Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Now that all the Wedding planning was all done, Ianto was now relaxed enough to be in a mood for intimacy with Jack, even though they were soon leaving for their honeymoon. Down a hallway, past the reception hall's kitchen, the two men's hands loosened their ties and collars, roamed under their tuxedo jackets, and mussed up their hair. Ianto opened the door behind them, and they pushed through the door, too busy examining each other's tonsils to pay attention to anything else, until they heard retching.

"Don't you have a whole honeymoon for that?"

Jack and Ianto turned around and learned that retching wasn't done for the sound effect at their displays of affection. They found John Hart bent over the toilet in the large one-person bathroom, looking green around the gills, his own tie and collared loosened, and the smell of vomit now registering.

"Are you alright?" Jack asked, concerned.

"Maybe slow down on the alcohol, mate?" Ianto added.

"I wish I could hold down some alcohol mate," an irritated John Hart answered, "An open bar, and I can't even enjoy it. Yeah yeah, just some sort of stomach bug."

Jack quirked an eyebrow. "That's weird. Most 21st century bugs our 51st century biology can handle no problem."

"Well," Hart moaned, "the stuff that has stuck around to our time anyways. I got HIV on my first trip to Torchwood, had to take a trip back to the 51st century, and everything, to get rid of it."

"You've been around long enough now, though."

Hart retched up some more vomit.

Disgust rose on the Welsh man's face. "How long have you been sick? Any other symptoms?"

"A few weeks," Hart answered Ianto, "Yeah. Smells been putting me right off. This wedding has been the worst, everywhere everyone is wearing perfume or cologne", Hart retched, Ianto's and Jack's colognes filling the bathroom. This time only bile came up. "And I'm tired all the time."

"Maybe you should see Martha," Ianto suggested.

A jovial joking tone came forth with Jack's next words. "That sounds like the times I was pregnant."

Hart sook his head. "No, not possible," he counters, before he retches again, "Both you and me got hysterectomies at the same time, remember? Besides, 21st century men can't get pregnable men pregnant."

An amused smirk flitted across Jack's face. "Hart, 21st century men can get us pregnant. First thing I learned after Bad Wolf is my uterus was back, and it worked. Can't get rid of it. I wasn't ready for a kid right after Bad Wolf, so I terminated. After Ianto and I got together, Ianto got snipped, so we can't have kids accidentally."

Hart's chest heaved again for another retch into the toilet. "But my uterus is gone," Hart answered angrily. This tangent had gone on long enough. Now it just felt like Jack was just being obtuse on purpose to torture him.

"Were you not listening when they were giving the patient disclosure? About 1% of the time, the uterus grows back. Our 51st biology can be rather persistent."

Hart flushed the toilet, following more bile. Squeezing his eyes firmly shut, he leaned back, resting his head backwards against wall next to the toilet.

"Okay, so how do we confirm that it's not that."

Jack shrugged, "Well, I didn't exactly bring future medical tech, or a sonogram device, to my wedding."

In the still unlocked door walked Missy.

"OUT!" shouted Hart in a hoarse voice.

"Can't a Time Lady pee? There is a door lock, yous know."

Jack reached towards Missy, "Wait, Missy. Do you have your sonic?"

With a roll of her eyes Missy answered, "Laser. Of course. I don't leave the TARDIS without it."

"Can we borrow it?" Jack asked her, making Missy raise an eyebrow. "I promise to return it, just need it for like 5 minutes."

"Remember, I know where you and your husband live now," Missy intoned, as she changes the settings so that Jack can use it, before she handed it over and left. Jack scanned Hart.

"Yep. Looks like you are about 8 weeks along. So, serendipitous, no fucking way, or you don't know yet? Need to know if I'm congratulating you, setting up an appointment, or coaching you through an existential crisis."

Hart just sat there, looking dumbfounded, while his eye watered.

"Wow," exclaimed Jack, "The Hart I knew would have been no fucking way. Now are those happy tears, or existential crisis tears?

Ianto gave a confused look to Jack.

"The whole reason we got hysterectomies, was I was like, I ain't doing that again, and Hart was like, I don't even want kids. He got a vasectomy at the same time."

"Fuck off," Hart hotly rebuffed Jack.

"Ooh. Existential crisis tears." Jack poked fun, before he switched to a reassuring serious tone and posture. "Hey, Hart, no way I'm leaving you here like this."

"Don't you two have a honeymoon to get to?" Hart retorted angrily.

"So?" Ianto asked gently but firmly. Hart gave a dirty look in return.

Ianto shrugged, "This seems a little more pressing than a vacation, even if that vacation happens to be my honeymoon."

Chapter Text

Monday Evening, The Day After The Wedding

Armitage's apartment

"Really? "That's not possible"? Everything you've seen and learned since you met and become a bodyguard for Harold Saxon, and male pregnancy is the one thing that you still believe is impossible?"

As much as Hart had spent the last 24 hours in a state of panic since discovering his pregnancy, he had been clinging to the delusion that once he managed to bring himself to tell Armitage, that things would sort themselves out. Armitage always made sure things got sorted out. Even if his mouth rarely opened.

Armitage stared.

Most people couldn't see past Armitage's default expression, his famous glowering stare and scowling jaw. It took Hart years to. Hart saw a note of irritation or annoyance beyond what Armitage's usual countenance would suggest.

"What, you think this is just me playing a prank, trying to pull one over on you, being dramatic?"

Armitage stared.

"I wish it were! I know you're not ready for this. Heck, maybe you don't even want it. We haven't exactly ever had that conversation. I sure the fuck am not ready for it."

Armitage stared, "This is over the top, even for you."

"It's the fucking pregnancy hormones!" exclaimed Hart, already hating the impact this pregnancy has had on him.

Armitage stared.

"Or, do you know it’s possible Armitage, and think I fucking baby-trapped you? Fuck you! I fucking baby-trapped myself! Trust me, I did not want or plan this!"

Chapter Text

Thursday Afternoon, 4 days after the Wedding

UNIT office of Alina, Therapist

Alina smoothed over her face as she heard Hart grab the door handle to her office.

A consummate professional, Alina had secured herself the most challenging and stimulating position as a Therapist at UNIT ten years go. Sometimes the stakes couldn't be higher. Hopefully she didn't find herself dead in a collapsed time-line again.

She wanted to get some answers as to why Hart was reverting to form. He wasn't nearly as hard to get talking as a couple other clients she could name. Armitage. Jack. Missy. But he tended to talk about nothing of consequence in her office. She watched Hart saunter over to the chair across from her, all false bravado today. He landed with a thud in it.

"Do you know why I called you here, Hart?"

Smiling, Hart greeted Alina, "Charmed, I'm sure. Admit it Alina, you missed me."

"Standard deflection. You know, Hart, things were improving. When you first started, we used to meet weekly due to your misconduct reported to HR. It slowed down to a trickle over time. There hasn't been anything in the last six months, until now."

A half shrug lifted from his right shoulder. "Probably just under-reported, you know. People have gotten used to me."

Alina gave her head a slight shake. "Nope. You don't think I do surveys regularly? Check in with people in our sessions? Follow up with people who have made such reports to HR about you or others before? No, you were behaving more."

"I take offense to that," Hart riposted.

"Then, Monday morning after the wedding, you come to work and refuse to take off your glasses for an eye scan at security, berating staff, and telling them you've been here for ten years. Was hiding your hung-over eyes really that important?"

Another shrug, this time issued from both shoulders.

"And every day since someone has made a report to HR about passive aggressive, or even outright aggressive, behavior from you. We need to nip whatever this is in the bud."

His voice dropped as he spoke under his breath, and Alina barely heard, "A little too late for that."

"Hmm? What was that, Hart?"

He striked a defiant pose, one she hadn't seen in a while. "Maybe I'd rather quit." Alina raises an eyebrow.

"I would have thought you'd done that ages ago. Why are you sticking around Hart?"

Using a musing tone he quipped, "This lovely British climate. Got to enjoy it before you can grow peaches all over."

"This behavior is unusual, even for you. What is really going on Hart?"

Hart's chest heaves, and he jerks and swallows, as nausea rears it's head. Alina can't help but notice.

"Are you alright, Hart?"

His voice came out small and strained, "I think I'm going to vomit."

Alina never moved a wastebasket so fast. Just in time, as he retches what she presumes is his lunch into the wastebasket. Lined, thankfully. 

"You're ill. You need to go to medical. Are you good with Owen? We can get Martha, if you'd prefer."

Shaking his head, Hart insists, "Nope. No Doctors."

"Hart, if you are ill, you need to see a Doctor."

"I'm not ill, per say." He said, still clutching the wastebasket in his lap.

"You just vomited in my waste basket," Alina said flatly.

A volatile change came over him, as if his last thread connecting him to sanity just got cut.

"I'm pregnant, okay!" he exclaimed.

Alina blinked once, then twice, gathering her thoughts from the dozen different directions they speedily went at that announcement. She knew male pregnancy was possible, but she had never expected this development to occur, even in the only other 51st century man that UNIT was aware of on the planet.

"I gather that it was unexpected, and that explains your behavior this week?"

The man did a mock bow from his seat.

"Have you considered your options?"

Hart grimaced, "I have." Alina raised an expectant eyebrow in response.

"And you haven't made a decision yet?"

Hart was uncharacteristically silent. Though this was a rather uncharacteristic scenario.

"I can't imagine it is easy telling a 21st century man that you are pregnant with his child."

A dead pan answer is supplied, "You have no idea."

"Do you know the identity of the father?"

Eyebrows go cocky, the man feeling on familiar ground again. "Would you believe me if I said I was a reformed man-whore, Alina?"

The therapist worked very hard to keep a professional face, from which no one would be able to tell how intrigued she was.

"So, you mean, you are with someone?"

"Define with," was issued with an expression becoming more closed by the second.

"Why don't you explain it to me?"

"It's complicated, should suffice."

"It doesn't."

With a long, almost tortured, sigh, Hart continued,  "When we first starting seeing each other. I don't even know that seeing is the right word…."

"Go on."

"He doesn't want me to outwardly acknowledge our relationship," a resigned Hart admitted.

"That must be very difficult for you."

"Have you met me?! Yes!" exclaimed Hart.

"Does he know you are pregnant?"

A curt nod was given. "Assuming he believes me," Hart explained, as he examined his nails.

"And this is forcing his hand. If you move forward with his pregnancy, a decision you can make unilaterally, if you wish, is he going to acknowledge you, and by extension, the child you two are having together? Add in the complication of just maybe he doesn't believe that you are pregnant, at present, suggesting a lack of trust in your word, if so.

"Does he want to avoid a public relationship due to homophobia, in either his family or the broader culture?"

Snorting, Hart told her, "No. You are so so cold."

"How about now? With the pregnancy? Transphobia, then. People are going to assume you are a trans man, if you keep the pregnancy and start to show."

Hart words seemed to stumble out of him suddenly, "If only he were so simple. Then maybe I wouldn't be so foolishly in love with him."

Alina blinked. This man at times had changed his partners as frequently as he changed underwear. Scratch that, as often as most people changed their underwear. She had never seen a knickers line on Hart's pants.

Tears started filling up Hart's eyes. "Fuck. Fucking hormones."

Handing over some tissues, Alina offered, "I would be happy to facilitate some dialogue between you two."

Hart's throat gave up a weary groan, "He'd never go for that."

"Is he with UNIT? Or is he a civilian? How far out of left-field is this for him?"

A fierce glare focused his eyes, "He'd kill me if I told you."

"So, UNIT then. You just made this a work matter."

Realizing his mistake, Hart gave another weary groan while palming his face.

Chapter Text

Sunday Afternoon, 1 week after the wedding

Harkness-Jones Household

Jack and Ianto returned home from their honeymoon, that they had left for after Hart had convinced them that he'd be okay. As they entered their home they came upon a mess of a front hall. Their shoe shelf was knocked over, shoes scattered everywhere, their closet opened, and the glass of an enclosure of ornamental keepsakes of Ianto's was broken.

"What the hell happened here?" Jack alerted Ianto.

"Was there a break in?" speculated Ianto.

Jack headed towards their safe at the back of the house, while Ianto entered into the living room. Raising his voice to carry the distance, Jack answered "UNIT watches our house. Even if our place was burgled, UNIT would have given us a heads up before we came back."

In the living room there is a pull-out bed. Ianto noticed it is in use, as he tilts his head.

"Oh. Hart? Are you alright?" Ianto asked in a conversation volume, before raising his voice to carry to Jack, "Jack, Hart's here!"

A groan rose from the blankets, "Do you have to be so loud?"

"What are you doing here? Are you okay?" Jack asked once he enters the room, earning a glare and pout from Hart out of a burrito end of the blanket wrapped around him.

"I'm fine." The newly weds looked at Hart disbelievingly. "Fine. I didn't want to be at my apartment alone."

"So, you came here? To spend the week not alone?" Ianto asked skeptically.

An worried sad look, that looked entirely out of place on Hart, took over his face, as he sat up and pushed the blankets open. "Is this a bad idea?" he asked.

In a tentative tone, Jack invited Hart to explain, "Is what a bad idea?"

"You know," Hart grimaced.

"No, I don't know," Jack gently prodded.

"You are going to make me say it?" Hart grumbled. Jack just shrugged, nonchalantly.

"Fuck! Fine! Having a kid. Me. Having a kid. It's ludicrous, right? A terrible idea."

"I can't answer that for you," Jack responded kindly.

"What was the point of making me say it then!" Hart angrily retorted.

With a shrug, Jack equivocated, "Sometimes saying a things out loud will make it real for oneself."

Growling, Hart complained, "You're fucking enjoying this, aren't you?"

Ianto implored, "What, in particular, are you worried about, Hart?"

"Everything!"

"At least you care," Jack intoned, "It's more than your parents ever did for you."

"That's a low fucking bar to clear," snapped Hart, "I'd like a fucking higher bar than that. Why do you think I made sure I could never have kids?"

"Well, then, make one," Jack said practicably, "What kind of bar would you like to clear?"

Hart blinked, as if he had never though of never considered setting parental standards for himself. Which, to be fair, he hadn't.

Ianto suggested, "Maybe if you can name something specific, we can see if it is something that can be addressed."

Hart doesn't want to think too hard along those lines, so changes topic to something that has been on his mind.

"I bet Missy already knows everything," Hart scowled.

"I deleted the data," Jack insisted, "Just like you asked."

"You think that'd stop her?" challenged Hart, "That probably just made her more curious!"

Ianto, in a confused tone, softly asked, "Why would Missy knowing matter? Why do you think she'd care, Hart?"

Pulling his lips only one direction, and giving a shrug, Jack made a weird look with his face, basically communicating, he's right. What he said. What are worried about? Ianto gave a wary look to Jack before continuing.

"Jack has told me about your time as a Time Agent, and stuff."

With a huff, Hart posed, "Did he also tell you about my good-for-nothing parents?"

"It didn't seem like your life was very stable back then, from what Jack said. But you've been in a stable job, with good benefits, for over 10 years now. You don't have to make a decision today, but I think you are catastrophizing."

Stepping up into a challenging posture, Hart demanded, "You think so, little man." Hart actually stood two inches shorter than Ianto.

"Hey," Jack urged, "Calm down. Ianto is just saying you're making it look worse than it is. Is he wrong?"

As tears well up in Hart's eyes, Hart blurted out, "Fuck! Fucking hormones! Yes! Who cares how stable my job is. I'm in HR every month, and when I first started, it was every week! Even if they keep me on, despite my fucking everything up this week, how stable am I?"

Jack sat Hart down and sat beside him. "You know, I'm starting to think that you got sterilized because you could never go through with a termination."

"No," pouted Hart.

"You've always wanted kids, haven't you?" Jack insisted.

Hart repeats himself with an emphatic, "No."

"I have trouble believing you are this twisted up, then," Jack stated. "You've changed, man, but to change whether you want kids or not, that is a big change."

"We were both new time agents, young, and stupid," Hart argued, "And in the 51th century, if we ever wanted to change our minds, it would have been easy."

Tilting his head, Jack responded, "While true, you seem quite cut up about this."

"Am I not allowed to be?" Hart defensively answered.

"Of course you are!" entreated Ianto.

"What about you two? Do yous want kids?"

"Enough deflection," Ianto tried to skittishly intervened, "This isn't about us. This is about you and your pregnancy. What do you want to do?"

"Why don't I get to ask any questions about yous?" Hart pushed back.

With a look to his husband first, Jack shared, "I've left it up to Ianto. He has one life to live. He gets to decide."

Feeling guilty, Hart sighed, "You two can't want me here, as newlyweds. I'll go home."

"No," Ianto insisted, "You are staying here. Maybe for the foreseeable future."

Glowering, Hart retorted, "I'm not an invalid."

Jack fixed Hart with a piercing look. "So, what's making this so hard for you? You want a kid? You don't want to terminate? You afraid of becoming your parents?"

Hart's whole face scrunches up, closing his eyes. "Worse."

"What's that?" Ianto asked.

Hart gave a groan, scrubbing his face with his palms. "I've gone fucking sentimental. Every time I close my eyes I see a little carbon copy of him, and it makes my heart speed-up, and it's the fucking worst!"

The newlyweds give each other a confused look, and start talking over each other.

"I had assumed it was a one-night stand. How did you manage to hide him from everyone?"

"You're in love? Who's the lucky fellow! And where the hell has he been this week?"

Chapter Text

Monday Morning

UNIT Office of Therapist Alina

Hally tried to find the words for the complicated feelings she had, knowing the time paradoxes would take Missy away from her again in the coming months.

"So, yeah. Things are great. I am trying to enjoy every moment. I don't know how much longer it's going to last, but I try not to think about it."

"It's okay to feel those feelings too," Alina reassured her, before doing some gentle digging, "We still have ten minutes. Transition, what about work?"

"What about it?" Hally shrugged, not feeling a need to talk about work. "Everything's going fine. No problems there. The project I am on is stimulating, but not overwhelming, and is on schedule."

"And your coworkers?" Alina asked, carefully maneuvering this conversation towards Hart intel gathering.

With a blink, Hally asked, "On the project?"

"On the project, management, your security team, anyone, everyone," Alina answered smoothly.

Amusement bubbled up in Hally. "That's like, 25 people. Yeah, we're all good, as far as I know. I haven't had any problems with anyone."

"Any of them making problems at the office, by bringing their home life to work, or fraternizing?"

"No. Not recently. They are all professional." Hally started with a snorts, "I assume if their personal life starts affecting their work life, they come to you."

With a smile in the pretense of being conversational, Alina supposed, "Some would call into question Hart's professionalism."

In response, Hally shrugged. "That's just the way he is. He gets the job done. I usually hardly see him, since he is overseeing my security team. Though one of the team has a dental appointment, so he'll be driving me to my lunch date with Missy."

Alina gave a shrug herself. "Hart has been given warnings for fraternization before. It'd hardly be out of character for him."

"Yeah," Hally scoffed, "UNIT has a rule against one night stands, between coworkers."

"Not a rule against it," Alina clarified, "Just a rule that you have to report it after. The rule was put in place after a person tried to use a defense they had twelve one-night-stands with the same person."

"Really?" Hally snorted, "Was it Hart?"

"It was before his time," Alina said, smiling. "Has Hart been fraternizing with any coworkers lately? At work, or off work?

"No..." Hally scrunched her eyebrows. Memories from Lilja's 9th birthday float to the forefront of her mind, of an exchange between Hart and Armitage that she hadn't been able to quite decipher. It occured to her that Alina is fishing. "Not that I've seen," Hally finished with a shrug.

As Hally left Alina narrowed her eyes. She realized that Hally knows something. Alina poured through the personal files of every person with a dick, thinking of motives they could have. Considering Hart's reputation, it's hardly a surprise someone would want to keep it secret, so it is not as easy to narrow it down as she would have liked. She couldn't even eliminate men in ostensibly hetero-sexual marriages - they would have the most to lose if it came out they were having an affair with Hart. She eliminated anyone who has been with UNIT less than 6 months. He seemed to give newbies a wider berth since a HR complaint there actually got aired into a hearing.

She heard "Tiptoes" text notification sound goes off on her phone, and she grabs it to read the message from him.

Text from "O": Wouldn't you like to know.

Alina huffed just as a head poked into her office.

"Great! It doesn't look like you are busy," Jack announced himself.

"I have an appointment in 15 minutes Jack," Alina replied dryly, "Should I cancel? Are you making up one of your many missed quarterly appointments?"

Jack's famous grin split his face. "Wouldn't dream of it. I got some tea to spill."

"So your usual reason for your rare visit to me," Alina supplies, "That the second thing UNIT is good for is offloading all your inability to manage your Torchwood staff to me?"

"Got that right!" an unrepentant Jack pronounced. "But um, it's not Torchwood staff."

Alina was tiring of this, thinking she has better things to do, like track down Hart's baby-daddy. "I'm not some place to pass unsubstantiated rumours about staff to."

"Ooooh, I think you are going to want to hear this," Jack teased, "And it's not unsubstantiated, I witnessed it."

"And why would I want to hear it?"

"Ah, because as I understand it he got six HR complaints last week," Jack baited, "It's affecting the workplace."

Working very hard to keep her tone even, Alina stated, "Hart? Close the door."

Once the door is closed, Jack asked worriedly, "Um, yeah. UNIT isn't planning on firing him, are they?"

"I'm going to need more than that, Jack," Alina insisted evenly, "As part of the contracts that cover him, I am one of four people that have to authorize him being fired. But he didn't exactly put himself in a good light last week. I got an email this morning asking for my insight, and I'm not quite sure what to tell them yet."

"Ah, Hart's pregnant?" Jack admited. Alina blinked in pretend surprise.

"Yeah," Jack continued, taking Alina's surprise at face value, "He spent the weekend at Ianto and my place. He is in rough shape."

"Medically?"

"I hope not," Jack said, concern clear as day on his face, "But, I mean emotionally. Apparently the father didn't believe him when he told him he was pregnant, and Hart is mad at himself for being stupid and in love. I'm worried about him."

"Has he said anything else about the father?"

"Nothing. He won't tell us anything." Jack's mouth turn down in an sad expression. "Other than, if he keeps the pregnancy, he is feeling he might have to do it alone. I really think this guy did a number on him. But he can't lose this job, while he is still trying to make a decision."

"That's a lot, for one person." Alina sighed, "Look, I'll do what I can to gum up and slow UNIT's HR machinery, but it is important you keep me informed of any helpful updates on how he is doing, okay?"

As Jack pulled open the door to leave, another person is in the door frame.

"What are you doing here?" Hart scowled at Jack, as he shoulder checks him as he enters the room.

Behind Hart's back Jack gesticulated wildly to Alina, as if communicating do you see what I mean?

"Jack, my 10 O'Clock, Ms Grayson, should be here any moment. Can you tell her we'll need to reschedule?"

"Sure thing," Jack replied, as he closed the door behind him.

"Sit, Hart," Alina said firmly. Hart slouches down in the seat across from Alina.

"So, why did you come here today?"

Hart just scowled.

"I need words, Hart," Alina prodded gently.

"I need a fucking medical note," he rasped.

"Oh?"

Covering his face, Hart snapped, "I can't fucking be here today."

"Is he here today?"

With his hands threading his hair, Hart yelled, "Stop fucking fishing!"

Alina tilted her head. "If you want a medical note, I am going to need something from you."

Armed crossed, Hart retorted, "I'm not giving you his fucking name."

"You also asked me for two weeks for you to sort things out, with or without him," she reminded him.

Hart's tone petulant, he forced out, "And fucking what?"

Alina deployed a soft caring tone, "You haven't seen a Doctor yet, have you?"

"Nothings fucking wrong," asserted Hart, "My 51st century biology wouldn't let there be."

His chest heaved, and Hart jerked and swallowed. Aline passed a waste bin just in time for Hart to retch in it.

"Apparently it doesn't do anything about pregnancy symptoms," Alina said kindly. "And, working with UNIT, and all this alien tech around, is not worth not getting checked-up."

"I grew up around alien tech."

"And I doubt it was all pregnancy safe."

"I won't see Owen, fuck that," Hart stipulated, "And I can't risk it getting out. Not yet. Not till I decided what I'm fucking doing."

"Well, good thing I've booked an appointment with Martha for you, off UNIT property, this afternoon."

Hart glowered in response to this announcement.

"Maybe she could give you something to relieve your morning sickness."

Hart's face grew pensive, and he scrubbed his face with his palms. "Is it just the hormones?"

A bit of confusion made it's way into Alina's tone. "Is what just the hormones?"

"Like, if I get rid of it, will I go back to normal? I just want the kid because I am awash in hormones that are doing me in?"

"I can't answer that question, only you can," Alina said

"The only way to answer that is a permanent decision though," Hart swallowed, distress evidence on his face.

"Yes. A permanent decision either way."

"You have a kid, right?" Hart asked curiously.

"A very planned and wanted child. I don't think our situations compare. I made the decision before I was awash in hormones, as you put it. I noticed that your entry medical records state that you were sterilized before you joined UNIT. Why did you get yourself sterilized?"

"Because I knew then that I'd be a terrible parent!" Hart blurted out. "I must be fucking fool to thing having this child is anything but a tragic idea."

"Why? Look at Hally," Alina asked.

"That's different," he asserted.

"She did not want a kid at first," Alina explained, drawing parallels.

"Hally's different," Hart claimed.

"In what way?"

"Hally has always had a decent heart, even if her head is in the wrong place sometimes."

"And you don't, Hart?"

"I am sure Jack must have written an essay on me, when I applied. With all my history." Hart's fist clenched at this admission.

"And you think that your history makes you not-parent-material, forever? What about Missy? Look how far she has come."

"Missy has things I'll fucking never have," Hart answered morosely.

"What's that?"

"Exacting control over herself. Patience of a saint, sometimes," Hart explained, with a anguished swallowing at the end.

"And you think you need those things to be a good parent?"

"It wouldn't fucking hurt."

"Hart, have you heard of Postpartum depression?"

With a scoff, Hart replied, "Of course. What kind of decent sex-ed doesn't touch on that?"

"All the ones I'm familiar with," Alina wryly told him.

"Fucking 21st century," he grumbled.

"How about prenatal, or antenatal, depression?"

A confused look passed over Hart's face. "You mean during pregnancy? You think I'm depressed, because of the pregnancy?"

"Possibly," Alina said evenly. "Obviously there is a lot going on in your life. But, think back to before you learned you were pregnant. The week, or weeks, leading up to the Wedding. Were you having a greater inability to concentrate, overwhelming anxiety and fear, feeling emotionally numb, extreme irritability, a sense of dread about everything, feelings of failure or guilt, persistent sadness, loss of interest in sex - ?

"Fuck," Hart whispered, as if suddenly he was making sense of some things that didn't make sense before. Alina raised an eyebrow. Hart swallowed before continuing.

"I was blaming how I was feeling on the problems I was having with -having with him."

"And maybe there are overlapping issues. I mean, another symptom is fatigue, but I don't know a pregnant person who didn't feel fatigued."

Alina grabbed a medical script, and quickly writes out a sick note.

"Look, here's a medical note, take the rest of the day off. But you will see Martha at 1:30, alright? And mention any of the symptoms we discussed with her. It's important. Prenatal depression can become postnatal depression."

"Um. That means I can't drive Hally today."

"Okay, I'll let everyone know."

Chapter Text

Late Monday morning

UNIT office of Hally Oakdown

In Hally's doorway the hulking Armitage was standing in his body-guard pose.

"Where’s Hart?"

Armitage stared. "He’s not driving you today."

Hally, who would normally hardly notice last minutes changes like this, tilts her head, curious. "Usually I am informed of changes to my security detail."

Armitage stared and gave a closed mouth grunt. Hally raised an eyebrow.

Armitage stared. "You were CC’d notice, about 30 minutes ago."

"You’re on Lily’s detail today," Hally noted, "You came yourself, on that short notice?"

Armitage stared. "Are you ready? Missy doesn’t like it when you’re late."

Once in the car, Hally was checking her email. "Alina sent the email? Is Hart alright?"

Armitage stared in the rear view mirror. Hally snorted.

"What? I know no one in my security detail, nor their family, has any real medical privacy with regards to yourself, head of my security, due to the contract UNIT has with the Saxon estate, paying them lots of money. Worried about us being compromised, and not knowing it, one of them told me. They don’t usually complain, because of how good the pay is, but on the rare occasion, over a decade, things do slip out."

Armitage stared. Sinking into her car seat, Hally relaxed and switch gears a little.

"You and Hart seem to be getting a bit chummy at Lily’s birthday party."

Armitage stared. Unseen by Hally his fingers tighten imperceptibly on the steering wheel.

She exhaled, "I guess his medical file is not really any of my business, even if it is yours."

Chapter Text

Monday afternoon
Off-site UNIT medical clinic

Martha was almost ready to start pacing; Alina has told her to expect a patient at 1:30 who needed a high degree of confidentiality, and it was ten minutes after already. Finally, a head popped into view.

"Hart?" Martha asked, confused.

"Did Alina not tell you anything?" Hart responded, half way between annoyed and worried, wanting to leave already.

"Are you escorting someone? Normally you are Hally’s security, aren’t you?" Martha asked, thinking of the other detail Alina gave.

Hart huffed, "It’s just me."

Martha's heart sank, thinking if it's not Hally, "It's not Lily is it?"

"Is what not Lily?" Hart getting increasingly puzzled.

Mouth set in a straight line, Martha explained, "All Alina told me was to be equipped for OBGYN services, that someone from UNIT would be coming, and that the medical file was to be confidential from UNIT plus subsidiaries for two weeks."

Some tension left Hart's body, as he laughed hysterically, "You thought Hally was pregnant? Or, fucking singularity forbid, Lily?"

Wondering where her patient was, Martha responded, "What? You think either being pregnant is impossible?"

"No no, of course not," Hart said seriously before grinning again, "Who am I to say that Time Ladies can’t get other Time Ladies pregnant?" His face turned dark, "And if someone did that to Lily, there'd be four men lined up to kill them."

"Oh," Martha paused, suddenly it was clicking for her, "It's you."

Cocking his head, Hart confirmed, “Righty-o”.

"Well, come on in," Martha said, professionalism settling in.

The 51st century man settled himself on a exam bed while Martha situated herself beside him.

"So, you are the reason why Alina was so exacting with her and subsidiaries," Martha said with a small grin, before her face returned to neutral, "Is there a reason you don’t want Armitage to know yet?

Hart dismissively waved his hand. "I just want to figure things out, before I let my boss know if I am, you know, going to need attachment leave, or not."

Lips pursed, Martha clarified, "Is that what they call parental leave in the 51st century?"

"Yeah."

"So you are still figuring things out? Not sure if you’ll need to take time off?"

Martha knew she neutral and professional, but apparently that was not enough to stop Hart's feelings from overwhelming him. He whimpered, his eyes started to water, before a sharp intake of breath was following by a yelp, startling Martha.

"FUCKING HORMONES." He snarled and started to get up, "And this fucking appointment was going so fucking well."

"WOAH," Martha said, acknowledging the outburst, "Hart, you can sit, if you want, but please, stay. Please." She tilted her head entreatingly.

Hart was poised to leave, perched on the edge of the exam bed, hands gripping the edge of it. Noticing Martha's big round empathic eyes trained on him, he grimaced, "Fine."

"Is this why you didn’t want to see Owen? He is your usual Doctor."

"What?" Hart retorted, "No. He’s a one-person man now."

A grin flitted across Martha's face. "I wasn’t implying he knocked you up. I meant his infamously terrible bed-side manner."

"OH. Yeah. Usually he’s great. I get to show off my 51st century biology, which he seems a little too keenly interested in, but, like I said, usually I like the attention. I get to ask him if he is sure that he is 100% committed to Tosh, and other," Hart's finished the sentence with a mocking Kate Lethbridge-Stewart impression, "unprofessional conduct. He won’t report me to HR, as long as I’m not assaulting him. I think he secretly likes the attention too. I can still make him blush sometimes! Owen! But he is 100% dedicated to Tosh." He gave a sigh. "She’s a lucky woman."

Amused, Martha lets a smirk and her eyebrows go up, before pooling her face. "Let’s go over your family medical history."

Hart whined, "Isn’t it all in the files?"

"You said, and I quote: You don’t need my damn medical history. If I get any condition that you guys can’t fix, I’m going back to the 51st century for a spell. I’ve done it once, I’ll do it again.”

The former Time Agent and present bodyguard managed to look sheepish.

"Look," Martha coaxed, "We don’t need to go over your whole personal and familial medical history. Just anything obstetrics related, and anything that could cause complications with that. Think you can do that?"

Eyebrows raised, Hart supplied, "My Dads didn’t exactly share how their pregnancies went, nor their relatives, male or female." His lip curled. "We weren’t exactly the Brady Bunch. THE ONE TIME I asked my Dad about that, I was eight, had just learned I had a uterus, and what that meant. My Dad was pregnant with my sister at the time. I asked him what it was like being pregnant. His answer: A beer a day keeps the existential dead away."

She tried, but Martha failed to keep a clinical expression on her face.

"Don’t look at me like that! In the 51st century, we can have a beer a day, and five coffees, and not fuck up our unborn spawn," Hart answered hotly. Suddenly not sure why he was defending her parents, and remember who his spawn's father was, he scowled, "Presumably the father’s 21st century contribution to the kid's genetics will mean I’ll have to be more careful."

"And, um, what are your drinking habits like, while we are on the topic?" Martha said evenly.

That earned her another scowl. "I think my 51st century biology picked up that I was stupid enough to let some 21st century bloke knock me up. I haven’t been able to hold down a beer in weeks. As for coffee, thank god I can drink a couple of those a day. If Alina thinks my conduct was bad last week, she should see me if I had to go cold turkey on coffee. It’s a miracle I was able to hold it together the first 6 weeks."

Martha allowed herself a small chuckle before asking, "Okay. Has your nausea been that bad the entire time?"

"No. I mean, I was put off by smells right away. And, if I ignored how foul beer smelled to me, and tried to drink it anyways, then I vomited. The persistent pregnancy nausea started later."

"Can I do a blood draw?"

Hart raised an eyebrow, "You checking for alcohol?"

"I’m checking for a lot of things."

Hands up in concession, Hart gives a "Fine, fine." Martha works to set up the blood draw on a blase Hart. As the blood draw started, she continued the conversation.

"Well, if you can’t tell me about your family obstetrics history, what about you? Have you ever been pregnant before?"

"No," snorted Hart.

"What about the father? There are paternal factors that can affect pregnancy. Or the fetus."

She noticed Hart stiffened, before he tried to play it cool. "It isn’t my practice to ask my partners for a medical history before we fuck."

She says nothing as she withdraws the needle, and places the blood samples in a couple testing devices.

“Okay. Are you ready for an ultrasound then?” she asked, breaking the silence.

With a mute nod, Hart laid back down, tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

"Here’s some tissues," Martha told him softly, "I’m just going to review your medical files. Is that okay?”

Quietly, Hart answered affirmatively, "Uh huh."

As Martha is reviewing Hart’s medical records, she raised an eyebrow. "You see Owen every two months? Why?"

Giving a shrug, Hart supplied, "Professional interest and research, for him. One of the few coworkers who tolerates, dare I say enjoys, my shenanigans, for me. Win win. Apparently Jack was quite tetchy about letting anyone examine his biology, he’s had some bad experiences."

A tilt of amusement to her tone, Martha said, "I see where he is getting all his HIV ideas he’s been sharing with me. You got some anti-bodies that Owen has labeled as HIV anti-bodies. And you’ve maintained a non-measurable CD4 count for as long as Owen’s been observing you, so that’s good. You’ve had HIV before?"

"Yeah, I got it from some bloke my first time visiting Torchwood. Had to get a cure from the 51st century. HIV AIDS is considered an archaic condition, but they have the treatment. Didn't even know what it was until I went to get fixed up for it. I might have caused a bit of an outbreak in the 51st century."

Martha smiled down at Hart. "Was it worth it?"

Hart smirked, "Oh yeah. With 51st century medicine, definitely."

"Well, we’ll want to keep an eye on that during your pregnancy. If there are any similarities between 21st and 51st century pregnancy, I’d place my bet on that pregnancy still makes patients a bit immuno-compromised, so that the body doesn’t reject the pregnancy."

A worried look crossed Hart's face. "Oh yeah?"

Martha gave a reassuring smile. "Don’t worry. You’re in good hands. And considering your CD4 count, I’m not that worried. It’s just another thing to keep an eye on. Speaking of keeping an eye on things, are you good to do an, um, trans-rectal ultrasound? A trans-abdominal ultrasound won’t give me the level of detail I’d like for a couple more weeks yet, considering you were not pregnant when you last saw Owen."

Eyebrows waggling, Hart flirted, "Usually someone would take me out to dinner first."

A high and clear laugh lifts up from Martha. "Your reputation would say otherwise."

Hart sighed in jest, "I guess you’re right."

She gave a smile in return. "I can take you out to dinner later, if you insist. Platonically of course. Otherwise Mr Jones-Smith might have something to say about that."

Chapter Text

Monday afternoon

Off-site UNIT medical clinic

Martha gave a reassuring smile. "Don’t worry. You’re in good hands. And considering your CD4 count, I’m not that worried. It’s just another thing to keep an eye on. Speaking of keeping an eye on things, are you good to do an, um, trans-rectal ultrasound? A trans-abdominal ultrasound won’t give me the level of detail I’d like for a couple more weeks yet, considering you were not pregnant when you last saw Owen."

"Which way do you want me?" Hart asked.

"Um, yeah, standard set-up isn’t going to work," Martha realized, "Can you remove your pants and knickers, and move to your side, facing that wall, while I move the monitors to that same wall? Are - are you okay with seeing everything?"

"Yeah," Hart's voice answered, a little shaky.

"Okay. You’re doing great, Hart."

Martha set about rearranged the monitor and equipment, while Hart removed his pants. When she sat down again, a laptop with her to monitor the monitors, she noticed that the rumpled pants on the floor did not have knickers with them. She made no comment on this.

"I have the ultrasound wand ready. Now finding the best spot for viewing might be a bit tricky. This might be a tad uncomfortable.

Hart gave a scoff. "Please," he teased, wiggling his bum, "I’ve had things a lot bigger than that in my anus."

Giving a snort Martha directed him, "Hold still, Hart."

"You going to spank me if I’m being bad?" Hart flirted.

"Hart," Martha chided lightheartedly, while maneuvering the ultrasound wand into position.

"I happen to think you would make a good dom, Martha. That’s a compliment."

"Lets just focus - ah, there they are - on your fetus, okay?"

Martha noticed Hart froze as the 7 week old fetus appeared on screen, preceding tears running sideways down his face.

"Fucking hormones," Hart moaned.

"Here, here’s the tissues," Martha reassured him, as he sniffled. He tried to rebuff the tissues, but as more tears fell, he took them.

"This is making it more real," Hart sniveled, wiping hears from his face.

"Maybe that is for the best, Hart. Now, let me take some measurements, okay?"

As she maneuvered the ultrasound wand around, she asked the question on her mind since reviewing Hart's medical records, "Maybe, Hart, you can tell me what made you decide to have kids a couple years ago, and then change your mind?"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!" Hart jerked as he yelled, baffled at the question.

"DON’T MOVE HART, remember I have a wand up your butt."

"How could I forget?" Hart flirted, before he resumed a serious tone, "No, seriously, why would you say that?"

"Um, well," Martha equivocated, navigating her error in judgment, "In your medical file, Owen noted your uterus six years ago."

"OWEN SAW A UTERUS SIX YEARS AGO, AND DIDN’T TELL ME? THEN OR SINCE? NO, NO, that CAN’T be right.

"Why can’t it be right?" Martha replied evenly, "I saw the scans too."

"He MUST have mixed up my records with Jack, or something. I know what it’s like to have a dick, a uterus, and periods. I haven’t had any periods.

"You were born with a uterus?" Neither of the 51st century men talked about their biology this much with Martha before.

"YES. DO YOU NOT REMEMBER ME TELLING YOU I FOUND OUT AT EIGHT THAT I HAD A UTERUS.

"Sorry, this is just all new to me. I saw the scans. You did not have a uterus for your first four years at UNIT, and you had one in the last six."

"FUCKING OWEN," yowled Hart.

Failing to completely hide her amusement, Martha lilted, "He didn’t give you a uterus."

"BUT HE DIDN’T TELL ME!" snarled Hart.

"I’ll talk with him, figure out what happened," Martha tried to reassure him.

"NO YOU WON’T, YOU WON’T FUCKING TELL THAT BASTARD A THING," insisted Hart.

"Okay," Martha conceded, "I will not tell him for the next two weeks. I will probably need to consult with him after, if you are still my patient."

"FINE! HE’S NOT MY DOCTOR ANYMORE THOUGH."

Redirecting to medical matters, Martha asked, "So, you haven’t had a period in six years? Are male periods like female ones?

Hart deflated. "More or less."

"And no periods?"

A look of concentration passed over Hart's face. "I might have had spotting once in a rare orbital line up, and mistook it for some other problem. What are you getting at?"

"You might have some secondary infertility, related to the new reproductive system."

"I'm pregnant though!" Hart exclaimed.

"I didn’t say that you were sterile, just possibly infertile. Think about it, Hart. Unless you don’t have a sex life to speak of, and you are putting on a very extravagant show for everyone."

A scowl pulled on Hart's lips. "I’m not an exhibitionist."

Martha kept the thought Like an audience would stop you to herself.

"How have you not gotten pregnant before now, if you’ve had a fully functioning female reproductive system, and have a very active unsafe sex life?

"Well, fuck," Hart quietly exclaimed, a sniffle trailing his words.

"Are you okay, Hart? Do you need me to stop?" asked Martha tentatively.

"I said I’ve had worse up my bum!" Hart lashed out.

"O kay," Martha answered.

Hart cried, "I haven’t heard their heart beat yet."

"The computers have been recording the fetal heart tone this whole time," Martha reassured him, "I can give you a recording."

"I want it live!" Hart demanded. "You said maybe it was for the best that it starts feeling real for me, well," he snarled, "give me a live heart beat."

"Okay okay. Give me a minute," reassured Martha, "One live fetal heart tone, coming straight up." Hart sniffed.

"You know," Hart sniffed again, "I overheard Jack talking to Lily at the wedding, about immortality, mortality. Heavy stuff for a nine year old. He told her, about marrying Ianto, We have to enjoy the time we get with folk, Lilly, whether we are mortal or not. And I’m just feeling like I have to choose, you know. Between having this kid, and having someone else." A whimper escaped his throat. "And it just isn’t fair."

Martha responded delicately, "What do you mean, Hart? That you’ll have to choose between this kid, or someone else?"

Sniffing, Hart answered, "The other father, he doesn’t want the kid."

"Is that what he said?" Martha asked gently.

A scowl flitted across his face. "We don’t exactly do a lot of talking. But it was obvious."

Martha continues in a soft tone, "Maybe he was just shocked. If he didn’t know your biology, and hadn’t conceptualized you as a trans man, he could need some time to wrap his brain about this."

A scowl tugged at his features again. "It shouldn’t."

"I don’t know where you get that impression from him, but," Martha let a small smirk form, "You also have the ability to get people pregnant. What if someone you hooked up with in the 21st century came back to you a couple months later, and said, Surprise! I am from the 51st century, and you left your sperm in me, and now I am pregnant. Are you saying you wouldn’t run for the hills?

"Who says I’m a switch?" Hart said hotly, as if the implication that he wasn't exclusively a bottom was the most pressing matter.

"PLEASE," Martha said playfully, "You are more chaotic and messy than Missy. Of course you are a switch."

"Well, I wouldn't," Hart said quietly.

"Wouldn’t switch?" replied Martha, confused.

Hart let go a sigh. "No. Run for the hills. If somehow," Hart rolled his eyes, "my vasectomy reversed itself too, and I wasn’t wrapping it, and got some 51st century bloke pregnant. I. wouldn't. run. for. the. hills."

"No offense," Martha kindly rebuffed, "but I never took you for the honour and duty type.

Hart exclaimed, "None taken! It’s not that," Hart shot back, then whined, finding his shirt. "I lied to Jack."

Taken aback by the implication, Martha carefully keeps surprise out of her voice.

"What’s Jack got to do with your pregnancy?"

All melancholy, Hart bellyached, "He and Ianto were there when I found out I was pregnant. They are the only ones who know, besides Alina and you. Well, and probably Missy - Jack borrowed Missy's laser screw driver to confirm my pregnancy. Jack said he erased the data, but you know Missy."

"Don’t we all," acknowledged Martha. "So, you found out at the wedding?

"Yep," Hart shared, popping the p.

Tender tone again, Martha prodded, "What did you lie to Jack about?"

"I have a soft spot for kids. I’ve always wanted a kid. Cute little bundles of chaos. I just didn’t think I deserved a kid," Hart's voice went quiet, "Or that one deserved me."

"So, you’ve done an awful lot to prevent that possibility, hmm?"

Rolling his answer, Hart supplied, "Did I ever. And Alina thinks the little bean is causing me grief already with prenatal depression."

"We’ll talk about that, once I get this stick out of your but, okay?"

Hart gave a good snort, "I haven't tried talking about my feelings with a stick up my but before, it might be a good idea."

"Well, you’ve been doing a good job so far -"

"Funny. Haha."

"Now," Martha said expectantly, "I’ve just gotten the karyotype from the fetal cells in your blood draw back. Do you want to know their sex chromosomes?

Hart’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open softly in wonder, "Yeah."

Chapter Text

Monday afternoon

Off-site UNIT medical clinic

"Now," Martha said expectantly, "I’ve just gotten the karyotype from the fetal cells in your blood draw back. Do you want to know their sex chromosomes?

Hart’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open softly in wonder, "Yeah."

"Their sex chromosomes are XY. So, they’ll probably be phenotypically male," Martha shared with a smile. "Is the male uterus and ovaries a dominant trait, or recessive?"

"I don’t know," Hart grumbled.

"That’s alright, it’s not medically relevant right now," Martha stated.

Hart looked back to the monitor, worried, "What’s taking so long for the heart beat?"

"Nothing. I’ve been ready for at least two minutes," Martha reassured Hart. "You were having a moment. So, I let you have it."

Hart muttered, "Well, thanks, I guess."

"Are you ready?" asked Martha.

"Yes. NO," Hart hissed, "Damn it, just put it up!"

"Here. We. Go."

The rapid sound of fetal hart tones filled the room. A wee bit of awe softens Hart's face again, "That's the beans' heart."

Martha's eyebrows scrunch as an expression of concern takes over, and she goes into urgent Doctor mode.

"Hey! I’m having a TENDER moment. Do you have to move that around my tender bits right now!" shouted Hart.

"I’m just checking for something," Martha said calmly.

"For WHAT? Is this an echocardiogram?!"

"Nope," she said evenly, "Nothing is wrong with your heart, Hart."

"Medically, maybe," Hart muttered, before yelping, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"I’m checking for twins," Martha said fast, but clear

"TWINS?! No. NO! Fuck no! Am I clear? If I have this kid, I’m a one and done!"

Under her breath Martha groused, "Unfortunately biology doesn’t care what we want."

His fingers now crossed, Hart started to pray, when he realized something, "Wait. Why do you think it’s twins?"

Grumbling, Martha asked, "Are you sure you don’t have a second uterus in there?"

"HOW THE HELL WOULD I KNOW. OWEN DIDN’T EVEN TELL ME I HAD ONE. EVEN THOUGH IT WAS A NEW FUCKING ORGAN IN MY BODY!"

"It was a rhetorical question," Martha said by way of apology. "Now, this might be uncomfortable."

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"I’m checking for ectopic pregnancies. It's important!"

"YOU OWE ME A MONTHS WORTH OF DINNERS FOR THIS!" Hart stipulated. Then moved on to bargaining, "Hey! Watch it! Look, us 51st century blokes and gals can’t even have ectopic pregnancies."

"Are you sure?" Martha asked firmly.

"YES! They did something to all of our uterine tubes, like, three generations ago. It was considered the height of stupidity to not allow your daughter or son to get the genetic-sequence for the adaption. Sort of like HPV vaccines now."

"What if your new uterine tubes didn’t grow back right?"

"I’LL SIGN A WAIVER."

"If you’re sure," Martha said, sounding unsure.

"I’M SURE. I’m not sure what the hell you were looking at, but can you put the bean back up on the screen?"

"Sure."

Soon 'bean' shows back up on the screen. Hart's face soften for a moment, before his eyes narrow.

"You are sure there is only one?"

"There is certainly only one in your uterus. And I didn't see another in the other places I checked."

"Is the through rectal probing for ectopic pregnancies routine?"

"No," Martha answered, "because people with vaginas don’t need rectal probing for their pregnancies."

Hart gave a glower. "So, why did you think there might be twins?"

"You know the fetal heart tones we’ve been listening to?" Martha asked in a pondering tone.

"Yeah?"

"They are too fast. About double too fast."

"What does that mean?" Hart shot a concerned look, "Is there something wrong with them?"

"Them, still?" Martha tilted her head, "When you know that they have XY chromosomes?"

Hart gave a sniff. "Everyone uses the singular they on their babies in the 51st century. The kid will usually tell you to stop using them for them before they go off to primary school. Unless they are non-binary."

"Oh."

"Don't worry," snorted Hart. With a roll of his eyes he added, "I won’t report you to HR."

"Yeah," Martha smirked, "you’ve given me way too much ammo to ever make that kind of threat stick. From this appointment alone."

Laughs erupt from Hart until a couple happy tears leak out of his eye.

"Can I take the ultrasound probe out of your ass now?" Martha proposed.

Tilting his head, Hart sad, "Yeah, could do."

After letting Hart get redressed in some privacy to clean the probe, Martha returned to a sitting Hart.

"So, what could be wrong with them?" Hart asked nervously, "If there is only one?"

"Maybe nothing," Martha said, downplaying her concerns, "I’ve never seen a pregnant 51st century man. Do you know the range of BPM for 51st century fetuses?"

"Don't be silly," scoffed Hart.

"If they are the same as us mere 21st century humans, no fetal tachycardia is twice that of a normal fetal heart rate. Which is why I was looking for a twin. There is no other earthly explanation." Martha's eyes go up as if in thought. "Unless…"

"Unless what?" Hart probed.

"Could you have conceived them in a TARDIS?" Martha speculated. "Doctors or Missy’s, doesn't matter."

Hart chuckled, "You think I’d have sex in my boss’s home?"

"No, but I wouldn't put it past you. Remember, I used to travel with the Doctor. I know TARDISes have allll sorts of nooks and crannies. In any case, sperm can live in a person’s cervix for up to five days. If you had sex up to five days before being on a TARDIS, and ovulated and conceived on the TARDIS, that would count."

"21st century sperm only lasts a maximum five days in a cervix?" Hart looked down at his body. "You let some weak sperm knock me up? How could you?!"

"So… About 7 weeks ago, did you spend any time on a TARDIS?"

Hart scoffed, but his eyes get shifty. "What does it mean if I did?"

"Have you ever heard of River Song?" Martha asked.

"OH FUCK NO. Why does the universe hate me?"

"Well, having an long-lived child that can regenerate, is not the worst thing," Martha said, trying to rationalize away Hart's strong reaction.

"I HAD A PARAPLEGIC PET TURTLE ONCE, AND I DID NOT REALIZE IT RAN AWAY UNTIL IT WAS ALREADY GONE."

"As a kid?" Martha entreated.

Hart gave a scowl and crossed his arms. "Yes, as a kid."

A notification text sound went off on Hart's phone, and his face dropped as he looked at it.

Text from Armitage: If you don’t want to work for Saxon Enterprises anymore, just let me know.

"What is it?" Martha gingerly asked.

Hart scoffed, "Just my boss, checking to see if I still want my job."

Martha scrunched her face, "Well, you did break a colleague's nose last week."

"You make it sound like I punched them in the face! They fell!" Hart protested.

Her eyebrows went up, "Because you tripped them. Was that by accident?"

Hart gave a huff. "I’ve been dealing with a lot!"

"Yes. Right," Martha acknowledged, using this confession to transition topics. "On that, let's talk about your pregnancy symptoms, and see what I can do about them. Now, the prenatal depression you could have, could be either situational, hormonal, or both."

"Greeaaaat," Hart muttered.

Chapter Text

Monday, Mid-Afternoon

Alina picked up the call, "What did you find out, Martha?"

"Well, Hart is definitely pregnant. About 9 weeks LMP."

A couple beats of silence occur as the pair think on Hart and the situation, and how to navigate going forward.

"I’ve been asked for insight, from Kate, after his misconduct last week," Alina shared, "Do you have anything that could be helpful?"

Martha gave a concerned sigh. "Not much on paper. His blood is clean. No drugs or alcohol. Apparently he hasn’t touched alcohol in several weeks, due to scent-sensitivities, and says we should be grateful he’s only acted up in the last week."

"The psychiatric stuff is really not my field, but I think it is more than prenatal depression," Martha added.

"Oh?" Alina noised curiously.

"I mean, he’s always been a bit mercurial, and a bit volatile, but it is ratcheted up to like 11 right now."

"Yes, I’ve seen it too," Alina confessed.

"For all his talk of his superior 51st century biology, he forgets I’m time travelled, and there the future is as full of backwaters and medical conditions as the present," Martha said, contemplating Hart's behavior.

"Are you thinking anything in particular?" Alina queried.

A weary sigh came across the line. "Not yet. I need to do some research. Maybe focus on things that can be worsened during pregnancy?"

"What about his physical health?" Alina inquired.

"He has the usual pregnancy symptoms. Since his blood work came back good, I’m just going to monitor for now."

Noting blood word was done, Alina probed, "Did you by chance request DNA testing?"

"Yep. I already have results too."

Alina allowed some natural sounding curiosity in her tone. "Oh? That’s quick. What does it say?"

"I did a karyotype, to rule out obvious chromosomal issues. The remaining DNA sample is being screened for common non-chromosomal genetic illnesses."

"Is some DNA being used for a full-DNA profile?" Alina clinically probed.

"That’s really not medically indicated, so I haven’t done that."

"Couldn't that put Hart more at ease?" Alina deftly asked.

Martha snorted, "He’s pretty confident in the superiority of his 51st century biology."

"He could be worried about the genetic contributions of the 21st century father," Alina supplied.

"I’ll ask him next time," Martha replied absentmindedly.

"Did he say anything about the other father?" Alina asked conversationally.

Sighing, Martha answered, "No. All I can tell is that the other father is a very sore subject for him. I think he wants the kid, but feel it's either the kid or the partner. Not both. There are some other things I am keeping an eye on for Hart’s pregnancy, but nothing definitive so far."

Chapter Text

Monday Mid-Evening
The Harkness-Jones Residence

Jack arrives in his and Ianto’s kitchen, and Hart gets up from his counter stool.

"Your home!" exclaimed Hart, giving Jack an hug.

"Well," Jack smiled, "You seem to be in a better mood. Talking to Alina help?"

Behind Hart's back Ianto gave a couple jerks of his head towards the fridge.

"Where have you been, Jack?" demanded Hart, "You’ve been off work for 3 hours."

"Well Hart," Jack started, bemused, "My husband knew where I was."

"He didn’t say!"

Ianto gave a shake of his head. "You didn’t ask."

"Mother’s day is coming up," Jack explained, while reaching into a cookie jar, "and Lily refuses to let either mother help her shop for the other. So, I took her shopping."

Grinning, Hart pestered, "Must be hard for you to shop for a gift for Missy."

Chomping on a cookie, Jack shrugged, "I don’t do it for Missy."

Hart's eyes watered, "Fucking hormones," and tears followed.

"Hey, hey," Jack said, trying to be reassuring, "Was it something I said?"

"Lily’s lucky," Hart pouted. "She has two parents, and four uncles who’d die or kill for her. And especially you and Ianto."

Wiping his eye, Hart continued, "I mean, we can just admit it, I’m the fun uncle, not the responsible one that, like, helps them out, and shit."

Ianto grinned, "It’s better than the stern Uncle Armi, who could double for a hedge."

Hart's breath caught, and the tears ran faster.

"Hey, hey, hey," Jack soothed, rubbing Hart's arm, "If you want this kid, we’ll all help you, like we did for Hally when Missy was gone. As it is, Lily’s going to be entering her terrible tweens soon. Toddlers are much more fun to dote on. I’m sure even Armitage would love to be an Uncle again."

Sobbing erupted from Hart.

"Wow, okay, let’s move this to the couch, okay?" Jack offered.

Hart ended up throwing up his supper, and five minutes later was just sniffling, leaning into Jack while Jack was rubbing his back.

"I got ice cream!" Ianto announced,"If it doesn’t stay down, it will be easy coming back up!" Ianto hands out the servings of ice cream.

"I saw the ultrasound photo on the fridge," Jack said softly, "So you saw a Doctor today?"

Hart nodded.

"How did the appointment go?"

"Fine," Hart pouted, then added with interest, "I learned their sex-chromosomes."

"Oh!" Ianto exclaimed, "What are they?"

"XY."

Jack grinned. "So Lily could have a cousin. That’s exciting."

Rubbing his face, Hart admitted, "I’m just afraid of ruining everything."

"That sounds a bit like catastrophizing again," Ianto said wryly.

"If that is about the other father, who doesn’t want to be involved, fuck him," Jack snapped. "Even if you feel that way now, he isn't everything. What’s got you so dickmatized over this prick?"

"I," Hart sniffed, "wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Fucking hormones!"

"Well, good thing he proved himself to be a loser AND an idiot, and you got out early. Consider yourself lucky," reassured Jack.

Hart stated pensively, "Martha thinks I might have prenatal depression."

"Martha’s overseeing your care?" Ianto contributed, "That’s good."

"When I said I wasn’t on any SSRIs," Hart said glumly, "She said she’d have to see if any were safe to start during pregnancy."

"When do you see her next?" Jack asked.

"Oh," Hart replied, "Next week."

Perplexed Ianto suggested, "That seems a little soon."

"There are some oddities she wants to keep an eye on."

"Anything we should be worried about?" Jack inquired, watching Hart closely.

Hart shook his head, and then paused a moment. "You know, Jack, how you said Ianto has one life to live?"

"Yeah."

"That applies to me too."

Jack took this in, before softly adding, "Yeah, yeah it does."

"Can we just pull out of the pull-out bed, and watch a movie together?" Hart asked.

"Yeah, sure," Ianto replied.

"Any idea what you want to watch?" Jack asked.

"Is there any Disney movie, without a tragic or terrible parent-child relationship?"

Jack grinned and offered his favourite, "Robin Hood, coming right up."

Nearly an hour later, a sound comes from the kitchen.

Vwoorp vwoorp vwoorp.

Jack sighed wearily. "You know, that sound used to fill me with unadulterated joy and anticipation?"

Missy enters the living room to find all three men, laying on a pull out, under blankets.

"Cozy," she leveled.

"What do you want Missy?" Jack sighed, "Usually you aren’t doing your own dirty work."

"You think parenting is dirty work?" she replied, a touch primly.

Hart chin wobbled.

"Hally is asleep, and Lily is not yet," Missy explained dryly, "because she doesn’t have her bed time stuffie. Looks like you’re holding it, Hart?"

"o-OH. Here you go." Hart said, handing it over.

"I’ll take my leave," Missy stated. " To do my parenting, or as you call it Jack, dirty work," she finished, leaning backward into the room as she left.

Chapter Text

Tuesday, early morning

The Harkness-Jones Residence

Jack and Ianto blearily woke up in their bedroom to a thudding noise.

Ianto started, "What’s that sou - "

Jack added, "That sounds ba - "

Both exclaimed "Shit!" at the same time, scrambling out of bed in their knickers, and rushed down stairs. They found Hart standing near the wall of their living room, and Jack grabbed Hart by the shoulders.

"Hey, stop that!" Jack ordered.

"Why are you punching two holes in our plaster walls?" a worried Ianto asked.

His eyes watering, Hart shouted, "And things like this are why I can't be a parent!"

"Hey, hey, now," Jack said reassuringly, "Let’s get to the kitchen, and get you something to eat. You still like yogurt? That’d probably be easy on the stomach."

They situated Hart with yogurt and granola at the eat-in kitchen, and got some for themselves.

"Can you tell us why you were punching the wall?" Ianto asked, in a way to suggest the answer did not matter that much.

Scowling, Hart supplied, "I thought I figured out a solution. I emailed Alina yesterday evening, and I just found out rejected it."

Both Jack and Ianto thought So that's why he was so cheery last night. You know, before he started bawling.

"What solution did she reject?" Ianto asked evenly.

"I asked for approval for full-time telework, for health reasons," Hart provided, still angry. Thinking of their living room wall, Jack and Ianto silently approved.

Jack diplomatically probed, "Did she give you a reason?"

With a dour glower, he answered, "She thought it would be best if I’m around people. Despite six HR complaints last week."

"FYI," Jack shared, "We do have a punching bag. I’ll set it up, before we go to work."

A ding indicated a text came through to Hart’s phone.

"What's that?" Jack voiced. Hart looked at this phone and groaned.

"Everything alright?" Ianto gently pressed.

"Five employees, and you can’t trust a single one to be available!" Hart complained.

"Alright. What does that mean?" Jack asked.

Giving a sigh, Hart explained, "The Bakshi brothers have been in India, and need a few weeks tying up their father’s estate. Mungoshi is off on attachment leave. Yoshida is on vacation. And Crowther, who was off most of yesterday for a dentist appointment, just texted me that their kid just threw up."

Grinning, Jack said, "Well, that’s life with kids. You might need and appreciate other people being accommodating of your kid one day."

Being practical, Ianto asked, "Does that mean you need to pick up Hally?"

"Yes," glared Hart.

"Do you want one of us to come with?" Ianto offered.

As if his rolled eyes didn't communicate his feelings enough, Hart's tone was dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah. That won’t seem suspicious."

Shrugging, Ianto responded, "Just putting the offer out there."

"Maybe Armitage can drive everyone where they need to go?" Jack suggested.

"I’m already on thin ice due to my conduct last week," Hart's tone having turned mocking at the last couple words, before insisting, "No, I’ll do my damn job and keep the vultures off my back."

Chapter Text

Tuesday morning

Harkness-Jones Commuting to Work

"Um, love?" ventured Jack.

Ianto briefly fixed him with a look, but kept his eyes on the road.

"I know that tone, Jack. What is it?"

Jack scratched his eyebrow with his opposite thumb. "I, um, might need to take a trip to the 51st century?"

"Just who are you texting?" inquired Ianto.

"Alina."

"Alina is asking you to go to the 51st century? Why in the ever-loving hell would Alina be asking you to do that? If you are going to lie to me, pick a better lie than that."

"I’m not lying to you! I promised that I wouldn't lie to you unless it was life and death stakes again," entreated Jack, adding softly, "I meant it."

Ianto lamented, "You know what that tone does to me. No. I need some context first. Again: Alina?!"

Jack sighed, "She wants me to get a couple DSMs, or whatever the equivalent was in the future. It’s not like I paid attention to that sort of thing back then."

"She wants some shrink books?" asked Ianto querulously, "From the 51st century? That seems a bit much, for a reason to time-hop."

