[THE TORCHWOOD FILES] Owen Harper
Apr. 17th, 2023 10:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
this_isgoodbye- 2002-
"Open it."
"Sir, I don't--"
"I said open it."
The intercom system crackled, but a moment later the bolt on the cell door clanged open and the door swung free. The shadows were blinding for a moment, but as his eyes adjusted, Jack caught sight of the slender figure huddled inside, back to one corner and squinting into the light. He could make out the screaming orange-red of the jump suit, pale skin smudged with dirt...
And from inside the cell, one Owen Harper could only see the striking silhouette of what looked, to his sensory deprived mind, like a WWII fighter pilot in boots and bomber jacket...
* * * * *
-2000-
"Blimey, don't you sleep?"
"No rest for the wicked, yeah?"
"S'pose...good night, Dr. Lee!"
"'Night, Lindsey."
Owen stared at the tissue sample in front of him, not really seeing it even with his glasses on. He waited for the click of the lab door, then counted to one hundred to be sure.
"...ninety eight...ninety nine...one hundred."
Owen removed the tissue sample from his microscope and got to work.
* * * * *
"Name?"
"Harper Lee."
"...you're not on the list, I'm gonna--"
When the guard turned, Owen pulled out the syringe in his pocket and jammed it into the guard's neck, depressing the plunger.
The guard went down like a lead weight.
Owen moved quickly.
He'd memorized the layout carefully, taking pains to time his movements with security cameras. Truthfully, he didn't care if he was caught--not until he delivered the treatment. After that, he'd happily let them cart him away. His life, his career? He didn't give a damn anymore.
When he reached the wing where she was being held, Owen withdrew the second syringe in his pocket, staring at it for a moment as he considered what he was about to do.
...no. No, Owen Harper no longer gave a rat's arse.
He didn't give a damn about anyone but Katie.
* * * * *
-2002-
"Why Harper Lee?"
Owen reached out hesitantly for the pair of folded glasses on the table, neatly resting beside the gently steaming cup of tea set before him. He checked to make sure they were clean, then delicately rested them on his face to get a better look at the man across from him.
He was every bit the man out of time. With the leather jacket on the back of his chair, he was something out of the Forties with his waistcoat and watch chain, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had a thick shock of wavy hair, frizzing into curls thanks to the damp of the massive penitentiary exercise pen, hawkish features, and bright blue eyes that looked right through him.
Something about those eyes...it was like something inside had disconnected, and Owen couldn't put his finger on what wire had come loose.
"Did it work?"
The American--the accent fit--smiled at that. It never came close to reaching his eyes.
"They say you haven't spoken a single other word since you got here. Impressive."
"Did it work?" Owen asked again, lowering his gaze to the steaming teacup again.
"...shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember it's a sin to kill a mockingbird."
He looked up, startled. The American shrugged.
"To Kill A Mockingbird, right?" he asked, shrugging as he sat there in his overly casual sprawl, one arm hooked over the back of his seat. "I've never forgotten that quote, can't quite say why...maybe it's because I never understood it."
"Did it work?"
"I mean, the book explains, but it never...resonated. Maybe it's just me, but I still don't really get it. Which is why I don't get the reason you used that alias to infiltrate a UNIT medical facility. Why Harper Lee?"
He said nothing for a long moment, then he reached out, hesitated, and finally pulled the cup towards him.
"...Katie."
"I'm sorry?"
"Katie." Owen repeated in barely a whisper, sipping the tea. It takes normal--good, strong black tea. "She was the mockingbird."
The American was watching him when Owen glanced up from his tea. It was strange, but as he sat there, ice chips in his face, a blank expression that was...a bit frightening--something flipped, and Owen saw the wires connect inside.
"The serum worked."
Owen couldn't breathe. "Don't lie to me."
"I'm not. It worked--but I had to wipe her memory. Just a pill, she's fine. Doesn't remember you, though."
