In all the fandom wank going on around the place at the announcement of the 11th doctor, one of my friends mentioned that she'd like to see a male companion for the doctor...I made a joke about Adam (Christopher Ecclestone's season as the Doctor) around it being strange that Torchwood hadn't caught up with him yet.... so this little fic was spawned.

This fic takes place from when we see Adam being deposited back to his parent's house and what happens next, that much is canon but the rest I think is best described as AU! I'm being flexible with some of the facts here too – like the events of Dalek taking place in I think it's 2012. Creative license and all that.

It's my first one so please, be kind!

I wish I owned all these characters, sadly I do not .

Woe.

".....just like that...."

Adam could still see the look of horror mingled with shock and incomprehension and a dash of disbelief on her face as his implant opened with the squelching sound before she lost her lunch. The entire history of the human race thrummed around in his head but he just couldn't get past his mother's reaction; that look on her face at his forehead splitting and his forebrain being exposed to her.

Six months on it played on his expanded mind, he couldn't get passed it.

The aftermath of the TARDIS dematerialising and what followed after his mother's discovery was generally a blur, other than that expression which Adam was certain would haunt him for quite some time to come. Fortunately Van Staten had paid him well so money wasn't an immediate concern, no, the immediate concern was finding somewhere to lie low as the Doctor had so mockingly suggested and figuring how the hell he was going to change the default setting on his implant so it wouldn't keep opening at the snap of someone's fingers. After that he'd make some long term plans to move on, maybe find the doctor and get the implant removed and maybe, if he was very lucky catch up with Rose again.

The outskirts of London sufficed for a couple of weeks, his collection of hats had grown considerably (Adam thanked the fashion gods for the current trend of beanies and hats) but he still hadn't figured out a way to change the default setting on his implant. Racking his brain (implant unopened he thought drily) Adam contemplated his options – hiding in London, living like a hermit in case he came into contact with someone who clicked their fingers (he'd discovered the hard way the discomfort of the implant opening while he'd a hat on!), no contact with his family or his friends back in Manchester – not that he'd many of those given he'd always been the class swot or going somewhere further afield. The question was to where and to do what.

Working with Van Staten, Adam had come across all those interested in Alien tech – UNIT, FBI's "Alien Action" group, CIA's X Files (definitely not just a TV program), the Australian Armed forces special "special" branch and Torchwood; trying to ignore the feeling that now if they knew about him, he certainly would be less free then current circumstances found him he ruled out them all. He could just imagine the glee any of these organisations would have if he presented himself to them. Nope, lying low for the moment would have to do.

Then the Slitheen invaded Downing street and Canary wharf happened in quick succession – The Torchwood One tower stood a smouldering wreck and UNIT leadership had pretty much been obliterated. Adam had known that something was wrong immediately when the ghost shifts had started, Canary Wharf had still caught him by surprise though, figuring that there would be an excellent chance of the Doctor being around, he watched the tower burn, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of the leather jacketed man who'd abandoned him and his ears strained for the scratching of the TARDIS. All he'd seen was a man in a long coat that looked like he'd lost everything walking away slowly with his head hung and a small group of three (one tall dark haired man in a long coat, a small dark haired slight woman doing a lot of pointing and a small wiry second man) surveying the wreckage and hauling a lot of heavy equipment into two large black SUVs with Torchwood emblazoned on the sides.

Wait.

What?

Torchwood had fallen?

Hadn't it?

The tower was a twisted mess, the stench of burning flesh hung in the air, and the dust was beginning to settle on all buildings around Canary wharf. So what were these SUVs doing?? Who were these people? Cursing the fact he'd no terminal to interface with, Adam spent a sleepless night pacing his tiny bedsit. Torchwood, Torchwood, Torchwood. What could he dredge up from his supped up brain about Torchwood. Resignedly realising he'd have to open the implant to fully explore his bank of knowledge; Adam clicked his fingers and averted his eyes from the dull shiny surface of his television. He'd never quite got used to his forehead peeling back. Torchwood, Torchwood..... Now this was more like it, images, sounds, facts, figures and faces whirred through his mind's eye. He grasped at a tentative facts - "The Cobalt Tower was built on the ruins of the old earth institute of Torchwood by the 2002nd century", "Captain Jack Harkness", "Canary Wharf", "Queen Victoria", "if it's alien it's ours", "Glasgow", "Cardiff". At the last two, Adam stopped. There was more than one Torchwood branch? That explained the appearance of the SUVs. But which branch were they from? Glasgow or Cardiff. Some more research would be needed. Groaning Adam threw himself down on the bed fatigue finally gaining the upper hand but felt more positive than he had in quite some time.