Word Count: 2,844
Owen is forced to drag a sodden and semi-conscious Toshiko home. What do you do with a beautiful, willing and emotionally vulnerable woman when you are already dead? Takes place after an unspecified horrific event, just before the events in Fragments and Exit Wounds.
Characters/Pairings: Owen, Tosh
Recced because: What could be more seasonally appropriate that zombies? Zombies, and the ladies who love them? This is short, sad, sweet, and very plausible. I've always had a soft spot for Tosh and Owen's doomed romance, and this fic really cuts to the heart of the pairing and offers a quiet moment of grace.
Owen frowned. What was his picture doing on Tosh’s fridge? He knew that picture, it was one of him and Tosh at New Years, years ago. Back when he was still alive. He had his arm around her flirtatiously — he couldn’t stop flirting with anyone, not even Tosh. There were no pictures of the rest of the team. He sighed. Tosh. Mad Tosh.
He went back to her and pressed the bottle of water into her hand. “Drink,” he said brusquely.