Title: A Psychic Detective's Investigation in Wales
By: blazoningpen
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Psych/Torchwood/TOC Files
Genre: Crossover
Summary: Shawn goes with Alan to Cardiff and learns that aliens are real.
Follows: It's a Gift. Author's Note This is unbeta'd and something that's been floating in my head since halfway through the previous story. I tried to make it clear for those who didn't know both fandoms. If anything is confusing, please let me know.

Shawn Spencer, premiere psychic detective of Santa Barbara, California, had just been whisked across a continent and an ocean in the blink of an eye, literally. His last case had introduced him to a man who had said he was there to observe Shawn for a top-secret organization. Over the course of a few days, Shawn had put the pieces together from what was said—and unsaid—and had concluded that Col. Alan Kelly was a time traveler.

Now he found himself in a dark alley, soaked to the skin from a constant drizzle and glad that his backpack was waterproof. “Is the navigation off on that thing?” he asked with a nod to the device strapped to Alan’s wrist.

“Just a slight hiccup. We’re in the right city and the date is good. There must have been a problem with the original coordinates so it relocated us.”

Shawn ducked into a doorway. “Why would it ‘relocate’ us?”

“It’s built-in so that we won’t materialize in mid-air, underwater, in the middle of a wall, stuff like that.”

“Good to know. But I thought these coordinates were set, some place you’ve been before. Why would they now be dangerous? Ooh, maybe it’s flooded, completely submerged. Or there’s a hostage situation and we would have materialized right in front of a gun.”

“Shawn.” Alan’s tone was full of warning.

Shawn looked at Alan and then out at what Alan was staring. There were four things standing about no more than five feet away. They looked human but were bigger with a smushed-in face and peach fuzz hair. One growled and Shawn saw the sharp teeth. What made them really surreal was the fact they were wearing boiler suits. “What the hell are they?”

“Aliens. Not sure of their real name, but some of the locals call them Weevils. They hunt in packs so there could be even more around. We need to make a break for it, head to the more populated, brightly-lit areas.”

Shawn gripped Alan’s arm. “Well, go on.”

“I can’t risk it. There’s a field radiated by the machine and anyone, anything, within that field gets taken along.”

“So it’s either run, get hunted and killed or take them with us.”

“I see no other choices.”

Shawn took a deep breath. “My dad always says I’m good at running away.”

“Okay then. Follow me and don’t stop.”

Alan dashed through a gap between two Weevils on the left and Shawn was right behind him like they were attached by a bungee cord. Behind him, he could hear a strange, low wailing that could only be those things communicating.

He chanced a look behind him and saw the creatures following at a loping gait. I guess I should be thankful they don’t run like cheetahs, he thought as he faced forward. Crap, where’s Alan? His ride had ditched him! He ran until he came to an intersection. The alley to the right seemed to have heavier traffic so he turned right and straight into a dead end.

Shawn looked about desperately, but could see no way out. The walls were slick with rain, and there were no doors or windows within reach. “Oh, wonderful, dying in an alley. I could have done that at home.”

There were only three of the Weevils that he could see, but he knew from watching Animal Planet that three was enough when it came to a pack. He wanted to be brave and stare death in the face, but those faces were damn ugly. As they advanced, he couldn’t help but curl up to try to make a smaller target. It’s not like there are any witnesses.

The gunshot surprised him. He peeked through his fingers. The thing was lying dead on the ground, a neat bullet hole in the back of its head. He then became aware of another figure. It was a dark-haired man with blue eyes, square jaw, and a cleft chin. He was wearing a long grey overcoat of WWII vintage and he didn’t seem to care about the weather. Shawn opened his mouth to speak, but the man held a finger to his lips. He then pointed down the alley and mimicked a right turn. Shawn nodded in understanding and, with a wink; the man disappeared into the shadows.

Shawn tiptoed around the dead Weevil then ran off down the alley in the direction the man had pointed. He nearly ran into Alan who had to grab him by the shoulder with his free hand.

“Are you okay? When you weren’t behind me, I began to panic. I ran back to find you, willing to face Weevils over your dad’s wrath.”

“I’m okay, just a little shaken.” He cracked a small smile. “The idea that you would rather face aliens than my dad would make him so proud.”

“How did you get away?”

“I hid behind some dumpsters. When I was sure they had gone, I came out and started to find my way out.”

“You didn’t see anyone else?”

Shawn was becoming a bit unnerved by the concern in Alan’s voice. He almost broke down and told him about the stranger that saved his life. What made him hold his tongue was the possibility that the man could be watching from the shadows and the fact that he was a damn good shot. “No, I didn’t see anyone. Why? What’s going on?”

Alan stopped and Shawn could see red and blue lights ahead. “Someone was shot not too long ago. When I heard the other shot, I panicked thinking you had met up with the killer.”

“Why don’t you just flash that paper and let them see ID from that organization? That would put you above them, right?”

“Okay, tiny mishap, it’s currently disbanded. Using that ID won’t do much. We can’t let them find us because there will be no record of you passing through customs. How would we explain how we got here? Any other time, yeah, maybe we could come up with something, but now, we’d only be suspects.”

I must be slipping. I should’ve realized that. I blame the aliens... Did I just think that?

Alan led him through the alleys that just skirted along the main roads. “Okay, I think we’re in the clear now.” They stepped onto the sidewalk, down from the police cars, but directly in front of an officer. “Maybe not.”

Shawn wiped the rain from his face and noticed the officer was just as surprised as they were. If things went right, the half-truth would work. “Oh, thank God! We were walking around in those alleys for hours! And there were these things! At first, we thought they were just muggers with masks, you know?” Shawn shuddered for affect.

The officer turned to Alan who had remained quiet during Shawn’s story. “Do you have anything to say, sir?”

Alan simply looked at the man and uttered one word. “Torchwood.”

***

At Alan’s use of the “magic word”, as it were, PC Davidson shuffled them out of there in his patrol car, using phrases like “international incident” and “averting police scandal” to stave off arguments from his fellow constables. He found them a room at a mid-price hotel. The man at reception probably would have turned them away if not for the police presence.

Davidson walked with them to the room. “There’s no need, Constable,” Shawn said. “You’ve done more than enough.”

“I vouched for you. I took you away from a crime scene based on one word. I just want your word that you’ll stay put.”

“I know you took a great risk for us,” said Alan. “You have my word that we won’t set foot through that door until you get here tomorrow morning.”

“Right, then. I’ll need to make some calls before I come get you.” He headed back down the hall.

“Say hi to Gwen for me!” Alan saw the man’s step hesitate before continuing. He then went into the room to see Shawn drying his hair with a towel, the TV on.

“I think I found a report on the murder, but I can’t understand what they’re saying.”

“It’s Welsh. Keep switching channels and you’ll find English.”

“When are we going out? Are we letting the action at the crime scene die down?”

“Shawn, we’re not going out.” Alan headed for the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower and changing out of these wet clothes. You had better still be here when I’m done.”

