Summary: Jack isn't the only Torchwood member with restorative powers. At least, not anymore. Jack/Ianto—Post COE.

Rating: R++ overall, this individual chapter…. PG-15ish?

Warnings for this chapter: Profanity, violence, angst, John deviousness… and that's it for now?

Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form do I claim any ownership over the Torchwood/Doctor Who Universe. This is a slash fanfiction. Don't like it? Don't read it!

Author's note: First off, I want to thank everyone that has supported me through the 'plagiarism' issue, and don't worry, it seems to have been resolved.

Okay, well some of this chapter is filler and other parts of it isn't. I think that a bit of my dislike for Gwen is coming out with this chapter, but I also feel that they way she acts in this part of the story is characteristic of her on the whole. While she's not a bad person, she can be hard-headed and selfish at time. So I guess it's not me being unfair to her—it's more of me writing out one of the reasons that she can annoy me so much. If you think otherwise, let me know.

Also, I've started to notice that John is becoming an almost fairy godmother type figure with the way that he's been forcing Jack to face his problems. You'll see what I mean. ^_^

Lastly, thanks to my wonderful beta, Vittani, for getting these chapters back to me so quickly!

Enjoy!

Chapter Four: Conflict of Two Kinds

Lois was in the Hub.

It made Ianto slightly nervous for some reason or other, perhaps because every time the girl looked at him, she turned several shades paler before averting her eyes. It wasn't easy, he knew, to look at someone that you knew for a fact had died walk around and serve you coffee. Ianto liked to think of himself as immune to it after having dealt with Jack, but he could hardly stand to look at himself in the mirror. Just yesterday, the muscles in his leg had gotten a bit stiff, and for one irrational moment, he momentarily feared it was rigor mortis.

Never mind the fact that his heart was still beating.

Never mind the fact that Owen hadn't suffered from rigor mortis with a permanent bullet wound in his chest.

Ianto was afraid, something he had no problem admitting to himself. There were small, odd things he'd noticed about himself now—like the fact that all of his body hair seemed to have turned fair and thin. He'd always had a bit of hair on his chest, not much, but enough to mark him as someone who'd passed his teens (Ianto still got carded when he wasn't in suits. He had a baby face, apparently). But now, he had no chest hair. It had fallen out yesterday while he showered, and now Ianto was worried about what else would fall out.

He also noticed the ultra-bright sheen to his blue eyes, and the fact that his hair had gained an odd red hue under light. And it made him wonder what would come next—antlers, that extra head he'd jokingly thought about days ago, fangs, claws? For all he knew, his chest hair would grow back pink.

Most of these things were so small that no one but Ianto himself would be able to point them out, something that he was quite grateful for.

Scenarios were flying about in his head, every new one more disturbing than the last, and now he wondered if he would become Torchwood's next threat.

Or, it could be far simpler. Would he just die again, stop breathing, to just not wake up one morning? He wasn't a fixed point in time, as far as he knew, nor was he whatever Owen had been after that incident with the Risen Mitten. He didn't know what had brought him back, and that was more than unnerving—because if it could bring him to life so suddenly, what was to say that it couldn't take that life back?

But these were thoughts for a later time, when an inquisitive young woman wasn't staring at him with honey-brown eyes.

He gave Lois a refill on her unsweetened triple espresso (such a bitter drink for such a sweet looking girl), watching she smiled at him somewhat tentatively and responded with a somewhat mousy, "Thank you." Lois immediately took a sip, her eyes closing in pleasure and Ianto smiled at the fact he'd managed to entrance one more person with his personal coffee magic. After taking time for a few more sips, she went back to her work, familiarizing herself with the CCTV and the inner workings of Rift spikes.

He brought Gwen her mug as well, a drink that was more milk than coffee. As he sat it down on her heart-shaped coaster, she merely cut her eyes to him nastily.

Yes.

Gwen was still angry.

Johnson was lurking in the upper Archives, which housed the equipment the team was most likely to use and usually needed to be able to operate. The rest of the archives were blocked off by a security code, housing all the archives that hadn't been completely destroyed in the explosion. These were the truly dangerous artifacts, or the ones that hadn't yet been identified and Ianto hadn't yet gotten a chance to take a look at them. He would have to proceed with considerable caution, as some of them had to be damaged from the blast—and alien inventions did strange things when they malfunctioned. He didn't give Johnson the code to those archives, and she had the common sense not to ask—she knew her position was tenuous at the moment. That she wasn't trusted.

