Title: Adaptation, a Torchwood/NCIS Crossover (5/?)

Author: Emma

Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Tim McGee, LJ Gibbs, Ducky Mallard, others

Rating: Starts PG, but hey, it’s got Jack and Ianto in it (not to mention Tim & Jethro!)

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: Tim McGee’s worlds collide as Torchwood is drawn into an NCIS case

Author's Note: This is part of an AU where Gwen and Owen were killed by Gray. So if you want to know why Martha is married to Rhys, why Jack and Ianto have a CP, two sons and two adopted daughters, and why Andy and Ianto are Kings of an alien race that settled on Earth millennia ago, you may want to read Evolution and Bred in the Bone first

Part One is here; Part Two is here; Part Three is here; Part Four is here

“Is he always like this?” Gibbs muttered to Jones, watching Harkness flirt shamelessly with both Ducky and Abby as they worked on a plan of attack for the forensic examination of the Silurian body.

“Some days he's worse,” Jones deadpanned, then he sighed wearily at the stormy look on Gibbs's face. “Flirting is like breathing to Jack, Director. You should really worry when he stops. Besides, he comes home each night to me and our kids... ah. Ducky didn't tell you.”

I clamped down on my lower lip. The utter shock on Gibbs face struck me as hilarious, but snickering at the boss would not be conducive to getting back in his good graces.

“He seems to have forgotten to tell me a number of things.” Gibbs said.

“Torchwood has a pretty draconic secrets policy,” Jones explained. “Technically, Ducky's memory should have been erased when he resigned. Jack cut a deal with the Director to let him walk with his mind intact. Ducky would keep his mouth shut and his eyes open and would notify Torchwood if he came across something in our area of expertise. This is the first time in thirty years that he has pushed the button.”

“And that's another thing. Harkness had to have been a teenager thirty years ago!”

Ianto shook his head. “There are some things we're going to leave until later, Director.”

“Gibbs. All right. What's one more mystery?” He marched over to the conference table. “We have something?”

“I'll get started,” Abby said to Ducky and Harkness, completely ignoring Gibbs. “You've given me enough to at least generate some lines of inquiry.”

Gibbs touched her shoulder. “Abby, please...”

She gave him one of her patented Abby sneers, and then threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I'm here for Tony and Ziva. Not for you. I want you to understand that because, you know, I don't want you to think that I'm here for you at all...”

“Abbs.”

“Oh, all right, maybe a little bit for you too. And McGee, because you know, McGee, he's important too and...”

“Abbs...”

She took a deep breath. “Ok. Stop babbling, Abby. Off to the lab. I'll call you as soon as I have anything.”

We watched her leave, then exchanged looks of pure masculine appreciation. Abby had grown up in all the best ways. She still had bangs, but the pigtails were gone, replaced by a sleek French braid. Her clothes had gone from Goth to sexy... well, I don't know what it was called. Black Hussar jacket with silver regimental buttons and silver braiding on the cuffs and collar, Chanel tweed pencil skirt ending right at the knee, lace stockings, very high heeled Victorian walking boots, and the silver ear dangles my mother had given her when we got engaged. When Abby moved through the hallowed corridors of Georgetown, jaws dropped and drool coated the floors.

Ducky smiled reminiscently. “She reminds me of...”

“Yeah,” Harkness said. “And probably just as dangerous.”

“Those were interesting days. Right. I'm heading for the medical lab myself. Mr. Palmer and I have a date with a corpse.” He handed a key to Jones. “In case you're finished before I am. Third bedroom on the left.”

“We'll put the kettle on.”

He patted Ducky's shoulder and murmured something that made him laugh. I noticed that the pats were accompanied with a bit of an energy boost. So maybe Ducky's good health was not just due to a comfortable retirement and good exercise habits.

“McGee,” Harkness said to me, “I assume you've been put in charge of retracing your missing agents' steps?”

“Tony DiNozzo and Ziva David. Yes.”

“What have you found so far?”

I looked at Gibbs. He had his poker face on. No help there. “A call came in through our switchboard. Tony was the supervisory agent on duty that night, so he caught it. Anonymous. The caller claimed that sailors out of the big carrier at the yard were selling antiquities to the less scrupulous local dealers, to the tune of millions of dollars. The whole thing sounded strange, but Tony decided to look into it. Turns out the Truman had just returned from a tour with the Sixth Fleet out of Naples. More interestingly, the call had originated from a land line registered to the Artemis Gallery, in Woodley Park.”

“Was he able to identify who made the call?”

“No. The line is available to all the employees as well as the owner. Background checks turned up nothing. The owner, Magda von Teuffenbach, is the widow of a wealthy Austrian aristocrat who served as cultural attaché for years. The employees are Michael Rosenn and Ysobel Solis, American University graduate art students, working part-time, mainly getting hands on experience in the field, Anna Orsini, a distant relative of the owner’s family, working full time mostly at catching a rich husband, according to the others, and Roberta Lehman, accountant, part-time, does work for a number of the businesses in the area.”

“How deep did the background check go?”

“I only have copies of the prelim reports. Ellen Robbins, one of my team, is diving deeper. If anyone can find an anomaly, she can. “

“Good, but we might have something better for identification purposes.” He raised his arm and pointed at a wide strap around his wrist. “This can detect alien DNA and it carries the largest database of alien species in existence. Ianto and I can go to the gallery posing as buyers. If there are any Silurians there we’ll find them.”

“Why would the Silurians call our attention to the smuggling?" Gibbs asked.

“Can you imagine a better way to keep Silurian artifacts from getting into the antiquities market? Sooner or later, someone is going to take a close look at those things and start asking questions. Destroy the smuggling, close the pipeline.”

Gibbs nodded. “Makes sense, if we assume that they are the ones doing it.”

“No harm in testing the hypothesis, is there?” Jones said. “Besides we can do a quick and dirty examination of the artifacts for traces of soil or other contaminants. It might give us an idea where the cache is.”

“Useful little thing you’ve got…” He gave as hiss of annoyance as his phone rang. “Gibbs… Yes… Yes… Don’t let anyone near it. We’re on our way.”

He hung up and looked at me. “That was Zigler. They found another body behind some crates near the Truman dock. It’s been pretty badly mutilated but… he thinks it’s Ziva, Tim.” He gestured to Harkness and Jones. “I think you’re going to get to use that thing sooner than expected.”