Author's Note: First, I want to give a huge thank you to Jooles, who is looking over these chapter for me. Then, I want to thank all of my reviewers and silent stalkers, because I've been getting a lot of alerts for this story, and they make me happy. ^_^ Also, I have some good news for you guys! Starting NEXT WEEK I'm going to be updating twice a week - Mondays and Thursdays. I want to get this whole thing posted before school started, and if I do it that way it would end up being perfect timing. So less wait for you guys!
Hope you enjoy - You get to find out who exactly the Chief hired, and Jack is a very bad boy.
He sat there, in the front of the room, twiddling his thumbs because he had already ruffled his papers enough times that if he did it again, it would look suspicious. He glanced over at Gwen, who gave him a small encouraging smile that was supposed to help, but it didn't. He slid his eyes across the room, the blue orbs taking everything in without really noticing the details. It was full with his and Gwen's handpicked team that they had slaved over yesterday. Sunday this week, ended up not being a day of rest. He had spent pretty much the entire day with Gwen hunched over papers, organizing everything. At least they had gotten out of the police station – they had gone to Gwen's place since Sunday was Ianto's cleaning day and he didn't like it when guests came and got in the way.
It was a small team – Andy Davidson, a newly promoted Detective who had a knack for finding little bits of information that ended up being a large help; Toshiko Sato as their resident technical expert; Mickey Smith from their violent crime division, and several other police that volunteered to join in the task force. Even though Chief Smith told them they could hire outside help, both of them thought that the expert the Chief was bringing in would be sufficient. They both trusted the man with theirs and others' lives, and if he thought the man in question could pull through, then they did too. They didn't know much about this mystery man, other than the fact that several years ago, when Chief was located in London, he worked with this man, and together they helped catch the notorious London Lyncher, who pelted his victims with stone and sticks before hanging them from the tenth floor of a hotel.
Jack looked at the clock once more, as if it would have moved more than five seconds since the last time he spared it a glance. It was about three until eleven in the morning, and the briefing was about to start. Since Gwen was given point, and gave Jack the title of second in command of this investigation, they sat in the front of the room, while the others filled in by sitting on desks and chairs that had been squeezed into the conference room. Everyone had a file detailing the information they had on the case, but no one had dared to be the first to open it.
Two minutes till, and the Chief of Police walked through the double doors, shooting a large smile in the general direction of everyone in the room. He wore today a brown suit with a blue shirt and tie underneath, his thick-rimmed glasses always balanced precariously on the end of his nose. A large cup of coffee was in his hands, and his chucks squeaked loudly on the floor. The mood in the room lightened considerably with the man's arrival, and Jack felt a little better. It wasn't that he was nervous about addressing the police – he had done it many times before - it was the waiting that got to him. Gwen had always called him a jittery waiter on those long nights of stakeouts and waiting for the information to come in from the lab. He was better suited for the action, or even just doing something productive.
"I think we can go ahead and start – the Private Detective will be a little late." the Chief said, and if it was humanly possible, the room became even quieter. He nodded at this obvious show of respect, then began. "I'm sure that, even though it's only been two days since this case started, you have all heard rumors. Yes – we are dealing with a serial killer. We'd like to keep that, and any information from this case, under lock and key. No reporters, no talking to family members, no mumbling about it as you walk down the street. You will listen to Detective Cooper and Mister Harkness. You will find this killer before he or she is able to strike again. And you will do it together. Detective Cooper?"
Gwen stood up at her name, and smiled at the Chief. "Thanks Chief."
She turned to the small crowd that was in the room and started. She would outline the facts of the case, then Jack would go into detail about the personality outline that he had built from the information Suzie and Toshiko had ascertained. She began by turning to a large whiteboard and flipping it over. On it were four photos of four different people, all of them the pictures that had been used on the missing persons' database. "These are the four known victims of the killer. Missing a month apart from each other, all involved in child abuse or rape."
Then she turned to another whiteboard and did the same. This time, however, the pictures were a lot smaller, since there was a lot more of them. "These are the forty-six possible victims. Listed underneath each one is the date that they went missing, along with any other information that has been found linking them to this case."
