Post-Mortem Part 4
People had trouble downloading Part 3, so I split it. My apologies.
Fic: Post-Mortem Part 4 (5/6 including an Interlude and an Epilogue)
Author: CrabbyLioness
Pairings: Team, Jack/Ianto mentioned, Tosh/Jack/Ianto mentioned
Summary: In the wake of Jack's disappearance, Owen tries to figure out what to do next.
Rating: R for language and sexual imagery. It's Owen, what do you expect?
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Don't even like Owen, but "Quincy" has his uses. Not making a penny.
Part 1
Interlude
Part 2
Part 3
Owen pulled his mind back to the present and knocked back some more whiskey. That had two months ago. His team -- God, it still felt weird to think that -- hadn't fucked up yet. They had worked out a rota for manning the Hub at night and picked up the alien garbage off the streets of Cardiff. Of course, without Jack they had a much harder time seperating the treasures from the trash. The 'Miscellaneous' bin was threatening to take over a room. But the Rift was becoming more active, and with only four regular humans working the Hub the strain was showing on all of them.
Gwen was focused on her job. She tended to sit around and stare at the wall when she wasn't working. Classic shock and trauma symptoms. Owen knew if Jack were there he would run her home to her boyfriend. Sometimes Owen remembered to say something about it. Sometimes she listened.
Tosh had become Ianto's self-appointed protector. Why Ianto needed one Owen didn't know, but he had one anyway. She dragged Ianto off on some sort of date once or twice a week. Owen couldn't tell if they were shagging or not. Maybe she wanted to pick Ianto up on the rebound. Course for all Owen knew, Harkness had been shagging them both at the same time and they had just kept quiet about it. Had a good laugh when he and Gwen weren't in the room.
He had a sudden lurid vision of the two men lying in bed, passing Tosh from one hot, throbbing cock to another like a giggling Japanese sex toy. Fuck. How come he never got invited to parties like that?
No, that was the whisky talking. Had to be.
Probably.
Owen and Ianto had a turf battle about who was in charge of what at least once a day. Gwen pointed out that they never fought about the same thing twice, but somehow there was always something new to fight about.
Ianto had gone to ice. He was completely focused on the task at hand, doing his work with an economy, efficiency, and concentration that scared the shit out of Owen. He realized this must have been what Ianto was like when he got Lisa out of London. All his being focused on one goal.
In the privacy of the SUV with a belly full of good whiskey, Owen allowed himself to think something he hadn't dared consider before. In a world full of mysteries, out-of-control Rifts, time-shifting aliens, Weevils, superiors, irate locals, and ten-storey high demons, the thing that frightened him most right now was Ianto Jones. Not because Ianto had shot him, although his shoulder still hurt. Because he had no idea what Ianto was going to do next. All he knew for sure was that it would have all the younger man's skill and willpower behind it. From a man who'd snuck a Cyberman into the Hub, that was no minor threat.
Owen burned to confront Ianto and force it out of him. That was the way you dealt with threats, wasn't it? You faced them down and made them either kill you or submit. But Ianto didn't play by those rules. He'd back down, smile, and be as submissive as you pleased as long as it suited him. Apparently that included bending over and dropping his trousers, at least for Jack. But hit one of his triggers and he'd go completely round the bend. He wasn't good at going round the bend, but he was improving with practice.
And the worst of it was that you couldn't tell when he'd hit a trigger. Ianto's poker face was perfect. He'd be going along same as always, and then he'd pick up a gun and start shooting people. Owen had no way to predict Ianto, and that scared him.
Meanwhile there was still the Rift to see about. With fewer people who knew a lot less about aliens, they were coming back with more injuries. Nothing serious yet, but Owen doubted how much longer their luck would last.
Gallows humor pervaded the Hub these days. Owen knew Jack would not have stood for that, would have done something to lift their spirits. Then again, an immortal had no reason to fear the gallows.
And that led right into the current problem. Owen moved to press the "Record" button again just as the door of the SUV opened and Ianto looked in. Speak of the Devil. "Come to retrieve the bottle, have you?" Owen asked.
Ianto climbed in and sprawled out on the floor. He pulled another whiskey glass from his pocket and poured himself a drink. "Thought I'd join you."
