Two hours, three cheeseburgers, a basket of chips, and several milkshakes later (who knew a spot of coffee made them even better?) Jack sat up and stretched. Aside from eating, he'd spent most of the time lying in bed, just letting his strength come back. He didn't let on to Ianto just how hard the poison had hit him, how horrible it had felt when he'd been hit, his muscles contracting almost instantly. It had been hard to move, hard to talk, hard to breathe. The feeling of helplessness had been almost as bad as the pain of some of the more gruesome deaths he'd experienced; knowing Ianto was watching it at his side had made it worse.

So while Ianto sat at his laptop and either worked silently or thought out loud, Jack let his body rest while his mind tried to process what Ianto was telling him.

Out of twenty-seven documented survivors of the Battle of Canary Wharf, two had died several months later from wounds suffered in the battle, and three others had eventually committed suicide. Five had gone to work for UNIT, and there were three in various government offices, four if one counted Ianto's position with Torchwood. There was the girl that had warned them to run, Fiona Stewart, which left only a dozen others who had simply melted away into a mostly invisible civilian life: working beneath their ability, retired, jobless, even institutionalized. Only those few who had taken the Retcon offered to them all were in any sort of positive state, and even that was still a far cry from their jobs at Torchwood London, their lives before the Daleks and Cybermen had destroyed everything.

According to what Tosh had found, Fiona was right: far too many of the twenty-two left had died for it to be a coincidence. You didn't have to be a member of Torchwood or even a rookie inspector to see it: they were being taken down, one by one with an eye for diverting attention, making it appear as normal as possible so that no one asked questions.

One of the government workers had died in his sleep, his official cause of death never found but attributed to his heart even though he was not yet forty. A UNIT officer had somehow died in the field from friendly fire, and eight more civilians had been killed by car crashes or other strange accidents and illnesses. Jack wondered if any of them involved the poison dart that had been fired at Ianto: paralysis could be involved in any number of accidents, and then covered up easily, particularly if the poison dissipated in the bloodstream or was of alien origin and therefore unrecognizable.

Rolling his shoulders (he could still feel the pinprick of the dart, that was odd), Jack finished his milkshake and stood. He felt the nervous energy building within him and needed to pace after lying down for so long. Plus it would help him think.

"All right. We've got twenty-seven survivors, twenty-two of whom were still alive six months ago. Now there are only twelve. One dozen, including you. Why?"

"There is literally nothing that links these people other than Torchwood One," Ianto replied, leaning back in the chair where he'd been hunched over his computer. Jack walked over and started massaging Ianto's tight shoulders. "I've gone over everything Tosh sent, and I can't see a thing otherwise."

"So it definitely has to do with them being Torchwood survivors, just like your friend Fiona said." Ianto closed his eyes and leaned into Jack's arms.

"I only met her a few times that week. The past has not been kind to her," he murmured.

"She seemed scared, but not for herself, for us."

"She said she'd warned the others. But if others are being killed, why not her?" asked Ianto.

"Because she's a part of it?" Jack replied. This was what they did so well, bounced questions and answers, problems and solutions off one another. This was what he had missed and wanted and craved while he had been away. They would figure this out; he was not losing Ianto now to some crazy psychopath bent on murdering the victims of one horrific tragedy already.

"She hardly seemed capable of kicking a dog, let alone killing a man," Ianto replied. "And she was certainly not with the men in suits. There was at least one who went after her."

"Maybe she sent the others after us."

"Maybe." Ianto didn't seem convinced, and Jack couldn't blame him. He didn't want to believe the burned, broken woman they'd met could be a part of it either. Yet she obviously knew something, and their path was becoming clear.

"We need to talk to her again," said Jack, stepping back. Ianto turned to look up at him skeptically.

"How do you propose that when it's quite likely the moment I step out of this hotel I'll have a dart in my neck—or a bullet in my back?"

"I'll go talk to her. They're not really after me, and they can't hurt me anyway," said Jack, earning himself a reproachful look from Ianto that he ignored. Fiona had hardly glanced at Jack when they had met; either she was afraid of him or interested only in Ianto. Yet they certainly couldn't risk Ianto going out, so there was little choice if they were to move forward: she was their only source of real information.

"By talk do you mean interrogate?" Ianto asked. "Because I think she'd be far more likely to talk to me than she would to you."

"What, I can be nice," Jack protested. He had to work hard at it sometimes, but he could. When he wanted to—when lives weren't in danger.

"Not with questions," Ianto replied dryly. "And not with suspects. Need I remind you about Beth?"

"Yeah, well, I was right about her, wasn't I?"

