CHAPTER TEN

"Oh, god," Ianto groaned, averting his eyes instantly. "That is revolting."

Jack stared at the brains in apparent fascination. "What is that?" he asked, curious.

"This is us," the fish-man said proudly.

"What do you mean? How is that," Jack nodded at the tank, the brains floating lazily in the water, "you?"

"We do not answer prisoners' questions."

"You keep on saying 'we' – what d'you mean by that?" Jack asked.

"We do not answer prisoners' questions."

Jack nodded, as if this explained something. He leaned forward until his nose was almost touching the glass side, scrutinising the over-sized brains with apparent curiousity.

"Jack?" Ianto asked. His heart was pulsing rapidly at the base of his throat.

Jack flicked him a glance which clearly read 'Don't say anything - I've got it all under control'.

Ianto responded with a quirked eyebrow, but kept his mouth shut.

"What did you bring us here for?" Jack questioned. "I mean, it's a lovely tank and everything, but I don't—"

"Prisoners will remain silent!" The fish-man rapped the handgun against the side of the tank.

Ianto felt rather than heard the shot going off, saw the glass cracking and the water crashing through—

-T-

Jack Harkness opened his eyes to a bright, sunny Tuesday morning. He yawned, stretched, and rolled out of bed, padding across to the door and sticking his head into the kitchen.

"Tea?" his partner asked, not bothering to look up from his newspaper.

"I'd appreciate a coffee, actually," Jack said, wandering over and grabbing a slice of toast from his partner's plate.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Please tell me that you're kidding."

Jack ruffled his hair, just to annoy him. "No, really – I'd like a coffee."

Ianto put down his paper and stared at Jack bemusedly. "I don't do coffee. You know that, Jack."

Jack paused, a memory niggling at the back of his brain. He frowned, trying to remember.

"Jack?" Ianto looked at him, a worried expression in his green eyes. "What's wrong?"

Jack shook his head, and smiled reassuringly at him. "Nothing, don't worry. A tea's fine."

Ianto smiled back and pushed back his chair, going to the kettle and flicking it on. Jack admired the view for a minute, before picking up the paper and scanning the headlines.

"The president's son's been picked up for drunk-driving again," Ianto said, deftly dumping a tea-bag into a mug and pouring hot water over it. Steam surrounded him, and for a moment he looked insubstantial and ghostly. Jack blinked, and he was back to normal again.

Ianto handed him the tea with a bright smile. "Gray said that he'll be dropping by for dinner sometime," he said. "I was thinking of doing a pot-roast."

"Sounds great," Jack said, hands wrapped around the mug. He took a careful sip. "Are you at home today?"

Ianto shrugged and picked up his remaining slice of toast, green eyes glinting like those of a cat. "Well, you would know."

Jack chuckled. "I was only trying to make conversation. Are you visiting your mother?"

Ianto politely finished his mouthful before replying, "I haven't been for a couple of weeks – I really ought to."

"That's no problem," Jack said. "I was just wondering if you want me to pick up something on my way home."

Ianto stood up again, dropping the toast in the bin and placing the plate in the dishwasher. "I'll rustle up something."

Jack relaxed back in his seat. "I'm looking forward to it."

Ianto turned and presented a brilliant smile. Jack felt an unexpected sense of unfamiliarity for a flash of a second, before Ianto headed for the door on the other side of the kitchen. "That'll be the post-girl," he said.

"I didn't hear a knock."

"There was one," Ianto assured him with another smile. "Be right back."

Jack nodded, picking up his paper again and opening it to the second page. Then frowned.

Why was the second page blank?

Ianto returned back to the kitchen, a wad of letters in his hand. "I was talking to Diane from Reprographics yesterday, and she was suggesting we think about adopting—"

"We've got a faulty paper," Jack said, interrupted Ianto's chatter.

Ianto cast the letters onto the table and leant over Jack's shoulder. "What d'you mean?"