Owen looked over the tall Welshman. Ianto looked a lot less pressed these days. Right now his suit jacket was off, his tie was loose, and the sleeves of his shirt were folded back over his elbows.
Thoughts of the SUV and a disheveled Ianto brought up a question Owen had been meaning to ask for a while. He finished his glass and reached for the bottle. "So, you and Jack ever do it in the car?"
"What?" Ianto looked at him, startled.
"Fuck, you wanker. In here." Owen poured himself another drink. "Gwen and I did."
"Yes," said Ianto, sitting up. "You did. Twenty-three times, which made it a favorite spot."
"What?" Owen stared at Ianto. Now it was his turn to be startled.
"You also 'did it' in the garage, the entrance tunnel, the medical supply cupboard (another favorite spot), the office supply cupboard, the sofa, the boardroom, the kitchen, the second landing of the emergancy stairs, the autopsy bay, the interrogation room, and the fourth cell on the left, which was as far from the Weevil as you could get without going down more stairs. Fairly pedestrian choices, actually, but I suppose that could be Gwen's influence."
"How the hell do you know that?"
Ianto rolled his eyes. "You're shit at cleaning up after yourself, Owen. You always leave some trace behind. You did the same thing with Suzie, too. I can tell you exactly how many times you and Gwen used each of those sites, except for the autopsy bay. You keep that one room fairly clean but you leave everything else filthy. Are you like that at home? Is your bedroom spotless and the rest of your house a mess?"
"Are you going to answer my question or not?"
Ianto smirked at him. "Jack and I were more thorough."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Use your imagination. It needs the exercise."
Owen scowled at the younger man. "Are you telling me to bugger off?"
"Yes."
"Fuck off, ponce. You've got a stick up your arse as big as a bat."
"Never needed one." Ianto took a drink from his glass and flinched as the liquor hit his stomach.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing. I'm all right."
"Course you're 'all right'. Between the coffee, the alcohol, and the lack of any stress release you'll wind up with ulcers before you're thirty. Any day now your stomach will fell like it's on fire all the time."
A look of shock briefly danced over Ianto's face.
"Oh bloody hell! You've already got them? Christ! Why didn't you tell me? This isn't the 20th Century. They're treatable now! A mega dose of antibiotics and a week without coffee should fix you up, but if you don't treat it you'll end up with bleeding holes in your insides. Here." Owen snatched Ianto's glass and drained it. "I'll give you some pills when we get back. No alcohol or caffeine until a week after you've finished them."
"All right." Ianto sighed.
"Stupid bugger. I've got enough to do without having to be your fucking babysitter."
The two men sat in silence for a while. Finally Owen sighed. "Christ. We really are crap at this, aren't we?"
Ianto grunted in agreement. "I won't tell if you won't."
"We're getting too worn down. We need help, and I don't mean another newbie. We need someone who knows what they're doing."
"Someone who knows what they're doing stands a good chance of finding out Jack's secrets. Gwen would never agree to that."
"Gwen was nearly eviscerated by a Weevil today. She's going to be behind a desk for two weeks while her side heals. That means taking Tosh out in the field, and she's too tiny to be much use hunting Weevils.
"Anyway, I'm the leader. It's my decision."
Ianto said nothing. After a while, Owen asked, "What do you think?"
"I think Gwen was nearly eviscerated by a Weevil today. We need more help."
"Even if it means risking Jack? What about what we owe him?"
Ianto leaned his head back against the side of the SUV. "Jack wouldn't want us to endanger the people we're supposed to protect. He's a big boy. He's been looking after himself against worse since before we were born.
"You're the leader. You have to look out for the bigger picture, just like he had to. You're in charge now."
Owen nodded. "Right. I'm in charge. Make the call first thing in the morning. But don't tell Gwen or Tosh."
"Yes, Owen."
Ianto took the glasses away from Owen, picked up the decanter, and climbed out of the car. Owen followed him.
"If I'm in charge now, are you going to suck my cock?"
"In your dreams."
"Hah." Owen stretched to get the knots out of his body. He had made his decision. Hopefully it was the right one.
No, fuck that. He knew it was the right one. Hopefully it wouldn't hurt Jack.