In the shower, Alan berated himself for forgetting, however temporarily, what had happened on Earth, to Torchwood, to his friends. He had to follow through on his story as an observer. Even though none of the others back at SBPD would know, he wanted Shawn to see. In his excitement, he had neglected to make adjustments, and, because of that, had almost lost Shawn to Weevils. Finished, he dried off and slipped on the robe provided. He then placed his wet clothes on the towel warmer. He stepped back into the room to see Shawn had changed into dry clothes, lying on the bed and watching TV.

“I didn’t take you for a fan of Welsh drama.”

“I don’t know what it is, but I can’t stop.”

Alan sat on the edge of his bed and adjusted the sling. “I think it’s time I fill you in on a few things.”

“Ooh, bedtime story!” Shawn turned off the TV, positioned himself against the headboard, and looked to Alan with rapt attention.

Alan couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I guess it could come across like a bedtime story, though more like a Grimm fairy tale. Just keep in mind that it did happen.” Alan took a deep breath. “Our story begins in Scotland, 1879. Queen Victoria is on her way to Balmoral Castle, but, due to a tree on the rail line, she is going by coach. A man, who called himself ‘The Doctor’, and a ‘feral’ child appear on the road. He shows the Queen his ID, which shows him to be from the Provost there to protect her. As it is getting late, they decide to stop the night at the home of Sir Robert MacLeish. When they arrive, Sir Robert tries to dissuade Victoria, but as her late husband had been a friend of Sir Robert’s father, she is adamant.

“All is not right at the house as a group of fanatics have taken Sir Robert’s wife and the maids as hostages, locking them in the cellar along with a cage. Sir Robert is forced to entertain the Queen and her entourage without telling them anything.

“The fanatical monks open the door to the cellar, allowing the light of the full moon inside. The man in the cage changes shortly before the Doctor and Sir Robert arrive to free the women. They escape, meet up with the Queen, and run to the library where they try to find out what they’re up against.

“After many sacrifices, including Sir Robert, the Doctor kills the werewolf, claiming it was actually a Lupine Wavelength Haemovariform, an alien life form that possessed the body.

“The next morning, Victoria knights the Doctor for his heroic actions, and then, believing him to be a threat to the Empire, banishes him. This incident also makes her aware of otherworldly threats that could threaten ‘her world’ and she creates an institute to defend against them. She names the Institute after the home of the man who had sacrificed his life for her even through she had accused him of treason.”

“Torchwood,” said Shawn. “I take it things have evolved a bit since then.”

“Big time. At one point, there were five ‘cells’: London, Glasgow, Cardiff and India.”

“That’s only four. Where’s the other?”

“Lost, At least that’s what I’ve been told. India was disbanded in 1918 and London—known as Torchwood One—fell in 2007 after an experiment had unforeseen consequences.”

“Unforeseen? Someone had to realize something was wrong.”

“Not when it involved beings crossing over from another dimension.”

“OK, I get how no one would have seen that.”

“Well, there was one, but the Director refused to do what he said as he was basically there as a prisoner.”

“The mysterious Doctor.”

“The very same.”

“All right, let me just go out on a limb here and say that the Doctor is that friend you mentioned before, the one who was into temporal physics.”

Alan smiled at Shawn’s memory. He really had to be careful about throwaway comments. “Yes, but this isn’t his story. Now comes the part as to why Cardiff.”

“Does it have to do with the Weevils?”

“Indirectly. There’s a space-time rift in Cardiff that spits out any number of things. Some are harmless artifacts, some are dangerous pieces of technology and some are aliens. When Victoria heard of this, she created Torchwood 3 to monitor all the traffic. They had a large archive of items collected over the years.”

“Had? What happened to it?”

“I’m not done, Shawn. Hold on.” Alan stood and looked out the window towards the bay. “On New Year’s Eve 1999, the leader of Torchwood 3 killed himself after killing all of his team but one. This man didn’t believe in Torchwood 1’s way of doing things and recruited people he knew shared his beliefs. When Torchwood 1 fell in 2007, he became the Director by default.

“They worked well together until last year when two of them died saving Cardiff and one more a few months later during that incident with the 456.”

“I remember that,” said Shawn. “The Chief was really freaked out when Iris began talking like that. She even went so far as to hand her to me to hide so she wouldn’t be taken.”

Alan sat back down on the bed. “That shows a lot of trust if she was willing to let you take her daughter.”

“I think it was a combination of that and the fact that I was the least likely she’d ask.”

“Anyway, Jack, desolate after having lost those he loved, left.” Alan didn’t think it was his place to tell Shawn the personal side of what happened to Jack’s family.

“He just up and left? Didn’t anyone try to get a hold of him?”

“Shawn, when I say left, I mean left the planet.” Alan smiled at Shawn’s confused face. “Knowing Jack, he probably charmed himself a ride.”

“So how many are left?”

“One. She used to be with the police and the constable that found us used to be her partner. Otherwise I don’t think invoking Torchwood would have done a thing.”

Shawn just shook his head. “This is all just…so much to take in. A top-secret agency that once practically spanned the globe defending Earth from aliens is now relegated to a woman working from an apartment in Cardiff. You can’t make this up.”

“It does reform at some point in the near future; I’m just not clear on the date.”

“So that kinda ruins your plan for me to see the place, check out how they work. What do we do instead?”

“Well, we’ll see Gwen in the morning and, hopefully, we can clear things so PC Davidson won’t be in any trouble.”

“What about the murder? Shouldn’t we offer our help?”

“Oh, you can’t deny you’re a detective. You even want in on an investigation halfway around the world. It all depends what kind of case it is. They could have it solved by tomorrow.” He stood and headed for the bathroom. “I’m going to check on my clothes. Why don’t you see what’s on for room service?”

***

That night, Shawn lay awake, thinking on his day. They had ordered some sandwiches from room service and then found Pretty in Pink on TV. They had critiqued the movie, and compared it to others in the genre. Shawn had even told Alan how he used the film to solve a murder at his own high school reunion. It had almost made the night normal. Now, however, in the quiet dark, his mind replayed the night, not allowing him to rest. He still couldn’t grasp that aliens existed, that they weren’t some conspiracy theory. As a kid, he had wanted them to be real, but everything was always logically explained away.

As for that man who saved him, Shawn really didn’t know what to think. Going by what he could see of his clothes, he could have slipped through the rift or he could just like to dress retro. How he had handled the gun and didn’t seem fazed by the Weevils made Shawn think the former. He also wondered if it was right withholding it from Alan. They guy had had a gun nearby where someone had been killed. Yeah, they didn’t know how the man died, but even so, guns weren’t as widespread here as they were at home. Another reason to keep mum. I guess I can cover my delay by blaming it on the shock causing me to forget.

In order to relax, Shawn put the dark wet alleys of Cardiff from his mind and conjured up the sunny warm beach just outside the Psych office, letting the sound of the waves lull him to sleep.

*

Shawn woke the next morning and saw that Alan was already awake, watching the TV with the mute on. “Mornin’.”

