"I don't like this," Jack said, leaning over Tosh to type Watch yourself as they watched Ianto inside UNIT headquarters. The sound software wasn't quite clear, but they had understood enough to know Ianto had just placed himself in a great deal of potential danger with his offer to Michael Collins. It was impossible to know whether the man was guilty, he was so enigmatic, and thus to even guess what Ianto might have offered: was he joining the man, or saving him?

"For Torchwood," said Commander Collins, and Jack almost shivered at the mad look in the man's eyes. He was vaguely aware of Ianto echoing him, and reached over to type once more.

For Lisa. And you.

Tosh glanced up at him, her eyes bright. Jack just gave her a half smile as they watched Ianto leave the office with Collins, half step behind him, much like he walked with Jack. The two men continued down the corridor, toward the lift. Yet when the doors opened, Jack felt his heart unexpectedly drop. There were three armed UNIT soldiers inside, standing behind a very harsh looking woman who couldn't have been much older than Ianto, yet looked much more serious and severe than Ianto ever did. Her long brown hair was pulled into a slick ponytail, her makeup harsh yet precise, her tailored business suit a dark blue that washed out pale skin. When she smiled at them, Jack noticed the same gleam in her eyes that he recognized in many a predator; this woman was not to be trifled with.

Apparently Ianto had the same impression, and he glanced at Collins to see how the commander reacted. Collins, however, had gone pale and stepped backward. Ianto actually reached out toward the man to keep him from staggering, it seemed, until Collins righted himself and simply nodded. Ianto followed the man into the lift with the others; no one had spoken a word.

Something's wrong! Jack typed furiously over Tosh's shoulder. He could feel it in his gut: those soldiers weren't there by coincidence, that woman was obviously waiting for them, and none of their intentions were good. He watched as Ianto's field of vision bobbed up and down, as if nodding. At least he was thinking the same thing, but what to do about it?

Without warning, the screen went black.

"Tosh!" Jack exclaimed, stepping back in surprise. "What happened? Get him back!"

"Trying, Jack," Tosh said, her fingers flying furiously over the keys. She frowned in frustration. "Something's stopped the signal, though. I don't know what it could be, since they shouldn't have even known it was there."

"Could he be unconscious?" He didn't want to think anything worse.

Tosh glanced up at him, wide-eyed. "He could. But I highly doubt they'd knock him out in the lift of UNIT headquarters. I think they've just blocked the signal."

"But you said it was undetectable!" he said, worry overcoming common sense and professionalism. "Tosh, we sent him in there, we can't just lose him!"

"It is undetectable!" she exclaimed back. "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened!" The guilt and fear in her voice stopped Jack, and he touched her arm gently in penance.

"No, I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm just…" He trailed off, and she nodded, laying her hand on his.

"I know," she said. "Look, maybe they just assumed he was bugged and jammed everything they could for precautionary measures."

"Which means they're onto him," said Jack, his voice grim.

"Or Collins," said Tosh. "Did you see the look on his face? He was terrified, Jack. He might not be the one we're looking for. Maybe it's her."

"Find out who that woman was," Jack said. "She looked familiar. And try to get the signal back."

"What's happened?" asked Fiona Stewart, standing at the doorway. She had overheard most of their conversation and looked pale and frightened. "What's happened to Ianto?"

"Nothing," said Jack, stepping around the table to soothe her as Dr. Williamson followed her into the room. "Or at least, we don't think anything's happened. His camera has gone off, that's all."

"What did you mean about Commander Collins?" she asked. "Why was he terrified?"

Jack looked into her sad face, brushing a loose strand hair away from the scars on her neck. "I don't know. Is there anything else you can think of, anything you can tell us? Something he might have been worried about or scared of?"

"No, I don't know," she whispered. "I couldn't say…" She stepped back and turned into Nigel Williamson's arms. The doctor glanced over her head at Jack and sighed.

"I've already given her something, please don't upset her as I can't keep giving her more."

Jack nodded in apology, though he was frustrated; Fiona did know more, but she was only sharing it in bits and pieces. Jack couldn't help thinking they would be a lot better off if she just told them everything, yet she almost seemed incapable of it. Between the horror of Canary Wharf and whatever had been happening since, she was obviously fragile, if not broken. He only hoped that they could help her when they had stopped whatever was going on.

