So, er, serious angst. :) I apologise, I promised Aimee fluff but found no room for it. Thanks so much for reading, please review! xx
Ianto heard the footsteps behind him, and he knew, he just knew. From the pace, to the soft shuffle and the surprisingly distinct lack of breath. The quiet sigh and almost tangible awkwardness that hung in the air. He knew the man behind him; he knew his face and his eyes and what lay in his heart, though he'd tried hard to ignore it.
"Did you get scared back there?"
If Ianto was expecting anything from Owen, a slap or a punch maybe, a plea, a kiss, anything, he wasn't expecting that. Not the low, insulting, almost threatening tone, or the words that sent shivers down his spine or the tears that sprung to Ianto's eyes in the way only someone you really care about could manage to make you do.
"Cat got your tongue?"
The words washed over Ianto like a torrent of cold water, each word inflicting pain in the Welshman's heart in places he didn't know could hurt anymore. Whirling round, lashing out at the daggers slicing through his dreams and hopes, biting back tears, Ianto near-yelled, "Stop it, stop it!" Like they were kids. Maybe if they were this would be simpler.
"But it's not always the silent treatment, is it?" Owen continued, regardless of the blatant pain he was causing Ianto; good, he thought, good, he deserves to hurt. "See, you can come through when you think you're gunna lose me. When I died," Owen laughed. The sound was dark and humourless, sending a cold wave of shivers down Ianto's back. "If you can even call it that."
"Stop it," Ianto begged, not caring that he looked stupid, that this was futile. He couldn't even bring himself to care about the fact that somewhere there were aliens that needed to be stopped or even that the man the Welshman loved was a floor above them. It was just him and Owen. No secrets. No lies. No pretending - because he could never pretend with Owen. Every thought, every wish was laid out for all to see. Ianto's heart had opened for the medic in ways he'd never thought it could; the tiny cracks and crevices he'd hoped were sealed off for good had been ripped open. Every healing wound thoughtlessly un-bandaged. Owen's meddling had filled Ianto with things he'd thought he could never feel again. Not even for Jack – his hero.
"This isn't you," Ianto whispered. "Please, Owen."
"And you think you're the best person to ask about that, do you? About who I 'really am'?" Owen replied, cuttingly. Each new insult pushed Ianto backwards, further into his empty shell he'd once hidden in. But he wasn't that person anymore – Owen had no right to make him feel worthless. He'd built up years of accepting himself, and in less than 2 minutes, the medic had shattered that all. He felt suitably small and insignificant again.
"No, maybe not, but unlike everyone else, I actually give a shit about you." Ianto said, calmly. Loosing it now would do nothing but harm – mostly to himself. "God knows why; it gets me nowhere."
"So stop." Owen told him, like it was simple, like this was all simple. Maybe for him. Win Ianto, game over.
The games were far from over.
"You know I would if I could." Ianto took a hesitant step forward, every muscle in his body screamed at him not to, but it was the only way to get over to listen. "Why don't you stop feeling the way you do now?"
Eyes trained on Ianto's lips, Owen swallowed heavily before shaking his head nervously and replying, stuttering adorably, "What do you mean?"
Ianto kept walking forward until their chests where almost touching. Owen's eyes didn't move. The Welshman reached out with both hands to cup one of Owen's own. He had to repress a shudder at the icy touch of the medic, the cold skin, so obviously dead, but he kept holding. "Stop feeling the way you do now," Ianto continued, deliberately rolling his tongue across his teeth with each word, "with me, for me. Because it's still there, isn't it? Even after all this, it's still there. That feeling."
"Stop it," Now it was Owen's turn to do the pleading. "You know I can't stop." I wouldn't want to, even if I could stop. I'd rather only have you like this, than never have had you.
"Neither can I. But it's not enough, is it?" I can never love you enough...
"What do you mean?" Owen repeated, almost incredulously.
"It's still not enough, Owen. You may think you love me –"
"I do," The medic cut in, his voice high but uncharacteristically sincere. "I completely do. So much more than he," Ianto didn't even have to ask who Owen was referring to, "ever can."
"Maybe that's true," Ianto allowed, calmly, repressing the little spark of delight that buzzed inside him. "But I saw the way you looked when Tosh said...what she said." The words tasted bitter in his mouth, the Welshman could barely spit out the words without screaming.
"I don't love her like I love you," Owen replied, evenly. Truthfully, Ianto realised. He had hardly ever heard the medic speak so sincerely before. "I never could."
"You could try?" Ianto asked, feebly. He shouldn't have to...
"I wouldn't want to. There's only ever been three people in my life I was willing to give my heart to completely. The other two were torn away from me; please don't do the same. I can't lose you."
Ianto took a deep breath, swallowing the tears and the heartfelt confessions of love he was all ready to shed. He couldn't, not now. As much as he wanted to, and he did. He did more than he could comprehend. He did the only think he saw fit; he leant forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Owen's forehead. The skin felt cold and wrong, but Ianto didn't say as much. As he turned to walk away, Owen grabbed his hand in a cold, shaky embrace.
"Please, Ianto. I can't give you what he can; not now I'm like this, but I can give you more, so much more. I can give you..." But what? Life? He couldn't, not now. What the bloody hell had Jack f-ing Harkness done to him? So much more than taken away his mindless shags; he'd stolen his upper hand, crippled him of every chance he'd ever had with Ianto. His advantage had been his life. The only thing Owen had that Jack didn't. But now that was gone. "I can give you," Owen continued, "everything I have left."
"You don't know how much you're offering me," Ianto replied, voice gentle, his voice audible. "You also don't know how much I want to accept." Owen must have looked disbelieving, because Ianto added, "I do want to. But I can't. I'm sorry. I just can't. Offer your everything to someone who deserves it. I wish I could be that person."
"So now it's the infamous 'You're too good for me' act, is it?" Owen was outraged; he couldn't put up with this bullshit. "Love me, don't love me, but don't pretend you give a shit when you don't. Don't I deserve a little more than that?"
Ianto took each blow dubiously; he knew he had it coming, knew he deserved it. "You deserve so much more, Owen. She loves you," the Welshman added, softly, "don't waste that; don't throw it away."
"Why do I feel like you're making all the choices for me? Instead, I have to throw you away?" Owen countered. Without thinking, he added, "Oh wait, my mistake. You have to have had something to lose it, don't you?"
Ianto finally looked defeated. Eyes sunken, heart heavy, he said, "Yeah. You took the words right out of my mouth."
And with that, he turned and fled the archives.
Owen would have cried, if he'd had the tears.