"Some clean clothes for you, Captain," Ianto said, dropping a fresh t-shirt onto the autopsy table next to him.
"Thanks, Eye Candy," Hart said as he sat on the autopsy table.
"It's my job," Ianto said and then turned to leave.
"Tell Jack not to start without me," Hart said called after him.
Ianto turned, and for a moment, it looked to Miranda as if he was about to say something flip. It seems the Welshman thought better of whatever remark was on the tip of his tongue and, instead, joked, "Something I'm used to telling him quite frequently."
Hart laughed and Ianto continued up the autopsy bay stairs.
"Ianto?" he called out and when Ianto turned to look at him. "Thanks, really."
"Of course, Captain," Ianto said. He gave Hart a tight smile and then left the autopsy bay.
Miranda raised an eyebrow. It was the first gesture of friendliness she'd seen from Ianto towards Hart. At first, the whole team had reacted to Hart's presence with extreme negativity. The amount of disharmony alone was a reason for his dismissal and Miranda had brought it up more than once with Jack over the past two weeks. Torchwood was more than a workplace. They were a family. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together. Of course, the addition of another member would disrupt any team's dynamic but Hart's presence was creating all out hostility.
Ianto and Gwen had both refused to speak to Hart unless absolutely necessary and, in Gwen's case, sometimes not even then. Often, Gwen wouldn't so much as look at the man. At first, Jack had treated his former partner in a friendly manner but that had stopped very quickly. Miranda assumed he was hanging back to appease his husband. The two former Time Agents only ever spoke briefly, after dark, when Ianto went about his night routine. Since he had to work closely with Hart, Fish had taken pity and formed a friendship. Hart had latched onto the Australian immediately.
Unfortunately, that friendship had dropped Fish into pariah status along with Hart. Gwen and Ianto were both acting chilly towards the technician. Fish was taking it in positive stride, rising above the petty behaviour. Though Ianto had been acting strangely towards Fish for some time now. Miranda, on the other hand, was ambivalent. She had no personal issue with Hart so she was hanging in the shadows, neither befriending the man nor openly shunning him. She knew it wasn't the best solution. She was second in command here and mediating this sort of problem was her job but there really wasn't anything to mediate. There was no compromise for anyone to reach. Nothing Miranda could say would make a speck of difference. Either Gwen and Ianto would either bury the hatchet or they wouldn't. Though they would probably prefer to bury said hatchet right into Hart's skull.
Ianto's small joke was the first time the Welshman had ever shown Hart anything but scorn. Miranda had assumed that Gwen and Ianto's treatment of Hart hadn't bothered the former Time Agent but there was relief on his face, as if a small burden had rolled off of him. Maybe she'd been remiss in staying out of the conflict but it seemed moot to get involved now that it appeared to be on its way to resolution.
When Hart had begun his work, he'd tossed himself about the place, figuratively speaking. He'd peacocked. He'd postured. He'd put on a bit of a show but after only a few days he'd settled and most of that had stopped. Sure, they still saw some of the psychotic hedonist but its appearances weren't as frequent and were more subdued. She wasn't sure if it was because the posturing wasn't working or because Hart was simply becoming more comfortable in his surroundings. She suspected it was a bit of both.
She'd been suspicious of Hart's motives for accepting the trial period and staying, but now, a genuine enjoyment of the work appeared to be motivating him. Fish said that Hart found it challenging and enjoyable. Not only was he dedicated to his work and doing his work well, he was beginning to prove himself as trustworthy. In truth, she'd expected Hart to disappear in the night but every morning he was at Fish's table, diligently working. Now he'd injured himself protecting one of their own even if it was slightly accidental in nature.
Miranda picked up the scissors from the instrument tray. She cut the sleeve off of his silk shirt and then slit it up to his shoulder, exposing the wound. The bullet had gone through and through Hart's bicep, leaving a clean wound track. After she cleaned away the dried blood, she examined the wound more carefully with the deep tissue scanner. Hart's entire upper arm was turning a mottled purple, large bruises forming. It reminded him of the first night he'd arrived as she injected the anaesthetic around the wounds and started to stitch. This time she waited for the medication to take effect. After she was done stitching, she leaned in close to examine her handiwork.
"This is badly bruised. I'm going to give you something for the pain."
"Not necessary, Dollface. I want to stay sharp for the interrogation," Hart said and hopped off the autopsy table. He reached for the clean t-shirt Ianto had brought him.
"It is necessary, Captain," Miranda insisted as she watched Hart struggle with the t-shirt. "You can barely lift your arm!"
She moved over to him and helped him tug the shirt on, he grunted a little when he moved his injured arm.
"I'm a fast healer," he said, dismissively, as he walked towards the autopsy bay stairs.
"There's no reason for you to be in discomfort," she insisted.
Hart sighed. He hung his head, shaking it a bit. He looked at her and then craned his neck, looking up into the main Hub. Once he was certain they were alone, he descended the stairs and stood opposite her. For the first time, there wasn't a single hint of the psychotic hedonist. She was glimpsing Hart himself. No, not Hart… This wasn't John Hart looking at her. This was someone else. This was the real man. He looked tired and he looked ashamed. It was a raw vulnerability that tugged at her heart. Miranda felt like she was looking into a mirror.
He tilted his head and said, quietly, "There's a purity in pain. Sometimes it's the only pure and clean thing about me."
It was one of the most honest things she'd heard in a long time. She couldn't think of any words of her own so she turned to something Fish had quoted to her once. "'Confession is always weakness. The grave soul keeps its own secrets and takes its own punishment in silence.'"
Hart quirked a half smile at her. "I like that."
She was looking him in the eyes so she didn't notice his right hand twitch, nearly reaching for her. She pushed her finger into his bruised arm and he winced.
