Well, ummm... Hi. I'm kinda sheepish to finally be posting this chapter. I would give you the basic excuse about how I've been busy and real life and all that cheery nonsense-but I'm not going to. Simply going to admit I'm at fault. And it won't ever happen again (I hope!). Thank you to plenty of my readers that gave me a swift kick in the backside for not getting this up two months ago! To my readers who waited, you've waited long enough! I give you Chapter 10 :)

(P.S. Just a slight angst warning for this chapter... Rose has a bit of a history she's upset over. She's got an excuse for acting angst-y.)

Chapter 10

"I don't know"

He could be right outside the Hub in three years' time, or exploring an anti-gravity planet four thousand light years away. Revolutions could have been breaking out on New Earth or perhaps Charles Dickens had called on the Doctor again. Maybe Jack was being a responsible citizen and casting his vote in today's election, perhaps following one of those "Vote Saxon" signs Rose had seen outside.

All Rose knew was Jack Harkness wasn't in the Hub. And his team wasn't going to be happy about it.

Ianto hadn't spoken again, just stared at her with disbelieving eyes. He didn't trust her, nor should he; Rose hadn't given him any reason to trust her. Inside, Rose started panicking, worry filling her thoughts as she began to imagine the negative possibilities…

If that was Owen who had just come in, he would willingly join Ianto in interrogating her. What she had done with Jack, how she had gotten rid of the body—what else could they possibly conclude except murder?—what gave her the nerve to still be at Torchwood. She wouldn't have any answers, of course, so they would continue. It would be just like before; the dungeons of Torchwood Three would become a prison chamber for her as they kept her isolated for days and days on end. One arm chained to the wall, showing bruises around her wrist, the other arm reaching towards the stale and rotting food they would pass under the door once a day.

It wasn't Ianto or even Owen on the other side of the door, Rose knew, but the leaders of the parallel Torchwood—the group led by James Wallace. They were far away, in a spot impossible to reach, but that didn't mean an end to the nightmares. She wasn't even sleeping this time.

Shaking her head to force her into the present, into the universe of the Doctor and Captain Jack Harkness, not of Pete Tyler and James Wallace, Rose scrambled to find an explanation for Ianto.

"He left last night—maybe past midnight?—with an old friend of ours. I should have been the one that left, not Jack; I don't know why he isn't back…" Her explanation was senseless, told in a babbling tone that must have convinced Ianto she was insane. As she quieted, she looked down, afraid to see the distrust in Ianto's eyes, afraid to meet the fate she knew was coming.

The first relief came when Gwen's voice called out a greeting as she entered the Hub. Surely, surely she wouldn't assist any negative actions against Rose. Perhaps being the one team member Rose didn't know was easier; there were no expectations of friendship or a close connection. Rose knew Gwen was a stranger just as Gwen knew Rose to be.

The second relief came when Ianto turned to Gwen and, to Rose's surprise, simply said, "We have a problem. Call Tosh first."

Rose's eyes snapped up, finally looking at the man she was sure was ready to condemn her. Two sides of her were warring inside: on one hand, Rose knew an Ianto Jones, and knew him to be a good man at all levels, surely this could be a constant between universes; on the other hand, this man obviously placed his trust and obedience in Jack Harkness and by losing Jack, Rose surely betrayed his trust. Rose didn't deserve his trust.

Ianto simply looked at her. "We need to solve this problem first. Then we'll talk." Rose was still starring after him when he turned towards Gwen.

"Tosh is on her way. Now, problem, explain, please." Gwen was nonchalant, plopping down in a nearby chair as she spoke. Rose was worrying about her future, and Gwen was completely calm—Rose wasn't sure if she should be offended or impressed.

"Jack's gone." Ianto's words were short. Rose knew him—the other him—well enough to know he was frustrated, concerned. Rose just didn't know who he was directing his anger towards—her or Jack. "Gone last night. Rose will have to finish that for you."

"Rose could tell us about a lot more than last night. Don't tell me you wouldn't love to know more about the past of our beloved leader?"

"We all have out secrets, Gwen." Ianto was terse when he answered, obviously ready to jump to Jack's defense. Again, Rose found herself wondering about Ianto and Jack's relationship. To describe them as "close" seemed too lenient.

"Yes, but he knows all about our lives. Think about the history checks that happened before you were hired by Torchwood, Ianto. Yet we know nothing about who he is, where he came from, even what he does in his spare time. She can help fill in those gaps."

Gwen and Ianto both turned towards her expectantly. What could she tell them? How much had Jack told them about his past—how much could she tell them without betraying Jack's friendship? Telling the truth, no matter how impossible it seemed, was the only way to convince them to trust her. Of all the uncertainties of the day, that rose knew for sure.

"How much has Jack told you about his past—before Torchwood? I've got to tell you, I was only with him for about a year. I've heard some stories from before I met him, but not much."

"I know he worked for Torchwood before Canary Wharf, just like me. He was part of the clean-up, smoothing things over with the public, quietly restarting the organization here in Torchwood." Ianto unbuttoned his suit jacket, turning to place it on a hanger as he explained to Rose. Maybe he also felt like this was betraying Jack—speaking behind his back, sharing things that shouldn't be shared. "If you search for a 'Jack Harkness' among birth records, you won't find one."

"But you will find one. Just from the beginning of the 20th century. There was a Captain Jack Harkness that served during WWII. Tosh even got to meet him." Gwen interjected quickly, as Ianto seemed reluctant to go on.

