We begin with some history before getting into the meat of the story ...

Getting Even

Prologue

The Hub was buzzing as the team discussed the latest operation, buoyed up by their success in defeating the Jizm'll Horde. It had been close, as most of the operations were, but they'd succeeded and this time no one had died. There had been injuries – two broken bones, a wrenched shoulder, a bullet wound (from friendly fire) and three nasty gashes caused by Jizm'll horns – but they would all heal. At the moment the five walking wounded were queuing up to be treated by the doctor, littering the work area as they chatted and drank copious cups of hot, sweet tea.

Sitting in the far corner, Jack Harkness had his feet on a desk with the newspaper held up as a screen. He didn't want any 'little jobs' chucked his way and was keeping a low profile. The news from the Falkland Islands was keeping him interested anyway; HMS Ardent had been sunk and the reporters were in full flood about what this meant. Following only a couple of weeks after the loss of HMS Sheffield most saw this second sinking as a bad omen for the land battle yet to come. If only they knew … Jack's attention was diverted from the paper by the arrival, on the other side of the Hub, of three brawny lads carrying various boxes and other items of equipment. They were handsome boys and he lowered the paper to keep them in view; he planned on bedding at least one that night. His eye was on Barry, the short fair one that had eluded him thus far, but any would do.

Behind the lads came the plump figure of Susan with her ubiquitous clipboard and officious manner, bustling about trying to look important. She really is a pain, thought Jack, going back to his paper. The last two members of the team were in the armoury cleaning and returning the weapons to the racks. With twelve members this was one of the largest teams Torchwood Three had ever had, a result of interference from London who wanted a stronger presence in the Principality for a reason they had not shared with anyone else, unless Karen Wriggler knew. Team leader for the past two years, Karen was a tough cookie who appeared to handle London well but kept information to herself rather than share it with her team. Her attitude didn't help team bonding but this didn't bother her nor did the ribbing about her name; she had a thick skin.

"Jack!" The call came from the office perched alongside the raised work area. Karen was gesticulating at him, beckoning for him to join her.

"Boss must have the hots for you, Harkness," joked Sandy, one of the three handsome lads heading past with equipment boxes.

"She's not the only one." Jack leered, remembering Sandy's introduction to all-male action. That had been a memorable encounter which the boy had obviously enjoyed as he had come back for more than one repeat performance. Maybe he would be a better bet for that night.

Slowly and deliberately Jack folded the newspaper and took his feet off the desk. He stood and stretched before sauntering across the Hub, weaving between the desks littered around the place and waiting courteously for Susan to bustle by so as to prolong the time it took to reach the office. Making Karen wait was a small show of his independence, underlining his freelance status. He pushed open the office door and stood just inside, hands in his pockets and leaning on the filing cabinets, waiting to be noticed.

"Sit."

Jack stayed where he was, determined to show he was his own man. Karen had never made any attempt to get to know him, using him as cannon fodder when it suited her and rarely listening to his suggestions. He was rather tired of the whole thing and contemplating time away from Cardiff and Torchwood. He had enough money to tide him over for a few months and it had been a while since his last escape.

Karen raised her head and regarded him, taking in the arrogant stance and quirk of the lips. "Then at least shut the door." A pause. "Please."

He stirred at this and flicked a heel against the open door with just enough force to close it. He had practiced the move often. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"Your help." Resting her elbows on the desk, piled high with papers and dirty crockery, she continued to look at him steadily, her gaze never leaving his. Even his short disbelieving laugh did not put her off. "We have to do something about Wally."

"We?"

"The man's a liability. He's out."

Jack said nothing, looking through the round glass window to the armoury. John Wallswell, Wally to the team, was in there cleaning the weapons, dour-faced as always. He was a grunt, manpower for this over-sized team. Joining Torchwood from the Army, he had distinguished himself only by his arrogance and uncertain temper. Jack thought he drank too much too and was not surprised the man was being dumped.

"Take him somewhere as far from Cardiff as you can get and give him one of your forgetting pills. I don't want to hear from or of him again. See Susan for some funds." She looked down at file open on the desk, dismissing him.

Without a word Jack turned on his heel and left. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for, an authorised trip away from the city from which neither he nor Wally would return. He was whistling as he walked to the armoury.

The action moves to early second season Torchwood (2008) in the next chapter. What is the link between the two times? Stay with the story and find out ... I'll post the next chapter tomorrow.