Jack thrust the paper at him. "Look – it's blank. Nothing. Nada."

Ianto took it from him and checked inside. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure – I think I might have noticed had there been writing on it," Jack snapped.

Ianto ignored his tone and instead frowned down at the paper. "It isn't blank," he said in confusion. And, when he showed Jack the paper, there was indeed print covering the pages. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," Jack said quickly. "Just having a bit of a strange morning, to be honest."

"Do you need the day off?"

"The headmaster can't take a day off school just because of an odd morning." Jack stood up again, checking his watch. "Which reminds me – I'd better be getting ready."

Ianto nodded and folded the paper. "I'll get your lunch from the fridge."

"Who's covering your history class today?" Jack said impulsively.

Ianto's forehead creased in an anxious frown. "Gwen Cooper, remember?"

"Gwen Cooper?" Jack felt the start of a headache building behind his eyes. "I thought she was in the English department?"

"She is." Ianto stood up; worry still glittered in his jade-coloured eyes.

"Then why's she—?"

"She's only covering," Ianto reminded him gently. He carefully wrapped his arms around Jack, kissing his neck affectionately. "I really think that you should stay home today. You seem out of sorts."

Jack sighed and relaxed into his partner's embrace, closing his eyes for a moment. "I can't," he said. "That sends out the wrong message."

Ianto withdrew, scrutinising Jack's face closely. "If you're sure," he said doubtfully. "But I—"

"I'm fine, Ianto, alright?" Jack retorted, his temper fraying. "I can take care of myself." He felt an odd sense of déjà vu as the words left his mouth.

Ianto raised an eyebrow coolly. "Of course. I'll just let you work yourself so far that you get ill, why don't I?"

"I'm not ill," Jack said through gritted teeth. "It's just a headache. Couple of aspirin and I'll be right as rain."

"You're not immortal, y'know," Ianto said. "You don't magically bounce back from everything."

Again that ripple of déjà vu. Jack shook his head, hoping that it would help dissipate his headache. "Look," he sighed, "just let me deal with it in my own way, okay?"

Ianto shrugged and sat down again. His face was stony, his eyes like cold, emerald marbles in his face. "Have it your way."

"Thankyou." Jack felt the coil of frustrated anger inside his chest relax a fraction. "I'll just go and get dressed."

-T-

Ianto saw the water surging towards him, slimy, salmon-grey coloured brains riding them like surfers, the noise making it impossible to even think straight.

Jack hurled himself in front of him, shoving him back towards the corridor and yelling, "Get out! Get out, now!"

Ianto stumbled backwards, his feet deadened in shock. As if in a dream, a nearest brain seemed to fly out of the water and latch itself onto Jack's back; Jack fell, his torso twisting as he splashed into the water.

The water was still coming, faster than before, and Ianto finally found his feet. He fought the urge to run, instead plunging into the water after Jack. He knew that it was foolish, he knew that, if they ever got out of this, Jack would have a complete hissy fit, he knew all this.

But that didn't stop him.

He felt a cold, wet weight hit him between the shoulder blades; a sharp pain pierced his neck like a spear, and he too saw the water coming up to meet him before he blacked out.

-T-

Ianto Jones wasn't the sort of person to sit in the pub in the evenings and drink with his mates. Ianto Jones wasn't the sort of person to be yelling obscenities at the television screen on which England was thoroughly beating Wales in the rugby.

He wasn't the sort of person to do either of these things, yet on that particular night he found himself there, partaking with a ferocious delight.

And he didn't even think anything odd of it. If he had really stopped and considered, he would have realised that something was wrong. Ianto Jones was clever enough to realise that, and some.

But he didn't stop to consider it. He just drained his beer glass and hollered for a refill with a throat raw from bellowing.

Dan, one of his mates, elbowed him in the ribs. "Lisa know you're here?" he asked in one of the quieter moments.