She turned from her position at the board in order to better look the people in the room in the face, needing them to hear her next statement. "Any other cases that you have – drop them, transfer them, I don't care. This is your number one priority from now on, because in one month's time we will have another body on our hands."
She paused for dramatic effect. "I'm going to let Jack Harkness take the floor for a moment to explain to you what kind of person we are looking for, then I'll go over the report in detail."
Jack stood up when his name was called and limped to the middle of the floor. He left his cane hooked on the back of his chair, and tried his hardest to walk the short distance to the front of the room in a straight line. If anyone noticed this, they stayed silent.
Jack didn't need papers to read off the short profile he had typed up the night before – there wasn't much to go on, and a lot of it was speculation. The police in the room knew that his profile was not perfect science, so it gave him a little leeway. "Obviously, this guy has something against being abused – probably abused himself as a child, or maybe it was a sibling who was raped or abused and they were unable to do anything to help.
"The monthly killing pattern shows us that this isn't a case of revenge. You don't kill for four years to get revenge. No – you do it because you can't stop." Jack paused and shifted his weight before continuing. "It's like smoking. The first few times you do it for the experience – just to see how it tastes, how it feels. But after a while, that lunchtime cigarette becomes a lot more than just a special treat. It becomes part of your routine. It comforts you, it becomes something so familiar that you don't even think twice before lighting it." The criminal profiler enjoyed using everyday occurrences that could connect people to what he was saying. It made the situation hit home easier than just explaining things in professional lingo.
"From the way the body was dealt with we can tell that he knows what he is doing, more than likely has a higher education. Also - " But Jack wasn't able to say anything else. Because at that exact moment, the double doors to the conference room burst open, and a man that Jack never wanted to see again as long as he lived waltzed in.
Although, the more correct term would be swaggered, because that's exactly how the man walked. He had used both arms to burst through the doors, a dazzling smile already on his suntanned face. His arms fell to his side as soon as he was finished entering the room, and his thumbs found there way to his belt loops on his dark skinny jeans, which were tucked into large brown boots. He wore an off-white undershirt, along with a hip holster that strapped around his waist and held a licensed handgun. But it wasn't the way that his t-shirt and jeans seemed to hug every part of his body in the exact right way that caused all the heads to turn (ok, maybe a little bit), it was the intense stare of his deep grey eyes, and the messy short-cut bundle of dark red hair that sat upon his head. Match that with his cheekbones that looked like they were chiseled out of granite, and everyone in the room was staring – not all wondering why he was there and who he was.
"Sorry I'm late." he said, his voice full of overconfidence and cockiness. He shot a smile toward the general area of the room, and his eyebrows rose in surprise when his eyes alighted on Jack's. For a moment, the two of them stood there, grey entangling with blue.
"Why are you here?" Jack asked, recovering from his shock of seeing the man. He didn't even attempt to hide his frown.
"Your Chief hired me for the case – I heard you boys have a serial killer on the loose." Another one of those damned smiles. Jack curled his fingers into fists and felt his fingernails cut into his palm.
"Private Detective John Hart." he announced. Then, without ceremony, he swiped the case file out of the hands of poor Andy Davidson, who was unlucky enough to be the closest to the private eye. John's eyes quickly skipped along the words, his brain summarizing the information that the Chief had already told him, adding to it the new information he got from the file. "Seems to me that you boys are in over your heads. This is a lot more than addiction to cigarettes, Harkness."
John threw the file back at Andy, who managed to catch it before the information went tumbling to the floor. He made his way to the front of the small conference room, where he immediately took over the spotlight, effectively nudging Jack out of the way. More than a little pissed, the profiler reclaimed his seat next to Gwen.
"Why the hell did Chief have to bring him?" he hissed behind the protection of his own case file.
Gwen replied in a similar manner. "I don't bloody know – he doesn't tell me anything. Talk to Chief about it after this brief."
Gwen was the only person that knew the whole truth behind the complicated relationship between Jack and John, and he had every right to be upset at his untimely and abrupt appearance. Wanting to take a bit of revenge herself, and needing something to help the fact that she had been thrown as well, Gwen gave Jack a wink before standing up and interrupting John mid-sentence.
