Author's Notes: To say that Jack is the reason this is out so quickly would be something of an understatement: he wouldn't shut up! And I learned the hard way to move it when Jack is that insistent on me getting something written. I'm happy to report that I had a job interview yesterday, courtesy of my agency (temp agency, employment agency, whatever you want to call them) and I have another one on Tuesday … my assignment at the university ended last week, and this week, I had jury duty for the first three days. I re-read Guy Gavriel Kay's newest book while we were waiting to hear from the judge and happily discovered that the magic was back. Which is also the reason for my burst of creativity, I think (my mind goes haywire with new thoughts and concepts every time I finish one of Ser Kay's books … there's a reason the man is my writing hero). In this chapter, we have Jack's rescue through the eyes of Artie Pagonis; Sophia doing what she does best; a quick check in with Owen and Lucas back in Oklahoma; and Jack gets a visit … from a very surprising person.

Chapter Eight

The Illusion of Safety

He wondered if they realized how they looked, as the three adults came steaming out of the new owner's bedroom. Probably not. It didn't appear as if his new boss had any clue about anything, aside from the child in her arms and whatever was troubling her. The gardener, Ray something-or-other, motioned to him and despite his sense that this guy couldn't tell him what to do (especially since his new boss did look extremely determined and extremely pissed off), Artemas Pagonis fell into step alongside the gardener. And then the gardener murmured to him that Natalie Tregarth was quite certain that Captain Harkness was in terrible danger. Artie thought briefly about pointing out that the captain was immortal, and didn't stay dead. Very briefly. Mrs. Sophia Tregarth was glowering at him as if she knew what he was thinking. Given what happened over the last day, Artie wasn't so sure she didn't.

Still, if the captain was in trouble, Artie wasn't about to piss off his new boss by refusing to help. Besides, he was still reeling from that kiss earlier. Artie didn't even like men (that way) … and, well … Captain Harkness was one helluva kisser. If his intention was to completely throw Artie off, he more than succeeded. With a sour twist to his lips, he realized that probably was the captain's exact aim. He probably would have followed that concept further, but Miss Natalie gave a low, urgent cry of distress, and Artie looked up … and why was the garage door closed? Ray hissed, "Jack, no!" The older man raced toward the garage, bellowing over his shoulder, "Get that door open!" Artie sprinted after him, and it never occurred to the pilot to resent that the gardener was giving him orders.

The two Tregarth ladies stood a small distance away, the mother wrapping a protective, restraining arm around the daughter, as the granddaughter trembled in her mother's arms. It was quickly apparent that getting the garage door would be no easy thing. The gardener murmured, "Treachery, this was, terrible treachery." Artie half-expected him to start muttering about 'murder, murder most foul' like some pretentious Shakespearean actor, but the other man's face was too lined with worry to carry on any further. Not for the first time, Artie wondered why the gardener was fretting so much over a man he'd only met once (if that), but he supposed it really wasn't his business. And then, the garage door was going up, giving Artie just enough to think, 'whiskey-tango-foxtrot, over?' before he was hit in the face with gas of some kind. Gagging, he stumbled back, reaching for the gardener reflexively. Only … he wasn't there.

Instead, the older man reached down and grabbed a handful of dark cloth, pulling a limp body out of the garage. Once the boots were clear, Ray (who had to be at least sixty or sixty-five) scooped the body into his arms and physically carried him to where the three Tregarth women waited. That's right. A man well into his sixties picked up a man who wasn't small by any means (Artie remembered carrying him out of an office building in DC), without breaking a sweat or even breathing hard. At the risk of repeating himself, whiskey tango foxtrot, over?

Ray gently settled the limp man onto the ground, and the women formed a small semi-circle around him, Sophia Tregarth settling his head in her lap while her daughter and granddaughter held his hand and petted his hair. More than a little disturbed by the entire tableau, Artie took a deep breath and ducked inside the garage. He should have stayed outside. The first thing he saw were the bloody fingerprints on the inside of the door … fingerprints that weren't there earlier this week, when he checked on the iron sarcophagus inside. And they were fingerprints that could have only been put there by one person.