Ianto shook his head, not taking his eyes from the screen. "She thinks I'm still at work."

Dan winked conspiratorially. "I won't tell her if you don't tell Rosalie," he said.

"Deal." Ianto gulped at his beer again, the alcohol pleasantly befuddling to his senses.

Dan laughed, still disgustingly sober. "You'll regret that in the morning."

"Who cares?" Ianto shrugged and took another swallow. "I don't."

"Lisa'll smell it," Dan warned. "They always do."

Ianto stopped, and considered. "Why am I here?" he asked, after a moments bewildered thought.

Dan shrugged, and for a moment Ianto could have sworn that his eyes changed from brown to grey. "No idea."

"I don't drink," Ianto said, plonking the glass down, beer washing over the sides. He got up, Dan watching him in confusion. "I should go. Jack'll be wondering where I am."

"Jack?"

Ianto blinked at him. "What?"

"You said that Jack'll be wondering where you are. Who's Jack?" Dan's expression was suddenly horrified. "You're not cheating on Lisa, are you?"

Ianto frowned. "You must have misheard me," he said. "I don't know any Jacks."

"Sure." Dan tipped his head at the door. "Run along, then," he teased. "Can't leave the missus waiting."

Ianto nodded, stumbling to the door and staggering out.

Dan watched him go, his eyes a powdery shade of blue.

-T-

"Jack?" Ianto asked in horror.

Jack looked up from buttoning his coat. "Yeah?"

Ianto was staring at him in badly-concealed shock. "What are you wearing?"

"My coat," Jack said, confused. "Why?"

"You hate that coat," Ianto said. He gestured to the RAF coat, green eyes wide. "Last time I tried to make you wear it you refused."

"It was a fancy dress party!" Jack protested. "I just felt like a change."

"You can hardly wear it to school," Ianto pointed out. "The kids will laugh."

"They can laugh and be put in detention." Jack smoothed down the lapels. "I—"

"Look, Jack, you're clearly not thinking straight," Ianto interrupted. "I think it would be better if—"

"No!" Jack said angrily. "I'm in charge, and what I say goes. Okay?"

"Jack—"

"No." Jack swivelled on his heel and marched past his partner, swiping the blue plastic lunchbox from the table as he went, before yanking open the door and storming down the path.

Ianto followed him out. "You might want your brief-case," he called.

Jack ignored him, despite the small voice in the back of his head telling him to turn around and make things right. He carried on down the empty road until he rounded a corner and nearly walked straight into Ianto.

"What the—"

"Your briefcase," Ianto said with a tight smile, holding out a smart black case.

"How did you—?"

"I'll have dinner on the table by six, okay?" Ianto continued on over him. "Don't be late – there's a film on tonight that I want to see."

"I…okay. Sure." Jack took the briefcase, and, after a moment's hesitation, kissed Ianto on the cheek. "See you later."

-T-

"Mr Harkness?"

Jack looked up from his desk to see a petite blonde in a loose blouse at the open door. She had a red manila folder clutched by a perfectly manicured hand, and her short skirt had a slit up the side. "Sylvia," he greeted her, before looking back down at the forms on his desk.

"Sir, I was wondering if I should make a call to the Harpers?" Sylvia fixed her clear grey gaze on him. He shifted uncomfortably under her piercing stare.

"Why?" he asked, picking up his pen and doodling absently on it.

"Max has missed yet another day of school," Sylvia said. "Even Toshiko Sato's son has to attend school, no matter what he thinks."

"Toshiko Sato, the inventor of the Externet?" Jack queried. "She's got a kid?"

Sylvia nodded jerkily, her expression unreadable. "And a husband. Dr Owen Harper."

Jack sat back in his chair, tapping his pen against his lips thoughtfully. "So what's the kid done?"

"Skipped school." Sylvia barely hid her growing impatience. "Again."

"He's done it before?"

