"When they come for me" by Linkin Park. (Album: A Thousand Suns)

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Warning: for those who have not seen seasons 1 & 2 of Torchwood, there are SPOILERS!

This is a new little One-shots story, much like my "Ode to the Doctor[s]", except it's Torchwood. the rating is "M" mainly for paranoia and violent scenes (which are bound to happen; this is Torchwood after all.) that's the big difference between Torchwood and Doctor Who. nothing has to end perfectly; Torchwood has more emotion, more horror, more sadness, more joy or laughter when things turn out right.

In sum:

In Torchwood, you see the blood. (think of that, especialy people who saw "The Doctor's Daughter")

This song is for my absolutely favorite Torchwood character, Dr. OWEN HARPER! Not really sure how I can put much details or descriptions, and this song is kinda hard to imagine if you haven't heard it before. So! I'll more likely than not just put little descriptions of scenes that have happened on Torchwood at one time or another, and I'll be skipping around between episodes, hopefully in the correct order.

***Song lyrics may be slightly off; i wrote what i hear. and Some details from the following scenes may be slightly off, (Such as dialogue/who says it) because seeing as I only have my memory to rely on and the few relevant Torchwood episodes we have recorded. (A Day In The Death; Reset; Something Borrowed; Adrift, etc.)***

What really sucks is I don't have the episode "Dead Man Walking" where they actually bring Owen back, and that's one of the scenes I've written. Have I mentioned that Owen is my favorite Torchwood character? I have no idea why, maybe it's because he's sarcastic, and funny, or maybe it's the being dead bit. Anyways, I love him, and he'll have a lota Songsfics and One-Shots on the way!

Still not comfortable with first PoV, so most of my first ones will be in Third PoV, until I'm more comfortable writing for Torchwood & Doctor Who.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

*(Instrumental Percussion)*


I am not a pattern to be followed

The pill that I'm on is a tough one to swallow

I'm not a criminal, not a role model

Not a born leader I'm a tough act to follow

Silence pervaded the normally loud interior of the Hub.

Owen Harper tried to suppress a snicker as he felt the potential recruit's awed eyes sweep over his back, while he watched her reflection in his computer screen: black hair, wide eyes, mouth slightly open in shock, and, this was the kicker, an actual pizza box in her hands, and from the smell of it, actual pizza!

At the desk near his, Toshiko Sato giggled, and with a smirk, he spun his chair around while finally letting out a small chuckle. "I'm sorry, I can't do this—he set me off!" Tosh accused playfully, pointing at him, and he heard the blowtorch turn off as Suzie Castello quit her facade too.

I am not the fortune and the fame

Nor the same person telling you to forfeit the game

I came in the ring like a dog on a chain

And found out the underbelly's sicker than it seems

He felt an odd calmness sweep through his body as he stared into the eyes of the Weevil that stood across the cage from him, hunched and ready to strike at any moment.

The feral brutality of its very posture and challenging gaze awoke in him a primal, animalistic rage. It was the urge to fight; to experience the fierce satisfaction of flesh and bones give way under curled fists, to see blood rise to the surface of the beaten form of the enemy as they lay limply upon the ground, while you stand above, the higher being, victorious over your slain enemy.

All he wanted in that moment was to feel the release of primal violence, the same as all those men gathered here. He'd always reveled in the adrenalin rush in this line of work. Always under constant threat, in some form or other.

He closed his eyes, and heard the Weevil roar a challenge and charge.

And it seems ugly, but it can get worse

'Cause even a blueprint is a gift and curse

'Cause once you've got a theory of how the thing works

Everybody wants the next thing to be just like the first

Martha Jones was dying. He could see the delicate flesh and muscles of her stomach moving in grotesque bulges as the creature—mayfly—whatever it was— crawled beneath her skin, possibly tearing it's way through vital muscles and organs.

