You're only young once...

Storyteller: The Enchanted Horse

2016-05-26T21:14:00Z

On the 50th birthday of King Sabur of Persia, presents arrived at his palace from all over the land.

There were swords and silk and silver, coats and camels and caravans of cambrick cloth. But the best present of all was brought by a weird, ugly dwarf dressed all in black. He gave the king a horse carved in ebony, with a saddle of scarlet leather and a jingling golden harness.

“It’s beautifully made,” said King Sabur. “It looks exactly like a real horse.”

“But it does not move like a real hose, your majesty,” said the dwarf with an evil grin. “This is a magic horse. It can fly over the rainbow and to the far side of the farthest ocean.”

King Sabur was overjoyed. And his only son, the handsome Prince Kamar, leapt into the saddle. “Tell me how it works!” he yelled. “Oh, do let me ride it!” But the king held up his hand for silence.

“This is such a wonderful present,” he said to the ugly dwarf. “I must give you something in return. Ask anything you like, anything at all. If it’s within my power, I will grant it.”

“I thought you might say that,” sneered the dwarf. “I ask for your only daughter, your beautiful daughter, as a bride.”

The king’s face dropped.

“It is within your power to give her to me, I suppose?”

“Well, yes…” said the king unhappily.

“And you did promise me anything-anything at all?”

“Well, er, yes…” mumbled the king, and tears crept into his eyes.

“Don’t do it, father!” shouted Prince Kamar from the horse’s back. “Don’t give away your only daughter, my beautiful sister, to this stranger. He tricked you into giving that promise. You don’t have to keep it!”

“Ah, that’s true,” said the king. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t think I can give you my only daughter, my beautiful daughter, for a bride.”

The dwarf was furious, especially with Prince Kamar. He reached out and pulled the reins of the horse.

Instantly, the strange beast sprang into life. Its hooves clattered on the marble floor. Then it bounded over the balcony rail and flew into the air, galloping upwards, higher and higher, while Kamar hung on for dear life.

The king gaped up at the flying horse. “Come back, Kamar! Come back down!”

“He can’t!” sniggered the dwarf. “He doesn’t know where the switch is that makes the horse come down. He will fly on up and up until he burns in the heat of the sun. You wouldn’t give me your only daughter, so I took your only son. And now you will never see him again!”

King Sabur threw the dwarf into the darkest dungeon in his palace, and he cancelled his birthday party. In all his 50 years, he had never been so unhappy.

On the back of the flying horse, Prince Kamar grew hotter and hotter as they climbed nearer and nearer to the sun.

He had tried everything to make the horse go down. He had shouted at it and kicked its flanks. He had pulled on its reins and heaved on its silken mane. Now he had given up hope.

“I’m sorry I shouted at you and kicked you and pulled on your mane,” he said to the horse as if it were a real animal. And he patted its ebony neck.

And there it was, no bigger than a pin. Under the silken mane, Kamar felt the switch. He pushed it down.

The ebony horse plunged down out of the sky, and Kamar had to pull hard on the reins to keep it from diving into the sea.

Soon he came to the dry land foreign country. He flew over a magnificent city, and set the horse down on the roof of a glorious palace. Climbing down through a skylight, he found himself in a beautiful bedroom. And on the bed lay a lady, fast asleep. Kamar instantly fell in love with her.

“Wake up, my lady,” he whispered. “Who is your father? I must ask his permission to marry you.” The Princess Shaleem woke up and saw Kamar’s blue eyes and curling, jet-black hair. And she instantly fell in love with him.

“What are you doing my daughter’s bedroom, you thief, you burglar, you, you foreigner>”

The king was standing in the doorway, shaking his fist.

“I’m not a burglar, sire. I’m Prince Kamar of Persia. Please may I marry your daughter?”

“Certainly not!” shouted the king. “I shall have you beheaded for such impudence!”

The Princess Shaleem gave a little scream.

“That would not be honourable for a Prince of Persia,” said Kamar politely. “I would fight your whole army for the right to marry the Princess.”

“Then you shall!” laughed the king. He had an army of a thousand horsemen, so Kamar would be killed anyway. “You will need a war-horse?”

“Thank you, sire, but I have my own,” said Kamar.

The next morning, at one end of the field behind the palace, a thousand horsemen stood ready.

The horsemen drew their swords, and a thousand sharp blades flashed in the sun. The war-horses; hooves tore up the grass as they quickened to a gallop.

Shaleem watched as Prince Kamar waited, perfectly calm. His black horse stood completely still, almost as if it was made of wood.

“Oh ride away, Kamar!” she called. “Don’t be killed for my sake!” But Kamar waved to her, smiling, and picked up his horse’s reins.

Just as the first horseman reached the prince, gnashing his teeth and waving his sword, Kamar pulled on the reins and rose up into the air. He flew over the thousand heads and the flashing swords, and landed on the other side.

The astonished horsemen turned back, barging into each other and falling over. But as they galloped back down the field, Kamar took off again and flew low over their heads, cutting the plumes off their helmets with his curved Persian sword.

An hour later, a thousand soldiers lay about on the grass, exhausted. They had all fallen off their horses. And they had all lost the plumes off their helmets.

Prince Kamar flew to the window where Princess Shaleem sat laughing and clapping her hands. Then he lifted her on to his saddle and flew across the blue sky.

King Sabur and his only daughter, his beautiful daughter, were standing on the balcony of the Persian royal palace. At first they thought that the dark shape in the sky was a bird. Then they saw the black silk tail and the blonde hair stream out behind. And two riders were waving.

In all his 50 years, King Sabur had never been so happy.

From the Thousand and One Nights.

https://soundcloud.com/jenn-mitchell-984638890/06-the-enchanted-horse

Storyteller: Drummerboy Races for his Life

2016-03-27T22:03:50Z

Billy Smith ran along behind his dad, tugging at his donkey jacket. “But we can’t move away from here!” he cried. “I wouldn’t be able to work at Applegate Stables at the weekends. I’d never see Drummerboy again!”

His father turned to face him. “We’re gypsies, Billy. We’re travelling people. Besides, that Mr Fawcett from the Council has decided to throw us off the site. It’s no good, lad. You’d best forget that pony.”

“But we’re entered for the cross-country race on Sunday!”

“Then you’d better make the most of it, Billy. We’ll be moving on at the end of the month.”

When Billy went to Applegate Stables that Saturday morning, Drummerboy could sense something was wrong. He looked forward to seeing the young gypsy boy - he was always so cheerful. But today, Billy hardly spoke a word.

The Saturday morning ride was all ready to leave the stable yard, and Billy was riding Drummerboy, as usual. Just as the line of horses was about to move out, a big red car swept into the yard. The horses all snorted and whinnied with fright.

Out of the car stepped a fat, smartly dressed man with grey hair - and then a young girl. She was wearing the most expensive white jodhpurs, navy blue hacking jacket, and brand new riding boots.

“That one looks the best,” said her father, pointing at Drummerboy. “You don’t mind if my Emma rides your horse, do you boy? Good.” He turned to Madge Summer, the owner of the stables, who was leading the ride. “Fawcett’s the name, Councillor Fawcett. Emma will be riding here every Saturday. See to it that she gets the chestnut pony every week, will you?” He pushed a wad of money into Madge’s hand, then drove out of the yard.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to give up your ride on Drummerboy this morning, Billy,” said Madge. “He isn’t yours, after all, and Councillor Fawcett is a very important person. He’s the man who’s presenting the trophy at tomorrow’s cross-country race.”

So Billy got off and mounted a young black colt, while Emma rode Drummerboy that morning. She did not speak once as the line of horses trotted through the fields and walked along the country roads. After an hour, Madge turned the ride for home.

“You’re a good rider,” Billy said the Emma as his pony drew level with Drummerboy, not far from the stables.

“Daddy paid for lots of lessons,” said Emma, but she did not smile or look Billy in the face. “Here he comes now, to give me a lift home.”

The big car came roaring over the brow of the hill. When Councillor Fawcett caught sight of his daughter among the riders, he sounded the car horn two, three times.

All the horses were frightened, and Drummerboy reared up, his nostrils flaring. Emma was sent flying over his tail, and landed on her back. The car screamed to a halt and the man ran towards his daughter.

“I’ll have that animal destroyed!” he bellowed. “Stupid animal - it’s obviously a killer. Look at its rolling eyes! My daughter could have been killed! I’ll have that horse put down tomorrow, I promise you.”

