"I keep expecting you to ask me if I'm really ready to do this," Jack admitted as they waited in the cold, dank interrogation room. The Doctor regarded him seriously.

"Would it influence you at all if I did?"

Jack thought that over for a moment before shaking his head.

"No. Probably not."

"There you go, then. Really, Jack, you're the only one who can know how ready you are for this. I do hope, though, that you're at least willing to trust to know where your limitations lie."

"If you tell me that I've had enough," Jack conceded, "then I'll accept it. I mean, I could suggest you use Ianto's methods of persuasion, but that would probably be inappropriate."

The Doctor's eyebrows lifted almost to his hairline.

"Do I want to know?"

Jack smiled faintly.

"He usually threatens to withhold sex or coffee. I'm still not sure which one is more effective, coming from him."

The Doctor chuckled softly, appreciating Jack's newfound ability to at least make a reference to sex without flinching.

"Well, as long as you accept it if I say enough, then that's fine with me."

Any further conversation between them was stymied when the door opened, and the one who had attacked Ianto limped in, a sour glare on his face. Behind him, Ianto had a gun to the man's back and an unrepentant look on his face at the Doctor's disapproving frown. Instead, he prodded the man in the back to ensure that he remained subdued.

"Sit," Ianto ordered. He glanced briefly towards the Doctor and Jack before heading out. He was not in the least bit surprised to find that Jack had moved back into the shadows, concealing his face. He just hoped that he got back upstairs in time to see the look on the sorry son of a bitch's face when Jack revealed himself.

"Mr Ian Roberts," the Doctor stated once Ianto had retreated from the room. Roberts glared up at the Time Lord.

"I want a lawyer. You can't lock me up like this! You haven't got the right!"

The Doctor looked bemused, to say the least.

"But you think you have the right to attack someone, unprovoked?"

Roberts looked indignant.

"Didn't attack anyone unprovoked. We were defending ourselves."

"Against what?"

"Against a couple of filthy faggots having a grope. We're good, God-fearing blokes, and they offended our sensibilities. We were defending our moral rights."

The Doctor huffed in surprise and amusement.

"That's amazing. Utterly incredible, that is."

"What is?"

"That you're able to pronounce any words with more than two syllables."

Still hidden in the shadows, Jack snorted with laughter, drawing Roberts' attention to his presence.

"Who's that? Who the fuck are you? Why don't you come out where I can see you, you chicken shit bastard?"

It was the invitation that Jack had been waiting for. He all-but strolled forward, the epitome of nonchalance, and with a gleam in his eye as he waited for realisation to dawn. It didn't take long.

"No way," Roberts whispered. His eyes had grown impossibly wide, and his knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the table. "No, it's impossible! You can't be here, you just can't! You should be dead!"

"Guess you should've stayed to finish the job, then," Jack said with a sneer. Roberts shrank away from him as he approached.

"I want a lawyer," Roberts all-but squeaked. "You need to..."

His protest ended in a startled yelp when Jack slammed his fists down on the table, threatening to put two sizable dents in the metal surface.

"You're not getting one," Jack thundered. "So sit back and shut up!"

Roberts sat back with a thud, his eyes still comically wide as he stared up at Jack.

"H... How? You should be dead..."

"Perhaps you should have waited a little longer for the big reveal," the Doctor remarked dryly. "The poor fellow seems to be going into shock."

"My heart bleeds for him," Jack snorted. He leaned a little further forward across the table, taking great satisfaction in the way Roberts cringed away from him. "Are you scared, Ian? Well, good. Might give you a taste of how I felt. How all of your victims felt, you sadistic son of a bitch."

"But they... th... I mean..."

Jack's expression darkened considerably.

"They what? Deserved it? Is that what you were going to say?"

Roberts shrank down in his seat, cringing away from Jack's palpable fury. He looked over at the Doctor, begging for help.

"You're not gonna let him threaten me like this, are you? What sort of cops are you people?"

Jack swung a little to the side, blocking Roberts' view of the Time Lord. The look in his eyes radiated menace.

"This is Torchwood, Ian. Remember, that 'poof party', as you and your buddies so eloquently put it? We're not cops. We're beyond the police. Not even the Government or the United Nations can touch us. The only person I defer to is the man standing right behind me, right now. And you don't exactly see him getting ready to jump to your defence, do you?"