Feeling even more discomfited, Artie gave the iron sarcophagus a cursory once-over … no, she was fine … before leaving the garage and releasing his breath in a rush. Captain Harkness bolted upright as he reached the small party, obviously disoriented and just as obviously terrified. The mother and daughter team (the adults, that is) were petting his hair and whispering, "Shhh, Jack, everything is fine, you're all right, you're safe." Ailsa Tregarth was still holding his hand and Artie dropped to one knee beside the little girl.

"I need to check his pulse, sweetheart, and make sure he's really okay," Artie told the child, feeling like a bit of a heel for taking advantage of the little girl's trusting nature. To her credit, she hit him with an 'I don't know you' look, before turning to her mother for verification. Natalie Tregarth eyed him a moment before nodding, ever so slightly, and Ailsa carefully placed the hand that was dwarfing her own into his. Artie slid his own hand down to cup the other man's wrist to continue with the fiction, because his question was already answered … the captain's fingertips were dry and smooth. He counted the beats, before saying, "His heart rate seems to be fine, but I really think he should return to his room."

"I think that's an excellent idea. Ray, you may return to your duties … I want someone investigating this. I gave my word that everyone was safe here, and I don't like being made into a liar," Philip said coldly. Artie raised his head, to find his former boss' grandson standing a few yards away, side by side with Liam Grady. And to say that Philip looked furious was something of an understatement. Kinda like saying Niagara Falls was wet, or the desert was dry, or that Philip himself sometimes had a stick up his ass.

"Keep me posted, Miss Natalie," Ray requested before touching the captain's face tenderly. Okay, now he was seriously creeping Artie out. And yet, there was nothing sensual in the other man's touch. On the contrary, it was almost paternal. It still creeped him out, though, which made no sense at all. And his new boss raised her head, making eye contact with Ray before nodding. Ray put his hand on her shoulder, before returning to his gardens. And then, Natalie's gaze fell upon him. Artie gulped. Uh oh.

"You'll carry him to his room? Shhh, Jack, I know, you can walk, but you can't deny that your legs are a bit wobbly, can you? Sophia and I could probably help you to your room, but this is a lot easier and a lot quicker. You'll be able to clean up and rest properly," she murmured to the protesting captain. Artie watched with interest as the mother-daughter tag team cajoled, nudged, nagged, bullied and otherwise pushed Captain Harkness into agreeing to their decision. Maybe that was why he found himself nodding when the hazel eyes of Natalie Tregarth settled on him in mute appeal. A few seconds after that, he was scooping the still-recovering captain into his arms, just as Ray did a few minutes earlier.

"You will be gentle with him," Sophia Tregarth said, and it was a statement. Not a question, not a demand, it was a statement of fact. As the man's body once more went limp, Artie could only nod. There was never a question of doing anything else. It wasn't because she was Natalie's mother, it wasn't because she was a woman, but because there was really no other option. Sophia Tregarth simply wasn't a woman whom one disappointed, especially since she made the late Olivia look like a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum. Nope. This was definitely not a woman whom you disappointed, even if she wasn't your boss' mother.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

And just like that, it was done. The heart-pounding terror of the last few minutes vanished like fog before the sun. Ray returned to his garden, the other workers returned to their own task, and Artemas Pagonis carried Jack to the room he was using while they were in Nevada. For her own part, with just a few whispered words, Sophia sent her daughter to bed, Ailsa clinging to her mother like the proverbial (or not so proverbial) limpet. She swore to take care of Jack, carefully biting back a smile when her Natalie mumbled something under her breath about explaining to Ailsa about people hurting Jack while Sophia herself took care of the man in question. Yes, but she would never say anything about either of those matters. Instead, she gently steered her youngest daughter and youngest granddaughter into the room they shared, staying just long enough to tuck them back into bed, before slipping next door to Jack's room.

There, she found the pilot Artie efficiently stripping Jack down to his skivvies and dropping each item of clothing into a garbage bag. She raised her eyes as the pilot looked up at her and he murmured, "Lily offered to take his clothes to be cleaned. I said yes. How do you want to get him washed up?" It wasn't only the gas that was the issue … there was also the matter of the vomit. Sophia needed only a moment to think about this, and then headed for the bathroom. This would require a bit of subtlety, but she was good at that. Nearly as good as Jack was on roofs, in fact. She turned on the water and then the shower head-mind out of the gutter, if you please-before returning to the bedroom. By now, Jack was only wearing a pair of boxers (apparently he didn't always go commando, much to Sophia's astonishment) and a pair of socks. Well. Artie was nothing if not thorough.

