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Chapter Five: Deferential Diagnosis

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Feeling a bit like his old boss (minus the drug addiction and generally sour disposition), Bobby made two columns on the whiteboard; he'd acquired it his first week at Torchwood because some habits simply refused to die.

He labelled the first column Ianto and the second one Tim.

"Ianto said his head felt funny and he had a headache," Jack began. He was leaning up against the white tile wall of the medical bay, his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't used to working like this. He wasn't sure he liked it.

Abby was perched on the counter. She would rather be upstairs at her station, but Bobby was right, if something was hinky, they needed to track all the symptoms, especially if the stuff didn't disperse once it got airborne. If they started getting calls from hospitals or the police, they had to know what they were looking for. "Tim said he had a headache, too. He was acting really distracted… like distracted even for him."

"Distracted?" Bobby questioned.

"Lack of focus," she amended. "And maybe a little down in the dumps. But that might just be because of Denise. Blond Denise," she said 'blond' like it was a mouth full of sour milk. "I found a photo," she explained.

"What's wrong with blonds?" Bobby wanted to know, adding 'unfocused' and 'depressed??' to the list.

"Well nothing if it's a you and Timmy isn't dating you. Not that he goes for guys," she shot Jack a look. "Do not even flirt with him."

"Feeling possessive, Abbs?" the Captain teased her.

"NO! Sheesh."

Bobby cleared his throat and looked Jack. "What about Ianto… distractedness? Depression?"

He shook his head. "He just said his head felt… stuffy," he shrugged, clearly not understanding what that was supposed to mean. "He said it was like cotton stuck between his ears."

"They were both tired," Abby added. "And Tim barely touched his malt. He loves chocolate malts so that was totally out of the ordinary for sure."

"At ten o'clock in the morning?" Bobby asked in an incredulous tone; her expression clearly stated that she thought he was crazy for having to ask. "Never mind," he added loss of apatite to Tim's column.

"Ianto wouldn't touch his coffee," said Jack.

"I think we can safely call that lack of apatite, too," the medic decided. "Anything else?"

They both shook their heads. Bobby looked over the list. It wasn't so much that the symptoms were indicative of anything serious, but they were too similar to ignore. "I'll keep tabs on how long they sleep…although it would help if we a CCTV feed in your room," he said to Jack.

"Yeah, I've heard that before," he couldn't help his smirk.

Bobby ignored it. "Abby, let me know when you finish your tests on that sphere…?"

"Will do," she hopped down from the counter and slipped past Jack on her way up to her station.

"I'll keep working here," Bobby assured his boss; he snapped the cap back on the dry erase marker. He knew Jack was more worried than he wanted to let on. "We'll figure this out… it might be nothing."

Jack pushed himself off the wall, crossing the distance between himself and the younger man. "I shouldn't have taken Tim into the field, not on his first day."

"Look what you did to me my first day."

"That was different. You had field experience with UNIT."

"And this guy worked for the United States Navy," was Bobby's argument. "Ianto said it seemed to off all on its own… Jack…" he stepped closer to draw the older man's attention. "What happened today could have happened to any of us."

"I hope that's not supposed to make me feel better."

The medic flashed a sympathetic smile, "I s'pose not. We all know the risks. We're all here because we want to be. I think I can speak for the whole team when I tell you that no one blames you for what happened today or any other day. You've pulled us through worse than this."

Jack managed a grin, "Cute and clever... no wonder I keep you around."

Bobby chuckled.

"Cute, Clever and taken," Wendy reminded Jack, coming down the steps with a couple of cups of coffee.

"I'll arm wrestle you for him," Jack teased, taking the cup she offered him gratefully.

Wendy smirked, "Fine. But I get to wear the other skin."

"That's cheating," he protested.

"According to Ianto you're well acquainted with the concept," she quipped back, sliding in next to Bobby, who draped his arm around her a moment. He was still waiting for the computer to finish breaking down Tim's and Ianto's blood samples. Hopefully as soon as it did he would have some answers as to what was affecting them, whether it was chemical or biological.

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Blood… there was blood everywhere… it was on his hands… it was all over his suit… that man…

"You didn't mean to do this… it was an accident… you didn't mean to kill him…"

"I wanted to repay him… his upgrade failed."

Lisa… she didn't mean to… she couldn't help it… it wasn't her fault… his beautiful Lisa… his love… the one true love of his life…

"You take this and you shoot her!"

Jack. Jack shoving a gun in his face. Pointing it at him.

"I clean up after your shit, no questions asked and that's just the way you like it." You don't care about me. You don't care about anyone. You don't know how!

Jack handed him the gun. "Take it. Shoot her."

Lisa. His Lisa. Jack wanted him to kill her. He wanted him to kill the one person who loved him… the only person who ever cared… the only person who mattered. "No…" No… Lisa…

"I need to hear those beautiful Welsh vowels… you take this and you shoot her… or I shoot you."

Jack.

Jack had murdered her.

Jack had kissed him.

"I need to hear those beautiful Welsh vowels…"

All those little looks.

The way Jack caressed him… undressed him… with his eyes… he'd planned it all along…

"There is no cure… your girlfriend will not be the exception…"

Jack had killed her.

Ianto stirred, uneasy in his sleep, images jumbling in his head… Jack… Lisa… cybermen… the attack on Canary Warf.

Everything that had happened in the Hub.

Afterwards.

Breakfast.

Dinner.

The roof… Jack's coat around his shoulders…

Lisa's screams...

Ianto woke with a start in a tangle of sweat-soaked sheets, his heart pounding in his ears.

"You killed her," he sobbed into the darkness, pulling his knees up tight against his chest. Jack had murdered her. He killed her to get to me. There was a cure. He had a cure. He could have cured her!

Ianto shook himself. No. No, that wasn't right. He understood the mechanics of cyber conversion. There was no cure.

But Jack was from the fifty first century. There had to be a cure!

Pain lanced through the Welshman's skull as he fought the nightmare… he fumbled for the com on the night table, shaking against the urge to run away. He knew about Jack's secret little entrance. There were no security cameras… he could get away… he could escape… he had to run! He had to run away before Jack figured out that he knew… before Jack killed him too…

Ianto clutched desperately at the pendant around his neck. Don't forget to empty the bins... their private joke. "He's no killer," he said aloud, needing to hear the sound of his own voice in the darkness. "He loves me as much as I love him." I will always love you. I will never forget you.

I will love you forever, Cariad, even when the last star goes out.

Ianto pushed the ear piece into place and called for help before he lost the battle with himself…