Fic: Googling Torchwood, And Other Futile Tasks
This was written for a fandom auction to support relief efforts in Japan.
Title:Googling Torchwood, And Other Futile Tasks
Fandom:Torchwood/Covert Affairs
Pairing:Jack/Auggie (if you squint, kind of like pre-pre-slash)
Rating: T for a little swearing
Warnings: Takes place pre Torchwood:Miracle Day so spoilers if you don't know the main concept behind that series that has been widely reported in official press releases and such.
Auggie was not having a good day. To be fair, not many in the CIA had had anything remotely resembling a good day. It had all started with the attempted execution of a notorious serial killer that morning and had ended with Auggie where he found himself now-buried shoulder deep in field reports, database searches, and audio surveillance.
It all came down to that one word, “attempted”. Incompetent prison personnel and liberal protesters aside, it should have been routine enough to jab a needle in the scum’s arm, nothing “attempted” about it. But after three hours and four doses they’d had to admit that they weren’t going to be successful and the whole unexplainable mess had become the problem of every government agency from the Food and Drug Administration to Homeland Security. And of course, much to Auggie’s current frustration, this also included the CIA.
There were theories that someone had developed some kind of super defense drug that could keep a subject alive under extreme circumstances. The CIA were under emergency orders to look into every country, terrorist group, or high school science teacher that had the theoretical capability to produce one.
While most of the agents were following up on leads that made at least a miniscule amount of fucking sense, good old Rex had stormed into Auggie’s cubicle ranting about connections and a “global phenomenon”. Rex saw connections everywhere; he was the absolute textbook case of a paranoid spy with an added dose of Fox Mulder like belief in unexplained events.
He’d burst into Auggie’s lunch break insisting that an operative in Russia had landed a perfect kill shot only to see his target get up and walk away. He had also tracked down anecdotal cases of at least three other people who should have died that day and had managed to survive. Auggie’s arguments that the agent’s shot might not have been as good as he thought and that panic over the constant news coverage of the failed execution might have people jumping to conclusions fell on deaf ears.
So here Auggie was, hours later and no closer to contributing anything useful to the mystery of the failed execution. Instead he was attempting to research Rex’s latest obsession, a supposed secret British organization known as Torchwood. Rex was convinced that they had something to do with the current situation and Auggie was his go to research monkey. But an entire day of feeding documents through the computer so they could be dictated through his headphones had Auggie’s head pounding and his urge to tell Rex off growing, seniority be damned.
References to Torchwood were few and far between, usually scribbled handwritten notes shoved into files as an afterthought, three or four sentences here a few more there. From what he could tell they’d existed in some form or another since Victorian times, centered in Cardiff and devoted to what seemed to be best described as X-Files type cases. This information did nothing for Auggie’s patience with his task but went a long way towards explaining Rex’s obsession with the organization.
Setting aside the paper documents, Auggie began to tackle the computerized databases and Internet resources groaning aloud in frustration as he hit yet another seemingly impenetrable firewall blocking his attempts. For a spook group specializing in absolute nonsense they had plenty of defenses. In sheer desperation he’d just pulled up a simple Google search, typed in Torchwood and hit the enter key when the sound of steps approaching alerted him to someone’s presence.
“I’m working on it, Rex,” Auggie snapped before he finally focused fully on the sound of the footsteps behind him. He spun his chair around to face the intruder. “And you’re not Rex.”
The footsteps stopped closer to Auggie than he was comfortable with. Close enough that he could feel the slight breeze from the man’s coat settling around him…was the man wearing a cape or just a ridiculous jacket? Turning his attention back to more pressing matters, Auggie attempted to asses how long it would take him to disable his visitor…roll towards him, elbow to the gut, headlock…
“Rex?” The man answered, chuckling and seeming completely unconcerned by Auggie’s defensive posture. “I should say not. I’m taller, better looking, more fun. I could go on, but I’m in a bit of a rush, busy day.”
“And you are?” Auggie demanded, attempting to keep his cool.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you’d recognize me since you’ve been poking around in those files all day,” The man started, before pausing and continuing. “Ah, I see. Opps, sorry. No pun intended.”
Auggie felt himself bristle at the obvious reference to his blindness even from this unknown man.
“Don’t feel sorry for the blind guy,” Auggie told him firmly, subtly positioning himself in a more advantageous angle. “I’ve got perception enough to take you down if you don’t get around to introducing yourself real fast.”
There was a whisper of movement and before Auggie could fully process their change in positions the man was leaning over him, one arm on each side. Auggie could feel the man’s breath puffing against the side of his face and fought down the urge to shudder at the unexpected proximity.
