A/N:

please forgive the shaky science… there's a reason I don't go into a whole lot of Geek-Speak… ;-) I'm also guessing at some of the physical stats… so please forgive inaccuracies (better yet, feel free to correct me so I can correct this!)

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Chapter Seven: Paranoid Conclusions

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"Focus, Abby," Bobby didn't mean to snap, but it seemed to be what she needed from him.

"Right," Abby took a breath to clear her head, wiping the dark streaks off her cheeks. They were standing at her station, in front of one of the computers. "I broke down the chemical composition of that stuff from the thing."

In other circumstances, he might have found her descriptions amusing.

Abby tapped at the keys of her computer, bringing up images on several screens at once.

"That looks almost like PCP…"

"It is. But look at this… and this…" she hit a couple of keys to highlight different points of the chemical analysis. "I don't know what those are. I sent the file to Martha… she's checking it against known drug agents the UNIT database." She needed Tim's background more than ever… he would know what they were looking at. Even if he didn't know exactly what it was, he would know what to do about it… she chewed on her lower lip.

"He'll be all right," Bobby told her, seeming to understand the forlorn look she cast towards the stairs. "You know Wendy won't hurt him."

"This is my fault. I dragged him into this. All he wanted was a week or two away from home to forget about Blond Denise." She continued to say the word 'blond' as if it was bad word. "Instead I gave him alien angel dust," she said miserably.

"He'll be all right. If anyone can do this it's you. Come on… let's work on isolating the unknown agents, see if we can figure out their effects on the human brain… we need to know exactly what we're up against."

"What if it's some kind of permanent condition…?"

He shook his head. "Focus on what we know, not on what may or may not happen."

"This was easier when I was working on crime scene evidence," she sniffled.

"I know. But Jack has faith in you. So do I."

Abby flashed a tight lipped smile and went to work.

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Jack sat on the table with Ianto, his arms wrapped securely around the younger man, holding him. Talking to him. Keeping him focused on the real memories… wondering if there was any truth to some of the things Ianto was saying… Lisa…

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Upstairs, Mickey was fighting a very different kind of battle on the phone. "Gwen, I can't take the Hub out of lockdown until Jack gives the all clear. He can't do that until Wendy finds Tim."

"I can't bloody well do anything to help from Tourist Office, now can I?"

"Jack sent Wendy after him… as soon as she finds him, I'll let you in."

"What am I supposed to do in the mean time? Pass out brochures!"

He let out an exasperated sigh. He'd called her because Bobby wanted to know if the police or hospitals had had any similar incidents and it seemed as if the two of them could get the job done quicker… he knew she was just worried… "You can help me make some calls. It's going to be all right."

"I just hate being locked out here when you're all down there!"

"I know. But if there are any incidents, at least you're out there to handle them."

That logic seemed to make Gwen feel better. "All right. You call the hospitals, I call the police and check in at City Hall."

"Hey… no unnecessary risks. I don't need that husband of yours breaking my knee caps or anything."

Gwen laughed… laughing made her feel better, even if deep down she didn't feel at all good about what was happening, or about being trapped on the outside, helpless to do anything for her friends.

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Bobby took his mobile to the only place in the Hub that he knew with certainty didn't have any security cameras. Jack's old quarters.

Six rings later, he got an irritated, "Hello…?" on the other end of the line.

"Foreman… I need a favour."

"Chase?"

"Yeah, it's me. I need a consult…"

"On what?"

"Write this down…"

"Hang on."

Bobby heard shuffling on the other end. He paced back and forth across the worn rug on Jack's floor. Jack would kill him if he found out. Or maybe not. Not with Ianto as one of the victims… not just Ianto. Any of them. He knew Jack worried about playing favourites, but in the field the Captain treated them all the same, he just didn't always believe it.

Foreman's voice interrupted his thoughts: "What's this about?" he wanted to know.

Bobby didn't answer, asking instead if he was ready to write.

