Ok, personal note:

So far, I am loving Torchwood CoE. Maybe not every little decision, but even with the decisions I don' t like, the writing is superb. I honestly have no complaints, not even after Day Four aired in the US. It was brilliantly done and I am *not* one of the fans buying tar and feathers for RTD. I *do* wonder about what they will do with Torchwood for a fourth season, if there is one (which I hope there will be), but I'm certainly excited to see what they do next with the team. There is a lot of potential left for great story telling.


Chapter Eleven:

Day One, Part Four

"Courage is not the absence of fear,
but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear."

Ambrose Redmoon


There had been nothing for Wendy to do for most of the morning but sit and watch as frantic parents streamed into the hospital's clinic with their children, begging for answers that no one could give them. Finally, frustrated and needing to do something useful before she crawled out of her own skin (or worse yet into her other skin), she asked the nearest nurse what she could do to help.

"Who did you say you were, again?" the older woman inquired, probably having noticed her loitering around the windows the last hour or so. Her attention was continually being drawn eastwards, towards home.

"Wendy Shutten," she handed over her ID. "I'm with the Torchwood Institute, Cardiff. I don't know much about medicine, but I can file paperwork, direct traffic, and push carts." She omitted the fact that she also made a mean cup of coffee. Ianto might find comfort in the domestic, but her nerves were on fire with the need to actually do something. "I'm here with Bobby—Robert—Chase," she added, hoping that might make some difference. Bobby was with his old boss's team of doctors. She'd been with them for a while, but over half of what they said about went right over her head.

It wasn't House's occasional (or not so occasional) snarky comment, or the way the Thirteen eyed her with suspicion—the way Taub tried very hard not to look at her at all. The anxiety dripping off Foreman. It was the feeling of complete and utter uselessness that had gotten to her. If she were at home, there would be something for her to do, someone she could help, even though she wasn't an expert at anything—even though she'd never gone to university. At home she was respected. Valued.

Here…here she was nothing, no one, just Chase's new girlfriend, an extension, an appendage. Quieter than the last one…House liked that about her.

The nurse handed her back her ID, still looking dubious. She'd never heard of the Torchwood Institute; no civilians outside the UK had. But… "I suppose we could use another volunteer," she said, "as long as you don't mind getting your hands dirty."

"Not at all. Thank you."

………………………………………………………………..

Bobby leant back against the desk and watched the scan currently in progress. Emmet Fairfield was the sixteenth or seventeenth child they'd run tests on. So far they hadn't found anything unusual… that meant it had to be an outside source, targeting them, somehow. Targeting them, but not Jack's kid, not Jason. Something about Jason made him safe… at least as safe as the only child not being affected could be. Sooner or later someone was bound to notice him.

He ran his fingers through his hair and excused himself to go out to the lobby where he could check his phone for new messages and look for Wendy, make sure she was holding up all right. He couldn't help the feeling he'd abandoned her, but he needed to be in on the testing and he understood why she'd left the conference room earlier. Even though House hadn't put her down for being less educated than the rest of them (mainly because he had no idea, Wendy was too quiet to give him any clues), he knew the things she was sensitive about.

The lobby was quieter than he'd expected; Bobby chose an empty sofa for added privacy and checked his phone. Sara had texted them earlier with an update, not that there was much to say. Mickey had gone to Nerys' for a kip, Gwen was on her way to see some guy in a psychiatric facility in England—Jack had gone off on some private errand. Ianto was in and making everybody coffee. In other words, it was status quo.

And there were no messages. Hopefully no news meant good news…he looked around but didn't see Wen. Maybe she's gone for a bit of air…

He was about to dial Abby's phone, just to check in with her, when Eric Foreman slumped down next to him, uninvited.

The other doctor shot over a speculative look. Bobby ignored it; twice already Lisa Cuddy had asked him if 'his people' had figured it out yet. He'd tried to explain that he didn't have people, he worked for a very small agency, little more than civil servants, really… she wasn't buying it. She remembered the Atmos incident. Thankfully, she didn't know about the time he'd called House for a consult, he was sure he wouldn't have been able to brush her off if she did...and it wasn't even that he was brushing her off, he honestly didn't know any more than anybody else.

Foreman's voice cut through his thoughts: "How do you do it?"

He regarded him a moment. "Do what?" he finally asked.

