Owen yawned as he got out of his car. Oh boy, he was so tired. He hadn't properly slept in a while, not since he had received the letter. He would usually wander in Cardiff, find a good shag for the night, and go to work the next day. But it was already late, as he had waited for Tosh to leave to eventually close their place, and he wasn't really in the mood for a quick shag. He had thought that talking to Tosh would help him somehow. But it just made everything so much harder. He had thought that if she knew what he truly thought – that she was amazing and bringing a lot to the team – he would feel better. And maybe he would have been able to tell the truth, or run away. Except it didn't. He felt worse, so worse. He genuinely cared for Tosh, and the team. He didn't want to abandon them, he didn't want to run away. And he didn't want them to find out about him.
He was tired, and his reflexes were pretty much dead, and he really was just exhausted. He didn't want to fight any more, he didn't want to run any more. He just wanted everything to stop annoying him. So when the hand closed on his arm, he didn't fight back. He let the man drag him to a car, let him hit him. He let unconsciousness take him because it felt much safer and a better option than struggling to live.
He still woke up with a panicked gasp, panting as he remembered he had been... well, kidnapped, it seemed. As he was tied up to a chair, it really felt like a kidnapping. He sighed and tested the knot, but only managed to burn his skin against the rope. It was tight, too tight.
Soon enough, someone entered the room with a chair that he dragged lazily, the feet on the floor, doing a hell lot of noise. Owen winced but as he was the one tied up, he didn't really say anything. The man smiled, put the chair backwards and sat, his arms on the back of the chair. He pouted then sighed, then did a weird noise, and Owen frowned, not sure what this meant. And not really pleased with the man's presence.
"So... Miss me?" he asked after a while.
"Not really, no," Owen snapped.
"I know. You know you could never have escaped us? I mean, we did tell you we'll let you after that 'last' murder," the man said, doing the quote marks with his fingers. "But, really, we wouldn't have let you go."
"What?"
"Well, you know. You just needed to be back on track. If you had killed a relative of one of your... friends, you would have been ready to get back with us. Except you didn't. Why? You've never been one to care, if I recall correctly."
"You... bastards!" Owen yelled as he struggled against the knot. "You had no reason! I almost killed someone for no fucking reasons!"
"Of course we had, I just told you."
"She asked for nothing and is just living her life!"
"Yeah, yeah. I know. So annoying. Living your life, how boring," the man almost spat, disgusted. "But you, oh you... you can do so much more than just... life, you know?"
"You are a sick man, Arthur."
"Oh come on! We had good times here. You know, you're the one who came back home," the so-called Arthur said childishly.
"This has never been my home!"
"We did save your life."
"Yeah, then you blew me up. Thanks for that."
"But that's not exactly true, is it?"
"Ugh... Yes it is."
"Well, okay, it is. But you survived... Owen," he let the name linger and Owen grunted.
"Fuck you."
"What? You don't like that name? Would you rather be called Ethan?"
"Fuck you," Owen repeated.
"Oh you know I'd gladly fuck someone here, and that's not myself," Arthur smiled. "So, you could have shot me the other day. Why didn't you?"
"Is this why you're doing this? 'Cause you're so deeply in love with me?"
Arthur laughed and leaned on, the chair balanced on only two feet. As he was already close to Owen, it allowed him to put his face only inches from him.
"Oh but you would love that, wouldn't you?" he whispered, too close to his ear for Owen to keep a steady breath. "You remember? How good it was? How you liked it? Because I do. And boy, you felt so great," he said and kissed Owen who didn't respond but didn't pull back. "Yeah, I miss that," Arthur admitted, kissing him again. This time Owen responded despite himself. Their tongues met and battled for dominance and Arthur won, because he always did. He pulled back with a nervous laugh. "Yeah, definitely. You were good. But that wasn't really love, Ethan. It was sex. Really good sex, I have to say, but still, just sex, you know?"
Owen moved forward when Arthur put his chair back on his four feet again. Owen closed his eyes and mentally cursed himself for still wanting Arthur after all this time. It wasn't his fault. Arthur was what he liked, green eyes, dark hair, a rare but cute smile when he was happy. A creepy one when he wasn't, like right now, but God, even this was sexy. Trying to ignore what he felt for the man, Owen changed the subject.
"Did you... Did you at least shoot Ianto for a reason?"
"I clearly didn't. It was fun, you know? And I loved seeing you with a gun but not even able to shoot me. You didn't answer me, by the way. Why didn't you?"
