As a French I can now say I'm very proud of having written déjà vu in a fic in English! :p
Owen lain in his bed, his arms outstretched, staring at the ceiling. More like staring back at his life. When had it become this? Hiding, running away, fucking things up. He was dead. He had made a big mistake. But he hadn't been able. He had never enjoyed killing, he had just been doing his job to pay his debts to the people who had dragged him out of the dust, who had saved him, who had fed and welcomed him. It had taken him a while to understand what he had signed up for, and even more time to run away from it. Nobody knew about his past, and he would have loved to keep it that way. But it was too late now. Maybe he could ask for help. But it would mean being totally honest to deserve it, and he knew nobody would help him if they knew.
Fuck this, he thought. Just when everything seemed fine, just when his life finally had a meaning for him, just when he had friends, a job, a family, a home.
He eventually went to work, way later than usual, probably looking like a zombie. Not that he cared, he didn't have much time left after all, had he?
Tosh questioned him, he didn't answer. Instead, he noticed the absence of coffee and of Jack. Which meant Ianto wasn't around. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. Tosh and Gwen were working, so he didn't disturb any of them. He sat at his workstation but didn't really achieve anything.
When Jack returned, alone, he dismissed their questions about where the hell Ianto was. Gwen insisted, then let it go, but Tosh wouldn't let go and Jack gave a heartbreaking sigh.
"Someone broke in his sister's house, he's with her, happy?"
"What do you mean happy? My God, is she okay? Was it a thief? Do they know who it was?" Tosh asked, with a lot of other questions that had less and less coherence as she started worrying.
"Stop! I get it, Tosh," Jack finally yelled. "It's just... Fear," he continued with a softer voice, not wanting to take his stress out on Tosh who had asked for nothing and was just worried. "Someone tried to kill her, but he ran away. Nobody knows who it was. They have a blurry image of him, and she's trying to describe him, you could maybe help them. She's fine, she's just shocked. Ianto will come in later."
He ignored her other questions and chose to retreat in his office. Owen watched him walked away, then shrugged at Tosh who was throwing him a questioning look. He stood up and warned them he was getting coffee for everyone at the nearest coffee shop as Ianto was usually the one doing the coffee here.
As soon as he was outside, he ran to the nearest alley, glad to be alone, and broke into tears. He hadn't cried in a while, but everything just seemed too much all of a sudden. He hadn't realised Rhiannon Davies was the name of Ianto's sister. For him, she was Rhiannon Jones, he hadn't ever taken the time to know more about her, not her background, not her family, not her brother, not her husband or children. The name was written, as well as the address and he hadn't really asked or searched, until he had been outside the front door with an unwelcome déjà vu. He had already been there, twice, and his doubts had been confirmed when he had seen the pictures, some of them with Ianto. That's why he hadn't killed her, why he had hesitated so much. He knew both Ianto's parents had passed away, even though it seemed like he forgot a lot, and he also knew Ianto had already suffered for longer than a lifetime. Even if he didn't particularly like the man, having a knife against his sister's back had changed everything. Maybe he liked him, after all. Maybe he liked his sarcasm, maybe he loved his coffee, maybe he liked having someone to take care of, maybe he liked his quiet presence. Yeah, he liked him. And it was so painful to realise it under such circumstances.
Running away had been a solution back in Rhiannon's house. It wasn't any more. He had to face the consequences. Eventually. Maybe. If he could only gather the courage to be honest. But he was weak, he was a coward, he had been his whole life. He couldn't bring himself to reveal his true identity.