She instructed, "Take him into the bathroom and sit him on the toilet. I'll take it from there. You find him clean clothes." The man dipped his head, and Sophia returned to the bathroom … more to avoid embarrassing Artie than anything else. Inside the bathroom, she stripped until she was wearing only her underwear and sports bra (lovely inventions, those), and waited patiently for the pilot and Jack. This time, she noted, Jack was walking under his own power, albeit somewhat unsteadily.

Once the door closed behind Artie, Jack's boxer shorts and socks joined Sophia's own clothing, and then she eased him into the shower. More than once, he tried to wash himself, but his hands were still somewhat uncoordinated, and Sophia batted the hindering appendages away. He tipped his head back, looking at her through half-mast eyes, and said, "Wish I was in the proper condition to enjoy this." She smiled and continued to wash him as he leaned against the wall of the shower, eyes closed … whether it was from exhaustion or from the lingering effects of the gas, she couldn't be sure. And really, it didn't matter.

Years ago, long before she fell ill and her family was up-ended so terribly, Sophia found Jack after he'd been missing for three days. This was around 1960 or so, and Octavia was just a baby. Jack was still a part-time free-lancer, who occasionally disappeared for days or weeks, returning when he was needed, and so Carlyon wasn't particularly worried. However, Sophia was, and so was Priscilla, then a somewhat precocious ten year old. For that reason, she left Priscilla and Octavia with Carlyon while she went in search of their friend. She found him in a place she preferred not to think about, even now. He'd died multiple times, and he was still pale and shaking as she led him to her car. Carlyon had been furious, but showed incredibly tenderness as she helped Jack out of the car and into the Hub. Priscilla waited on him, hand and foot, for the next few days, even after he'd regained his strength, much to his amusement.

She was reminded of this, and chose not to ask how many times he died while trying to save himself. He rambled somewhat, telling her that he never saw his attacker's face. He'd recognized someone in a mobile storage unit, and then there was a horrific pain in the back of his head. When he'd awakened, the garage was filled with gas, and he'd started trying to get to the door. His memories of the awakenings after that were blurry, at best, and Sophia didn't ask. It really wasn't that important. She heard from stray comments that Jack's bloody fingerprints were found on the inside of the door, and she knew her friend was still more than a little wobbly, and that was all she needed to know.

At last, she carefully maneuvered the sleepy immortal out of the shower, dried him off, and wrestled him into the clothes which Artie so thoughtfully provided. Jack managed to summon enough energy to tease her about the wrestling comment, but was otherwise quiet … and that told her all she needed to know about how badly he still felt. Once she had Jack dressed in a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt, she guided him out of the bathroom. Artie met the door and helped Sophia get Jack to the bed. That did prompt a drowsy remark from Jack about Artie wanting to get his hands on his body again. The pilot rolled his eyes and retorted, "Took you long enough to figure that one out, Captain." His response made Jack laugh, and Artie rolled his eyes again. Sophia just smiled as they eased Jack onto the bed. Sophia grabbed one of Jack's button-down shirts, and then scampered into the bathroom to change out of her wet sports bra and equally wet underwear. She would put on proper clothes later, once Jack was settled.

When she emerged, feeling a bit drier (but there was a draft), it was to find Artie starting a massage. She raised her eyebrows, and the man flushed, admitting, "I noticed that his muscles are as tight as a guitar string just before it pops." Ah. Sophia nodded and crawled into bed, pulling Jack against her chest. She wondered if this situation was as surreal for Jack as it was for her. It wouldn't surprise her. But she kissed the side of his head and stroked his hair, soothing him as the massage continued, smiling as he flirted with her drowsily until he finally relaxed enough to drop off to sleep.

Long after his body relaxed against her, Sophia continued to hold him, ignoring the way Artie Pagonis stared at them both. However, she couldn't ignore him any longer when the man asked, "You're a married woman, but you were smiling when he flirted with you?" Sophia didn't bother rolling her eyes. It was hard to explain to someone who didn't know or barely knew her old friend. It was hard enough for her youngest daughter and most of her grandchildren to understand, and they lived under the same roof as he did for the last few months. That was simply the way Jack was. Still, he didn't have to help her and he didn't have to do anything, once she'd gotten Jack into the shower, so he would get an answer.

