The walk to UNIT headquarters did not take long, yet Ianto felt like he was an exposed target the entire time. Though he felt much better for having showered and shaved, his shoulder ached and he was still trying to get used to the contacts. The contacts didn't change the way he saw and he could barely feel them, but knowing he was a walking camera made him feel like he was wearing a 200mm lens on his eye that everyone could see.

UNIT was located in the Tower of London. Ianto had been there twice during his time with Torchwood One, and once with Jack as part of Torchwood Three. So while he was familiar with it, he was in no way comfortable, knowing both the building's sordid past and the organization's complicated history.

He was stopped at the visitor's entrance—not the one for tourists, the other one—and showed his Torchwood identification, relaying his appointment with Commander Michael Collins. After a quick check, the guard handed him a visitor's badge; again it felt too easy. It was harder to get through the airport these days.

"Commander Collins will be down in a moment," said the guard. Ianto clipped the badge to his suit coat and sat down nearby. No one eyed him curiously, even with his arm in a sling. Probably because it wasn't usual for Torchwood to be in contact with UNIT, and perhaps not even unusual for them to see injured personnel, though Ianto knew the circumstances were anything but normal. He carefully composed himself, thinking on how he would broach the subject with Collins.

A message popped up in his vision, startling him. Words floating in the air were just hard to get used to, even after trying it out several times at the safe house. Ianto had quietly but firmly warned Jack not to send him dirty messages before he'd left; Jack had pouted, though Ianto trusted that Jack was aware of the seriousness of the situation. Fortunately, the message only said Good luck. Tosh, then.

Ianto did not have to wait for long. Commander Collins soon appeared, UNIT uniform looking out of place on a man Ianto remembered from Torchwood One as a scientist, dressed in casual clothes with a lab coat, hair mussed up and eyes wide behind glasses too large for his face. Yet the man before him now was stiff and formal, short hair touched with grey, old glasses replaced by severe round spectacles.

And, of course, there was the arm: his left arm lost in the battle to the shoulder, Collins obviously had his uniforms tailored so that the empty armhole did not hang at his side, reminder of his loss. In all, he looked like a man who had absorbed the tragedy of Canary Wharf into his very soul, allowing it to change him completely. Whether it was as penance or a sign of madness, Ianto was not sure. He sensed a fragile yet volatile man before him, and knew he would have to tread carefully.

Standing, he faced Collins and offered a nod, unable to shake hands with his own arm in the sling. The commander cocked his head in response and indicated Ianto should follow. They had not even exchanged words, and Ianto decided to wait until Collins spoke. It seemed the best way to play the situation was to remain deferential, as he had on the phone, and to let Collins believe he had control. So Ianto waited in silence until they stepped into a lift that took them down toward the lower levels where UNIT truly functioned, hidden from London.

"How's your arm?" asked Collins quietly, and Ianto was surprised at the gentle tone to the man's voice. He had sounded far more gruff on the phone the night before, though it could perhaps be one man simply sympathizing with another man's arm injury.

"It was my shoulder, sir, and it's doing better, thank you. It was just a graze." Which wasn't completely true, but Ianto did not want to let on to the extent of his injuries; he was smart enough to know he should hold back that card or it would give the other player an advantage.

"Good," said Collins, and he was silent again as they exited the lift and walked down a long, well-lit corridor. They passed several offices and a few UNIT personnel who again did not really give Ianto much of a second glance. Ianto was starting to find it a bit odd, when a thought occurred to him, and he glanced down at his badge, then looked around again, still feeling invisible.

"I wouldn't remove it if I were you," said Collins under his breath. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then why don't you want anyone seeing me?" asked Ianto. He worked hard to keep the accusation out of his voice and to sound confused instead; in reality, he was angry with himself for already miscalculating the danger he had put himself in. He wondered if the others watching had picked up anything, and wished he had some way of communicating directly. Tosh would figure it out eventually; when she did, he just hoped Jack wasn't bursting through the doors with a machine gun.

Collins didn't answer until they came to his office at the end of the corridor. He ushered Ianto inside and shut the door behind them before finally speaking. "Because I just think it's better if we keep this to ourselves."

Again, Ianto's instincts were telling him that he was in danger, that Collins had quickly and effectively trapped him there and could now do as he pleased, all covered up by the sophisticated perception filter somehow worked into Ianto's badge. Yet he also told himself to keep playing the game: he couldn't show his cards—or his fear—yet. Be careful, said the message floating before his eyes. Don't trust him.

"Did you find something then?" asked Ianto, blinking away the text. He sat down, idly placing his hand in the coat pocket where he had stashed the weaponized pen Tosh had given him and a small notepad where he had scribbled some notes. He opened the notepad and began to flip through it. "Because now that Ewan MacDaniel is dead, that only leaves…" he paused, as if counting, though he knew the number by heart. "Eleven of us, sir. Eleven survivors of Torchwood One."

He saw the commander's face harden at the mention of Canary Wharf, but the man only shook his head. "No, I didn't find anything other than what you shared with me."

