Tension built in the pit of her stomach. Martha felt simultaneously exhausted and wound up; as they advanced toward the meeting with Mace, all that she could think about was how completely and utterly stressed she was over the whole situation. Her job was, as she knew it, over; there was no way, even if UNIT turned out to be mostly in the clear, that she could return to work for them. She didn't know how she was going to pick up the pieces, or whether she'd get any of her research back. But she couldn't think about that; she didn't have a home. Her flat was gone, and while she'd been considering moving for some time now, she'd been in this one since her med school days, and it was really too small for her, too student-y, but she hadn't imagined it would be like this. All of her possessions, so many memories—she pushed them out of her mind too.

Her companions walked on either side of her as they approached the city centre where the café was located. If there was anything in this evening that could overtake the unsettled feeling she had from the loss of livelihood and home, it was the presence of these two men. How odd, she thought, that she, of all people in the world, would be with two men who'd traveled in time, and that she'd find herself an object of their desire—well, for one of them at least, although she was fairly certain that John was keen as well. She'd always held Jack at arm's length; he was too reckless, too dangerous, too much of a temptation into the heady power that time travel brought. But John—there was something romantic, yet somber, about him. When he looked at her, she could feel that his life, his adventures, whatever they'd been, weighed on him in a way that had matured him. One day—she hadn't even known him for one day—yet she felt like she'd known him for years.

Her mind drifted back to the telepathic link they'd briefly shared, the ensuing conversation, the kiss—a kiss that she knew was a DNA transfer to shield her from the bomb, but had felt like more and caused him to blush furiously when she called him on it. He was, she was almost certain, alien, yet he seemed so human; his injuries certainly suggested he was human, and as she'd treated him, she hadn't detected anything that indicated he was anything other than human. Still, what he'd said about the creature and about being alone, about wanting to be known, being afraid of becoming human—perhaps she needed to take a step back. Her time with UNIT had introduced her to many possibilities, as had her travels with Jack—from time to time they'd come across alien races. She knew that not all aliens were hostile, and John didn't seem to register as hostile. The fact that Jack, who knew so much more than she ever would about the subject, didn't seem at all concerned (although he had said he didn't entirely trust John) gave her a moment's pause.

Jack--she hadn't even, hadn't ever, let Jack link to her; she'd really only mastered it several months ago, along with her subjects. He'd wanted to—he'd wanted to share lots of things with her—but she'd wanted to sort it out on her own first, to figure it out for herself. She needed to know that she would be the one to master telepathy on her own.

But now—

She took Jack's hand in hers and concentrated just a bit.

Martha?

Hi.

You've never wanted to—why now?

I wanted to share this with you at least once. She could feel him smile and that feeling made her a bit ashamed that she'd held herself so far away from him for so long; no matter what he'd done, he deserved better than she'd been able to give him. I'm sorry I made you wait.

It's OK. I understand. Martha could feel that he really did, and she wondered how long it would be before she was able to project her feelings as well as her thoughts.

Not long, Jack laughed, and Martha remembered that she was communicating.

Sorry. I'm just so tired; it's hard to maintain control. Martha concentrated again; she needed to ask him before they reached their separation point. Are you sure we can trust him?

Jack was surprised by this question; he wasn't used to Martha consulting him in this way, yet twice she'd asked him about John.

Yes, I believe we can. Why do you ask?

My gut tells me I can; even if he hadn't saved my life, he's been so sincere and open with me this evening. It's just that earlier, before you came over to us in the pub, he practically told me that he's—

--Alien?

Yes. Martha was surprised. How did you know?

Been in his flat, remember? I can't tell you what he is or where or when he's from. All that I can—and will—tell you is that if you want him to, I believe he'll eventually tell you all himself.

John had stopped walking. "We're here. Martha, Jack—are you ready?" He knew they'd been communicating privately, and while he didn't begrudge them the indulgence—he knew they still had no real reason to trust him and every reason to trust each other—he couldn't help but feel left out. Just make sure she's safe, he reminded himself, and he remembered the half-hearted promise he'd made to himself earlier. Just this once. But he wanted more than once; he wanted to know her, to know this Martha. Was that too much to ask?

