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51stcenturyfoxTitle: Two Moon Tango
Author: 51stCenturyFox
Pairing: John Hart/Gwen Cooper
Length: 3,575
Rating: NC-17 for sex and language
Summary: John Hart and Gwen Cooper are forced to choose the rift over blowing up half of Cardiff. Adventures ensue.
A/N: Sequel to "Under No Circumstances" This is an alternative ending scene and AU follow-on to KKBB.
Part 1 here
Art by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
laurab1
She had just seconds to make the decision. She’d technically decided nearly ten minutes earlier but this was it. This was for real.
Gwen dragged John Hart towards the rift, heard something about a last-minute rescue and then everything just… happened.
“Tell Jack…” she said, last words. “Tell Jack I…” John Hart clutched at his throat and his hand went north.
The red sports car roared up, Jack and Owen tore towards them in what felt like slow motion , Jack, a needle clutched in his fist, knocked them to the pavement. A tiny object caught in the sun as it flew through the air. The hypodermic went in and… nothing.
Ianto’s shout: “Four seconds. Three!”
Then, there was no more time.
Gwen dashed for the bright flicker of the portal, pulling Hart with her.
As the rift began to close behind them she turned to see their faces: Toshiko, horrified. Owen, angry. Ianto staring after them in open-mouthed shock, stopwatch still clutched in his hand and Jack, his eyes unspeakably sad.
Her lips formed the words, silently. Then…
“Goodbye.”
Gwen felt a moment of deep regret and closed her eyes. Then, she didn’t feel anything. No searing heat or deafening boom… just silence.
This must be death, then, she thought. It’s just like they all said.
Then she opened her eyes and saw a rush of colour and light and felt absolutely nothing under her feet. The only tie to anything stable was the hypersteel handcuff which held her fast to Captain John Hart. And he wasn’t stable. At all.
She felt a jolt of sickmaking vertigo and then his other arm wrapped around her and pulled her close and he lifted her chin up. Her eyes went to Hart’s and she was surprised to find them dancing with delight as the whirling motion suddenly stopped. She could sense a blessedly solid surface beneath her feet and they both fell to their knees.
Hart threw his head back and laughed. He pulled Gwen over and rolled atop her on the marshy ground under bright moonlight.
“What happened? Why didn’t the bomb go off?” She asked as her eyes flicked to the device. The lights and counter had blinked out.
“Don’t know – vortex buggered it? At any rate, this is a very, very good outcome. Fabulous." He ended the declaration with a shout at the sky: "Perfect!”
Gwen looked around. “Where on earth are we?”
“My first guess is… not.”
“Oh. Wait. What? We’re on another planet?” Gwen pushed him off and stood on shaky legs.
“Maybe. Probably," Hart said with a shrug.” I have no idea. Really didn’t have time to set coordinates, did I?”
As if the last day and a half hadn’t been outrageous enough. Gwen could feel a freakout coming on.
Oh God. We could die out here. Need to get back. What if we can’t get back? No! she thought as she began to hyperventilate, the moist and heavy air like an invasion in her mouth and throat, choking her. Hart grasped her shoulder.
“Could you please panic later?” he asked, and then motioned to his chest. "I’d like to get this agonisingly sharp and possibly still explosive object out of my flesh first. You understand.”
He pulled at it and winced. “Agh. I can’t do this.”
Gwen took a deep breath, then another and forced herself to focus. She looked down at him before she knelt to examine the device and pressed a hesitant finger into its centre.
“Out, not in!” He hissed. She tentatively dipped a fingernail beneath one of the prongs and popped it to the surface as Hart winced in pain. She continued the process until the bomb fell onto his lap. Gwen picked it up and examined it, then pulled back to throw it into the distance, before he caught her arm:
“No!” he said. “Keep that. We might need it for… something.” He stuffed the device into his pocket, looked down at his right wrist, pulled away the top of the leather strap and stabbed at a few buttons, then made an adjustment. “And this little - or frankly, not so little tool - has to recharge itself a bit.”
He motioned towards a light on the horizon. “As the moon is setting behind us, I would imagine that’s the glow of civilisation and I know from hard experience that civilisation is usually better than the alternative. Especially when it comes to specific requirements like finding some way to remove hypersteel shackles.”
“Yeah. These? That was incredibly stupid,” Gwen said, raising a fist and shaking his arm along with hers.
“I had the key tucked down my throat. When your intrepid leader pushed me over it flew out of my hand. It was too far away to-“ Hart looked at her face and gave up, with a shrug. “I’m... sorry?“
She offered a withering sidelong glance. “Stupid.”
“Cheer the fuck up, sunshine. We’re not dead, at any rate. We should celebrate. Shag?”
“What? No! And no thanks to you. This is all your fault.”
“I’ve already apologised once, and that is not something I do very often at all, Beautiful, so… “
"Okay, first off, I don't care for your little terms of endearment. My name is Gwen, so stick with that, all right? Second, you're not getting into my-"
“All right. Gwen. Made your point. Let’s go.”
They began to trudge towards the light, Gwen struggling to keep her feet moving as she was pulled along by the cuff.
“Slow down, would you? Walking is difficult, here,” she said.
“Stronger gravitational pull.”