“Good morning.” He used the remote and the room was filled with what Shawn now knew to be Welsh accents.

“Anything about last night?”

“Just that the man was found shot in his store, No other information has been released.”

Shawn itched with anticipation. He really wanted in on this. He liked the challenge a case presented. For one to be in unfamiliar territory—did Vancouver really count?—well, that made it all the harder.

He rubbed his face. “Any coffee?”

“All they have in the room is instant. Maybe we can get Davidson to stop on the way to Gwen’s. Can you make it?”

“It will be a struggle, but I might. Have you heard from him yet?”

“No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he calls soon.”

Shawn rolled out of bed. “I guess I had better spruce up a little. My look doesn’t happen overnight.”

“The one you’re sporting now certainly did,” Alan said with a smile.

Shawn looked in the mirror to see a terrible case of bed head, He gasped at the horror of it and tried to smooth it with his fingers. “This might take a bit longer than I originally thought.”

He went into the bathroom, took a quick shower and changed into his jeans and a fresh shirt before getting down to business. Thankfully, his favorite products came travel sizes. He heard the phone ring as he was trying to get that insouciant rise to his style. It had to be Davidson which meant they didn’t have much longer to wait before they were done

Alan was just hanging up the phone. “He’s on his way and should be here in about 15 minutes, give or take.” He looked Shawn over. “It took you ten minutes to do your hair?”

“Not all of us can carry off the buzz- cut—Lassie being a prime example.”

“Yeah, that look definitely doesn’t work for him”

While they had some time, there were lots of things Shawn wanted to know. The first thing out of his mouth, however, surprised even himself. “Tell me about Jack.”

“That’s a tall order. Do you want me to start with how we met or before that?”

“How you met. I’m a sucker for romance.” He grinned.

“You don’t know how true that is with Jack,” Alan said with a chuckle. “I was shot, bleeding to death in an alley, when Jack and some mutual friends found me. They patched me up and discovered that I had been turned into a living bomb. We then found out that I was to be used to take out the Military Base so there would be no opposition to an attack. He helped back me up when I confronted the man who set me up. We were later shot down and he fixed my hand.”

“So, friendship bonded under fire?”

“We did have some other things in common, time travel being one of them.”

There was a knock on the door. “I guess he’s here.”

*

PC Davidson stopped for coffee and pastries on the way to their destination. The coffee wasn’t great, but to Shawn’s caffeine-deprived body, it was nectar.

“Let me talk to her first,” said Davidson as they walked up the stairs to the apartment. “She’s still a little paranoid when it comes to people asking about Torchwood.” He knocked on the door and it was answered by a woman who looked to be about 30 years old with shoulder-length black hair. “Gwen, these are the men--”

The woman pushed past Davidson. “Alan?” She hugged him. “What are you doing here?”

“Ow, ow, ow.”

“Alan, I’m sorry. What happened?” she asked as she led them inside.

On the way in, Shawn looked about, noting that baby paraphernalia dominated the room. The furniture was well-worn but not to the point of falling apart. There were also a number of photos dotted around the room. Two had pride of place on the coffee table. One was obviously a family shot, the other Shawn guessed was her co-workers from Torchwood.

“He took a bullet for me,” Shawn answered, knowing Alan would play it down.

“What are you doing in town?” Gwen asked as she motioned for them to sit. “Andy said he found you near that murder scene last night.”

“Well, that’s all due to Shawn here. Gwen Cooper, Shawn Spencer, consultant to the Santa Barbara Police Department. Shawn Spencer, Gwen Cooper, Torchwood.”

“Nice to meet you, Shawn.” She smiled and he saw the gap in her teeth. He found it natural after all the fake perfection of California.

“Nice to meet you, too, Gwen. Alan told me all about you.”

“All?”

“No, I left some mystery,” Alan said in his defense.

“What type of consultant?” asked Andy.

“I work as a psychic and have quite a high success rate.”

“How did you convince them you really were?” Gwen asked perceptively.

Out of habit, Shawn put his hand up to his head in full psychic-receptor mode. “The same way I can say your baby Mary Brenda is named for her grandmothers and is partial to ___. Or that your husband is a fan of Cardiff City, loves Indian take-out, and works for Harwood’s Haulage.” He looked up at Gwen. “That usually does it.”

“So, I was in Santa Barbara observing Shawn and, in order for the cops to let me stay, I might have said I was with Torchwood. As far as his friends and family are concerned, this is a recruitment trip. I just, uh, messed up on the temporal coordinates.”

“You two came to see Torchwood in action?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Torchwood no longer exists, Alan. It ended when Ianto died and Jack left.” Shawn could hear the unshed tears in her voice.

“C’mon, Gwen. You can’t mean to say you don’t look into a few cases from time-to-time?”

“She does,” Andy said. Gwen glared at him.

“As long as you’re around, Gwen, it’s not over.”

“And I will offer my services,” Shawn stated. “There’s gotta be something you can use my skills for.”

“The murder last night,” put in Andy. “It wasn’t all that straightforward. Yes, he died from a gunshot wound, but his insides were all…scrambled.”

“Seriously, dude, a death ray?”

“More likely a disrupter,” said Gwen, suddenly all business. “I’d have to check the records.”

“I thought everything blew up,” Shawn remarked.

“Jack made sure there were backups and safe houses in a number of locations. I can access it through my laptop.” She looked to Andy. “Can we get onto the scene?”

“I was asked to bring you in. I remember when Torchwood would barge right in and take over.”

“I can’t very well do that on my own, can I? There are still those in Whitehall who’d rather it didn’t exist at all.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re here.” Alan smiled and Gwen returned it.

“I’ll call Rhys and let him know what’s happening.” She grabbed a duffle from the alcove by the door.

Shawn crossed by the coffee table on the way out and got a better look at the Torchwood photo. “Gwen, who’s that?” he asked, pointing to the man with the movie star good looks.

“Oh, that’s Jack.”

Her husband then answered the phone and Shawn couldn’t ask why the man who had left the planet saved his life last night.

***
Alan stood back with Andy as both Shawn and Gwen did their thing. Since he didn’t have to bother with his “visions”, it looked like Shawn was just walking through the scene. Alan, however, knew that Shawn’s eyes were taking in everything. Gwen walked the room as well, scanning with a hand-held device, the purpose of which eluded Alan.

“How do you know Gwen?”

Alan looked at Andy and saw the policeman’s gaze as it followed Gwen. Not as innocent a question as he wants it to appear. “I fell through the rift and helped Torchwood catch an assassin before making it back home.”

“So you met them all.”

“Well, I already knew Jack which is what kept me from being locked up.”

“If you fell through the rift, how did you leave? Gwen said it’s only a one-way trip unless you know how to control it.”

“I’m a time traveler, Andy.”

“Way to sugar coat, dude,” said Shawn from across the store. “You could’ve eased him into it.”

“Not everyone can make that connection.”

Andy looked to Gwen who had stopped to listen to the conversation. “Did you know?”