"She also wants me to break into - "

"BREAK INTO," Ianto exclaimed.

"Let me finish!" Jack persisted, "It’ll be easy! It’s not even breaking into a place I didn't already have access to. I’ll go a bit early in my Time Agent career, before, you know, there was a falling out, so I can just waltz in the front door."

Flabbergasted, Ianto rephrased, "Alina wants you to break into the Time Agency?"

"She wants me to nab the Time Agency’s medical records on Hart," Jack clarified.

"Oh," Ianto replied.

Grinning, Jack pointedly said, "So no objection to me violating Hart’s medical privacy?"

"God no," Ianto leveled, "Have you seen our walls?

A chuckle came from Jack.

"There is just one problem, Jack."

"What’s that?" Jack asked curiously.

"Your vortex manipulator isn’t currently working. It broke when you zapped us to four weeks ago, after we left the wedding."

"Oh, shit, I forgot. It was worth it though, wasn’t it," Jack remembered, waggling his eyebrows.

The roll of Ianto's eyes is belied by his blush.

"Though," Ianto thought out loud, scrunching face, "The vortex manipulator isn’t your only option."

Jack gives a hearty snort, "The Doctor isn’t reliable enough for a house call."

At Ianto's silence Jack looks over to see Ianto's face still scrunched up.

"No. Oh no," Jack rebuffed, shaking his head, "Not a chance in hell."

Chapter Text

Tuesday Morning

Outside of the Oakdown Residence

Pulling up and parking outside of Hally's house, Hart saw Armitage, who wasn't supposed to be picking up Lily today. He noticed Armitage eyebrows rose near imperceptibly at the sight of Hart. Hart glower was interrupted by a text ding on his phone.

Text from Owen: You missed our appointment yesterday.

Hart banged his head on the steering well, then just collapsed on it. Realizing that he could see Armitage from this angle, he noticed a near imperceptible change in Armitage’s glower, indicating likely disapproval of Hart’s behavior. Hart turned his face the other way for a couple minutes, deep breathing, before responding to Owen.

Text from Hart: Slipped my mind. I was sick.

Text from Owen: If you mean hung over, just say it. If you mean sick sick, well, perfect time to study you.

Hart rubbed his hand over his face before responding:

Text from Hart: I accidentally got double-booked. Alina got to see me in my hung over glory for our standing quarterly appointment.

Text from Owen: Okay. I have an opening in three weeks, if that works for you.

Text from Hart: 👍

Under his breath Hart started muttering. "Bastard, you aren’t getting anywhere near bean." A whimper started, as Hart had the thought, Even if bean becomes medical waste. 

Tuesday Morning

Travelling from Oakdown Residence

At the first stop light on the way to UNIT Hally brought up to Hart, "You know, at Lily’s ninth birthday party, I saw you flirting with Armitage. Is something going on between you too?"

Hart, sweating bullets under his outfit, pulled off a charming smile. "I flirt with everyone, love." Hart thought back, and thought No, I was suave, I was subtle, there is no way....

Hally quoted private words she heard at the party, said from Hart to Armitage, “You could say I'm a connoisseur of interesting boundaries.”

Barely keeping the nervousness out of his voice, Hart laughs, "Haha! HR would say the same thing about me. And didn’t I say that his boundaries seem particularly well-fortified? You have a very good memory. That was, what, six months ago?"

"It sounded like you were trying to get into his pants," smirked Hally.

Grinning, Hart leans into the sentiment, "People always think it sounds like I’m trying to get into everyone’s pants. Why do you think I am reported to HR so often? And I am trying to get into everyone’s pants."

Curious, Hally asked, "Have you ever seen Armitage with anyone?"

A bead of sweat flopped down Hart’s forehead. Shrugging with a pretend nonchalance, he offered, "I'm personally starting to think he is ace, or at least grey. I am sure Missy would feel that works for her; a man who can’t get distracted by anything. Even my team, no one is exclusively interested in men, at this point. I’m pretty sure that is by design. Probably trying to stem the HR complaints."

"Are you okay?" Hally asked, concerned, "You - you’re sweating?"

Hart touched the sweat like he didn’t know it was there. He chuckled, and smoothly lied, "I’m fine. Just my 51st century biology, running a little hot today. Maybe I forgot my antiperspirant. I’ll touch up at the office; got some in my desk drawer."

Chapter Text

Tuesday Morning

UNIT Medical Facilities - Owen Harper’s office

Owen looked at Hart’s last text message a little perplexed. The 51st century man had managed over the years to worm himself into Owen’s second favourite patient spot (Lily was his favourite, the only kid on his UNIT roster). Owen knew that Hart enjoyed their appointments. That Hart had never missed one, until this. And he knew that Alina was meticulous enough that she wouldn’t double-book a patient. Owen went to book Hart’s next appointment in three weeks, and checked that it didn't’ overlap with any of Hart’s professional or personal commitments noted on Hart’s UNIT calendar. Once Owen set a date and time, he checked yesterday’s calendar. It was blank, the whole day, other than his appointment noted with Owen, and Hart's standard working hours. Owen narrowed his eyes.

Tuesday Morning

Outside of the Oakdown Residence

Missy saw the subtle “we need to talk” look from Armitage.

"Lilja, I’m going to ride in the front today."

Lily got herself seated in the back, behind the privacy window. Missy sat herself in the front passenger seat. Armitage’s car pulled away from Hally’s house, on the way to the school where Missy was Head Mistress and Lily attended school.

Armitage stared, "We might have a personnel problem."

"Isn’t that what I, or rather Saxon Enterprises, pays you a very pretty penny to deal with. So that I don’t have to," Missy spoke in an unimpressed bored tone, as she pulled a pill off her sweater and flicked it, "deal with any of that sort of petty human squabbling."

Armitage stared, "It’s Hart."

"Oh, is his baby-daddy drama causing issues at UNIT with the uncle quartet?" Missy drolly supplied.

Armitage stared. His fingers tightened imperceptibly to most mortals.

Missy pretended to not have noticed. 

Armitage stared, "The personnel problem is that he was reported to HR six times last week."

"Oh, you didn’t know? Well, let me paint a picture, " Missy relayed, "At a wedding, a Time Lady needs to pee, finds a solitary bathroom, you know how I don’t like to share bathrooms with humans if I can help it. Opens it up to find three of Lily’s uncles, all ties eschew, a few buttons undone on all of their dress shirts, hair that was neatly groomed just moments earlier mussy on all of their heads. One asked me to leave, one asked for my laser."

Armitage stared. His jaw twitched imperceptible to most mortals.

"I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a fourth, if you are jealous and/or interested," Missy supplied.

Armitage stared.

"Later I found out that they tried to delete a pregnancy scan. One of those three men was pregnant. They were just testing for HCG hormones, so I couldn't tell who the gestational or non-gestational father was. So disappointed," Missy gave a mock pout before continuing, "Jack and Ianto are newly weds. Maybe they are starting a family. You know, before Ianto gets old and dies. Or, at least is too old to safely carry a pregnancy to term, with 21st century technology. Both Harkness-Jones family planning, and their ménage à trois with Hart, hardly seem a compelling reason for removing a seasoned and adept employee. As for the HR ‘misconduct’, you’ve always vouched for Hart before. What’s changed?"

Armitage stared, "He’s backsliding."

Missy shrugged, as if it was no concern of hers, "If you feel his value to us could be coming to an end, then do your job, and make sure all eventualities are accounted for, in case we need to let him go. I have full confidence you can effectively oversee both security teams in his absence."

Armitage stared.

Chapter Text

Tuesday, Mid-Morning

UNIT office of Mr Armitage.

After checking his emails Armitage reviewed Hart’s medical records with UNIT. Hart rarely had any medical issues. However, since Owen and Hart have an arrangement where Owen gets to study 51st century biology, and Hart gets to be himself, without fear of an HR complaint, Hart has more medical records and notes than two whole security teams.

After two years of long arcane medical notes every two months, Armitage insisted on Owen writing “healthy”, “unhealthy”, and “No change since last report” at the top. If "unhealthy", then include a brief summary of the issue, and of any medical restrictions on Hart’s ability to carry out his job responsibilities, and the expected duration of the restrictions. The pages and pages of details were still there, but he hadn't paid attention since he set those expectations with Owen.

Appointment Records 2 months ago: “Healthy - No change since last report.”
Appointment Records Yesterday: “No show. Rescheduled”.

Armitage’s eyes narrowed. Hart had never skipped an appointment with Owen. Why would he start now? He would have access Jack's and Ianto's medical records, had he any access to them. Across his screen appeared an email summoning him for 9:30. His scowled deepened.

UNIT office of Alina

A hulking figure stepped into Alina’s doorway.

Armitage stared. With a touch more menace in his tone than usual, he announced, "I’m here."

"Thank you. Close the door please." Armitage closed the door and assumed his standard body guard stance and stared.

"I summoned you. I'm sure you know why."

Armitage stared.

"This is serious, Armitage," Alina rebuked evenly, "If Hart has another incident, he could be suspended, or even fired, neither which I don’t think would be good for his stability right now."

Armitage stared.

"I need something, Armitage," Alina levelled, "to take to Kate."

Armitage stared, "Maybe it’s drugs. He has a history."

Alina had been able to catch when micro-expressions happened on Armitage’s face for a while now, but that was it. She couldn’t decipher them. A couple had popped up. Was it worry for Hart? Was Hart being as secretive with Armitage? She couldn’t outright ask, not when Hart had only gone to her due to her strict discretion and professionalism. And Hart had support; Jack and Ianto were an obvious choice in his circle for that.

Sighing, Alina reminded, "He’s received a warning. If there is another altercation, he will be mandated to go under drug testing."

Armitage stared.

"Substance abuse is almost always a replacement for lack of connections, or of feeling not connected," Alina offered.

Armitage stared.

"Do you know of anything that might have engendered those kinds of emotional states, in Hart?"

Armitage stared.

Alina returned a pointed look.

Armitage stared.

Alina stared back.

Armitage stared.

Alina stared back harder.

Armitage stared.

Alina stared back longer.

Armitage stared.

Alina slammed her desk with an open hand, "Damn it! You’re his friend, aren’t you?"

The strangest look roiled over Armitage’s face. She thought she saw notes of disgust, anger, fear, hurt, before Armitage pooled his face again.

Armitage stared, "He’s hiding something."

Eyebrow raised, Alina petitioned, "Do you have ANY, and I mean ANY idea what?"

Armitage sighed and cracked his neck, like he had made his neck stiff from staring too long. "All I know for certain is he didn’t show up for his medical appointment with Owen, yesterday morning. Owen put him down as a no-show, and rescheduled the appointment. Hart doesn’t miss appointments with Owen."

Eyes and voice steeled, Alina spelled out, "He was with me. Why do you think I was the one saying someone has to cover driving Hally for him?"

Armitage stared.

"I need something, Armitage, to take to Kate. Anything," Alina implored.

Armitage stared, "His contract states that he is to inform me of any absences. Not you. Not UNIT. I texted him 21 hours ago, asking him to tell me if he wanted to quit. He hasn’t answered."

Alina pinched her nose and waived her free hand, "Just go."

After Armitage left Alina heard a ding on her work computer. She opened her eyes and saw that she had gotten her own summons. Alina let out a sigh.

Chapter Text

Tuesday - Early Afternoon

UNIT office of Kate Lethbridge-Stewart

Alina entered Kate’s office

"Please sit down," Kate invited.

Alina sat. Usually Kate would come to Alina’s office, a standard tactic to make someone comfortable: meet them on their ground. The summons to her office suggested a more adversarial posture. Alina waited, to make Kate speak first.

"I asked for your insight into Hart misconduct last week."

"After 5pm, on a Friday," Alina answered.

"Yes," Kate judiciously conceded, "but you’ve had a day and a half to dig into matters now. And I haven’t gotten an answer back from you yet."

"I do not have enough information to give you a robust and solid plan for moving forward, or I would have communicated one," Alina provided.

"He has a history of substance abuse," Kate mused.

"He hasn’t been taking drugs or alcohol."

"And what’s your source for that? Hart?" asked Kate, just a touch incredulous.

"A blood draw," Alina answered evenly.

Kate inhaled sharply, "And you’ve bypassed UNIT regulations, and have kept it out of UNIT systems? That is highly unorthodox."

"You can get a blood draw when he messes up again," Alina gamely responded.

Kate gave a full laugh, "WHEN he messes up again. Not if?"

"He is a repeat offender."

Kate curtly countered, "And do you have a time-frame until he does more misconduct?"

"He knows he is being closely watched. He does not want to bring attention to himself if he can help it."

"And can he help it?" Kate pressed.

"I think we both know the answer to that is not always."

"Is he a danger to UNIT?" Kate continued to press.

"No more than usual."

"Hally?"

"No."

"The public?"

"Other than spreading STIs, and bar brawls, no."

"And what, exactly, are you ready, willing, and able, to disclose right now?"

"Nothing, at this time," Alina acknowledged.

"Does he know that that can’t stand indefinitely?" A touch of curiousity weaved it's way into Kate's frustrated tone.

"Yes," Alina said plainly, "I’ve told him he has two weeks before full disclosure is required. Of course, if my threat assessment indicated that he posed a serious threat, I would not have given him the two week option.

"Have you considered full time tele-work, as a temporary stop-measure?"

"UNIT doesn’t allow full time tele-work from home for interpersonal issues," Alina relayed the applicable UNIT policy, "The reasoning being that for a functional organization, with the high-stakes UNIT deals with, staff need to be able to work with other people, even when things aren’t the best between them."

Kate laid her head back and ran her fingers down her throat, "You were involved in updating the rule, and removing the exceptions. Despite you not liking inflexible rules."

"I felt comfortable with that rule change," Alina stated, ceding no ground, "since employees would still have the option of taking paid sick leave, which I could authorize above and beyond what is in their contract."

"And what about sick leave? You’ve already had a Doctor evaluate him without UNIT’s knowledge."

"I would not feel comfortable with that at this time," acknowledged Alina.

"Why?" persisted Kate.

"Isolation would be one of the worst thing for him right now. Work gives him a purpose, tasks to focus on. You know that Hart doesn’t have the most robust social support. Those he is on friendly terms with, also works at UNIT."

Kate pressed again, "Would it be good for UNIT?"

Shaking her head, Alina declared, "No. I don’t think it would. You know what kind of balancing act we do with keeping Hally, Armitage, and Missy, on board, or at least non-antagonistic."

A weary noise escaped Kate's mouth.

Alina continued, "Upsetting that apple-cart by forcing Hart into sick leave or the open job market, when he does not want to do so, is not going to go without attention or opposition."

"What does Armitage have to say about this?" Kate probed, hoping for some wedge.

"That Hart is keeping secrets from him too."

"So, you know more than Armitage," Kate said flatly.

"Armitage isn’t exactly easy to speak with, and I’m a professional. It’s not surprising Hart is not sharing this with Armitage."

"Did Armitage have any insights of his own?"

"If he has any, he’s not sharing. Though he did share something work related," Alina gave a sigh, "Hart technically violated the terms of his contract, by bypassing Armitage to report yesterday's absence to me. Armitage texted Hart, saying that if he is done working for Saxon Enterprises, to, basically, tell him directly.

Kate pinched her nose. Alina sympathized with her, but does not show it outwardly.

An annoyed Kate, rephrasing policy, stated, "Standard UNIT contracts with subsidiaries state that if a permanent employee gets fired without sufficient cause from a subsidiary, that UNIT has to find them a job in-house. I advocated to take that out of the Saxon contract, but Armitage negotiated to have himself specifically excluded from that consideration, so that all his agents could keep that benefit. Anyone brought on that way has a clean record, and then has to go through UNIT’s HR processes for misconduct again, before they can be laid off or fired."

"So, we’re not getting rid of Hart," Alina said.

"No, we’re not getting rid of Hart. Not any time soon anyways," Kate turns her head, and looks out her window, her chin between her thumb and forefinger, "Can you have Armitage scour Hart’s apartment for any clues?"

"To be specific," Alina angled, "you’re the one authorizing this?"

Kate gave a hefty scoff, "I’ll give you one-time authority to authorize this, so you can keep it private for the next two weeks, if you wish."

With a nod Alina accepted Kate's offer, "I don’t know if I’ll have Armitage do it, or I’ll do it myself."

"Fine," Kate acquiesced, before her voice turned firm, "You should know, Alina, that if your threat assessment ends up being flawed, or changing and you do not tell me, then we’ll be having a very different discussion."

"Understood."

"You’re dismissed."

After Alina left, Kate realized that Alina let something slip. Alina had objected to full-time tele-work specifically requested for interpersonal reasons. Not as an accommodation for medical disabilities that couldn't be accommodated in the work place; UNIT had a couple of those. Hart was having interpersonal issues with someone at the office so bad, that it was causing all of this. Kate bit the tip of her thumb thinking through the possibilities.

Chapter Text

Tuesday - early afternoon
Outside some dingy nondescript pub

Lifting up his arms in triumph, Hart hollered, "WOO HOO."

"You’re lucky the pub owners didn’t call the cops!" exclaimed a worried, somewhat scolding, Ianto.

"I thought you wanted to go to a pub for lunch for the atmosphere! Not assault and battery!" Jack piled on.

Hart grinned, "I didn’t plan it, but it felt great. They deserved it."

"For what? Saying you were a weirdo for asking for deep-fried pickles in your butter chicken?"

Hart chest jerked and he swallowed, just before retching, one arm outstretched against the exterior wall to hold himself up.

With a weary noise, Hart asserted, "It tasted much better going down."

Jack patted his back. "Did you tell Martha how much you are throwing up?"

A little breathless, Hart said, "Yeah. I don’t think she believed me."

"Maybe your blood sample was alright," Jack suggested. 

Hart wiped his mouth with the back of his non-supporting hand.

"Ew. Don't do that," Ianto curled his lip, disgusted.

Exasperated, Hart retorted, "You aren’t exactly giving me other options."

"Your hands are bleeding," Ianto pointed out, "I’m texting Martha and see if she is able to see you sooner than next week."

Hart looks at his non-supporting hand, with two types of his bodily fluid on the back of them. Mucous from throwing up, and blood from his raw knuckles from the fight inside.

Ianto pipped up, "Oh, that was quick. She gave an address twenty minutes from there. Asks when we’ll be there."

Jack directed Ianto, "Ask her if twenty is alright."

Hart looked up thinking and squinting, one arm still supporting him against the wall, "This can’t get back to work, can it."

"I am sure UNIT is just as much against you assaulting civilians as much as coworkers," Ianto conceded.

"Let's talk about it in the car," Jack quipped diplomatically.


Twenty minutes later, in a medical facility parking lot.

Jack grinned, having caught sight of a familiar face, "Oh look, it's Mickey Smith. I haven’t seen him in ages. I’ll be back in a second."

"JAC -," Ianto started, giving up when seeing Jack is already halfway across the parking lot.

Hart mumbled from his seat, "Alright, alright. No more punching people. I get it. I got it."

"You’ve been saying that for the last two minutes You alright Hart?" Ianto asked, concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just needed to - "

"Hart, stay in your seat - no, please don’t get up," Ianto pleaded with Hart.

"- get it out of my system, right as rain - " Hart failed to keep his legs under him as he exited the car.

"Shit. JACK!" Ianto screamed.

Chapter Text

Hart woke up with fluorescent lights overhead and an IV drip in his arm. He groaned and tried to shield his eyes with his arms. The lights were dimmed. He recognized the voice speaking softly to him.

"Hey. How are you feeling, Hart?" Martha asked tenderly.

Hart turned over his hands in the dimmer light, noticing they are bandaged up. He can hear some quiet murmuring at the other end of the room. It sounds like Jack, Ianto, and someone else. He jerks his head towards the sound and winces. Martha put a hand on his shoulder.

"It’s just Mickey," Martha said in a hushed tone, "He takes care of the IT at these mobile set ups. We are helping Zygon residents, living on Earth now. I help fix them up, medically, and Mickey ensures their medical electronic privacy, from both public and private actors."

Groggily Hart groaned, "So, he already knows?"

"He’s my IT support, and my husband," Martha shared hushedly, "AND I’ve been known to talk in my sleep. So yeah."

Still groggy, Hart asked, "Is bean alright?"

Still hushed, Martha reassured Hart, "Same as yesterday. Though I had to use a trans-abdominal ultrasound, so the image wasn’t as good. I didn’t want to use a trans-rectum ultrasound on you while you were unconscious."

Hart tried to pretend to not be groggy as he flirted, "You can stick things up my but anytime, darling." Steps can be heard coming over.

Her hushed voice managed to remain level as she poked at Hart, "You are going to have to tell me how they deliver male pregnancies, at some point, if you continue your pregnancy."

Hart grew paler as Jack, Ianto, and Mickey reached Hart’s exam bed, Mickey holding himself apart and back. Jack patted Hart’s shoulder.

"Heeeey, you’re flirting," Jack smiled with a hint of mirth, "you must be feeling better."

Hart head cleared as his grogginess is almost gone, "I still haven’t heard what just happened."

"Well," Martha started, taking a deep breath, "I don’t know if your 51st century biology was compensating before, but some of the numbers in your blood work yesterday that were just somewhat concerning are now more concerning. I also took your weight today, which I didn’t yesterday. I should have, though there was a lot to go over. Your weight has been very stable in the past. You’ve lost 5 kilograms, or 11 pounds, compared to your last check up with Owen. Did you know that?"

"I didn’t think it was that much," Hart answered absentmindedly.

Martha tilted her head over Jack's supine body. "I think you just fainted due to dehydration and nausea. Jack and Ianto have said they’ve been trying to give you over the counter anti-nauseants. Have those help at all?" Hart shook his head.

"I am going to prescribe some anti-enemics then okay."

"Is it going to hurt bean?"

"I'm mostly sure it will not. If you were a 21st century person, I would feel more comfortable giving a definitive answer."

Hart's face grew hard. "Then, I don’t want to take it."

The gaze of Martha's soft big eyes focused on Hart's face. "Hart. Severe morning sickness is serious. It's one of two, maybe three, pregnancy complications that can require hospitalization in the first trimester. Bean needs you alive and well, not playing games with your health until another emergency happens."

Hart swallowed, not liking this vulnerable exchange taking place in front of an audience. He supposed that since it was Jack and Ianto, and they knew about bean, it was alright. He nodded.

"Also -" Martha started.

Hart glowered.

"- you have sprained a couple knuckles. Maybe hairline fractures. Don’t know if that was from punching faces, or -," Martha's eyes flicked up to Ianto and Jack, "- from punching walls."

Hart thought to himself, Ah, that’s the way things are. Jack and Ianto will tell Martha everything. He scowled.

"So, no punching things for a few days," Martha proscribed. Hart looked scandalized. Martha pulled a couple things from behind her back with both hands.

Grinning, Martha offered, "Which one of these do you want?"

In front of Hart Martha's hands each held a foam ball.

One pink, saying in black text: I hate people

One black, saying in white text: It's not worth the jail time

Ianto, sipping a tea, confessed, "I think the black one is fitting."

Hart scowled, and swiped it from Martha. Ianto ended up taking the pink one.

Chapter Text

Tuesday - Early Evening

The Harkness-Jones Residence

"Is your husband ever home?" Hart gave an annoyed sighed.

Ianto tilted his head and gave Hart a look over his glasses.

"Well?" Hart insisted.

"How’s your supper settling? The anti-enemics working?"

Hart muttered, "Seems to be."

"Well, good," a pleased Ianto said, "To answer your question, he’s helping Lily set up her science fair entry at the school."

"Oh, yeah," recognition flashed on Hart's face, "That’s tonight."

"Hally and Missy are probably enjoying a childfree couple hours in private, before showing up to the fair," mused Ianto.

Hart contemplated the science fair. "I don’t usually go to those things. I mean, I might have to have to hang around, if both Missy and Armitage aren’t available, but that is pretty rare these days."

"Do - you - want to go?" probed a surprised Ianto.

"Wait," Hart said, coming to a realization, "am I keeping you from going?"

Bemused, Ianto suggested, "Two uncles is plenty."

Hart persisted, "But you’re usually there, aren't you?"

Ianto tilted his head and nodded.

"Let’s make it four this time," Hart said, "Besides, there's got to be at least one volcano there."

"And where are you going to keep the stress ball?"

"It’s a kid’s science fair," Hart pish-poshed, "How stressful can it be?" Hart left out, it could be very stressful for him, since he expected Armitage to be there. But there will be lots of people as buffers, he told himself.

"Do you have a pocket inside of your jacket?"

"A pocket for papers. I’m not ruining the drape and shape of this hussar jacket for a stress ball!" rebuffed an offended Hart.

Ianto lifted his cup of tea, and spoke just over the lip of it, "I think you will have a much bigger thing to worry about than a stress ball, upsetting the drape and shape of your jacket in the coming months."

Hart gave Ianto a scathing look.

Chapter Text

Tuesday -Mid Evening

Gymnasium of Lily Oakdown’s School

7:10PM

They had been standing besides Lily’s science fair booth, not saying a word to each other the last ten minutes, just smiling and watching Lily explain her project to people who stopped by. As Hally excused herself to go to the bathroom, Jack braced himself, to take his opportunity to talk to Missy. Lily was distracted, having just started explaining her project to another person again.

Scratching his right eyebrow with his left thumb, Jack breathed, "Missy."

Missy, intrigued at this detente, raised her languid eyes to Jack, "Yeess."

"I need you to return me a favour," Jack insisted.

Missy raised an eyebrow. The phrasing suggested that he had done favours for her already, but they had never had an explicitly quid-pro-quo, and the former Time Agent was not a transactional man. He was a man able to extend good will in the most trying and complicated of circumstances.

Just his history with Hally alone was a complicated mess. He had went from traveling with The Doctor, Hally, and Rose, almost certainly catching feelings for each of them at some point. Went through forced separation from the three of them, and incidentally gained immortality. Went through over a century of waiting on Earth until he was in the time period of Rose's life. To then randomly meet The Master, and end up tortured on the valiant for a year, while The Master conquered the Earth and readied it as a launching pad to conquer the universe. During this time, The Master engineered shocking revelations of the facts and secrets that The Doctor was keeping from Hally, driving a wedge between them. And Jack figuring out that Hally had secrets of her own, that she was married to, and in love with, their captor and torturer. To still extend a hand to her after The Master’s plan unraveled, and offer her a job (it probably helped that the Master was dead, Jack didn't know that it was a temporary inconvenience) so that she could avoid her estranged-twice-over father. Jack caught feelings for her again. Only for her to betray Jack’s kindness by resurrecting her dead husband, riding off into the sunset with him, and later killing a number of UK residents, before ending up both husbandless and fatherless on his doorstep again, and pregnant to boot, with criminal charges to face. This time with a husband trapped, not dead, who even Jack probably realized at that point, would be returning for her at his earliest convenience. Barring damn time paradoxes.

And Jack put all of that history aside to help The Master’s wife, again, and The Master’s daughter, when she arrived into the world.

Missy was indebted to Jack for all of these reasons, but they had never discussed it, and she had never disclosed that she felt that way. It just wouldn’t do. It appeared that Jack was leveraging what he had done over the years, framing it as a transactional favour, presumably in a way he thought would appeal to Missy, who he appeared to believe was entirely transactional, at least outside of her wife and daughter. Missy approved of letting him continue to believe that Missy thought that he was beneath consideration, unless he offered something of present value. She had a reputation to uphold. Couldn’t let him think that she appreciated him, now could she.

"Hmmm. And just what are you asking in return, Jack?"

Jack's eyes open a bit, realizing that Missy was open for business, "A joyride in your TARIDS to the 51st century."

"Hmmm. A joyride?"

"A mission," Jack specified.

"To your old stomping grounds?" queried Missy. The man better not be asking her to create the conditions for a time paradox, she thought.

"I’m not expecting you to let me take the TARDIS."

"Like you could drive it."

"Look," Jack's tone pointed, "I’ve never asked you for anything."

Missy pursed her lips, "Hmmm. I might remember something that sounded like pleading once. Maybe even some demands. A long time ago though. Care to refresh my memory?"

His jaw tightened as he pushed down memories of the Valiant, "Must you."

"That is my prerogative, isn’t it?" Missy responded nonchalantly, "And it’s your prerogative if you answer, or not. What about your vortex manipulator?"

"Maintaining it in working order is hard in the 21st century."

"Tsk tsk, you are in a conundrum," Missy chided, "And what do I get out of this arrangement?

"As I said you are returning a favour."

Lips pursed, Missy bid, "Anything else? I do like to maximize my opportunities."

Jack lowered his voice, "How about a functioning security team for your wife."

Missy narrowed her eyes and lowered her own voice, to avoid little ears overhearing in the dim of the gym, and pretended that she took seriously what her next words implied, "Are you threatening her, or her team?"

"Of course not," Jack supplied, giving a look of offense to her.

"I suppose not," Missy said, resuming normal volume as she glanced down Jack’s body, "You three are rather cozy, after all."

Turning towards the pair, Lily spoke up, "Mamaidh, Jack, I’m going to get some food. Can you watch my booth?"

After the both gave overlapping answers in the the affirmative, Lily asked, "Do you two want anything to eat?" They both waived her off and she left.

"I think you got the wrong impression last night, Missy," Jack put out there.

"As if I could care about who you humans share your bed with," Missy replied, disinterest dripping from her tone, "Though excluding Armitage does seem rude though, if you seek my opinion."

Jack’s mouth opened and closed and opened. Missy closed it using her long-nailed left index finger.

"You might want to get that looked at. Now, we don’t get much Lily-free time together, can you find your words, or do you need help?"

Jack takes a moment to organize his thoughts.

"Mission: walk into the time agency, early in my career, grab Hart’s medical records. Also grab some future medical manuals on physical and mental health, to help interpret Hart’s records. Get out."

Missy raised an eyebrow, "You’re suggesting my wife’s security team is already compromised."

"No" Jack answered evenly with a finality.

Missy feigned boredom, "Why can’t we just corral the head of my wife’s security onto my TARDIS, and do a medical scan there."

"Some might question your integrity, in accurately relaying all relevant information. Are they wrong?"

This time Missy's raised eyebrow practically reached her hairline, "As it pertains to the health of the head of my wife’s security?"

Lily can be seen across the room, eating her treat at the food tables.

"For all we know, you’ve done something to him in the past," Jack supplied, "You’re capable of it."

"How would his Time Agent medical records help, then?"

Jack shrugged, "Compare it to his records for when he started at UNIT."

Missy give a shrug too, and turned a little away from Jack, "He is my, or rather Harold Saxon’s - long live the PM, employee. I think I should just tell him to hop onto my TARDIS, and bypass all of you."

"I would be doing it as a favour to Alina," Jack explained.

"You mean, she could owe me a favour, for helping you?" Intrigue made itself very apparent in Missy's tone.

"That’s her prerogative. You’d have to take that up with her," Jack answered, refusing to speak on behalf of Alina, "But, not out of the realm of possibilities."

"How about lunch hour on Friday? Don’t be late," Missy closed.

Jack opens his mouth to speak, but Missy interjected.

"Oh, and congratulations, by the way. Maybe Hally and I can hold the baby shower, hmmm? Let me know if that works for you and the other baby-daddy. Daddies? Oh, the nerve connected to your jaw seems to be misfiring again, Jack. How unfortunate for you. Hopefully the condition is not genetic. I know a very good genetic engineer, if you are interested."

Chapter Text

Tuesday - Mid Evening

Hallway to Gymnasium of Lily Oakdown’s School

7:40PM

Hart and Ianto were walking towards the gym entrance, where a middle-aged woman, and a girl in her early teens, stood. With his 51st century hearing he could hear them talking. Ianto could only tell their lips were moving.

"Oooo, there are Lily’s other two other very attractive uncles," the woman said smiling.

Hart perked up. He could use some flirting with someone actually interested.

"Mom! Don’t embarrass me," the teen begged

"Phsssh. They can’t hear me."

Hart smirked.

"You’re married!" the teen complained.

"Oi! Doesn’t mean I can’t look, love."

Hart gave a 100 watt smile.

"Besides, the other moms at pick-up call them gay, gay, and gayer," the girl bargained.

The two started shushing the other up as Ianto came in hearing range of them. As they reached the door, the woman handed out a pamphlet and tilted her head.

"Hi! I’m welcoming people to the school science fair for years 3-6. The pamphlet has a brief description of each entry."

Hopping that he’ll grab Armitage’s attention and make him jealously, Hart swept grandly into the gym, sweeping out his jacket, half-knelt and took her left hand to kiss her fingers.

"Enchante," Hart greeted with amorous vibes, "Any rumoured limitations on my sexuality have been greatly exaggerated."

Both Ianto and the woman were blushing furiously at Hart’s behavior, though for different reasons. The teen's face screamed someone save me. Ianto tried to ignore what Hart is doing by chatting up the girl.

"So, ah, um, you’re helping your mom?" Ianto asked, practically tripping over his words.

"Yeah! I'm um, a couple years ahead of these students. For extra credit, I was helping some of them with their entries," the girl informed Ianto

"Oh, um, yeah, very good. Very good. Any you could, um, recommend?" Ianto inquired.

The woman quickly recovered from this surprise show of chivalry from Hart. "Um, as good as this is for my self-confidence - ," the woman waggled her fingers, to which Hart’s lips are still only a few centimeters above, " - I’m taken. You might have noticed, your lips, they touched my wedding band."

"Well," the incorrigible flirt smirked, "if you ever need some help boosting your self-confidence, just call me."

A high pure voice broke through the din of the room, catching Hart’s attention.

"Uncle John, Uncle John! You came!"

Hart “ooof”ed as Lily’s small body slammed into him, embracing his mid-section. A couple tears gathered at the corners of Hart’s eyes. He blamed it on the body slam.

"Hey, what am I, chopped liver?" teased Ianto.

"No, of course not!" exclaimed Lily, as she proceeded to hug Ianto. She proceeded to grab one of each of her uncles' hands to drag them to the other side of the gym. They stopped at a table which Missy, Jack, and Hally, were standing next to. Armitage stood off a ways, next to the wall, watching for security threats.

"YOU CAME! You hardly ever come to these things, Uncle John," Lily restated, as if not over the delight of a surprise guest. 

Hart gave a smile, "Well, you know, today I just visited the last pub in London that I hadn't yet been to yet, so I was bored."

On Lily’s table were a couple of cardboard displays, and a coppery looking pair of fish in a tank. Hart and Ianto bent down, hands on knees to listen to Lily over the din of the gym.

"For my project, I described how a copper-based lifeform’s biology could work, and described one of the species in a wet land eco-system."

Lily held her hand up to Hart’s ear to whisper, "The fish are real copper-based lifeforms from another planet."

Returning to normal volume Lily continued. "Mamaidh said that the judges would probably be too narrow minded to pick me, when I told her what I wanted to do, but," Lily shrugged, "I don’t care. Rose will eat it up."

Hart's confused expression (Rose Tyler? he was thinking) was noticed by Lily.

"Rose Noble," Lily supplied, "The girl you met at the door. With her mom, Donna."

Hart twisted in his hands on knees position to look at the door, "Ahh, the swot that was helping some of the kids with their science fair projects. You like her?"

Lily noticed a bulge in the pocket on the side of Hart's pants.

"What’s this?" Lily roughly pushed her hand into the pocket and yanked out a black foam ball. Hart jerked back at the intrusion.

With three tongue clicks, and a chiding tone, Missy disciplined her daughter, "You don’t stick your hands down people’s clothes, Lily, you never know what you are going to find."

Hart closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

A perplexed look settled on Lily's face. "It looks like a stress ball. It says It's not worth the jail time," Lily looks up innocently to Missy, "It sounds like you could use it, Mamaidh."

Jack and Ianto failed to suppress snickers, while Hally had her lips clamped shut, and Hart forgot to breathe.

In the drollest tone Missy could bring forth, she commented, "I am sure that Hart would like his toy back."

Chapter Text

Tuesday - Mid Evening

Gymnasium of Lily Oakdown’s School

If Armitage could be easily amused, he would be. However, all he saw was a headache. He noticed a figure slip in an exterior door, and nearly instantly clocked his face as someone who shouldn’t be here. While not technically a direct active threat to anyone here, his presence often meant trouble was not far behind. The Time Lord had his stupid grin on his face as he walked and scanned the room. Then he gave a double-take, glancing towards the proper gym entrance, and ducked behind a table. Lily, who was spending some time looking at the other science projects, had just spotted him and was heading his way. Armitage recalled the Lily said that she had invited him last Sunday. But why this face, why here and now? How’d this younger face even know about his later promise to his granddaughter? Armitage was getting a headache just trying to understand the temporary dynamics. That was firmly MIssy’s department. That face never even met Lily.

"Missy," he said firmly.

His boss was talking with the science fair judges. Armitage noticed her lift one eyebrow, and near imperceptible, every part of her became alert and sharp. They only use these subdermal comms in an emergency, or for something that could absolutely not be put off.

"Cradle Snatcher. Alone. Three o’clock."

Armitage could tell the amount of control Missy was wielding over herself in reaction to his news. A muted twitch of her hand, or corner of lip. As if to say him. Here. Raining on our parade. She gathered herself, and waived her arm towards the door to catch someone’s attention. Ah, of course. The Doctor couldn't help but cause complications wherever he went.

"Thank you for coming over here, Donna," Missy doted a little, her head mistress persona still firmly in place, "The Judges and I want to thank you, and of course your daughter, for all your help at the science fair."

The other judges seemed to add similar comments.

"Now they’ve done a wonderful job with the food spread here," Missy transitioned, "and I don’t want to cause anyone any undue stress or a brain aneurysm, but I noticed we are running out of a lot of food items, and there is still 90 minutes to go, and would you be a dear and go pick up some more from the nearest market?"

After Donna exited the gym, Armitage could see the faint signs of barely concealed rage around Missy's countenance.

She gave the appearance of talking to the judges, "Anything or anyone else?"

"Nothing so far," Armitage replied, "Scion’s with him."

Missy gave an old hand signal that they hadn’t used since the valiant.

"Hey, you made it, grandad!" Lily enthused.

The Doctor grabbed Lily, pulling her down to the ground with him, and madly kissed the top of her head.

"Why did you tell me to come here, Lily? Was I really here the first time? With this face?" a worried Doctor said quickly, "Forget I said that."

His adorable granddaughter giggled, "Is this a silly time paradox thing?"

"Yes, yes it is. And they are no giggling matter," The Doctor insisted.

"Well, I’m giggling," Lily pointed out.

The Doctor grinned enthusiastically, "Yes, yes you are."

"What do we do if there is a time paradox?" Lily asked.

Briefly the Doctor's lips are mused together, before he shared, "We try to stop it from blowing up the universe."

Excitement shone on Lily's face. "Is the universe going to blow up tonight?"

"Not a chance," The Doctor reassured with one slow shake of his head.

"Awwwwwwwww," Lily whined before inquiring, "So what are we doing crouched on the floor?"

"Apparently I should have checked who was enrolled at your school first," The Doctor admitted concernedly. "Why didn’t you tell me you went to school with Rose Noble?"

Lily shrugged one shoulder, "Time paradox?"

A grin split the Doctor's face again, "Now you're getting it."

He tried looking around tables from where he is, but he can’t see enough. He pulled out his sonic, looked at it, knocked it with his free hand, as if that’ll fix his issue.

"You’ll tell me next Sunday that I came," The Doctor explained, "and that you saw this face tonight, and I’ll be all confused, and one day in your future, when you see this face again, you will remind me, and tell me if I haven’t visited yet, that I should fix that, and I tell the TARDIS to bring me soon, and it does, today."

"That sounds silly."

"Time paradoxes are silly," The Doctor said mock-serious-like, "Now I would tell you not to do this to me again but…."

"Time paradox," Lily refrained.

"Exactly. The beginning is always more confusing than the ending. Takes longer for confusion to budge and clear from your hearts than your head. Time paradoxes can be kind of mean like that."

"Time paradoxes are silly AND mean?" Lily pondered.

"Time paradoxes are pretty paradoxical."

Lily brushed some hair out of her face, "My first time paradox."

"Yep," The Doctor popped the p, "Baby Time Lord’s first time paradox."

Some hand grabbed the lapel of the Doctor's jacket and pulled.

"ooohh oooof!" The Doctor grunted, proceeding to cover most of his face with folded arms, stealing a look at his man-handler, "Oh, hi Armitage."

The Doctor copied Armitages default scowl expression. Lily giggled. A tiny growl escaped Armitage’s throat.

An annoyed voice came onto the scene, as Missy reached them, "You can stop hiding your face, Doctor. Donna Noble has left to get some food."

Taking out his sonic, The Doctor banged it again. "But it says it's still picking her up."

Missy rolled her eyes. "It’s probably picking up her daughter. When’s the last time you updated the software? Do you never do basic screw driver maintenance?"

Lily started to drag her grandad to her booth.

"Follow standing orders for impromptu Doctor visits," Missy directed Armitage, once they were out of hearing range. Armitage and Missy followed a couple of steps behind the grandfather and granddaughter pair, back to Lily's booth.

Chapter Text

Tuesday - Evening
Gymnasium of Lily Oakdown’s School

The looks The Doctor got at Lily’s booth were not welcoming. So he focused on Lily explaining her project.

Jack was a touch excited, tempered by caution. Ianto was a little stunned and settled into concern. Hart was genuinely blase. Hally was a mix of grief and pissed, and settled for a studying look. The Doctor looked up and saw these faces unchanged.

"Oh, a little bit of a surprise. Is it the new face? I mean old face. I like trying on old things. I mean new things. I am forever getting old and new mixed up."

Ianto shook his head, "You’ve lost me."

Lily looked up as if confused by these adults' confusion, even though it is the first time she's seen it outside of photos.

"Doctor," Missy rebuked, "Do you know how hard it is to get companion brain out of rugs?"

His face scrunched up, "That’s a rhetorical question, right Missy?"

"Is it hard, Mamaidh?" Lily asked earnestly.

Missy lowered herself to be eye level with her daughter.

"Oh, yes, very very hard," she explained, "Which is why The Doctor's companions, and everyone really, must be very very careful to keep their brains in their heads."

Lily issued a giggle as Missy ended the sentence with a single tap to the side of Lily's head. Standing, Missy’s eyes roved over the group, as if to say, I hope that you were also paying attention to that warning.

The Doctor's eyebrows shoot up. "Oi! Wedding rings. Congrats Jack and Ianto," he offered with his goofy grin.

"Dad," Hally pushed, "You shouldn’t even know Ianto exists, much less his name."

"Oi, sometimes I do do recon or intel, before I set the TARDIS down," The Doctor defended himself.

Mild to acute disbelief morphed each of the adults' faces in different ways. On Armitage’s face, it was nearly imperceptible. His strict adherence to professionalism made him disprove of The Doctor’s fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants ethos on principle.

Lily hugged The Doctor’s midsection, "Well I’m really glad you're here."

Goofy grin back, The Doctor melted, "Isn’t little Lily just the best?"

Hally huffed and rolled her eyes as she leaned into her father’s arms.  As he gave her a kiss to her forehead Hally’s left arm reached over Lily’s back.

"Thanks for helping pull me up, Armitage," The Doctor cheekily offered. The Doctor reached out to shake Armitage's hand, which Armitage does not reciprocate.

"Trusty Armitage, always steady, always the same."

More confusion landed on the faces around him.

"And you Hart - oh - you look a little - never mind," The Doctor side-eyed Lily, "You really have put me in the thick of it, haven’t you Lily?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Hart hotly contested.

"Language," Missy reminded, her role of school head mistress brought forth to people's mind again.

Both Jack and Ianto placed a hand on Hart, looking to be ready to reassure or restrain him. Armitage noted this. Lily was oblivious, with only eyes for her grandfather. Hart swearing was nothing new.

"You can’t blame me!," Lily protested, "It was a time paradox! What were you saying never mind about, grandad?"

"Spoilers!" evaded The Doctor.

Lily scrunched her face in frustration, "That's what grandma River says."

Missy caught a note of grief on the Doctor’s face, which he quickly hid, and none of the rest of the adults had caught, as another roil of confusion crosses their faces.

"That's because River knows all about maintaining a spoiler-free zone," The Doctor explained with fondness, "She is a bewildering woman, wrapped in a mysterious riddle, inside a Gordian Knot of a Time-Paradox. River lives & breathes Time Paradoxes."

Hally prodded, "So, post-silent-library? And pre-stolen-Earth?"

The Doctor clamped his lips together.

Jack stated curiously, "You know, I never actually was able to sort out any of River’s timeline."

"Dad first met River when he was travelling with Donna," Hally elaborated.

"Donna Noble?" Lily asked, unaware of the Donna and The Doctor's history, "Do you not want to see her? Is that why you were hiding your face, when you got here?"

"Wait," Jack pondered, "Hiding from Donna is something a /post/ stolen Earth Doctor would do. No?"

Lil giggled, "Time paradoxes are fun."

Missy can’t help one odd note of grief showing on her own face, but her wife looked one hundred times worse, listening to their daughter's innocent statement. Annoyingly, both Jack & Ianto seemed preoccupied with their Hart, whose face still spelled murder. While she’d love to have her full attention on soothing her wife, it just wasn’t possible at the moment. She threaded her hand with Hally, and could feel Hally using it as a life-line to ground herself, as she turned to face her oldest, and least dearest, frenemy.

"Doctor," a hint of warning in Missy's tone apparent, "Speaking of Donna, she is very efficient, and I expect will be back shortly. It’s time to leave."

Lily pouted. The Doctor’s face scrunched up as he gave a look of regret and apology, which meant Missy was definitely not going to like the words that came out of his mouth next.

"I can’t. Lily told me that she’ll know I’ve completed the Time Paradox when I’ve told her who the winners were, and I don’t know who the winners are yet."

Missy fixed her daughter with a look.

"It wasn’t me," Lily defended her innocence, "It was the time paradox."

"It was you. It will be you. A future you said that. A you that I’ve met before," The Doctor said dizzyingly.

Lily scratched her head, "When do time paradoxes stop being confusing again?"

Missed rolled her eyes in exasperation, "So we’ll take out an advert. Check the papers."

With an apologetic shrug, the Doctor said "When Lily told this face that I told her today, and I quote, “When Lily told this face that I told her today that she tells me at some other future point that there were details I shared that weren’t in the advert.”

"Am I hearing that there are three future mes involved in this time paradox?" Lily nearly squealed.

Grinning back, The Doctor enthused, "Now you're becoming a Time Paradox expert. Isn’t she brilliant? Gotta respect a Time Paradox."

Jack, Ianto, and Hart (who has finally calmed down) have a rapid fire conversation under their breath, barely noticed by the rest.

"How does she figure that?" Ianto started.

"Even I’m having trouble following," Jack murmured.

"Did you ever pay attention at the Time Agency training?" Hart muttered, "Though I only counted two Lilys in that sentence. Maybe they were talking about an additional time before they got to the booth?"

Hally spoke aloud, glaring, "I don’t know that I’ve ever admired a Time Paradox, Dad."

The Doctor winced, a guilty look smack his face.

Armitage consulted his watch, "I give ten minutes before Ms Noble’s return."

Missy tutted disapproval, and turned towards the gym entrance, "Follow me, Doctor, to my TARDIS. If you are going to stay to the end, we need to do something about that face."

Most of the adults exchanged worried looks.

Rolling her eyes to high heaven, Missy retorted evenly, "Oh, I’ll behave, if he does."

Lily's small voice rose up, "Will I see this face again?"

The Doctor kneeled on his knees in front of Lily and put his hands reassuringly on her shoulders, while Lily reached out to the face, as if to memorize it.

"Definitely. At least once. Or what will be broken and cause the universe to explode? Or," he tilted his head, "implode, depending on it's mood."

Lily giggled. "A time paradox."

Chapter Text

Tuesday - Evening

Missy's TARDIS

The Doctor looked to Missy's exit from the control room to deeper into the TARDIS. "Which way to the wardrobe?"

"Here," Missy's steely tone landed hard. The Doctor heard an actual thud behind him and saw Missy had yanked something out of the column of the console, and laid it onto the console’s navigation surface.

"That’s a first aid kit."

Missy's face took on an incredulous expression. She muttered, "Of course he doesn’t have more than a first aid kit in his console. Lily’s never flying with him."

"I can hear you."

"Good. Maybe whoever follows you will make sure their console room is properly equipped for medical emergencies. Once I found myself knifed with no memory of how it happened, and I had to regenerate much sooner than I would have liked. Lesson truly learned."

The Doctor looked around, murmurs, mouth hardly moving, "I’m sure you're sure you know who follows me."

With narrow cutting eyes, Missy expressed her tiredness of brooking nonsense from this face. "No, I don’t. Don’t you play your silly games with me, like you did them. I’m more interested in who preceded you at the moment. Was it eyebrows? Just how many regenerations ahead of the present one are you?"

"I don’t know what you are talking about," The Doctor murmured, before clearing his throat and acts authoritative, "You should know this face. I know all the faces until this one I was using during my travels with Donna."

"If you want me - to treat you - like who I thought I was dealing with - when Armitage said “Cradle Snatcher” over coms, then I - can’t - keep - my - promise - to behave. Do you want to talk about how I hate this face the most for what he did to Hally?"

Rapid words, even for The Doctor, come forth, a small note of fear in the tone, "I’d have thought you hated my face after this one - ."

Missy scrunched her nose in triumph.

" - the most. This face didn’t abandon Hally. You pushed her through a time crack, and I didn’t see her until my … oh."

"You are so slow sometimes. it’s only fucking luck keeping you afloat," Missy lambaste, "Some of us actually have to organize and plan things, you know."

Eyebrows knitted, The Doctor's back tracks in his mind, then picked up on something, and his expression changed to offense clearly taken.

"CRADLE SNATCHER?!"

With an eye roll, Missy told him, "As if you had instead waited until the moment Rose was no longer nineteen and jail bait would have been any better, hmmmm? You’d try to moralize to me, if I ever made such a technical distinction. Did you not think that Saxon did not meticulously analyze Rose’s chronological age in her time travels, before the big “who’s your mommy” reveal? Perhaps you double counted the time loops. Or, perhaps, more likely, given you, you did not think at all."

Clearly flustered, The Doctor was at a loss for words.

"Mmmm Hmmmm. Any defense just digs in the uncouth rationalizations and excuses further, don’t they? Or maybe you’ve gone native, & completely done away with any sense of Gallifrayan propriety whatsoever? Oh, you look suitably uncomfortable now, & one of the many things that you are thinking right now, is by how much."

Missy’s face was gloating, watching the Doctor squirm. Of course he changed the subject.

"How did you know that I am a face, or few, after “eye brows”?"

"Phht. You were always so vain." Missy explained, as if it was obvious, "You really liked the face so much, you had to go back to it again."

Flicking his eyebrows up and down briefly, The Doctor recommended, "You might want to do it yourself some day."

"For vanity?" Missy snorted, "No."

"I didn’t do it for vanity! Welllll, not just for vanity. It wasn’t like it just seemed like a ginger me wasn’t happening, so I thought, let’s go back to an old face. Just maybe I thought someone else might feel better seeing it."

Missy snorted again, "You must be crushed if you did it for Hally, considering her reaction just now."

Not phased at all at Missy’s attempt to needle him, The Doctor attempts to needle back to full advantage.

"Maybe you're just jealous, because every face of yours has too many arrest warrants out for it. Might want to see if you can get your criminal records cleared before you revisit a face."

Missy gave a hefty eye roll. "That’d be an administrative nightmare to tackle. And what would be the point? Besides," Missy smirked, "to do more crime with the newly record-free face?"

The Doctor grinned his goofy grin, "You should get Donna to do it." His face turned stern, "Correction: You should pay Donna to do it, after you’ve formally asked and she formally accepted." Face goofy again, he added, "She’s a wiz at administrative paperwork."

Missy's face show a hint of amusement, "She already works for me. She came to me, asking to enroll Rose under a scholarship. I knew she would be much better at admin paperwork than five of the employees I had had doing admin then put together. As a school employee, no scholarship needed."

Surprised, The Doctor exclaimed, "You did that? For Donna and Rose?"

She pierced the Doctor with a gaze signalling homicidal intent. Missy found it enraging that it seemed to have no effect on him. Not liking what this meant for their future relationship she convinced herself he is just relaxed since he knew enough about the trajectory of the life of this face. It had no bearing on future faces.

"Completely for my own, and yes, Lily’s, interests," explained Missy, "I’ve improved the school that Lily attends by repurposing half of the budget of admin staff, since Donna replaced all of the admin staff I let go. She is overworked and still paid pennies, but doesn’t complain. At least not to me. Lily has a new friend. Heck, Rose has brought up her own grades since enrolling, tutors younger students, and is bringing up the school’s GPA, raising our profile and ability to secure additional sources of funding."

The Doctor was smirking, the insufferable smug bastard. Missy strained to keep out of her voice any tone that would concede that he is affecting her.

"I can’t exactly have Donna work to clear records from alien locales, with dozen of different calendar systems, hundreds of languages, and crimes she’s never even heard of, and do that without explaining things that I can’t explain to her," Missy said plainly, needling him about TheDoctor-Donna.

He took a sip from the straw of a drink that Missy’s traitorous TARDIS had given to him. "I think at one time you had five faces on the top ten most wanted list in a galaxy. In any case," The Doctor gave a mysterious look, "she might be available to do that in a couple years."

Intrigued, Missy probed, "You’re giving me spoilers? On purpose?"

Goofy grin back, he yielded, "Well, we can’t exactly get rid of each other, now can we?"

Missy gave a huff. The Doctor suspiciously eyed the gauze that Missy has laid out, "How is that my costume?"

Dead pan, Missy leveled, "Burn victim. With light sensitivity. You’ll need sunglasses too. I really don’t want to have to teach my daughter how to get companion brain out of gym linoleum today."

"Your wife would kill us," The Doctor grimaced.

"And then," Missy gave a weary noise, "the grief counseling for all the witnesses in the gym." Sighing, she added, "The school would blow it’s budget for the next twenty years."

The Doctor scrunches his face, "I’ll admit I'm a little worried you had that calculation at the tip of your tongue."

"It’s actually nineteen point six years, I rounded up."

Chapter Text

Tuesday - Mid Evening

Gymnasium of Lily Oakdown’s School

"Woah, that's quite the look," Jack cheekily admired.

"Bloody hell," Hart swore, "I think the idea to watch that mummy movie after that Disney movie last night was a bad idea. Am I really awake?"

"Well," Ianto wryly put in his two cents, "I do think Donna is safe from any meta-crisis brain melt."

Hally just snorted amusedly, while Armitage did his usual scowling stare, a ways back by the wall.

Lily ignored the disguise, having much more important things on her mind. She pouted up at The Doctor.

"Grandad, Uncle John says this isn’t my time paradox. That you have to pass all parts of the time paradox, or at least equal or more than anyone else, to consider it your own. Usually Uncle John is funner than this."

Both Lily and Hally scowled and crossed their arms. Hally did so because she was so very much over the topic of conversation being time paradoxes, the bane of her existence her entire life. Hart huffed, his nose wrinkling in consternation, his expression indicating much more bother than a gown man should be over this, like his thoughts are eating him up.

"Hey, man," Jack defended John, "Let a man expand his horizons there, Lily."

"Touché. Though a little ego death might be good for him," Ianto suggested.

Hart elbowed Ianto. Jack looked alarmed .

"Oooff," let out Ianto, his voice lowed and strained, "It’s okay Jack, I might have deserved that."

Furiously displeasure took over Missy's face and body, as she spoke in a menacing whisper, "Do remember where you are, the hundred witnesses, our respective roles, and need to maintain access to this space, three of us for jobs, four of us for student pick up authorization. And we’re going to stand out tonight even more than the consideration of all of our respective histories with this school before tonight, because we are standing with what looks like an extra for a MUMMY MOVIE, for the next hour."

Ianto and Hart looked suitably chastened and dour. Jack was sporting an eeek face. Hally looked concerned at the trio. No one noticed a micro-twist of Armitage’s jaw, as he saw his partner of eleven year fumble on the basic rules of bodyguarding. And it wasn’t a suggestion like Hart treated some of the rules. Both don’t assault a non-threat and if you are going to break the law, don’t bring attention to yourself while doing so, were bodyguarding 101.

"My fault, sorry," murmured Hart.

Ianto murmured, "I’m sorry for my part."

Lily watched all of this with a curious knit of her brow. The Doctor brought himself to Lily’s level, which redirects attention, causing a few chuckles and snorts. Was putting a bandaged face with dark wrap-around glasses closer to her face supposed to be comforting?

"You Lily - "

The Time Lord stopped to touch his gauze covered throat, and Lily giggled. Hally groaned, and snickering could be heard from two or three of the men. The Doctor turned his head to look at Missy, which looked ridiculous, as his head vaguely resembled a marshmallow with sun glasses. No one could actually see the expression he was giving Missy.

"Did you want to say something Mister Smith?" Missy chimed in.

Lily observed, "You kinda sound like you breathed helium, Grandad."

Through suppressed snickers, Jack added, "You sound like a Brummie Gilbert Gottfried." A guffaw from Jack followed.

"I assume MIssy," Ianto suggested diplomatically, "that you masked his voice as to also protect Donna?"

"Could be," Missy said nonchalant, before showing some aggravation, "But also got to ensure respecting this ridiculous paradox is worth it. This won’t make it in the advert. The advert that now i have to create anyways, because future Lily knows what’s in it."

Armitage observed these high jinks from the wall, his face almost losing it's signature scowl for a moment.

The still-knelling Doctor’s body language, still clothed in his classic pinstriped suit, seemed to want to deflate, and then the Doctor regrouped, as if he wasn’t going to let this ridiculousness bring him down.

In his diguised high-pitch male voice he said his granddaughter's name again. "Lily."

"Yes, Grandad," Lila answered. Her feet remained rooted in place, as her swung her body side to side. She treated the Doctor seriously, giving him a boost to continue this charade with some dignity intact.

"You Lily, are the entangled enforcer of the time paradox. I, as the only known passenger of this time paradox, have the authority to declare that we both share this time paradox. It’s our paradox. The Doctor-Lily Oakdown Time Paradox, if you will."

Stars twinkled in Lily’s eye, before giving way to a gleam. Armitage, in the background, stared, with the tiniest bit of extra moisture in the corner of his eyes.

An irritated Hally added, "Hopefully the first and last of its kind."

Standing up, The Doctor offered, "We should always have hope." He tried to smile, but failed, due to the heavy gauze.

"Not all of us have your luck, Mr Smith," quipped Missy.

Hart snickered still, but Jack and Ianto just had a smirk, and gleams in their eyes.

"Enforcer," Lily rolled around the word on her tongue, exploring it, "Like a cop?"

"Oh, no, this won’t do," Missy shook her head, "My ACAB t-shirt is not just an aesthetic, Lily."

Laughter bubbled up from Hally, Hart, Jack, and Ianto.

"Aren’t you an enforcer, Mamaidh? In your job as headmistress? You are a school cop."

A barely audible nose emitted from Missy's throat.

Jack leaning into Missy discomfort with pity, "Missy, is that you crying uncle?"

Daggers shot from Missy’s eyes.

"She better be crying for Armitage, because I don’t see anyone else saving her," Hart jabbed mercilessly.

A snort moved past Ianto's clamped lips, "Is that an Americanism? I don’t think I’ve heard that before."

The Doctor’s altered voice, with its high-pitched funny male voice, reenters the sound-scape.

"Crying uncle is an Americanism. It means to surrender or admit defeat."

No one could hear The Doctor’s smirk, as altered as his voice was by the voice synthesizer, but amused noises from him were making themself known, following his statement. Jack started hitting his knee, Hart is running short of breath, Ianto is trying to clamp his mouth to prevent making noise, as his upper body is racked with laughter he is trying to hold in, Hally is holding both hands over her mouth. Unlike the Hart and Jack, she at least doesn't have tears running down her face. The Doctor’s hand is going to his pin-stripped chest, as he wheezed out of his sunglasses-sporting marshmallow head. Lily didn’t know why she was laughing, but she was laughing with the best of them. Missy simmered, and deeply regretted the voice she chose for the synthesizer, now that she was the but of the joke.

A voice that everyone recognized, but didn't expect to be speaking, made itself know, with it's usual amount of menace.

"I’m an enforcer, Lily." No one had even noticed Armitage re-approach the group, but his voice cut their antics, and, while it took about 15 seconds for most of the amused noises to die down, it did.

Hart, his face half smirk, half challenged, didn't relent, "Here’s a big bad Uncle Armi come to your rescue, Missy."

Hally took one quick look at the hardened glints in Armitage’s and Missy’s eyes, and Hart’s defiant stance. Hally clapped her hands together vertically, like a movie film slate for starting filming.

"STOP. It was funny. Not anymore. That’s enough."

Everyone froze. Lily looked perplexed, from adult to adult, ending with Armitage. Of course, children rarely have couth, or a sense of self-preservation.

"Uncle Armi, you make enforcement look boring." Lily's lips pursed, glance flicked to Missy, "So does Mamaidh, come to think of it." Her eyes returned to look up at Armitage again.

Armitage's scowl and stare softened a fraction for Lily, "If you are a good enforcer, your job is mostly boring. That’s how I like it. It’s a good thing Missy and I like you."

Missy huffed. The other adults mostly suppressed their smirks to help smooth over things. Though a look to the Doctor’s face would often elicit an extra chuckle or two from the looker, which was tolerated.

In that moment, unnoticed by the rest, Hart's eyes watered, watching Armitage’s and Lily’s exchange. He excused himself, claiming his laughter had worked up an appetite, and went to the food table, alone. He drifted alone, rebuffing Jack and Ianto’s entreaties, watching from afar with slight bemusement as Donna Noble befriended Hally’s burn-victim Dad, Mr Smith, and she introduced him to the other booths and stations, and they made each other laugh.

Hart had rejoined the group when it was time to announce winners. Lily didn’t place first, second, or third, just like her Mamaidh warned her that she probably wouldn’t, knowing the judges criteria for the top three. Lily’s eyes lit up in surprise and joy when the judges announced that the one runner up position was hers. Missy promised she had not interfered. Her adults all cheered. Except Armitage, but his eyes lit up, and that was basically the same thing. They got a winner’s photo, with Lily and all seven of them. Someone, Hart wasn’t sure who, in the happy din of voices, suggested they photo-shop the right Doctor’s face into the photo.

"No, it’s alright. It’s perfect," Lily declared, "We all know who it was, underneath."

Chapter Text

Tuesday - Evening

Gymnasium of Lily Oakdown’s School

Hart was dissociating in the corner of the gym, away from most of the crowd, staring into the fuzzy distance imagined beyond the walls of science fair laid out in front of him. A high-pitched male voice that he recognized as The Doctors’, under Missy's voice synthesizer, interrupted his depressing mental landscape.

"This will probably sound trite, but hang in there," The Doctor offered.

Hart went to shove him, with his sunglasses-wearing vaguely-marshmallowy thickly-gauzed head. But The Doctor was ready for him, and just caught his hands.

Hart grunted, "What do you know, you jumped-up paradox gremlin."

