Characters: Tim McGee, Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, plus the usual Torchwood and NCIS suspects
Rating: Some chapters definitely not safe for work.
Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?
Summary: After the events of Bloodbath, Tim McGee accepts a offer from a total stranger
Author's Note: A few weeks ago I was watching some NCIS episodes and came across Bloodbath. I hated both Abby and Gibbs in it. I hated the humiliation of making Tim kneel all day for something that was someone else's fault. I fumed for days (I am a bit obssessive about things from time to time). Then, a few days ago, this popped up. As usual, AU like nobody's business.
Part One here; Part two here; Part three here
Tony watched the MTAC geeks file out, most of them looking curiously over their shoulders at the assembled group. He commandeered the aisle chair on the fourth row from where he could watch the whole room. If the look on Vance's face was any indication, they were in for a hell of a briefing.
Gibbs was harder to read. He had on what Tony privately called his sniper's look; the calm that came when all the planning was done and all it remained was to take the shot. But underneath that there was something like shock, and that scared Tony out of his mind.
“Doctor Mallard, Doctor Palmer, and Doctor Jones are on their way.” Vance said. “Mr. Jones, MTAC is all yours.”
“Thank you, Director.”
The young man took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He was wearing a wide, thick leather cuff. Tony heard a faint snap as part of the leather folded back to reveal a metal plate studded with buttons. Jones tapped them in a short one two – pause – one two sequence. A few seconds later all the workstations, which Tony had seen locked down and secured a few minutes before, turned themselves on. Masses of what looked like data scrolled up, too fast for the human eye to read, and then all the screens, including the large one, showed a large red T made out of locking hexagons.
Jones stepped back. “Irish, would you do the honors?”
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