“Ianto had to look him up in the Archives. He had almost as many notes as the Doctor and Jack.”

“They had a file on you? Dude, that is so awesome!”

“Shawn, it was because they thought I could lead them to the Doctor.”

“Him again. You’re gonna have to fill me in on why he’s such a big deal.”

“Maybe when we’re not in the middle of a murder investigation.”

“There are definitely traces of alien tech,” Gwen said. “It’s strongest here.”

Alan held up his wrist. “You’re probably getting this.”

She held the scanner up again. “That’s it. Even so, there is residual energy in spots you haven’t been. He must have been a dealer.”

“Black market alien artifacts? Gus would love this. How do they get them?”

“They collect by word-of-mouth and there are even some who will venture into the Hub—well, the remains of the Hub—and bring out what they can.”

“What did you get, Shawn?”

“Two people come in to do a deal and he tries to gyp them. One holds a gun on him while the other searches. They find the disruptor and struggle. It goes off, scrambling the victim’s insides. They run out. A third person comes onto the scene, possibly intending to make a deal as well. He sees the victim suffering and shoots him—mercy killing.”

Alan still was amazed at how Shawn could put forth a probable scenario like that just from looking around the room. Any was open-mouthed.

Gwen, however, had a question for him. “Where did he keep the black market goods? If he did business here, he had to have a place to keep it.”

“Sorry, didn’t I say?” He leaned against one of the shelving units and it slid easily across the floor exposing a door. “Secret room.”

“Nice work, Shawn,” Gwen said as she walked past him into the room. “This is definitely his treasure trove and we have to confiscate it.”

Alan walked in behind her. Three of the walls had floor-to-ceiling shelves, each shelf neatly lined with devices and artifacts. The fourth was home to a desk and computer.

“This is evidence in a police investigation!” protested Andy.

“You called me and this is definitely a Torchwood case now.” She turned away from Andy and looked over the shelves. “I do not look forward to entering these into the system.”

“He’s tagged each one with a date and location,” Alan said. “There’s another set of number that could be anything.”

Shawn walked around Andy who was now taking photos of the room. Alan saw his eyes dart from the shelves to the desk. “Inventory. The numbers must represent clients.”

“Right, so now we need the computer, too.”

“Gwen, is there a part of the Archives, of the Hub, that no one can reach?”

“There is a section of the sub-levels that’s blocked. I don’t know how safe it is, however.”

“’S all right. With Shawn helping me, it won’t take long.”

“Did you just volunteer me as a pack animal?”

“Probably one of the only times someone will want you to act like an ass.” Alan couldn’t hide the smile.

“Do we have to move all of it right away?” Shawn asked.

“We can’t let any of it fall into untrained hands,” Gwen replied.

“Not even to take care of the killer?”

“You want to pull a sting?”

“Get word out that someone has taken over the guy’s business dealings. If they killed him to get his stuff, they’ll come after the next one to have it.”

“It could work if we monitor it properly. It can’t be me or Andy because they’ll sense we’re police. Maybe Rhys could.”

Andy scoffed. “Rhys as a black market dealer? Please.”

“I guess that leaves me and Alan.”

“No, it just leaves me. You may not give off ‘cop’ like Andy and Gwen, but you still aren’t right for the part. We need someone intimidating and, well, it just isn’t you.”

Shawn made to argue but changed his mind. “Okay, but I won’t let you do it alone. I’ll be your trainee, apprentice, go-for and general dogsbody. Though, why a dogsbody? Why not a cat or even a ferret?”

“Shawn, are you done?” Alan asked him.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, so we’ll take the larger and more dangerous pieces to the Hub and leave out a few teasers to tempt our killer. We’ll meet back and Gwen’s to work out a more detailed plan.”

***

A couple of days after meeting Gwen and seeing the crime scene for the first time, Shawn was there again with Alan. It had been decided to use this site for two reasons. It would impress on the buyers that, yes, this place is now ours and Gwen could set up some cameras in discreet areas to monitor the exchange.

Shawn wore one of his collared shirts—actually pressed—tucked in his jeans. He had to make some sort of effort to look the part of a black marketer-wannabe. Alan was also dressed in a collared shirt, though his had an iconic logo, and designer pants—or slacks as something that price should be called. He was here as Alan’s trainee, learning the ropes, so he was perfectly within his right to be wary. It had also been decided that he would be American. Alan had commented on his trouble with accents and Rhys had found clips from Explosion Gigantesca de Romance online. After wiping tears from their eyes, they agreed with Alan.

They wouldn’t even let him have a cool undercover name. “If I call you and you forget to answer to it, that would make them suspicious.”

Shawn saw headlights and knew they were coming. “They’re here.”

“Right. When they get here, you stand behind me.”

“What? Was that in the script?”

“No, but it’s in character for the both of us.”

“Fine.”

The two men that entered the shop both looked like they were dressing for a part. They wanted people to think they were “street” when they were obviously more Wall Street. They went a bit overboard on the gold chains and the unlaced high-tops were passé. At least they didn’t have their pants halfway down their asses.

The taller of the two—6’3”, 210 pounds, short dark hair, brown eyes, broken nose—was definitely the muscle. The other—6’1”, 190 pounds, short light brown hair, hazel eyes—came across the more dangerous of the two.

He walked straight up to Alan. “You are the one taking over from David?” in asked in a voice that didn’t seem to match his outfit. Well, clothes were easier to slip into than accents.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Alan said, disproving that theory. The man slipped into accents like a comfortable t-shirt. “You’re a long way from home, Mr. …”

“Smith. As are you, Mr. …”

“Jones,” Alan answered. “You go where the opportunities are.”

Shawn could tell the accents were from different areas of the UK, but as to what those regions were and their distance from Cardiff, he had no idea.

“Do you have anything in mind or do you just want to see samples?”

“I think a sample will suffice to see if we can do business together.”

“Shawn, get the samples we brought.”

“Yes, sir,” Shawn replied, trying to sound eager. He went behind the counter and lifted the crate they had found in David’s inventory. He carried it around and placed it on a small table they had cleared for just that purpose. He stepped back to watch.

Alan also stepped away, hands behind his back.

Smith pulled out a device and used it to take readings like Gwen had done. It beeped and small green lights flashed. “It has a deal of power left and is in good condition. Have you tested it yet?”

“We haven’t had a chance. The kid hasn’t worked up the nerve. Don’t want to fry his brain if he can’t concentrate.”

Shawn didn’t have to fake his surprise face.

“That is a possibility when one isn’t telepathic,” Smith agreed. “And when one is,” his hands moved expertly across the dials, “certain settings can immobilize.”

Smith flicked one last switch. Alan grabbed his head in agony, a scream tore from his throat and he fell to the floor.

Shawn dropped to his knees beside Alan, reminding himself not to use Alan’s name. “Are you okay?” he asked in a panicked voice. He turned to Smith. “What happened? What did you do?”

