Title: Walking a tightrope

Author: m_findlow

Rating: M (language)

Length: 1,694 words

Content notes: Spoilers for Big Finish audioplay "Corpse Day"

Author notes: Written for Challenge 389 - Fragile

Summary: Owen’s latest assignment has been a blow to his confidence.


Owen sighed as he loitered by the door, listening to the chimes ring out a Big Ben style tune and rolling his eyes at it. Only Ianto, he thought. Still, it was better than five minutes of Greensleeves, he supposed.
There was no fear that Ianto wouldn't answer the door. He already clocked the black Audi parked out the front and a few lights on in the windows overhead. The absence of the SUV was also promising. If Jack was here he’d turn around and go straight home.

Ianto answered the door, dressed uncharacteristically – or so Owen thought – in jeans and a zip front jumper. ‘Used to be only the Jehovah’s that bothered me wanting to talk about the afterlife.’

‘Har bloody har,’ Owen replied, not strictly waiting for an invitation in, but rather squeezing past Ianto and letting himself inside. He knew what he’d find here, the flat in pristine condition despite the fact that none of them ever spent more than a few hours at home every week. Ianto’s was obsessive compulsive neat, however, like it was ready for a magazine shoot at any time.

‘Do come in and make yourself at home,’ Ianto quipped even as Owen was headed down the hall and into the living room.

‘D’you have any beer?’ Owen asked.

‘And pizza,’ he replied, as Owen spied the box on the table, untouched, as if it had been delivered only moments ago. ‘Thought I’d treat myself to a night off. Corpse Day go well, then?’

‘You wish,’ Owen grumbled. ‘Never doing Jack any favours ever again.’

‘You wanted something to do.’

‘Yeah, well Jack thought it was very bloody funny to send me out on that job, didn't he? A corpse in charge of Corpse Day. Hilarious.’

Ianto paused in the doorway and stuffed his hands tightly into his jeans pockets. ‘Did you want to talk about it?’

‘Well, I didn't come over to sit here and watch Midsomer Murders with you.’

Ianto frowned at the television, burbling away at a low volume. ‘It's New Tricks,’ He replied. ‘And it's only repeats.’

Owen snorted in derision and flopped down onto Ianto’s sofa, dislodging the neat pile of cushions as he did so and then reaching forwards to the pizza box on the coffee table in front of him, selecting the largest slice and thanking God that the kids who worked at Jubilee had failed basic maths in being able to cut up a pizza into eight equal parts.

‘I, uh, thought you didn't eat,’ Ianto said, slowly perching on the other end of the sofa as if he were the guest.

‘Gotta get the taste of dog food out of my mouth,’ Owen muffled between large bites, letting the spicy sensation of salami play over his tongue. He couldn't digest it but at least he could still taste food, as if that were some small consolation. Lucky that Ianto liked his pizza spice the same as Owen did.

‘Dog food? Owen, what the?’

Owen swallowed the large lump of his last mouthful before gesticulating that Ianto should hand over his beer bottle, which he did reluctantly, letting Owen wash it down before reaching over for another slice.
‘There was this bloke,’ he began. ‘Down by the docks. Abducting girls from a dodgy pop up nightclub. Girls going missing; that was the unsolved police case I got lumped with, he clarified. Not to mention PC Plod Andy.’

‘Andy?’ Ianto rolled his eyes as he thought about it. ‘Figures. Who else would put their hand up for Corpse Day?’

‘Yep, Gwen's old buddy from the blues and two, all excited thinking he was going to bust open some long lost serial killer on the loose. Got more than he bargained for, that's for sure.’

‘Go on.’ Ianto extracted another slice of pizza from the box and eased back into the sofa, eating it two-handed. Probably a good thing, Owen thought, getting it down before what he said would put any bloke off their food.

‘Right, well long story short, old mate Glynn had been abducting girls. Called them his daughters. Twenty years ago his and his missus had found an abandoned baby weevil and raised it as a child of their own. Well, I mean as much as anyone could raise a weevil. Still all big claws and poisonous teeth. And a temper. Eventually killed the missus, but didn't stop the mad old codger from keeping it. Only now Sunny is all grown up and Glynn is itching for a few grandkids as well.’

‘Hang on, you said he called them his daughters.’

