17. Stuff Keeps Happening And I Personally Want It To Stop

62 6 0
                                    

Evelina's POV

There are voices in my mind, and they're screaming at me.

It's night, it's dark, I know that, but all my other knowledge is being pushed out by the voices. I've never heard them before; they sound different each time they speak, but they're screaming in the same way; painfully.
"Evy?" I hear a sleepy question, just barely over the voices, and I whisper, "Hello?" because I forget who is near me. Where am I?

I sharply move away from a hand that falls on my shoulder, and drop onto the floor with a thump. That makes the voices leave. And makes my head hurt. As I rub my temples, Owen looks over the side of the bed, retainers in as he mumbles, "What are you doing?"
"I, don't really know, I... I heard voices... and I forgot who you were."

He wriggles half off the bed to meet me. We may not be talking right now, but he's still a doctor.
"Is the Rift active?"
"No more than usual, I think," I reply after a moment of searching my psychic link to it. "The Rift has never had a voice before, and I know this is something different. I can just... feel it."

He looks at me with worry, and his face is so soft, so vulnerable, so afraid, so unnaturally Owen, that for a few minutes I just lay there and dream that we were like we were before. Carefree.

And then it ends.

I distract myself by looking at the glow-in-the-dark alarm clock on the bedside table, and see that it's almost 5am. Well, might as well make a good impression showing up to work early. Would show Jack that I'm fine, not overtired and unable to work.
I go to stand but Owen catches my arm, keeping me crouching.
"Where are you going?"
I shrug and say, "Get ready for work," and attempt to stand again, to which Owen still hangs onto me.

"It's five in the morning, Evy-"
"Evelina," I'm quick to correct, quick to show him our relationship has changed.
"Yes, Evelina, it's five in the morning," he continues, "and you showed up wankered out of your mind only three hours ago. And now you say you've had voices in your head? Even if only one of those things had happened, you're not fit enough to go into work. What if it happens again?"

"What if it does?" I actually snarl, something that surprises even myself. So what if it happens? It's nothing to do with the Rift, so I won't be hurt when I'm at the Hub; he just wants to have an excuse to talk to me and pretend he's not a supreme arsehole.

After deliberation he lets go of my arm, and I storm out of the bedroom without another word. I wish he wasn't here. I wish he had his own bed so I don't have to watch him sleep and yearn for him. I wish he was the old Owen I knew.

In the bathroom I take a hot shower, hot enough to feel my skin sting. My head tilts back until the water hits me straight in the face. It's soothing. Makes me forget.
But I remember as soon as I step out the cubicle, and as I brush my teeth I look at myself in the mirror. My black hair is unbrushed and has been for a few days now, not being bothered, and my irises change colour quicker than usual. The neon pink and electric blue swirl so fast that they almost block out the bright sea green in them. That can't be good, but I can't ask Owen, because I can't talk to him, because it'll hurt too much for him to know yet another thing about me.

And then take it for granted.

I stare at myself, then throw my brush down on the side. Why am I so hung up on him? I'm a grown goddamn woman, a powerful Time Lord, and it's not like we ever said we were exclusive. Him sleeping with a friend of mine is none of my business, and if he wants to break up a relationship, he can go right ahead.

Tosh is wrong: I can get rid of feelings if I want to. I will.

I lick my lips to get rid of any toothpaste residue and walk back into the kitchen. Owen is standing at the island, holding out a mug of morning cappuccino. With extra chocolate flakes on top. God, I hate that he knows me so well.

While I go into the bedroom silently and begin to get dressed, he starts talking.
"Ianto told me you were passed out for almost everything, that case in the countryside," he says, more a confirmation than a question. I nod, not really sure where this is going.

He sighs with an edge, rubbing the back of his head. His eyelids are sloped down - he's being serious.

"They weren't aliens, the murderers in there; they were humans. Cannibals. They caught us all, apart from Jack, who wound up saving us. Evelina," he says, using my full name, making me start and look at him, "there was nothing we could do. They were so close to killing us. I was... I was terrified. I don't think I've felt so genuinely scared to my core since... since Katie. And my first thought was you."

We were already looking at each other, into our eyes, but after he says that, it's like his eyes unlock another layer. His feelings are raw, ripped apart from him and laid before me as an act of honesty and vulnerability. I've never seen him so willingly exposed.

He carries on: "I needed you. When I saw you passed out on the floor, so close to death - even though I knew you'd survive, or do whatever your species does, I became more scared for you than I was for myself. These monsters were about to cut my throat and skin me, and the sight of you shook me to my core. I just wanted you to know that... it doesn't matter what happens to us. I'll always... care about you."

A small part of me hoped he was going to say love. But then a larger part of me knows that'll never happen. If it was, he would have apologized for Gwen. And he didn't. So why did he bring this up?

I hold his gaze, and tell him, "I don't want to see you."
His face falls, and as I walk out the front door of the flat I can feel his regretting eyes on me.

Sparkling Cosmos {A Torchwood Story Two} [COMPLETED]Where stories live. Discover now