| Date: 11 December 2007
Characters: Owen Harper, Owen Harper Location: Hub, hotel hallways Link to IJ: thread #2059 |
 Owen was sitting in his chair, feet up on the desk and the chair leaning back, hovering right around the angle that would cause him to topple from it if he was startled. Fortunately, it was late and as far as he knew, no one was in Torchwood at the moment. Which meant it was a great time to be enjoying his porn on the much wider screen in the autopsy lab. A pen dangled from his lips as Owen watched the two men on the screen, glancing up then looking back down at the magazine in his hands.
It might have seemed an incongruous picture as Owen shifted his attention from the new edition of Scientific American to the porn on the screen and back. But, again, no one was around to appreciate it. At least, that's what Owen thought. |
 "Not my office, again. Where'd I misplace the bloody door?" Owen leaned against the doorframe a moment, looking down the hallway on the one side a moment, before looking back to the other room. He was hungover from the night before, and trying to find the door back to his office by searching random unlocked doors... not the most brilliant plan he's ever had. |
| Owen was far too engrossed in both the porn and the article he was reading to notice the sounds at first. Then he figured it was just Ianto rattling around inside the building unable to go home and stuck in the dreary nothingness that had enveloped him since his cyberwoman lover had died.
When his door opened though, Owen frowned. "No, Ianto, I don't need any coffee and I didn't leave my computer on by accident, so either sit down and shut up and enjoy some gay porn or go away." |
| "Oi! 'M not Jones, you bloody idiot." Owen dragged a potted plant from further down the hall to prop open the door as he stepped into the room, peering at the screen. "Though the gay porn sounds like an idea. Haven't had the time to sit and actually watch porn at work since Jack told me to hire minions." |
| Owen turned and looked and promptly fell off his chair and onto the floor. When he?!? returned with the plant, Owen was still staring. "Who the bloody hell are you?" Owen reached for his gun, which he wasn't wearing because it was in his desk. Fuck, he stood up with a wince, maybe he could ease his way over to it before whatever the fuck that was noticed. |
| "Doctor Owen Harper, and leave the bloody gun, I'm not interested in answering questions from Jack or the minions or anyone else when I figure out where I misplaced the door home." Owen leaned against the railing, smirking. |
| "Begging your pardon, " Owen said, going for the gun any way, "but I'm Doctor Owen Harper and you're in my bloody office." He left the gun in the drawer, but it was within easy reach. "And last time I checked, I didn't exactly have minions and what foor are you talking you about?" Did he really look like that when he smirked? God, that was evil. |
| "Door from my world into a place out of time and space, from all I can tell. Ran into a Jack that's not mine, ran into Jones from four years back in my universe." He shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets, his smirk still firmly in place. "I didn't say you had minions, I said I had minions. And I am Doctor Owen Harper, just not you." |
| "You think the world is ready for two of us?" Owen pulled the gun out of the drawer and held it loosely at this side, "You're me and you think I'd follow for such a stunningly stupid explanation?" He pointed the gun at his doppleganger. "Come on, let's go get Jack and find out what part of rift you fell out of." |
| "How about pointing the gun elsewhere?" Owen didn't remove his hands from his pockets, though he tensed, wishing now that he hadn't left his own gun in his office. "And I didn't fall through the bloody Rift!" He jerked his head towards the door he'd propped open. "Through there is a different place. Looks like Earth, but it's not. And it's not on the other side of the Rift." |
| "What a load of shite and yes, I mind very much pointing this gun elsewhere. 'm not gong to fall for that trick." |
| "Right. Didn't think so." Owen grimaced, not bothering to glance at the door. "Than lead the way." He paused as he shoved away from the railing. "If you don't have minions, who has to feed the damned Weevils?" |
| Owen just snorted, "You don't know the answer to that?" He opened the door and waved Owen through, making sure that he was well out of reach when he did so. "Jack's out. Let's go give him a ring shall we?" |
| "Of course I don't know the answer to that! This isn't my reality. Unless it's before the minions, which means I have to feed the Weevils because Suzie forgets and Jack won't." Owen ambled through the door, glancing around the Hub as he did so. "Looks like someone's keeping the place neat, even if there are no minions." |
| "Ianto," Owen said shortly, "Suzie's dead. Ianto feeds the Weevil. Not plural, there's one. Janet." Owen had his own thoughts about the Weevil, but he wasn't going into it with this drek from the Rift. Frowning, he directed the other Owen through the Hub to Jack's office then picked up the phone and dialed Jack.
