"How do you know my name?" Jack demanded. Ianto rolled his eyes; surely the entire government was aware of the name Jack Harkness, given his unique proclivity for pissing them off. Of course MI5 would have specs on him, probably all of Torchwood Three as well. The agent before them seemed just as amused as Ianto.

"Not the question you should be asking, Captain," she murmured. She was dressed in a casual business suit with flats; she was certainly tall enough without heels. Her makeup was subtle and the com piece in her ear unobtrusive. Really, the only thing that gave away secret agent was the gun and the look on her sharp-eyed face: she was scanning the room intently before she bent down and held two fingers to Ewan's throat, letting out a quiet sigh when she obviously found no pulse. "What happened? I warned him to get out."

"It was too late," Ianto said wearily from the bed. "Three shots through the window as soon as he looked up."

She stood and regarded him, green eyes piercing his. "You must be Ianto Jones. He wouldn't let me up to see you—said he needed to talk to you because he knew you."

Ianto nodded, though it took some effort. "Yes, I knew him. We were at Canary Wharf together. Which is why he came to see me…why he died."

The woman's face abruptly softened. "I know," she said quietly. "I was trying to help him figure it out. He was a good man. I'm sorry." She took a deep breath before turning back to Jack. "But your friend is right. We need to clean this up, and I suggest we move you to safety as well. I can get what you need quick."

Jack was standing with his hands crossed in front of him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How do we know we can trust you?" he asked point blank. "We've already been shot at twice."

"You'd be dead by now if I wanted to kill you," she shrugged, taking out a PDA and beginning to tap directions into it. In the back of his muddled mind, Ianto hoped it was secure. "Now, I've got a containment team on their way. What else do you need?" She ignored Jack and instead turned to Ianto, waiting impatiently. Whether she sensed he was the man to ask for such things or did so because he was injured, he wasn't quite sure.

"Personally, I need clean clothes, some large bandages, strong painkillers, and maybe another drink." He grinned ruefully. "As for the other problem, I'm not sure. I've never cleaned up a dead body from my own hotel room. I usually cover up more…exotic things in Cardiff."

The woman blanched a bit at that, then nodded as she continued to tap with her stylus. "We'll take care of it, then. Tell me what you think." Ianto raised an eyebrow at Jack; it wasn't every day a trained MI5 agent asked his opinion. He felt rather out of his league, if part because his shoulder was a throbbing bundle of fire and pain still bleeding out onto the towel.

"I've just sent for clothing and supplies. I've also asked for an ambulance, one of ours. We'll take you and Mr. MacDaniel out in the ambulance. Hopefully they'll think you're dead and stop trying to kill you. We'll set up a cover story that Ewan came up to kill you—"

"No," said Ianto sharply. "He was a hero. He survived Canary Wharf and saved my life more than once there. He came here to warn me. I won't have him blamed for my death." Jack was watching him, nodding slightly to himself. Ianto was glad Jack agreed, because he would not do that to Ewan MacDaniel; the man deserved better. "Besides, whomever is trying to kill us will know it's a cover up. Ewan wasn't working for them."

"Do you want to be the one who shot him then? In self defense?" the woman asked pointedly. "I could walk you out in cuffs if you prefer. Might hurt your shoulder, though." Before Ianto could answer the ridiculous question, Jack stepped up, once again growing defensive.

"Excuse, what did you say your name was?" he asked. Ianto could hear the impatient hint of anger at the edge of Jack's voice.

"Jordan Ford," she replied, finally pulling out a badge. "I'm senior liason to the Home Office. I was working with Ewan MacDaniel at the request of John Frobisher to try to track down whomever has been killing the remaining survivors of Canary Wharf." She paused and gave him a slight smirk. "I'm surprised it took you so long to ask, Captain. I assure you, you can trust me."

"I'm sorry, Jordan Ford, but someone's tried to kill him twice today," Jack replied stonily. "I don't trust anyone at this point."

She merely raised an eyebrow. "Your choice. But I can help you, Captain. Let me help you." The professional mask slipped just a little. "For Ewan. He didn't deserve this. And neither do any of the others."

"Jack," said Ianto softly. "Let her help. We're on our own otherwise. I'll work with her on the cover story." He'd already been thinking about it, given it was his job. "The problem is that we're dealing with trained snipers with advanced equipment. If they've been ordered to confirm the kill this time, they'll know I'm not dead when you roll me out on a stretcher. And they'll just try again if you take me out in cuffs."

Jordan frowned. "How would they know? We've done it before."

