Jack was decidedly having a horrid week. Not only had he been unable to secure a satisfactory outcome for his client, Adam Mitchell, but he'd had a particularly harsh confrontation with Ian. All of that was compounded by the fact that this Friday marked the six year anniversary of that day–the day that rocked their family's whole world, tearing at its very fabric.

The fractured relationship with Ian was never far from his mind, and Jack keenly felt the loss of his brother. True, they were not related by blood, but that was of no consequence. Almost immediately from the time Jack's mother had married Ian's father, they had been as close, if not closer, than most natural brothers. But the events of that day six years ago broke what was once an impenetrable bond.

The lift doors parted and Jack exited, wearily making his way to his office. He only had a few more details to add before Adam's appeal would be complete. Entering his office, he took his usual place behind his mahogany desk, pulling out the necessary files to complete his task. Though he was there in body, Jack's mind was far from present. Despite his best efforts, he was unable to fully concentrate on the tasks ahead of him. A soft knock on his office door brought his thoughts to an abrupt halt, and he looked up to see who had approached. He saw his assistant, Tessa, holding a mug in one hand and an organizer in the other. She smiled brightly at him, a much needed reprieve from his dark mood. He returned her smile, though not as brilliant as per his usual, and motioned for her to enter.

The young brunette approached with the usual bounce to her step, stopping at the front of his desk.

"Good morning, Mr. Harkness," she said cheerily as she handed him the mug of strong, steaming coffee made exactly to his preferences. Though barely twenty, Tessa was a consummate professional and took great pride in her work. She made sure to give the absolute best to the man who she felt had given her a chance when no one else would give her a second thought.

Looking at her organizer, she began, "Your schedule is fairly open today. The Mitchell appeal is due by 8:00 A.M. tomorrow. I have a courier on call for when you're ready to deliver it. Miss Poisson called again this morning to invite you to lunch," she immediately noticed Jack's irritated eye roll and continued, "but I informed her that you were unfortunately completely booked today and have no availabilities in the foreseeable future."

Jack's smile broadened. "Good girl."

Tessa beamed at his approval. "Ms. Jones asked me to remind you about the partners' meeting tomorrow and to not, in her words, 'come down with some ridiculous ailment this time.'"

Jack smirked at knowing his efforts to avoid the tedious monthly meetings did not go unnoticed.

"Other than that, you have nothing on the books," she said with finality.

"Thanks, Tessa."

She smiled and began to leave before suddenly turning back around. "Oh, almost forgot," she said and pulled out an envelope, handing it to Jack. "This came certified for you this morning. I didn't recognize the name."

Jack furrowed his brow in curiosity and took it from her. His eyes widened and then darkened at seeing the name and address. Tearing it open, he hastily ran his eyes over the contents.

"Son of a...," he growled lowly. Jolting upright, Jack threw on his coat and headed out the door. He briefly stopped and turned to Tessa, who was more than a little confused and worried that she had done something to anger Jack.

"Tessa, call Judge Bentley and let him know that a family emergency came up and I won't have Adam's appeal ready till tomorrow evening. He's pretty laidback so he'll understand. I'm unavailable for the rest of the day, understand?"

"Yes'sir," she nodded.

With that, Jack hastily made his way to the lift. He had to see Ian...immediately.

-

Cathica glanced once again at the time displayed in the corner of the computer screen. Though she was in the midst of replying to the various emails and preparing a plethora of documents Ian assigned to her earlier that week, she wasn't too busy to notice the prolonged absence of her employer. Ian's behavior over the last several days had been erratic and completely out of character. Normally he was predictable, if not somewhat regimental, and did not tolerate anything less from those around him. So the fact that Ian was acting contrary to his own self-imposed rules threw Cathica for a loop, and she wasn't sure what her response should be.

Her attention was suddenly captured by the main door practically being thrown open. To further her surprise, Cathica found herself face to face with Jack Harkness. She found her body completely arrested by the sight of him, feeling very uneasy with his sudden presence.

