to believe it, he pulled off his jacket and t-shirt and felt for the hole in his chest that had been his constant companion for the last weeks. It was gone. He could feel scar tissue under his fingers, but the wound was completely healed. This time Owen did laugh, throwing his arms out wide.
“I don’t fucking believe it! I’m not dead anymore!”
“I think I already said that,” the unknown man commented. Owen looked at him for the first time, to meet bright blue eyes that were crinkling with suppressed amusement.
“No mate, you don’t get it. I’ve been a dead man walking for weeks. No breath, no heartbeat, no nothing. A zombie, if you like. And now I’m not. This is fucking amazing.”
“Ah, one of *those*,” the man said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Owen demanded belligerently.
“It means you aren’t the first that this has happened to. Give me a second and I’ll get hold of someone who will be able to help more than me.”
“I’m not the first? What the hell is this place? And who are you?” Owen looked around him more carefully; he looked like he was in a field surrounded by trees, but he could see the glint of water in the distance. It was warm, but not unpleasantly so, like an early summer’s day back home. The man next to him was young, but gave the impression of being older than his years, though that impression fell away when he smiled.
“The place? You’re behind the curtain; on the other side of the mirror. Parallel universe, apparently, or so I’ve been told, but a very unique one.”
“What the fuck? Are you having me on or what?”
“Nope. Takes a while to get used to, but you will, I can guarantee that.”
“Shit.” Owen sat there staring at nothing for a minute, trying desperately to process the unprocessable. He was interrupted by the sound of his unknown companion’s voice.
“I’m Richie Ryan, by the way. And you are?”
“Owen Harper. Doctor Owen Harper.” Richie stood up, brushing his jeans down with a careless brush of his hand. He held that hand out to Owen.
“Pleased to meet you, Doctor Owen Harper. If you’ll come with me, there’s someone I think you should meet, he used to be a dead man walking too.” Owen shook his head still unable to quite believe the absurdity of the place as he took Richie’s hand in his own, and hauled himself up. He let go, and experimentally wriggled his fingers, before tearing off the bandage that had held his left hand together. It seemed he no longer needed it. Grinning, he shoved the unwanted bandage in his jeans, before bending to pick up his clothes and put his t-shirt back on. He slung the jacket over his shoulder,
“Lead on Richie Ryan. I’m kind of looking forward to meeting another ex-dead guy.”
“You already have done.”
“What?”
“Everyone here has died at least once; it’s just that some of us have had a little more experience than others.” Owen glared at Richie, the kid had to be screwing with his brain; nothing else made sense.
“Everyone has died... are you trying to tell me this is the afterlife? Because I’ve been there and it wasn’t anything like this, mate.”
“Oh no, we’re all very much alive. It’s just kind of complicated. Kai can explain it better than me, or maybe Nick. I’m just a guy...” Richie moved toward the trees, and a well beaten path; Owen followed Richie into the shadows, wondering just what the hell was going to happen to him next.
Part Two
There was light, pressing against the skin of his closed eyes with the determination of a summer sun. There was sound; what sounded like voices babbling in the distance, though what they said made no sense to Owen as he lay there.
“He just came through now, looks in a pretty bad way.” Owen thought this was a bit odd, of course he was in a pretty bad way, he was dead; twice over.
“He’ll heal, they always do.” The second voice was matter of fact, but sounded friendly. There was a vague beeping, and the first voice cursed unintelligibly.
“There’s a hell of a lot of activity today, I’d better get back. You going to stay with this one?”
“Yeah, doesn’t look like he’ll be long now...” There was the sound of footsteps retreating, and then Owen felt someone settle next to him on the ground. He processed that thought for a second; ground. Not floor, ground. Outdoors, not indoors. It didn’t make a hell of a lot of sense to Owen, but then nothing really had since he died and was brought back. He wondered if they’d managed to do it again, but the voice, though American, had sounded nothing like Jack. He struggled; to move, to open his eyes, to take a useless breath. That was when he realised it hadn’t been a useless breath, and he screamed, lurching upright and grabbing hold of the person next to him. He opened his eyes but had to scrunch them closed immediately as the bright light was hurting them, and then realised that the unknown person had pulled him into a hug, sheltering his eyes from the light against his shoulder.
