Owen, who had had his vision pointed in the option direction and had started to let his mind just blank (a past time that he had only picked up a few months after the start of their imprisonment), started at the familiar voice, his head turning so fast that his neck audibly snapped.
"Ianto?" Owen asked, his voice a mix of hopeful and disbelieving. This couldn't be happening. Owen had watched him die. He'd held him, trying in vain to get him to drink something, when it had happened. "How...? It's not...? Is it really you?"