If anything feels vague in this chapter, I did that on purpose. Honest.

Harry was depressed.

And in Bob's opinion, it was the worst kind of depression. It wasn't severe enough that the wizard would take to drinking alone in dark rooms or anything like that. It was the mild, obstinate kind of depression. Had Harry's emotional state been a little more severe, Bob would know what to do. He could coax his former student out of his black moods with equal helpings of sympathy and sarcasm until Harry would have little choice but to pull himself together. It was akin to combating a particularly nasty flu with strong medication. But a weak depression was all the more challenging and harder to extract.

And a week of it had left Harry devoid of any real energy, allowing his already shoddy housekeeping to double in neglect, judging by the unwashed dishes that were so many in number that they'd taken to spilling out of the sink. Bob eyed them with a small sigh. If this went on to next week, he was pretty sure some new life form would emerge from within the tower of plates.

The ghost wasn't alone in noticing Harry's dark mood. Murphy had attempted to throw a few cases in the wizard's direction to at least distract him from wallowing. Only it had become rather obvious to Harry, even in his state, that his services were not needed and more the point, they hadn't been approved by the police department. And as desperate as Harry might be for money, he drew the line at taking Murphy's when the policewoman had attempted to secretly pay him out of her own pocket.

Mooching a lunch or two from her was one thing. Taking a week's fee was something completely different.

Bob could understand the reasoning. He only wished that a genuine case would hurry up and land on Harry's doorstep. Even a client looking for Harry to find her lost cat would be appreciated. If anything, the ghost hoped for a milder case after the last one that had caused the wizard to sink into his current state to begin with.

A put off yowl broke Bob from his thoughts. He turned in time to see Mister pad into the kitchen. When the orange cat saw nothing new had been added to his food bowl, he gave the ghost an accusatory stare.

"Believe me, if it were up to me you'd be fed by now," Bob muttered, giving the cat an equally cold stare. The feline trotted over to him and sat by his feet, an expectant expression on the furry face. "There's not much I can do about it," he defended. "When he gets this way one can only wait it out."

Mister mewed, not breaking his gaze.

"Listen, it's not as if I haven't tried," Bob said, crossing his arms. "Don't look at me like that. When you can contribute a suitable suggestion, then you can-"

"Bob, what're you doing?"

The ghost looked up to see Harry standing by the entrance way to the kitchen with a puzzled look on his face.

"I was simply…talking to the cat," Bob finished, refusing to let his voice betray the fact that even he found his own behavior bizarre. Mister twisted around to stare over at Harry and Bob could swear the feline had a challenging look on his face, as if to dare Harry to make a comment about it.

I've allied myself with a cat, Bob realized. These days were apparently darker than he'd originally thought.

He carefully watched Harry as the wizard wordlessly opened up his cabinets in search of a clean mug. Despite a week having gone by, Harry still moved with some stiffness when it came to his right shoulder.

"You're out of dishware," Bob stated, gesturing toward the tower of dishes. He had a momentary surge of hope when Harry actually went to the sink, but the wizard only extracted the nearest dirty mug and began to rinse it out. "It might have escaped your dulled senses," the ghost said, "But there are actually more than one unwashed cup in that sink."

"Bob, don't hassle me about it now. I'll get to it."

"And exactly what sort of time consuming activity is occupying you these days?" Bob inquired.

Harry shot him a look. "I'm busy wallowing," he deadpanned.

"Well, they say recognition of the problem is the first step," replied Bob.

"It's not a problem. I'm just feeling a little tired, that's it," Harry insisted, flicking the now fairly cleaned out mug to get rid of the excess water.

Bob pointed a pale finger at Mister. "I believe he feels differently."

As if on cue, the cat moved over to the wizard and began to not so much rub itself against his legs as aggressively push against them. Harry reached down to scratch the soft head. "No worries, Mister. I'm fine."

Bob rolled his eyes as Mister ducked away from Harry's hand. "He wants to be fed, Harry."

The wizard gave a chuckle as he insistently rubbed at the cat's head again. "That all I am to you, Mister? The human food dispenser? Come on, where's the love?" he asked the feline as Mister tried to shake off the hand.

"In the third cabinet, behind the empty cereal boxes," Bob supplied.

Harry sighed and straightened to get the food when the phone in the storefront rang. Bob silently prayed to no one in particular that it was a case, rather than a debt collector. The ghost silently followed Harry as the wizard left the unhappy Mister to answer the phone first.

Shifting through the piles of papers on his desk, Harry finally located the phone.

"Hello?"

"Harry Dresden." The speaker sounded pretty confident he'd reached the right number, which to Harry almost always meant it was a debt collector.

