Burning Cosmos {A Torchwood Story Three}

16. Dead Man Walking

Owen's POV

Darkness. Neverending darkness. No white clouds, no long-dead family come to see you, nothing they ever said it would be - it's darkness. It's just... nothing.

Until the senses come back, and so does the pain.

As soon as I open my eyes I scream, and Jack's face appears above me. Why is Jack here? Where's Evelina!
"What's happened? Where am I? Oh my God," I yell, remembering everything, "I'm shot, he shot me!"
Jack says something but I don't even bother listening. "Where am I? This isn't the hospital, this is the, the autopsy room. What am I doing here?" And then I notice something on my head. I peer upwards and my anger grows. "Jack, oh no. What's that? What's that?"
"The resurrection glove. We lost you, but I brought you back."
"For fuck's sake, Jack!" I hear, and I crane my neck and shout to her in desperation so longing I can barely hear anything over my own heartbeat, "Evelina!"

And Evelina's face appears. I'm so overwhelmed by everything I don't even think to tell her I love her. I just want to hold her. I want to have more time to tell her I love her, kiss her once again. Goddamnit, I don't want to die!
Her tears pool and drop onto my cheeks, and she reaches a thumb out to brush them off. In the same move she kisses me deeply, and I savour it - my last kiss.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't do anything, it was so fast, I couldn't-" she gabbles breathlessly, wanting to say so much more, but instead I grip her hand.
"I forgive you," I tell her, knowing that she needs it more than anything else I could say right now. In response her eyes fill with tears again.
"Two minutes," I hear Ianto say thickly, through whatever the hell bullshit Jack is saying. I don't care. Why should I, I'm fucking dying?

Jack holds one of my hands; Evy holds the other. One knows what it's like to die; one knows how it feels to live wanting to die. I love them both, and though I want to be strong I just... can't.

The darkness crawls back. They both lose their grip on me.

Black, inky black, so warped and dark...

Until, again, it's not.

I look up. Everyone is looking away, grieving. But they - and I - don't seem to register I'm still here.

Jack is still holding my hand; Evy since dropped mine to crouch on the floor with her head in her hands. So I say, in the most normal voice I can muster, "Really gonna need that hand back."

Everyone freezes. Then looks at me.

And then panics.

Evelina's POV

We all stare, frozen in shock, at Owen dressing himself in the autopsy room. Normally this would be an ordinary everyday thing, watching him get dressed. Apart from the fact that, well - he's fucking dead!

Of course, he's the one to break the silence. "No heartbeat," he says to himself, equally quizzical and shocked as he holds a stethoscope to his body. "There's no pulse."
There nothing in his chest, and similarly there's nothing going on in my head. So many thoughts, none of them comprehensive in any way.
"Owen," Martha interrupts, marching over and taking the stethoscope off of him, "you are not leading your own investigation."
His face looks incredulous. "Why not?"
Her face is equally incredulous. "Because you're the subject of it, and because, you're dead!"
"Are you sure about that?"

"I just," I wonder aloud, and at the sound of my voice Owen immediately turns to me. Slowly, I walk towards him, my love, my dead man walking. I place my hand on his partially covered chest: where his heart lies, instead there is a fleshy hole where a bullet stays; I won't ever be able to put my head on his chest again; won't hear his heartbeat.