"Heat-sensing equipment, that sort of thing. We use it at Torchwood. If they've got anyone nearby monitoring, they'll know."

"Ianto's right," Jack said, nodding in agreement. "If we want them to think Ianto's dead, which would really help us figure this out quicker, then we need to sneak two dead bodies out of here."

"I don't have dead bodies on call," Ford snapped. "Even in MI5."

"Funny, we never have a problem with it," Ianto murmured with a slight smile to himself at the ridiculousness of the statement. Everyone was quiet for a moment after that.

"Shoot me," said Jack suddenly into the silence. Ianto stared at him.

"Jack, no—"

"From what I've heard, I'm sure I'd enjoy it," Jordan interrupted. "But I don't make it a habit to shoot innocent civilians as part of cover ups."

"Oh, I'm not a civilian and I'm really not that innocent," Jack said with a smirk.

"You said they could pick up the heat signature on a living body. How does that work then, if we wheel you out with a gunshot wound?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's no different than wheeling Jones out."

Jack leaned forward as if sharing a secret. "I'll be dead," he whispered. Ianto stood and pulled on Jack's arm, turning him around.

"No, Jack. It won't work, and you just died a few hours ago anyway. Who knows what it will do to you, it could—"

"I'll be fine," Jack said, reassuring in an almost frightening way.

"I won't," snapped Ianto. "I'm not watching you die again."

"Excuse me, did you say again?" Jordan Ford interrupted them. When Jack just nodded, Ianto gave her a sympathetic shrug.

"It's just this thing he does, which he is not doing today."

"If it will get them off your trail for a few hours, then I'll do it," said Jack, his voice taking on that stubborn tone he did so well. "You can put on my clothes, I'll put on yours. They'll see me leave with two bodies and call it case closed. Just cry a bit to make it more believable."

"Unless they want you dead too," snapped Ianto. "In which case I'm a walking target in that stupid coat of yours!"

"You're a target anyway, Ianto!" Jack exclaimed. "At least we can try to take you off the grid." He paused. "Even if you don't like my coat anymore."

Ianto ignored the attempt at flippancy. "No."

"It might work," said Ford, sounding slightly hesitant. "If you are what you say you are." She narrowed her eyes at Jack. "Which given some of the records we have on you, may just be possible. But first we need to move out of here, get to a more secure location in the hotel. I'm going to go downstairs, explain we've got a situation, and get another room. I'll be back in ten, and hopefully my team won't be long after."

She swept out before Jack or Ianto could say a word. Ianto closed his eyes and sighed, then took a deep breath to calm himself. He could do this. He'd been through worse. Just because Jack had died, Ianto had been shot, was still on the target list, and had a dead body in his hotel room did not mean he had to panic. How many Weevils had he disposed of? Hoix? Vandorians? Other alien creatures he'd never thought to encounter while at Torchwood?

And that's when it hit him: this was about Torchwood—Torchwood One. This was about people, not aliens. This was about friends and coworkers and some madman trying to kill them all for no reason whatsoever other than that they had survived a catastrophic alien invasion, even if the world had been told otherwise.

It was like the trip to the Brecon Beacons, when one of the most horrifying enemies they'd ever faced had turned out to be human, not something the Rift spit out in the middle of nowhere. Once again he was fighting the cruelty of humanity, as well as the damning arrogance of Torchwood One. With a gasp, Ianto turned around and swore vehemently as he leaned over the wet bar, breathing fast.

Jack was there immediately, touching his arm, but Ianto threw it off, not wanting comforting touch at that moment. Frankly, he just wanted to wallow in the panic, give in to the pain in his shoulder that was getting worse and worse. Jack was murmuring something, but Ianto couldn't hear him, it was just a buzzing in his ears. His vision was blurry, he felt suddenly lightheaded and put his forehead to the bar, only to have Jack catch him under the arms as he fell, which practically ripped apart his shoulder, and he then he blissfully passed out.


When Ianto came to, Jack was hovering over him with the most frightened look on his face that Ianto had ever seen. Jack's hand brushed against Ianto's forehead, damp with cool, clammy sweat, and his smile as Ianto opened his eyes was forced in that way only Ianto recognized. And so Ianto tried to smile back, to reassure Jack and erase the fear and worry from his face.

"Just a minor flesh wound," he murmured, and Jack half laughed, half cried, it seemed.