"You're still Catholic, aren't you?"

He frowned. "Yes." It was no secret he'd gone to seminary school once upon a time, nor did he made any kind of secret of his faith. He didn't make an issue of it, either. "What has that got to do with anything?"

"How do you do it?" Foreman repeated the question. "How do you go on, day in and day out, believing in everything you were taught about God when you know it's not true?"

"What?"

"Come on, Chase, we all know what you do."

"You have no idea what I do—and anyway, that's got nothing to do with my faith in God," he said, trying to divert the subject, not that he actually wanted to have a debate about religion with his former colleague. As far as he'd seen Foreman wasn't an especially religious man, although he was under the impression his parents were.

Just the same, he would have expected a question like that from House—or Alison. They were both Atheists, although it was only the former who made a habit out of challenging other people's beliefs for his own amusement. Alison was usually content to leave the subject of religion alone.

"How can anyone still believe in anything we've been taught after last year?" Foreman was saying. "There were aliens. On this planet. We all saw them. Doesn't that contradict—?"

"Eric, look, if you believe in God then you believe He created everything. That includes life on other worlds."

"You really believe that God created those…things?"

"The Daleks?" Bobby said the word with neither fear nor anger. "Of course I believe He created them. Or…well, I believe He created the planet they came from, the race they're descended from, just the same as He created the Earth and us."

The other frowned.

"They didn't start out like that, nothing does. They made themselves into what they are. It's called free will," he added, since they seemed to be discussing religion, at least ostensibly.

"How…?" he couldn't seem to fully formulate the question.

Bobby leant back into the cushions. No one was paying any attention to them, they were just two more tired looking doctors who had been called in, in the middle of the night. "I was a volunteer with UNIT before coming here," he said in a quiet tone. It wasn't technically a secret, it just wasn't something he talked about, or something he would have put on his resume. "The first time I came face to face with an alien life form was in London. They weren't friendly. That's how I met Jack—my boss," he couldn't help the flash of a smile that played across his lips at the memory of that first meeting with the infamous Captain Harkness. He was just a kid, petrified, and on the wrong end of a very big gun…and there was Jack, larger than life, ever the dashing hero, pulling him out of the way, getting himself shot…killed… coming back to life…

"My job involves dealing with things like this, Eric, but that doesn't mean I have all the answers—that Torchwood has all the answers. It just means that we try, we don't give up, don't panic under pressure. If we did, we'd be dead—and probably so would a lot of other people."

The other remained speechless—definitely a first, Bobby reckoned.

"You're really ok with a job that could get you killed?"

"I could get killed by a car while crossing the road," he said with rueful smirk. "At least doing what I do, I'm making a difference. My life means something. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday… someday the world will be a better place and I know I'll have had a hand in that. So yeah, I'm ok with job. I can't imagine ever doing anything else."

"You don't look outside, look at the footage of all those kids this morning, and wonder where God is in all this? You don't wonder, if He exists at all, why all this keeps happening? You don't feel abandoned?"

"I have faith that God knows what He's doing—and I think He has faith in us, too."

………………………………………………

"Hey," Sara greeted Gwen when she came into the Hub; it was late. They still hadn't heard from Jack. Ianto had kept himself busy all day helping her with a new computer program, searching the archives for information… doing just about anything he could think of, it seemed, to keep himself from wondering where Jack had gone and why he hadn't bothered to call in, if only to say he was all right.

"Oh hi," Gwen returned her smile, "Ianto," she greeted her countryman as well. She didn't have to ask if they'd heard from Jack, she could see by his expression that they hadn't. Oh, was she going to give it to him when he got back! He'd been gone all bloody day…

"Are you all right?" Sara asked, drawing her up out of her ire. "You look a little pale."

"I just got back from England, what do you expect?" she teased.

Sara laughed; she'd heard Mickey going at it with both Gwen and Ianto, entirely good naturedly, at least most of the time, about the differences between their two countries.

"I've got it!" Ianto announced over his shoulder. "There's a Holly Tree Lodge just outside of Arborough," he read the information off his screen. "It's a hotel now, but up until 1965 it was a state run orphanage… are you sure you're all right?" he asked then, in Gwen's direction.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. First trimester, that's all," she forced a smile. Her hand went reflexively to her mid-section even though there wasn't so much as a bulge beneath her t-shirt yet. Truth was, she was dead on her feet and she knew it, but being relegated to desk duty was so infuriating! And it wasn't as if she was putting anyone in danger, herself or the baby included, by going to interview one old man. He'd been a bit peculiar, but he wasn't dangerous, she was sure of that. He was a victim, just like all those kids.