"I'm not a killer," Owen spat.
Arthur laughed. A forced, too loud laugh.
"Yeah, sure. We both know this isn't quite the truth, you know? Do you even know the number of lives you've ruined?"
"I don't care."
"See? You could come back with me. I'd have to be your tutor for a while, though. It could be fun."
"Two hundreds and twenty-one."
"What?"
"I've killed eighty-two persons, and ruined two hundreds and twenty-one lives. Husbands, wives, children, parents, best friends... I've given four years of my life for this and I'm not fucking proud of this. So why? Why are you doing this? I have to live with this number everyday of my life and trust me, I don't need you lot to think about it. So tell me why, why you're so keen on ruining what I've built since I left?"
"You didn't leave! I let you leave! I fucking let you live! You're the one who came back, you're the one who... you... Maybe I did, you know?" Arthur scoffed after a hesitation.
"Did what?"
"Like you. Even love you. I don't know, okay? Because you were... you just were here and we were fucking good, and sex was fucking great, and we were good partners, the missions were so easy and... They ordered me to kill you, you know? I didn't. I fucking didn't because... Because I was starting to feel something, and that was the first time in my life, and fuck, that felt so great sometimes but so... so painful. I blew the thing up. I knew you would survive. I just didn't... I didn't think..." Arthur sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "I'm sorry. This is the only kill I am sorry about, you know?"
Owen stared at him, taken aback. He hadn't expected this. Especially not from someone like Arthur.
"I was young and fuck, I fell for you. Hard. But we can't. Not in this job. Maybe that's why I shot that guy."
"Ianto," Owen said, unable to remain silent as he had said 'guy' with such disgust, and Ianto was Owen's friend. He had to defend him...
"Whatever. You like him, don't you?"
"Wait? What?" Owen scoffed then really laughed. "Ianto? He's totally in love with... with..."
"Yeah, Jack, I've been spying on you lot, you're not protecting him by not saying his name, you know?"
"So how in the name of God did you come to the conclusion that I was attracted somehow by Ianto?"
"You're stupid, aren't you? You don't even realise it. You think you hate him, sometimes. But you truly do love him. He's the one you look after the most."
"What the hell are you... Okay I give up," Owen sighed. He hated when people read through lines that didn't exist.
"You took a bullet for him once. You would have never done that before."
"Yeah? Well, big news, I've changed."
"Or you're in love."
"Yeah yeah, whatever pleases you."
"I knew it!"
"Arthur just... Oh God you haven't changed."
"I actually did, you know?"
"You know what? I didn't fucking miss your 'y'know's. Can you hear yourself? For fuck's sake it's too much, stop saying this!"
Arthur suddenly stood up and hit Owen. They stilled, Arthur panting, his fist still in mid-air, Owen with his face turned to the side because of the punch, an unwelcome taste of blood in his mouth.
"You could have chosen any other face. I wouldn't have come after you. But you chose his. You fucking chose the one I can't... You... Fuck you," he snapped and left the room.
Owen coughed and spat some blood. He winced when he tested his teeth with his tongue, one half gone. That explained the blood. Well, Arthur knew how to punch, that hadn't changed.
He didn't know what to do. He was playing the smartest with Arthur but he knew his life was at stake. And he had no fucking idea of how he could get himself out of this situation. He had been joking around when he was younger. He had flirted with Arthur and they had ended up sleeping together once. Then another. And another. And it had been convenient and pretty good, so Owen had let himself enjoy the moment. But he hadn't been in love, he had never felt anything else than a deep desire for Arthur, but only physically. And he would have never thought Arthur could have fallen for him. He actually thought nobody could fall for him, he just wasn't the kind to settle down, and he was a bit of a jerk most of the time. Well. That sounded exactly like Arthur.
Arthur was back before he could even begin to think of an escape plan. He was dragging a table this time, and set it in front of Owen with a creepy smile that wasn't sexy at all now.
"I want to speak to Ethan, so I'm getting to him. Oh and I've changed too, you know? I'm not stupid any more, I'm not young any more... Best of all, whatever I might have felt, I don't any more," he said, hitting the table with his hand for no particular reason if not to startle Owen.
Owen threw an alarmed look at the table, only noticing now what was on it. He was going to torture him. When had he become a torturer? That wasn't the right question. Owen struggled against the rope, grunting at the pain and at what would soon come. Fuck, he needed to get out of here.