Title: Adaptation, a Torchwood/NCIS Crossover (10/?)

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; Part Five is here; Part Six is here; Part Seven is here; Interlude is here; Part Eight is here; Part Nine is here

I heard a fork clatter against a plate, but I couldn't tell if it was Gibbs or Abby. “You want me to do what?” I blurted out.

We were having lunch in the Director's conference room. Using the Harkness-Jones rule, we had limited conversation to innocuous matters. It had all been going very well until Ianto had made his offer.

Now he smiled at me innocently. “Consider coming home to work for Torchwood. Our computer expert, Toshiko Sato-Davidson, is expecting again. I have a feeling after this one she's going to go into semi-retirement. Her duties as Summer Queen and taking care of her family will be more than enough work. We need someone to take over and we like to keep things in the family, as it were.”

“You've said that before,” Gibbs said. “That Tim is family. But you're human.”

“I am also the Winter King and Tim is the heir to the current Keeper of My Wards. That creates a link that is difficult to describe in human terms, but family comes closest. He will at some point in time be in charge of my family's security. It may be useful to have him get acquainted with the brood.”

I admired the way he skated over the fact that I would be in charge of his several-times-great grandchildren. My father was middle aged by Tylwyth standards and he had several thousand years as Keeper ahead of him. I looked at the Consort, but he sat there with a bland expression on his face. Only the blue eyes, sparkling with amusement, gave anything away.

“Ducky said you had four kids?” Abby asked Jack, who was sitting next to her. “Two boys and two girls, right?”

“Yes.” Jack pressed a button on his wrist-strap and a holographic image of four children dressed in Tylwyth Court robes appeared above the table. “The oldest one is Gwenhyfar Eugenie, the middle one is Eowyn Rose, and the boys are Owain and Rhys.”

“Rhys is my godson,” Ducky said with a great deal of satisfaction. “But I will admit a partiality for Eowyn. She reminds me of my sister at her age. Accomplished horsewoman. Well, they both are, really, but Eowyn is utterly fearless. Takes any jump.”

“It must terrify you,” I said to Jack.

“Only every time they get on a horse.” Jack said ruefully. “But it's more than my life's worth to play the heavy-handed papa.”

“They won't buy the act anyway,” Ducky snorted. “You are a notorious soft touch with the kids.”

“Pot, kettle,” retorted Jack.

Gibbs growled none too gently. “Maybe now we're almost finished we can concentrate on business?”

Jack pushed the button and the image disappeared. “Sorry. I can bend your ear about the princelings for hours. Go ahead, Director.”

The retreat to insult was obvious, but Gibbs just nodded and waved towards Abby and Ducky. “Forensics?”

“Our seaman was definitely Silurian, and so was the body pretending to be Ziva, but there were considerable differences. The seaman's body was an amazing job of bioengineering. Everything that looked human worked as it should if it were human. I'll bet it could even fool a cursory medical examination. If the third eye was functional, he could fool even a Navy medical.”

“Third eye?” Gibbs asked.

“The Silurians have a light-sensing organ high up where a human forehead would be. We call it the third eye for shorthand. In some Silurian sub-populations it also has other functions, the most common being a sort of hypnotic ability. The seaman could have made a doctor believe, say, that he had already done the exam and everything was perfectly normal.” Ducky sipped some tea. “On the other hand, the other body was the worst piece of genetic butchery I've ever encountered. It wouldn't fool a second year anatomy student. I am forced to assume that it was either done by a far less skilled surgeon or it was a hurried job meant to fool no one.”

I noticed Abby was doing the twisted lip bit that usually meant she was trying to arrange facts into a coherent whole. “Abby?”

“Ducky, you mentioned sub-populations? How much do you know about them?”

“Very little, I'm afraid. We know Silurians were obsessed with maintaining genetic purity even between sub-populations. Many of them had evolved their own localized physical variations, especially in the functions of the third eye and the height and structure of their crests. It's likely some could no longer interbreed. Jack?”

“You've covered it, Ducky. Culturally they ran the gamut from militaristic to pacifist, from artistic to scientific. We don't have much more than that.”

“So two sub-populations would not be likely to cooperate?”

“Not likely, no,” Jack said. “But we can't write it off, either.”

Abby nodded. “The DNA samples Ducky sent me are from two different sub-populations. Not only that, but sub-populations with considerably genetic variation, including a high degree of drift. Usually that would mean that they haven't been in touch for a considerable period of time, in genetic terms. But what are the odds that two different sub-populations would be connected to the same case?”

“Abby,” Ianto said thoughtfully, “could you trace the sub-population to a geographical location?”

Abby grinned happily. “Already done. Well, sort of. I ran some mineral tests. If you and your parents and your great-grandparents and so on are born in a place, trace minerals specific to that place build up in the tissues over time. Our seaman was born in North America. Our” she hesitated, “other one is probably from somewhere in the Mediterranean or North Africa.”

“I think it's time you met Tosh,” Jack said. “Can we use your secure computer lab, director?”

“Be my guest, Captain. Abby has all the appropriate passcodes.”

Everyone but the two principals winced at the exchange. Jack stood up and offered his arm to Abby with a flourish. She took it and used it to haul herself up, doing a really good impersonation of a sex kitten. They flounced off, not bothering to close the door behind them.

“Oh dear,” Ianto grinned at me. “Those two and Toshiko. It doesn't bear thinking of.”

“I believe,” Gibbs said repressively, “that you were bringing back some news yourselves.”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Rhoi y mi amynedd. Yes, we are, Director. We visited several galleries. Each one had some things they shouldn't have, but the only one with Silurian artifacts displayed was the Artemis Gallery. Jack chatted up the sales staff at each gallery and it turns out they all have one employee in common.”

“Roberta Lehman, the accountant” I said.. “She works for a number of galleries and other boutique stores in the area. Ellen checked her out back to elementary school. Clean as the proverbial whistle.”

“That's as it may be,” Ianto replied. “We got her card out of one of the sales girls on the pretext of wanting to employ her once we moved our business to DC. We went to the address listed. It's a tiny office in a very discreet professional building.”

Gibbs made an impatient sort of gesture. “And?”

“And we can confirm that there is Silurian DNA on every surface.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “If Ellen could track Roberta Lehman to elementary school...”

Ianto nodded. “The Silurians have been around for much longer than anyone could have imagined.”