"Why don't you sit down," Ianto suggested in a kind tone, his smile warm. "I'll fix you a nice cuppa," he offered. The information he'd found on Clem MacDonald could wait ten more minutes. After all, it had been sitting there collecting proverbial dust for the last forty years. MacDonald wasn't going anywhere.

And as much as she didn't want to be coddled, the thought of a cup of tea was too marvellous to turn away. "All right. But… I'm just… I know I'm being silly…" she hesitated, then nodded towards the medical bay. She just wanted a quick look, just to make sure that everything was all right.

"You're not being silly," Sara told her.

"Not at all," Ianto seconded the notion as he headed towards the coffee station. He remembered when Jack was pregnant with Seren. He'd never felt so close to his husband than had those nine months…the months that followed. But now that they were home, now they were back to work…or at least that Jack was back to work, and it was like they were having to find their footing with one another all over again. He hated it.

The cog door rolled aside...he looked up to see who... it was Jack. He swallowed, but before he could speak, Gwen's voice drifted up from the medical bay.

"'Bout time you got back!" she teased as she set up the scanner—she couldn't be sure whether it was Jack or Mickey, she couldn't see up into the main area of the Hub, she'd just heard the door.

All Ianto needed was one look at his partner...his husband... to know something was wrong and it wasn't Gwen's teasing. He started to ask, but Jack waved it aside.

"What do you have?" he asked by way of hello. "Pease tell me you have some new information."

Sara bristled at his tone. "As a matter of fact yes. What about you?" she challenged.

They glared at one another for several long moments.

"Yeah," Jack finally said, not breaking eye contact, not making any attempt to hide his anger. "Somebody tried to kill me. Did kill me. And another man, that Dr Patanjali you met earlier today. We need a clean up at St Helen's, by the way," he added offhandedly in Ianto's direction. He regretted his tone almost immediately. He knew what it did to him when he died, how much it tore him apart. He supposed the casualness of his order for a clean up hadn't helped matters any, either.

Sara cleared her throat. "I'm sorry," she apologized softly to the pair of them.

"Not your fault," Jack answered, his tone cool, brisk. He wasn't looking at her any more, but it wasn't because he was angry, at least not with her. All he could see was the way Ianto was looking at him, how much he'd hurt him. Again.

Sara saw it too and offered to get the clean up started.

Jack nodded; he was barely aware of her getting her gear together. "Ianto, I—"

"Right, then," the other cut him off, his tone superficially brisk. "Would you like me to start a pot of coffee for you, Sir? That industrial strength brew of yours?"

"Ianto—"

He turned away as Jack reached for him. Instead of heading immediately to the coffee station, however, he peered over the rail into the medical bay. "Gwen, are you all right down there?" he called, as much to avoid Jack as to find out what was taking her so long. She certainly looked all right…

And his tactic worked, too. Jack peered down at her, his focus now solely on Gwen.

Brilliant, the Welshman thought, acerbically, making his way over to the coffee station to put on that pot of coffee he'd just offered. He was acutely aware that he'd just pushed Jack further away when all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around him, hold him tight, convince himself that he was really all right. He hated Jack's cavalier attitude towards his own life, his own wellbeing. Some day his luck was going to run out, some day whatever it was that kept him alive, whatever 'wish' Rose Tyler had made was going to stop working… he clenched his jaw.

Brooding wasn't helping. He'd fix the coffee, deliver his report on Clem MacDonald and then pull Jack aside to apologize for being a git. They'd kiss. They'd make up. They'd save the world. Everything would be fine.

Gwen looked up as Jack joined her in the medical bay.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "The baby—"

"She's fine," she assured him. "I was just being a worrywart is all. Go on, have a look," she nodded towards the screen.

Jack placed his hand over hers, "Gwen—you've gotta be careful out there, you can't go taking chances—"

Suddenly every light in the Hub flared red as an ear-splitting alarm sounded out a warning.

"What the Hell…?" Gwen looked at him.

