Luck wasn't with the Torchwood team. There was no visiting opera, or even a good show in the West End that season. There wasn't enough time or energy to check each theatrical troupe, but John had one more idea left. He told Tosh to check the message boards of craigslist. It seemed so obvious; so simple. But when Toshiko got there, she saw the perfect opportunity for the "Gentleman" to strike.

Tosh and John watched the CCTV footage from the Hub, but couldn't have understood the scale that Jack, Gwen, Ianto and Owen had to fight through to even talk to a stage manager. The foremost theatrical troupe in the area was holding auditions that weekend for a revival of Carmen. Each actor or actress was classically trained. It was the perfect fielding ground for a killer looking for the perfect set of vocal chords.

Chaos enveloped the team as they roamed backstage. People with microphones attached to their mouths flitted about, ignoring Jack, even with his charming good looks and trademark smile, and maneuvering around the team as though they were a wall. Jack was getting nowhere fast, and so he had to think quickly. Two shots rang out through the air, echoing into the balconies of the nearly-abandoned theater.

"Thank you! I'm glad I finally have your attention. This is an official Torchwood matter."

"Are we in danger?" A tiny blond piped up, holding her stage binder to her chest in defense.

"We don't know yet. But there is a madman on the loose, and we're here to protect you. We'll need to have full access to everywhere, but otherwise we'll stay out of your way. Keep your eyes and ears open for anything out of place and contact one of my team immediately. It could mean the difference between life and death."

The stage crew and several actors stood stunned momentarily, until a static conversation began over one of the microphones and the stage hands began to move. Tosh caught John giving her a "is he always this aggressive?" look. Owen was posted in the balconies. Ianto stayed in the background with the stage crew. One soprano even mistook him for the coffee boy. Gwen and Jack perused various dressing rooms. Someone had to keep Jack in check with people changing all around him.

It was deep into the third hour of auditions when Randall Kerkior came on to the stage. Owen was bored beyond tears; he hadn't liked "La Traviatta" the first time he saw it. Now, if he had to hear some other off-key soprano murder the notes sang by Isolde, he was going to strangle the directors himself. Owen was quite sure that the alien wouldn't be striking here. If he had bothered to look down towards the stage, he would have known better.

Randall was dressed as a sad clown, bits of peppered black and grey hair stood out from under his white clown hat. His simple, yet effective, outfit screamed professional theater. His eyes moved slowly, darting through the empty stage to find his crowd. He began to sing, inhaling deeply, and Owen almost dropped the quarter he was flipping between his fingers.

The man's voice was of a haunting nature. Heads of other actors appeared on both sides of the stage, causing one of the hands to drop the curtain as the amber came clashing behind the heart-broken clown. His head bowed and swayed as an imaginary orchestra coaxed him on. The director went into his bag and grabbed a handkerchief, nodding slightly.

He reached his first crystal high note with clarity and grabbed his chest with passion. Owen was so captivated that he didn't bother to check in with Jack. Jack stood under the stage, but could barely hear the clown. Gwen grabbed his arm and pointed upwards, gasping, fear registering in her eyes. Jack nodded and they began to make their way back through the maze of dressing rooms. Ianto stood, blockaded behind a wall of actors, momentarily tempted to begin stunning them with his gun. The lights in the house dimmed as the electrician brought up a spotlight to accentuate his cream and black clown costume.

By the time he had hit the second high note, his presence was the only light in the room. The electrician has turned off the one spotlight and no one was breathing. Owen had reached the doors to the first level and was running toward the stage. Jack and Gwen stood just beyond Randall and Ianto was toying with his stun gun and gritting his teeth. Two curtain tassels began to slither and hiss down the curtain as the clown continued his sad oration.

The song ended, but the clown did not move. Their was the ominous boom of thunder in the dark and then someone screamed, "Turn on the lights!" ,sounding suspiciously like Ianto. Jack was the first to meet the scene, nearly tripping on two broken parts of the stage. At first, it looked like nothing was wrong.

Silhouettes of red were beginning to cascade down the cream suit. Randall stood there, frozen in his last note, eyes glazed toward the ceiling, hands extended and caught in the golden tassels that has enveloped his arms and twisted around in the struggle. Jack's nostrils flared as he cut the tassels and the ghostly clown slid down the red curtain, leaving a deeper trail of red. His throat was cleanly carved. Gwen had to look away to steel herself.

Jack called Tosh while Owen and Ianto gently laid Randall in a black bag, making sure to fold his arms close in so his head didn't snap off. Jack sighed deeply.

"Tosh, we couldn't get to him."

"We kind of figured."

"How is John?"

"He's sitting on the couch, and his color is a bit off. He's shaking his head slightly."

"Let me talk to him."

"Jack, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you through this."

"We don't have time for apologies. This is our work. Who's the last victim John? Who's heart is he going to take?"

