6.

"Couldn't sleep?" Iris looked over her shoulder to see Owen there. "Hey Dad." It was about two in the morning, sounds of Albus snoring could be heard from the living room. Iris looked out of the balcony, taking in the sight of Cardiff, though she really had no idea what to tell this man. Where would she and Albus start in trusting him? "What are you thinking anyway?" Owen asked, sitting on one of the chairs. Iris looked over at him. "Sit." He indicated towards the other chair. Iris complied, sitting on the opposite chair.

"How's school?" Owen asked, taking out a bottle of vodka. "Its- okay." She looked at the bottle. "Do you drink often?" She asked, a hopeless attempt at conversation. Owen picked up a glass. "I drink when I'm stressed out." He answered, pouring a glass. He held out the bottle. "Want one?" He asked. Iris took it. "After all this, I need a drink." She noted, pouring herself a glass. "At least we have one thing in common. By the way, that was quite the nasty letter you wrote to me. How much did you really mean?" He asked.

"Every word." Iris downed half the glass. The vodka burned her throat, bringing tears to her eyes that she blinked away. Iris stared blankly for a moment, the glass getting warm in her hand. "I thought you just meant it at that moment. But I see its true, you hate me and we never even met." "We have now." Iris snapped. "How close are you to the rest of your family?" Owen asked, trying to change the subject.

"Uncle Vincent and Uncle Atticus were the only blood relatives Mum kept in contact with." Iris answered shortly. "Did you live with them?" Owen asked. He noticed Iris had stiffened at hearing her Uncle Vincent's name. "Yea, me and Al stayed with them during summer. Though I hated it when Uncle Vincent was around."

"Why is that?" Owen asked. Iris's hand tightened around the glass. "No reason. I just didn't like him." Her throat tightened. She couldn't slip, not since the incident in the train station. But just like her grandfather, she wanted to know this man that she was supposed to have a bond with.

"Listen, back there at the train station, it was all a part of my job. But I can't really tell you and Albus-"

"We call him Al." Iris interrupted. Something about Owen saying Albus' full name seemed unsettling. "Anyway, I can't really tell you and Al about the details until I get it approved. Until then, I have tomorrow off. Any ideas on what we can do?" He asked. Iris crossed her arms, warding off the cold. "We should wait till Al wakes up." Iris said. Owen sighed. "Listen, I'm new at this whole 'Dad' thing. So I'm asking you for a little sympathy." Iris looked at him. "Did you show our Mum any sympathy when you left her with the two of us? Huh?"

Owen stood up. "You're just fucking like her you know. She would always guilt me just like this." He said. "Where are you going?" Iris said calmly. "I'm going to bed. I'll talk to you when you're a little less of a bitch." Owen said, leaving the balcony.

Iris still sat there after he left, taking a sip of Vodka. Suddenly, a burst of rage filled her. She stood up, pitching the glass at the glittering lights of Cardiff. Hearing the sound of glass breaking. Iris took a steady breath to keep herself from crying.

On the ground, Jack Harkness looked at the broken glass that decided to rain down on him. Looking up, he realized it was from Owen's flat. He shrugged. He would hear about this at work.