The Mystery We Are. TW/HL Xover 16/? [PG] *WIP*
~*~
“That seemed to go all right.” Ianto commented, half watching the CCTV footage of Siannon and Methos walking away from the Plass, half watching the man perched next to him on his desk. Jack, smiled tightly.
“Yeah, it did. So Far so Good I suppose.”
“But?”
“What the hell did they say to each other?” Jack grinned. “What do you say to a 5000 year old guy you haven’t seen for 10 years?”
“From what Siannon’s been saying about him it was probably ‘shall we go and have a beer?’ or something like that.”
“Ianto, you’ve got no imagination.”
“Oh, I’ve plenty of imagination, sir. I just keep it in a box where no-one can see it, and only let it out to play on moonless nights.” Jack raised an eyebrow, and checked his wrist device.
“Damn, we got a new moon last night. Looks like I’ll have to wait a month.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Ianto managed to keep a straight face, even though he felt like hooting with laughter inside.
“Probably.” Jack turned to the screen, just in time to see the other 2 immortals disappearing into a pub. “But not tonight.” He eased off the desk, giving Ianto a pat on the shoulder. “Oh well, duty calls, see you later Ianto.”
“With Coffee; I think the others might need it.” Jack threw him a grateful smile from the door before he disappeared back into the Hub.
~*~
Ensconced in a cosy little pub that Siannon had discovered by pure happenstance, she and Methos both felt a lot more comfortable, particularly after the bar’s special late lunch and a couple of pints. Methos stretched out with a happy sigh, he did like the simple pleasures in life.
“So, what is so interesting in Cardiff that you had to drag me here?”
“I’m not sure you’ll believe me.”
“Hey, I’ve been around you know, seen lots of things.”
“That’s why I asked you to come down to meet me, but I’m still not sure how to say this.”
“How about bluntly, you can usually manage that.” There was a half smile playing around his mouth, and Siannon wondered which one of their ‘discussions’ he was remembering.
“Blunt it is.” She took a deep breath. “Cardiff sits on a rift in time and space, which is being monitored by an organisation called Torchwood.” If she’d been hoping for surprise she would have been disappointed, but she knew her friend too well. Methos rolled his eyes.
“Bloody Torchwood. Bunch of incompetents.”
“You know about them then?”
“Of course I know about them; I could hardly miss knowing about an organisation responsible for dropping an army of psychotic peppershakers and Metropolis rejects right over my head. Had the museum in uproar, and we lost some irreplaceable stuff as well.”
“Which you look far too pleased about…”
“I’m an opportunist; it was dangerous stuff, needed to be removed.”
“In other words it mentioned you. Just what were you doing in a museum?” She raised her hand to forestall Methos’ answer. “No, don’t tell me just yet, we can play catch-up later.” She took a hasty swig of her pint. “Right, I need to tell you about Torchwood in Cardiff; they’re made of different stuff than the Canary Warf lot from what I’ve been able to gather.”
“They’d have to be. How did you stumble across them?”
“They stumbled across me, or more accurately the body of the head-hunter who found me here…” Siannon told him about the Weevils, of meeting Jack Harkness and the final, fatal weevil attack that night.
“I bet Torchwood weren’t very happy with you. Unless… he’s one of us isn’t he?”
“Not exactly.”
“How can you be not exactly an immortal? You either are or you aren’t.”
“Oh he’s immortal all right; he’s just not one of us.”
“Ah. So you fancied getting an opinion off someone with a bit more experience?”
“Pretty much. That isn’t the only thing though.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of this. Go on.”
“Their chief archivist is an ex-Watcher.”
“How ex?”
“They think he’s dead at Canary Warf; he’d been placed in Torchwood by the Watchers, but after the battle he cut his losses and ran, got rid of the tattoo, and basically just disappeared off the Watcher radar. He’s Welsh, nice boy. Good taste in suits.”
“So, does Torchwood know it has an immortal in its ranks? Or a Watcher?”
“Apart from Ianto, and one other team member, no-one knows Jack Harkness is immortal. And that’s not all…”
“There’s more? You certainly did find something interesting.”
“Jack’s from the 51st century.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Siannon shook her head. Methos frowned at her.
“There’s an immortal guy from the future working for Torchwood?” She nodded.
“I can’t believe it, this is straight out of a pulp novel… hang on a minute though… he didn’t mention a guy called The Doctor did he?”
“The Doctor? No, I’m sure I’d remember that. Who the hell is the Doctor?”
“Guy I knew once; lives in a blue box. Travels a lot.”
“What?! Lives in A Blue Box?”
“That’s what I said.”
“You are going to pay a visit to the Torchwood archives with me and help me with some translations.”
“Right now? I haven’t even finished my drink!”
“No, I’m not that mean; tomorrow will do. The Mystery has waited this long, it can last another day. Anyway, there’s one last thing.” She bit her lip, this was what she wasn’t looking forward to.
“What have you done now?” Methos didn’t sound too worried, more exasperated, so she gave him a half hopeful, half rueful smile.