"I've got the woman from the lift," Tosh called. "Came right up in the UNIT personnel database. She's Torchwood One, Jack."

Jack whirled; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fiona turn with wide eyes as well. "What?" he demanded, racing around the table to his place over Tosh's shoulder again. There was the woman's file, pulled up on the laptop. Anastasia Morgan, 30. Personal assistant to the Head of the Requisitions Department.

"She's one of the survivors," Jack breathed. "I knew I recognized her. She's the glorified secretary."

"You think she's behind it?" asked Tosh, sounding skeptical.

"Never underestimate the power of a good PA, Tosh," Jack murmured, eyeing the woman's file. She'd narrowly escaped Canary Wharf with three others from her department, all of whom Jack was fairly sure had taken the Retcon offered in the wake of the disaster. She had come to UNIT not long after recovering from her injuries. As the secretary for the Head of Requisitions, she would certainly have access to any equipment and technology needed for taking down the remaining survivors. Yet again the question was why she needed it.

"What do we do, Jack? Do we go in?" she asked.

For some reason, Jack felt Nigel Williamson's eyes on him. He glanced up to catch the doctor watching him. When Jack raised his eyebrows questioningly, the doctor merely shook his head. Jack hadn't been looking for an opinion, but found that knowing the doctor's thoughts were in line with his own still made him feel better about it.

"No, not yet." He hated saying it out loud, knowing he was deliberately leaving Ianto in a potentially dangerous situation. "But keep working on the camera, and pull up the tracker signal. I want to know if he leaves the building and where he goes. And try to make some connections between Morgan and the others."

Tosh set to work as Jack worried at his thumb and watched; what the hell was really going on?

Ianto stepped into the lift against his better judgment. Collins' reaction to seeing the woman before them—Ianto had recognized her immediately from hours of pouring over the Torchwood One files—had been completely unexpected. It was almost as if he was afraid of the woman; Ianto had thought for a moment the commander might collapse. And from the way Anastasia Morgan was looking at them both, Ianto had a feeling there was a good reason for the commander's reaction.

As the lift doors closed, two words fluttered across his vision. Something's wrong! Obviously. Ianto nodded in agreement, his mind working fast and furiously to try and piece everything together and stay alert.

Morgan took out a small metal device, distracting him; was it a weapon? He fingered the pen in his pocket, conscious of the soldiers behind him, but she just flicked a light on the device and smiled to herself before turning toward Ianto and Collins. "There, just in case either one of you is wired, that should do the trick." She paused and cocked her head. "Although we would have caught it already, but you never know with Torchwood, right Mr. Jones? All sorts of secret alien tech over there."

Ianto kept his face carefully composed; if her device canceled electronic signals, then there was a good chance the contacts were out, and possibly the tracker. At least he could still see, but it was likely that Jack and Tosh were panicking over their own sudden loss of vision. He merely shrugged in response. "I'm not sure what you mean, Ms. Morgan."

Anastasia smiled, though it was not pleasant. "Oh, very good. You did your homework. You know my name."

"I'm always prepared," Ianto returned. "You never know with UNIT."

She raised an eyebrow in response. "And the dry wit of Ianto Jones appears. I remember hearing about it back at One. And there are still stories floating around about you every time we contact Three."

"I try my best," Ianto replied, making it extra dry.

"And you're quite good, aren't you?"

"It's part of the job description."

Collins was watching their exchange wide-eyed, all the pomp and arrogance from earlier gone the moment they had entered the lift. He looked ten years older, as if he knew some terrible fate awaited him. Was Morgan the one, then? But how could she possibly expect to get away with murder in the middle of UNIT headquarters?

"Where are you taking us?" Ianto asked after a long silence. It didn't seem possible, but the lift had gone down farther still, and Morgan didn't reply until they stepped out into a cold, dark corridor that Ianto knew immediately was akin to the vaults at the Hub. This was the UNIT prison; he idly wondered if they were to be thrown in a cell with an alien, then dismissed it. He had done nothing wrong.

Stopping in front of a door that was obviously a jail cell, Morgan motioned to one of the soldiers to unlock the door. "You are both under arrest. Commander Collins, you are charged with the theft and misuse of classified UNIT property, murder, and treason against the British government."