“I cannot believe this. We’re on another planet.” Gwen glanced around her in wonder, but there wasn't much to see in the half-darkness - just scrub, dirt and some structures in the distance.
“Another time too,” Hart said. “Possibly. Actually, this place smells familiar. My vortex manipulator wasn’t keyed into a specific location, but I think we’ve ended up on the nearest spot in the back catalogue.”
“So it’s a nearby planet?” Gwen said, a sliver of hope in her voice.
“Not really, but “nearby” doesn’t matter. There’s no concept of that when you’re dealing with the space time continuum. It’s like space - and time too - are endless flat sheets of thin tissue, sticky on both sides. They seem flat but fold in upon each other on a scale we can’t imagine. Eleven dimensions. Sometimes the membranes touch. And that’s a vortex. Elementary stuff. Write that down and you could win a science prize or something. Posthumously.”
There was silence.
The lights of the settlement… it couldn’t really be called a town… grew brighter as they walked and an eerie sound reached them.
“What is that? It’s awful. Sounds like pipes clanking down a sewer,” Gwen complained.
“You don’t know that song? It’s 20th bleeding century! Lou Reed. He was ahead of his time.”
“It’s rubbish.”
“That’s fantastic.”
“You like this?”
“Not much, but if you’re bitching about the mood music, you must be less concerned about imminent death.”
Gwen stopped in her tracks, pulling Hart back into a near-stumble.
“I am extremely worried about not getting back to the same Cardiff that I left, Captain Hart. And don’t you-”
“Psssh. Fine,” he said, waving her off as they approached a bank of shallow steps leading to an outdoor amphitheatre where small groups were gathered. Snippets of speech carried in the thick air.
“They speak English?” Gwen asked him.
“It's the wrist strap. It translates.”
“Aliens, then?”
“They’re not all evil bastards.”
She threw him a dubious look.
“All right. Point. Though I'd argue for 'misunderstood'. But technically, we’re the aliens here, Gwen Cooper. On your earth, too. Panspermia? Heard of it? One of your local boys will win an award in a few centuries for figuring that out. You ought to be grateful that I know this place and really grateful that it doesn’t have a Torchwood.”
Gwen didn’t have a comeback for that.
A man sitting on a bench at a table raised his head and looked at them as they strode through the milling groups. His eyes held a glint of recognition
“Oh Goddess. What are the odds?” Hart said, sotto voce. “This one actually is a bastard. Let me do the talking.” He tucked Gwen’s cuffed hand in his and under his arm to hide the incongruous bracelet.
Hart spoke up first: “Hello there, old friend.”
“Friend?” The man stared at them, his fist curling around the handle of a metal stein. He had blue eyes and bright red hair, sticking up in curly tufts and more of the same on his cheeks and chin, extending into the high neck of the black jacket he wore. As he stood, Gwen noted that he was as tall as he was burly.
“It’s… John Hart, remember me?”
“You’re..? Yeah. Right.”
“Proctor, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is. Good memory.” Proctor's gaze roamed over Gwen’s body, to her dismay. “Who’s your fetching partner?”
“Oh. This. Her? This is Violette,” Hart said and Gwen shot him a look. He squeezed her forearm with his own. “Drinks? I’m parched.”
“You buy, Hart,” Proctor grunted, motioning at them to sit. “As I recall, you owe me.”
“Let’s discuss that over a few shots of hyper, shall we?”
A roving server came round and John Hart placed the order: “Nine shots. straight.” When they were delivered he doled them out, and he and Proctor downed the first with identical hasty gulps.
Gwen ran her fingers over one of the cold metallic shooters.
“Just drink it, it'll calm you down,” Hart whispered the order in her ear. So she did.
Good GOD, she thought, unable to hold back a full-body shudder. The drink felt like icy fingers smacking every vein like pistons on cylinders, down to her toes. That’s some pretty good shit, that is.
John Hart nodded at her knowingly.
She sat back and examined the crowd as Hart began telling Proctor a very familiar story about a woman he loved and a cache of Arcadian diamonds. Gwen struggled to keep a smile off of her face and zoned out a bit. Good shit indeed.
"That's not all," Hart was saying. "I've got this." He passed the DNA-linked disabled bomb across the table. "Just a prototype there, of course, but I've got access to dozens of those lethal babies."
"Yes, I'm intrigued," Proctor said, rubbing the gingery tufts on his chin, "but I'll need a bigger cut. You already owe me 80,000 credits. Can you throw in the female, too?" He gestured at Gwen.
"What?" she jumped in her seat.
"Oh, you don't want her. She's a pain."
"No," Gwen shook her head vehemently, "you don't. And I really am."
Another tall man stepped up on a platform and the lights went up. He plucked an object from a stand and held it aloft.
"It's time! Who will go first?"
"What's this, a slave auction?" Gwen asked.
Proctor stared at her. "What kind of uncivilised place do you hail from?" He stood unsteadily and strode to the platform, then placed the object on his head and adjusted a flexible bar in the direction of his mouth.
Music started again and Proctor began to sing. What he lacked in tone and ability, he made up with volume. "In the year 2525..." he warbled from the stage.
There was apparently no escape from karaoke.
