Christine (aka) Pineapple >^..^< (chris4short) wrote in doxy_fics,
Christine (aka) Pineapple >^..^<
chris4short
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Torchwood Fic: Owen Harper {Black Helicopters}

Author: chris4short
Title: Black Helicopters
Song By: Matthew Good
Rating: R (language)
TTWF: Angst/Reflective
Spoilers: Series 2: Reset/Dead Man Walking
Character/Pairing: Owen Harper
Number: 2/50
Word Count: 437
Written for: songfic50



Dead.

Not so bad.

The darkness seems thicker but the air seems sweeter. Maybe I don’t understand it all, maybe I don’t try enough. Jack is the only one who looks like he could understand something like this. I wonder if he isn’t dead himself.

I find myself sitting in my flat, always a bit empty and still, but feeling even more empty and still tonight. I am still Owen Harper, but something in me died. Besides my body, there is something dead in my head too. I walk around like I am being watched.

I want to find someone else and show them what this is. What life has become. I want a bullet for a bullet. Dead for dead. I want to break something, be alive not just feel alive. Its not something normal, but neither is the walking dead. Neither are people who just will not fucking die. And really, how normal are creatures from outer space walking on our planet?

Dead is not so bad when it’s someone else. But when it’s you who has to deal with it, have to see things and wonder if you can join in, or will you collapse and finally be the dead corpse you are. Ya I guess I am angry. Who wouldn’t be?

Brooding inside isn’t helping. Hasn’t helped for the past two hours, so I grab my keys and walk out the door, out into the night, cool and thick. I can’t help but looking at the shadows, wondering if something was waiting for me. Jack said there was something waiting for him. Maybe that was what kept the bastard alive. Maybe that was what would finally kill me.

Killing me, how did that even out some cosmic equation? Only a killer would call killing progress. Maybe it’s just all they could get. I was the lucky one. Or maybe it was what I deserved… death. Not a penny less, not a bullet less. Fuck!

I turn the corner and continue to walk around the block. The shadows. They looked back. I look at them, daring them to come get me. Common! Get me!

“Come and get me. You so big and bad. You can take on little ol’ me. You want a fight, bring on the black men! Bring on the little green men!”

I am in the street, yelling at the shadows.

Dead.

It’s not so bad.

The darkness seems thicker and the air seems sweeter. I keep my eyes on shadows, on the sky, because they are waiting…

Trigger happy…

They will get what they want.

But not without a fight.
Tags: character: owen harper, genre: angst, genre: self-reflection, misc: song fic, rated: r, short fic: torchwood, writer: chris4short
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