It was barely a whisper, but Tosh and Jack's eyes both went wide. "Mine."

While Owen did the autopsy, Gwen and Tosh began to pace and Jack led John back to his "room" in an effort to allay his own fears.

"You won't try to run will you?"

"I don't want you to get hurt. I should have never..."

"Hey! You're not alone in this." Jack's voice was tinged with worry, with regret for Randall, for John, for all the needless victims. "If he comes, then we are the last of Earth's hope. Don't give up this easily."

"You've been so kind to me Jack."

"I wish we could do more."

John bowed his head, trying to hold in both a smile and tears. "I can't promise I won't try to run."

"Promise you'll let us help you."

"You can only depend on yourself Jack." Jack's fingers gripped some of the holes in the glass.

"No, John. This time, you're wrong."

"We have to do something to save him!" Jack's fists pounded on the table in a rare showing of unrestrained frustration as the group met in the board room.

"Jack, we have no idea when this alien might attack or what form it even takes! All we know is that it's coming for him and being in the Hub is the safest place for him."

Ianto slid into a chair. "Gwen is right Jack. Yes, I'd love to help John, but where do we even start?"

Jack left the room in a huff and Ianto trailed him back to his office. "Hey! You don't storm out of meetings like that." Ianto waited as the door shut. Jack was faced away from him and shaking slightly. "He's really gotten to you, hasn't he?"

Jack stopped and turned back to face Ianto, tears streaming down his face. "All he's ever known is pain and burden. He and I are so much alike. I don't know how I would have survived without someone like you, Ianto, without this chance for redemption. But how will John survive?"

"We'll find a way to make it happen sir. We always find a way." Ianto took Jack into a hug and Jack gripped his elbows, crying, unable to think of a way to stop what was happening.

He laid down to sleep with Ianto that night, still thinking about John, tossing and turning inside his own mind. He had left Gwen with her night shift but couldn't bear the thought of not being there. He could only imagine the kind of things going through John's mind. He hurried back to the Hub, leaving Ianto's arm as a testament to place where he had lain.

"You're crying." John didn't bother looking up.

"I suppose I am."

"You're shivering too. Is it cold in here? You don't have to be in this cell."

"You worry too much Jack."

"I couldn't sleep knowing you weren't safe."

"He's coming for me. Shouldn't my end comfort you, it does for me, most likely it would for Tony."

"You still love him after everything?"

"It seems so stupid to feel that way sometimes." Jack slid down the glass wall, emotionally exhausted, and he could feel John's back pressing against his. "He can be so stuck, so narrow-minded. But I love him; I'm devoted, stupidly optimistic. Everything Darius is not."

"This isn't all in your head."

"I'm tired of fighting Jack. Just like you. I know you fight those memories of that year. The fact you never talk about them, but I can't redeem you. No one can redeem you but yourself."

"Are you saying that for my benefit or your own?"

"Who knows anymore? Are you going to try and save me Capt. Jack Harkness?"

"To my last breath."

There was a sort of weary smile on his lips. "That might take awhile."

"Come here." Jack stood up and opened the cell. He slid onto the cement seat and patted the other half. "You know you don't have to stay here."

"I almost prefer it. Ianto would be angry with you, wouldn't he? He'd worry when you're not there and he woke up."

"I would hope not, John. But this isn't about him. And he knows, he knows where I am."

John burrowed in to Jack, trying not to cry or to feel anything. Above all, trying not to feel. But it was the way Jack held you that could change a person. The way his smile charmed you that made you say things you could only feel. It wasn't just Captain Jack Harkness, it was everything. John began to cry for the first time in a long time, softer than before but more intense. And Jack, Jack began to sing softly.

Somebody hold me too much

Somebody hurt me too deep

Somebody sit in my chair

And ruin my sleep and make me aware

of Being Alive

Being Alive

Somebody need me to much

Somebody know me to well

Somebody pull me up short

And put me through hell

And show me support

For Being Alive

"How long has it been?" John muttered, in between ragged breaths.

"How long has what been?"

"Since you've had a dream? I can't remember the last time I had a good dream."

"Usually when I'm lying next to Ianto. Do you want to talk about this upstairs?"

"You really don't like me being down here."

"You aren't a criminal. And you aren't crazy. Hey, why are you still crying?" Jack pushed him back gently, rubbing a tear away from his cheek.

"I can't remember the last time someone said that to me. I can't seem to remember..."

"Shh..."

"Oh Jack. I want to be strong. But when it all overwhelms you, eats you up on the inside."

"Not everyone is as strong as you."

"But I'm sitting here, crying into your shirt!"

"Sometimes a weaker person denies their feelings. What's happened to you John? How did this all happen?"

"What did Tony tell you?"

"He wasn't long on specifics. It's your story to tell anyways. Maybe we should talk over coffee, upstairs, in my office." John's face lit up at the thought of coffee.

"You have a radiant smile."