7. Day One

Ianto stared at the phone in his hand. He wasn't sure whether the line had been disconnected or if the bomb had gone off. Either way, he didn't have much time. He needed to get out of there, because he knew only too well what the government was capable of. There was no doubt they had been monitoring Jack's phone, and because Ianto had called Jack to warn him about the bomb, they would without doubt trace the call and find him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to focus. They would certainly consider what he had done to be treason, and he could not risk being taken into custody, waiting for UNIT to work it out. He didn't have the time. He needed to get to Cardiff and to Jack. Something was going on, and Ianto needed to help, not be thrown into a cell until it was all over and his handler could work it out.

If they didn't kill him first, of course.

While Jack was the primary target, Ianto suspected all of Torchwood was in danger. And given his former relationship with both Torchwood One and Torchwood Three, that put Ianto in danger as well. No matter how many new identities he'd gone through since leaving Cardiff, they would eventually be traced back to Ianto Jones, and the game would be up.

He had an escape kit, of course. Rummaging through the wardrobe in his bedroom, Ianto pulled out a locked fireproof box and took out all his former identity papers, a pistol and silencer, a burn phone, cash, and several other small necessities his training had dictated he include. He stared at the mobile, debating whether to activate it, when it occurred to him that any calls he made on his own mobile could endanger the person he spoke to.

Quickly activating the untraceable phone, Ianto paced as he dialed his handler's number. It was still a risk, but a necessary one. And when they traced his current identity to his former one as Ianto Jones, they would likely trace him to Bryan no matter what. Hopefully the situation would be contained and sorted by that point.

Bryan picked up on the second ring. "Wells speaking."

"Bryan, it's Marc," said Ianto, almost slipping and using his given name. Bryan was well aware of Ianto's real identity, but that wasn't who he was at the moment, not exactly. He was now Marc Howell, undercover agent for UNIT Broadsword and current UNIT alien liaison to Thames House, and Bryan Wells was his handler and mentor.

"Marc!" the other man exclaimed. "Jesus, kid, what the hell is going on? The chatter is sky high, and I'm not only talking about the kids."

"I know, it's been a hell of a day," Ianto couldn't help but laugh somewhat hysterically. "Look, I think my cover is blown. I need to go underground."

There was silence. "You're going to Cardiff." It was a statement, not a question, and Ianto nodded even if Bryan couldn't see him.

"Something's going on with Torchwood. They blew up the Hub." His voice cracked on that last, and Ianto wiped away angry tears as he imagined Jack, and all the others, dead on the Plass.

"Who?" asked Bryan.

"Whoever issues blank page orders from Whitehall. It was given to Johnson and her team."

"Shit."

"Exactly. As soon as the children started chanting, Dekker grinned like a maniac. He said 'They're back!' and ran off to Whitehall to see Frobisher. When I saw him later, I asked him if it was something that Torchwood should be brought in on. He said they were being taken care of."

"Did you get anything else out of him?" asked Bryan. Ianto could practically see the wheels turning in his mentor's mind, trying to make the connections, just as Ianto had been trying to do all day.

"Not really, but whatever is sending that signal through the children has been here before, and Torchwood had something to do with it. He said they're known as the 456 because that's the frequency they use. I did some more digging and found the blank page, so I contacted Delta Vega." Delta Vega was their mole on Johnson's hit team. Ianto had taken a chance in contacting the secret agent, but it had been necessary. "As soon as I knew what was going on, I called them."

"You called who?" said Bryan. "Torchwood?"

"I called Jack," said Ianto softly, standing and staring at a blank spot on the wall. "They put a bomb in his stomach to take out the Hub. I had to warn him."

There was a low whistle and another curse on the other end of the phone. "Of course you did. And they were probably monitoring Harkness's phone, so they'll be after you for warning them."

"Have you heard anything over there? I know Oduya was at Whitehall to see Frobisher. Not only is something going on with the children, but I think something else is being covered up."

"And it sounds like Torchwood knows about it, so they were taken out to keep it covered up. Damn." Bryan took a deep breath. "All right, first things first. You got your kit?"

"I do. I'm going to need a car."

