Jack knew a difficult conversation was to be had between him and his second in command. He decided to start it on his own terms.
"Will! My office!" he shouted across the Hub floor when he saw Miranda coming up the north stairs. After he'd sat back down at his desk, there was a polite knock. The door opened and Miranda poked her head in.
"You wanted to see me?" she asked, not moving into the office.
The nuances of her hesitance weren't lost on him. The deference to his authority felt like a small slap in the face after his disrespect of hers. He wondered if it was on purpose. Probably… he thought, rolling his eyes internally. He wondered if these sorts of immature games between them would ever end. Probably not…
"Come on in, Will. Have a seat." He waited for her to take the chair opposite his desk.
Joseph Fischer was an excellent chemist and had exceptional computer skills but he struggled with the alien technology. Jack had asked Hart to examine the other devices on Fish's work table. Tosh would have figured out most, if not all, of the devices on there in a matter of days. Fish also would have figured out most, if not all, of the devices but in a matter of weeks. Being a time traveller from the future, Hart had identified more than half of them in the span of a few minutes.
Despite the fact that Hart had attacked his medic, Jack had known the minute he'd seen his former partner that something had changed about the man. When Hart had thrown him off the roof all those years ago, Jack hadn't missed the blown pupils and the slight twitching to his hands and the corners of his mouth. Hart had been loaded on something. Jack hadn't been surprised. Hart had spent most of his time loaded up on one thing or another. Jack knew all about Hart's background and upbringing and understood where the man's hedonism was coming from but it was extreme even for their own time. He'd been surprised that Hart had appeared sober during their next encounter, when he and Gray had blown up half the city and Tosh and Owen were taken from them. So lost in his own grief and guilt, Jack certainly hadn't stopped to wonder the impact of the day's events on Hart. When Miranda had caught him in the autopsy bay, Jack was, again, surprised at how lucid the man was. Maybe Captain John Hart had shed some of his vices and grown up a little?
"John's going to be with us for a one month trial period. Is that going to be a problem?"
If she flew off the handle and yelled or shouted, Jack would just dig in his heels and not budge. At least he'd had the sense to not make it the usual three to six months. If she could convince him properly… "Do you think that wise?"
"We've been talking about adding another team member for years," he said, not looking up from the papers in front of him. "His focus at the academy was historical technologies."
"I understand that Captain Hart has unique qualifications, Jack, but do you really think that he will fit into our team environment? Any team environment?" she said, waving at the main Hub. "You said yourself that he spent more time under review at the Agency than most."
"The Time Agency attracts a certain personality type, Will," Jack said, defensive.
"Wonton brutality… disobeying or all out ignoring orders and procedure… rebellion against authority…" Miranda said, ticking off points on her fingers. "And those are the professional concerns. Need I continue on to what you've told me about him on a personal level? His hedonistic tendencies involving drugs, alcohol and the carnal… his disloyalty… his cowardice…"
Jack scrubbed at his face and then let his arms fall to the desk with a double thud. "Sometimes people just need a chance."
"Hasn't Captain Hart used up those chances?" she asked, glaring a bit.
"I'm not ready to give up on him."
Miranda hadn't expected it to be this difficult. She certainly hoped Jack had not been foolish enough to give that reason to Ianto.
"I've talked to Ianto and I've warned Gwen. She'll be in tomorrow."
The backlash from Gwen had been considerable. Jack's ears were still ringing. Ianto? Well… The fact that there had been backlash from Ianto was expected. What was unexpected was how it had happened.
Once the two of them had retreated back in the bunker last night, Ianto had attacked Jack with an animalistic fervor. Miranda had only been half right. Ianto had been up half the night but only part of it had been spent buggering Jack. Once he'd finished pounding Jack into their mattress, Ianto had, in an even and cool tone, asked him what the fuck he was thinking. The deep hurt and disappointment was evident in his husband's voice. What had made the whole thing worse was the fact that Ianto hadn't shouted nor yelled, not once. He'd explained to Jack precisely how he felt and presented his argument. He'd listened to Jack do the same. And then they'd politely agreed to disagree.
This wasn't like their usual arguments or domestics. Everything was the same between them. They'd fallen asleep, tightly spooned together. After Ianto had finished sparring with Miranda, they'd eaten a light breakfast sitting next to each other on the sofa in his office. It had all been just as it been ad every night and morning previously. But, now, there was a crack between them that extended right into Jack's heart. The worst part was that every reason Jack had given Ianto, Miranda and Gwen was absolutely and utterly full of crap.
Shortly after the Time Agency had taken two years of his memories and he'd started running cons, something strange had happened to him. He'd ended up on some strange planet in some strange century. Jack hadn't really remembered when or where he'd been but it had been well before he'd run into Rose and The Doctor. He'd seen Hart stumbling through the streets at a distance with a woman with teal coloured hair. He'd laughed and had been about to shout to gain Hart's attention but someone from behind him had said… He'll come back to you repentant. Shelter him. Don't turn him away… Before Jack had been able to turn round, the person had gone.