"Speaking," he said, warily. "Who's this?"

"Captain Jack Harkness."

Harry drew a blank. "Uh…okay." He stared at the miscellaneous papers on his desk as if they might help him in remembering the name.

"You helped me out with a ghost problem a few months back," the caller clarified.

"Uh huh…"

"In Cardiff?"

"Oh, right!" The memory of a tall, dark-haired man rose up in Harry's mind. "Yeah, sure."

"You didn't remember me?" The voice sounded too bemused to be insulted. "That's a first."

"Sorry, it's been kind of a…hectic week," Harry apologized and lied. "I suck with names."

"I take it this means you're a busy guy."

Harry randomly glanced at his last bank statement open on the desk, which was less of a statement and more of the bank mocking him in clear print. "What can I do for you?" Harry asked instead of answering. He noted from his watch that it was close to ten o'clock at night in Wales.

"I'm in need of your services again."

"Another ghost?" Harry asked.

"Seems like it," he said almost casually. "Are you free for a few days to come?"

Switching the phone handle to cradle against his good shoulder, Harry pushed a few papers off his desk and sat down. "Well, hang on. You might not even need me," he said. Now that he could remember Captain Harkness, he had a few more pieces fall into place such as what Harkness did for a living. "You sure it's not…aliens or whatever it is you specialize in?"

"It's not an alien," Harkness assured. "Look, if you're available, I can get a ticket for you out here as early as tomorrow. Take a look and if I'm right, it's a quick exorcism like last time. If I'm wrong, you get a nice holiday out of it."

"Exorcisms aren't really that simple," Harry said. He paused to reach for a pencil and something to write on, choosing in the end a torn envelope that had once held his electricity bill. "What's been happening?"

"We've been having power outages the last two days," said Harkness, his voice switching from friendly to what Harry could identify as official mode. He'd hung around Murphy long enough to know the tone. "I went to the basement level with another person to check it out and while I was down there, I could hear things that weren't there."

"What sort of things?"

"Screaming. Shouting."

"Okay, go on."

"Toshiko got some sort of shock when we were down there. She said it was like ice had gone inside of her. But she said it was gone by the time we got back upstairs. Only after that she attacked someone else on my team, like someone had possessed her to do it."

"Ghosts can't possess people," Harry interjected absently as he wrote his notes.

"What?"

"Ghosts can't possess people," the wizard repeated. "They can make people sense them and influence them that way. But they don't have the power to take over a live human. Let alone make them do something against their will."

"You sure?" Harry could practically hear the frown across the phone lines.

"Trust me, I live with the oldest ghost in existence. If he wanted to possess someone, he would have by now."

"Toshiko wouldn't attack anyone without cause," said Harkness. "Let alone a member of the team."

"Maybe she had cause?" Harry suggested.

"No, she didn't." The statement sounded confident and final.

"Okay," said Harry, moving away from that line of inquiry. "Is she still feeling homicidal?"

"No. If anything she's mortified over the entire thing."

"You could be looking at something other than a ghost," Harry mused. "Unless you have an idea of who it might be. Do you have a guess?"

There was a pause before Harkness' voice came back, now switched over to friendly mode again. "I think things would be easier if we could talk about this in person."

"Yeah, but you might not need me to actually come."

"I'm detecting some reluctance here."

Harry was very much aware that Bob was now standing silently, but very presently by his left, almost intimidating Harry to accept the case. The wizard knew he could use the job, but something about this felt…off. Plus his shoulder was starting to ache again. "I'm just talking in terms of practicality for you, Captain," Harry explained, ignoring Bob's stare.

"Jack."

"Jack," Harry amended. "If I do go, I'll need to bring some stuff with me that might be a little awkward with airport security."

"You talking about Bob?" asked Harkness.

Harry blinked. "Uh…yeah. I don't think customs would be all that casual about me bringing a human skull."

"That's not a problem," Harkness dismissed. "You accept and you'll be through security faster than the Pope. You can bring the skull as a carry on if you want. How soon can you get your affairs in order?"

"Um, hang on…" Harry suddenly felt like the conversation was getting away from him a little. "I haven't said yes, yet."

"First class ticket. Five star accommodation." Harry could hear the grin from the captain's voice. "I'll even pay you in pounds. With the exchange rate what it is, you'll make double your usual salary."

Harry remained silent, but looked up to see Bob giving him an anticipatory stare. Keeping his eyes on the necromancer, Harry finally replied into the phone, "I can be ready to go by tomorrow afternoon."

"Perfect. I'll send over your itinerary today."

"I don't have email," Harry began.

"I know. You'll get it by messenger."

Harry frowned. "You know I don't have email?"

