A/N: This is not so much a chapter as an accompanying ficlet. (Yes, it probably should have been in the Crossover section, but it needs to go with 'Almost Expected', &c.)


'Rescued'. T. John Hart, Jack, River. For firefly124 at LJ.

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, Torchwood.

Warning: Implied violence.


John Hart was the centre of the party. Granted, it wasn't the most desired position, at this point, but it's not like he was surprised.

He had prepared himself for a long night, and his hosts certainly seemed ambitious.

And then someone came to his rescue; heart-warming.

A tiny tiny cube slid across the floor. It gave off a shrill shriek that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, his muscles spasm, and what possibly was the very marrow of his bones quiver. When it shut up, when he could breathe properly again, there were red-varnished nails on his arm and the other 'guests' had been turned away. Literally. Space had been bent.

"Oh!" he said, stretching the best he could with his wrists bound. "Illegal."

His rescuers both moved to glare at him. Jack had that contrary air about him. His trigger-finger wasn't as relaxed as John would have liked, either. River was... generally disapproving.

John forced his lips into a facsimile of a smile and put some twinkle into his eye out of sheer stubbornness. He really was very tired. And very thirsty. "So, how about a drink?"

"Sure," said Jack, grabbing the handcuff chain and yanking him to his feet. "But first you're going to help us, in turn. Information. You've got it, spit it out."

John stomped his feet to get the circulation going again, probed a cut on his lip with the tip of his tongue. "And I thought you came because you cared."

"That, too," said River.

He couldn't quite decide whether she was sarcastically sweet or sweetly sarcastic. She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.

He felt her lipstick leave a mark.