This story is set after To the Last Man but there are few references to this or other episodes.

Who?

Prologue

The call came over the radio as PC Andy Davidson was thinking of home. It was six forty, only an hour and a bit to the end of his shift, and he was always tired at the end of a stint on nights. He was tempted to ignore the call but his training and his own inbuilt need to help people in trouble overrode this momentary lapse and he turned the car in the direction of Bishopston Road, Ely.

"Tell them we're responding," he said to the Special riding with him. They were under strength still and it had been his turn to get the amateur. Although, he admitted, Phil was turning out all right.

"Right." Phil Durrant loved using the radio and riding around in the police car. So far in his two months as a Special Constable, he'd been on foot patrol round the city, mainly at night when the pubs and clubs turned out. There was no obscenity he had not heard and his boots had been baptised with vomit on numerous occasions. Riding with Andy Davidson was such a relief.

Andy drove round the well known streets and pulled up outside the house. Or rather, what was left of the house. He found a place to park, alongside the fire engine, ambulance and another police car. Full house, he thought, as he stopped the engine and climbed out of the vehicle. He stopped a moment, surveying the scene and put his night stick in its loop on his belt.

The front and inside of the house had been destroyed, completely destroyed. The explosion must have occurred downstairs as it had blown upwards and taken off the upper story and roof. Only the back wall was still standing, though blackened and steaming from the fire fighters' attempts to douse any chance of fire taking hold. Personal belongings of the family that lived here – had lived here, he amended – were scattered on the front garden and partly on the street outside. All of it was burnt except, he noticed with sadness, a child's high chair. It was so much worse when children were involved. Miraculously, the houses on either side were undamaged.

"Come on," he said to Phil and led the way. He looked around for the officer keeping a record of everyone who entered the scene but no one was around, nor was there any crime scene tape. There wasn't anyone or anything to keep the nosy neighbours at bay. "Phil, get some tape from the car and put it across from that tree to that lamp post then stay here. Don't let anyone in without checking with me. And we need a note of everyone already here, police, fire, the lot. I'll get them to come and tell you. You put our names down for now."

"Right." He ran off to get the tape.

Andy went nearer to the ruined building and saw the fire crew rolling up hoses and generally preparing to leave. He told the leader to check with Phil Durrant before they left then walked over to the paramedics, inside the house. He recognised one of them.

"Geoff, what you got?"

"Oh hello, Andy. Three dead; man, woman and a kid about a year old. Looks like they were asleep when it happened." Three shrouded bodies lay close together on the ground. "There's one guy alive. Your mates have him round the back." The paramedic nodded towards the other side of the back wall. "Not a scratch on him, bit suspicious that."

"Yeah. Look, make sure you and your opppo check in with my partner by the tape before you leave."

"Will do."

Andy left them and walked gingerly over the rubble. As he went he realised something was wrong and stopped, looking round. The place looked like an explosion but it didn't smell like it. There was no smell of burning. Didn't make sense. Oh well, the fire investigator would sort that out but he would remember to put it in his own notes. Taking care, he skirted the back wall and saw a small huddle of people in what had been a garden. He recognised Sam Keltie and Jock MacDougall, both had transferred in a month or so ago; they were shielding someone sitting on the ground. Coming closer, Andy joined the huddle and looked down.

"Bloody hell, should have known it would be something to do with you lot!" he exclaimed.

"You know him?" asked Sam, looking across.

"'Cos I bloody do," said Andy disgustedly. The man on the ground looked at him strangely.

"Who is he? We found him wandering about. He's not burnt or anything and the neighbours say he didn't live here. Thought he might have something to do with this, set the bomb maybe." Sam was a good copper but loose lipped. He never should have said all that in front of a suspect.

"What do you mean, 'who is he'? Haven't you asked him? More to the point, why hasn't he told you?" Andy looked down again. The man had been usually quiet.

"I can't remember." The man spoke for the first time. "You know me?" Andy looked at his colleagues who nodded and shrugged at the same time.

"You're Captain Jack Harkness."

"Who?"

How will Jack - and the team - cope?