"What the fuck do you want?" Robert asked in a voice that was tinged with more than just a hint of hysteria. "You want revenge? Is that it? Well, fuck you! I'm not sorry for what we did, you fucking faggot, and I hope you rot in hell because that's all you fucking deserve! You and that other little poof..."

Jack lunged towards Roberts, who uttered a very unmanly shriek and went crashing over backwards in his desperation to get away from the Captain. The only thing that kept him from attacking Roberts was the Doctor, who stayed Jack with just a single hand on his shoulder.

"Easy, Captain," the Doctor murmured, gently drawing him back and ushering him over to the far corner of the room. "Now, stay here, and try to calm down. It's my turn now."

Jack leaned back into the corner, vaguely aware that he was rubbing his wrists so furiously that they were starting to burn. He couldn't stop, though; afraid that if he did, he'd find his hands aching to close around Ian Roberts' throat and squeeze until the man was dead.

Confident that Jack's anger had been tempered for the time being, the Doctor returned his attention to Roberts, who was just picking himself up off the floor.

"All right there, Mr Roberts?" he asked in a deceptively friendly voice. Roberts scowled darkly in Jack's direction. Obviously, the Doctor mused, the man had decided that he was safe from physical attack, and was letting his arrogance surface once more. Poor, misguided fool.

"You ought to muzzle him. Filthy dog."

The Doctor took hold of Robert's arm, and hauled him up off the floor with an ease that had the other man yelping. He set him firmly back on the chair, but rather than stepping back, he leaned in over the top of the hapless man.

"Do not, now or ever, refer to him as a dog. Am I being clear, Mr Roberts?"

Roberts stared up at the Doctor with wide, terrified eyes as it finally began to sink in that he was not in an ordinary police interrogation, and there was no lawyer coming to bail him out of trouble.

"What are you going to do to me?"

A smile spread slowly over the Doctor's face. It seemed that their prisoner was finally ready to be cooperative.

"That, Mr Roberts, depends entirely on you."

Roberts' gaze flickered briefly to Jack, full of resentment.

"Are you going to let him kill me? Is that it?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say it wasn't tempting," the Doctor confessed. "After seeing what you did to him, I think I'd be justified in saying that death is no less than what you deserve… and not just for what you and your friends did to Captain Harkness, either. You've done this before to other men, haven't you? The only difference is that Jack here is the first to have survived."

The resentment practically radiated off the man in the prisoner's chair.

"Don't see how. Filthy bastard should've been dead."

"I'm resilient like that," Jack retorted. Roberts glanced at him briefly before dropping his gaze, no longer able to look the Doctor in the eye.

"We just did what it said in the Bible. We just did what God wanted us to do. You know, an eye for and eye, and all that? It says in the Bible to stone people like him!"

"It also says not to judge others, lest you be judged in return," the Doctor reminded him. "Or are you so certain of your own godliness that you felt you could overlook that little dictum?"

"It says so in the Bible," Roberts insisted. The Doctor huffed softly.

"I almost feel sorry for you. Tell me, if you truly believe yourself to be a Christian, do you really think that God would want you to torture and kill other men for what you judge to be a sin, when He sent His own son to be tortured and killed as an absolution for all sins?"

Roberts' breath caught.

"It's wrong," he protested, although his protests were sounding less certain by the minute. "The Bible said it's wrong! Being gay is a sin!"

"I'm not so sure about that," the Doctor said coolly. "What I am sure about is that being a murderer is a sin. I'm positive that taking someone's life is a far worse offence than loving someone who happens to be the same gender as you. And there's also… Mr Roberts, you're married, aren't you?"

Roberts automatically rubbed his fingers over the plain gold wedding band on his finger.

"Yeah. So? What about them?"

"Well, I was just thinking that while we're talking about sinning, you can add adultery to your own personal list of transgressions."

"What?" Roberts burst out. "Bullshit! I've never cheated on my wife!"

"The definition of adultery, Mr Roberts, is to have sex with someone who is not your wife or your partner. Considering what you participated in, I think we can safely say you're guilty."

Standing back, Jack watched with growing satisfaction as the Doctor deftly used the man's own religious beliefs to systematically condemn him. It was a far more satisfying experience than if the Doctor had simply stood back and let Jack tear him apart.

