Title: Adaptation, a Torchwood/NCIS Crossover (12/?)

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

Author’s Note: These are sleestacks http://deviantknowledge.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/sleestacks1.jpg and this http://www.doctorwhoworld.org.uk/Images/sitegraphics/silurian.jpg  is a Silurian.

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; Part Ten is here; Part Eleven is here


Roberta Lehman looked a bit like a human version of a chibi, her eyes huge in a rounded face that ended in a sharp point at the chin. The top of the untidy bun of brown hair barely reached my shoulder. She had long fingers that seemed slightly out of proportion to the rest of her body, but otherwise seemed normal enough. She looked at the badge Gibbs was showing her and sighed with resignation.

“Come in.”

I jostled Gibbs just enough to make sure I went in first, a barrier between the two of them. “You were expecting us.”

“From the time I made the phone call.” She gestured towards the small sitting area cross from the desk. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to try anything. It wouldn’t really help. We can’t reach very far.”

“That may be true,” Gibbs said, “but I think we would all feel better if you came back with us.”

“Are you sure you want me to do that, Mr. Gibbs?” she said with a wicked little smile. “In a small, enclosed space such as the interior of a car I could reach your mind very easily.”

Gibbs pointed at me. “I’ve got protection.”

She started to say something, then cut it off as she inspected me. I gave her a sweet smile and dropped my wards for a quick second, letting her see me as I really was.

“Ah. We didn’t realize the Elves had also... adapted.”

“Elves?” Gibbs asked.

She shrugged. “That is what your ancestors called them. My ancestors knew they were a different kind of human but they didn’t pay much attention. Our own survival took priority.”

“How long have your people been passing as human?” I asked her.

She looked down at herself. “I am third generation. It took us a while to figure out the proper genetic sequences.”

“Why?” Gibbs asked.

“Because humans like to stomp on the different,” she said flatly. “You even do it to each other. There was no way you would have accepted us as we looked before.”

“Reptilian?”

She laughed. “Tell me, Mr. Gibbs, did you ever see a TV show called Land of the Lost?”

He nodded. “My daughter used to watch it… Sleestacks? You look like Sleestacks?”

“Not quite. We looked like Sleestacks would if they had come from Stephen King’s or H.P. Lovecraft’s imagination rather than a children’s television producer. Humans have never been fond of reptiles, Mr. Gibbs.” She shuddered. “Think what would have happened if your kind were faced with six-foot-tall intelligent lizards.”

“Can you project an image?” I asked. “I am curious.”

“McGee…” Gibbs warned.

“It’s ok, boss. I don’t think she can project and attack at the same time.”

She closed her eyes and lowered her head slightly. The image that came into my mind was sharp and clear. It showed a tall, muscular lizard standing on what we would consider its hind legs. The head had a large fan-shaped crest above huge eyes; the third eye was nestled between two of the crest’s ribs, high above a round orifice that seemed to serve as both a nose and a mouth. Rounded rectangles of translucent cartilage stuck out at right angles from the side of the head where human ears would be. There was nothing comical or cartoonish about it. It looked like a first-class intelligent killing machine.

“I see your point,” Gibbs said, “but from what I’ve heard you people have your differences among yourselves.”

“Yes, we do,” she agreed. “But we handle them by simply keeping away from those we are in disagreement with. We don’t make war on our own kind.” She frowned. “Until now.”

“You think other Silurians have something to do with this?”

She looked as if she wanted to deny it, but couldn’t. “Sometimes Silurian artifacts surface. My own people’s stuff is in museums, usually listed as unusual Toltec pottery. At first when the sailors brought things into the gallery, I thought they were finding them while diving or exploring caves. But then one of them showed up with brand new things. They had tried to make them look old, and maybe it would have taken in a human, but I knew they were recently made. There’s something about the smell of them… I can’t explain it.”

“Trade goods?” I asked. “Maybe the other Silurian group is trying to find a way to, well, do what you did.”

She shook her head. “When I found out about these new items I informed the Senior members of the Council immediately. They decided to send someone in to look into it. A younger male who could pass as a sailor. We found his body several days later, floating in the Potomac.”

“Did you send another one?”

“I think so. I don’t know if they have…” The look on Gibbs’s face froze her in mid-sentence. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Yes. We also found another body, but I we don’t believe it was one of your people.” Gibbs gestured towards the door. “We need your help.”

“All right.” She took her coat from the brass coat rack near the door. “I suppose I’d better, if only to keep suspicion away from us.”

My phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and answered it. “McGee.”

“Hey, boss.” GeeGee sounded sober as a hanging judge. “We’re on the parkway, half way to Alexandria. Mrs. Wolff didn't make it to her parent's house. The local cops are fishing her car out of the Roaches Run Waterfowl Sanctuary. And boss? It wasn't an accident.”