Living for centuries, the memory tended to get fuzzy. There were plenty of things he'd seen and done, or said and heard that he never remembered. This particular moment hadn't bubbled up in his mind until last night. It was the look on Hart's face when he'd told Jack he'd come to say good bye that had done it. Time was like a vast ocean full of eddies and currents. A time traveller learned not to fight the ocean but to ride it. There may be some reason that memory chose to arise in his mind at that particular moment. Jack had gotten a feeling deep in his gut and he'd learned not to ignore such feelings. So Jack had gone with it, offering Hart the job after he'd recognised the piece of tech. He'd been a little taken aback when Hart accepted the job offer. Jack had expected Hart to simply laugh at him or make some rude comment about how boring it would be. At the very least, he'd expected some flippant remark about how Jack was just trying to keep him around. But Hart had simply accepted and gone to work. To Jack, that had been more proof the course of action had been the correct one. The consequences were proving profound, but if his suspicions were correct, then he was maintaining the timeline and that was more important than, well, pretty much anything.
It also meant that he couldn't tell anyone the truth. And that made him feel so alone especially now that nearly everyone, including his own husband, was against him.
"I need you to keep an eye on him," he told her, flatly.
She shifted in her seat. She narrowed her eyes and repeated his order as a question in a stony voice. "Keep an eye on him?"
He nodded. "He's sober. Make sure he stays that way when he's on the clock."
"I'm not a fucking sobriety coach, Jack!" she exclaimed, rising to her feet and slamming her hands down on the desk.
Jack kept a level head. He stood up slowly, and sternly said, "The last time he was tanked out, he threw me off a building, shot Owen, held Ianto at gunpoint, poisoned Gwen and then took her hostage. Watch him. That's an order."
"Jack, I don't think…" she broke off when she saw the look he was giving her. There really was going to be no budging him on this. At all. It's only for a month… She took a slow breath in and rolled her shoulders as she slowly exhaled. She managed to step away from Jack without ripping his throat out. As she walked towards his office door, she said, stoically, "He's coming up in a few minutes for his physical."
"Discretion please."
Miranda didn't answer him. After she stepped through the office door, she slammed it behind her. The loud bang wasn't as satisfying as she thought it would be. When she got to the autopsy bay, Hart was waiting for her. She dug around in the supply cupboard for a gown and handed it to him. "Put this on please."
"Not necessary," he said. Ignoring the gown, he began to strip.
"I would prefer it."
He caught the deadly air to her voice. He took the gown from her and continued to strip. Like Jack and herself, he seemed to display no shame at nudity but Miranda remained politely turned away until she felt him tug on her sleeve. Miranda employed Ianto's trick of donning a mask of professionalism in a feeble attempt to hide her displeasure.
"Have a seat on the table, please, Captain. You should be more careful with this," she said. She picked up his red Napoleonic jacket from where he'd draped it over the table. She hung it on the coat stand. Mechanically, she said, "Jack asked me for discretion regarding your personal information but I'd like an approximate age, if you don't mind."
The former Time Agent surprised her, instead of protesting he seemed to be calculating in his head. "Forty five, give or take."
"Like Jack, you're mostly human?" she asked.
"Human enough to check that box on a form," he said with a shrug.
"I'm also going to assume there aren't any medical problems?"
"Healthy as a horse as you people say," he said with a one shouldered shrug. He brushed the side of his hand over the gown, rolling his eyes a bit at it.
She picked up the rubber tourniquet from the tray. "Your arm, please, Captain?"
Hart held out his right arm to her without a word. His skin was hot and smooth as she tied the tourniquet around his arm. "This will pinch a bit."
She pushed the needle into the bulging vein. The tubes felt unnaturally hot as they filled. Her professional curiosity pushed aside her annoyance.
"What's your normal body temperature?" she asked with an air of concern, wondering if the former Time Agent was ill.
He looked to be calculating in his head again. "Thirty… eight? In whatever one of those antiquated measurements this century uses."
Both her eyebrows shot up. Twenty first century human normal was only thirty seven degrees Celsius. That single degree was significant and considered a fever in this century. Again, professional curiosity got the better of her since Jack's normal body temperature was thirty seven. "Is that common in your time?"
There was another shrug. "No idea, sorry. Could be because of the Ruborian I've got in my family… Three? Four generations back? Lots of different people by the fifty first, Dollface."
"Stop calling me that, Captain," she said, automatically. She finished drawing the blood, wondering what the machines would make of him. Her initial exam was already picking up a profoundly low heart rate and blood pressure, but since Hart was still standing and alert, she assumed it was normal for him.
"Lie back, please."
