Fandom: Torchwood

Characters: Jack, Owen, Ianto

Author: m_findlow

Rating: PG

Length: 1,694 words

Content notes: none

Author notes: Written for Challenge 238 - Knock

Summary: Owen's combat training ends in someone needing medical attention.

'You're getting rusty, Owen,' Jack teased, knocking Owen flat on his back on the thin blue mats.

Owen groaned. There really wasn't any padding in these things when someone body checked you and sent you slamming into them. He mentally cursed the man standing over him in his t-shirt, not a drop of sweat to be seen soaking his underarms or the centre of his back. Owen on the other hand had several dark patches all over his grey sweatshirt. It wasn't fair. It shouldn't be called training, it should just be called humiliation.

'Come, on, you can do better than that,' Jack goaded. 'What if I was a weevil?'

'Then I'd have shot you by now,' Owen griped.

Jack grinned. 'That sounds like loser talk to me.' He held out a hand and pulled Owen back to his feet. 'Show me what you've got. I don't want to have to tell everyone you fight worse than Tosh.'

That set Owen off, just as Jack knew it would. He lunged and Jack almost dodged him completely, but for the fact that Owen's foot wasn't where he expected it to be, and he caught his own leg around it, twisting it in a direction it wasn't designed to go, before crumbling into a heap on the mat, taking Owen down with him, entangled as they were.

'Christ!' Owen cried, barely able to get the word out with Jack on top of him, crushing his chest. 'Have you put on weight? If you'd landed any harder you'd have cracked my ribs.'

Jack groaned. 'Sorry, by it was your leg that got in the way and tripped me up. Ah!' he hissed, trying to move it as he clambered off Owen, clutching his right ankle.

'Everything alright?'

'Yeah, just rolled it a bit when I fell. We're good. I think maybe we should call it quits, though. A few rounds in a paper weevil and let's call it a night.'

Jack stood up stepping gingerly at first, before feeling his ankle shift back into place. All good, he thought taking and few more purposeful strides across to the bench where he already had the firearms laid out, ready to go. As he reached the bench though, his ankle gave way, and Owen watched as he went from upright to a pile of contorted limbs on the ground.

'You klutz. Great leader you are,' Owen said, laughing before realising Jack wasn't moving. 'Jack?' He caught the sight of Jack's face turned toward him, eyes shut, confirming he was out cold. Before he could do anything else, there was a sound of footsteps coming down the concrete steps.

'Jack,' Ianto called out. 'There's a call for you upsta- Oh my God, what have you done to him?' Ianto cried, seeing Jack's crumpled body on the ground, unmoving.

'Me?' Owen cried. 'It wasn't my fault.'

Ianto rushed over to where Jack was sprawled. 'What happened?'

'We were practicing unarmed combat. He took a knock to the ankle.'

Ianto fixed Owen with a glare. 'A knock to the ankle that knocked him out?'

Owen shrugged. 'More or less. He said he was fine, then he walked across to the bench to start us on firearms and it just went out from under him. Must've whacked himself on the edge on the bench when he fell.'

'You mean you haven't checked?'

Owen felt affronted by the accusation. 'It only just happened!'

Ianto gently ran a hand across Jack's face, up into his hair and over his ear. It came back red and sticky. 'He's bleeding from the head.' There was an undertone of anger in his voice.

'Yeah, alright, don't get your knickers in a twist.'

'Bleeding a lot,' Ianto repeated, sounding increasingly annoyed.

Owen knelt on Jack's opposite side and gave him a quick once over. 'Head wounds always bleed a lot. They look worse than they are.'

'He's unconscious, Owen. I don't know how it gets worse.'

'So, quit your whining and let me patch him up, then,' Owen said, roughly shoving Ianto out of the way as he fussed over Jack. 'There's nothing worse than people who think they're medical experts when they're not. Go be useful and fetch me a portable field kit. There should be one just near the door to the change rooms.'

Whilst Ianto skipped off to go and get it, Owen knelt over and carefully prised back the sticky, blood-coated hair to get a closer look. Just a small but deep knick, causing the bleeding Ianto was so fussed over. He could probably patch it without stitches, given Jack's propensity to heal himself, but one or two wouldn't hurt, just to tide things over. There'd be a lot of swelling, judging by how hard he must have hit the edge to cause a cut that deep.

'Here, I've got it,' Ianto said, dumping the zipped up bag next to Owen. 'Why isn't he waking up?'

