Jack burst into the Four Seasons and ran straight to the elevator, literally dragging Fiona behind him. He ignored the woman behind the desk welcoming him back and pushed the button a dozen times, knowing it never brought the elevator down quicker but also knowing he was not yet ready to run up eight flights of stairs to fight a possible assassin.

Thankfully, it didn't take long, and he pulled Fiona in and hit the button for the eighth floor, taking out his Webley as he tried not to think about what he might find. As soon as the elevator doors opened, he ran down the hallway, stuck his electronic key in the door as fast as he could with shaking hands, and pushed it open.

It stopped, the deadbolt set.

Jack swore and shouted for Ianto. No answer. His heart was racing…something was definitely wrong…so he took a deep breath and kicked the door open as hard as he could, hotel charges be damned. He had to get in, had to get to Ianto…

The door flew open, Jack ran in, and almost tripped over a body. A dead body.

Even though he had seen hundreds if not thousands of dead bodies over his lifetime, the sight of one on the floor of his hotel room shocked him. He threw himself backward, away from the blood pooling on the floor.

It was not Ianto, thank god.

He bumped into Fiona, who gasped and began to whimper when she saw the body. Gathering his wits, Jack slammed the door shut, gave her the quiet sign as he raised his gun again, and stepped around the man on the floor, searching for Ianto.

The suite had two rooms, a front sitting room and back bedroom. Making his way toward the bedroom, Jack tried not to think about what he might find. There was no sign of any other struggle, but he could not see Ianto. The bathroom door was shut. His heart pounding, Jack stepped quietly toward the door, his Webley up, hand reaching toward the knob, when suddenly the door flew open, and he found a semiautomatic in his own face.

"Jesus, Jack!" Ianto gasped, letting his arm fall—left arm, why was he using his left arm? He was shirtless, his head and face wet and a towel at his right shoulder slowly turning red with blood. He set the gun down on the sink with a muttered curse and put pressure on what was obviously a gunshot wound, wincing as he did. Jack didn't know whether to grab him and squeeze the life out of him, or yell at him for getting shot in the short time he had been alone.

After staring at Ianto for a bit too long as he tried to get his bearings and calm his racing heart, Jack finally went for the former, stepping forward and pulling him into a careful and hopefully composed embrace as he kissed Ianto's head. Ianto winced at first, then relaxed against him. "What the hell happened?" Jack asked.

"I got shot," said Ianto, stepping back with his hand still to his shoulder. "Passed out. Came in here to wash up."

"Obviously. Who's the dead guy?" Jack jerked his head toward the man on the floor. Fiona had followed Jack and curled up on the bed, where she was crying silently. Ianto saw her and ignored the question, rushing over to her instead.

"Shh," he said, taking her in an embrace. "It's all right. It'll be okay." She clung to him as he ran his good hand through her hair before turning to answer Jack.

"He's another survivor, Ewan MacDaniel. He was one of the five I made it out with. He works for the Home office now and came to see me about the murders."

Jack glanced down at the dead man. "Did he try to kill you?" When Ianto shook his head, Jack frowned. "So who killed him then?"

Ianto pointed toward the window, where Jack saw a very precise hole in the blinds and bits of glass on the floor. "I'd guess whomever tried to kill me. Again."

"Shit," said Jack. He was temped to walk over and examine it, but he knew it would be risky if the shooter was still out there, though that seemed unlikely at this point. And he knew without looking that whatever had made that kind of shot with that kind of precision was a powerful rifle with a expert marksman behind it. "So no more poison darts."

"They had a chance to take out two of us," Ianto replied, his voice laced with pain. "I doubt poison darts would pierce the window particularly well."

"Yeah, that's a high precision sniper rifle," Jack agreed. "Could even be alien for a shot like that."

"Three shots," Ianto said absently, patting Fiona on the back and standing up to return slowly to the bathroom. "These people are fast, Jack. Too fast. How did they know we were in London? How did they get here and get in place so quickly?"