“Easy now. Easy. You’re OK. I’ve got you. That’s it, just take deep breaths, you’ll be fine. I know this might sound weird to you, but whatever happened to you, you’re OK now. You aren’t dead anymore. That’s it, just take it easy.” Owen realised he’d been hyperventilating, and nearly laughed out loud. He gets another chance to be alive, to actually breathe again, and the first thing he does is mess it up. He concentrated on slowing his breathing, calming his thundering heart. Then it hit him, and he pushed away from the man holding him gently to feel his pulse. It was rapid, but slowing. Owen smiled to himself and raised his hand to his face, to feel his breath on his hand. Still not quite wanting to believe it, he pulled off his jacket and t-shirt and felt for the hole in his chest that had been his constant companion for the last weeks. It was gone. He could feel scar tissue under his fingers, but the wound was completely healed. This time Owen did laugh, throwing his arms out wide.
“I don’t fucking believe it! I’m not dead anymore!”
“I think I already said that,” the unknown man commented. Owen looked at him for the first time, to meet bright blue eyes that were crinkling with suppressed amusement.
“No mate, you don’t get it. I’ve been a dead man walking for weeks. No breath, no heartbeat, no nothing. A zombie, if you like. And now I’m not. This is fucking amazing.”
“Ah, one of *those*,” the man said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Owen demanded belligerently.
“It means you aren’t the first that this has happened to. Give me a second and I’ll get hold of someone who will be able to help more than me.”
“I’m not the first? What the hell is this place? And who are you?” Owen looked around him more carefully; he looked like he was in a field surrounded by trees, but he could see the glint of water in the distance. It was warm, but not unpleasantly so, like an early summer’s day back home. The man next to him was young, but gave the impression of being older than his years, though that impression fell away when he smiled.
“The place? You’re behind the curtain; on the other side of the mirror. Parallel universe, apparently, or so I’ve been told, but a very unique one.”
“What the fuck? Are you having me on or what?”
“Nope. Takes a while to get used to, but you will, I can guarantee that.”
“Shit.” Owen sat there staring at nothing for a minute, trying desperately to process the unprocessable. He was interrupted by the sound of his unknown companion’s voice.
“I’m Richie Ryan, by the way. And you are?”
“Owen Harper. Doctor Owen Harper.” Richie stood up, brushing his jeans down with a careless brush of his hand. He held that hand out to Owen.
“Pleased to meet you, Doctor Owen Harper. If you’ll come with me, there’s someone I think you should meet, he used to be a dead man walking too.” Owen shook his head still unable to quite believe the absurdity of the place as he took Richie’s hand in his own, and hauled himself up. He let go, and experimentally wriggled his fingers, before tearing off the bandage that had held his left hand together. It seemed he no longer needed it. Grinning, he shoved the unwanted bandage in his jeans, before bending to pick up his clothes and put his t-shirt back on. He slung the jacket over his shoulder,
“Lead on Richie Ryan. I’m kind of looking forward to meeting another ex-dead guy.”
“You already have done.”
“What?”
“Everyone here has died at least once; it’s just that some of us have had a little more experience than others.” Owen glared at Richie, the kid had to be screwing with his brain; nothing else made sense.
“Everyone has died... are you trying to tell me this is the afterlife? Because I’ve been there and it wasn’t anything like this, mate.”
“Oh no, we’re all very much alive. It’s just kind of complicated. Kai can explain it better than me, or maybe Nick. I’m just a guy...” Richie moved toward the trees, and a well beaten path; Owen followed Richie into the shadows, wondering just what the hell was going to happen to him next.
Part Two