Summary: Jack has a gift for Owen, whether he wants it or not.


Owen groaned at the knocking sound on his door. Couldn't a bloke get any peace and quiet these days? He forced himself up off the sofa and padded to the door. On the other side stood Jack, complete with a dog at his feet. Not Jack's dog, mind you. That great black nuisance was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a white fluff ball.

'What d'you want?'

'Hello to you, too. Can I come in?'

Owen looked down at the dog on its lead, its tail whipping back and forth like a windscreen wiper in a torrential downpour. 'So long as that thing isn't going to take a dump in my flat.'

'He's already used the bathroom.'

'What about you?' Jack smirked in reply as Owen rounded the kitchen island, putting it between them as a physical barrier. Jack didn't just turn up unannounced. 'I'd offer you a beer but I don't have any and you don't drink.'

'Well, that just seals it,' Jack said, giving a melodramatic sigh. 'We can never be together.'

Thank God for that, Owen thought. 'So, what's with the mutt? Did it fall through the rift or something?' It was some kind of terrier, short white hair, stumpy legs and tiny black button nose. Owen supposed it was meant to be cute. The kind of dog a bloke might use to pick up women, who were instantly attracted to the canine wingman and who had only a passing interest in the creature holding the other end of the leash. Still, it worked apparently. Not that Owen needed a mechanism for attracting women anymore. If anything, he needed something that would detract them. His personality, mostly.

Jack reached down and picked up the dog, cuddling it in his arm as it attempted to lick at his face. 'Isn't he cute?'

Yes, Owen could immediately see how someone like Jack would be completely sucked in by that hairy little face and its permanent state of joy. He cast a disparaging look at it. 'You came all this way to show me a dog?'

'He's a rescue pet, desexed, microchipped, vaccinated and dewormed. All he needs now is a place to sleep and something to eat. I've got two weeks worth of canned pet food in the boot downstairs.'

'I'm sure Ianto will be thrilled,' Owen said.

Jack's eyebrows knitted together in a brief moment of confusion as he set it back down. 'He's not for us, he's for you. Someone to keep you company.'

Owen moved his gaze from Jack down to the dog and then back up again, his face twisting up in displeasure. Typical Jack, deciding what everyone needed and when they needed it. 'I don't need company.'

'Everybody needs company,' Jack replied, unperturbed by Owen's negativity. 'Even you. In fact, especially you,' he added, giving Owen a pointed glare.

'Yeah, I'm a real barrel of laughs. Can't eat, can't drink, can't shag. Don't sleep and if it wasn't for the first three I'd have bought everything from the home shopping network by now just for something to do. Have you seen how psychologically coercive those ads are? I mean if that's not alien technology being used to influence people I don't know what is. We should check it out. Get Tosh analysing it for subliminal messages and what not.'

Jack ignored Owen's attempts to change the subject. 'Well, at least your sense of humour isn't dead. C'mon. Everyone needs a pet.'

'Haven't you seen that thing at work? Big leathery creature, wings, probably from the Cretaceous period, with a strange addiction to dark chocolate.'

Jack rolled his eyes. 'Tosh thought it was a great idea. Can't wait to meet him.'

'D'you get her a dog too? Seeing as how we're worrying about people needing company.' Worse than Jack deciding what he needed was consulting everybody else about what they needed to do to fix Owen. He didn't want fixing so much as he knew he couldn't be fixed so wanting it was pointless.

Jack's expression darkened with annoyance at Owen's continued petulant, snide remarks. 'Tosh loves you, y'know.'

The words struck a nerve. Owen gripped the edge of that kitchen counter as he leaned forward over it. 'Yeah, I do, actually. And she doesn't need pricks like you to keep building up her hopes. Owen just needs some time, Owen will be okay, Owen will get better if we lump with with a bloody pooch.'

If anything, Owen was trying to let her down gently so he didn't break her heart. After all, what the hell was he supposed to give her? He was dead. He couldn't be intimate or loving or whatever it was that Tosh believed they could share. He sure as hell couldn't give her a family or a chance at happiness. It wasn't fair on her to entertain those ideas. Jack was only building her up for even more hurt. Jack might know everything about living forever, but he didn't know a thing about being dead forever. 'I don't need a sodding dog, Jack. I just need to get on with my job.'

'You can't spend twenty four hours a day hanging around Torchwood,' Jack told him.

'Well, not with you and Teaboy being there all the time,' Owen teased. 'I'd rather watch eight hours of all the reasons why I need to buy the Ab Cruncher 2000 than see and hear that.'

'You know what I mean. There's more to life than just the job.'

'Well, you'd know, since you're the one that gets to keep on living.' Owen held up a hand before Jack could reply. 'Don't say it. I'm doing my best.' He didn't know if that was true or not. He just knew he was trying. There was no how-to guide for living with being dead. He was making it up as he went.

'I know you are.'

'So, go home and let me get on with it. Take fido with you.'

'We've already got a dog.'

Owen looked down at the excitable creature. 'D'you want another one?'

Jack chuckled. 'I think Ianto might have a problem with me bringing home another one.'
That was true enough. If you gave Ianto more than three minutes of oxygen he'd happily, or rather unhappily, tell you all about cleaning up after Jack like he was a hairy, slobbering animal. Having inherited a dog was actually less messy and better behaved most of the time.

'By the way, his name's Ozzie.'

'Like the country?' Owen quipped.

Jack gave him a beseeching look. 'We're all just trying to help, Owen.'

'I know. Why d'you think I hate it so much?'

Jack grimaced in sympathy. 'Just give it a few weeks, okay? If you still don't want him after that then you can give him back to the rescue shelter and we won't talk about it again. But, I think he'll be good for you. Something to take your mind off things.'

He huffed in tired resignation. The only way he was getting rid of Jack was going to be to take the dog in. 'Fine, but I'm not a dog person.'

Jack raised an eyebrow at him. 'You want me to get you a cat instead?'

'I hate cats.'

Jack's head shook in amusement. 'I'll leave you two to get to know each other then. Bring him to work with you. I know a bunch of people who'd do anything to get out of working in order to spoil him. See you tomorrow.' He gave Owen a salute and showed himself out.

Owen rounded the kitchen island and studied the little dog who sat there, tail wagging and waiting for some permission to move. He unclipped the lead before it could tangle itself in the length of material. It stood and nipped at his hand as it lingered near its collar, trying to get its first taste of him. At least it didn't seem to be afraid of him. Animals seemed to have a sixth sense for death and gave him a wide berth. Either it was too stupid to know better or didn't care. It was too much to hope that it was the latter.

'So, now what?' he asked. 'Jack's buggered off with your food by the looks of it,' having forgotten about it. He sighed. 'Guess that means a trip to the shops.' He bent down and clipped the lead back on, not daring to leave the dog unattended in his apartment. 'I don't do dog walking, but I suppose at least you and I won't have to worry about being mauled by a weevil on our walk like those other poor sods. Safest dog in Cardiff you are, right now.' Until it annoyed him in any case.