Hello, Everyone! Marina here (: As I said in the description, I haven't seen Torchwood, hence me listing it under DW. This is basically a mashup of random things I've picked up about Torchwood from the internet, combined with my own ideas and the obvious connection to DW that the show has. This is the first revision of the story, which I wanted to publish first and get reviews on before I published the next draft. I hope y'all enjoy it! Updates are daily!

Jaws

Chapter 1

It had been three weeks since the team at Torchwood 3 had pulled Jack Harkness out of a sidewalk. Trapped in concrete that had solidified all around, even inside of him, keeping him locked in a never-ending cycle of life and death, life and death. After a solid three hours of that torture, Tosh, Owen, Gwen, and Ianto had missed him and went looking for him with the scanner.

He'd never looked into exactly what they had done to get him out, or to extract the cement from inside his body so he could start recovering somewhat. He never thought about it.

Dreamed about it? Yes.

Woke up in the middle of the night screaming and thinking he was still trapped? Definitely.

At least the worst that could happen to him in his immortal form had happened now. No more wondering about what being buried alive would be like—he knew all too well.

Jack was used to bouncing back from horrible things—it was a trait he had sort of picked up from the Doctor, truthfully. That, and the famous, "I'm always all right," line. It was the morning of his second day back on the job, and he was pretty relieved to be back.

Coffee, aliens, and cracking jokes with the team. They'd already blown up the lab twice this morning, and were all set to try a third experiment before lunch.

"Owen, where's the blood kit? The UKSP sent us a sample."

"Jack, look at this! Spaceship detections off the chart today! And," Gwen's face lit up considerably, "it looks like we have the Doctor!"

"No, way!" He grinned, hurrying over to the scanner. "Keep an eye on it. I promised him we wouldn't interfere next time he showed up, but you never know what can happen."

Frowning at his empty coffee mug, he went to fill up again, when suddenly his foot slipped and the ground came crashing toward his face. The mug flew out of his hand, barely avoiding breakage when it hit the thin carpet, but Jack's face felt a bit smashed. "Ow," he muttered, picking himself back up.

"Jack!" Tosh exclaimed, giving him a hand.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he chuckled, straightening his jacket sleeves. "Gosh, I can't believe I keep falling like that. What's wrong with clumsy old me?"

He noticed that Gwen was giving him a hard stare.

And so was Ianto.

And so was Owen.

"What?" he demanded, shrugging to show he didn't have a clue what all of it meant.

Gwen marched up to him and took him by the shoulders, and by the look on her face, whatever she had to say wasn't going to sound very good. He leaned back slightly, to somewhat escape the sardine breath. Gwen really liked her sardines this time of year.

"YOU. HAVEN'T. RECOVERED YET!" Gwen shouted angrily in his face.

He winced and shrugged. "Alright, alright, alright, okay! I'll go home!" Glancing around at his other teammates, he saw that the rest had the same determined expression as Gwen had. Annoyed at them, he half-smiled. "I mean, if that's what all you beautiful people want, is for me to leave…"

Owen got up from his chair. "I'll drive you, Jack."

"I don't need somebody to drive me!" he protested.

"Yes, you do," Ianto piped up, turning back to his work before Jack could glare at him, too.

"Come on, get your coat," Gwen continued, grabbing it from the hook as Tosh literally pushed him in the direction of the door.

"Guys, what? Guys! Really, this is getting embarrassing…" He felt his ears beginning to turn red, and that never happened to him.

"See you tomorrow, Cap," Ianto was saying, giving him a last shove through the doorframe as Owen pulled out his keys.

Awkwardly, he pulled on his old World War II coat, not knowing what to feel about his team's sudden, completely irrational concern for him. Giving them a raised-eyebrow look as he stepped into the passenger's side, he settled into Owen's car.

"Man, your windows are down," he noted.

His friend shrugged. "Fresh air. My dog stinks this thing up so bad it's the only way to keep it decent."

As he fastened his seatbelt, Gwen strode over to the open window. "See you tomorrow, boss."

"Honestly, Gwen—" his protest was cut short when she ducked inside the window to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

He smirked. "I think you missed."

She just frowned and walked away as Owen rolled the windows up.

Sighing heavily, he leaned back in his seat as they drove off. "Seriously, Owen, why is everybody fussing over me so much?"

"You collapsed three times, just this morning," Owen raised his eyebrows as he drove.

"I did not collapse!" he groaned. "I tripped! There's a big difference, and there's no reason to act like I'm dying. I'm immortal, for heaven's sake!"

Owen let him rant, but Jack frowned when he thought he saw a trace of a smile on the other man's face.

"I seriously thought I was the Team Captain, not the bloody Team Invalid," he muttered under his breath.

"You are the Captain," Owen nodded. "and, for a while, may I remind you, you were the Team Invalid. And pretty bloody, too, although I've been told not to discuss that in front of you."

"That remark," Jack said, irritated, "could come out of your paycheck, if you're not careful."

"And we're here!" his friend grinned, stopping in front of Jack's apartment complex. "Rest up, if you know what's good for you."

"I'm fine," he huffed, stepping out onto the concrete, but as he did his foot hit the curb and he fell flat on his face for the fourth time that day.

"DRGH!" he pounded a fist into the ground, feeling Owen's eyes on his back as he slowly, painfully, picked himself up again.

Owen opened his mouth to say something, but upon receiving the death glare, he shut it again. "Call us if you need anything, Cap," he grimaced, shifting gears before he rolled off.

Jack stalked his way into the apartments, having not felt this frustrated in his entire life. Or at least, it felt that way. The landlady, Ms. Ganopy, was at the front, acting as receptionist on this particular morning, and she gave Jack a friendly smile.

He nodded curtly in reply. "Morning," he mumbled under his breath, though under normal circumstances he would've thought of something flirty to say to her. She really was pretty nice.

There was only one flight of stairs to climb to his apartment. Reaching the halfway, he suddenly felt as though something had zapped his brain completely. He barely realized he was falling before everything went black.