"It was a good shot," said a voice next to Ianto, and a silver-haired man in an impeccable navy suit was standing at his side, just finishing bandaging his shoulder. Which meant he wasn't on the floor, he was on the bed, and he hadn't even noticed. "Good in the sense that it hit you hard enough to take you down and hurt like hell, but not hard enough to kill you." He helped Ianto sit up so he could get around his shoulder with a bandage. "Dr. Nigel Williamson, MI5. And you're one lucky man, Mr. Jones, judging by the other guy."

Ianto grimaced, but with his shoulder bandaged it already felt better. Dr. Williamson pulled out a large needle, and Ianto glanced away; oh, he'd been stuck plenty of times as a Torchwood operative, but that didn't mean he liked it. The doctor chuckled.

"Just a good strong painkiller, and I'll leave some pills for you as well. Jordan tells me you three aren't quite finished with whatever's going on here yet."

"Far from it," Ianto murmured, feeling the drug flow into his arm and almost instantly relax the pain and tension. "But thank you. I appreciate your help. And your suit."

"Just doing my job," said the doctor with an amused smile, helping Ianto swing his legs over the side of the bed while Jack sat down next to him. "I also brought a sling and some clothing for you."

Ianto frowned. "How long was I out?" he asked Jack.

Jack pulled him close and kissed his temple "Too long," he murmured. "But only about twenty minutes."

"Where's Fiona?" he asked, suddenly worried for the woman who had started this all. He glanced around and saw her lying on the sofa, breathing softly.

"I gave her a sedative," the doctor said softly. "She's fine, just panicked a bit when you collapsed. We'll take care of her."

"MI5 is good," Ianto said, and he heard the slightly tipsy lilt to his voice; he knew it was the drugs, but since they were working, he decided he didn't care what he sounded like.

"That we are, Mr. Jones," said Jordan Ford, stepping into the room. For the first time Ianto noticed they were not in his hotel room, as there was no body on the floor, no pool of congealing blood, no hole in the window; apparently he had been moved quite a bit while he had been unconscious. "So good we've got a plan now."

"Which included moving me while I was unconscious."

"That was the easy part," joked Jack.

"Speak for yourself," said Jordan, but she was smiling. "Yes, we're just down the hall now. I've got some people back in your room doing cleanup. I've informed the hotel that we've had a national security situation."

"And I called Tosh and asked her to clean up any sign that we were here and involved in it," Jack added, and Jordan nodded approvingly.

"Anything to keep them from tracking you again, although I doubt we'll be able to avoid them if, like you said, they're watching for confirmation of the kill."

"Which is why we're going with my plan," finished Jack.

Ianto shook his head. "No. I won't let you."

"You can't stop me," Jack pointed out lightly.

Ianto stood on shaky legs. "Just you watch me, Jack Harkness—" But he felt dizzy and weak, and Dr. Williamson gently set him back down on the bed.

"I don't particularly like their plan either," he said softly to Ianto. "But your friend here assures me he will be all right. If we are to convince these people that you're dead, it's the best we've got without raiding the morgue."

Ianto stared hard at Jack, thinking Then raid the damn morgue! But he kept his thoughts to himself, eyes locked on Jack as he frantically tried to come up with another plan. Jack watched him with equally stubborn eyes, as if challenging him.

"Why do we need to let them think I'm dead?" Ianto finally asked, a vague thought coming to him through the fog clouding his brain. He tried to focus.

"So they stop trying to kill you," said Jordan, eyeing him uncertainly. "I thought that was obvious."

"It is," Ianto nodded. "But how is that going to help us find them if they think I'm dead?"

"It'll let us work without looking over our shoulder all the time," said Jack, frowning. "But you've got another idea, don't you?"

Ianto glanced around the room, gathering his thoughts. Oh yes, he had another idea. An idea that didn't involve shooting Jack in the head. A plan to figure out just who was after him and why. A way to get close enough to stop them. He grinned, knowing he probably looked a bit mad from the way the other three exchanged worried glances, but again, he didn't particularly care.

It was a plan. It could even work.


Author's Note

I really did want to shoot Jack, but decided it just wouldn't work as well as Ianto's plan. Which could be a bit mad, we'll see. I also wasn't planning on Ianto passing out, but realized that a gunshot wound to the shoulder like that would probably be a Very Bad Thing and needed to be addressed. Unfortunately, he may lose the arm by the end of the story.

Kidding.

Sometimes the author's notes are my favorite part, did you guess?

Anyway, I've caught up to myself now, which means a bit more time between updates. Plus I have to figure out who the killer is and why they are doing this.

Kidding again.

I know who it is and exactly how it goes down, although I'm sure there will be an unexpected twist or two long the way if my story writing follows its usual way of working itself out.

Anyway - thank you for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!