"I don't know. We really have find out who they are, though. We need to be able to stay one step ahead while we figure this out." Jack stepped toward Ianto and tentatively reached toward the bloody towel on his shoulder. Ianto grimaced as Jack took it off, frowning at the injury to Ianto's shoulder. "But first we need to get you fixed up. I'm surprised you're even standing." He began to clean the wound as best as he could.

"It was a quick shot, straight through," said Ianto, staring blankly into the mirror. "Well, straight through Ewan and then me. Bullet is probably still in the wall." Jack almost shuddered at the matter-of-fact tone to in Ianto's voice. But he was right: the wound was direct and seemed to have exited without too much damage as far as Jack could see. There was a lot of blood, but Ianto was still moving his arm even though it must have hurt like hell. He was incredibly lucky, yet Jack noticed how pale the man looked; Ianto was strong, but eventually a bullet would put anyone down if they didn't stop the bleeding, stabilize the wound, and prevent an infection from starting.

"You need some bandages. And painkillers. Lots of painkillers."

"I need a new shirt," Ianto murmured. He picked up his maroon shirt from where he had dropped it on the toilet. "Bullet hole and a lot of…other stuff." Jack saw the blood and other matter and nodded as Ianto tucked his gun into the waistband of his pants and continued to hold the towel to his shoulder. He walked back into the bedroom to check on on Fiona, but she wasn't paying them any attention, still rocking to herself on the bed, and he sat with her, murmuring softly.

"Okay," Jack said, beginning to pace again. "This is what we'll do. There's some shops back down Colonade, I'll run there and get what you need—bandages, medicine, shirts. Or I'll send someone, that's probably better. In the meantime, we need to…"

"We need to clean up the body," Ianto interrupted. "Which is usually my job, I'm the body man. Only how am I supposed to do that without any of the Hub's resources? While someone is still trying to kill me?" Ianto stared at the man on the floor; Jack could tell he was upset but covering it up in that remarkable way Ianto had that let very little through, even in pain. Until he cracked.

"We need help," said Jack simply. "We need to call Tosh, for one, and get her to work on any footage, phone calls, or anything else suspicious. And you said your friend was from the Home office, right?"

Ianto nodded and ran a hand through his wet hair. He was still shirtless, and starting to shiver, so Jack went to the closet and found a spare blanket to wrap around him before he went into shock.

"I'll just get blood on it," Ianto murmured as he stood and started to head back to the bathroom, sounding weak and lightheaded. He stumbled, and Jack led him to a chair instead, sitting him down and wondering what the hell to do next. He felt trapped in a way he rarely felt trapped: out of Cardiff, away from his team, with a very determined assassin apparently able to track their every move.

Ianto leaned his head back and continued. "And yes, Ewan works…worked in the Home office. He didn't want to go to UNIT in case they were in on it, so he went to Frobisher in order to get an MI5 contact. That's how he got in here."

"Through MI5?" asked Jack, surprised. "How?"

"Got him a hotel uniform and badge," Ianto said, his voice soft as his eyes closed. "That's why I let him in. I figured if he was one of them, I had the advantage as he entered and could overpower him."

"Do you know who it was? His contact?" asked Jack. He wasn't keen on involving anyone else, particularly anyone inside the government if it was possible the government were involved, but he was in London without the rest of his team and needed to think about Ianto, not to mention the other survivors.

"I don't know," Ianto murmured. "Check his mobile. They sent him a text just before the first shot."

Jack moved toward the body, where both Ewan's phone and Ianto's phone were lying on the floor covered in blood. He leaned down to pick it up, glancing over his shoulder before he did.

"So do you think we've an agent watching us right now?" he asked, not sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"As a matter of fact, you do," said a voice from near the door; he hadn't even heard it open. A short dark woman with springy hair stood there, gun pointed straight at him and grim look on her face. "And she's not a very happy agent, Captain Harkness."

Author's Notes:

I wish this wasn't so short, but it was a good place to stop. I'm catching up to myself so updates might take a few days now. But you should meet the MI5 agent this weekend. Thanks for reading, I appreciate the encouragement!