Title: Back To Life
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Owen Harper
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: PG
Table: 1
Prompt: 34, Future
Author's Note: Continuation of Get the Balance Right.
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or Owen Harper, unfortunately. Please do not sue.

***

The Doctor sat silently by Owen's bed, longing to reach out and take the young man's hand in his. But he didn't dare; he had no idea just how Owen was going to react to waking up here, when his last conscious memory had been that fiery furnace that he'd almost died in.

No, correction, he told himself wryly. Owen was already dead -- perishing in that building would have been his second death. He'd probably been expecting that -- and welcoming it, in some way.s From what Jack had told him, Owen had almost seemed as though he wanted death, at the same time that he pulled away from it.

He certainly couldn't be blamed for feeling pulled in two completely different directions, the Doctor thought, sighing and fixing his gaze on Owen's face. He looked pale and drawn, but the nurses had said that it would take him a while to regain his strength. And was it his imagination, or did the young man seem to have a bit more color in his cheeks now?

It would feel strange to him, being alive again after the few days he'd spent being a walking corpse, the Doctor mused, absently nibbling at one fingernail. He had nothing to offer Owen in the way of advice -- of all the situations he'd been in, he had no idea what it was like to die and come back. Not in the way that Owen had, at any rate.

Perhaps some would look at regeneration as a form of death -- and really, it was, he thought, clasping his hands under his chin as he studied the still form in the bed in front of him. His body died, ceased to exist, and he was brought back into a new one. A shudder went through him at the though; it wasn't a process he enjoyed going through.

The last regeneration had been more painful than any other -- he still didn't know what had gone wrong, but something had put him through hell before he'd finally stabilized. Hopefully, he would be able to keep this body for a very, very long time. He'd grown attached to it -- he was used to seeing this face in the mirror, used to the way this body looked and felt and reacted.

The Doctor pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, determined to concentrate on the situation in the here and now. It would be quite a while before he would have to think about this body regenerating; at the moment, he was more concerned with Owen and his reactions when he awakened to find that he was fully human again. And alive.

What would his reaction be? The Doctor had already thought of at least a dozen possibilities, none of which he could be sure of. He didn't know Owen all that well -- it was easy enough to imagine how he would feel, but without having much knowledge of what this young man was like, anything that he could imagine was probably far off the mark.

He caught his breath as Owen's eyelashes fluttered, his head turning to the side. It wouldn't be long now; only a few more moments before he was awake, and the Doctor would have to try to explain everything that had happened. He wasn't sure that he was up to the task.

Would Owen remember those moments when the Doctor had held out a hand to him and urged him into the Tardis? He'd stumbled forward, literally falling into the door of the ship before the Doctor had grabbed him and dragged him aboard -- and then promptly sank into unconsciousness. The Doctor hadn't expected it, but at the time, he'd thought it was just as well.

Now, he wasn't so sure of that. What if that lapse in consciousness had meant that Owen's mind had somehow been affected by all that he'd been through? What if he didn't return to life with all of his faculties intact? Jack had said that this young man had been a brilliant doctor before he died -- and even after his death, if the immortal's words were true.

Hopefully, that was something that the nurses -- or doctors? What exactly were they? -- in this place had managed to take care of. If not .... then he wasn't entirely sure of what his next move should be. He knew that he wanted to keep Owen with him, if that were possible -- and if it was what Owen himself decided he wanted to do.

The Doctor bit his lip as his eyes rested on Owen's face, waiting for him to wake up. Jack wanted Owen back -- but was that any sort of a life for this young man to return to? His family -- what was left of them -- thought he was dead. His friends thought the same, other than his colleagues in Torchwood. Other than the team, he didn't have much to go back to Earth for.

Of course, he could always start over with his career, in another hospital. But he would have to start an entirely new life, and unless the Doctor was badly mistaken, Owen wasn't the type of person to want that. Still, if he chose to go back, the Doctor would do as he wanted. He didn't want a companion who was only with him because he'd forced them into a corner, after all.