Ianto frowned, pretending more confusion. "Then why the filter? Do you think I'm still in danger? Here at UNIT?"

Michael Collins laughed bitterly as he stood and moved toward a small table where a teapot and several cups sat waiting to be served. "Earl Grey?" he asked. Ianto shook his head.

"No thank you, I prefer coffee this time of day." He put on his best baffled face. "I'm confused, sir. Why the perception filter? Do you think there's a conspiracy?"

"Oh, I know there's a conspiracy," said Collins, helping himself to a cup of tea. Ianto didn't even blink as he watched the man pour a generous amount of something from a silver flask into the cup; it was fairly obvious from the commander's shaking hands what it was. He returned to sit next to Ianto and pierced him with shadowed eyes. "What I need to know, though, is why you are really here."

"Excuse me?" asked Ianto. His heart started racing; was the game up so soon? No, he wasn't done playing, and he was not going to let some erratic UNIT arsehole dictate to him when it was over. If Collins wanted answers, Ianto would make them up. He usually avoided questions, preferring to remain in the background with his ability to not generate much interest in his activities, but when it came to lying, he could still make up a good story; he'd been doing it for years.

"Why are you here, Ianto Jones? Why are you in London? Why did you call me? I don't understand how you got involved in this." Michael Collins paused to take a sip of his tea, watching Ianto over the rim of the cup. "I guess I'm not sure whether I can trust you."

"I'm Torchwood, commander," said Ianto stiffly, and the commander grinned a bit ferally.

"Exactly." He was quiet a moment. "So tell me first then, why Torchwood Three, Mr. Jones? Why did you stay? Are the rumours true?"

Careful, read the text before his eyes. He's searching.

Maintaining his stiffness, which wasn't hard as it kept him from shaking as he tried to stay afloat in a rapidly changing game, Ianto blinked away the words and raised an eyebrow. "What rumours, sir? There are always stories of some sort floating around out there. There were all sorts at Torchwood One."

Another bitter laugh. "That's certainly true. You seem exceptionally talented at evading questions, Mr. Jones. Why is that?"

"I learned it at Torchwood One," Ianto snapped back, feeling he could show a bit of backbone or Collins might lose interest. "And if you must know, I went to Torchwood Three to save my girlfriend. She was partially converted, and it was the only place I could think of with access to the kind of technology that might help her."

Ianto could imagine Jack swearing as he watched through the camera lenses, if they were able to hear anything through the software Tosh had developed. It didn't matter: he had laid down a partial hand, nothing more. For some reason, he had to gain Collins' trust, and if this would do it, then so be it.

Collins set down his tea and stared at him. "So it was you, then. I read the report about a rogue Cyberman in Cardiff. Your girlfriend." He sat back, fingers steepled in front of him like a predator, but the look in his eyes was nothing but sadness and grief. "What was her name?"

"Lisa Hallett, sir," said Ianto. "She was in human resources."

"Were you able to do anything for her?" Collins asked. Ianto took a deep breath as more words floated before him. Jack says stop now. Ianto nodded, but didn't stop. If this was what he needed to do, then he would. He didn't have to pretend that it was upsetting him, because it was, but he hoped it helped his case.

"No, sir. I tried to alleviate the pain, brought in a specialist, but her conversion was too far gone to reverse. Torchwood Three was forced to terminate her." Kill her, Ianto thought in his mind. Murder. He shook his head to stay focused; it was over and done. It had happened and he had moved on.

"So Jack Harkness shot your girlfriend, and yet you stayed on. You brought a Cyberman into his precious Hub and he let you stay on. Why is that?"

"I'm good at what I do, sir," Ianto answered. He was starting to get angry, because it was none of this man's business, that particular convoluted mess. Yet he knew he needed to stay calm; it was entirely possible that Collins was just winding him up in order to distract him, or worse, get him to slip up in some way. Ianto had not had much experience as a spy, but he knew well enough how to work people, and when he was being worked.

Im sory. That would be Jack typing. Doing good. Find out more.

"I'm sorry Commander, but where is this going?" Ianto asked, striking a balance between confused and frustrated. "I don't understand what it has to do with the fact that someone is taking out the rest of Torchwood One. They tried to shoot me yesterday, sir. Twice."

Collins nodded slowly. "Any idea why? Why kill the rest of Torchwood One?"

"I've no idea, sir. I was a junior researcher, I didn't know much about the inner workings of the organization. I'm still not entirely sure what happened that day." He didn't have to say which day he meant, and he wasn't lying. So much of it was a mystery, a blur, as he'd raced to escape for help; though he had pieced most of it together, sometimes he wasn't sure he wanted to know the entire story.

Collins took a long sip from his drink, set down the empty cup and stood up to walk around a bit. He stopped and stared at a picture on the wall, a print of the London skyline, from before the tower had come down. "You don't want to know," he said softly, his voice filled with nothing but grief. Ianto began to wonder once more if he was dealing with a madman, because Collins seemed so erratic.

"Maybe not, but I'd like continue my unique status as a survivor," Ianto offered dryly, and was rewarded when Collins turned to face him with a half grin. "Which is why I've come to you for help."