"That you don’t want to escalate this struggle, and risk your pregnancy this way," The Doctor emphasized.

Hart’s bonfire of anger and rage collapsed to hot coals, crackling and ready to inflame again if they were so much as raked. The Doctor seemed to be able to see right through him.

The Doctor sighed, "You don’t want to start a fist fight, ten minutes before the winners are announced at Lily’s science fair."

Hart’s eyes narrowed, "You aren’t from the past. Strictly speaking."

"Not even accusation in that tone," The Doctor noted, "Progress. I can neither confirm nor deny, by the way."

"You know what decision I will make though," accused Hart.

"No I don’t," The Doctor claimed, "You’re not locked in a time paradox. All I know is that I am looking at a 51st century pregnant man, with decisions ahead of him. If I don’t share some non-advert details of his evening with a future Lily, I might explode or implode the universe. Your decision, while seemingly overwhelming now, is not quite as high stakes as breaking the universe."

"I didn’t think breaking the universe was the level of stakes required for a decision to really matter," Hart hotly quipped.

"Oi! That's not what I meant. I just meant the decision is in your hands. This paradox is a fairly trivial one seemingly. Mainly because it hardly costs me anything to adhere to. Except," The Doctor gesticulates at his head, "my dignity a little. The decision is practicably out of my hands. I have to meet a future Lily, and share non-advert things. Some, she’ll know, like my marshmallow head, we’ll have a good laugh, reminiscing. Some she won’t, like the jokes I shared with Donna, or how Rose Noble recognized my pinstriped suit, she’s a clever girl, or how Wilf won’t stop laughing at me over there. Or, maybe I’ll mention my talk with her Uncle John.

Hart huffed, "I don’t want you talking to Lily about this."

"Well not now. Not not ever, I hope," The Doctor suggested, "It’s a more relatable story than you think, regardless of your decision."

Hart rubbed his eye socket with the heel of his hand, "Jack has both kinds of stories, it should be him who has this talk with Lily, if she ever needs it."

"It’s not always about the listener to stories, sometimes it is about the speaker."

"Are you trying to push me to talk to the other father?"

"I’m not a paradox enforcer," The Doctor asserted, "I’m not trying to push you to do anything."

"Isn’t the first rule of The Doctor that The Doctor lies?" Hart probed.

Slight offense managed comes through the voice synthesizer, "Well that sentence did not have any lies in it. In fact most of this conversation I didn’t lie. I’m trying to help. Which, weeell, yeeeah, normally doesn’t preclude lying. But in this conversation it mostly does.

"Peachy," Hart retorted, rolling his eyes before narrowing them, "So you do know what decision I make. It’s just not like a fixed point or anything."

The Doctor scratched the back of his gauzed head, "Sometimes I forget that you went through Time Agent training."

With a snort, Hart relayed, "Paid a lot more attention than Jack, too."

"I will give this spoiler though," The Doctor said ominously, "Brace yourself. It gets a lot worse before it gets better."

Hart muttered, "Bloody fantastic."

Chapter Text

Tuesday - Late Evening

Lily Oakdown’s School, Bathroom furthest from the gym

Hart had chosen the bathroom furthest from the gym to relieve himself in, before he would go meet with Jack and Ianto at the car. As he unzipped his pants, and started his stream, another person entered the bathroom, immediately putting Hart on edge. When he made out Armitage’s face, two opposing feelings arose in him: relief and agony.

Hart had an accusatory tone, "Did you follow me?"

The scowl and stare on Armitage remained unchanged, but there was a bit more tension around his eyes as he started to relieve himself.

Armitage's exhale managed to sound like a mix of sigh, growl, and grunt. "No."

Hart insisted, "And you just happen - "

"I intended to avoid this," Armitage interjected.

"You coward," volleyed Hart.

Armitage’ jaw near imperceptibly tightened. He stopped staring straight ahead, and looks right at Hart, breaking bathroom etiquette 101.

"I’m not sure what’s more cowardly," Hart continued, "if you are throwing away a decade-long partnership under the guise of not believing me anymore, or because you do believe me, and you don’t want to deal with shit when things get hard." He brought himself up short with a realization and snorted, "I apparently internalized the lesson to not leave when shit gets hard, when these roles were in reversed after New York."

The former Time Agent finished and zipped up his pants.

Armitage doesn’t take his eyes off Hart as his stream loses steam. He finished and zipped up his own pants. He turned to stare at Hart, watching for any tell. It’s been years since Armitage was so obviously scrutinizing Hart to Hart’s face like this when they were alone. Hart remembered what the Doctor said, and braced himself.

Armitage stared, "You’re backsliding."

Hart’s jaw opened and closed and opened before he finds words to express his indignation, "I’m not backsliding. I’m pregnant!"

Armitage stared, "Backsliding is a better fit to your behavior."

Disgusted, Hart demanded, "What will it take for you to trust me?"

Armitage gave Hart a very hard stare, "Let's go see Owen, tomorrow."

"Fuck you! I’m not going to see Owen! That’s not trusting me! That's asking for evidence! For proof!" yelled Hart.

Armitage stared, "It is not an outlandish request."

"I need to shit. Let me know if you need proof of that too!" Hart entered a stall and slamed the door behind him, before sliding the lock, and sitting down, pants still on, waiting to see if Armitage will leave.

Armitage stared, "You never miss Owen’s appointments."

Hart slumped over, head in hands, "You should stop seeing him too. He can’t be trusted."

Armitage stared, "He can’t be trusted with what."

A small voice came from Hart, "With bean."

Armitage stared upwards, like what the hell, "With what."

Hart's voice was still small, "You need to stop controlling everything."

Armitage stared.

"You had five agents like me at some point, but you didn’t like that," Hart accused, "You wanted the one to be there, covering Lily’s security, personally, as much as possible." A laugh, a touch hysterical erupted from Hart, before he continued with irony, I guess you don’t trust your agents, any more than you trust me. So now you have three agents. And you even begrudge even that. You don’t trust anyone else. I was never more than a way station, was I?"

Armitage stared, leaning onto the locked stall door, looking downward.

"I don’t trust easily either," Hart confessed, "I thought you trusted me back."

Armitage stared diagonally downward, "You lied to me."

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Hart yelled, kicking the stall door.

Armitage stood up from the kicked door and stared, analyzing this new, violent, element.

"What the every loving FUCK are you talking?!" Hart expounds, kicking the stall door four more times. Hart feels like punching the door, but remembers what Martha said, and tucked both his hands in towards his waist to stop himself, so he gives the door an extra kick for good measure, before taking a few breaths.

Armitage stared, "I need to know if the lies I know are where it ended and started, before we can move in any useful direction."

Hart made a noise like a half moan, half wail, "I just want you to believe me. To trust me. I gave you my word. I haven’t broken it. I didn’t want to."

Armitage stared, rolling Hart’s use of tenses around in his head, examining them. I didn’t want to. Did it speak to relapsing? Or had Hart’s ability to grammar taken a temporary beating.

His voice breaking, Hart admits, "I love you."

Armitage’s eyes widened, his scowl slackened a little. They both eschewed overt displayed of genuine sentimentality, though Hart was no where in Armitage's league. Armitage thought his feelings weren’t reciprocated as deeply as his own, by the playboy who had taken a different man, woman, or they, at least weekly, in a bed. Or a bathroom. Or a closet. Or a New York subway car. Any comment by Hally on his sex life was met with “Well, I ain’t allowed to bring anyone to our apartments, or it'd be more often!”

For this context to be the first time Hart disclosed those feelings, in that way, and even then, that Armitage couldn’t preclude the possibility that it was the manipulation of a relapsed addict, or that it wasn’t both things, felt like someone had taken a spoon to Amirtage’s heart.

Armitage closed his eyes and turned his head away.

"I’m not your friend Wesley," Hart spat.

Armitage growled, "You need help."

Hart pleaded, "I need you."

Armitage stared, stepping back up to the stall and gently placed a hand on it, before letting out a breath, "You need to take care of your health. For yourself. You know that, right?"

"Who says I haven’t," Hart rebuffed.

Armitage answered, "Your missed appointment."

"If you don’t want to be with me anymore, just put me out of my misery and say so."

Armitage voice softened, "I would."

"You care more about no one knowing us than you do about respecting what this is, or even respecting yourself, much less me. How am I supposed to live like that? How do you?" Hart lobbed.

"Discretion was always the arrangement," Armitage voiced simply.

"It’s not enough anymore, it’s not enough for me," Hart responded, sounding lost.

Armitage could see part of his failures that lead here, now. He always thought that Hart would take the deal, and thereby Armitage could pretend that Hart didn't matter to him much. "I’m sorry. I always said to only stay if it was enough. I didn’t see this eventuality. Didn’t see your needs changing."

Hart's voice was angry. "You don’t have room for anything else but your job and - ," Hart's tone turning mocking, "- discretion. You needed me to stay your dirty little secret don’t you.. Why? Missy? UNIT? Your reputation. Is this about what happened to Jeremy did to you.

Hart gave the door a good kick, "How much you have to hate yourself, that you feel you have to hide all the parts of you that make you MORE THAN A BODYGUARD."

Hart pummeled the door with his feet, as if trying to push out all his hurt and anger through these kicks, keeping momentum for about fifty seconds, until the lock breaks from its abuse and the stall door swung open. Hart gasped, his breath ragged, as he recovered from his exertion. As Hart exited the stall, he finds an empty bathroom.

A crestfallen Hart croaked, "I guess I’ll stay your dirty little secret."

Twenty minutes later Jack and Ianto found him curled up on the bathroom floor, hugging the stress ball to his chest, his eyes red from crying, his face wet with tears.

Chapter Text

Wednesday - Early morning

The Harkness-Jones Resident, living room

On the pullout couch, Jack rubbed Hart’s back as Hart held the waste basket he just retched into. Ianto stood nearby, resting his shoulder on the wall.

Jack looked to Ianto, "Should we call Martha, and see if we get a stronger anti-emetics?"

"No!" Hart sharply rebuked, "I didn’t want to take the one I’m on."

"It’s been a little over twenty minutes since breakfast," Ianto pointed out, "Martha says that enough time to keep most of the nutrients from eating. She said, in the event that he is keeping food down twenty minutes or longer, that any decision to treat any persistent pregnancy nausea or vomiting before Monday was his call."

Hart shook his head no, Jack went back to rubbing his back.

"Are you feeling better?" Jack asked.

Hart gave a groan, "I wanna use."

"Okay," Jack exhaled, "we are all taking half a sick day."

Hart delivered a heavy shove to Jack, who's arms go wide as he exclaimed, "Hey!"

"It’ll look suspicious!" Hart chewed Jack out, "All three of us! And what for? Maybe I’d rather be at work."

"We need to talk about last night," Jack said levelly.

"What for? And for four hours!"

"It will be more believable," Ianto chipped in, "if we are all late to work, by, say, an hour, for our own reasons."

"An hour's good!" Jack clapped his hands, "Ianto, get my computer, pretend to be me, and send an email to Kate as if I’m in the middle of having smutty time with you and I shalln’t be leaving my bedroom on time today!"

Groaning, Ianto asked, "Must I?"

Jack grinned, "She’ll totally believe it. We’re newly weds. You know how to write a convincing me, it wouldn't be the first time."

"Not about smut!" Ianto protested.

Jack waggled his eyebrows, "Just use our two nights in Ottawa as inspiration."

Hart raised an eye brow, "Ottawa?"

Jack shrugged, "I make Ianto pick all our destinations. He gets so mad that I won’t tell him where I haven’t been. So one of the places we went on our honey moon he picked from a list of the most boring major cities."

"And I was right," Ianto pointed out.

"And Ottawa would have been boring, if it weren’t for the company," Jack countered.

"We made up for it in the bedroom," Ianto blushed.

"Now that’s the mood I need you to use in the email," Jack encouraged.

"As head of the UNIT subsidiary Torchwood," Hart pointed out, "you don't even need to inform Kate of your absence, unless it’s going to impact UNIT."

Hands waving, Jack explained, "There’s a meeting this morning I’m supposed to be at."

Hart snorted.

Calling to Ianto, who is know in the kitchen, Jack hollered, "And don’t forget to grab Hart’s phone!"

Ianto returned, and said, "Hart, your agent’s kid is still sick."

"Shit!" Hart stood up, "I need to go."

"You’re not going anywhere," Jack yanked Hart back down, "Ianto. Text Armitage some excuse to excuse Hart for a couple hours, and explain that agent whats-their-name’s shift needs to be covered. As concisely and believably as possible, we don’t need Armitage snooping."

Ianto sent the text first, and while he drafted up Jack’s email to Kate, Jack got them all hot drinks.

"Hot chocolate?" Hart inquired, after taking a sip of his drink.

"I couldn’t remember what Martha said about caffeine," Jack admitted. Hart groaned.

"No more than two coffees a day," Ianto said, not turning his eyes from the laptop.

Jack reached to take the mug back. Hart extended his mud, but wouldn't let go of the mug handle. Jack gave him a querulous look.

"Make it a mocha. With cinnamon. And whipped cream. And sprinkles," Hart requested, before muttering, "Spreading out my caffeine during the day is going to be a nightmare."

"We don’t stock sprinkles…."

"We have some left over from when Lily last spent an overnight, and we made cupcakes," Ianto told Jack, "It’s with the baking items, in its original bag. Only like a quarter of a cup. Add it to the grocery list."

Jack came back with a mocha, same as Hart ordered.

"The email is ready," Ianto said, and then let out a sigh, "Rebecca is going to hate me when she pulls this up in Kate’s inbox."

Grinning Jack cheeked, "Hate me, you mean. She gets paid handsomely, for a secretary. Let me see it first."

Ianto gave an emphatic "No" before his cheeks reddened.

"I’m going to see it in my outbox anyways!" Jack countered.

Ianto sighed and gave up.

Jack grinned as he took the laptop into his seated lap, but scowled as he took in the actual email. "Three sentences?! This took you five minutes?"

"Well," Ianto responded, a hint of innuendo in his voice, "the Jack who wrote that was a little too busy to write a smutty novella to his boss."

Jack grinned as he pulls a standing Ianto closer to him, and pulls his face down for a kiss and saying "I guess he was understandably preoccupied."

"I can watch, if you like," Hart offered, "I haven’t had action in ages. And porn is getting a big stale."

Ianto scoffed, and the pair pull apart.

"So you’re the reason our firewall has been on overdrive the last week," Ianto assessed.

Hart shrugged, and a cell dings. It was his own. He stiffened. Ianto picked the cell up and starts reading the text.

“Thanks for telling me - "

Jack snorted, "Armitage saying thank you?"

“- Got it covered.”

Hart exclaimed, "What the hell did you tell him?"

With a shrug, Ianto informed Hart, "Just that, and I quote: Jack and Ianto hosted me for drinks. Crowther’s kid is still sick. I can’t drive Hally right now either. End quote. I kept it short and believable. We’re your alibis."

Hart groaned loudly.

"What?" Ianto said.

"You said I was drinking?" Hart groused.

"Alcohol is not one of your problem substances, what, with your 51st century biology," Ianto answered, a little dumbfounded that Hart was complaining about this.

Hart pushed back, "SO?"

"You used being hung over for missing your Owen appointment, just yesterday," Ianto replied, clueless as to the problem was.

Alarmed, Harts eyes widened, "What else have you been looking at on my phone?"

Ianto sighed and rolled his eyes, "After scrolling past like three sexting service chats from last night, I saw Owen’s text from yesterday, before I saw Armitage’s Monday text."

It took all of Hart’s willpower to not have his eyes bulge out of his head. He had forgotten their last text message.

Ianto pressed, "What did Armitage mean when he texted you: If you don’t want to work for Saxon Enterprises anymore, just let me know?"

Chapter Text

Wednesday -Early Morning

The Harkness-Jones Residence - Living room

Ianto pressed, "What did Armitage mean when he texted you: If you don’t want to work for Saxon Enterprises anymore, just let me know?"

In an effort to misdirect the duo, Hart scowled, "He was pissed that I got a sick note from Alina Monday. You know how anal he is. My contract states I am to report any absence to him. And that just wasn't top of my mind when I saw Alina on Monday." With a roll of his eyes he added, "Imagine that."

"So, you just didn’t answer?" Jack probed, seeking clarification.

"We talked, in person, it’s all sorted. That's probably why he is thanking me. For following protocol this time."

"So, I did do the right thing. He appreciated that you reported to him. He didn’t say anything about the drinking," pointed out a a relieved but still confused Ianto, before he gave a shrug.

"Enough about the Armitage drama," Jack insisted, "He’s a big boy. He’ll be fine. That sounds squared away. Honestly, him using words like Thanks, sounds like growth. What we need to talk about is last night." Jack turned square to Hart and fixed him with a piercing glare.

"Let’s start with what should be an easy one," Jack expounded, his eyes not leaving Hart, "Hitting Ianto. There is no universe in which that should be happening. If you need a human punching bag, pick me."

Arms going wide, Hart exclaimed, "I didn’t mean to."

"Who controls your elbows," Jack challenged.

Hart sighed in a defeated tone, "I do."

"So, there will be no more hitting Ianto?" Jack pressed.

"I’m sorry," Hart said to Jack.

"Why are you looking at me?" Jack rebuffed.

Hart moved his gaze to Ianto. Looking and feeling guilty, Hart rubbed one arm with the other hand, "I’m sorry that I hit you, Ianto."

Ianto shifted on the chair he was in and winced.

"Apology accepted," Ianto granted, "Assuming it doesn't happen again."

"It won't!" An apologetic Hart solicited, "How bad is it?"

Sharp eyes still on Hart, Jack answered, "Bruising on the ribs, lots of it. You are lucky nothing is broken."

Ianto gave a conciliatory, "I wasn’t very kind."

Jack eyes somehow sharpened even further. "It was fair. Becoming a parent is a huge ego death, with thousands of tiny ego deaths even after the kid gets there. It can’t be understated. It transforms and touches every part of your life. It’s like crossing an event horizon. No one, no ego, survives the ride. Or even crosses back."

Hart felt the bottom of his stomach give out. "Bloody hell, Jack. You going to go with event horizon for your analogy."

"I’m not kidding," Jack continued, his eyes not softening a inch, "You don’t even have to be a parent. Do you see how Lily has her uncles wrapped around her finger? She had Armitage saying I like you. If that did not cause his ego some pain, then I don’t know Armitage at all."

Ianto raised his eyebrows over his tea, as if to say, are you done yet?

"If you keep this pregnancy, even if you don’t keep the resulting baby your life will change forever," Jack leveled

"Phht," Hart differed, "Even if I give up the kid for adoption?"

"It's not the easy option. In some ways it’s the hardest. You’ll always wonder, and it will eat at you, because the subject of your wonder is real, existing out there somewhere, living who knows what kind of life, and there is nothing you can do about it. You might try to convince yourself it is a better life, but there is no way for you to know that, you’re fooling yourself, to cope. It's a different life, for sure, to one where you raise them. Better or worse, or just different, you will likely never know."

Hart wanted to yell out that he knew this was a huge decision, that he didn’t need to be lectured, but as he heard Jack’s breath shake, as he finished his speech, the need died in Hart. Ianto grasped Jack’s hand. They all sat in silence for a couple moments, neither Hart nor Ianto wanting to be the first to speak.

Finally, Hart spoke, "Sorry, man, I didn’t think. You hardly ever talk about it."

Jack shifted in his seat. "I gave another baby away. It was after Bad Wolf. I was further in the past, so my medical options were limited. I was afraid of the pregnancy surviving and hurting the baby, if it wasn’t done right. I thought it would be easier this time. I had done it before. I was older." He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Wiser. It wasn’t easier. At all." His jaw tightened. "If it happens that way again, I’m either keeping the baby, or sending a canon through my midsection. It would hurt less."

To this Hart wanted to say things that would deflect from the raw emotions of Jack, not his own, but he stomped down on those impulses. He viscerally understood now what The Doctor had said about story tellers. After a moment Ianto broke the silence.

"Let’s talk about Hart’s situation and circumstances."

"Yes, let's," Jack concurred. Another pause happens before Ianto breaks the silence again.

"You wouldn’t say last night why we found you like that."

Hart remained silent, not wanting to speak about it, and not sure what to say.

"You said you wanted to use," Jack prompted, "Is that related to what happened in the bathroom?"

Words spilled out of Hart, "I don’t want to. Not really. I just, um found it better for my sobriety, to just be truthful, when the urge happens."

Jack's steely stare was back, "And you don’t have any urge to do any self-harm?"

Baffled, Hart replied, "No. Where do you get - "

"I don’t know about you, but punching things until your knuckles near break, twice in a day, sounds like self harm to me," Jack explained, "And I have been trying not to think about why I found a stall door lock on the floor there." His voice rose in volume. "I couldn’t sleep last night, because I was afraid that - ," Jack's voice gets louder again, "I wouldn’t find you alive this morning."

Hart started rocking in his seated pose, hands in his hair, "Fuck, I’m sorry."

Ianto sat down beside him and places a hand on his shoulder. "You don’t have to be sorry. We are all here, and right now, we are all okay."

Still a bit of menace in his tone, Jack rumbled, "Do you have any history of self-harm?"

"NO! Not unless you count drugs. Drugs, well," Hart chuckled morosely, "I started using when I was 12."

Ianto's face expressed shock. Jack’s didn’t twitch. After a moment, Jack’s face did relax some.

"Drug abuse does count. Thank you for sharing."

Hart gave a sigh, "I, um, talked to the father last night. Um, uh. It was on the phone."

Rubbing Hart's arm, Ianto gently probed, "Who called who?"

"I, ah, called him. I thought, um, I should give him another chance."

Jack’s steely stare was back, though Hart knew it wasn’t directed at him.

"Obviously he was an asshole," Jack supplied.

"Can you tell us what happened, in your own words?" Ianto asked, adding, "If it's not too much."

What transpired in the bathroom came to Hart in waves, both when Armitage was there, and when he wasn't. His heart sped up, his breathing became rapid. Ianto instantly responded, running his hand down Hart’s whole back, giving verbal reassurance until Hart calms down.

"It’s okay if you can’t talk to us about it," Jack said softly, "But you should talk to Alina, again in that case."

Hart closed his eyes, "Fuck, just give me a minute."

A corner of Jack's lips turned up, but he had his face well-pooled by the time Hart opened his eyes.

"I called him a coward for throwing away our relationship. He accused me of using. I asked for his trust. I insulted him about being a workaholic. I mean, I did most of the talking. I was spiraling even before he left. Erm, left the phone call. You know, hung up on me. He also accused me of lying though….. I have no idea what that was about."

Ianto asked reassuringly, "You sure?"

Insulted, Hart huffed, "Yes. He said I’d have to clear up that lie, by fessing up to all my lies before we could pick a direction. We have a thing about honesty, considering my, um, sobriety. Then said he still needed discretion, like I should to go back to him or something, same as how it was before. It was fucked up."

Jack leaned forward, his hands in a upside-down V, resting on his chin.

"Did you talk about the pregnancy?" Ianto asked, his hand resting still on Hart's back now.

"If me saying the words I’m pregnant in the middle of that disaster counts."

"Did he react to you saying that?" Ianto solicited.

"To make his first accusation me of using," Hart bit out.

"Don’t talk to that guy again," Jack stipulated, "Unless one of us is there. It sounds irredeemably toxic. I think you are going to have to seriously only think about this pregnancy in context of what you feel ready and able to tackle single. Note, I said single, not alone."

Chapter Text

Wednesday - Mid morning
Outside the residence of Hally Oakdown

Missy saw Armitage was smoothing over some seething ego. Over what, she has not a clue. He wasn’t the one embarrassed last night, with a heavy dose of helping heaped on it by one's own daughter.

"Lilja, Mamaidh is sitting in the front."

Lily pouted, "Again? You rode in the front yesterday too, Mamaidh."

"No pouting," Missy instructed, "Think of Armitage, always sitting up there all alone." Armitage subtly deepened his glare. "Regardless, you’ll have company, your Mum is joining us today."

Lily looked at Armitage, "Uncle Armi looks the same that he always does. I don’t see what's different today. He got you yesterday."

"That was some last minute shuffling," Missy said, after she got in the front seat, Hally and Lily ensconced in the back.

Armitage stared.

"What did you want to speak with me about?" Missy prodded. She had said this knowing that Armitage’s facial expression and body language was fuck off not I want to talk to you, but she knew she must prod, however unsanitary it felt, to make sure Armitage was operating at his best performance. She had put a lot of effort into his cultivation. That was the only reason. Truly.

Armitage stared.

Wearily sighing, Missy rhetorically asked, "Must you make this so onerous?"

Armitage stared.

Missy mused, "You really don’t want to talk about this. Should I start guessing?"

Armitage stared.

"Mmmm. Oh I got it! Your sister Beatrice called you out of the blue!" Missy glanced at Armitage. "Oh. No?"

Armitage stared, the slightly scrunch on his face, and a note of regret.

"Did your brother Wesley find you, and ask for ‘rent’ money?" Missy watched Armitage's face. "Oh no? Still cold?"

Armitage stared, notes of regret remaining, plus a note of disgust, a note of guilt.

"This game is so fun!" Missy bounced in her seat, clapping her hands.

"MAYBE," Missy persisted, "your friend Jeremy’s death was fa - "

Armitage spoke, "We have a personnel problem."

"Oh. No longer a might have? Is this a problem for Saxon Enterprises, or a problem for you? It certainly isn’t a we problem, let me clear that up for you."

Armitage stared, "It’s become a problem for Saxon Enterprises."

Missy looked down, fixing her clothes, "Is what a Saxon Enterprise problem?"

Armitage stared, "Hart’s team. Short-staffed."

Missy gave a snort, "Aren’t there five agents under Hart?"

Armitage stared, "Extenuating circumstances. None are available."

"Where is Hart?" Missy inquired.

Armitage stared, "Leaving the Harkness-Jones house late."

"Again?" Missy tutted, "That’s two nights in a row now. I wonder when they are going to make it official, or announce the bun in the oven, and just who is baking it?"

Armitage stared, his hands tightening nearly imperceptibly. Missy laid her arm along the top of the backs of the seats, and leans over to have her mouth closer to Armitage’s ear. He hates it when she does this. This pretend play intimacy.

Missy breathed, "Was it just me, or was there discord between them and you, yesterday at the fair? I don’t know why there has to be. You can join them if you want. I never wanted you to be a monk, just to have the discipline of one. I think it has done us both well, so far, don’t you think? But I honestly never expected you to live as my bodyguard this long. Mortals, they die so easily."

Armitage took a sharp right at an intersection, pushing Missy back up into a proper seated position in her car seat.

Speaker lit up.

"Everything okay up there?" Hally pressed.

"That was fast!" Lily exclaimed breathily.

"Everything’s fine dears," Missy smoothly drolled, "Uncle Armi is just trying to avoid distracting squirrels."

"If that’s all," Hally solicited.

"That’s all dear," Missy reassured

Speaker went dark.

"Hmmm. I remember an old face of mine. One time, his TARDIS got stuck, oh, I don't know,  1910s or 20s Denmark, I think it was. But its chameleon circuit was still working."

Armitage stared.

"Yes, yes, I know you know this part. Patience. Got to work myself up to the mood needed for the last bit," Missy chided Armitage, before deploying a smirk, "I will make it worth it.

"Anyways, this nine year old boy finds my TARDIS in the beach sand, taking up less space than a shoe box, camouflaged as a brass Arabian oil lamp. He takes it to his fort, in the woods. Of course, what else is a nine year old going to do with a genie lamp? Somehow, when the boy rubbed it three times, it fixed my TARDIS. I’m sure The Doctor would make some appeal to some trite human virtue, like hope or love or humility, blah blah blah. Like if the absence of a scientific explanation makes those natural explanations for what happened. I'd speculate that the TARDIS knew it need something it would get from those grubby rubs, hence why it disguised itself as a genie lamp. But I digress.

"So, the boy sees a grown man spill out of a genie lamp, thinking it’s magic. I can’t blame him, can you? He rubbed a genie lamp, a genie spilled out," Missy shrugged a shoulder, "Who could fault his logic? So this boy, ever so polite introduced himself as Asger. Then he asked my name, and if he gets a wish. This made me grumpy, but, I had already been stuck in the TARDIS for a very long while. It also allowed me to exercise some dramatic flair, for which I had been missing an audience for for eons.

"I told him my name is The Master. He was not suitably impressed. I told him that I was a limited-time discount genie, and I could only grant one wish. So he would have to think very very hard about what wish he wished to ask for. I told him I would be leaving by sunset the next day. I did have some TARDIS maintenance to do. He returned, bringing company of course," Missy rolled her eyes, "A skeptical older brother, and a bubbly younger sister. I asked the boy if he had a wish. His answer:

"We have discussed it and have agreed that we want a good home for us. We want to stay together. In a home with parents that do not beat us, and who treat us with kindness. And little miss bubbly pipped up, and said, the baby coming too.

"I was very put out. Did I not notice the turn off to scheming for power and planetary dominion, and end up on the turnpike to children's fairy tales? I thought they’d ask for some trinket, something I could have my TARDIS whip up for them momentarily. Now they were sending me on a quest? For good parents? It felt both beneath and above my pay grade at the same time. Luckily, the fools hadn’t put any temporal or spatial restrictions on their request. I could have put them in a Silurian home.

"I told them it would take a while to find the perfect home, and to come back in a day. When they found out I could actually deliver, and I was dropping them off in a new home, they tried to have their bedstemor included retroactively. But too late, we had already changed time zones. There might have been some culture shock, being placed in the UK in the 1980s. I didn’t stick around, not my scene. Though look how the tables have turned," Missy glanced towards the back seat, where Lily sat.

"But sometimes, I wonder, what would the boy have asked for, if he had been offered a second wish at the time?

"Or the man that he became, if he were offered one now?

"If he were to consider his wish as carefully as he did the last one, all those years ago?"

Armitage stared.

Chapter Text

Wednesday - Late morning
UNIT building Office of John Hart

Hart huffed, "Get out of my office."

Well, Alina thought to herself, a good reminder that going to someone else's territory is not /always/ more welcomed than making them come to yours.

"I need to discuss something with you," Alina advised.

Hart slouches back in his chair and crossed his arm. Alina sat in the chair across the desk from him to not be standing over him.

"You should have made an appointment," Hart muttered.

"Just returning the favour, I guess."

He huffed again, "You said two weeks."

"Before disclosure," Alina specified, "That doesn’t stop higher ups from searching for answers."

"And you’re telling me about it?" Hart answered, a touch suspicious.

"Yes. You don’t need any more blindsiding."

"Tell me about it," Hart murmured, taking a black foam ball out of his pocket, sliding it back and forth across his desk.

"Kate wants your place tossed for clues."

Hart stopped the ball, and gave a snort, smiling, "Have at it. That place is a mess. With what bean has been doing to me, I haven’t done a proper thorough cleaning in weeks. I’m pretty sure there is still vomit in a couple places I never cleaned up."

Alina’s face was placid, but inside she decided she wasn’t doing the first run over of his place.

"Kate suggested that Armitage do it."

Hart grinned wider, giggling even, "He’s so anal, he’ll clean up the whole place. Sure. Saves me going back to a mess if Jack and Ianto want some space."

"You’re not worried about him finding anything that you don’t want him, or Kate, to know?" Alina prompted.

"No," Hart shrugged, "I was hardly ever there even when I did live there."

"Okay. So just to be clear. You are okay with Armitage, with his eye for detail, inspecting your apartment, and reporting his findings to me and Kate?"

"Yep," Hart said, tossing the foam ball in the air and catching it.

Alina knew then that Hart was either confident for good reason, or careless.

"Okay. She asked me to give the order."

Hart's grin was back. "Someone besides Missy giving Armitage an order," Hart whistled, "Are you selling pay-per-view tickets?"

Just outside Hart's door, unseen by Alina and Hart, Armitage stopped just outside the door, waiting a moment, having heart Alina's voice, but not words, earlier.

Alina tilted her head, "Despite your initial ‘greeting’, you seem very relaxed now. Can I credit that to Jack and Ianto?"

"Yeah, um," Hart swallowed ,"The three of us had a talk this morning. It was, ah, good. Put things in perspective. They aren’t going anywhere. They’re with me. It, ah, feels nice."

A shadow blocks the light from the hallway.

Armitage stared, "Crowther just called. Kid’s at the E.R."

Chapter Text

Wednesday, early-afternoon
UNIT entrance lobby.

Armitage picked up his cellular phone.

Hart asked suspiciously, "Who are you calling?"

"Yoshida."

Hart made a swipe for Armitage’s phone. Armitage leaned back to avoid him, his eyes look like they could sharpen blades.

"No you don’t! You’re not calling her back from her vacation early!"

Hart swung to swipe again, and Armitage catches his hand, twists his arm and pins him to the ground, chest first. Hart feels a whirl-wind of anger and grief. He pulls on his anger. He isn’t crying here.

A sharp and quiet voice pierce through to their attention. "Conference room. Now," Alina demanded, before adding to the numerous witness in the lobby, "Someone get Owen to join us, to check out Hart’s shoulder."

After he is let up, Hart insisted, "I'm fine," with a shoulder roll.

The nearby conference room had glass walls. Alina could only hope that meant that they’ll behave, as she looked at the two men in front of her, a study of contrasts. Armitage appeared to be stone. Even more so than normal, and she hadn’t know that that was possible. He was contained, more than his default. He had buffed away the small touch of what she thought must have been sorrow, showing at the hospital. Whereas Hart seemed to be a big ball of wibbly-wobbly emotions, giving off way too many vibes to focus on any particular one of them. He seemed to be holding onto anger the tightest, as if afraid of other emotions taking center stage. Distress was center stage in the hospital, and it was still in the mix. Despite all of it, he still seem more stable and measured than he did Monday. Neither man is willing to take the lead and say something, of course.

"The three of us just came back from the hospital, where we were checking on your employee who has a very sick child there. Why did that lead to a physical altercation in the lobby entrance of the building?"

Armitage stared.

Hart's eyes watered as he huffed.

"I only caught the end of it. Who initiated it?"

Armitage stared. Hart took a deep breath.

"Armitage?" Alina asked. 

Armitage stared.

"You don’t have anything as the superior in this situation, to say?" Alina pressed.

Armitage stared. Hart snorted.

"There were witnesses," Alina pointed out, "Even if neither of you, and none of them, don’t file an HR report for witnessing assault, news of this is going to get to Kate."

Armitage stared. Hart gave a weary noise.

"How was this more important thing, when one of your agents is in crisis?" Alina persisted.

Armitage stared.

"He was trying to cover everyone’s 6 by bringing Yoshida back from vacation early," Hart shared, squishing a black foam ball in his right hand.

Alina looked back and forth between them, "And what?"

Hart growled, "I tried to swipe his phone from him. Let Yoshida have her vacation. My agents work very hard. They deserve their time off."

"And you decided to put Hart in a hold?" Alina put to Armitage.

Armitage stared.

"Well, that’s not a no," Alina said simply, "I’ll take your silence as a yes, unless you say otherwise, understood?"

Armitage stared.

"Good," Alina said, "Now, that we understand each other. Question: Is it strictly necessary to back-fill Crowther?"

Armitage stared. Alina looked to Hart, after 'receiving' Armitage's 'yes', but no explanation.

Hart scrunched his face, annoyed, "We’re almost there. We usually work in pairs. As it is, we haven’t been since the Bakshi brothers left for India."

"That was two weeks ago," Alina supplied.

A sulky Hart continued, "Yeah, my team is all down. Araya-Herrera on his team is recovering from surgery. Thach and Magaji, Armitage and me, that’s all we got."

"So Thach and Magai have Lily?" Alina looked to Armitage.

Armitage stared, "No."

"But you're here?" Alina replied, pointing out a current gap in coverage.

Armitage stared. Alina kept looking at Armitage.

Armitage stared.

Rolling his eyes, Hart clarified, "Armitage comes into the office for paperwork while Missy does private tutoring with Lily."

"Lily, Hally, and Missy, are all together overnights. Can we go down to one for overnights?" Alina asked.

Armitage stared, "Minimum of two on nights."

"Could UNIT help out Saxon Enterprises?"

Armitage stared, "No."

"I am sure you know all our bodyguard’s CVs, inside and out, in case your own became permanently unavailable," Alina said dryly, "You probably already have hefty signing bonuses set aside with enough to half buy a house for each of them."

Armitage stared.

"Well, if you’re sure you can manage for now, feel free. If that changes, let UNIT know," Alina said levelly, "Is there anything else?"

A kerfuffle sounds outside the conference room. Alina stands up, as does Armitage and Hart.

"What the hell is going on," Alina asked.

Jack came flying through the door.

"What the hell, Armitage, you injured Hart’s shoulder? What the hell for?" Jack came right up to Armitage, only a foot away, neither of them flinching.

"Stand the fuck down," Alina demanded.

Jack stared challengingly into Armitage’s eyes, "I’m not going to touch him. But he also isn’t going to touch Hart, again, are you."

Owen had come in behind Jack, and came right over to Hart. Ianto was behind him, ginger with his side still.

Quietly Owen told Hart, "They were with me when I heard Armitage hurt your shoulder."

Still staring down Armitage, Jack insisted, "I want to hear your explanation for putting your hands on your employee. On your friend."

Not wanting to claim any fault, but not wanting things to escalate, Hart huffed, "To be fair I went for his phone, twice before he restrained me."

Jack fixed Hart with a piercing glance, "Just a hold?"

"Yeah."

Owen asked Hart, "Can you take your shirt off? Which shoulder?"

Hart put the foam ball in his pocket, then took his standard tops; his hussar jacket and gold v-neck tank top. He indicated his right shoulder, not even paying attention to Owen's "Tell me if anything hurts" as Owen starts touching and pressing on Hart's body.

Jack went back to taking a long hard look at Armigate, and asked, accusation again predominate in his tone, "Care to fill me in on what kind of hold it was?"

Jack and Alina saw the start of something they’d never seen on Armitage’s face before. The beginning of a wicked smirk.

"Oh - ," Hart starts to exclaim. Armitage grabbed and pulled Jack’s left hand, twisting his arm and pinning him to the ground, chest first.

" - shit," Hart finished.

"Glady," Armitage answered Jack's question, then let Jack stumble to the floor, "But I did help Hart back up."

In a warning tone, Alina told Jack, "Jack, we don’t need this to escalate."

Jack glowered at Armitage and tugged his shirt as he looked to Alina.

"Um, Owen?" Ianto said tentatively.

Owen, who had paused holding Hart’s arm out to Hart's side, staring at the show in front of him, replied, "Um, yeah."

Ianto informed Owen, "I think I’m going to vomit."

Chapter Text

Wednesday - Early afternoon

UNIT building, conference room off entrance lobby

Alina and Armitage were alone, both in the conference room with glass walls. They were loosing their audience. Thank fuck.

"Now that they’ve all left for medical, I need to talk to you," Alina said firmly, "Similar rules to before. I’ll take silence as a yes to questions. I’ll also take silence as an agreed or understood to statements."

Armitage stared. With a hint of … extra malevolence? Alina thought. Visiting the hospital seems to have loosen his hold on himself a bit. He doesn’t like these rules, Alina noted. And Alina I did not feel even a tiny bad exploiting that, not one bit.

"I know it’s been a trying day for your whole team, but the higher ups still want answers about last week, regarding Hart’s misconduct. His behavior here today is going to deepen the interest."

Armitage stared.

"I’m sure you’ve been concerned for Hart too," Alina probed.

Armitage stared. His jaw twitched minutely.

"Kate wants you to search Hart’s apartment," Alina informed him.

Armitage stared. With a hint of …. interest? thought Alina.

"Are you able to?"

Armitage stared, "We are short staffed."

"Is Hart known to go home for lunch?" Alina suggested.

Armitage stared, "No."

"Why - No, not why. Yes no questions only, am I right, Armitage?" Alina tilted her head.

Armitage stared.

"Thank you," Alina said, holding back a smile, "Can you arrange for Missy to have a Mamaidh-daughter lunch tomorrow, and you go and search Hart’s apartment then?"

Armitage stared. With a hint of …. interest again, thought Alina.

Alina figured he would be concerned with Hart too, even if he never shows it. Since she secured Hart’s permission to let Armitage search it, she had wondered if it might spur him to reach out to this friend-employee who was obviously in a crisis, even if Armitage didn’t know the details.

"Good," Alina said simply.

Chapter Text

Wednesday - Late Afternoon

Alina’s Office

With an imposed upon look and tone, Hart greeted Alina with an, "I’m here."

"Please, sit down."

Hart sat down, looking like he didn’t want to relax, but as he sank down, he couldn’t help himself, despite his greeting tone. Good, she thought, I'm breaking him in.

"How’s the shoulder? How are you?"

"My shoulder’s fine," Hart complained, "He was gentle, really. I’ve had a lot worse, in that kind of hold."

"Did you know that Jack filed an HR report?" Alina informed him.

"What! Jack? For me?" Hart exclaimed, flabbergasted.

"He claimed it was not about Armitage’s hold on you. Jack grumbled it would probably be deemed as justifiable. No, he filed it based on Armitage assaulting Jack himself."

Still shocked, Hart added, "Jack never files HR reports on behalf of himself."

"Yes, quite," Alina acknowledged, ".Unless it’s a pattern of behavior issue, and he is just adding to a pile. Same with Armitage. Jack asserted that someone had to ruin Armitage’s perfect record of no HR complaints."

Hart gave a snort, "If you believe that, I’ve found a stable wormhole that will halve your transit."

"While it is probably a fun perk, to Jack, I share your doubts about that being the only reason he filed the report. Though, a torn rotator cuff doesn’t help."

"What! Armitage tore his rotator cuff?!"

"That’s what Owen’s report says," Alina voice lilted.

"Well," huffed Hart, "if you are getting Owen’s report, I assume you know my shoulder’s fine." He took the foam stress ball out of his pocket, and tossed it around twice, as if to demonstrate.

Alina's face turned a bit gentler, as she switched topic, "It was tough, at the hospital. See one of your agents, who are very tough people, so devastated over their child’s ill health."

Eyes water, Hart deflected, "I don’t want to talk about that."

"That’s okay. Just letting you know, I’m here, if you want to talk about it. Now, or later."

Hart took a deep breath.

"Now, before we got interrupted this morning, you said that you had talked with Jack and Ianto, and that they had managed to help you put things in perspective where you were feeling good and nice. Can we talk some more about that?"

Hart shifted in his seat uncomfortably, but doesn’t deflect, "Yeah. Sure. I guess."

"Go on."

Swallowing, his hand gripping the black foam, Hart contributed, "After a phone call, with him, that ended terrible, Jack and Ianto found me in a bad way. They were very worried about me." Hart started rubbing a hole in the carpet with his boots."

"Should I be worried?" Alina said evenly.

A small scowled morphed Hart's lips, "No. Jack had a very thorough conversation about his worries. I told him there was none."

"Can you explain that?" Alina prodded.

"I don’t have any history of self-harm," Hart assured, then rolled his eyes, "Other than substance abuse. And I have no plan to start any sort of self-harm right now."

"Good," Alina said, thinking to herself, Good to see Jack take mental health seriously for once. Why /the hell/ did Torchwood not have a psychologist?, "You’ll let us Jack, Ianto, Martha, or I, know if that changes?"

"Yeah," Hart swallowed.

"What did Jack and Ianto help you put into perspective?" Alina probed.

"Um. They helped me figure out that I really need to think about the pregnancy solely in relation to what I feel ready to do and handle. And, um," Hart swallowed, "not to let the situation with him drive my decision." Hart scratched his arm.

"Are you any closer to a decision?" Alina asked, her tone leaving open that no answer would be fine.

"I know what I am not going to do," Hart said, sounding both sure and insecure somehow.

"And what’s that?," Alina said gently.

"Jack was sharing his own history - ," Hart started.

- It takes everything in Alina to not perk up. She was going to get some elusive Jack lore? He was as bad to pull information out of as Armitage, Jack just did it sometimes with dramatic flair instead of stares.

Hart continued, " - he gave up a baby. He gave two up actually. I only knew about the one before the Time Agency. Said he thought it’d be easier to do the second time. He said he was wrong, he’d rather take a cannon to his abdomen to end a pregnancy, if he couldn’t get an abortion, then go through giving up a kid of his again. Said it would hurt less."

Alina softly spoke, "That’s a side of infant adoption we don’t usually see in the media. The media likes to focus on the story with a presumed happy ending. The new parents are finally accomplishing their years-long dream of building a family. But that dream comes at the expense of another family, separated, if not functionally destroyed, by decades, if not forever. New mothers rarely want to relinquish their babies, even if they want an abortion initially, but are not able to access one."

Hart quietly spoke, his hands in his lap both holding the foam ball, "I know if I went through the pain that Jack described….. I would relapse."

Alina's voice got even softer, "Parenthood is not without hurt. Look at what the Crowthers are going through."

Tears started running down Hart’s face. His voice broke, "Are there people who regret having kids?"

Alina gave a soft quiet chuckle, "Of course. To err is human. To regret it, doubly-so. Though most of that regret is about how tough the job of being a parent is, not because they don’t love their kids. The regret rate for terminating one’s pregnancy is lower."

"Really?" Hart said curiously.

"I read a book on matrescence once, and how different pregnancy or parenting decisions impacted it. Matrescene is a word to encompass the physical, emotional, emotional, hormonal, and social transition to becoming a mother, or parent who has given birth, if you prefer. Basically, how becoming a mother can completely change you as a person."

Hart's voice was still small as he spoke again. "Jack said the same thing. That becoming a parent completely transforms you and touches every part of your life. Said parenthood was like swoosh," Hart threw his hand and arm in a forward motion, the ball only held up his two outside fingers and his thumb, "entering a black hole. No one ever comes back."

"The book said," Alina shared, "that a perinatal person can’t prevent matrescence through relinquishing their newborn for adoption. It describes adoption as a permanent solution to a temporary problem. The family, or community, gives insufficient or no support to a perinatal person, causing a temporary crisis. Adoption businesses have financial incentive to separate the new family, not to preserve it. Matrescence still occurs, though in challenging ways for birth mothers. It is often accompanied by grief, loss, and identity conflict. They cited a study of birth mothers from the baby scoop era that shows that of those studied, 30% did not go on to become mothers due to feelings too traumatized, ashamed, or unworthy, to go through pregnancy again.

I imagine that going through that experience is part of why Jack is being so supportive."

"Yeah, Jack’s a good friend. Did it say anything about abortion, and," Hart said, then tried out the new term, "ma-tres-ents?"

"Yes, though little of the book was dedicated to that. About abortion, they said it is a permanent solution a person decides to make, to preserve themself and their own priorities and goals. When one does not want a child, in the near future, or ever, so that they can remain committed to other priorities and goals that they hold near and dear. Priorities and goals could be educational, vocational, relational, personal, children one already has, among others. Matrescence does not occur, in the case of a wanted termination, as the persons who receive one do not identify with the transition to motherhood. They typically feel relief from avoiding it. But Hart, you aren’t a statistic.

"What were your own priorities and goals," Alina asked "before you discovered your pregnancy?"

Hart seemed to shrink into himself, clutching the ball near his waist.

"Your UNIT career is the stable-est and most enduring career you’ve had, I understand," Alina contributed.

"The job’s a bit easy, until it’s not," Hart said, shrugging.

"You want something more challenging?" Alina suggested.

Hart tilted his head, "No. I like my job."

"Okay," Alina absorbed, "And personally?"

Hart rubbed his face into one open hand, "I wanted a committed relationship, with him."

Alina tilted her head, and offered softly, "You want to make sure that if you have this child, you are not using them to fill some other void. That isn’t fair to put on them."

Hart grumbled,"And what did your dang book on /ma-tres-ents/ say about parenthood."

Aline smiled, "In short, what Jack said. Jack isn’t wrong how much it transforms your life, and caregiving takes up a lot of time. A newborn can need to eat every two hours, and it can take 15-30 minutes to feed them. So, some 12 to 25% of your time is just feeding the little bugger, and it's not something you can do all in one part of the day, and move on to other priorities after. Parenting is very intensive, time wise, for years. Many parents lose their sense of identity apart from parenting in that. Parents, especially default, primary, or single parents, commonly have to defer, or entirely forgo, priorities they had before a new child comes into their life. I think you’ve seen that with Lily, how all encompassing parenting can be.

"There was something Jack said, when I found out that I was pregnant, that’s been rolling-around in my head today," Hart shared, his hold on the stress ball relaxing.

"What is that?"

"After Jack confirmed my pregnancy, he said So, serendipitous, no fucking way, or you don't know yet? Need to know if I'm congratulating you, or setting up an appointment, or coaching you through an existential crisis."

Aline responded a touch wry, "Very practical. Very Jack."

"Heh, that’s one way to put it," Hart responded.

"So, what part is rolling around in your head?" Alina asked.

"That word. Serendipitous. It didn’t feel that way. I wasn’t planning this, I had taken steps I thought would mean I would entirely avoid it. It still doesn’t feel that way, with how things are with him. When I think of him out of the picture, it still hurts. But when I think of just me and bean, it feels like serendipitous might be in the realm of possibility now."

"But you haven’t taken termination off the table?" Alina asked, confirming.

"No. I still have some thinking to do," Hart answered, "I mean, if I’m keeping bean, I need to sort myself out."

Alina gently offered, "I hope that you see me as someone who can help you with that."

Hart wryly retorted, "You’ll probably want to see me twice a week."

Matching his wry tone, she bargained, "I could probably be negotiated down to once a week."

"I, um, also don’t want to make a firm decision before I see Martha again," Hart admitted.

"Was there something concerning on Monday?" Alina asked.

"Nothing definite yet," Hart said.

"So, it sounds like you have four days to roll the word serendipitous around in your mind, before your next appointment with her."

"Yeah, I guess I do."

Chapter Text

Wednesday - Late Afternoon,

Commuting from UNIT to the Oakdown Residence

"Are you all right, Hart?" Hally asked.

"Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?"

"Well I heard Crowther’s kids in the hospital. And then," Hally emphasized, "I heard what happened by UNIT’s lobby.

"It’s been an eventful day," Hart mused, "but yeah, I’m good."

"You sure?" Hally checked, "Things seem awfully tense between your four, if that was anything to go by. And Ianto is sick too?"

Hart opened his fingers widely, palms still touching the steering wheel, "I haven’t filed an HR complaint against anyone, and no one has filed one against me, so it can’t be that bad, right?"

Hally snorted, and then pondered a moment, before reflecting out loud, "I’ve never heard of Jack coming to your defense like that before. Unless you were not in fighting form."

Hart shrugged, "Don’t know what’s gotten into him. It was all handled, he just made it worse."

"Or maybe you really are a connoisseur of interesting boundaries," Hally said, as a call back, "and there are some things you aren’t telling me."

Hart's tone went all joking, as he teased, "You got me. Ianto, Jack, and I, are a thrupple. I was flirting with Ianto, getting him all adorably flustered, and then, I realized I was genuinely interested in the Welsh man, and I kissed him. He didn’t object. Jack didn’t mind a bit. He remembers how good of a lover I was when we were going at it like rabbits, back at the Time Agency. Now we’re all going at it like rabbits."

Hally gave a groan, "I don’t need that image in my head."

"Be honest, you kind of find it hot," Hart smirked and then gave an air kiss.

Hally gave a wry, "Well, I hope you and Jack are using protection."

Hart's grin faltered, "Oh, me? I got a hysterectomy and a vasectomy, when I joined the Time Agency. I’m bloody good on that front."

"You never wanted kids?" Hally asked genuinely.

"Ah, um. I ah, never really saw them fitting into my life," Hart said, pretending to be conversational, "The Time Agency also pressures agents to get snipped."

"Pressures?" Hally repeated.

"More than one Time Agent’s kid has been erased from the timeline by the Time Agency," Hart let her know, "That’s more than enough to get most new agents on board."

"Wow."

"Yeah," Hart said, before asking his own question, "So, um, a kid changes your life a lot, eh?"

Hally snorted, "Sometimes it doesn’t feel like I have a life. Like I’m just some appendage to Lily’s life."

"Well, it gets easier right?" Hart prodded, "As they get older, and, ah, more independent."

"I don’t know if easier is the right word," Hally equivocated, "I mean, I don’t have to make sure she won’t drown in a bathtub anymore. The challenges with each age are just different." Hally gave her nose a wrinkle. "The other day, Lily was asking me questions not even on the health curriculum this year. I find out that Missy gave her that talk and didn’t even tell me. Said the puberty and sex-ed curriculum in Lily’s next year should be considered criminally negligent. A heads up would have been nice."

"Did you have to give up a lot of things, to be a parent?" said Hart, faux-offhandedly.

Hally sighed, "You don’t remember our life in New York?"

"Pretend I don’t," Hart said, shrugging.

Hart’s eyes flicked to the back as he saw Hally bring up her hands, as if about to use them to start counting.

Hally, ticking fingers, recounts, "Sleeping in, sleep, privacy in my own bedroom and bathroom, time travel, heck - anything that might feel adventurous or dangerous and even a lot of exciting things - for years -, alone time, chill time, nights out with friends, the inability to regularly make terrible nutrition choices and not feeling guilty about it, not act like a child yourself - even when you’d really like too, being able to get rid of your terrible ‘roommate’ who has no life skills and who you are constantly cleaning up after, eating treats at home that you don’t want to share without sneaking, having control of the tele, a general difficultly saying no to said child, you end up saying ‘no’ to most people who want to have fun with you instead, swearing -

"Fuck," Hart blurted out, "I’m sure you’ve run out of fingers by now. Sounds glorious you are really selling it."

Snorting, Hally elaborated, "Sometimes it feels like all I do is mate and fold socks. Back when I returned to UNIT from parental leave, three coworkers were talking to me at lunch. Two of them asked me what being a parent was like. One of them was married, the other engaged. The third, a dad of three, with a then pregnant stay at home wife, interjected, talking about how great it was, and he and the misses were thinking they weren't done yet, asking coworkers why they hadn’t asked him, since he had more experience.

I don’t think he saw the dirty look I sent his way. I decided that I wasn’t going to sugar coat it, if anyone asked. I smiled sweetly, explained in excruciating detail what a normal routine day looked like on parental leave. Then I looked at him and asked him what his normal day looked like.

He explained that after work, when he goes to the pub for a bit, to relax, you know, after working all day. I asked, what does your wife do all day, again? He didn’t seem to understand the question, and looked at me like I was dumb. After the pub, he goes home, wrangles up and rough houses with the kids, so that she can finish making dinner. He skips over after dinner clean-up, and bed time routine, like he never sees it happen - he probably doesn’t ever do it - and says that to finish off the day, he relaxes with his shows at 8 o’clock. And of course his wife gets up with the youngest at night, since," Hally tone turned into a mock whine, "he works all day."

One of the women asked when his wife gets to have a break and relax. He looked at us like he didn’t understand the question, again. He understands now, after the divorce and having 50/50 physical custody."

Hally gave a laugh.

"Good for her," Hart said, "Did the other two ever have kids?"

Smiling, Hally shared, "The married one - she and her husband have a dog and a cat."

"And the engaged one?" Hart inquired.

Hally snorted, "She broke it off. Told me later, she realized he wasn’t pulling his weight, and it wasn’t going to get better with a kid. She married someone better, and has one kid now."

"So, what made you want to decide to have Lily?" Hart asked.

Hally's face turned closed, "I didn’t have a choice."

"No, you did. You made a decision to have her," Hart gently rebuffed.

"It didn’t feel that way at the time," Hally's eyebrows wrinkled.

"Did it feel serendipitous? And that’s why you couldn’t go through with a termination?"

Feelings she had during her pregnancy came back to her, bringing tears to Hally's eyes. Blinking back a couple tears, Hally replied, "No. I mean, I don’t know how it feels for other people. Maybe losing The Master complicated things for me too much to feel that way. It didn’t feel serendipitous until Lily arrived, for me."

A surprised Hart restated, " Not until Lily’s birth?

Hally hotly snapped, "It was a complicated time. I’d like to see you do better."

Hart opened his fingers widely, palms still on the steering wheel, "I wasn’t judging. I was just asking."

Looking out the window, Hally pondered, "I don’t know how people do it, and I am doing it. I barely feel like I have a life outside of parenting and work. Heck, I wouldn’t even have a normal job, if I didn’t have Lily. I’d probably still be traveling with my Dad, until we crossed The Master’s or Missy’s path again."

"So, you won’t sugar-coat it," Hart reiterated, and then asked, "Would you recommend against it?"

Pursing her lips, Hally responded, "No. I wouldn't say that. While I spend a great more time folding laundry than I’d - Missy keeps insisting we should just move into the TARDIS, where more could be automated - there are moments you feel a moment of joy with your child, and it makes up for all the drudgery, even if just for a moment. It feels worth it, like it’s a wondrous experience, witnessing a brand new person personing, and this old universe suddenly feels new again."

At at attempt at misdirection, Hart shrugged, "If you are into that kind of thing."

Hally gave a loud scoff, "Ew, you made it sound sexual. Gross."

"Hey!" Hart defended himself, "Not everything is about sex. I know people have other hobbies, that they are into."

Hally checked, "So you were not trying to make it sound sexual?"

"No," Hart said flatly.

Shrugging, Hally said, " Just seems to be your M.O. Can’t blame me for assuming, considering, well, you."

"I guess," Hart groaned, "I wonder if that is how your Dad sees us? Persons personing with wonder at traveling with him, all cute, like kids? Is that why he collects humans like it’s a lost art?

Hally snorted, "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Would you do it again?" Hart probed, "You and Missy must have talked about it at this point."

Hally fidgeted, "Not now. Maybe when Lily is older."

Hart thinks of his own siblings, before mentioning, "You wait much longer, they won’t grow up together."

With a final snort, Hally said, "That’ll be fine. Lily takes after Missy - she doesn’t like to share. Now stop talking to me like you are taking talking pointers from Alina, and stop at the Tesco coming up. I got to pick up something."

Inside the Tesco

Hart and Hally are in the baking aisle, when Hally saw near them a short elderly woman trying to reach something on the second top shelf.

"Do you need some help there, ma’am?" Hally offered.

"Hart looked over, and saw it’s within reach of Hally’s height. It’s just basic decency to use one’s tall privilege to help people shopping. He wasn’t that much of an asshole. He’s also hoping all the short people will return the favour if his knees get bad, like his Pa’s. He remembered going to the grocery store as a kid, and getting things off the lower shelves for his Pa. He goes back to the list Hally gave him. Then Hart hears an open handed smack. Hart sped around than took the three steps to them in a fraction of a section.

"Oi oi oi!" Hart grabbed the woman's wrist.

"How could you do betray the Prime Minister like that. Just," the woman huffed, "openly living in sin."

Hally turned red. A man, also red, comes rushing over. Hally recognized him as a teacher at Lily’s school.

"I’m so so sorry," he apologized, "My mother is starting to go senile."

When they were out the store’s door, Hally asked, “When is Yoshida back from vacation, again?”

Chapter Text

Wednesday - Evening,

Harkness-Jones Residence

Vwoorp vwoorp vwoorp

Jack stopped working the dishwasher, sighed as his head falls back, and his shoulders roll downward in defeat. He took a breath, straightens his neck, and glanced over to the corner of his dining room, seeing Missy’s ‘wardrobe’ TARDIS materializing. Out comes tumbling Lily, and Jack’s body language instantly changes as he lights up. Jack barely gets out a “Hi Lily!” before she’s collided with his midsection, arms wrapped around him. Armitage followed Lily, like a stone wall, then Missy, her usual energy, a venomous snake, ready to strike.

Plopping Lily on the counter, Jack smiled, "What brought on this visit?"

"Those," Lily jerked her chin towards the adults who followed her, a grin on her face.

Jack noticed Armitage carrying a couple envelopes.

"It’s not like I could trust my mum to pass it on to you at work," Lily explained, "Last time my photos for you got lost after collecting dust in her office for weeks, and Mamaidh had to get new ones."

Jack grinned, "Ahh, more photos then. But do you see my fridge? It’s covered."

Lily shrugged and smiled, "Maybe you need a second fridge, Uncle Jack."

Jack grinned more, "Just for more photos?"

Lily nodded solemnly.

Missy told her daughter, "Lily, why don’t you take Ianto’s envelope to him?"

"He’s in the living room," Jack advised, "Just be gentle with your Uncle Ianto today, he isn’t feeling well, okay?"

"OKAY," Lily rushed off. A moment later, in the living room, she could be heard, "Uncle John! You’re here!"

Armitage positioned himself between the kitchen and the living room, observing for threats.

"Hally was worried about Ianto today. Say he heard he vomited at work," Missy shared, "Hally actually seemed worried about all of Lily’s uncles. Anything contagious I need to worry about? Last time they were sick it was dreadful."

"No, she won’t catch anything," Jack assured.

"Hmmm. They’ll just give uteruses to anyone these days, won’t they," Missy commented.

Armitage flicked his eyes away from the living room briefly. Jack sighed.

"So, it’s Ianto that’s pregnant then?, Missy mused "How bad is his pregnancy sickness?" 

Jack rolled his eyes to cover for his plotting-misdirections-look, "What do you care, Missy?"

"I need to know if I need to find alternate Uncles of course! Yous might not be available," Missy explained, "in, oh, seven months, assuming it’s not a premie."

Giving Missy an annoyed look, Jack insisted, "We’re not going anywhere."

"Who’s we?" Missy asked.

"Any of us. All four of us," Jack rebuffed.

Missy starts walking her fingers up Jack’s shirt, "And just what does Armitage have to do with this menage-a-trois?"

"What?" said a taken-aback Jack, "Nothing."

"Oh, so there is a menage-a-trois?" Missy stated.

"NO. No no," Jack insisted.

Missy rested her arms on Jack’s shoulder, her arms sagging outstretched behind him.

"Surely, you’re not embarrassed? A 51st century man like you?" Missy preened.

Jack took Missy’s arms off his shoulders, "I don’t know what games you are getting at, but I do not want to play."

"Oh," Missy turned her back and continued, as though she hadn’t heard him, "Hmph. If Ianto is the gestational parent, who is the non-gestational one? You? Hart?"

"We would appreciate it if you keep this to yourself Missy, until Ianto and I are ready to publicly announce it, okay?"

With an eyebrow raised, Missy poked, "Is your sperm as incompetent as the rest of you?"

Jack scoffed, "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Just like the rest of you doesn’t know how to die, your sperm doesn’t know either," Missy jabbed.

With a smirk, Jack answered,  "I prefer to think about it as not knowing when to quit. One thing we might actually have in common."

Missy acted offended in an obviously mock way, exaggerating a look of shock, and putting an open hand to her chest.

She tilted her head, "So, just to clarify, Ianto is pregnant, and you, or Hart, supplied the sperm?"

Exasperated, Jack dwelled, "What makes you think it’s likely that Hart is in the running to have supplied the sperm?"

Missy blinked like it’s obvious and she is clearly talking to a dummy, "Three nights in a row he has been here. One night could have been brushed off. But three? And, just this afternoon, you rally to Hart’s aid, like you are Greek soldiers slash lovers. What kind of fool do you take me and Armitage for?"

