Author note: So it's been... four months? Or so? I've finally finished this chapter! More should be on the way as soon as is conceivably and physically possible, but for now I wish everyone a very merry Christmas.

Enjoy.

Part Seven: Starlight Lies

"Serious question time now," Hart said. Tiffany steeled herself. "Does Jack have more fan-girls than me?"

Tiffany stared at him for a long moment and then did what she had never physically done before in her life. She raised her hands to her cheeks and she face-palmed.

"Is that a good sign?"

"I don't think so, John."

"Shoot."

***

Ianto hunted for coffee mugs. He'd already searched everyone's desks twice; he needed an excuse not to go back down the archives, which was where he technically should be. After about ten minutes of nobody telling him to get back to work, he gave up the pretence and pulled up a chair next to Toshiko. "He owes me dinner," Ianto told her conversationally. "Don't let me forget."

"I could send an instant message to his computer and make it take over the entire screen, if you like," Tosh replied, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "I can make it so it won't close down until he reads it."

Ianto appeared to consider this.

"Can you make it flash?"

***

"Come here. I want to scan you." Hart gestured for her to stand.

Tiffany stared at him, crossed her arms and said, "Impatient much?"

"He is a bit," Jack said, smirking from behind the desk, "yeah."

Hart was affronted. "I'm asking first, aren't I? That's manners that is. Proves I like you."

"And if you didn't like me?" Tiffany asked. "You'd have just gone ahead and done it?"

"You look like someone who likes it rough." Hart waggled his eyebrows once and said, "You tell me."

"I'm trying very hard not to roll my eyes at you," Tiffany replied. "I can't quite believe you just said that."

"Oh, he did," Jack said. "And, as a line, it's never worked for him either.

Tiffany smirked. "I'll bet."

"It worked on you," Hart said, putting his hands on his knees and meeting Jack's eyes with a challenging stare.

Incredulous and ever so slightly amused, Tiffany turned on Jack. "It did?"

Jack Harkness felt the need to defend himself. "The amount of alcohol involved on that particular occasion could have rotted girders." He gestured at Hart and said, "Hardly conclusive evidence."

"Did you complain?" Hart's expression made it clear Jack hadn't.

"Not as such, no."

"Well then."

Tiffany coughed into her fist. "Can we get back on track, guys?"

"Right then," said Hart, clapping his hands together and rubbing them a few times before grinning at Tiffany. "Scanner."

***

"What are they doing to her?" Gwen asked, her eyes widening as she watched the trio in Jack's office.

Owen didn't look up from his paperwork. "Not entirely sure I want to know, thanks."

"Should I go up and see?" Gwen didn't leave him enough time to answer. "I'm going to go see."

"You, Gwen Cooper, are a nosy git," Owen remarked, ticking something on the sheet he held.

"And you, Owen Harper, are just a git. Funny old world, ain't it?"

***

"Bored now."

"Nearly finished," Hart muttered.

"Hurry it up, John."

"I said I'm nearly finished!"

Tiffany affect a mock yawn. Hart prodded her a little more than necessary in the side with his finger. Continued to press buttons almost at random on his wrist strap.

"I'm still bored," said Tiffany.

"And I'm still nearly finished."

Jack huffed from behind his desk. Hart ignored him. "I'm getting some brilliant flashbacks here," said Jack.

That made Hart turn. "Oho," he said. "You did not."

Jack grinned. "I did."

"Did what?" said Tiffany. Hart glared, turning to ignore Jack's ever gleeful expression. Not wanting Jack to see him riled, Tiffany guessed. "Have I missed something?"

Jack jutted out his chin, looked at Hart with reflective smugness in his eyes. "There was this one night, you see—"

"You're actually going there?" Hart asked, incredulous.

The glitter in Jack's eyes faded. "I never left."

Hart blinked. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Neither does your face, but here we are."

Tiffany stared from one to the other. "Umm," she said.

Jack and Hart continued to glare at each other. Tiffany even tried clicking her fingers in the air between them. Something caught her eye. "Should that screen be flashing, Jack?"

All of a sudden Jack was back into the captain and commander persona Tiffany had grown to love him for. He broke the staring contest, flicking his gaze to where Tiffany indicated. Scanning the screen with intense concentration that broke almost instantly. A snort of laughter and a mumble of 'Ianto', then Jack turned back to Hart and Tiffany. He smiled. "Where were we?"

"You were digging up the past that you swore," said Hart. "That you swore would remain the past." Jack shrugged. Hart continued. "Shall we bring up everything else, Jack? Shall we? Ooh, I love a good spilling session!"

"Drop it, John."

"You!"

Tiffany stood up abruptly.

"Where do you think you're going?" demanded Jack.