It was time for them to split up. Jack enveloped Martha in a big hug, lifting her off the ground and burying his face in her hair. When he put her down, he kissed her forehead before letting her go. She turned to John and, putting her hands gently at his sides, gave him a small kiss on the cheek. Before releasing him, she mouthed the words "Thank you," and he could feel his heart breaking. She was walking away from him all over again.

###

John and Jack entered the shop together, ordered drinks, and positioned themselves toward the rear of the café. Jack had his blaster on his lap and was using a newspaper to hide it from view. John's hand clutched the sonic screwdriver in his pocket; Jack, and to a lesser extent, Martha, had tried to convince him to take Martha's gun, but he'd refused. He had the screwdriver; he hoped he wouldn't have to use it.

John saw Martha enter at precisely 7 a.m., and was pleased that she never once looked over to where he and Jack were seated. She purchased a drink and then positioned herself at a table dead center in the room, her back to the two of them and her face toward the door. He used the small mirror he'd taken from the hospital to watch the scene behind him unfold while he quietly reported to Jack, who was pretending to be very interested in the society pages.

"Mace is here," he whispered to Jack and then grinned heartily as he added, "and so is my special guest." He watched Sarah Jane Smith as she positioned herself just close enough to the couple to hear their conversation, but not so close that she'd be detected. He had to hand it to her—she was as good in this universe as she'd been in the last. She blended into the café's clientele with ease; no one took any notice of her.

Martha and Mace had already begun talking, and John could see that Mace had yet to be convinced that Martha had no knowledge of, and wasn't acting on, Prince's orders. He knew that Sarah Jane was likely recording the conversation, and he trusted that Martha was judiciously choosing her words; the success of this plan depended on her giving away very little that could be used against UNIT, or her, when and if Sarah Jane's story went to press. There was too much potential for a public backlash given the sensitivity of Lumic's legacy, and John knew that Martha had worked too long and hard for public fear to rob her of the credit she deserved for her monumental achievement. Pete had been skeptical about bringing the reporter in, but John had convinced him that it would be better for both Torchwood and UNIT in the end if they could be in front of the news cycle.

His stomach began to churn as he watched a third figure enter the scene. "Prince?" he asked Jack, who gave a quick nod after glancing at the table. "Damn," John muttered. They knew it was inevitable that Prince would appear—John expected Mace to alert him if he wasn't already listening in on someone's phone line—but he'd hoped that Martha would have made enough headway before Prince interrupted. He watched Prince seat himself between Martha and Mace, and Martha's back tensed as Prince placed his hand on her arm. He could see the barrel of the gun Prince had hidden under the table and was pointing at Martha. Jack calmly folded his paper and placed his hand on the blaster in his lap. John could see Martha struggling to free herself from Prince's grip; when she yelled "Let me go!" he started to rise, then stopped when Jack grabbed his hand. John looked at the mirror again.

The two men were still there but Martha was gone.

Jack quickly rose from his seat, pointing the blaster at Prince as he advanced on the table. John followed, his grip tight on the screwdriver in his pocket. He needed to keep his focus on the situation, but he was concerned about Martha. What had happened? "Jack, did you see—"

Jack curtly replied, "Don't worry. She's safe."

Sarah Jane was still there, although now she was not quite as invisible. She was moving toward the other patrons in the café in an attempt to protect the innocent bystanders. What she didn't know, though, was that the other patrons were Torchwood operatives brought in for just such an emergency. This misunderstanding was soon cleared up as Jake, Toshiko, and Ross pulled their own firearms, acknowledged John and Jack, and began advancing on the two UNIT officers, who were now backed by the four red-capped soldiers they'd traveled with to this meeting.

The two groups faced off around the table in the center of the room. John thought fast; this wasn't part of the plan, but if there was one thing he was good it, it was making it up as he went along. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, pulled out the chair Martha had occupied moments before, and sat down. "Colonel, would you care to join me? I think we should finish the conversation you were having with Doctor Jones." He indicated the chair opposite him. Mace took the offered seat after whispering instructions to the soldiers behind him. "And you sir," John pointed to Prince, "why don't you join us as well? You don't mind if the Captain ensures you are unarmed?" Prince grunted his assent, and Jack walked over and patted him down. Satisfied that the Colonel was clean, Jack helped him into his chair, then trained his blaster at the back of his head.