'Our fearless leader is a colossal klutz, that's why. Gone and knocked himself out good and proper. I need to irrigate and put a few temporary stitches in. Can you hold his head still?'

'Why?'

'Because he fell awkwardly and we don't know whether he's done any spinal damage on the way down.'

'I thought you said it was just a little cut!'

'It probably is, but do you really want to risk it? I don't know how good Jack's regenerative qualities are. Can he self fix quadriplegia?' Owen took Ianto's concerned expression as a no, or at the very least, a definite uncertain.

Doing as he was instructed, Ianto knelt above Jack's head, holding it steady whilst Owen worked on cleaning the cut. No sooner had Owen been about to put the needle in to make the first stitch than Jack came to.

'Ow,' he groaned.

'Jack, are you okay?'

Jack stared up at the ceiling, his eyes still a little glossy and confused. 'Ianto?'

'I'm here. Owen's just patching you up. You took a knock to the head. Stay still for me.' He leaned over so Jack could see his face, and he stroked Jack's cheek with his spare hand.

'Whatever you say, gorgeous,' Jack said, beaming up at him, a silly little smile on his face.

Owen groaned himself. 'Now I know he's got concussion.'

'Did you give him anything for the pain?' Ianto asked.

'No. That's my point.'

Owen made quick work of the four stitches he put in, and Ianto remarked at how it was possible Jack didn't feel anything.

'No sense, no feeling,' Owen teased. He ran through a few more quick checks with Jack before clearing him of any spinal cord damage, letting him finally sit up. Ianto finished cleaning away the caked blood in his hair, Owen having decided that was a job that didn't require medical expertise. Rather it required someone who gave a damn, as he put it.

'All this fuss because I tripped?' Jack asked, feeling slightly embarrassed by all the attention.

Owen crossed his arms and huffed. 'If you hadn't fobbed me off when I asked you about your ankle the first time, you probably wouldn't have fallen.' He'd already given it a few touches, Jack hissing at the tenderness in it which signaled something more than a light twist. 'I don't know how you thought you were going to stand there and go through firearms training.'

'It honestly didn't feel that bad. You're not exactly Jackie Chan. You tripped me up, that's all.'

'Well, lucky for us you didn't have the gun in your hand with the safety off when you decided to hit the deck. Could've bloody shot me.'

Jack rolled his eyes at Owen's dramaticism. 'The odds of that happening would be astronomical,' Jack replied. He couldn't even remember if he'd clicked the safety off. He'd definitely slipped in the magazine, but strangely everything after that was a gaze. Perhaps he had knocked his head rather hard.

'So were the odds of you managing to KO yourself,' Owen retorted. Jack blushed at that.

'Are we done here?' Ianto asked, eager to take Jack somewhere he could wrap him up in cotton wool.

'Rest, ice and elevation for that ankle,' Owen ordered. 'Think you can manage that?'

Ianto disappeared and came back five minutes later with a set of crutches for Jack. 'Figure you'll be safer on these than using us to take the weight off of your ankle. I'll have to call the PM back and apologise for leaving her on hold for the past half an hour. She probably thinks we did it on purpose. I'm sure you didn't. I mean, I know you hate those calls, but this is a little extreme, even for you.'

Jack chuckled. 'You think she'll really believe it if you say we had a medical emergency?'

Ianto gave an authoritative little tug on the bottom of his jacket. 'I have a very trustworthy face. Now, if you were to say that, it might be a different matter.'

'Are you suggesting I'd lie to the PM?'

'Only on matters of the utmost importance,' he replied.

'Good. Just so we're clear,' Jack said, enjoying their banter and forgetting all about the way his ankle was starting to throb as it swelled, not to mention the ache that was forming at the side of his head, touching it gently and feeling a plum-sized shape. 'Think you could spot me a coffee and some painkillers?'

'Of course, sir. And I'll arrange for the ice as well.' He started off up the stairs, letting Owen trail behind with Jack in the middle, navigating the treacherous concrete steps with his crutches.

'And what you said about rest and elevation, Owen? ' Jack asked. 'Ninety degrees plus I'm assuming?' Owen nodded. 'What if I'm lying in bed?'

'Propped up on a pillow is best.'

'Excellent,' Jack said, a smile creeping across his face. 'I think Ianto can help me out with both of those things as well.'

'He said resting, Jack,' Ianto called back, overhearing the suggestion.

'I know. You go top and I'll be fine. Or over your shoulders would be good, too.'