"Evidently," she said tightly. "So I was thinking that I should make a call to—"

"Why wasn't I notified before?" Jack interrupted, sitting forward again and leaning his forearms on the desk. "I'm the headmaster – aren't I meant to be told?"

"It didn't seem necessary—"

"Of course it's necessary!" Jack snapped. "I need to know what happens in this place, if I want to do my job properly."

Sylvia froze, taken aback by the vehemence in his voice. "Apologies, sir," she said coolly. "I wasn't aware that you would want to be bothered by something so trite."

Jack flicked the pen around his fingers, struggling to keep his temper under control. "I can understand why you thought that, but in future I want to know everything." The pen slipped from his grasp, rattling against the sleek polished yew.

"It won't happen again," Sylvia promised, backing out the room. "I'll make the call now."

"You do that." Jack slumped in his chair, pressing the bases of his palms against his eyes. "What a great start to the day," he muttered, before picking up the pen again and attempting to make a start on the forms.

-T-

Ianto's feet felt heavy and leaden, his wrists and fingers aching from long hours typing at work. His head was muzzy, like it was stuffed full of cotton wool. He touched a hand to his ear, just to check that there wasn't any white fluff poking out.

A girl gave him an odd look, and he blushed self-consciously. Idiot, he berated himself. Just imagine how amusing Jack would find it if you got labelled as the neighbourhood loon.

He frowned. There it was again – that mention of 'Jack'. Why did that name keep on spinning to the surface? He didn't even know any Jacks, let alone well enough to keep on thinking about them.

His mobile buzzed in his pocket, vibrating against his leg. Jack would like that, he thought, before catching himself and shaking his head. Must be the drink, he decided, pulling out his mobile and checking the caller ID. "Hey there, Lisa," he greeted her.

He could almost see her disapproving frown. "Have you been drinking?" she asked suspiciously.

"'Course not," Ianto replied. He forced a laugh. "What makes you think that?"

"Other than the fact that you sound only half-coherent?"

"Coherent," Ianto mused. "Sound like half-there, doesn't it? 'Co', and then 'here'."

"Ianto…"

"I'll be home soon," he said. "What's for dinner?"

"I was actually ringing to say that you'll have to get yourself something," she said. "I'm working late tonight – my boss wants me to finish off some paperwork."

"What's your boss's name?" Ianto asked. As soon as the words left his mouth, he realised how random a thing it was to ask.

Lisa paused, down the other end of the line. Then: "Harkness," she said, "Jack Harkness."

Ianto froze, head spinning.

"Ianto?" Lisa's voice, thin and worried, trickled out the phone held loosely in his right hand. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I…" he croaked. "'m fine."

"Are you sure?" Lisa asked, sounding concerned. Ianto gritted his teeth, pressing his fingers to his temple and willing the headache to go away. "Do you want me to pick you up?"

"I'll be fine," he said, although it sounded false to his own ears. "See you later."

"Ianto—" she started, but he quickly flipped the phone shut, cutting her off. He didn't put it back in his pocket, but instead sat himself down on the curb, staring blankly into space. The cotton-wool was gone now, replaced with a deafening numbness. What the hell's going on?

His mobile rang again, vibrating in his palm. Without thinking, he answered. "Ianto Jones."

"Oh, sorry, must be a wrong number," an American answered, sounding confused. "Sorry for bothering you."

"No problem." He hung up, still acting more on autopilot than anything else. What the hell's going on? he thought again.

Once more, the phone shuddered. Ianto frowned. This really isn't a normal occurrence. "Ianto Jones," he said again, starting to feel fractionally more clear-headed.

"Again?" The American man sounded irritated this time. "This must be a wrong contact. Sorry—"

"Who were you trying to call?" Ianto asked, cutting him off mid-apology.

"Dr Harper," the man answered, "Dr Owen Harper."

"He's probably still working," Ianto said, "but I know him."

"Can you give me his number?"

