IV. Snow (Series 1)

If there was anything Owen hated more than winter in Cardiff, it was snow during winter in Cardiff. Because not only was it cold and wet and messy, but everyone else seemed to love it except for him. From children to adults, the rest of the world seemed to think snow was a gift from heaven, it's pristine whiteness a fluffy blanket of joy sent from above to brighten the dull grey gloominess of winter.

It was enough to make him want to wretch.

Today he settled for an eyeroll as he listened to the Gwen, Tosh, and Ianto laugh about it behind him. He was about ten feet in front of them, head down and tucked against the wind as he tried to ignore them. They were talking about the latest forecast and how much snow they might expect, how long it would last, should they build a snowman on the Plass—

A snowman? Jesus. How much worse could it get?

A hard ball of snow slammed into his neck, dribbling bits of ice down his coat in a way that announced, with no doubt whatsoever, that it could get much worse.

Whirling on the threesome behind him, Owen literally bared his teeth and growled, stopping them cold. They stood frozen to the spot, staring at him as if he'd gone mad.

"Which one of you was it then?" he demanded, but they all shook their heads, eyes wide. Owen almost believed them; the most likely suspect would have been Jack, but Jack was in front of them, brooding on his own, and even Jack couldn't make a snowball curve around like that. Maybe it was some kid nearby…only they were quite alone, the weather having forced most people inside until morning, when they could enjoy the snow under the sun.

Owen turned slowly and continued walking until he felt a second snowball slam against his back. Bending over, he quickly whipped up one of his own and sent it flying toward the unholy trio behind him. They all ducked, however, and then glared at him in indignation. As if they were offended.

"What was that for, Owen?" asked Gwen, eyeing him curiously.

"For the two you lot lobbed at me," Owen snapped. "So knock it off or next time it'll be my gun."

Ianto raised one of those damn eyebrows. "Threatening to shoot us hardly seems an appropriate response to…well, whatever's bothering you."

"Then don't toss another snowball at my back, teaboy," Owen replied. "Or that's exactly what's going to happen."

Owen knew he was on edge, but he couldn't help it. It had been over a week since Diane had left, but he still felt lost. She had left him, just like Katie, only Diane had chosen to go: she had not wanted to stay. He couldn't blame her, for she was a woman out of her time, but he had hoped, just a little, that maybe he could have been enough to convince her to try. Only he wasn't, and it hurt.

Not that he let on to it. If he had, they probably wouldn't be pelting him with snowballs, because they'd know he meant what he said about the gun. Well, maybe he wouldn't shoot, but he'd certainly draw. And he did when he felt the third snowball splatter against his backside, coating his arse in wet snow.

He heard Tosh murmur under her breath before he whirled around, gun in hand. She appeared genuinely surprised, as did Gwen. Ianto, however, merely raised that eyebrow again, along with the other this time.

"What's going on, Owen?" asked Gwen, and now she sounded concerned. Owen tried to read their faces: Tosh looked confused, Gwen looked concerned, and Ianto looked like…well, the same he always did. Calm, cool, and collected—at least when he wasn't hiding a robot in the basement.

Owen shook his head of the distracting thought. "Which one of you was it?" he demanded. "Fess up so I can shove your face in the next snow pile."

"We're not doing anything, Owen," said Gwen, using that same voice she used on prisoners, the calm and soothing voice that drove him mad. Owen bit back a groan and glanced at Tosh with a question in his eyes.

"She's right. None of us threw anything. But I thought I saw…" She trailed off, as if it were too ridiculous to mention.

"What, Tosh?" asked Owen, lowering his gun. "What did you see?"

"It looked like a pack of snow just rolled itself up and threw itself at you," she murmured. She realized something and quickly pulled out one of the scanners she always seemed to have with her. "I'm not picking up anything, though."

"Any what?" asked Gwen.

"Aliens, Rift activity, that sort of thing—nothing," said Tosh, shaking her head.

"Probably just kids hiding nearby," said Ianto. His hands were deep in his pockets, and for some reason Owen frowned at that, even though it was a common habit for the man, not to mention rather cold out.

"Probably," he agreed. "But why don't you walk in front of me this time?"

Ianto shrugged and led the girls onward. Owen glanced behind him, expecting another hit. He did not see Ianto grin at the girls and pull out a small, rectangular object. He did not see Ianto palm it as he made the minute motion of packing a snowball. He did not see the small movement of Ianto's hand, as if tossing it forward…but he did see the snowball coming the moment he turned back around.

Unfortunately, he was too stunned to duck and swore furiously as the snow and ice ran down his chest.

"Jones!" he yelled. He hadn't seen anything, but he knew, somehow, that Ianto was behind it.

And someday, somehow, he would get him back.

Especially after he saw Ianto wink at Gwen and Tosh as they hurried to catch up with Jack.

Author's Note:

Alien tech: the problem and solution to everything in Torchwood fanfiction. ;-)

And yes, there is a sequel to this one. Owen will have revenge.