Okay, here goes, it's getting closer to the end now. I kinda like this chapter, but it almost made me cry writing it. I guess you'll see why.

Jack's strides were twice as big as Andy's, the police officer was jogging by his side to keep up, shouting out directions at sporadic intervals from the GPS tracking system in his hand, whilst the two of them strode across the Barrage.

"Jack!" Andy shouted, jerking to a halt and gazing across the Bay, "it's here - right here - maybe thirty or forty metres out."

"Right," Jack nodded grimly, staring directly in front of him as if his desperation could burn through the water and bring the canister bobbing to the surface. "I'll swim if I have to." He nodded once to Andy, and began to tear through the layers of his clothing, laying the greatcoat respectfully on the cleanest square metre of pavement he could find. Somehow, he felt that the coat signified this whole ordeal: he'd been wrapped in it when he'd woken up that first day. It was painful to imagine Robert and Erin drugging him whilst Gavin and Bethan locked his friends away - it hurt to imagine Erin tenderly wrapping him in the RAF coat in his office while he was unconscious.

"No," Andy flung out an arm to push Jack away from the water, "no you won't."

"Well," Jack's voice was deep with annoyance, "how else do you suggest we get to them? Did you bring a boat?"

"No," Andy sighed patiently, removing his arm once he was certain Jack had given up on the idea of swimming, "but my uncle's in the Cardiff Bay Yacht club - look, over there - that's his boat. The red hull and green sails - the one with the dragon painted on the side."

"Oh, you're going to launch a rescue mission in your uncle's boat… 'Y Draig Goch'?" If the situation hadn't been so desperate, Jack might have laughed, but instead he waved Andy away with the dull knowledge that it would take him at least an hour to reach and untie the yacht. Jack, despite Andy's warnings, was unable to sit and wait for an hour, staring into the murky water where his friends lay dying.

He knelt to the ground beside his greatcoat, letting his fingers drop into the water, making teasing patterns. He watched half-heartedly as Andy jogged across the Barrage, his breath coming out in sharp bursts of vapour on the cold evening air. Beyond Andy's blurred figure was the stretching shape of the Water Tower, where Jack could imagine the confrontation Bethan and Erin were having with Robert and Gavin as they returned from the Weevil hunt.

As if to spite his hopeless temperament, slick icicles of rain began to spatter onto him, hesitant at first, but then angry and merciless in true Cardiff fashion. Salty tears joined the mocking rain on Jack's cheeks as he sobbed out his misery and sharp sense of loss.

Jack scoffed and turned his eyes once more on Andy, who had almost reached the Norwegian Church and was using his reflective police jacket as a makeshift umbrella. Sighing, Jack figured that, since he was already wet, it hardly mattered if he got into the water now.

Removing his boots and slipping the communications device from his pocket, Jack stepped into the freezing water, and gasped as he felt tiny daggers stabbing into him, rising past his knees, reaching up to his waist, fighting to kiss his chin. Instantly cold, and feeling the beginnings of the tiredness that comes with incredibly low temperatures, Jack began to shiver and fought the urge to clamber back from the water. This was for Gwen and Ianto - whatever pain he was feeling, they'd been feeling for three days.

That thought alone was enough to send him kicking further out from the edge. As he plunged deeper into the frozen water, his mind began to twist into a foggy cloud of confusion and dumbness. Like, why was he even bothering to hold his breath when he darted under the water - or was it just another habit of mortality that Cardiff had pressed upon him? His hands floundered around under the water uselessly, colliding with nothing, desperately reaching out for the tinny feel of metal and instead brushing against darting fish and tangled weeds.

He dived below, forcing his eyes open, blinking past the muddy freshwater and hastily shoving aside growing weeds in the faint hope that he might catch sight of the silver glare of the canister. He'd never felt as human as when he desperately searched for his friends, rent with terror and a thousand memories of them.