Of course, Gwen wasn't helping with the spectacular fit she'd thrown upon realizing what Ianto had done in her absence. He wasn't sure what Gwen was more angry about—the fact that he'd given Johnson a job, or the fact that he'd assumed leadership over Torchwood.

The latter had been rather unintentional, of course, but Gwen was still sulking from acute betrayal and resentment when Ianto rather bluntly told her that he had the right, perhaps even more than her, to initiate someone into Torchwood. After all, he'd been a part of Torchwood since he was nineteen, had survived Canary Wharf (which is something that not even most skilled operatives had managed), and he liked to think that he knew what would make a good Torchwood member.

Gwen disagreed.

"She's a blood psycho, Ianto! What in the hell were you thinking?"

Ianto sighed. "Gwen, please try to understand why I made this decision. I'm aware that she isn't your favorite person, however—"

"Not my favorite person? Well, that's one way to put it," She muttered lowly. "She's a bloody menace."

"—However, Johnson has the potential to become a useful member of the team."

"How," Gwen demanded. "Explain to me how a woman who tried to kill us should be anywhere near me, much less working in the same place as I am and on the bloody team!"

"Because she can see the big picture," Ianto finally said bluntly, tired of going in circles with Gwen for the better part of an hour. "Because she can do what you, and probably Lois, can't. You see the individuals, the singular, the small things that kept us all grounded in humanity—and that's wonderful, it really is. But when the decisions get tough, I need someone who will sacrifice, who will do what has to be done."

"Like giving up ten percent of the world's children so everyone wouldn't die? Is that the kind of sacrifices you think I should be able to make," Gwen snapped out harshly, shaking her head like an angry horse.

"No," Ianto snapped back in complete frustration. Gwen just wasn't getting it. "I'm talking about Jack's grandson, and what Johnson helped him do to save that ten percent."

Gwen looked completely flummoxed, and Ianto almost didn't blame her. "How can you—how dare you… They killed a child!"

"Yes," Ianto murmured. "They sacrificed one child to save millions of children. They saved the world, made the worst decision, the only decision, the right decision. Can you tell me you could have done the same? Tell me you wouldn't have stopped Jack, and you'll never have to see Johnson again."

Gwen was silent for a few moments, her eyes dark with anger and pain. "Could you have done it? Stood by and watched an innocent child die for the 'good of the world?'"

Ianto met her eyes, and she almost shuddered at the complexity of emotions swimming those blue orbs. "Yes, I could. I wish I could give you the answer you want, but I can't. We all have to sacrifice, Gwen, and sometimes sacrificing yourself isn't enough."

She stayed silent after that.

Since then, the atmosphere between them had been… tense, to say the least.

But there was nothing to do for it. He hated fighting with Gwen when they were all that remained of the 'original' team, but he had to think of the future now. A future without Jack for a leader, a future where he may not be around for much longer or where he may change into something that the team would have to put down. And Ianto had to make them ready for that, had to make sure Torchwood Three survived without him.

He couldn't let another Torchwood fall.

And he could see now, that for all her bravado, Gwen couldn't lead permanently—and not just because of her pregnancy. She was emotion and heart and love and human. and she was needed here so that they could never lose sight of Torchwood's real purpose. But she wasn't ready for all the hard decisions that Jack had once made, the decisions Ianto had never envied him for. Gwen would never be ready.

Those decisions were Ianto's now.

Because now he was ready… and perhaps he always had been.

It had been so quiet for the past month, no rift activity, not even a weevil sighting, that when the alarm went off, even Ianto and Gwen jumped.

"Oh!" Lois had been staring at the Rift tracker when the spike occurred and nearly spilled her espresso all over the work station. She flushed in embarrassment when the other two went over to her monitor. "What… what was that?"

"The rift," Ianto replied, taking over the work-station to try and pin-point where the disturbance had occurred. He was no Tosh, but he was faster on a computer than Gwen and cursed under his breath at the three alien signals coming from the southern part of the city. "Dammit. There are three of them."

"Three of what, sir?" Ah, Johnson, perfect timing.

"Three signals, Johnson. Fancy some field work?"

All he got in response a sharp nod, but the woman was already heading to her workstation to retrieve the gun Ianto had given her earlier that day. Lois stared around nervously, clearly not knowing her place. Ianto decided to be kind and ask. "Would you like to come into the field today as well, Lois?"

The girl bit her lip slightly, turning her head towards Gwen, who gave the girl an encouraging smile. "Yes, please. I would, i-if you don't mind."