“Nothing to worry about, boy.” Smith nodded and his trained gorilla pistol-whipped Shawn and he fell to the ground. Before he blacked out, he was kicked in the ribs. He then saw the man lift Alan and carry his limp body from the building.

*

“Shawn? Shawn, you okay, mate?” Gus asked in a British accent.

Shawn groaned. “Gus, ‘m fine. Go ‘way.”

“Shawn, it’s Rhys. You need to tell me what happened to Alan.”

The names finally burst through the fog and Shawn remembered. He opened his eyes to see two men looking at him with concern. Well, it became two when everything stopped spinning and focused. “Rhys, Andy, they took Alan.” He sat up and winced at the pain in his chest.

“Are you okay?” Andy asked as they helped him stand.

“Probably just bruised.” Shawn looked to Rhys. “Get Gwen on the phone. I need to tell you all what happened and I don’t want to repeat it.”

Rhys got Gwen on speed dial. “Gwen, love. Yeah, he’s fine. He wants to talk to you.” He put the phone on speaker.

“Shawn, what happened? Are you all right?”

“Just some bruised ribs, I’m okay.”

“Shawn, you were pistol-whipped.”

“Gwen, can we just put my health aside for a minute? I have to tell you something and I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.”

He told them his impressions of the men and the fact that Alan said they were far from home. “They also had a device like yours for testing alienicity. I’m talking just like, not similar.”

“They scrounge alien tech. Mine isn’t the only one.”

“He knew how to set the frequency to where it would affect telepaths.”

“They knew Alan was telepathic,” said Rhys.

“Wha’? How?” Andy was a bit behind the conversation.
“You’re right, Shawn, I do not like where this leads. Only Torchwood and UNIT know about Alan and UNIT wouldn’t go about getting alien tech by subterfuge.”

Shawn swayed a little.

“Gwen, we’ll be taking Shawn to A&E. He’s barely standing,” Rhys told her.

“Good. I’ll see if I can identify the men from the footage we have. Bye, love.”

“I can wait until we get Alan before going to the hospital.” Shawn made himself stand up straight. “They’re gonna treat him like any piece of technology and sell him to the highest bidder.” He headed for the door and his legs buckled. Andy and Rhys were there. “Maybe a little side trip couldn’t hurt.”

***

Alan slowly became aware of his surroundings. He blinked his eyes a few times to clear his vision and learned he was no longer in the shop but a small room. He was sitting in a chair, but he wasn’t tied down. When he tried to stand, he learned why: he couldn’t move.

The door opened and Mr. Smith walked in. “Ah, Col. Kelly, it is an honor to meet you. I did not expect you to be the one in the shop.”

Alan had to concentrate to get one word out. “How?”

“How do I know you? You haven’t been very subtle in your past visits. You’re in the Archives as a Person of Interest.”

Alan groaned. Smith was a rogue Torchwood operative, most likely from London. This did not bode well. “What do you want with me?”

“’If it’s alien, it’s ours’.”

“I hate to tell you, but I’m not an alien. I was born not too far from here.”

“But not in this time. Having someone with your abilities and knowledge fall into my lap will provide quite a windfall.”

“What are you going to do, auction me off?” Speaking was becoming easier.

“I haven’t yet decided. You would bring quite a bit of money at auction, but that would only be one payment. If we sell off your information, that could be much more profitable.”

Alan clenched his fists without realizing.

Smith noticed. “Now we’ll need to bring this session to an end.” He tapped the side of his head. “Can’t have you contacting anyone, can I?”

At that moment, the gorilla came in. Alan could see the syringe in his hand, but didn’t have the muscle control to move away. “C’mon, is this really necessary? You got me where you want me. I’m not going anywhere,” he protested as the needle pricked his skin and the solution injected.

“Not while you’re unconscious, you’re not.”

Alan could feel the sedative already beginning to work. Wow, that stuff is fast, he thought as he was dragged over to a cot and dumped on his back. He could hear Smith’s voice, muffled and distant. He had a feeling that orders were being given in regards to keeping him drugged. His vision then faded to black.

He came to briefly—barely—and he was fed liquids before being led to the bathroom. He was then drugged again. The process was repeated a number of times and Alan completely lost track of time. It could have been hours or it could have been days. He hoped it wasn’t days, for that would mean the others hadn’t been able to find him and the trail was getting ever colder.

In his brief moments of consciousness, Alan tried to be like Shawn and concentrate on what was around him. Unfortunately, his brain could not hold anything for long. Each time he fell into a drugged sleep, he would repeat what he had learned in an effort to retain it.

*

“Wakey, wakey.” Alan felt gentle slaps on his face as someone tried to wake him. “C’mon, I need you awake for this.”

Alan blinked groggily as he tried to bring the face above him into focus. They had never forced him awake before, but let him wake slowly on his own. Instinctively, he knew the man was helping him. He slowly sat up.

“Alan, are you in there, buddy?”

He turned his head towards the face and his vision cleared. “Jack?”

“Yeah, it’s me. C’mon, let’s get you out of here.” Jack helped Alan stand and kept an arm around his waist to keep him steady. He reached around with the other hand to set the coordinates on his vortex manipulator.

“I thought that didn’t work anymore,” Alan said slowly.

“I got it fixed during my travels. Don’t tell the Doctor, okay?”

Alan nodded slowly. Anything more and the dizziness would return.

“OK, deep breath.” Jack hit the final button and they were gone.

***

Shawn sat on Gwen and Rhys’ couch and stared at the pages of information they had gathered regarding Alan’s abduction. Gwen had found the two men in Torchwood’s personnel files. “Smith”—real name, Ian Davis—had been one of their best field agents in regards to acquisitions. He had really taken Torchwood’s motto to heart. “’If it’s alien, it’s ours’.” Shawn rubbed his hand through his hair and fell back against the couch. “What kind of motto is that?”

“Torchwood London really held on to the original tenets in the charter.” Gwen handed him a cup of tea. “They acted like there was still an empire.”

“But Alan’s a person, not a thing. He only came here because of me and look what happens.”

“Shawn, it’s not your fault. Alan volunteered for this. He would have if you were here or not. It’s just the way he is.”

“I know. It’s just…” Shawn felt like a fish out of water. There was only so much he could deduct correctly with the cultural differences. Then there was the tech and aliens to deal with.

After the emergency room, Rhys had brought him home, for which Shawn was grateful. He would have gone mad alone in that hotel room. That had been two days ago and they still weren’t any closer to finding Alan. He took a deep breath and bent his head over the files and photos once more. There had to be something he missed.

“Shawn!”

“What?”

“I called you three times,” said Gwen. “Can you get Mary from her nap? I’ve got to finish with this chicken.”

“Sure.” Shawn stood, stretched, and walked down the hall to the nursery. Mary cooed and gurgled when she saw him and all Shawn’s frustrations were banished when he saw that innocent face. He lifted the baby from the crib and experience told him she needed changing. He adeptly put on a fresh diaper and carried Mary back to the living room. He grabbed her juice from the fridge just as there was a knock at the door. As Gwen was up to her elbows in dishes, he answered the door. He was not expecting what he found.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Mom. Look at you, all domestic.”

