Ianto gave up pacing and finally sat down at the table. He needed to conserve his energy, as his arm was already aching even though Dr. Williamson had given him a good dose of pain medication early that morning. Not knowing how long he would be there, he did not know how long it would be until he could get more, and it was unlikely he could simply ask for it. He knew the pain would wear him down quickly, though, so he took some deep breaths to relax his tense muscles, still thinking on how to get out of whatever mess he had found himself in.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before the door opened and two UNIT soldiers walked in, flanked by someone who appeared to be a doctor. He was the cruelest looking medic Ianto had ever seen, though. He didn't look like he was there to treat Ianto; he was wielding some sort of scanner and a small bag of medical tools with malicious glee, and Ianto was suddenly wary, sensing this man was dangerous in a very different way than Anastasia Morgan.

"Stand still," the man barked with a thick accent. Ianto couldn't place it—European, possibly eastern? Ianto did as he was told, and the man ran the scanner over him, nodding when something beeped as it traveled down his leg. The tracker, then; they'd found it.

"Drop your trousers," the man ordered, and Ianto merely raised an eyebrow even as his heart started racing at the many possible implications of such a statement.

"I beg your pardon?" he replied as evenly as he could.

"Don't flatter yourself," the man replied, motioning to the soldiers to flank Ianto on either side. "Drop them, or I'll have them help you."

Not willing to subject himself to such humiliation willingly when he wasn't sure what might happen as a result, Ianto inclined his head at the soldiers with a raise of his eyebrows. One man stepped forward and very roughly undid his belt and zip, looking disgusted the entire time. For some reason, this made Ianto feel slightly better. The other soldier pulled down his trousers; the cruel looking medic nodded, and without warning Ianto felt himself slammed face down onto the table.

His arms were held roughly by one man, his hips by the other. He tried to struggle, but it was useless; they were strong, and the pain from his shoulder flared as he was pressed into the table. The medic opened his bag and took out some sort of scalpel.

"I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry. The only way we know how to remove these sorts of things is to cut them out." He grinned maliciously. "Perhaps someday Torchwood will share some of its secrets with us so we can make it a bit more humane."

Ianto's eyes widened. They weren't just going to deactivate the tracking device like they had done with the contacts; they were going to rip it out of him. It wasn't deep, but it would still hurt. He struggled against the hold on him, but the soldiers held him down tighter, and he groaned at the pressure on his injured shoulder. Closing his eyes, he waited for the cut.

It was quick and hard and deep. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying out as the knife sliced into the muscle of his thigh, searching for the tiny tracking device. The doctor—if he even was that, perhaps he was a professional UNIT torturer—did not bother with gentle technique, slashing the skin open deeper to find the device. Ianto felt blood running down his thigh and could imagine the man grinning for some reason.

Finally he felt something pop and heard the tiny metallic tracking device hit the floor. He released a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding, prompting the medic to pet him on the head; Ianto actually shuddered. "Got it," the medic whispered into his ear, and then there was a crunching sound as the man stepped on it, destroying Ianto's last tie to Jack and Tosh.

The soldiers released him and he stood up, eyes blazing. He took a step toward the doctor, but was immediately held back. The man eyed him speculatively. Very slowly he wiped the blood from Ianto's leg, haphazardly placed a bandage over the hole he'd dug into the skin, and then nodded wordlessly once more.

The soldiers stepped back and drew guns. "Pull them up," the man ordered, and with a glare, Ianto painfully bent down to pull his trousers up, zipping and buckling them with as much dignity as he could. His thigh felt like it was on fire. He glared at the doctor.

"A local anesthetic would have been nice," he growled, and the man grinned.

"But not as much fun," he replied. He stepped forward and gave Ianto a pat on his injured thigh that almost made him stagger. "Besides, I wanted to save it for last."

And without warning his other hand came up with a white cloth that was pressed tightly to Ianto's face. He struggled once more, but it was too late: he felt his eyes rolls back, his muscles turn to jelly, his brain descend into the fog of unconsciousness. His last thought as he fell to the floor was that he was definitely in trouble—and all on his own now.

Jack had had enough. Tosh had tried her best, but there was no way she could get either the contacts or the tracking device to come back online. They had no way of communicating with Ianto, and after Michael Collins' strange behavior and the sudden appearance of Anastasia Morgan, he was more convinced than ever that something was wrong and Ianto was in trouble. And while Ianto might hate him for bursting in and ruining things if he had it under control, Jack would never forgive himself if Ianto was in danger and they had done nothing.

