Title: Legends (15/?)
Author: Merucha
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 obsessive about things from time to time). Then, a few days ago, this popped up. As usual, AU like nobody's business.
Author's Note: Sorry this has taken so long. The whole pain thing has become less frequent, which is nice, but when it shows up it kicks me into next week both mentally and physically.

Part one here; Part two here; Part three here; Part four is here; Part five is here; Part six is here; Part seven is here; Part eight is here; Part nine is here; Part ten is here; Part eleven is here; Part twelve is here; Part thirteen is here:Part fourteen is here

Tim aimed the micro camera towards the back of the sphere, curving the flexible wand around a thick cluster of cables hanging loosely from a long, narrow box-like structure perched on a hinged bracket.

“Hold on.” Abby was staring at the laptop screen. “Move it back and to the left. There. That's a remote control.”

Tim looked up briefly. “So it is.”

Abby threw up her hands. “I don't get it, Timmy. This thing is so sophisticated that we won't be able to match it for centuries, maybe, and it's controlled by something meant for a toy car?”

“Be fair, Abby,” Tim chuckled. “It's a bit more complex than that. Besides, it's only a temporary measure. Toclafane spheres were meant to be controlled from the inside.”

She gave him her best what are you babbling about look. “Your Captain Harkness said the Toclafane were human. A human can't fit in there.”

“It can if it has no body.” He said absently as he fiddled with the camera. “Abby, I'm going to need the smallest screwdriver.... Abby?”

Her only answer was a strangled little sound halfway between a moan and a scream. He looked at her over his shoulder. She was pale as a ghost, one of her hands wrapped around the base of her neck and the other touching her temple.  Well, when it came to technology, Abby was one hell of a fast study.

“Saxon did that to people?” she whispered.

“No, they did it to themselves. The Toclafane were trying to escape their future and came up with that solution. Lots of very advanced technology combined with all the antisocial behaviors of psychopathic children. Saxon just used their talents.”

She sat down with a thump. Resting her elbows on the table, she hid her face in her palms. “Your world isn't very pretty, Timmy.”

“My world is no different than yours, Abby.  You just blind yourself to those parts you don't want to see.”

Her reaction was bog-standard Abby. “Oh Timmy, how can you say that?” She jumped up and paced, hands flapping about. “Just because I ignore things doesn't mean I don't know they're there.”

“And you try to rearrange reality so they go away, and get pissed off when people don't fall in line.” He raised a hand to stop the flow. “Look, Abby. Let's not argue about it. I need your help to learn all that we can learn about this thing. After this is all over, you can chose to forget it all.”

“And how do you suggest I do that?”

“Better living through chemistry. We can make you forget all this, give you the memories you want. But it would be your choice.” She shook her head emphatically, but Tim could tell she wasn't as sure as she wanted to appear. “Think about it. Now. Smallest screwdriver?”

They worked efficiently together. Their lab had been improvised using Tim's laptop, the small tool case Abby kept in her car – trust her to keep a top-of-the-line computer repair kit next to the jumper cables, Tim thought – and Ducky's medical bag, which had provided latex gloves, scalpels, and chlorhexidine.  After extracting the remote control, Tim handed it to Abby, who placed it on a metal plate they had liberated from Gibbs' shelves and sterilized.  She took it apart and they studied each part.

“Nothing that shouldn't be there,” Abby grumped. “We need access to the lab, Tim. You know DNA  can hide almost anywhere.”

Tim reached across her to tap a quick sequence into his laptop. A shallow drawer slid out. “Let's start scanning. Start with the largest piece.” He took out the sonic screwdriver and adjusted some of the settings. “Mimi, 4D mapping and genetic material analysis.”

Tim put the piece of plastic on the shelf and aimed the screwdriver at it. The laptop beeped twice and data began to scroll. After a few minutes the data stopped and the laptop beeped once. Tim exchanged the piece for another one and the process began all over again. The fourth piece, however, produced a slightly different result. As Tim laid a flat triangular piece on the drawer, the laptop chirruped.

“And the winner is...” he pressed a button on the screwdriver. “You got that, Mimi?”

“Yes. I'll break a few laws and run the results through all the DNA  databases on my list, but it'll take sometime, even if I use Ms. Sciuto's search algorithms. Which, by the way, go Abby!” The laptop produced a brief burst of applause. “It's as good as Tim's Interpol one.”

“Thank you.” Abby sounded almost dazed by the praise. “She threatened me, you know” she whispered to Tim.

“Mimi's very protective of her people. And she doesn't threaten. She makes statements of fact.” Tim put the sonic screwdriver back in his pocket. “Let's go upstairs and see how far along they are with supper. I am starving.”

“Me too.”

Tim bowed her towards the stairs. Abby curtsied, giggling, and started up. Tim followed, both congratulating himself on being able to talk to Abby in a calm, adult fashion and wondering if what he'd said had penetrated her psychological defenses. He hoped so; Abby needed to grow up, or Jack would make sure she wouldn't remember a single moment of her encounter with Torchwood.

He was almost to the door when his cell phone pinged softly. He took it out and activated the screen.  Mimi?

I'm sending you the data Jack wanted on the Thals. It was very cleverly hidden but not blocked, so I'm assuming the Doctor thought someone might need it at some point. It's bad, Tim. It's really bad.