Shawn was speechless.

Gwen came running from the kitchen and wrapped him in another very large hug. “Alan!”

“Dude, how did you escape? We couldn’t even find you.”

“It wasn’t an escape, it was a rescue.”

Alan moved out of the way and Shawn saw the greatcoat first before looking up at the face. He was struck speechless yet again. A new record.

Gwen moved to the other man. “Jack!” She hugged him tightly before stepping back and slapping him in the face. “Where have you been? How long have you been back? Why didn’t you contact me?”

Jack rubbed his cheek. “I guess I deserved that. OK, in order, around, a few days, it’s complicated.”

“I’d say he’s been in town at least since the day of the murder,” Shawn said as he headed back into the living room and sat on the couch with Mary.

Shawn saw the tread of Jack’s boots and knew that he had been at the crime scene. He had suspected the strange man who had just shown up out of nowhere but now he had something concrete to place him there. Now he knew it was under different circumstances.

Jack looked at him. “The stories are true. You’re good.”

Wow, even Jack knows about me and, according to Alan, he’s from even further in the future. Cool.

Gwen sat down on the couch next to him. Mary reached out for her mother and Gwen took her and held her daughter on her lap. “Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you let me know you were back?”

“I didn’t want to show up on your doorstep after all that time...”

“What do you know? The great Jack Harkness at a loss for words.” Alan grinned.

Shawn guessed that Jack was the type to charm his way out of any situation. When it came to honesty, however, he seemed to have a tough time of it.

“Okay, so Jack’s been here for a few days,” said Alan, “but how do you know the exact day?”

“The treads of his boot match the prints at the scene.”

“And?”

“And I saw him that night in the alley,” Shawn answered quickly.

“What?” questioned Gwen. “You saw Jack that night?”

“I didn’t know who he was. He also wanted me to keep quiet.”

Alan looked at Jack. “You saved him from the Weevils.”

“What did you expect me to do after you lost him? I couldn’t let them get him.”

“Gentlemen, though I’m flattered, this is not the time to fight over me. We have to pool our resources to get these guys.”

“I’ll invite Andy to dinner and we can talk about it then. Now I want to hear where Jack’s been.”

*

While they had waited for dinner, Alan and Jack swapped stories. It had given Shawn a better insight into the man than hearing things in the third person. They had shown him to be a flirt and a con man, but he was also loyal to his team and friends.

When Rhys arrived, they had arranged it so Jack was the first thing he saw. “Jack Bloody Harkness!” His tone had been annoyed yet he smiled and gave the prodigal a manly hug.

“Good to see you too, Rhys. Glad to see you’ve taken good care of Gwen. New digs as well. Like ‘em.”

“Nice to know my life meets with your approval since you left, seemingly for good.”

“I had to get away, work things over. After spending so much time on this planet, I really needed to get away. Perhaps I should have stayed to work things out, but I’m here now.”

Andy’s reaction had been similar, minus the hug. Andy had feelings for Gwen and grudgingly accepted that she had chosen Rhys. With Jack back in the picture, Andy probably felt he had been pushed a little further out of the circle. He didn’t say much before dinner, and what he did say was mostly at Jack’s expense.

Now here they were at dinner and Shawn had become the focal point. Since Gwen had banned talking about the case, Andy wanted to hear more about Shawn’s life and cases. “I finally had the chance to read up on you.”

“I thought you did that the night you found us.”

“That was more of a background check to see if you were telling the truth.. This time I actually got to read up on your cases. You caught a serial killer? I heard she’s writing a book.”

Shawn didn’t want to talk about Yang. It was still too close, too personal. That woman had kidnapped his mother and strapped a bomb to her.

“Andy, I don’t think Shawn needs to go through that again. It hasn’t even been a year,” Alan said, coming to his rescue. “Why don’t you tell them about Lassiter and the time you made him think he solved the case?”

The memory brought a smile to Shawn’s face and he relayed the story of the murdered astronomer.

After dinner, Shawn helped Gwen clear the dishes so they could spread their files and information on the table. Photos and maps covering the whole of Cardiff and outlying areas littered the surface. Shawn studied them once again, hoping that a different arrangement would spark something. Alan and Jack got to look at it all for the first time.

“Alan, what can you tell us of where you were held?” Gwen asked.

“I was so heavily drugged, I have little recollection. All I remember is a small room, not much bigger than a cell. Each time I was conscious, I’d try to remember, but they’d just drug me again.”

“What about you, Jack?”

“No idea. It wasn’t really a conventional rescue. I zeroed in on his machine, got him, and then left without seeing anything other than the room.”

“OK, so they collect alien tech, right?” asked Rhys. “So you widen the search and the highest concentration of the stuff has to be them.” He sat back grinning like he had solved the problem.

“I’ve done so many scans over the past few days,” Gwen said as she opened her laptop. “Everything’s starting to blend together.”

Everyone gathered around and peered over Gwen’s shoulders at the screen. There were hot spots all over, thanks to the rift.

“At this rate, it’d be easier to look where the stuff’s not,” commented Andy.

The switch clicked in Shawn’s brain. He could feel a smile cross his face.

“Shawn? What is it?” Alan knew that smile.

“We do what Andy said. Look for where it’s not. These guys are Torchwood, right?”

“Former Torchwood,” Jack stressed.

“So they must have shields of some sort to prevent detection. We find a large area of nothing and that’s them.”

Gwen expanded the search and six pairs of eyes roved the screen to find the discrepancy. Alan was the first to spot it. “There!” he pointed.

“Warehouse district,” said Jack. “Of course. Gwen, pull up diagrams of the building and all approaches.”

“Already ahead of you.”

“Now we make a plan of attack.”

“Well, personally, I plan better with dessert,” Shawn said. “Pineapple upside-down cake, anyone?”

***
They had been working on the plan of attack well into the night. Alan and Jack brought the military tactics, Gwen, Rhys and Andy, the local knowledge, and Shawn…well, Shawn brought his own unique style which would give them an edge over Davis.

Alan defended Shawn’s ideas. “Davis will be expecting pretty much all we’ve outlined. He doesn’t know Shawn, doesn’t know the way he thinks.”

“Even I don’t know the way I think,” Shawn commented.

“He makes things up as he goes along which makes it difficult for people to figure out his plans and less chance of something going wrong.”

“Sounds like someone we know,” muttered Jack.

Alan nodded to keep himself from yawning.

His argument didn’t help the debate any. He slipped away to the couch, hoping to rest for a bit and clear his headache. There must have still been drugs in his system because the night ended for him right there.

*

Alan woke in the morning to find that someone had taken off his shoes and covered him with a blanket. After a stretch, he shuffled into the kitchen to see Jack already sipping coffee.

“Hey, it’s Rip Van Winkle.”

“I didn’t sleep that long.” Alan poured himself some coffee. “How did you sleep?”