"I'm going down there," he finally said. Tosh glanced up from her computer and rubbed bleary eyes.

"Where?"

"To UNIT headquarters." She raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth. "Don't worry, I won't go blundering in with guns blazing. And they know me, they're not going to hurt me. I can at least try to get some answers."

"Jack, if this bigger than we think, they might not care who you are," she pointed out.

"So we just leave him there, on his own?" Jack demanded. "Without knowing what's going on?"

"That's the problem, we don't know what's going on. You could make it worse." She turned back to her computer. "I've been trying to get into the UNIT security system, but it's pretty sophisticated, and I don't want to tip them off, so it's been slow. If I can find him on the internal cameras, at least we'll have an idea of whether or not he's all right."

Jack crossed his arms over his chest and let his chin fall while he thought. Finally he shook his head. "No. Keep working on it and call me if you find anything. But I need to be there. I can be subtle."

She raised an eyebrow again.

"Really, I can." He turned and found his coat. Dr. Williamson was watching him from the sofa in the living room, and Jack frowned.

"What?" he asked. "You think I should stay?"

"I think you should do what you feel is right," he replied enigmatically.

"What do you think's right?" Jack asked. For some reason, there was something about the doctor that Jack trusted. The man sighed as he stood and came closer to Jack, speaking quietly.

"I think something's gone wrong. You've lost touch with your man, and I haven't heard from Jordan all day. I'm beginning to worry they've both been compromised." He did appear concerned, and again Jack realized that Jordan Ford hadn't contacted them all day.

"How would they get to her?" Jack asked. "You guys are supposed to be good at this stuff—better than us, anyway."

"We usually are," Williamson replied with a tight smile. "But you lot have all sorts of tricks available we don't." He paused and sighed. "I don't know how they would have got to her, but I fear it's a distinct possibility. She should have at least contacted us by now."

Jack turned to Tosh. "Tosh, can you do Nigel a favor? See if you can find anything on Jordan Ford while you keep working on UNIT. We think she might have been compromised, maybe the CCTV will pick up something."

The doctor placed a hand on Jack's arm. "Thank you, Captain." He headed into the kitchen. "I'll make us some tea, Ms. Sato. I appreciate your help."

Jack glanced at the room where Fiona Stewart had gone to lie down again and hoped they would all be safe when he left. He gave Tosh some last minute instructions, headed toward the door, then opened it to leave.

He found the way blocked by two burly UNIT soldiers, guns held securely across their chest.

"Hello, gentlemen," he said, quickly stepping back. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Going somewhere, Captain Harkness?" asked a voice from behind them. The soldiers parted to let a short, stocky officer through. He was dressed in a formal UNIT uniform, short black hair and beard lending him a severe look. His bright blue eyes, however, contained a hint of sympathy and understanding.

"Major," said Jack, noting the man's rank on his shoulder. "As a matter of fact, I was just heading toward the Tower."

"What a coincidence," said the major with a small smile. "I just left there." He held out his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Jack took it. "Major Burnston, second in command of UNIT Security Division. I've been ordered to detain you and your party here."

"Why?" asked Jack, the obvious question flowing from him before he could stop it.

"I was told it was a matter of national security. One of your employees was caught infiltrating UNIT headquarters and conspiring with a known traitor."

Tosh had come to stand beside him, with Dr. Williamson behind them. "Where is he? Is he all right?"

"Who, your friend?" asked the major. He shook his head. "I really have no idea. Apparently it's need-to-know basis. I've been told under no uncertain terms to let you leave. I'm also to confiscate any electronic equipment you might have in your possession." He shrugged. "We do know who you are and what you can do, Ms. Sato."

Tosh's face blanched, and Jack put an arm around her shoulder in reassurance. "Will we get it back? The equipment. It's Torchwood."

"I imagine so," said Major Burnston as three more soldiers moved in and began going through the small flat and packing up Tosh's computer, as well as collecting all their phones and any other devices they could find as they searched the cabinets and shelves, even couch cushions. They entered the room where Fiona Stewart had been sleeping, but came out empty-handed; Jack wondered if the woman had hid or run.

"Again, I'm not privy to that knowledge," the major was saying. "I imagine your friend must be in a great deal of trouble to have warranted such measures." The soldiers returned to the door, and the commander rolled his eyes as he checked the box. "Personal weapons too, boys. Don't be so green."

The soldiers reluctantly frisked them all, taking their weapons and adding them to the confiscated equipment. The major pulled Jack aside.

