Fic: Smooth Transitions [Torchwood/Political RPF; Jack/Barack; PG]
Title: Smooth Transitions
Author: hllangel
Fandom: Torchwood/Politics
Pairing:Captain Jack Harkness/President Barack Obama (Nothing to worry about, just Jack being Jack.)
Wordcount: 2,528
Rating: PG
Notes: Many many thanks to karaokegal for her Super-Beta abilities, and for keeping on me to finish this one. It's been in the works since the election, but it's taken this long to get it out. Enjoy!
Warnings: This fic is half RPF. That means it involves real people. If this squicks you, don't read it.
Summary: The President elect has a few surprises on
his way to inauguration day.
Chicago, November 5, 2008
For such an important event, there seemed to be very little drama about it. Barack was escorted into a secure room where McConnell sat at a desk with two duplicate black folders embossed with gold in front of him.
"Welcome, Mr. President-elect, to your first presidential daily briefing" Said McConnell, sliding one of the folders across the table to Barack, who flipped it open. Inside, he found a neat stack of papers, the first one marked with the official seal of the CIA.
"You'll find intelligence from the CIA, FBI and NSA. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that this is possibly the most classified intelligence in the country."
Barack nodded and turned his attention to the information in front of him. He was determined to understand all of the information presented to him; he needed to be able to make informed decisions about Iraq, Afghanistan, and Guantanamo Bay. The latter, he wanted shut down as soon as possible, but the question of what to do with the detainees stood in his way.
McConnell waited patiently for Barack to finish his review of the dossier, giving Barack the time he needed. Much of the information, he’d seen before in his Senate briefings, although not nearly in as much detail, so nothing really surprised him.
At least not until he came to the last page of the folder, and a document with a logo and letterhead he'd never seen before.
"What is Torchwood?" he asked.
"National Security in the United Kingdom," McConnell replied. "Their interests are naturally skewed towards their own defense, but we do get reports from them occasionally."
Barack looked back down at the paper. There was only one word, printed dead center on the paper.
Congratulations.
The bottom was signed "Captain Jack Harkness" in slanted, neat writing.
He found the note intriguing, but not urgent. As there was no pertinent intelligence information, he decided to file it away for future reference. He flipped back to the beginning of the brief and started in on the long list of questions that he'd made note of the first time through.
Barack considered asking more about Torchwood and Captain Jack Harkness, but there were far more pressing matters on the agenda.
Torchwood would have to wait.
***
Chicago, December 1, 2008
No drama was one thing and no excitement was something else.
The media leak from two weeks back had taken all of the surprise out of Hillary's appointment. He knew he'd made a good choice, and that she would be an outstanding Secretary of State, but it would have been nice to make the news on his own terms, the way he’d been able to during the campaign.
It had been a long morning, and Barack was glad to get a few moments to himself before lunch with Michelle and more meetings about the transition. He pulled out his Blackberry and started flipping through his email.
Naturally, there was one from Rahm, and given the time stamp, sent right after the press conference, probably while they were still standing or walking right next to each other. Someday he'd figure out how Rahm always managed to do that.
He scrolled through a few more messages, mostly official business that could wait a few minutes and found one from a name he only vaguely recognized.
CJHarkness@TORCHWOOD
Nice pick on Secretary of State. Can't wait to give Hillary the tour when she gets here. I always wanted to meet her, but never got the chance. Think she'll let me buy her a drink?
-Captain Jack
Barack considered replying, but just then Rahm arrived to go over the schedule for the rest of the day.
The bright side of giving a press conference nearly every morning was not having to deal with the press in the afternoon. That was reserved for meetings, for going over cabinet appointees, and for spending as much time as possible with Michelle and the girls.
As a result, he didn't think about the strange email from Captain Jack until later that night. He wondered if he was expected to respond, or if it was just something to glance at and pass by.
He was just about to hit reply when there was a knock on the door. Of course it was Rahm. Barack's pick for chief of staff was perfect, he knew that, but Rahm was always there, sometimes when he didn't really want the interruption.
"Time," Rahm said, shortly.
Once again, the message went unanswered.
Chicago, December 9, 2008
Of all the things he did not want to deal with, this had to be at the top of the list.
