'What will you be doing this time next year, do you suppose?' she asks him, dark hair splayed out on soft pillows and fingers playing with a crease in the bedspread.

'I don't know; probably exactly the same thing I'm doing now.' He kisses her softly, trying to pretend that it's just because of the post-coital haze and nothing to do with feelings that he may or may not be experiencing. He knows she wouldn't appreciate that. It's one of the things he likes most about her.

'Not with me,' she tells him casually, and he contemplates being offended before realising that she's probably right. One or both of them will back out of this soon, before it becomes too much like a relationship and not enough like the brief, convenient shag they both signed up for. It's for the best, he thinks, and ignores the bitter tinge that leaves on the back of his tongue.

'Maybe not,' he says with a sigh, rolling over onto his back, hands behind his head, and wishing briefly that he smoked just so he didn't always have to resort to staring at the ceiling.

'Definitely not,' she says, and her tone is firm, 'maybe with Toshiko.'

He scoffs, 'Not likely. Tosh is great and all but I would never go there.'

She turns her head to look at him, eyes searching for something. 'You care about her too much.'

He contemplates saying no, but he's never been able to lie to Suzie; 'Yeah.'

'That's good,' she says, and Owen wonders whether she's trying to tell him something.

'What do you think you'll be doing this time next year?' he asks, bringing them back on topic and away from subjects that make him nauseous and lightheaded all at once.

Suzie laughs, and the sound makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up – there's something dark and bitter and lost about that laugh that Owen thinks he should be able to decipher, except he's not sure what it is he's supposed to be looking for.

'I don't think anyone in the world can tell you that,' she says, and Owen's filled with the strange urge to run away as fast as his legs can carry him, but that's stupid because it's just Suzie being her usual cryptic self, and besides, it's his flat. Asking her to leave doesn't even cross his mind.

'Not even Jack?' he laughs, trying to lighten the dark cloud that's beginning to suffocate the room.

'Maybe Jack,' she says, her eyes fixed to the ceiling, and her voice is too serious to be casual. 'Promise me that this time next year you will be right back here, in this bed, shagging another member of Torchwood into the mattress.'

'Another member of Torchwood?' he asks, raising an eyebrow, 'that doesn't exactly leave me with much choice.'

She laughs then, and he feels the tension in his shoulders deflate, smiling as she does.

'You're right, it doesn't. Admit it though; you've wanted to have a go with Ianto since he first showed up!'

'Oy, that's bullshit! Besides, you're the one that practically dies of an orgasm every time he brings you a mug of that chocolate truffle stuff.'

She chuckles, tugging a pillow over her head as her chest rises and falls in quick succession, not denying the claim.

'I don't think either of us has a chance,' she says when she's calmed down enough to speak. 'Jack's all but stamped 'Mine' on the poor boys backside.'

'You think?' Owen grins, 'He has a girlfriend, doesn't he?'

Suzie looks contemplative for a moment, 'Um, but who has ever been able to resist the Harkness charm for long?'

'I'm proud to say that I remain immune,' Owen says, poking a finger into her side where he can just about see her ribcage through soft, tanned skin.

'Liar,' she retorts, pushing herself up and placing her hands on his chest. Her expression turns serious again, and Owen holds back a defeated sigh. 'Promise me.'

'You want me to promise you that I'll shag another member of Torchwood in this bed in exactly one years' time?' he asks, voice tinged with incredulousness that he knows he shouldn't feel; it's not like Torchwood's not an incestuous enough group as it is.

'Yes,' she says simply, and he knows beyond a doubt that she means it, 'It'll be an anniversary of sorts.'

'Alright, I promise.'

She smiles properly then, lowering her head to his and kissing him deeply.

Owen's not sure why, but it feels dangerous close to making a deal with the devil.

A year later, it's Gwen in his bed asleep spread-eagle atop of the duvet and breathing softly, and, though he's kept his promise, he thinks Suzie would hate him for it.

'Happy anniversary,' he whispers into silence, and it's revenge and grief and pain.

'I miss you,' he adds, but only hates himself more for it being true.