"Life sometimes stones us enough on its own," she said, giving him a soft smile. She turned and opened the pharmacy cupboard. She took out some tablets and handed them to him. He dry swallowed them. A small nod was the only thanks he gave as he left the room. When he got to the top of the stairs, he turned, watching her as she cleaned up. He lingered only a second before he continuing on. Just as he disappeared from sight, Miranda looked up, seeing only Hart's boots vanishing around the corner.
Miranda was right, Hart wasn't oblivious to the way people around here were treating him. He'd accepted it because he knew he deserved every bit of it. Gwen and Ianto hated him and they had good reason. When Ianto had shown him that tiniest kindness, Hart was grateful. He'd been trying to make amends and maybe it was finally starting. He looked around the main Hub as he walked through. He was surprised how infectious the spirit of this place was. He stopped for a moment and looked back towards the autopsy bay. She's growing on you… the evil voice in Hart's mind snickered at him. He shook it off. Like a fucking fungus…
Jack was waiting outside the interrogation room, his head down and his arms crossed over his chest. He'd been watching the young man they'd captured from the shops. He was just a kid, couldn't be more than twenty. Jack already had his suspicions about exactly who these people were. Hart came around the corner looking a little strange.
"You okay?" Jack asked.
"Fine. Let's do this. It'll be like old times, Jackie boy," Hart said.
"I think they're Linearists," Jack said and Hart rolled his eyes.
"Great. I give him three minutes before he tells us who his parents are and threatens us," Hart said with a roll of his eyes. "You want to be the bad cop or the worse cop?"
"He's already squirming, I say less than one," Jack said. Despite himself, he smiled. It was just like old times. "I'll be the bad cop."
"Oh, goody," Hart said and then clapped his hands, rubbing the together. This was his favourite part.
"Ready?" Jack asked.
"Oh, yeah," Hart replied.
Jack opened the door for Hart who bolted through it, rushing at the young man restrained to the chair. Hart grabbed two fistfuls of the kid's shirt and pushed, tipping the chair backwards.
"I don't appreciate getting shot at. It makes me angry," Hart snarled, he reached behind him and drew his gun, pressing it to the kid's temple. "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."
The kid was terrified. Jack had to give him points for keeping control of his bladder. Jack had the benefit of the Time Agency and time travel and he still thought this century was a bit backwards. Humans always looked back on past centuries as being ignorant and barbaric. This kid wouldn't realise Hart's aggression wasn't real. Jack knew when time travel was invented. He knew this kid was far enough in the future that to him, this was the equivalent of being stuck in the Spanish Inquisition.
"You can shoot him after we get what we need out of him," Jack said, flatly.
"He's not going to tell us anything. Right? Please. Don't tell us anything. I really want to shoot him," Hart said, grinning.
"Suit yourself, but don't shoot him in here," Jack said with a shrug.
Hart smiled and started to drag the interrogation chair from the room, whistling a tune. "One of the cells?"
"Yeah they've got drains," Jack said.
"Wait! Wait!" the kid screamed.
"What? You want to squeal now?" Hart said drawing his knife and pressing the point into the kid's cheek. It wasn't enough to draw blood but it was enough to scare him… not that the kid needed any more scaring.
"You won't believe me!" he shouted.
"What? What won't we believe?" Hart said digging the point in a little.
"I'm from the future!" the kid blurted. "I can tell you anything you want to know! I swear!"
They smiled. This had been too easy. The two former Time Agents held up their wrists.
"Funny thing kid, so are we," Jack said, tapping the vortex manipulator. "You Linearists know all about avoiding the Time Agency."
The two of them watched the terror on the kid's face with sick satisfaction.
"Nothing new here," Hart said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together again. "Okay, now I get to shoot him."
"Wait! Wait! My Dads! They're on the Heronian senate! You can't!" he shrieked and Hart gave Jack a pointed look.
"Funny thing about going back in time, kiddo, your Daddies aren't here," Hart sneered, circling behind the young man. He leaned, whispering in his ear. "And there's no Heronian senate on twenty first century Earth."
Hart let that information sink in for a few minutes and then tipped the interrogation chair backwards and started to drag it towards the door. He said, gleefully, "Okay, now I get to kill him!"
"No, please! What do you want to know?!" the kid shrieked.
Hart grinned and Jack struggled to maintain his poker face. It had been so easy, it'd nearly taken the fun out of it. Nearly.
"Everything," Hart snarled, putting the chair down. He began flipping the knife in his hands. The kid's eyes widened with fear. Jack reached forward and took the knife out of his hands. He tossed it onto the table and gave Hart a glare.
"Let's start with what year you're from and go from there," Jack said. He tried to keep his face friendly.
The kid immediately latched onto Jack. He blurted, "4683! We were only going back a few centuries!"
Jack raised an eyebrow. Fish had shown him the time travel device strapped to their prisoner. He was shocked. "That piece of trash you rode here? You're lucky you got here in one piece. We should be scraping you into a soup cup."
The kid blanched. "They said it was safe!"
Jack wanted to laugh at the naiveté. "What was your mission?"
"We weren't supposed to come back this far! We weren't to land on Earth!" the kid shouted. "We were going to Maroset Two around 4300! We were just going to drop some smoke grenades at their spring festival!"
"How many of you?" Jack asked.
"Thirteen!" the kid answered, immediately.
"Who are the others with you? Human?"
"I don't know!" he shouted.
"How do we contact them?" Jack asked.
"I don't know! We weren't supposed to get separated! My tele-unit isn't working anymore," the kid said.
Hart grabbed a fistful of the kid's hair and tilted his head side to side. He saw the small ear bud and reached to dig it out.
"Stop! It's a translator! I won't understand you if you take it out!" he shouted.
"Good, we're done here," Hart said as he pocketed it the ear bud.