Frowning, he left a voice mail and closed the phone. "Before you start trying to pretend you're me, you might want to do your homework mate." |
| Owen let out an explosive growl. "I'm not trying to pretend I'm you! Bloody hell, if Suzie's dead and Jones is here, I don't fucking want to be you. I like my minions, and Jones staying in Glasgow." He pulled his hands out of his pockets, running one through his hair. "I should have kept looking for the right damned door. Wouldn't have to explain this shite to you. More than once." He glared at the other Owen. "Apparently I'm not a genius in every reality." |
| "No, but if you expect me to believe that you're an interdimensional traveller that got pissed and got lost, you're definition of genius is lacking." Owen sat down, really, what the fuck kind of idiot did he think he was. "Trust me, I don't much want to be me either, but this is the only reality I have and I'm not about to be taken in by some sob story, even if it is me telling it." |
| "Didn't get lost. Misplaced a door." Owen sighed, and started back towards the autopsy room. "Which I'm going to go back and find. You can follow or not, but I'm not leaving the damned door from the hotel to your autopsy theater propped open." |
| "There is no fucking door from my autopsy theater that leads to a hotel." Now Owen had a choice, shoot the asshole or follow him and if this was a time travel thing, well, shooting a future him could do odd things. So, right then following it was. He followed along, keeping a loose grip on his sidearm. |
| "What door do you think I propped open with a potted plant?" Owen stalked through the door in question, looking down the hall towards the bar once more, debating another drink. Or at least, something to eat, and some paracetamol for the headache pounding behind his eyes. |
| "The door to the storage..." Owen paused in the doorway and looked because sure enough, there was a hallway that looked decidedly like a hotel. "Boody hell..." |
| "Told you I wasn't lying." Owen nodded his head down the hall. "Was headed that way, looking for the door to my office. You might want to remember what your door looks like, and get the plant out of the way of it closing. Random people might poke around while you're gone." |
| Owen blinked and tucked the gun into the back of his pants. He looked at the plant and tore one of the leaves before putting it right in front of his door then letting it close. He was dreaming right? "So where the fuck are we?" |
| "I told you earlier. Forget already?" Owen started down the hall, studying the doors as he passed them. "Don't actually know where this is, just that no one notices when I've been gone here. Could be days before I go home, and the rest of the lot think I'm trying to screw with their heads." |
| Owen followed along behind him, carefully noting where he was and frequently looking back to his own door. He had a gut feeling that getting lost here would be really, really bad. "You get this turned around often?" Maybe it was a trap and he should go back. |
| "No. Don't usually end up getting utterly pissed while I'm here, either." He pulled open another door, and quickly shut it again, leaning against it. "Not that one. Bloody did not need to see that." He shook his head, and kept moving. "Does your Jack drink anything other than water?" He paused at an intersection of hallways, looking down each of the three identical branches, and picked one at random. |
| "No. No he doesn't. Nothing but water." He looked at Owen and smirked a bit. Nice to know that his ass looked as good as he'd imagined it did. "What exactly are you looking for?" |
| "Said it before, don't you listen? The door to my office." Owen stalked past a half-dozen doors before stopping at another one, and pulling it open. "Though if I find another where bloody Gwen Cooper's looking at all besotted with me, I think I'll find the bar instead, and have another of those steaming green drinks."
He peered around the darkened room on the other side of the door. "It looks like my office, but..." He reached out to pick up a picture from the desk, and dropped it when he saw it. "Not this one either." He backed out of the office slowly, pressing against the wall as he shuddered. "What the bloody hell is wrong with that one of us that he's taken a tropical holiday with a Weevil?" |
| Owen tried not to let his curiosity get the best of him, but it did. He picked up the picture, shuddered in a precise imitation of the other Owen and backed out. "I don't want to know. So you're Gwen isn't hot for your willy hmm?" |
| Owen gave his counterpart an incredulous look. "Ickle Gwennie's got romantic ideals in her head, and her fiance. What would she want with me?" He shoved away from the wall, closing the door before continuing his hunt for his office. "I promised her I'd come to the wedding. She's getting Suzie in a dress for it, wouldn't miss seeing that." He grinned, spotting another door that looked vaguely right, and heading for it. "And what would I see in her anyway?" He looked over his shoulder, his hand on the doorknob, an eyebrow arched in silent counterpoint to his question. |
| Owen just smirked back, "Well, you'd have to look past her good girl image a bit, but she is a very nice bit of arse when properly worked up." Then he blinked, "Wedding? She's actually going to marry Rhys? And Susie died a while ago." |
| "In April, and then we're dealing with some bloke named Andy for a month while she and Rhys go to Spain." He twisted the knob, peering into the office. "Looks right. Reports stacked haphazardly, no pictures on the desk." He made his way around to the other side of the desk, pulling a key out of his pocket as he crouched down next to one of the drawers, checking the key.
"How'd Suzie die?" He looked over the desk, curious about the answer to his question. |