She ran the Bekaran scanner down Hart's body, a few anatomic anomalies catching her eye. His lungs were smaller than a twenty first century human's but they were more efficient. His heart was also big enough that a doctor of this century would consider it enlarged but it seemed to be functioning properly. The morphology of the Captain's spleen was also markedly different than that of a twenty first century human and there were also more blood vessels throughout his liver. Otherwise, the fifty first century man was no different from any other human of this era. Oddly enough, the former Time Agent was more anatomically different from Jack than he was from her, a human being nearly eight thousand years removed from him.
"You can get dressed, Captain," she said, turning around. "I would tell you you're perfectly healthy but I have no idea if what I'm looking at is abnormal for you or not. I also have no idea what the machines will make of this." She held up the vials of his blood.
She walked over to the side table, putting the tubes into the centrifuge to spin. She could hear the sounds of Hart getting dressed. Once the blood was spinning, she turned around. He had the gown balled up in his hands, looking about for where he should dispose of it. Miranda took it from him and put it into the laundry bin. He cleared his throat. Miranda swore the sound was almost nervous.
"Listen, Dollface… about last night… It was nothing personal. Business, you understand," he said, quietly.
Miranda turned, glancing upwards towards the camera and then the main Hub. "Our little secret, Captain."
Without another word she turned, rearranging the items on the table. Hart took it as a dismissal and left the autopsy bay. He climbed the stairs and turned into the Main Hub. He saw Ianto handing a mug of coffee to another man. Oh, a blonde…
"Trouble?" Fish asked. He nodded towards the red jacketed figure. Jack had called him into his office the moment he'd arrived to explain the new team member. The whole situation was unorthodox to Fish but then again everything had been unorthodox since he'd joined Torchwood.
"Captain Hart can be… abrasive," was Ianto's diplomatic but gritty answer. Fish didn't miss how the Welshman squared his shoulders, almost bracing himself, as Hart approached.
"Morning, Eye Candy! All suited up I see," Hart said with a leer. "And I see you lot finally got yourselves that blonde. Nice one too."
Fish raised his eyes at the… compliment? A little too stunned to form his own reply.
"Captain John Hart, Doctor Joseph Fischer," Ianto said smoothly, butler persona in full force. "Can I get you anything, Captain?"
"Oh, so many requests so little time…" When Ianto rolled his eyes, he added, "Just some water, thanks, Eye Candy."
"There is fresh coffee," Ianto said, "and I do have a name, you know."
"But you're such a beautiful piece of eye candy in that suit… The body's a temple. I don't know how you lot survived, all that processed junk you eat," Hart said with a look of mild disgust.
Ianto rolled his eyes, yet again. According to Jack, his former partner inhaled, ingested, imbibed or injected all manner of illicit substances far more dangerous than coffee or processed food.
"You've obviously never seen Jack eat," and then he left to fetch a glass of water.
"Some of us aren't immortal, Eye Candy!" the former Time Agent called after him.
"Joe Fischer. Everyone here calls me Fish even though I can't get them to stop," the Australian said, holding out his hand. "Good to meet you, Captain."
"Oh, the pleasure's all mine…" Hart said with a smile and a leer.
Fish finally understood what women meant when they said 'elevator eyes'. Hart was clearly checking him out. He'd been checked out before by women and men but never quite like this. He could feel every piece of his clothing falling to the floor as Hart undressed him with his eyes. He shifted nervously in his chair under the scrutiny and felt a blush creeping up his neck. He cleared his throat and steeled himself. He had a feeling, like a dog, this man could smell fear and hone in on it. "Umm, Jack said you're here to help analyse the alien tech?"
"Yep, unless you have something more interesting for me?" Hart said with another leer.
"Not interested in what you're peddling, Captain," Fish said with an eye roll. God, he's worse than Jack!
Hart raised his hands up in surrender. "Right, sorry, twentieth-first century and insecure sexualities, I get it."
"I'm quite secure in my sexuality, Captain," Fish said hotly. "Twenty-first century lesson number one - the polite brush off. I'm taken."
"Well, it's good to move out of your comfort zone," Hart said as he stepped into Fish's personal space.
"Twenty-first century lesson number two - the impolite brush off. Sod off and get stuffed," Fish said, leaning forward aggressively into Hart's face. Fish stood his ground, tolerating the other man's proximity in a strange sort of dick measuring contest. This is a bit homoerotic…
"Good to meet you, Joe," Hart said, brightly with a wink.
Ianto cleared his throat, a glass of water on his silver tray.
"Thanks, Eye Candy," Hart said as he took the glass and drank deeply. "Joe? What do you say you and I talk some tech?"
Hart rolled Gwen's desk chair over to Fish's work table and sat down, examining the items of tech that Fish had spread across it. Fish snagged the hot mug off of his workstation and went to join the other man but Ianto caught him by the arm.
"How did you do that?" Ianto asked under his breath.
"Do what, mate?" Fish asked.
"Get him to call you by name?"
"Search me! I was hoping you'd tell me so I can try it on you lot!" Fish said with a chuckle. He plopped down next to Hart and the two men started to enthusiastically work.