“Not really one for sleep. There’s much better things to do between the sheets.” He gave Alan a crooked grin.

Alan wasn’t buying. It was as if Jack were trying too hard to be his old self. He just raised an eyebrow.

Jack’s smile faded and he gazed down at his coffee. “Every cup I’ve had since then has been mud, y’know? I keep drinking thinking I’ll regain the taste for it.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Jack. You know I would’ve been if I could.”

“Yeah, it was one of those events that had to happen. I’m starting to recognize them now by feel. I’ve certainly lived through enough of them.”

“I could probably tell you it gets better with time, but I think you know the truth of that statement better than anyone. Since you’ve got your manipulator working again, you’re welcome to stop by and talk.”

Jack nodded.

“So, we good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“All right, no more maudlin moments. We’ve got some crooked agents to bring down.”

Jack chuckled which made Alan smile.

Rhys walked in with Mary in his arms. “I’ve a feeling I should be nervous seeing the two of you whispering together. What have you been planning?”

“No need to be nervous, Rhys,” Jack assured the man. “Alan and I were just catching up.”

“Okay, then. Time to get breakfast started”.” He put Mary in her high chair.

“I’ll go wake up Shawn,” said Alan. “You don’t have anything pineapple, do you?”

Rhys pulled a container of pineapple chunks from the fridge. “He made a point of it.”

“I’m sure he did.”

Alan took the dish and walked to the nursery. Shawn was sprawled on the floor lightly snoring. Using telekinesis, he levitated a pineapple chunk over to Shawn and made it hover just under his nose. Some of the juice dripped onto his lips and Shawn instinctively licked them. When Shawn made to bite it, Alan made it dance out of reach. If Shawn really wanted this, he’d have to be upright.

Shawn slowly rose from the floor like a mummy from the tomb. Alan decided to reward him by having the pineapple stop right in front of his mouth. Shawn snapped at it and a moan of ecstasy escaped his lips.

“Man, if I could wake up like this everyday…”

“I figured it was the best way to wake you quickly and in a good mood.

Shawn stood and pulled on his pants. “How come you didn’t tell me you could do that?” He wiggled his fingers to mime movement through the air.

“The telekinesis? I don’t use it that often except in emergencies—and for cheap tricks.”

“Cool.” Shawn walked past him and grabbed the bowl from his hands. “C’mon, Rhys makes a fab fry-up.”

Alan shook his head as Shawn strolled down the hall, popping pineapple chunks.

*

“Okay, does everyone remember the plan?” Jack’s voice came over the Bluetooth device in Alan’s ear.

“I don’t think we’ve forgotten after 100 times of you reminding us,” came Rhys’ reply.

“I take it that’s a yes.”

“Jack, don’t push it.”

Alan sat back on Gwen’s couch. She had set up the laptop with camera feeds from inside the warehouse. Either Davis didn’t know they were there or he didn’t think anyone could hack in. While he watched and waited, Alan fiddled with one of Mary’s toys in his hand. God, he hated waiting like this, but, until they shut off that device, he couldn’t go anywhere near there.

[Shawn, you’re being awfully quiet.]

Yeah, well, kinda got a lot to think about right now.

Alan realized Shawn was battling nerves. [Shawn, you’ve done stuff like this before. You and Gus would always sneak in somewhere to get info for your visions.]

That’s just it. It was always just me and Gus, not an operation like this. It’s one thing to do it on X-box and another to do it for real.

[Shawn, you’re good at this stuff. Your dad made sure of that. You just need to focus, concentrate on your part of the plan. The adrenaline will kick in and you’ll be on automatic pilot.]

Thanks, Shawn replied after a moment.

“All right, time, gentlemen,” announced Gwen.

Alan watched intently as he had to be the one to tell Shawn when it was time for him to go.

About ten minutes later, Davies and his henchman left the office and appeared on a different screen. Alan waited until they showed up on the camera that was furthest away. [Shawn, go now! The other have them occupied.]

Shawn appeared on-screen as he cautiously crosses the warehouse floor. “Tell me why this is my part again?”

“Because you know what the device looks like and you saw Davies change the settings.”

“And because of the device, you can’t direct anyone how to use it.”

Alan watched as Shawn arrived at the open door to the office. “I don’t have a clear shot of the office so, once you’re in there, you’re on your own.”

“Just let me know when they come back.”

As if I’d let anything happen after all this. Alan saw that Jack and the others had Davies pinned down. He wouldn’t be getting away anytime soon. Then he felt it, the relief of pressure he hadn’t realized was there. Shawn had fixed the settings. He could join the fun now.

***

Shawn turned to the office door and nearly let out one of his patented screams when he saw the figure there. “Alan, dude, you gotta give a man warning.”

Alan chuckled. “You turned it off. You should’ve realized I’d show up.”

“But how did you focus on me? There’s quite a bunch of us here.”

“It’s hard to put into words. It’s like I just knew which mind was yours.”

“Dude, that just screams ‘creepy’.”

“Sorry. Nothing I come up with will make it any less so.”

Shawn was feeling awkward over this talk of his brain. Back in the Psych office, he might be able to handle this conversation, but now, in the middle of what they were doing, it was just weird. “Let’s go save the others, yeah?”

“Take this.” Alan pressed a gun into his hand.

“Wow, Lassie never gave me a gun. Jack didn’t offer either.”

“They haven’t seen you shoot.”

“You haven’t.” Alan just looked at him. “Right, future, I got it. Jack’s from the future, too… Well, Lassie has, but he probably thinks it was a fluke.” If Lassie ever acknowledged that happened, he’d have to admit he paid Shawn a compliment and called him “detective”.

“Just don’t shoot anyone you had breakfast with and we’re good.”

Shawn watched the change in Alan’s demeanor as he went into military mode. Thankfully, he didn’t have to use those annoying hand signals that his dad insisted on using at such moments. They came up behind Davies and his goon. The Apeman saw Alan and turned his gun on him. Shawn and Rhys kept their guns on Davies while everyone else aimed theirs at the goon. Alan stood there, unarmed, no sign of fear.

“Put the weapon down!”

“Jack, I’ve got it.” With a small nod of his head, Alan sent the gorilla’s gun flying over Gwen’s head.

“Dude, that was so frickin’ cool!”

“If you don’t want to join your gun, you’d best put your hands on your head,” said Gwen.

Shawn split his attention and missed Davies reaching for his gun. With no hesitation, he shot Davies in the hand causing him to drop the gun. Shawn had to smile when Davies began to curse him in that posh accent. It was almost as satisfying as making turn ten shades of red.

“Nice shootin’, Tex,” Jack commented as he put away his revolver.

“Saw it done once and thought it the sexiest thing.”

“It is a bit of a turn on.”

“Granted, I was about to get slashed to death and the shooter was a gorgeous blonde.”

“Juliet?” asked Alan.

“Yeah. It was totally amazing.”

Gwen and Andy took charge of the two men. “What do you want to do with them?” Andy asked.

“We could retcon them,” said Gwen.