The story out of Chicago was bad and getting worse, and the longer the thing festered with his name attached to it, the bigger the stink got. They had to put out a statement and get distance from the Governor as soon as possible, while making sure there hadn’t been any hint of an improper contact. If he found out that anyone on his staff had been in touch with Blagojevich’s people they’d have to go immediately.
Rahm’s prodigious use of obscenity had reached new heights of creative vituperation since the news broke, staying in nearly constant contact with Barack as he created a push-back strategy on the fly, putting out conservative blog brushfires flame by flame
Barack couldn't put off checking his messages anymore, he'd left it long enough as it was.
After wading through a mountain of emails from the staff, more from Rahm and a few from Michelle, he came across yet another message from Torchwood.
Tough break on the scandal. Don’t worry. It won't be remembered in two years time, much less two hundred.
Jack
For the first time, Barack felt he needed to respond immediately. Not because of Jack's reassuring words, but rather the assumption that Barack's connection to Chicago politics meant he was somehow involved in the mess, despite Fitzgerald’s statements to the contrary.
After the day he'd just had, one more insinuation, intentional or otherwise, was one too many.
Captain,
Thank you for your kind words, but rest assured that I am not worried about Governor Blagojevich. Neither I, nor anyone in my office had any involvement in his activities, and I am confident that no connections will be discovered.
President-Elect Obama
The speed of the reply surprised Barack, given the time difference between the US and UK. Maybe he shouldn't be; he knew better than anyone that security never has off-hours.
I didn't mean to imply that you had anything to do with the Governor. Just sorry your first scandal hits before you even take office.
Good luck.
Jack
Barack decided not to reply back. This Captain Harkness seemed to be something else entirely. Not only had he gotten his hands on Barack's personal email address, which was only given out to his staff, but he'd used it multiple times, and was emailing Barack like he was an old friend.
It was oddly disconcerting, and he didn’t appreciate it.
Besides, he had another meeting to get to.
Washington, D.C. January 20, 2009
The day had gone better than he'd ever hoped. Stumbles over the oath aside, the sheer joy of everyone that had come to witness his inauguration was astounding, but also overwhelming. From that first cup of coffee with George and Laura, the entire day had been packed full, and Barack had hardly had a moment to appreciate what was actually happening.
With Michelle indisposed for a few minutes and guards standing just outside all the doors, Barack was grateful for the moment to breathe in between balls. They'd just come from the Commander-in-Chief's Ball, and were now backstage in a small room elsewhere in the convention center, while Michelle prepared for the other eight stops on their tour.
Without his Blackberry, he felt disconnected, out of the loop. Just because he was the one and only news story anyone was printing, didn't mean he didn't want the news feeds, and above all, email.
He was so distracted that when the door opened, Barack didn't even look up, assuming it was going to be Michelle. He was therefore surprised when a much deeper voice addressed him.
"President Obama," the visitor said, snapping a salute.
He was tall and in uniform, as required for this particular party, though his coat seemed a bit dated. Classic, Barack decided. The man was also wearing fitted slacks and suspenders, and looked like he'd stepped out of a military ball in a newsreel.
Belatedly, Barack noticed that his visitor had not moved from the initial salute, so he returned the gesture, "At ease," he said, the words feeling strange in his mouth.
"Captain Jack Harkness," he introduced himself with a grin. "It's good to finally meet you, Mr. President."
"And the same to you, Captain," Barack responded.
"Call me Jack."
They stood looking at each other for a few moments, not saying anything. Barack wasn't quite sure what to say to Captain Jack, and so he stood there. He watched as Jack broke eye contact only to make a show of running his eyes slowly down Barack's body.
"How did you get in here?" Barack asked, the impossibility of the situation finally sinking in.
Jack shrugged. "I know a guy."
"I'm not sure if I should be impressed or afraid of that answer."
"I'm not the one you need to be afraid of," Jack responded. "But I'm not here to talk business."
"Then why are you here?"
"Same as everyone else. I wanted to meet you. I just have the resources to do it."
"I'm flattered," Barack replied.
"You should be," Jack said, meeting his eyes and smirking. "I won't cross oceans for just anybody."
