Author note: This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful Galadriel1010 who loves me whatever I write and who actually spent half of today chasing after Gareth David-Lloyd. Lucky devil. Galadriel1010 was also the person to introduce me to Cap'n John Hart in gun!porn. (If you don't know, I ain't explaining.)

Part Five: Here We Go Again

Tiffany found herself spun around. She looked up into the face of Captain John Hart (note the sarcasm, her mind added) and squeaked.

"I don't know you, do I?"

Feeling numb, Tiffany shook her head.

"Hmm." He looked her up and down. "Shame, that."

Tiffany didn't care if the man was fictional, no one talked about her like that. Her hand flew toward Hart's cheek before she could stop herself and he caught it in a vice grip. "Not the face, sweetheart. Anywhere but the face, I beg of you."

Smiling sweetly, Tiffany moved to knee him in the crotch. Ianto whined in the corner of the alley as she was shoved to the floor, Hart's boot pressing on her chest. "Spirited little thing, aintcha?"

"I try my best," Tiffany replied, struggling to breath.

"Now here's what's going to happen, you listening?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Hart let out a raucous laugh. "Good! Good, good. So," he said, "you are going to take me to Torchwood and let me into that little base of yours without tripping any of the security."

"But I—"

The boot pressed down with more force. Tiffany thought her ribcage might collapse. "Shh. Hush hush. Don't interrupt the good Captain mid-flow, will you? Right. You get me in and then we can have a wonderful chat with the rest of the Torchwood Team," Hart said, over enunciating the words 'Torchwood Team' with a spirited grin. "How does that sound?"

Tiffany stared at him. The man was mad.

"You can answer that, by the way."

"I think you're mad," she said slowly.

"Good! I'd hate for you to think I was sane," Hart said, pulling Tiffany to her feet and pressing the gun into the side of her hip. "It would mean I was giving off the wrong impression, and we just can't have that."

It was going to be a long night.

The phone in Tiffany's pocket, Jack's phone, rang. She stared at the bulging material, not sure of what to do.

"You should answer that, it's rude to keep people waiting," Hart said, as casually as if he wasn't still pointing a loaded weapon into her side. Tiffany took the mobile out and stared at the display. Hart looked at it over her shoulder.

"Oh, Jackie-boy, you do so like to keep tabs." More direct now, Hart commanded, "Answer it. Say exactly what I tell you to." He stuck the gun further into her back for emphasis and Tiffany hissed.

With shaking fingers, she hit the 'answer' button.

"Tiffany? Hey, you alright?"

"I'm fine," Hart whispered.

"Er, yeah, Jack, no, yeah, I'm fine," Tiffany said, breaking out into a fresh sweat.

"You're not back yet, did you get lost?"

Hart stared at her. Tiffany stared back. "Say yes," he said.

"Yes," Tiffany repeated. "I'm just off...

Hart looked around. "Hope Street."

"I'm off Hope Street, can you tell me the way from there?"

"Sure thing, just go down..."

Tiffany listened to Jack's instructions, surprised that her guilt wasn't oozing out of her eyes 'cause that's what she sure felt like.

"Well, say thank you." Hart prodded her with the gun. "And then hang up. Don't want to waste Torchwood's precious credit."

"Thanks," Tiffany said into the tiny microphone. "I'll be back in a moment." She glared at Hart as he snatched the phone from her hand and disconnected the call.

"You don't know your own way back? You really are new. Newer than I thought," he mused. "When did you start?"

"Err..." Tiffany didn't quite know how to answer. "Yesterday?" It wasn't exactly the truth, but then again it wasn't exactly a lie either, she supposed.

"I've caught a newbie?" Hart seemed delighted at the prospect. Tiffany turned the level of her glare up from 'seethe' to 'kill'.

"This day just keeps getting better and better. Now come on, Newbie," he said, "we have a date to keep."

***

Tiffany knocked on the door to the Tourist Office. Ianto opened it and beamed at her, his gaze slid from her strained face to the gun pressed into it, and finally to John Hart himself. The grin faded.

"Eye-candy!" Hart exclaimed. "Long time no see!"

"Not long enough," Tiffany heard Ianto mutter.

"You should have kept in touch, I've missed our moments together."

"Bite me, Hart."

"Oh, if only there were the time..."

Tiffany made a gagging sound.

"But I'm forgetting our audience," Hart said, digging the barrel further into Tiffany's skin for emphasis. She gasped and Ianto's fists tightened. "Mr Jones," Hart continued, "could you do us favour and lead the way down? I'd get the door, but my hands are a bit full."

Without a word, Ianto went around the desk and bent to hit the button to open the door, ignoring Hart's wolf whistle. "Damn, Eye-candy, if I were running this operation, I'd put that switch a bit lower."

Tiffany shot Ianto an apologetic look. She really was sorry, so very sorry for all of this – sorry for everything.

***

Jack looked up from his paperwork (or lack thereof) and frowned when Ianto came out of the circular door walking backward with measured steps.

"Ianto?"

"Trouble," was all the Welshman said before a familiar figure stepped into the Hub proper. Tosh, much closer to the door than Jack, scrabbled for her gun.

