Summary: Owen's always had this feeling, like drowning.
Spoilers: S1 and backstory learned from Adam and Fragments.
Disclaimer: Not mine
Author Note: Not sure why this has come out so dark. I just always thought Owen was a bit depressive and moved on from there.
He could never really pinpoint the feeling. Physically, it was sometimes a vague throb behind his eyes, or an odd weight in his stomach; a tightness in his throat and chest. The cold sinking feeling that he was suffocating, slowly. Something thick and black was pulling him down and he was drowning, choking. Everything was cold and empty.
He remembered it from years ago, back when anything his mother said to him would make it appear. When he wondered why she never dumped him on a kids home. Did she just want someone to help her to bed every night after she'd stumbled in? He never complained about that; stayed up waiting, cleared up the vomit, and without fail, placed a kiss on her cheek when she was passed out in bed.
His Nan died, and deep down he knew she was the only person who cared about him. The funeral was black and he choked back tears. Mum kicked him out within the week, his birthday.
Then the feeling again, waiting for a letter. Sat in his grotty little bed sit, waiting for the letter that would dictate how the rest of his life was going to turn out. If he was going to get the life he'd always wanted, or the life he'd always been afraid of. His A Level results. Because really, if he didn't get into uni, just what would he do? Work at Tesco for the rest of his fucking life? It was hot and stuffy, the window wouldn't open and he couldn't breathe. He almost cried when he opened that envelope.
The next time was after Katie. After the anger and confusion and Jack. When it finally sunk in what he'd done. She was gone forever. He was alone again. He made them take that scan. They could have, should have left it. Jack would have saved her.
They used to talk all the time about what they'd do. Get married, have a bunch of kids, house with a big garden, couple of dogs. When he imagined it, it was always sunny, there was always someone laughing.
He sat in his empty flat, watching the rain run down the window. Then Jack phoned and he started his journey towards immoral heartless bastard. Katie would have hated him.
Suzie didn't hate him. The feeling didn't go, but he covered it up with anger and sex and blood. He was suffocating, but Suzie was too. He knew when she started to slip under the black thing, but he thought he could hold her up. There wasn't anyone else he could talk to. Tosh was too nice, Ianto was too blank and Jack was too alive. He stood on the Plass and looked at her blood and wondered why he wasn't surprised she'd done it herself.
By now he's reached immoral heartless bastard, only to find his heart again in time to have it broken. The feeling was still there, intensifying when he almost murdered a pensioner, helped to murder a colleague's girlfriend and when he realised that there is no happy reunion when you die.
Diane brought back the light and laughter and a closeness he'd only had with Katie. Holding hands and dancing; romantic gestures and the feeling that he'd do absolutely anything to see that smile. He couldn't say it, but she could. She didn't stay though. He could never get anyone to stay.
He didn't want to drown, he wanted to burn and scream because the raw feeling in his chest hurts. He met Mark and he knew, the world really is that dark and he doesn't want to be here.
The feeling stayed when the world ended. Tosh and Jack are gone and he was scared, he didn't want more people to leave. Why won't anyone ever stay? For once he just wanted to control it himself. Ianto hates him enough to shoot him, but he managed to save them.
They're back, but he's ruined everything again. People die and instead of just fucking up and causing death, he's gone one step further to murder. Jack woke up, but that didn't change the fact that he was capable of killing like that. Then the monster he let out killed Jack again. He hid in the hub while the cold weight in his stomach forced up his last meal.
Jack is gone now. Dead, alive, dead, alive; then just gone. He tells the others he'd rather die than be in charge. They don't realise how literal he's being. He hides behind sarcasm and complaints to drown out the feeling. It's a week before Gwen cracks and snaps at him. You were the one that shot him Owen. Ianto flinches and he knows he's hurt him too many times now. Tosh looks away. It's always his fault. No wonder Jack left. He's not going to hang around with the bloke that shot him three times.
We need Jack. Simple logic says that if I made him leave, when I leave he'll come back. I sit in my flat with a pot of pills in front of me. The feeling is so strong, I think I might just suffocate to death anyway. It's dark and cold, but I know it's time to stop struggling and just let myself sink.