Armitage stared. His eye twitched, unnoticed.

"I don’t think Armitage wants to be dragged into," both of Jack's hands go wide into shaping a circle, "whatever this is."

"And you won’t drag him in, as long as he doesn’t touch Hart, hmm?" Missy said, recounting the day's events, "Or does the kind of touching matter? Are you three open to a fourth? Armitage is an expert in doing supporting roles, I think he’d fit perfectly right into a solid quad."

Armitage started, "Not my thing. We should leave."

"Oh? Really," voiced Missy curiously.

Ianto, Hart, and Lily tumbled into the kitchen.

"Oh, Ianto, we were just talking about you!" Missy greeted, "How is the pregnancy sickness? Are you experiencing any other symptoms?"

Ianto's face was suddenly bright red, "It, ah, comes, and goes."

Lily face lit up, "You’re going to have a baby, Uncle Ianto?"

Hart, surprised, said, "Ianto, you’re pregnant?"

Jack grabbed Hart in a side hug, and patted his free hand on Hart's chest, as if to say this dude, he’s hilarious.

"Hahah. Hart can put on the best incredulous face," Jack said congenially, "Yes, Ianto and I decided on Monday - come to think of it, it might have been Tuesday - that you were right, Hart, that Missy probably found the deleted pregnancy scan on her laser, and that if she asked again, we should just fess up, and ask her to keep it private until we’re ready make a public announcement.

The nine year old's eyes lit up, "That’d include Mum? We get to keep a secret from Mum?"

Missy sighed, "Yes, Lily. If we must. Ianto, I never understood what you see in that man."

Ianto spieled off, "Kindness, standing up for what’s right, bravery, determination?"

"Are we sorting Harry Potter houses, or talking about attractive traits?" Missy critiqued.

"I feel like I’d be a good Slytherin!" Lily declared.

"Of course you would be, darling," Missy told her, "Oh, and Hart?"

"Ah, yes?" Hart said.

"What are the best gay dating sites?" Missy asked.

"Grindr, Jack’d, Tinder - " Hart started.

"What do you need to know for, Missy?" Jack interupted.

Missy swung around towards her TARDIS, tossing a summer scarf over her shoulder, "I need to get this boy I once knew a wish. I might have cheated him out of one a long time ago. Apparently he isn’t not going to find wish fulfillment here."

No one noticed the dark stare Armitage aimed at Missy.

Chapter Text

Wednesday - Evening

Harkness-Jones Residence

Hart sat on the toilet, clothed, trying to get a grip on his nausea after brushing his teeth.

He murmured quietly, "You know, I don’t expect my body will be fully the same, if I have you bean, but I really enjoyed, and was really proud, of having the gag reflex of a sword swallower. Now, I can’t brush my teeth without gagging. Here’s hoping this is nausea related, and will go away."

The bathroom is not far from Jack & Ianto’s bedroom, and Hart could hear Ianto starting to talk. Unseen by Hart, Jack was sitting on the bed, legs wide, and Ianto was standing just beyond Jack's knees. Ianto put out his hands and Jack took them.

A nervous Ianto starts, "Lately, I’ve been thinking about the decisions you have put fully on me."

Jack smiled, "Like, what? The wedding’s over with, so you can’t complain about that one anymore. I hope you got your dream wedding. Getaway destinations? Decorating our place? Picking restaurants? Our budgeting software?"

Ianto worried his lip, "About another one."

Jack's smile became slightly confused, as he mentally went through a checklist.

"Oh, OH," Jack's eyebrows jerked up in surprise, before lowering and a genuine soft smile and look blossoms on his face. He pulled Ianto between his legs, looking up at him, their faces less than a foot apart, "Do you want to get your vasectomy reversed?"

"Well, not right away," Ianto said bemusedly.

Jack grinned and gave a half-chuckle half-giggle, "I could stand to wait a few months too. Maybe meet our new nibling before taking that step."

"Yes, quite," Ianto agreed, "But, I was thinking, your job is, typically, a lot more dangerous than mine."

"Yeah," Jack said, "But, I can do a desk job for a few months."

"You’d kill something, being made to sit behind a desk that long," Ianto laid out.

Jack brought his hands up under the hem of Ianto’s pyjama shirt, grinning, "You think so."

"I know so," Ianto asserted.

Hart slipped quietly back to the living room, unnoticed.

Jack, grinning, spread his fingers under Ianto’s pyjama shirt, being careful of his bruised ribs, "I’ve been pregnant, before, you know."

Ianto huffed, "I know. But I was thinking, maybe, you know, so that you aren’t affected in the field, that I could carry?"

Jack's fingers stilled, his grin slipped, and his eyebrows knitted, "You’d want to do that?"

Ianto maintained, "I think it would be best for the pregnancy, you, and Torchwood."

"But do you want to," Jack probed, checking for doubt, "Even some 51st century men get gender dysphoria from being pregnant. I had some myself."

"Really?" Ianto said, surprised.

"Yeah," Jack answered.

"Then you could coach me through it, right?" Ianto suggested.

Jack pulled Ianto down briefly for a kiss, "I am so lucky to have you."

"I’d have to go to the future, though, to get some procedure to give me a uterus, right?" Ianto clarified.

Jack was grinning again, "You sure you don’t want to see what Hart goes through first, before you commit."

Ianto gave a snort and returned Jack's smile, "Like I said, I am good to wait a few months."

A serious look crossed Jack's face, "There are complications that we should think about."

With knitted brows, Ianto posited, "51st century medical science is far beyond ours, though, right?"

"If we go somewhere reputable, the new uterus and ovaries will probably be near flawless," Jack granted, "But, unless we are planning a nine month timezone change, you’d be here for the pregnancy. And, if some serious pregnancy complication happens to me, it’s no big deal, medically."

"Maybe I should go with you. On the mission on Friday," Ianto pressed, "You and Missy go to the Time Agency, and I go to some reproductive clinic or something, learn some more.

"I don’t like the idea of you off on your own there," Jack answered.

"Well, we got a day and a half to think about it, right?" Ianto proposed

"Yeah," Jack said, following by a devilish smirk taking over his face, "A pregnant Ianto. I might be into that."

Ianto's face showed confusion, "Huh."

Jack, grinning, filled in Ianto, "If you live long enough, you pick up a lot of kinks."

Jack smooched his husband and proceeded to ravish him. Gently, of course, on account of Ianto’s bruised ribs.

Chapter Text

Wednesday - Late Evening,
Oakdown Residence.

Hally entered the bedroom, rubbing hand lotion on her hands, and saw Missy sitting on the bed, using her laptop.

"Oh, I completely forgot, since I had all that Lily’s Uncle drama at UNIT to communicate, but I got slapped today at Tesco," Hally shared.

Missy’s slightly mischievous expression darkened instantly, "And where was Hart?"

Hally gave an eye roll, "It was a 4 foot 10 granny, weighing maybe 80 pounds, who was defending your, or rather Harold Saxon’s 'honour'. Practically called me a hussy. Said I had betrayed you and was living in sin."

Missy gave a smirk, "Well, if the shoe fits. Nice to see some people have enough common decency to come to a dead PM’s defense. Though, it could have been an alien with nefarious motives, for all you know."

"I will have to let the universe know, if they want to invade and conquer Earth, they should all pose as little old ladies, and no one will ever suspect them," Hally retorted playfully.

"Damn right," Missy answered, "That one’s been in my drafts for a while."

"Of course it has been," Hally snorted, then explained, "It was Mr Wright’s mother. He said she was going senile."

Missy’s glower returned.

"You better not be thinking about offing some little old lady on my behalf," Hally chided.

Slightly sinister, Missy suggested, "Maybe I can just help ensure she gets pushed into an assisted living facility, where she belongs."

Hally rested her head on Missy’s shoulder like they hadn’t just been talking about killing an elderly woman at worse, and confining her away from their home and neighbourhood at best.

"So, what are you doing," Hally said, looking over to Missy's laptop, "Creating a dating profile - for Armitage??"

Missy shrugged her non-Hally-head-rest shoulder, "He’s been living like a Monk for years. It’s starting to negatively affect his work performance."

Hally laughed

"Help me out here," Missy finagled, "Dream vacation: Hawaii of course. Even if it isn’t, it’s banal enough, it won’t set off any red flags, like, you know, like good places to dump dead bodies, or the Paris Catacombs, might."

Hally snorted, "He’d hate going into the Paris Catacombs."

"For work maybe, if I ordered him too," Missy said, "What about his favourite movie?"

“The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari," Hally supplied.

"Ugh, of course," Missy sneered, "Something that isn’t going to scare anyone but lovers of old silent noir films?"

"That’s what he told Lily, when she asked. Then," Hally smirked, "she asked for his favourite Disney movie."

"Hmmm?" Missy invited.

Hally grinned, "Lilo & Stitch."

"I would have thought something more classic," Missy mused, "like The Sword in the Stone."

"Why that one?" Hally solicited.

Missy does another one shoulder shrug, "No reason. I can’t imagine why he’d identify with some boy, finding some magical object that changes his life. Lilo & Stitch though?"

Hall grinned again, "Lily did pull it out of him. Asked him what made it his favourite. After some persistence, he sighed and gave up the goods."

"Which were?" Missy prompted.

Hally, impersonating Armitage, “I identify with Cobra Bubbles”.

"I mean, a former CIA agent doing work far outside his scope," Missy said, amused, "Why didn’t  I see that. Should we put both the silent film and the Disney film? Demonstrating a complex character, with diverse interests?"

Hally gave a snort, "I’d stick with just the Disney one. It’s more relatable. It also ties into the dream vacation. I’m guessing that Armitage did not ask you to do this?"

"Of course not, " Missy said dismissively, "Armitage? However, I’ve already surreptitiously updated his devices with the apps, so if the public likes him, he’ll be getting notifications as soon as I’m done with this profile."

"Who couldn’t like a silent stoney wall of a man?" Hally bemusedly offered.

"Exactly," Missy agreed, "Someone gay man is going to eat this up. Hopefully, literally."

"Maybe we can finish this tomorrow?" Hally prompted.

"You can go to sleep. I’m sure that I can fill out Armitage’s dating profile myself," Missy assured her.

Hally pulled up a corner of her lip, "Well, if you're not too tired, then I’m not too tired."

Missy quirked an eyebrow and the corner of her lip, "I don’t think you are talking about Armitage’s profile."

Hally promised, "Nope."

"I know you, you’ll fall asleep right after," Missy playfully accused.

Hally sighed, "Yes, I do have the best sleep after."

"So, before sex - " Missy started.

Hally still managed to often blush at that word, and Missy loved seeing a fresh blush bloom over her face.

Missy finished, " - I just thought I’d let you know, I’d be leaving this timezone for a bit on Friday. Just for lunch."

Hally straightened and sat up, "Why?"

Chapter Text

Thursday - Early morning

Armitage’s Apartment

—----------------
Email from Missy to Armitage:

If you used any PTO, I might accept your proposal to add more tasks to the list of approved tasks outside your job description, for which you should be paid double time, but you take PTO in lieu of. You don’t want more PTO, or you’d use it. Stop making sloppy proposals.

As for the PTO for your agents, of course Saxon Enterprises would be happy to surpass UNIT’s new union contract for their employees. 5 days more PTO than UNIT seems sufficient to attract their best talent.
—----------------
Email from Armitage to Missy:

My proposal stands. Accept, or counter.
—----------------
Email from Missy to Armitage:

I will approve all of this year's new contract proposals that you have already put forward if you tell me what your deepest wish is presently. A desire that you put as much thought into as the 9 year old boy you were once did. Maybe something worth using that PTO for? And don’t write back nothing, or something banal, like retrieving all the lost silent films. There will be truth, or there will be consequences.
—----------------
Email from Armitage to Missy:

Proposal stands. Accept, or counter.
—----------------
Email from Missy to Armitage:

Consequences, then.
—----------------

Armitage's phone dinged. He picked it up. It’s a notification alert? He flicked open a notification to delete it and noticed a message for his profile:

I loved your answer to What am I looking for in a partner. I am looking for that HEA too. Let me know if you think I could be it.

Armitage’s scowl deepened.

—----------------
Email from Armitage to Missy:

New contract proposals:
-Do not use contract negotiations to negotiate things outside of the scope of work contracts.
-The Master, and all their faces, are never to sign me up for any social media website.
—----------------
Email from Missy to Armitage:

Your appendage is withering. Or is it your heart? I forget.
You made it a work matter, once you started letting it affect your work.
The mortals might not be able to tell, but I know that you’ve been distracted.
I need you sharp. Or the next thing we’ll be negotiating is your severance package.
—----------------

Armitage’s phone beeped again and he sighed. Then his phone rang.

Caller ID: UNIT CiC.

Armitage picked up, "Armitage."

"Kate here."

Armitage was non-responsive.

"We will be discussing your misconduct yesterday at another time," Kate asserted, "but it seems I have bigger fish to fry. Namely Hart."

Armitage remained non-responsive.

"I just got notice from the Metropolitan police that they tried to notify Hart of criminal charges stemming from an assault at a bar on Tuesday, but he wasn’t home. Do you know anything about this?"

Armitage stared, "No."

"Do you know where he is?" Kate asked.

Armitage stared, "Not presently."

"I know you have a lot of latitude with the Saxon Enterprises contract," Kate acknowledged before pressing, "But that latitude isn’t going to stretch much further. We need answers, and actionable steps to change the trajectory his behavior appears to be on."

Armitage stared, "Alina authorized a search of his apartment. I do it at noon."

"Can you give Alina and I a report of your findings by tomorrow noon at the latest?" Kate stated.

Armitage stared, "Yes."

Chapter Text

Thursday - Mid Morning
Ianto Jones’ UNIT office

Text from Ianto to Martha: I would like to call you. It’s a little on the urgent side. Can you call me before noon?

Ianto’s cell rings right after

"Is Hart alright?" Martha asked immediately upon pick up.

"Nice to hear from you too," Hart said, smiling, "Yes, Hart is alright."

"Oh," Martha pulled herself up, "What did you need to talk about, Ianto?"

"Do you know about the mission to the Time Agency?" Ianto asked.

"Alina did say that she was going to see if Jack could time-hop and get some 51st century medical records of Hart’s," Martha acknowledged, "It could be really helpful."

"Well, Jack is going tomorrow around lunch time," Ianto said nervously, fingering a pink foam ball, "and I was thinking about, um, taking the trip with him, and instead of going to the Time Agency, going to check out some 51st century medical facilities, and see, ah, what they have to help gay couples have a child together."

"Oh OH," Martha said, cottoning on, "Um, are you asking for medical advice?"

"Ah, more like medical expertise," Ianto admitted, "Would you be willing to, ah, come with?"

"Oh, ah," Martha smiled, "Yeah. I’d love to. I don’t even see patients Friday. I do restocking, clean-up, admin, that sort of thing. Text me when you have a time and a place to meet tomorrow. Is it okay if Mickey comes? I think he might sort of insist."

"Ah, um. Yeah. I guess that’s okay," Ianto acquiesced.

Chapter Text

Thursday - Lunch Time
A UNIT break room

Hally, Hart, and Osgood, are sitting at one of the tables in the half occupied break room, Hart eating something that looks very similar to the prepped lunches that Jack and Ianto often eat. Hally had been fuming all morning over Missy’s refusal to divulge details on why she was leaving this timezone, for Friday’s lunch. Missy said it was confidential, need-to-know. They had so little time left together, and who’s to say that this wasn’t the event that separates them again? Due to said fuming, Hally had been hardly paying attention to the irritation growing on Hart’s face, listening to Osgood talk about her geeky work project, her latest deep dive into The Doctor lore, and the new Canadian-American TV show she was obsessed with called “Orphan Black”.

Hart guffawed, "Osgood, do you work hard at being this annoying, or does it come naturally?

Both women’s eyes flew wide open. Osgood’s eyes teared up, and she looked hurt.

"Hart," Hally reprimanded.

Hart looks at Hally hotly, "What? I got to listen to her natter on to her inane interests? Why does she think anyone would be interested in what she has to say?"

Osgood blinked back tears.

"Maybe I would be," Hally insisted.

Hart scoffed and crossed his arm, "You’ve dissociated out of this conversation ten minutes ago, and you’re mad that I’ve asked her to stop? She’s an annoying twit, and everyone here knows it. No one likes her. And who knows if this is actually even Osgood, or the one pretending to be as annoying as her. Zygon her had to have been cooler. There isn’t really anything else to go but up, if she is actually Osgood."

Osgood’s blinking was no longer stalling the tears. They started running down her face. Hart finally looked at her again.

"Oh shit!" he exclaimed, realizing he has stepped in it, "You’re not, um, going to complain to HR, are you? I really can’t afford another HR complaint right now, hon. I swear, I, um um um, am switching meds, and I, ah, didn’t really mean it."

Osgood rebuffed, both hotly and sad at the same time, "Yeah, switching your meds made you tell me that there are no worse humans than me."

"Well, not like that," Hart equivocated, and proceed to shove another foot in his mouth, "There are worse people than you. Like Pol Pot."

"Hart, maybe stop while you are ahead," Hally told him.

"Look, Osgood, you can hit me if you like instead!" Hart entreated, "Just not the face, hands, stomach, or privates, okay? Anything else is fair game."

"What makes you think I’m the kind of person who’d not navigate my professional life impeccably above reproach?" Osgood straightened.

Hart, words falling out of his mouth before he can think, counter, "Someone who got their job due to nepotism."

Osgood’s eyes narrowed to flinty points. Her trainers flicked out in a kick. She had meant to kick him in the shins, but Hart was on the edge of his seat, and she connected with someone much more soft than she intended. Hart’s eyes instantly teared up in his suddenly screwed up face.

A strained squeeky voice came from Hart's throat, "I don’t know if I’m going to be able to father any children."

Osgood instantly jumped up, "I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to. Oh my scarf, are you alright, Hart?"

His voice still strained, Hart unconvincingly assured, "I’m fine. Um, just, we’re even, right?"

Osgood tilted her head apologetically and sadly, "I wasn’t even going to report you, anyways, Hart. I never have reported anyone to HR before, even if justified. I was afraid of my complaints being taken seriously, and of people insinuating precisely what you just did."

"Great. GREAT," Hart grated, "Well, I, ah, won’t report you, okay?"

Osgood, both apologetic and trying to suppress a smirk, "Based on recent events, you might need to tell Jack to back down too."

Hart croaked, "Noted."

"Hart, ah, let's get you to Owen, alright?" Hally suggested.

Chapter Text

Thursday - Lunch Time

Owen Harper’s medical UNIT office:

Hally and Hart entered the medical office.

"Ohhhh," Owen hissed through a grimace-grin, "Osgood got you good, eh? Let me take a look, and see if I can do more than recommend ice and anti-inflammatories. Hopefully not, since that would mean it is serious, and more needs to be done."

Hart gave a weary groan as Hally and Owen helped him onto an exam bed.

"How do you already know?" Hart moaned.

"You know that private social media site for UNIT employees, that UNIT has tried to ban, block, or trace its source, for years now, to no success?"

"Boston Harbour?" Hart groaned, “: The site for all your UNIT tea spilling needs”?

"Someone in the break room got it on camera?" Hally asked, a touch incredulous.

"Yep. It was posted 5 minutes ago," Owen stated.

"Well, that was quick. Who posted it?" Hally asked.

"Like all videos, the website anonymized the user name," Owen explained before snorting, "Not like anyone but mid and upper management has usernames that are revelatory anyways. And they are only there to monitor, and try to be a check on bad behavior. Rebecca the other day was telling me how much of a nightmare it was now."

"I really couldn’t care less right now," Hart complained.

"Right," Owen said, refocusing on his patient, "Can you pull your gun out of its holster, and put it on the medical tray there?"

Hart stood up gingerly and complied, adding his black foam stress ball to the medical tray as well.

"Now," Owen asked, "do you need help getting off the belt and the holster?"

Hart started to tackle the buckles, "I can get the buckles, but I might need some help with getting the straps out of the loops, and getting my pants off."

Hally realized that Hart isn’t body shy at all. She blushed and turns around.

"Your reputation would suggest you never need help getting your pants off," Owen said offhandedly.

Owen pulls the belt straps a little too quickly, shifting the stiff jean-like material.

Hart hissed in pain, and gave a sharp-toned rebuke, "I wouldn’t exactly call my current state aroused and ready for fun."

"Sorry," Owen apologized, "I figure it would be the next part that’d be a problem; getting the pants down."

Owen noticed Hally standing still, "There is a wheelie seat over there if you want to grab it. Now, Hart, are you ready to shimmy these pants down? They look pretty form fitting."

After some hissing, oh-ing, and aw-ing, of pain, the Doctor and the patient got Hart’s pants off.

"Now let’s get you back on the exam bed, for a proper looks-see," Owen proposed. Hart snatched his foam ball before getting back on the exam table.

While Owen gently examined Hart’s testicular contusion, Hally, seated looking away from the exam table, spoke up.

"Hart, you told Osgood you didn’t want her to strike your face, hands, stomach, or privates," Hally observed, "Everything else was fair game."

Hart, looking straight up at the ceiling, had not notice Owen’s brief look up towards the back of Hally’s head, before Owen added his own commentary.

"Yeah, I heard it too," Owen said.

Hart, exasperated, retorted, "Well, I was a little surprised too, for her foot to connect with my balls!"

Snorting, Hally clarified, "That’s not what I mean. It’s just, most of them, face, hands, privates, it’d make sense why you’d want to protect them."

Hart squeezed the stress ball while hissed at Owen pressing gently around his privates, and does not see what he is walking into at all.

"Yeah, of course I’d protect those parts," Hart proclaimed, "Vanity, functionality, sensitivity, are some very important considerations."

Both Hally and Owen asked, "Why your stomach?"

Owen looked up and saw Hart’s face drop. Hart had not seen him, since he was still looking at the ceiling.

"The stomach has a lot of padding," Hally explained, "It’s usually a good place to be struck in an unarmed fight."

"It was hardly a fight," Hart said hotly.

Owen snickered.

"Hey! I could use some damn bedside manners for once!" Hart said pointedly, his arm tensed, as if ready to throw the foam ball.

Owen clamped his lips together, "Sorry."

"I was, ah, nauseous," Hart tried to explain away his protectiveness over his stomach, "I was hung over, got drunk at Jack and Ianto’s last night. I was afraid of vomiting. Didn’t think anyone would appreciate that."

"And you didn’t vomit when she got you in the balls?" Owen asked wonderingly.

Hart snarled, smushing the ball between both of his hands at this chest, "Trust me, it was a close   fucking   call!

"Well, it doesn’t look like extreme contusions," Owen reported, "So, just ice and anti-inflammatories. Should go down in a week, maybe sooner with your 51st century biology. I got a pair of spare clean sweat pants, and some briefs. You're welcome to them. I could do a scan, just to be sure of the extent of the damage."

Owen noticed Hart stiffening and swallowing at the suggestion of imaging, his fingers twitching on the foam ball. Usually, even if it is not medically indicated, Hart would allow Owen to do whatever scans or tests he wanted. Standing up, Owen noticed faint abrasions on Hart’s hands, takes Hart’s left hand into his own, and then the empty right one.

"Hey. Why didn’t I notice yous yesterday? What’s this Hart?" Owen asked.

Hart gave an offhanded response, "Oh, those? Just from a brawl on Tuesday."

"You broke your hands?" Hally asked, concerned.

Hart and Owen both said, "Probably just the knuckles."

"Hairline fractures I should think, at worse," Owen mused aloud, "Probably even just sprains. I should really scan these, make sure they are healing alright.

Hart snapped, "No, it’s fine. I heal twice as fast as you 21st century humans, remember?

"With dealing with both you and Ianto yesterday, I might have overlooked something," Owen suggested, "Let me do a full examination."

"No," Hart pressed, "I’m good.

"How about some blood work?" Owen suggested, "I can look at that ahead of our rescheduled appoin -"

"Am I the only one hearing myself?" Hart said hotly, thumping the ball on the exam table, before giving a flat, "No." Hart then added, "While I don’t mind walking about UNIT starkers, I’d be risking another HR complaint. Sweat pants, Owen?"

"Here’s a throw medical privacy sheet," Owen said, "So that Hally can stop blushing."

Hart loosely laid the sheet on his bottom half, while Hally turned around, arms crossed, her face a mix of concern and bothered. Just as Owen brought the sweats to the exam bed, Jack and Ianto tumble in.

"You are here," Jack said, relieved.

"We saw the video on Boston Harbour," Ianto added, "You okay Hart?"

Hart loudly exclaimed, "Does anyone in UNIT not know Osgood kicked me in the balls!"

"Based on the 1000 views and rising, not by the end of tomorrow," Ianto projected.

Hart gave a loud groan, bringing both hands to his face, and then hitting his forehead with the foam ball a couple times.

Jack smirked, "Please don’t pick fights with geeky girls who don’t even know how to hold their hand in a fist. I really can’t bring the energy I did with Armitage yesterday with her."

Owen and Hally both pipped up, "Why are you sticking up for Hart?"

Owen putted on a serious-er face and focused his eyes where he had the most concern, on his patient, Hart, "Better question: Hart, were you serious, when you said you were switching meds? You aren’t on any meds, last I checked. Are you seeing another Doctor?"

Owen and Hally’s gazes are lasered in on Hart’s face, and so they don’t see the awkward expressions on Jack and Ianto’s faces.

"I lied to her," Hart fessed up the truth, "I really can’t have another HR complaint, so I lied to her, playing on her sympathy, and damn, her good nature, so that she wouldn't file. I mean, no one would be shocked if I was on some SSRIs. Especially since I’ve given up the good stuff."

Owen searched Hart's face closely, "Jack's first rule of dealing with Captain John Hart: Never trust anything he says."

Hart, thinking suspicion had been successful averted, affirmed, "Got that right."

Chapter Text

Thursday - Lunch hour
John Hart’s Apartment

Even from outside the door, Hart’s apartment looked grossly abandoned. It was past January and a Christmas wreath, half-naked having lost half its needles, hung sad and dispirited on the door.

Armitage took out the spare key he had for Hart’s apartment. He had thought of doing a search of Hart’s apartment before, but had been so busy being short-staffed. Also, on a subconscious level, he had not wanted to let the last bit of stubborn hope his heart stubbornly held about Hart’s sobriety, against his head’s sensible judgment of the matter, possible wither away and die if presented with facts to the contrary.

With the door open Armitage cocked his ear, hearing the breathy and flesh slapping sounds of two people having sex from the direction of where he knew the living room couch was. Armitage intimately knew what sounds Hart made during sex, and had confirmed Hart was at the office having lunch before he left, so he was sure this wasn’t Hart, but it made his scowl deepen none the less.

He had no clear evidence of if any sexual was happening between Hart and the husbands Harkness-Jones, despite all of Missy’s insinuations. But Armitage lived under absolutely no delusions about Hart’s sex drive, and his ability to change partners like he changes underwear. If he wore underwear. 

He took stock of what he could see from the front hall. In the corner of the kitchen he could see beer cans overflowing the recycling bin, but it was a very cheap brand that Hart didn’t even like. The apartment might be an irredeemably contaminated scene. On some level it’d make it fudging details to Kate and Alina easier, if he found something he didn’t want to report. On another, irritation bubbled up in him that the truth may not be as forthcoming as he had hope.

Just as the breathy moans and grunting were building up to a crescendo, Armitage chose this moment to step out from the front hall and into the living room, where a lot of gasping and swearing and falling off the coach presented itself to Armitage, and he had to look away from the indecent flesh of two boys in their late teens.

“How the fuck old are you two?” Armitage bit out. They couldn’t be paramours of Hart.

“Eighteen.”

“He’s um - ah, we’re both seventeen, sir”.

He immediately appreciated the one that wasn’t bullshitting him.

“Get some pants and shirts on, then tell me exactly why you are here.”

Armitage strolled around the small apartment looking elsewhere while the two boys made themselves decent. The whole place was a mess. Used condoms in the living room waste basket, laundry everywhere, garbage overflowing, a fridge full of spoiled food, a disgusting toilet, vomit in weird places, and a small zip-lock bag of drugs he found on the bathroom counter that he scoped into his pocket.

Coming back to the couch, Armitage faced them with his standard scowl and glare on display.

“Talk.”

“Um, are you John’s boss?” asked the one that fessed up to their ages. The other one started trying to speak under his breath furiously, telling the knowledgeable one to shut up.

Armitage raised one eyebrow at the one who had identified him as Hart’s boss.

“Is he going to have anything useful to add, that you can’t?”

The boy mutely shook his head no. Armitage looked at the tight-lipped one, jerked his head towards the door, and that boy split so fast, slipping on a piece of laundry hardly slowed him down. Armitage fixed the remaining boy with a hard stare.

“You know John?”

The boy gulped. “Yeah. Um, he said his boss was like an extra hardass, extra mean, Cobra Bubbles. But, if you, ah, are in trouble, and you tell him the truth, things will, um, go better.”

“As long as you aren’t the trouble.”

“Um, ah, how can I be the trouble. I’m only a kid.”

“Quite.”

The kid visibly relaxed, but he still had nervous tension.

Armitage got his cell phone out to send Missy a text: Don’t expect me until the end of school day. Unavoidably delayed.

“Um, who are you texting?”

“Not the cops.”

“Ah, I’m guessing you are wondering how, um, I know John.”

Armitage fixed his gaze on the kid.

“Yeah. Got it. You’re not the talkative type. Um, John found me sleeping in the stairwell one day, about six months back. I had, ah, just come out to my parents, and they threw me out. So, he invited me to use the couch. Children Services /was/ called, by a neighbour, but my parents and I just decided to mutually tough it out until I’m 18. I didn’t want to go into care with less than a year until I’m 18 anyways, and none of us want a child services investigation to possibly lead to my sister going into foster care. They may be kinda shit parents, but none of us, sis included, want to roll that kind of dice. Since then, John has sort of given me an open invite to his place, if things are rough with my parents.

Is, ah, John okay? He hasn’t been here in like almost two weeks.”

“He didn’t give you his cell number?”

The teen boy blushed, “I haven’t bothered texting him.” Clearly the boy didn't mind having free run of Hart's place.

“He’s alright, isn’t he?” the youth asked with a painfully earnest face.

“Yeah. You can text him when we’re done.”

“Are - are we done?”

Armitage tilted his head to consider this. Two more things, his brain told him. While his brain and heart did not want to go there, but he couldn’t /not/ cover it either. He started with the worst possibility.

“John hasn’t acted inappropriately with you?”

“What! No. I swear it. He’s old. Ew! And that outfit he swaggers around in? I could never.” That almost made Armitage think of chuckling.

Armitage pulls the drugs out of his pocket. “Explain.”

“Shit. That’s, um, my Mandy.”

“MDMA?”

The kid tilted his head, “I think that’s what the cops call it.”

“It’s mine now. Get out.”

The apartment was empty of any soul but Armitage. Which was about five souls short Armitage discovered, as he looked at the fish tank and sighed. Just as he gathered cleaning supplies, he got a notification ding from Boston Harbour, for one of few hashtags he follows.

He pulled up a video of a break room he recognized, near his office, and proceeded to watch the altercation between Hart and Osgood. His eyebrow crooked at Hart’s comment about switching meds - Owen’s medical records of Hart indicated no such thing. Then the stomach comment is puzzling too. Then his face scrunched a bit in sympathy with Hart at Osgood’s well-placed misplaced kick. Hally mentioned going to Owen’s at the end. Armitage added to his mental check list checking Hart’s medical records at the end of the day for any update there for anything about medication or stomach issues.

Armitage set about going over the apartment thoroughly, taking photos for UNIT, and cleaning, as he went along, until it was time to pick up Lily from school.

Chapter Text

Thursday, late afternoon
UNIT Offices of Kate Lethbridge-Stewart

Rebecca sometimes hated her job. Whether it was finding out that Jack Harkness had gotten into her boss’s pants, even if in the distant past; receiving a smutty email from newlywed Jack Harkness that revealed this; or having to interrogate grown men about their known or suspected conflicts with the biggest man slut that UNIT had. On top of the weekly whac-a-mole that Boston Harbour was. She was a highly decorated soldier, before coming to UNIT. Most treated her like a glorified secretary when she was Kate’s right-hand woman, and she was reduced to this.

After talking to all of Hart’s team - except for Crowther, that family had enough to deal with - then all of Armitage’s team, Armitage refused her calls, not Hally - at Kate’s direction, then through Torchwood staff, then a list of Hart’s known or suspected lovers, frenemies and antagonists over the years. All because Alina let slip an intimation to Kate that Hart’s issues were interpersonal work issues. When the guy should have been fired two dozen HR complaints ago. But nooooo, Armitage using the latitude stupidly granted him under the Saxon Enterprises contract allowed this walking talking sexual harassment poster boy to keep his job long past his expiry date. The army wouldn't have kept him, and the army had serious issues on the treatment of enrolled women. UNIT had higher standards, outside of this one asshole they couldn't get rid of.

An email notification pops up, and Rebecca saw an email has come in from Armitage to Kate. No subject, because of course Armitage didn't put a subject on his email. Rebecca opens the email

Initial Findings:
—site contaminated by squatters
—Hart absent for over a week
—Nothing else of note found
—Photos enclosed

Rebecca saw a photo with a needle, blew it up, printed it, and jumped up to grab it from the print, practically bounding to Kate’s office door. She slowed down as she heard Kate say an "I'm sorry." Rebecca knew that Osgood, or Osgood's Zygon look-like (who knew?), was in there too. Rebecca paused outside the door.

"I didn’t realize it had ever been like that, or felt like that, for you, " Kate looked unsure for a moment, "for Petronella?" The mother gave her head a shake. "Sorry, it’s still hard not being sure if I am or am not talking to the person that the baby girl I brought home from the hospital a couple decades ago became," a corner of Kate's mouth twisted up, "Sorting out grammar to properly refer to you, seems to be even harder sometimes."

Osgood gave a sad smile, more about the loss of her counterpart, than her mom’s awkwardness, "It’s sort of like a Theseus’ paradox. Be assured though, mum - "

Mother and 'daughter' recited something it seems that Osgood had started at some point.

"You love me, and you hold and treasure every memory that Petronella Osgood has ever had and kept," Kate.

Osgood, "I love you, and I hold and treasured every memory that Petronella Osgood has ever had and kept."

"And I still treasure them," Osgood insisted.

"Even that time you broke your arm when your brother was trying to to teach you how to ride a bike?"

Grinning, Osgood pulled up her sleeve to her elbow, "I still have the scar!"

Kate smiled, then turned back to their topic before.

"It was hard for me too, to climb the ranks of UNIT, everyone knowing who my father was. It apparently was too hard to acknowledge that it was similar for my daughter, so much so that I didn’t even catch onto it. That my daughter perceived others suspected she owed her success to nepotism, and had imposter syndrome, or something akin to it, long before she shared her whole self with a Zygon, when she actually gained an, for lack of a better, more polite word, an imposter. I don’t know why I didn’t see that coming. The imposter syndrome, not the Zygon," Kate finished wryly.

Giggling, Osgood commented, "It seems funny, when you put it that way."

Kate gave a chuckle of her own, "A little. Your brother and sister are coming over for Mother’s day on Sunday afternoon. They are both bringing their kids and spouses. Are you coming?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world, mum."

Rebecca cleared her throat, "We have the partial report that you’ve been waiting for. I found a concerning photo."

Kate indicated her desk, and Rebecca promptly laid the blown up photo.

"A needle? You think that they are using drugs?" Kate suggested.

"Yep."

Tilting her head sideways at the photo, Osgood offered tentatively, "I wouldn’t want to leap to conclusions."

Rebecca did want her intel to be accurate, but she is so sick of the John Hart drama, that her tone came out a bit sharper than she intended, "Do you see something else, Osgood?"

"My roommate in college was diabetic. Do you see that there?" Osgood contributed, pointing out an item in the photo, "Those looks like glucose test stripes. If I had to make an educated guess, without more details, I’d say that the person who used that needle was diabetic."

Kate drew her fingers down her neck, "Take a close look over the photos, and see what else we have."

Boston Harbour Social Media Website:

Torchwood private chat:

Gryfindork: *groan* My username changed again. No one else seems to mentioning this happen to them. It seems to be just me, DuncanMacLeod, and Staceysmom.
Stinkyman: Could be worse.
Necrotease: A /lot/ worse. Though both of our usernames were only changed on us at the beginning.
Redshirt: I’m telling you all, Boston Harbour is Missy’s doing.
Gryfindork: Oh, look, you’ve been cycled from DuncanMacLeod back to Redshirt.
Bucktoothcop: But isn’t she, like, busy, running a school, and raising a kid? I don’t know one working parent who’d have the time for running something like this, solo.
Staceysmom: Why do you always think my wife is behind things?

Private 3-way chat:

Stinkyman: You two would tell me if there was something wrong with my patient, right?
Stinkyman: Say, if he was hiding something from me that I needed to know, as his Doctor, and you knew?
Redshirt: If I knew he needed medical attention, I’d be making sure he gets it. Trust me.
Stinkyman: Well, I don’t. Gyrfindork?
Gryfindork: If there was something you needed to know, of course I would!
Redshirt: Why even invite me to this chat then?
Stinkyman: There’s no winning, whether I invite you or not. Strictly saving me time and bother.

Chapter Text

Thursday - Evening
Harkness-Jones Living room

Hart called out towards the kitchen, "Would you get me a fresh ice pack too?"

"One fresh ice pack, coming right up!" Jack called back. He returned a moment later with two plates of spaghetti, and set them down on the coffee table. After, he pulled an ice pack, and a paracetamol bottle, out of his pocket.

Hart sighed, "Just paracetamol?"

A eyebrow raised, Jack started, "You want something els - "

"No," Hart retorted hotly, "I’m just a little frustrated with everything. As soon as we were out of Owen’s office, Ianto was texting Martha, who was one of the few UNIT people who didn’t know I was kicked in the balls, and she says I can’t use an anti-inflammatory for pain relief. On swollen bruised balls! Because of bean! I can only use paracetamol for god damn pain relief during pregnancy, unless I’m in labour, and then they’ll actually give me pain relievers worth the actual god damn name!"

Smirking, Jack asked, "Are you done yet?"

Grumbling, Hart murmured, "Maybe I should go back to the 51st century. Nab some decent pain relief."

"Absolutely not," Jack countered, "Besides, they’re shit for pain relief for pregnant people too. Did I tell you I broke my arm when pregnant the first time?"

"Just where did you stash my vortex manipulator?" Hart inquired.

"Went looking for it, did you?" Jack smugly replied.

"It’s mine," Hart answered hotly, "I didn’t use it the week you guys were gone, did I?"

"Yet, now you’ve noticed it’s not with your stuff," Jack said calmly, "Why is that?"

Hart gave a glower, "No reason."

"Uh huh. Sure. Eat up," Jack comments, just before he digs on his own first bit.

Hart looked at the meal, "Why are the spaghetti noodles green?"

Jack mostly finished his chewing, "Ianto might have decided this week that our meals need to be a bit more nutrient dense. It’s spinach pasta."

"He doesn’t need to hide veggies on me!" Hart defended himself insistently, "Just put chopped spinach to wilt in the finished meal, like a normal person!"

"Are you going to eat it or not?"

Hart grumbled, "I’ll eat it."

The two men could hear Ianto arrive.

"Guys?" Ianto called out.

"In the living room! Let me get your spaghetti!" Jack called back.

Jack arrived back to find Ianto setting down three shopping bags on the floor by Ianto’s usual seat of late.

Ianto took his plate, "Thanks, Jack. So, Hart, I got you four pairs of sweat pants, for the next week. Plus three pairs of briefs, and three pairs of boxer briefs, since I didn’t know what you’d prefer. And, of course, left out boxers on account of them not being liable to not restrain ice packs you put down them. I also got you some long-sleeve t-shirts, in case you have feelings on pairing your usual tops with the sweat pants."

Hart muttered, "I do have feelings about it, alright."

"I also got you a jean jacket, since I don’t think you own another jacket."

Hart hotly defended himself, "I did. In New York."

"It was probably just a copy of your hussar jacket," Jack grinned, "with future tech in the lining, for their colder winters."

Hart glowered, but said nothing.

Ianto turned the topic to pleasantries, and they eat their spinach-spaghetti meal, with Ianto and Jack talking shop and friends, all mix together. Hart would have been a bit jealous of the ease they had with each other, as a couple, professionally and personally, if his mind wasn’t drifting off, pondering what future he wanted now. Ianto noticed this while waiting for Jack to bring out desert, before broaching what was on Hart’s mind.

"You have been uncharacteristically quiet during dinner," Ianto pointed out quietly.

"I noticed too. Everything alright?" Jack probed.

"Yeah," Hart ran his hand through the hair on the back of his head, "I’ve just been thinking."

"Thinking about what?" Ianto prodded.

"About bean," Hart replied, "My pregnancy. The future I think I want now."

Jack took a bite of apple pie and finished it, before he said anything.

"And, ah, are you settling on a direction?"

"Um, yeah, assuming everything is clear, medically speaking, with bean and myself."

Both Jack and Ianto’s eyes open wide. Jack gives an easy wide and happy grin.

"That’s great!" Jack exclaimed.

"OH OH, I have something, just hold one a minute!" Ianto rushed out of the front door.

"Maybe you should name them after one of their uncles?" Jack grinned, "Jack, Ianto, or Armitage."

Hart’s face screwed up and his eyes water.

"Hey, hey. Pregnancy hormones getting the best of you again?" Jack guessed, handing over tissues,  "I imagine Ianto and I are shoe-ins for God-fathers?"

"Uh huh," Hart blubbered into the tissue, blowing his nose.

Ianto reenters the room, "Ohhhh, did I miss something, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, pregnancy hormones just getting the best of Hart again, right Hart?"

Half-sobbing, Hart complains, "Fucking hormones."

Jack, grinning, relayed, "I Just suggested he should name the kid after one of their uncles. And apparently you and I are shoe-ins for god-fathers."

His mouth doing a little "o" of surprise, Ianto eyes widened, "Really? That’s a - well, I am feeling quite touched at the moment."

Hart cried, "But how am I going to make yous god-fathers? I’m not even a member of any Church."

Laughing, Jack explained, "We don’t need a Church to officiate us as god-fathers. Besides," Jack grinned, "a couple Churches might take issue with your choice of joint-God-fathers being a pair of gay married men."

Hart sniffed, "But you two deserve a day to celebrate being god-fathers."

Now Ianto was grinning, "That isn’t how it traditionally works anyways, in the Church. Godparents are confirmed at a Christianing of a child, the event is about the child being welcomed into the Church, and, traditionally, the god-parents promising to raise the child in their faith."

Hart gave a hot rejection to that idea "I’m not Christianing my child."

Chuckling, Ianto said, "I didn’t think you were. A non-secular term for Godparents I've heard is guideparents."

Jack smirked, "Enough about how we are going to officiate our godfather or guideparent status. We can figure out the details later."

"You mean I can," Ianto pointed out.

"Weeeell, you might want to get Hart’s input," Jack proposed.

"Ianto, what did you rush out for?" Hart asked, "Is it in that Waterstone’s bag?"

"I got this today, but figured I would be saving it for a few more days before giving it to you, Hart," Ianto shared.

"A gift for me?" Hart said in a surprised tone.

Smirking again, Jack advised, "You’ll learn there is lots of gift giving when someone is having a baby. Better get used to it."

"Yes," Ianto talked excitedly, "there will need to be a baby shower."

"Guys," Hart countered, "I, um, may have decided I’m keeping it. But, ah, I’m still not ready to tell other people."

"Oh! No worries," Ianto smoothed, "Lots of people keep mum until they start the second trimester, or even part way through, when they start showing. You’re, what, only nine, almost ten weeks along?"

"Why did you get me a baby gift, before I told you I’m keeping bean?" a confused Hart asked.

Ianto tilted his head, "I knew you were keeping bean on Sunday."

Jack giggled.

Affront, Hart complained hotly, "Well you could have let me know."

Ianto gave a shrug, "I figure you needed to figure it out for yourself."

Jack pushed his chin out, "So what’s the gift?"

Ianto pulled one - no two - books out.

"Oops, oh," Ianto slipped out, and he tried to shove one book back in. Jack grabbed it before Ianto could accomplish that. A resigned Ianto sighed, "They are the same."

"Do I get to see one?" Hart put to them both.

Jack grinned, "A little premature, Ianto, no?"

Blushing, Ianto cleared his throat, "Well, I’m hoping one of us gets to use it, regardless. If not, I’m sure we can find a recipient for it at some point."

"What is it?" Hart insisted, loosing patience.

Still grinning, Jack answered him "It’s a pregnancy journal. Where you can write down what your pregnancy journey is like."

"That, ah, doesn’t seem like, uh, the kind of thing, that, uh, I would do," a slightly uncomfortable Hart answered.

"And does becoming a parent also fit under that heading too?" Ianto countered.

"Maybe," muttered Hart.

"Rhiannon, my sister," Ianto shared, "had a medically complicated pregnancy. She swore it helped her connect to her pregnancy and her baby more. And her kids love them. There is also a section at the back for family and personal medical history, which could be useful for bean someday."

Hart took the one Ianto had, and opened it up.

"Yeah, it’s not blank," Ianto informed helpfully, "it has prompts and stuff, to give you ideas. Have you started talking to bean yet? One of the prompts is on the first conversation you have with the baby, during your pregnancy."

Blushing, Hart mumbled, "Um, I might be best off not putting that one down."

"Why Hart?" Jack asked, then concern bloomed on his face, "Was it something, erm, bleak?"

Mortified, Hart explained, "Um, let’s just say it’s not G rated. I don’t think I need bean coming across it in some old box and asking me about it out of the blue."

Jack chortled, "Now I’ve got to hear about this."

Scrunching his face, Hart divulges, "It might have been something along the lines of saying the nausea that bean is causing me is ruining my sword-swallower-like gag reflexes."

Chapter Text

Thursday - Night,
John Hart’s apartment

Armitage excused himself after dropping Lily off at home with Missy, for the rest of his shift. Next, he stopped by a pet shop, picked up five similar fish, and made his way back to Hart’s apartment, depositing the new fish into a clean tank, and sprinkling a bit of food for them. His plan was to stay here, and see if Hart came home tonight. He had a couple uncomfortable revelations for him that were not shared in the report sent to Alina and Kate, that Armitage preferred to be handled away from UNIT. The perpetually scowling man figured the teen who knew Hart would text Hart, and that Hart would come home a nervous wreck, knowing Armitage had been there. But, as Armitage was about to find out, Hart had deftly out-maneuvered him. The sound of knocking made itself known.

Armitage checked the camera. The kid was back, holding some large box. Perhaps he had come to get the things that Armitage had identified and put in a pile as not Hart’s.

“Hi!” The kid had the self-awareness to blush at the now spotless apartment, as he kicked off his shoes while balancing the box. “John texted back that you would be back tonight, so it would be the perfect time to drop off Abyss. He’s still not going to be back for a few days yet.”

Armitage took most of this information in silence, but needed clarification on one thing.

“Abyss?”

“Yeah, didn’t he tell you?” The kid adjusted the box and looked Armitage straight in the face for the first time, and was taken aback by the power of his stare.

“I was hoping you were playing bad cop last time, and you’d be less intense this time. Are you always like this?”

When Armitage stared and said nothing the teenager continued, “So, um, a few weeks ago I was -”

A sound comes from the box. “Meow.”

“No.”

The kid's voice rose a couple notes. “John said that you’d take care of it. It’s the last of my bitch’s litter.”

“Queen.”

“What?”

“Cat - Queen. Dogs - bitches, don’t meow. No.”

“No one wants this one on account of it being pure black.”

“Abyss.”

“Yes, hence the name," the teenager confirmed, "When I told John a month ago, I told him that maybe if she was dewormed and had her first shots under her, that someone would take her. He paid for Abyss's first vet appointment. I told him today, when we got texting, that my parents were about to get rid of her, and he said that you’d take care of her, for now. She is seventeen weeks old on Sunday. In a month or two, she’ll be old enough to be spayed.”

After a moment to see if Armitage would react or say anything, the kid continued.

“I got in the box everything you need,” The kid pulled out a cat litter bag, a hard kitten food bag, two cat dishes, a used cushion, a used toy, and then lifted up an empty litter box that contained a small black fluff ball with orange saucers for eyes, “Just until John is back, is that alright?”

“Go.”

When Armitage woke up in John’s bed the next morning, he found a black fluff ball nestled at his side. He was not impressed.

Chapter Text

Friday Morning

Boston Harbour, #Hart

Did you see the video of #Hart getting kicked in the nads by #Osgood ?
#Hart had like, what, 6 HR complaints last week? What’s he still doing here?
What kind of contract does Saxon Enterprises have, that #UNIT lets #Hart get away with this?
Do you think #Hart slept with #Kate at some point, and that’s why we can’t get rid of him?
I would kick #Hart in the balls, if he slept with my mother too.
It wouldn’t take that much for me to line up behind #Osgood to take aim at #Hart ‘s balls.
I need to figure out what I can blame “switching meds” on. Thanks #Hart
Maybe something is going on with #Hart ? I mean, he was less of a problem the last year or so.
Don’t feel sorry for #Hart - he has had plenty of chances.
What’s going on with #Hart and #lilysuncles - they seem to be coming apart at the seams
Is #Hart at the center of a #loversquarrel between #lilysuncles
I wonder if #Harkness had a ‘talk’ with #Osgood to defend #Hart like he did with #Missyspackmule
I wonder what #Hally thinks of all the drama around #Hart and #lilysuncles
Does #Hally still feel #Lily is safe with #Hart & #lilysuncle
I hear that #Hart got in a bar brawl this week. Can anyone else confirm?
Ha, maybe #Hart went to the bar on Monday, when he wasn’t at his #UNIT job.
#Hart that hussar jacket is #tragic 

Friday - Morning

John Hart’s UNIT office

Hart thought back to his entering UNIT building today, and how everyone was staring at him. Whether it was due to his atypical outfit (thanks Ianto), or his recent extra infamy on BostonHarbor, everyone was watching him. Usually he liked attention, any attention, but this felt foreboding something. He wondered if he should get used to it. If the attention faded, it would certainly return once he started to look like he was smuggling a watermelon under his shirt into the UNIT offices. He was broken from these thoughts by the sound of a knock. It was Armitage. He never knocked.

"Yeah, come in," Hart answered.

Armitage closed the door behind him. He looked all business. A small pain squeezed Hart's heart, when he realized he was hoping for something else, or something more, when he came in.

Hart smirked, a touch defiant, "How’s Abyss?" His heart stutters a moment, noticing the comment doesn't budge Armitage's face.

Armitage stared, "I can drop her off at the Harkness-Jones residence, and you can see for yourself."

Hart crossed his armed, "How do you know I was there?"

Armitage stared. Armitage’s energy was starting to make Hart feel nervous.

"Well, um, I don’t know when I’ll be back to my apartment," Hart said, "and Ianto is allergic, so you’ll just have to take care of her for a bit. It won’t kill you."

Armitage stared, "I left some things off my report of your apartment search."

Hart retorted hotly, "Like, what, the extra toothbrush that’s yours? The slippers you forgot one time? The one spare work outfit that is your size?"

Armitage stared, before taking some papers outside of an inside pocket in his work jacket, and spread them out on Hart’s desk.

"What’s - this isn’t mine," Hart denied, shaking his head. His stomach sank, and his heart thudded against his rib cage.

Armitage stared, "Carpet, side table, wall paint, matches your bedroom.  Do you deny it?"

"No," Hart hotly rebuked, and countered, "Have you asked Ayan about it?"

"The kids stuck to the living room, kitchen, bathroom."

"Exclusively?" Hart hotly pressed, "How’d you know? Did you even ask Ayan about it?"

"On that topic," Armitage commented, "a kid and their drugs shouldn’t be around a recovering addict. He copped to MDMA I found in the bathroom."

On his lap, under his desk, Hart clenched his fists, and then remember his foam ball, yanking it out of his pocket to let his hand try to pulverize it.

"I’m just - I wish - There was no one looking out for me, when I was a kid. I swear, that isn’t mine."

Armitage stared, "Do Jack and Ianto know you’re using again?"

"I’m not!" Hart yelled.

"You let your apartment basically become a bio-hazard. You abandoned your apartment around the wedding, doing god knows what, who knows where, on your own time. At work, you racked up 6 HR complaints in a week. Then this week, Monday, you meet with Alina, and break protocol by reporting your absence to her. Tuesday at lunch, you get into a bar brawl - "

" - You know about that? - " interjected Hart.

" - and don’t report your sprained knuckles until Thursday. Tuesday evening, at Lily’s science fair, you acted uncharacteristically. At first trying to provoke both of your work superiors, and then acting withdrawn the rest of the fair. Unplanned, we met in a bathroom. You violently kick at a bathroom door. Later the same night, you get drunk with Jack and Ianto for company, and you are late an hour to work Wednesday, per your text message. Wednesday afternoon, you take two sloppy swipes at my phone like a teen girl, and I have to restrain you. This caused Jack to come to your defense. Despite getting medical attention for your shoulder, you don’t report your hurt knuckles, and shrug off scans and blood work, which you have accepted every time you see Owen, whether scheduled appointment or not. Wednesday evening, you let a member of the public man-handle your principal, and you don’t even report it. I heard about it from Missy the next day. Thursday at lunch you verbally bully someone who presented no threat. She retaliates, and you end up in medical, again only allowing visible evaluation. No blood, no scans. At that examination, you mention drinking again, in this case as a cause of nausea. Have I said anything that is not true?

As Hart listened to Armitage talk for the longest he ever heard him talk, a sense of dread came over him. Armitage was laying out a case, for which Armitage was the judge, jury, and executioner. He was trying to let Hart know that this was a done deal, to save himself any scrap of dignity he could muster, and accept reality. Hart couldn’t help not accepting this.

An angry and sad Hart answered cryptically, "Not due to any fault of your own."

Armitage stared, and tilted his head, his gaze still intense.

Sarcastically, Hart commented, "How convenient that you leave out I told you I was pregnant, the day after the wedding."

Armitage stared, his intensity lessened a fraction as hurt crossed his face, "Tuesday, I asked you to go see Owen with me. To figure out a plan."

Hart gave a weary moan, "You still wanted me to be your dirty little secret. You’re still a coward. You still don’t believe me."

Armitage stared, "Believe what?"

"That I’m pregnant. AND sober, fuck you," Hart answered forcefully, before sadness and determination overwhelmed his face in equal measure, "Though if you do believe me, just put me out of my misery and let me know you want the father listed as unknown on the birth certificate. I’ll do it."

Armitage stared, and took a breath, "Ianto is pregnant."

"Hmm, and what," Hart countered, "that proves I’m not?"

Armitage stared, "You drank at least two nights this week?

Hart repeated a vague earlier statement, “Not due to any fault of your own.”

Armitage stared, and tilted his head, "I know that. I’m still willing to go to Owen’s office with you. If you are ready to face everything, all cards on the table. But it can’t be put off any longer. Will you?"

Hart gave a defeated laugh, "Your facts aren't correct. You know I’m done with this. I don’t need you. I certainly don’t need this. What are you going out of your way to let me know at length -and-  in person?

Armitage stared, taking a deep breath, "These behavioral changes are all pretty damning by themself, and are a fireable pattern of behavior without that photo, and you know it. I’m giving you the weekend. Go to UNIT. Disclose your relapse to them voluntarily, go to rehab. They have to find you work when you come out."

Tears welled up in Hart's face, "This should have been an email. It’s more your style. I guess I managed to have some impact on your well-fortified boundaries, Armitage."

Chapter Text

Friday - Late morning

John Hart’s UNIT office

Hart stared at the wall, his face wet with tears, contemplating the end of working for Armitage. Perhaps it was for the best. Having to be visibly pregnant, much less having a child, around him would be difficult to navigate. Even if Armitage’s denial about Hart’s pregnancy ended, there was no guarantee he’d accept the child was his, at least not without a paternity test. And what if he just pretended that Hart’s pregnancy meant nothing personal to him?

Hart couldn’t imagine reconciling with him. But then he hadn’t imagined half the things he put up with this week for bean, even before he admitted to himself that he wanted bean. Hally walked into his office.

"Hart, no driving for lun - are - are you alright?" Hally startled, seeing Hart more torn up then she ever has. While his emotions could be mercurial, he tended to deflect from any overt showing of vulnerable, at all times.

Hart choked up, "No."

Hally rushed over to Hart's chair. "What’s wrong?"

Squeezing his eyes shut a moment, he informed her, "Yoshida will be accompanying you for your security next week. She’ll pick you up Monday for work."

An insistent steely tone threaded into Hally's voice, "Is this HR’s doing? I will go talk to them."

"No - ," Hart started.

"I can see your email from deputy head of HR Larry Zigler," Hally growled, her eyes narrowed.

Hart hadn’t even noticed the email come in. He hadn’t looked at any emails since Osgood kicked him in the balls.. The subject said meeting today in, shit, six minutes.

Subject: Mandatory Meeting to discuss recent misconduct - 11:30 today

Hally grabbed Hart’s hand and yanked him to his feet, pulling on his arm. He complied.

"We have to get you to that meeting on time. I bet he expected you not to show up, so it would be another black mark on your record."

The pair wound their way through corridors and turns and came down to the first floor, Hart a little gingerly, on account of his bruised balls. Just a fraction of a minute late, they deposit themselves in HR. Hally and Hart go up to the counter. Hart started reflexively squeezing his foam ball through the cloth of his sweat pant pockets.

"John Hart has an appointment with Larry Zigler, starting now," Hally announced, like she expected the HR receptionist to jump at her command.

Ziglar appeared from corner a hall to their right with a confused and surprised look.

"Ms Oakdown, you may leave."

"And I may not. As Saxon Enterprises doesn’t have any union, Hart is allowed the counsel of his choice," her voice grew chilly, "Did you even offer a UNIT union rep to Hart in your email?"

Ziglar gave a blink, before offering, "This way, Mr Hart, Ms Oakdown."

As Hally and Hart reached the corner, they looked down the hall way, running to an exterior wall, where a window is. Ziglar put them in the front-most meeting room, with a glass wall between the room and the HR lobby.

"First of all, I would like to object to you holding this meeting," Hally articulated, "You have a personal conflict of interest.

"I will note that, and take that under advisement, but there is none available today to take that complaint to," Ziglar said, giving the air of being diplomatic.

"Then why is this meeting taking place today at all?" Hally pressed, "You never handle Hart’s HR file, for good reason."

"Dozens of HR complaints were made about the harassment of Petronella Osgood," Ziglar replied, his face looking like a nasty smell had just made itself known to him.

"Dozens? There were not that many witnesses in the room," Hally protested evenly.

"UNIT policies allow for any witness to misconduct to file a complaint, but nowhere does it state that the complainant has to witness it in person," Ziglar clarified.

"Fucking Boston Harbour," Hart wrung out.

"I’m only going to warn you once, use of that language is not tolerated here," Ziglar said, his eyes challenging Hart.

"Did you note the nature of the personal conflict?" Hally prodded.

"I hardly see how - " Ziglar began.

"Look," Hart pressed, but kept his voice level, "your daughter made her own choices, your problems with them are your own."

Ziglar looked like he was about to start seething, but he managed to regain a grip on himself. "Let’s see, this week alone. Tuesday, you assaulted a civilian. Wednesday morning you were late due to drinking. Wednesday afternoon you attempted to assault Mr Armitage, forcing him to restrain you. Thursday, you insult and harass one of our most reputable employees."

Under his breath Hart grumbled, "Alina should have let me telework."

"How’d that even work?" Hally said with a confused look on her face.

"When I’m not driving you, clearly," Hart said exasperated, "Crowther’s kid wasn’t sick when I asked for it."

"Hmmm," Ziglar said, taking in this information quietly, before adding his own question, "What I would like to know is, were you lying to Osgood, or you are seeing non-UNIT Doctors without UNIT’s permission?

With a crossing of her harms, Hally noted, "There is such a thing as medical privacy."

"Former addicts do not get the same latitude as other employees on this," Ziglar explained, "If asked, in a meeting such as this, they are required to disclose any relapses, or anything risking their sobriety."

"No. No relapses. I'm not letting anything risk it." Hart made a pair of fists under the wood table.

"Regardless," Ziglar continued, "based on the misconduct this week, on top of last weeks, and your history, I have the authority to require a blood test and to put you on paid leave until - "

Hart rose out of his seat instantly.

"Bloody hell! Has everyone got it out for me!"

Hally tried to get Hart to sit back down, but he was too agitated, and practically pacing, despite near no space to do so. She joined him standing.

"No one has it out for you," Ziglar pronounced, "these are a consequence of your own actions."

Hart entreated to Ziglar, "I need to know what they’ll be testing for in my blood."

"No, you don’t," Ziglar flatly denied.

Hart leaned over the table, resting his hands, his head slumped forward over his chest, "Is it just drugs? Just tell me that."

Hally came perplexed, "Hart, what’s got you worried about a blood test?"

Raising his head with a mix of determination and worry, he conceded, "I will consent to a drug test, but not anything beyond that."

"You don’t get a say in this Hart," Ziglar said, a hint of a smirk at the corner of one lip, "Unless you want to be on suspension, instead of leave."

"God damn it!" Hart slammed the table.

"Hart, we need to talk this through," Hally calmly advocated, "This isn’t helping."

"You should listen to the woman," Ziglar added, a hint of smugness in his tone.

Hart pointed his hand at Ziglar, "And you should have listened to your daughter! Instead, nearly a decade later, you still hate me for being one of five men who are confirmed not to have gotten her pregnant! You screwed up your relationship with her, and now have never met your grandchild, last I knew! That is the consequence of your own actions! Not mine!"

Ziglar's tone turned low and menacing, "And despite all of that, you have proven once again why I should be very thankful that you were not the father."

Hart facial features twisted. He threw their meeting table through the one glass wall of the room, into HR’s lobby. Hally was shocked, Ziglar shaken.

In a soft voice, laced with a hint of warning, Hally told Hart, "We don’t want to escalate."

"No!" Hart demanded, "What the hell does that mean, Ziglar?"

"What kind of father would you be anyways?" Ziglar asked, contempt dripping off of every word, "I’ve seen your sealed HR file. You may have fooled everyone these last 10 years, boiled down your colourful past down to hedonistic drug user in recovery, who has tried to replace the hard stuff with sex, attention, and sexual innuendos. But I know that you are a treacherous selfish sociopath, who no kid would deserve to have for a father. They’d be lucky if you showed your old stripes, and left when the going got tough."

Hart seemed to glide across the room with the smooth speed he took, pulling his gun out at the same time, -

"HART!" Hally yelled.

- to have it ready to shove in the man’s face when he reached him. Hart was breathing heavily.

"You were saying." Hart pressed the gun harder into the man's cheek on the last word

Ziglar whimpered, "You’re proving me right."

Hally wasn’t sure of her finer uses of her powers to just remove the gun, or change its properties, so she moved slowly around until she was next to them.

"Hart, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours," Hally supplied calmly, "but you need to put the gun down."

Gritting his teeth, Hart bit out, "It’s all over anyways."

