Title: Waiting for the day
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Torchwood team
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,285 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 517 - Flower
Summary: Owen has found an obsession that no one else finds interesting.


Jack couldn't quite pinpoint the moment that Owen had gone from just being Torchwood's doctor to its resident expert in botany. No one had ever really taken an interest in the things that lived but didn't contain a conscious mind of their own. It was easier to relate to the many varied alien life forms that represented the impossible existence of life through the universe when they moved and made sounds all of their own free will. Plants and herbivorous lifeforms didn't attract that same sparkle and yet the plant life of the universe far outweighed the sentient species.

Perhaps it was knowing the plants held the key to most of modern day medicines that made their resident medical expert take an interest, or maybe it was just an excuse to get away from the rest of them and lock himself in the hothouse away from paperwork and politics. Plants were a bit like patients that required care and nurturing, except that plants didn't get mouthy or pass judgement on your bedside manner, which for a doctor that seemed to be grumpy ninety percent of the time, must have been ideal.

Jack had no enthusiasm for plants. Sure, he appreciated a nice bunch of roses as much as the next person, but you couldn't carry on a conversation with plants, take them for a drink or do anything else fun with them. Gardening was not in his fifty-first genetic makeup. They just were, existing and sustaining themselves from nothing more than light, water and warmth. It was hard to get excited about them, though he was glad that at least someone on his team was taking an interest. Now if only he could get one of them interested in looking after the collection of bioluminescent invertebrates he had stowed away in a dark storage room in the depths of the hub. Personally the jars of glowing blobs freaked him out, but he supposed everyone needed a hobby and someone was bound to eventually find the fascinating. Weirdos.



‘It's going to flower soon,’ Owen declared one morning as they were waiting for coffee to arrive to kick off their briefing.

Tosh twirled a pen between her fingers. ‘What is?’

‘My Hypercularium Nosvritates.’

‘What?’ Gwen said, sounding utterly confused.

‘Remind me,’ Jack said, ‘is that attached above or below the hip? Anatomically speaking.’

‘Oh, har har,’ Owen snarked. ‘You know very well what I'm talking about. It's been months of getting the conditions just right. They don't just flower on their own without a perfect conjunction of things going right. Ambient heat, dappled light, not too much moisture, supplemental nutrients.’

Jack yawned, partly from boredom and partly for effect. ‘Is this flowering going to dramatically alter the course of human history?’

Owen barely bristled, that's how serious he was. ‘No. But no one has ever recorded one flowering before. It'll be the first time in over a century that we get to witness it and finally get pictures of it.’

‘I'll make sure to diarise it for everyone, shall I?’ Ianto said, carrying a brass coffee pot into the room and beginning to pour.

‘You know you could all at least try to take an interest?’

‘Why when we've got you to do it for us?’ Gwen teased, unable to suppress a toothy grin.

Owen rolled his eyes. ‘Fine. Just remember that I get to care as much about your little side projects as you do mine. In fact,’ he said, picking up his freshly poured mug of coffee, ‘I think I've got important misting to do. Do carry on with your fascinating briefing without me.’ He pushed up from his chair, mug in one hand and snaffled a handful of biscuits with the other, shoving one in his mouth whole as he exited.

The team exchanged looks. ‘He's okay, isn't he?’ Tosh asked.

Everyone had been a bit edgy about obsessive behaviour like this ever since the last time a plant has caused a stir in the hub. Jack hadn't intervened quickly enough that time, letting Ianto become obsessed with bringing an alien plant back from the brink, going days without food, drink or a shower in order to care for it. Without anyone realising, it had taken a hold on him psychologically to the point he was offering it up his blood to sustain it. Jack looked across at their general support officer, searching for signs of deep concern over the same behaviour taking over their medic.

‘It's just Owen being Owen,’ Ianto said, shrugging without needing to be asked the question.

Good. That was all Jack needed to know. Jack cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. ‘Perhaps we could all try and be just a teensy bit more interested for Owen's sake.’ They all nodded in agreement, knowing better than to defy orders.



Things settled over the next few days as everyone fell into their usual routine. Owen didn't mention his plant again, either fearful of further mockery or simply too distracted to worry about keeping the rest of them updated with a blow by blow account. Still he was often noticed as being absent from his desk, his silhouette visible through the fogged up glass of the hothouse, tending to his flock.

It wasn't until the relative peace of a half empty hub was finally broken by Owen's cries. ‘It's flowering! Come see!’

As Jack and Ianto were the only other people in the hub at the time, they rolled their eyes at one another and ascended the stairs to the hothouse in order to humour their resident medic.

‘This had better be good,’ Ianto muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Jack to hear and return the comment with a wry smirk before they pushed open the squeaky hothouse door.

Owen's eyes were bright and excited. At the centre of the ordinary looking plant was a single tall stem with a large tubular bud standing proudly upright like the point of a spear. Cream coloured petals were beginning to inch their way open as they all stood and watched on.

The petals unfurled further, widening like a lotus bloom until they were almost fully perpendicular to their large stamen inside. And then they dropped off, scattering on the workbench beneath and withering, leaving the chunky stamen to stand on its own, as if the petals had been a more afterthought in the process.

‘Well…’ Jack began, searching for the right words. ‘It's, uh… Well, to be honest, it looks like broccoli. Or is it broccolini when it's that tall?’

‘With hints of cauliflower,’ Ianto added, observing the flushes of cream on the florets that matched the colour of the protective shield petals.

Owen's expression turned dark. ‘It's rubbish. All that time and effort and all I got is an alien cauliflower?’

‘Well, cauliflower is a flower,’ Ianto said, attempting to be helpful. ‘So is broccoli.’ Owen threw him one of his dark glares and Ianto coughed awkwardly, looking to Jack for support and finding none for the hole he'd dug himself. ‘Is this the part where we document it with photos? Once in a century, remember? Big moment.’

Owen huffed and scowled at the plant, then at the pair of his teammates. ‘Sod this,’ he said, before storming out. ‘Waste of bloody time!’he could be heard cursing before the cogwheel door hurled itself open to get out of his way.

‘What was that about?’ Ianto asked.

Jack clapped Ianto on the shoulder. He gave the plant one last look with its gnarly concept of a floral display. ‘I’m not entirely sure, but I think perhaps you’ve just volunteered yourself to take on a master's degree in botany.’