Rose started at that. Time travel? Even her Torchwood hadn't mastered time travel. "You went back to World War II? And what do you mean—the captain from the war wasn't Jack? That's when I met him."

"Problems with the rift, just like now." Ianto was quick to look back at the blinking monitor. "Which, of course, means we need to drop this conversation. Finding Jack is important, but making sure aliens aren't flying around Cardiff is even more important." When Gwen looked as if she was going to protest, Ianto continued. "This conversation can wait. As soon as Tosh gets here, we're leaving. We'll call Owen and tell him to meet us there."

Without further argument, Gwen turned towards the computer. After pulling up the map again, she read off the locations to Ianto: near the National Museum of Wales, St. Mary's Street, Millennium Stadium, Churchill Way. Only one of the targets, the blue dot close to Millennium Stadium, seemed to be extremely mobile.

"Possibly only one sentient creature out there, then? The others are just as likely to be technology." Rose was used to judging what kind of force the team would need when going into these situations; like riding a bike, she thought to herself. She had never lost the knowledge of how to run a team. It was only a little rusty.

The push back rose had been expecting, though, came when Ianto stopped her from grabbing gear.

"You can't go with us, Rose. You're not Torchwood."

"You're not Torchwood anymore, Miss Tyler. You ran your team into a trap. I'll be forced to relieve you of command and place you under arrest for treason."

Handcuffs and anger. Screams and pain. A right of habeas corpus, right. Rose wouldn't be getting a trial by jury. None of those promises in the constitution. Isolation and fear. That was her reward.

"Rose? Just… stay put. Please. Jack said you weren't well, at the least. I can't put you in the field."

Across the room, Gwen gave a snort. "Who did put you in charge, Ianto? It hasn't been long since you started in the field with us."

"I've been working for Torchwood longer than you have, Gwen. And I'm not trying to take charge—just keep us moving." Looking at Rose, who still looked startled, though from what Ianto couldn't tell, he raised his eyebrows, asking a silent question. Seemingly without conscious movement, Rose nodded her assent to what Ianto hoped was staying in the Hub. When he and Gwen gathered their bags, they turned and without another word, left the Hub.

It was Ianto, just Ianto. He was keeping her safe, not accusing her of a crime. These words became her mantra as the nightmare washed over her. Suddenly, her suppressed fear bubbled up and up and up—until it exploded in a great force of anger and rage. With a scream, Rose beat a fist into the closest wall, the tiled wall labeled "Torchwood" with black tiles.

Again, again, Rose beat against the wall, seeing the walls fold in on her, as the open space of the Hub transformed into her prison cell, without windows and only one door. The memory of confinement choked her, but she fought against it. In one moment of sanity, Rose ran towards the tourist office, looking for the quickest escape into the outside world.

Outside, the morning traffic still continued, people wandering through Cardiff Bay, blissfully unaware of the turmoil Rose was experiencing. Blissfully unaware of the rift running under their feet. Blissfully unaware of the aliens that could be such a danger to this green planet.

A deep breath helped to clear her head. This was the second time today. The second relapse. Rose had been doing so much better—it had been almost five years since her release from prison and her life had almost returned to normal. Perhaps just a relapse once a week. What was it about being away from her problems that made her feel even more vulnerable than before?

"Miss? Are you looking for someone? Can I be of assistance?" A stranger, well dressed, obviously business attire, addressed Rose. With a start, Rose realized her knuckles were bleeding, fresh from her pounding. No wonder the perfectly respectful man was worried—he probably thought she was missing a few marbles. How did her appearance look as a whole?

"I'm sorry; I took a bit of a fall. I must be slightly… off." Her smile wasn't nearly as reassuring as she intended it to be, she was sure. But it was the best that was going to happen right now.

"Here, let me help you to a bench. You probably need to sit for a bit, miss." The stranger offered his arm, but did not force himself. Today, Rose was more than happy to receive a friendly exchange. Even if it was from someone she would never see again.

As they sat, the man extended an arm. "Michael Ruthers, ma'am. Pleased to meet you."

"Rose Tyler, likewise. I'm sorry for startling you. I think I started the day off on the wrong foot."

The man stared for just a second, seemingly confused by the information she gave him. Rose wasn't sure why; what had she said that was suspicious? He recovered, though, and continued the conversation. "Over excited for the election, perhaps? I'm working for one of the campaigns—Harold Saxon."

Rose smiled, at least she recognized that name. She was expecting a small name Politian she wouldn't recognize. "Give my best wishes to Mr. Saxon, then. I'm sure it's a busy day for you. I won't keep you."

The man shook her hand before walking away, putting a cell phone to his ear. The life of a Politian, Rose thought as he walked away from her, must be no fun at all.

"No, sir, I'm positive. You need to give this information to Mr. Saxon. Because you've read the lists, the people he wants us to be on the lookout for. Rose Tyler was a notable associate of his greatest opponent. Tell Mr. Saxon." Michael Ruthers may not have anything against Rose Tyler personally—for all of the three seconds he had known her she seemed pleasant enough—but he was receiving a paycheck based on Mr. Saxon winning the election. And everyone knows politics aren't as clean as they should be. In fact, Michael Ruthers felt quite pleased with himself as he reached the campaign headquarters in Cardiff.

Knock Knock Knock Knock.

I will see you soon, faithful readers! The Doctor and Jack and Harold Saxon next chapter... Now doesn't that just sound like fun? Please read and review!