Owen nodded. Ianto was nothing if not sharp on the uptake. Sharper than Andy had been in any case. ‘Yeah. Married them off to Sunny in the hopes they'd procreate. Most of them failed and the daughters ended up as pet chow, but this time one succeeded. Jan managed to carry the baby to term and we arrived just in time to deliver it.’

Ianto choked on the mouthful of pizza. ‘You what?’

‘That's what Andy said. But think about it. A human weevil hybrid. It survived the gestational process. It's alive.’

Ianto paled slightly, abandoning what was left of his pizza. ‘And now?’

Owen shrugged. ‘Sunny got what he wanted. A kid all his own from one of his wives. Didn't need Glynn lording it over them any more. Blake was a violent, miserable son of a bitch. Had it coming.’

‘So, you're saying Glynn is…’

‘An upgrade from stewed dog food for the next week or so.’

Ianto took back his beer bottle and took a long swig. ‘Jesus,’ he said before offering it back to Owen.

‘Yeah.’

Ianto was silent as he considered what Owen had told him. ‘That's not why you came here though, is it? I mean, you could have just put all that in a report and filed it. Why come here and tell me?’

Owen chewed the inside of his lip. ‘Because Jack thought it'd be a laugh sending me out there. And I thought it would be a piece of piss. That bastard Glynn thought he'd abduct us as well to sort out his midwifery problems. The old me would've had the guy up against the wall and that hammer of his swung up into where the sun don't shine if he even tried it on. Instead he had us locked up down there with those women, eating dog food and drinking tea out of the leftover tins.’ He fixed Inato with a look. ‘What's the good of being Torchwood if you can't even stop a bloke with a hammer? Two of us versus one of him, even if one of us was a useless police constable. Shouldn't have happened. He nearly had us up for minced meat. If Sunny hadn't killed him first…’

‘What are you saying, Owen?’

‘That this whole thing is shit, Ianto. That's what I'm saying. Can't do anything now, not without worrying about which but of me is going to get permanently broken. I’m fragile. It pisses me off, but I am. Like I'm made of glass or something. What's the point of any of it if I can't do this job?’

Ianto turned slightly to face him, resting an arm on the top of the sofa. ‘Sounds to me like you got out of there okay.’

Owen snorted. ‘Ask Andy if he thinks so. Glynn’s hammer still managed to do some damage. Let's just say Andy won't be sorting himself out with his right hand for a few weeks. Not after getting a few bones shattered. Could've been me, mate. One-handed Owen for the rest of eternity. Or at least as long as I last, which as this rate is some time just before next Christmas, the way things are going.’ He paused and sucked in a breath, worried that what he said next was going to make Ianto think less of him. ‘I'm scared. Scared that every time I go out there I'm going to break something. Every time I want to take a risk I freeze. I'm not me anymore.’

Ianto considered him. ‘Why tell me this?’

Owen bristled at the question. ‘Cause I don't need Tosh's sympathy, or Jack's suck it up attitude.’

‘Empathy without piety?’

‘Something like that. And you have pizza and beer.’

Ianto did nothing to repress the smirk. ‘Good to know I'm so transparent. Well, if I'm hearing this correctly, you solved a Corpse Day case, which to be fair, is probably about the first time that's ever happened, you rid the world of one horrible human being, brought a child into the world, and gave some hope to an alien creature. Not sure about you but I'd say that's not nothing. So what if you're not throwing yourself headlong into it, and maybe that right hook of yours is permanently retired. You'll still beat me on a five mile run and you'll still know more about alien physiology than Jack ever claims to. If that's being fragile, then I'd take that any day. Forget what you lost and remember what you still have. You're Torchwood, Owen. No matter what anybody says.’

Owen downed the last of Ianto’s beer, savouring the taste of it, even if he knew he’d be puking it all back up about an hour from now. That was what he’d wanted to hear, wasn’t it? That even in this fucked up state he was in, that he was still contributing in much teh same way as he had before. His confidence had taken a knock, made worse by the fact that he’d wanted to impress whichever stupid police office he got lumped with. Instead he’d made a hash of it and just barely gotten them all out of there alive. Then again, he had gotten them out of there alive. That was what counted, wasn’t it? Nobody else would have to go through what he’d gone through. Death started and ended with him. Owen Harper, Torchwood.
‘Just promise me something.’

Ianto didn’t even hesitate. ‘Sure.’

‘You're taking the next sodding Corpse Day. From now on, Owen Harper only handles serious Torchwood shit.’