Title: Tiptoe Through Torchwood
Author: Grayswandir
Fandom: Torchwood, Quantum Leap

A/N: I realize that in season 4 of QL a precise date was given for when the project was active (1999), however as this seems unlikely to have been possible I have moved them forward a bit more than a decade. As it is, canon timeframe for QL is pre-simu-leap incident/evil leaper and current TW is between series 2 and CoE.

~ JantoLeap ~

"Stop!" Jack threw his hands up, his face taking on a ghostly pallor. Taking a deep breath, he nearly whispered out his next statement. "Project Quantum Leap?"

Al's hand immediately flew to his forehead before sliding up and back to rest scratching at the base of his skull. "Exactly how do you know the name of the project?" Al grimaced at the croaking tone he had spoken in.

A rumbling growl issued from Jack as he rested his cheek against a closed fist, propped atop the table. "I'm the director of a super-secret agency that monitors a rift in time and space and collects the debris it leaves behind, including misplaced humans and aliens. Why wouldn't I know the name of a project that is attempting to lead the human race into the future through experimentation in time travel?"

Sam stared at Jack, incredulousness written across his face. "Ahh!"

Al's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Aliens?" Vexed at the matter-of-fact expression on the Captain's face, Al turned to Sam. "Don't listen to this nozzle, Sam! He's spinning a yarn." But Sam hadn't turned to face Al; he was still staring at Jack.

"Do you think I'm lying to you?" Jack asked, solemnity exuding from his form. The shadows that danced in his eyes were varied in size and weight, but the truthful vibe still shown.

"No. I don't," Sam replied. "I believe him, Al."

"Fine!" Al huffed, throwing his hands skyward. "If you know so much about the project, you should be able to help us."

"No," Jack whispered vehemently.

"And why not?" Al fumed back, frustrated at the lack of any useable information, still not convinced by the Captain's story.

"I'm part of events. One of the few immutable rules of time travel is that you do not mess with your own personal timeline," Jack sighed. "Leads to reapers, and angry Time Lords."

"Time Lords?" Sam asked, skeptically.

Jack grinned. "Used to be a species, now it's just the one. Tall, skinny bloke in a pinstripe suit and Converses. Travels in a blue police box." Smiling wistfully, he continued. "I miss the big ears and northern accent. He was so much more fun to flirt with then."

Al snorted, near choking on his own saliva. "You flirt with aliens?" Jack nodded, winking lasciviously. Swallowing, trying to suppress his imagination, Al plunged onward. "How do you overcome the differences between…?" He stopped, unable to finish the thought.

Jack sighed, shaking his head. "You people and your quaint little categories." A beep issued from Jack's left wrist. Flipping open his ever-present wrist strap, he smirked. "Took your people long enough to respond, Admiral." A quick press of buttons on Jack's behalf, lead to a flurry of movement on Al's part.

Yelping, Al fell to the floor, followed by the furious litany of beeps from the hand link as it too impacted with the floor. Al stood up, rubbing his backside. "Little warning?"

Jack smirked. "Gravity in naught point five? Well. Negative thirty now."

Sam shook with suppressed laughter as Al glared. Calming, Sam cleared his throat. "So. Assuming what you say is true, Jack, about this agency you head, and I venture it would be the same organization Ianto works for, and most likely the reason Al cannot find him in the system, how are we supposed to set things right without information?"

Jack smiled focusing on Sam, moaning slightly. "Such a gorgeous mind. Beautiful." Clicking his tongue, Jack turned to face Al. "I suggest you have Ianto help you."

"Brilliant! How would we ever do this without your genius?" Al growled sarcastically, bending down through the table to retrieve the handheld. He straightened. "We already tried that! Your Mr. Jones is extremely tight lipped."

"Then you'll have to provide him with incentive," Jack sighed, tugging his shirt sleeves tightly to his wrists. "We work with one other person, Gwen Cooper. She's a former police constable so it won't be hard to track her down. You can try looking for the organization. It's a longshot, but you might get lucky."

Tapping furiously at the re-activated handheld, Al frowned. "And the name of this organization is?"

"Torchwood," Sam answered. Al and Jack both turned to face him. Fighting a wince, Sam continued. "Am I right? That's what's written on the side of that handgun and I've never heard of that brand before."

Jack laughed. "Absolutely beautiful." Reaching over, Jack pulled Sam to him, smacking a kiss to his temple before releasing him.

The sound of the chamber door opening interrupted any further conversations. "I'm fine, Gooshie, false alarm," Al growled tersely.

"Go on, Al," Sam groaned. "You've got some information to gather." Peevishly, Al did as his friend bade, the imaging chamber door clanging shut after him. Turning back to face the Captain, Sam cocked his head, worrying his lip slightly. "What happens now?"

"Well," Jack sighed. "Best we get a move on. We wait much longer and Gwen will beat us to the Hub. That happens and you'll have to look significantly ruffled." He chuckled as he looked at Sam. "Now, you go collect your gun and that gorgeous dark red tie from the bedroom."

Sam groaned, looking down at his wardrobe error, a complete lack of a tie. "Is that what gave me away?" Stepping away from the table to fetch the requested items, he heard that melodious chuckle follow him.

"That alone? No. Ianto does, sometimes, enjoy forcing me to add the finishing touches. Always the quiet ones." A wistful gleam entered the Captain's eyes as he thought on previous mornings.

Seeing that gleam still present when he returned, Sam groaned. "I really don't want to know." Jack laughed, standing up. "Actually, there is something I want to know." Those brilliant blues rounded on Sam. "What gave me away?"

Jack stepped swiftly into Sam's personal space, grasping his jaw. "Ianto would have responded to my tease about pink. Either an eye roll, or corrected me on the specific color. Or both." Stepping away from the leaper, Jack collected the mugs, taking them to the kitchen where the sound of the tap turning on and off briefly followed before returning to Sam's sight. "We'll have to pick up breakfast on the way," he commented as he picked up a gun holster, attaching it to his belt on the right.

Sam bit his lip as he saw the Captain shrug on a vintage grey-blue military trench coat. Small favors Al isn't here to comment. "And when did you time travel from?" he couldn't help but jest.

Jack grinned, throwing a black trench coat at Sam before walking to the front door. "The fifty-first century."

TBC