To be concluded in
Epilogue: The Storyteller
Fic: Post-Mortem Part 4 (5/6 including an Interlude and an Epilogue)
Author: CrabbyLioness
Pairings: Team, Jack/Ianto mentioned, Tosh/Jack/Ianto mentioned
Summary: In the wake of Jack's disappearance, Owen tries to figure out what to do next.
Rating: R for language and sexual imagery. It's Owen, what do you expect?
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Don't even like Owen, but "Quincy" has his uses. Not making a penny.
Part 1
Interlude
Part 2
Part 3
Owen pulled his mind back to the present and knocked back some more whiskey. That had two months ago. His team -- God, it still felt weird to think that -- hadn't fucked up yet. They had worked out a rota for manning the Hub at night and picked up the alien garbage off the streets of Cardiff. Of course, without Jack they had a much harder time seperating the treasures from the trash. The 'Miscellaneous' bin was threatening to take over a room. But the Rift was becoming more active, and with only four regular humans working the Hub the strain was showing on all of them.
Gwen was focused on her job. She tended to sit around and stare at the wall when she wasn't working. Classic shock and trauma symptoms. Owen knew if Jack were there he would run her home to her boyfriend. Sometimes Owen remembered to say something about it. Sometimes she listened.
Tosh had become Ianto's self-appointed protector. Why Ianto needed one Owen didn't know, but he had one anyway. She dragged Ianto off on some sort of date once or twice a week. Owen couldn't tell if they were shagging or not. Maybe she wanted to pick Ianto up on the rebound. Course for all Owen knew, Harkness had been shagging them both at the same time and they had just kept quiet about it. Had a good laugh when he and Gwen weren't in the room.
He had a sudden lurid vision of the two men lying in bed, passing Tosh from one hot, throbbing cock to another like a giggling Japanese sex toy. Fuck. How come he never got invited to parties like that?
No, that was the whisky talking. Had to be.
Probably.
Owen and Ianto had a turf battle about who was in charge of what at least once a day. Gwen pointed out that they never fought about the same thing twice, but somehow there was always something new to fight about.
Ianto had gone to ice. He was completely focused on the task at hand, doing his work with an economy, efficiency, and concentration that scared the shit out of Owen. He realized this must have been what Ianto was like when he got Lisa out of London. All his being focused on one goal.
In the privacy of the SUV with a belly full of good whiskey, Owen allowed himself to think something he hadn't dared consider before. In a world full of mysteries, out-of-control Rifts, time-shifting aliens, Weevils, superiors, irate locals, and ten-storey high demons, the thing that frightened him most right now was Ianto Jones. Not because Ianto had shot him, although his shoulder still hurt. Because he had no idea what Ianto was going to do next. All he knew for sure was that it would have all the younger man's skill and willpower behind it. From a man who'd snuck a Cyberman into the Hub, that was no minor threat.
Owen burned to confront Ianto and force it out of him. That was the way you dealt with threats, wasn't it? You faced them down and made them either kill you or submit. But Ianto didn't play by those rules. He'd back down, smile, and be as submissive as you pleased as long as it suited him. Apparently that included bending over and dropping his trousers, at least for Jack. But hit one of his triggers and he'd go completely round the bend. He wasn't good at going round the bend, but he was improving with practice.
And the worst of it was that you couldn't tell when he'd hit a trigger. Ianto's poker face was perfect. He'd be going along same as always, and then he'd pick up a gun and start shooting people. Owen had no way to predict Ianto, and that scared him.
Meanwhile there was still the Rift to see about. With fewer people who knew a lot less about aliens, they were coming back with more injuries. Nothing serious yet, but Owen doubted how much longer their luck would last.
Gallows humor pervaded the Hub these days. Owen knew Jack would not have stood for that, would have done something to lift their spirits. Then again, an immortal had no reason to fear the gallows.
And that led right into the current problem. Owen moved to press the "Record" button again just as the door of the SUV opened and Ianto looked in. Speak of the Devil. "Come to retrieve the bottle, have you?" Owen asked.
Ianto climbed in and sprawled out on the floor. He pulled another whiskey glass from his pocket and poured himself a drink. "Thought I'd join you."