Ianto considered. "What's your name?"

There was a pause; a significant one if Ianto was superstitious like that. "Jack Harkness."

A sudden burst of pain behind Ianto's eyes stunned him for a moment; the phone slipped from his fingers and clattered into the gutter.

Jack.

-T-

Jack frowned. "Hello?" he asked. The other end of the line was silent. "Ianto?"

Funny coincidence, that name, he thought distractedly, too many Ianto Joneses in Cardiff.

He sighed and flicked an impatient glance at the clock over the door, growling under his breath when he realised he would be late home.

A knock sounded at the door; Sylvia looked in, barely managing to hide a smug smirk as she took in his irritation. Jack wondered why he was always the one stuck with disrespectful employees. Surely most headmasters don't get this.

"Any luck?" she asked, faux-polite.

"None," he said, not bothering to keep the grumpiness out of his tone. "It's a wrong number."

Sylvia shrugged, widening her eyes in pretend sympathy. "Well, we can always try Ms. Sato," she said. "I'm sure that they wouldn't make it impossible to contact them."

"Why haven't we discovered this before?" Jack demanded. "Surely there've been checks?"

Sylvia spread her hands in a 'what can one say?' gesture. Jack noticed, sidetracked for a second, hat she had forgotten to put eye-make-up on her left eye. That's unlike her. What's going on?

"I want you to contact Ms. Sato," he ordered. "I'm taking a call."

She raised her eyebrow but didn't object, and withdrew from the office.

Jack picked up the phone again; luckily, the call hadn't been disconnected. "Hello? You there?" he asked, and was relieved when he heard a weak affirmative. "What happened?" he pressed, anxious. "Are you okay? Should I phone for an ambulance?"

"No, I'm fine," the Welshman said, sounding shaken.

"What happened?" Why do I care so much?

"Just had a dizzy spell and dropped the phone," came the reply.

"You sure you're okay?"

"You sound like my girlfriend," he said, sounding tiredly amused.

"What's her name?" Jack didn't know why he wanted to know. He just asked before he realised what he was saying.

"Lisa." A pause. "She teaches at the Grammar."

"I know here." Maybe don't tell him that he's chatting to his girlfriend's boss…

"You're the headmaster, right?" Ianto sounded curious.

So much for not telling him, Jack thought ruefully. "Yeah, that's me."

"An American teaching in Cardiff?"

Jack smiled. "You have no idea how many times I've heard that," he informed the Welshman. "I live here with my partner."

"What's their name?" Ianto didn't seem nosy, just curious.

Jack chuckled. "Believe it or not, he's called Ianto Jones too."

"We're common as muck," the Ianto down the phone said with relish. "Like rats."

Jack grinned. "Like small children."

"I'm offended," Ianto laughed.

"No, you aren't." Jack felt a twinge of surprise as he realised that he was chatting away to a complete stranger as if they'd known each other for years.

"No, I'm not," Ianto agreed, "but I really should be getting along."

"Sorry for keeping you," Jack said. "Nice talking."

"Bye."

Only when the drone of the disconnected call complained in his ear did he realise that he'd never asked for Dr Harper's contact.

-T-

That night, Ianto dreamed that he was standing on the top of a cliff by the sea, the rosy horizon stretching out in front of him and the scent of brine strong in the air.

Beneath his feet, the turf was springy; sea-lavender mixed amongst the short grass like common weeds.

Warm arms wrapped around his waist and held him close against a muscular body. A voice breathed in his air – a voice with an American accent – and soft lips kissed his neck.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Jack murmured. "Just look at that sunrise."

"It's going to be stormy later," Ianto said.

Jack chuckled, the vibrations rumbling right through Ianto's body. "That's so Welsh."

"That's so practical," Ianto retorted, smiling.

Jack just laughed again, not saying anything in response. They stood there, Jack with his chin resting on Ianto's shoulder and his arms encircling Ianto's waist in a possessive ring.