"That's just whom he is, Mr. Pagonis. I can smile and laugh and tease him, or I can chastise him for being himself. I won't do the latter," Sophia finally replied. What she said next was a little on the spiteful side, but she really couldn't help it. She added, "Besides, back when my husband and I were both young, Jack was a frequent visitor to our bedroom." Sophia didn't need to look at Artie's face to know that he was currently choking on his tongue. Good. She smiled serenely and kissed the top of Jack's head, drawing a sleepy mumble. He really was adorable when he was half-asleep or mostly asleep or completely asleep. Adorable when he was drowsy or asleep, sexy the rest of the time. Then again, he was sexy like this too. Sophia smiled to herself. There were varying degrees of sexy, especially where Captain Jack Harkness was concerned.

"I … don't think I will ever understand your family … any of you, really," Artie Pagonis said unexpectedly. Sophia looked up, to find the man finally regaining the use of his tongue, but his expression thoroughly confused. She hid her smirk by kissing Jack's hair, because really, what could she say to that? As she expected, Pagonis continued, "You're in your eighties, but you look like you're in your thirties. Mr. Colasanto leaves this house to your daughter, who barely knew him. You and your husband had wild orgies with the captain there years ago." Sophia raised her eyebrows. Wild orgies? When, exactly, did she say that? Well, admittedly, she mentioned Jack sharing a bed with her and Carlyon, but that wasn't exactly the same thing. She'd been to an orgy, after all. They weren't all that much fun.

"There's a huge difference between three people sharing a bed and a wild orgy. Shhh … easy, sweetheart," she whispered as Jack murmured something. Sophia learned years earlier that when he began getting restless, it meant there was an oncoming nightmare and talking to him helped to derail those. It began with murmuring, was followed by writhing (or tossing and turning), and deteriorated from there. She rubbed the nape of his neck and the back of his shoulder. Jack quieted, body going slack against her once more. And Artie Pagonis looked as if he wasn't entirely sure what to think. That was his problem, not hers.

He evidently came to the same conclusion, for he said gruffly, "I should get back to work. You'll take care of him?" She merely glowered at him and Artie swallowed hard, before scooting out of the room. Sophia half-expected him to 'eep' as he departed, but apparently, he was more self-contained than she thought. She smirked to herself and returned her attention to soothing Jack. Dying was hard on him … coming back to life hurt like hell, and for him to do it repeatedly in less than an hour? No, he'd be feeling this for a while. And she would be here until he didn't need her any more.

TWTWTWTWTWTW

Time was of the essence, so rather than returning to the homestead and getting the helicopter (as he originally planned), Lucas chose to drive their waif directly to the hospital and call his grandfather and mother while they were waiting. Dr. Harper sat in the back of the pick-up with the boy (whose name, Lucas learned, was Gaetano), holding the youngster and keeping Lucas apprised of the child's condition. They were in luck, Lucas discovered, once they reached the hospital … Ava Halloran was on duty, and she immediately took the boy back herself after Lucas whispered, 'he came through the Rift.'

And so, Lucas and Owen now waited for word on the youngster's condition. Lucas texted his grandfather to let him know what happened, and he just received a response. 'Well done. We'll be there in about twenty minutes.' The young man smiled and leaned his head back against the wall. So, he was more than a little surprised when Dr. Harper said, "That was pretty good work back there. Have you always been interested in medicine?" Lucas opened his eyes and turned his attention to the older man, who was watching him with interest. He still needed a minute to stop and think about how he would respond to the question.

It was different, when someone like Owen asked that question, as opposed to someone like his grandfather or Jack. They weren't doctors or physicians, even if his grandfather and Jack both looked at him as if they could see into his very soul. At last, he replied, "I honestly don't remember when I started getting interested in medicine or in taking care of people. I think you've heard that my father was a police officer, just like my mom?" Dr. Harper nodded and Lucas continued, "And you remember how Natalie was taught Morse code when she was a kid. The truth is, all of us … Natalie, Adriane, Jason and me … we were all taught stuff like that, along with first aid. And I suppose that's where it started for me. I loved doing the first aid."

