Captain John Hart stood at his window, looking out over the early evening as the city lights began to come on. Drink in hand, he considered the day he'd had and the feeling of uselessness that had long been building. If he was honest- and he hated to be- it had been building for over a year- ever since he'd seen his old partner leading the fight against the 456. Today had just been the most recent reminder that he was getting older and really had nothing to show for his life.
He'd been heading out earlier when a blue police box caught his eye that he was pretty certain hadn't been there before. As he scanned the area as he had for the past year to check on someone from a distance, the door of the box opened and the captain himself got out. To John's infinite shock, Jack was leading a very familiar young man in an impeccable suit, who was most certainly not dead after all. The way Jack looked at the handsome Welshman- John was surprised and annoyed to feel twinges of jealousy, which only got worse as memories came to mind: Jack's slight hesitation when saying Ianto's name the first time they met, Ianto's expression when he asked how John and Jack had been partners, Jack in a bar, so distraught that John began secretly keeping an eye on his old partner. In case he needed something again from the immortal, he told himself.
John had followed them to a nondescript house, within earshot enough to learn about Ianto's newfound immortality. He observed Jack telling Ianto to wait for a minute, then walking up the front walk. Jack stopped halfway, turning and striding back to his lover, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and a surprisingly gentle kiss on his lips. After Ianto went in- to see his sister, apparently (John heard them planning to find Gwen and start to rebuild Torchwood tomorrow), John left.
So Jack and Eye Candy, back together, ready to save the world forever. John took another drink as his thoughts wandered to love and loyalty. Cynical and self-serving, John hated admitting that he envied them that, and their purposefulness. A dashing Time Agent, cocky and clever, and what did John have? No one, nothing, and most certainly no heroism. Once, he'd thought Jack had gone soft; now, he saw his partner had made a better life for himself and earned the utter loyalty that comes with love.
But it hadn't only been Ianto, had it? John mused upon people he'd met years ago, a dysfunctional but effective team who, together, were a match for anything. Flashes of memory rushed through his head. A team bursting in on his meeting with Jack, determined and protective of Jack and each other. And, in an image almost comical, four guns trained on him in perfect unison, their owners glaring with identical fury. That, John thought, was loyalty. Had he ever been on the giving or receiving end of that sort of fierce care for someone else? Answering silently, John shrugged on his coat and walked outside to a certain destination.
"You owe me. That man who escaped somehow, and I brought him back here. Could've helped him get away, but I didn't. So you owe me." John stood in the eerie house, arguing with the deep voice of the master spirit who guarded the darkness.
"Indeed. But that is only one. You ask for two."
John squared his shoulders with a cocky grin. "I have a plan for that, too."