There was a flare of anger, but it died quickly. He had, after all, ended the engagement. It was the only way she'd go to Cambridge to participate in the clinical trial, the only way to save her life...
"You're mad, but you're not punching me. That's interesting."
Owen shook his head. "She's better off. She's alive--so you say--it's more important than--than me bein' with her."
"...so it wasn't about the serum. It was about her. That's interesting."
"Who are you?"
"Nobody. I don't exist. I'm Harvey the Rabbit, I'm Jack the Ripper--which is possibly quite literal."
"What?"
The American stood up, circling around the table to sit on the edge in front of Owen.
"The fact is, Dr. Harper, you infiltrated a top secret UNIT bioengineering lab, stole classified compounds, and then violated God knows how many ethical codes by unblinding a clinical trial for dementia treatment, then introducing an unknown, untested serum that could have killed your ex-fiancee, and has rendered the entire study completely useless. Frankly? You're lucky UNIT took your case and is only going to hold you here permanently, without trial."
It was one thing to know, another...to hear it, laid out so flatly, and with that look on the American's face. Everything together, connected, and downright gleeful.
It was bloody terrifying.
"...you're afraid, but you're okay with it. That's--"
"Interesting, I know." Owen huffed, rolling his eyes.
"...well, yeah, but that's also upsetting."
"I'm sorry?"
"See, here's the thing, Owen--that serum you used? It worked, but not for the reason you think...ever heard of 'molecular readjustment?'"
"No."
"Well, you grasp the concept pretty goddamn well--the formula you were working with is a dud."
Owen's breath caught. "What? But--but then--"
"Owen, listen. The formula didn't work, that's why it was locked up in a UNIT lab gathering dust. I don't know how you found out about it, but that took a lot of balls and a lot of persistence. What's more, the science behind it is light years ahead of anything this planet can handle yet. It's based on biological reactions in an alien race from another planet. The genetics are out there, but you? You took one look at it, understood what the formula was trying to do, and modified it to alter Katie's brain chemistry...Owen, it wasn't dementia. She had a parasite in her brain, and you not only evacuated it before it could kill her, you created a biological reaction that repaired the damaged neural pathways."
The American leaned in, smirking.
"What I'm trying to say is...awww, baby, you're good." he laughed. "Imagine what you'd be like if you actually understood a thing or two about alien physiology?..."
"There's no such thing as aliens." Owen gasped, his chest tightening. He felt breathless, out of control...
...pressure. His hands were bound--no, held. The American, gripping both his hands tight. Owen focused on the feeling, the almost painful grind of bone and skin until his racing heart calmed.
"Do you want to save other people like Katie?" The American asked. "Do you want to learn more about exactly what you can do? Owen...do you want to be free?"
Owen swallowed hard...but he finally nodded.
"Then listen to me--I didn't know what your answer would be, so I drugged that tea with the same pill I gave Katie. It's going to wipe your memory, but I'll come back for you. You've been here two years, never stopping, never giving up on hoping Katie would survive...give me one week more. I'll wipe your record, I'll get you out of here--I'll make you the same offer again, and I won't drug you this time."
"What if I say no?"
"I'll make sure you don't."
* * * * *
-One Week Later-
"Prisoner Harper--prepare for inspection."
"...what for?"
"Rise and prepare for inspection."
Owen rubbed his eyes, yawned, and sat up with a brisk shake of his head. As he did, an envelope slid off his chest and to the floor of his cell. Frowning, he picked it up, hesitant, and opened it.
A pair of glasses--Owen's glasses--slid out, along with two sheets of paper. One was a photo of Katie (Katie, alive and breathing and laughing), and the other was a very short, very simple note.
Taking the one man who's done you and this town a great service, an' draggin' him with his shy ways into the limelight--to me, that's a sin. It's a sin, and I'm not about to have it on my head.
Right at that moment, the bolt on his cell door slid open. Sliding on his glasses hastily, Owen's heart raced as he squinted against the sudden light filling the room through the doorway...but could only see the striking silhouette of what looked, to his sensory deprived mind, like a WWII fighter pilot in boots and bomber jacket...