"Look, Captain Harkness, I don't know you and I don't know what your man has done or if he's done it under your orders, but I think it's serious. And it's covert. If I were you, I wouldn't go strutting around stirring up more trouble." Jack opened his mouth to protest, but the man stopped him. "Oh, we all know the stories. Take my advice. Wait it out."

"My man, Ianto Jones, did nothing," snapped Jack. "He wasn't infiltrating UNIT, he went to talk to Commander Michael Ian Collins. Do you know him?"

The man nodded slowly. "Yes, sir. He's the one who's been arrested. For theft, murder, and treason."

Jack heard Tosh gasp next to him. "What about Ianto Jones?"

"I don't know, Captain," said Burnston, and again there was the smallest hint of sympathy in his eyes, and Jack thought that maybe, just maybe, Burnston wasn't in on it and could be talked around to helping them. Not yet, but perhaps later.

"What about me?" asked Dr. Williamson. "I am neither Torchwood nor UNIT, I am merely a doctor treating Mr. Jones. He was shot yesterday and I am treating his wound. Were you aware of his injury?"

The major shook his head. "I wasn't, no. But I do know you're MI5, doctor, so you'll be staying until we sort this out. I'm sorry."

"How did you find us?" asked Jack.

"Again, I was not given that information," said the major. "I was ordered to secure this location and prevent any and all occupants from leaving. I hope you understand. I will try to keep you updated when I know more. I see no reason why UNIT and Torchwood cannot cooperate more than we have in the past."

Jack was surprised: for a UNIT official, this man was surprisingly polite and level-headed. He nodded. "Thank you, major. We'd appreciate that."

"In return, I ask that you try not to escape, do not contact the rest of your team, or harm my men in any way."

"Of course not," said Jack smoothly, knowing it was a complete lie. Burnston likely did as well, for he smiled tightly.

"Right. I'll be leaving two men at the door and several more outside. I'll be back later this evening. Thank you for your cooperation." He turned to leave, but then stopped. "And I do hope this is straightened out quickly. I hate secrets just as much as you do."

Jack, Tosh, and Nigel Williamson stared at one another as the men left.

"That was the nicest house arrest I've ever seen," said the doctor ruefully.

"That was damn strange," said Jack. "Especially for UNIT."

"I believe him," said Tosh. "I don't think he's involved. He really doesn't seem to know what's going on. He's just got to keep us here."

"But why?" asked Jack. "What's going on with Collins that we need to be out of the way?"

"Or with Mr. Jones," murmured the doctor.

"Exactly," said Jack. He turned and strode through the living room and back, then kicked at a chair. "So we're stuck here, without any access to the outside world, no way of knowing what's going on or who's involved. Collins has been arrested, Ianto is out of contact, and—"

"—and Jordan Ford is missing," added Nigel. "I think it's possible they got to us through her."

"How?" asked Tosh, but he shook his head.

"I don't know. This is far more complicated than what it appears to be." He suddenly frowned to himself and hurried toward the bedroom. "Fiona?" he called softly. "Are you in there? Are you all right?"

Jack and Tosh hurried over as well, to find Williamson helping Fiona Stewart up from under the bed.

"They didn't check the bed?" asked Jack. "They really must be green."

Fiona was wide-eyed but shook her head. "They did. They just didn't see me."

"What do you mean, they didn't see you?" asked Tosh curiously, and Jack had a sudden strange thought…

Fiona help up a badge, somewhat like the one Ianto had been given at UNIT headquarters. "This. It's supposed to help people look right past me, forget about me or something. As soon as I heard them, I slipped under the bed and hoped it still worked."

Jack reached out for it, nodding to himself. "A perception filter of some sort. That's why you said Collins won't and can't kill you. Because you have this to protect you. He can't see you unless he already knows you're there."

Fiona shook her head, taking it back and looking down. "No, sir. That's not it, not exactly."

Fiona glanced up and met the doctor's eyes. Nigel Williamson seemed to suddenly understand something and nodded as he pulled her into an embrace. "He's the one who gave it to you, whatever it is."

She nodded and sniffed. "He was just trying to protect me. Now he's in trouble." She looked at Jack with a determined look on her face. "We have to help him. And Ianto."

"I agree," said Jack. "But right now we're stuck here, so I'm open to suggestions. Start thinking. We've got to figure a way to get out of here, find our missing people, and stop the real killer from whatever their endgame is." He gave them all a piercing look. "And we need to do it fast, because I think we're nearing it."

Consciousness returned slowly.

