Title: Black Holes and Revelations
Author: LaurenBanks
Summary: "You know, that immortality of yours…it's contagious" Jack/John, Post COE
Rating: T for language
A/N: I really felt as though I didn't put a ton of effort into my first draft of this story, so I revamped it, and hopefully its better!
Chapter One-Shiver
John Hart was teetering on both an emotional and literal precipice. He was exploring the cliffs of Galenta, a planet discovered at the turn of the 43rd century. There were few residents, save for the odd lizard. The majority of the planet had suffered from severe earthquakes, the cause of which being forty-five tectonic plates continually crashing underneath the surface of the hundred- mile body. John Hart was in the southern region, supposedly the spot for the best stargazing in the western atlas. The stars were indeed beautiful, and seemed to be there as a pretty bauble to distract someone as their brains were being dashed against bleak black rock. After hop-skipping and jumping to a relatively flat ridge, the earth equivalent of a mesa, he allowed himself to lay back and stare heavenwards. He had already tested his limits, and while it hurt like hell, he grinned like a fool as soon as his eyes reopened. John Hart now had a purpose reflected in those cunning eyes, a purpose that glimmered and shimmered along with the stars. He began to fiddle with his wrist-strap.
Captain Jack Harkness was having a really freaking bad day. He slammed the door to his makeshift office with a less than satisfying bang. Due to the obliteration of the Hub, Jack had no other choice but to camp out at UNIT for the duration of the rebuilding. The ever-scowling UNIT cronies had been none too happy about putting him up, but reluctantly assigned him an old computer storage room. The good captain owed even that small allowance to one Doctor Martha Jones. Martha had thrown as much weight around as she possibly could, scoring no brownie points with her superiors in the process. Jack had every intention of offering her a position as medical officer, just as soon as he was the hell away from UNIT. Jack sat down, trying to unravel his latest headache. He had been going through several potential transfers from MI-5. He had taken them weevil hunting. When the beastie in question was located, three of the five agents had fainted dead away. One, Peter was his name, ran straight toward the weevil, gun drawn. He had, however, forgotten the tranquilizer spray, which resulted in a nasty swipe to his shoulder. His partner, Grace, stepped right in front of him and used enough tranq spray on the poor thing to knock out a heard. Two hours and twenty stitches later, Jack had on his hands an extremely angry director and a prime example of a bond that he had just lost. He sent them both home. Jack didn't retcon them, for as much as they could be a pain in the arse sometimes, MI-5 agents usually knew how to shut up. Martha was going to push for the both of them to be hired, but he wouldn't do it. Preformed bonds as strong as the one those two had let to severe lapses in judgment. Jack leaned across his desk, eyeballing the reams of requisition forms that were essential to rebuilding the Hub. Papers to confirm the presence of alien technology (or lack of such, as it was all in smithereens),
Order forms for new, top-of-the-line, computers, new employee applications, --wait, what? As Jack read over the seemingly inauspicious paper, a shadow of his former thousand-watt grin appeared. He may have just found a crucial piece to the jigsaw that was rebuilding Torchwood Three.