He didn't tell the doctor about the books his father gave him, because that was private. It was one of the things that remained sacred about his father's memory, along with what his mother did to protect him and Jason … to say nothing of how he died, a hero like so many. There were a lot of things about his father's memory that were sacred to him, and they were things that he couldn't share with Owen Harper. At last, he continued, "When I was little, I wanted to be a veterinarian or maybe a doctor. But when I got older, I realized that someone would need to take care of people before they could get to the doctor. There was no reason why I shouldn't be that person. And then, my dad … well … you know about that, and I knew I needed to be a medic."

Talking about his dad was still hard, even after ten years. And the stricken look in Owen Harper's eyes didn't help. But to his credit, the doctor said only, "Everyone has their own way of finding their calling. You were more or less born into Torchwood, even though you never knew it. And I still can't figure out how you managed that." Lucas responded with a small smile and a sidelong glance, and Owen continued, "I could hate you, you know. You have everything I've ever wanted. Your mum … she's something else, you know?" The boy would work out what the first part meant … later.

For now, Lucas focused on the last part and bit back a laugh. Yeah. Yeah, his mother was something else all right. There were times when he was growing up that this truth embarrassed him, but now, as an adult? As an adult, he was fiercely proud of her. But that wasn't what intrigued him about Owen's statement. He observed, "You said that you could hate me. That means you could, but you don't. So …?" Owen grimaced, in a way that Lucas came to recognize. It meant that he really wished that Lucas hadn't picked up on that. Too bad for him. Lucas added, "My dad would call that a leading question. Maybe not how the lawyers understand it, but when someone says something like that, it just begs for a follow-up question."

"I think I had the hatred beaten out of me while I was in the other dimension. I just don't have the energy for it, much less for a kid who can no more help his circumstances than I could have saved Katie. It's a waste of time, and I promised myself that I was done wasting time," Owen replied. Lucas nodded, quietly taking note of the name. Katie. That would have been the woman whom Owen loved and lost, before Toshiko Sato. He had been in the 'mortuary.' He saw Tosh's sarcophagus and heard Jack's stories. From what he'd heard of Owen (from the man himself) before his 'death' at the nuclear plant, it sounded to him that Owen wasn't good enough for Tosh. His father's spirit whispered to him not to judge, but that was Lucas' impression.

He said softly, "Dad always believed that … that hatred was a waste of time and energy, I mean. I don't think he hated anyone. I'm not even sure if he would have hated the people who killed him." He wouldn't have, at least not for his own sake, but for others … well, that was another story. Lucas went on, "Dad had this twin brother. He hadn't seen him in years … kinda got the impression that my uncle was bad news. Not a small-time hood, mind, but someone who was dangerous. To others and to us. I only saw him once, at Dad's memorial service, and that was at a distance. He didn't approach us, and Mom wouldn't let us go to him. She … she was in a pretty bad way after Dad was killed. But afterward, after we walked away, I saw him go up and touch the stone. I never saw him again after that."

He thought briefly about telling Owen the rest of the story, about how Rex Matheson reacted when he saw a picture of Dad and Mom with Lucas and Jason, but Owen already disliked the former CIA agent, although Lucas wondered if some of that was jealousy. He wasn't sure why Owen would be jealous of Rex, but that was the impression (there was that word again) that Lucas got. Regardless, Rex went just about batshit crazy when he saw Dad, demanding to know who the hell he was and how Lucas knew him, blah blah blah, so on and so forth. That was his dad, duh. Rex didn't appreciate the reaction very much, but Lucas was still sensitive about his father, and probably always would be.

Owen was silent as he processed this, and then said, "I wish I'd known your dad. He sounds like he was a helluva man." Lucas smiled wistfully and nodded. Yes. Yes, he was. And he wished his dad could have known Owen … and Jack … and yeah, even Rex. It would have made him laugh, that the first man Lucas' mom let into her heart since his death was someone so very different from himself. But he would be glad that she was letting her guard down … so very glad. Owen continued, "Still don't think much of Matheson. Not that I have much room to talk, or so Adriane and your grandfather keep telling me. And unless I miss my guess, looks like that's Miss Ava coming now."