"Could I have... something else?" Gwen asked plaintively. "I think I need a break from the hypervodka for a bit."
"Get the lady a Ro!" Proctor roared. A server jumped and scuttled away, then hurried back with a red and white cylinder and poured her a drink.
Gwen sipped it hesitantly and blinked. "That's... Coca-Cola," she exclaimed to John Hart. He winked back.
"Some things never change, Violette."
"Pssst, Hart," Gwen said, in a stage whisper. "I have to wee."
"Go then."
She pulled at his cuffed wrist with hers. "Oh yes. S'cuse us," he told Proctor. He led Gwen towards a small outbuilding.
"You're going into the women's loo?" she asked.
"No choice, is there? Plus, there's no specific... you are so 21st century," he sputtered. "Fine. I won't look."
Of course, he did. And he waited until after they got back to let her know that Proctor had a pocket laser tumbler he could use to break the handcuff lock.
She forced herself not to smack him one.
When they arrived at the room Proctor had arranged for them, Gwen paused, picked up Hart's canteen and gazed over at him as she sipped. Straight hypervodka. She managed to keep a violent cough at bay.
She didn’t want to admit it, but she was having... fun. On another planet with a probable lunatic.
John Hart had made her feel guilty. And wrong. And bad. And good. All at the same time. She remembered the day Owen had shoved her backward against a tree, the same day she'd been excruciatingly embedded with a spray of buckshot and had been so fucking... frightened, more frightened than she'd been any day before.
Gwen knew this about herself. She got off on a little bit of fear and a lot of incompatibility. And the hyper didn’t hurt, either.
She'd already let him touch her once, and as completely messed up as the whole thing was, it had been exciting. In for a penny, in for a pound, Gwen thought.
And it wasn't like anybody ever had to know.
Freshly showered, Gwen stood in a dressing gown, hands on hips, and stared up at the skylight as Hart rambled on about the diamond con he'd worked out and similar deals and amusing aliases and "Jack this" and "Jack once said".
Two moons. Fancy that.
She felt fingertips smooth across the inside of her knee and shivered.
"Not one for taking it from the top, are you, Captain?"
"What do you want, kisses and cuddles? Ohhh, right, your boss warned you not to let me kiss you. I guess you do everything he says, don't you?"
Gwen regarded him quietly and then asked:
"Why do you keep bringing him up?"
Hart looked up at her.
"You're alike, that's why."
"I'm like Jack?"
"In a way. Not this Jack, you're what he used to be, Gwen. Before this. Before me. Why do you think he joined the Time Agency? "
"I wouldn't know. I- we know next to nothing about him. Or this Time Agency for that matter."
"Why did you join the police? And then... Torchwood? Why didn't you become a doctor or an estate agent or a chef?"
Gwen was silent as he continued.
"When he asked you to join his team, did you hesitate, for even a minute? Sleep on it? Talk it over with-"
"Don't talk about my fiancé. At all."
"All right, but did you hesitate?"
"No."
"See, I'm thinking maybe the other members of your band of merry men and women probably did. Goddess knows how he hooked them in, but you came willingly. I can tell."
His hand gripped her thigh tightly. "...and it hasn't changed you yet, or that much, but it will. Exposure to new worlds, things outside of your understanding. These things always do." He pulled her towards him roughly, onto his lap and her knees slid back on the bed.
"Feel that. Feel how hard I am for you."
Her breath caught as she did, and again when he began to touch her.
Gwen traced his upper lip with her fingertips and as his tongue slowly emerged to lick at them, she heard Jack in her head again. "Under no circumstances let him kiss you."
Her mouth dipped to his, and it was like kissing anyone else, until she felt the rush and the pull and his hands went to her shoulders to bring the dressing gown down in one motion.
...and his kiss. It was intense and light and insolent and tender all at once. She felt as if she were drowning in taste and his remarkable scent before she remembered to surface and breathe.
Gwen pulled her head back finally and gasped to the skylight. "Maybe he does want you all to himself."
She felt his lips twist into a smile at that as they slid to her throat and she warned him: "No... marks."
"I'm actually not an idiot, Gwen," he murmured into the curve of her neck. His hands slipped slowly from her hips to her back to her breasts and his mouth fell to taste and tease at one nipple with such focused ardour she clasped one shoulder and dug her nails in so hard she drew a sharp wince.
"Marks are absolutely fine by me however, just so you know,"
"I'll remember that," she said, as she clawed a diagonal slash from his shoulder across his chest and he sucked in a sharp breath.
"Next time, you can cuff me," he whispered.
"There won't be a next time, Hart."
"That's what they all say, until they find my coordinates," he said, and kissed her again, long and deep.
He grabbed her, stretched out and pulled until she was again above him on the bed. Her hands went to his shoulders as he began to rock against her teasingly, leisurely.
"So wet. That just for me?"
"Mmm..." she nodded, eyes closed.
"Not thinking about anyone else right now, are you?"
"No."
"Neither am I," he said, as his hand found her heat and he slipped two fingers inside, circling above with his thumb.
"We... need a-" Gwen whispered, clutching at his arms.
"I know." He reached down to locate his jumbled trousers and pulled out a circular packet. "Had a feeling you’d expect one of these, Retro."
