Owen flinched as the bullet erupted from the gun, but soon regained composure. At the last second John had pointed it at the ceiling, but now it was back against Owen's temple.

"I said move." John growled, but Owen just shrugged and raised an eyebrow. Grumbling John lowered the gun and stared the doctor right in the eyes. "You have two choices you do want I want and you live, you refuse and you get the shit kicked out of you and then you die. Simple. Choose, now!" Owen took at tiny step forward, his expression unreadable and glared at John.

"You don't want me dead John, if you did I would have a whole through my head by now." There was no question in Owen's voice, as he watched John struggle. It felt good to have the advantage for a change.

"How about this then, you do what I want or Tosh does what I want and then Gwen does what I want? Got it?" Owen stepped back, his eyes revealing nothing.

"Got it." He mouthed. Then his hand shot out catching John in the left eye and propelling him backwards. He legged it for the open door, and then stumbled as a bullet hit his left shoulder. He fell to the ground, but quickly turned himself around making sure there was no pressure on the injury. As he looked up John's foot came towards him. He yelled in pain as it stamped on the wound.

"This is happening my way Owen the sooner you get used to that the better." John pushed down once more, before stepping out of the door and locking it behind him. Finally things had gotten interesting, but now he couldn't decide if it was a good or a bad thing. He resolved to just not dwell on it, time would tell. He had better things to do than worry about stubborn Doctor Harper.

Owen took his shirt off carefully, looking at where the bullet had gone in. He could still see it, which meant the wound wasn't deep. With gritted teeth he slowly pulled it out and threw it down. Blood started pouring relentlessly. He wound up his shirt and pressed down hard on his shoudler wincing as he did so. At least he was Docotor imagine if it was one of the girls. He shied away from the thought, from what John had just said. If he could protect them he had to. Would they protect him? Did it matter? He shuffled back against a wall keeping the pressure on his shoulder. He rested his head against it and fought against the tears threatening to fall. He had to save them from this if he could, but he also wanted to save himself. He sighed, as he realised which side of him was stronger. Laughing he closed his eyes, why couldn't he be just a little more selfish. Just one more question left then, was he gonna fight or just let it happen. Just let John use him. He rolled his eyes, that's exactly what he had to do, 'cause if he didn't it wouldn't take much for John to just go straight for the girls. His foughts became silent and to his surprise he found himself drifting off, the doctor in him shouted to keep awake, it was the blood loss making him tired. But he couldn't care less, even death couldn't be as bad as what was coming.

A kick woke him and he looked around confused, before everything came flooding back. John was standing over him, looking expectantly. He grunted as John hauled him up purposely pulling his bad arm.

"Bedroom now." John let go of him and he followed apprehensively not letting himself dwell on what was about to happen. The door opened out into a large danker room with some stairs in the right hand corner. He followed John up them. They turned right then took the second door on the left. The bed was in fact a mattress and the room was about as decorative as the one Owen had been cooped up in for the past God knows how long. His stomach turned. "Shall we begin." John closed the door behind them with resounding finality.

Owen was curled up in the middle of the mattress when John left, he locked the door behind him. Slowly Owen opened his eyes, he was lying on his bad shoulder but the pain didn't even enter his consciousness. He leant over the bed suddenly, vomiting helplessly. He felt dirty, and angry and broken. Then he felt more angry for feeling those things. He tried to concentrate on the fact that the girls wouldn't go through this, when he realised John would probably get to them anyway. He'd saved no one. He'd done that for nothing. Yet, he still couldn't be angry with John. Someone had pushed him to this, had made him a monster. He threw up again, before collapsing on the mattress. It took him a few seconds before he realised what had happened there and he abruptly got up and moved as far away from it as possible, glaring at it as though it was it's fault. He couldn't stop the tears this time and he didn't really care enough to want to. He felt numb, as if this had all happened to somebody else and he'd just witnessed the nightmare, he decided he liked it better when he felt this disconnected. He stared around the room, patchy wallpaper, damp and one window which was locked. He didn't even have enough energy to try and break it. What was the point? Everything had lost meaning. Well not everything there was still one thing that gave his life a purpose.

John had broken down and reconstructed Owen mentally without even knowing it and now they were both out for the same revenge.

A/N Sorry it's a bit bitty :( Reviews appreciated.