“I messed up. Jack and Ianto know who you really are. The 3 others have no idea.”
“Really.” Knowing how glacial Methos could sound when he was angry, made the slightly frosty tone of voice much less intimidating to her.
“I’m sorry.” She looked into his eyes with more than a hint of guilt; she’d been careless, teasing Jack the way she had, knowing that Ianto had been a Watcher. Methos sighed.
“It’s OK, somehow I don’t think it’s going to matter too much; they’re going to be an awful lot more worried about somebody finding about them, than wondering if some strange guy is *really* 5000 years old. At least I’m assuming you want me to meet them.”
“That was the general idea, though it’s actually more important to Jack. He really doesn’t have a handle on his immortality, and if there’s one person on the planet who can say ‘Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, written the book’ it’s you. If you can’t help him, no-one can.”
“Give me one good reason why I should?”
“Oh that’s easy: he’s cute. Seriously cute.” She grinned.
“Good enough.” Methos laughed. “You know me too well.”
“Only in some ways. I don’t even know what name you’re using at the moment!”
“Oh, I never introduced myself did I?” Methos leaned over the table and stuck out his hand, Siannon took it with a smile. “I’m Dr Adam Pierson, Egyptologist. Pleased to meet you.”
“Same name? You surprise me.” She released his hand slowly.
“Well you haven’t changed yours, have you Siannon O’Niall?”
“No, but women can hide 10 years of aging under make up. Men don’t.”
“Can’t see why, I looked very fetching in kohl back in the days…”
“I’m sure you still would, but that doesn’t explain why you’re still Adam Pierson when you’ve always been so careful.”
“At the moment, I’m explaining it away with good genes. In 10 years or so I suppose I’ll have to meet with an accident or become a recluse. I felt Adam’s history of studying ancient manuscripts would sit well with branching out into another area.”
“Egyptology.” She commented. Methos inclined his head in acknowledgement.
“I have gained a reputation in some circles for being a bit of a genius with Middle and New Kingdom hieroglyphs.”
“That’s cheating.”
“No more than you being an Oġam reader.”
“Point taken.” She stopped to take a swig of her pint, noticed it was nearly empty. “Fancy another?”
“If you’re buying, yes. This stuff,” he hefted his own almost empty glass of Brains, “Isn’t bad at all.” She meandered over to the bar, thankful that she’d got off so lightly and decided to get seriously drunk. Methos drank beer like water and would remain functional long past the point that she did, so he could look after them both. They would just have to pick up his car in the morning, and maybe she better tell him her address sooner rather than later…
“That seemed to go all right.” Ianto commented, half watching the CCTV footage of Siannon and Methos walking away from the Plass, half watching the man perched next to him on his desk. Jack, smiled tightly.
“Yeah, it did. So Far so Good I suppose.”
“But?”
“What the hell did they say to each other?” Jack grinned. “What do you say to a 5000 year old guy you haven’t seen for 10 years?”
“From what Siannon’s been saying about him it was probably ‘shall we go and have a beer?’ or something like that.”
“Ianto, you’ve got no imagination.”
“Oh, I’ve plenty of imagination, sir. I just keep it in a box where no-one can see it, and only let it out to play on moonless nights.” Jack raised an eyebrow, and checked his wrist device.
“Damn, we got a new moon last night. Looks like I’ll have to wait a month.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Ianto managed to keep a straight face, even though he felt like hooting with laughter inside.
“Probably.” Jack turned to the screen, just in time to see the other 2 immortals disappearing into a pub. “But not tonight.” He eased off the desk, giving Ianto a pat on the shoulder. “Oh well, duty calls, see you later Ianto.”
“With Coffee; I think the others might need it.” Jack threw him a grateful smile from the door before he disappeared back into the Hub.
~*~
Ensconced in a cosy little pub that Siannon had discovered by pure happenstance, she and Methos both felt a lot more comfortable, particularly after the bar’s special late lunch and a couple of pints. Methos stretched out with a happy sigh, he did like the simple pleasures in life.
“So, what is so interesting in Cardiff that you had to drag me here?”
“I’m not sure you’ll believe me.”
“Hey, I’ve been around you know, seen lots of things.”
“That’s why I asked you to come down to meet me, but I’m still not sure how to say this.”
“How about bluntly, you can usually manage that.” There was a half smile playing around his mouth, and Siannon wondered which one of their ‘discussions’ he was remembering.
“Blunt it is.” She took a deep breath. “Cardiff sits on a rift in time and space, which is being monitored by an organisation called Torchwood.” If she’d been hoping for surprise she would have been disappointed, but she knew her friend too well. Methos rolled his eyes.
“Bloody Torchwood. Bunch of incompetents.”
“You know about them then?”
“Of course I know about them; I could hardly miss knowing about an organisation responsible for dropping an army of psychotic peppershakers and Metropolis rejects right over my head. Had the museum in uproar, and we lost some irreplaceable stuff as well.”
“Which you look far too pleased about…”
“I’m an opportunist; it was dangerous stuff, needed to be removed.”