Lucas looked up and saw that the doctor was, indeed, correct. The young man rose to his feet as the woman approached, and without preamble, Ava said softly, "He's stable … that was good work, Lucas. I'm glad you told me that he came through the Rift … otherwise, I might have been worried at how preternaturally calm he was. How much do you know about him?" Lucas smiled without humor. Ava conceded, "Fair point. Okay. I'll take you to him; maybe we can start figuring out whom he is and where he comes from."

"Well, we know that his name is 'Gaetano,' Miss Ava, and there are only a few Rifts in the world. The Cardiff rift was closed by Jack before he left Earth a few years ago. I suppose it's possible that he came through that one, but it's not real likely. More likely that he came through the Paris rift. What do you think, Lucas? He talked to you," Owen observed as they began to walk toward the boy's hospital room. Lucas shrugged. There might be other Rifts that they didn't know about … however …

"While I was getting his name, Gaetano did say something about being on holiday with his parents, so that leads credence to the idea that he was swallowed up by the Paris Rift. I'm still not sure when he's from," the young man offered as they approached the room. The youngster was sitting up in bed and Lucas smiled, asking in Italian, "How are you feeling, Gaetano? Any better?" The little boy nodded emphatically, although he looked a little sleepy. Lucas promised himself that they wouldn't keep the boy awake for too long, since he obviously needed his rest.

And he kept that promise, learning that Gaetano was indeed in Paris when he came through the Rift. It was the year of Our Lord 1935, and Gaetano was the oldest of three children. Papa was a businessman and Mama was a nurse before she and Papa were married. He wasn't entirely sure what happened, but he went from the streets of Paris (one of the most-overrated cities in the world, so far as Lucas was concerned) to some place that wasn't Paris. Yeah. He wasn't in Paris any more, and he was so far out of his time, it wasn't funny. And Lucas wasn't quite ready to explain to him that he was now nearly eighty years into the future, and he had no way to return to his family. He would never see his parents or his siblings again.

He was lucky … the little boy was soon drifting back to sleep. When Lucas looked up, he saw Ava blinking back tears and even Owen Harper looked affected. The young medic backed away and not surprisingly, Ava bent down and kissed the boy's forehead. Owen gently guided Lucas out of the room, giving the nurse and mother a few minutes to compose herself. Outside in the hallway, Owen whispered, "God. He just …" Lucas nodded, wondering for the first time how Jack handled people who came through the Rift. He knew that people went through the Rift (they saw that first hand), but for the first time, he thought about the people who came through the Rift. As Grandfather was fond of saying, 'what goes up, must come down.'

"I know. I … hang on," Lucas said softly, withdrawing his cell phone from his pocket. It was a text from his grandfather. Lucas read over it and murmured, "C'mon … Grandfather and the others are here. We should go brief them." Owen nodded and ducked inside the room to inform Ava where they were going. When he rejoined Lucas, the two young men began the journey to meet Lucas' grandfather, Aunt Priscilla, and older brother. But as they walked, Lucas continued to think about what would happen to Gaetano … and anyone else who came through the Rift.

TWTWTWTWTWTW

He woke up alone, although Sophia's perfume still lingered in the room. Jack lay still for a few minutes, mentally reviewing what happened after Angelo's will was read. As he planned to do, he began exploring the grounds, taking note of the buildings that would be the best for his purposes. Right now, what was likely a former guardhouse seemed a likely candidate, along with an old hangar. Angelo had his compound built to be completely self-sufficient, and both buildings sat at the edges of the property … which also suited Jack's purposes.

Once those two buildings were mentally marked, Jack continued to the garage … where he discovered that not everything Angelo retrieved from the ruins of the Hub was turned over to the Tregarths. Or maybe they simply didn't look in the garage, because during a mildly curious glance around, Jack's gaze landed on an iron sarcophagus, much like the one that contained Tosh's body in the new Hub. His curiosity now piqued, the immortal headed over to investigate and it was then that he discovered Angelo also retrieved Suzie's body. That was astonishing enough, but then it seemed as if her eyes flew open. Jack took a half step backward before he even realized he was doing it, and it was then that something slammed into the back of his head. Either he was losing his touch, or someone was extremely quiet when they crept up behind him and clobbered him but good. It could go either way.