Ianto was aware of movement first, a steady roll and bounce that also awakened a dozen aches and pains. He opened his eyes to find himself staring at nothing but darkness all around him. He listened carefully and could hear various noises that finally began to clue him in to his circumstances: the sound of an engine beneath him, raspy breathing next to him, and faint voices from somewhere in front of him.

He was in a vehicle of some sort then. Judging from the open air quality around him, he was not in the boot, so probably a van. His hands were bound behind him, which, now that he was aware of it, pulled on his shoulder wound and hurt like hell. He tried to shift to get more comfortable, and bumped into a dark shape next to him; it grunted.

Ianto tried to reply, but found his mouth was gagged; his instinct told him it was probably his tie and for some reason, of all the things that had gone wrong in the last twenty-four hours, that made him just as irritated as anything. He had liked that tie, because Lisa had given it to him.

He tried to talk around it and heard the shape next to him—a person, obviously—try to reply with equal mumbles. And then he felt the shape moving, scooting around on the floor of the van until cold fingers were pulling the gag from his mouth.

"Thank you," he gasped, and the person—a woman, from the feel of the hands that had been touching his face—grunted what sounded like a question in reply. Ianto could guess what she wanted: could he get her free somehow?

"We'll have to each flip over if you want me to get yours off," he whispered, his throat dry. And I'm not looking forward to that, he added to himself. But he took a deep breath and did his best to roll over without landing on his shoulder; failing, he bit back a moan as he saw stars for a moment, and was glad when the woman wiggled her head to the level of Ianto's hands, so that he didn't have to move anymore. He took deep breaths to ride through the pain, then began groping in the dark for the woman's gag, finally pulling it free to hear a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, Jones," said a voice he recognized.

"Jordan Ford?" he asked in surprise. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I have no idea," she whispered back. "They caught me by surprise, heading toward the safe house this morning."

Ianto swore under his breath. "Are you all right?" he asked, even though his first thought had been for Jack and Tosh. Jordan coughed before she answered, her voice rough.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Bit bruised up, but mostly just confused. There's someone on the other side of me, but I think she's still unconscious. What's going on?"

"I'm not sure," said Ianto. For some reason, he was leery of trusting her; it occurred to him that she could be there as a spy, trying to gather information before they killed him and dumped his body. He would have to be careful with what he revealed. "I went to UNIT this morning and was arrested instead. Next thing I know, I'm tied up in here."

"Was it Collins?" she asked, and again Ianto paused.

"I don't know. I think he was arrested too."

Jordan seemed to think that over. "So maybe he was framed, and we've stumbled onto something a bit too big for us to be tripping over."

There was a grunt from the other side of Ianto, and suddenly he felt the warmth of a fourth body press up against his own. He somehow knew it was Michael Collins, but he was obviously bound and gagged as well. With a deep breath, Ianto flipped once more, almost crying out from the pain in his shoulder, then moved himself to where he could removed the prisoner's gag.

"It wasn't me, I swear," gasped Michael Collins, proving Ianto's instinct correct. "It's them, it's UNIT, it might go even higher—"

He was interrupted as the van suddenly lurched to a stop and they all rolled precariously into one another. Ianto felt a sharp flash of pain as Collins' knee slammed into his thigh right where the tracking device had been removed, and he swore vehemently this time.

"You all right, Jones?" asked Jordan. "Is it your shoulder?"

"They ripped a hole in my leg too," Ianto ground out, and he heard her gasp under her breath. Before he could say anything else, the doors to the van were flung open and a torch shined a bright light in their faces, blinding them.

"Oh look, the birds are chirping," said a new voice. The torch disappeared and Ianto blinked into blackness. As his eyesight returned, he saw several men in black suits with their guns trained on the back of the van. It was dark outside and they were in some sort of commercial area with office blocks all around them. It occurred to Ianto that they could very likely be at—

"Yes, welcome back to Canary Wharf, Ianto Jones," said the voice, soft and silky and still unseen. "It's time for your red card. I'll have no more fouls from you three." There was a pause. "And MI5 can play too, Ms. Ford, for being offsides."

Ianto knew rugby and could guess the double meaning behind the words. Yet he couldn't place the voice. Who had drugged him and three others just to drag them out to Canary Wharf? If they were to be killed there, why? Had they got too close to the truth?

And if so, what truth?

Author's Note:

I know, I know—it never ends! Sorry I had to do that to Ianto, always knew it was going to happen, poor guy. Is any of this making sense? I have no idea. I'm just here for the ride, and hope you're having as much fun as I am trying to figure it out.