Barack wasn't sure what to say. It was very clear that Jack had more than a meeting on his mind, but Barack wasn't interested. It was too bad that Bishop Robinson had already left the festivities; he had a feeling that Gene would get along very well with Jack. Luckily, Michelle chose that moment to come back in and Barack was saved from having to put Jack off definitively. He had a feeling that it would have been a very difficult task.
Before any introductions could be made, Barack watched Jack use a different sort of arsenal, taking Michelle's hand and kissing it, meeting her eyes with a sly smile and a wink before disappearing out the door.
"Who was that?" Michelle asked him. She was still staring at the door Jack had left through. Over the course of the last two years they'd met many people, but not even their visit with George Clooney had provoked quite the same reaction from Michelle. Of course, Clooney's visit had been all about the crisis in Darfur, and while he was definitely a handsome man, there had been none of the provocative smiles that Captain Jack seemed all too willing to show.
Barack took hold of Michelle's hand, the one Jack had recently let go, and gave it his own kiss. "You know, I'm still not quite sure."
Oval Office, Washington D.C., January 27, 2009
"Mr. President, the delegate from UNIT is here."
Barack rose from behind his desk to greet the delegate, and was surprised to see a young black woman in a well-tailored suit follow Rahm into the room.
"Mr. President, may I present Dr. Martha Jones, of the Unified Intelligence Task Force."
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. President," Dr. Jones said, holding out her hand. Her British accent took him by surprise. He knew that UNIT was part of the United Nations, and therefore the representative could have been anyone from around the world, but somehow her accent was unexpected.
"Likewise, Dr. Jones" Barack responded, careful to keep his face neutral. "Shall we get down to business?"
"Please, call me Martha. There really isn't much business to discuss," she said, "My visit is about establishing trust. There will be times that you'll have to defer to us in terms of national security." He didn't like the sound of that. Giving up the Bush Doctrine and some of the inane and illegal 'security' protocols that had gone into place in the last several years was one thing, but bowing down to an unknown division of an international peace-keeping organization at the drop of a hat and with no explanation was something entirely different; something he had no intention of doing.
Barack motioned for Martha to sit down, and sat back behind his desk. "I'm sure you're aware that our security is the best it's ever been," Barack said coldly, even though at this point it felt like a tired sales pitch.
"This isn't about terrorism," Martha said. "When we get called in, it's more than the nation at stake."
"The world is always at stake. I trust my staff and our agencies."
"And there's no reason why you shouldn't."
"Then what are you suggesting?"
"I'm not suggesting anything. UNIT wanted to meet you, to get our relationship with your administration off to the right start, unlike the last time around. They sent me because I have experience working with difficult offices. I've worked with Torchwood several times, and they're about as difficult as you get."
"You know Torchwood?"
"Of course I do," Martha laughed, "They're the worst kept secret in south Wales. Mostly because Jack likes to flounce around without any regard for formality."
"I was told that Torchwood dealt with National Security," said Barack tersely.
"They do," Martha attempted to clarify. "The threats they deal with are ones that you are unlikely to encounter in Iraq or Afghanistan. Strictly speaking, there's a rift in time and space in Cardiff, and it's Torchwood's job to keep an eye on it, to keep any aliens that might come through from getting further than the Castle. They're good, as are we, but Jack is a law unto himself."
Aliens. Barack couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that aliens were real. Nor could he quite grasp the way Martha casually talked about it. Instead, he focused on something tangible. "He managed to get past the secret service last week.”
"Let me guess, he said he knows a guy," Martha smiled.
"He said exactly that."
"You'll find that Jack 'knows a guy' in just about every classified organization on earth." Martha paused for a second, "and then some. He gets around more than you'd ever imagine."
Martha stood up. "It's good to meet you, Mr. President. I hope that we can work well together in the future."
"The pleasure's all mine, Dr. Jones," he responded, shaking her hand and opening the door for her. "I look forward to it."
He watched as Rahm escorted her out to her waiting car, before going back to the bill he had been reading.
Alien activity. Regularly, it seemed. Maybe Kucinich really had seen something out there. Perhaps some day he would too, along with more of Martha Jones and the enigmatic Captain Jack.