"Open it."
"Sir, I don't--"
"I said open it."
The intercom system crackled, but a moment later the bolt on the cell door clanged open and the door swung free. The shadows were blinding for a moment, but as his eyes adjusted, Jack caught sight of the slender figure huddled inside, back to one corner and squinting into the light. He could make out the screaming orange-red of the jump suit, pale skin smudged with dirt...
And from inside the cell, one Owen Harper could only see the striking silhouette of what looked, to his sensory deprived mind, like a WWII fighter pilot in boots and bomber jacket...
-2000-
"Blimey, don't you sleep?"
"No rest for the wicked, yeah?"
"S'pose...good night, Dr. Lee!"
"'Night, Lindsey."
Owen stared at the tissue sample in front of him, not really seeing it even with his glasses on. He waited for the click of the lab door, then counted to one hundred to be sure.
"...ninety eight...ninety nine...one hundred."
Owen removed the tissue sample from his microscope and got to work.
"Name?"
"Harper Lee."
"...you're not on the list, I'm gonna--"
When the guard turned, Owen pulled out the syringe in his pocket and jammed it into the guard's neck, depressing the plunger.
The guard went down like a lead weight.
Owen moved quickly.
He'd memorized the layout carefully, taking pains to time his movements with security cameras. Truthfully, he didn't care if he was caught--not until he delivered the treatment. After that, he'd happily let them cart him away. His life, his career? He didn't give a damn anymore.
When he reached the wing where she was being held, Owen withdrew the second syringe in his pocket, staring at it for a moment as he considered what he was about to do.
...no. No, Owen Harper no longer gave a rat's arse.
He didn't give a damn about anyone but Katie.
-2002-
"Why Harper Lee?"
Owen reached out hesitantly for the pair of folded glasses on the table, neatly resting beside the gently steaming cup of tea set before him. He checked to make sure they were clean, then delicately rested them on his face to get a better look at the man across from him.
He was every bit the man out of time. With the leather jacket on the back of his chair, he was something out of the Forties with his waistcoat and watch chain, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had a thick shock of wavy hair, frizzing into curls thanks to the damp of the massive penitentiary exercise pen, hawkish features, and bright blue eyes that looked right through him.
Something about those eyes...it was like something inside had disconnected, and Owen couldn't put his finger on what wire had come loose.
"Did it work?"
The American--the accent fit--smiled at that. It never came close to reaching his eyes.
"They say you haven't spoken a single other word since you got here. Impressive."
"Did it work?" Owen asked again, lowering his gaze to the steaming teacup again.
"...shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember it's a sin to kill a mockingbird."
He looked up, startled. The American shrugged.
"To Kill A Mockingbird, right?" he asked, shrugging as he sat there in his overly casual sprawl, one arm hooked over the back of his seat. "I've never forgotten that quote, can't quite say why...maybe it's because I never understood it."
"Did it work?"
"I mean, the book explains, but it never...resonated. Maybe it's just me, but I still don't really get it. Which is why I don't get the reason you used that alias to infiltrate a UNIT medical facility. Why Harper Lee?"
He said nothing for a long moment, then he reached out, hesitated, and finally pulled the cup towards him.
"...Katie."
"I'm sorry?"
"Katie." Owen repeated in barely a whisper, sipping the tea. It takes normal--good, strong black tea. "She was the mockingbird."
The American was watching him when Owen glanced up from his tea. It was strange, but as he sat there, ice chips in his face, a blank expression that was...a bit frightening--something flipped, and Owen saw the wires connect inside.
"The serum worked."
Owen couldn't breathe. "Don't lie to me."
"I'm not. It worked--but I had to wipe her memory. Just a pill, she's fine. Doesn't remember you, though."
There was a flare of anger, but it died quickly. He had, after all, ended the engagement. It was the only way she'd go to Cambridge to participate in the clinical trial, the only way to save her life...