"We really should be getting back to Cardiff," Ianto said, not making a move to get away.

"We should," Jack agreed, "or poor Tosh might well be driven insane by Gwen and Owen's bickering."

Ianto closed his eyes and breathed deeply, relishing the clean scent of the air and sea. "How did you find here?"

Ianto never got to hear Jack's reply. As at that time a sharp peal ripped through his dream, an impatient voice of reality.

Groggily, he flopped out an arm and fumbled for the 'sleep' button on his alarm clock. "Bloody thing," he muttered.

Lisa's side of the bed looked unslept-in, the sheets cool. Ianto frowned; hadn't she come home last night?

He rubbed a hand over his face, grimacing as his palm rasped against the stubble. He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, and was about to wander into the bathroom for a shower and shave when the phone rang.

"Hello, Ianto Jones."

"Mr Jones, this is St. Helen's Hospital. We're afraid that Miss Hallet has been admitted to the emergency—"

"What the hell happened?" Ianto demanded, interrupting. "How is she?"

There was a pause, one that seemed to stretch on for infinity to Ianto, before the answer came. "It's better if you come and see for yourself."

-T-

Jack strode down the corridor, fuming. Typical, he thought bitterly, even being the headmaster makes no difference when you're talking to a doctor.

As he passed an open door, he heard somebody asking desperately, "…will be okay, won't she?"

Jack stopped. "Ianto?"

The young man standing by the empty bed looked the spitting image of Jack's partner – save for the blue eyes. "Do I know you?"

"Now that's just freaky," Jack blurted before he could stop himself.

The young man stared at him in surprise, having recognised his voice. "Ja— Mr Harkness!" he said, shifting his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. "I…what are you doing here?"

It took Jack a moment to realise that Ianto was speaking to him. "I had to talk to Dr Harper," he said quickly, hoping that Ianto hadn't noticed him staring.

Ianto's eyes widened. "Oh – I forgot to give you his number," he said in horror. "I'm
so—"

"I just went through his wife," Jack said, cutting him off. "You might know her – Toshiko—"

"Sato," Ianto finished for him. He smiled, almost sheepishly. "She used to be my next-door-neighbour."

"Oh." Jack couldn't think of anything else to say. He swallowed. "I…uh…so what are you doing here?"

Ianto face almost crumpled. He looked away, biting his lip. "My girlfriend's been in an accident."

Jack blinked. "I…I'm sorry. How is she?"

Ianto shrugged, still looking down at the linoleum. He toed at a crack, hands in his pockets and face carefully blank. "They can't say yet. She's in surgery."

Jack automatically reached out and touched his arm. "She'll be fine. I'm sure of it," he said, giving his arm a quick squeeze.

"I hope so," Ianto murmured. "I don't know what I'd do without her."

"I know the feeling."

Ianto flopped onto the chair by the foot of the bed, and dropped his head into his hands. He let out a sad sigh, his baby-blue eyes downcast.

Jack pulled up another chair and sat next to him. "I'll wait with you," he said. It wasn't a question. "Everybody needs a friend at times like these."

-T-

Gwen pushed her dripping fringe out of her eyes and wriggled uncomfortably on the hard seat of the cockpit. The Doctor, at the wheel, was quiet and untalkative, his striking face drawn and tired.

"I still think we should have given them another week," Gwen said half-heartedly.

Martha flicked her a cursory glance, her face upturned to the rain. "It's been three weeks, Gwen. We have to accept that they're not coming back."

"There aren't any readings," Toshiko added. Her blue anorak hood was pulled up over her head, her hands buried deep within its pockets.

The boat lurched, and would have thrown Gwen to the floor had Owen not caught her. The engine throbbed beneath their feet, and the orange VHF radio buzzed like a bee trapped behind a window.

"How much longer?" Donna asked.

Owen checked his watch. "Ten hours."