“I’m perfectly all right, Daddy,” said the girl, getting to her feet. “Please! I’m all right.”

But it was no good. Drummerboy’s fate was sealed. He was to be destroyed as a dangerous animal as soon as the vet could call at Applegate the next morning.

Billy went home to his grandmother’s caravan on the gypsy site and, for the first time in years, he cried.

“What can I do, Granny? He’s a good, gentle horse. Everyone knows he is. He was just frightened by that big noisy car.”

“There’s nothing for it, Billy,” the old gypsy replied after much thought. “You’ll have to do a moonlight flit.”

“A what, Granny?”

“A moonlight flit, boy. You’ll just have to run away together. We gypsies will be moving on soon, anyway - thanks to that Councillor Fawcett.”

Billy stayed awake all night thinking about what his Granny had said. The in the morning, before it was light, he slipped out of the gypsy site and ran all the way to Applegate, clutching Drummerboy’s bridle in his hand.

It was still dark when he got there, and nothing stirred in the stable yard. But, as he opened the door to Drummerboy’s stall, he could hear that someone was already in there!

A gentle sobbing was mixed with the sounds of Drummerboy’s gentle breathing. Emma, her expensive clothes all crumpled and dirty, was holding the pony’s head in her arms and crying.

“Oh Billy!” she whispered when she saw him. “Why must Daddy always be so cruel? He always wants me to be the best at everything. He always wants me to win. I came here to try and save him. I thought I’d...I’d…”

“Do a moonlight flight?” said Billy. “Yeah, that’s why I’m here, too. But listen, I’ve got a plan. You’re a good rider. But are you brave...and can you ride over jumps?”

The two of them sat down on the straw bales in Drummerboy’s box and worked out their plan. The pony, who had been restless since the disasterous ride and felt safe again now...and loved.

Just as dawn was breaking over Applegate, they saddled him up and led him out of his stall. Drummerboy didn’t make a sound. Then Emma rode him to the woods.

At midday, riders from all over the area gathered for the annual Luckton cross-country race. There were tough, wiry little ponies and tall, lanky horses. There were farmers, and riders from the local hunt. A few older boys had entered, but the course was too hard for children.

At the last minute a small chestnut pony joined the other competitors on the starting line. A pale young girl sat in the saddle, scratching the pony’s head between his ears.

People in the crowd said, “She’s much too young. Whoever is she?”

The flag dropped. The race was on. A hundred hooves thundered over fields, grassy tracks and round Applegate hill. The brushwood jumps were battered down as the sweating horses leaped them. Some riders fell over as the horses galloped across the river in a storm of spray.

Drummerboy had never been in a proper race before, and he was thrilled. But Emma’s hands were gentle on the bridle. Billy had entrusted her to Drummerboy. Now the pony was determined to carry her safely past the finish - and to get there first.

Councillor Fawcett waited anxiously at the winning post. He had no idea that Emma was in the race. He was worried sick because she had not been seen all morning.

He saw the leading pony in the race when it was still a good way from the finish - a little cehstnut pony with a tiny jockey on its back in a navy blue hacking jacket and dirty jodhpurs.

“Emma!” he exclaimed. And before he could say much more she tundered past him to the cheers of the crowd.

Councillor Fawcett hardly knew what to say as he presented the trophy to his own daughter, and pinned the blue rosette on Drummerboy’s lucky gypsy bridle.

“I know how you like me to win, Daddy,” said Emma in a whisper.

Madge Summers stood nearby and Emma’s father turned to her. “I’ll buy that pony from you. He’s a good little racer.”

By now Madge had heard the whole story from Billy. She was very rpoud of the boy for giving up his chance of racing - and saving Drummerboy’s life for a second time!

“Oh, I’m afraid the horse doesn’t belong to me,” she said, beckoning Billy over. “He belongs to Billy here. But I’m sure he’ll let Emma ride the horse every Saturday.”

Billy gulped in amazement. Madge had given him the pony! Madge had given him Drummerboy for his very own! But he thought quickly. He looked up at Mr Fawcett, who was trying to smile now and be friendly. “I’m terribly sorry, sir. But I’ll be taking Drummerboy away at the end of the month. I’m a gypsy and the Council is closing our caravan site.”

The Councillor turned pale. “Oh, um, well we, er, we can’t let that happen, can we? Not when my Emma is so fond of the pony. I’ll see what I can do…”

In the end, the gypsies did not have to leave their site - and Billy did not have to leave Applegate. He went on working there - and Emma became as good a friend to Billy as Drummerboy. Well, almost as good.

Storyteller: Neville Toogood

2016-03-22T00:27:55Z

Neville Toogood was too good to be true. He never made a noise. He helped old ladies across the road. He drank prune juice because it was good for him, and he washed at least twice a day without anyone telling him to. His bedroom was always tidy, and in school his teachers thought he was wonderful.

“Neville’s a little angel, isn’t he?” his mother would say. And other boys’ mothers would say “A little angel, yes.” But secretly they thought, “What a pain in the neck!”

Then one day Neville got a pain. It wasn’t a pain in the neck. It was a bit further down his back - and anyway it was more of an itch. He tried to scratch it but he couldn’t reach.

At bedtime he said goodnight to his mother and father, and put himself to bed. He was just putting on his pyjamas when he noticed the reflection of his shoulders in the mirror. There were two large red lumps!

That night, he could only get to sleep by lying on his face, and in the morning his pyjama jacket didn’t fit him. He looked in the mirror again, and there they were, two small wings!

There was worse to come. As he cleaned his teeth (brushing up and down, of course, not across) a dazzle of light flared up off his head and took the shape of a halo. Neville was turning into an angel.

Poor Neville. The wings made his jumpy lumpy, and the halo gave him a headache. “I don’t want to be an angel,” he thought. “I’ll look such a cissy floating around in a white frock. Nobody likes me much now. Nobody will even speak to me when I’m a fully fledged angel.” He put on his parka to hide the wings, and pulled up the hood to hide the halo.

But when he handed in all his homework (on time, as usual) , he actually felt the wings sprout, and long white feathers dropped down below the parka. There was only one escape from being an angel. He would have to do something really BAD - the badder the better.

“Neville, do take your coat off, dear,” said the teacher, smiling warmly at her favourite pupil.

Neville coughed nervously. “No,” he said.

His teacher could hardly believe her ears. “Neville,” she said firmly. “Take off your coat!”

“Shan’t. Won’t! You can’t make me, you silly old boot!” he shouted, pulling a face. At once, a feather moulted out of his wings.

“NEVILLE!”

Hugging his coat round him, he fled out of the classroom, out of the school, and up the street. He stopped by the fire station and drew a picture of the teacher in chalk on the wall. Underneath he wrote: ’Bad is Beautiful’ and ’Wickedness is Wonderful’. When he set off for the shops, he left behind a pile of angel feathers on the pavement - enough to stuff a pillow.

But oh, how he hated it. Being naughty was extremely hard work for a little angel like Neville.

In the supermarket, he took away the bottom tin in the baked beans display. He pulled the plugs out of the freezers and defrosted all the chickens. He drove a trolley through the paper towels, and twin-pack toilet rolls rained down on the shoppers. “What? Well, the little devil!” they shouted, and the manager shook his fist.

Neville felt for his halo. It had faded, except for a warm patch at the back of his head. And it went altogether after he had thrown a few pebbles at the ducks on the post. By the time he had let down a couple of tires, rung a few doorbells and stolen some sweets from a baby, he was very nearly having fun. A devilish sort of laugh kept gurgling up in his throat, and his angel feathers were falling like rain.

“You little devil!” shouted a man whose windows he broke. But Neville sped on, past the Salvation Army band on the corner, and stole their collecting tin as he went.

Back at home, he played trampolines with his boots on - until the bed broke. He got out all his toys...and didn’t put one away again.

“Make me some dinner, mother,” he demanded. “And do it now.”

“Have you washed your hands, dear?” said his mother.

“No, and I’m not going to wash ever again, or brush my teeth - not even back and forth.”

“Neville!” shouted his father. “What’s the matter with the boy, mother? Is he ill?”

To tell the truth, Neville didn’t feel at all well. He had an awful pain in his forehead. “Well it can’t be my halo,” he thought. “I haven’t done anything good all day!”

He ran to the bathroom mirror to look. And there were two small red lumps above his eyebrows. His eyes had gone a funny colour, and he had another pain in the seat of his pants.

