Owen strolled up to the admissions desk at Saint Helens with a swagger like he was god almighty. He always found exuberating confidence really helped. It made people far more willing to volunteer information. Besides, Cat like self-assurance came with the job description.

The girl behind the desk was in her early twenties, her skin wasn't great and she had glasses. Give her a couple of years and he'd think about it, give her a chance to have her skin clear up, get some contact lenses. He could see over the desk she did have great legs. Well, everyone had to have a redeeming factor.

"Hello." She greeted him, her eyes darting off the computer, clicking the mouse off her game of Solitaire so she could give Owen more or less her full attention. She slouched forward, palms down on the desk.

"Hi," He said, trying as much as he could to speak with all the confidence of Jesus Christ. "I'm Doctor Owen Harper," He flashed the fake ID "Social services, One of my patients has gone missing. I was wondering if he'd been brought in. He's got some problems, if you get my drift."

"Patients name?" The girl asked, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose with her index finger.

"Jones, Ianto. I-A-N-T-O. Date of birth 19/08/83."

She typed a moment and looked through her records. "Sorry no."

"He might be a John Doe. Probably not with it."

The girl stopped and looked at him, considering if she could be bothered to help him. He hadn't taken the consultant attitude of "You there," which was nice, but he seemed to be quite full of himself. "Have you got a picture?"

Owen slid the photo across the desk. She picked it up with her highly polished nails and ogled it. "No Sorry, I'd remember him."

"Bollocks." Owen whispered. If he was wrong, and Gwen was wrong, that meant Jack was right. He really hoped Jack had been wrong. This made everything much more complicated.

"Although," The girl started again and Owen listened, desperate for a lead. "We've had three guys about his age brought in the last fortnight. All blue eyes, dark hair and cute, all with suspected meningitis."

"Really?"

She nodded, her earrings jangling as she did. "All covered in blood as well."

"Let me see." Owen reached forward to grab the computer monitor but the girls' talon like fingers scratched him as she possessively grabbed the screen.

"Sorry, Staff only."

With a sigh, Owen dismissed his hopes of being incognito on this trip and dug into the pocket of his jeans. His hand produced, this time a non fake ID. "Doctor Owen Harper. Torchwood. Files." He slammed his card onto the desk for effect.

She typed for a few moments then stood back, not sure entirely who Torchwood were, but that it sounded bloody important. Owen swivelled the screen around to face him. "Maybe I should get authoris-"

He cut her off before she could say another word. "Don't try and get in my way love. Not when I'm trying to save lives." He went back to scanning the screen, reaching over and scrolling down with the keyboard. "Says here the first two are dead."

She leaned around to see the screen and nodded. "Autopsies completed and bodies released."

That seemed to annoy him, but a moment later he detected something else that elicited a stronger response.

"Shit."

"What is it?" She asked, trying to peer around at what he had found.

He sighed and scratched his chin, "They all had bite marks." He let her take the screen back. That was bad, that was very, very...

The girl hesitated, still not convinced about helping this man. "The third ones in the ICU. Name's Thomas Evans."

A moment passed before Owen looked at her and smiled. He didn't thank her, but was surprised at the amount of help he got from a receptionist. He started to walk away and she called to him.

"Doctor Harper- you can't just-"

He cut her off again, turning around and throwing her a hasty but grateful smile. "Torchwood darlin'! It's fine!"

He turned and started walking towards the ICU at a quick pace before tapping his blue tooth surreptitiously. "Jack."

Jack's voice rang through, intense and curt. "Talk to me."

"He's not here. Found three male patients his age and description, all with suspected meningitis. Two fatalities."

"Meningitis?" Jack asked, not quite understanding the relevance.

"Suspected," Owen emphasised. "That means they couldn't confirm it. And they had bite marks."

There was a considered pause from Jack, before he gave a response worthy of Owen. "Shit."

"Yeah." Owen had predicted that response. "Is this what I think it is?"

He heard Jack sigh, "Could be."

Owen darted by hospital porters, who didn't quite have the courage to tell him he shouldn't be using his phone in the hospital. "Right. I'm gonna take a look at this patient then head back. Has Tosh had any luck?"

"No. Haven't heard from Gwen yet either."

Pushing at a set of double doors Owen entered the east wing of the hospital, still walking at a quick pace. "Alright, I'll see what I can get from this poor bastard."