Unicorn Blood

[osprey_archer]

Title: Unicorn Blood
Author: osprey_archer
Rating: PG
Beta: exuberantself. This whole fic is totally her fault.
Summary: The unicorn’s horn ripped the shroud as Owen covered her head. He stopped, bloody fingers clenched on the edge of the fabric, then flicked the cloth away and crossed the room.



The unicorn’s horn ripped the shroud as Owen covered her head. He stopped, bloody fingers clenched on the edge of the fabric, then flicked the cloth away and crossed the room. The fluorescent lights blurred in his dry eyes.

They didn't have classes in unicorn anatomy at med school, and she had been dying already when she came through the Rift. It wasn't his fault.

Her horn didn’t glow any more.

Silver unicorn blood dripped from his hands, plonking metallically on the white tile floor.

Wash up after operations. They did teach you that at med school.

The tap squeaked. Owen winced. The water pounded in the basin, reverberating in his brain. The fluorescent lights seemed to pulse, and he closed his eyes and let his hands take over washing. The warm water felt wonderful after congealing unicorn blood.

God, he needed sleep. How long had he been operating on that stupid unicorn?

He'd been so sure he could save her.

Owen opened his eyes. The unicorn blood beaded like quicksilver on his skin, and would not wash off.

“Damn it!” Owen shouted, and pounded his bloody hands on the counter. A scalpel clattered to the floor.

“Owen?” Ianto called.

"Damn it," Owen muttered again. Why hadn’t Ianto left yet?

Ianto's shoes tapped on the tile stairs. He stopped three steps from the bottom, looking at the shrouded unicorn. Against the white cloth her dead horn looked gray and grungy. “Oh,” Ianto said quietly, and Owen could have hit him.

“She was dying from the first,” Owen snapped.

“I know,” said Ianto. He walked softly down the last three steps and went to the unicorn.

Owen turned the tap full blast and tried to wash his hands again. Water bounced off the basin and spattered his face, but the blood did not come off.

Ianto didn't leave either. He stood looking down at the unicorn, hands clasped. "Why are you still here?" Owen snapped.

“Tidying up,” said Ianto. He straightened the shroud. “Gwen and Tosh had a paper airplane war.”

“It’s taken you till midnight to clean up some crumpled paper?”

“They affixed lasers to the airplanes.”

"They always do the fun things when I'm up to my elbows in unicorn blood," Owen muttered.

But the pounding water drowned him out, and Ianto continued, "And it's not midnight. It's almost dawn. Shall I tidy up?"

Owen couldn't even wash his hands. The operating theater might as well have been the Augean stables. “No."

“Why do I even ask?” asked Ianto. He straightened the shroud again, and gingerly touched her horn. “We should cut this off.”

“No!” Owen yelled.

Ianto looked startled. “Jack will want it.”

Jack probably could have saved the fucking unicorn.

“Jack’s in another galaxy, probably fucking this thing's cousin, so who gives a shit?"

Ianto's face twitched. But he didn't erupt as he would have a month ago, only took a deep breath, slipped his hands in his pockets, and said, "That's the best you can do? You are bad off."

Owen punched the sink. His knuckle burst and bled.

"Owen," Ianto said, and took a half-step toward him. But the pain was gone almost at once: Owen's knuckle, steeped in unicorn blood, was whole again.

Why the bloody screaming hell couldn't the unicorn heal herself like that?

Owen closed his eyes until they didn't sting. He opened them again, and was almost surprised to see Ianto. "Why are you still here?"

"Clean up," said Ianto. "After eleven hours operating I thought you might need some help. And perhaps coffee. I can - "

Owen's empty stomach revolted at the thought. "No."

"All right," said Ianto. "We can bandage your hand, then. Why aren't you wearing gloves?"

"She hated them," Owen said. "And my hand's all right. Unicorn blood heals. I thought," he continued, and tried to shut himself up, but couldn't. "If I could save it, we would have a supply, and…"

His throat closed up.

"We could heal ourselves by bleeding the unicorn?" Ianto said.

Owen nodded, jaw tight.

"You are a sick, sick man, Owen Harper," said Ianto, impressed more than repulsed, and Owen started to laugh and laughed so hard that he leaned against the white tiled walls, curled over his crossed arms.

“Owen," said Ianto. "Let me put the unicorn in cryo and – ”

“No!” Owen shouted.