It was not until the next morning that Neville understood. By that time, he had a fine set of horns, and a pointed tail hung down to his knees.

Neville was a devil!

Poor Neville. He had to start being good all over again. He said sorry to his mother, returned the collecting tin to the Salvation Army, and went to scrub the fire station. He apologised to his teacher.

“I wasn’t myself yesterday,” he said. And she asked him why he was wearing a bandage round his head. “I banged my forehead,” he lied - and the tail tucked up inside his trousers grew a little longer.

Only after three days of being good did the tail and horns wash off in the bath.

Neville breathed a sigh of relief and promised himself that he would never be really naughty again. But, just in case the wings or the halo came back, he always made a point of brushing his teeth back and forth, instead of up and down as everyone told him he should.

Geraldine McCaughrean

Storyteller: The Great Big Hairy Boggart

2016-02-28T23:19:46Z

Long ago there was a farmer called Jude who bought a field at a very low price. “I wonder why it was so cheap,” said his wife, Beth. “Do you think it will be all right?”

“Of course it will!” replied Jude. “It’s good land. And to think it’s mine. All mine!”

“Mine, you mean!”

Jude and Beth turned round and were amazed to see a great big hairy boggart, standing only a few yards away. He had bloodshot eyes and a nose as round and red as a beetroot. Long, fleshy ears poked through his hair, which stood up like a hedgehog’s prickles. He has a set of whiskers as tangled as a hawthorn bush.

The boggart’s clothes were in tatters and his trousers were held up with old rope. His hairy knees and elbows showed through ragged tears and worn-out holes. And he had the longest arms you have ever seen, with fists as big as turnips.

“Get off my land!” he shrieked, waving his arms about like a windmill.

“Your land?” said Jude.

“That’s what I said. My land, and my boggart father’s land before me, and his father’s before that.”

“You must be joking,” said Jude. “I paid good money for this land and I signed the deeds.”

“You just get yourself off it!” yelled the boggart. “I was here first!” And he began to jump up and down in a rage.

“Well I’m here now!” said Jude. “And I own it.”

They stuck their chins out and glared angrily at each other. But neither of them would budge. Then Beth said: “Perhaps I’ve got the answer. You plant the crop, Jude, and the boggart can reap it. Then we can all have the harvest.”

“Hmm, all right,” said the boggart.

Jude did not see why he should do all the work and then give half his crop away. But Beth waved her hand to silence him.

“So which half of the crop do you want, boggart, the tops or the bottoms?”

“You what?”

“Do you want what grows above the ground or what grows under it. One or the other. Be quick. Make up your mind.”

“Oh, I’ll take the tops,” chuckled the boggart. “You can keep the roots.”

So Jude and the boggart shook hands on the bargain.

“Fine!” said Beth as she walked home with Jude. “All you have to do now is plant potatoes.”

So Jude ploughed his land and planted potatoes. He hoed the weeds and watched the bushy green plants come up. When harvest came the boggart returned to the field and demanded his share of the crop.

“There you are,” said Jude. “The tops are all yours. Lovely potato plants just right for...well, I’m sure you’ll find some use for them.”

“You little rogue!” roared the boggart. “You miserable cheat! That’s not fair! Why, I’ll, I’ll…”

“A bargain is a bargain, boggart. Now take the potato tops and leave me alone.!

“Hmmph!” The boggart was fuming with anger. “I’ll get even with you next year!”

“What do you want next year then, tops or bottoms?” asked Beth.

“Bottoms, of course. You can keep the tops next time!” And the boggart stomped off.

“Now what shall we do?” asked Jude.

“Plant barley, my dear. Let the boggart make what he can out of barley roots!”

So, after Jude had dug up all his potatoes, he planted his field and sowed barley seed. He rolled the land and watered it, and when the spring came young green shoots appeared. By harvest time, when the great big hairy boggart arrived for his share of the crops, the field was a swaying carpet of gold.

“There it is,” said Jude. “I’ll have the tops and you can have the roots.”

The boggart screamed with rage. “You’ve cheated my again, you little shrimp. Why I’ll, I’ll…”

“Now, now!” said Jude. “A deal’s a deal.”

“All right, farmer Jude, you win this time. But next year we’ll both have the top of the crop. And you’ll plant wheat. When harvest time comes we’ll both reap it. You start from the north end of the field and I’ll start from the south. We keep what we cut.”

Jude looked at the boggart’s long arms and knew that he would be able to cut the wheat much faster than he could.

“No, no deal,” said Jude.

“It’s either that or a fight to the death!” growled the boggart, and he thrashed his hairy arms above his head and stamped his huge feet.

“What a terrible sight!” laughed Jude. “Please - don’t let’s fight. I wouldn’t want to hurt a boggart!” So they shook hands on the deal and the boggart went away sniggering.

Jude told Beth about the bargain. “He’s got such strong arms! He’ll cut ten times as much wheat as I can. He’s beaten us this time, I’m afraid.”

Beth thought for a minute. “Suppose that some of the wheat grew with tougher stalks than the rest,” she said. “Then one scythe would get blunt much quicker than the other.” And she told him her plan.

“Oh, that’s it!” said Jude. “I’m glad the boggart doesn’t have a wife as clever as you!”

Jude ploughed the land and planted the wheat seed, then he watched the crop grow tall and golden. Just before the harvest he bought some thin iron rods and crept out to the boggart’s end of the field in the middle of the night. He stuck the rods into the ground among the stalks of wheat.

Harvest day came and the great big hairy boggart arrived, carrying a scythe in each of his huge hands. Jude started cutting the wheat from the top end of the field, and the boggart started from the other. Jude swung his scythe in steady, sweeping strokes and the golden wheat fell down all around him. But the boggart cut and hacked and sweated and swore, and then he stopped.

“The weeds in the wheat down this end seem mighty tough!” he shouted.

“No trouble up this end!” called Jude.

The boggart was too stupid to notice the iron rods. So he sharpened both scythes and went on hacking at the wheat. Eventually he stopped, mopping his forehead. “I’m tired out with cutting these weeds.”

“Really?” said Jude. “That’s funny. I’m still as fresh as a daisy.”

The boggart tried again, swinging his scythes in all directions, but with each stroke they got more blunt and chipped. Finally he threw them down in a rage.

“You can keep your useless land!” he yelled at Jude. “It’s more trouble than it’s worth.” He strode off over a hedge and vanished down the road into the distance. And the great big hairy boggart never bothered Jude and Beth again.

Irish folk tale

Storyteller: The Last Slice of Rainbow

2016-02-27T21:22:59Z

Jason walked home from school every day along the side of a steep grassy valley, where harebells grew and sheep nibbled. As he walked, he always whistled. Jason could whistle more tunes than anybody else at school, and he could remember every tune he had ever heard. That was because he had been born in a windmill, just at the moment when the wind changed from south to west. He could see the wind, as it blew - and that is a thing not many people can do.

One day, as Jason walked home along the grassy path, he heard the west wind wailing and sighing. “Oh, woe, woe! Oh, bother and blow! I’ve forgotten how it goes!”

“What have you forgotten, Wind?” asked Jason, turning to look at the wind. It was all brown and blue and wavery, with splashes of gold.

“My tune! My favourite tune!”

“The one that goes like this?” said Jason, and he whistled.

The wind was delighted. “That’s it! That’s the one! Clever Jason!” And it flipped about him, teasing but kindly, turning up his collar, ruffling his hair. “I’ll give you a present,” it sang to the tune Jason had whistled. “What shall it be? A golden lock and a silver key?”

Jason could not think what use those would be, so he said quickly, “Oh, please, what I would like would be a rainbow of my very own to keep.” For in the grassy valley, there were often beautiful rainbows to be seen, but they never lasted long enough for Jason.

“A rainbow of your own? That’s a hard one,” said the wind. “A very hard one. You must take a pail and walk up over the moor until you come to Peacock Force. Catch a whole pailful of spray. That will take a long time. But when you have the pail full to the brim, you may find something in it that might give you a rainbow.”

Luckily the next day was Saturday. Jason took a pail, and his lunch, and walked over the moor to the waterfall that was called Peacock Force - because the water, as it dashed over the cliff, made a cloud of spray in which wonderful peacock colours shone and glimmered.

All day Jason stood by the fall, getting soaked, catching the spray in his pail. At last, just before sunset, he had the whole bucket filled up, right to the brim. And now, in the pail, he saw something that swam swiftly round and round - something that glimmered in brilliant rainbow colours.