Maybe Owen wouldn't want to go back. Maybe he'd choose to stay -- at least, that was what the Doctor hoped. But he wasn't going to convince himself that it would happen. He didn't know this young man, and their brief meeting quite a while ago hadn't given him more than a fleeting impression. He would have to find out more about Owen by getting to know him over time.

He only hoped that he would be given that time.

The Time Lord had to hold back a gasp when Owen's eyes snapped open; he hadn't expected it to be so sudden. His own eyes widened, staring at Owen as though he couldn't look away. And when Owen turned his head and fastened that dark gaze on his own, the Doctor was sure that his hearts had stopped in his chest.

It was a few moments before he could breathe normally again; his lungs had felt constricted, unable to inflate fully and take a deep breath. He was positive that Owen hadn't looked like this in that brief meeting they'd had months ago; then, he'd barely registered this young man as anything more than a name, certainly not a face that he remembered.

That had changed in the space of a few seconds. What was it about Owen that brought all of his emotions to the forefront, all of his protective instincts? And, if he was truthful with himself, all of the pent-up feelings that he'd forced down since he and Jack had put their physical relationship into the past. They all came flooding back in full force, threatening to engulf him.

Maybe it was because the young man lying there looked so .... what was the word? Pale and a bit disoriented, obviously -- but so strong and capable at the same time. Determined, intense .... he could go on an on, listing words that he could use to describe how Owen looked. Gorgeous would be one of them. Oh, yes. Most definitely.

He didn't believe in love at first sight. No, what he felt definitely wasn't love. It was something far more primal -- most people would probably call it desire. Or good old-fashioned lust. Whatever it was, it felt as thought it was taking him over, making him incapable of speech, of movement, even of something as simple as breathing.

Why hadn't Jack told him that Owen could possibly have this kind of effect on him? Well, knowing Jack, he probably hadn't felt this -- he wouldn't be easily swayed by anyone's good looks, or even a gaze as intense and searching as the one that Owen was turning on him now. No, Jack wouldn't be moved by this at all. He could look into those amazing eyes and not feel a thing.

The Doctor cleared his throat, his mind casting about for something to say. Owen was looking at him with an expression of puzzlement; the least he could do was explain just how he came to be here. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, Owen," he began, moving his chair closer to the bed. "I'll try to answer them all as best I can."

Owen nodded, glancing around him before his eyes returned to the Doctor's face again. "First of all, where am I? And what am I doing here?" His voice was hoarse, and he had to stop talking to clear his throat. The Doctor handed him the glass of water on the table by the bed, and Owen took it from him, sitting up slightly.

The Time Lord hastened to plump up the pillows behind Owen, trying to make him more comfortable. He sat back after he'd done so, looking down at his clasped hands and taking a deep breath. "You're in the future, Owen. On New Earth. I brought you here because Jack asked me to help -- and it was the only place I knew of that could have done it."

"New Earth? The future?" Owen's eyes had widened; he looked around him again, as though he couldn't quite believe the Doctor's words. "How far in the future?"

The Doctor swallowed; this was the part that Owen probably wasn't going to believe. "You're in the year five billion and twenty-three," he told Owen, meeting his gaze again. "I know that must sound fantastic to you, but I can assure you that it's the truth."

Owen nodded slowly, his hands clenching around the blankets. "I wouldn't have believed it if I'd heard it from anyone else -- but Jack's told us that you're a time traveler, and that you refuel from the Rift. So I can believe anything if it comes from you, no matter how fantastical it might sound." He sighed, looking away from the Doctor. "I could tell you some fantastical stories of my own."

"I know you could," the Time Lord said softly, wishing that Owen would look at him again. He could lose himself in those remarkable eyes .... He had to force his thoughts away from the direction they were taking. This wasn't the time to be fixating on Owen's eyes. "Jack told me what happened to you. That's another reason that I brought you here."

"And that reason is?" Owen arched an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth quirking in an almost-smile. "It must have been a good one for you to come this far into the future."