“Don’t take it personally,” The man murmured, his voice absurdly amused given the bizarre tension of the moment. “I feel sorry for anyone who can’t see this face.”
Auggie was torn between laughing and taking advantage of the moment by kneeing this guy in the groin. In the end he was saved from making the decision when the man spoke again.
“Ha, so you got around to googling us, huh? Anything good?”
Auggie heard the click of a mouse and realized that the man was looking at the screen over his shoulder.
“Us?” Auggie asked, pushing back on his chair and getting a more comfortable distance between them, refusing to allow himself to consider the exact reasons he was finding that distance necessary. “You expect me to believe you’re involved with this Torchwood?”
“How else would I know that you’ve been poking around in our affairs, unsuccessfully I might add?” The man asked conversationally, still clicking the mouse lazily.
“The ultra secret British alien chasers have an American enforcer with access codes to the CIA?” Auggie asked, folding his arms. He should probably be figuring out a contingency plan for taking this guy down but he didn’t seem to be an immediate threat. Not to mention the entire place was under constant surveillance and the odds of his getting out undetected were next to nothing. Most important of all this was the most interesting thing that had happened all day and banned from the field or not Auggie still had a taste for dangerous situations.
“Impressed yet?” The man inquired, stepping away from the computer but not leaving Auggie’s personal space.
“Not really,” Auggie shrugged. “Now, if you tell me how your people kept that serial killer from biting it maybe I’d feel a slight stirring of respect.”
Auggie could almost physically feel the change in the man’s mood.
“That wasn’t us,” He said flatly, tension lacing the pause that followed.
“So it’s just a coincidence that Rex decides there’s an anti-death conspiracy connected to your organization, I start looking into it and 6 hours later you walk in,” Auggie offered dryly.
“Rex is an annoying little bastard but he’s probably right more often than you’d like to believe,” The man informed him, some trace of humor returning to his voice. “And this is one of those times. Something’s wrong. Something’s thrown off the balance of life and death and it wasn’t us, but we may be the only one’s who can fix it. We have a history of doing that. Saving the world while your illustrious agency is busy buying into stories about mass hallucinogenic episodes.”
“Fine,” Auggie found himself leaning towards the man as if pulled by some of kind of magnetic force. “Let’s say you’re right. What are we supposed to do about it?”
“You are supposed to stay out of our way,” The man answered, his shoulder brushing against Auggie’s. “You are supposed to stop searching for information on us and start searching for ways to propagate comforting lies and contain panic as much as possible. That’s what you guys do best, isn’t it?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Auggie offered. “I would say it’s a toss up between assassinations and paperwork.”
The man laughed, a deep hearty sound that Auggie could feel through their still touching shoulders. The man stood up and stepped away, leaving Auggie strangely disappointed, whether from the loss of contact or the coming loss of interesting company he couldn’t say.
“So, Auggie, what do you say? Do we have a deal?” The man had paused in the doorway, Auggie could plot his exact location by the number of steps it had taken to get there. Given his imminent departure Auggie found himself absurdly wishing that he could see this man’s face in a way that he hadn’t wished to see anything in longer than he could remember.
Instead of embarrassing himself by voicing these thoughts he simply went with the obvious.
“I suppose it’s out of the question to expect you to tell me how you know my name? Or how you got in here in the first place?”
“Yep,” The man popped the “p” and didn’t see fit to elaborate.
“Fine,” Auggie reached behind him and closed the search window. “I couldn’t find jack shit on Torchwood anyway. But if this thing is real, you’re going to have to let us in eventually. When that day comes, give me a call.”
The man chuckled ruefully. “Oh Auggie, if this were a different day I’d give you a call tonight. As it is, I hope for your sake you never hear from me again.”
Auggie heard the man turn to leave and called after him against his better judgment, even as a raging blush spread across his face.
“Who are you?”
“I don’t have the time, kid,” He answered, his smile audible to Auggie.
“What’s your name?” Auggie insisted.
“Harkness. Jack Harkness.” The man told him, calling back over his shoulder as he retreated from Auggie. “And don’t bother googling that, Auggie.”
Auggie briefly considered raising the alarm and getting the man-Jack-stopped at the door but rejected the idea almost as quickly as it came to him. If he could get in undetected, he could get out undetected. Auggie was willing to bet when he checked the cameras later there wasn’t going to be any footage of the guy either, which was disappointing on multiple levels, not least of all because Auggie would love to have Annie describe the man for him.
“Oh well,” Auggie muttered to himself, scooping some files off of his desk and making a beeline for the door. He had some things discuss with Rex. And then he had some googling to do. You know, just in case.