"Cocky bastard."
"Now, that's apt."
"This place frightens me,” Gwen said, afterward as she made random shadows with her hand in the glare from the moons. “What happens if we can't get back?”
“Why the hell would you worry about that?” Hart asked, bewildered.
“Well, weren't you and Jack stuck in some sort of a time loop or something? For years?”
“Right. Well, that was a very unusual circumstance.”
“Who was the wife, again?”
"I think we've already settled that discussion. Would you like me to fetch you anything else? Tea?”
When she awoke, moonlight was still streaming in above. I guess there’s technically no morning here, as such, Gwen thought. She stretched and looked over at Hart, who was fiddling with his wrist strap.
“I can get you back.”
She sat up on her knees. “You wouldn't lie about that would you? Honestly?”
“No. And yes.”
“Same time I left, or will I have to avoid myself for 20 years?”
“It’s looking promising. There’s rift activity here and I can key it to a specific time in Cardiff. Happy?”
“Yes!” She fell back on the bed with a relieved smile.
“Now, you just have to make a few decisions. First one: Are you sure you want to go back there? Because there are other places I could show you. Very interesting places. Less humid and gravitationally challenging, too.”
“Erm. No.”
“…sunny? Glittery? You’re certain?”
“That I am.”
Hart sighed. “What is it with everyone choosing Cardiff over the rest of the universe? I’ll give you the gorgeous, but… really?” He glanced at Gwen, saw her determined expression and with an overly dramatic sigh, he conceded:
“Fine then. Second decision – when do you want to return – sure you don’t want to take a few years off?”
“Nope. Back when I left, thanks.”
“Done. Third decision.” He turned to her and Gwen felt his breath on her neck: "Once more? For the road?"
She thought for a moment, then nodded, fast. "I. Yes I. Yes I think I do. Want to."
"May I?"
"Mmmm," Gwen pulled him to her. "Oh. Yes." There. "Uh huh".Talented. But... what a bastard.
"Sure?”
“Yes!” she insisted. “Come on then, before I change my mind. Wanker.”
"You're not going back to 21st century Cardiff, are you?" Gwen asked.
"No, I've got a line on a fully-equipped Chula warship. They're not that advanced, but I like them. Sentimental reasons. Besides, I think I wore out my welcome on Jack's territory by nearly offing your entire team. You'll note that I didn't, though. Even though you're all fairly incompetent."
That comment gained him a hard whack on the arse.
"Ooh, baby."
Gwen just shook her head.
"Don't worry," Hart continued. "I'll remain your dirty little secret."
She reflected on that. The best and the worst thing about Captain John Hart was this:
Nobody ever believed a word he said.
She felt the rush into silence, saw the swirl of colours and balled her fists determinedly. This time, she landed on one hip, with a hand out to break the fall as her travel companion disappeared. She stood and examined the car park grit in her shaking palm before she looked up and saw the rift waver and close in the distance.
There. The SUV. The blowfish’s red sports car. Her team, with their backs to her. Ianto embracing Tosh. Owen kicking at the pavement. And Jack, with his hands on his knees as if the wind had been knocked out of him.
Gwen grinned and broke into a run. She took a deep breath to issue a joyful shout.
“Hey, kids!” was how it began.
Extras related to this story are here. Including a soundtrack. Because I'm a dork!
“Proctor” is the name of a character in an obscure French sci-fi novel used by the Russians to develop a code during World War II. The book was called Le Miracle du Professor Wolmar by Guy de Teramond.
Author: 51stCenturyFox
Pairing: John Hart/Gwen Cooper
Length: 3,575
Rating: NC-17 for sex and language
Summary: John Hart and Gwen Cooper are forced to choose the rift over blowing up half of Cardiff. Adventures ensue.
A/N: Sequel to "Under No Circumstances" This is an alternative ending scene and AU follow-on to KKBB.
Part 1 here
Art by
laurab1 She had just seconds to make the decision. She’d technically decided nearly ten minutes earlier but this was it. This was for real.
Gwen dragged John Hart towards the rift, heard something about a last-minute rescue and then everything just… happened.
“Tell Jack…” she said, last words. “Tell Jack I…” John Hart clutched at his throat and his hand went north.
The red sports car roared up, Jack and Owen tore towards them in what felt like slow motion , Jack, a needle clutched in his fist, knocked them to the pavement. A tiny object caught in the sun as it flew through the air. The hypodermic went in and… nothing.
Ianto’s shout: “Four seconds. Three!”
Then, there was no more time.
Gwen dashed for the bright flicker of the portal, pulling Hart with her.
As the rift began to close behind them she turned to see their faces: Toshiko, horrified. Owen, angry. Ianto staring after them in open-mouthed shock, stopwatch still clutched in his hand and Jack, his eyes unspeakably sad.
Her lips formed the words, silently. Then…
“Goodbye.”
Gwen felt a moment of deep regret and closed her eyes. Then, she didn’t feel anything. No searing heat or deafening boom… just silence.
This must be death, then, she thought. It’s just like they all said.
Then she opened her eyes and saw a rush of colour and light and felt absolutely nothing under her feet. The only tie to anything stable was the hypersteel handcuff which held her fast to Captain John Hart. And he wasn’t stable. At all.