"I still don't get why skinny-boy here couldn't just whizz us home in the TARDIS," Donna said. She huddled down further into her anorak, a curl of ginger hair escaping from beneath her hood.

The Doctor didn't even look around at them. "It's better this way."

"But not as easy," Donna retorted. She brushed the damp curl off her forehead with an impatient flick of a hand. "If this is some stupid thing about Jack, then—"

"It's got nothing to do with the captain," the Doctor said tersely.

"What, then?"

"You wouldn't understand."

Donna shook her head. "There he goes again."

Gwen's ass was turning numb. She wriggled again, wishing that there was some way of speeding up the journey. "Maybe we should just leave him for a bit," she suggested. "Play I-Spy, or something."

Toshiko's face fell. "Maybe something other than I-Spy?" she said quietly, her voice almost lost in the wind that tugged at their clothing. The mast rattled. "After all…"

Gwen's eyes widened. "I forgot."

"Or we could try doing something else entirely," Owen said, "other than bloody kids' games."

"Shut up, Owen," Gwen said testily. "I'm only trying to help."

"Well, don't."

"Fine, then. We can just sit here and be bored for the day," Gwen snapped.

"S'better than listening to you witter on—"

"For goodness' sake, stop bickering," Martha said angrily. "I know that you're missing Jack and Ianto – we all are – but that's no excuse to be at each others' throats all the time!"

"We're not—"

"What makes you say—?"

"Shut up!" Toshiko ground out, effectively cutting them both off. They both stared at her in shock.

"Sorry?" Gwen asked, startled.

Tosh took off her glasses, the lenses misted with condensation, and glared at them. "Your arguing isn't going to help anything," she said, voice wound tight. "We need to carry on trying to find them, not turn on each other about every little thing!"

"Sorry." Gwen shifted in her seat again, feeling uncomfortably like she was back in school, being told-off for talking in class.

"You're right," Owen admitted grudgingly, "but there isn't exactly much else we can do."

Toshiko fished inside her anorak pocket and pulled out a PDA, the sensitive piece of equipment wrapped in a waterproof covering. "I've been running a trace on Jack's… Jack-ness, whatever it is—"

"Technobbable, that – love it," Owen said.

"—and I'm yet to get the exact results through, but it's giving off some weird readings."

"Like what?" Martha asked.

"Jack seems to be in some sort of time-bubble, or something similar – the readings can't quite get—" Toshiko was interrupted by a bleat from her PDA. She slid out the stylus and tapped at the screen, a frown of concentration creasing her forehead. "No, I was wrong – they're not in a time-bubble, but rather some sort of mind-hold."

The Doctor looked around at her. "Mind-hold?" he repeated. His hair was dark with rain, plastered to his forehead. He had refused an anorak, for what reasons Gwen hadn't a clue.

"Mind-hold," she confirmed. "I haven't got a trace on where they are, exactly, but it's somewhere in the Channel Islands—"

"So we should stay there!" Gwen said, exasperated. "Like I've been telling you for hours—"

"—and to get a clearer idea of what's happened to them, I really need the equipment back at the Hub," Tosh said, ignoring her. She waved the PDA at them, water droplets flying off the plastic casing. "This isn't powerful enough."

"What about the TARDIS?" Donna asked.

The Doctor shook his head, eyes unreadable. "She can't track Jack."

"Why not?" Owen asked. "If this is about the 'wrong' thing again, then—"

"You wouldn't understand," the Doctor said, cutting him off. Gwen shivered at the iciness of his voice. "It's complicated."

"I'm not a bloody idiot," Owen said.

"Try us," Gwen added, pushing back her fringe again and glaring at the timelord. "I think you'll find that we understand a lot more than you seem to think."

The Doctor stared at her for a minute, eyes dark; Gwen couldn't even fathom what was flashing through his mind. "Well, then," he said slowly. "You'd better sit still and listen carefully…"