Author's notes: Please start with Midsummer.
British Virgin Islands, Spring 1990
Jack Harkness walked down a marked path among Banga palm trees. A few wild aloe plants looked recently harvested. Areas of underbrush had been cleared. The warm weather meant he had to stow his coat. The spongy ground meant he opted for different boots. He wore his usual retro WWII clothing with new combat boots purchased at a US Army/Navy store in New York state.
"Captain Harkness." Derrian Talbot extended a hand. "It's good to see you again." A man in his late twenties with perfectly pressed clothes and boots that still had some shine despite the heat. They'd met while Derrian served in the Royal Army. Anyone looking at him now would see a butler, not an Army vet.
Jack smiled and lowered his voice. "I thought you were married."
"Five years." Derrian smiled. "Janne is in London with Langford."
"Lucky woman."
"You need to find one."
"No woman will have him." Ruthie Beaupre walked over. "Well," she considered, "No smart woman." She was a tall, French Canadian woman studying biology at a university in Quebec. "What brings the great Captain Jack Harkness to the tropics?" They'd met at the Torchwood Institute years earlier when she visited London with her parents.
"I was in New York looking at meteorites. There appears to be a connection between one of those rocks and rocks found here. The Institute wants mineral and genetic samples."
"We have two live specimens." Ruthie grinned, obviously proud. "Both reptiles recently hatched. Similar species. Neither are from Earth."
"How big?"
She held her hands a few inches apart. "The size of a gecko."
"They look like small iguanas with wings," Derrian added.
"Any safety concerns?"
Ruthie nodded. "The creatures excrete an hallucinogenic substance. Touching the reptiles causes intoxication. Before they hatch, it seeps through the leathery eggs and contaminates everything around them. Consuming contaminated fruit or using aloe plants for topical results in a stronger drug effect."
"How bad?"
"It depends on the person," Derrian said. "One of the locals described it as a spiritual experience. A young student volunteer from London became irrational and violent and had to be restrained. He was transported to London for medical treatment."
"The local has extensive experience with hallucinogens which affected his reaction." Ruthie explained. "The type of contaminated plant also matters." She lowered her voice. "If used to contaminate coca plants, for example, it would produce a stronger, more dangerous drug than cocaine."
Jack had a bad feeling as he watched the creatures, egg fragments and soil samples loaded into shipping crates. Torchwood London had a history of questionable ideas and judgment justified by their devotion to Great Britain. He could think of any number of ways the hallucinogenic properties could be exploited. He would have preferred to destroy everything instead of transport it.
"Are you okay?" Ruthie asked.
"Yeah."
She held out her hand, showing a shiny engagement ring. "Talbot's happy must be contagious."
"I thought you swore off dating."
"Just you."
Jack laughed. He met Ruthie when she was a kid, and somehow he always thought of the child when they talked. He'd seen her several times over the years. She like to joke he knew better than to flirt with her. It never occurred to him. He still saw a twelve year-old with silly pink shoes talking about being a veterinarian.
"Whose the lucky guy?"
"Artaxiad Sarkisian. He's a physics major." She obviously thought his choice in science was strange.
"He better treat you right."
Ruthie laughed. "Art's a prince. Old school manners. A bit of caveman. My woman. My house. Grunt grunt." She laughed more. "We're going to get an apartment soon. He wants to wait until after we're married."
"Have you talked about continuing school and working?"
"Oh yeah. Art got this look on his face when I asked about that. I call it his 'I'm not my father expression.'" She shook her head. "Art's father is a king among assholes."
"I'm happy for you."
"Talbot's right. You do need to find someone. I'm sure the perfect man, woman or squid is out there."
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "Send my invitation or notification to Torchwood Three in Cardiff. I'll send you a present."
Ruthie poked him in the side. "Art is old school. No sex toys, innuendos or frat boy gag gifts. He'd die of embarrassment."
