Owen tried not to fumble his gun, knowing that if he dropped it he wasn't getting it back. Besides, going back for it was a Curt move, and Owen prided himself on being the smarter of the two. He had an easy way to decide what would be a smart choice: simply think, "What would Curt do in this situation?" and do the exact opposite. It hasn't failed him yet.

But, back to the situation at hand. Owen and Curt were being chased down the poorly lit hallway by about a dozen Russian soldiers. Owen's gun wasn't loaded, the shots used to make 15 a dozen. He didn't look over at Curt to see what he was doing. Again, he was the smarter of the two.

As if his thoughts had provoked him, Curt called to him in a breathless voice, "We're running out of time!"

Owen didn't respond. Curt had known him long enough to have an idea of what his answer would be. Deadpan with an expletive or two thrown in.

Two lefts and a right passed before Owen lost track of where they had planted the bomb. After the right, Owen and Curt entered a medium-sized room that was being partially used as storage. Up a set of metal stairs was a metal door, light shining underneath and, oh, this was the room next to the one with the bomb in it. That's not good.

Owen and Curt were back to back, surrounded by armed Russians. Looking at each other out of the sides of their eyes, the two nodded and in sync, raised their hands in surrender. Owen quickly ran through a few different options on how to escape.

Option one: Let the Russians take them wherever they take trespassers, and knock out the guards (there would be less than there are currently).

Problem: He would be separated from Curt, and there was no guarantee that he would be able to find him before the bomb went off. Also, he had a feeling the Russians dealt with trespassers… quickly.

Option two: Throw his gun as a distraction and lunge at the nearest guard. Then he and Curt could take on the remaining guards.

Problem: That sounded like something Curt would do and Owen tried to avoid making those choices.

Option three-

Owen's mental checklist was interrupted by a deafening explosion that shook the room. The Russians fell over, Owen just barely able to keep his footing. As the Russians were distracted, Owen turned to Curt and called his name in questioning.

Curt turned to him, guilt barely visible. "I lied, I set the timer to three minutes!" Owen sighed; that was such a Curt thing to do it almost caused him pain. The Russians were still on the floor, turning to each other, trying to find out what had happened. They started to gather their wits (or whatever they had in place of wit). Curt grabbed his arm. "Time to go!"

Owen followed as Curt sprinted up the stairs. The building shook again as Owen climbed the first set, two more above his head. He heard a clang and a broken piece of the stairway railing fell past him.

"Careful Curt!" Owen called ahead as he rounded the second platform. Curt was at the third (and final) platform. He continued to move as he looked back at Owen with a cheeky smile. He opened his mouth to respond (probably some half thought out retort) when everything went to shit.

Owen swears everything seemed to slow down. The building shaking as Curt turned to look at him. Curt's eyes widening as he lost his balance. Curt reaching out for the railing. The look of fear in his eyes as his hand met air, the railing nearly 8 meters below. Curt's body falling out of the opening. Racing up the few remaining steps. Curt's fingers brushing his. Curt mouthing 'I love you'. The loud crack of Curt's body hitting the concrete. Seeing his twisted, twitching form, blood pooling underneath. Hitting the railing behind him. Racing up the stairs as the building shook and pieces of the roof fell.

He reached the door, slamming it open. He didn't stop running until he reached the clearing with the helicopter waiting for him. He hopped in, pulling the door closed, hearing the sound of a building collapsing. With Curt in it. He buckled himself in and took the offered mic set. He closed his eyes, tried not to cry.

He tried to rationalize, something he was very good at. There was no way he would've been able to grab Curt and carry him outside safely without getting them both killed. And even if he did, Curt likely wouldn't have survived his injuries, and if he did, he likely would've been paralyzed. Yeah, leaving him was the best option, for both of them.

At least, that's what Owen told himself as the helicopter took off, carrying him back to the meetup spot.

Alone.