At first he'd tried to ignore Ianto - force the young man to think Jack didn't want him on the team - and yet it was all just a ruse, an attempt to protect him from the horrors of this world, until Jack had realised that Ianto already was hurt by Torchwood… He'd hired Gwen because of Suzie, because Suzie had dragged her into their world and left a hole in Torchwood that Gwen was willing to fill. Yet it was more than that, holes littered Jack all over, and Gwen was there, reachable and ready to fill every gap his life possessed… They're been there, always, to fix his mess, to lighten his mood, to hold him back when he would go too far. Ianto's coffee was a remedy for all ills; Gwen's kiss had literally breathed life into him. They were magic, the two of them, literal miracles, earth-bound angels the likes of which Jack had once encountered thousands of years from now. They were by his side, regardless of whatever happened. Regardless of how broken and lost Ianto felt, regardless of how responsible for her marriage Gwen felt. And, now, what had he done?

In the dimness, in the foggy half-light of the sunset, Jack's frantic fingers grappled against something crisp and unexpected, something lodged between a collection of weeds, gently swaying in the waves created by Jack's swimming. A metal canister, hardly three feet wide and eight feet high, held up by the tangling reeds and Jack's murky hands that clutched it as if it were his only lifeline. Ecstatic, he heaved it upwards, only to receive a dull ache in his shoulder.

"Damn," he burbled into the water, feeling it rush into his lungs. Soaring back to the surface, he scanned for Andy, and found him chuttering towards where Jack was suspended, sitting proudly atop 'Y Draig Goch'.

"What're you doing?" Andy demanded angrily, drawing to a halt close to Jack.

"What does it look like? Now, I need something to lift it out of the water with - I don't suppose you brought some sort of leverage - or a rope or anchor or something?"

Andy dug around in the depths of the small boat and resurface with a beaming grin that reinstated Jack's hope. Clutched in his shivering hands, Andy held up what resembled a small fishing net.

"Where the hell did you find that?" Jack roared in triumph, feeling guilty for all the times he'd ever dismissed Gwen's old friend.

"In one of the other boats, just lying around. It's not exactly stealing - only borrowing, I'll give it back. This is police business after all. Sort of." He tossed the net towards Jack, who plunged under water to hook it around the submerged canister. As if in comfort, he tapped the metal three times, daring to hope that at least one of them was conscious enough to hear him. He kicked to the surface again and instructed Andy to tow the canister back to the Barrage.

"What're we going to do if… y'know, if-"

"Just don't think about it," Jack ordered, climbing into the boat beside him, "there's still hope. They're strong, they'll be fine."

"But Jack, they've been in there for three days. Without food or warmth or sleep. Unless they did fall asleep, in which case-"

"No," Jack refused to hear it, "I said don't think about it. Just get the boat back to the Barrage."

Jack, in his desperation, was the first to clamber from the boat and onto the grass. Dismissing the unsettling feeling of being on dry land, he hurried to grasp the net in his hands and pull it onto the Barrage. Straining, he shouted for Andy's assistance. Even then, with the two of them groaning as they heaved, the canister wasn't moving quick enough for Jack's panicked mind. He pulled without pausing, feeling the net cut through his rough skin, snake around his fingers and sink into the palms of his hands. He felt the warm blood collect in his hands, but he refused to stop until he had the canister secured on the grassy bank.

"How're we going to open it?" Andy panted with exertion, falling to the ground beside the canister. Jack tried to ignore the pain in his stomach and the realisation that the canister was emitting no sounds except for the echoing sloshing of water. No cries for help, no gasping breath, no sounds of distress or relief. No signs of life.

Jack roared in anger as he plucked uselessly at the deadlock seal on what he supposed was the 'top' of the canister. It had a square consisting of sixteen buttons, each with tiny silver numbers engraved into it, which Jack supposed had to be pressed in some sort of code.

Glaring in the direction of the impostors who had done this, Jack felt an extreme rush of hatred. The water tower shone mockingly, as if it was knowingly harbouring the four of them beneath it in the Hub that had once been Jack's. The Hub in which, only this morning, Jack had sat in with Erin, comfortable and peaceful, whilst they tried to solve the mysterious video transmission.

The video… Jack's mind seemed to seethe with hidden meaning as he searched through his brain, anxious to connect the video to something relatively helpful. He remembered sitting in the police station with Andy, watching the clip over again… He remembered noticing a strange sequence of numbers that appeared to have been patched on top of the video by someone in a hurry. Someone who knew they were in danger of being discovered. Someone who regretted their mistake, someone who wanted to help fix things, someone Jack knew he could trust: Bethan!