"Just be careful and hang back, alright?" Lois nodded eagerly, the thick plaits in her hair falling about her cheek. Then Ianto noticed Gwen suiting up, putting a gun on her noticeably expanding waistband. Wonderful. Just what he needed.

"Gwen, you're in control of the coordinates and getting us there safely, alright? Keep an eye on their moments and alert us if they move so much as a yard."

"What?" Gwen stood, her face showing that stubborn expression Ianto had grown to hate. "No, I'm coming with you guys. Lois is new to the field, and Johnson is—," Gwen gave the woman a slight sneer that Johnson ignored completely. "I'm needed on the field."

She was really going to do this now, wasn't she? While three unidentified alien signals were left unattended. Lois was already looking between the two of them, clearly not sure who was more of the authority figure. And Johnson was staring in the other direction, seemingly uncaring about the disagreement though Ianto knew she was testing him, waiting to see how he would handle the situation. "Gwen, I don't have time to argue about this. Have you got a track on the three signals?"

"Yes, but—"

"Neither Johnson nor Lois know how to operate these computers well enough to guide us. If you don't stay behind we go in blind and risk our lives."

Ianto could tell she was getting ready to argue. "Gwen, this is pure idiocy. You're starting to show, and nearly every alien knows what a pregnant female looks like. Some can even smell it. If you are so completely negligent that you don't care if you child lives or dies, then by all means, go to an abortion clinic. But I will not let you put this team in danger because of your stubbornness."

Gwen was silent for a moment, but Ianto knew there was much more coming and he decided to leave before things really got bad. Gwen could yell at him with they got back from the field. Ianto grabbed a few extra rounds for his gun and snatched the keys to the SUV off the hook, turning to leave with Johnson and Lois when he heard Gwen's voice trembling with rage from behind him. "I won't allow you to tell me what to do. You are not in charge of this team, Ianto."

For now, I am, Ianto thought, fixing his comm before throwing one to Lois. "Come on, then. Let's go."

"Coordinates bring us to 507 Whesthimer," Ianto said aloud for the benefit of the other two in the car. "Gwen, are the signals still stationary?"

"Yes, but one of them has been moving around a bit—the other two haven't moved since the rift spike. They must be artifacts. I still haven't been able to get a visual on them, so I'm not sure." He could only detect the slightly hint of anger in her voice, and he was satisfied that Gwen had been able to pull it together in order to guide them. For a moment, he worried that they would be going in blind.

But he should have known better. No matter how upset Gwen was, she would never willingly put the rest of the team in danger.

"That is a possibility," Ianto agreed, making a sharp turn into the driveway. "We're here. Johnson, back me up. Lois, field rule number one: stay close, do not allow yourself to become separated with the rest of the team under any circumstances. We don't know what we're dealing with here, so assume it's hostile." He knew he was doing a bit of a gamble, allowing Lois here with them, but he was confident in Johnson's skills and there was no time like the present to give Lois a taste of what working at Torchwood was really like.

And it was high time that Ianto got a bit of practice leading. God, just the idea that lives were directly depending on him was causing his hands to shake slightly, and it was all he could do not to break out in a nervous sweat. He wasn't sure how Jack had managed to deal with it all.

But he was a professional—the senior member of this team—and he was going to act like it.

They exited the car, Johnson pulling out her gun so fast she almost seemed to blur for a moment before taking her position at his right elbow. He idly wondered if that was a coincidence, or if Johnson had already noticed that he was weakest on his right.

"Johnson," he cautioned. "Remember what we are here for." Ianto didn't want to say more in front of Lois, not wanting to scare the girl, who was already between Johnson and Ianto curiously. Ianto had already had extensive discussions with Johnson on what was and what was not appropriate behavior in the field. In other words, there would be no killing unless an explicit threat was established. Capture, not kill. Johnson nodded stiffly, understanding the hint.

"Alright team, move in." And if that one little statement didn't scare him more than anything else, because Ianto wasn't sure if he was ready for this. Not that he had any choice. "Gwen, still no visuals?"

"None, they're all inside of the warehouse. That's as far as I can tell. There's a CCTV feed around the perimeter of the building—if they come outside, I'll see."

"Alright. Thanks Gwen." And Ianto really meant it. He was sorry about he said to her earlier, even if it was something that she needed to hear.

Ianto pulled out his gun, gesture for Lois to come up a bit on his left. He was happy to note that the stun gun he'd given her was already out and ready for us. Lois was a natural with the thing, and Ianto was satisfied with that for now. The look she'd given him when she first saw the guns was enough to tell him that she wasn't ready for that yet. He would give her a bit more time. But not much—they couldn't afford it.