It was a small fish.

“Who are you?” said Jason.

“I am the Genius of the waterfall. Put me back and I’ll reward you with a gift.”

“Yes,” said Jason. “Yes, I’ll put you back, and please - may I have a rainbow of my very own, to keep in my pocket?”

“Humph!” said the Genius. “I’ll give you a rainbow, but rainbows are not easy to keep. I’ll be surprised if you can even carry it home. Still, here you are.” And the Genius leapt out of Jason’s pail, in a high leap, back into its waterfall, and, as it did so, a rainbow poured out of the spray and into Jason’s pail.

“Oh, how beautiful!” And Jason took the rainbow, holding it in his two hands like a scarf, and gazed at its dazzling colours. He rolled it up carefully, and put it in his pocket. Then he started walking home.

There was a wood on his way, and in a dark place among the trees he heard somebody crying pitifully. He went to see what it was and found a badger in a trap.

“Boy, dear boy,” groaned the badger, “Let me out, or men will come with dogs and kill me.”

“How can I let you out? I’d be glad to, but the trap needs a key.”

“Push in the end of that rainbow I see in your pocket. You’ll be able to wedge open the trap.”

Sure enough, when Jason pushed the end of the rainbow between the jaws of the trap, they sprang open, and the badger was able to clamber out. “Thanks, thanks,” he gasped, and then he was gone down his hole.

Jason rolled up the rainbow and put it back in his pocket. But a large piece had been torn off by the sharp teeth of the trap, and it blew away.

On the edge of the wood was a little house where old Mrs Scagell lived. She had a very sour nature. If children’s balls bounced into her garden, she baked them in her over until they turned to coal. And everything she ate was black - burnt toast, black tea, black olives. She called to Jason, “Boy, will you give me a bit of that rainbow I see sticking out of your pocket? I’m very ill. The doctor says I need a rainbow pudding to make me better.”

Jason did not much want to give Mrs Scagell a but of his rainbow, but she did look ill. So, rather slowly, he went into her kitchen, where she cut off a large bit of the rainbow with a breadknife. Then she made a stiff batter with hot milk and flour, stirred in the piece of rainbow, and cooked it.

She let it get cold and cut it into slices and ate them with butter and sugar. Jason had a small slice too. It was delicious.

“That’s the best thing I’ve eaten for a year,” said Mrs Scagell. “I’m tired of black pudding. I can feel this pudding doing me good.”

She did look better. Her cheeks were pink and she almost smiled. As for Jason, after he had eaten his small slice of pudding he grew three inches. “You’d better not have any more,2 said Mrs Scagell.

Jason put the last piece of rainbow in his pocket.

There was not a lot left now.

As he drew near the windmill where he lived, his sister Tilly ran out to meet him. She tripped over a rock and fell, gashing her leg. Blood poured out of it and Tilly, who was only four, began to wail. “Oh, my leg! It hurts dreadfully! Oh Jason, please bandage it, please!”

Well, what could he do? Jason pulled the rest of the rainbow from his pocket and wrapped it round Tilly’s leg. There was just enough. He tore off a tiny scrap, which he kept in his hand.

Tilly was in rapture with the rainbow round her leg. “Oh! How beautiful! And it’s stopped the bleeding!” She danced away to show everybody.

Jason was left looking rather glumly at the tiny shred of rainbow between his thumb and finger. He heard a whisper in his ear and turned to see the west wind frolicking, all yellow and brown and rose-coloured.

“Well?” said the west wind. “The Genius of the waterfall did warn you that rainbows are hard to keep! And even without a rainbow, you are a very lucky boy. You can hear my song, and you have grown three inches in one day.”

“That’s true,” said Jason.

“Hold out your hand,” said the wind. Jason held out his hand, with the piece of rainbow in it, and the wind blew as you blow on a fire to make it bright. As it blew, the piece of rainbow grew and grew until it lifted up, arching into the topmost corner of the sky. Not just a single rainbow, but a double one, with a second rainbow under that, the biggest and more brilliant that Jason had ever beheld. Many birds were so astonished at the sight that they stopped flying and fell, or collided with each other in mid-air.

Then the rainbow melted and was gone.

“Never mind!” said the west wind. “There will be another rainbow tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, next week.”

“And I did have it in my pocket,” said Jason. And he went inside for his tea.

Joan Aiken

My best attempt at the tune:

G G G G D D, E D C D? D G D B A G AB A G?
I’ll give you a present, what shall it be? A golden lock and a silver key?

Behind the curve as always, I have gotten myself a Tumbly. Anyone got one and want to leave me your user name? :D

Storyteller: The Forest Troll

2016-02-25T20:38:48Z

Once upon a time there was an old woman who lived with her three sons in a little wooden house on the edge of a dark forest.

One year when winter was coming the old woman asked her eldest son to go into the forest and chop down a tree for firewood.

“Do I have to?” the oldest boy asked. “When it gets really cold we could all go to bed. Then we wouldn’t need to build a fire.”

“Don’t be so lazy!” the old woman said. “We can’t stay in bed all winter. You’re the strongest of my sons, so go and fetch some wood.”

The oldest boy didn’t like hard work, but he finally set off for the forest, carrying the smallest axe he could find. When he got there he went to the most rotten tree he could see.

“This shouldn’t be too hard,” and he lifted up the axe to start chopping. He had just tapped the tree once when he felt a thump on his shoulder. He turned around and behind him he saw the ugliest, most revolting troll you could ever imagine. The creature had one red eye in the centre of his forehead and his purple nose was knobbly and twisted like the root of an old tree.

“Hey, you, superman!” shouted the troll. “If you chop down one tree in my forest I’ll break you into fifty pieces.”

The boy threw down his axe. He ran home as fast as his legs could carry him and he told his family all about the giant.

“Fancy being afraid of a stupid old troll!” sneered the second son. “I wouldn’t be afraid.”

The next morning the second son picked up a bigger axe and set off to fetch some wood. As soon as he got to the forest he found a large tree that looked like it would make enough wood to last the whole winter.

Thwack! Thwack...ack! Whaaa...ack! The sound of his axe echoed through the forest. But before he’d got halfway through the tree the troll appeared.

“Hey, you, muscles! What do you think you’re doing? You lift that axe once more and I’ll break you into a hundred pieces.”

“Don’t think I’m s-scared of an old t-t-troll like you. You c-can’t f-frighten me. I’m going to chop down this t-tree.”

“We’ll see about that!” And he lifted a long arm up into the tree and pulled off a long branch. He snapped it across his knee and started breaking it into tiny twigs.

The second brother saw how strong the troll was and ran off home as fast as he could. He was shaking with fear when he arrived home and his elder brother greeted him. “Well, where’s all the wood then?”

“I met the nasty troll. He chased me out of the forest. He was much too strong to argue with. Why, he was fifty feet…”

Just then the old woman’s youngest son butted in. “I wouldn’t be scared of him. I’m sure I wouldn’t. I’ll go and fetch the wood.”

“What, you? You’re much too young to chop down a tree. With that troll you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Oh please, let me go.”

In the end, despite her fears, the old woman said her youngest son should be allowed to try his luck in the forest. So the next day the third son picked up the biggest axe in the house. It was so heavy he could hardly carry it. He went to the kitchen cupboard and took out a firm white ball of cheese. When the brothers saw him putting the cheese into his bag they laughed.

“What do you want that for? Are you going to have a picnic with your friend the troll?” But the young boy did not answer, and he went off to the forest, dragging the huge axe behind him.

When he reached the forest he went to the biggest tree he could find. It was about twenty feet thick and so tall he could not see the top. He struggled to lift the axe, but he had to let it drop...and yet again the sound brought the troll pounding through the forest.

“Oh no! Not another one! And no more than a boy! If you chop that tree I’ll break you into a thousand pieces.”

The boy looked straight at the ugly troll. “You just try it and I’ll crush you like I’ll crush this stone.” As he spoke the boy took the big white cheese and squeezed it between his hands. The cheese squirted everywhere - and the biggest blob hit the troll in his great red eye.

“All right! All right!” shouted the troll. “That’s enough. Don’t crush me like that stone. You can chop down any trees you want - no, I’ll chop them for you if you like. I’ll, I’ll cut them into logs and take them back to your house.”

From that day on the troll made sure that the old woman and her family had all the firewood they needed.

From a story originating in Scandinavia, retold by Eliot Humberstone.