“In other words it mentioned you. Just what were you doing in a museum?” She raised her hand to forestall Methos’ answer. “No, don’t tell me just yet, we can play catch-up later.” She took a hasty swig of her pint. “Right, I need to tell you about Torchwood in Cardiff; they’re made of different stuff than the Canary Warf lot from what I’ve been able to gather.”
“They’d have to be. How did you stumble across them?”
“They stumbled across me, or more accurately the body of the head-hunter who found me here…” Siannon told him about the Weevils, of meeting Jack Harkness and the final, fatal weevil attack that night.
“I bet Torchwood weren’t very happy with you. Unless… he’s one of us isn’t he?”
“Not exactly.”
“How can you be not exactly an immortal? You either are or you aren’t.”
“Oh he’s immortal all right; he’s just not one of us.”
“Ah. So you fancied getting an opinion off someone with a bit more experience?”
“Pretty much. That isn’t the only thing though.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of this. Go on.”
“Their chief archivist is an ex-Watcher.”
“How ex?”
“They think he’s dead at Canary Warf; he’d been placed in Torchwood by the Watchers, but after the battle he cut his losses and ran, got rid of the tattoo, and basically just disappeared off the Watcher radar. He’s Welsh, nice boy. Good taste in suits.”
“So, does Torchwood know it has an immortal in its ranks? Or a Watcher?”
“Apart from Ianto, and one other team member, no-one knows Jack Harkness is immortal. And that’s not all…”
“There’s more? You certainly did find something interesting.”
“Jack’s from the 51st century.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Siannon shook her head. Methos frowned at her.
“There’s an immortal guy from the future working for Torchwood?” She nodded.
“I can’t believe it, this is straight out of a pulp novel… hang on a minute though… he didn’t mention a guy called The Doctor did he?”
“The Doctor? No, I’m sure I’d remember that. Who the hell is the Doctor?”
“Guy I knew once; lives in a blue box. Travels a lot.”
“What?! Lives in A Blue Box?”
“That’s what I said.”
“You are going to pay a visit to the Torchwood archives with me and help me with some translations.”
“Right now? I haven’t even finished my drink!”
“No, I’m not that mean; tomorrow will do. The Mystery has waited this long, it can last another day. Anyway, there’s one last thing.” She bit her lip, this was what she wasn’t looking forward to.
“What have you done now?” Methos didn’t sound too worried, more exasperated, so she gave him a half hopeful, half rueful smile.
“I messed up. Jack and Ianto know who you really are. The 3 others have no idea.”
“Really.” Knowing how glacial Methos could sound when he was angry, made the slightly frosty tone of voice much less intimidating to her.
“I’m sorry.” She looked into his eyes with more than a hint of guilt; she’d been careless, teasing Jack the way she had, knowing that Ianto had been a Watcher. Methos sighed.
“It’s OK, somehow I don’t think it’s going to matter too much; they’re going to be an awful lot more worried about somebody finding about them, than wondering if some strange guy is *really* 5000 years old. At least I’m assuming you want me to meet them.”
“That was the general idea, though it’s actually more important to Jack. He really doesn’t have a handle on his immortality, and if there’s one person on the planet who can say ‘Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, written the book’ it’s you. If you can’t help him, no-one can.”
“Give me one good reason why I should?”
“Oh that’s easy: he’s cute. Seriously cute.” She grinned.
“Good enough.” Methos laughed. “You know me too well.”
“Only in some ways. I don’t even know what name you’re using at the moment!”
“Oh, I never introduced myself did I?” Methos leaned over the table and stuck out his hand, Siannon took it with a smile. “I’m Dr Adam Pierson, Egyptologist. Pleased to meet you.”
“Same name? You surprise me.” She released his hand slowly.
“Well you haven’t changed yours, have you Siannon O’Niall?”
“No, but women can hide 10 years of aging under make up. Men don’t.”
“Can’t see why, I looked very fetching in kohl back in the days…”
“I’m sure you still would, but that doesn’t explain why you’re still Adam Pierson when you’ve always been so careful.”
“At the moment, I’m explaining it away with good genes. In 10 years or so I suppose I’ll have to meet with an accident or become a recluse. I felt Adam’s history of studying ancient manuscripts would sit well with branching out into another area.”
“Egyptology.” She commented. Methos inclined his head in acknowledgement.
“I have gained a reputation in some circles for being a bit of a genius with Middle and New Kingdom hieroglyphs.”
“That’s cheating.”
“No more than you being an Oġam reader.”
“Point taken.” She stopped to take a swig of her pint, noticed it was nearly empty. “Fancy another?”
“If you’re buying, yes. This stuff,” he hefted his own almost empty glass of Brains, “Isn’t bad at all.” She meandered over to the bar, thankful that she’d got off so lightly and decided to get seriously drunk. Methos drank beer like water and would remain functional long past the point that she did, so he could look after them both. They would just have to pick up his car in the morning, and maybe she better tell him her address sooner rather than later…