Owen looked over the tall Welshman. Ianto looked a lot less pressed these days. Right now his suit jacket was off, his tie was loose, and the sleeves of his shirt were folded back over his elbows.
Thoughts of the SUV and a disheveled Ianto brought up a question Owen had been meaning to ask for a while. He finished his glass and reached for the bottle. "So, you and Jack ever do it in the car?"
"What?" Ianto looked at him, startled.
"Fuck, you wanker. In here." Owen poured himself another drink. "Gwen and I did."
"Yes," said Ianto, sitting up. "You did. Twenty-three times, which made it a favorite spot."
"What?" Owen stared at Ianto. Now it was his turn to be startled.
"You also 'did it' in the garage, the entrance tunnel, the medical supply cupboard (another favorite spot), the office supply cupboard, the sofa, the boardroom, the kitchen, the second landing of the emergancy stairs, the autopsy bay, the interrogation room, and the fourth cell on the left, which was as far from the Weevil as you could get without going down more stairs. Fairly pedestrian choices, actually, but I suppose that could be Gwen's influence."
"How the hell do you know that?"
Ianto rolled his eyes. "You're shit at cleaning up after yourself, Owen. You always leave some trace behind. You did the same thing with Suzie, too. I can tell you exactly how many times you and Gwen used each of those sites, except for the autopsy bay. You keep that one room fairly clean but you leave everything else filthy. Are you like that at home? Is your bedroom spotless and the rest of your house a mess?"
"Are you going to answer my question or not?"
Ianto smirked at him. "Jack and I were more thorough."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Use your imagination. It needs the exercise."
Owen scowled at the younger man. "Are you telling me to bugger off?"
"Yes."
"Fuck off, ponce. You've got a stick up your arse as big as a bat."
"Never needed one." Ianto took a drink from his glass and flinched as the liquor hit his stomach.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing. I'm all right."
"Course you're 'all right'. Between the coffee, the alcohol, and the lack of any stress release you'll wind up with ulcers before you're thirty. Any day now your stomach will fell like it's on fire all the time."
A look of shock briefly danced over Ianto's face.
"Oh bloody hell! You've already got them? Christ! Why didn't you tell me? This isn't the 20th Century. They're treatable now! A mega dose of antibiotics and a week without coffee should fix you up, but if you don't treat it you'll end up with bleeding holes in your insides. Here." Owen snatched Ianto's glass and drained it. "I'll give you some pills when we get back. No alcohol or caffeine until a week after you've finished them."
"All right." Ianto sighed.
"Stupid bugger. I've got enough to do without having to be your fucking babysitter."
The two men sat in silence for a while. Finally Owen sighed. "Christ. We really are crap at this, aren't we?"
Ianto grunted in agreement. "I won't tell if you won't."
"We're getting too worn down. We need help, and I don't mean another newbie. We need someone who knows what they're doing."
"Someone who knows what they're doing stands a good chance of finding out Jack's secrets. Gwen would never agree to that."
"Gwen was nearly eviscerated by a Weevil today. She's going to be behind a desk for two weeks while her side heals. That means taking Tosh out in the field, and she's too tiny to be much use hunting Weevils.
"Anyway, I'm the leader. It's my decision."
Ianto said nothing. After a while, Owen asked, "What do you think?"
"I think Gwen was nearly eviscerated by a Weevil today. We need more help."
"Even if it means risking Jack? What about what we owe him?"
Ianto leaned his head back against the side of the SUV. "Jack wouldn't want us to endanger the people we're supposed to protect. He's a big boy. He's been looking after himself against worse since before we were born.
"You're the leader. You have to look out for the bigger picture, just like he had to. You're in charge now."
Owen nodded. "Right. I'm in charge. Make the call first thing in the morning. But don't tell Gwen or Tosh."
"Yes, Owen."
Ianto took the glasses away from Owen, picked up the decanter, and climbed out of the car. Owen followed him.
"If I'm in charge now, are you going to suck my cock?"
"In your dreams."
"Hah." Owen stretched to get the knots out of his body. He had made his decision. Hopefully it was the right one.
No, fuck that. He knew it was the right one. Hopefully it wouldn't hurt Jack.
To be concluded in
Epilogue: The Storyteller