Day Forty-One
When I get back to hub it's dark. I mean the hub is always dark, but there are more lights turned off than normal. And it feels empty.
It never used to feel that way, it used to feel alive and wonderful, full of energy. But it was never empty before; because even when he wasn't here, I could still feel his presence. Now it's just dank and dark; the only noises the drip of water and the scurry of rats. And something else, hollow and stuttering – someone is crying.
I track the source to our new greenhouse. And there, behind some alien plant is Owen, on the ground, sniffling and smaller than I've ever seen him. He looks up and notices me.
"Fuck Ianto." He jumps up and he's wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve and the smallness is gone.
"Sorry," I say and look down, because what else can you say. It would have been better if I'd caught him wanking; you don't, not in Wales at least, watch another man cry. Them's the rules.
My embarrassment must show because he punches me in the arm and says, "It's just tears Ianto."
I remember what Gwen said, so I look him in the eye and say the thing that we've been saying to each other for weeks, "He forgave us, he'll be back."
"I know he forgave us, I was there, but do you know the problem?" Black tear-stained eyes look at me.
"No," I say.
"I can't forgive myself."
I surprise myself when I reach out and give his hand a quick squeeze. I know a little something about that.