Jack's face fell as he gazed across at his former, and smirking, partner. "Not again," he murmured.

"Jackie!"

Exasperated, Jack said, "What do you want, John?"

Hart looked shocked. "No pleasantries? No warm welcome?" he protested. "Time was I got mints on the pillow. This is cold, Jack, cold. I'm almost hurt."

"Good."

"Ouch," Hart hissed, shaking his free hand. "Freezing, see? I could catch frostbite at this rate."

"Let her go," Jack said, "then we can talk."

"Frostbite would be nasty, wouldn't it?" Hart said to Tiffany. "Think of all the extremities you could—"

Gwen and Owen walked in from where they'd been comparing Rift activity spikes after Tiffany's arrival and froze in unison. Gwen's hand flew toward her gun and Owen mirrored her a split second behind. The pages of paper they had been carrying fluttered to the ground in a riotous mess.

"Tut tut, careless," Hart remarked, looking at the pair. "Now here is how it's going to go, you lot are all going to lower your weapons or I shoot this girl a new and wonderful hole in her head." Tiffany flinched as the butt of the gun wove a circle in her hair. "Not that I want to; it would be such a waste."

"Pig."

Yet again, Tiffany cursed herself for not keeping better control of her mouth because then Hart said, "Temper" and Tiffany felt an arm – her own arm – wrenched up behind her back.

She screamed.

"You'd better let her go," Owen warned.

Cool lips spoke from near her ear and Tiffany shuddered. "Why would I do that? The new girl's obviously valuable to you, look at the way you're scampering after her! Directions and little doggies indeed." Lecherous as the grave and twice as disgusting, John Hart forced Tiffany back a step so his teeth brushed her ear lobe. "Have Torchwood got themselves a little pet? A little mascot? I love a good mascot, mind you I quite like bad mascots too. Which one would you be to me, darling?"

Jack had his gun raised now. Tiffany didn't know whether to feel comforted by this or not. "What's this about, John?"

"What, I can't just drop in and see the gang?"

"You can look but don't you dare touch," Gwen shouted. "Get your hands off her!"

"Ah, Bucktooth, I wondered when you'd chip in. Anyone else going to attempt to appeal to my nonexistent sense of decency and fairness?" John's grip tightened around her wrist and Tiffany gasped, biting her lip and closing her eyes at the ripping pain. "No? Nothing? No one? Not even Eye-candy? Oh dear. How you all are slipping."

Tiffany wracked her brain, trying to remember anything she could about Captain John Hart. Apart from the 'no kissing' rule, all that came to mind was sex involving guns... It was at this point that Tiffany decided she'd read far too many fan-fictions than could be healthy.

"John, last warning, what do you want?"

"I've heard that before... " Hart's voice turned dreamy. "Your bedside manner can't have improved much, Jack."

Ianto snorted, then looked hastily away so as to avoid Jack's sudden glare.

"Trouble in paradise?" Hart lightly asked.

Jack looked back at him, making a mental note to talk to Ianto later. "Seriously John, what's this about?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was bored and wanted to drop in for a chat?"

"No," Gwen and Jack said in unison.

"Say it a bit louder? I think I heard an echo then; you could get great acoustics in this place." Hart appeared to snap back into the present to continue, "Okay, if I let the girl go, would you believe me then?"

"Maybe," Jack said, conflicting with Gwen's instant, "No."

Hart chuckled and let go of Tiffany's arm. She clutched at it, trying to rub the feeling back.

"How about now? Am I trusted?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "The gun, John?"

Hart looked at his pistol still pressing into Tiffany's skull and his expression became one of 'what, this little thing?'. "Okay, fine," he said. "Sheesh, you people have no sense of fun." He lowered the weapon and Tiffany nearly collapsed with the sudden freedom of it all.

"If you only wanted to talk, why go to all this trouble?" Tosh chipped in.

Hart turned to face her. "Sweetie, do I look like the sort to do subtle? It's over the top and in your face or nothing at all."

"I remember the last time you said that," Jack murmured.

"And you know you loved it," Hart returned.

Jack shrugged, grinning. "Eh."

Tiffany felt now was a good time to edge away. Hart's hand clapped onto her shoulder before she could move too far, though. "What was your name again?"

"You didn't ask me the first time, how can I tell you again?"

The hand slid off. Hart smirked.

"Tiffany Summers," she said, giving in.

"Well, Jack," Hart said, turning to face him. "You really aren't doing so well with your newbies; little Miss Summers here was cornered by a Weevil when I caught up with her!" Hart shook his head as if disappointed. "Bad show, Jack. Bad show."

"Tiffany isn't exactly one of ours, you know."

Tiffany paused, making sure that this time she was well out of John Hart's reach. Hart looked from her to Jack and back again. "Then who is she?"

"That's a bit hard to explain," said Owen, gesturing for Tiffany to move to where he and Gwen stood.

Hart's gaze travelled from face to face all around the room until he said, "Try me."

Author note again: God, this chapter was so much fun to write. I was laughing all the way through. Please review, it makes me update faster! :D