"We can do that. How long has it been since you had contact with Cardiff?"

Ianto checked his watch. "About fifteen minutes. I should get out of here."

"Get somewhere safe and call me in two hours. I'll see what I can find out in the meantime and come up with a plan. If someone wants Torchwood out of the picture, I think we need to make sure they stay in it."

Ianto went out to the living room, glancing around for anything else he should grab. "Bryan, don't put yourself at risk. You're not a field agent anymore, and this isn't about you, it's about my past and whatever grudge they have against Torchwood."

"I'll do what needs to be done," Bryan snapped, uncharacteristically harsh. "It's not just about you, Marc. If it has to do with the children, then it's much bigger than you and your convoluted past."

"Right." Ianto sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he turned toward the door. "Of course. I'll call in two hours. Just make sure-"

He was cut off as the glass in his front window shattered with a ping, and a bullet shot the phone out of his hand. A shard of hot plastic sliced across his cheek, and he dropped the remains even as he ducked from a second shot. It caught him across the arm, the bullet ripping through his coat and shirt and tearing across his flesh. With a muttered curse, he fell to floor and began to crawl toward the door as another shot rang out. He had to get out, and he had to get out fast, with no time to grab the bag he always kept ready for quick travel. If he was lucky, they weren't waiting for him on the other side of the door; he thumbed the safety on his weapon just in case.

Apparently his luck was holding out, as he made it into the corridor and found it empty. Thinking quickly, he wiped his cheek of blood and left several partial handprints by the stairwell going down. Then he headed up the stairs to the roof. Glancing down, he saw dark shapes slinking through the street toward his flat. He couldn't go down the fire escape, then; he'd be an obvious and easy target. Taking his jacket off, he ripped a hole in the back and tossed it on the metal staircase, hoping it would look like he got stuck and pulled it off to keep running. He then hurried toward the edge of the roof to the other side. Taking a running jump, he leapt to the building next door, rolling onto his injured arm with a sharp gasp and another curse.

There was blood on the rooftop now. He tried to brush as much dirt over it as he could before he noticed a pile of old chimney bricks nearby. After scattering them around his landing point, he made for the stairway, shooting the lock off to get inside. He went all the way down to the lobby, pulled a small keychain from his pocket, and activated the perception filter that he'd made part of his kit, knowing it would be useful should he ever need to run. Taking a deep breath, he walked out onto the road and turned away from his flat, keeping his head down and praying it worked.

As he walked, Ianto touched the long, deep cut on his right cheek again, wiping the smear of blood on his trousers, uncaring of the stains. He was lucky to be alive considering the sniper had literally shot his phone out of his hand, and a spot of blood on his suit was the least of his worries. He needed to get out of London, he needed to get to Cardiff, and he needed to find Jack. Or what was left of him.

God.

Swallowing his horror at the thought of Jack blown into a thousand pieces, Ianto glanced over his shoulder and continued his stealthy run toward…what? Freedom? Impossible. If he escaped with his life, he'd never really be free again. He'd always be running, hiding, fleeing whomever had come after him at his small flat in London. He didn't know who had ordered the hit and didn't understand why they were after him or Torchwood, but he knew that he had to get back to Cardiff. He had to help.

It must have something to do with Jack and Torchwood. Ianto wasn't sure if he was targeted because he had called Jack or because he had worked for Torchwood for several years and been discovered, but either way, he had to get to Jack. UNIT couldn't help him because it was possible, however much he didn't want to believe it, that they were behind it. They were the only ones who knew who he really was, after all.

Then there was the matter of the children and their strange behavior. On top of everything-worrying about Jack, about Gwen, about the others in Hub-Ianto was desperately worried about his family. Rhiannon was strong, but she was probably terrified by what had happened to every child in the country. There was no doubt that David and Mica had been affected; he only hoped that they were safe.

Ianto laughed bitterly to himself, thinking that David would probably find it rather cool. But Ianto knew something was wrong, something so terrible that for some reason the government did not want Torchwood involved, to the point of destroying them all. Even Ianto, who knew nothing. Who had left Torchwood ten months earlier. Who should have been untraceable.