Knowing Ian was not on friendly terms with his brother, she started to speak but was cut off by Jack.

"I need to see Ian now."

"You know you shouldn't be here. Mr. Smith doesn't–"

"Spare me the standard crap he has you ramble off. I'm really not in the mood for it," he spat irritably. "I don't care if he doesn't want to see me. He can throw all the hissy fits he wants, but I'm not leaving till I see my brother," he said determinedly as he went to open Ian's office door.

Cathica hurriedly stood up and rushed over to the door, stopping Jack before he could enter.

"He's not here," she said firmly, frowning as she put her hand on the doorknob. "So you can leave now."

Jack gave a tired sigh and took a step back, closing his eyes and rubbing his head in frustration. Cathica curiously took in his sudden change in stance. He seemed resigned, almost defeated. When he turned his eyes back to her, Cathica could see the weariness within him.

"Listen, Cath," he said more gently. "I need to know if Ian got anything…strange…in the mail. Anything that seemed out of place."

Though she seemed reluctant, Jack could tell that Cathica was trying to recall if there was anything. Her eyes widened ever so slightly as she remembered the letter she'd thrown onto Ian's desk earlier that morning, but then she nervously diverted her gaze from Jack's inquiring eyes. However, it was to no avail; Jack knew there was something she was holding back.

"Cathica, I need you to tell me what it was. Please."

Finally looking up at him, she could see that his eyes were practically pleading for her compliance. With a nod of acquiescence, Cathica opened the door to Ian's office and walked over to his desk. Quickly finding the letter, she kept ahold of it, still hesitant to hand it over Jack. She took a hard swallow and looked up at Jack.

"Just…promise me that whatever it is you're doing, it's for the best. Ian Smith may be a colossal prat the majority of the time, but that doesn't give you license to run him into the ground."

"I swear to you, I would never do anything to hurt my brother. Everything I've ever done was to protect him. That's what I'm doing now," he said with the deepest sincerity, holding out his hand for the envelope.

Jack's words resonated as truth, and with a nod of acceptance, Cathica handed over the letter. Jack took it and his eyes darkened as he saw the familiar address. Taking a hard swallow, his features became stoic and he nodded his thanks, before turning around and promptly leaving. As he stepped into the hallway, he pulled out his mobile and dialed. He had a favor to call in.

-

Jack agitatedly paced the cold, dingy room, taking long steadying breaths to calm his rapidly escalating anger. Normally the gray walls were of no consequence to him, not worth his attention, but the morose atmosphere was now glaringly obvious and furthered the darkness brewing within him. He was no stranger to the inside of a prison, having spent many a long day sitting with his clients and determining the best course of action to take for them. However, this was not one of those days.

The grating sound of turning metal door hinges caused Jack to stop mid-pace and turn briskly. A shackled and orange clad inmate was led into the room. His focus settled on Jack and his features morphed from neutral into a maniacal Cheshire grin. He stopped mid-step and allowed himself a moment to enjoy an eerie stare. The stoic guard jerked the prisoner back into motion, putting a strong hand on his shoulder and pushing the man roughly down onto the seat next to a metal table.

"Garrett says you've got fifteen minutes," he addressed Jack. "I'll be just outside."

Jack nodded his acknowledgement of the guard, but his features remained rigid and restrained. The guard turned around and gave the prisoner a critical and warning eye.

"Don't try anythin', Saxon," he instructed, pushing at his shoulder for emphasis. The guard exited the room, leaving the prisoner and Jack alone.

The prisoner continued to maintain his manic grin, almost bouncing in his seat. "Jackson Harkness. Finally. What took you so long?"

Jack remained standing at a comfortable distance, grinding his teeth as he heard Saxon speak. It took every ounce of his willpower to maintain his composure, but Jack was determined to not give this creature the satisfaction of seeing him affected.