"Oh my God," Jack breathed, seeing it first, on the screen. There was a bomb. It was inside of him. Someone had booby trapped him, they were using him to blow up the Hub…Gwen…Sara. Ianto.

Ianto and Sara appeared at the top of the stair. He opened his mouth to tell them what had triggered the alarm, but his partner… his lover… beat him to it.

"It's a bomb," the Welshman's face was pale. "It's… " he looked like he was going to be sick.

Jack grabbed Gwen and propelled her up the steps ahead of him, telling her she had to go, she had to get out of the Hub, they all did.

Gwen fought back. "No! We can fix this, we can deactivate it—Jack there's got to be something we can do!"

"I can't die, remember? Now get out here—all of you!" he repeated, looking frantically around for his Welshman. Ianto was at a computer. He started to say his name, but Sara cut him off:

"We can't just leave you! There's got to be some sort of protocol, some way to get it out of you before—"

"We've got two minutes," Ianto told them, his tone frighteningly calm.

"Then the protocol is for you to get out of here," said Jack. He took both women by the arms and shoved them at the cog door. "Now," he added when they continued to resist the idea of leaving him to be blown up.

Ianto still hadn't moved from the computer, either. "Blast radius…one mile, Jack," he met his gaze for the first time.

"We're not just going to abandon you, Jack!" Gwen insisted. "We're not going to just run away—!"

"You have a family Gwen—now GO! Sara—go!" he finally got them to the door. "Ianto!" he hollered. His Welshman was still at his computer, still just…typing. "What are you doing?" a new alarm sounded, answering his question. He'd triggered the lock down. "Ianto, you'll be trapped, you have to get out of here—!"

"I can't just leave you to die, Jack!" his voice was thick with unshed tears. "You can't ask me to. You can't—please—!"

"I won't die. I can't. Ianto," Jack pulled him bodily away from the computer and dragged him to the lift; in his arms, the younger man was shaking. "I'll come back. I always come back."

"There won't be anything left of you to come back!"

"That doesn't matter, it's not how it works. Ianto!" he gave him a hard shake. "Seren needs you. Our daughter—"

"She needs you too," his tone was enough to break Jack's heart.

He closed his eyes, just for an instant to collect his thoughts. They were running out of time. "I know. Ianto, I need you. If you stay with me here you'll be killed. I won't. No matter what happens to me, I will always come back. Please—go! I'm not ready to lose you, not now. Not ever. Please!" he begged.

Ianto's lips against his mouth silenced him. "I love you, Jack…Cariad," he breathed when he broke off the kiss, just enough to speak, still hanging on tight. Tears glistened in his eyes. "I—I'm so sorry for earlier—I love you so much! Please forgive me—"

"Shhhh," as gently as he could, he dislodged him, got him to the lift. "I love you too. I have…I will. I always will," he promised.

"Please—"

"We can talk about it later, ok?"

"Yeah. Yeah, ok," he choked back another sob.

Jack hit the button on his wrist strip to start the lift moving. Then he pulled the strap off his wrist, pulled the wedding ring from his finger. He handed them up to the younger man—Ianto looked like he'd been punched in the gut. "I'll survive. These might not. I need you to take care of them for me until I get back."

Wordlessly, the younger man nodded, swallowing back the lump of cold hard dread as he accepted the two items from his partner's outstretched hand. "You'd better come back for these, Jack Harkness," he warned as the lift carried towards the Plass.

"Count on it. And hey!" he hollered; Ianto was half way up, almost to safety. "Make sure Myfanwy stays out of trouble while I'm gone!" he forced one of his cocky half-grins. "The last thing I want to come back to is reports of a dinosaur flying all over Wales!"

"I'll try my best, Sir," the other answered loudly enough to be heard over the alarm, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks.

As soon as Ianto was clear, Jack ran to the computer terminal and changed the lockdown code from protocol one to protocol two. He doubted it would protect everything, but as a series of blast doors slid into place, he took some small satisfaction in the knowledge that whoever was trying to blow them up wouldn't likely be getting their hands on his private safe or the vaults down below…

He hoped.


A/N:

yes, a little bit of a cheat there at the end, but really, if you're working with things as volitile as alien technology, wouldn't you have some kind of protection from things that go 'boom' *inside* the Hub as well as protection from things trying to get in??