They approached the entrance, Ianto frowning once he realized that it was slight ajar, the padlock pried apart. He inspected it for a moment, feeling a chill run down his spine at he sight of finger indentations. Whatever had done this was strong. Unimaginably so.

Ianto pushed at the door with his shoulder, inwardly wincing at the rusty creak the door made. Raising his gun and turning slightly, Ianto proceeded without looking behind him at the other two. Johnson could take care of herself and he could almost feel Lois' warm breaths on the back of his neck.

Ianto smiled.

At least she was staying close.

The inside of the warehouse was dirty, the particles of dust catching the midday light through grimy and cracked windows. At least it wasn't completely dark, though many things could hide in the shadows that were cast against each corner and wall. The warehouse was vast, but relatively empty besides a few hulking masses of rusty metal that were once working machines. He couldn't hear anything, but a sixth sense told him something alive was in here and he kept moving towards the center of the building.

"Lois!" Everyone, including Lois, froze at the sound of Gwen's voice. Ianto waited for her to elaborate. "You're almost on top of one of the signals."

"But I don't see anything," she whispered back, eyes roving all around her.

Ianto looked to the floor.

And there it was gleaming, made of a metal-like material that was somehow reminiscent of mother-of-pearl. It appeared to be a necklace with several intricate and interlinking chains leading to a pendant of pure black, the odd metal glowing dimly as the color changed very few colors to soft pastels. But looks can be deceiving. Lois' shoe was almost nudging on the pale ropes of metal, her eyes wide as she slowly pulled back her foot.

"Don't touch it," Ianto warned both of them, bending slightly to get a better look at the stone. It wasn't a pure obsidian as it first appeared to be, the slightest glimmers of luminescence ebbing within the stone, twinkling like… stars? "Are any of the other signals moving, Gwen?"

"No, still stationary."

Quickly pulling on a glove, Ianto shuffled closer, using a small metal rod to pull the necklace from the ground and slide it into a clear bag. It was special Torchwood order that wouldn't allow the alien signal to transmit beyond the inside of the bag. Useful, if the artifact was dangerous. That may not be the case with this, but Ianto has learned the more beautiful an alien device was, the more deadly it was likely to be. Plus, it didn't hurt to be cautious.

"Shit! One of the signals just disappeared and another is moving towards you from the left. It's coming in quick!"

Ianto almost didn't need Gwen's warning, he could hear it.

It was an unearthly shriek that echoed loudly off the rusted walls of the warehouse as the sound of something rushing across the cement. When the alien came into view, Ianto was ready, gun and flashlight pointed directly at the emerging figure. A short, thin figure.

Ianto felt Lois suck in a breath, and he nearly allowed his own surprise overtake his common sense when he almost lowered his weapon. The alien was a… child.

Or at least what appeared to be a child, a small girl that couldn't be more than seven by his estimation. She had unnaturally white skin like the color of bleached parchment with hair just as pale and translucent that lay in ragged strands down to her knees. Her eyes were perhaps the most alien thing about her—an odd orange-red that burned like embers from under a delicate fringe of lashes.

Gun still pose, Ianto step forward slightly, feeling his heart drop a few inches when the tiny child scuttled away from him in fear. Every remotely paternal instinct was telling him to drop his weapon and make sure the girl wasn't hurt, but instincts that had been honed all the way from Torchwood One kept his weapon raised.

"It's okay, little one," Ianto heard a tentative voice say from his side, and his eyes widened to see Lois attempting to get closer to the girl, stun gun tucked into her jeans. "No one's going to hurt you."

"Lois," He hissed as the young woman took another step forward as curious orange-red eyes watched her. "Stand back."

She stubbornly took another step towards the alien. "It's just a little girl, Ianto. She's not going to hurt anyone. Are you darling?" Lois was positively cooing, and Ianto considered calling her Gwen 2.0.

Johnson's gun was still up, that was something.

"Get away from her, Lois. She could be dangerous," Ianto said lowly, not screaming like he wanted to. He began to close the gap between himself and Lois, so that he would be close enough to act if something went wrong. When something went wrong. Startling a possibly hostile alien wasn't just wasn't on, and his ears were still ringing from that shriek. Nothing that could make a battle cry like that was harmless.