The next four years might be even more interesting than he’d ever suspected.
Author: hllangel
Fandom: Torchwood/Politics
Pairing:Captain Jack Harkness/President Barack Obama (Nothing to worry about, just Jack being Jack.)
Wordcount: 2,528
Rating: PG
Notes: Many many thanks to karaokegal for her Super-Beta abilities, and for keeping on me to finish this one. It's been in the works since the election, but it's taken this long to get it out. Enjoy!
Warnings: This fic is half RPF. That means it involves real people. If this squicks you, don't read it.
Summary: The President elect has a few surprises on
his way to inauguration day.
Chicago, November 5, 2008
For such an important event, there seemed to be very little drama about it. Barack was escorted into a secure room where McConnell sat at a desk with two duplicate black folders embossed with gold in front of him.
"Welcome, Mr. President-elect, to your first presidential daily briefing" Said McConnell, sliding one of the folders across the table to Barack, who flipped it open. Inside, he found a neat stack of papers, the first one marked with the official seal of the CIA.
"You'll find intelligence from the CIA, FBI and NSA. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that this is possibly the most classified intelligence in the country."
Barack nodded and turned his attention to the information in front of him. He was determined to understand all of the information presented to him; he needed to be able to make informed decisions about Iraq, Afghanistan, and Guantanamo Bay. The latter, he wanted shut down as soon as possible, but the question of what to do with the detainees stood in his way.
McConnell waited patiently for Barack to finish his review of the dossier, giving Barack the time he needed. Much of the information, he’d seen before in his Senate briefings, although not nearly in as much detail, so nothing really surprised him.
At least not until he came to the last page of the folder, and a document with a logo and letterhead he'd never seen before.
"What is Torchwood?" he asked.
"National Security in the United Kingdom," McConnell replied. "Their interests are naturally skewed towards their own defense, but we do get reports from them occasionally."
Barack looked back down at the paper. There was only one word, printed dead center on the paper.
Congratulations.
The bottom was signed "Captain Jack Harkness" in slanted, neat writing.
He found the note intriguing, but not urgent. As there was no pertinent intelligence information, he decided to file it away for future reference. He flipped back to the beginning of the brief and started in on the long list of questions that he'd made note of the first time through.
Barack considered asking more about Torchwood and Captain Jack Harkness, but there were far more pressing matters on the agenda.
Torchwood would have to wait.
***
Chicago, December 1, 2008
No drama was one thing and no excitement was something else.
The media leak from two weeks back had taken all of the surprise out of Hillary's appointment. He knew he'd made a good choice, and that she would be an outstanding Secretary of State, but it would have been nice to make the news on his own terms, the way he’d been able to during the campaign.
It had been a long morning, and Barack was glad to get a few moments to himself before lunch with Michelle and more meetings about the transition. He pulled out his Blackberry and started flipping through his email.
Naturally, there was one from Rahm, and given the time stamp, sent right after the press conference, probably while they were still standing or walking right next to each other. Someday he'd figure out how Rahm always managed to do that.
He scrolled through a few more messages, mostly official business that could wait a few minutes and found one from a name he only vaguely recognized.
CJHarkness@TORCHWOOD
Nice pick on Secretary of State. Can't wait to give Hillary the tour when she gets here. I always wanted to meet her, but never got the chance. Think she'll let me buy her a drink?
-Captain Jack
Barack considered replying, but just then Rahm arrived to go over the schedule for the rest of the day.
The bright side of giving a press conference nearly every morning was not having to deal with the press in the afternoon. That was reserved for meetings, for going over cabinet appointees, and for spending as much time as possible with Michelle and the girls.
As a result, he didn't think about the strange email from Captain Jack until later that night. He wondered if he was expected to respond, or if it was just something to glance at and pass by.
He was just about to hit reply when there was a knock on the door. Of course it was Rahm. Barack's pick for chief of staff was perfect, he knew that, but Rahm was always there, sometimes when he didn't really want the interruption.
"Time," Rahm said, shortly.
Once again, the message went unanswered.
Chicago, December 9, 2008
Of all the things he did not want to deal with, this had to be at the top of the list.
