22. Combat

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I wake up at sunrise, blinking ferociously, and look behind me to see if Owen finally slept next to me. But, like the night before and the night before that, and a few more nights before that, he's not there.

As of late, he's reverted back to his old ways, i.e spending nights alone at a bar, not bringing anyone back and spending his sleep on the sofa. Whenever I wake up before him and go into the kitchen, I catch him lying on his back, fast asleep with his arms stuffed under a throw cushion. He always looks so... disturbed. Lonely. As much as I hate to admit it, it breaks my heart.

This morning I trudge into the kitchen, make a cappuccino (his are better), get dressed and head off for work. Halfway there, I get a phone call from Jack and hold it to my ear.
"What's up?"
"When you get to the Hub, I need you to try and connect with the Weevils," my boss says on the other end. So no hello, then? "About fifteen minutes ago, one of our Weevils started moaning. We think it's weeping. Owen had a scan running on them a couple weeks ago about a telepathy their species may have, and since he's not here I want you to finish it."
"Why now?"
There's a pause, then he says, "Someone's taking them."

I stop in the middle of the pavement, causing people to stumble and swear. But I don't care, because if Weevils are being taken... who knows what could happen.

~∆~

Later on, after I bring in and help examine a Weevil attack then spend the next hour side-eyeing the door for when Owen comes back, Gwen storms into the Hub and sits down abruptly at her desk, devoid of any Owens. The pair went to the widow's place together to pay their respects - but only one is back.
I deliberate back and forth before walking over to her and smiling tightly. "How did it go?"

"Shit on a hotplate," is her angry reply, flipping through papers with irritated murmurs before one of them eventually flies off the table. "Fuck's sake!"
"What is it? What happened? Is it Owen?"
Gwen rolls her eyes and says, "Of course it's Owen. He's being a bloody child! Every time you think you're getting close, he shuts you right out again." She bangs a side of the paper pile on the table to illustrate her point, and I bend down and pick up the paper. Don't I know that feeling.

"And I'll bet you're happy too," she adds in a lower tone, and I knit my brows together.
"About Owen being a bitch?"
She shakes her head. "We've stopped. Are you happy now? You have him all to yourself, even though he doesn't deserve you."
I scoff, not showing I'm secretly pleased. "You think I want him after all this? You're fucking welcome to him."
"Well there's no point in saying that now, is there?!" Gwen stands up, ready to fight, and I'm totally up for it too, but Jack runs into the room and splits us up.

"What the hell is up with everyone today?" he shouts. "You're all acting like children! Now go do your work, and help Toshiko!"
Riled up, I sock Jack feebly in the arm to let loose some steam and stomp over to Tosh. She's been watching silently the whole time - she should have popcorn.

"Right then, what's this I need to help with?" I ask in a low grumble; raising her eyebrows she turns back to her computer screens.
"Someone needs an in with the estate agency that owns that warehouse we found Hodges in, see who they know and if we can get information out of them. And the only person they haven't seen, is Owen."
I lean on the back of her chair. "Wait, they've seen me?" I ask her, and she points to CCTV footage of me from last night going solo near the warehouse, chasing down a lead from my old drug ring and taking them to the police. I never realised it was the same place.

Tosh continues: "I'm making a cover story for Owen wanting to buy a warehouse or something of the sort; I'm creating a website advertising his fake business, and by the looks of Jack glaring at you after your fight with Gwen, I'm assuming he wants you to help."

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