He spun around to the backpack he had brought as an idea struck, and he ripped open the bag to reveal the Singularity Scalpel. Gripping it tightly as he fiddled quickly, yet determinedly, closely watching the alien symbols scroll up the screen as he turned it to face Martha's abdomen, and another turn of a knob revealed the writhing creature inside.

"Are you sure you can work that thing?" Jack shouted, and he gritted his teeth.

"I think I've got the calibrations right!" Owen said quickly, turning more knobs, and the Mayfly came into clearer view, until the rest of the surrounding tissue was blurred away, no longer in sight.

Sending a desperate prayer to whatever force controlled this universe, he jammed his finger onto the firing button.

With a strangled gasp, Martha shot up into a sitting position, and, with another, almost silent breath, fell limply back onto the table.

The heart-monitor read zero.


Suddenly she coughed, and the relief that he hadn't killed her crashed through Owen like a tidal wave.

And I'm not a robot,

I'm not a monkey

I will not dance even if the beat is funky

Opposite of lazy

Far from a punk

Y'all outa stop talking

And start tryin' to catch up


And all the people say:

Aaaaahh, Aaaaahh,

Try to catch up motherfuckers

Aaaaahh, Aaaaahh,

Adrenaline rushed through his system at the sight of the gun pointed at him, but he did not once think that Copley would actually shoot. "Come on now, we're both reasonable men, you know you don't really want to—"

That was, until he heard the shot go off, and feel the ripping, twisting agony as the pulled tore itself through his chest, exploding in a mass of bloodied flesh, and sending a rush of blood up his throat which dribbled out of the corner of his mouth as he gasped for air, collapsed on the ground.

Very dimly through a haze of black fog, he could hear voices calling him, shouting his name. But they quickly faded away.

And there was silence; a silence that stretched on to eternity.


And a nameless terror, stalking him in the dark.

Lorne said money changes situation

Bigs said it increase the complication

Cain said don't step I aint the one,

Chuck said an Uzi weighs a motherfucking ton

And I'm just studding at the game that they taught me

Rocking every stage and every place that they brought me

I'm awfully under rated

But came here to correct it, and so it aint forsaken

I'ma save it for the record I am:

Through the blackness of Death where he crouched, blind and deaf, he could feel the stirrings of some horrible creature, a creature that seemed to surround him. The feeling of an ice-cold breeze; the slide of a shroud against his skin, claws just barely touching his flesh; all of these sent an unimaginable thrill of terror through him as he struggled in vain to run through the dark.

And then the light came.

It was not a physical light that penetrated the shadow world that was death; no, he could feel energy, pouring into his body from some other being. He didn't know what the light was, but it was light just the same, and he clung to it like a sailor to a life-line— which is exactly what it was, only he didn't know it then.

But the creature was unwilling to let him escape; it grabbed onto him, holding him in place for an immeasurable time, and the light seemed to fade as Owen gave up hope…but then it burst back into shining brilliance as he heard his name:

"Owen! Hang on buddy, don't let go…"

Renewed strength flowed into him, and he clutched the light tighter in his mind, imagining his arms reaching out, drawing the light toward him, climbing high and higher out of the dark and then—with a huge gasp of long-forsaken air he resurfaced; resurrected.

The opposite of wack

Opposite of weak

Opposite of slack

Standing under heat

Synonym of crack

Closer to a peak

Far from a punk

Y'all outa stop talking

And start tryin' to catch up


And all the people say:

Aaaaahh, Aaaaahh,

Try to catch up Motherfuckers

Aaaaahh, Aaaaahh,

Panic and confusion overwhelmed a good ten seconds of his first—and last breaths of life—giving oxygen, and he shouted and jerked his arms around, trying to feel his chest where, just a second ago he had felt unutterable agony. Bright light from a surgical lamp blinded him as he listened to the confusing babble of voices around him.

"Fifty seconds" He heard Ianto call out, and behind his head, he heard Jack curse.

It was then that he realized what had happened.

"Oh my god, I was dead! I died!" He said, horror in his voice, but Jack cut him off.

"Owen, I need the combination for the morgue, you're the only one who knows it!"