The story out of Chicago was bad and getting worse, and the longer the thing festered with his name attached to it, the bigger the stink got. They had to put out a statement and get distance from the Governor as soon as possible, while making sure there hadn’t been any hint of an improper contact. If he found out that anyone on his staff had been in touch with Blagojevich’s people they’d have to go immediately.
Rahm’s prodigious use of obscenity had reached new heights of creative vituperation since the news broke, staying in nearly constant contact with Barack as he created a push-back strategy on the fly, putting out conservative blog brushfires flame by flame
Barack couldn't put off checking his messages anymore, he'd left it long enough as it was.
After wading through a mountain of emails from the staff, more from Rahm and a few from Michelle, he came across yet another message from Torchwood.
Tough break on the scandal. Don’t worry. It won't be remembered in two years time, much less two hundred.
Jack
For the first time, Barack felt he needed to respond immediately. Not because of Jack's reassuring words, but rather the assumption that Barack's connection to Chicago politics meant he was somehow involved in the mess, despite Fitzgerald’s statements to the contrary.
After the day he'd just had, one more insinuation, intentional or otherwise, was one too many.
Captain,
Thank you for your kind words, but rest assured that I am not worried about Governor Blagojevich. Neither I, nor anyone in my office had any involvement in his activities, and I am confident that no connections will be discovered.
President-Elect Obama
The speed of the reply surprised Barack, given the time difference between the US and UK. Maybe he shouldn't be; he knew better than anyone that security never has off-hours.
I didn't mean to imply that you had anything to do with the Governor. Just sorry your first scandal hits before you even take office.
Good luck.
Jack
Barack decided not to reply back. This Captain Harkness seemed to be something else entirely. Not only had he gotten his hands on Barack's personal email address, which was only given out to his staff, but he'd used it multiple times, and was emailing Barack like he was an old friend.
It was oddly disconcerting, and he didn’t appreciate it.
Besides, he had another meeting to get to.
Washington, D.C. January 20, 2009
The day had gone better than he'd ever hoped. Stumbles over the oath aside, the sheer joy of everyone that had come to witness his inauguration was astounding, but also overwhelming. From that first cup of coffee with George and Laura, the entire day had been packed full, and Barack had hardly had a moment to appreciate what was actually happening.
With Michelle indisposed for a few minutes and guards standing just outside all the doors, Barack was grateful for the moment to breathe in between balls. They'd just come from the Commander-in-Chief's Ball, and were now backstage in a small room elsewhere in the convention center, while Michelle prepared for the other eight stops on their tour.
Without his Blackberry, he felt disconnected, out of the loop. Just because he was the one and only news story anyone was printing, didn't mean he didn't want the news feeds, and above all, email.
He was so distracted that when the door opened, Barack didn't even look up, assuming it was going to be Michelle. He was therefore surprised when a much deeper voice addressed him.
"President Obama," the visitor said, snapping a salute.
He was tall and in uniform, as required for this particular party, though his coat seemed a bit dated. Classic, Barack decided. The man was also wearing fitted slacks and suspenders, and looked like he'd stepped out of a military ball in a newsreel.
Belatedly, Barack noticed that his visitor had not moved from the initial salute, so he returned the gesture, "At ease," he said, the words feeling strange in his mouth.
"Captain Jack Harkness," he introduced himself with a grin. "It's good to finally meet you, Mr. President."
"And the same to you, Captain," Barack responded.
"Call me Jack."
They stood looking at each other for a few moments, not saying anything. Barack wasn't quite sure what to say to Captain Jack, and so he stood there. He watched as Jack broke eye contact only to make a show of running his eyes slowly down Barack's body.
"How did you get in here?" Barack asked, the impossibility of the situation finally sinking in.
Jack shrugged. "I know a guy."
"I'm not sure if I should be impressed or afraid of that answer."
"I'm not the one you need to be afraid of," Jack responded. "But I'm not here to talk business."
"Then why are you here?"
"Same as everyone else. I wanted to meet you. I just have the resources to do it."
"I'm flattered," Barack replied.
"You should be," Jack said, meeting his eyes and smirking. "I won't cross oceans for just anybody."
