Challenge 850 - The joy of pain
Feb. 2nd, 2025 05:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
m_findlowTitle: The joy of pain
Character: Owen
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 200 words
Length: 200 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 850 - Hurt at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
torchwood100
torchwood100Summary: Owen always thought that being invincible would be better than hurting. A double drabble.
Owen had been hurt any number of times in his line of work. It was the danger that he had accepted by continuing to turn up day after day. He could remember being shot in the shoulder by Ianto, being shot in the thigh by John Hart, nearly mauled to death by a weevil in a fight club, and half blown up by a bomb. It was always shitty and it always hurt like hell, and still he kept coming back for more.
Now though, things were different. He was dead, or at least his heart had ceased to keep on beating and his lungs didn’t need oxygen anymore. Yet here he was, still walking and talking as if part of him refused to die. He couldn't eat, couldn’t sleep and he couldn't enjoy the physical pleasure of sex anymore. But worse than any of that, he could no longer feel physical pain.
Without appreciating it before, it was the pain and the hurt that had kept him going, reminding him what he’d been fighting for. Without the tangible consequences, danger no longer felt like danger, and the buzz he’d once gotten out of the job he loved had died.
Owen had been hurt any number of times in his line of work. It was the danger that he had accepted by continuing to turn up day after day. He could remember being shot in the shoulder by Ianto, being shot in the thigh by John Hart, nearly mauled to death by a weevil in a fight club, and half blown up by a bomb. It was always shitty and it always hurt like hell, and still he kept coming back for more.
Now though, things were different. He was dead, or at least his heart had ceased to keep on beating and his lungs didn’t need oxygen anymore. Yet here he was, still walking and talking as if part of him refused to die. He couldn't eat, couldn’t sleep and he couldn't enjoy the physical pleasure of sex anymore. But worse than any of that, he could no longer feel physical pain.
Without appreciating it before, it was the pain and the hurt that had kept him going, reminding him what he’d been fighting for. Without the tangible consequences, danger no longer felt like danger, and the buzz he’d once gotten out of the job he loved had died.
no subject
Date: 2025-02-02 10:25 am (UTC)