Anythingdrabble Challenge 189 - Rock solid

[m_findlow]

Title: Rock solid
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Owen, Ianto, Jack
Word Count: 500 words
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for Challenge 189 - Hatch at anythingdrabble
Summary: Owen and Ianto are left to puzzle out a mystery.


Owen tapped the outer shell with the edge of his scalpel, peering down so that his line of sight was matched to the height of the autopsy table. He turned his head to consult the tablet beside him again, re-reading the entry from their archives that Ianto had dutifully located and scanned for him. It looked just like the one in the polaroid that had been paperclipped to the case file from 1923. It was sort of hexagonal in shape, but there were lumpy bits that stuck out at odd angles, making it look more like a bad attempt at modern sculpture.

'Whatever happened to the one from the twenties?' Owen asked, suddenly curious.

Ianto looked up from his clipboard. 'What do you mean?'

Owen arched an eyebrow at him. 'I mean, how come it's not filed with the report? Torchwood weren't exactly in the habit of throwing stuff out.'

Ianto shrugged back at him. "Dunno. The file doesn't say anything about it. Probably got lost. You wouldn't believe how much stuff is down there that hasn't been found, or stuff that's been found that we don't have any files for.'

Owen gave it another gentle rap with his scalpel. 'You don't suppose it…'

This time it was Ianto who quirked an eyebrow at him. 'What? Hatched?'

Owen withdrew his hand quickly from the egg. Jack wouldn't have given it to him if he'd thought it might do something like that, would he?

'You scanned it, right?'

'I'm not an idiot, Ianto. Course I did.'

'And?'

'Inconclusive.'

'Well, that's encouraging.' Ianto spun just in time to intercept Jack as he was striding past. 'We found this case file in the archives. Looks like a match to the thing you picked up this morning. You don't happen to know what happened to the original artifact from 1923 by any chance.'

Jack flipped idly through the yellowed pages and then skipped down the stairs into Owen's domain. 'Oh, yeah. That was one wild chase. Thing had twelve wings and a penchant for trying to lay its eggs pretty much anywhere. They mature in about two hours, go from five inches to four feet long, and go straight into procreating.'

'Jesus,' Owen swore. 'And you didn't think to warn us?'

Jack waved off his concern. 'Relax. This one is petrified. Solid as a rock.' He gave it a knock with his knuckles to prove the point. 'Probably been that way for a couple of thousand years. It's literally a museum piece.'

Ianto cleared his throat from above, leaning over the railing. 'And is there a reason why all of that happens to be missing from your report?' He waved the file unhappily at them.

'I had to get one of their pupae surgically removed from a cut in my arm before it decided to nest in there and breed. Wasn't exactly fit for writing.'

'Well, you'll have plenty of time now to amend your report. In case the next one isn't so petrified.'