Recalling that he had felt the numbers must have been a code, Jack poised his fingers above the small square on the canister, racking his brain to pull the numbers to the surface. 7-1-0-8-3... What had been next? A six, or a nine? Frantically, Jack punched the '6' button and continued with the sequence, thanking his Time Agency training that had taught him to remember long-digit numbers.

Andy began to pull at a handle on the top of the canister, the skin around his knuckles turning white with pressure as the man strove to tear the lid off. At last Jack heard the grateful 'click' of acceptance by the mechanism and the lid gave way to Andy's efforts, sending him tumbling onto the grass.

Seized by a desperate impatience, Jack clambered around to the open canister and peered inside, pushing the flowing water out with his hands. In the darkness, he could just make out the shadowy shapes of two bodies, woven together, unmoving and utterly silent.

"No, no, no," he moaned as his hands acted of their own accord, grasping hold of anything in reach and pulling the two of them free.

The joy and relief that he had expected to feel was swollen up by a wretched sense of fear - why weren't they breathing? Jack pressed on their chests, tucked their clinging hair away from their faces, tipped their gaunt heads back to open their airways. Horrifically torn between the two of them, Jack shouted for Andy and began attempting to resuscitate Ianto.

"Oh my god," Andy gasped, laying Gwen out flat and leaning over her, pumping on her chest and breathing down her throat. "God Jack, she's not breathing!"

In his arms, Ianto felt lighter than air and twice as elusive as Jack pumped and breathed for him, his heart leaping in panic.

"Jack…" Andy's voice was strained.

"Don't say it."

"Jack, really… I think - I think she's-"

"I said don't!"

"Well then, let me try with Ianto - you're doing it all wrong."

"No, don't you give up on her, don't you dare!" Jack flung himself from Ianto to protectively wrap Gwen in his arms, as if he could shield her from Andy's doubts. She was frozen in his arms, unresponsive as he pressed his forehead to hers, fastening his lips over hers and forcing air into her lungs. She did not stir, even when he began to push down on her ribs in rhythmic synchronisation to his own pounding heart. Breathe, he order her lifeless body, breathe! He groaned in audible misery. What was the use of her kissing life into him if he was unable to do the same?

"How's Ianto?" He demanded of Andy, who was working over the other man in tense silence.

"Alive, but unconscious. I'll bet there's water blocking up his lungs." As if to prove his point he beat fervently on Ianto's chest until a large amount of water came spilling up as Ianto coughed and spluttered.

Feeling a renewed sense of hope, Jack returned his attention to Gwen, locking his hands over her chest in an attempt to repeat Andy's movements.

"Er - Jack?"

"What Andy?"

"We have company."

Tearing his eyes from Gwen's inert body, Jack recognised the blurry shapes of Erin, Robert and Gavin racing towards them along the Barrage, the glinting, metal shapes of guns in their hands reflecting light from the sparse street lights and the pewter moon.

"Great - that's just what we need," Jack watched as Andy forced Ianto into a sitting position. "Ianto! Ianto, are you all right?"

"What…" His voice was faint, weak, strained as the words choked in his restricted throat, "what's going on?" He crawled to Jack's side and wrapped his shaking arms around both team mates before moving to lay Gwen on the floor. "Jack, is she…?"

"She'll be fine," even he didn't believe the lie, "as soon as we get her breathing. Andy - help me!"

The police officer knelt beside her, pushing Jack out of the way, and seized her head in his hands, beginning the resuscitation he had done with Ianto. "Jack, I really don't think… her brain's been starved of oxygen for god knows how long…"

"Just do it," he growled through his gritted teeth, reaching out a trembling hand to tenderly stroke her white face.