Storyteller: The Shoe Tree

2016-02-24T22:57:06Z

I'm in an awful writing slump. Despite having projects on the go that I'm really excited about, I just can't get anything done in them. So instead, I'm transcribing stories from a collection I've had - well, all my life; they were published when I was one and two years old.

I know they're not as good without the illustrations and the narration - they came with audio tapes - but I hope someone enjoys them a little.

John and Marion were watching their father dig the garden. It was hard work and after one very big spadeful he stood up straight and mopped his brow.

“Look, Daddy has dug up an old boot,” said Marion.

“What are you doing to do with it?” asked John.

“I’m going to bury it right here,” said Mr Martin. “There’s an old wives’ tale that says if you put an old shoe under a rhubarb plant it grows much better.”

Marion giggled. “Will the boot grow?”

“Well, if it does, we’ll have stewed boot for tea.” And he buried it.

Later in the spring, gales blew down the rhubarb and Mr Martin went to pick the broken stalks. He noticed a new plant growing in the rhubarb patch. He didn’t pull it up, though, because he wanted to find out what it was,

He looked through all his gardening books but he couldn’t find anything like it.

“I’ve never seen a plant like this before,” he told John and Marion.

It was a rather interesting plant, so although it had soon pushed away what was left of the rhubarb, the Martins left it to grow. It grew very well and by the following spring it was like a little tree, over a metre high. In the autumn greenish-white fruit appeared and very strange it was - all knobbly and funny shapes.

“That fruit reminds me of something,” said Mrs Martin. Soon afterwards she realised what it was. “It’s like boots - boots hanging up in pairs by their heel-tabs!”

“Did you say boots?” said Mrs Tripp, the next-door neighbour, peering over the garden wall.

“Yes, our tree’s growing boots!”

“Why, my young Bobby’s getting old enough for boots,” said Mrs Tripp. “Can I come over and have a look?”

“Of course. Come and see for yourself.”

Mrs Tripp came around with her baby in her arms and held him up under the tree, upside down. John and Marion held a pair of the fruit against his feet. “Not quite,” said John. “Why not come back tomorrow and see if they’ve grown any more.”

Mrs Tripp brought Bobby round the next day but the fruit was still too small. By the end of the next week, though, all the fruit was beginning to ripen to a shiny brown and one day a pair seemed just the right size for Bobby. So Marion picked them and Mrs Tripp put them on his feet. They were the perfect fit, and Bobby toddled up the garden path.

John and Martin told their parents about it, and Mr Martin said that anyone with babies who needed boots should come and pick a pair from the tree.

Everybody in the village soon heard about the amazing shoe tree and the next day there were crowds of women jostling through the garden gate with their children.Some lifted their babies up high so their little feet could be eased into the shoes to see if they fitted. Others helf their children upside down to measure their feet against the fruit. John and Marion picked those that were left over and laid them on the lawn so they could put them in matching pairs. Then the mothers who had come late sat down with the children on their laps and John and Marion went back and forth, bringing pairs to be tried on, until every child was fitted and every shoe fruit was taken. By the end of the day the tree was stripped bare.

One of the mothers, Mrs White, brought her triplets and fitted each one with a pair of shoe fruits. When she arrived home, she showed them to her husband.

“I got them free from the Martins’ tree,” she said. “Look, the skin’s tough like leather but inside it’s really soft so the shoes are good for children’s feet. Isn’t that clever?”

Mr White stared long and hard at his children’s feet. “Take those shoes off them,” he said at last. “I’ve got an idea.”

The next year the tree produced bigger fruit, and because the children’s feet had grown, they all found shoes to fit. And that’s what happened every year - the shoe fruit grew to match the growing feet of the children. Then, one year a huge sign appeared outside Mr White’s house: WHITE’S HOMEGROWN SHOES LIMITED, it read, in large brown letters.

“He’s been very secretive about that field at the back of his house,” Mr MArtin said to his family. “And now I see why. He’s planted all those shoes we’ve given his children in the past few years and now he’s got dozens of trees, the sly fox.”

“They say he’s going to make a fortune out of it,” said Mrs Martin bitterly.

It certainly seemed as if Mr White was going to make a lot of money. That autumn he hired three women to pick the shoes from the trees and sort them into different sizes. Then the shoes were wrapped in tissue paper, packed in boxes and sent to the nearest town to be sold at £5 a pair.

Mr Martin gazed out the window and he saw Mr White drive past in a brand new car. “I never thought of making money out of my tree.”

“You never have been much of a businessman, love,” said Mrs Martin kindly. “Anyway, I’m glad all the village children can have free shoes.”

One day John and Marion were walking in the field beside Mr White’s orchard. Mr White had built a high wall to keep people out, but on top of the wall a boy’s face suddenly appeared. It was their friend, Ricky. He lifted himself over the wall and jumped down beside John and Marion.

“Hello, Ricky,” said John. “What were you doing in Mr White’s garden?”

The boy grinned. “You’ll see.” And he ran about in the long grass, picking up shoe fruit until his arms were full. “They’re windfalls from the orchard. I threw them over the wall and I’m going to take them home to my Gran. She’s going to make another shoe fruit pie.”

“A pie?” said Marion. “I’ve never thought of eating it. What’s it like?”

“Well, the skin’s a bit too tough. But if you cook the insides with lots of sugar it’s very nice. My Gran makes lovely pies with it. Come round and have some if you like.”

So John and Marion helped Ricky carry his shoe fruit round to his grandmother’s caravan, and they all had a piece of her pie. It had a rich sweet taste, stronger than apples and very unusual. John and Marion thought it tasted lovely and when they went home they picked some of the fruit that was left on the tree in their garden.

“Let’s bake it,” said Marion. “I’ve just learned how to make baked apples at school.” Marion and John cooked their shoe fruit with raisins stuffed inside, and when their parents came home from work they served it up, topped with cream. Mr and Mrs Martin like the fruit as much as the children did. As he finished, Mr Martin began to chuckle. “Here, I’ve had a marvellous idea.”

The next day he drove his old car into town, the boot filled with boxes of shoe fruit. He stopped at the street market and spoke to a stall-holder. Then he began to unload the car. The stall-holder wrote something on a large sign and stuck it on his stall.

Soon a crowd of people had gathered around. “Look at that.” “Shoe fruit, twenty-five pence a pound.”

“I paid five pounds a pair for my boy,” said one woman. And she lifted up her child and pointed at the shoe fruit he was wearing. “Look, I paid five pounds for those at the shoe-shop. and here they are selling the same thing for twenty-five pence.”

“Only twenty-five pence a pound!” shouted the stall-holder. “Peel off the skins and eat the tasty flesh inside. Lovely in pies, baked or stewed.”

“Well, I certainly won’t go to the shoe-shop and pay five pounds again,” said another woman.

By the end of the day the stall-holder was very happy. Mr Martin had given him the fruit for nothing and now his wallet was bulging with money.

The next morning Mr Martin drove into town again. He saw the signs in the shoe-shop window that said: “White’s Natural Shoes - they grow with your children.” But new signs had been added underneath: ”Huge reductions! Prices down to 25p a pair!”

After that, everyone was happy: the village children still got their shoes free from the Martins’ tree and people in the town didn’t mind paying 25p a pair in the shoe-shops. And anyone could eat the fruit if they liked. Only Mr White wasn’t happy; he still sold some of his shoes, but he made less money than before.

“Do you think I should feel guilty about Mr White?” Mr Martin said to his wife.

“I don’t really think so. After all, fruit is for eating, isn’t it?”

“And anyway,” said Marion, “wasn’t that what you thought when you first buried that old boot? Don’t you remember - you promised us stewed boots for tea!”

Penny Ayers was following the local Cornish custom of burying an old boot under the rhubar when the idea came to her for a story.

Flisties, I need some help.

2011-10-08T22:19:31Z

tptigger's patent bar exam is coming up. This is a big deal and, as we all know, a little boost is very welcome at a time like this. Please post an encouraging message for her here. Doesn't have to be elaborate, just a simple 'thinking of you' or 'knock them dead' or whatever. Just something to cheer her up.

This post is locked so she can't see it until the day before her exam.

Friends note

2011-05-04T23:04:06Z

Ok, y'all, I'm going friends only. I've been getting a lot of spam comments and I want to see if this helps. I'm applying it to all my entries, so you won't be able to look back unless you're logged in.

Sorry if this bothers anyone.