"Well, I've been busy, Harry. What with having a life and all," he replied with perfect nonchalance. "It's amazing what you can do with all that free time on your hands. Plus, I make it a point to never mingle with the Devil."

"Free time, eh? Fresh air, blue skies, birdies singing...," Harry said, shivering with disgust. "Highly overrated. And 'Devil' is a bit harsh, wouldn't you say?"

"I think it's a fairly tame description for what you are. I'm not sure that there are enough derogatory terms in the English language to adequately define you. Maybe any language," Jack replied in a low, even tone.

Harry winced mockingly at him. "Ooh, such disdain. Shame since we all used to be so close. Speaking of 'all,' I can't help but notice Ian isn't here. I would've thought after my little note he—"

Harry stopped midsentence as he saw Jack's jaw twitch. His eyes widened with realization, and his smirk broadened. "He never got it, did he? Oh, you naughty boy. Stealing a person's mail is a crime, which you should be aware of," his eyes darkened and turned cold as he continued, "Although, if you two were actually proficient at your job, I wouldn't be in this lovely establishment, now would I?"

Jack's eyes narrowed at Saxon's accusatory tone. "You're in here because you're sick—in every sense of the word. It wouldn't 've mattered what we did—you were gonna end up in some cell with four padded walls and an endless cocktail of antipsychotics. We tried to help, but you were too far gone."

Harry slammed his shackles onto the table, the harsh metallic clang resounding through the room. "Help? Help?!" he growled. "What help are you referring to, huh? None of you ever tried to help me! You used all these pretty words but in the end they were just like you—worthless," he spat.

Anger began to crawl its way to the surface, and Jack took a few menacing steps towards Saxon.

"Don't you dare say we didn't try to help you! Ian went out of his way, put himself on the line, and all for your sorry behind. No matter how much I tried to tell him otherwise, he was determined to do whatever he could for you. He worked himself to death trying to save your sorry hide. All because of that so-called friendship you had. So don't you even dare look me in the eye and say that no one tried to help you!"

Harry jerked his hands towards Jack, but they were too closely shackled for any threat to be carried out. The cold metal against his wrists suddenly reminded Harry of his confinement. He looked down at his chains and began grinning. The grin quickly morphed into chuckling, and before Jack could properly blink, Saxon was cackling, his whole body shaking with the unrestrained laughter. Jack could only stare at him in disbelief, faint traces of pity evident in his eyes.

Saxon finally looked up at Jack, his eyes otherworldly and his eerie grin still frozen on his face. He lifted his hands, displaying the shackles.

"Not exactly gold cufflinks, are they?" he giggled at Jack. At Jack's lack of response, Harry ran his cuffed hands over his head, ruffling his hair and adding to his wild persona.

"What were we talking about?" Saxon asked, tilting his head to the side in thought. "Something, something…" His eyes suddenly became distant and troubled as he began fervently shaking his head. "Stop it," he mumbled, beginning to rock back and forth. "Just…quiet!" he ordered the silence through gritted teeth, angrily raking his joined hands over his hair yet again.

Pity began to crawl its way through Jack's veins as he watched the disturbed man. Saxon's shoulders slumped and he sighed in relief.

"So…wh-…oh, yes! My letter, did you enjoy it? I worked so hard on it, trying to get every single detail down on paper. Although words aren't quite enough…you really had to be there to appreciate the imagery."

Saxon's words snapped the carefully restrained fury within Jack. He snarled and lunged forward, grabbing Saxon by his jumpsuit and pinning him against the cold concrete wall, his arm perilously close to the madman's neck.

"Do you know how easy it would be to break you right now?" Jack growled through gnashing teeth. "You sick piece of scum! You just can't leave our family alone, can you? After everything you've done, can't you just leave us in peace?!"

"Peace!" Harry spat back, matching Jack's expression. "Peace, peace, peace. Everyone wants peace, but some of us don't have such luxuries. Some of us have pain. Pain, pain, pain…nothing but pain. Always pain. Why should I be the only one in pain? Gave me empty promises…no…gave me lies. Lies, always lies… nothing but lies. Well, we all have to pay for our sins, and the wages sin pays is death. I think it's good to have that reminder. Makes us learn from our mistakes, helps us grow to our potential. Don't you think so?"

