The year is 1965. Four years after the return of Owen Carvour. Well, return was perhaps not the best word for it. No one else knew that he was alive, or at least so he and his family thought. The five of them had mostly been able to live out their lives in relative peace. The twins were now fifteen years old, despite having been kept inside for most of their lives, both of them were growing into relatively normal young women. Tatiana and her sister Nadia had taken to visiting more. Thankfully, Nadia and Margaret had become… closer throughout the years if that was the right word for it. Ellie had come out of her shell, beginning to have a more even split of traits from each of her fathers. And Curt and Owen’s relationship was only stronger than it had been before 1957. The two men had grown and developed together, grown an understanding of how-to best care for the other. They both spent most of their time looking after their two girls along with the twins’ grandmother. All the personal history that the two men shared had only worked to strengthen their relationship in the long run.
But history had a funny way of catching up to you. And Curt and Owen were no exception.
The morning was peaceful. Curt woke up as he did most days, his head resting on Owen’s chest, arms wrapped tightly around the other man. This position only changed when Owen had nightmares of Chimera, in which case Owen would be the one in Curt’s arms and not the other way around. Light had streamed in through the cracks in the tattered blinds behind them and Curt had heard Owen groan softly. He had adjusted their position, so they were facing each other on their sides in his effort to roll over to avoid the light. Curt found his reluctance to wake up most days endearing.
“Good morning.” He whispered gently to the other man who huffed and buried his face in Curt’s neck, doing anything to not face him. Curt laughed again, shifting to try and coax Owen into waking up. “Owen, you have to get up, I’m not letting you sleep in for the fifth time this week, I’m not caving.”
“You’ve said that the other four times, love.” His voice was muffled by his head placement, but Curt still could hear Owen’s loving backchat. “You caved then.” Curt felt Owen huff again against his collar bone and decided to employ a different strategy to wake his partner.
“Owen Carvour, if you don’t get out of this bed within the next five minutes, I will not lock Oleg in the laundry for the next week and force you to feed him every hour when he comes in here crying.” Curt threatened quietly, whispering into his partner’s ear. Owen groaned and finally flopped over. Though he was the only cat person in the family beside Curt’s mother, Oleg was a pain when it came to being fed on the regular.
“Fine. Fine, you got me.” Owen sighed, looking at him with a faux-frustrated expression. “That monster stays in the laundry every night or I will not hesitate to draw the gun in the bedside table on you. I’m joking, love.” Owen felt the need to drop that into any threatening comment he made towards Curt. They were always jokes but he knew Curt was sensitive to the possibility of Owen turning against him and his family again. He couldn’t let Curt think he was still a monster. Curt nodded, kissing Owen’s cheek before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
"I know you were." His voice was still deep, and sleep ridden as the American man looked at his partner. "Care to join me in the kitchen to make breakfast?" He often dropped in his best impressions of Owen's accent and often heightened language, which often caused his partner to roll his eyes. Curt enjoyed mocking their dialect differences even if his impression of Owen was incredibly poor. Owen sat up.
"Yeah, of course..." He mumbled in his best impression of Curt's American drawl, forcing a laugh from the younger man who pulled him up from the bed. Owen smiled, fixing his bed shirt before turning to make the bed as he did most mornings to Curt's chagrin.
"You make sure to do it in front of me to make a point, huh?" He folded his arms and raised his eyebrow as he watched the British man pull the sheets up. The cheeky bugger just turned and kissed his cheek.
"Never." Owen just took his hand and led him out of their bedroom, into the long hallway that connected the upstairs of the house. It was oddly quiet, even for a Saturday morning. Even if the girls were asleep, Owen would usually still hear Ellie mumbling in her sleep, a habit she had picked up from him. But it was deathly quiet. He took note of the irregularity as he and Curt continued downstairs, releasing their cat from the laundry on the way down.
Curt tiredly trudged to the kitchen while Owen went to the cat bowls by the landing of the stairs, filling them with a sigh. It seemed like a regular morning for the pair, just preparing for a day with their daughters. Owen would probably be helping with their lessons again; Nadia would be coming to spend time with Margaret and Ellie that night. But something was still strange about that morning. When Curt and Owen made the call for breakfast, neither of their daughters came downstairs. Curt had gone to get his mother, so Owen was left in the silence, just looking upstairs and waiting for the girls to come down.
But they never did.
"Margaret? Elliana?" He called out again. But there was still nothing. Owen frowned more as Curt and Ms Mega joined him in the room. Curt looked around expectantly for their daughters.
"Where are they?" He asked softly, confused. Neither girl was a particularly deep sleeper.
That's how they realised that their past was still a lot closer than they thought. Now they were stood in Ellie and Margaret's room, looking at a messily scrawled note.
‘Dear Agents Mega and Carvour,
You may have not realised exactly how much of an effect your selfish and senseless actions had. We are determined to remind you. We have both Elliana and Margaret, your two daughters. We are willing to negotiate, we aren’t the monsters here after all. The two of you, along with Tatiana Slozhno and Barbara Larvenor are to meet us at the following location in five hours in order to settle the terms for the return of your daughters and Ms Slozhno’s sister.
We are not the unreasonable ones.
Owen began shaking after reading it.