It's all AU.

Owen was sitting in his chair, feet up on the desk and the chair leaning back, hovering right around the angle that would cause him to topple from it if he was startled. Fortunately, it was late and as far as he knew, no one was in Torchwood at the moment. Which meant it was a great time to be enjoying his porn on the much wider screen in the autopsy lab. A pen dangled from his lips as Owen watched the two men on the screen, glancing up then looking back down at the magazine in his hands.

It might have seemed an incongruous picture as Owen shifted his attention from the new edition of Scientific American to the porn on the screen and back. But, again, no one was around to appreciate it. At least, that's what Owen thought.

He'd walked away from Gwen, and stalked and staggered across the uneven field to face Abbadon. Deperation, panic and a last-ditch effort to stop this thing his team had set loose, while there was still something alive on this planet to save.

He hadn't been ready for the pain, the twisting aching pull that threatened to turn him inside out. He couldn't stop the scream that ripped out of him, any more than he could stop the pull of energy. He stayed on his feet as long as he could, but as however long it felt, it wasn't very long.

He collapsed to his knees, still screaming. Saw his vision going dark around the edges, and wondered if, this time, death would last. Except he didn't fall into death.

He just fell.

Slipping slide through too bright light and he was somewhere else.

_________________

He was on his knees in the upstairs hall of the hotel. There were rooms stretched along either side of him, all the doors closed with brass numbers. He lifted a hand to his face, rubbed his eyes and climbed to his feet. It took more effort than he would admit to; he turned to lean against the wall while he opened his wristband.

"What the-" he started. He paused, for a split second, at the sound of someone - or something- moving toward him. "Hell?" he finished.