"I did it because they targeted Torchwood personnel," Jack says. "I once started a plague on a sovereign world because I thought it was the right thing to do. I've tortured Torchwood agents–"

A slight flinch there, at the corners of his eyes.

"No one needs to follow what I think was right. To every devil, his defense."

He stands, abruptly, walking back around the desk to the corner of the room and leaning back against it, crossing his arms.

"And once, to one version of you, that was enough to have you slinging fuck yous and courting the next faction over." It's a misrepresentation of the facts, but Jack doesn't care. There's a point to be made, here, and he's going to make it. "Like I said, Chicago's not like Cardiff. You're not going to use my moral compass to guide you." The corner of his mouth flicks up. "I refuse to be taken on blind faith."