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The whole thing happens too quickly for Owen to really process it properly. They're on a standard mission, nothing out of the ordinary in the slightest, and Curt's kicked in the door, and Owen's got his gun raised, and he's almost made a beeline for the safe but-
But suddenly, Curt makes that noise, and at first, Owen thinks he's misheard, because that's the noise, why would he- His trigger finger falters for just a moment before it returns, just close enough to squeeze if needed, and he can't turn around right now, and surely it's nothing, but still-
"Curt?"
And then it's there, it- it happens again, Curt whimpers and suddenly it's like no time has passed at all, they're 15 months into the past and Owen turns, everything soft but his eyes, and says again-
"Curt?"
Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.
Owen whips around just in time to push the man's chest away as he lunges, and he shakes his head, trying to regain his focus, because he can't do this right now, he can't, but that part of his brain that he thought went dormant a little over a year ago listens carefully for the smallest sounds, the tiniest signals of Curt, because he can't always talk, when he's like this-
When he's like what-
When he's-
He's-
The man says something, and Owen doesn't quite register it, mind too occupied, but then Curt makes the The Sound, and the man says something again, and Owen doesn't register this one all the way either, but he hears "lice", and he doesn't understand, and he LOATHES not understanding something, but then he hears "shave" and-
He hears nothing else.
No, no, he hears, but he doesn't- He doesn't allow the words to form in his mind, doesn't give enough of a damn to, because Curt made the NOISE and the man said "shave" and this is the man, this is the MAN, and oh-
Oh-
Oh-
Oh, Owen is going to enjoy watching the life drain from this man's eyes, and that's only if he feels charitable enough to ever put him out of his bloody fucking misery, and oh, he's not feeling very charitable right now, not at all-
Lowly, Owen tells Curt to leave the room, get the code, and wait outside, and his voice must reflect even the tiniest bit of what he's feeling, because Curt obeys without a word of protest.
And something else is going on in the background, maybe, maybe the planet is shifting, or maybe, just maybe, whatever God Owen prayed to when he was young enough to think it did something has sensed that He needs to stop time right now because there is something more important right now, because there isn't a single other thing going on in the world when Owen finally pounces.
It's foggy, really, the whole thing is a blurry mess, but he thinks Curt gets the file successfully, and he doesn't think any of the man's lackies bother to try and stop him, which makes sense, he supposes, because he doesn't really care enough to pay attention to their reactions but he can hear at least two people unable to stop throwing up, and Owen bites back a smirk, because they've barely even begun, no, no, this doesn't even begin until this man screams in enough pain to match the pain he caused Curt, and unfortunately for this man, he has a long way to go.
It's foggy, at the end of the day, because he doesn't really need to pay attention, just so long as the job gets done, and when he comes back to himself fully, there's not enough of anything left for Owen to even worry about burying, so he assumes the job was done well enough.
He looks up to see Curt outside the door of the building, kneeling, and he rushes towards him, reaching within a few inches before he collapses.
"Curt," Owen pants out, heart still pounding in his chest with a mix of adrenaline and rage and something too raw to really name, but even still, there's a piece of his brain nagging at him to check on Curt right now, because bloody hell- "Curt?"
He forces himself up off of the ground, head whipping around until he catches Curt's eye. Nothing.
"Curt!"
The minute it comes out, he winces at himself. Brilliant, yell at the man probably having a bloody panic attack-
But it barely registers. Slowly, like coming out of a trance of sorts, Curt blinks owlishly, staring up at Owen. "What?"
"Are you alright?"
Curt's eyebrows crease, and he looks down, as if noticing his surroundings for the first time.
"Curt," Owen stresses, "Are you alright?"
"I-" Curt blinks again, then shakes his head. "What? I'm fine."
Owen sags, somewhat relieved at the reply, but continues eyeing Curt warily. "You're... You're sure?"
"Yes? I'm- Why wouldn't I be?"
"Just..." Owen fumbles for something to say. "You... That man, he said that he..."
The change is instant. The Curt of a year or so ago is gone, and the Curt in his place looks ready to attack anyone who dares to imply he's ever been anyone different.
This Curt turns quickly, practically snarling, "He said what? Since when do we care what the bad guy says?! We got the code, we blew up the place, let's just fucking go."
"I'm just trying to make sure you're alright-"
"Jesus, Owen, I said I'm fine!"
Owen reels back, but before he can reply, Curt pushes to his feet, starting towards the car without even bothering to check if his partner is following.
Stunned, Owen starts after him.
Curt reaches the car in a few quick strides, yanking open the door to the driver's seat shoving himself inside.
"Curt- I don't think-"
Ignoring him, Curt thrusts the key towards the ignition, missing entirely. Curt growls, trying again.
"Love..."
It takes six tries to get the key in, the trembling of Curt's hands only worsening. He reaches for the wheel, only to be blocked by Owen.
"Curt," Owen says lowly, "I really don't think you should be driving right now."
Huffing, Curt stands, walking to the passenger seat without another word.
Slowly, Owen takes the driver's seat, staring.
"Are we going or not?!"
"Seatbelt," Owen says quietly. He waits until he hears the click before continuing. "Curt... Can we talk about what just happened?"
"Yes," Curt says tersely. "It's called a mission report. You can do mine if you're so fucking hyped about it. Let's go."
Owen scoffs, incredulous. "I'm not driving until we talk about this, Curt!"
"Then let me drive the fucking car."
"Christ, Curt, can you stop acting like a toddler for two seconds?!"
"I'm not," Curt snaps, "You're the one that won't drop it!"
"Because we can't just drop this, Curt! That man-"
"Is dead now, so why do you give a shit?!"
"He hurt you-"
Curt slams his hands against the dashboard. "And you hurt him, so it's done, and I said I'm fucking fine!"
"You're shaking like a bloody leaf, Curt!"
"Yeah, because I'm pissed off!"
"For Christ's sake," Owen exclaims, throwing his hands up in exasperation, "Just-"
Curt's body seems to register it before either of their minds do, because the reaction is instant. Curt flinches violently enough to shake the car, eyes widening as he curls into himself as much as possibly.
Owen's arms fall to his side.
"I-"
The words die in his throat.
"Curt," He whispers. "I wasn't- I wouldn't..."
Curt's hands curl into fists, still trembling.
"Curt-"
"I know."
"...Please let me help."
"I don't need your help," Curt grits out, voice breaking.
"Let me help anyway," Owen begs, "Please, love."
Curt doesn't respond.
Owen reaches a hand out, slowly placing it on Curt's shoulder, and murmurs, as softly as he's able, "Darling..."
Curt crumbles at the touch, letting out a weak sob.
Silently, Owen turns the car off, reaching over and pulling Curt into his arms. Curt's face immediately finds the crook of Owen's neck, digging in.
"It's alright, dear, it's okay. He's gone, alright? He's gone. You're alright."
Curt clings to him, fingers gripping his jacket tight enough to hurt, and Owen holds back just at tight, rocking them both back and forth just slightly.
Owen combs a hand through Curt's hair gently, frowning at the blood falling from Owen's skin and onto him.
Curt should never, ever have blood on him again.
Owen will ensure he doesn't.
The next person that dares to even try torturing Curt Mega is a dead man.
And Owen will ensure they suffer until they die.