"Grow?" Jack growled. "And just how were we supposed to 'grow' after you gunned down our father? What 'mistake' could ever make killing him justifiable?"

Saxon locked his gaze with Jack's, his eyes cold and void of discernible humanity. "You lied to me, and lies have consequences. Consider it your life's penance."

Jack moved his head back and stared incredulously at Saxon, shocked that the man could utter such things with firm conviction. His anger came back to the forefront and he leaned back in. "Well, you want truth? Here's some truth for ya," Jack seethed, tightening his hold on Saxon to the point his knuckles were an unnatural shade of white. "You contact any member of my family, and prison will be the least of your worries. You hear me?" he questioned rhetorically. "Your existence is a plague and it sickens me that we breathe the same air. If I'd had my way, you woulda been out of our lives a long, long time ago."

"But you didn't get your way, did you?" Saxon sneered. "Ian bears that responsibility, and don't think I forgot to remind him of such."

Jack's eyes flashed with protective fury, and he flung Saxon to floor as if he was a piece of refuse, causing him to stumble into the metal bench and land on his backside.

"I meant what I said. Leave my family alone," he warned, his tone cool and calm. "Consider this your...reminder."

With one final look of disdain, Jack walked over and banged on the metal door. The same burly guard from earlier opened the door for him. "Tell Garrett I said thanks," Jack instructed as he walked away, leaving a grinning Harry Saxon in a heap on the floor.

-

Mickey raked a nervous hand over his closely shorn hair, taking several deep breaths as he made his way through the crowded walkways toward the Bad Wolf Bakery. His nerves were raging and beginning to fray. Here he was, about to take the biggest, most important step in his life, and all he could think of was what could go wrong. Finally, Mickey reached the bakery but stopped before entering, nervously fiddling with the small box in his jacket pocket. Taking another deep breath, he hurriedly opened the door and walked in. Sally was behind the counter, as per usual, and smilingly helping an elderly woman. However, Rose was nowhere to be found. As the woman turned and left, Sally looked up and smiled warmly at Mickey.

"Hey, Mickey. Whatcha in to?"

"Oh, this and that," came Mickey's vague response. "Rose here?"

Sally grinned and with a small chuckle said, "Yeah, she's in the back. Said she needed a moment with her 'feelings.'"

Mickey snorted in amusement. "What is it this time? Java Chip? Fudge Ripple?"

Sally shook her head and laughed. "Nope, Rocky Road. Ya can go on back," she said, motioning with her head.

Mickey entered the back of the bakery, but paused in the doorway when he saw Rose. She was somehow sitting cross legged on a chair next to the center prep table where a jar of marshmallow sauce was sitting, a few streaks of the white stickiness trailing down its side. A pint of Rocky Road ice cream was in front of her, and she had a whipped cream can aimed at her mouth, ready to fire away. Before she could, she made eye contact with Mickey, his eyes full of barely contained amusement and a smirk inching its way up his face.

Rose furrowed her brow at him. "Don't judge me," she said before shooting a stream of whipped cream into her waiting mouth.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Mickey burst out laughing at her behavior. When he finally got himself together, he realized she was frowning at him.

"What? I couldn't help it. Y'look ridiculous," he defended himself laughingly.

"Listen," Rose pointed her spoon at him, "I've had an unbelievably strange and stressful week. At least it's a pint of ice cream and not bitter…although, I could do with one of those. Now, whatcha want?" she asked, putting another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

Mickey sobered as he remembered his reason for coming to see her, and he began to fidget nervously. Rose furrowed her brow again, this time inquisitively, as she watched him nervously fiddle with something inside his coat pocket. When he finally pulled out a small black box, Rose's eyes widened and she dropped her spoon. She quickly put the carton of ice cream on the table next to her and rushed over to Mickey.