John glared at the two men and spoke. "Now I think we can have a nice, civilized chat, don't you? Funny thing, civilization, that crazy impulse in man that leads him to join together, build societies to advance and protect. I love the idea—really, literally universal in the end—and I've found that the greatest civilizations thrive not solely because of their ability to form social units, but because they are open about what goes on behind closed doors. Keeps people and groups honest, that's what it does, and I love honesty and being out in the open. I especially love the power of a free press. Miss Smith, are you still back there?" John watched Mace's face turn pale as the well-known investigative journalist came forward, recorder, a notepad, and a stack of files at the ready. "Ah, there you are. Love your work, by the way. Won't you join us?" He grinned widely at her as he indicated the last empty seat at the table.

"I know the two Colonels, but I don't believe we've met," she said as she placed her belongings on the table and extended her hand to John.

He continued to grin as he took the offered hand and shook it warmly. "John Smith. It is truly an honor and a pleasure." He'd taken a risk and it had paid off. He could see it in her eyes; this woman was entirely his Sarah Jane.

She took her seat and put on a pair of glasses. "So," she said, looking down at her notes, "who'd like to begin? Mr. Smith, I believe that you arranged this little meeting, so we could begin with you. Although," she perched her glasses on the tip of her nose and stared at him over the top of them, "I'd like to know why Doctor Jones isn't here to speak for herself. Just how did she manage that disappearing act?"

"She's somewhere safe for now," Jack said. "We thought it best to hide her. This creep" he jabbed Prince's back, "has already made one attempt on her life this evening. She's not going to be safe until he's locked away." Sarah Jane looked satisfied for the moment, but John knew that she'd not stay away from Martha for long. He wondered where Jack had hidden her and whether he'd ever see her again.

Prince sneered. "You have no evidence to support this accusation and I have no reason to kill anyone, least of all Doctor Jones. I have been one of the strongest supporters of her research and am, frankly, quite disappointed in her approval of this project, which we'd agreed was dangerous and unethical."

Sarah Jane looked entirely unaffected by this little speech. She looked at John and asked "may I?" He nodded and sat back to listen while she detailed the entire plot, right down to the evidence of the payoffs Morgenstern had received in exchange for his abuse of the authority Martha had given him, and of Prince's order for the bomb at Martha's flat. This last bit was a surprise to John; he knew Ianto was good at getting things, but this surpassed John's estimation of his abilities.

He could sense Mace's growing indignation, and Prince's growing fear and tension as Sarah Jane laid out one piece of evidence after another. He noticed Prince fiddling with a ring on his finger and his eyes shot to the four soldiers standing behind Mace. Their eyes looked unnaturally focused on a distant spot on the wall. John slipped his hand into his pocket to grab the screwdriver. He got Jack's attention, then glanced quickly between Prince's hands and the soldiers. Jack's eyes grew wide as he realized what was going on.

Sarah Jane had stopped speaking. Colonel Mace looked at Prince and quietly asked him, "Reginald, what do you have to say to these charges?"

Prince smirked. "There's nothing to say, is there, when the case is laid out so starkly before you. I'm not planning to give your readers any fuel to add to the fire I'm sure they'll use to burn me in effigy once your story is published. And you," he faced John, "with your little lectures on civilization—you naïve twit. You and Doctor Jones—a perfect pair—so smug and condescending in your ethical sureties."

John became frantic; he couldn't let Prince do this, couldn't let him turn those soldiers into mindless killers. "Prince, stop this! You don't have to do this to them. It isn't fair—you have to let them go, give them back control. Lumic was wrong—you are wrong—you can't take their free will!"

Prince scoffed at him. "You don't get it, do you? I own them! They are mine to do with as I wish; the perfect soldier, the perfect fighting machine. If we don't do this, if we don't use the technology that is there, that's being developed all over the world, we lose our supremacy, our foothold, our power! England will not fall to her enemies because of your soft-hearted morality. It is only because of the shadowy path I take that you get the privilege of walking in the light." He twisted his ring again and ordered, "Kill them all." The soldiers raised their guns and for a moment no one breathed.

A piercing shriek came from beneath the table, and the soldiers dropped their guns and fell to their knees. They clutched their heads and groaned in agony as the sonic spike rendered the dampers in their caps ineffective. John finally shut down the screwdriver when the last soldier had passed out from the pain. He looked at Prince, angry tears in his eyes. "You monster," he spat at him.