"No," Hally shook her head, "If you are using drugs - "

Hart chest heaved with a heavy breath, "Damn it, Hally, I’m not using drugs!"

Mouth tightened, Hally said, "Okay. Yeah. This looks bad. But I will do everything to get this figured out, as long as you put that gun down. Please."

Hart blinked sweat out of his eye as his finger twitched and his breathing continued ragged.

"Please Hart," Hally implored, "I don’t want to have to explain that you shot someone to Lily. I don't think you do either."

Hart gasped and stepped back, putting the gun on a corner cabinet, before putting his shaking hands up.

Tears pooled in his eyes, "I can’t stay here Hally. Help me leave. I need to, um, calm down, somewhere else."

"Where will you go?" Hally asked, concern clear on her face as she looked at his lost expression, "I don’t know if you should be alone."

Grinning like a wackado, Hart claimed, "I won’t be alone. Abyss is there."

"Abyss?" a confused Hally asked.

His hands twitching, he explained, "A cat."

Hally chuckled nervously, "Well, if a cat is there."

Security had now enclosed the entrance of HR, half the weapons lasers trained on Hally, half on Hart, through the room's now broken glass wall, facing HR's entrance.

"Do you remember what we saw before we got into this room?"

Hart, breathing still ragged, answered, "Yeeeah."

Hally slowly shifted out of the room, the lasers following her. Hally looked down the hall to the window there was before, and back out to HR entrance, where security had formed a perimeter.

"Come here, slowly, hands up," Hally directed Hart.

"I don’t think I’ll be granted the same latitude as you," Hart too worried to even chuckle, "And I really don’t feel I need more injuries right now."

Hally spoke loudly and clearly across the empty space between them and security, "I am asking Hart to approach me! Do NOT shoot him for doing so!"

Hart reached two feet from her and she could see his twitchy energy affect more than his hands. Hally whispered a short countdown.

"Three, two, one."

Two things happened simultaneously: the exterior wall at the end of the hallway had a hole blown in it, and everything in the HR entry in front of the security team imploded, creating dust and confusion for Hart’s exit.

Chapter Text

Friday, Noon
UNIT HR offices

Hally initially put her hands up, planning to wait for the dust to clear, and security to take her. When she felt a body slam into her and saw Zigler’s face, she grabbed him and pinned him to the floor, straddling him.

"Do you know anything else, besides your ancient history with Hart, and what you shared in that meeting?" Hally demanded.

Zigler held his hands up, "No, no, I swear!"

Lasers started to clear the dust and debris and find Hally again.

"And who authorized your access to Hart’s HR file?" Hally interrogated.

Zigler sputtered, "Be - before?"

"No, you shit. Recently. I hadn’t heard anything about him assaulting any civilians this week. How do you know. Were you authorized to access Hart’s HR file?"

Zigler looked up at her in silence and fear.

"You did not have authorization, did you?" Hally concluded, "You took the advantage of the absence of upper management today, and decided you’d with all the complaints from BostonHarbour, you had an excuse to get Hart out of UNIT."

Zigler stayed silent.

Hally scoffed, "Of course you won’t say anything. You know every line of the HR manual. Be assured, Ziglar, I will do everything within my influence to have you fired from UNIT."

A security woman who had made her way to just three feet behind Hally spoke, "Ma’am. I need to secure you."

Hally chuckled and lifted her hands, "Did you draw the short straw?"

With upper management gone to Paris offices security had ended up calling Alina. They refused to end the lock down for Alina, but they did release Hally, with the order to not leave this UNIT building. Hally, a mix of concerned and confused and irate, was pissed security wouldn’t let her talk to Alina. She wanted some answers, and she figured Alina must have some. Once security was no longer paying her close attention she made a bee line for Alina’s office. As she approached Alina’s office she heard multiple murmuring voices that she couldn’t make out. As she came to the door she saw four faces she didn’t expect to see. Everyone paused their murmuring and turned to look at her, after the first one noticed her and gave a greeting.

"Hey, Hally!" Mickey said, surprise but also strangely guilty, "Long time no see."

"Oh, Hally, Hi!" Martha exclaiming, before coming over and giving Hally a hug.

As Martha let her go, Hally asked, "What is everyone doing   here?"

"Can you tell me what was said, what set Hart off?" Alina asked, her eyes a quiet suppressed alarm in this.

Everyone looked closely at Hally.

Taken aback, and expecting questions about her conduct, she countered, "Shouldn’t we talk about Hart in private?"

"There were witnesses, everyone’s going to be talking about it. More than what happened with Osgood yesterday," Ianto looked at his phone, "Yeah hashtag HR has blown   up."

Vwoorp vwoorp vwoorp

A blue police box started to materialize near the corner of Alina's office.

"There she is," Jack said, relieved.

"She? My wife? All five of you are on a confidential need-to-know adventure with her, but she couldn’t take me?"

Missy popped out of her TARDIS with her usual flare, swinging about her black umbrella. Then she saw the six faces looking back at her.

"Well, I don’t remember inviting all of yous," she said pointedly.

"Thanks for switching the departure location on such short notice," Jack apologized, "It’s become impossible to leave the property."

"Do I get to know the mission now?" Hally hissed.

"Oh, am I helping yous escape now?" Missy said, her eyes alight with amusement at the chaos she has stepped into, "Are yous the baddies, or is UNIT? Please be yous." Missy clutched her hands inwards and crossed her fingers.

Hally crossed her arms, "Honey, can I go on the mission? Seems like half of Torchwood is."

Missy gave a put-upon sigh. "I just left a school, and I still feel like a headmistress. Am I running a field trip right now?" She swiveled her head around the room, looking at each one of them sternly, "Who’s all got their permission slips?"

Her cross face getting crosser, Hally pushed, "Missy, are you going to answer my questions?"

Missy pushed her chin to Jack, "Jack, do you want to share with the class? And please, explain the bits that you’ve kept me in the dark about too."

Hally gave a snicker.

"Right," Jack explained, "Mission is simple. Missy and I are going to break into the Time Agency and get their records, particularly their medical records, on Hart."

"There is something medically wrong with him," Hally said concernedly, "Something that would show up in his blood work? Should we ask Owen?"

Six voices answered “No”. Missy too, because she already felt like she had a litter of kittens to herd, or perhaps, cull, if she got any more irritated.

"Hart trusted each of us, for different reasons, Hally," Martha explained, "I’m sure it’s nothing personal."

"It feels a little personal," Hally said hotly, "Were any of you six helping him escape our workplace, after he pulled a gun on the deputy head of HR? Or was it just me?"

Jack gave a nonchalant, "Never did like Ziglar. Reason number 103 to not fully merge Torchwood with UNIT."

An unimpressed Missy asked, "And does my head of security appear to be aware of any of these Hart issues?"

Scoffing could be heard from multiple dimensions.

"So, yes, Jack, that is what you and I will be doing," Missy specified, hoping to get some of the riffraff off her TARDIS.

"Me too," Hally insisted. Missy looked at her wife. Hally huffed, "As I said, I feel I deserve some answers, after what I just did for Hart."

"Look, I’ve already told you as much as I’m comfortable with," Jack rebuffed, "Hart has some medical issues. We need his Time Agency medical records."

"And why are they coming," Hally persisted, indicating the other four.

"I’m not going," Alina stated.

"Ianto has some personal medical questions that would be best answered in the 51st century," Martha answered, "Mickey and I are accompanying him."

Jack didn't say anything, but Hally could tell he wasn't happiest about this development.

Missy sneered, "You’ve reduced me to ferrying medical tourists, Jack?"

"He's bringing two people who have the skills to help if things get hairy," Jack brought up.

"You didn't want to bring Ianto, did you?" Missy stated.

Jack ignored the jab, and started motion towards the TARDIS, "Okay, let’s go, everyone on the TARDIS."

As the six of them settled in the TARDIS control room, Alina asked a question from her office.

"Why does it appear like people seem stuck, mid stride, in the hallway."

Missy, speaking loud to carry, replied, "Highly irregular. Let me check - FUCK!"

All eyes except Alina's swivel to Missy. Alina's level voice carried from her office again.

"That doesn’t sound good. Is by chance the universe broken?"

Missy called back to her, "It will be if you don’t get in here."

Dead silence for a moment, as people processed and try to catch up.

When Alina was just outside the door, stern and unamused, she told Missy, "Explain."

"What, no personal or professional interest in the 51st century Alina?" Missy poked.

Alina stared.

"You and Armitage should give lessons," Missy proposed.

Missy swiveled the screen, and changed the language from Gallifreyean to English:

Prerequisites for time paradox “Time Agency Suberterfuge Clusterfuck” not met.
Missing subject: Alina.

Mickey spoke into the silence that came as everyone absorbed the words, "Is there anyone else who thinks that time paradox name is a warning, in bright flashing neon lights? Or is it just me?"

Chapter Text

Friday, NOON

Missy's TARDIS

"Every time paradox is a warning, dumb dumb," Missy drolled.

"To be clear, what does that mean?" Alina asked.

Missy gave a smile and spoke sweetly. "TARDIS doesn’t move until you are on here. It has frozen time around us, until we accept the inevitable and you join us," Missy explained. Her face expressed annoyance, and she added flatly, "You will be joining team medical tourists."

Alina took out her phone and started texting.

"Who are you texting?" Hally ask curiously.

"Henry," Alina responded flatly.

"We’re only supposed to be gone for lunch hour right?" Mickey mentioned, confused.

Alina stepped onto the TARDIS. "I don’t know. I might not see my kid for ten years," she gave a sharp look to Missy, "It better not be."

Missy rolled her eyes, examining her nails, "Direct all service complaints directly to the TARDIS."

"I was really hoping to get off on a better start with a TARDIS, if I ever step foot on one," Alina answered.

TARDIS started to make sounds, wheezing and whining and trilling.

"Is something wrong with it?" Ianto asked, looking up.

Missy flopped a hand. "No. It apparently just has a complicated time paradox set of prerequisites to sort through, and the interdimensional signature is not helping."

Everyone looked at Mickey.

"What?" Mickey hotly exclaimed..

"Yes yes, I’ll pass on your apologies slash condolences to everyone," Missy offered absently.

"The TARDIS can communicate with you?" Alina inferred.

"Yes, yes, of course it can," Missy brushed off, as she looked at the controls and displays on the console in front of her.

Alina looked around. "It’s sentient."

"Alina dear," Missy said, raising her eyeline to look at Alina for a moment, "she isn’t looking for a therapist right now."

Jac fixed the console with a stare, "Hopefully none of us need one, after this."

Console screen refreshes:

Final check for prerequisites for time paradox “Time Agency Suberterfuge Clusterfuck”.
A dozen subjects. Confirming subjects on TARDIS….

"Fucking geeze, a dozen subjects?" Jack exhaled, "I don’t know if I've ever been on one this big."

"There are only seven people in here…." Martha pointed out.

Missy turned from the console, wielding her screwdriver, and put out her hand. "Your cell, Alina. I might as well," Missy sighed, "give it an upgrade."

Hally started towards her wife, but is intercepted by Mickey.

"Hi, Hally. I’ve been meaning to talk to you for quite a while. And, um," Mickey scratched his eyebrow with the opposite thumb, "I’ve haven’t managed it

A Hally irritated at being intercepted crossed her arms, "About what?

"I - I feel I’ve let you down. And Rose down," Mickey explained, his eyebrows drawn down in grief and guilt.

Looking confused, Hally blinked back a tear, "How have yo - "

"I’ve, like, known you the longest out of everyone here. Besides Missy, of course. And if you think me accepting The Doctor was hard, and took a long time, um," Mickey chuckled, "it doesn’t really compare."

"Uh - okay," a flummoxed Hally contributed.

"But, then, Missy was gone, ten years. And, uh, everyone else here knows you better than me. And that’s my fault. That’s on me," Mickey apologized.

" - where is this go - " Hally tried to ask.

"And Rose and I go way back, and I felt I should have looked out for you. Regardless of how things turned out on the romance front, we were solid mates," Mickey lightly tapped a railing with a fist, "I should have looked out for her kid. And I don’t have the excuse of finding out on Stolen-Earth. Rose broke down and told me, in Pete's dimension, in between the Cybermen Ghost Army and Stolen-Earth. She was racked with guilt. Made me promise to keep it from Jackie."

Tears started to loosen down Hally's face, confusion giving way to grief, and anger at at him pulling it out of her. "Why are you telling me this? I don’t need to hear some sort of confession from my mother’s old boyfriend," she accused hotly, "You didn’t mean that much to me."

Mickey gave a snicker, "You have some of Jackie and Rose in you, you know that?"

Under her breath, unnoticed by others starting at Hally and Mickey, Missy said "Like her stroppiness”. Though her piercing gaze at Mickey belies the humour in her words.

Hally crossed her arms, "No I don’t."

Missy's "Hmmm" of disagreement also goes unnoticed. 

Mickey's hands go out appeasingly, though a stubborn corner of his lips twist up, "We can’t talk about that, and even Pete, some other time. If you want. Anyways, it was weird and hard hearing it from Rose. She hated letting you go. You were only about six months old, she said. I knew you were a grown up, of course, I had met you. But I hadn’t seen you since six months before she told me everything, and then not for eighteen months after, til stolen-Earth. And things were a little chaotic that day.

Missy sighed loudly, sounding put out, "Are you going to wrap this up, Mickey, you are making my wife cry. I don’t think you want to know what I usually do to people who make my wife cry."

Hally then noticed that everyone is watching them. Martha is dabbing her eyes, and she isn’t the only one misty-eyed.

Mickey chuckled. "Ah, we have a bit of an audience," He looked at Missy briefly, "You don’t scare me. Besides, if we want to compare a list of who has made her cry more, I am fairly certain that you’d beat me."

Missy’s eyes look like glinty daggers, thought it is partly in old self-recrimination. Mickey refocused on Hally.

"I have something of yours," he shared, "On Davros’ ship. Rose, ah, slipped a couple things into my pocket that I found later. One was a family heirloom, up Jackie’s maternal line, and the other was a letter, from Rose. I will bring them over, when we all get back. We will all get through this Time Paradox in one piece, okay?"

Hally didn’t know whether to be angry that he kept this from her a decade, or sad of all the memories and unresolved feelings stirred up. Grief won the day, as tears flowed down her face.

Missy’s TARDIS made a whirly sound. Missy begrudgingly pulled her gaze from her wife to look at the console.

"Finally, I think she’s happy," Missy pronounced.

Everyone turned to the screen:

Final check for prerequisites for time paradox “Time Agency Suberterfuge Clusterfuck”.
A dozen prime subjects. Confirming subjects on TARDIS:
Missy - Present - Confirmed as a Time Paradox subject
Hally - Present - Confirmed as a Time Paradox subject
Jack - Present - Confirmed as a Time Paradox subject
Ianto - Present - Confirmed as a Time Paradox subject
Martha - Present - Confirmed as a Time Paradox subject
Alina - Present - Confirmed as a Time Paradox subject
Others - Not present - Are NOT expected to arrive via this TARDIS.

"Wait, where’s my name?" Mickey asked.

Screen:

Additional subject present on the TARDIS:
Mickey - Present - Superfluous subject - within acceptable parameters.

"Really? Superfluous?" an annoyed Mickey snapped.

"Great, can we push him off before lift off?" Missy proposed.

TARDIS started it's engines and everyone goes sideways, suddenly grabbing for what console or railing was nearest.

Martha yelled, "Guess not!"

Jack whooped, "HERE WE GO!"

Chapter Text

Friday - Noon hour

Missy’s TARDIS

TARDIS gravity finally ‘righted’ itself, and everyone can stand up. Hally’s face was still stricken and tears start running down her face again. Missy gave a pointed look to Alina, while she checked the console. Alina gave a pointed look to Mickey.

Martha pulled Mickey away from Hally, whispering, "Terribly timing, Mickey. I know you’ve waited ten years, but you couldn’t have waited another week?"

Mickey whispered back, "I didn’t know that I’d be seeing her today, and it just all sorta spilled out."

Jack helped Ianto up.

Alina placed a hand on Hally's shoulder, "Hally, that was a lot to take in."

Hally looked to her shoulder than then to the face it was connected to, still not present in the moment.

Some panels on the floor by Hally and Alina lit up, leading to the door further into the TARDIS, noticed only by Alina.

Hally cried softly, "I just wanted to talk to Missy. This might be it for us. Then he comes out of left field, talking about an heirloom, a letter. Now.

The lit up panels change to arrow shapes.

"Is the TARDIS trying to tell me something, Missy?" Alina queried.

Missy checked the console "The path to the kitchen is lit up." Missy have a small caress to the TARDIS.

Alina mused, "Maybe it’s saying we have time for a cuppa," and tilted her head towards the exit.

Hally and Alina went off towards the kitchen. Martha and Mickey are seated and huddled talking to each other, occasionally nudging shoulders. Ianto took the couple steps from his position to the exterior TARDIS door leading outside.

"So where are we - AHHH!" Ianto screamed.

Jack grabbed the back of Ianto’s shirt as Ianto’s foot hung in mid air outside the TARDIS, the ground thousands of feet below.

"Ow!" Missy complained, "Why so yell-y? The force field is on! You can step out, get some fresh air, if you like."

Ianto, just inside the TARDIS door and still trying to calm his racing heart, "But - you could remove the forcefield on us."

Missy rolled her eyes, "As much as I might want too sometimes, Lily’s uncles are on my no-kill list. Pinky-swear. Two of them were on my no-fly list too, but apparently some things aren’t sacred."

"It’s alright Ianto," Jack assured, "But - " he tilted his head " - that isn’t Nova Port. That’s - " he tilted his head further " - Cardiff?"

"TARDIS is picking up some extra juice from the rift," Missy explained, with her voice turning sing-songy for her conclusion, "Got to compensate for the interdimensional heavy-weight who isn’t even supposed to be here."

"WHATEVER," Mickey brushed off loudly. Martha chuckled.

"We should enjoy the moment while it lasts Ianto," Jack suggested, "Come on, I’ll go first."

Jack stepped out onto the invisible forcefield. Ianto was watching Jack’s feet, then raised his eye line to Jack’s face. His eyes refocused on things in the distance.

"Hey, planes in the distance! Lots of them," Ianto called back to Missy, "And doesn’t look like time is frozen around us anymore."

"Yes, I am monitoring the airspace. No collision risk," Missy assured. She gave a cluck, before adding, "Looks like one of them is UNIT, heading to London." A delicious smirk grace her lips. "I bet Kate’s learned what my magnificent wife has done to her building."

Jack bounced his eyebrows, smirking, "Just going to close the door behind us. Let us know when we’re leaving."

Missy gave an icky expression in Jack's direction.

Chapter Text

Friday - Noon hour

UNIT CiC Plane

"So, what do we know now, that we didn’t know before watching these videos?" Kate asked the table.

"Hart had to be practically dragged to the meeting by Hally," Rebecca begrudged, "So it doesn't seem like this was something planned or intended by Hart."

"Ziglar has obviously been waiting for an opportunity to try to take down Hart," Osgood offered.

Rebecca scoffed

"Hmmm, yes," Kate pondered, "Though Ziglar will deploy every delay tactic to try to avoid us finding evidence, or himself facing consequences. We don’t have him on much, and he’ll surely try to shift blame onto Hart and Hally. Where there is plenty."

"Hally appeared confused by the events unfolding," Rowan supplied.

"But she still helped Hart escape anyways," Wyclef reminded them.

"Hart was trying to control himself," Osgood noted.

Rebecca's eyes narrowed, "I noticed that too. And he said he was willing to subject himself to drug testing."

"But only drug testing," Donovan pointed out.

"Do - do you think he’s avoiding DNA testing?" Rebecca suggested.

"Are you suggesting he falsified the paternity test of Ziglar’s grandchild?" Osgood probed.

"Hart did seem to get incensed over Ziglar’s insinuation he would be a poor father," Kate summed up.

"But why get bothered over a kid, that, if it’s his, he went so far as to falsify a paternity test, and hasn’t ever gone to see?" Osgood replied skeptically.

"Someone get the contact information for Ziglar’s daughter," Kate ordered, "Even if Hart isn’t her kid’s father, she might have some insight into what happened between Ziglar and Hart today."

"Chief," Donovan stated.

"Yes?"

Donovan shared, "We just just got a report that a couple blocks from UNIT HQ, an auto repair shop employee was just killed, and the description given matches that of Hart."

"Did he have a gun?" Wyclef asked, "He left one behind, no?"

Donovan answered, "We are getting video from the repair shop now."

"On screen," Kate replied.

On the big flat screen at the end of the airplane room, it showed an agitated man entering the auto shop premises, looking around, pulling employees from under cars, until one man Hart chose to drag up, he twisted the man’s neck, and let him drop to the floor dead.

The hands of Osgood and the Rowan both flew to their mouths.

Chapter Text

51st Century, Morning

Nova Port, Open Market (dense urban setting, solar punk vibes)

Clusterfuck group A started spilling out of Missy's TARDIS.

"This is three years earlier than I said, Missy," Jack noted, looking at the console, a flicker of vague recollection passes over his face as he tried to place it in his timeline.

Missy smirked, "You try telling her what to do right now," then ran her hand along her TARDIS’s console.

Hally crossed her arms, tapping a finger, waiting for Missy. Missy and Jack brought up the rear of the group, exiting last.

"I’m definitely not separating," Hally said, staking her ground.

Missy raised an eyebrow, "I think that would be best."

"How - ," Hally started.

"The medical tourists need another adult. Jack and I can handle the Time Agency on our own," Missy asserted.

Scoffing sounded off all around, except Missy, Jack, and Alina.

"And why can’t just Martha and I take them?" Mickey pushed back.

"I’ve seen the records of your and Martha’s alien tracking days. While robust, not flawless," Missy assessed.

"Like your record is flawless," Martha poked, "Have you actually ever defeated the Doctor?"

Missy's eyes like ice, she reminded them, "I seem to remember defeating him for an entire year."

"Yep," Martha admitted, before twisting the knife, "And who helped take you down that time?"

"Only because, against my better judgment, I was listening to my wife," Missy answered.

Hally huffed, recrossing her arms.

"Well, you’ve seemed to have picked the wife alright," Martha offered, "You might want to think about getting some better friends though. Or even just friends. Employees don't count."

"Enough," Hally contended, pointing out, "This paradox is missing half of its subjects, right?"

"I fail to see how that is relevant," Missy rebuffed, "We also really don’t need your therapist's death on your hands again."

"Preferably," Alina grumbled.

"They are just medical tourists," Hally asserted, "What could happen?

"There is a reason I insist Ianto bring someone along," Jack expressed, "Nova City has some disreputable neighbourhoods."

Martha snorted, "All cities do."

Some whiny "Greats" drift up from some throats.

"They need an ‘adult’?" Hally reiterated, then told Martha, "Call The Doctor."

Now everyone is scoffing, except Hally. Hally scowled.

"I’d hardly call him an adult," Missy grumbled, "except by technicalities."

"Hally," Martha offered gently, "The Doctor is not going to come running, just because I call him."

"He will. Call The Doctor," Hally insisted.

"Why don’t you?" Martha wondered aloud.

"He won’t respond to my phone call. Call   The   Doctor," Hally pushed.

"Just do it," Jack directed to Martha, "Not like he’s actually going to show up anyways. We need a couple of minutes to game plan, anyways."

Ianto and Alina whispered, unheard by the rest:

"Do you really think he’ll come?" Ianto said.

Alina thought about it, "Hally seems sure, and she never feels comfortable relying on The Doctor. She still feels she is holding her breath, waiting every Sunday."

Ianto shook his head, "No, not going to happen. Fifty pounds?"

"I’ll take that bet," Alina responded.

Aloud, Martha told Hally, "Fine." Martha took out her cell and dialed The Doctor, putting it on speaker and turned the cell to the group.

Ring ring ring - ring ring ring - ring ring ring - ring ring ring - ring ring ring

Voicemail greeting came on, "My name was Idris, and the current naughty boy who runs away and stole me has no current voicemail greeting. Please leave a message, for him or for me, after the beep. If it's not after, it's before."

Looks passed around the group.

Beeeeeeep

"Hi, Doctor, it’s Martha. I’m off planet, and could really use a friendly face."

Everyone stood around a minute, as if waiting. As the minutes dragged into the third, no one wants to tell Hally “I told you so”, so they all stood there awkwardly.

"So, ah - ," Jack started

"No!" Hally literally puts her foot down with a stomp.

"Hally," Jack soothed

From behind Hally, a cheerful voice pipped up: "So, no one is running, no one is cornered, no alien invasion, no danger evident. My usual scene. So, what do we have here? Why ever was I summoned, Martha?"

Hally turned around and embraces the person behind her without even looking, noting that they even smell similar to like Dad. Though he had hardly changed his scent since they started traveling together. 

Hally sighed a relieved, "Dad."

Chapter Text

51st Century, Morning

Nova Port, Open Market (dense urban setting, solar punk vibes)

Hally, with her face turned left on her father's right shoulder, deepened her breath. Other scent notes come through, and she scrunched her nose.

Alina looked like a bad smell came under her nose, though no one sees it.

A voice too far to her right to be the person she is hugging, "Hally!" somehow both hesitant and happy, as if half-apologetically but glad to see her. Sort of like when like when a person’s name is exclaimed when they enter the room, as a warning to everyone to stop talking about them.

Hally jumped back, and the stranger in front of her smiled kindly, and holds out a hand.

The stranger with her dad’s smell, "You must be Hally. A pleasure to meet you."

Hally doesn’t take the hand and shifts her eyes to who she presumes is her /actual/ parent, who has a wide closed mouth smile, but a touch of alarm to the eyes, and a vibrant whimsical energy. It was still still him though; endless pools of concern for her in those eyes. She wondered if Lily saw that look in her own eyes sometimes.

Mickey whispered to Martha, "Are we supposed to recognize which one is The Doctor?

"Dad," Hally pressed, "why do they smell of you?"

Everyone started snickering or clamping their mouth, except Missy looked like the cat that ate the canary, and Alina, who looke entirely unimpressed.

"Dad," Hally hotly announced, "I don’t need another step-parent."

"At least that one is not as young as some of them," Missy observed.

Jack chortled, "Who’s to say the familiar scent doesn’t mean that they are a sibling?"

Everyone’s eyes opened wide at the possibility.

Hally, with an offended look on her face, swung her face back toward the stranger, who was clamping their mouth shut in apologetic amusement, while their eyes widened. A voice, from the figure next to the Doctor that Hally has ignored so far, piped up.

"He’s immortal, it’s bound to happen sooner or later, isn’t it?" The young stranger commented with a shrug.

The Doctor turned to the speaker, biting a finger, as if saying please don’t make this worse.

The young stranger saw The Doctor’s face and cringed awkwardly, "Sorry!"

Ianto whispered to Jack, "Jack, what’s wrong?"

Jack mumbled back to Ianto, "Something about this date is nagging me. Like, something I should definitely remember."

The Doctor gave a full show of his teeth, in a dazzling smile at Hally.

Hally crossed her arms, "Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friends? And please tell me this face is just very huggy, and that’s why I can smell you on this one." Hally tilted her head to her left.

The young stranger jumped in to defend the Doctor, "Yes. Yes. The Doctor is very huggy. A hug-a-thon this one," before giving a nervous laughter.

Jack looked over his shoulder at the skyline, then does a double-take.

"RUN! EVERYONE, GET DOWN! INCOMING!"

Chapter Text

Friday - Early Afternoon

Lily Oakdown’s School

Armitage watched Lily return inside from lunch recess. He turned his attention to his phone. There were dozens of notifications. He was sure Missy had re-turned on ‘his’ Grindr notifications more than once. He scowled, went into the Grindr app to turn the notifications off again. After clearing all notifications, he checked texts and emails to make sure he didn’t miss any new ones for which he just cleared a notification. Then a new notification popped up. Then another, and another. But they weren’t for Grindr. Hashtags #Hally and #Hart for Boston Harbour.

#WTF #Hally #Hart #Lockdown
Wooooo HR got exploded #Hally #Hart
HQ wide Lock down #Yougogirl #Hally
OMG best thing #Hally has done EVER
Surprised it took this long #Hally #Hart
#Hally wasn’t even /detained/ more than 10 minutes
Well, #Hart #Hally I’d never get away with that, so #thankyou 🫶🫶🫶
Um, people, are we sure that #Hart & #Hally didn’t hurt anyone?
#Kate is going to be pissed at #Hally & #Hart
Yeah, but what is #Kate going to do about it? #Hally #Hart
#Hartally ? We need a new whole new portmanteau #Hally #Hart

Armitage looked up #Hartally

#Hartally is going to give #Kate a heart attack!
#Kate can’t get rid of #Hartally or #Missy will take her toys and go home
Ooooh, considering #Armigate Wednesday, that will make #Hartally even more on his shit list.
#Armitage is probably reading this #Hartally non-sense and is /not/ amused.
Is anyone else shipping #Hartally now, or is it just me?

Armitage felt a need for intel and a sitrep immediately/ Though he knew he can’t leave the school until Missy gets back from lunch. He tried to pull up cameras from UNIT, but found extra security walls that were not there before. As he started loading up Hart’s and Hally’s electronic records and tracking, he looked at the hashtags again.

I heard #Hart pulled a gun on #Ziglar.
Did #Hally explode half the stuff in #HR with her brain?
You know #Hally could
#Hart escaped UNIT custody and #Hally helped him
With #Hart gone, who’s responsible for #Hally’s security now?

Still waiting for electronic tracking to come on-line, he called Hally, gets her voicemail. Then Hart, gets his voicemail. Gritting his teeth, he called Missy, and gets her voicemail, and he deigns that this time he needs to leave a message.

"Missy, I need to be relieved ASAP. Hart has gone AWOL."

Tracking came up, and he noticed that Hart’s cell is near the exterior edge of UNIT’s HR section, clearly dropped as he fled. He pulled up Hally’s. It just says “out of service”. He pulled up Missy’s, also “out of service”. Armitage is not impressed, but he has his principal to safeguard, that is his priority. He took a look at his surroundings, and the school video cameras, to make sure he didn’t miss anything while going over this catastrophe. Nothing. Then two alerts came up on his phone.

Saxon Enterprises Alert: The TARDIS has not been detected for the last thirty minutes. If this has not been a scheduled absence, a message should be coming in shortly.

Automated text from Missy: I know, /rules/. A favour was asked to be returned, and I did. You and Hart safeguard Lily and Hally. All already submitted contract proposals approved /until upon my return/.

Chapter Text

51st Century, Morning

Nova Port, Open Market (dense urban setting, solar punk vibes)

The ten time travelers scattered away from the TARDIS, all grabbing hands of at least one someone near them, and yanking like their lives depend on it. As they felt the hot whip of a large mass decelerating, they take a leap into the market stands thirty feet away from the TARDIS. Everyone, disoriented, got up at different speeds, looking around for reassurances, and back towards where the airborne ship had crashed. Missy’s TARDIS could not be seen. The ship had overtaken it, half pushed itself into the ground, a shuddering mass of twisted metals, its screeching still ringing in ears, even after most of it stilled. The sound of crying and screaming could be heard in the morning market crowd, staggering to their feet. Those that could stand.

"Hally! Doctor!" Jack yelled.

Missy muttered under her breath about her TARDIS but started to dust herself off, as her wife beside her responded, "We’re over here!"

"We need to do a roll call!" Missy called out, "We may need all nine of us!"

"TEN," an offended Mickey hollered back from somewhere.

"I said what I said!" Missy snapped.

"I have Martha with me!" Mickey relayed helpfully.

"I’m okay!" Martha called back.

Missy, voice in a normal volume for those near them, "Doctor, where was your TARDIS?"

The Doctor's eyes are strained as his eyelids opened wide, and suddenly he was climbing upwards into a standing position, "It was on the alleyway past the one yours was on."

Doctor turned and looked at the ship.

"And, based on the size of that ship…?" Missy drolled.

The Doctor's jaw dropped, "We need to see if anyone needs help!"

Having just reached them, with Ianto by his side, Jack countered, "No!"

"There could be people alive in there!" The Doctor asserted.

Clenching his jaw, Jack said, "Nearly all the victims that died, died instantly. And I’m going to be here soon, and I really don’t want to try to explain to my younger self, what I am doing here. I don’t remember me showing up the first time."

A wry Missy illustrated, "At least we’ll know where your younger self will be."

"A time paradox?" said the stranger who had The Doctor's smell.

"We need to gather our people and leave," Jack commanded.

"Where’s Alina?" Hally started to panic, "ALINA!

Hally recognized the young stranger's voice away through the din, "I’ve got her!

Through the dust, they could see the young stranger and Alina form as figures coming through.

Alina coughed, and gave a strained, "I'm here"

Hally was going to go over and hug Alina, but The Doctor and his friend beat her over to check over their young friend and Alina.

"Martha! Mickey!" Jack called for their stragglers.

"She’s patching someone up!" Mickey called back.

"Another me is incoming, we got to go!" Jack insisted

"I’m just tying a sling!" Martha answered, "I’ll just be a moment!"

Just as Alina and The Doctor returned with his friends Jack grabbed Ianto downward, and everyone followed, as the sounds of motors coming from the North Entrance got louder. A couple of them who had their heads peaking over could see another Jack riding one of the hover vehicles. Luckily his focus was entirely on the wreck, and not the stalls near by.

"T minus zero Martha!" Ianto called.

"Done! Heading to your voice now!"

Within 15 seconds Martha and Mickey found the other eight, and Jack directed them out the what his other self came in, and down some small side alleys to avoid any one else taking major city arteries to get to the wreck.

Mickey shouldered Jack gently, "You could have warned us."

"My memories weren't very clear," Jack answered honestly.

The young stranger walked along springy-ly, "So, a time paradox?"

Missy, voiced laced with a note of disgust, accused, "Didn’t yous know what you were stepping into?

"You did?" the young stranger replied with surprise.

"A well-working TARDIS can let travelers know of time paradoxes," Missy explained, "Not that it lets us avoid one."

The Doctor gave an expression of curious surprise/shock, "My TARDIS doesn’t."

"Do you ever do basic maintenance, Doctor?" Missy leveled.

"If handsome smells like family, maybe it’s your child, Hally?" Mickey thought out loud.

Hally, with a note of distress, looked back at The Doctor and their two friends holding up the rear, tilting her head to look at them. Missy narrowed her eyes.

The handsome one of the pair, that was older and smelled of The Doctor, smiled, "No, I’m not Lily or - "

"SPOILERS," The Doctor interjected, "So next to Hally is Missy."

"Oooh," handsome said, catching on, "So that’s - ," they tilt their head, " - Jack, I’m guessing?

"Do I want to know which one of me he mixed up with Jack?" Missy said, facing ahead of the group.

The young stranger asked, "Should I be bothered that he seems to know a lot more than I do about your friends, when I’ve know you longer Doctor?"

Missy, in the lead, not even looking behind her, answered, "It’s a benefit of being pillow friends."

"Are we going to put them out of their misery?" Handsome smiled at The Doctor.

"Let’s get off the street, to a place where we can eat, and then do introductions," Jack answered.

Chapter Text

51st Century - Late Morning

Nova Port, Dodgy Restaurant

Barely edible food gets served to the table of ten. Mickey,

Tasting his pasta dish, Jack said, "Now I know why my fellow time-agents recommended against coming here. I thought pasta would be a safe dish."

"Quite," Ianto said, eyeing his undercooked fries and soggy wrap, "that's what made it a perfect place to avoid your former co-workers attention, also makes this a not a great place to satisfy one’s appetite."

‘Handsome’ tilted his head to The Doctor, "So, I’ve got the immortals correct, right?"

"Um hmmm," The Doctor affirmed.

The young woman gushed, "I heard Martha’s name, called out. You’ve mentioned her before I think? A medical Doctor. Since Alina introduced herself to me, meeting in the rubble together and all that, and that’s Hally, and that’s Missy - "

Missy looked terribly unimpressed with this game.

" - that must be Martha." The young woman reached her arm across the table to shake hands with Martha. Martha reciprocated.

"Hi."

To Martha, the young woman adds, "And you have a - ?"

"Spoilers!" The Doctor interjected, "I think?"

"I don’t think the Doctor’s ever mentioned an Alina," 'Handsome' posed to The Doctor.

"He hasn’t really darkened my door step. I think he’s afraid to," Alina supplied.

"I wouldn’t say AFRAID Alina," The Doctor insisted.

Alina gave a wry, "I’ll believe it when you darken my doorstep."

"She’s my Therapist," Hally clarified, "At UNIT."

‘Handsome’ teased The Doctor, "I see why you haven’t mentioned her."

"You two are going to have to catch me up on all the lore you know that I don’t, someday," the young woman half-pouted to her friends.

"So, with that’s Ianto," 'handsome' continued around the table, "his husband, and they - "

"Spoilers!" The Doctor exclaimed.

Suggestively, Missy proposed, "Maybe you and Ianto make your thrupple-hood with Hart official?"

Doctor, and all six of Missy’s ‘party’ spat out food or drink.

"So, are you before or after marshmallow head?" Missy inquired.

A confused Doctor asked, "Marshmallow head?

"Before then," Missy smirked, "It’d not be easy to forget."

Hally chided, "Dad, you had the same face you had when you met Martha and Donna! If Lily asks you about it, you better pretend to remember, or she’s going to be crushed!"

"I think our daughter has more resilience than that," Missy countered, completely unbothered.

A light-bulb went off in the Doctor's head, but not of memory, "Ah, yes, I think I remember that now!"

"Do you now?" Missy pressed the point, "What do you remember?"

"We were - we were - "

"You don’t remember!" accused Hally.

Doctor changed the topic, "Speaking of Hart, where is he? And Armitage? They should practically be your shadows! Unless…"

Missy glared, "Unless what?

Jack interjected smoothly, "Doctor, now that we’ve all been introduced - "

"Not quite," Mickey asserted.

"He said what he said," Missy leveled.

"Spouse of Martha, longest friend of Rose Tyler," Mickey supplied, sticking out his hand. The young woman reciprocated, looking a little confused.

Mickey deflated, "He’s never mentioned me has he?"

The young woman grimaced apologetically, "Maybe I forgot?"

" - Why don’t you properly introduce your new friends, Doctor," Jack finished.

Dazzling smile back, The Doctor used both hands to indicate the young woman, "This is Ruby."

"Hi!" Ruby waved a hand.

Doctor used both hands to indicate the handsome stranger on the other side of him, "This is Rogue."

"Hi," Rogue smiled, "And, no relation, to any of you. So far as I know."

"Rogue asked The Doctor to marry him on their first date!" Ruby giggled, happy to finally share some lore.

"Ruby, that wasn’t a real date, or a proposal, that was role playing! To catch murderers!" The Doctor protested.

Ruby smirked, "Your eyes said differently. Both of yours eyes."

Hally groaned.

Rogue sipped his drink demurely, with a trace of a smile. 

"If I weren’t a happily taken man, I’d be asking if you two would like a third," Jack flirted.

Rogue smirked, looking at Jack and Ianto, "Same. The Doctor never mentioned how handsome you are."

"HEY! If you in ANY universe make yourself my step-father, there will be hell to pay!" Hally shot to Jack.

Ianto shook his head, "I can’t fault my husband’s taste."

Missy and Alina both prodded, "Shouldn’t we get on mission?" The two look at each other in surprise and a sliver of appreciation.

"Oh, yes!" The Doctor said excited, "Time paradox! What do we know about it?"

"Twelve prime subjects. We have nine so far," Missy explained.

Doctor tilted his head.

"Mickey's superfluous," Missy shrugged.

"I’m sure your TARDIS was wrong, on account of my interdimensional energy," Mickey suggested.

"I propose young Jack and young Hart are probably two other subjects," Missy continued, "Just don’t know the last."

"Some TARDIS models only count to twelve, even if there are more," The Doctor noted.

"UGH," Hally moaned.

"So, we’re splitting in two," Jack informed the new three, "Missy and I."

"And I!" Hally objected.

"TBD," Jack allowed, "Missy and I are going into the Time Agency and stealing some medical records for Hart."

"Oh OH," The Doctor breathed.

"The rest are medical tourists and those accompanying them," Jack cleared his throat, "Not for role playing, for real."

Chapter Text

51st Century, Morning

Nova Port, Dodgy Restaurant

"Medical tourists? To the 51st century?" Ruby grinned, "What kind of stuff do they have here that you all want? Is it plastic surgery? Body mods? Cybernetic implants?"

"Ah, um," Ianto cleared this throat, "I want to look into male pregnancy.

"Isn’t it a little late for just looking?" Missed asked, eyebrow cocked, "Aren’t we in the touch phase? I figured you didn’t think Martha was good enough, and were here for a prenatal."

Martha scoffed until her brain catches up. She scoffed again and offered, "No proper Doctor is offended by their patient seeking a second opinion, especially in an area of specialization that is not theirs."

"Male pregnancy," Ruby said, bewildered, "Excuse me? Is that possible? Humans can do pregnancy, like - like - sea horses?"

"If they have a uterus," Rogue said, "Congratulations to you two." Rogue tilted his head towards them and smiled.

"Men can have uteruses? Cis men can have uterus?" Ruby emphasized, still catching up.

"Technically," Rogue explained, "it was first described as an intersex condition. But then, to save men from their fragile male egos, they stopped labeling it that, at least where patients could hear, and just started putting “male” in front of the non-male reproductive organs they found in cis men’s bodies."

"Fascinating," Alina said, "May bring into doubt the insecurity of men being based in part on womb-envy, of women’s reproductive role and their near unilateral say over it."

"One development doesn’t overturn centuries of precedent and cultural patterns," Rogue shrugged.

"So we still haven’t gotten rid of the patriarchy and toxic masculinity in the 51st century?" Ruby protested.

Martha contributed, wryly, "It’s one thing to create and bring forth life. It’s another thing to nurture it for 20 years after. Can’t imagine all men were happy with the prospect of the role reversal, when they realized a man could leave them the one left holding a baby for 20 years."

"Four," The Doctor took a brief look at Hally, "or even three, is an awful lot of company, even for a prenatal appointment...."

"It was only supposed to be me and Mickey accompanying Ianto," Martha clarified, "Things went a little sideways just before we left."

Ruby eyes became alight and she shimmied her shoulders a little, "Ooh, we have some experience with plans going sideways, don’t we Doctor?"

"And sharing our knowledge with the Captain and them would be," The Doctor's voice when sing-song-y, "spo–oil-lers."

Ruby looked a little put out, just as android Servers came out with platters with breads, butters, and cream cheeses.

"Ooo," Jack announced, "The one thing the coworkers said was excellent was the complimentary bread."

Most of the group went for some bread, after their unappetizing meals.

"This is good," Ruby shared, letting out a little Mmmmm after. Most of the group nodded, finally happy for something tasty to satisfy their hunger.

"You and your entourage can join the pregnant man over here - " Missy directed The Doctor, leaving her bread for a moment.

"What? Why?" The Doctor protested around a mouthful of bread, "We could help you break into the Time Agency."

Ruby looked conflicted as she chewed, as if an OBGYN clinic for pregnant men might just be as fascinating as any other Doctor’s adventure. Rogue just look self-assured, as if this didn’t disturb his plans at all, whatever they might be.

Jack swallowed his bit of bread and grinned, "Still don’t do domestic, do you, Doctor?"

Looking intrigued and amused, his remaining croissant hanging from his finger tips, Rogue looked from the Doctor to Jack, "Don’t you want to be at the appointment? I feel the Doctor and I could take your place at the Time Agency raid, and you could be a good husband and join your husband at his prenatal appointment."

Hally and Ruby both hotly leveled, "What about me?" Hally grabbed another bun and tore a piece off with her teeth.

"I'm the Captain," Jack countered.

"Oh, really, still using that title? Captain of what? You didn't get us here."

"More importantly, I know what we are looking for," Jack spelled out, "And pretending to have one prisoner is easier to sell than pretending to have two, or more. Remember, I can just walk into the door. I’ll scan as one of their agents." Jack picked up some garlic toast to try.

"You don’t think I know what medical records look like?" The Doctor rebuffed.

"Do you even know what name to look under?" Jack countered.

Rogue smirked, "Not Hart, I gather."

Missy had finished buttering her first bun, and took a bite, and after two chews a irritated glint formed in her eyes.

"Where, O Captain, My Captain, did you get the idea to pick this restaurant again?" Missy said flatly.

Jack waved Missy off, "Usually all trainees come here on graduation day - I was sick, I missed it - they learn their lesson, and never come again. There is no graduation today. We’re fine."

"You idiot," Missy leveled, "And, you, Doctor, did the bread taste that good?"

Around the circular table facial expressions ranged from confused to suspicious, Jack and Rogue spitting their current mouthfuls into a napkin.

The Doctor face froze, before he does another two chews.

Eight heads start falling forward onto the table. Missy checked over her wife outwardly calm, knowing there is no viable running option. The Doctor hasn’t gotten the message, and has leapt up from his chair.

"They’re all fine," Missy said calmly, "It will only knock them out. It’s even pregnancy safe. What took you so long to taste it?"

"Missy, we need to come back for them!" The Doctor panicked.

"While I agree, that usually running for freedom is preferable - track from a distance and swoop in to the rescue later if one desires - but you haven’t turned around Doctor."

The Doctor turned around and found all the android servers pointing weapons at the two of them. A dozen humans started filtering through all the doors, weapons trained on the two full Time Lords. A darked-haired man spoke into an invisible com.

"Maksim here. We got a large group of diners. Two are still awake, so they have got to have exotic biology or something. We’ll need extra hands getting the other eight to HQ."

An android says something inaudible to Maksim.

"And don’t send Thane down here," Maksim continued, "Just let him keep playing hero at the crash."

One of the humans behind others in the back head tilted slightly at the name.

"I’m going to check the video in the monitoring room," Maksim announced, "Pratt, why don’t show us what you can do?"

Maksim left, and the man who tilted his head came forward. Missy and The Doctor could see him clearly now. Blue eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and a cocky vibe Missy was very familiar with after 10 years that even an ugly time agent uniform couldn’t dampen, though he looked naked without his hussar jacket. Pratt circle the table, scrutinizing the passed out time travelers like a hungry lion scrutinizing antelope, no worries about the two awake time travelers who had near a dozen guns aimed at them each.

Pratt tilted his head as he saw Jack’s face, with a note of surprise, speaks, "Javic Piotr Thane. Captain now, eh? What have you been up to to end up here?"

Picking up Jack's - or Javic's - left hand, Pratt brushed Jack’s wedding ring with his thumb, "Tsk tsk. Do five years stuck in a time loop together mean nothing anymore?"

Chapter Text

London UK - Nighttime ~ 8 years before Jack and Ianto’s wedding

John Hart’s apartment

Knock knock

Hart saw it was Grace at the door. Hart opened the door.

"Grace?" Hart greeted, surprised and a little incredulous.

"Can I come in?"

Hart smirked, "Well, I would certainly appreciate the company, even if it’s been a while."

Grace blinked, "I’m not here for sex, John."

"Darling," Hart smouldered, "I thought you knew I gave up way too many vices to give that one up too."

Grace was unresponsive to this quip. Hart reached out to her chin. She recoiled, and Hart snatches back his hand as if scaled, and held his hands palm up.

"I know we weren’t much more than sex addicts filling the void left by our sobriety in other things. But It was always enjoyed by both of us, no? That is the only way I like my sex."

"Yes, um," Grace answered slowly before jutting her chin up, "What you said, they way you said it - " Grace shuddered " - Reminded me of someone else. I don’t really want to talk about that. Like you said, our relationship did not really amount to much before."

"Okay," Hart said evenly.

"You know how I relapsed?" Grace redirected, looking down briefly to straightening out her sweater dress.

"Yes. Three months ago. You just finished rehab, no?"

"I have something to tell you. Can I come in?"

"Of course," Hart answered, getting out of the way of the doorway this time.

Five minutes later they were sitting at opposite ends of Hart’s couch with teas. Grace sets hers down and started twisting her mood-ring band.

"Um, I found out in my last week of rehab that some of my symptoms I had weren’t just from withdrawal. It didn’t show on my intake test, because it was too early. But, um, John, we’re going to be parents.

Hart cocked his head, "Parents?"

"Yeah. Um. I’m pregnant. I know we - we weren’t really serious."

"Grace, it’s not possible," Hart say emphatically.

Grace scoffed, "Of course it’s possible. I’m pregnant. I know we weren't exclusive, but the other dates don't line up."

"And I’m not the father," John stated calmly, "I got a vasectomy ages ago. Shooting blanks."

Grace stared, "But - those can fail, can’t they?

"When I started my new job they did a complete medical, including that," Hart lips tugged to one side, in a kind expression, "But congratulations. I assume you wouldn't be telling prospective fathers if you weren't keeping the pregnancy."

"Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod." Grace started hyperventilating.

Friday - Mid Afternoon ~12 days after Jack & Ianto’s Wedding

UNIT HQ

"Thank you for coming, Ms Hatton," Kate greeted.

"Call me Grace. And I wasn’t given much of a choice," Grace answered, looking around the interview room.

"Sorry about that," Kate apologized, "We’ve had an incident today for which we hoped that you might be able to shed some insight on."

"I haven’t spoken to anyone in this building in almost eight years," Grace disclosed, "I don’t see how I can be of any help."

"The incident today was an altercation between your father, Lawrence Ziglar," Kate explained, watching Grace's face, "and your former sexual partner, John Hart."

Grace did a sharp intake of breath, "Was anyone hurt?

"Your father is fine. No one on UNIT property was hurt."

Grace's eyes pinged back and forth, thinking out loud, "I don’t know why things would escalate, after years of quiet. Is that why there was an area cordoned off downstairs?"

"You were brought up in their conversation," Kate elaborated.

Grace does a face palm, sliding her hands down her face until her hands until her finger tips reached her eyes and she pushed her palms together, her nose between them, her hands as if in prayer.

Kate, in quieter words, detailed further, "Your father seems to consider himself lucky that John Hart was not your child’s father."

Grace's eyes teared up. "I so much wanted it to be John. He was the most likely, based on dates."

Kate's voice softened, "Few would think of John as a preferred candidate for father of their child. You were that close?"

Grace scoffed, rubbing tears out of her right eye with the hem of her shirt sleeve, "No. What does this have to do with today?"

"That’s what we are trying to figure out. While your father is unharmed, someone was harmed off of UNIT property. By Hart. And we just had his victim identified as Brett White."

Grace gasped, covering her mouth with her palm.

"I’ve been made aware by Lawrence that he is a family friend."

Grace whispered, "I told John I didn’t want him hurting him. I told him in confidence."

"Told him what? Why would John want to hurt him?" Kate probed.

"He’s - he’s - ," Grace gulped, "Robin’s father."

Chapter Text

51st Century, Time of Day unknown

Underground cells

Hally, awakening with a deep in-take of breath, found herself in her wife’s seated embrace.

"How are you feeling?" Missy probed.

"Like I have a throbbing headache, and I want to kill the person who gave it to me."

Missy cooed admiringly, "That’s my girl."

"This is not a situation we want to kill our way out of," The Doctor asserts levelly.

Missy gave a non-committal hmmm.

"I mean it. No killing. We are in a time paradox, and, more specifically, in Javic Thane’s past," The Doctor emphasized.

"Who’s?" Hally asked

Jack, his voice a little hoarse from waking up, "Mine."

Hally, thinking they might be being watched, "Oh, right." Hally tried to sit up and slid a bit sideways.

Missy caught her. "Just give the drugs a couple more minutes to pass through. You’ve been out for five hours."

Hally closed her eyes in dizziness, "Where’s everyone else? Do we know?"

"Yes, " Missy rubbed her wife's arm, "They split us up into three cells. The women are in our cell. The men are split up between two cells. We can all see each other between the bars though; it feels like we are in a zoo exhibit. We’d best remember that."

"Ahh, you’re almost all awake now," Pratt greeted, "No cell sex, unless you don’t mind me watching. I will be starting the interrogations. Agent Pratt, for those of you who don’t know."

"Vilyam….," Jack said, half entreaty, half warning.

"What, Javic?" Pratt asked, smiling.

"Vilyam, you need to let us go. There is a time paradox in play - ," Jack argued.

"Former Time Agents are a notorious problem," Pratt explained, as if he didn't just learn this today, "The restaurant is a trap for those who don’t follow the rules. The whole place is bugged. We heard every word. Can yous all remember what all of yous said?"

"This is your plan? Intimidate us?" Martha answered incredulously.

Pratt swerved his body to eyeball Ianto, "Ianto, you’re up first."

"Vilyam….," Jack said, again half entreaty, half warning.

"Javic, concerned for your pregnant husband, are you? Don’t worry. He is in good hands," Pratt smooched an air kiss, "You remember how goood my hands are, don’t you, love?"

Chapter Text

51st Century, Time of Day unknown

Underground interrogation room

"Sit, sit. I insist," Pratt pushed, "My boss wants me to make all of you as comfortable as possible."

A relieved Ianto sat, "Really?"

Pratt burst out laughing. "Anticipation is where all the fun is, dear Ianto," Pratt smirked, "You really thought we were going to treat this as just some simple misunderstanding, where we just have to detain you while we sort out the paperwork?"

Ianto mumbled, "It would have been nice."

Pratt turned his chair around backwards and sat in it backwards, arms laying across the top of the backrest. They sat in silence for a moment.

"Do you want some food, drinks, cigar, sex? Pratt offered and smiled, as if he was a gracious host, "You must be starving after all that sleep."

Ianto asked, suspicious, "Will it be edible drug-free food this time?"

Pratt gave a shrug. "As long as yous all behave, and co-operate. Though, where is the fun in that? Please tell me you are not going to," Pratt grinned, "I’d /love/ an excuse."

Ianto gave a weary look and shrugged, pretending non-nonchalance, "I can’t say that I know everything."

"Yes," Pratt responded, rapping his knuckles on the table, "There does seem to be quite a few secrets yous are keeping, even from each other."

"Isn’t that just standard time travel protocol?" Ianto suggested, "To, you know, protect the time-line?"

"Now, what I want to know is, what missions did you and your husband have?" Pratt asked, a knowing glint in his eye, "It's a very strange ruse to pretend to be going to a prenatal appointment."

"What makes you think - "

"Tell me all about your missions, or I’ll tell the rest of them you were lying about being pregnant," Pratt warned.

Ianto's eyes widened, "You do not want me to do that."

Pratt snorted. "That was a joke, not even meant to be a threat. It was low hanging fruit. Who or what the hell are you trying to protect with continuing that lie?" Pratt's face showed mock shock. "Is your husband at least in on the ruse? Or - ," Pratt gave a mock pout, "- do you plan on breaking his little heart?"

"I’m not joking," Ianto said evenly.

Pratt grinned."I’ll let you keep that secret. For now." Pratt stood up. "I have way too many prisoners to interrogate to spend more time on a lackey," Pratt laughed, "You made just two comments on video. One was a lie, the other was complimenting your husband's idiocy in choosing that restaurant. Hardly a promising start. But we'll get to know each other, over time.

"Oh! This was approved to be returned to you. Found it in your pocket when they were doing the medical exams when you were out."

Pratt extended his hand holding a pink foam ball with back lettering on it spelling the words "I hate people".

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown

Underground interrogation room

Pratt took Ianto the twenty steps from the interrogation room back to the three large cells.

"Where the hell is Javic?" Pratt sneered angrily.

"Your boss took him," Mickey informed him, "I guess he doesn’t entirely trust you, huh?"

Pratt growled, and shoved Ianto back into the cell with The Doctor and Mickey. Rogue gave a small smile, held his hands up in nonchalant appeasement, from where he was sitting in the cell he had been sharing with Jack.

Pratt turned his head to the guard, "Is that correct?"

"Yes," the guard provided.

"Martha," Pratt said warmly, "For your husband’s tongue, you’re up."

"Leave her alone!" Mickey yelled.

"I brought Ianto back in one piece, didn’t I?" Pratt answered.

"Mickey, it’s fine," Martha told her husband.

"Don’t you hurt them, Pratt," The Doctor interceded, "You don't want to do that. If you do, you will come to regret it one day."

Pratt chucked, "Will I? Who will make me? Now, Martha, stand in the middle, and the rest of you ladies, please step back to the edges of your cell. I really don’t want to have to electrify the floor this soon."

Once Pratt was in the cell Ruby launched herself at him, with a whole bunch of her comrades yelling “No” or whose jaws had just dropped open. Missy was rolling her eyes, and when she saw her wife lifting her hand Missy stayed it with her own and shook her head no. Pratt easily turned and lifted the young woman clear onto his shoulder. Each prisoner suddenly had an automated laser pointed at their chest, two on each of the three Time Lords.

"I guess you’re next!" Pratt announced, patting Ruby’s behind.

Ruby beat on Pratt's back, "Let me go!"

"Nope, you’re next," Pratt answered, "And here I was planning on skipping you entirely."

Ruby’s beating got more frantic. Then white flecks started falling.

"What the hell is this?" Pratt said, looking at the flecks.

"You are going to be okay, Ruby!" The Doctor called out to assure her.

Ianto, despite not feeling any reassurance at the sentiment, "The Doctor’s right, Ruby. Agent Pratt is a Time Agent. The Time Agency has to have rules."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?" Ruby complained.

Pratt told a guard, "Figure out what this white shit is, while I’m interrogating her, and stop it," before carrying Ruby off to the interrogation room.

Alina spoke to the detainees that remained, "Why couldn’t one of you have told Ruby about the dozen laser weapons recessed into the ceiling that didn’t make themself apparent until now? I assume someone here noticed them anyways."

An impressed Rogue voice, "She’s good. I can see why you don’t like her. I'm a fan now though."

Missy shrugged, and The Doctor tries to not look rebuked.

Pratt deposited Ruby into a chair.

"Brave little thing. Protective of other people too. Video of the crash shows you saving Alina from being killed. You are liable to get yourself killed, one of these days."

He noticed the white fluff on his shoulders, and brushes it off, just before noticing it falling in this room too. "Is this - snow?"

Ruby smiled smugly, "What? Never seen it before?"

"I’ve seen snow before. What the fuck is it doing falling in a bunker under ground?"

"We’re going to beat you," Ruby said confidently, "You know what? We don’t even need to beat you." She crossed her arms. "You aren’t getting a thing out of me.

Pratt snorted. "Thanks to you, we have half the first names in the group, we know that Rogue and The Doctor are at least role playing at moving fast, that you are from a time before male uteruses and hadn’t been traveling enough to know it, you don’t like being left out, and while you may travel with The Doctor, you are definitely just a ride-along."

Pratt looked around. "It’s stopped snowing, thank fuck."

"You don’t even know who The Doctor is," Ruby said defiantly.

"Do you mind telling me?" Pratt said politely.

Ruby opened her mouth, and then stopped as she thinks.

"You can occasionally think one step ahead," Pratt assessed, "Are you ready to go back to your cell now? Or do I get to throw you over my shoulder again, and cop another feel of that fine ass?"

Chapter Text

51st Century, Time of Day unknown

Underground employee break room

Pratt hadn’t even planned to interrogate Ruby, who somehow reminded him of his sister, who was full of piss and vinegar already, at the tender age of twelve. This Ruby should have been too bubbly to remind him of his sister, he didn’t understand where the comparison was coming from. In any case, this Ruby clearly wasn’t any ring leader. The girl just had to put him behind schedule though.

The machine he was trying to get a smoothie out of gave a disgruntled set of beeps.

"Yeah, yeah, take it out of my pay," Pratt spoke to the machine, "I don’t have the luxury of time at the moment. I know I work at a Time Agency, and yet, they haven’t yet figured out how to put more hours in my day. I am very put out. That should have been disclosed in the adverts, I'm telling you."

The machine provided the smoothie and he wasted no time getting back to the detainee he had left briefly to allow her to think about her current predicament. He had hoped it would change her damn eyes, but he had no such luck.

Martha’s eyes fixed on him so soft and unafraid, yet steeled, so unnerving. Like she had seen him hurting, and yet was prepared for him to do his worst.

"Drink this," he pushed a smoothie across the table at her.

"Haha. Please don’t be offended if I’m not trusting of the food and drink the Time Agency is providing."

"What, do you need a nutrition label?" Pratt accused. He muttered "Doctors" under his breath, before pressing, "Drink it."

"What’s it to you, Pratt?" Martha gave him a pondering look.

Pratt took a sip of it. "It’s safe. You’re going to be here for a while, so I expect you to get by without me taste testing all of your food."

Martha started drinking the smoothie.

"You know, I don’t think I’ve ever slept with a Doctor before."

"Ha! Not happening Pratt."

"You seemed to be entirely too comfortable saying that, considering your predicament," Pratt insinuated.

"I would think that you’d have a conflict of interest, having sex with one of the people you are ostensibly safeguarding," Martha proposed.

Pratt smirked and draped an elbow across the back rest of the chair he is leaning on. "You think that’d stop me? All my bosses care about is results."

Martha held up the back of her left hand and wiggles her fingers, "Happily married."

Pratt grinned, "Now happily married women - I’ve had sex with plenty of those."

"Not this one. And that is not about to change," Martha said confidently.

"Why would a brilliant capable woman like you, be following Ianto on a mission, or marrying Rickey, anyways?"

Martha snorted. "You don’t know any of us yet, Pratt. They are both very capable men."

"And you expect me to believe that Ianto is pregnant, and instead of his Captain husband going with him to a prenatal appointment, his two married friends are?"

Martha shrugged, "I’m a Doctor. Ianto wanted me to be there."

Pratt was the one to snort this time. "And you time-travelled to do this?"

Martha shrugged again, "Nova Port came highly recommended."

"And the plan to break into the time agency? For some records for a “Hart”?" Pratt probed.

A nonchalant Martha said, "That was the Captain's baby, you’d have to ask him."

"I thought the Captain's baby was in Ianto," smirk Pratt.

Martha laughed, and it even reach her eyes, despite being a detainee. Smiling, she conceded, "That too."

Damn, thinks Pratt, I might like her. Martha’s eyes gave a small indication that she suspected that Pratt was holding back. Pratt decided to try to use her weird sense of familiarity with him to his advantage, and intertwined his hands with hers across the desk.

"Give me one useful thing that I didn’t already know," he asked with intimacy he actually already nearly felt with her.

Martha tightened her fingers around his, with those large soft yet steely eyes looking straight into his own, "I want you to know that you can trust me."

Uncomfortable, Pratt let go and snorted, "Yet you’ve said nothing I didn’t already hear on the vid."

In a knowing voice, Martha shared, "The things you can trust me with are far more important than you knowing the truth right now."

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown

Underground interrogation room

Pratt saw Alina’s eyes as as knowing, but more steely than Martha’s, and more evaluative, scrutinizing, clinical, detached.

"A shrink. I bet you’ve been evaluating my every move," Pratt assessed.

"Therapist."

"You know, I don’t think I’ve ever slept with - "

"That line was old centuries before you were born."

"Do you do sex therapy?" Pratt said, hoping to manage to jostle her out of her clinical manner at some point.

"Do you have challenges in your sex life to address through talk therapy?" Alina pivoted smoothly.