"What do you want from me?" Roberts asked again, sounding torn between anger and panic. "Are you trying to scare me by saying how my wife and kid'll have to get by while I do time? Well, forget it. They'll do just fine until I get out. Now, I want to see a lawyer, you son of a bitch!"

The Doctor shook his head and chuckled humourlessly, and when he spoke his tone was positively glacial.

"Mr Roberts, you haven't been listening. You won't be going to a normal prison, and there'll be no minimum time or early release with good behaviour. You won't even be getting a trial. No, you and your friends are going to be transported to a UNIT facility, and you'll be locked away there for the rest of your lives. You made your biggest and last mistake when you attacked Jack Harkness. You see, he's very special to me, and I'm very protective of those I care about."

"Who the fuck are you, then?" Roberts demanded. "Just another fucking faggot…"

Even though Jack was unable to see the Doctor's face from where he was standing, he had a pretty good idea of what expression was on it, and there mere thought sent a chill of fear down his spine. As he watched, the Doctor stood up straight and stared down at Roberts, radiating all the power and authority of his being.

"I'm the Doctor. I'm nine hundred years old and I'm the last of the Time Lords from the planet Gallifrey. I saw the birth of this world in the middle of a billion ancient stars, and I witnessed its end five billion years from now. I've seen mankind grow from infancy, until it was ready to reach out across the stars. I've battled Daleks, Cybermen, and even the devil himself. I destroyed two entire races to stop a war that would have destroyed the universe, so don't think for a second that I won't end you to protect a man that I love. You don't get a trial. You don't get a second chance. You will be handed over to UNIT, and you will never see natural daylight again for the rest of your life. You will acknowledge that I've been merciful, because believe me when I tell you that there are far worse fates that I could have condemned you to."

Roberts looked from the Doctor to Jack with terror in his eyes. It was clear that he no longer knew which man to attention his pleadings to.

"You... You're really going to just make us disappear? What about our families?"

"What about the families of the men you killed?" Jack asked in an admirably calm voice. "You didn't think twice about killing them."

"But they were faggots!" Roberts protested. "They didn't have wives or babies..."

"They had mothers and fathers, other family and friends. Why should we give your family any consideration now when you didn't give them the same?"

The Doctor glanced back at Jack, frowning just slightly, but Jack gave a slight shake of his heads. He knew what he was doing, that gesture said. Nodding slightly in acquiescence, the Doctor gave Jack free reign.

"You can't, though," Roberts pled with him hoarsely. "Please, you can't just make us disappear..."

"Oh, but I can," Jack told him, taking a grim pleasure in the man's panic and desperation, "but I won't." He pulled a chair out and sat down opposite Roberts. "I'll make you a deal, Roberts. You tell us what we want to know, and we'll tell your family that you're dead."

Roberts went white, and then red with anger.

"What? What sort of a fucking deal is that?"

"The kind where they get a nice, fat pay-out as compensation for the tragic accident that sadly killed you and a half dozen of your buddies. They get to mourn you, and then they get to move on. Your wife and child will remember you with love, and not as the sadistic monster that you really are."

The look in Roberts' eyes was wild. He was right on the cusp of a complete breakdown. Jack knew it would take very little to push him over the edge. He wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to give that son of a bitch that little extra shove, and watch him go toppling over that proverbial abyss.

"Who are you?" Roberts asked in a hoarse whisper.

"I'm the one you should have walked away from," Jack answered soberly, with none of his earlier aggression. All of a sudden, he was so tired and all he wanted was to get out of there and find a private corner where he and Ianto could cuddle for a while.

"You'll really give my family money?" Roberts asked finally. Both Jack and the Doctor could see the defeat in his eyes as he began to realise he had no way out.

"Enough to start over fresh," Jack promised. Roberts' shoulders slumped.

"What do you want to know?"

"There was one other man there that night," Jack said. "Someone in addition to you clowns that we nabbed tonight, and not the kid that you killed. I want to know who he is, and where to find him. He was the only one of you who didn't rape me, but he was definitely calling the shots. Who is he?"

Roberts froze. Both Jack and the Doctor could see the fresh panic on his face, and the Doctor made a soft noise of understanding.