"You said you and electronics don't mix the last time you were here," Harkness replied. "I took an educated guess. You'll have everything this afternoon."

"This afternoon?" Now Harry made an educated guess. "You already booked me a flight and hotel, didn't you?" He sounded just on the other side of accusatory, but Harkness only laughed.

"Sharp. I like that."

"How did you-"

"As someone once told me, it never hurts to be prepared," Harkness cut in smoothly. "See you in Cardiff."

Before Harry had a chance to respond, Jack Harkness hung up.

As Jack replaced the phone back on the cradle, Ianto knocked on his open door.

"I'm off," said the Welshman, walking in. "Do you need anything before I go?"

Jack opened his mouth to ask Ianto to stay the night. It was late anyway and with Dresden now coming, it could be a few days before he had another chance. But he considered how small his bed downstairs was and the last thing Ianto needed was his injury to be aggravated.

"How's the arm?" Jack asked instead.

Owen had given Ianto ten stitches and wonderfully effective painkillers. And hidden underneath layers of wool and Ianto's barely noticeable stiffness, one wouldn't think his arm had been opened up just two days ago.

"It's fine," Ianto said, automatically, having answered the question already six times over during the course of the day from just about everyone. Ianto shifted a little under the inscrutable look Jack was giving him as the captain rose from his seat to lean against the front of his desk by where the archivist stood. He frowned when Jack lightly grasped his hand. Jack never held hands unless hand holding was a lead up to sex or having to run from imminent danger. But the gesture now wasn't a lead up to anything. Jack was just holding his hand. "What-"

"Everything's going to be okay," Jack said, suddenly.

Ianto gave a short laugh in efforts to dispel the strange tension that seemed to have come from nowhere. "I think Tosh could do with the assurance more than me. Owen's still hasn't found anything with the scans." Jack smiled a little at that, but his eyes remained troubled. "Jack? What's wrong? Other than the obvious?"

At that, Jack finally released his fingers and moved his hand to rest lightly on Ianto's uninjured shoulder before giving it a casual pat. "Nothing other than the obvious," he replied, now smiling his more usual smile. "Better get home," he advised. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Cardiff?" Murphy asked, incredulously. "Going international? Your business must be doing better than I thought," she said, amused.

"It's just one case," Harry informed over the phone. "But it might take a few days. Could you take Mister while I'm gone?"

Murphy wasn't a big cat person. But her daughter was and the fact that Harry was taking a job she took as a good sign for his mental state. "Yeah, fine," she agreed, putting in a slightly exasperated tone for good measure. "You better bring me back a nice souvenir."

"I'll bring you back the best thing Cardiff has to offer," Harry assured.

"I don't need my own Welsh baritone, Harry," Murphy replied. "Just something nicer than a tee shirt."

"Check," said Harry with a grin. "Thanks, Murph. I appreciate it."

"I'll swing by tomorrow morning."

Hanging up, the smile on Harry's face dropped off into a more contemplative frown.

"For a man about to travel first class, you look unusually morose," Bob commented, seeing the expression.

"There's something about this I don't like," Harry admitted. "It feels…too fast. With the tickets and everything." It had taken all of one hour before a messenger had knocked on Harry's door with a packet that contained Harry's entire itinerary.

"Are you certain you're not mistaking competence for fast?" inquired Bob. "I know you're a bit out of practice with being in demand."

"Funny," Harry said, his glare showing it was anything but.

"All humor aside, Harry, a case would be good for you," the ghost stated.

"You're just saying that because you finally get to leave Chicago."

"As pleasant as a change of scenery would be, I'm more interested in seeing you gainfully employed." Harry remained silent as Bob studied his former pupil. "Do you really have strong reservations about this case?"

"I get antsy around powerful people. You know that," said Harry.

"The captain seemed perfectly genial the last time we saw him."

"Yeah, he's all charm," Harry agreed with a suspicious tone.

"Well, I know you're a bit out of practice with charm."

"Funny, Bob," Harry repeated, irritated. "Doesn't change the fact we found a murdered girl in his basement."

"True," Bob relented. "But from what I observed during my unwanted stay last time-"

"I said I was sorry about that."

"I don't believe the captain to be of malicious intent," Bob continued over the interruption. "If anything this organization of his seems to operate with the good of the world in mind."

Harry mulled over the words, crossing his arms as he leaned against his desk in thought. "You know that saying about the road being paved with good intentions?" he finally asked.

"I prefer the more simpler saying of don't jump to conclusions," Bob replied, dryly.

"Since when did you become the open-minded one of this business?"

"Since I've begun to talk to cats," answered the ghost with some finality. "You best begin packing."

TBC