Jason's "team" was huddled behind a barrier waiting for instructions from him when his radio buzzed. "Hastings here," he said, relieved at the distraction that would give him a few more moments to think.

"Hastings, I want you to bring in one of those creatures alive," Dewhurst's voice crackled.

"Sir," Jason said, echoing the shock of his entire team, "I don't know if that's possible. These things… they're unstoppable. Maybe we can kill them, but holding them… I just don't see how -"

"Now you listen to me, you sniveling little git. You wanted control of this mission, you've got it. We just arranged for 3 billion pounds - that's billion with a 'B' - to build the tallest skyscraper in Europe right here at Canary Wharf. We have to justify that kind of expense in a world where the British government approves a tunnel that goes straight to France. France! We spend a century defending this realm and they build a bloody tunnel right to Europe! Now you bring me one live specimen so we can prove that taking alien technology for the Empire is the answer, and not wiping it out completely the way UNIT would," he spat. "Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," Jason said quietly. He shoulders dropped. Now that he knew what he had to do, he felt strangely calm. "Crystal clear." He turned off his radio and turned to his team. "All right, you heard the man. We're going to capture one of these things."

Sarah saw a mass of gray on the ground and handed the children to Harry before he could stop her, then ran towards it.

"Jack, Jack are you alright?" she asked, dropping carefully to her knees. There was a gaping hole in his coat and he was drenched in blood. Placing her hand on his throat she tried to find a pulse. There wasn't one, but she didn't want to say that he was dead in front of the children. "Harry leave them there and come quick," she called out. "Jack's been hurt. Sid, stay with your sister."

At that Lisa Ann started to cry, and loudly. "Uncle Jack, I want my Uncle Jack."

Sarah Jane ran to Lisa Ann and took her in her arms and held her. "Uncle Jack isn't awake right now, my precious. He doesn't feel well and he needs to rest."

Harry skidded to a stop, checking for a pulse as Sarah had. Without saying a word he tilted Jack's head back and began to clear his airway. He leaned down and blew into Jack's airway, then jumped back in shock as Jack gasped and sat up.

Jack looked around for a moment and seemed to be getting his bearings. He saw Harry holding a cut lip and realized what must have happened. "I'm sorry I missed that," he said.

"Lie back, Jack, and don't move an inch," Harry insisted. "You've already lost far too much blood and moving will only make it worse." This was Harry at his battlefield finest, never letting a wounded man see him sweat. "Glad to see you're still with us, that's a pretty nasty exit wound in your shirt."

"And I thought you cared." Jack looked down, taking stock. He'd learned early on in his immortality that his particular brand of "playing dead" could be a handy means of escape, but man, did it hurt. He noticed the blood soaking his coat. "Damn, I'm going to have to have that dry cleaned and mended." He shook off Harry and started digging in his pockets for his phone.

Harry pushed Jack down, carefully restraining his shoulders in an effort to keep him still. "I said don't move, Jack. You're in a state of shock and don't realize how seriously you've been injured."

"Harry, I'm fine." Jack ripped open his shirt to expose his now-completely-healed chest. "But we've got more important things to worry about than me missing what's probably the only kiss I'll ever get from you," he said, the scowl on his face betraying the seriousness of the situation. Finally, he found his phone and started dialing.

"Sorry Jack, but you're not curvaceous enough for me," Harry said, snatching the phone out of his hand. "Now lie back and tell me what's more important than a gaping chest wound." Harry looked down at Jack's chest and his mouth dropped open. He turned Jack over and inspected him as closely as he could. "Where else were you injured? There's not a scratch on you and that blood had to come from somewhere."

"Short answer because we don't have time for the long one," Jack said. "There WAS a gaping chest wound, that's where the blood came from, and it's gone now. More importantly, the Daleks have John and Luke and we need to get help for them, so if you don't give me back my phone, I'm going to rip your lungs out." He held his hand out.

Harry handed him the phone, whispering in his ear as he did. "I expect a better explanation when things quiet down. People don't just get up and walk away from a wound like that Jack, they normally die."