“That wouldn’t help with the murder,” said Alan.

“What is retcon?” Shawn asked.

“Amnesia drug,” answered Rhys.

“It won’t work, Harkness,” growled Davies. “I’m immune.”

“Not to this stuff, it’s my own blend,” Jack said with pride.

“It still doesn’t answer where we put them,” said Rhys.

“Don’t you guys have cells or something?” Shawn asked.

“Not anymore,” Gwen told him.

“I’ve got an idea. Jack, your phone.” Jack pulled his cell out of his pocket and handed it to Alan. Alan dialed. “Alistair!”

Jack chuckled.

“What? No, though I’m flattered. It’s Alan Kelly. I’m in Cardiff at present and I need a favor.”

“Who’s he talking to?” Shawn asked Jack.

“Brigadier Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, a man with quite a bit of clout who can handle our detention problem.” Jack said. He pulled out bottle of pills from his pocket. “Take it yourself or we’ll force you.”

Davies took the pill and swallowed without water. The other man, seeing what his boss had done, followed suit without complaint. Jack seemed upset that he wouldn’t get a chance to threaten someone.

Shawn looked at Alan as he chatted away on the phone with a general whose number he had memorized. It made him wonder what other important phone numbers were in that head.

Alan ended the call and gave Jack his phone back. “I need to get a super-phone,” he muttered which caused Jack to grin. “Well, Alistair said he’d make arrangements for UNIT to come get these two.”

“’Kay, so we’re done now? I’d like to look around, you know, do some touristy stuff ‘cos if I don’t bring anything back from Gus, he won’t let me hear the end of it.”

“Gus?” asked Gwen.

“My best friend since…forever. He’d pout and hold a grudge for at least a month.”

Jack nodded to the two men and smiled at their snores. “Once we get these two into the lock-up, the four of us are taking you in a tour of Cardiff, including places that only locals know.”

“Sounds cool.” Shawn looked at Alan. “You up for this?”

“Sure, why not.”

*


Shawn had absorbed everything his tour guides had to show him and he came to appreciate all the street food Cardiff had to offer. He hoped he could find some of it back home. Gwen and Rhys had gone home to be with Mary and Andy had to work the late shift. Now it was just him, Alan and Jack looking out at the bay. Part of him was surprised the tour ended here, yet part of him knew Jack was drawn here because of how much it had affected his life. Now, he still didn’t know the whole story, but he planned to find out before leaving for home.

“So this is where everything happened, hunh? How did it end up looking like that?” Shawn asked, motioning to the crater surrounded by a construction fence and scaffolds.

“Yeah, that was Torchwood Three. As for how it ended, ground zero for a bomb.”

“Were you there when it went off?”

Jack chuckled humorlessly. “You could say that.”

Shawn remembered all the little things about Jack that didn’t add up—until now. He took a look at Jack’s shirt and saw bullet holes but no holes in his chest. “Wow, I don’t believe it.”

“What?”

“You can’t die—or can’t stay dead.”

Before Jack could respond, his cell rang. “Harkness,” he answered. “Thank you, sir. Oh. Sure, we can do that.” He ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket. “Right, let’s go.”

“Jack, will you explain that call and where we’re going?” asked Alan.

Shawn was torn between following Jack and staying with Alan. He still didn’t know much about either, but immortality? It was like real life Highlander.

“Jack?”

“We’re meeting someone, okay?” Jack walked past the construction towards the road.

Behind him, Shawn heard Alan scoff. “What?”

“There aren’t many people Jack calls ‘sir’ and there’s only one I can think of who might be in the area.”

“The general you spoke with. This is definitely turning into an interesting trip.”

“Do you regret agreeing to come?”

“Hell no! I’ve come up against aliens and helped foil the dastardly plot of rogue agents of a majorly secret English organization.”

“Don’t call it English around Gwen. It’s all Welsh now.”

They joined Jack at the curb just as a discreet but expensive black car pulled up. Jack opened the back door and an older man stepped out. He was on the hefty side with a grey beard and thinning hair. Even though he stood a little slowly, there was definitely military bearing.

“Captain Harkness.”

“Sir.” Jack saluted.

The general looked at him and Alan. “Col. Kelly. I was quite surprised to hear your voice.” They shook hands.

“I figured you would be the one to call for a favor since Jack’s lost all his connections.”

Shawn held his hand out. “Shawn Spencer, consultant with the Santa Barbara Police Department.”

Lethbridge-Stewart gripped his hand firmly. “Alan told me about you and what you’ve done. You have this country’s thanks.”

“Not really enough proof for bragging purposes, though.”

“Shawn.”

“It’s all right, Alan. I understand Mr. Spencer’s…need. I might be able to arrange something.”

*

The day after the meeting with the Brigadier, Shawn had decided he wanted to return to Santa Barbara. Alan had extended an offer for more travel, but all Shawn wanted was to go home, something he hadn’t felt since he was a kid. Alan had understood and had brought him back to his apartment with a promise to visit again.

The first thing Shawn had done was go the department to share his “What I Did On My Summer Vacation” story. They hadn’t believed him, though Lassie had been the only one to tell him outright.

Now, a few days later, he was entering the department after being called by the Chief.

Buzz was the first to see him. “They’re waiting for you.” He led the way and kept looking back to make sure Shawn was following.

The Chief’s office was full, what with the Chief, Lassie, Jules, Gus and his dad waiting for him. “Dad, what are you doing here? Is this some sort of intervention? Those don’t work on me.”

“No, the Chief called me. She thought I might want to be here for this.”

Shawn looked to the Chief.

“This came for you.” She handed him a letter.

Shawn took the envelope. It was cream stationery of good quality with a crest in place of a return address. Oh, my God, he really did it! “What’s this ‘essk’, ‘eesk’ thing?”

“It stands for ‘Esquire’, Gus answered. “It’s a courtesy title.”

“Since when is calling somebody queer a courtesy?”

“Es-quire, Shawn, not ‘is queer’.”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

“Open the letter, Shawn.” Juliet couldn’t wait.

He opened the envelope slowly, being careful not to rip it. He then unfolded the letter. Centered at the top was the same crest and underneath that “Buckingham Palace”. He read the letter quickly and smiled ear-to-ear. He handed the letter to his dad.

“ ‘Dear Mr Spencer’,” he read aloud. “’I would like to personally thank you for assisting agents of the Crown while putting yourself at great personal risk.

“’Brigadier Sir Lethbridge-Stewart has spoken most highly of you, as have the agents involved and I would not be surprised were you to be nominated for the next Honours List.’ It’s signed Elizabeth II.” Henry fell into a chair. “My son has a personal letter signed by the Queen.”

“No, this can’t be.” Lassiter made to take the letter.

“Ah!” Shawn took it and put it back in the envelope. “Bet you’re sorry you doubted me.” He headed for the door.

“Where you goin’, Shawn?”

“I am going to get this baby mounted and framed in the best your credit card can afford.”

“Shawn? Shawn!” Gus chased after him.