What am I doing?
I used to have such a clear idea of how the world worked. Of right and wrong. Of where I stood. Of what sort of person I was.
I don't have that any more, and in this one situation, I really don't know how to get it back. How to be fair to everyone, including myself.
What am I doing?
This thing with Owen, what the hell is it, anyway? I don't want to call it an affair -- that sounds so sleazy, and it's not, well, it is, but...
The thing is, I can't tell Rhys most of what I do. What I see. I can't tell him these things that keep me awake at nights, these nightmares that make it hard to sleep even when I come home exhausted. I suppose... I suppose the dreams, those I could paint as just my mind coming up with all sorts of weird shit, but eventually he'd start to wonder. Rhys isn't stupid. Eventually he'd dig too deep. I can't drag him into Torchwood. If I had any sense I'd leave because he is not safe so long as he's with me.
But I can't. We've been together for four years now, and I just can't. I love him. I do love him.
The thing with Owen was only supposed to be... well, no. It wasn't supposed to be at all. I just wanted someone to talk to about all this mess, and what he offered just happened to be the best sex I've had in... a really long time, if I'm honest with myself. I wasn't thinking straight that first night. It wasn't supposed to turn into a ... whatever it is.
And all this time I've been saying that we'd just stop it one of these days. That he'd get bored, or I would, or maybe my clearly malfunctioning conscience would give me a kick in the arse, or Jack would tell us to knock it off, and we would, or... I don't know. The more I try to think and predict the more it feels like planning, like something willful I'm doing to hurt Rhys.
And now I feel like I'm trying to defend myself and maybe I am. But the thing is...
After this last talk with Owen, I wonder if I'm not going to wind up hurting both of them. I never really thought it through. It sounds stupid, but... the way Owen acts, I thought he was pretty well immune to being hurt. I didn't even think we really so much liked each other all that much. It was just a... I don't know. I don't have an explanation. But the thing is, I was worried. I was really, genuinely worried for him, and I realized that even before this talk, I guess... I really genuinely like him. Not just for the sex.
I'm not sure if that makes it better or worse.