Challenge 818 - Thick skinned
Jun. 23rd, 2024 08:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
m_findlowTitle: Thick skinned
Character: Owen, Ianto, Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 200 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 818 - Skin at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
torchwood100
torchwood100Summary: Owen's autopsy is proving more difficult that expected. A double drabble.
Owen dropped his medical tools on the table with a loud clang. ‘He meant this as a joke, didn’t he?’
he asked, spying Ianto wandering past the autopsy bay.
Ianto paused and leaned over the railing as Owen stood there, plastic apron tightly wrapped around him and more implements littered around him than a butcher shop had knives. ‘Problem?’ he asked.
‘Look at it,’ Owen cried, gesticulating at the Martian lying on his table.’ I’ve tried everything bar an actual chainsaw but it’s got skin like steel. Nothing will puncture it.’
‘Laser scalpel?’
‘You think I haven't already thought of that?’ Owen said, huffing with vexation. ‘The thing ricocheted off and nearly sliced my head off. The only cause of death you’ll be able to determine will be mine. Death by failed first incision.’ He huffed again. ‘You haven’t got anything locked away in that secure archive of yours that’ll work, have you?’
‘I think we both know the answer to that. And it has nothing to do with technical capability.’
Owen groaned before Jack appeared over Ianto’s shoulder. ‘How’s it going?’
‘How’s it look?’ Owen sneered.
‘You remembered to deactivate its personal shielding first, didn’t you?’
‘What personal shielding?’
Owen dropped his medical tools on the table with a loud clang. ‘He meant this as a joke, didn’t he?’
he asked, spying Ianto wandering past the autopsy bay.
Ianto paused and leaned over the railing as Owen stood there, plastic apron tightly wrapped around him and more implements littered around him than a butcher shop had knives. ‘Problem?’ he asked.
‘Look at it,’ Owen cried, gesticulating at the Martian lying on his table.’ I’ve tried everything bar an actual chainsaw but it’s got skin like steel. Nothing will puncture it.’
‘Laser scalpel?’
‘You think I haven't already thought of that?’ Owen said, huffing with vexation. ‘The thing ricocheted off and nearly sliced my head off. The only cause of death you’ll be able to determine will be mine. Death by failed first incision.’ He huffed again. ‘You haven’t got anything locked away in that secure archive of yours that’ll work, have you?’
‘I think we both know the answer to that. And it has nothing to do with technical capability.’
Owen groaned before Jack appeared over Ianto’s shoulder. ‘How’s it going?’
‘How’s it look?’ Owen sneered.
‘You remembered to deactivate its personal shielding first, didn’t you?’
‘What personal shielding?’
