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Title: A Psychic Detective's Investigation in Wales
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.

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.”


“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.



SPN Dean Writing

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