"I'm not sure how I can help you, Mr. Jones," said Collins with what was obviously a fake and very forced shrug.

"You could help me figure this out," said Ianto, standing to face him. "Help protect us. There are only eleven of us left. You haven't been targeted yet, have you?"

"Not that I'm aware of." There was another small smile tugging at the corners of Collins mouth that Ianto couldn't read. He frowned; the man was so unpredictable he wasn't quite as sure how to play him. Nonetheless, he pushed forward.

Careful. Damn contacts. Did Jack think he'd rush in blindly and give himself away?

"Captain Harkness has given me leave to stay on in London," Ianto said, playing his next card. "He's even authorized a transfer if you'll accept it." That had not gone over well with Jack, but Tosh had been able to backdate the request almost before Jack could protest.

That seemed to catch Collins off guard. "A transfer? To what?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "To UNIT. Temporary, of course."

Collins just stared at him; Ianto had left him genuinely speechless and pressed his advantage. He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "I can help you," he said. "Whatever is going on, I can help." He hoped the double meaning in his statement was implicit and understood: he could help Collins track down the perpetrators, or he could help him finish what he had started.

"Help me how?" asked Collins, and for the first time, Ianto saw fear in the man's eyes. He did not feel triumphant, however, because it was not the fear of being discovered. Ianto knew that look, had seen it on his own face for so many months while he hid Lisa below. It was the fear of a man who knew he was fighting a losing battle, and Ianto knew that look as well.

"However you wish. That's my job at Torchwood Three: I do whatever has to be done."

Collins nodded slowly. "You're a surprising man, Mr. Jones."

"How so, sir?" asked Ianto. They were still standing, though facing one another with less of a challenge now and more of an understanding developing between them.

"You come in asking for one thing, and end up offering quite another. You know far more than you are letting on, I think."

"It's part of my job, sir," said Ianto, staying stiff and still but offering the barest of smiles in acceptance of the compliment.

"Does Harkness know?" asked Collins abruptly. "About the others?"

"No, sir," said Ianto. "He knows I was shot, but he believes MacDaniel was the target given that he worked for the Home office. Which was the only reason I convinced him to go back to Cardiff when the Rift spit out a rather aggressive Hoix."

Collins suddenly threw back his head and laughed. "A Hoix? Big dumb brutes. I'm sure Harkness will love running it down."

True. They are fun.

"Oh, we've had them drop by before," said Ianto, ignoring Jack and feeling like he almost had his footing with the man before him. Collins was unpredictable, which meant Ianto needed to be the same and simply go with the man's moods. "And they are quite big and dumb."

There was a long silence before Collins nodded, either to Ianto or to himself. "All right, Jones. I'm trusting you, God knows why. I know more than I'm letting on as well."

"I had gathered, sir," said Ianto with a deferential nod of his head in return. Collins laughed, the same bitter laugh that Ianto had heard already, but this time it was filled with a touch of defeat, as if Collins knew he had lost.

"This is a bad place to talk, though. Someone might be listening. We don't exactly trust one another here at UNIT."

"Drawback of working with a large para-military organization, sir," said Ianto. "You should try something smaller."

Collins raised an eyebrow. "Like Torchwood, perhaps?" When Ianto didn't answer, Collins shook his head. "No thank you, Mr. Jones. Torchwood is no longer a part of my life."

Ianto felt his heart speed up as he anticipated a confession. Which was a ridiculous thing to expect at that moment, so soon, given how up and down Collins had been throughout their exchange. Yet the look that crossed the man's face as he said it was not one of anger and bitterness, but of sadness and grief. And again, Ianto recognized something else perhaps only he could recognize: guilt. Collins felt guilty, but for what?

"Torchwood is difficult," Ianto agreed carefully, not wanting to show any more cards with such a rapidly changing player. He could still remain neutral before they reached the tipping point.

"Torchwood is dying a slow death," said Collins, stepping closer and lowering his voice. "But you might be able to help me stop it."

Watch yourself.

Again, Ianto didn't know how to take the commander's words: was it a confession, or a plea for help? Was Collins the one behind it all, or did he know who was, and was he trying to get Ianto to help put a stop to it?

Taking a deep breath, Ianto committed himself to whatever scenario might play out, because either way, he needed to be on the inside. "I'm at your service, commander. Whatever you need."

"For Torchwood," said Collins softly, black eyes piercing Ianto's with an almost manic light.

"For Torchwood," Ianto replied steadily.

In his mind, he added For Ewan, and Fiona, and all the others.

And then four words floated across his vision, four words he knew were from Jack: For Lisa. And you.

Author's Note:

Okay, this was fun. I enjoyed it, I admit. I'm pumped for the next part, but the one-shot comes first. Jack and Ianto needed to get something out, so I need to let them have their way with me before the next chapter or things could get ugly inside my head.

Thank you again for the amazing reviews! I never would have thought that something like this would be taken to so well, but I guess we all need a story that's not about Jack and Ianto fighting or shagging. Thanks again!