With a sigh, the other affirmed that he was ready. Bobby rattled off the chemical breakdown.

"What is that?"

"You tell me… more important that what it is, I need some idea of what it could do to the human brain. Since you're the neurologist not me, and the only other guy I have who might be able to help it is hyped up on the stuff…it was an accident," he added. If Martha wasn't able to come up with an answer, he needed a back up plan. Foreman was it. "You can bring in House if you need to, but… this is classified information. My boss is probably going to kill me for going outside for help." Kill him or retcon him…

"What are the patient's symptoms?"

"Headache, fatigue, paranoid delusions."

"Patient history?"

"Two patients," he clarified. "Both Caucasian, male, in good health. Patient A…"

"Patient A?" Foreman's tone was scathing.

"Confidentiality. This isn't something I should be talking about at all… but I need some help here." Abby was brilliant, but she was too close to Tim to be thinking clearly. He wasn't even sure he was thinking clearly.

The other sighed. "All right. Patient A," he prompted.

"Twenty eight years old, six foot one, six two… a hundred and seventy pounds maybe. Patient B is five foot eleven and about a hundred and fifty pounds." Although how he maintained his weight with as much take away as they ate was a mystery. Lots of sex, Jack would probably say. "Twenty six years old," he added.

"When were they exposed to the chemical?"

"About two hours ago. Symptoms have escalated in the last half an hour. It was airborne… wait…" a thought hit, making Bobby stop dead in his tracks. "Shit."

"What?"

"It wasn't just airborne… oh my God, I'm an idiot. It's on their clothes…" Wendy… her senses were different from a human's and he had no idea what this stuff could do to her…

"Chase?"

"Patient A was hit full in the face," he said as he headed back up the ladder. "It could have entered his system through nose, mouth, skin or eyes. A is seems to be exhibiting stronger symptoms than B. Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"B has more experience in… in dealing with unusual circumstances that may lead to delusions." How the Hell else could he explain the fact that Ianto may be in better shape because he might have a better grasp of what was going on? He'd been with Torchwood for over three years… "Just take my word on it. The patient isn't lying… Mickey!" he hollered out the office door. "Grab a tranq gun and go after Wendy!"

Both he and Abby looked up…

"What?" Mickey frowned. "Why?"

"What's going on?" Abby wanted to know, concern pinching at her features.

"If that stuff was on Tim's clothes, she could be exposed…"

Mickey's expression confirmed that he understood the implication. "How many darts?"

"Two…. I've gotta go," he said into his phone. "Call me if you come up with something." So much for keeping this under the proverbial hat… "Be careful," he told Mickey as the other man jogged towards the stairs.

"Don't have to tell me twice," he said over his shoulder and was gone.

Without further explanations to Abby, Bobby pelted towards the medical bay, yelling at Jack to get Ianto out of his clothes…

They both blinked up at him, Jack started, Ianto scared.

"Get him undressed and into the shower…NOW! If there's any residue left on his shirt…"

"Come on, handsome," Jack hauled a very confused, frightened Welshman up to his feet, "Time to get you naked," he smirked. Then he cupped the back of Ianto's head very gently in one hand, forcing the other to maintain eye contact with him.

Ianto nodded. "I'm all right, Cariad. I…I trust you," his tone and his expression, however, were less than convincing.

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"Wen… Sweetheart… are you all right…?" Mickey asked in a cautious tone, the tranq gun raised as he approached. She had Tim pinned in a corner. The poor guy looked petrified. Who wouldn't be? He was scared himself, and Wendy was his friend.

She turned. It was hard to tell if she was all right or not… her expression wasn't fluid… Jack seemed to be able to tell what she was thinking, but he was baffled. Still… she wasn't acting paranoid. She hadn't killed Tim… that had to be a good sign.

She was looking at him expectantly.

Mickey took a breath. "Stand clear," he said, hoping that the tranq wouldn't be too much for the other man's system to handle on top of everything else…