She felt a jolt of sickmaking vertigo and then his other arm wrapped around her and pulled her close and he lifted her chin up. Her eyes went to Hart’s and she was surprised to find them dancing with delight as the whirling motion suddenly stopped. She could sense a blessedly solid surface beneath her feet and they both fell to their knees.
Hart threw his head back and laughed. He pulled Gwen over and rolled atop her on the marshy ground under bright moonlight.
“What happened? Why didn’t the bomb go off?” She asked as her eyes flicked to the device. The lights and counter had blinked out.
“Don’t know – vortex buggered it? At any rate, this is a very, very good outcome. Fabulous." He ended the declaration with a shout at the sky: "Perfect!”
Gwen looked around. “Where on earth are we?”
“My first guess is… not.”
“Oh. Wait. What? We’re on another planet?” Gwen pushed him off and stood on shaky legs.
“Maybe. Probably," Hart said with a shrug.” I have no idea. Really didn’t have time to set coordinates, did I?”
As if the last day and a half hadn’t been outrageous enough. Gwen could feel a freakout coming on.
Oh God. We could die out here. Need to get back. What if we can’t get back? No! she thought as she began to hyperventilate, the moist and heavy air like an invasion in her mouth and throat, choking her. Hart grasped her shoulder.
“Could you please panic later?” he asked, and then motioned to his chest. "I’d like to get this agonisingly sharp and possibly still explosive object out of my flesh first. You understand.”
He pulled at it and winced. “Agh. I can’t do this.”
Gwen took a deep breath, then another and forced herself to focus. She looked down at him before she knelt to examine the device and pressed a hesitant finger into its centre.
“Out, not in!” He hissed. She tentatively dipped a fingernail beneath one of the prongs and popped it to the surface as Hart winced in pain. She continued the process until the bomb fell onto his lap. Gwen picked it up and examined it, then pulled back to throw it into the distance, before he caught her arm:
“No!” he said. “Keep that. We might need it for… something.” He stuffed the device into his pocket, looked down at his right wrist, pulled away the top of the leather strap and stabbed at a few buttons, then made an adjustment. “And this little - or frankly, not so little tool - has to recharge itself a bit.”
He motioned towards a light on the horizon. “As the moon is setting behind us, I would imagine that’s the glow of civilisation and I know from hard experience that civilisation is usually better than the alternative. Especially when it comes to specific requirements like finding some way to remove hypersteel shackles.”
“Yeah. These? That was incredibly stupid,” Gwen said, raising a fist and shaking his arm along with hers.
“I had the key tucked down my throat. When your intrepid leader pushed me over it flew out of my hand. It was too far away to-“ Hart looked at her face and gave up, with a shrug. “I’m... sorry?“
She offered a withering sidelong glance. “Stupid.”
“Cheer the fuck up, sunshine. We’re not dead, at any rate. We should celebrate. Shag?”
“What? No! And no thanks to you. This is all your fault.”
“I’ve already apologised once, and that is not something I do very often at all, Beautiful, so… “
"Okay, first off, I don't care for your little terms of endearment. My name is Gwen, so stick with that, all right? Second, you're not getting into my-"
“All right. Gwen. Made your point. Let’s go.”
They began to trudge towards the light, Gwen struggling to keep her feet moving as she was pulled along by the cuff.
“Slow down, would you? Walking is difficult, here,” she said.
“Stronger gravitational pull.”
“I cannot believe this. We’re on another planet.” Gwen glanced around her in wonder, but there wasn't much to see in the half-darkness - just scrub, dirt and some structures in the distance.
“Another time too,” Hart said. “Possibly. Actually, this place smells familiar. My vortex manipulator wasn’t keyed into a specific location, but I think we’ve ended up on the nearest spot in the back catalogue.”
“So it’s a nearby planet?” Gwen said, a sliver of hope in her voice.
“Not really, but “nearby” doesn’t matter. There’s no concept of that when you’re dealing with the space time continuum. It’s like space - and time too - are endless flat sheets of thin tissue, sticky on both sides. They seem flat but fold in upon each other on a scale we can’t imagine. Eleven dimensions. Sometimes the membranes touch. And that’s a vortex. Elementary stuff. Write that down and you could win a science prize or something. Posthumously.”
There was silence.
The lights of the settlement… it couldn’t really be called a town… grew brighter as they walked and an eerie sound reached them.
“What is that? It’s awful. Sounds like pipes clanking down a sewer,” Gwen complained.
“You don’t know that song? It’s 20th bleeding century! Lou Reed. He was ahead of his time.”
“It’s rubbish.”
“That’s fantastic.”
“You like this?”
“Not much, but if you’re bitching about the mood music, you must be less concerned about imminent death.”
Gwen stopped in her tracks, pulling Hart back into a near-stumble.
“I am extremely worried about not getting back to the same Cardiff that I left, Captain Hart. And don’t you-”
“Psssh. Fine,” he said, waving her off as they approached a bank of shallow steps leading to an outdoor amphitheatre where small groups were gathered. Snippets of speech carried in the thick air.
“They speak English?” Gwen asked him.
“It's the wrist strap. It translates.”
“Aliens, then?”
