Word Count: 440
Summary: Owen has no patience with people at the best of times, but gawkers are the worst.
Written For: brumeier’s comment_fic prompt ‘Any, Any, when everyone else just stands around taking video on their phones, character is the one who dives into the fray to help someone.’
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood or any of the characters. Which is sad.
Maybe it’s because he’s a doctor, maybe it’s because he’s a Torchwood agent, or maybe the reason doesn’t matter. Owen knows himself to be a cranky bastard at the best of times, but he still has more humanity than the bunch of gawkers who are just standing around tweeting their followers and videoing the scene to put up on their youtube and instagram accounts. He can’t help wondering if any of them has even bothered calling for an ambulance or the police. Doesn’t matter if they haven’t, because that was the first thing he did when he saw the accident.
The second thing he did was smash a window and drag the injured driver out of the car. It’s leaking petrol all over the place, and one stray spark could turn it into a fireball. Of course, if that happens the gawkers will have a front row seat to record the fireworks, for all the good it’ll do them. Then they might be the ones in need of an ambulance. It would serve them right; they wouldn’t be getting any sympathy from him.
The vehicle that caused the crash just kept right on going, fleeing the scene; it’s probably too much to hope that someone in the crowd of onlookers might have taken note of the number plate. Then again, it shouldn’t be too hard to find a speeding car missing a good chunk of the left front wing. The boys in blue can deal with that when they arrive, that’s what they’re good at; right now, Owen’s priority is stabilising his patient.
He shakes his head. What does it say about society when people treat a horrific accident like it’s some kind of entertainment put on for their benefit? It’s like they don’t even see it as real, just a scene from a movie, or a live-action computer game; they get some kind of bizarre rush out of it. Owen likes computer games as much as the next guy, but he knows the difference between them and reality.
The world is going to hell in a handbasket, but he’ll be damned if he helps it get there. Miserable sod he may be, but life still has value to him, and no one is going to die here if he has anything to say about it, which he does, because he’s a bloody good doctor.
‘Move along, folks,’ he thinks. ‘There’s nothing to see here, just a doctor tending an accident victim. Go get your jollies somewhere else.’ Then he pushes the crowd of gawkers out of his mind and focuses on the only thing that matters: saving a life.