A/N: Sorry this is so short, and sorry I haven't posted in... half a year to a year. Some stuff has been going on in my life, including school and SATs and AP tests and such, so I've been super busy. I know that doesn't excuse this, and I'll try to be more punctual about uploads and writing from now on. :) But, surprise! Here's a new chapter. :)

When Jack had gone to make his lunch, he noticed that some normal foodstuffs were missing from the small Torchwood pantry. Odd, since they usually ordered pizza, Chinese, some sort of takeout, but he didn't think much of it. People had been making themselves sandwiches rather than ordering stuff. He guessed it saved money and decreased risks to Torchwood security, which was always appreciated. He remembered back to when Owen, their medical man, Owen Harper, had continued ordering pizza under the name of 'Torchwood'. He smiled slightly, until the grin dissapeared from his face, and his thoughts about Owen, now dead, were replaced by his thoughts about his other friend, The Doctor... near dead as well.

He tried pushing the stubborn thoughts aside, and decided to grab the missing items while he was out. After all, what was the use of making an extra trip?

As he was walking to the store, he considered what he had experienced the past few hours. He had just seen things he had never even thought possible. His friend, who had saved the universe, no, universes, countless times, lying broken, alive by a thread, in Torchwood's medical bay.

He had no idea what had happened to reduce this man, the hero of planets, the Oncoming Storm, to this condition, but whatever it was, Torchwood should be concerned. If it could do this to the Doctor, what could it do to innumerable innocent humans? It... it would devastate them. Even though he didn't have a clue what it was, he knew it wasn't one of those things that could be explained away, fade into a story, like the events on the previous Christmases. The events that the Doctor had stopped. Stopped all by himself. Jack put his hand in his pocket, brushing up against his gun on his belt as he did so. He sighed, the image of a gun in his mind transforming into the image of indescribable weapons. Remembering what Davros had said to the Doctor in their memorable encounter about a year ago, he clenched his hand into a fist, still in his pocket.

"The man who abhors violence. Never carrying a gun. But this is the truth, Doctor. You take ordinary people and you fashion THEM into weapons… Already, I have seen them sacrifice today, for their beloved Doctor. The Earth woman, who fell opening the Subwave Network… How many more? Just think! How many have died in your name?… The Doctor. The man who keeps running, never looking back. Because he dare not, out of shame. This is my final victory, Doctor. I have shown you... yourself." Davros's smiled at him smugly in his mind.

He looked down at the walkway, shaking his head slowly. We die for him because he's our friend, Jack thought. Not because we are his weapons. I certainly have. Many times. He knows that, doesn't he? Does he really? said a nagging little voice in his head.

Jack walked the rest of the way to the cornerstore in silence, but for the noise of the busy Cardiff road. He was still thinking about what he had seen today, and more so, why he saw it? What had brought his friend to this?

Jack walked into the store and walked through the aisles to find what he needed. Bread, fruit, coffee (low, but not gone)… he ticked off each item on his fingers when he got it. He did this mindlessly, however. Of course, he still had his mind on the events of the day.

As he paid and walked out of the store, he wondered. What if the Doctor really believes that? About us being his weapons. Could that have led him to this? It... It IS a big possibility. A sad possibility, but one worth consideration. With all he's seen, with all the deaths he's witnessed… it could have led him down into an extreme depression. Possibly…

He started walking back to Torchwood, down the cobbled Cardiff sidewalks, to relieve Ianto of his watch, though when passing by places or things that normally would have given him a slight laugh, he was silent.

When Jack walked into the medical room, Ianto stood to greet him.

"Hello Jack," said Ianto with a smile. Looks like things hadn't gone all too bad, maybe Ianto had softened a bit. Lord knows Jack didn't need another suspicion by Ianto about his partnering.

Jack sighed. "Hello, Ianto. Any change in his condition?"

Ianto sighed. "Not much. He did speak, however." He saw Ianto's face twist into an expression of questioning, but then it returned to normal, and he smiled as if nothing had happened.

Jack rushed over to his friend, hopefulness rushing through his heart. "He said something? What did he say?"

Ianto began to walk over, Jack stroking the Doctor's head and removing the hot - now cold - water bottle all the while. "Well, at first it was some unintelligible gibberish or something. But then he clearly said three words I could understand. 'Rose, Bad, Wolf'." Ianto looked puzzled.

Jack sighed. Gibberish? Maybe. But also maybe Gallifreyan. But he had said Rose? Bad Wolf? That could mean he was just dreaming about Rose, and Jack prefered to think of it that way, but it could also mean something else. It was no coincedence that the TARDIS had taken him to Jack - despite the facility and that Jack was one of his best (and only) friends -; Torchwood Three was right on the heart of the spacial-temporal rift. Could something have been going on with the Rift that led him to this? Jack prefered not to think so, but he had to consider it. He grimaced. So many possibilities, many of them terrible, that he had to consider. He shook his head, looking back to Ianto who stood in front of him, looking at him curiously.

"So, Rose. She was - is," he corrected himself, "a friend of the Doctor's." He jerked his thumb at the bed, then walked to refill the water bottle. "And, Bad Wolf, well..." he paused for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. "Bad Wolf was a... nickname... for one of his friends."

He saw Ianto shake his head. "What, like a sexual nickname? Like when a girl is called 'bad girl' during love?"

Jack smiled, turning off the tap. "No, no. Definitely not. It was just a nickname given to someone he knew."

Ianto looked at Jack, then back to the man on the bed. "Well, I'm gonna go home, okay? You know, call me if you need anything." Besides driving and cleaning up, he heard Ianto say as he walked out.

Jack drummed his hand on his thigh in a three-four rhythm as he walked back over to the bed. Everyone else had gone home, but he was still there. Like always, Torchwood Three was his home. Normally, he couldn't afford to leave, had to always have someone on guard. And now, he also couldn't afford to leave, but for a different reason: his friend. He pushed back the sheet Ianto had pulled over the Doctor, and placed the hot water bottle in between his hearts. Jack held his friend's hand, slightly more warm than before, but still frigid, and smiled sadly. He continued to hold his hand through the long night, while staring at his friend so long his eyes almost glazed over, while his thoughts were far away, through it all. The only times he let go through that whole night were when he was refilling the water bottle, or changing his dressings.