"You're alive, Owen," the Doctor told him, his voice still soft. "I wasn't sure that it would be possible, but apparently it was. You're completely human again -- and restored to life. I didn't think that you'd want to spend the rest of eternity -- or however long you may have had -- living a half-life. I should have asked you if this is what you wanted -- but the circumstances made that impossible."

"What?" Owen's eyes widened again; he looked down at himself, raising a hand to his face and examining it before pulling open the front of his hospital gown and looking down at his chest. "I'm .... whole. It's gone. I'm -- holy fuck, I'm alive."

"There aren't supposed to be any side effects, though the Sisters of Plenitude -- they're the, errr, people who run this hospital -- have said that they'd like to keep you here at least overnight," the Doctor explained, looking around cautiously before he leaned closer to Owen and whispered his next words into the young man's ear. "But I'd feel better if we got out of here. Now."

Owen wasn't looking at him; his eyes appeared to be focused on something beyond the Doctor's line of vision. The Time Lord turned his head to see what Owen was staring at -- and found himself face to face with one of the Sisters. She inclined her head politely, asking quietly if they needed anything, waiting for the Doctor's answer.

"No, I don't believe we do," he told her, flashing a smile and hoping that it would appease her. It seemed to do so; she nodded again, then left the room as silently as she had entered, her step making no sound at all. It was almost eerie, the soundlessness with which these creatures moved. When he turned back to Owen, the young man's face was pale, his eyes still wide.

"That .... that was a cat," he breathed, then snapped his mouth shut. "They brought me back to life. I suppose I shouldn't care what they happen to look like."

"I don't know why they look the way they do, but that doesn't matter," the Doctor told him. "What matters now is getting you out of here -- I've had a run-in with this place before, you see, and I don't think it's the safest place for us to be. They've brought you back to life, yes -- but that doesn't mean they won't try to use you for .... other things."

"Other things?" Owen looked confused again, then interested. "What other things?"

"You don't want to know," the Doctor told him, glancing back at the door again. "I don't know exactly how we'll make it out of here, but we'll find a way. That is, if you think you're strong enough to make it out." He himself doubted that Owen was in any shape to walk, but at the moment, it seemed their only choice.

"I'll be fine." Owen sat up straight, swinging his long legs out of the bed. The Doctor helped him to stand up, sliding an arm around the young man's waist and trying to ignore the tingle that went through his body as he did so. Plenty of time to think like that when they were safely on the Tardis and away from this planet -- and this time.

"All right, then," he murmured, taking a deep breath and looking at Owen. "This may be a bit of an adventure. Do you think you're up for it?"

Owen shot him a smile that looked more like a grimace; the Doctor tightened his arm around the other man's waist, hoping that they'd be able to make it out of here without Owen collapsing, or something equally alarming. "Yeah. Let's do this."

He nodded, heading for the door, Owen nearly matching his stride. He seemed to be regaining his strength rather quickly; that was a good thing. A very good thing.

Getting out of here would probably be the easy part, compared to what other questions Owen might have -- but for the moment, he could focus on the issue at hand. There would be more than enough time to try and convince Owen to stay with him later -- when they were safe on the Tardis. Now, the only problem was getting there.

"Lead on, MacDuff," Owen murmured, giving him a smile that he was sure had made one -- or perhaps both -- of his hearts skip a beat.

Taking a deep breath, he moved them out into the hall, to the nearest elevator. Step one. Now, to get to the lobby floor, out of the front doors -- and make it to his ship.

"Actually, it should be 'lay on, MacDuff,'" he whispered as they walked into the elevator and he pressed the button for the first floor. "I've met Shakespeare. I know his work."

"We can argue about that later, when we're well out of here," Owen said, glancing at him again. "And you'll have to tell me what meeting him was like." The Doctor only nodded, a smile curving his lips as he contemplated what the future with this man might be like. He couldn't say for sure yet, but he thought it would prove to be very interesting indeed.

***

Next story in series - A Whole New World.