Regardless, he collapsed to the ground, unconscious. The first time, he awakened, it was to an ache in his head and his side and a godawful smell that sent him right back to his knees. Jack knew there was a good chance he wouldn't be able to save himself, but that wasn't about to stop him from trying. And so he died … resurrected … died again … and each time, he drew a little closer to the garage door. And as he feared, he lacked the strength to open the garage door, as his repeated deaths sapped his energy. He died for the final time within the garage, clawing at the door to get it open. He resurrected to a blue sky, hands on his face and hair, and blessed fresh air. Jack still didn't know how they knew to look for him, but he'd find out eventually.

He was mortified when Artie Pagonis picked him and carried him back to the house, as if he was a child, but right then, Jack felt too damn awful to care, really. He was cleaned up and dressed, and then tucked into bed. Jack expected Pagonis to leave, since he did everything that was asked of him. However, he didn't. Instead, he provided a full body massage, talking about the weeks and months he spent undercover with the Families (and by the gods Jack no longer believed in, if he said that their first encounter in DC hurt him more than it hurt Jack, the immortal would hit him). He talked about how it hurt when he returned to the compound and learned that Angelo was dead, and how grateful he was to hear that Jack was with him at the time.

And then, Sophia returned to the room, and as she had so many times in the past, she drew him into her arms and held him while Pagonis continued the massage. As the knots in his muscles eased, Sophia's gentle caresses and soft voice sent him drifting into a more gentle oblivion than the one he spent several deaths trying to escape. And now, here he was again, awake once more. Jack rubbed his hand over his eyes, trying to establish the timeline in his mind … and figure out how in the hell whoever attacked him managed to enter the garage without Jack ever hearing him. No matter how many times he ran through it in his mind, he came up with the same answer … whoever killed him was already there, and waiting for him.

Jack thought it highly unlikely that someone was in there, lying in wait to attack any random person who entered the garage. And he knew that it was now common knowledge that Natalie was the owner of the house (well, of the entire compound). While it was possible that whoever hit him was defending the property, it wasn't likely … if they thought he was an intruder, they would have simply knocked him unconscious and then called for help. No. No, this was aimed at him, and Jack's illusions of safety had disappeared. The question was, were they trying to kill him to get easier access to Natalie, Sophia and Ailsa? Or was there something else in play?

His musings were interrupted by a rap at the door. His initial plan was to ignore it, and let whoever was on the other side think that he was still asleep. But the knocking continued and Jack pushed himself upright with a groan, padding over to open the door. He had a quick vision of curly dark hair, and then he was being propelled across the room, back slamming against the wall. Any sound he might have made was cut off by a mouth fastening hungrily upon his own. What followed were scratches, bites, a fight for supremacy, Jack being tossed onto the bed like one of Ailsa's rag dolls, and some of the roughest sex he'd had in a very, very long time. And Jack loved every second of it.

Over the weeks, he'd gradually become accustomed to Owen and Esther treating him as if he was a fragile piece of glass when they made love, the pair completely focused on pleasuring him until he couldn't remember his own name (either of them). When it was just he and Esther, she was getting better at allowing him to take care of her, although she wasn't yet comfortable with the biting and scratching. There was heat and there was passion, but the greatest force was tenderness. That was absent in this coupling, and he minded not at all.

When passion was spent, and they both lay exhausted on the bed, Jack combed his fingers through the dark curls of his unexpected assailant, and whispered, "Funny, I could have sworn that you didn't even like me." There was a brief huff of laughter, a kiss was pressed to his sternum, and a few minutes passed before he received an actual verbal response. While he knew that 'like' didn't necessarily go with sex, he also knew that it made it a helluva lot more fun. Hate sex, he discovered the hard way, wasn't a lot of fun. Or maybe he wasn't wired for hate sex. That was also a strong possibility.

"I'm good at keeping my cards close to my vest. I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you," Liam Grady answered, propping himself up on one elbow to smile down at Jack, before kissing the hollow of his throat. The man lay back down beside him, adding, "I've never felt like that for or about anyone, woman or man, and it scared the hell out of me. You scare the hell out of me, Captain Jack Harkness, and I went to ground. Just like I always do. Not everyone is as brave as you are, you know." Jack rolled his eyes.

