The characters and organizations from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Doctor Who/Torchwood that are mentioned in this story are owned by their respective creators and producers. That being said, this is a FFA response that comes for heartburn and little sleep. Hopefully it will help spark my brain into writing more on my other stories.
Riley sighed as he felt the tell-tale jolt of a successful landing. It had been forty-six hours since he had left his previous unit somewhere in the modern jungles of the US city scene and he still had no news of why this transfer had suddenly come in. In typical Army style, he had been told to pack his things and report to JFK airport at 0;dark thirty yesterday. That had been at forty hours after he received his orders. Roughly six hours later- here he was in merry ol’ England waiting to get off the damn plane so he could go through Customs and find his escort. Unloading procedures begun and he was at the back of the plane- perfect.
-An hour and a half later-
This was beneath her as a Unit medical officer and former Companion. She knew that the actions performed on her last mission had upset some of the brass but was sticking her on the bloody babysitting shift for an American fly-boy consultant what she deserved. Surely they realized that she never meant to have the… Thing… explode on her like that. In a mall. In the middle of the food court. Talk about cover-ups. Ok, so maybe she did screw up but she was only human. She didn’t even think the events of the attack were something the Doctor could have prevented. No cure for it, she supposed. The flight had already landed and the group of people coming out of the small room was from it. Hopefully this American specialist would be on it.
Riley walked out of the Customs office irritated and tired. Almost forty-eight hours. He wanted some sleep. He spotted a lady holding a sign with his name on it.
“Riley Finn?” she asked him as he approached. At his affirmative nod, she continued, “I am Martha Jones, Chief Medical Officer for UNIT and Torchwood liaison. If you would please follow me, I have been ordered to escort you to the nearest base.”
“Nice to meet you, Officer Jones. Is there any way you could arrange a bed for me? I didn’t get any sleep on the plane.”
Martha smiled. Even if she had been working with them for years now, she still became amused by the bluntness of American culture. “I’m sure something can be arranged for you.”