"I think our one missing assailant is the one who made the decision to attack you, Jack. In fact, I'd say he's the one who called the shots for every attack. Am I right, Mr Roberts?"

"This place you're going to send us to," Robert said in a voice that trembled slightly. "Is it regular prison cells? Or solitary?"

"You mean, do the prisoners mix?" Jack wondered. "No. They don't."

"Okay, then."

"You're scared of him," Jack realised with a touch of bitter amusement, but Roberts was quick to protest.

"No! I just... I mean..."

"You mean you want to know you'll be safe if he finds out that you blabbed," Jack said matter-of-factly, and Roberts promptly deflated. Jack leaned in close.

"I give you my word. He will never be able to touch you."

Roberts glared sullenly at Jack.

"Sure. Coming from you? That means squat."

"My word is the best guarantee you've got. Think about it, Roberts. Do you think I'd be willing to let you off the hook that easily? I wanted to kill every single one of you before, but the truth is that knowing you'll be locked up for the rest of your lives is a hell of a lot more satisfying."

"Son of a bitch," Roberts whispered, but by then all the fight had gone from him.

"Who is he?" Jack asked again, and he did so a new realisation hit. Here he was, sitting face to face with one of the men who had brutally attacked him, and he no longer felt afraid. He sat tall, with renewed confidence, whilst his attacker cowered pathetically in front of him.

For the first time since the attack, Jack started to truly believe that he could move on, and put what had happened behind him.

"Who is he?" Jack asked again. He barely spoke in more than a whisper, but the authority in his voice was absolute.

"His name is Bryan Webber," Roberts confirmed finally, miserably. "He was tending the bar that night. It was him that picked you." He glanced bitterly at the Doctor. "You were right. He called the shots. Every time, he chose the bloke we were to go after. Chris would go in first, do his thing, and if the target showed any sort of interest, then we'd take him out. It was all good until we went after you."

Jack smiled distantly, but there was no humour in it. His thoughts were far away by then, and he was barely aware of what Roberts was saying. Sitting back slowly, Jack's breath quickened a little. He only had vague memories of the barkeep. He'd been so wrapped up in his own misery that he couldn't recall what the man actually looked like, except for an impression of a big man, heavily built. He couldn't picture the man's face at all.

"Jack?" the Doctor asked gently, and Jack jolted back to reality with a start. He looked around, blinking in confusion. The room was empty, except for the Doctor and himself. Roberts was gone.

"You've been sitting here staring into space for nearly fifteen minutes now," the Doctor told him by way of explanation. "Ianto came and got Mr Roberts almost ten minutes ago."

"Sorry," Jack mumbled, starting up from the chair. "Got a little distracted, I guess."

"It's all right," the Doctor reassured him. He laid a hand lightly on Jack's shoulder, and favoured him with a smile. "You did so well, Jack. I'm proud of you. You had ample opportunities and provocation to harm Roberts, but you didn't."

"It wasn't because I didn't want to," Jack admitted bitterly. "So don't think I was being noble. Because I did want to hurt him. I wanted to hurt him a lot."

The Doctor moved in closer and gently pulled his unresisting friend in for a hug.

"You're still bigger on the inside."

Jack slumped against the Time Lord, and uttered a sob a that was muffled by the Doctor's shoulder.

"It feels like this has been going on for years. Hard to believe it only happened less than two weeks ago."

"Time always slows down when you're suffering," the Doctor mused. "That's a phenomenon that even the Time Lords couldn't explain. You are coming out the other side of it now, though, Jack. I promise you, that light at the end of the tunnel is not an oncoming train. Now, c'mon. Let's go back upstairs. We have the information we need. We'll let UNIT deal with Webber, along with the rest of them. It's time for you to start moving forward again."

He half expected Jack to argue, and was relieved when he didn't.

"I know," Jack murmured. "I know it is, and I want to…"

"But…?"

"I need to see him," Jack confessed almost guiltily. "I know you're going to say it was a bad idea, but I want to be there when UNIT takes Webber. I have to see it with my own eyes."

"You're right," the Doctor agreed. "I'm not so sure that it is a good idea, but I can also understand your point of view. You need closure, and you're entitled to have it." He ushered Jack from the room, quietly grateful that Jack was allowing contact with flinching. "I'll speak to our good friend, General Winton, and tell him what we need him to do."