I would not refuse a nice friends only banner if one was offered me. Just throwing that out there. :D

Fic: On a Knife Edge, 2/3

2011-03-29T20:17:36Z

Part two of the Primeval fic-that-wouldn't-die. Part one is here. Enjoy.

Thanks prehistoriccat!

They never really did decide whose fault it was. Matt, maybe, who hadn't kept track of them after their interviews. Becker, who hadn't kept track of them at all. Burton, who ignored the warning signs - though, to be fair, he had no way of recognising them.

Maybe it was no one's fault, just one of those things. Lester wasn't quite so happy with that; it felt messy, as though it was completely unavoidable, and he didn't believe that. This could easily have been avoided with just a little care.

They might not have known who was to blame, but they knew when it started.

Matt debriefed them together at first, at Becker's suggestion. He'd been half thinking of it anyway; he'd seen the way they were the day before, watched them try and fail to deal with things on their own. Their ordeal had made them too heavily reliant on each other to be comfortable apart yet.

So he debriefed them together, running through the year in as much detail as he thought they could handle. Connor was quiet but very passionate; Abby was angry, loud and obnoxious. He quickly got used to looking to Connor to rein her in, which he did easily with a touch or a look.

Matt was impressed at their resourcefulness. Surviving the Cretaceous at all was an incredible accomplishment, but they had come through effectively unharmed, apart from their interdependence. The medical tests had shown only a certain amount of malnutrition and some old, mostly-healed wounds.

He was intrigued by Abby’s description of Connor’s medicine garden, and the Anomaly Detector he’d built out of keys and tin cans. If asked, he would have picked Abby as the practical one, but Connor had certainly stepped up when necessary. To hear Abby’s description, it was solely down to Connor that they’d survived the various injuries they’d suffered.

He only hoped that, wherever he was, Danny Quinn was doing half as well as Connor and Abby had.

Matt took a break and got them something to eat, careful to make sure everything was sealed before it reached them. He let them eat it alone, turning off all the recording equipment and making sure no one was anywhere near the room while they ate.

He spent the time reading over the scribbled notes he’d taken while they’d talked. Half of them were to himself, noting their behaviour or something about them, something he might need to know later.

He’d studied their files and reports until he could recite them, of course, though he hadn’t been sure they’d return. The ARC files in his own time were fragmented, only bits and pieces had been recovered, and there had been nothing past the death of Sarah Page. Still, they’d been so fundamental to the ARC – Connor Temple, their tech genius, and Abby Maitland, their animal whisperer – so much a part of the place even now, he’d wanted to know them. Wanted to see how they’d helped shape this place he found himself in.

But they were just files. Words on paper. Stephen Hart’s half-exasperated comments – “Rescued Temple from being trampled; not sure he noticed, as was busy enthusing over the Plesiosaur” – Nick Cutter’s fond indulgence – “Someone might want to check Abby’s bag when she’s leaving tonight, she was very taken with the wee birds that came through the Anomaly” – even Jenny Lewis’s no nonsense reports – “Connor was able to lock the Anomaly while Abby helped to track the creature, later identified as a ___________; both performed admirably under some stress, Connor after receiving a mild concussion. No civilian or team injuries or casualties” – none of them had told him who they were.

Becker talked about them, sometimes, but only to Jess. Matt had tried, but he got a steady stream of ‘yes sir, no sir, couldn’t say sir’ until he gave up. Lester never talked about them, not ever. Jess passed on some of what Becker told her, but she was editing, he could tell from her tone. He didn’t blame her; if Becker was telling her things in confidence, he couldn’t expect her to pass them on. But no one else had known them very well – a lot of the soldiers had died in the rescue attempts, most of the others had been rotated out when the ARC was dissolved, and the rest of the staff hadn't worked enough with Danny’s team to know the things Matt wanted to know. The tech staff talked about Connor’s brilliance; the animal handlers spoke of Abby’s compassion. But it wasn't the whole picture.

He’d thought he was prepared for this meeting, but it was just driving home to him how much he had yet to learn. Connor and Abby could easily disrupt his carefully laid plans. This would require some thought.

When he came back in, they were talking quietly, urgently. Matt cleared his throat, dropping his papers onto the table.

"I need to talk to you separately now," he said quietly. Abby glanced sideways at Connor, who hadn't moved, but neither protested aloud. Matt continued, "Connor first, please – Abby, you can wait right outside if you like, just don't put the intercom on."

"Why do you need to talk to us separately?" Connor asked. "We've already told you everything."

"Protocol. It won't take long. Please?" He held the door open, watching Abby.

Connor caught her hand as she stood, pressing it to his lips with a smile. "No listening in, now."

"As if I care what the boys have to say." Her smile was brittle, and she didn't look at Matt as she passed him.

Matt watched until she dropped into a seat, tucking her legs underneath her. The blue uniforms they'd gotten from somewhere showed just how much weight they'd lost in the year they'd been gone.

Connor was composed and intense as he answered Matt's questions. Matt watched him between answers; this Connor bore little resemblance to the one in the files, the Connor Temple he'd studied so extensively. That Connor had never been put down, never been beaten by anything. The Connor sitting in front of him might be vocal about his intent to stay, but he wasn't fighting for it the way Matt had assumed he would.

Questions done with, Matt gave them a couple of minutes together before asking Abby to come back in. She was more as he'd expected, loud and abrasive, talking over him without listening to his answers. She wasn't giving him any details, either, shutting him down every time he tried.

He gave up, finally, letting her leave. Connor wasn't in the hall; a soldier passing by said he thought he'd seen Burton talking to him somewhere near the rec room. Matt thanked him absently, giving Abby directions and letting her go on her own.

That was probably a mistake, as it turned out.

Connor was with Burton. That much was true. But they weren't anywhere near the rec room – they were almost clear across the ARC, in fact – and Abby didn't know her way around well enough to follow anyone's directions.

Matt didn't know anything was wrong until Becker barrelled past him without stopping. Matt didn't bother to question, just fell in behind him, following him towards an empty office Burton had co-opted. Connor was sitting on the desk, nodding along as Burton talked.

Becker knocked and pushed the door open in one movement. "Connor, I need you. Come on."

"We're in the middle of something, Captain," Burton protested.

"Sorry, sir." Becker didn't sound sorry at all. "We need Connor right now."

"He doesn't even work here, surely someone else...?"

"It really has to be Connor."

Matt had been watching Connor. The younger man hadn't moved, but his knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the table and his gaze was locked on the floor.

"He doesn't really work here," he said, talking to Burton though his eyes were still on Connor. "Maybe you shouldn't be telling him so much about what we're doing."

Becker shifted very slightly; he'd be hearing about that remark later, he had no doubt. He didn't have time to worry about it, though, because Connor's eyes had snapped up to meet his.

It was an oddly searching look, and it surprised Matt, because he'd never heard that Connor was particularly empathetic. Sensitive enough to read other people's reactions if he was paying any kind of attention, yes, but not enough to look at their eyes and read them the way he seemed to be doing now. It made Matt feel oddly exposed, but he didn't look away.

"You can have him back later," Becker was telling Burton.

"I do hope so. I'll be looking forward to it." He patted Connor's hand, the only part of him within reach.

Becker clapped a hand to Connor's shoulder at the same moment; the younger man jerked, startled out of his consideration of Matt, and carefully let go of the table. Glancing at Burton, he muttered something that might have been "Me, too," preceding Becker out of the room.

Out in the corridor he dismissed Matt – Matt could see him do it, see him shift mental gears – to focus on Becker. "Where's Abby?" he demanded.

"That would be what we need you for. She's in Lester's office."

"What's going on?" Matt asked. Connor was already moving; Matt started after him without thinking.

"Abby's having some trouble." Matt raised an eyebrow and Becker continued, "She's got some idea that the ARC is trying to split them up. Keep them apart. She doesn't really seem sure why, but she's pretty sure it's happening."

"I spent all night trying to talk her out of that," Connor muttered, glancing around helplessly as they reached an intersection. "Becker..."

"This way." Becker slipped into the lead. Connor followed him quickly, almost treading on his heels.

Matt watched him as they jogged through the corridors. Connor looked tired, worn down by everything that had happened. Probably in shock still, he thought. "Connor, can someone else...?"

"Talk her down? I don't think so, no. She wouldn't listen to you?"

"No," Becker said evenly.

"And Lester?"

"He got her out of Command and into his office, but that's about it. I don't think she's hearing us, to be honest."