Ianto stopped in his tracks as realization struck. If they had figured out who he really was and where to find him, then they-whoever they were-would also be able to get to his family. They might even be waiting at the estate for him to show up. Which meant he could not go to Rhiannon and the kids, not without a plan that would keep them out of harm's way.

As he stood there, mind turning over a dozen different scenarios, Ianto felt the adrenaline rush of the past hour begin to fade. His hands started to shake. His mind began to race. All he could think about was Jack, and his family, and the fact that he was cut off from almost any sort of assistance. He needed to sit down and regroup and somehow stay alive long enough to figure out what the hell was happening and what to do about it. Yet he was on the run from unknown assassins, where could he go? His flat had been shot at and was probably completely ransacked by now. He couldn't go back to his job at Thames House, he couldn't go to UNIT, and he couldn't go to Bryan Wells. He had no phone, no transportation, not even a clean shirt, and no plan.

Slipping into an alley, Ianto stepped behind a large dumpster and slid down to the dirty ground. He let his head fall between his knees and took deep breaths to stave off the impending panic attack he felt beginning in his gut. He hadn't had one since the nightmare that had been Canary Wharf, but here he was in London, injured and on the run again, alone and cut off from any help. In spite of everything he had experienced since, it was too much like being on the run with Lisa, with no plan, no resources, no hope. Maybe he should give in to the panic, scream and yell until he was empty…

No! Ianto clenched his fists and started counting backwards from one hundred, eyes focused on a small pebble on the pavement. He breathed in with each count and blew out with the next, imagining all the fear and anger being forced into the small stone before him. Slowly but surely he regained control of his racing heart and lungs, and his head began to clear enough for him to think rationally.

He had no phone and no car. The second bullet that had grazed his arm had not gone through, but it was a long, hot burn, throbbing in time with his heartbeat; it would need cleaning and a good wrap. He had no one he could safely contact for help, not if he didn't want to put their life in danger. And then it occurred to him: if he didn't want to put someone he knew in danger, he needed to go to someone who lived under the radar. And he knew someone like that, someone he was hoped could help him, would be willing to help him.

With grim determination, Ianto stood up and made his way toward the nearest main street. He instinctively avoided the CCTV cameras even though his perception filter hid him, until he took it off and hailed a cab on a quiet corner, directing the driver toward the river. He begged off with a headache from a bar fight after work and laid down on the seat; fortunately he had a cabbie who was either not interested or used to drunks collapsing in the back, and Ianto considered what to say to the one man…well, alien…who might help him.

Cornelius Brown ran The Starry Night Café, which was more of a nightclub that served coffee and tea alongside cocktails and beer. He was half human, an exile who had left his homeworld to start over on Earth. He was also from the 26th century, a fact which had made his assistance in sensitive matters regarding alien tech invaluable at times. Ianto had met the alien not long after Bryan had taken him under his wing, and had liked the café owner immediately. For some reason, Cornelius reminded him a bit of Jack: out of his time, alone and sometimes ostracized because he was different than others, but always seeing good in the world and willing to fight for his adopted homeland.

The Starry Night catered to a mixed clientele of eccentric native Londoners and exiled off-worlders. The back room was for aliens only. Ianto had been there a few times, each one an experience he'd never forget, even after all he'd seen with Torchwood. It truly amazed him that so many aliens called London home, and at the same time it made his heart soar, that they were alive and successful and perhaps even happy there. Bryan had told him that the shadow of Torchwood had loomed over London for years, but with the fall of One at Canary Wharf, the small alien community-a few dozen at most-had slowly begun to come out more.

Aliens like Cornelius Brown even helped when they could. Oh, he preferred to be left alone, no doubt, but he was close to Bryan (a story Ianto still could not pull from his handler, although he knew it had something to do with Torchwood One) and had quickly transferred his trust to Ianto. He was Ianto's best chance at escaping London undetected, and he would ask for as little as possible from the alien, knowing he was putting the entire café in danger. More than anything, he needed transportation.

