"No, John."

"It's important," John practically teased.

"I said no. No tampering with the future. I don't care what it is," Jack said firmly.

John gave him a long look, then shrugged and beckoned to Malcolm. "Come on, then. I'll take you home. And I'll take you out for a nice meal if you like, since I'm not shit with the 'thank yous'."

"I'd rather you just get this bomb off of me like you promised," Malcolm said, hesitating to join John.

"That thing? Take it off yourself. And the dinner invitation still stands."

"You told me if I tried -"

"I lied," John shrugged. "But! I'm also the only person who can get you home," he grinned at Malcolm's death glare. He programmed the proper coordinates into his manipulator, then turned to look at Ianto, who still hadn't put his gun away, and walked over to him. "You've got more sense than he has," he said, then lowered his voice so only Ianto could hear. "Remember this next end-of-the-world – 4-5-6. And do not, under any circumstances, go into the room. You'll understand when you get there," he said at normal volume again.

"What did he say?" Jack demanded.

"Nothing important. Just your pre-op measurements, big boy." John grinned and went back to take Malcolm's arm. They disappeared in a ripple of manipulated time-space fabric.

Jack let out a frustrated shout. "What did he say, Ianto?"

Ianto just shook his head, indicating they'd talk about it later. "Anyway, I don't imagine he'd even know how to tell the truth." Ianto had, however, already filed the information – whatever it meant - away under 'potentially useful but with extreme caution.'

The 'front door' alarm sounded and they were all relieved to see Owen enter with his usual huff and scowl. "The Weevils have gone, don't ask me why, but traffic is the worst I've seen it. Why the hell is there a dead body by the lift?"

Jack almost laughed at the non-sequitur but didn't have the energy. He still hadn't even approached Gray's body and he still had John Hart sulking around the Weevil cells to deal with.

"We're gonna need an autopsy… or something," Ianto informed Owen, then stepped to Jack's side. "I'll help you," he said quietly.

Without warning, Jack's face crumpled and he fell apart when Ianto's arms immediately wrapped around him. "Why is there always so much death?" Jack whispered.

"I don't know, Jack," Ianto whispered back, pleading silently over Jack's shoulder with Tosh to get Gwen's attention on something else so that he could help Jack deal with Gray's demise without her gratingly well-intentioned fussing.

"Can I go yet?" John whinged, coming up from the vaults. "I know 'I'm' gone because I felt the chronons crackling."

Tosh quickly suggested Gwen divert John and followed them, sparing Jack a moment's breakdown in peace.

Ianto sat down beside Jack on the step up to the lift. For a long while Jack just stared blankly at Gray. "He was right," Jack rasped. "I wouldn't have done it. I would have forgiven him. Even after…. But I did kill him. I killed him the moment I let go."

Ianto closed his eyes in sympathy. A memory came to him of being dragged and restrained on that lift while a creature that once had been the love of his life was attacked by the resident pet pteranodon – both of which he'd brought to Torchwood 3. He also remembered a vow that, given a chance to save Jack, he'd refuse and watch him suffer. Ianto no longer knew who he was in those horrific moments, but knew he was now more himself than he'd ever been.

"No you didn't, Jack. You were a child. You were just a terrified boy in a situation no one should ever face. You've got to get to grips with it eventually, Jack. You didn't do this. Monsters did. The same sort we deal with and make sure no one else suffers from. You didn't let go on purpose, you know that."

"What about the times I did let go on purpose? What about Jasmine? What about those children in…."

"Jack. You've always done the best you could. The best anyone could in terrible circumstances. You've saved so many lives, Jack. Including mine, a few times."

"That's because I can't live without you," Jack whispered, hoping Ianto couldn't hear him but knowing Ianto Jones missed nothing.

Ianto decided in that moment that, for what was possibly the first time in his life, John Hart hadn't been lying about not going into Room 456. It was a warning he would choose to heed because if it meant Jack might lose him, whatever it was would just have to be done without Ianto Jones.

"Come on," Ianto said softly, "I'll help you lift him down to the theatre." They could talk about other things afterward.

Malcolm's fourth VM trip wasn't nearly as rough as the first three. Maybe he was getting used to the sensation of having his very atoms pulled apart and smashed back together within a fraction of a second. This time, he steadied himself quickly, ripped the bracelet off his arm and flung it away before turning, hell bent on murder, toward John Hart.

"Alright. You want to kill me. Fair enough, most people do. But I'll make you a sporting deal. You let me have one last snog, and if you still want my head – the big one – after that, no tricks. I won't run."

Malcolm glared.

"Last request isn't too much to ask, is it? You're a fair man."

Malcolm hated it when people pulled the 'honour amongst thieves' card. "Alright, fine. At least I know you're a good kisser."

"Good enough to make you weak at the knees," John grinned, pulling Malcolm into a long, deep, tongue-filled kiss. "I mean, literally weak, eh?" he snickered, pulling back as Malcolm Merlyn buckled in front of him. "That one never gets old. Well… guess I've got to decide what to do with you now. Maybe I can teach you a thing or two about knots so you don't have to rely on those ridiculous trick bedroom cuffs anymore. Ever been to the Lotus nebula? What am I saying? Of course you haven't. Well, let's go. Seventeen simultaneous pleasures… I mean, once I figure out where the hell I left the antidote to the lip gloss, anyway. I'll remember, probably before it's too late…."