Connor nodded, glancing back at Matt. "She doesn’t know anyone else. Not well enough, not anymore. Neither of us do. The ARC didn't used to be this big," he added impatiently.

"Lester spent Burton's money on it when the PPP came in," Becker said absently.

"More room for the guns, I suppose."

"EMDs," Matt said automatically. Connor glanced back, that strange, searching look on his face again, and then dismissed Matt completely as they reached Command.

Matt glanced around. The room was completely empty apart from Jess, who was valiantly concentrating on her screens rather than on Lester's office. Even the ever-present soldiers had vanished somewhere; no one would see anything that happened.

See anything – Matt touched his earpiece. "Jess, the cameras...?"

"What cameras?" She didn't turn, though she had to know they were there.

"Good girl," he said softly. To Becker, he added, "Better get this done before the ADD goes off – we can't keep the room empty then." Becker nodded absently, glancing briefly at Jess.

Connor was already at the door of Lester's office when Matt turned back, trying to catch Abby's attention without getting too close to her. She didn't seem to be physically threatening anything – most of Lester’s paperwork was still stacked neatly on his desk – but she was clearly very upset, yelling and pacing back and forth.

Lester finally got her attention and she half-turned, keeping one eye on him.

"Alright?" Connor asked gently. He still didn't move towards her, standing firmly in the doorway. Keeping them from getting in, Matt realised too late.

"Abby, alright?" Connor asked again. It was the same word he'd used yesterday. Matt noted it; it meant something to them, beyond the obvious.

"Where were you?" Abby was vibrating in place.

"Sorry. Philip – Burton – wanted to talk to me, and I couldn't figure out how to tell him no. I said I was waiting for you, but he said he just needed a minute, and then we were gone. I don't – I'm sorry, Abs." He held out a hand, waiting until she took a step towards him.

"Connor –“ Lester started. Connor shook his head sharply and he fell silent, watching them warily.

"Will we go?" he asked quietly. "I'm kind of hungry. Doc said we could have solids today. I'm thinking sandwich."

"Connor," Abby murmured.

"They aren't trying to split us up," he told her. "I'm sorry I wasn't waiting. It won't happen again. I'm happy here."

She nodded. Matt noted, again, that the words meant something beyond the obvious. “Alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smiled shakily.

Connor moved forward, reaching to pull her into a hug. Abby pushed him away, eyes flickering uneasily to Matt and Becker. Connor stopped, backpedalling as she fended him off, watching her uncertainly.

“Let’s just go,” she said softly. “Please?”

“Yeah. ‘Course.”

Matt took a couple of steps back, touching his earpiece again. “Jess, can we get the corridors empty for a couple of minutes?”

“On it,” she agreed, already typing quickly. Matt looked up, catching Becker’s eye, and he nodded quickly.

“Connor, let me walk you out.”

Connor nodded absently, still watching Abby. “Yeah. Thanks, mate. Lester...”

“Later,” Lester said, waving him off. “Get yourselves home before you damage something in here.”

“Home,” Abby scoffed, but the fight had gone out of her; she let Connor guide her out of the room, though she twisted away from his touch.

Matt watched Becker shepherd them down the corridor, turning back to Lester when they were out of sight. “What happened?”

“Who knows?” Lester circled his desk, sitting absently. “Abby came to Command looking for Connor. I thought he was still with you –“

“I had to talk to them separately, so he was waiting outside,” Matt supplied. “He says Burton came past and swept him off.”

Lester grimaced. “I had hoped to keep them apart a little longer.”

“You think there’s going to be trouble?”

“Connor is brilliant, in awe of Burton, and watched his last mentor die in his arms. He wants approval.”

“Trouble,” Matt said with a sigh. “He was certainly uncomfortable when Becker and I found him.” Shaking his head, he added, “I got the impression Burton didn't think much of Connor. Undisciplined, I believe Jess said.”

"I believe that was the impression we were supposed to get. Connor's put everything he is into this place, and we're rejecting him. A weaker person might be tempted by a brilliant man taking an interest in him at a low point." He considered for a moment. "Perhaps a word with our good Captain – and Jess, if you think she can keep it quiet. Until we can get this sorted out, Connor is not to be left alone anywhere Burton can get to him."

"You are planning to bring him back."

"I have every intention of getting them both back on the team. But it takes diplomacy, which is more my job than yours. Believe me, if shooting something would solve this problem I'd have called you long ago."

"Aye." Matt nodded, straightening and glancing down into Command. "Abby?" he reminded Lester.

“Was very unhappy when I told her I didn’t know where Connor was,” Lester said tiredly. “She seemed to think we were trying to keep them apart, though she wasn’t very clear about why. Jess cleared the room – commendable initiative – and I was able to get Abby in here, though she was very, very unhappy about it. Becker overheard, tried to calm her down, and when she wouldn’t listen went to find Connor.”

“He’s on the edge. Keeping Abby sane is wearing at him, and being so close to home and not quite there...”

“I’m working on that,” Lester assured him.

“I hope so. We can use them, and I’m not sure they’ll walk away.”

“I’m quite sure they won’t.” Lester sighed, reaching for the nearest file. “Don’t let me keep you,” he said without looking up. “I’m sure you have plenty to do.”

“Yes,” Matt agreed, letting himself out.

Jess was watching him and he crossed to stand by the ADD, absently examining the screens. “That was well done, Jess. You were perfect.”

“Are they alright? Abby and Connor?”

“Yeah. They’re just having some trouble adjusting. They’ll be fine.” He smiled at her, heading for his lab.

Becker found him there a couple of hours later, tending the plant Gideon had given him. It was going to be tricky to keep it in top condition here, so far from its’ tropical home, but Matt relished the challenge.

“How are Abby and Connor?” Matt asked, gesturing Becker in.

“Connor’s asleep. He fell asleep in the car on the way back. Abby was going to eat something and then join him. She didn’t want me to stay.”

“Sleep might be the best thing for them. They’re obviously exhausted.”

Becker leaned against the counter, watching him. “What do you care? He doesn’t really work here.” Matt mentally grimaced at the tone; Becker hadn’t been this openly antagonistic in months.

“We needed to get him away from Burton. Connor hasn’t been dealing any better than Abby has, he’s just been quieter about it. We needed to get him out of there before anything happened.” Matt considered him for a minute. “I want them back. You know that. I think we could really use them. But it isn’t my decision.”

“I don’t think it did him any good, hearing you say that.”

“I think he knew exactly why I was saying it,” Matt disagreed. “What happens now?”

“They take a few days off. Lester finds a way to get them back on the team. We go on.”

“We go on,” Matt echoed, knowing full well he meant more than the team.

The ARC had gone on without them, without Connor and Abby and Danny. But Matt was starting to see that it had been a pale imitation of itself. Connor and Abby could work wonders here, if they were allowed.

Becker left, apparently satisfied he’d made his point, and Matt touched the plant again. “We go on.”

Fic: On a Knife Edge

2011-03-21T20:40:23Z

So this is technically the epilogue to a fic I'm struggling madly with. It stands alone, though, so it was suggested that I post it to give myself a boost.

Fandom: Primeval. In case you can't tell, this is set immediately after ep 4.1

When he thinks about it, later, Becker is surprised it hadn’t happened earlier.

The first debrief, though necessarily broad, takes almost two hours. There’ll be more indepth discussions later, focusing on specific aspects of the missing year, but for now they need only the bare bones of the story. Connor and Abby take turns, one picking up smoothly from the other.

Burton has vanished at some point, after effusively praising both of them and promising to study the debrief records very closely, but Matt is still listening, leaning against the glass wall of Lester’s office. Lester himself is being very businesslike, running through their statements, clarifying particulars as needed.

Becker is watching them. Connor keeps glancing up, looking from him to Matt and back. Abby is focused on Lester, but every minute or so she glances at the door. It doesn’t interrupt them; they keep talking smoothly.

They’re on guard, Becker thinks. Glancing at Matt, he catches the barest nod. So he’s noticed too. It’s strange to think they’d need to be on guard here, but they’ve been gone a year, after all. He knows what living in a war zone is like, how hard it is to leave it behind sometimes.

“Well, I think that’ll do for now.” Lester finishes whatever he’s writing, closing the folder.

“So what now?” Abby asks, glancing at the door again. Beside her, Connor looks from him to Matt and back to Lester, suddenly tense.

“Now you’ll both report to Medical,” Lester says briskly. “After that, Captain Becker will take you to the flat, where you will both take a few days to relax before we see about...”