Ianto had the cab drop him off a few streets away, then stuck to alleys with his head down as he quickly and quietly made his way to the Starry Night. It was exceptionally quiet, which did not surprise Ianto given the strange events with the children that day. People were likely holed up at home, holding their loved ones close, eyes glued to the televisions. Only a handful of patrons sat at the candlelit tables, and where there was often live music, tonight there was only soft jazz playing from the speakers. Ianto glanced around, did not see Cornelius, and went up to the empty bar.

"All right there, mate?" asked the man standing behind it. "You look worse for wear."

"Fight after work," Ianto mumbled, idly rubbing at his cheek again. He didn't think he needed stitches, but some disinfectant and a plaster would be good, especially for his arm. "Is Cornelius around back, Georg?"

The bartender didn't even blink an eye. "Who's asking?"

"Luke Skywalker," replied Ianto, and the man snorted. It was the agreed upon password for the month, known only to those trusted few that Cornelius let into his private domain in the back. The barman nodded once, and Ianto murmured his thanks.

The back room was much like the front, only slightly smaller and more crowded. Which again didn't surprise Ianto. Whatever was happening with the children was extraterrestrial in origin, and it seemed natural that London's resident aliens would sense it and then gather to discuss it. They glanced up at him, almost as one, and Ianto froze on the spot. There were several more looks of hostility than he had expected and a few low growls. He wondered if this had been a good idea after all.

"It is all right, Mr. Cole," said Cornelius Brown, and Ianto couldn't help a glance of confusion until he remembered that was his name when he had met Cornelius, when he had first joined UNIT. It had been such a long day already that he had almost slipped, and he knew he would need to be vigilant if he was going to survive. "We are all a bit on edge."

"I noticed," said Ianto, slipping into the accent Broderick Cole used and nodding toward the others, who had slowly drifted back to their own conversations, though a few still watched him warily.

Cornelius led Ianto toward the small bar in the corner, tucking Ianto onto a stool and pulling out some sort of bootleg liquor he liked to push on Ianto each time he was there. Ianto watched him pour, idly wondering what, if anything, Cornelius might know; he trusted Cornelius because he knew Bryan trusted the alien.

Cornelius Browne appeared quite human, aside from a few quirks easily explained away. He looked just past middle age, with a medium build and nondescript black hair gone more than half grey. Startling violet eyes, hidden behind dark spectacles, and a series of indigo dots running down from his temple in a complex pattern on both sides of his face to his jaw set him apart, however. He could pass for human, though he preferred to stay in rather than cover up or explain his physical differences.

"How are things in your line of work today?" asked Cornelius, sliding the drink over. Ianto sipped at it and felt his body immediately relax, tension draining from his shoulders in waves. Cornelius always knew exactly what to serve and he had done so again, the warm liquor spreading through Ianto yet not dulling his thoughts.

"Difficult," said Ianto, earning a raised eyebrow from Cornelius. "I'm not sure anyone knows exactly what's going on. You wouldn't happen to know anything, would you?"

The alien shook his head. "I have never seen anything like it, and neither has anyone else. It is all anyone has been talking about all day. And no one believes it to be benign."

Ianto snorted into his glass. Every child around the world stops and speaks with one creepy voice? Of course it wasn't benign. It was alien, and it was hostile. There was no doubt about it. If there had been, those doubts had been erased when someone had bombed Torchwood and tried to kill Ianto.

"No, something is going on. Torchwood Cardiff was targeted."

Cornelius raised an eyebrow. Ianto knew none of the aliens present had any love for Torchwood, but the fact that the country's once biggest line of defense against alien incursion had been taken down in the wake of the latest extraterrestrial event was something no one could deny: trouble.

"I see," murmured Cornelius, obviously turning it over. "And have you spoken to Mr. Wells?"

"I have," said Ianto, sipping more of his drink. "I used to work for them."

"For Torchwood?" asked Cornelius, unable to hide his surprise. If Ianto imagined disappointment as well, he tried to push it from his mind, hoping that Cornelius would not throw him out on the street.

"I left Cardiff almost a year ago," Ianto said, lowering his voice. "Tonight it was destroyed. There is no doubt in my mind that there's a connection between their destruction and what's going on with the children."