“They’re not all evil bastards.”
She threw him a dubious look.
“All right. Point. Though I'd argue for 'misunderstood'. But technically, we’re the aliens here, Gwen Cooper. On your earth, too. Panspermia? Heard of it? One of your local boys will win an award in a few centuries for figuring that out. You ought to be grateful that I know this place and really grateful that it doesn’t have a Torchwood.”
Gwen didn’t have a comeback for that.
A man sitting on a bench at a table raised his head and looked at them as they strode through the milling groups. His eyes held a glint of recognition
“Oh Goddess. What are the odds?” Hart said, sotto voce. “This one actually is a bastard. Let me do the talking.” He tucked Gwen’s cuffed hand in his and under his arm to hide the incongruous bracelet.
Hart spoke up first: “Hello there, old friend.”
“Friend?” The man stared at them, his fist curling around the handle of a metal stein. He had blue eyes and bright red hair, sticking up in curly tufts and more of the same on his cheeks and chin, extending into the high neck of the black jacket he wore. As he stood, Gwen noted that he was as tall as he was burly.
“It’s… John Hart, remember me?”
“You’re..? Yeah. Right.”
“Proctor, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is. Good memory.” Proctor's gaze roamed over Gwen’s body, to her dismay. “Who’s your fetching partner?”
“Oh. This. Her? This is Violette,” Hart said and Gwen shot him a look. He squeezed her forearm with his own. “Drinks? I’m parched.”
“You buy, Hart,” Proctor grunted, motioning at them to sit. “As I recall, you owe me.”
“Let’s discuss that over a few shots of hyper, shall we?”
A roving server came round and John Hart placed the order: “Nine shots. straight.” When they were delivered he doled them out, and he and Proctor downed the first with identical hasty gulps.
Gwen ran her fingers over one of the cold metallic shooters.
“Just drink it, it'll calm you down,” Hart whispered the order in her ear. So she did.
Good GOD, she thought, unable to hold back a full-body shudder. The drink felt like icy fingers smacking every vein like pistons on cylinders, down to her toes. That’s some pretty good shit, that is.
John Hart nodded at her knowingly.
She sat back and examined the crowd as Hart began telling Proctor a very familiar story about a woman he loved and a cache of Arcadian diamonds. Gwen struggled to keep a smile off of her face and zoned out a bit. Good shit indeed.
"That's not all," Hart was saying. "I've got this." He passed the DNA-linked disabled bomb across the table. "Just a prototype there, of course, but I've got access to dozens of those lethal babies."
"Yes, I'm intrigued," Proctor said, rubbing the gingery tufts on his chin, "but I'll need a bigger cut. You already owe me 80,000 credits. Can you throw in the female, too?" He gestured at Gwen.
"What?" she jumped in her seat.
"Oh, you don't want her. She's a pain."
"No," Gwen shook her head vehemently, "you don't. And I really am."
Another tall man stepped up on a platform and the lights went up. He plucked an object from a stand and held it aloft.
"It's time! Who will go first?"
"What's this, a slave auction?" Gwen asked.
Proctor stared at her. "What kind of uncivilised place do you hail from?" He stood unsteadily and strode to the platform, then placed the object on his head and adjusted a flexible bar in the direction of his mouth.
Music started again and Proctor began to sing. What he lacked in tone and ability, he made up with volume. "In the year 2525..." he warbled from the stage.
There was apparently no escape from karaoke.
"Could I have... something else?" Gwen asked plaintively. "I think I need a break from the hypervodka for a bit."
"Get the lady a Ro!" Proctor roared. A server jumped and scuttled away, then hurried back with a red and white cylinder and poured her a drink.
Gwen sipped it hesitantly and blinked. "That's... Coca-Cola," she exclaimed to John Hart. He winked back.
"Some things never change, Violette."
"Pssst, Hart," Gwen said, in a stage whisper. "I have to wee."
"Go then."
She pulled at his cuffed wrist with hers. "Oh yes. S'cuse us," he told Proctor. He led Gwen towards a small outbuilding.
"You're going into the women's loo?" she asked.
"No choice, is there? Plus, there's no specific... you are so 21st century," he sputtered. "Fine. I won't look."
Of course, he did. And he waited until after they got back to let her know that Proctor had a pocket laser tumbler he could use to break the handcuff lock.
She forced herself not to smack him one.
When they arrived at the room Proctor had arranged for them, Gwen paused, picked up Hart's canteen and gazed over at him as she sipped. Straight hypervodka. She managed to keep a violent cough at bay.
She didn’t want to admit it, but she was having... fun. On another planet with a probable lunatic.
John Hart had made her feel guilty. And wrong. And bad. And good. All at the same time. She remembered the day Owen had shoved her backward against a tree, the same day she'd been excruciatingly embedded with a spray of buckshot and had been so fucking... frightened, more frightened than she'd been any day before.
Gwen knew this about herself. She got off on a little bit of fear and a lot of incompatibility. And the hyper didn’t hurt, either.
She'd already let him touch her once, and as completely messed up as the whole thing was, it had been exciting. In for a penny, in for a pound, Gwen thought.
And it wasn't like anybody ever had to know.