"If you don't mind," said Tiffany, "I think I need to get out of here before I grow a pair of sympathetic balls from all the testosterone drifting around." She strode to the door, evading Hart's grasp of a hand to stop her.

"I haven't finished scanning," he protested.

"Are you likely to learn anymore than the fact that I really shouldn't be here?"

"Well," said Hart. "Not as such, no."

Tiffany smiled sadly. "There you have it."

"Tiffany," said Jack. "Come on. Stay. I promise we'll behave."

Both of Hart's eyebrows rose.

"In as much as is possible," Jack continued. Hart considered this, nodding his assent.

"No thanks," said Tiffany. "I just need a moment, okay?"

She left. In the silence that followed, Hart said, "Still got that way with the women, eh?"

Jack batted his lashes. "You tell me."

Hart chuckled.

* * *

Tiffany walked past the door to the medical lab, past Tosh and Owen's computer desks. Quick across the grilled walkways. Around the water tower. Out of sight. She needed out of sight. She needed to think.

A soft voice said, "You alright?"

"Where's the conference room these days?" she asked Gwen.

Caution overriding concern, Gwen said, "Why?"

"I want some time to think?" Tiffany gestured to the room, to the figures of Jack and Captain Hart inside Jack's office. Right on cue, Myfanwy wheeled overhead, crying out forlornly. "Is a little space away from the madness too much to ask?"

"Not at all," said Gwen. She offered her arm. Tiffany took it gratefully. "I'd offer the pub, but how old are you again?"

"I'm nineteen!" Tiffany said hotly. Gwen laughed. "And I'd accept your offer, but right now I'm not sure I want to make another trip outside. I could bring back some other annoyance from Jack's past or something." And wouldn't that just be the cherry on the cake? Why did Tiffany get the feeling that if she continued to blunder so, she'd end up bringing about an early and not-so-fictional-as-she'd-like apocalypse?

"No problem." Gwen lead her through one of the side doors, heading down into the lower floors. "I know just the place."

* * *

"Your anomaly just walked off with Little Miss Bleeding Heart," Hart observed, glancing out the office window. He turned back to Jack. "You'll want to watch out for that. She'll teach young Tiffany all about pointless acts of self sacrifice and melodrama. Oh wait! You can do a plum job of that on your own!"

"John."

"Jack?"

"I want you to leave now."

Hart frowned, surprised, though really he ought not have been. Pure Jack, this was. Cling one moment, push the next. He'd clung through all their trapped years together and then not long after Jack had just shoved away. Split the two of them. Broken them. Now it seemed Jack had found someone else to cling to. This little team of his. They'd be cute if not for their annoyance, an asset if not for their pig headed determination to always do the Right Thing.

Not Hart's scene, truth be told. He sighed. "I thought manners was supposed to be something humans were—"

"Please, then."

"Please?"

"Please."

Hart sighed again. "Fine."

Jack scoffed. "That can't be it," he said, shaking his head. "You won't just leave."

"You're right," said Hart. "That's much more of a you thing to do."

He pushed himself up from the sofa and stormed out into the Hub proper. Maybe if he was lucky he could find something small and fluffy to kill, get his mind straight. No wonder Tiffany had stormed out. How had Hart ever survived even one day with that man?

"John," said Jack, voice soft. Hart turned to find him leaning in the open doorway, one ankle tucked behind the other, hands in pockets. Jack smiled at Hart's stony expression. "I'll see you around?" He sounded almost hopeful, damn him!

"Maybe," said Hart. He shrugged. "I mean, if I happen to crave some backwater slum of a planet, or maybe a round of drinks with my cracked up ex plus a side order or trigger happy lackeys? Sure." He laughed. A dry sound, echoing in the large, empty room. "See you around, Jack."

"See you."

Jack watched Hart descend the steps and cross the Hub proper, letting himself out the cage doors, disappearing behind the cogwheel.

And then he was gone. Jack wiped his face with the back of his palm. Kept it there; the pressure something of a comfort. Ianto came up from the medical bay, took one look at him and said, "Want to exchange dinner for drinking?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sure others have tested it in the past, sir, but I think it might actually be possible to replace sleep and food with alcohol."

Jack laughed. "You're on."

Ianto tipped his head, affected a thoughtful expression. "It's not too late. Most of the pubs should still be open."

"It's a date, then," said Jack.

A quirk to Ianto's lips: wry, like he was hiding some unsung amusement. "A date," he agreed. "As promised, I do believe."

"I didn't factor exes into the equation, mind you."

Ianto laughed. "Come on, I'll get your coat."

"What would I do without you, eh?"

"Heaven forbid such a situation should come to light, sir."

"Jack," said Jack.

"Yes," said Ianto, his eyes twinkling. "I know who you are."