Collins just stared at her, his mouth working soundlessly. "You can't do this, you have no authority—"

"I have been authorized by both the Head of Requisitions and General Brightman to conduct and conclude the ongoing investigation into several missing pieces of both military and alien technology from the Requisitions Department. You will be court marshaled accordingly. Until then, your new office is down here." She motioned to one of the guards, who began to frisk Collins and remove anything he could possibly use to escape, from his keys and badge to his belt. Then he pushed the commander into the small cell and locked the door.

"As I am not a member of UNIT and have no connection to whatever you are investigating, I assume I am free to go?" asked Ianto. He knew it was a useless attempt, but it might give him more information to work with.

"Nice try, Mr. Jones," Morgan replied conversationally. "But no. You are under arrest as well. You were recorded offering your services to Commander Collins. As we suspect him of using the missing tech to murder innocent people, we can only assume you have offered to either help him continue, or help him clean up. You are therefore placed under arrest for conspiracy and will be held until further charges are made."

The guard began patting Ianto down. He didn't have a gun, as he knew perfectly well it would have been confiscated at the visitor's entrance. The man took his pen and notepad, however, as well as his wallet and badge. Ianto was glad he had kept Tosh's fake credit card hidden in his shoe for some odd reason, though he had no idea what he would use it for.

He was literally thrust into the cell next to Collins with no further word. It was small and square, with only a single table and chair bolted to the floor. There were no windows, no objects of any other kind unless one counted the security camera mounted in the corner. Memories of being held captive in the Brecon Beacons flashed through his mind, and Ianto took several deep breaths to keep from panicking. He did not have the penknife, but he still had the cufflinks and credit card. The contacts probably weren't working, but hopefully the tracking device Tosh had shot into his neck was, so they could still find him if needed. It would be all right.

Pacing out his nervous energy, Ianto tried to figure out what had just happened. He had been fairly certain Collins was behind the murders of the surviving Torchwood One personnel, but now he had his doubts. It seemed possible if not likely that Collins had been asking for Ianto's help in stopping it, given the man's reaction to Anastasia Morgan.

Ianto stopped pacing and blew out a breath. Anastasia Morgan. The secretary. Damn if he hadn't told Jack—

Never mind. It was also still possible she was actually doing her job and that Collins really had stolen the equipment and had been caught, however unlikely it was given his rank; he'd have no reason to steal tech when he had easy access to it. Yet perhaps that's what he had been so afraid of, being found. Ianto had heard stories of UNIT prison from Tosh and if he hadn't been fairly certain Jack would eventually pull his weight and get him out, he'd be worried as well.

And yet, Collins' reaction to Morgan had been much more than the fear of being discovered and arrested. That initial step back had been the terror of a man who was not only afraid for his own life, but for others as well. Which could mean it was entirely possible that Collins' was being framed. Knowing his own ability at subterfuge as a 'glorified secretary', Ianto had little doubt Anastasia might be capable of the same. And yet the question came back to why?

Why would she do such a thing? Collins had motivation: he'd lost an arm, a son, a life. In some ways he had been responsible for Canary Wharf, as much if not more than Yvonne Hartmann given his pivotal role in the ghost shifts. Ianto had thought that perhaps guilt, grief, or madness drove the man to murder. He had not seen anything in Morgan's file that might indicate her own reasons for destroying what was left of Torchwood One.

Which meant perhaps it wasn't her, either. Perhaps there was someone higher up, someone with reason, someone with access to manipulate all the right players in what was turning out to be a complicated game of chess. Ianto started pacing again, running his free hand through his hair as he continued to run through it over and over in his mind.

It just kept getting more complicated though, and he could only hope that Jack and Tosh were puzzling it out better than he was, now that he was locked away in the bowels of the Tower of London.

"Any luck, Tosh?" Jack asked, pacing the tiny kitchen where he and Tosh had been watching the laptop until the contact lenses had gone dark. He was still trying to figure out what he was missing while Tosh worked her computer magic to try to get them back online. As he hadn't thought of anything, he felt rather useless, and decided an update—even though he'd just had one fifteen minutes ago—was due.

"His tracking signal is still working, and he's still deep underground. I'm guessing they've put him in the cells." She looked up with worried eyes; Jack remembered Tosh's own experience in a UNIT prison and tried to imagine what she was feeling for Ianto. He sat down beside her and placed a hand on her arm to reassure her.

"We'll get him out," Jack said, trying to smile as confidently as he could. "If he doesn't get out himself first. You gave him a couple of tricks, after all."