Ianto stared at him. Owen could have kicked himself. "We put everything in cryo," Ianto said.

“Yes. All right. Cryo – ” He gagged on the word. “Ianto. Why don't we tell Gwen and Tosh she healed, and went back through the Rift, and bury her or burn her or…”

"Owen. Why do you care? You were planning to bleed it."

"Her," Owen corrected.

Ianto inspected Owen. "Let's wash your hands, Owen," he said, gently as if to an over-tired child.

"It was a she!" Owen yelled.

"Of course. You were planning to bleed her, but you were going to be grammatically precise about it so it's all right."

"Shut up!" Owen yelled. "Shut up! Your precious Jack would have liked the plan." Why couldn't Ianto go back to exploding in fury whenever someone said Jack's name? "And for you Jack's a step up, isn't he, at least he didn't try to slaughter us and take over the planet."

Ianto's face contorted. His fists distended his pockets. "You really want me to slam your head against the wall, don't you?"

"You shot me for less!" Owen yelled, and slammed his hand against the sink again. Crack. "Fuck!"

The blood was losing its power. Owen's hand didn't heal at once this time. He heard the cracked bones scraping as they knit, and felt sick. "Why don't you go away?" Owen asked.

"Your hands are sparkling," Ianto replied.

Owen looked at his hands. Between silver rivulets of wet unicorn blood his skin glittered dully, as if dusted with graphite. "It won't come off," he muttered. "Just call me Lady Macbeth," he said, and stopped, because his throat had filled with tears.

"Hands over the sink," Ianto said, so firmly that Owen complied. Ianto poured a foul-smelling purple liquid over Owen's hands, and the unicorn blood sluiced off in thin silver ribbons. It left jagged sparkling stains on the sink.

Owen swallowed, and swallowed again, but the tears climbed his throat and filled his eyes.

Ianto grabbed Owen's wrists as Owen raised his hands to scrub away the tears. "You don't want this on your face."

Owen tried to jerk his wrists from Ianto's grip. Ianto's hands tightened. Owen's injured hand throbbed. "Owen. This came through the Rift. It will burn out your eyes."

Owen stopped struggling. Ianto transferred both Owen's wrists to one hand, and turned on the tap. It squeaked. "I should fix that," Ianto muttered, and dragged Owen's hands beneath the water. The sparkling blood swirled down the drain.

"Unicorn blood - " Owen breathed through his nose, trying to kill the tremor in his voice. "Unicorn blood in the water supply. That can't be a good idea."

"I see the headlines. 'Health epidemic in Cardiff.' We'll ruin Torchwood's reputation for death and destruction." Ianto turned off the tap and released Owen's wrists, and stepped to the side to stare politely at nothing while Owen mopped his face.

"With our luck it's deadly taken internally. And it doesn't work now she's dead, anyway." Owen blew his nose. It was hard to do one-handed. "Ianto. If Jack were here, could he have - "

"No," said Ianto. His usually immaculate cuffs slumped limp and soaked around his wrists. "Jack's the anti-virgin, what would he know about unicorns? Don't be daft, Owen, you operated eleven hours; you did the best possible. Don't blame yourself."

Owen's jaw clenched.

"Owen," said Ianto.

"I think she knew I was thinking about what we could do with her blood. I think she didn't want…" Owen blew his nose again. His injured hand pulsed painfully with each heartbeat. "She glowed," he said wretchedly, like a starry-eyed child.

Gwen. Gwen might have saved her.

Ianto touched his shoulder. Owen jumped. "Owen," he said. "Let me take care of all this."

"No," Owen said, but there wasn't any fight in it.

"Go upstairs. Go to sleep," Ianto said. Owen shook his head, but he didn't resist when Ianto took him by the shoulders and swung him toward the stairs. The operating theater blurred in his vision, bright antiseptic white pierced by the dull gray unicorn horn.

“The horn?” Owen said urgently.

Ianto dragged him up another step. “I won’t cut it off,” he promised.

Owen caught his foot on the next step and stumbled. "And cryo?"

Ianto hauled him to his feet. "Would you rather a cremation urn or a burial plot?"

“Liar,” said Owen. He rubbed his eyes. Thin crescents of unicorn blood glittered coldly in his cuticles.

Ianto looped an arm around Owen's shoulders, and gently dragged him out of the operating theater.