Jack slowed to a halt on the short flight of stairs.

"Doctor, thankyou."

The Time Lord regarded his former companion sadly.

"For what, Jack?"

"For supporting me, even thought you didn't agree with me. That means a lot, having your support."

"Well…" the Doctor said, drawing the word out like he was stretching a piece of taffy, "it was high time that I stopped running, and looked back every now and then. You deserve the support, Jack. You've always been one of my most faithful companions, even when you had every reason to hate me. I promise you now, when this is over, I'll make a greater effort to be here when you need me. I won't abandon you again."

For a moment, Jack was speechless and it was a struggle for him to control his emotions. Then a new voice spoke and the spell was broken.

"As charming as this all is, do I have to remind you that you're in a damp stairwell a hundred metres beneath Cardiff? If you two want to get all sappy with each other, then do us all a favour; grab the tea boy and go somewhere so the rest of us don't need to worry about losing our lunches."

"Got yourself a real charmer in this one, haven't you?" the Doctor retorted as he and Jack followed Owen back upstairs. Jack smile wearily.

"I wouldn't want him any other way."

"You're really going to fake their deaths?" Kathy wondered incredulously when Jack and the Doctor finally emerged. "How can you possibly get away with that?"

"You ought to know by now not to ask that question," Jack told her with dry humour. He paused just inside the room to look around, and soon spotted the object of his interest on the other side of the Hub, talking into his mobile phone.

"Go and talk to him," the Doctor encouraged Jack. "I'll contact UNIT and tell them what we need them to do."

Jack looked at him sharply.

"You won't forget what I said?"

"No. Now, go on. Go and let him know you're all right."

Pacified, Jack went to join Ianto.

"…Yes, we will. Okay, thankyou. Bye."

Ianto ended the call just as Jack approached.

"Everything okay?" Jack asked cautiously, and felt a surge of relief when the young man smiled warmly at him.

"Everything's fine, cariad. That was Da. Mam told him to call and tell us that we're expected tomorrow evening for a belated Christmas dinner and celebration."

Jack swallowed convulsively, unsure that he'd heard correctly.

"We…?"

"Yes, Jack. We. Da talked to Mam, and apparently I'm in for a right bollocking for not being up-front about having a boyfriend."

Slowly, as Ianto's words sank in, the tension began to bleed out of Jack's body and a wry smile crept onto his face.

"Really? So… they're all okay with it?"

"Mam and Tad are," Ianto admitted sheepishly. That's really all that matters. And yes, I know. I'm a right fool. You don't have to say it."

The words were said with self-deprecating humour, but beyond that Jack could see a familiar guilt rearing its ugly head. Deciding enough was enough, Jack stepped in before he could think twice and kissed Ianto lingeringly on the mouth.

He could sense Ianto's astonishment in the few seconds it took the Welshman to respond. Then, Ianto was returning the kiss and for just a few precious moments it was just the two of them and absolutely nothing else mattered.

Ianto's tongue stroked his oh-so-lightly, and Ianto's hands rested gently on his hips. For the first time since the attack, Jack accepted contact that was more than comfort, and felt no desire to flee from it. He felt a tightening sensation in his stomach and groin, and it took him a few seconds to realise that it was not nausea that was assailing him, but arousal.

Jack sighed into the kiss, relishing his lover's familiar taste before reluctantly withdrawing. Finally, he felt he as though he might be able to take it further, but it was neither the time nor the place. Instead, he rested his forehead against Ianto's, and smiled faintly.

"I forgive you, Yan. I really do. You people and your silly little hang-ups…"

Aware that they were being watched, and not caring in the slightest, Ianto drew Jack fully into his embrace.

"Thankyou, Jack. I…"

Jack kissed him again, smothering the words.

"Some things should stay between us," he murmured. "I want to say it to you, too, but not here. Not now. Not with an audience."

Ianto smiled, touched.

"All right. Until later, then."

Kissing Ianto again tenderly, and quietly relishing that he could do so without experiencing any anxiety, Jack then withdrew and favoured his young lover with a smile.

"Tomorrow, dinner with your mum and dad. Tonight, we catch our last piranha."

to be continued....