"Jack," Ianto whispered at his side, taking Jack's other hand in his, "I remember. She was so strong, so brave. They knocked me unconscious, she must've kept me above the water. Jack, she saved my life." Jack nodded dumbly, she had saved his life too, in more ways that he had previously realised. She was his life. "Jack, she wouldn't want you to kid yourself like this. She wouldn't want you to stay here when she's…"

"Yes she would," he'd never expected to muster such anger into his voice when speaking to one as loved as Ianto, "you don't know what she would want. I do. That time, after Abaddon, she didn't give up on me, she stayed by my side for three days. She believed. And if that's what it takes to get her breathing again, then that's what I'll do."

"Jack," Andy's voice punctuated his resolve, "Jack, it isn't working. She's gone."

"No she isn't!" He cried, pushing Andy aside and lifting Gwen onto his lap, all the time aware that Robert and the others still thundered ever closer to them. Tenderly, as if saying a final goodbye, he pressed his lips to hers and breathed outwards, downwards to her lungs, exhaling until there was no breath left to give, yet still he kept his lips on hers, breathing out. Lights popped before his closed eyes, everything grew dark and faint, Ianto's worried voice faded to oblivion and Gwen's body in his arms was weightless. He felt his heart slowing, he felt life impossibly draining out of him, felt his soul thinning as if it was pouring from his body and into Gwen's. Dizzy and unfocused, he drew his lips from hers and swayed on the ground, dimly aware of Andy rushing forwards to resume compressions on her.

"Breathe," Jack commanded as if he could will her into life. Seeing that Robert and the others would reach them in what was only a matter of seconds, Jack climbed to his feet. "Stay with her," Jack ordered Ianto, and pulled Andy up to stand beside him, "Andy, this is the ultimate promotion. Just stand there and look tough." The joy of finding Gwen and Ianto and the exhilaration of searching for the canister underwater dissolved into nothingness as he faced the oncoming band of traitors.

The shape that was Robert raised his gun with a grim look set on his face and pointed it emotionlessly at Jack, shouting:

"Just stay there."

Behind him, Jack was faintly aware of Gwen's frantic, jittery movements as she emerged back into life, followed by the violent heaving as water spurted from her lungs. Jack smiled slowly as warmth washed over him, alongside the feeling that this ordeal was over. Nothing could be worse than the unexplained loss of his team, but now they were safe.

Gavin, in turn, raised his gun at Jack and Andy, "We mean it, Captain Clueless, just don't move, and everything will go smoothly."

"Oh," Jack cocked his head to one side, "like this whole thing has been going smoothly so far? Yeah, the deal's up. I guess my memory got triggered because I sure as hell remember a few reasons to beat you guys to a pulp."

"Oh but Jack," Erin started forward, "you wouldn't hurt us - would you?"

Jack scoffed, "trust me, there's nothing I wouldn't do to you three now after what you've done to the people I love. Look at them," he pointed down at Gwen, who was coughing and wildly clutching at Ianto, "and then tell me why I shouldn't hurt you."

"What the-" Gavin began, but Robert had surged forwards and pointed his gun directly at Jack and, before Jack had any time to respond, darkness engulfed him following an almighty bang. Suddenly, with no warning, he was plummeting downwards into the abyss, fighting to cling to life, screaming at his whirring synapses to fire back into motion. Faintly, as if in the far distance, he heard Andy, Ianto and Gwen screaming and shouting as they rushed towards Robert, Gavin and Erin. Jack heard the far-off cocking of a gun, followed by another release of a bullet. He heard the resounding grisly connection that it made with human flesh and the staggering breaths that emitted from the victim. He heard Gwen's heart wrenching wails and Andy's frantic phone call to the emergency services. Ianto was shouting indistinct words of anger and yet still - impossibly! - Jack was falling through the abyss, even as he could hear their voices.

Someone fell with a dull thump on the ground beside him, someone whose breathing was laboured with injury and who was groaning in immense pain. Nearby, Jack heard Gwen sobbing and gasping for breath, and his heart juttered in a useless attempt to jumpstart.

Confused and desperate to know which of them had received the second bullet, Jack fought the approaching blanket of death. His hands flailed and connected with the bloody hand of someone warm and trusted, and they gripped his fingers responsively. In a gurgled and augmented yet familiar voice, they whispered his name and he sighed as he slipped down into the abyss of death beside them.

Oo, don't you just hate me now? Don't worry, all will be revealed in the next chapter, as soon as I write it =D