This...is pure crack-fic. So much so, that I'm just not even sure how it came about. But when you're weird like me, you watch Torchwood and other things and go, HEY! Wonder how Torchwood coped with that?

Yeah, I know.

So for the official stuff:

I own absolutely nothing, save for the idea. Nothing. Though, if I could have had my way, Rick O'Connell and Captain Jack Harkness would have shagged like bunnies in this.

Ah, well...

And so we're clear, I have NOT seen the 3rd Mummy movie, but I'm pretty sure there are no spoilers in this fic.

It's just fun stuff.

Author: Chrissy/MayQueen517 (On LJ)
Rating: Maybe PG for a tiny bit of language?
Word Count: 469

"Why is it, that instead of going to a museum or even to Egypt itself, I start seeing mummies all over the place, O'Connell?"

"Ah...Because I have rotten luck?"

"This isn't rotten luck. This is carelessness,"

"You say that like I do it on purpose!"

Jack grinned; that cavalier grin that made something totally untrustworthy twist in the pit of Rick O'Connell's stomach. He didn't like it, and he didn't like Captain Jack Harkness' propensity for breaking the rules himself either. Double standard, that.

"How do I know you don't?"

"You think that I would PURPOSELY summon up two different mummies, each of them set out to kill me and my family, just for my own amusement?"

Incredulity floods his voice, his face frozen in an expression of sheer shock as Jack laughs, another one of those things that make the untrustworthy bit of Rick twist.

Again.

"Hey, I once knew a guy who liked running for his life on a weekly basis; anythings possible,"

Captain Jack Harkness, charm personified, he'd been told. Already the man had flirted with Rick's son. His son, for god's sake. The man obviously had no sense of relations.

"So am I going to have to make a bunch of people forget about skeleton things running about yet again?"

"Hey, those skeleton things were an one time deal. Besides, the last one was in China,"

"Yeah, and things like this tend to migrate; don't know if you noticed,"

They share a laugh, toasting each other with their own measures of whiskey before Jack stood, holding out his hand.

"Can't say it's been much of a pleasure, O'Connell, but if you ever need help with a mummy again, for god's sake, call. Don't party-crash. It's not nice,"

"Hey, it's not my fault one of those damned skeleton things found the entrance to your 'secret base'!"

They shake hands, laughing one more time as Captain Jack Harkness walks out of the restaurant, toting behind him a long mess of ragged bandages.

Rick O'Connell wasn't sure he wanted to know what that man was going to do with them. After all, when you're sitting at a table in a perfectly nice English pub, enjoying a good pint (or three) with your son, you don't expect to see some officer come jogging up, cheerfully asking about the mummy.

Especially not when you'd just recently destroyed said mummy.

But, he did offer to clean up that mess of bandages (and ew, weren't they just reeking of horrid things) for you, free of charge, it's hard to resist that. Especially since you'd carted the stinking, heavy mess all the way from Asia.

Pity he was growing so sleepy after only one glass of whiskey. (And he'd probably reflect that it was less of a pity that he'd never remember Captain Jack Harkness.)