Lois, a mere few feet away from the girl, turned to give him a slightly incredulous look and that was all it took. The alien opened her small mouth, revealing no less than three rows of needle thin (not to mention pointy) teeth before releasing that horrible sound again and charging at Lois, pouncing in a second. Ianto could see huge claws growing from the tiny fingers as the alien raised a hand threateningly from her position on top of Lois and he did the only thing he could do.

He aimed and shot.

Lois gave a small, shocked cry as blackish blood splattered over the front of her white shirt and scrabbled up, stumbling away from the body.

He heard Johnson suck in a shocked breath as well.

"Ianto, what just happened?" Gwen's worried voice came from the comm, but Ianto didn't answer. He was too busy staring at the little girl with the bullet hole in her head.

"Oh… oh my god," Lois gasped, looking at Ianto with horrified eyes. "She was just a child. She wasn't going to hurt me."

"Yes, I could tell from the way she nearly ripped your throat out," Ianto snapped irritated, still approaching the body with caution.

"Ianto!"

"She was just scared, oh my god, oh my god." Ianto turned away from the body, satisfied that the alien was dead and opened his mouth to reply to Lois' hysteria.

"Ianto, what in the hell is going on," Gwen practically shrieked in his ear. "Are you alright?!"

"We're fine, Gwen," Ianto spoke into the comm before turning to Lois.

"This is your first time in the field, and I do not expect you to be completely familiar with protocol but you should never forget this: If something comes at you with teeth and claws, you shoot even if it looks like the blood Easter bunny. That girl would have clawed your throat out before you could so much as scream if I hadn't shot her. Am I sorry that I had to shoot a child, even an alien one? Of course. But your life is far more important to me and I have a responsibility to protect every member this team, even when a member unthinkingly endangers their life," Ianto ended pointedly.

Lois turned her doe eyes on him, and he saw the guilt swimming there. While he didn't want her to feel responsible for his actions or the death of the alien, sometimes a little guilt went a long ways to keeping Torchwood employees safe. Lois opened her to say something when something beyond his shoulder caught her eye, her face showing complete and utter shock.

Then he heard a familiar shriek followed by several gunshots and a thump.

He turned to Johnson in surprise as the woman lowered her smoking gun. "She tried to charge me," Johnson explained stiffly. Ianto took another look at the girl, who despite having several gunshot wounds, was crawling slowly on the floor, mouth caught in a sneer and eyes lit with a manic gleam. Those eyes didn't belong to a child.

"I don't doubt it."

Ianto fired another shot and the girl went limp for the second time, but he knew better than to think the alien was dead this time. He unlocked the car remotely and told Lois to go get some cuffs and a tranquilizer.

No one noticed the pendant, safe in the neutralizing plastic, glow brightly for several moments before dimming as if nothing had occurred.

They were in London and the close proximity to Cardiff was enough to make him shake with grief and anxiety.

It didn't help that Jack was in the city that Ianto had spent some of the most influential years of his life in, where he went to university before being recruited into Torchwood, where he met Lisa and fell so deeply in love that he couldn't let go of the shell the Cybermen had made his lover into. This was the city where Ianto experienced the traumatic battle of Canary Wharf, where he had been broken but not shattered, where he began to develop into the man that Jack had loved so dearly.

Every step he took, Jack wondered if Ianto had once walked the sidewalk he was on, if he was retracing Ianto's steps.

He was driving himself crazy.

Not that John was helping matters much.

"Dammit, she's not here," John mumbled to himself for what had to be the fiftieth time, and Jack didn't have a single clue what the man was rambling about. "Or he, for that matter."

"Who isn't here, John?"

"None of your fucking business," John snapped out, going from spacey to pissed off in point two oh seconds.

"God, you've been acting like you're on the rag since we've landed! What crawled up your ass, John?" John gave Jack a strange 'who, me' look that just grated on his nerves. Forget that he was somewhere that he promised he would never return to, he didn't even know why he was there! John still wasn't forthcoming about why they were on Earth, much less in London, other than to say that he 'had business.'

Jack had tried to force the answer out of John earlier, but that had gone nowhere quickly. Especially after John said, "If you don't want to be here, nothing's bloody stopping you Jack. Not like you couldn't hitchhike your way back across the galaxy if you wanted to. So either admit that you want to see Eyec-Ianto's grave, or shut the hell up."

So Jack shut the hell up.

But the only thing that could keep his mind off of Ianto for a least a little while was the mystery surrounding John's supposed immortality and what he was doing on Earth. He had half a mind to shoot the little bastard just to see if he got up again, but something stopped him from killing John in the off chance that he wouldn't get up. Though John was sporting a few bruised ribs from when Jack was finally released from the ship, and he had to wonder how someone whose left side was one big bruise could still swagger so effectively.