"That's not the point. Bring Fiona back here so I can talk to her. She knows me."

Jack nodded. "All right. I'll text you to meet us downstairs. I don't want to bring her up here."

"I'll call the Hub, let them know what's going on," Ianto said. "Which is basically nothing, but maybe they'll have something better." He stood up to walk to the door with Jack, helping him into his coat and touching him on the arm before he left. "They're probably watching, you know. Don't get shot again."

"Same to you. Stay here and be careful."

Ianto sighed. "More birthday fun, alone in a posh hotel suite by myself."

Jack kissed him fiercely. "We'll figure this out and celebrate some other day, nicest place in Cardiff if you want. Right now I just want to keep you alive and stop these people from taking out anyone else. You Torchwood folks deserve to live after all you went through and lost."

Ianto gave him a shaky smile. "Thanks, Jack. Good luck finding her. I'll see you in a few."

Jack left and waited until he heard the deadlock click behind him. He took the elevator down to the lobby, where the blond woman at the desk was apparently still on duty. She glanced up at him and smiled.

"You look much better, sir," she said, sounding genuinely pleased.

"Told you I just needed to sleep it off. I'm ready to explore at bit."

"Will you need a cab?" she asked. "James can call you one if you wish."

Jack glanced outside: it was late afternoon and it wasn't raining, so he could walk the mile down to Torchwood One. He just hoped he'd be able to find Fiona lurking somewhere, especially after what had happened to him and Ianto. Yet he had a feeling the men in suits didn't want to harm her, because she had been able to warn them, had already warned others. He didn't necessarily think she was involved, but she was the only one who knew anything.

It didn't take long for him to find her. Apparently she had not been scared off for long by the men in black suits. Either that, or she was working for them and waiting for the next survivor to come visit the ruins of their former life.

She was well hidden, though. Discreetly staying in the background, away from the working crowds getting off their jobs. Eyes darting nervously around, scanning for who knew what—more suits, more survivors. Jack watched her for a while, glancing around for any more suits before moving toward her. When she saw him, her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth.

"No, no, no," she said, backing away from him. "He's dead, isn't he? They've killed him too. I tried to warn you, to tell you. You should have run!" She turned, but he grabbed her thin wrist as gently as he could.

"He's not dead," Jack said softly so no one passing by could hear. "He's all right. He wants to talk to you. I want to talk to you. We can help."

She shook her head and twisted from his grasp. "You can't help. You can't stop him."

"Who?" asked Jack, but she refused to answer. He tried another tactic, remembering Ianto's words.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. "Come back with me. You can see Ianto, have something to eat." Her eyes were still wide, like a skittish colt. He stepped forward and held up his palms. "I promise you'll be safe."

She finally nodded and reached out for him. She was so thin, so scared, it made him angry that Torchwood had done this to her, and that someone was now killing these people who had somehow survived against all odds. Then again, for some life might not have been much worth living…but that was their choice. It should not be taken from them.

They walked back toward the river, Fiona staying close to Jack now as she gazed anxiously around the area. Jack kept his own lookout, wondering whether he would be attacked again or if they were only after survivors like Ianto. But how then had Fiona survived for so long?

As she was still clinging to his arm, he decided to ask her.

"How come you're still alive?" he asked softly. "Don't they come for you?" She glanced at him with wide eyes. "Or are you that good at running and hiding?"

She shook her head. "He won't kill me. He can't."

Jack filed away the mysterious 'he' once more. So whatever was happening was down to one man, and Fiona knew who this man was. But what exactly did 'can't' mean?

"He can't kill you or he won't kill you?" Jack asked, and Fiona sighed as she hugged herself, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Both."

Now there was a mystery. Jack wrapped his arm around the miserable girl once more as they reached Westferry Circus. He took out his phone to text Ianto, letting him know that they would meet him in the hotel lounge in a few minutes. A nice inconspicuous table in the back.

He expected Ianto to reply immediately. When there was no answer, he sent a second message and picked up his pace, forcing Fiona to almost run to keep up. He had a terrible feeling in his gut; he shouldn't have left Ianto alone.

When there was still no reply, Jack called, waiting for Ianto to pick up ring after ring until it went to voice mail. He swore at the phone, grabbed Fiona's hand, and pulled her into a run down the street toward the hotel.

Something was definitely wrong.

Author's Note:

Short chapter, but the next one picks up again. And you've got a cliffhanger in the meantime, those are always fun! I'll try to update before Ianto's birthday, but I did start a fluffy one shot in his honor that I'll be working on this weekend. Either way, see you August 19th and thanks for reading!