"They've probably taken the pen," she said, unusually pessimistic. "Possibly the cufflinks, although I'm not sure what he'd use them for anyway. And the credit card is useless from the inside, if they didn't take his wallet."

"He slipped it into his shoe," Jack said absently, wondering about that; hopefully it would prove useful. "And I'm sure he can come up with something to do with the cufflinks, even if he shoves them down someone's throat."

"Jack!" she exclaimed, and he shrugged.

"I'm thinking these people probably deserve it. Found anything else?"

Her computer dinged at her just then, and she turned back, glanced at it, and nodded. "Yes. And this is interesting. Anastasia Morgan survived Torchwood One with three others from her department. They all took the Retcon and went back to civilian life." She paused and turned to Jack. "And they are all dead. The first ones killed, in fact."

Jack whistled under his breath. "That's not a coincidence, is it?"

"I doubt it," Tosh murmured, typing away again. "And it all started not long after she moved to the Requisitions department at UNIT, so she would—"

"—would have access to the tech." Jack frowned. "But how would she have access to special ops, snipers, that sort of thing? That doesn't make sense. That suggests more command authority."

"Maybe she's not working alone?" suggested Tosh, and Jack blew out a breath in frustration.

"This is ridiculous. Why can't we just follow the evidence, find the killer, and arrest them? That's how most good spy stories work."

"Unfortunately, this is not a James Bond movie." Tosh smiled in spite of the gravity of the situation. "There's usually multiple players, last minute reveals, that sort of thing in a real mystery."

"What we're missing is the motivation. Why would Anastasia Morgan do something like this?" Jack stood up and started pacing again as Tosh continued to work. He was anxious and wished he had something better to do than just sit and wait and pace. He needed action, needed to be in the thick of it. Ianto had been right: Jack hated being left out, especially when it left one of his team in danger.

Time seemed to pass slowly. It was mid morning, and they still had nothing. Jordan Ford had said she'd come by with breakfast, but had not arrived. Nigel Williamson was unable to get a hold of her, so Jack decided to head out on his own in spite of the doctor's warnings. He was bored, he was hungry, and he was tired of feeling trapped inside and useless.

Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how one viewed it—the short trip to a local Starbucks was uneventful, and he brought back coffee for them all, the scent of it making him really wish Ianto was there to sip it with him, safe and sound and not locked up deep within UNIT.

After asking Tosh for another update and talking with the doctor again, Jack got up to continue his pacing. Yet he was quickly stopped by another alert from Tosh's computer, this one causing her to gasp.

"What is it?" he demanded, rushing over. "Are we back online with the lenses?"

"No," she whispered, staring at the screen in shock. "I just lost Ianto's tracking signal."

Jack glanced at the screen, saw nothing, and leaned close. "What does that mean, you lost it?"

"It's gone." She typed furiously at the laptop, almost desperately.

"Could they have blocked it, like they did the contact lenses?" asked Jack, dreading the answer.

"No, it's completely different," Tosh replied. She took off her glasses and rubbed her nose. "And if that was the case, we would have lost the tracking signal when we lost the lenses in the lift."

"Then what happened?" Jack asked, and he heard the panic in his voice, the unspoken thought, the unasked question.

"The device is tied to Ianto's body temperature," Tosh said softly. There was still no trace of anything on screen, and Jack felt his head fall to his chest.

"Which means he is either very, very cold," he started.

"Or dead," whispered Tosh.

Author's Note:

Muhahahaha.

Er, right. Sorry about that. I'm adding an AU tag for non-canon character death. It just wasn't meant to be.

Kidding.

Maybe.

I love author's notes.

Anyway. Still don't know what the hell I'm doing if it wasn't already obvious. Or maybe I'm just trying to make you think that because I really work for the CIA and everything you've just read went down exactly as it does in real life.

Or not.

Well, my one-shot distraction is posted—it's called Primary Sources and I'm chuffed. Please give it a look if you need a good laugh. But now they are beating down my doors with another one so if you see that around, I'm thinking of calling it Walk a Mile. Care to guess what it might be about? I'm already giggling to myself. Which is a good thing because let's face it: this one is not a giggle-type of story. But I'm so glad so many of you are reading it and enjoying the mystery of it. I hope it lives up to your expectations! Thank you!