Freshly showered, Gwen stood in a dressing gown, hands on hips, and stared up at the skylight as Hart rambled on about the diamond con he'd worked out and similar deals and amusing aliases and "Jack this" and "Jack once said".
Two moons. Fancy that.
She felt fingertips smooth across the inside of her knee and shivered.
"Not one for taking it from the top, are you, Captain?"
"What do you want, kisses and cuddles? Ohhh, right, your boss warned you not to let me kiss you. I guess you do everything he says, don't you?"
Gwen regarded him quietly and then asked:
"Why do you keep bringing him up?"
Hart looked up at her.
"You're alike, that's why."
"I'm like Jack?"
"In a way. Not this Jack, you're what he used to be, Gwen. Before this. Before me. Why do you think he joined the Time Agency? "
"I wouldn't know. I- we know next to nothing about him. Or this Time Agency for that matter."
"Why did you join the police? And then... Torchwood? Why didn't you become a doctor or an estate agent or a chef?"
Gwen was silent as he continued.
"When he asked you to join his team, did you hesitate, for even a minute? Sleep on it? Talk it over with-"
"Don't talk about my fiancé. At all."
"All right, but did you hesitate?"
"No."
"See, I'm thinking maybe the other members of your band of merry men and women probably did. Goddess knows how he hooked them in, but you came willingly. I can tell."
His hand gripped her thigh tightly. "...and it hasn't changed you yet, or that much, but it will. Exposure to new worlds, things outside of your understanding. These things always do." He pulled her towards him roughly, onto his lap and her knees slid back on the bed.
"Feel that. Feel how hard I am for you."
Her breath caught as she did, and again when he began to touch her.
Gwen traced his upper lip with her fingertips and as his tongue slowly emerged to lick at them, she heard Jack in her head again. "Under no circumstances let him kiss you."
Her mouth dipped to his, and it was like kissing anyone else, until she felt the rush and the pull and his hands went to her shoulders to bring the dressing gown down in one motion.
...and his kiss. It was intense and light and insolent and tender all at once. She felt as if she were drowning in taste and his remarkable scent before she remembered to surface and breathe.
Gwen pulled her head back finally and gasped to the skylight. "Maybe he does want you all to himself."
She felt his lips twist into a smile at that as they slid to her throat and she warned him: "No... marks."
"I'm actually not an idiot, Gwen," he murmured into the curve of her neck. His hands slipped slowly from her hips to her back to her breasts and his mouth fell to taste and tease at one nipple with such focused ardour she clasped one shoulder and dug her nails in so hard she drew a sharp wince.
"Marks are absolutely fine by me however, just so you know,"
"I'll remember that," she said, as she clawed a diagonal slash from his shoulder across his chest and he sucked in a sharp breath.
"Next time, you can cuff me," he whispered.
"There won't be a next time, Hart."
"That's what they all say, until they find my coordinates," he said, and kissed her again, long and deep.
He grabbed her, stretched out and pulled until she was again above him on the bed. Her hands went to his shoulders as he began to rock against her teasingly, leisurely.
"So wet. That just for me?"
"Mmm..." she nodded, eyes closed.
"Not thinking about anyone else right now, are you?"
"No."
"Neither am I," he said, as his hand found her heat and he slipped two fingers inside, circling above with his thumb.
"We... need a-" Gwen whispered, clutching at his arms.
"I know." He reached down to locate his jumbled trousers and pulled out a circular packet. "Had a feeling you’d expect one of these, Retro."
"Cocky bastard."
"Now, that's apt."
"This place frightens me,” Gwen said, afterward as she made random shadows with her hand in the glare from the moons. “What happens if we can't get back?”
“Why the hell would you worry about that?” Hart asked, bewildered.
“Well, weren't you and Jack stuck in some sort of a time loop or something? For years?”
“Right. Well, that was a very unusual circumstance.”
“Who was the wife, again?”
"I think we've already settled that discussion. Would you like me to fetch you anything else? Tea?”
When she awoke, moonlight was still streaming in above. I guess there’s technically no morning here, as such, Gwen thought. She stretched and looked over at Hart, who was fiddling with his wrist strap.
“I can get you back.”
She sat up on her knees. “You wouldn't lie about that would you? Honestly?”
“No. And yes.”
“Same time I left, or will I have to avoid myself for 20 years?”
“It’s looking promising. There’s rift activity here and I can key it to a specific time in Cardiff. Happy?”
“Yes!” She fell back on the bed with a relieved smile.
“Now, you just have to make a few decisions. First one: Are you sure you want to go back there? Because there are other places I could show you. Very interesting places. Less humid and gravitationally challenging, too.”
“Erm. No.”
“…sunny? Glittery? You’re certain?”
“That I am.”
Hart sighed. “What is it with everyone choosing Cardiff over the rest of the universe? I’ll give you the gorgeous, but… really?” He glanced at Gwen, saw her determined expression and with an overly dramatic sigh, he conceded:
“Fine then. Second decision – when do you want to return – sure you don’t want to take a few years off?”
“Nope. Back when I left, thanks.”
“Done. Third decision.” He turned to her and Gwen felt his breath on her neck: "Once more? For the road?"
She thought for a moment, then nodded, fast. "I. Yes I. Yes I think I do. Want to."