"You brought me back for that?" He said in outrage, but then he heard Ianto call out "Thirty seconds" and Jack said "C'mon Owen!"

"Ok, ok," he said, and, drudging up the memory amongst the chaos, rattled off the combination, which he heard Tosh—he had known her so long he even knew the sound of her typing from the amount of pressure she applied to the keys—typed into the computer, and a low ding! From the computer proclaimed it's validity, which Tosh herself announced in a strained voice, "I've got it."

"Twenty seconds" Ianto said, and Owen looked up to see him standing near a computer monitor, watching him with sad eyes.

"We've got twenty seconds. Anything you want to say to Owen, now's the time for it." Jack said solemnly, and at that moment, Owen didn't mind that he was talking as if he weren't there.

Oh when they come for me,

Come for me,

I'll be gone…

Oh when they come for me,

Come for me,

I'll be gone…

Oh when they come for me!

Come for me!

I'll be gone!

Owen Harper held his head high as he faced Death. In his hand he held Tosh's alien-enhanced tech device, god knows what it was called, even though she had told him enough times.

He tossed the device to the side, while behind him Toshiko herself slammed her hands desperately against the doors, shouting his name, while the little boy with cancer— Tommy— stared at him in awe, and past him in fear.

For their stood Death itself. A tall skeleton, clothed in a shroud of black smoke, looking for all the world from a distance as a great hulking ape, until you got a closer look. And then you looked no more.

"C'mon!" Owen goaded, raising his arms, fingers spread wide as he tensed for the attack, "what are ya gonna do? Kill me?" he smirked.

Owen and Death circled each other, shoulders hunched, knees bent as each prepared to spring. But Death it seemed thought that Owen would never attack first; after all, when it came for you, no one escaped it. And no one was crazy enough to attack Death.

But Owen knew he was one of the exceptions for the former, so he decided to be an exception for the latter too. It'd make for a more interesting eulogy on his grave after all; if he even had one that is.

With a shout of defiance, Owen charged straight at Death, not knowing whether he would live or die to tell the tale.

And all the people say:

Aaaaahh, Aaaaahh,

Try to catch up Motherfuckers

Aaaaahh, Aaaaahh,

And all the people say:

Aaaaahh, Aaaaahh,

Try to catch up Motherfuckers

*(World War II sounding speech in background)*

*(Tribal Singing/ Instrumental)*

. . .

AN: YES! My awesomest song-fic ever done (in my opinion!) WOOT! I apologize if it got a little boring, or (if you were listening to the song while reading) you had to keep pausing to read so the lyrics were at the right spots.

So! Who loved it? who was bored? Who is wondering why the heck Owen is my favorite when I've also got Jack and Ianto to choose from? (Note: Rhys doesn't really get a vote; yes, he's important, but he mostly just irritates Me. so… yeah)

Anyways, I find it hard to not notice that although people are reading this, I've gotten NO reviews! I mean c'mon, not even a little advice, or flame? (Not that I'm asking for flames—although I do enjoy reading them. most of the time they are either right, or just plain funny to read)

Review Song: (hahahah, now I think I should write something for River Song)

~Make sure you vote and review! ~

~Or a shoe I'll throw at you! ~

~If I don't update soon,~

~I'll probably get stabbed with a spoon~

~So review, ~

~Or I can't update~

~And If I can't update~

~Someone will kill me with a spoon, ~

~Or a rabid raccoon,~

~So review, ~

~And I wont die, ~

~And you can read more about my favorite dead/immortal guy! ~

For people wondering why 'vote' is in the review song, check out my poll! If you've read 'em already, then VOTE, if you haven't, check them out, (even if you're not a Twilight Fan) you may find yourself enjoying them!

Note: though it is unofficial (newest chap is under works) "Heroes of the Evolution" is on a temporary HIATUS. Hopefully, that will end soon; my main focus is "True Vamp" right now. Remember if you read them, VOTE & REVIEW!

*(fades out to sound of a racecar speeding away)*