John was in full garb now, the jeans, tank, jacket, and boots, but he hardly resembled the man who nearly got himself and Gwen blown to pieces over a year ago. Not just because of his younger appearance, either. John looked almost… frantic, biting at his nails, his bluish-gray eyes roving around constantly for someone who wasn't there. Because Jack was able to deduce that John was looking for someone from the 'he's not here' and 'where the hell is she' that the man kept repeating. Which would allude to two people, but Jack was pretty sure John was only talking about one.

"John," Jack began, suddenly suspicious, "this isn't one of those things where you're trying to find someone so you can kill them for a trinket, is it? Because there's no way in hell I'm going to let you murder someone for a shiny bauble."

John rolled his eyes. "Don't worry Jackie. Wouldn't want to upset your delicate sensibilities by killing someone, god knows you've never seen that."

John did sarcasm almost as well as Ianto.

Almost.

They were strolling down a semi-crowded street around midday and attracting quite a few stares—especially John, who went out of his way to stare intensely at every remotely attractive man or woman. But it wasn't his normal, 'I'd screw you' stare, no, it was almost as if John was searching for something in these strangers. Something he wasn't finding.

But maybe Jack was just imagining things.

"Oh, hello gorgeous," John murmured suddenly as he spotted a particularly attractive young couple, a dark-haired young man with exotic features and a young woman with corn silk blonde hair and doe eyes. "Come on, let it be one of you, come on please." As the couple came closer the man stared at John (who was still muttering under his breath and looking at them with a sort of desperation) strangely and hugged the woman close as they passed the two men. "Fuck," John whined, turning his head slightly to stare at the couple as they passed. "Not either of them."

Or maybe not.

Jack sighed in disgust. "Can you please stop ogling the locals, you psycho?"

John didn't respond, as he was standing in the middle of the street and pouting.

Jack was really losing patience for the other man's wild goose chase—one he obviously hadn't been invited to. "For fucks sake, John! What in hell are you looking for? I could help if—"

John turned around suddenly, growling. "Oh, please, don't patronize me. The last thing you would ever want to do is help me, that much you've proven. Just sod off, Jack. This doesn't concern you."

"It does concern me when you drag me back to the one planet in the entire universe that I hate!"

"Oh, so you hate this little mud ball now? What happened to you ranting and raving about the beauty of humanity in the twenty-first century? What a change in tune, Jackie. I would have never figured you to be so fickle," John sneered sarcastically.

The fight ran out of Jack suddenly and without warning as he thought of the reason why he'd changed from Earth's protector to not caring if the entire planet blinked out of existence. Ianto was dead, and nothing mattered without him.

John surveyed his crushed expression with almost sympathetic eyes. "Why don't you just sod off to bloody Cardiff to properly mourn the boy, then? And go see that big-eyed PC you such a hard on for?"

"I… can't," Jack ground out, looking down at the cracked pavement, uncaring a large man bumped into him without so much as an apology.

"Right. Of course." John sighed explosively. "Guess it's all up to me, then. Again."

Jack looked up in confusion before his eyes widened in sudden horror. "No, John! Don't!"

But it was too late. John had already pressed the buttons on his wrist strap, and Jack could feel himself begin to teleport. "You complete bastard!"

"See you in a couple of days, mate," John called out from what seemed to be a long distance Jack was swept away towards Cardiff.

After Jack disappeared, John rolled his eyes in exasperation before turning around to find no less than five people staring at the spot where Jack had been in complete shock. Just lovely.

"What?" He put on his most intimidating face at the group of Londoners, inwardly snickering when they reared backwards in fright. "Nothing to see here, folks."

"That man—he just, he just," one of them stuttered out in shock and John rolled his eyes to the heavens, wondering if the poor primitive's brain was about in implode from a little bit of teleportation. And to think he was going to end up with one of them.

"Nothing to see here," John repeated evenly. They continued to stare at him blankly.

He pulled out his two pistols, swinging them carelessly between his fingers. "I said, noth—" All of pitiable lot of them began to scream and run, even those that hadn't see Jack's disappearing act, looking about as dignified as a stampede of sewer rats as they cleared the street with frantic energy that was astounding.

Whistling as he began to swagger his way down the nearly-empty street, John idly reminded himself about what he'd learned in murder rehab. That didn't stop him from firing a round in the direction the hysterical crowd had went, snickering at the sound of the almost comical screams.

Earth wasn't so bad, really.

TBC