"Oh, my God! Lemme see!" she squealed.

He opened the box to reveal a gold band with a brilliant solitaire diamond centered between two more small diamonds. Rose's eyes widened further and she clutched his arm.

"Micks, it's gorgeous!"

"Think she'll like it?" he asked her nervously.

"Like it? She's gonna love it!"

"D-do…," he slightly stuttered, "Do y'think she'll say yes?"

On hearing his question, Rose tore her eyes away from the ring to Mickey's fretful face. Her eyes widened yet again.

"Oh, Micks…," she began softly, before raising her hand and thumping him on the back of his skull.

"Oi!" he shouted, rubbing his throbbing head.

"Don't be an idiot. Of course she's gonna say yes. Why wouldn't she?"

"Well, Martha's amazing…she deserves so much more than m—"

His sentence was cut short by another head swat from Rose.

"OI! Would you quit hittin' me?"

"Well quit bein' stupid!" Rose retorted. "You are just as brilliant in your own right. You two are completely gone for each other. Do y'know how lucky you are? To find someone who loves you like Martha does?"

"Y'think?" Mickey asked, still unsure.

Rose sighed at him exasperatedly. "Ya want another smack?"

"No! No, I'm good just," he sighed, "…so nervous."

Patting his back reassuringly, she said, "People go their whole lives lookin' for what you two have. Lord knows I've never had that."

Mickey bumped her playfully, grinning. "There's always the personals."

She rolled her eyes and shoved him before she went back to her now melting ice cream, dipping herself a heaping spoonful.

"Oh c'mon, Rose. You'll find a bloke."

"Not bloody likely," she scoffed at the notion, but couldn't help that her thoughts immediately went to Ian. To his dark eyes, and brilliant but often hidden smile. To the way her body felt like she was holding onto a live wire every time their skin brushed against each other. Rose felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach and a smile began to tug at her lips. Right now she'd give anything to see him again, a sentiment which caught her surprise.

The change in her demeanor was not lost on Mickey, and he smirked at her. "If that look means what I think it does, I'd say you've already found one."

When Ian awoke that morning, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was lacking. As his surroundings began to clear from the haze of sleep, Ian realized that Rose was no longer lying next to him, her arm no longer there to lie protectively, almost possessively, over his chest. He was back in his original reality. For a long moment he just lied there, taking in his surroundings as he tried to acclimate himself back into this world. And for the first time, Ian began to find his environment cold, harsh, almost void of life. Completely the opposite from…

Thinking of that life, of waking up next to that enigmatic woman, made Ian smile brightly, something that he'd been doing more of since meeting Rose. What was it that had brought her into his life? Surely it could be because anything good he'd done. Life wasn't that kind to him. But what if it was? Could it really be possible to have that life? The man that all of them were making him out to be…Ian hadn't seen that man in ages, and even then it was only a faint resemblance. But he remembered the fierceness to Rose's words, how she insisted that he was worth fighting for, that he was worth everything. Even remembering the words caused Ian to become awestruck. That she could feel such a way about him, and that he felt… Ian quickly shook his mind free of such fanciful thoughts. He knew that it was dangerous to contemplate on such things as Rose and the life that he was supposedly living with her. It was a risk, and he reminded himself about the consequences of taking risks.

By noon, Ian finally made it into the office. As he opened the door, Cathica looked up from her place at the file cabinet, obviously relieved at his arrival.

"Sorry I'm late."

Cathica's head jerked back faintly at his words. Ian Smith had actually apologized to her. Five years and he'd never done such a thing, even when it had been glaringly obvious that he was in the wrong. She blinked several times in shock before realizing that she hadn't responded to him.

"Uh, no need to apologize, sir. I'm glad to see you're alright," she replied somewhat unsurely.

"Anything happen while I wasn't here?"

Cathica's mind began to race, but her face remained completely neutral.

"No, sir. Not a thing."