"May I?"
"Mmmm," Gwen pulled him to her. "Oh. Yes." There. "Uh huh".Talented. But... what a bastard.
"Sure?”
“Yes!” she insisted. “Come on then, before I change my mind. Wanker.”
"You're not going back to 21st century Cardiff, are you?" Gwen asked.
"No, I've got a line on a fully-equipped Chula warship. They're not that advanced, but I like them. Sentimental reasons. Besides, I think I wore out my welcome on Jack's territory by nearly offing your entire team. You'll note that I didn't, though. Even though you're all fairly incompetent."
That comment gained him a hard whack on the arse.
"Ooh, baby."
Gwen just shook her head.
"Don't worry," Hart continued. "I'll remain your dirty little secret."
She reflected on that. The best and the worst thing about Captain John Hart was this:
Nobody ever believed a word he said.
She felt the rush into silence, saw the swirl of colours and balled her fists determinedly. This time, she landed on one hip, with a hand out to break the fall as her travel companion disappeared. She stood and examined the car park grit in her shaking palm before she looked up and saw the rift waver and close in the distance.
There. The SUV. The blowfish’s red sports car. Her team, with their backs to her. Ianto embracing Tosh. Owen kicking at the pavement. And Jack, with his hands on his knees as if the wind had been knocked out of him.
Gwen grinned and broke into a run. She took a deep breath to issue a joyful shout.
“Hey, kids!” was how it began.
Extras related to this story are here. Including a soundtrack. Because I'm a dork!
“Proctor” is the name of a character in an obscure French sci-fi novel used by the Russians to develop a code during World War II. The book was called Le Miracle du Professor Wolmar by Guy de Teramond.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-31 10:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-31 11:17 pm (UTC)Glad you liked this. (And not sure about a sequel. Yet.)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-31 10:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-31 11:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-31 10:58 pm (UTC)Will there be more?
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-31 11:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-31 11:06 pm (UTC)One little niggle though-- if this is a slightly AU version of KKBB, then Gwen wouldn't know about Jonah and Flat Holm yet-- she doesn't find out until late in S2.
Other than that though-- brilliant.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-31 11:10 pm (UTC)Glad you liked the chemistry/interactions.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-31 11:14 pm (UTC)This was a rare treat. It was like getting an extra x-rated episode from series 2. Seriously, what more could a fan ask for. Wedged right into the narrative, great characterization, witty dialogue, adventures on another planet!, and hot sex for Gwen and Captain John.
Bravo! This made my day!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-31 11:23 pm (UTC)Thank you. Seriously. :)
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-31 11:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-31 11:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-01 12:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-01 01:22 am (UTC)Gwen is awesome. Really glad you like her here. Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-01 01:19 am (UTC)I loved it, great job, hon!!
xxx
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-01 01:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-01 01:46 am (UTC)reminds me of the 80 Dr Who comic strips in scope.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-01 02:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-01 03:06 am (UTC)Even though you're all fairly incompetent.
Hahahahahaha.
Wonderful job, all around!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-01 08:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-01 04:52 am (UTC)Gwen kicks ass.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-01 08:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-01 11:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-01 08:48 pm (UTC)Gwen/John travelling the universe would be - an awesome sidekick story. Like Lethal Weapon, only not with cops. And with more sex.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-01 11:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-01 11:50 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-02 09:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-02 05:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-02 06:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-02 07:45 pm (UTC)These two are great fun to write. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-03 02:34 am (UTC)You know I want to turn my Jack/Jack series into a graphic novel so bad. But due to my lack of practice at drawing, that would make it take even longer to complete.
Maybe I'll just have to content myself with illustrating it. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-03 04:22 am (UTC)Ugghh, I so wish I had graphics ability/artistic chops.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-14 12:50 am (UTC)Anyroad, It made me think of this story and how much I wish it had been part of the episode--or even a spin-off series: John drags Gwen from con to con, galaxy to galaxy, where they have adventures and hot sex:) I just love what you started here with these two!
But it is all taking place in an alternate reality. So, when she finally comes home to Rhys, no time has passed. Something like that;)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-15 05:50 pm (UTC)WAY alternate reality, right? :)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-09 11:48 am (UTC)Loved the porn. Damn good.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-09 02:24 pm (UTC)Am glad you found the porn hot. Ya just never know. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-05 09:53 pm (UTC)Like crue, I prefer the second to the first, perhaps because you get deeper into the characters and, natch, the sex. (And now I'm eager eager to get into the coatfic! You have me on a total Gwen kick.)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-07 12:15 am (UTC)I'm really happy that Gwen worked for you here. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-20 08:28 am (UTC)Great, I wasn't sure if I was going to like it, it seemed such an unlikely pairing but it worked really well. So well in fact that I was disappointed Gwen didn't decide on the grand tour.
Well done.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-20 11:44 am (UTC)It is a pretty weird pairing, isn't it? :) I'm really happy it worked out that well for you.
(I blame my parents for never giving me a matched set of action figures. "What? GI Joe and Princess Leia can't play house? Huh?") :D
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-11 07:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-13 11:15 pm (UTC)Gabrielle
(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-17 01:15 pm (UTC)