"Suzie finished the autopsy report last night, and believes that we have a cause of death. There was pre-mortem bruising around the neck of the victim, as well as small pieces of fiber imbedded around the same area. This is enough evidence to believe that the victim was choked to death. There were also some numbers carved into the arm of the victim, reading 456. This could be a code of some sort, or maybe a message, or a way of our killer to keep track of his kills. I have Toshiko running scenarios, and Mickey, I want you to help her, you've got a brain for that kind of thing. Andy - "
"Wait." John said, frowning as he processed Gwen's words. "You seem to be missing a crucial piece of information."
The whole room leaned forward, waiting to see what the newcomer would have to add to the case. Jack gritted his teeth and refrained from rolling his eyes, knowing a mischievous look when it passed on John's face. Despite his outwardly calm behavior, he was boiling on the inside, and one hundred percent ready to tear into the man as soon as this meeting was adjourned. It wouldn't do him any good for the task force to see him so unbalanced.
"You haven't given him a name." John said. "You can't just go around calling the bloke 'killer' can you? Not good for team moral. I think the 'Bikini Cop Killer' would be brilliant. Show of hands?" His right hand shot straight up in the air, accompanied only by the hand of Mickey Smith – a sharp look from Gwen quickly convinced him to put it back down.
"Dismissed – come see me if you haven't been given an assignment." Gwen sighed, giving up on any chance of being able to complete this meeting. She gave John a glare that would kill, then stalked off.
Jack bolted out of the room as well – as fast as he could, anyway. He was disgusted at John and the fact that he was already interrupting their progress. There was a serial killer out on the loose for gods sake – playing around wasn't anywhere on the agenda. He needed to talk to Chief quickly about getting rid of Hart – or at least finding some way to keep him under control.
He didn't even bother knocking as he barged through the door into the Chief's office. He was alone and sitting behind his desk, glasses almost to the point of slipping off, but not quite. Had the moment been less urgent, Jack would have made some sort of joke about how they must be glued to the end of his nose. As it was, he stayed silent about it.
The Chief didn't even glance up from his paperwork, his hands signing his scribble that passed for a signature with great flourish. "Jack? What is it?"
Jack set his jaw and tried to quell his anger before continuing. He used his cane as a pointer and aimed it out of the door. "Why the hell didn't you tell me your 'consultant' was John Hart?"
Now the Chief put down his papers and took his glasses from his nose, folding them and sticking them inside his front jacket pocket before responding. "Language, Jack."
The profiler was about to say something else, but Chief continued before Jack was able to get in another jibe. "If the two of you have some sort of background – I don't care. Work it out or ignore it, but whatever personal issues you have with John Hart are not mine or this agency's problem. Our problem is the fact that there is a serial killer on the loose in Cardiff. The fact is, we need him. And you. You're 36, Jack. Act like it."
"I'm not the one acting like a child, Chief! John completely destroyed our briefing with the task force within ten minutes of arriving! And who let him in the building with a gun? I know John, Chief – better than you think you do – he's reckless and distracting and is only in it for the reputation! Neither Gwen or I want someone like that in the way of this investigation!" Jack's voice grew steadily louder with each passing moment, his memory calling to present all of the examples that he could use to persuade the Chief. But the man wasn't about to give him the chance.
"I'll admit that he's a little unorthodox, but - "
"Little unorthodox!" Jack butted in, a fierce look from the Chief quieting any other outbursts.
"But he has experience dealing with these kinds of people. And whatever his motivations are, they certainly serve to do the job. This is my decision, Jack. I've given Gwen and you pretty much free reign on this investigation – and you aren't even a Detective." This comment hit Jack like a physical blow, and he winced under the harshness that was detected under the Chief's words. "You will let John Hart help in any way possible – he is under the exact same contract as you are, Jack. I need both of you if we are going to catch this killer. Look at it this way; John is a field detective who will be working with us – he can get certain information we need without having to jump through the government hoops and cut through all the red tape that we have to."
Jack's argument died out that instant as he saw exactly what the Chief was getting at. It wasn't illegal, per say, but it was frowned upon. John could do things faster and more efficiently than the police if they needed someone interviewed or a piece of property searched within a time limit. He shook his head, but admitted defeat. "Fine."