"Fuck no!" Pratt rebuffed.

"Everything’s perfect on that front then?"

"The sex with me is always good," Pratt asserted, before trying to needle her, "Being a therapist must be hard. Listening to everyone's problems all day. Are you like, talkative during sex, or you all talked out at the end of the day? Me, myself, I tend to be talkative, but I am very flexible."

"You want to know what I know," Alina stated plainly.

"I’d much rather have sex, but I am on the clock. Being paid for my time, so to speak. I don’t care to be paid for sex, tried that once. I was as surprised as anyone. It paid my rent for a few months though."

A look crossed Alina’s eye that Pratt didn’t much like.

"How old were you?" she questioned him.

"Can we go back to you saying You want to know what I know," Pratt requested. He thought to himself, Maybe clinical and detached is better.

Alina shrugged, "No one intended for me to be here, unless you want to ascribe some kind of agency to the universe or time-paradoxes. The rest of them were about to use their time-travel device, and it was saying I was a subject to the time-paradox, and it wouldn’t leave without me."

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown

Underground interrogation room

Pratt was growing frustrated. The Time Agency had multiple missions on the go, and so they had only given him a short amount of time to do initial interrogations of ten prisoners. Or, nine, he irritatingly supposed, with his supervisor taking Javic. He wanted something to show for it before he was done. Pratt’s plan was to talk briefly to the lackeys first, and when he got to the leaders, to intimate that he knew more than he did. It wasn't not going swimmingly so far.

"Sex, drugs, or music? What’s your vice, Rickey?"

Mickey returned a what-the-fuck look in response to this greeting.

"Maybe next time then," Pratt insinuated, then probed, "Do you know anything about the Captain's mission?"

"Not really."

"Tell me, what was your wife and you doing, escorting Ianto?"

"What we said in the restaurant."

Pratt slammed Mickey’s face into the table.

"What the fuck!" Mickey gingerly touched his left cheek.

"We also heard that you are surplus. Superfluous to whatever time paradox yous all are concerned about. Why don’t you go back, with your bruised face, and let them think about what it means, if they do not co-operate. Oh, and thanks for mentioning the inter-dimensional signature on camera, make it much easier to clear up your confusing time signature."

Pratt thought that maybe it’d also stop Mickey's wife from looking at Pratt like he was both a skittish, delicate, and dangerous animal.

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown

Underground interrogation room

"I know you only met The Doctor and Ruby before, so" Pratt wondered aloud, "Why were you so willing to help these complete strangers?"

"Friends of The Doctor are not quite strangers, even if they have never met," an assured Rogue answered.

"So you knew nothing more than what was said in the restaurant?"

"Correct."

"I don’t suppose you and The Doctor would be open to a third?" Pratt inquired.

Rogue smiled, "Sorry to disappoint. Like the Captain and Ianto, I’m a happily taken man."

"You don't think I've been a third to happily committed men?" offered Pratt.

"The Doctor is a bit of a prude - ," a smiling Rogue tipped is head, "Not judgmental mind you, just, not for him. He has trouble enough sharing himself with one person."

"So, you'd need someone with a delicate touch, and I'm not that?" Pratt evaluated.

Rogue smirked, "You said it, not I."

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown

Underground interrogation room

"Sit. Get comfortable, Hally," Pratt offered.

Hally looked annoyed, but sat down. Pratt proceeded to push a button on a remote under the table. She didn’t see this, and doesn't feel anything. Then suddenly she can’t move, and objects around the room - water bottle, box of tissues, an old business card, the table - float into the air. A guard came up behind her and puts a collar on her neck just as the unseen device turns off, and the objects fell to the ground. Before Hally can even catch her breath;

"Let’s try that again," Pratt mentioned, then proceeded to push the button again. Hally became locked in her body again, as things lift off the ground.

"Tell the boss we’ll need the stronger device, out of the specialty collection," Pratt order the guard.

As soon as Hally became unlocked again she grabbed the table tele-kinetically, and threw it across the room, pinning Pratt into the crevices of a now broken wall. She was about to do more, when she felt the prick of a dart on her neck, and her world went dark.

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown

Underground interrogation room

"Where the hell is my wife, Pratt," Missy demanded.

"I think you might have some clue, seeing the state of the wall behind me, and the visible bruises I have," Pratt noted..

Missy responded with a very chilly, "Enlighten me."

Pratt gestured to the wall opposite the interrogation room door. The wall faded from opaque to transparent. It shows Hally laid out on a narrow exam bed in some sort of medical or lab room, equipment all around the walls, monitoring. Pratt watched Missy’s face as her jaw twitched once in an otherwise smooth face.

"What’s with the bite mark on her neck? I would think a telekinetic wouldn’t let someone get that close. Unless it’s a kink thing? I think it’s a kink thing, considering the tattoo. We can’t translate it, but it looks to me like a love note, with a possessive like flourish in the second line. I like a lot of things in bed but permanent bite marks? Is that a thing among your kind?"

Missy’s jaw twitched again, "Same drug as before?"

"She has less in her system than last time, so she should be up sooner. We just are - ahhh, here it is."

The door to the lab room opened, and an agent joined the lab technician already there, holding something that made Missy’s eyes open a fraction.

"Ah, recognize it do you?" Pratt observed. 

Missy glared a raging inferno at Pratt.

"Part of the medical exam suggested a potential for telekinesis. But you can’t confirm potential is actual on unconscious subjects. Your Hally here, I’m sure you know, she’s special. The normal telekinesis suppressor didn’t work on her. This thing has been in storage for a while."

Missy looked at her wife, eyes sharply taking in the details of the room she is in.

"Now, you got top billing, with a certain Captain co-conspirator, on this mission. What do you know?"

"Frankly, not much more than you," Missy said with disdain, "He asked me to return a favour, and kept the details scant. He wanted to help someone, and for some reason, he wanted to steal from the time agency to do so."

"Finally, someone cooperating, and telling me something that sounds like it could be true. You seem someone I can work with. You are transactional, whip-smart, have a daughter - Lily? - to get back to, and really love your wife. I bet you’d like your wife back before she wakes up. Now that she has that lovely device on her, I’m sure I could arrange it."

Missy crossed her arms. "And just what would you want for that?"

"I think you know a bit more than you are letting on. In the vid you claim that there is a time-paradox with twelve subjects. How do I know that time-paradox wasn’t a code word for something?"

"That wasn’t a claim," Missy held.

Pratt snorted, "There isn’t a way to know if you are in a paradox, until you’ve traveled to a part of the paradox or time loop that makes it obvious."

"And yous call yourself a Time Agency?" Missy derided

"The Doctor called Hart your shadow. Someone you delightfully suggest that Ianto and the Captain should make their thrupplehood official with. That got some reactions from your mates, didn’t it?"

"They are not my mates," Missy scorned.

"You proposed that a young Jack and a young Hart were two other subjects of your Time Paradox," Pratt elaborated, "Lovely concern you had for Ianto, there, identifying the drug as pregnancy safe. I didn’t even know that, but I asked medical, and they confirmed."

Pratt watched Missy looking at her wife, and a brief note of pain and longing make itself know before the placid pool springs back over it. A love like that was as stupid as it was useful. Pratt told himself that he better not ever end up like that, ignoring the tiny little whisper of jealousy.

"This mission was to steal some medical records from the Time Agency for Hart," Pratt fleshed out, "It would seem odd that you don’t know more about what is going on with someone another described as your shadow."

"You’d think," Missy replied.

"And you don’t because…."

"Hart’s a bodyguard," Missy nearly snapped, "It’s a professional arrangement, not personal."

Pratt snickered, "I bet you are missing him right about now."

Missy gave an irritated, "Not really."

"Well," Pratt pondered aloud, "The Doctor may not have been planned to be on this mission, but I think he might know more anyways. From what I gathered, he is from your group’s personal future."

"Are you disappointed that your boss didn’t trust you to interrogate my 'co-conspirator'?" Missy jabbed, seeing Pratt's expression telling her that she had hit her mark, "Surely all the confessions you want you want from him."

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown

Underground interrogation room

The Doctor stared.

"Oooo, is that supposed to be scary?" Pratt taunted.

"You don’t have to do this. You can let us go, Vilyam."

"Oh, right! Hally is your daughter. Didn’t you hear Missy? Hally’s fine," Pratt tilted his head a bit mockingly, "Missy did sound a bit terse though, didn’t she?"

The Doctor glowered.

"I did worse to Mickey, but no one is complaining about that. No harm has been done to Hally. I simply made sure she can’t access her telekinesis. Now, tell me Doctor - did your parents give you that name? - tell me where she got that trick? We didn’t do a full medical exam on you and Missy yet, being on account of yous being awake, and having eight other people to examine, but I imagine if you or Missy had telekinesis, yous would have deployed it in the restaurant. Incapacitated or killed all our agents, and moved all eight of your friends unconscious bodies back to whatever transport you had."

"Vilyam, you are messing with things you don’t understand."

"Is that a logistical concern, with regards to protecting time lines, or a moral one?" Pratt smirked.

"Both."

"I can see why Missy doesn’t like her father-in-law. A pious sanctimonious type, are you?" Pratt observed.

Doctor spoke wearily,"Maybe I’m just tired of seeing people get hurt, or die. I hope that you’ll get there one day."

Pratt laughed raucously. "Look, you didn’t want to kill anyone, I just put a muzzle on your most dangerous weapon. Win/win."

"Do not act like you were doing me a favour," The Doctor said evenly.

"I've got to ask, Doctor. Does your daughter just object to Rogue and the Captain being her step-parents, or is that a general rule? Because the things I went to do with them, and you, hm hm hmm," Pratt pestered.

"Vilyam - "

A now angry Pratt jeered, "Tell me your real name, before you use mine like we are familiar with one another."

The Doctor stayed silent.

Pratt slammed his hand on table, "You think you know them all well enough that you know exactly what they said, don’t you?"

The Doctor tilted his head, "Well…."

Pratt stood up.

"Things I knew even before talking to you: One, that your daughter has a therapist. Is that your fault? That she’s a stroppy overpowered teenager? Two, that you and Missy are some sort of shape-shifters, but your daughter has got some human in her too. Three, that members of Missy’s group are keeping secrets even from one another. Four, that Mickey is superfluous to your plans. Kind of makes him disposable, doesn’t it?"

"No" The Doctor asserted, with an emphatic shake his head.

"Five, Hart is a bodyguard that Missy hired, who is close to Ianto and the Captain. So they decides to steal a thing from the Time Agency that will be able to help Hart, and pulls in an old favour from Missy to bring her along. Six, and then there's you, the bridge between the two groups, from their futures."

Pratt put a foot on his chair and leaned into his knee, getting his face close to The Doctor.

"That does not mean I have, much less can give you, the information you are seeking," The Doctor elucidated.

"I know you were just being read into the mission in that restaurant, I’m not convinced that you don’t know. You know a lot more than what you let on. You were afraid of future details being divulged in that restaurant twice."

"Being from the future doesn’t mean I know everything," The Doctor said flatly.

"I really thought you’d be a talkative one. Or are you afraid of giving away spoilers?" Javic speculated.

"All we want to do is help," The Doctor vowed.

"Tell me what you know about the Mission then," Pratt countered.

"Without risking the timeline," The Doctor spelled out.

"What's a TARDIS? Is this something that scans the time vortex?" Pratt probed.

"Yes."

After a pair of knocks at the door, a guard entered a step in, and announce, "Maksim wants to see you in five, Pratt."

Pratt snarled, "I was supposed to have another twenty!"

"Maksim said five."

The guard left, and Pratt quickly remastered himself.

"Some parting words, Doctor," a controlled Pratt offered.

The Doctor face had a hint of concerned for what Pratt might ask or impart.

"Did you know about your daughter’s love tattoo, scrawled under her breasts?"

The Doctor’s face looked a little puzzled, as if he doesn't understand the words spoken. There is no obvious menace or threat in the words them. Then a dawning of understanding, and a cauldron of pain, relief, concern, and lost hope, blossoms over his face. He hardly noticed Pratt leaving.

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown

Underground interrogation room

Maksim re-entered the interrogation room.

"I am not going to tell you anything. You should understand Maksim, I’m protecting the timeline."

Maksim tilted his head, "Some of our work has to do with other things."

Jack looked back confused.

Maksim gave a sinister-sounding chuckle, "Thane, your face has just made it clear that you never learned that, before leaving the agency. I guess our use for you comes to an end prematurely."

"I left," Jack asserted.

A bored Maksim asked, "And why was that?"

"I can’t tell you that," Jack emphasized.

"Look, Thane, I got all the intel I need at this point," said Maksim, entirely unbothered.

"Not a chance."

"I have the vid from the restaurant, I have seen Pratt’s interrogation of your friends," Maksim gave a serpentine smile, "I have everything I need to know."

"If you know, why don’t you give me what I need and let me and my friends go, then?" Jack pushed, insisting, "We need to make sure the time paradox stays intact."

Maksim smirked and shook his head, "It was something Missy said that gave me the hint I needed, Thane."

"If you know, just give us what we need, and we’ll be on our way," Jack suggested.

Maksim gave a couple hearty laughs. "I can’t give you what we don’t have yet, Thane," Maksim smirked, "You are all about protecting your time paradox, right?"

Huffing, Jack countered, "You don’t actually know. You are bluffing and aren’t going to give us anything."

"Missy was talking about the time paradox, and how two of the three unknown subjects were probably a young Jack and a young Hart," Maksim began, "The only time the name Jack was mentioned. Jack is a lot like Javic. I assume that is an alias of yours. So, someone else who would be suspected of being in this time and place, that you care about enough in the future, to come back and steal records from us for. Hart is Pratt, or rather future Pratt, isn’t he?"

Chapter Text

51st Century, Time of Day unknown

Snippets of conversations around Nova Port

Underground Cells

Maksim shoves Jack back into his cell with Rogue.

"Don’t you two be getting any ideas," Maskim intones, "Children in cages is bad for morale, I keep learning."

"Are there children down here? In other cells?" Ianto asked later.

"What are we doing?" Ruby asked, an edge of both desperation and resilience in her tone, "Someone has a plan. Or is making one. Right?"

Jack sighed, "We are constantly being monitored, Ruby, with high-end 51st century tech."

The lighting in the cell had turn red. "These beds are bloody narrow," Mickey complained, "I’ll stay awake the first two hours, while the rest of you get some sleep.

"Doctor, how does Mickey look?" Martha asked, holding onto through the bars between her and Jack's cell, "Any sign of concussion?"

Giving an annoyed Mickey an exam, The Doctor answered, "No, no sign of concussion. Bruises look superficial. He should be fine to sleep, or stay up."

"The mattresses are removable," Alina commented, "Missy, do you want me to drag down two of these mattresses to the floor, for you and Hally?

Missy, holding still-unconscious Hally on the floor, nodded.

Rogue whispered, "They had you the longest, Javic, are you alright?"

Jack gave a gruff, "I'm fine," before turning onto his back and looking at the ceiling, "I’m fine. I think I at fault for this time paradox mess."

Rogue chuckled, "No one is at fault for a time paradox. Are you thinking there is more to the time paradox than retrieving the records, at this point?"

Jack nodded.

Hally woke up in sleeping Missy’s arms.

"Why the fuck is it snowing?" Hally swore. Missy stirred awake beside her.

"Something to do with Ruby," Martha answered, "I'll wake her up."

"Isn't she human?" Hally's face scrunched up in confusion.

Martha gave a shrug, then offered, "Then, Hally, I'll give you a look over, okay?"

Maksim’s Office

"Pratt, it’s been a really long day, for everyone on the team. Why don’t you clock out, go let off some steam, and come back fresh tomorrow?"

Pratt turned to go.

"Tomorrow you and Thane have your first yearly physical, since yous’ve started. Yous’ve been here a year now. See if you can find Thane, maybe he is done searching the wreckage for today. He might be able to use a friend too, right about now. Of course, everything about the group we caught today, is a need-to-know basis, and Thane does not need to know.

Dive Bar

"Thanks for suggesting we go out, Vilyam," Javic said gratefully, "That wreck - ," Javic shakes his head, "It was horrible. There were kids on board."

Vilyam smiled, "If you need more than beer to get your mind off things, I’m game."

Javic laughed and smiled, "Maybe, maybe. Let's see how I feel after a couple beers. No bar fights tonight, though, alright?"

Javic’s bedroom

Javic and Vilyam were laying in bed.

"Javic, do - do you think you’ll ever decide to get a new uterus?" Vilyam knew from the medical exams of the detainees that Javic had a uterus again, something he swore he'd never do.

Javic snorted, "I am not against the idea of having kids, but I think I’d like to not be the one to carry, if there is a next time. Why are you asking, Mr hysterectomy-vasectomy-combo?

"Nothing," Vilyam murmured, "A small number of men get them reversed, you know?"

"Well, it ain’t going to be me," Javic proclaimed, "After going through that once I have complete and utter respect for anyone who chooses to do that." Javic took a deep breath. "It's something you can't understand until you've been through it, experience it yourself. It's like experiencing a flavour you've never had before, or falling in love for the first time. All descriptions fall so very short of preparing you for it."

Chapter Text

21st Century, Friday afternoon

Phone call

On Armitage’s third call to Kate this afternoon, she finally picks up.

"Sitrep, now,"

"And I would have liked you to be a bit more forthcoming a couple days ago when I was asking about Hart," Kate answered, "What did you know?"

"Kate, I don’t have time for this. Other than a relapse, I don’t know anything. Lily’s school gets out in twenty minutes," Armitage leveled before growling, "I’ll be needing to talk to her about this.

"Isn’t that Missy’s responsibility?" Kate pointed out, "Also, do you know where Hally is hiding? She’s not in her office."

"You don’t know," Armitage replied.

"Know what?"

"Neither of Lily’s parents can be located. So, I won’t be available to talk this evening. I’ll be babysitting. Solo."

"Oh, for fucks sake," Kate exclaimed, then called out in her office, "Rebecca, we are going to have to delay that next meeting at least 15 minutes." Kate returned the phone to her mouth again, "Okay, Armitage, what do you know. Please, for bloody sake, just tell me."

"I learned from Boston Harbour that Hally, Hart, and Ziglar had a confrontation in HR that led to Hally blowing up HR, and Hart going on the run. Hart’s phone is just outside of HR’s wall, Hart likely tossed it, and both Hally and Missy’s cell phones are out of service. Also, the TARDIS has been off Earth - "

"Fuck."

" - for two hours. Your turn."

"Ziglar used the absence of a few key employees as a pretense to be the one to handle the Boston Harbour complaints about how Hart treated Osgood yesterday. Hart pulled a weapon on Ziglar. Hally barely managed to talk him down, then blew up HR, to cover Hart’s escape. Do you have any idea where he’d be going?"

"No."

"Hally asked where he’d be going, didn’t want him to be alone. He said a cat, Abyss, would be there."

Armitage growled.

"You know where that cat would be? Assuming it wasn't a diverting lie."

"He wouldn’t go there. It’s his apartment," Armitage exhaled forcefully, "I guess I’m cat-sitting too."

Kate used a hesitant softer voice, "Armitage."

Armitage has never heard Kate say his name that way, or even use that tone with him.

"Out with it Kate," Armitage said gruffly

"As soon as Hart left here, he went and killed a man, on camera. There is no doubt that it was him. And it appears that was just the first. Two more murder victims have been found that we think Hart is linked to. I don’t know how stable he is. If you see or hear from him, keep that in mind. He might not be the man you’ve known the last decade."

Armitage's mind whirled. Murder? Serial Murder? Had Armitage missed signs of this potential? Had Hart always been so unstable that being fired could do this to him? What this fueled by drugs? Armitage squeezed his eyes shut and refocused on what he could control, going forward.

"I’ve also tried calling Jack to no avail. If you can find him, maybe Ianto and him could take Lily for the evening, and I could help track down Hart."

Kate sighed, "I thought perhaps Hally might have gone to talk to Jack, but the Torchwood offices were found empty. I am trying to pull up video building-wide right now, to track the movements of Hally since the lock down. I’ll request they track Jack and Ianto too."

51st Century, Morning

Medical Bay, Time Agency

Javic sighed.

Smirking, Vilyam ask, "Do you need me to hold your hand?"

"No," Javic insisted, "Why’d you have to be such an asshole? You managed to barely be one last night."

"Consistency’s overrated," Vilyam advised, "Then people might start to rely on me."

"Fates forbid!"

"Yeah, that five years in a one week time-loop was torture."

Javic smirked, "For a Mr anti-consistency, didn’t you kill the same Time Agent for 9 weeks in a row?"

"And you gave me such bloody hell for it," Vilyam started a mock whiny voice, "What if the week doesn’t loop again? What if they are dead for good this time?

"What assignments did you have yesterday?" Javic asked, switching topics.

"I, um, was underground," Vilyam shared.

Javic's face turned intrigued, "Really? What can you tell me."

"Nothing," Vilyam said snappishly.

"Okay, okay," Javic assuaged.

Door opened, and two medical techs enter.

"Is this yearly physical like our entry one?" Javic asked.

"Mostly," a female tech divulged.

Javic gave a relieved sigh

"Yep," male tech confirmed, "Vitals exam, scans, blood work, questionnaire. We do have the consent forms, right here."

"The consent forms that if we don't sign, we're out of a job," Javic said wryly, picking up the tablet with the consent forms.

Chapter Text

21st Century - Late afternoon
In Saxon vehicle, outside Lily’s school

The speaker lights up as Armitage turned it on.

"Lily, we are going to have to make a stop on the way home," Armitage share.

"Where?" Lily prompted.

"Uncle John left something at the apartment we need to pick up."

"Are we going to see John later tonight?" Lily asked.

"We shouldn’t be.

Armitage turned off the speaker.

Armitage had considered having her sit up front, and tell her what felt appropriate, but he couldn’t manage to do that yet. He had told his lover / work partner that he was fired this morning, who had a confrontation at HR, and now appeared to be on a murderous rampage. Would that have happened that way if he hadn't fired him? Though, if anything, it seemed to confirm his judgment. Something seemed to have snapped in Hart, and he was no longer bodyguard material. These thoughts rolled around in Armitage’s head, as he pulled up to Hart’s apartment building. He gave a good look around, to make sure the area was clear. Check on the cameras in Hart’s apartment to make sure it was clear. It wasn’t clear. Because, of course, the universe was conspiring against him at the moment.

Lily got out of the vehicle door that Armitage opened.

"What are we here to get?"

Armitage gave no answer, remaining silent while escorting Lily into and through the building.

When he opened the door a voice called out, “John?”

Then the kid, Ayan Armitage reminded himself, popped his head around the corner.

"Oh, John’s boss again."

"Who are you?" Lily asked presumptuously.

Ayan grinned, "I could ask you the same thing, squirt. Why don’t you go see my sister on the couch? She’s got a kitten."

Lily didn’t have to be asked twice, she zoomed around Ayan, and excited noises could be heard from the living room.

Ayan rolled his eyes, "My sister insisted on seeing that Abyss had a good home, on account of what happened to the runt of the last litter, so I brought her over."

Armitage stared, and kept his voice low, "I’m taking Abyss. You and your sister need to leave, and not come back here."

"Why?" Asked a startled Ayan, before lowering his voice too, "Is John okay?"

Armitage stared, "Not your concern."

"Look - "

Armitage stared, "If you care about your sister, you’ll stay away."

"John helped me out. If I can hel - "

Armitage stared, "You can’t."

"And what are you doing for John?" Ayan accused.

Armitage stared, "I want your key."

"What? No!" Ayan protested.

Armitage stared, "Keep your voice down."

"If John is in big trouble, he won't come back here."

Armitage stared, and stuck his hand out.

Ayan sighed, muttering as he pulled the key out, "Where are me and my sister supposed to go if we need somewhere to crash for a night?"

Armitage placed the key in his pocket and pulled out a large wad of bank notes, "Here. Should cover a few hotel nights, if you need them. I better not find out you spent this on drugs."

Ayan took the notes, counting them, his eyes growing wide.

Armitage stared, and took out his phone, "What’s your number?"

Ayan recited a number. Armitage sent a text with just the words John's boss in it.

Armitage started, "If you hear from Hart, text me."

"What about the fish?" Ayan wondered aloud.

Armitage stared, "You mean the ones you let die?"

"Oh," Ayan tilted his head, "Those are new ones?"

Armitage stared, "I got an automated feeder for them. They'll be good for two weeks."

Chapter Text

51st Century - Morning

Time Agency, Maksim’s Office

Maksim gave the pretense of a put-upon sigh. "The Time Agency is very busy, Pratt, so we’ll have to keep this brief. You interrogated the time travelers yesterday. What is your evaluation of our current detainees, and what they know?"

Pratt rubbed his hand over his jaw. "Ruby is overly enthusiastic but knows nothing. Rogue might know more than he’s said so far, The Doctor having confided more in him than he has in Ruby."

Maksim rubbed his chin, " Yes, this Doctor figure seems to be the lynch pin between the groups." Maksim tilted his hand forward, as if to say go on.

"Alina, either she knows nothing, or she knows everything."

Maksim raised an eyebrow.

"She wasn’t supposed to be here, but being a damn therapist, she’s probably got her radiation in everyone’s business," Pratt explained.

"The other Doctor?"

"Martha?"

Maksim nodded

"If we want her to break, we target her friends," Pratt offered.

Maksim raised an eyebrow, "But not her? Are you going soft Pratt?"

Pratt snorted, "No. That woman has a spine of steel. And a wicked nimble mind."

"And you think she has information we can use?" Maksim pretended to press.

"We know that the prenatal appointment for Ianto was a cover story," Pratt reminded, "There is more there."

"But you let Ianto keep his secret?" Maksim asked, curious.

Pratt shrugged, "Him feeling he owes me a favour could be useful later."

"And her husband?" Maksim absentmindedly shuffled some holographic papers on his desk.

"He married up. Missy and Jack were here to get medical records? For a Hart, right? I think Mickey was just muscle. Dumb. Forgettable. Muscle. Martha, with her medical training, was the brains of whatever side operation she, Ianto, and Mickey were on."

"And the two Misseses?" Maksim raised an eyebrow.

"Hally doesn’t know much either," Pratt shrugged, "Which is why I wielded the need to suppress her telekinesis to such effect against her wife. She said Javic was holding back on her. Just not sure I believe it. If she can be believed, this Hart is a bodyguard that works for her and ostensibly a subject of their Time Paradox."

"Hmmm."

"It seems that Hart and this Javic were close. To get to the bottom of this, I’ll need access to detainee Javic."

Maksim pursed his lips, "You won’t be interrogating Javic. Orders from above." Maksim turned to look out his window.

"Maksim - " Hart wheedled.

" - We can’t have him messing with your head. Besides, we already have all the information we need from him."

 A confused Pratt groped for information, "So are we sending them back? To whenever they came? That’s it?"

A deep chuckle came from Maksim. "No, no, not at all. There is still more to gain from them. The Time Agency is very busy though. That will have to wait. Maybe they’ll be more pliant after some boredom sets in."

21st Century - Friday - Dusk

Epping Forest

Hart pulled the body of the fifth person he killed today from the vehicle he had hot-wired, and slung it over the shoulders of his lightly blood splattered sweats. His body had aches all over, which he had hardly noticed in his daze. It took him five minutes to reach the edge of the clearing which he had identified a decade ago. Only to find a grave-size hole already excavated in the field there. He dropped the body, ready to flee if needed, his eyes flitting upwards to a woman relaxed into a portable chair next to the hole, eyes on him.

“Hello, sweetie. I think you may just have exerted yourself enough for one day, don’t you think?”

Chapter Text

21st Century, Dusk

Residence of Lily Oakdown

Lily's large tender eyes looked up at Armitage with all the hope in the world.

"Hades and Abyss don’t understand why can’t Hades be let out of his bunny hutch," Lily said.

Armitage stared.

Lily pouted, "I’ve seen The Fox and the Hound. I know that they are too little to understand that they are supposed to be mortal enemies yet."

Armitage stared.

"I’ll clean up after Hades!" Lily proposed.

Armitage stared.

She pouted again, "Mamaidh would let me."

Armitage stared.

Grumbling, Lily said, "Mamaidh was right. All cops are bad." She sighed in a temporary tactical retreat. "When is Uncle John bringing Mum and Mamaidh come from their date tonight? Will they be home before bedtime?"

Lily’s large tendered eyes flickered up to Armitage again, and it stole his breath for a moment, knowing he couldn’t put it off any longer. The Time Ladies standing Friday date night gave cover for a couple hours, but it was coming to an end, and still no indication of their whereabouts or ETA.

Armitage stared, "I need to tell you something."

Lily gave a mock scowl, "What are you enforcement of now?"

It felt unnatural, but Armitage tried to drop the scowl. Which apparently was the wrong thing to do.

Eyebrows climbing, Lily worriedly exclaiming, "Is something wrong?" Her eyebrows knitted together in worry and thought.

Armitage put his default scowl and glare back on. "Let's sit on the couch," he suggested.

Lily followed his lead, concern not leaving her eyes. Her expression showed complete trust in him, though. He didn’t want to lie. A lie to cover a situation that was over was one thing, an ongoing one with no known end was another. He took a breath.

“Your mum and your mamaidh left in the TARDIS at lunch. They aren’t back yet, and we don’t know why.”

Lily's face scrunched up, "Could they have gotten caught in a time paradox?"

Armitage stared, "I’ll be here until they get back."

Lily, "But they’ll be home by the morning, right?"

Armitage stared.

Waves of thoughts, realizations, and feelings flickered across Lily’s face, as she realized what Armitage wasn’t saying. Her eyes blinked as realization crashed into her, and tears came unbidden to her face

"But - but a time paradox kept Mamaidh away for five years. That’s not happening again, is it?"

Armitage stare was sad.

Lily wiped tears from her eyes. "The time paradox was supposed to take Mamaidh away again soon, but only Mamaidh." Lily's tone turn pleading, "Not mum, mum will be back soon, right?"

"I don’t have answers, Lily," Armitage said, feeling a bit defeated.

Lily tried to bargain, "Maybe we can ask Jack, and Ianto, maybe they know."

"We think they are with them," Armitage shared.

"You and Hart?" A confused Lily asked.

"No," Armitage said firmly, before giving a gentler, "Hart is sick right now. That’s why we have Abyss. Kate, your mum’s boss, texted me. Video outside Alina’s office shows Jack, Ianto, and your mum, going in there shortly before TARDIS left Earth. We, Kate and I, think they are all together, where the TARDIS took them."

They ended up eating dessert on the couch, with both Abyss and Hades, watching Disney movies until Lily passed out past her bedtime.

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown
Underground Cells

Ianto, looking to the ceiling, "This is a lot more sitting than I expected one of your adventures."

Ruby tried to suppress some giggles.

"Don't suppress giggles on my account," The Doctor shrugged and smile, "We could use some joy in here."

Rogue smirked, "There is usually a lot more running."

Jack, Martha, and Ianto joined in the giggles and snickers.

Missy, wrists hanging on the bars, "Ugh. Anything but this waiting still. No one is going to like me bored."

"Who likes you not bored?" Mickey jabbed

"Me, I like her. Bored. Not bored. I like her. Like all the time," Hally hotly defended her wife.

"We don’t need any fighting," Jack announced. 

Alina dryly asked, "I don’t suppose they’ll give us our cell phones back."

An insisted Hally answered, "We’ll get back to right when we left. Lily won’t even know we were gone."

Both Alina and Missy sent a look towards Hally, thinking I hope so.

"That might be all fine and dandy for some of yous," Mickey countered, "but the rest of us don’t live as long."

"Mickey," Martha tried to sooth Mickey's irritability, "it’s only been about two days I think. We just need to stay grounded."

Mickey responded irritably, "Easy for you to say when you aren't being targeted for violence, because you aren't superflous."

Regret immediately came over his face as he saw his wife's eyes.

"Speaking of - how long do we think they are going to keep us down here?" Ruby contemplated, "I mean, what’s even the point of keeping us down here? I mean, all we’ve seen since Pratt is our guards."

The group ends up in an uneasy routine. In each of the large cells with six beds in the wall, the people inside rotate shifts awake, the full Time Lords taking it on the most. The middle cell is small, has two beds. Rogue and Jack both bring their mattresses to the floor, and sleep next to the bars to one of the adjacent cells. In the event they are both asleep, they want people in the neighbouring cells to be able to shake them awake, if needed.

Most of the group was sleeping. Missy was awake, her asleep wife wrapped in her arms. Missy could feel telepathic probing of her mental barrier. She ignored it. The Doctor couldn’t have found a way out yet if she hadn't. He had to have some other asinine reason to want to communicate this way. Missy may be bored, but she wasn’t bored enough to talk to him. The probing persisted.

"That’s enough, Doctor," an irritated Missy verbalized.

The Doctor's head swiveled to Missy, surprise on his face, "What’s enough, Missy?"

Missy tilted her head from the flat mattress, "That isn’t you?"

"What?" The Doctor repeated.

The probing suddenly seemed to stop. Missy didn’t know what to make of it, and that unnerved her more.

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown
Underground Cells

Alina joins Martha in the corner by a vent Martha is vaguely looking in the direction of.

Alina quietly mentioned conversationally, "So, you have quite the CV."

Martha smiled and answered quietly, "It is a little unusual."

"From my understanding of The Doctor’s human friends, most don’t go on to become alien hunters," Alina questioned, "It doesn’t seem to be the kind of thing a medical Doctor would get into either."

"Alien trackers," Martha emphasized, before explaining, "It was always with the intent of protecting people. Sometimes that meant the humans from aliens, sometimes the alien from humans, or both from each other. We did a lot more relocations than firefights. More like witness protection than incarceration."

"But you did have weapons," Alina pointed out.

"Yeah, well not everything can be solved by spending a year wandering the Earth convincing everything to think of The Doctor at the same moment," Martha responded wryly, "After that, I wanted to do more to protect Earth."

"Is that when you met Mickey?" Alina probed.

"No. It was after Stolen Earth, when he came back to this dimension. He wanted to follow Hally to New York. I convinced him to come out with me for a beer. We compared scars from The Doctor. He told me about his time in Pete’s Universe. I told him what I was up to, and said I could use someone who could be both muscle and IT. It was two years before I realized I cared about him more than as a work partner."

"And you both gave up the alien tracking at some point?"

Martha face twisted with a mix of remorse, guilt, regret. "We were really good. But, one time, one of the dangerous people we can across.... They took him, tortured him for days. When - when I got him back… We had already talked about leaving Alien tracking. We were already thinking of settling down. So, we decided that was it."

Alina face turned knowing and understanding, "How do you think he is taking it down here?"

Martha's eyes moisten, "Hard."

"Are you meditating, Missy?" Ruby asked.

Missy opened her eyes, "It’s either that, or kill you."

Later Hally quietly asked her wife, " What were you actually doing? And don’t say plotting Ruby’s death."

Missy answered softly, "Seeing if I can evade their biometric sensors."

51st Century - Morning

Time Agency - Maksim’s office

"I'm here, sir," Pratt greeted.

"I am wondering whether you would be interested in more work in the subterranean facilities?"

"Will I be handling the group I took in?"

Maksim rubbed his chin, "We still need to identify them, and you have a rapport of sorts with them. We’ll probably have time on Thorday to take you off your other duties for that. Before you can get more involved though, you have to see what we do down there."

"Okay," Pratt, "Yes, sir."

"You aren’t assigned to anything today. Otto will give you a tour and show you the ropes today."

Chapter Text

51st Century, Time of Day unknown

Time Agency - Underground Cells

"How much time has passed?" Ianto asked quietly.

Mickey looked up in interest.

The Doctor feigned ignorance, "With them changing the lighting and food schedule, and even guard schedules, on us at inconsistent intervals, it’d be impossible for anyone to tell."

"Not for you," Ianto quietly asserted.

Pratt cockily made an appearance, entering the open area beyond their bar cells. "How have they’ve been feeding you?

Suddenly everyone is alert and turning her head towards Pratt, except Rogue, being awakened by Martha, and Alina, being awakened by Ruby.

"Vilyam" Jack levelled, threads of steel and yearning lace in the name.

Pratt started at Jack, as if daring him to say more.

"Vilyam, we haven’t seen anyone besides guards, and someone who brings our food, in days," Jack pressed, "How long is the Time agency going to keep us down here?"

"I am going to need The Doctor and Missy to come with me. Yous managed to skip the medical exam last time. Our medical team wants to correct that oversight."

Missy crossed her arms, "No."

"I’d rather not," The Doctor resisted.

All ten of the captives suddenly feel a jolt of electricity speed through them, making them quake, three quarters of them falling to their knees, bum, or side.

Pratt turned and berated the guards, "HEY! That is only used upon my request while I’m here. I'm in charge right now."

Pratt’s jaw tightened as he returns his eyes to the group, pausing a fraction of a second longer on Ruby, Martha, and Jack, before fixing Missy with his gaze.

Missy, wiping drool from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, "You bastards. I will make yous pay."

From the ground Hally’s reached to the nearest part of Missy, touching the outside of her thigh in comfort.

"Is this what the Time Agency gets up to below ground?" Jack retorted angrily, "Torture of lost time travelers?"

Pratt scoffed, "You were hardly lost. You planned to break into the Time Agency."

Fury on his face, Jack expounded, "FOR SOME RECORDS. WE WEREN’T GOING TO HURT ANYONE."

"Really, Javic?" Pratt mused, "If you encountered resistance on the way out, you’d suddenly toss whatever cock-a-mamy mission you had aside, and would have asked nicely? Now. Missy, Doctor, come to the cell doors, everyone else stay back. Or do I have to intentionally ask them to electrify the floor to get compliance this time?"

"No," Hally volleyed, tears and anger mixed on her face, "You aren’t taking her."

Hally stood up next to Missy and threaded their hands together. Before Missy could tell her wife to stand down, Martha pipped up.

"Why don’t you let me come along, to observe? If all you are doing is a health exam, I can watch, make sure everything is kosher."

"Perfect," Pratt answered.

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown

Time - Agency Underground Cells

Snow was lightly falling, as Pratt, The Doctor, Missy, and Martha, went out of sight, Hally collapsed at the bars, slipping down to her knees, wracked with fear and grief. Alina had expected something like this, and was already beside her when it happened.

"Hally, your father is with her," Alina said to calm her, "You know that they’ll both do everything they can to get us all out of this, together.”

Alina really didn’t like invoking The Doctor as something to pin hope on, but she couldn’t argue that those two Time Lords shouldn’t be able to get themselves out of near any corner that they found themselves in. Irritatingly, it was something the only thing that got her through the days down here.

Hally was panicking hard. "I need to bring Missy home to Lily, it can’t end this way. If I didn’t have this damn  - ." Hally yanked at the telekinesis suppressor.

Ruby rushed over, and gave a reassuring tone, "Yeah, your dad’s always getting himself out of tight spots, and saving people."

Rage takes over Hally, as she erupted. "Like Amy and Rory? Their baby Melody? The Doctor-Donna? The Jones family that were tortured on the Valiant for a year! Rose Tyler. And probably a bunch more I don’t know but - ," she pointed a finger at Rogue, "I bet he knows a few of their names. Heck, you two probably know if this is it! But - ," Hally cried, " - god damn spoilers!"

Ruby shook her head, "I don’t. He doesn’t - he hasn’t - "

"I don’t need another one of my father’s friends giving empty platitudes like his!" Hally shoved Ruby with enough force to send her clean into the bars near the adjacent cell.

More snow flakes drift down in the air. Ruby loosened her shoulders in reaction to pain, and made as if to get back up, but Rogue grabs her arm through the bars and shook his head no. Jack crouched down near them.

"Do you know protocol for concussion?" Jack asked.

"Yes," Rogue answered.

Jack stood up, just as Alina’s eyes left Ruby to refocus on Hally. But before either of them can say anything, Mickey interjected. He looked from Ruby to Hally, then leaned forward at waist.

"At least Time Lords have a fail-safe and can’t die easy! If my wife dies, or you in your anger kill one of us, there is no take-backsies!"

Ianto steadied a hand on Mickey's chest, and quietly pushed, "Woah, woah, woah. This isn’t helping anyone Mickey."

Mickey’s hands go up, and he turned around to scrub his face.

Calmly Jack said authoritatively, "We can’t be at each other’s throats like this."

Hally chuckled cynically. "And you. You got us into this, and you don’t, or more likely can’t, even share a god damn floor plan of this floor with us. Not very useful Javic. Apparently the Time Agency got up to a lot of stuff you didn’t know about. Don't think you can reassure me," snorted Hally.

"Let’s sit down," Alina redirected, leading Hally to one of the lower bunks in their cell.

"What if we don’t get back on time? What if Lily just has Armitage for days, weeks, or fuck, longer?" Hally sounded defeated.

"I worry about that too," Alina empathized.

"Armitage will keep her safe, until we get back," Jack said firmly, just a hint of vulnerability in his voice, as he thought of his niece. "Whether it’s an hour, or longer."

"He -," Hally cried, "- can’t keep her safe from feelings of grief, or abandonment."

Snow flakes grew heavy and thick in the air, practically making it feel like they were in a snow storm instead of three underground detention cells. Ianto and Mickey rubbed their arms.

"I don’t suppose you have a way to turn that off, Ruby?" Ianto suggested.

Chapter Text

21st Century - Friday - Dusk
Epping Forest

“You are going to want to lower that gun,” River said sweetly, a smile on her face.

Hart slid the safety off.

“If you want to waste ammo, that’s your business,” River said, using an oblong hand-held device to set a tractor-beam on the body behind Hart’s feet, navigating it to the pit she had cleared, and unceremoniously dumping it in.

She tilted her head examining the body and sighed, “It’s in the wrong position. If you wouldn’t mind, Hart, I’d greatly appreciate a hand when I need to get back out.”

Hart watched her climb into the pit, and approached slowly and cautiously, watching her mutter as she rearranged the dead man’s limbs. Not even looking at him, she shoved her hand behind her with the hand-held device.

“Be a dear, and go get the other body, and bring it back here,” she offered.

Hart put away his gun, took the device, not knowing what to make of River’s now involvement in his situation. He had just started to come down from his heightened state, when River set his cortisol levels sky high again.

“We’re not that far from civilization. I suggest you stop standing there and bring the other body.”

Hart half-dissociated, half-listening to her, told himself that that was his plan anyways, not hers. Backtracking to the car he stole from one of the people he killed, and opening the trunk, he pressed the button River used. Apparently the beam was too wide, as he accidentally lifted the whole car, causing it to slam when he turned off the beam. He fiddled with the device until he got a narrow enough beam to only remove the body, and levitated it through the woods to the clearing.

River guided him to hover it a foot above the other body, as she maneuvered it into the position she wanted, until she told him to lower the body entirely. After making a couple of minor last minute adjustments, she turned, and held out her arm to him. Taking a look at his face, a touch of sympathy appeared.

“Still a little in the shock and numb phase, sweetie? Help me up, and we’ll talk.”

Hart didn’t trust River, despite that she appeared to be helping, and he felt suspicion rose up in him. He much preferred dealing with that feeling, than the others below the surface.

“Maybe I should just bury you with these two,” he said hotly, unthinkingly, “Just move that piles of soil you removed right back over you.”

Disappointment and impatience registered on her face. And she seemed to know just where to shiv him. “Lily thinks of me as her grandmother, you might recall.”

Hart scowled, “You aren’t here on behalf of UNIT? Armitage? Missy? The Doctor?”

Her enigmatic smile remained. “No.”

“Just what is your agenda?”

“Can’t one psychopath help another psychopath?”

Hart scoffed, “Not without garnering suspicion.”

“How about this - with your adrenaline wearing off, you are probably starting to feel all the aches and pains of your sprained knuckles, and your exertions today, and I can show you how to use that device to alleviate some of your symptoms safely.”

Suspicious feelings persisted, yet he helped her up and buried the bodies by tractor-beaming dirt. She sat him down in the chair she brought. As she reached for the device his hand lunged out and caught her wrist.

“How do I know I can trust you?” He probed.

“Just like you wouldn’t hurt Lily’s grandmother, if you could avoid it, I wouldn’t hurt her uncle.”

“Phhht. You hardly see her.”

“She doesn’t usually need me, surrounded by four uncles, as she is. That doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“Three now.” Hart sniffed and wiped a tear from his cheek.

River doesn’t say anything to that. “Here, look at the settings. See that button? Press that one, and you should be able to find in that menu a transdermal setting for your knuckles.”

Hart did as she said, and found the settings. He tried to aim the head of it, from which all the scanning and laser treatment would come out, and found it awkward to aim on his own knuckles.

“Let me,” River asked. He gave her a warning look before passing the device over. As she started to use the device, he felt some relief in his knuckles. “It won’t fix things completely, but it will give you a jump on the healing process.”

“Who sent you?”

“You.”

Hart snorted. “So we’re in a time paradox? And what happened to your anti-spoiler policy?”

“Well, someone’s got to let you know to let me know that I need to be here, don’t they?”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Psychopath’s honour,” she teased. “Now, are there any other injuries we need to take care of.”

Hart blushed and scowled simultaneously. “Um, is there a setting for, ah, balls?”

River raised an eyebrow. “You killed five men while your balls were bruised?”

“Is there a setting or not?” Hart said hotly.

“I’ve never checked, let me look.”

“How about I look,” he snapped, snatching back the device, and proceeding scrolling through the topic treatment options until he found what he was looking for. He selected the relevant option and stuck his hand and the device in his sweat pants without further discussion. River did not interfere.

“Do you want to explain why you went on a killing spree today, Hart? Future you relished telling me spoilers when I asked for details.”

“It was either that or use drugs, and I can’t use drugs right now!” Hart exploded, followed by a groan.

River tilted her head, “Slaking your compulsions in a pregnancy safe way, you substituted one compulsion with another. And were a bit too enraged for sex, apparently.”

“You think - you think I killed like I’m - I’m addicted to it?”

“I was conditioned to be a psychopath, remember? You clearly haven’t directly faced this, sublimating your desires in various ways, and apparently quite successfully for quite a while. Until today. And, clearly, you had worried about this, because the men you killed were not random. Did you have a list of acceptable kills? I remember living like that.”

Conflicting feelings fought in Hart. Denial, relief, recrimination, hope, a knotty quivering mess of emotions.

“Do you still live that way?” Hart asked, hopeful.

“It took a long time, but no.”

“The Silence made you like that. Who did this to me?”

“I don’t know. I’ve met plenty of born psychopaths, but you don’t strike me as one.”

“Spoilers,” Hart mocked.

“Blame yourself for sending me in mostly blind,” River wryly retorted.

“Maybe I never find out,” Hart answered, a bit dejected. He pulled River’s device out of his pants, “It’s not doing anything anymore, and I’m still sore.”

“Well, I’m sure your exertions today didn’t help. I have a hotel booked. No hot tubs for you, but you can have a bath, and some paracetamol.”

“Where UNIT won’t find us?”

“Definitely not,” she assured. River took a look at the now covered grave site.

“What made you decide to bury these two?” River asked, curious.

“They don’t deserve consecrated ground,” Hart grumbled.

“I didn’t know you are religious,” River mused.

“I’m not, but they are.”

“They were,” River corrected.

Chapter Text

51st Century, Time of Day unknown

Time Agency - Underground Cells

A frustrated Mickey bit out, "I’m not that good, Martha."

Martha encouraged, "I told you you should learn. Become fluent."

"So, you are going to try to teach me? In here?" Mickey said skeptically.

Martha gave a loose shrug. "Gives us something to do, to focus on. I noticed when traveling with the Doctor that while I became instantly fluent in every spoken language we came across, visual language modes not so much."

Martha repeated her sign.

Mickey groaned, "Can you finger-spell it?"

Martha laughed. "No. You should know at least part of this, and be able to figure out the rest from context."

Jack was smirking, The Doctor blushing. Missy turned from the front of their cell bars and glanced as Martha repeated the signs, and quirked an eyebrow.

Noticing that three of the eight people watching her aren’t confused she smirked, "It looks like some people follow. Why don’t you ask The Doctor to interpret?"

The Doctor’s face changed as if to say to Martha, Really?

Ruby's face turned shocked, her hand flying to her mouth as she squeaks.

Martha looked at her wryly.  "You know some sign language?"

Ruby snickered, "I learned a few signs when my mum had a deaf foster kid. That was years ago. I only recognized one sign."

Martha repeated a sign. Both hands form curved shapes, with thumb and index finger held apart. The interdigital crotch or gap, between the thumb and index finger of each hand, slapped together briefly, meeting as one before being pulled apart. "This one?"

"Yeah," Ruby grinned, "The kid loved that sign. He was a naughty boy. And only seven!"

"What sign is that?" Mickey asked, perplexed.

Jack smirked, "Only one of the most versatile words in the English language."

Ruby shared, "The kid used it to express his discontent with his life. Somehow I don’t think that is how your wife meant it."

"Really, Martha?" Mickey asked.

Later, when most are sleeping, Alina sat down beside Martha who is staring off into the distance.

"Smart thinking. Giving people something to distract them," Alina complimented.

With a weary smirk, Martha replied, "I don’t think Missy was pleased when I started teaching Hally, and Ruby asked Missy to teach her."

She did though," Alina said, just a hint of surprise in her tone.

Martha shrugged, "I figured Hally would just be pissed she can’t use telepathy with Missy right now, and would refuse to learn sign out of spite."

Alina did not disagree. After a beat of companionable silence, Martha pulled her own head more fully out of self-focus and worrying about Mickey, and their situation.

"Giving people something to distract them?" Martha empathized.

Alina’s gaze shifted, as she processed that Martha recognized her deflection in her pronoun choice.

"How are you holding up?" Martha asked.

"I’m fine," Alina answered.

"Seriously. Most everyone is asleep. I think except for The Doctor. You need someone to talk to too. I doubt you would accept that answer from a client."

Alina's gaze turned away from Martha, as her eyes watered.

"Sharing my Doctor Adventures with other people, and seeing other people’s reaction, I realize how messed up some of them are. Like really messed up. It’s sort of like when my friend Georgia laughs and brings up something that happened in her childhood, and she realized by our horrified faces that that was not normal. I’m not saying that everything that happens with him is bad, or all a result of his choices, most of it is the messed up circumstances we land into. But, this can’t be easy for the uninitiated. Though," Martha sighed tiredly, "confinement, ongoing like this, is atypical."

"And here I thought you said psychology was not your wheel-house," Alina said humbly.

"I said psychiatry. But you don’t need to be a psychiatrist, psychologist, or therapist, to know what confinement does to people. Enough deflection though."

"What made you think I needed a pep talk?" Alina asked.

"Everyone else paired up, and started learning how to sign. Ianto and Mickey from The Doctor. Rogue from Jack. Hally from me, Ruby from Missy. Even if reluctant, I managed to persuade them. But you stayed detached, withdrawn. Not even watching us was a dead give-away. You just looked at the ceiling from your bunk. Your time with your clients is, what, eight hours a day? And not the same one for even all that time? And under humane conditions. You are a therapist, not super-human."

Alina shoulders sagged down.

"You have a husband, a son, right?" Martha probed.

Alina nodded, "Robert and Henry."

"It must be hard, worrying about them."

Alina looks at Mickey’s sleeping form. Apparently he was having a restful sleep for once.

"Sometimes I’m just glad that they aren’t here," Alina shared.

Snow started to fall. Both women just look towards the ceiling and sigh. Alina went over to wake Ruby from whatever nightmare has gripped her tonight, though Ruby beats her, going from a restless sleep to sitting straight up on her mattress, just before Alina reaches her.

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown
Time Agency - Underground Interrogation Room

"Are they feeding you adequately?"

"Nauseatingly," Martha answered Pratt, "I don’t suppose they could supply nutritional information?"

"Anyone else feeling nauseated?" Pratt asked. He got annoyed watching her gaze with her big damn soft eyes at him again. They had lost some steel today, maybe she wasn't feeling well.

"They are forcibly confined and separated from their families. I’d be surprised if no one had nausea," Martha answered.

Pratt takes a sip of the smoothie in his hand and places it in front of Martha.

"Can you tell me why you are talking with me today, Pratt?"

"I’ve been tasked with identifying yous."

Martha gave a weary giggle. "Who knows how many days in confinement, and now you are asking us our names?"

Pratt ignored the comment, "Are you going to drink your smoothie?"

Martha tilted her head, a hint of steel back in her big soft eyes, "What’s it to you?"

"The smoothies don’t worsen your nausea, do they?" Pratt asked smoothly.

Martha sighed, and started sipping the smoothie.

Satisfied, Pratt started with the topic of the day. "Now yous are a rag-tag collection of people, if I do say so myself. The Doctor and Missy are god-knows-what, and who the hell knows what is going on with Hally’s biology. From Alina’s time signature, this is her first time-jump, coming here. But the rest of you are well traveled. Especially your husband. A Time Agent doesn’t see inter-dimensional signatures everyday, heck, even every decade. The humans, other than Rogue, are from a time before Time Travel was discovered. The Doctor and Missy just started collecting yous, like human trophies or something?

"What do you need me for?" Martha, gripping the smoothie, not realizing how bad her nauseous was until the smoothie cooled her throat..

"We are still narrowing down Alina’s time signature. Are you all from the same time?"

Martha's steely soft eyes leveled with his, "What do you need to know for?"

"Paperwork," Pratt deflected, "They promised adventure, in the adverts, you know? No mention of the bloody paperwork."

"I have no reason to trust the Time Agency. You must realize that," Martha said evenly.

"One day you are going to realize that you owe me," Pratt told Martha cryptically.

"I think it is the other way around, Pratt."

Pratt stood up and smacked Mickey’s face into the table hard. Mickey went to swat away Pratt’s hand, and Pratt grabbed Mickey’s hand and twisted it.

"Ahhh, ah ah," Mickey sounded.

"When are you from?"

"Ahhh," Mickey grit his teeth, "If you think I am going to give up any information that could risk my wife’s timeline, you don’t know me at all."

Pratt put Mickey into a choked hold from behind his seat, whispering next to Mickey's ear, "You really think I’d kill a fine ass like that, before I had it?"

Mickey, despite choking, raised his arms and hands up to where Pratt can see them, and then briefly smashed the inter-digital crotches of his thumbs and pointer fingers together, before pointing one pointer finger behind him at Pratt. Pratt dropped him and kicked him in the ribs. Neither staff nor computers could keep up with the detainees increasing fluency in the unidentified sign language, but they all knew what that one meant, from the first lesson given.

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown
Time Agency - Underground Interrogation Room

Pratt tilted his head, "Have you reconsidered my offer of food, drinks, cigar, or sex?"

"How long have we been here now?" Ianto asked.

Pratt ignored Ianto’s comment, and pinches Ianto’s cheek. "Is this what the Captain left me for? These cherub cheeks do it for him? Did he tire of my chiselled ones? Maybe you two should forget about whoever this Hart is, and should consider me for a third."

"I'm good. I’ll pass," Ianto stated.

Pratt reached out to pat Ianto’s cheek.

"Never say - ," Pratt started.

Ianto goes to swat away Pratt’s hand, and Pratt grabs Ianto’s hand and twists it backwards.

"Ahhh. Ow! Shit. Fuck! I prefer to be wined and dined!" Ianto cried out.

"You’d be surprised how much the number of people that you are willing to do, and the ways you are willing to do them, expands when you get stuck in a one week time loop for five years."

"Not interested. Ah, fuck, will you let go of my arm?" Ianto complained.

"Where and when was the rock your husband found you under?" Pratt pressed, not letting go.

"Not interested in looking behind that door either, Pratt," Ianto gritted.

"Not afraid of what I did to Mickey?" Pratt taunted.

Ianto swallowed, "I want you to do worse to me."

Pratt believed him, and dropped his arm like a hot potato, "So you are interested in me fucking you up physically, but not sexually? What kind of kink - "

"It’s not a kink," Ianto retorted hotly, then he readjusted his top and noted, "Time is passing. You said you’d let me keep my secret."

Pratt raised an eyebrow.

"I can’t continue to fake a pregnancy indefinitely. But you beat me up, I can fake a miscarriage."

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown

Time Agency - Underground Cells

Everyone, except Ianto, were practicing signs. They were all always awake when someone was gone. Missy, Alina, and Ruby, sat in a close triangle, their backs partial blocking cameras. Missy directed her signs to Ruby. Ruby watched the signs, puzzled at the one she was missing.

Missy signed again, “Anytime [sign] you try control.” The second sign Missy had raised her hands, palms forward, all digits apart, and pulled her hands down with palms remaining forward.

Ruby scrunched her nose, “Try to control what?”

Alina wryly “Well we shouldn’t have had the need to learn weather signs down here, I think - “

Missy was starting to sign sign, both palms open towards each other, both hands circling parallel to each other, when she tilted her head. Both she and The Doctor spoke incredulously to the person across from themself:

“What do you mean, what is snow?”

Both Missy and The Doctor's head swivel to looked at each other, curious and baffled, quickly standing up. The other seven detainees followed to their own feet, glancing back and forth between them.

“No one said what is snow,” Ruby said, confused, looking back and forth between these two Time Lords.

“Exactly,” Missy said irritably, and pointed out, “What is snow is what you should have signed to me when you didn’t understand the sign snow. Instead of speaking.”

Missy had ignored the seemingly telepathic probing that had continued, and even grown stronger over time. While she was pretty sure she wasn’t going crazy, it was both relieving and concerning that whatever it was had managed to project thoughts in both her and The Doctor’s mind simultaneously. Was whatever communicating to them trying to learn BSL sign language from them telepathically, and accidentally projected that thought?

Dispersed snow was falling, just tiny flakes. Anyone being taken for interrogations seemed to induced it in Ruby. The sounds of someone returning could be heard, and the snow flakes swirled as everyone looked towards the hallway leading to their cells. Ianto was bent, his arms over his stomach.

“Ianto?” Jack said softly, and then loudly as Ianto didn’t look up, “Ianto!”

With Ianto closer swelling could be seen on his face, worse than what Mickey currently sported.

“Pratt!” The Doctor rebuked in a warning tone.

Missy noted the snow grew thicker, except between Ruby and Ianto, before it also thickened, as if Ruby wanted to see and then didn’t want to see what had been done to Ianto. Ruby gasped, her hand over her mouth. Pratt opened the barred cell and unceremoniously deposited Ianto, who promptly fell to his knees, just as Pratt closed the cell door behind him.

“He’s pregnant you bastard!” Hally yelled, and lunged for the bars before Missy caught her around the waist. Her wife struggled against her. The Doctor and Mickey converged on Ianto, helping him onto a mattress on the floor.

Ruby, hand still over her mouth, shifted her eyes from Hally to Pratt, “They would have already known that, wouldn't they? From the medical tests?”

“You want to go toe to toe with someone, go toe to toe with me!” yelled Jack.

Nonchalant, Pratt said “He was asking for it.”

Jack put his hand through the bars, trying to reach Pratt. Rogue, who had been observing in shock from the back of his cell, had seemed to have shaken himself of it as he moved towards Jack, hand outstretched.

“He needs medical attention,” insisted Martha, “If you won’t take him to medical, let me in his cell.”

Pratt pulled a first aid kit off the wall outside the cell, and shimmed it through the bars to Ianto’s cell.

“Let’s see if The Doctor can earn his title,” Pratt grimaced. Rogue got Jack’s attention off of Pratt, and Jack moved to crouch at the bars between his cell and Ianto’s.

“Ianto, can you hear me?” Jack asked.

Ianto groaned, as Mickey, sporting a couple face bruises of his own, was tearing open the first aid kit, and The Doctor was examining Ianto’s face. Mickey handed The Doctor a pen light, and the Doctor gingerly but firmly opened Ianto’s eyelids. 

Martha called out urgently, “Doctor, he’s holding his stomach - check for contusions on his sides and abdomen.”

“I know, I know, just checking pupil dilation first!” The Doctor was pulling up Ianto’s shirt. The snow was growing thicker, and Missy only caught hints of the condition of Ianto’s torso.

Jack bit his thumb, and talked as if he was lost, “His ribs were just starting to feel better.” Ianto winced as The Doctor gingerly explored Ianto’s torso. Rogue placed his arm across Jack’s back. Alina, whose face had shown predominately stark concern (with a hint of vexation) as she looked at Ianto, turned her eyes to glare at Pratt.

Pratt announced, one hand in the air, “Let the guards know if there is a real medical emergency. If not, the medical team will examine him in the morning.” He dropped his hand, and turned heel to leave. The lights turned off, replaced after a second with dim red lights turned on.

Chapter Text

51st Century -Time of Day - Red Dusky Lights

Time Agency - Underground Cells

All 4 inch thick mattresses had been on the ground for a while. No one liked the narrow bunks, they used the lowest ones as benches. While the mattresses were no wider, on the ground they could use the floor to spread their arms and legs.

In Ianto’s cell the mattresses had been moved. The one Ianto was on was about three feet from the bars between his cell and Jack and Rogue’s, and parallel to the bars. Leaving space in case both Mickey and The Doctor had to be on either side of him. The Doctor lay behind him. Mickey was perpendicular, at Ianto’s feet. Jack lay parallel to Ianto, just on the other side of the bars.

Jack’s body startled awake, his mind flashing through what happened last time he was awake. When he was in the present moment again, he noticed The Doctor watching him.

“How is Ianto?” Jack murmured.

“Ianto’s alright,” a steely resolve was in The Doctor’s tone. Jack chuckled darkly. “He’ll be alright,” The Doctor amended.

The shifting of another body could be heard among the three cells.

“Do - do you know when we get out of here?” Jack asked, “You must. You just aren’t telling us, because you don’t want to affect the timeline. Spoilers, right?”

“No. I don’t,” The Doctor says, being uncharacteristically honest about the future, a dark scowl on his face, “I know it should be matter of when.”

Jack recalled, “You visited just a couple days before we left. On Tuesday. I supposed eyebrows probably visit us in a couple days too.”

The Doctor gave a confused look, "Tuesday?"

“A past you. It was at Lily’s science fair.”

A puzzled concerned look came over The Doctor’s face, “I never went to Lily’s Science Fair. Are you sure.”

“Positive.”

“I think I’d remember something like that.”

Jack snorted, “Unless it was a Zygon impersonating you.”

“Though…,” The Doctor thinks, “I remember Lily telling me about that once. I thought she was having me on. I mean that face? oh OH."

The Doctor stared forward again, and two the fall into a silent moment, before The Doctor sharing a thought aloud, “But you should know, Jack.”

“Know what?” a confused Jack asked.

“When we are getting out of here.”

The lights flickered and turned from red dusky lights to soft white. People woke quickly and Martha was quickly demanding the guards get Ianto medical attention, and that she get to accompany him.

51st Century -Time of Day - Red Dusky Lights

Time Agency - Underground Cells

“I think The Doctor’s asleep,” Jack noted, resting against the back cell wall.

“He does seem to be,” Rogue said wryly, leaning his own back against the wall, “I swear, he could live off of cat naps.”

“Do you think The Doctor knows why you are in this cell?”

"Sometimes he is brilliant, and other times he is exceedingly dense”, Rogue gave a rueful smile, before changing topics to add, “Ianto seems to be doing better. His bruises are starting to look green and yellow.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed, “The Time Agency has the technology to near halve the healing time, yet instead they leave him has to heal the normal rate.”