"I'm not the one who just condemned four young men to a mental prison. For all your sanctimonious speeches, you walk in just as much darkness as I." Prince's smug smile lessened slightly as he felt the pressure of Jack's gun on his spine.

"Mr. Smith didn't plant those lethal chips into their brains and he didn't order them to kill. This is entirely your fault, Reginald, and I believe I've heard enough." Colonel Mace looked across the table to John and extended his hand. "I don't believe we've been officially introduced. Colonel Arthur Mace." John shook his hand with a bit less enthusiasm, Mace noted, than he'd had when he shook Sarah Jane's. "Doctor Jones is lucky to have a friend as clever as you."

"I did nothing. Torchwood really did it all. I just got the right people together." As if on cue, Ianto Jones and Pete Tyler walked into the café. "Pete! Ianto! You're just in time." John rose to release his seat; this was the part he never liked, and he was glad to turn over the clean-up to the two men. "My work here is done, I believe, if Colonel Mace and Miss Smith will see to it that Doctor Jones's name is kept entirely in the clear." He glared at Prince. "We can't have her important work sullied by any association with this rubbish." Mace and Sarah Jane nodded their assent, although the reporter fixed him with her eyes and handed him her card. "I do expect an interview with her as soon as this matter is cleared."

"I can't speak for her in that regard, I'm afraid," John told her, placing the card in his pocket, "but if I see her again, I'll be sure to let her know." John walked over to Jack, his eyes pleading with him for some information about Martha. "Where is she?" he whispered.

"I've told you. She's safe. That's all you need to know for now." John sensed anger in Jack's tone; he thought that things were alright between them, but looking at him now, he could clearly see that Jack's feelings for Martha were right below the surface. He knew that this Jack wasn't that Jack, and he wondered whether the future held any hope for a friendship between them. He decided to leave it for now in deference to Jack's feelings; nothing good would come of pressing him at this moment, and Martha wasn't going to be safe until this scenario was entirely played out. They had no idea how many people were under Prince's control.

John looked at the soldiers on the ground. They were still breathing, but clearly unconscious. Ianto was checking their vital signs; he looked up at John. "They'll be alright. I'll handle it." John knew that he could trust him, at least in this. Ianto may have lied about the hat, but John knew there was a decency in him that wouldn't allow these young men to be in this state forever, not if there was a way out of it.

Pete was seated at the table. Ross and Jake secured Prince, and Toshiko removed the ring from his finger. She sat in his place at the table, took out her pocket computer, and began to record the exchange between Mace and Pete. They had a lot to sort out; each organization had a vested interest in maintaining a certain public image, and the presence of Sarah Jane Smith made their own record keeping paramount.

At least, that's what they told Sarah Jane, and to an extent they were being honest. What Sarah Jane didn't know was that Toshiko was quietly cleaning up various files for both organizations, ensuring that the trail the reporter followed would proceed no further than she'd already been allowed to travel. Light was good, but too much light too soon could blind them all.

John motioned for Jack to join him on the way out of the café and was surprised when Jake stopped Jack and took his weapon. John walked toward him in protest when Pete looked up at him and said, "Stop. He's not leaving with you. He's coming with us."

"What are you on about?" John cried. "He's not part of this."

"He may not be," Pete replied, "but he's of interest to us for other reasons. We've been hoping to chat with the Captain for quite a while now." John could see the shrewd business man beneath Pete's mild exterior; what was he calculating? "We might even have a position opening up that he'd be perfect for."

Jack looked surprised for a moment, then grinned. "I prefer to be a free agent, really; works out better for everyone if I'm on a freelance basis. I don't like to be tied down." He winked at Ianto as he spoke, and John was surprised to see a hint of a blush in the young man's cheek. Ianto was nothing if not in control of his emotions at all times. But this is Jack, John chuckled to himself. "It's OK, John," Jack said. "I'll be alright and I'll catch up with you later." John was relieved to see a hint of the Jack he used to know. Maybe there was hope for them after all.

As he neared the door, John looked over the tableau once more. Ianto was calling for Torchwood medics to come for the unconscious soldiers, while Pete and Colonel Mace negotiated with Sarah Jane. Jack was flirting with Jake, Ross, and Toshiko. Everything seemed to be just as it ought to. But Martha wasn't here, he didn't know where she was, and he thought it unlikely that he'd see her again. He walked out the door and toward home.