"You're mad, but you're not punching me. That's interesting."
Owen shook his head. "She's better off. She's alive--so you say--it's more important than--than me bein' with her."
"...so it wasn't about the serum. It was about her. That's interesting."
"Who are you?"
"Nobody. I don't exist. I'm Harvey the Rabbit, I'm Jack the Ripper--which is possibly quite literal."
"What?"
The American stood up, circling around the table to sit on the edge in front of Owen.
"The fact is, Dr. Harper, you infiltrated a top secret UNIT bioengineering lab, stole classified compounds, and then violated God knows how many ethical codes by unblinding a clinical trial for dementia treatment, then introducing an unknown, untested serum that could have killed your ex-fiancee, and has rendered the entire study completely useless. Frankly? You're lucky UNIT took your case and is only going to hold you here permanently, without trial."
It was one thing to know, another...to hear it, laid out so flatly, and with that look on the American's face. Everything together, connected, and downright gleeful.
It was bloody terrifying.
"...you're afraid, but you're okay with it. That's--"
"Interesting, I know." Owen huffed, rolling his eyes.
"...well, yeah, but that's also upsetting."
"I'm sorry?"
"See, here's the thing, Owen--that serum you used? It worked, but not for the reason you think...ever heard of 'molecular readjustment?'"
"No."
"Well, you grasp the concept pretty goddamn well--the formula you were working with is a dud."
Owen's breath caught. "What? But--but then--"
"Owen, listen. The formula didn't work, that's why it was locked up in a UNIT lab gathering dust. I don't know how you found out about it, but that took a lot of balls and a lot of persistence. What's more, the science behind it is light years ahead of anything this planet can handle yet. It's based on biological reactions in an alien race from another planet. The genetics are out there, but you? You took one look at it, understood what the formula was trying to do, and modified it to alter Katie's brain chemistry...Owen, it wasn't dementia. She had a parasite in her brain, and you not only evacuated it before it could kill her, you created a biological reaction that repaired the damaged neural pathways."
The American leaned in, smirking.
"What I'm trying to say is...awww, baby, you're good." he laughed. "Imagine what you'd be like if you actually understood a thing or two about alien physiology?..."
"There's no such thing as aliens." Owen gasped, his chest tightening. He felt breathless, out of control...
...pressure. His hands were bound--no, held. The American, gripping both his hands tight. Owen focused on the feeling, the almost painful grind of bone and skin until his racing heart calmed.
"Do you want to save other people like Katie?" The American asked. "Do you want to learn more about exactly what you can do? Owen...do you want to be free?"
Owen swallowed hard...but he finally nodded.
"Then listen to me--I didn't know what your answer would be, so I drugged that tea with the same pill I gave Katie. It's going to wipe your memory, but I'll come back for you. You've been here two years, never stopping, never giving up on hoping Katie would survive...give me one week more. I'll wipe your record, I'll get you out of here--I'll make you the same offer again, and I won't drug you this time."
"What if I say no?"
"I'll make sure you don't."
-One Week Later-
"Prisoner Harper--prepare for inspection."
"...what for?"
"Rise and prepare for inspection."
Owen rubbed his eyes, yawned, and sat up with a brisk shake of his head. As he did, an envelope slid off his chest and to the floor of his cell. Frowning, he picked it up, hesitant, and opened it.
A pair of glasses--Owen's glasses--slid out, along with two sheets of paper. One was a photo of Katie (Katie, alive and breathing and laughing), and the other was a very short, very simple note.
Taking the one man who's done you and this town a great service, an' draggin' him with his shy ways into the limelight--to me, that's a sin. It's a sin, and I'm not about to have it on my head.
Right at that moment, the bolt on his cell door slid open. Sliding on his glasses hastily, Owen's heart raced as he squinted against the sudden light filling the room through the doorway...but could only see the striking silhouette of what looked, to his sensory deprived mind, like a WWII fighter pilot in boots and bomber jacket...