He turned and started to limp out the door, pausing under the doorway when the Chief called to him. Jack turned, his eyebrow raised in question.
"I'm sorry if he hurt you, Jack. I really am. But this isn't about you."
"I wasn't arguing in my behalf, Chief." Jack said in an equally quiet voice before slipping out of the room.
Jack didn't make it three steps out of the Chief's office before he was face to face with John. The man must have been eavesdropping outside of the office, and had adopted a not-so-innocent look on his face as he leaned against the brick wall. As Jack walked past, John pushed off of the wall and followed him. It was times like this that Jack wished that he could run. Or carry a firearm. Or even just a small knife.
"Don't you have some work to do?" Jack asked sharply, not stopping, not turning around to face the other man.
"I missed you too, darling." John drawled, picking up his pace so that he was right next to Jack. The profiler kept his eyes straight ahead, knowing better than to call John on one of the many pet names that he had for him. They were all annoying.
Jack continued to walk until he was in the small break room, which was void of any donut or coffee-crazed police. He then turned and looked at John head on, allowing his anger at the situation to leak into his voice. "Look, whatever motive you have for being here – get rid of it. This is a serious case John, not time for you to fuck around and play your little mind games just so you can come out on top. This is more than just some kidnapper or druggie case – this killer is psychotic."
"I resent that – I don't always like to top, bottoming can be fun if you know the right people." John said, the innuendo sliding effortlessly from his mouth, accompanied by a smirk. Jack was not amused.
"Oh Jackie boy, you think I'm here for you, don't you? Go without ol' John for two an' a half years and you start to regret leaving. You shouldn't assume that you're the center of my universe, love." John said, poking a single finger into Jack's chest.
The profiler angrily swatted it away. "You're the one who brought 'us' up – which doesn't exist anymore, by the way. I'm in a relationship – a healthy one."
John snorted. "Wait, is it that same loser journalist that you dumped me for? Thought he would leave you after he found out you were fucking on the side."
Jack couldn't take it anymore. His fist formed before he could think, and he lashed out, catching John on the edge of his chin. The private detective laughed as he was thrown backwards a step, bringing his hand up to his chin to feel the damage. There would be a bruise in the morning. "You didn't tell him, did you? Aren't all high-and-mighty as you think you are. You think you're better than me, but you really aren't Jack."
The profiler responded by dropping his cane and grabbing both sides of John arms and running him into the plaster wall of the break room. "Don't you dare, John. And if you go anywhere near Ianto or even think about talking to him while you're here, I'll hurt you."
"Scared what he'll do when he finds out he wasn't enough?" John whispered. Before Jack could retaliate, John had leaned forward and mashed his lips to Jack's. For a second, Jack stood there, frozen in shock, as John's lips moved against his. Then the other man's tongue swept across his teeth, and letting out a betraying groan, he opened his mouth.
Caught in the moment, Jack retaliated with attacks of his own. His hands around John's biceps began to move lower, and he pressed himself harder against the other man. He felt John's one hand in his hair while his other slid down to the edge of his shirt. He did that thing with his tongue, and Jack wasn't able to hold back another moan of pleasure. He felt John harden against his body, and the man's free hand start to wildly grope him.
Jack pulled back as if he had been stung, eyes wide. He was panting hard, continuing to walk backwards, trying to get as much space between him and the other man as possible. And the whole time John was just standing there, that damn smirk plastered all over his face as his arms crossed his chest. "Guess he still isn't."
Jack was still too shocked at his body's own betrayal to say anything back as John pushed off the wall and bent over to retrieve Jack's cane, which lay abandoned on the floor. He gave Jack a wink before placing the long piece of wood on the table and swaggering out of the room. At the door he stopped and turned, a look of triumph on his face. "Bikini-Cop killer's a Speedo-Cop killer – just thought I'd let you know. Gets a bit complicated addressing him without pronouns."
Then John disappeared from sight. It took several uninterrupted seconds for Jack to get his power of speech back, and when he did, there was only one word that he could use to express himself.
"Fuck."
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