"Who says I didn't," Jack mumbled as he dialed. "Listen, it's me," he said into the phone a moment later. "You need to get down to building 6, there's a Dalek and two prisoners on their way, you break them out and you don't let anybody near them, you hear me?" He paused. "I don't care what Dewhurst says, you work for me, now move!" He snapped the phone shut. He still shook a little, and he tried to pass it off as anger.

Harry didn't miss it, though, and he was determined to get some answers while Sarah Jane was still comforting her children. "Look old man, I'm afraid I'm going to insist you explain to me here and now why you're still breathing when we should be making funeral plans for you."

Jack looked him in the eye. "OK, I can't die. There, you wanted to hear it, there it is. Or more accurately I can't stay dead. Those things out there," he said, pointing in the general direction the Dalek had taken John and Luke, "they killed me a very long time ago, and I woke up and ever since I can't die and I really can't tell you why because I. Don't. Know."

Before Harry could respond Lisa Ann ran up and threw her arms around Jack. Sarah and Sid were right behind her.

"Uncle Jack," sniffed Lisa Ann. "You got hurt really bad."

Jack hugged her tightly, sniffling a little. "Yes, I did, honey, but I promise you, Uncle Jack is just fine. Nothing can hurt Uncle Jack."

Lisa Ann smiled at him and buried her head in his shoulder.

Harry looked down at Jack and frowned. "We'll have to talk more about this, but later, and I promise you, I won't forget about it."

"I'm sure you won't," Jack said, picking up his gun and letting Harry help him up. "But right now we need to figure out how to get all of us somewhere safe. My people are going to get John and Luke."

Harry continued to frown. "It's a good thing we've been through so much together before this, Jack. As it is, I'll just remind you that I'm keeping an eye on you."

The Doctor stared at the scanner in his hands, picking his way through the rubble, trying to -

His bent forehead bounced off an object and as he looked up and saw nothing, he realized that he'd walked right into the side of the cloaked TARDIS. "I've been searching in a circle," he realized.

Or perhaps, he thought, his subconscious was trying to tell him something. Even as he searched for Daleks, he couldn't get the thought of the missing Time Lord out of his mind. There was something… wrong. Something he was missing, and he just couldn't stop thinking about it.

Perhaps if he adjusted some of the TARDIS's instruments, looked back in time to where the trace had vanished, he might be able to get some sort of lead.

He turned off the shimmer and put his key in the lock.

John stumbled forward and caught himself, still holding on to Luke's hand. The image of Jack dying in front of them kept replaying in his head, but not as much as Luke simply pulling out a gun and shooting him. His mind raced; had the whole world gone mad?

For the umpteenth time, he picked up Luke and walked with him. He would hold him tight until he was too heavy and then set him down to walk again, holding his hand. No matter how he turned things over in his mind, he couldn't think of a way out of this. Part of him wondered why UNIT hadn't shown up yet. Certainly this was what they did? "It's all right," he said into his son's ear again. "Everything's alright."

Luke had forgotten his anger for now, he was too upset and frightened. Luke cried silently, brushing his tears away, hoping no one would notice. "Where are they taking us and what are they going to do to us," he asked, barely above a whisper.

The muscles in John's back screamed from holding Luke, but he kept carrying him anyway. "I don't know," he said. "But if they wanted to hurt us they'd have done it already. It's going to be alright." He stroked the back of Luke's head.

Luke was tired and he longed to be comforted, but he was too upset. Uncle Jack hadn't gotten up when he'd shot him. He just lay there, blood gushing out of his chest. Why would he ask him to kill him? Had Uncle Jack lied to him too? He was upset at himself and confused.

"It's not going to be alright," he said. "I killed Uncle Jack. He didn't get up."

John took a deep breath and seemed to be holding back tears. "No, sweetheart, he didn't get up."

"I killed him, I'm a killer." He was sobbing now.

John sat him on his hip and held him so that they could look each other in the eye. "Now you listen to me," he said. "You are my son, and I love you, no matter what. Do you hear me?" He stared at Luke.

Luke sobbed harder. "But I'm not your son," he said, his anger coming through. "Can I get down and walk, please? I'm not a baby."

John swallowed. His body was aching to put him down, of course; but his heart was not. He set Luke down and took his hand, not daring to turn and look at the metal monster that seemed to be driving them on and on, no end in sight.