“The first morning, after Ianto was injured, The Doctor told you we should know when we are out of here," Rogue recalled, "Have you figured out what he meant?”

“Maybe you could tell your boyfriend to stop speaking so cryptically,” Jack smirked.

“That’s like asking time to stop,” Rogue smiled, “He’s probably afraid too much foreknowledge will change the timeline or something.”

“For all he knows, we had foreknowledge, and his anti-spoiler policy will change things.”

“Where would you have gotten it? It’s not like there is a lot of flexibility on other sources of knowledge that The Doctor is blocking you from having.”

“There should be a twelfth prime subject of this time paradox we haven’t met yet. Assuming Missy is right about Hart and young me being tenth and eleventh.”

“Or more,” Rogue raised an eyebrow.

“Other Time Agents around now would be -,” Jack squinted as he concentrated, “ Other Time Agents around now - other - ,” Jack’s eyes open wide, “Shit.”

“What?” Rogue asked, straightening up against the wall.

“I’ve only read about it,” Jack said quietly and lowly, “Having never traveled with The Doctor when there's two of them. If a younger Time Lord meets an older version of themself, it’s a time paradox, and under those conditions that means they both can’t form any solid long-term memories. I don’t see any reason that’d only apply to Time Lords.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that,” Rogue said, “But wouldn’t a Time Agent?”

“They have all kinds of rules to prevent agents from traveling in their own time streams, because the results are not pretty,” Jack explained, proposing, “The rare time it happened they were too busy putting out fires to examine the effects on memory, I’d guess.”

“So, with you upstairs,” Rogue contemplated, “you just need to figure out when the gap in your memory ended, and you know when we leave?”

Jack’s jaw tightened, “I don’t think we can wait passively, and expect to walk out though. We need to prepare and be ready when that time comes.”

“Is it going to be soon?” Rogue probed.

Jack’s jaw tightened further, "Unfortunately not, if my lack of memory serves.”

“So we also have to do damage control, and try to protect each other, in the meanwhile,” Rogue said meaningfully, looking over at Ianto and Mickey.

Chapter Text

51st Century, Thursday Afternoon

Time Agency - Maksim’s office

“Pratt,” Maksim started, “I wanted to share an intriguing development with you.”

“Oh, really, what’s that?”

“Your medical tests came back with some interesting results.”

Pratt cocked his head, a little worried “Something new?”

“Actually, no. And nothing to be worried about,” Maksim insisted, “See, we don’t do a deep or exhaustive DNA analysis on new employees. Not usually worth it.”

“But it was worth it in my case?”

“Yes. You showed some traits on the job that seem to indicate more potential than your history suggested,” Maksim lied easily, “So we did a deeper analysis of your DNA this time. We found some rare genes that, if enhanced, could make you an extraordinary Time Agent.”

“Enhanced?”

“Yeah. Just taking what is already there, and enhancing it. Increasing its expression in your genome. We just tweak those a bit, and you’ll be moving up the ladder here in no time. ”

Pratt straightened up, “What traits are we talking about?”

Maksim shrugged and again misled his employee, “The eggheads say strength, speed, pattern recognition, tenacity.”

“And we have genetic engineers on staff that can do that?” Pratt questioned.

“Of course. From only the best schools,” Maksim assured, “If you are okay with it, I’d like you to start treatment on Monday.” Of course he would be okay with it. Maksim had only added chemicals to Pratt's lunch to increase suggestibility.

51st Century - Monday

Time Agency - Underground

Pratt still wasn’t sure why he had agreed to the treatment. Sure, extra strength and speed and pattern recognition and tenacity sounded good, but he didn’t trust the Time Agency as much as he once did, and he had always had problems with all authority. Perhaps thinking he could send more money to Katya, or even perhaps take her in, was what made him say yes. He briefly looked at the van Statten emblem above the entrance to this floor. It was hard to find in the Time Agency proper, but it was displayed obviously in the underground facilities.

This was the same level that detainee Javic and his friends were on. As were all the other living detainees. Javic still didn’t know why they kept wayward time travellers like this. He hadn’t seen one released since he got permission to come down here. Sure, some of them were dangerous, but he figured a good three quarters of them were not. The reason provided, that the Time Agency was protecting the timeline, seemed hollow.

Besides Javic’s group there were only a handful of humans. There were a number of other species. It was the only underground level with medical, so here he was, as he passed the cells with Silurians, Judoons, Catkind, Martians, Oods, and a species or two even more unfamiliar, as he neared the medical area that was just before the last interrogation room, and the last section containing detainee Javic and friends.

Pratt entered medical room E, and saw a gorgeous young brunette.

“Are you the genetic engineer? You look too young to have a doctorate,” Pratt flirted.

“Well, I do,” the woman smiled, “Are you ready to meet your full potential? I examined your genetic tests, and you are the perfect candidate for enhancement of your congenital genetic profile.”

Chapter Text

21st Century, Thursday - Evening

Hilton Hotel Room

“I got some clothes for you that you didn’t murder people in,” River offered aloud, as she reentered their hotel room.

“As nice as that sounds, I think I’m going to stay in this fluffy bathrobe for now,” Hart responded, running his hands over a luxurious bathrobe he had ordered via room service while River was away, along with the surf and turf dinner, with loaded potatoes and a caesar salad.

“I see that someone has their appetite. Though it doesn’t look like you’ve touched it.”

“This is the second order of this meal. The first order is in the toilet.”

“In the toilet?” River looked ready to laugh, “What was wrong with it?”

“Nothing. I threw it up, and ordered some more.”

“On that note, here are some anti-enemics. Pregnancy safe, from the 52nd century. Maybe have one before you start on your second serving,” River offered wryly, handing over a bottle. “And can I convince you to at least put on some knickers. I don’t need to see food at the same time I see your robe slip and reveal all.”

“Do you insist?”

“I do.”

River was ordering herself some food, while Hart scrolled through the hotel’s pay per view. River’s eyes saw a title on screen, highlighted as if ready to be selected.

“I’m vetoing that.”

“What do you mean you are vetoing that? What do you have against a movie about someone named Rosemary and their baby?”

“It’s a horror film, centered around a pregnant woman.”

“Oh,” Hart, realizing maybe it wasn’t a good idea, before scowling, “I figured I had filled my quota for violence today. I was looking for a family comedy.”

“See if they have Look Who’s Talking.”

They proceed to watch the movie, eating their dinners. Hart started talking to bean during the movie.

“I hope you don’t judge me about your father as harshly as Mikey is doing to Mollie, bean.”

“I can’t promise some nice handsome cab driver slash pilot-in-training as handsome as John Travolta is going to fall into our laps and become your step-dad, but we can dream, right?”

After the movie was over River asked, a small smile on her face, “Is this the first time you’ve talked to them?”

Hart startled, not even really realizing he was reflexively talking to to bean. He didn't even really think about it.

“Ah, no. Second. The first time I was complaining about how morning sickness seemed to give me an easily triggered gag reflex.”

River laughed from the belly.

“So, what’s the plan,” asked Hart, his voice small.

“Did you know there is a sequel?” River teased.

“What? Can we watch it - ,” Hart went from excited to irritated instantly, “Hey! No, seriously. I’m going to have a baby. I need plans.”

“Don’t worry," River assured, "We got a long drive tomorrow, and a nice place to hole up in.”

“That doesn’t sound like a long-term plan,” Hart says hotly, “That sounds like a weekend, at best.”

“Do you really want to spend all your time before bed, going over all the minutia of my plan,” River asked, raising an eye, “or do you want to watch the sequel? Because we won’t have time tomorrow morning.”

They watch the next two sequels, Hart finally falling asleep during “Look Who's Talking Now”. River tucked the blanket around him before falling asleep herself.

Chapter Text

21st Century, Friday Morning
Hilton Hotel Room

River jerked awake, hearing the sound of sobbing at the foot of the bed.

“Hart - Hart, what's wrong?”

He was bent over the foot of the bed, his sobbing face in the crook of his elbow, while his other arm, outstretched, had just released a black foam ball. River picked it up, seeing white font on it:

It's not worth the jail time

“Hey hey,” River said, going around the bed and crouching beside him, rubbing his back her with hand, “You are not going to jail.”

“Maybe I should. And how would you know?”

“Spoilers.”

“Fuck spoilers!” Hart pushed against River, sending her back on her ass, before tucking both elbows around his head sobbing. Angry and sympathy competing in River, she stood up.

“Vilyam Ren Pratt, you do not weep over those men. Not ever. Do you hear me?” Her words had no effect.

River tried a softer tact, “I am swearing to you that you don't have to worry about jail. So if this is worry about that, you don't have to worry about it.” Again, Hart's sobs continued.

“Hart,” River sighed, “Just what is this about, if it is not about who you killed, and neither about avoiding jail?”

Hart half lifted his head from the bed, sobbing, “How can I go from killing people with my hands, to using those same blood-soaked hands to hold a baby?” He sniffed and gasped, trying to speak through his tears, “I remember the first time Hally placed Lily in my arms. She had to use the bathroom and Lily wouldn’t let herself be put down. She was so tiny, so perfect. I can’t - I’m going to - I don’t deserve - bean doesn’t deserve -“

River knelled on her knees beside him, embracing Hart, letting him cry in her arms a couple minutes until his tear ducts gave up. As his last wracks of his chest gave up, she tightened her hug briefly, before relaxing her grip and talking again.

“Don’t let anyone convince you you don’t deserve your baby. Or even that your baby doesn’t deserve you.”

Hart sniffed, “But -”

“No buts.”

Hart didn’t seem convinced, but he acquiesced to letting it slide, having no energy left to push on it anymore. Seeing this, River changed topics.

“We really can’t run behind today. I packed our bags last night, so no need to dawdle,” she said, pushing a change of clothes from the cabinet under the TV into Hart’s arms, “Go change.”

Ten minutes later they were going through the hotel lobby, and Hart’s head was snapping around, listening to all the voices he found curious-sounding. River pushed him through the lobby doors and slapped the wide-brimmed fedora that fell off his luggage onto his head.

“The rental is that way” River said, pointing to their left, and sighed, "Sadly function dictated an off-road vehicle. I would have liked something snazzier."

“Why the hell did most of those people sound like Steve Irwin? Where the hell are we?”

Chapter Text

21st Century, Friday

On The Back Roads in Australia

“Why the hell are we driving? We certainly didn’t get to Australia by driving.”

“You know as well as I do that local conditions are not always as accurately known as they need to be for a vortex manipulator across all of time and space. One time I thought it was a brilliant idea to go hide in the Oklahoma panhandle, and landed in the middle of a dust storm, and the static electricity fried my vortex manipulator, trapping me in the Oklahoma dustbowl for six months.”

“Earth gets dust storms that bad?”

“I could see a nearby farmer’s barbed wire through the dust, because it was glowing blue from electricity generated by the dust.”

“So this nice place to hold up in isn’t on a map? How nice can it be?"

“Look, here’s a map. Why don’t you help navigate?” River passed a paper map, and Hart picked up one corner of it like he didn’t know what to do with it.

“This is a map?”

“We aren’t going to be in cell tower range. I do have a sat nav, if we need it. Did they not cover analogue map reading in Time Agency training? What were you supposed to do if you got lost without your vortex manipulator?”

“That was almost twenty years ago, and I’ve never had to use it.”

“We don’t need it for a few hours yet, but why don’t you pretend to be a sea-faring pirate and get familiar with it?”

For the next two hours, Hart had shown interest in their surroundings, the local landmarks and flora and fauna. Two hours into the trip though, he was withdrawn and moody. A court of red kangaroos were hopping parallel to their vehicle at the moment, only about thirty feet off. River tried to draw him out.

“You’ve stopped admiring the red kangaroos. You may not be ready to talk, but you need to. Alright, pick a subject." River stopped the vehicle to get Hart’s attention and make him swing a confused look at her, “Is it under the category of any of the following? Baby. The father. Guilt. Siblings. Parents. UNIT. Harkness."

Hart’s eyes watered and he started crying silently. River found that while some things were easier with Hart than Hally - Hart knew what he wanted, he just didn’t know how to get there - he was a lot more emotionally unstable. And was so much more a cryer pregnant than Hally ever was, who tried to stay as self-contained as possible, as if that would help her with processing her impending matrescence.

River passed some tissues. Hart whimpered, “Fucking hormones,” before helping himself to some. River started the car, and started driving again, hoping he’d start talking.

“How did you know my full name last night? Vilyam Ren Pratt?” he said, clearly avoiding the subject.

“Spoilers.”

“Are you actually going to be helpful?” Hart scowled.

“You told me I was.”

“Maybe I lied,” Hart and hotly, “and I just didn’t want to mess up the timeline.”

“Now, are you going to help me help you, by telling me what subject has had you stop grinning at every red kangaroo we pass?”

Hart crossed his arms, scowling, and looked out the passenger window, "All of them.”

“Hmmm,” River said noncommittally.

“Its - its hard to pick one.”

“Is one coming up more prominently in your thoughts at all?”

Hart’s face fell, “Guilt.”

“Do you feel bad for the men you killed? Or, perhaps their family and friends?’

A hard to read look flickered over Hart’s face before disappearing.

“I - I realized that I didn’t kill Ziglar - the only thing that stopped me - is what Lily might think. Or feel. Knowing her Uncle John killed a man in cold blood. But that - but Lily,” tears start running down his cheeks again, “wasn’t enough to stop me killing Brett White. Or the others. What if bean isn’t enough to stop me killing?”

River stayed silent, letting Hart speak.

“Maybe it would be better, if I gave up bean for adoption," Hart murmured, "For bean’s sake. I may want them, but, even if I get this cleared up, what if there is a next time? I mean, even my parents weren’t murderers.”

“Are you saying that you could hurt bean?”

“What?! No! I’ve never hurt a child," Hart protested, "Not since I was a child myself!”

“You know, they used to have to have a whole barbaric industry to hide away young adults and teens with unsupported pregnancies. The last unwed mothers’ home closed in 1980 in the UK.”

Hart snorted. “I bet they never housed a murderer.”

“I finished growing up in the 70s. A feral child and teen, I landed in the punk scene, avoiding the Silence. I knew a girl there. Demi Lo Sawmill.”

“What kind of name is that?"

“Lo was Swedish for Lynx, I was told. She had killed. Like you. And she ended up in an unwed mother’s home. They convinced her that she wasn’t worthy of motherhood with that baby, she never could convince herself to try again. I mean, what had changed? What made future her deserving when past her was not?”

“A teen girl, killing someone?” Hart said hotly, “Most likely that is a lie, or whoever she killed deserved it.”

“Nice to know your protective instinct towards children doesn’t change when they hit puberty,” River said with a wry smile.

Hart reached down and tentatively touched his stomach. His eyes followed in surprise, looking down at his still flat stomach, and he realized this was the first time he touched his stomach that way, thinking of bean. He hadn’t gained any weight yet, so it still seemed surreal, since he had no sign besides vomiting, and one dizzy spell. And his emotional volatility.  A cry tore from his throat, and tears started running again. River passed back the tissues, and started to think she hadn’t brought enough.

“Hart, you clearly don’t want to do adoption.”

“This isn’t about me. This is about bean!”

“It’s about both of you. It’s about making sure bean has whatever they need to thrive - physically, emotional, etc - and that you have what you need to help you to be able to ensure that both of you thrive.”

“What if - what if I keep them, and then, when they are five or nine or twelve, I kill someone then, and go to jail? Won’t that be worse than them being with an adoptive family?”

“I spent some of those 70s in foster care. I would have given anything to know my parents. There are no kids that don’t deserve parents. And while there are parents that don’t deserve kids, that is a category you do not deserve.”

Chapter Text

21st Century, Friday

On The Back Roads in Australia

“I spent some of those 70s in foster care. I would have given anything to know my parents. There are no kids that don’t deserve parents. And while there are parents that don’t deserve kids, that is a category you do not deserve.

“Besides, no matter what happens with you, your kid is never going to end up in foster care," River reassured, "Their godfathers would never allow it.”

“Bloody hell! Ianto and Jack have got to be so sick with worry right now! I need to call them!”

“It’s Thursday in the UK right now.”

“No it’s not. The jeep’s sat nav says it’s Friday.”

“Even the muggles without time travel have time zones, Hart. It’s Thursday in the UK right now.”

“We can stop me then! Why didn’t I think of this sooner? Just kidnap me out of Jack and Ianto’s place while we are all asleep, and Friday never has to happen!”

“Hart,” River said knowingly and kindly, “I’m sure your Time Agency training has something to say about why that can’t happen.”

“God damn it,” Hart said, hitting the car door with the side of his fist, then leaning back, the crook of his elbow over his face, as he shrunk into seat.

Well, River thought wryly to herself, at least he is not pretending he is fine, and is being very honest about it. She didn’t have months with him though, and she wanted him a little better off before dropping him off with his next babysitter.

“Since you know so much,” Hart said accusingly, sitting straight now, and staring hard at River, “Maybe you can tell me what’s going to happen. And no no spoilers shit.”

River raised an eyebrow, keeping her eyes on the vast shrubby red-soiled horizon they were driving towards.

“I don’t know everything. Even what I do know could change. And me saying too much could change the timeline. Make you too complacent or too vigilant.”

Hart folded his arms and sank into his chair again, scowling, “You told me I don’t have to worry about jail.”

“Maybe someone told me that I said that,” River smiled cryptically, “And UNIT helped Hally with her legal troubles with a lot more dead - not to mention innocent - bodies, than you. Do you think that you are worth less than Hally?”

“They had to help Hally, to try to keep her under control, from killing more. They won’t necessarily have those qualms with me,” Hart lips turned down, “I’m not stupid.”

“They also had next to no history with Hally. Jack and Torchwood did, but not UNIT. You have ten years with UNIT. You really think they are going to throw you out like yesterday’s trash?”

Hart pouted, “I already don’t have a job to go back to.”

River gave him a pointed sideways glance, “As I understand it, Ziglar doesn’t have that authority.”

“Armitage fired me from Saxon Enterprises,” Hart yelled, “No, I don’t have a job to go back to! And I doubt that serial killer will help with reversing that decision!"

River’s jaw twitched. That was something she didn’t know about. And it had to have happened before the confrontation with Ziglar. Revealing her lack of knowledge would not help Hart right now at all. These men, River thought irritably.

“Do you want to talk about Armitage?” River asked neutrally.

“No,” Hart huffed, turning to look out the passenger window again.

“Parents? Siblings?”

“Fuck no!” Hart exclaimed, before grumbling, “You’re better leaving that to professionals.”

River snorted and laughed, “Well, Alina is probably sleeping right now. I am all you got.”

Hart fell into silence, and River decided to let him for a while. As the Australian sun neared its zenith River spotted a tree with decent foliage, and brought the jeep to a stop when the desert path brought them near it. She tied her dark golden curls back into a ponytail. Hart jerked awake.

“Are we there yet?”

“No,” River said, grabbing the SPF50 and applying it to her left arm.

“Why did we stop here?”

“Eating breakfast in the jeep was bad enough. We are eating lunch under that tree,” she indicated with her chin, “Sometimes ambiance is important.” River started on her right arm.

“The ambiance of the desert? I’m going to melt! This complexion is not meant for the desert!”

River finished her arm and started on the decolletage exposed by her simple tank top.

“The ambiance of being civilized and actually sitting down together to eat a meal. Though I think a shrubby desert may perfectly match your mental landscape at the moment. Now stop complaining, apply some SPF, then help me get the food and blanket out of the back.”

With a squirt of sunscreen into her palm, she handed the sunscreen over to Hart and started applying the substance to her face. After he was done, she plopped sunglasses onto his face and the wide-brimmed straw fedora to his head, before donning her down.

The two of them took out and laid a gingham blanket, a wicker picnic basket, and a cooler, in the shade under a Desert Oak tree.

Standing over it, River said, “Don’t forget one of these,” passing over an anti-emetic pill. Hart took it with a swig of orange juice from the cooler. He looked at the spread of food and drinks River had sourced.

“Thanks,” he said, touched, his tone laced with both gratefulness and guilt, “I should have said Thank you before now.”

A look of mirth sparked in her eyes, “You’ve had a lot on your plate.”

“Well, thank you for putting me on your plate. I - I don’t know what would have happened after Epping Forest, if you weren’t there.”

“Well, we don’t have to dwell on that,” River said, “You’re here now.”

“It’s fucking hot,” Hart complained.

River smirked, “Get in the shade, sit down, and eat up.”

Chapter Text

Friday - Lunch Time

Australia Outback

Hart was about half way through eating a meatball sub, when a thought came to him.

“Once it is noon in the UK, and I've ran from UNIT, are we going to call Jack and Ianto?”

River’s attempt to keep her face perfectly smooth failed, and Hart saw a flicker of discomfort pass over it before it was removed. River looked at him and gave him a level look. 

“Are you ready to deal with the fall out of what you did already?”

Hart huffed. “I don’t know, but I just think I ought to let them know that I’m okay. We don’t need to tell them where I am.”

“That could get them in trouble with UNIT, aiding and abetting a fugitive,” River said neutrally.

“I guess,” Hart conceded, frustration heavy in his tone, “I just also don’t want them to feel betrayed. You know, more than they already will, having found out that the person they've invited into their home is a serial killer.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about Jack and Ianto,” River smiled generously, “Considering the place Hally has in their life despite all that she has done.”

“Maybe not,” Hart said, letting his words hang there in suspense, but not following up with other words.

“Is there more you are thinking about?”

Hart muttered under his breath, “Everything.”

“Do you worry about what kind of parent you will be?” River nudged.

“You mean beside having the bloody hands of a murderer part?” Hart muttered.

“Yes.”

“How did you get free of the Silence’s training?” Hart asked, seemingly changing subjects. Though River thought she understood.

River wiped a bit of salad dressing off the corner of her mouth. “I don’t know if my story will be of help to you.”

“Could you try?” Hart solicited.

“Their brainwashing was focused on getting me to kill The Doctor, specifically," River elaborated, "While it couldn’t help but roughen the edges of my humanity, and did widen the range of contexts in which I could more readily desire to kill, when I went through what I thought was killing the The Doctor, some of my brainwashing fell away. Fait accompli. There was no need for it anymore, my programming 'thought'. What little remained, I was able to sublimate into other things.”

Hart closed his eyes, “Fuck.”

River shrugged apologetically. 

“I assume you know broad strokes of what happens, but not the minutiae,” said Hart glumly.

“What minutiae are you worried about?”

Hart got a far off look in his eye. “If I keep bean, you’d know. But you wouldn’t know what kind of parent I am, day to day.” 

“No, I wouldn't," she said softly, “Do you want to talk about what kind of parent you want to be?”

Hart’s eyes were blank, until his face scrunched up, and tears fell down his cheek. 

“Better than I was last time.”

River tilted her head in confusion. “Last time?”

“My - my sister. She was eight years younger than me. I took care of her more than my parents. Until I left.”

A knowing look came over River’s face. “You and your siblings raised each other, did yous?”

“I was the youngest of three, until Katya came along. I went from being the baby in that fucked up house to being the middle child, and then a couple years later, the oldest, when my two older siblings left home early.”

“You left your sister behind, at some point," River assessed neutrally.

Hart scrubbed his face with his open hands. “I don’t even know why. I mean, I know why initially. But I kept in contact. We even saw each other. 51st Century technology, it wasn’t hard. She was so mad when I got the job in Nova Port, and I wouldn’t bring her with me. Once, she came to visit me, and I blew up and yelled at her to not come around anymore. I never saw her again. My parents said she never came home.”

Tears fell down his face that Hart tried to scrub off with his hands. River looked at him with sympathy.

“How do you know I can do this? That I should do this?” cried out Hart. River came around on the gingham blanket, and let Hart fall into her side, her arm wrapped around his back.

“You're the one choosing to do this,” River said gently, “You won’t or can’t consider termination. So it’s up to you to figure out how you can do this. How you should do this. It’s up to you.”

“Alone,” Hart’s quiet voice cracked.

“Single is not the same thing as alone. Not when you have the support system you do, Hart.”

Chapter Text

Friday - Afternoon

Australian Outback

River put on as punishing a pace as she could in the off road conditions, though she slowed when there was fauna to admire.

“Hart, look up ahead on our left.”

“Dingos! Just resting in the shade!”

Later, after they passed emus hanging together in a rare mob, Hart asked River, “Did you ever want to become a parent?”

“I prefer mentoring young adults in the vocation of archeology," River offered wryly, "Fulfilling, and much less domestic.”

“Heh, something you and The Doctor have in common. You don’t do domestic.”

“Except he mentors young people in weaving in and out of the chaotic traffic of the universe," River smiled, "What about you? Do you feel you can do domestic? That's the kind of thing bean will need. Consistently.”

“Yeah,” Hart said defensively, before deflating, “I think so. I was asking you a question. I want to hear more about Melody Pond in the seventies. Tell me about her. You’ve got to have some good stories.”

River mollified him with tales of her preteen years, in and out of foster care, before the Silence caught up to her, and she ran away for good at fourteen. River had stumbled onto the punk scene and joining a squatter punk collective, spray-painting graffiti in Gaillifreyan, making coin smuggling alien tech and making advanced tech from scrap. At some point she had joining a punk band. She had met a couple of The Doctor’s companions out of order. At times she had reluctantly tried to pin down The Doctor, hoping to end the Silence’s hold on her. Hart found it curious that Demi was never featured, and he wondered what happened to her. Not the River’s life then lent itself to keeping in touch with people. Or maybe she thought she’d upset him bringing her up again.

They had a picnic dinner also, in the lengthening shadows of bushes on a small sand hill. Hart ate a macaroni salad, with peppers, celery, onions, broccoli, and bacon in it, while River ate a Mediterranean chickpea salad. She insisted they eat some fruit for dessert.

“What are you going to do with all this food?” Hart said, baffled. There was another cooler they hadn’t even touched in the back. “Oh, I don’t think it will go to waste,” River said cryptically. 

About a half hour after dinner, Hart shifted, “Can we stop? I need to pee.”

“Bean bouncing on your bladder?” River teased.

“We’re in the desert. I’ve been drinking lots to stay hydrated,” scowled Hart, then noticed the dead sat nav, “The sat nav stopped working.”

“It stopped working ten minutes before dinner,” River answered. 

“Aren’t those things supposed to work anywhere?”

“Why don’t you go pee, and I’ll consult the map, and check my vortex manipulator for data?”

Hart had been relieving himself, and admiring a rust-coloured great desert skink a few feet off to his right, when he heard thunder. His head popped up as he looked around curious; the day had only been clear skies so far.  A couple more rattles of thunder were heard, but he could only see what looked like sand hills in the direction of the sound to his left. He fixed his pants and River yelled from the front of the Jeep.

“A haboob! Get back to the jeep now, Hart!”

Hart looks at River, noticing her staring towards the sound of the thunder. His head swiveled back north, and he saw that what he thought were sand hills had grown hugely wide and tall, and was actually the advancing wall of a sand storm.

Chapter Text

Friday - Late Afternoon

Australian Outback

Once they got back in the Jeep River was muttering to herself, rapidly fiddling with her vortex manipulator’s data screens.

“Was there anything in the forecast - ," started Hart, " - WOAH.”

River had put the jeep in gear and had lurched forward before turning towards the advancing sky-high wall of dust gusting towards them.

“You want to go into that?” Hart said, his eyes growing wide at the advancing storm front full of dust, "Don't they usually recommend turning off vehicles in a sand storm, and staying put to ride it out?"

“Yes,” River gritted out, “In the bag behind my seat there are some small stretchy round neck scarfs that we can use as gaiters. Take a pair out and get them wet with water. There should be some goggles too. Both at the bottom.”

“Goggles,” goggled Hart, “What the hell were you preparing for?"

"Just get it, before the dust reaches the Jeep!"

Hart leaned between the front seats as the Jeep jostled over the terrain, grabbing the back pack and a water bottle. He started tossing things out to get to the bottom, almost tossing the thin round scarves when he found them. With them in his lap he pulled out the goggles, and put River's on as she drove, then his own. He quickly decided the fastest way to get the scarves wet without too much trouble was to place each thin scarf loosely into a cup holder, and pour a water bottle over them.

"Hart!"

Hart looked ahead, and couldn't see blue sky above the advancing front of the dust storm anymore. It enveloped the Jeep and dust started coming through the vents. Both held their breath as Hart shimmied a wet scarf over River's head and goggles, leaving it over her nose and mouth, before repeating the same process with himself. Hart looked forward and saw that visibility had been drastically reduced in the dust filled air outside. River turned on the window wipers.

River looked at Hart, as if to check if he was alright, before looking back into their visually much smaller universe. Hart was glad he went for a pee just before the storm hit. River checked the clock and her vortex manipulator, and they watched in silence the minutes pass and the dust filled air turn slight reddish tinge, then dark. After driving in silence for nearly an hour the dust cleared, lightening the sky only a bit as twilight had come over the desert. On the horizon a house could be seen.

"That's where we are going," Hart stated. It was not really a question, as there was no other building around.

"Yes. It was at the center of the storm."

"You knew it would be at the center of the storm?!"

"I guessed."

As they approached the house, a figure came out.

"Shit. Get out of the jeep," River ordered as she came to a stop ten meters from the house.

"It that a - ," Hart started.

"Yes," River said with a sharp tongue, "Get out."

Both dust covered, goggled, gaitered jeep riders got out quickly. River's hands shot up and waved to grab the man's attention, before putting them on her hips, "Don't you dare."

An unyeilding face looked back at River, "I have places to be soon, Ms...?"

River pulled off her goggles and down her scarf, "Your place is right here this weekend."

"River?!" The man's face went from incredulous to annoyed quick.

"I wasn't on your bingo card?" River smiled.

"I should still use this bazooka on your jeep, and leave you and your friend - " the man waved his portable rocket launcher seemingly absentmindedly in Hart's direction.

" - woah," exclaimed Hart.

" - stranded."

"First rule of weapon safety, sweetie, is not to point it at something you don't wish to to deploy it at," River drolled, "Are you not curious who I brought?"

"No," the man said, re-aiming for the Jeep with his steely eyes. 

Hart took off his goggles and pulled down his scarf, to free himself of them, and to better see the man. There was something familiar about him. The man caught this movement of Hart, looked at him, and then he pointed down the rocket launcher.

"Oh, fuck off, River! I should still blow that jeep!"

"Well, you're paying for it."

" You're the one who has been using my credit card."

River crossed her arms. "And you are a man with way too much time on your hands. A lightning inducer? A bazooka?"

"I would think if anyone could understand a license for dramatic flair, it would be you,” he said, adding contemptuously, “Now why don't you cart Hart off to some other corner of this planet for the next couple days!"

“I’m busy,” River answered, “As you well know.”

“O….?” Hart said, finally putting a name to the facial features he recognized. But the vibe and personality were all off, Hart recognized.

“When is he from? Two hours from now?” O demanded.

“Six or seven,” River answered.

“What happened to you, O?” Hart asked, “Are we here to help him, River?”

“Unbelievable. You have a vortex manipulator, River ,” O spat, “You can be in two places at once!”

“Wait, are - are you leaving me here River?” Hart grasping the direction of the conversation.

“Yes,” River answered. 

“What am I, a baton?” Hart said hotly.

O demanded, “If you are too busy, why can’t you just drop him off to Martha on Monday then?”

“WHY DOES O KNOW MORE ABOUT WHAT IS GOING ON THAN I DO?” Hart objected, feeling really bothered that he was being kept out of the loop.

“He needs a bit of time,” River told O, “And you need to not interfere in events.”

“They will still go, just without going to that damn restaurant! They can complete the mission!” O protested.

“You’d do that to Martha and Mickey?” River pushed.

“Yes! They wouldn’t even ever know!” O snarled.

“To think I was thinking of naming you the Godmother,” an disheartened Hart pouted, “River, I can’t stay here with this raking lunatic version of O! You've mislead me bringing me here.”

“Well, it’s not like I haven’t lied to a pregnant person in my life,” River quipped, “I did it to my own mother. Hart , I wasn’t expecting to actually have to fit you in my plans this weekend at all. Someone else has dibs on my time.”

O and Hart spoke at the same time, overlapping. 

“Are you or are you not a time traveler?” Hart countered.

“I should be there, not you!” O raged.

“Admit it,” River said, “You were planning on visiting her. Even though that wasn’t how it happened the first time around.”

“It’s not called visiting  when it’s your own child,” O chewed out River, "It's called parenting."

“Hart needs more down time before his next appointment,” River recounted, “and you need to not interfere in timelines."

“You think I wouldn’t kill you, River, for standing in my way?” O menaced.

 “Well, have fun explaining that to Lily,” River smiled.

“ Lily ? What’s Lily got to - ,” Hart started to say.

“You think I’d tell her? That’d I’d need to?” O scoffed, “Your absence would hardly even be noted.”

“ Mis sy ?” Hart said, started drawing connections.

“Don’t call me by that cunt’s name,” The Master castigated Hart.

“ Well sor ry, ” Hart faux-protested, waving his hands about, “You’ve used one name for a dozen faces, you change your name for one face for ten years, then change your face again, and get all mad when I use the last name.”

“You want me to babysit him while my daughter - , ” The Master bit out.

“Wait - Lily - why are you worried about Lily?” Hart asked, worry making its way into his expression.

“I took care of Hally for you, you can take care of Hart for me,” River bargained.

“You don’t need me to take care of Hart for you!” The Master rebuffed.

“We’re a little short of hands, if you haven’t noticed,” River countered.

“IS ANYONE GOING TO EXPLAIN WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON? What is the Master doing here? What is this mission business? And - and is Lily alright?” Hart started sniffing and tears started falling. 

“Fuck, I forgot how much of a cryer he was. You are saddling me with him? Do you forget I have less scruples than you? I could mess up the timeline just telling him whatever I feel like.”

“Hart,” River said gently, “We can’t tell you anything, I’m sorry.” She fixed a glare at the Master, “And he knows that too.”

“Fucking spoilers I guess,” blurted an angry crying Hart, “Do you fucking have hot water, Master?”

“You’re still my employee,” The Master glared daggers at Hart, “Act like it.” 

“No I’m not! Armitage fucking fired me! An hour ago! Did you forget! I’m going to find your shower, get this fucking dust off me, and then I am going to find your comfiest pajamas to wear!” 

The Time Lord and River watched Hart stalk off towards the house. 

“I never did order him around like I ordered Armitage. I left that to Armitage. An oversight.”

“There are groceries in the jeep for the weekend. I can’t imagine you packed much food, expecting to be gone today.” 

“I’m not babysitting him,” The Master growled.

“It’s already too late to pass Missy a message about the restaurant.”

The Master’s hands start twitching.

“I can still go home. Be with Lily. She deserves one of her parents at home with her.”

“She may deserve it, but that is not what happens. You need to watch Hart right now,” River leveled.

“Do you think, that I think, that returning your kindness towards Hally in the Americas, is worth abandoning my child?”

“Kindess and protection . I also don’t want to forget, which multiple mes in London would cause, and that is also not what happens, which you know.”

“You expect me to give up based on you - what - keeping sentimental memories?”

“Consider it a final farewell gift to an old … acquaintance."

The Master scoffed, “If only I could get that in writing. How old are you anyways, now, River?”

“You don’t remember my old face, do you?"

The Master looked at her. “Mels Zucker? I know what that face looked like. I’ve never seen it in person.”

“No. A face The Doctor didn’t know. You and I met in the 70s. I tried to kill you,” River shrugged, “I thought you were The Doctor. I nearly got you too. You captured me, and, presumably, wondered what to do with me. Then, you helped me, when the Silence had tracked me down again, while you had me in your custody. The Silence would make the memories fragmented, if you remember anything at all.”

The Master looked at her, perplexed, searching his memories. Then he snatched her left arm, and rubbed the dust off her inner arm to her elbow. A “Y” shaped scar was revealed, the split nearest the inside of her elbow.

“ Demi ?”

“Did you ever wonder what happened to me?”

“You kept that scar through a regeneration? That’s unusual.”

He considered her for a moment, “This actually makes us even. I helped Demi in running from the Silence. You helped Hally.”

“It's been an honour knowing you too,” River quipped.

The Master rolled his eyes. 

“Look, do it for me, Hart, heck, do it for Armitage. You still owe him a wish, don’t you?”

“The wish thing? Well, don't you have good intel. Missy already had that covered before she left. While I can’t call upon my TARDIS right now - “

“You mean Missy’s TARDIS. Does she know you borrow it from time to time? -”

“- on account of it being off-world , what’s to stop me from just using my vortex manipulator?”

River smirked. “You might want to check if it’s been remotely locked to a specific time zone and geographic area. Encryption dead locked to my signature. You’ll be able to get to any city in Australia in an emergency, but that’s about it.”

The Master brought his wrist up to his chest, manipulating his vortex manipulator, and a scowl of rage overtook his face. 

“Oh, and that place you dumped me in? It was run by the Silence. Do try to give better heart to heart talks to Hart, than you gave to Demi.” 

“Well, enjoy Mother’s Day with my daughter” The Master snarled. Suddenly River was gone. The Master picked up his bazooka and blew up a standalone shed.

Chapter Text

Friday - Mid Evening

Australian Outback

With the shed burning, The Master tapped into his vortex manipulator the coordinates of Sydney. He might not be able to get to England via his vortex manipulator to go to his child, but he could take an airplane. The vortex manipulator beeped at him, asking who has the medical emergency, giving two options: The Master or John Hart. The Master selected himself. The vortex manipulator replied, "No emergency use authorized: let subject regenerate." The Master scowled and selected John Hart. The vortex manipulator replied, "Please scan the subject to confirm a level 1 medical emergency."

When trying to manipulate the vortex manipulator with his laser screwdriver doesn't work, The Master lets loose a bazooka at a solitary bush, leveling it, watching the flames overtake the blasted vegetation instantly. He considered and discarded the various level 1 medical emergencies he could inflict on Hart, to get the vortex manipulator to take him to a city. In temporary resignation, he went to retrieve the coolers and other luggage from the back of the Jeep. Tomorrow , he told himself. 

The shower was still running when he entered the bungalow. He smirked to himself. This was an old building, still missing some upgrades. It would only be sensible to turn on the outdoor sprinklers, to prevent the smouldering shed and bush from spreading fires. He did, and cursing could be heard from the bathroom.

After he finished putting away the groceries, Hart came out, wearing a pair of silk pajama bottoms and robe set. His eyes were red rimmed, damn it. 

“I can take care of myself,” Hart pouted, “If you have somewhere you’d rather be, go.”

“I don’t need your permission,” The Master sneered.

“Then why haven’t you left?”

The Master tossed his vortex manipulator to Hart. He caught it, barely, looked at it, and started laughing, as the Master sulked.

“River managed to strand us both here.”

“We’ll drive out of here tomorrow, first light.”

“We? ”

“You want to stay here and have a level 1 medical emergency be your only ticket out, be my guest.”

“What events does River not want you to interfere with? Events that I’m guessing that you’ve already been through, as Missy. Lily’s going to be alright, isn’t she?” Hart sniffed.

“You can’t risk international travel, so you’ll stay at my apartment in the city, while I return to London.”

“Isn’t that going to piss Missy off?”

“She’ll forgive me.”

“What the fuck happens that Missy would forgive you showing up during her time with Lily and Hally?”

The Master glared at Hart, “You can’t come back to London yet. You’d only complicate things.”

“So you’d break the time travel rules if you thought my presence would be an asset instead of a hindrance,” scoffed Hart.

“Yes!” The Master snarled, “Like you wouldn’t.”

“Messing with time can have some gnarly results. I witnessed a couple in my Time Agent career.  River mentioned Martha and Mickey. She made it sound like you changing events could do them wrong.”

“They are already beyond my reach,” The Master brooded.

“They’ve already left for that restaurant?”

“Yes,” The Master snapped, pouring himself a drink. 

“And I’m seeing Martha on Monday?”

“Enough going over every piece of that conversation!”

Hart’s eyes watered and his face twitched. Then the tears cascaded down.

“Fucking hormones! I - I just wanted to be preoccupied with something else, and make sure my friends were - are going to be okay. Fuck!” Hart turned away from The Master, rubbing his tears away with the sleeve hem of The Master’s expensive silk pajamas. 

The Master recoiled, but refrained from expressing his frustration. “I’m going to start a bonfire in the back and get drunk. If you are joining me," The Master's eyes travelled up and down Hart’s outfit, "I suggest the flannel jacket brought for you. It gets cold at night.”

A few minutes later The Master had a bonfire going, on his second crystal of whiskey, and Hart came outside, the plaid jacket over top of the silk pajamas, with a mug in one hand. Hart sat in the second adirondack chair. The Master leaned over and held the whiskey bottle near Hart’s mug. Hart gave him a glare. The Master shrugged and took the whiskey bottle back. Hart looked up at the sky and his mouth opened.

“Woah.”

The Master looked up. “Yeah. Bortle scale 1 out here: No light pollution. The Milky Way is plain to see. That,” The Master pointed up at a grouping of four stars, “in the southern bit of the Milky Way is the Crux constellation. You can’t see that from England. Humans, always making meaning out of meaninglessness.”

They sat there a few minutes,The Master sipping his whiskey, Hart a hot cocoa, just watching the constellations and Milky Way move westward. 

“You know, I thought you were a homophobe.”

“What?!” The Master responded, insulted that some banal human bigotry could be impuned upon him.

“When you were O. I mean,” Hart took an appreciative glance at The Master, “You’ve never exactly been hard on the eyes, but I can appreciate whatever vision went into this regeneration. O was the first one to file an HR complaint against me. And I was a gentleman! More or less.”

The Master rolled his eyes. “I was in character. I couldn’t tell you to fuck off. That isn’t very O . The HR complaint worked. You didn’t bother me anymore..”

“You could have just told me you were not interested.”

“Would that have stopped you?”

“From being an incorrigible flirt? No. From propositioning you? Probably. You did all of that - creating a whole persona for years, for Hally, again?”

The Master did not answer, just brooded at the sky. 

“Hally’s a lucky woman. Even if no one else thinks so.”

When The Master discovered that Hart had fallen asleep in the adirondack chair, he groaned. The man was liable to be bitten by some venomous snake if he was left out. He tried to wake up Hart, but he could only be roused part way. The Master half-carried half-shouldered Hart’s heavy arse to the bed in the guest room.

The Master was very unhappy to discover the next morning that River had visited in the night and taken both the Jeep wheel nearest the driver's seat, as well as the spare wheel.

Friday Afternoon

Boston Harbour

Torchwood private chat

Bucktoothcop: Are you guys seeing the Boston Harbour hastags? Jack, what’s going on at UNIT? 
Necrotease: Oh yeah. I’ve seen it. I’m not onsite tho.
Stinkyman: Lockdown messed up my appointments today, had to reschedule. 
Bucktoothcop: I thought Hart had turned over a new leaf. /Ten/ years at UNIT.
Necrotease: I would say I am surprised.
Bucktoothcop: Admit it, you're a little surprised. 
Necrotease: Fine, a little.
Stinkyman: How much of the Boston Harbour chatter is rumour though, and how much truth?
Necrotease: Are you asking me to hack into UNIT video feed?
Stinkyman: Didn’t think I had to ask.
Video/audio: *HR confrontation between Hart and Ziglar from chapter 49.*
Bucktoothcop: Omg
Necrotease: Jack has to know some of what is going on. Remember Wed, when Armitage and Hart had a fight?
Bucktoothcop: What are you talking about?
Video/audio: *UNIT Lobby room showing Hart swinging for Armitage’s phone from chapter 33; followed by conference room when Jack, Owen & Ianto entered.
Bucktoothcop: So no one tells me anything! You were there Owen.
Stinkyman: Only at the end.
Bucktoothcop: What is going on, that Jack is confronting Armitage over Hart? You were there for that.
Bucktoothcop: Well, what are you waiting for?
Stinkyman: All I know is that I was treating Ianto when I was told that Armitage hurt Hart, and Kate wanted me to check Hart over. Jack got mad as hell and practically flew to the conference room. Ianto was worried too.
Necrotease: So u don't have any clue what is going on either, Gwen?
Bucktoothcop: Why would I know anything? I still live in Cardiff. If anyone should know what is going on, it's yous.
Stinkyman: Sometimes Jack tells you things he doesn't tell us.
Bucktoothcop: And vice-versa. Though it's been a while since the last time secrets were kept from any of us.

Private 3-way chat:

1:03pm Stinkyman: It seems like you two were leaving something out, when I asked you before if there was anything wrong with Hart.
1:24pm Stinkyman: I mean, clearly something is wrong with Hart. Have you two heard about the HR fiasco he had with Ziglar?
1:41pm Stinkyman: If there is something going on with my patient, I need to know. I won't tell Hart that you shared with me.
1:57pm Stinkyman: Jack? Ianto?
2:19pm Stinkyman: The silent treatment? Really? Real mature.
2:24pm Stinkyman: Shit. Rebecca is asking if I know where you two are. What the hell is going on?

Chapter Text

“Where’s my brother?”

The speaker, a peeved thirteen-year old with dirty blonde hair fashioned into a pixie undercut, stood, her arms crossed. One of her hips, covered in fatigue-style pants, leaned up against the bar stool. A wide brown leather belt slung crooked, low on her hips. A black shoulder-holster purse, barely visible, lay between her neon-green long-sleeve t-shirt and retro faded jean jacket.

“What prompted this visit?”

The teen scowled, “Is he drinking at another bar, at work working, or did he find someone to hook up with for the evening?”

“He really ought to give you a key to his place,” Javic murmured, nursing his drink.

Smirking with a glint in her eye, the girl said, “You have a key to Vilyam’s place. We can go after I beat those men at darts.”

“Is that how you got the fare to get here, Katya?”

She smirked, “Probably best you don’t ask.”

“Probably best we go home now. Those men don’t look like they’d appreciate being beaten by a 13 year old girl.”

The girl bared her teeth in a toothy grin. “Is that supposed to daunt me?”

“Katya,” Javic said warningly, but she had already slipped away and was approaching the men with thrice her mass. The bartender made a motion to offer to pour more alcohol. “Nope. Apparently I’m on babysitting duty now. What do you serve without alcohol?”

Javic watched Katya closely, and saw that when it wasn’t her turn to throw darts, she was pick-pocketing, unnoticed by the other players. The Time Agent gave a deep sigh and went over to tap Katya’s shoulder. “Time to go home.”

“But the game is not finished! I’m in the lead, and there is money riding on this!”

“Now.”

Kayta huffed, and put on a show of reluctance and obstinance, making Javic have to be stern and insistent.

Outside of the bar, Javic needled her. “What was your plan? Stick around until the end of the game, until they realize some of their cash is missing? Seems like a really bad idea.”

Shrugging, Katya shared her master plan, “I was going to claim to need to use the loo after I won. I just wanted to beat them first.” She took a flask out of her holster purse and drank from it.

“That better be water,” Javic said.

“Next you’ll tell me I shouldn’t smoke.”

“It is bad for your health.”

“Lung cancer has a cure.”

“You trust the crumbling health care system in your mining colony to catch it early enough to cure it?”

“My mining colony? You are imaging me on that hellhole moon, how far in the future? Vilyam didn’t get out until he was sixteen, and I’m already planet hopping on school days.”

“He stayed and held on that long for you.” Old histories that Katya was not privy to lingered as regret and grief in Javic’s eyes. 

“Likely story, he’s getting really bad at returning my calls lately.”

“He’s been busy with new projects at work.”

They reached Vilyam’s apartment door. As Javic closed and locked the door behind him he futilely tries to big-brother Katya again.

“It isn’t that smart, stealing in front of a cop, you know?”

“Phht. Puh-lease. Don’t be one of those types of cops. I thought time-cops were supposed to be cool. Is it part of cop-training to hate people just scrambling to survive? Besides, you two don’t deal with petty theft. No temporal anomalies here, unless there is something you aren't telling me.”

“Why don’t you take Vilyam’s bed, and I’ll take the couch? I’ll let him know you are here when he gets here.”

The sound of giggling and lusty whispering woke Javic from the couch. The bright light from the apartment building hallway put three people in stark relief in the doorway to Vilyam’s apartment. Two strangers and Vilyam, their hands all on each other. Vilyam, a little unsteady, noticed Javic on the couch.

“You want to join us, Javic? You two wouldn’t mind would you?”

The man shook his head, and women gives a firm "No. Not at all."

Javic sat up and palmed his forehead. “Vilyam, Katya’s here. In your bed.”

Vilyam’s tipsy posture straightened a little. “Is she alright?”

“Yeah, she’s fine.”

“She can join us too,” the woman tipsily mused.

“She's thirteen. You two have to go.”

“Oh.”

The two strangers went on their way, and Vilyam stumbled onto his couch. The light was dim in the apartment though Javic’s eyes had adjusted somewhat.

“You plasma-forged idiot, what did you do to get a face that looked like that?” Javic whispered harshly, before his voice turned tentative. “Was it something at work?”

Vilyam huffed. “After work I went down to The Fracas Ring to let off some steam. It looks worse than it is. Managed to get some fine ass that appreciated my performance.”

The next morning Katya came out to the living room seeing Vilyam and Javic asleep sharing the couch.

“Quantum hell. Next time, Javic, you take the bed. You two make yourselves decent, I’ll get some coffee.”

Katya came back with coffee and buttered biscuits for the three of them.

“Woah. What the hell happened to your face, Vilyam?”

“What does it look like I did? Fought someone obviously, Katya. Though he looks a lot worse.”

“Fine. Whatever. Can we go to the CHI again? I hear they have some new exhibits, from like three thousand years ago.”

“You want to explain why you are here first?”

Katya huffs. “No new reason, just old ones. I don’t know how you lasted until you were sixteen.”

A couple hours later the three of them were at The Cradle of Humanity Institute, the two men standing from across the exhibit from Katya watching her peer at one of the earliest astronaut suits. 

“I miss this version of her. Just excited about something because of an earnest interest.”

“History, though? Hardly seems like a child-like interest.”

Vilyam shrugged. “I figure it helps her imagine lives that are beyond the slag-heap of a dump of a mining colony our family lives on.”

“You should let her come live with you, Vilyam.”

Vilyam sighed. “She can’t get into too much trouble in the mining colony. Drugs sure. But the amount of serious trouble she can get into in Nova Port, without proper supervision?”

“One day you might regret not figuring out how to safely keep her in Nova Port.”

Chapter Text

Saturday - Early Morning

Lily Oakdown’s Residence

The reluctant babysitter woke up, and had to spend a moment recalling why he was on his boss’s bed. It had been a logistical decision; it was the closest sleeping surface to Lily’s bedroom. He had seriously considered dragging an air mattress and sleeping bag into her room, but thought better of it, or at least that was what he convinced himself of, begrudgingly.

He sat up swiftly, seizing his phone, expecting that there would be a message from Missy, or Hally, relieving him of the duty of parenting a child with missing parents. A part of him, he realized, expected, even wanted, a message from John.

Besides a couple dozen notifications from Grindr, his devices held no messages. It gave no indication that Missy’s TARDIS had returned, nor that the security perimeter had been breached at the Oakdown residence. 

Armitage closed his eyes. Feelings that he had suppressed while having to focus on ensuring Lily’s well-being, were rising in him. He had thought up until a couple months ago that John had legitimately turned his life around, and now things were worse than they’d ever been.

Abyss, who had been dislodged when Armitage sat up, butted his hand, insisting on being petted.

The bodyguard thought back over their relationship, these last eleven years. Armitage knew of John Hart before they met, of course. From when Armitage was still monitoring Hally from afar, after Lucy killed The Master. Hart showed up on scene as a threat from Harkness’ past that threatened Torchwood and Hally, twice over. First time Hart got thrown by the rift into Wales after shooting a woman for a non-existent Arcadian diamond, second time when Gray had coerced Hart to go along with Gray’s revenge plan on Harkness. Then, after she resurrected The Master, Hally pulled Hart out of the woodwork to save them from the fall out of Stolen Earth with his vortex manipulator. 

Hart was a frustratingly half-cocked man without much of a plan who tried, unsuccessfully, to flirtatiously disarm Armitage on the beaches of Hawaii. He was good at what he put his mind to, though, and showed himself to be an asset in New York half a dozen times over. In a world where Hally and The Master became public figures, Armitage couldn’t help but to start to rely on Hart, as much as he didn’t want to. Finding someone with Hart's skills, and the ability and willingness to tolerate the machinations of The Master, was not easy.

Hart was a functional addict, and hid his addiction well at first. Armitage, even with his experiences with his substance-using brother Wesley, didn’t see the signs until a few months after they got to New York. Hart managed to convince Armitage of his wanting a new life, a sober life, away from the 51st century. By then Armitage saw the benefit and value that Hart brought to the team, and he gave an ultimatum to Hart that he could only stay on if he started to clean up his act, and was completely honest with Armitage from there on out.

Hart’s greatest struggle with sobriety was after Hally and The Master disappeared. It took him some time to reveal that he feared that Armitage didn’t need him anymore, without Hally or The Master around. Armitage showed him patience, and Armitage got something he could appreciate in return: loyalty and competence. 

Armitage didn’t care that he gave off the impression to others that he lived like a Monk. Before Armitage met Harold Saxon he was already in this line of work, and  he had lost someone, Jeremy. One person he cared about getting killed due to his line of work was enough. After that he put in certain rules as safeguards so that that couldn’t happen again. He couldn’t be with someone he had feelings for, where he wanted more. It couldn’t happen more than once with the same person. It couldn’t be someone he worked with. It couldn’t be with a partner that wasn’t on the same page, that wanted more. Given the demands of working for The Master/Missy, and these rules, sex was infrequent. 

Armitage wasn’t quite sure when his feelings for Hart had grown beyond platonic; he was just sure they must have been there some time, suppressed. Armitage always knew it would be too messy to get into a relationship with Hart, even for a casual fling. He told himself that it would be better for them to remain platonic, and never let his mind consciously entertain sharing a bed with him; it would break every one of his rules. Hart had been clearly interested in bedding him since Hawaii, but that man would bed a human size venus fly trap, were it capable of consent, so it wasn’t anything of note. Since Hart flirted with everyone, it was entirely unremarkable when he flirted with Armitage. 

Slowly, somehow, Hart grew on him, at first platonically, and then as more. When Armitage realized his feelings went beyond the platonic, he just convinced himself that he could ignore his feelings and not give them any oxygen, and it would go away. 

Then there was the night when things changed, a couple months before Lily’s headmistress would reveal herself as Missy.

Armitage and Hart had been on a shared night shift watching over Hally’s house. Hart had been talking and flirting the whole night, what else was new. It irritated Armitage for some new reason he couldn’t put his finger on. After their shift was over, it continued on the drive over to Hart’s apartment as twilight metamorphosed into sunrise.

“Did you hear about me breaking in the U.N.I.T. newbie?”

Armitage stared.

“Platonically friendly of course! Don’t look at me like that. I’ll wait until they are a bit more seasoned before starting any flirting offensive.”

Armitage stared, doing a shoulder check while pulling up to Hart’s apartment building.

“I just asked her if she voted for Saxon in 2008.”

Armitage stared. “We’re at your place.”

“She did. Of course she did. She apparently did not hear of our escapades in New York. Should’ve seen the look on her face when I said Harold Saxon was an alien, now goes by Missy, and her wife works for U.N.I.T.”

Armitage stared. 

“Apparently that is not a standard part of U.N.I.T. orientation. Don’t even think of asking to have it added, it’s much more fun this way.”

Armitage stared. “Can you shut up and disembark?”

“Oh, ok, are you going to make me?"

Armitage stared. Hart held his gaze a moment in challenge, before smirking and opening his mouth to speak again.

“And just what are - ”

Armitage surged forward, his right hand reaching under Hart's arm and up his back, pulling them together, his left hand cradling Hart’s jaw. He pressed his lips flush to Hart’s. Hart froze in surprise, but responded in kind when he felt Armitage’s teeth gently probe Hart’s lips, his hands reaching round Armitage, trying to pull up his work suit. Armitage nipped just under Hart’s jaw.

Armitage growled. “We aren’t doing this in a car.”

Hart, breathless, “My apartment then.”

Armitage slowly nodded while still mouthing the underside of Hart’s jaw, not ready to let other lines of thinking take up space in his brain.

As they hurried up to the apartment, Armitage’s wisdom about the folly of these choices warred with his long-suppressed desire for Hart. Against his better judgement he slept with Hart that night. 

He didn’t think it was possible Hart had feelings for him, sex for him wasn’t like that he thought. So the next morning, after making a traditional Danish breakfast of grød (even though it was early afternoon), he laid out the rules for this continuing. 

“If we are to continue this, discretion is paramount.”

Hart smirked, “So you want to continue this?”

Armitage wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, though for reasons different than usual. And through methods he had only begun to entertain in his mind recently. But he had to approach this methodologically, so that there were no misunderstandings.

“I don’t want anything serious. But it was … enjoyable."

Hart grinned, waggling his eyebrows. "That almost sounded like a compliment."

"If you can keep things discrete, professional, and casual, I would be amenable to repeating the experience. At my apartment, less questions and scrutiny that way.”

Hart gamely agreed. “Of course. Got to keep this strictly professional.”

“I don’t expect exclusivity. You can sleep with other people. If you find an arrangement you prefer over this one, no hard feelings.”

“Got it. No hard feelings.”

A moment of silence, then Hart spoke up again.

"So now that that's settled - do you feel up to another round?"

Armitage wondered how long Hart had been concealing the feelings he professed to Armitage in the school bathroom. Armitage didn’t survive in this line of work by misjudging people, and while he knew Hart was no boy scout, Armitage had long recognized much of his persona was armour. Armitage had thoroughly scrutinized Hart for risk, to Hally, The Master, himself, Lily when she came along. While his judgement was fallible, he had trouble coming to grips with the idea of Hart being a serial killer. To believe that was to throw out his decade long evaluation of Hart. Something had to be missing. 

While Armitage couldn’t give Lily normal, he could provide her some semblance of routine, the closest he could get to normal for her. Something they could both use right now. The bodyguard got up, quietly checked on Lily, still sleeping at 5:30AM. Abyss had padded alongside Armitage until they got to Lily’s room, went to coil for a leap for the mattress, and clawed its last couple inches to the top, curling up beside Lily.

After doing a manual perimeter sweep (technology could be fooled) Armitage decided to do something that could still bring comfort to him, and hope it could do the same for Lily. A traditional hygge Danish breakfast, like his grandmother taught him, like he continued to do for his siblings when they were unceremoniously dropped off in the U.K. in the 80s. He didn’t have time or ingredients for Danish pastries, though he did set about making fresh whole wheat rolls topped with toasted oat flakes for lunch.

It has been so long since he had done this that he thought about referencing cook books, but let his grandmother’s lessons from the 20s of how to bake from touch and feel guide him. It let his mind wander. When Hart started pulling away a few weeks ago Armitage figured Hart had just moved on and found another lover he fancied; it wasn’t like he had any serious long-term relationships before. Armitage was both relieved and pained by this development. He thought he was smart enough to not want or wish for more from Hart. What had he ignored in not wanting to see Hart move on? Armitage thought he had seen signs of relapse, things he had seen in his brother half a dozen times. Sudden otherwise inexplicable changes in behavior. Greater inability to concentrate, more anxious than normal. Isolating himself, which is itself notable even outside of addiction, in someone who craves attention as much as Hart does. Disturbed sleeping and eating patterns. 

But none of this explained the leap to serial murderer of strangers. Hart didn’t commit violence without reason. While he didn’t abhor violence in the same way that The Doctor did, Hart treated it as a tool. Pettily sometimes, true, but he did not use violence merely for enjoyment.

Armitage started some grød on the stove top in milk with sugar, adding cinnamon. He gathered some optional toppings, dried fruit, fresh fruit, nuts, honey, and syrup. While the grød cooked on the stove Armitage got four eggs and plunked them into a pot of boiling water. There was Rye bread in the freezer, and he put four slices in the toaster, to dip in the eggs when they were soft-boiled. 

He paused when he heard Lily shuffling upstairs. He could hear her pad to her parents bedroom first, and the silence when she stood there for a moment, before turning back to the bathroom. 

While she was in the bathroom Abyss came down the stairs, looking up at Armitage expectantly with her orange eyes. Armitage stared. Then got some cat food and milk for the kitten. 

Lily could be heard sniffling before she entered the kitchen.

“Mum and Mamaidh still missing?”

“Yes. I made some breakfast.”

“I want some coco pops.”

Chapter Text

51st Century

Nova Port, Pratt’s Apartment

Katya stomped in frustration.

“Don’t make me go back home. I’ll sleep on your couch! I’ll make myself scarce when you have company besides Javic!”

“No, Katya. I once ended up stuck in a 2 week time loop for five years! What if I came back from some mission and five years had passed here?”

“Go get spaghettified!” Katya snatched the backpack Vilyam had gotten for her, and trudged off to his bedroom, presumably to pack her new clothes. Which she did not do quietly. She started off angry, slamming things, and ended up sniffling. 

“We’ve got to get moving,” Javic added unhelpfully, as he finished making toast, “if we are dropping her off on her transport back home, and getting to our shift on time.”

The drive to the port was chilly. Katya was silent, arms contemptuously crossed, looking out the window at Nova Port flying past. Vilyam sat at the other end of the bench, with Javic between them. Their taxi slowed down as it entered a market square with a huge gash in the ground between two narrow streets and a partial wreck of metal, traffic snarled up to a near stand-still.

“This is where that spaceship crashed a couple months ago, right? I saw that on the news at home.”

“Yeah,” Javic swallowed, memories coming up, “I was there, recovering bodies. Vilyam was there for half an hour, before being called away for an urgent work matter.”

“I wish I was on that vessel,” groused Katya.

“Don’t you dare say that,” Vilyam countered.

“What?!”

“Katya,” Javic's voice was unusually soft, “I recovered kids’ bodies in that wreck. It was horrible.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be the one looking at my dead body.”

“Stop it,” Vilyam hissed, “You aren’t dying on my watch.”

The teen snorted. “Your watch lasted all of what, 55 hours? Now you’re sending me back. You don’t seem to be too worried about my life.”

“All I did for eight years was worry about you, and it didn’t stop when I left home!”

“At least you had Ivan and Tatiana growing up! I don’t even remember them! You had them until you were what, twelve? And you still had me!”

"Yeah, because being the only one taking responsibility for a four year old is what every twelve year old wants. You want dads to give you a new sibling, so you aren't alone?"

"Stars end," Javic muttered under his breath.

Katya's face screwed up, in both anger and hurt. "No. Is your brain spaghettified, Vilyam? Fuck you!"

"Fuck. Fuck!" Vilyam scrubbed his face with his hands.

“Let’s not fight, you two,” Javic pleaded.

"Katya." Vilyam gave a weary noise. "Look, I know it sucks worse than a singularity's grip at home, but you can't stay in Nova Port."

Katya snapped her head to her window, ignoring both men. She stared at the wreckage that was left as a homage to the disaster. It took the taxi five minutes of painful silence to get close to the market exit. Her eyes went between the two twisted metal obelisks on either side of the wreck, seemingly built from wreckage itself, each with flowers and gifts honouring the dead.