But before he could say anything, Liam was continuing, "Dad and I knew that Angelo was bisexual, and while I could tell that Dad didn't approve, he never actually said anything. I've spent my entire life burying what I felt under layers and layers of bullshit, to protect myself. There was a time when my parents loved each other enough to let the world burn for each other. Something happened when I was two, and it completely destroyed their relationship. I never heard what it was, but … So, I've always been afraid of letting myself feel things deeply, afraid of what I'm capable of. And then I met you. Christ, Jack … you blew through my defenses as if they were wet tissue paper!"

"But we only met this morning," Jack pointed out gently. Liam rolled his eyes and proceeded to render Jack utterly speechless, with lips, teeth, tongue, and fingers. When Jack's mind rebooted, he gasped, "Right. My point is … oh …" Now Liam's body was covering his own, and Jack trembled from the force of his release. He was starting to see that unless he allowed Liam to finish this on his own, the other man would likely kill him … death by sex. There were worse ways to go, as Jack well knew from painful experience.

"I have never done this, Jack. I have never attacked or seduced someone and slept with them on the first day we met. Never. I don't do that sort of thing, I don't think most people are worth it. I suppose there's a part of me which wanted to hurt you because of that. I didn't, did I? When I shoved you into the wall, or …?" Liam asked, allowing his voice to trail off. Jack shook his head. He'd been rough, yes, but not cruel, and there was a very big difference between the two. Liam continued, reaching up to run his fingers through Jack's hair, "I have never wanted anyone the way I wanted you, and I had to have you. And that scares the hell out of me. 'Scuse my language, but I don't fuck people. I make love with the few partners I've had."

"What's a little bad language after mind-blowing sex?" Jack asked drily. While he didn't swear much, for reasons that were his own, he knew the necessity of occasionally using off-color words. Liam smiled and kissed the line of his jaw. The roughness and desperation was gone, leaving gentleness in its wake. In some ways, it wasn't that different from one of the vicious storms that tore through Oklahoma … it was just that in this case, the storm wouldn't leave devastation behind.

Liam observed, "Good point. You know, the older he got, the more Angelo talked about you. Olivia always protested, telling everyone who would listen that Angelo loved Signora Talia very much. And he did. She was exactly what he needed, in the wake of what he and those butchers did to you, and for the rest of his life. But one thing Olivia never understood was Signora Talia's compassion. Not long before he slipped into his final coma, Angelo told me that Signora Talia hit him in the head with a skillet and then made him sleep on the floor after he confessed to her about that night. I have no trouble seeing Natalie Tregarth do the exact same thing, so I can see why he sees so much of Signora Talia in her. But the truth is, Angelo loved you first, and he always loved you. I can see now why he did. It isn't just that you're beautiful, although you are, and I have no doubt that you know how beautiful you are. But there's something about you, Jack Harkness, and I can't define, but I can see it. Angelo saw it, too. He was so proud of you, you know, and he wept for you when you reached your darkest days. I … I'm not sure if he would want me to tell you this, but I think you should know. He's had men watching over your daughter, ever since that horrid day, and he left other men in place to watch over Ianto Jones' family. So long as they draw breath, no harm will come to them."

Jack swallowed hard. So Angelo had known about Ianto, and regardless of how he may have felt about the young Welshman, he'd known that Jack loved him. Angelo couldn't save Ianto, and so he made sure Ianto's family was protected in the aftermath of the 456. Liam began tracing patterns into Jack's skin, saying softly, "Both of those assignments were hot properties among Angelo's people, especially after word got around about what you'd done, both then and before. A few months ago, not long after Angelo's death, two men found out the hard way to leave Mica Davies alone. And Angelo gave our men carte blanche. As long as they didn't get caught, they could take whatever measures they deemed necessary. And our men are very good."

"Thank you," Jack said hoarsely. He knew he should have been thanking Angelo, but Angelo was beyond his thanks now. Liam wasn't, and he gave Jack this news. He would have continued, but Liam lowered himself until his entire body covered Jack's, and the immortal was incapable of saying anything at all. He was even more incapable of thinking, only feeling, and Liam was making him feel nothing but pleasure.

TBC