Barack wasn't sure what to say. It was very clear that Jack had more than a meeting on his mind, but Barack wasn't interested. It was too bad that Bishop Robinson had already left the festivities; he had a feeling that Gene would get along very well with Jack. Luckily, Michelle chose that moment to come back in and Barack was saved from having to put Jack off definitively. He had a feeling that it would have been a very difficult task.
Before any introductions could be made, Barack watched Jack use a different sort of arsenal, taking Michelle's hand and kissing it, meeting her eyes with a sly smile and a wink before disappearing out the door.
"Who was that?" Michelle asked him. She was still staring at the door Jack had left through. Over the course of the last two years they'd met many people, but not even their visit with George Clooney had provoked quite the same reaction from Michelle. Of course, Clooney's visit had been all about the crisis in Darfur, and while he was definitely a handsome man, there had been none of the provocative smiles that Captain Jack seemed all too willing to show.
Barack took hold of Michelle's hand, the one Jack had recently let go, and gave it his own kiss. "You know, I'm still not quite sure."
Oval Office, Washington D.C., January 27, 2009
"Mr. President, the delegate from UNIT is here."
Barack rose from behind his desk to greet the delegate, and was surprised to see a young black woman in a well-tailored suit follow Rahm into the room.
"Mr. President, may I present Dr. Martha Jones, of the Unified Intelligence Task Force."
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. President," Dr. Jones said, holding out her hand. Her British accent took him by surprise. He knew that UNIT was part of the United Nations, and therefore the representative could have been anyone from around the world, but somehow her accent was unexpected.
"Likewise, Dr. Jones" Barack responded, careful to keep his face neutral. "Shall we get down to business?"
"Please, call me Martha. There really isn't much business to discuss," she said, "My visit is about establishing trust. There will be times that you'll have to defer to us in terms of national security." He didn't like the sound of that. Giving up the Bush Doctrine and some of the inane and illegal 'security' protocols that had gone into place in the last several years was one thing, but bowing down to an unknown division of an international peace-keeping organization at the drop of a hat and with no explanation was something entirely different; something he had no intention of doing.
Barack motioned for Martha to sit down, and sat back behind his desk. "I'm sure you're aware that our security is the best it's ever been," Barack said coldly, even though at this point it felt like a tired sales pitch.
"This isn't about terrorism," Martha said. "When we get called in, it's more than the nation at stake."
"The world is always at stake. I trust my staff and our agencies."
"And there's no reason why you shouldn't."
"Then what are you suggesting?"
"I'm not suggesting anything. UNIT wanted to meet you, to get our relationship with your administration off to the right start, unlike the last time around. They sent me because I have experience working with difficult offices. I've worked with Torchwood several times, and they're about as difficult as you get."
"You know Torchwood?"
"Of course I do," Martha laughed, "They're the worst kept secret in south Wales. Mostly because Jack likes to flounce around without any regard for formality."
"I was told that Torchwood dealt with National Security," said Barack tersely.
"They do," Martha attempted to clarify. "The threats they deal with are ones that you are unlikely to encounter in Iraq or Afghanistan. Strictly speaking, there's a rift in time and space in Cardiff, and it's Torchwood's job to keep an eye on it, to keep any aliens that might come through from getting further than the Castle. They're good, as are we, but Jack is a law unto himself."
Aliens. Barack couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that aliens were real. Nor could he quite grasp the way Martha casually talked about it. Instead, he focused on something tangible. "He managed to get past the secret service last week.”
"Let me guess, he said he knows a guy," Martha smiled.
"He said exactly that."
"You'll find that Jack 'knows a guy' in just about every classified organization on earth." Martha paused for a second, "and then some. He gets around more than you'd ever imagine."
Martha stood up. "It's good to meet you, Mr. President. I hope that we can work well together in the future."
"The pleasure's all mine, Dr. Jones," he responded, shaking her hand and opening the door for her. "I look forward to it."
He watched as Rahm escorted her out to her waiting car, before going back to the bill he had been reading.
Alien activity. Regularly, it seemed. Maybe Kucinich really had seen something out there. Perhaps some day he would too, along with more of Martha Jones and the enigmatic Captain Jack.
The next four years might be even more interesting than he’d ever suspected.