Katya murmured, "I walked through this market when I arrived. I couldn't figure out why there are two memorials? Do you know Javic?”

Javic sighed. “I don’t know. They aren’t official ones; probably put up by residents, though I don't know if anyone has owned up to it. The city is still discussing creating one.”

The parting at the space port was bitter sweet. Vilyam promised he'd be better at returning her holo calls, and tried to extract a promise out of Katya that she wouldn’t be back until a school break. Katya just said the mining colony’s school sucked, she learned more studying on her own, so she wasn’t making any promises. 

Nova Port, Time Agency

They barely got to work on time.

“Pratt, I need you in my office,” Maksim called out.

“Guess I’m going to have to figure out who they are partnering me with today instead,” grumbled Javic. 

Pratt made his way to Maksim’s office. 

“Yes, Maksim?”

“Close the door behind you.”

Pratt closes the door and Maksim continues.

“With the recent loss of a team of Agents, dealing with detainees has taken a back burner. There have been a lot of time anomalies to deal with."

"Technically we could wait to fix time anomalies," Pratt mused, "You know, since we have time travel? Unless we are worried about loosing our ability to time travel between now and whenever we tackle the anomalies."

Maksim raised an eyebrow. "The urgency of time travel can seem odd to those not well-versed in time travel. In additional to current conditions possibly not being future conditions, as you alluded to, the advantage of surprise still applies to time travel. If people caused these time anomalies, and find out we know and aren’t acting on it, we loose the element of surprise."

"Do we have a plan for the detainees I helped bring in yet?"

"The Time Agency would be satisfied to let them rot. Protocol. Identification first. We need to be able to evaluate their significance. Particularly before we consider any irrevocable steps," Maksim answered, then asked, "Are you making any headway on the devices you took home? I still can’t understand how our techs couldn’t get around the encryption; the devices don’t seem futuristic.”

Pratt presses his lips together. “I had an unexpected visitor during my down time, so I haven’t been able to work on them.”

“We have another problem. I don’t know how, but somehow the sign language is spreading to other detainees.”

Maksim puts up holo videos of Cat-kind and Judoon detainees signing to each other. 

“How the hell are other detainees learning the sign language?” Pratt exclaimed, “The detainees I brought in are are in an isolated wing. Are we sure it’s the same one? The same sign language?”

A holo goes up showing a Cat-kind person giving a sign that Pratt had an unfond recollection of, the person briefly slapping together their interdigital gaps between their furry thumbs and index fingers at a guard.

“I’d say so," Maksim propounded, "They often have their backs to the camera when signing too.”

“You think they are planning something?”

“Why else spread this?" Maksim's eyes glinted in suspicion. "Pratt, I don’t want to let on we know about this to the detainees with future Thane. We’ll see if they get wind of you interrogating someone else about it.”

“You want me to interrogate the Cat-kind detainee?” Pratt pondered if he could visit medical first, make sure his inoculations were up to date, in case he got scratched.

“No. Evidence indicates that the Judoon started learned sign before the Cat-kind. The Judoon is who we want you to interrogate. Get physical if you have to.”

Pratt scoffs incredulously. “Physical? With a Judoon?!”

“Let’s see if your enhancements have paid off, shall we?”

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day - Red Dusky Lights

Time Agency - Underground cells

Curled up on his mat, Jack watched a sleeping Ianto through the bars, mindlessly alternating between rolling and squeezing a pink foam ball between his hands. Flakes of snow started falling from the ceiling. Martha was on watch in the women’s cell , Jack told himself, she’ll wake Ruby soon enough. If Martha doesn’t, Missy will. So, he ignored the snow. 

Mickey, on watch in the men’s cell, who had stopped signing with Martha some time ago, rustled from the sleeping platform being used as a bench, and started softly walking over to bars of his cell that Jack was on the other side from. 

Mickey, his voice soft and quiet, “Do you think you can use that ball to wake up Ruby?”

Jack jerked up, twisting around to look at the women’s cell. Martha had slumped against the wall on the platform she was using as a bench, her eyes closed.

“Yeah, she’s been asleep for twenty minutes,” Mickey explained, “We could wake Alina by touch, but you’d have to climb over Rogue to do it.”

The former Time Agent, current Time Agency detainee, eyes softened. “She’s seemed exhausted lately. Of course, she never complains. Have you asked about it, in your sign conversations?”

“I ask her every day how she is feeling, if she is alright. She always manages to turn the conversation onto how I’m doing,” Mickey half groused in a tender voice. “Now are you going to lob that ball at Ruby and see if we can avoid waking up anyone else?”

“Weird that both Missy and The Doctor are asleep at the same time.”

“It’s getting cold, Jack.”

Jack padded over to the other side of the cell, near where Rogue slept. On the other side of the bars from Rogue Alina was sleeping. Ruby luckily was closer than Hally and Missy were, being only about ten feet away instead of fifteen. Through the snow he could see Ruby’s asleep eyelids twitching. He reached through the bar and carefully aimed the foam ball for Ruby’s face. The launched ball smacked squarely into the side of Ruby’s nose; her head shook and she jerked up to a sitting position. Ruby found the pink foam to her left, and follow her sight line up to Jack, standing at the edge of her cell. She looked around her cell silently, at all her sleeping cell mates, shook her shoulders, and got up, walking over to Jack, the snow ending. 

“I’ll take over watch from Martha,” Ruby said softly to Jack, just loud enough for Mickey to pick up from just outside the other side of Jack’s cell. She reached up and brushed off the snow from Jack’ hair. 

“You alright?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah. Just a nightmare.”

“Can you put a blanket on Martha?” Mickey prompted.

Ruby rubbed her arms, realizing how cold the snow had made it. “Of course.”

When she had covered Martha with one of the thin blankets they were provided with she turned around to find Mickey sitting on the bed bench, and Jack having just slid down the bars where he was last standing, staring back into Ianto’s cell. Ruby picked up the pink “I hate people” stress ball, and brought herself back to where Jack was, settling her own back against the bars a foot to his left.

“Here’s the ball back. It’s Ianto’s right?”

“He had it on him when we ended up here.”

“The message doesn’t seem to fit him.”

Jack chuckled. “How does the Doctor talk about us? We weren’t always disgustingly in love happy people.”

“He doesn’t talk that much about the past. At least not with me. I just meant how Ianto seems in here. Even through all the stress of our captivity. He’s quiet, but he clearly cares about people.”

“Yeah, he does.”

“I’m sorry about what you and Ianto had to go through, losing the baby.”

Jack closed his eyes and pushed his head back onto the bars.

“It must have been a very planned and wanted baby. I mean, considering Ianto was born a twenty-first century man without a uterus. I can’t imagine how yous must be - ”

“You can stop talking, Ruby.”

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m here, if you want to talk about it.”

“Noted.”

“I mean, I guess, if you wanted to talk to anyone, you’d probably rather talk to Alina or Martha, before me. Sorry, I’ve overstepped haven’t I”

“Stop saying you’re sorry. Especially when you are trying to be kind.” Jack straightened, wondering if Ruby knew things he didn’t, and looked at her. He wondered if she knew if he and Ianto ever did get around to having a kid. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know or not. Ruby’s head turned and caught Jack looking at her.

“What are you thinking about?”

The lights changed from dusky red to soft white. It felt too early, though the dusky red light lasted seemingly anywhere from four to sixteen hours, their schedule not fixed. Jack swore it hadn’t been more than three hours since the dusky red lights came on. 

Jack, Ruby, and Mickey’s heads swiveled to the opening to the hallway that led to their three cells. Jack immediately got to his feet, followed by Ruby and Mickey.

“Did yous miss me,” Pratt called out, swinging his arms out wide.

Jack glared at Pratt. They hadn’t seen him since he assaulted Ianto.

Pratt smirked, “No words for me this time, Javic? No simple uttering of my name that sounds like half-pleading, half-warning?” He draped his hand on his own chest. “I’m touched that I could make you speechless.”

Jack’s stare intensifies. 

“Now that,” Pratt mocks, pulling a pair of index fingers and thumbs square to each other closer together like he is framing a photo, “That’s art.”

The rest of the paradox crew who hadn’t been roused by the light change were rousing at Pratt’s voice, except Martha. Snow started to fall again. Everyone was weary, their emotions invoked by this lengthy detention drawing more acute over time. Certain Vilyam’s severe assault of Ianto hadn’t done anything to enamor anyone of their chances of getting out of this unharmed. They all tried to hide their feelings with different levels of success.

The Doctor’s eyes were weighted heavy with concern. Mickey’s eyes flitted over to his wife before looking back to Vilyam with fear and worry. Ianto brows pinched together, as he propped himself up on an elbow, and winced at a still sore rib. Rogue’s soft eyes held a flagging curiosity and a bit of calculation, his bounty hunter skills looking for ways to out-maneuvered his foe. Alina’s assessing steely gaze had hardened further, though vexed hints of weariness had grown stronger. Hally’s whole posture seethed with resentment at their captivity, at their treatment, at the harm done to Ianto, only grounded with the touch of her wife’s hand on hers. Missy’s posture appeared controlled, calm, if a bit brittle, but her eyes revealed a coiled snake that wanted to strike. Ruby’s posture and face show fear and bravado warring as she clung to the bars alongside her, snow falling heavily in the cells.

“Wake up Martha, would yous?” Pratt looked pointed at Ruby, and Alina, who was now standing next to her.

“Don’t you touch her, Pratt,” demanded Mickey. 

Ruby’s eyes flitted from Martha to Vilyam. “Why do you want with Martha?”

Vilyam smirked, “I can arrange another unplanned interview with you, Ruby, just like our first time.”

“We don’t need anything else harmed, Pratt,” The Doctor said in a low voice.

“Do all your thoughts end up in a gravitational gutter, where you all jump to the worst assumptions about me?”

“The problem is, we don’t,” Ianto said softly. 

Pratt raises an eyebrow at Ianto comment. “And just how are the ribs, Ianto?”

“Smarting,” Ianto answered, rubbing a side.

“They should be near fully healed by now.”

“Just what does the Time Agency have planned for us, Pratt?” Alina probed.

“You think detainees that don’t cooperate get answers?”

“Yous’ve held us for what seems like months now. The Time Agency can be gaining anything from detaining us. There has to be a motive, a reason for all of this.”

Martha stirred, then startled awake, the thin blanket shifting to her lap on her sitting form as she took in the three cells and everyone’s posture. Many of their heads were turned to her, but many of them had their chests facing the hallway entrance. Martha blinked, trying to clear her groggy state, as she looked towards the entrance and saw Pratt there. 

Pratt gave a wolfish grin. “Hello Martha. I require that you accompany me to an interrogation cell. Are you capable of moving under your own power, or do you require assistance?”

Martha stumbled a little getting up, and Hally flitted to her side to steady her, followed closely by Missy.

“I’m alright,” Martha said, straightening up, “Just waking up.”

“Take me instead,” Mickey pressed.

“Not today, Mister Superfluous,” Pratt sneered. “Now, Martha, if you'd please follow me?”

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown

Underground interrogation room

Pratt took a sip of the smoothie he procured for Martha, before handing it over for her. Palming her face tiredly, she took the smoothie without comment. Her soft eyes were weary, and held only a hint at the usual steel that Pratt was used to seeing. Though she looked like she was trying to rally her faculties, as she sipped on the smoothie like it was a life line.

“You look like shit,” Pratt groused, “You need to sleep more.”

“Send us all home, and I’ll get all the sleep I need. Is there a reason you wanted to see me, over anyone else?" Martha's elbow pressed into the table, as her hand propped up her chin.

"I figure you must know," Pratt ventured.

"Know what?"

"That Ianto's story was just that, a story. While Missy is involved in this plot to steal medical records from the Time Agency for a Hart, it seems that Missy believed yous were actually going to a prenatal appointment."

"Why don't you ask her?"

"Maybe later. Is Hart the boss of your group, is that who you are stealing medical records for?"

Martha snorted.

"A client?"

Martha changed the topic, raising an eyebrow. "Why do you beat up Ianto? Torture has been proven to not work, in providing reliable information. And if you know that, then any torture you do is for your own gratification. Or to inflict punishment. The Time Agency must know this too."

Pratt pursed his lips, "It doesn't? Well, we have to express our frustration on the lack of progress somehow, don't we."

"Is that the only way you know how to expression your frustration, Pratt? Violence?"

"Leave the psychoanalyzing to Alina. Is there a reason you haven't reported your deteriorating health to a guard?"

"Is that why you wanted to see me?" Martha's soft eyes pondered over him. "If so, some guards must be creating reports that Time Agents have access to, and it hasn't caused any response from the Time Agency yet. Why would I think reporting it would do anything?"

"This isn't a game, Martha," Pratt insisted, "Our initial medical scan didn’t detect any medications in your system, or your friends’, when yous arrived. Yous are a healthy bunch apparently. Is there something our scans may have missed?”

Martha snorted, “You ask this after we are in captivity how long?”

“You're a Doctor," Pratt coaxed, "Tell me why you are doing so poorly?”

Martha rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “I’d much rather get a proper medical exam, but if yous didn't cause this.... If I had to hazard a guess, at something yous didn’t catch, it’d be my anemia. It was under control with dietary supplements back in the - at home.”

Pratt’s eyebrows knitted, and he reached to grab her wrist, his tone cutting, “Going forward, report any concerning symptoms."

Her exhaustion took a back seat, as she fixed her unnervingly soft eyes on his, ignoring her wrist in his hand. “Is my untreated anemia a personal affront to you?”

Pratt narrowed his eyes, “I thought you were a Doctor, not a martyr.”

Martha let out a breath, her eyes watching Pratt closely, “Took years to get this bad, before I got diagnosed. I didn’t think it would get this bad, this quickly. Not to mention it was hard to imagine you or your Agency would care. The last time I saw you you dropped off a barely conscious Ianto, and then denied any medical treatment for him for several hours, barring a medical emergency.”

Pratt squeezed his eyes so briefly it nearly looked like he only blinked; Martha caught the muscles around his eyes. He pressed the comm on the table. 

“Find out when the next opening in medical is available.”

“Yes, Agent Pratt,” the disembodied guard voice answered.

Pratt fixed Martha with his gaze. “Detainees’ diets are optimized for their species, but if there is something we need to account for we need to know it. Any other dietary concerns among your group?”

“I can tell within half an hour if your guards have served us slop that has some whey-sourced proteins in it.”

“You’re lactose intolerant?”

“Someone else is.”

“Sounds like they are fine. A little intestinal distress won’t kill them.”

Martha leaned back, crossing her arms with a too knowing look in her eyes. “Of course you think that. What’s your interest in me, then?”

A corner of Pratt's lips turned up lasciviously. “I’ve never slept with a Doctor before.”

“Ha! You’ve given me that line before. It’s still a no, on account of being happily married.” Martha held up her hand and wriggled her fingers. 

“Now happily married women - I’ve had sex with plenty of those ."

“Are you trying to do a play-by-play of our first interrogation?” Martha's eyebrows tented in question.

Pratt cocked his head.

“You don’t remember it?” Martha asked, her eyes searching his.

Pratt scoffed. “Of course I do. It’s my job to keep track of these interrogations. The first time I questioned you, it was on your clear cover story of using time travel to get Ianto to an prenatal appointment.”

“That wasn’t all. I assume these are recorded. Re-watch them.”

Pratt cocked an eyebrow.

Martha reached across the table, taking his hands in her and tightening her fingers. “I want you to know that you can trust me. I told you that when we first spoke. I can’t risk the timeline."

Uncomfortable, Pratt let go, staring at her, wondering if she was gaslighting him. "Yet you’ve said nothing helpful.”

“The way a person makes another feel is often a more enduring memory than that person’s specific words or actions,” mused Martha.

Pratt snorted. “If you think I have the warm and fuzzies for you, you are gravely mistaken.”

Martha raised an eyebrow, "I said feelings, not which ones."

"And you've got me all wrong. How about some actual actionable intel, today, Martha? I've humoured you long enough," pressed Pratt.

Martha's eyes searched him. "What you ask is up to you. What I answer is up to me."

Hart rolled his eyes. "Who amongst you are best at encryption?"

"Why? Are you offering us work?'

"What can you tell me about those devices we confiscated from yous? Are they general purpose, or do they have specific purposes? They fail at contemporary ergonomic designs, which is an interesting detail. No holo interface."

Martha's eyes blink. "You mean our mo - comm devices. I haven't thought of them in ages."

"Comm devices, are they? Don't you think if we could get in them, we would've identified yous already?"

A disembodied guard’s voice lifted up from the comm on the table. “They'll take yous in the medical lab on this floor. They can fit you and the detainee in in five minutes.”

“Good,” Pratt answered, before returning his gaze to Martha. “We’ve got a couple minutes to kill.  Do you have experience with Judoons?”

“You could say that. Why?”

“I don’t suppose you’d have any Doctor-y information on their physiology that I could use against them?”

Martha laughed. “Have you even heard of the hippocratic oath?”

Pratt feigned ignorance. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day - Soft White Lights

Time Agency - Underground cells

Missy and Ruby sat crossed legged, signing to each other, making another attempt of trying to figure out if Ruby could start or stop her snow voluntary. Ruby would start off each exercise hopeful, but end each one decided less so. Hally, who had been shooed away by Missy, stood with crossed arms, leaning her shoulder against the bars at the front of the cell, her chin pointing the same way as her shoulder, looking out towards the hallway. 

Alina meandered over to the bars between her cell and the middle cell, leaning against the back wall, her hands clasped, for want of something better to do with them. Rogue and Jack were sitting on the floor on the other side of the bars, their backs against the back wall too. In the corner of men's cell nearest them Ianto and Mickey were sitting as well. Ianto was closely watching the very restless Mickey.

"I welcome your company, of course, but I would have thought you would have kept Hally company," Rogue mused quietly. "Since Missy is frustrating herself with Ruby again."

"You are assuming she wanted my company," Alina answered, continuing the soft tones.

"I don't think she wants anyone's company, but Missy's," Jack snorted in a low voice.

"We are all affected by this confinement," Alina mutedly observed, "She doesn't know if she'll have Missy after this, whenever 'this' ends."

"I noticed you signing with the Doctor, when you and I were on watch a couple 'nights' ago," Ianto murmured, "What were you two talking about?"

Alina raised an eyebrow. "Client confidentiality."

Ianto snorted. "What's he paying you in?"

Rogue gave a roguish smile. "I am not bound by it."

Jack quirked an eyebrow. "So you have something you are going to spill? We need something to pass the time."

"Oh, you don't need me to tell you," Rogue said, as his hands turned palm up and move outward, "Just observe."

The group look to the front of the cells, where Hally's gaze had drifted absentmindedly from the hallway, back towards the cells. The Doctor, leaning against the front of his cell, smiled, his eyes lighting up hopefully, as he tried to catch her attention.

"Now you I sign?" he signed.

Hally huffed, rolled her eyes, and turn her attention back to the hallway.

Mickey, who everyone thought would be too distracted by his missing wife to offer anything to the conversion, gave a whisper. "Rose would hate that it is this way between them."

"Yeah. Yeah, she would," Jack subduedly agreed.

"Were things better between them when you meet The Doctor?" Ianto asked.

Rogue's face scrunched up. "Are you forgetting that I first met Hally when we first arrived in this city?"

"I'm sure she doesn't like being thrown into an emergency situation, every time she meets a prospective step-parent," Alina drolled, "Has he ever told you how Hally met Riv - her last step-parent?"

Rogue smiled and shook his head. "He's usual more sharing with the fun bits. I'm guessing that didn't make the cut. Not that he hasn't shared any hard bits. Those are usually losses though."

"The Doctor is looking at you, looking very not impressed," Jack smirked.

"Ah," Rogue chuckled, "Well, I am more comfortable sharing than he is. He's still getting used to that."

"Sounds like that would be good for him," gauged Alina, "Any particular reason you hadn't met this Doctor's contemporaneous Hally?"

"For some reason he kept putting it off. I don't know if that is just indicative of his adventurous traveling life-style, or of on-going issues."

"So, technically, this Doctor's contemporaneous Hally, has already met you though?" Mickey contemplated. "Do you think The Doctor knows she met him? Or do we just all agree not to tell him about this adventure, when we get out of here?"

Rogue shrugged. "I am fairly certain no one talks to him about me before we meet, so I can see how The Doctor wouldn't have known she had met me. But other than that, I don't have a definitive answer to that."

Snow started falling.

"Did she - ."

"What does - ."

"Shh - ."

Everyone turns to look at Missy and Ruby, wondering if they had made a break-through. Their heads follow her gaze to the hallway, where Pratt has arrived back, with Martha. The four sitting men quickly rise to their feet. Mickey gives a strangled noise, and makes quick strides to the front of his cell, next to The Doctor.

"Martha?" Mickey's voice croaked out.

"I'm alright. I'm fine." Martha sped up and got ahead of Pratt, the couple touching hands between the bars, the first time they've touched in months. They moved their hands so that they can embrace each other and kiss, tears falling down both their faces.

"That is as close as you are getting to a conjugal visit," Pratt groused, "For future reference, if I have to watch, it is much more arousing for me if yous aren't crying. Martha, move to your cell door."

Martha gave a last lingering kiss to Mickey, before parting lips and hands from Mickey to comply with Pratt's order.

"Now, I don't know about yous, but I have a date with a Judoon to keep. Sadly, that means the rest of yous get a rain check on my lovely company."

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day - Soft White Lights

Time Agency - Underground cells

With Hart having departed, the detainees exchanged curious looks.

"You sure Pratt didn't hurt you?" Mickey pressed.

"He didn't touch me," Martha reassured them, though it did not miss everyone's notice that she absentmindedly flexed her fingers around her wrist. After a quick visual assessment to reassure herself of Martha's wellness, Alina turned around and strode over to the bars to the adjoining cell. "Rogue, pass over the flashlight from the first aid kit. No, not the pen light, the full size one. Jack, grab the foam ball."

Jack grabbed the pink ball, tossed it in the air underhandedly, and caught it in his other hand. "What for?"

"Consider them talking sticks. Rather, signing sticks. While you can hear whether multiple people are talking at once, though you won't understand them all -"

"Speak for yourself," Missy interjected.

"- You can't see people in different directions signing," Alina explained. "Missy, do you think our signing is good enough?"

Missy rolled her eyed. "It's passable. Yous having a powwow? Have fun."

Alina locked eyes with Missy. "Everyone is." Missy feigned nonchalance.

"I don't know I have any insights worth sharing," Martha shrugged.

"We all need to be sharing more. Considering it a practice run. Now, we can all sit in two semi circles facing each other, so everyone can see each other sign. The women in a semi-circle in our cell, the men in a semi-circle across their two cells. Hence, two signing sticks."

Only Ruby was enthused. Interest did flit across a couple faces, whether from a novel change of the monotony of detainment or actual interest, it didn't matter. Alina gave Missy a pointed look when Hally crossed her arms and looked towards the hallway, leaning against the front bars of the cell again. While Missy managed to find some way to persuade Hally to join them, the others arranged themselves. The men formed a seated semi-circle with Ianto, Mickey, and The Doctor, on their side of the bars making the apex of their arc, and Jack and Rogue seated in the middle cell diagonally adjacent across the bars from them. Jack was seat diagonally from Ianto, Rogue diagonally from The Doctor, with Mickey at the apex. Alina sat herself opposed Jack, nearest the corner of the back wall of her cell and the share bars with the middle cell, with Ruby next to her, and Martha at the apex of their forming half circle. 

Missy and Hally took the last two spots, four meters across from The Doctor and Rogue.

Jack placed the "I hate people" pink foam ball on the floor in front of him, his eyes probing Martha's as he signed, <Past: What, Prat wanted?>

Martha eyes sparkled in amusement as she suppressed a grin. She took the yellow flashlight and placed it on the floor in front of herself. <Us, who paid, to come here. Heart, Prat guessed. I didn't say.>

Ruby plucked the flashlight from in front of Martha. <You, Prat didn't injure,> Ruby signed, raising her eyebrows in question. <Harp, Prat injured. Why you, Prat didn't injure?>

Missy audibly clapped to get attention. <Now: Question Energy-Bunny should answer.> Missy sharp gaze turned Jack, tilting her head in question. <Knowledge, Energy-Bunny should have.>

Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Ruby audibly bumped the plastic flashlight against the floor. Her face was incredulous as she signed to Missy, <Past: Your employee for decade, you mean?>

Missy scoffed silently, and signed <Indirectly. Heart two years, I've known.> She returned her sharp gaze to Jack, her eyebrows lifted in question as she made two bent bunny ears by her temple and shook them.

Jack moved his hand as if throwing salt over his shoulder, the sign for long time ago . <Fuzzy, my memory was. Always rough, Prat was. Soon: Sister, Prat lose. Worse, Prat became. Now: More happened, I think. Past Worse, Prat was, when my memory cleared.>

A glum pall came over most of the group, as they contemplated what this meant, and their possible roles, unwitting or not, in it. In a deliberate way, Rogue picked up the pink foam ball and placed it in front of himself.

<Now: His worst, Prat isn't? Future: Worse, Prat will become?> Rogue, ventured, tilting his head questioningly.

Mickey audible scoffed, his face incredulous, as he signed. <Present: Better version, this Prat is? Plenty bad, Prat is. Harp, Prat badly injure.>

Ianto shifted uncomfortably. Jack glared, signing, <All true. I know.>

Alina took the cylinder of yellow plastic in front of Ruby and tapped it in front of herself before starting. <Past: You, Prat asked more?> Alina signed to Martha, then placed the flashlight in front of Martha's crossed legs.

<Past: My fatigue. Prat asked about.>

A flurry of signs came from multiple directions asking about what Pratt's interest in it was, or conjecture about the Time Agency doing something.

Martha placed her first two fingers in her upturned opposite elbow, doing one of the signs for relax. When she had everyone's attention she continued signing.

<Past: Me to clinic, Prat took. My iron levels, they scanned. Always: Anemia, I have. Past: Iron infusion to me, they gave.>

The new signers tilted their heads. Mickey, a worried look on his tilted head, repeated the sign of anemia and iron, not knowing what the signs were.

<For object with same sound, iron motion used,> Martha explained, hoping they'd catch on. They decided early on to not use much finger spelling to teach, to further obfuscate their sign language from their captors.

Mickey's lips wobbled like a fish. He closed his jaw, his eyes watering. <You have low iron, I forgot. Low iron, anemia is?>

Martha shrugged and responded, <Long time ago: Anemia I got under control. Before: Me with untreated anemia, you haven't know.>

The Doctor reached through the bars, and plucked the pink ball from in front of Rogue, placing it in front of himself. <Past: You, they do check, for more? They share more?> The Doctor asked, eyebrows raised.

<Now: Word share, I wouldn't use. Sharing, they not use to. Past: Blood test result result, I demanded. Low iron level, I did see.>

Hally moved the flashlight from in front of Martha to in front of herself. <Past: Our boss, Prat asked for. Your anemia, he checked and treated. More thing thing, he did?> Hally raised eyebrows in question at Martha.

<Past: Part of first interrogation, he forgot, or me, he teased. He forgot, I thought. Also, who encrypt mobile mobile, he wanted to know.> Martha realized she forgot to take the flashlight back and took it back from Hally.

Jack's eyebrows rose. He put his dominant hand's thumb and fingers just above the outside of same eyebrow, then twisted his wrist outward and opened his hand as if dropping something.

Martha nodded while holding up her fist and twisting her wrist forward. Then she repeated the forget sign Jack had used.

<Past: I lost memory, I only knew,> Jack signed. <Prat lost memory, I did not know.>

Alina retrieved the flashlight from Martha and placed it in front of herself. <Now: Memory, Energy-Bunny and Rock loosing, makes sense. Near each other, they are, cause time line problem,> Alina signed, then tilted her head, <Why memory, Prat lose?>

Mickey, with frustration twisting his face and coiling his shoulders, pushed out both of his hands, palm forward, to the side, as if he was pushing someone; the sign for wait . The Doctor moved the pink ball in front of Mickey.

<Near each other, Energy-bunny and Rock being, causing both memory loss?> Mickey's eyebrows rose and stayed up. <Feature of time travel, it is? When, us, someone go tell?>

Jack pinched his nose.

Now Ruby signed wait, but with an ecstatic look on her face. <We leave, when your memory clear, Energy-Bunny? When?> She repeated the last sign, wiggling her fingers near her jaw line.

Jack sighed and threw his hand over his shoulder. <Fuzzy, my memory be.>

Jack, his jaw tight, forcefully tapped his three middle fingers on his other palm, signing the word month, over and over and over again, before he threw his hands apart, palm up, as he shrugged.

The group gloomily absorbed this information for a long moment.

Martha took the flashlight from Alina, and brought their attention back to Alina's question. <Why memory, Prat lose? What, Prat, Time Agency do to?>

<Past: Time agency, my third year working at,> Jack signed, <Concern, I developed. But that? They erased my memory, I believed. Answer answer, I don't find. I left.>

<Now: When, us, someone going tell?> Mickey repeated.

<Now: Us, information won't help,> Martha insisted. <Time line can change. No definite answer. We all live, Energy-Bunny leaving later not mean.>

Mickey fixed his glare on The Doctor. <Kilt know.>

The Doctor lets go of a heavy breath, his eyes sad. <Past: To me about this time, no one talked.>

<Future: All survive, we will? Some missing, Eyebrow would realize. Eyebrow would ask?> Mickey pressed.

Missy eyes rolled. <Mouse missing, Eyebrow would not realize.>

The Doctor tried to look offended. Missy smacked a sideways hand into the upturned palm of the other hand, signing true .

<Time line can change. Fixed, timeline is not,> Doctor signed, concern pooling in his eyes.

With palms down, pinkies and ring fingers curled under, Hally tapped one set of index and middle finger on top of the other set, signing Dad .

Hally implored of The Doctor, <When we go back? When?>

The Doctor looked briefly confused, goes to make Bunny sign and stops half way through, realization of what Hally was asking dawning in a touch of horror on his face.

<I don't know,> The Doctor signed.

<Sunday,> Hally pressed, pausing a moment. <Sunday Sunday, you visit. One Sunday, I miss? Or visit visit, you stop?>

<No. No. I not stop. Sunday sunday, you miss.>

Panic overtook Hally's face.

"NO! Month month apart. Work. Message, you always leave. Never back-to-back Sunday Sunday.>

Missy eyed The Doctor, contributing signs herself.  <Past: First Sunday, Queen missed? Mother Day?>

Hally's face dropped, remembering the Sunday coming up was Mother's day. Alina's eyes closed in pain.

The Doctor scrunched up his face, trying to dig through his memories. <Past. Yes.> He started the wavy sign for River and aborted it. They hadn't discussed River before, so hadn't come up with a sign name for her, though her name being also a common noun made the natural inclination easy. 

Missy tilted her head "Past: At our house, your spouse is? On Mother's Day?"

<And Army,> Doctor elaborated, making up a sign for Armitage on the spot.

<Not Heart?> Hally signed.

Doctor shook his head no.

<Past: Home next Sunday, we are?> Missy tilted her head. She was just as invested in the answer as Hally, Missy didn't even much care if The Doctor's uncharacteristically sharing spoilers came from a motive of trying to get closer to Hally.

<Yes,> The Doctor signed, <In original timeline. Never Fixed, timeline is.>

Hally's hand searched for and found Missy's, intertwining together.

<Fixed point, Energy-Bunny is. No?> Martha added.

<Energy-Bunny alone. Luxury, we have not,> The Doctor signed.

Hally freed her hand to sign again. <Past: No one explained. Why health record, we steal? Secret still, Heart health issue issue is?>

Jack scrubbed his face. <Health record record, we not need, if what wrong, we knew.>

Alina took the flashlight back from Martha. <Queen. Behavior behavior, we know. Reason, we not know. Past: Heart in human resource, you saw. Healthy, he is not.>

<That, I saw. Before you you see?>

<Six human resource complaint in week before we left, Heart had,> Alina signed, sticking to public facts.

<So?> Hally signed, turning her hands out, palms up. <What else?>

<You, I don't know what to tell,> Jack supplied, <Past: More volatile, Heart slowly got. Heart used gun, we don't saw. You saw.>

Ianto's inter-digital gaps smashed together, before her puts the backs of his hands to his eyes in weariness and left them there. With imploring eyes, Jack reached through the bar, where he is sitting next to Ianto, and touched his forearm, then signed, putting up his index finger and shaking it, signing <What?>

<Home together, we probably arrive,> Ianto answered.

<Reasonable. Blue box, if Red and Kilt use, to take everyone home.>

<Same time,> Ianto emphasized. <Home all weekend, if Red and Queen aren't, we aren't too. Heart alone.>

<Heart, we talking about,> Ruby tried to reassuring sign, <You, Mouse, Prat injured. Heart be fine, I think. Protect himself, Heart can.>

<Heart has Army,> Jack replied, <Okay, Heart will be.>

Ianto shook his head no, and swallowed. <Flower, Army protect. In flight or unit custody, Heart is.>

Everyone looked to Missy, as if she might know something. She scoffed, and sighed, <His job, Army knows. Army priority, my daughter is.>

<Army help, if Heart is in custody,> Hally signed.

<Caught, Heart won't get,> Missy signed. <I wouldn't hire him, if unit could catch him.>

<Anything right now, we can't do. Gone from home for three to nine days, we are,> Martha reminded everyone. <That, we can't change.>

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day - Soft White Lights

Time Agency - Underground cells

The Doctor's eyes flitted upwards. He broke the quiet with a stage-whisper.

"Did you feel that, Missy? How long do you think they've been observing this time?"

Ruby head jerked around. "Is it the voice you two sometimes hear, in your head?"

"I think it's been observing a lot more than that," Missy said, narrowing her eyes, "Does it honestly think we are going to explain any signs to it? Or commune with it, generally?"

"Do we know what we are dealing with? Has it identified itself?" Rogue probed.

"No," The Doctor answered, "Not yet."

"It asks inane questions," a prickly Missy complained. "What food we eat. What ice cream is. Where we are from. What our favourite story is. It seems to stupidly think I'm so desperate for connection that I'll just strike up a conversation with it and reveal everything."

"One time it ask me if I had a favourite colour," The Doctor supplied.

"And you humoured them, didn't you, cherub cheeks?" Missy scorned, "Probably said something inane like I don't have a favourite colour, I like them all ."

"Have you ever asked it questions?" Ianto suggested.

"Why would I care?" Missy answered.

Jack sighed. "It is possible we could get useful information, Missy."

"Highly unlikely," Missy countered.

A guard files in and all the detainees' eyes turn to the new addition to the space. The guard is pushing a cart with covered food trays. She puts them on waist-high metal shelf with a lip, just wide enough for the trays, and pushed them along through a small gap in the bars at the wall, where the metal shelf went through to the other side. Mickey picked up a tray first, and went to sit down near the middle of his cell, near the bars were Rogue sat on the other side, as The Doctor and Ianto went to grab their trays.

"What is it?" Rogue asked, staying seated, knowing Jack will bring back both trays for his cell.

Mickey took the lid off and slid it underneath his tray. "Looks like grey protein slop, and instant potatoes with corn mixed in."

Ianto joined Mickey, and Jack joined Rogue. The Doctor sat a ways off with a contemplative look on his face.

"Well, we've had worse," Rogue offered diplomatically.

"Easy for you to say," Mickey commented, "There could be cream in the mashed potatoes, or whey protein in the protein slop, ready to do war with my intestines."

"Eat," Martha instructed, at the same time using the sign for eat. She sat on the other side of the bars separating the middle cell from the women's cell, waiting for Alina or Ruby to come back with her tray.

Hally and Missy were settling down to eat in another corner of the women's cell, when Alina and Ruby returned with three trays.

"The guard said this one is for you," Alina told Martha, handing Martha a tray with writing on it that looked like a Chinese character.

Martha looked puzzled, and opened it up. She had the mashed potatoes and corn mixture, but instead of protein slop she had -

"Liver. Chicken, I think?" Martha's face scrunched up.

"A good source of iron, isn't it?" Mickey asked.

"Yeah. I'm not sure I can eat it."

Mickey mimed putting food in his mouth with his hand, the sign for eat. "Eat. You need the iron. You've enjoyed liver before."

"With onions, and spices, or as part of dishes." Martha put the back of her hand to her mouth. "I don't think they put in that amount of effort. The smell. Ugh."

"Try," Mickey said, "I eat food in here that doesn't sit well with me all the time."

"It's a little different when the problem comes up when you are trying eating it, instead of afterwards," offered Alina neutrally.

Martha tentatively forked a piece of the liver and brought it close to her mouth, gagging at the smell. She shoved it into her mouth before the smell could overwhelm her, and started chewing it. Her expression betrayed the conflict inside her. She paled, gave a quick murmur, "It's under-cooked," before she spit out the chewed piece, and then dry heaved again. She looked at her tray. "I can't eat that."

"I don't suppose complaining will do you any good," Rogue said, glancing at the two guards.

Ianto wryly added, "On the topic of medical accommodations, Martha, I don't suppose you told Pratt that I took out my contact lenses ages ago, and I could really use some glasses."

"I'll try to remember next time," Martha quirked a corner of her lips.

51st Century - Time of Day - Red Dusky Lights

Time Agency - Underground cells

Rogue woke, his eyes opening after feeling something tickling his upturned face. Snow flakes, dark red specs in the dusky red lights, were drifting down towards his face. The bounty hunter saw up suddenly, looking towards the women's cell, and saw Ruby sniffling on the other side of the bars from him.

"Are you all right?"

"I don't know why it's snowing," Ruby sniffed out, scrubbing her face with her eyes, "I was thinking of Carla. So, now, more things are turning me into a snow globe."

"We've gotten out of tougher scraps," Rogue gave a reassuring grin, "Once I got trapped in an alternative dimension, remember, and The Doctor found me."

"Yes. I'll get yous both out of this."

Rogue turned his head around to The Doctor's cell, seeing that The Doctor was awake, watching them both through the bars. Rogue looked around and saw the only other person awake was Missy, tilting her head over her wife's sleeping form.

Ruby wiggled the fingers of one hand near her jawline, signing when, as snow thickened around them, tears pooling in her eyes. <Future: In your past, their absence is. They gone one Sunday, they know. How long we gone, we don't know. You don't know. Me for years, Carla may not see. Die, we may. Keep that secret from Eyebrow, future them may.>

"All of us are getting out," The Doctor insisted in a low voice, his eyes pooling concern, hope, and determination. "I don't know how, or when, but I promise you Ruby, we are getting out."

The sound of throat clearing make itself known behind Ruby. Missy stood there, snow started to collect on her shoulders and head, and mimed licking an ice cream cone in her hand, their call sign for Ruby.

<While you snow, we try,> Missy signed.

Ruby gave a double thumbs-up sign, the sign for fine or okay, though her sigh and facial expression communicated sarcasm. Missy narrowed her eyes. Ruby put her hand out and Missy pulled her up to standing. They walked away towards the other side of their cell, leaving Rogue and The Doctor alone. Though a sleeping Jack lay near by. Rogue got up from the cell bars shared with the women to the cell bars shared with the other men, sliding down the wall to sit across the bars from The Doctor, Jack sleeping only a meter from Rogue's stretched out legs.

"I got to say, this ranks very low in my travel destinations with you," softly quipped Rogue, a smile on his lips.

A corner of The Doctor's lips quirked briefly.

"And I've spent some time trapped in another dimension on account of - ," Rogue started.

"- of you being a self-sacrificing hero," The Doctor kindly admonished with his eyebrows. "Don't do that again."

"Yes, yes. You've given me this talk."

"I'll keep giving it to you as it as long as it seems a risk. No noble sacrifices."

"Because only you're allowed that?"

"You're supposed to be a bounty hunter."

"You love it when people defy expectations."

"I like it when anything defies expectations. Novelty becomes rarer the more experience one has."

"Get a room you two," a mutter rose up from Jack, though he rolled over on his mat onto his stomach and just grinned at the two of them.

Rogue snorted. "If only there was one available."

"It's harder to tell if he is blushing now, but I'm pretty sure that he is blushing," Jack teased.

"Definitely," Rogue smiled.

The Doctor plastered on a smile. "Lets talk about something else, shall we."

"Is this why you like running so much, Doctor?" Jack bounced his eyebrows. "No time for questions, bringing out your prudish side, or domestic stuff?"

"Wanting privacy is not the same thing as repression," The Doctor evaded, the pitch of his voice hitching upward.

"Are those Doctor constants? As long as you've known him?" Rogue looked to Jack. 

"Yep." Jack said, popping the p.

Rogue started to sign. <Past: Kilt, you have known, long time. How many face face, you have known?>

<Present: Including Kilt? Five faces, I know, of Kilt. Ears, Hair-Up, Chin, Eyebrow, I knew.>

<Leather, Stripes, Bowtie, you couldn't choose?> a playfully exasperated Doctor signed, <And, be guitar, why couldn't Eyebrow?>

Rogue shrugged. "I could figure out Jack's attempt at ad-hoc call signs, they were kind of intuitive."

<My fashion, I have control over,> The Doctor signed, <My face, I don't.>

"I'd ask you, Rogue, if he was getting better at the domestic stuff, but considering he hadn't chosen to introduce you to Hally yet, I'm guessing not."

"I hadn't not chosen," The Doctor insisted playfully, "I've just been busy traveling."

"Well, if you were putting it off, love, I don't think that will be necessary after we get out of here."

"Love? You two are in endearment territory?"

"It's still a very one-sided territory," Rogue answered, "In public anyways." The Doctor looked caught between being defensive, embarrassed, and wanting to apologize.

"Are you making any progress with Hally?" Rogue asked, changing the topic, though The Doctor was not much more enthused about this one.

"No," the Doctor answer, his voice low and woe-full, "She won't talk to me."

"Were things not better between you and the older Hally in your time?" Jack asked.

"Things are, somewhat," the Doctor begin, his voice tentative and uncharacteristically unsure, "but that doesn't mean I don't want things better between me and this version of Hally. Very rarely does one have an opportunity to try to fix things with a younger version of a loved one, without breaking rules of the space-time continuum. I also can't help but wonder if this time together had somehow affected the trajectory of our relationship between this version of Hally, and the latest one I know, and I'm failing at it, and messing up the time line. That my relationship with my more contemporaneous Hally will be different, worse, than I remember. "

The snow stopped falling.

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day unknown

Underground facilities 

After Martha got an iron infusion at medical Pratt dropped her off at her cell and he ascended to the containment floor above. This containment floor had medical facilities more extensive than the medical lab on the floor Martha was being kept in. He passed medical and its darkened windows, heading down the hallway to an entrance of a diamond-shape set of hallways. He took the right hallway and put on a swagger. The left hallway would have taken him by the Judoon, though it would have also taken him by two children with eyes that haunted him worse than his sister’s.

Prisoners, who seemed to be afflicted with difficulties to various degrees, shifted in the far ends of their cells. Two Silurians were itching their own scales on their faces. An Ice Warrior, sans armour, seemed to be producing slime from what Pratt assumed were its mucus membranes. with a bloodied eye. In another cell were three human men, who seemed to be alright, and in the cell next to them was a human woman picking up a fork with a mechanical hand. 

He settled in an interrogation room, forwarding recordings of his previous interrogation to his inbox for later review, and examined Ra-o the Judoon’s file while waiting for a guard to bring the prisoner. Some of it was redacted. Helpful , Pratt thought sarcastically. It looked like she held a high rank, suggesting more intelligence than the average Judoon.

The Judoon was brought in in handcuffs, flanked by three guards. It had a small tuft of hair on its scalp, marking it as female. Something that hadn’t been mentioned in the file is that her face had been defaced with only a stump remaining of her horn; loosing their horns under any circumstances was considered a grave dishonour. 

The guards left an electric prod. Once the guards vacated the room the Judoon narrowed her eyes and spoke in common, though using the particularly gruff stilted inflection Judoon were known for. 

“A Statten accomplice,” Ra-o accused.

“No. Employee of the Time Agency. My name's Pratt.”

“Same thing.”

Well there goes my hope of this going easy, Pratt thinks to himself.

"No chance of you recognizing the authority of the Time Agency, then? We are authorized under this planetary government.”

“Bought and paid for. Illegitimate.”

“This coming from the default hired space thugs of our Galaxy. Were your services not bought and paid for? Did whoever hire you tell you that? Because I thought Judoons too thick to differentiate between legitimate and illegitimate authorities.”

“Ra-o won’t cooperate,” she snarled.

“You don’t even know what I am going to ask yet.”

Ra-o stared.

“Yeah, I know, to a Judoon, asking for cooperation instead of shooting is an ungraspable concept. But it’s something the rest of us do sometimes.”

“Ask question.”

“How did you come to know the sign language you’ve learned?”

Ra-o looked perplexed a moment. Then she shook, as if suppressing amused laughter. 

“It’s a simple question. If you need some motivation, I’ll fuck you, or fuck you up, to get an answer. Your choice.”

The Judoon leaned forward on the table, their handcuffed wrists held parallel, close together.

 “Statten gravely dishonored me. Statten afraid of sign? Let Statten be afraid.”

The clink noise on the table made Pratt freeze; he recognized that noise, it was the noise the handcuffs made when they were being disengaged. He froze only a moment, snatching the electric prod and backing away as Ra-o blinked dumbly at the handcuffs thunking on the table, before she gave a delighted sneer. Pratt looked down at the prod and realized it wasn’t lit up, meaning it wasn’t working.

“Fuck!” Pratt exclaimed, before calling out, “Guards?”

Maksim’s voice came through the comm, “We’re monitoring.”

Pratt suddenly dove to the right as the Judoon charged in a head down position at his former position and left a sizable dent in the wall. He was glad she didn’t have her horn anymore. When she charged again he pirouetted to his right and grabbed her by the neck, using the length of the prod to try to choke her. She swung him like a rag-doll, based on her tall height, and on her heavier mass alone, but he managed to hold on until she head butted him. Pratt almost falls backwards, and touches his nose as blood started running from it.

“Fuck! I think you broke my nose!”

Ra-o shook in silent amusement, and massaged the bottom edge of her horn stub. “Fair turnabout.”

“Did I get the only fucking Judoon with a sense of humour?”

Apparently without standard weapons Jadoon tactics went to shit; she charged him again, this time head up with arms wide out. Pratt leapt down into a plank and tripped Ra-o. He dropped the useless prod, grabbed her foot and yanked on it as he positioned himself on her back, trying to twist it to see if he could break it, or at least strain it. Her arms wouldn’t reach him.

“Who the fuck taught you to sign? Are the prisoners planning something?”

Her chest and shoulders silently shook again.

“What the fuck is so amusing?”

Instead of answering him she used her free leg Pratt didn’t have to give herself leverage to twist her body on the ground, dislodging Pratt, sending him tumbling and scrambling on the floor. This time she put up her hands, readying for hand-to-hand combat. Pratt contemplated getting his knife out of his pants, but thought better of it. Even if his mission wasn’t gathering intel, Judoon hides were notoriously tough, hearts well protected, and the tablespoon size brains would be near impossible to reach with his blade.

They circled each other, dukes up. 

Ra-o did a right jab and Pratt slipped just out of reach.

“Just - “

A left jab came at him and he dodged it with a step to right

“- tell -”

A right hook came at him and he just barely evaded it by ducking.

“- me.”

He used the ducking motion to sweep under her right arm and behind her, but she recovered and elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“Shit!” Pratt realized he better bring this to a conclusion soon, but he didn’t have any time to plan as she grappled him to the floor, sat on his chest, and started throttling his throat. Pulling at her hands did nothing. He tried to push her back with his left forearm, but she bit his arm, putting a terrible gash in. “Ahhhhh!” He swung up his right hands to her face fast, reaching for her left eye, trying to dig his thumbs into her bulging slimy eye socket. She gave a primal deep yell and stumbled off and backwards from Pratt, falling backwards on the floor with a thud.

Pratt saw that the electric prod, laying discharged on the floor where he left it, had flickering currents coming out of the end now. He grabbed and, still hoping to get some intel, he shocked her legs and arms into temporary uselessness, straddled her chest, and used the length of the prod to choke her again, this time against the floor, using all of his weight, adding a knee for good measure. He was becoming overextended though, and had to have an end soon.

“Tell me who taught you sign, and how,” Pratt gritted. 

The Judoon sputtered something, but it was hard to hear. While Judoons could breath with low levels of oxygen, talking seemingly wasn’t so easy.

Against his instincts Pratt leaned in, and demanded loudly “Who? How?”

“Do you have code of honour?” The voice was clear but low enough that it did not carry. The electric prod cracked and sizzled out of it's business end, safely away from either of them. The hard length of it was cold and unyielding in Pratt's grip and under his knee.

Pratt looked at Judoon's face like they were crazy. What kind of tangent is that, Pratt wondered.

“I thought Judoon’s did not care about honour, outside of keeping their horn. They only care about rules,” Pratt hissed in the Judoon’s ear, with a lowered voice.

Ra-o’s chest shook again, though not as much as before, limited. “Perhaps. But what you do with knowledge. You follow rules? Report to Statten identity of who so scares them? What Statten's accomplice choose to do once knows identity of one that so scares Statten?”

“Are prisoners planning an escape or subterfuge?”

“No,” Ra-o breathed.

Pratt snorted gruffly. One of the few straight forward answers Ra-o had provided. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on like this, he just hoped Maksim would send it more guards before he was dead; surely at the least he wouldn’t want to lose on the investment in Pratt. 

“Why should I believe you?”

“Closer,” Ra-o said, her gruff voice getting weaker.

Pratt leaned in, keeping his ear just past the reach of her teeth; his left forearm still screamed in agony and blood from her bite.

“I swear on my horn, it was a child prisoner who taught the prisoners sign.”

Pratt’s eyes widened as he quickly sat up at this revelation, swiveling the electric prod and jabbing it right into her left eye that he had thumbed earlier, electrocuting her on the inside of her head. Her body quaked in reaction before it stilled. Pratt tried to stand up but stumbled, his vision doubling. Then he remembers, damn Judoon bites are venomous, just before he keeled over, tumbling unconscious on top of Ra-o’s dead body.

Chapter Text

51st Century - Time of Day - unknown

Underground facilities 

Vilyam’s nascent consciousness greeted him with the sensation of every body part throbbing. There was a song starting, it playing on low in a genre Vilyaam didn't recognize.

Chapter Text

Saturday Morning

Australia Outback 

Hart came out of a bedroom towards the kitchen scratching his scalp with the pads of his fingers and rubbing his still flat belly with his other hand, following the smell of food. While the smell wasn’t entirely pleasant to bean, Hart was hungry. The Master was already there, eating an omelet. 

“Did you make any for me?”

“Has pregnancy made you an invalid and you can’t make your own food?”

“How did I get back inside last night?”

“You leaned on me.”

“I don’t want to cook. 

“Here’s the anti-nauseants River brought for you.”

Hart blinked. “Wondered where those were. Thanks.” He filled a glass with water and downed a pill.

“Can’t have you throwing up all over my outback decor. It’d really upset the look. And the smell. In the Australian heat? By noon I’d want to bazooka the house.”

“Do you have any cereal?”

“Coco pops.”

“That’ll do.” Hart went to the cupboard, opening one after the next, leaving them open as he went along, irritating the Master.

“It’s in the cupboard beside the fridge. Can you close the damn cupboards when you are done with them?”

Hart either didn't hear or ignored the last comment. Hart got some milk from the fridge and served himself a bowl, sitting down at the dining table with the Master.

“So, breakfast, and then we take the jeep back to civilization?”

“River saw fit to divest us of both the driver’s side wheel, and the spare wheel,” Master grumbled.

Hart half laughed, half grumbled. 

Master sneered, “I guess you can afford to laugh since you know you make your Monday appointment.”

“River wouldn’t let anything happen to Lily.”

"Just cause you two bonded over homicidal impulses doesn't make her Lily-guardian material."

Hart's eyes teared up.

"Fucking hell," the Master bit out.

Hart, blinking back tears, took a bite of the coco pops and spits it out. “They’re stale.”

“I don’t exactly restock this place often.”

“So, are you going to give me a tour?”

“There’s a desert to your left, your right, behind you, ahead of you. There, done.”

“Any kangaroos come through here?”

“We are not kangaroo watching.”

“What else do you have to keep up occupied this weekend?”

“River is going to pay for tricking me.”

“She tricked both of us. Oh, and, um, sorry about propositioning you, way back when. Maybe if I'm irritable enough, me returning to UNIT and consequences will seem a welcome reprieve by Monday.”

“Why did I ever hire you?”

“Because I helped you escape after Stolen Earth, and we bonded in Hawaii?”

“We did not bond.”

Chapter Text

Saturday Morning

London - Residence of Lily Oakdown

After eating coco pops Lily had eaten the soft boiled eggs, dipping toast in it, and then Armitage had ended up putting most of the hygge Danish breakfast in the fridge. He figured it was his breakfast for tomorrow now. Lily went to watch Saturday morning cartoons with Abyss and Hades.

Armitage’s phone rang. It’s Crowther. Armitage picked up.

“How’s your kid?” 

“Theo's doing better. Getting discharged today. Thanks for getting my shifts covered. I hear we are short-handed, across both Hart’s and your team. That Thach and Magaji are doing night shifts, and you and Hart have been covering days. Do you need me to come in?”

“No. Spend the weekend with your family, Crowther. Return to work on Monday.” 

“Mungoshi still has a few more weeks of leave, right? Will everyone else be back next week? Yoshida’s vacation is done now. Araya-Herrera recovery from surgery going well? Have the Bakshi brothers tied up everything in India?”

“Yes.” 

“Good. I’ll keep you apprised if anything happens that could stop me from returning to work Monday.”

“There should be coverage if you can’t.”

“Thanks, Boss.”

When Armitage got off the phone he heard Lily sniffling in the next room. He walked to the living room and saw her from the side, tears falling down her face as she watched acme cartoons. 

Mweep, mweep, the TV sounded. 

“Who was calling?” Lily's voice plaintively asked. 

“Crowther. His kid was in the hospital. He's doing better now. Do you need anything?”

“Does Wile E. ever win?”

Armitage stared.

“The coyote," Lily clarified. "Does Wile E. Coyote ever catch the Road Runner?”

“Once or twice. But the Road Runner escapes.”

A long pause happened between them. Armitage joined Lily on the couch.

“It’ll be an inside weekend.”

Lily leaned into Armitage, pulling up the throw with her. “I don’t want to go anywhere. What if they come home and I’m not here?”

They watched Road Runner thwart Wile E. Coyote once again. Lily looked up at Armitage.

“Anwen has Jujutsu lessons in the morning.”

Armitage stared.

“I was going to play on-line video games with her later. Did they have video games when you were a kid?”

“Do you have classic video games?”

“You mean old? Probably. Mamaidh built the collection. Says mom has no fine appreciation for the classics.” 

Lily pulled up a game menu and handed the controller to Armitage. Armitage selected an 80s two-player Mario game.

Chapter Text

Time of Day - unknown - Red Dusky Lights

Time Agency - Underground cells

Ianto woke up and sat up on his mat in the center of his cell under the red dusky lights. He started automatically doing a habitual mental head count, starting with his cell. The Doctor looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable, sitting on the bench, scratching seemingly absentmindedly behind his ear. The Time Lord stood up from the bench and made his way to the cell’s front bars and stuck his arms through them to rest. Mickey sat, leaning against the back wall near the bars shared with the middle cell, talking with Jack, who was sitting on his bench, and with Rogue, who was leaning against the bars his cell shared with the women. Four. 

In the women’s cell he saw around the bench closest to the middle cell three women. Martha sat on the bench, leaning forward, looking uncomfortable, with Ruby on the floor crossed legged, and Alina standing with her hands clasped in front of her. 

His eyes continued searching for his last two prison mates but he saw no one else, and he got worried.

“Alina, did something happen? Where are Hally and Missy?”

"Ah, they're in the bathroom."

"Both of them..."

"Yes, Ianto."

"Are they...?"

"Well, I don't think they're braiding each other's hair..."

The three women expression changed, as if they heard some salacious noise or other. Ianto didn't hear anything. He looked around to the other men, it appeared they were too far to hear it. Though the Doctor, who wasn't even looking in their direction, his shoulders tightened and raised fractionally, as if in in a cringe; perhaps Time Lord hearing was better than human hearing. 

Ruby, semi impressed, "I'm way too scared to be horny."

Rogue shrugged his shoulders. "Adrenaline can do funky things."

Alina sighed. "Let's call it stress relief. She's unbearably tightly wound as it is."

Jack smirked. “This should help.”

Ianto looked at Jack. “Did you suggest this - ?”

An abrupt laugh cleared Jack's throat. "I think Missy would be offended someone thinking she needs my advise on how to handle her wife."

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Can we please stop talking about this?"

“Are you saying you absolutely wouldn’t, if we shared a bathroom?” Rogue pressed.

The Doctor facepalmed. The other two couples glanced at each other and look away, clamping their mouths closed or pursing their lips. 

Ruby looked around at the three couples. “Really? You are all that horny?” Ruby looked to the other single person, Alina. “Would you?” 

Alina answered simply, “There are many mental and physical health benefits to sexual intimacy.”

Martha looked like she is nauseated. 

Ruby shrugged. “I haven’t even ménage à moi once in here.”

Martha made a quip, a joke to distract herself from her discomfort. “Performance anxiety?” It is met with a few chuckles and laughs.

The bathroom tap started to run. Everyone tried to act natural, like they haven’t been paying attention and don’t know what Hally and Missy were doing in there. A moment later the two women exit. Missy practically saunters, owning it. Hally looks a mixture of relaxed, embarrassed and self-conscious. 

Missy broke the silence quickly, apparently hearing the end of their conversation. “Well, I was bored, and it was either that, or I kill you, Ruby.” 

Hally’s cheeks flamed, and looked like she wants to say something. Martha got up from the bench and walks into the bathroom. After a moment vomiting can be heard. 

Mickey moved his worried look from the women’s bathroom to the Doctor’s face. 

“What do you think is wrong with her, Doctor? I’ve heard high iron can can nausea. Did she get more undercooked liver? Or do you think it is something else?”

The Doctor’s head tilted forward and he rubs the back of his head. “I don’t know.” 

“But you have theories,” Mickey pressed. 

"Like most Doctors, I’m sure he’d like to blame women problems,” Missy mocked non-chalantly.

The Doctor gave Missy an unimpressed look.

Ruby huffed. “Yeah, well right now, I’d take women problems over whatever the other options would be.”

Chapter Text

Time of Day - unknown - Red Dusky Lights

Time Agency - Underground cells

Martha re-emerged from the bathroom. “It’s not a women problem. I’m not on my period.”

“And you call yourself a Doctor?” Missy mused.

Martha crossed her arms. “I don’t have endometriosis, cysts, or polyps. I do have anemia.”

“Did I suggest something was malfunctioning with your uterus? Though, for you to say that definitely means you’ve been tested for some reason. Something was wrong. Hence all the testing.”

Martha scoffed, “What is that supposed to mean? Do you have a diagnosis in mind?”

Missy leveled her a look. “There are five people among these three cells that have used menstrual hygiene products in the time we’ve been here. You aren’t one of them. Are you on the implant, or have an IUD?”

Martha’s face froze, only her eyes blinking, as the suggestion was processed by her. Hally stared at Martha. Alina's eyes observed. Ruby exchanged looks with Rogue and Jack, both of who exchange looks with their partners.

Mickey's eyes widened in disbelief. “Is it possible?”

Her face still stunned, Martha answered, “It’s not impossible, but it’s not likely, as you know.”

"How?” Ruby exclaimed. “It’s not like you and Mickey could have sex, you know, through the cell bars like the Doctor and Rogue, or Jack and Ianto, could.”

“Hasn’t happened,” Ianto impressed empathetically. Rogues eyebrows climbed, Jack chest heaved silently in humour, the Doctor looked flushed, Hally is rubbing the space between her temples with her finger tips, Alina’s mouth opened as if in a sigh.

Missy smirked. “I don’t sleep much. The Doctor wouldn’t dare.”

“Please stop, Missy,” pleaded Hally.

Ianto blinked. “You aren’t suggesting, Ruby, that Jack or Rogue, um - “

Rogue shook his head. “If anyone needs it to be cleared up, I am certainly not the father, I’m not doing bar sex with anyone, in any cell.”

“If the thought had ever crossed my mind,” Jack contributed, “It has certainly been dampened by the idea of Missy watching.”

“I didn’t take you for such a prude, Jack,” Missy purred, “Or having such a sense of propriety.”

“Well, Missy, I don’t relish the idea of being watched by someone who’s <tortured and killed> me so many times.”

“I bet I could change that," Missy mussed, "Without, you know, that again.”

"Would you get off on that?" snorted Jack.

"Pul-lease. Delusion of grandeur much?"

"You must have delusions of grandeur to think it is grandeur to be a focus of your attention. No one is jealous of Hally."

Hally's hands clenched and eyes narrowed at the offense implied of her wife.

Martha huffed and half laughed and crossed her arms over her waist. “Enough. We don’t even know that I’m pregnant. My periods always been irregular.”

The prisoners looked between themselves, their eyes shifting from one to another, curious, confused, uncertain, except for two. Missy just stared at Martha and the Doctor dragged his hand down the side of his face.

“How long have you two suspected?” Martha asked, incredulous.

“Hmmm,” Missy mused, turning around to look through the bars down the hallway. “I downgraded the chance from high to moderate when I learned of your anemia, as it gave an alternative explanation for your fatigue, which could also be explained by our prolonged imprisonment. You've frequented the bathroom more than normal, though perhaps a lack of external time keeping has prevented this from being noticed by you. Your persistent nausea and food triggers with foods that give other troubles. Last week when you said you’d kill for your mother’s jerk chicken clinched it for me.”

“Everyone’s craving familiar foods, considering what slop we usually get served,” Martha persisted, falling into rationality to keep her mind from spinning. "The liver I've been served is revolting. And who knows what offending things could be in this food that I was never exposed to where I’m from. What about you, Doctor?”

“Ah, when you stopped wearing your bra? I, ah, doubt the bra shrunk. No one else's has.”

Martha flushed briefly.

“Is that why Pratt takes you for extra interviews?” Rogue asked, “When they deign to take anyone out of these cells?”

“Could - could the Time Agency have created the pregnancy?” Ruby asked. “I mean, they clearly don’t care about any random pregnancy. Sorry to bring it up again, Ianto, but he beat you until you miscarried.”

“Missy's right,” Martha answered, “I haven’t had my period in here.”

Jack snorted. “It’s my only way of keeping time. A predictable as Old Faithful.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Mickey finally found his voice. It wavered. “It’s your baby Martha, if there is a baby, Martha, it’s yours. That’s all that matters.”

Martha chest heaved and her breath hitched, Mickey's comments making her heart and brain catch up and treat this as real. A charged mixture of fear and hope bloomed on her face as she drew the back of her hand to her mouth.

"I was wondering when the mood swings would show up." Missy delivered deadpan, as she turned her head away from her fellow detainees and towards the cell bars.