"I should think so," nodded the alien. He frowned and pointed a slim finger to Ianto's face and arm. "And that? I am guessing that you were targeted as well, for your former association?"

Ianto laughed bitterly. "They shot my phone right out of my hand."

"You are a lucky man, then," Cornelius murmured. "I hate to ask, Mr. Cole…but were you followed here?"

Ianto shook his head. "I had a perception filter, I know how to avoid CCTV, and I've disappeared before, so no, I wasn't followed. But I need your help, Cornelius. Not much, but enough to get me to Cardiff. I need a car, maybe a phone, some bandages before I bleed all over everything. Something big is going on, and there's a reason someone doesn't want Torchwood involved."

Cornelius stared at him, eyes narrowed shrewdly. "You think that your government is targeting its own? Why would they take out a potential ally? As well as a friend of the Crown?"

Ianto shook his head with frustration. That was a damn good question. Did Buckingham Palace know about the attempt on Torchwood? "I don't know, but Bryan is working his damnedest to find out. Maybe Torchwood knows something about what's happening that the government doesn't want to get out. Maybe they are the only ones who can stop what's going on. But I need to get there. I'm not safe here."

"Mr. Cole," Cornelius murmured. "You will not be much safer there."

"I know, but at least I can try to find them, figure out why they were targeted. I still have contacts in Cardiff who can help. Can you get me there?"

The alien studied him silently, his face impassive. "You are asking much of me, Mr. Cole."

Ianto let his eyes slip shut and hung his head. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go. You're the most invisible person I could think of, the only one who could help me without incurring more risk."

Strangely enough, the alien's chest puffed out a bit at that. "I did not say I would not help," said Cornelius. "From what I have heard amongst the tables, everyone is frightened. Aliens that swoop down on planets and control their children are almost never friendly."

"Exactly my thoughts as well," said Ianto dryly. "My biggest worry is that with Torchwood out of the way, the government is going to make a deal with them, rather than fight back."

"Perhaps they do not need to fight," Cornelius pointed out. Ianto shook his head.

"My gut tells me this is a bad situation. Friendly contact is not initiated through fear."

The alien nodded slowly. "I agree, and I will do what I can. Finish your drink, and I will be back in a few moments."

Before Cornelius walked away, Ianto asked after the nearest loo. Cornelius paused and motioned him to follow. "You can use the one in my flat. You will need some other clothing, since your shirt is ruined and you don't want to look more suspicious. I will gather what you need while you clean and change upstairs."

Ianto laid a hand on Cornelius's shoulder. "Thank you. You didn't have to do this, and I appreciate it."

Cornelius patted his hand and smiled before turning away. "It is no matter. Bryan did the same for me once, when I first came here. There are times when I feel like I can never do enough to repay him for that. I am honored to help his protégé."

"Protégé?" asked Ianto with a small laugh. "Hardly. I've not been around long enough, and I'm sure he's trained far more capable agents."

"He thinks very highly of you," Cornelius said. "Therefore, if you believe Torchwood is involved in this, and that you need to go to Cardiff to figure it out, we will get you to Cardiff."

Ianto swallowed over the lump in his throat, grateful for the support and touched by Cornelius's words regarding his handler. Though he had known Bryan Wells for less than a year, he had quickly grown to respect and admire his mentor at UNIT. Bryan had honed Ianto's skills and experiences at Torchwood into something even sharper, even better. Bryan was brilliant and had saved Ianto's life more than once. He was proud to think that Bryan thought well of him, in spite of his mistakes.

They entered Cornelius's flat, which was above the café. Cornelius directed Ianto to the bathroom, where he began to peal off his clothes and examine the minor injuries to his face and arm. He really was damn lucky. What kind of crack shots missed their target twice in a row? Granted, he had been pacing when the first shot had blown apart his phone, and then ducking and running from the second. There had been more after that, enough that Ianto was fairly sure he wouldn't be getting the deposit back on his flat.

The inane thought about his flat made him laugh, and he put his hands on the sink, leaning his head over to let the laughter-so close to tears-roll over him until there was a knock on the door. Wiping his eyes, he found Cornelius there with a change of clothes, jeans and a jumper that were so far from his style that it was almost a perfect disguise. Another nervous laugh escaped him, and Cornelius raised an amused eyebrow.

"Take a shower, Mr. Cole. I will leave some food out and be back with what you need in twenty minutes."

So Ianto cleaned himself, dressing in the dark jeans and jumper and running a hand through his wet hair. He checked the medicine cabinet for bandages and found some gauze to wrap around his upper arm. It was sore, but he could deal with it. Mostly he didn't want it to become infected. The cut on his cheek would have to wait. Padding back out into the flat, Ianto found a jam sandwich with crisps and fruit on a plate, along with a glass of milk. It was like a school lunch, almost, and he grinned for the first time in hours, genuinely pleased.

He hadn't had anything since that morning, and with the stress of the past few hours, Ianto found he was incredibly hungry, enough to have probably scrounged for a second sandwich if Cornelius hadn't returned at that moment.

"I have a phone," he started, and Ianto nodded.

"Untraceable, I hope?"

"We keep a number of phones downstairs," Cornelius replied with a shrug. "It was Bryan's idea, actually. I have activated it and will send the number to Bryan shortly. I have also taken several hundred pounds from my safe." He paused. "And Georg offered his car, he said that he needed a new one anyway. We will report it stolen in the morning. Make sure you take the gun in the glove compartment."

Ianto stared at him, stunned at his efficiency and generosity. He wanted to hug the man before him, but Cornelius shook his head and stepped back. "As I said, it is no more than Bryan once did for me. And if I can help you, and you can help the children, then it is a noble thing."

"You are a good, good man, Cornelius," Ianto said, his voice breaking. He wiped his face and took the offered items.

"I'm simply doing my part in what will certainly be a much bigger picture," he answered. "Leave your suit, we will dispose of it. I imagine Bryan will contact you soon, once you are out of the city. You can make your plans then." Taking a deep breath, the alien held out his hand. "And if you need anything else, please get me word. We will do what we can."

"Thank you," Ianto whispered, this time throwing caution to the wind and embracing Cornelius Browne. "Thank you for everything."

"You are quite welcome. Now, do your job. Get these aliens away from the children."

He showed Ianto out the back way, pointing out Georg's old, beat up Vectra. Ianto cringed a little on the inside, but if it got him to Cardiff, he couldn't complain. He was already wearing someone else's clothing, carrying someone else's phone and money. What did it matter if he was driving a twenty-year-old family sedan? He would have to ditch it in the morning when it was reported stolen anyway.

Reaching into the glove compartment, Ianto felt a sense of relief when he found the semi-automatic there exactly as Cornelius had said. He wondered what it was that Georg did besides tend the bar.

Pulling out into the dark London night, Ianto headed north toward the A40, planning a more circuitous route on the vague chance that he might be followed or tracked. He'd double back down to the M4 toward Cardiff once he felt more settled, or perhaps when he heard from Bryan. He wasn't sure it was a wise idea for his handler to contact him, but Ianto needed any information he could get.

In the meantime, he settled into a long drive and let his mind drift over what he needed to do in Cardiff. He needed to get to the Hub and see what kind of condition it was in, and do so without being seen or caught. He needed to track down the others, assuming his warning had been enough to get them out on time. And most importantly, he needed to find Jack…or what was left him. Ianto had no doubt that this could be Jack's most painful resurrection yet. There was a part of Ianto that was terrified Jack might not recover at all.

Pushing aside the horrifying images of Jack's body destroyed beyond recognition, Ianto desperately clung to the belief that Jack would survive. They needed him more than anything. And now that Ianto had spoken to Jack and heard his former lover's voice once more, he would do anything to save Jack and hear it again.


Author's Note:
I apologize for the longer wait than normal for this chapter, but the chapters are getting longer and more complicated, and I've almost caught up to myself. I hope to update every other week. So many thanks to Tamaar for her hard work and invaluable assistance hashing out the details. This story wouldn't be written without her! I hope you enjoyed this chapter after the cliffhanger of the last. Do let a girl know! I'd love to hear what you think about it or where you think it's going. Thanks for reading!