“About the jobs we don’t have anymore?” Connor says bitterly. Abby touches his arm and he grimaces, slumping down in his chair.

“Yes, well. We’ll worry about that after tomorrow’s debriefs.” Lester clears his throat. “Jess?”

Jess, who’s been wandering in and out to offer drinks and snacks and gaze adoringly at Connor, comes to the doorway. “Yes?”

“Make sure the flat is ready, won’t you?”

“Yes sir.”

“Check the food, too,” Becker adds, and Connor swivels to study him. “Nothing too rich.” Catching Connor’s eye, he raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Long as there’s coffee, mate.”

“He tried to grow his own,” Abby confides.

“Didn’t work out so well?” Matt asks.

Both jump – Matt hasn’t spoken since the debrief started – and Abby spins to look at him. Matt raises one hand apologetically, careful not to move. “Sorry.”

“It didn’t work out too well,” Connor agrees, touching Abby’s arm to get her focused on him again. She relaxes, slowly, still watching Matt suspiciously but no longer on a knife edge.

Lester catches Becker’s eye and he nods. “Let’s go, guys.” He doesn’t move until after he’s spoken.

Connor and Abby don’t talk much as they head for Medical, both busy taking in everything around them. Becker leads the way without looking back; Matt follows along behind, providing explanations for the various changes when Abby asks him. Becker hasn’t really noticed how many procedures had changed in the past year, though he should; most are a direct result of either Connor and Abby’s last mission, or the disastrous rescue attempts it prompted.

Medical isn’t quite ready when they get there, so they chat awkwardly a little more. Becker is almost relieved when a nurse appears and says briskly, “Abby? This way.”

Connor moves with her without seeming to think about it, but the nurse stops him at the door. “We’re not ready for you yet. You’ll have to wait out here.”

“What?” Connor says blankly. “No.” At the same time, Abby says, “He can come in with me.”

“No, he can’t,” the nurse says firmly. “Come on.”

Connor shakes his head, taking another step forward. “I’m going with her.”

“No, you’re—“

“Can I make a suggestion?” Matt asks, voice mild. Connor half-turns to watch him; one hand is locked on Abby’s sleeve. Looking at the nurse, Matt continues, “You have privacy curtains? Use those, and leave the door open. Connor can stand right here with us and keep talking to Abby.”

Becker shifts position, casually resting one hand on his gun, and the nurse sighs. “It’s against regs...”

“Just this once.” Matt’s voice is still mild. “Special circumstances, and all.”

The doctor appears from inside the room, taking in the group with no surprise. “Miss Maitland? Your bed’s ready, this way.” He gestures to a bed partially surrounded by privacy screens. “This won’t take long.”

Abby glances at Connor, who lets go of her with an obvious effort. She follows the doctor towards the bed, and he pulls the screen across, blocking their view.

“Abby?” Connor says immediately.

“Yep,” she answers. He sags in relief as the doctor starts a verbal examination.

Connor turns, putting his back to the wall by the door. Catching Matt’s eye, he mouths ‘thank you.’ Matt dismisses it with a wave and a shrug.

“Where’s Rex?” Abby calls, hissing in a breath. Connor tenses but doesn’t move.

“Down in Acquisitions,” Becker says. To Connor, he adds, “Sid and Nancy, too. Lester brought them in a while after...” He trails off, and Connor nods tiredly.

“Better leave them there until we figure something out,” he says absently. Abby hisses again, a long, drawn-in sound, and he twists to look inside.

“Sorry, I know that’s cold,” the doctor says calmly. “Deep breaths, please.”

“Connor, let me get you something to drink,” Becker says softly. Both Connor and Abby have refused to take anything so far, apparently suspicious of anything they haven’t gathered themselves.

“Yeah,” Connor says absently, still listening, and then shakes his head. “Yeah. Thanks, mate.”

“I’ll go,” Matt says, pushing off the wall.

“No,” Connor says sharply, but the look he gives Becker is pleading.

Becker nods, glancing at Matt. “Come on.” To Connor, he adds, “Wait for us. Here, Connor.” Connor salutes weakly and he nods, turning.

He can hear Matt behind him, but he doesn’t stop until they’re two corridors away. “Sorry,” he offers.

Matt shrugs. “It’s understandable. I should make myself scarce, yeah?”

Becker shakes his head, making the decision on the spur of the moment. “No. Come back with me.”

“Becker, I don’t mind, they’re traumatised...”

“They’ll need to get to know you sometime.” Becker turns, heading for the nearest break room.

“You do see it,” Matt says quietly, lingering in the doorway. “Abby’s ready to kill someone, and Connor isn’t far behind.”

“Yes.” Becker takes a couple of bottles of water and two cereal bars, tossing the bars to Matt. “We can’t blame them. A year in the Cretaceous, you or I’d be jumpy too.”

“Mmm.” Matt pushes off the doorframe, heading back towards Medical.

Connor is standing exactly where they left him, halfway through describing the meal he’s planning on having when they get out. Becker slips past him, sticking one hand around the privacy screen with the bottle of water.

Someone takes it from him, and the doctor says, “Please tell Mr Temple that if he eats anything he’s been describing, he’ll be violently ill.”

“He doesn’t care, it’s all about the food,” Abby tells him. She sounds tired. Whatever has been keeping them upright is obviously wearing off, and he thinks culture shock is probably setting in. “Thanks, Becker.”

“There’s cereal bars?” he offers.

“When I’m done, thanks.”

Becker retreats to the corridor, giving the second bottle to Connor. He checks the seal before opening it, grimacing apologetically at Becker. Matt offers him one of the bars; he takes it, nibbling at it unenthusiastically.

The doctor appears around the edge of the privacy screen. “We’re almost done,” he says before Connor can speak. “I need to ask Miss Maitland some personal questions, though. Is it alright if I shut the door?”

Becker silently blesses Lester for getting them this particular doctor.

“Connor?” Abby calls, voice high.

“How long’ll it take?” Connor asks quietly.

“Only a few minutes. I’m sorry, I really can’t let you in.”

“They’ve been living together for a year,” Matt points out. “There can’t be many secrets.”

“I’m sorry. Doctor-patient privilege. I can’t let him listen to this.”

“It’s alright, Matt.” Connor nods, raising his voice. “I’ll be in in a minute, Abs! Just play nice with the doctor. No breaking his finger.”

“One time, that was one time! And you were asking for it!”

The doctor smiles, taking a step backwards. “Three minutes, I promise. Then we’ll be ready for you.”

Connor nods again, watching as the door closes. Leaning against the wall, he slides down it, pulling his knees up and burying his face in his arms.

Becker crouches beside him, watching. “Connor?”

“I didn’t think about you,” Connor tells his knees. “Not after a while. I thought about Stephen, and Professor Cutter. Captain Ryan. That was safe. I’m never going to see them again anyway.”

Becker shifts, looking at Matt, who takes a couple of steps away. If Connor sees the movement, he doesn’t react, still talking in that strange, flat tone. “I thought about the ARC, a bit. About the work. Not about the people. I couldn’t...it wasn’t ever...” He pulls in a breath, saying in a rush “I couldn’t think about here and live there, I’d have gone insane.”

Becker touches his shoulder; when Connor doesn’t react he grips it lightly, trying to give him something to ground himself with. “It’s alright,” he says gently. This is it, he thinks. Connor’s remarkable strength is used up, and he’s going to break.

Connor sobs once, but then the doctor opens the door and he scrambles to his feet, scrubbing his face with the back of his hand. The move makes him seem ridiculously young, despite the beard and long hair. “Is she alright?”

“She’s fine, absolutely fine. I took some blood to run a couple of tests, but I don’t foresee any problems. Go on in, you can have a couple of minutes before I start your exam.”

Connor is gone on the word and the doctor turns to Becker. “She really does seem fine. I mean, considering. No long term effects that I can see at the moment.”

“Thank you, Dr...”

“Westphall,” he says cheerfully. “Ready for round two?”

Abby seems even jumpier than Connor when she steps out of the room. Becker reminds himself that she’s just had a medical exam, something that could unsettle anyone at the best of times. Matt offers her the second cereal bar and she takes it without hesitation, studying it for a moment before opening the package.

“I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Matt, Anderson.”

“Matt Anderson,” she repeats softly. “And how long have you been here, Matt Anderson?”

“A while now.”

“A while now. Isn’t that cosy.”

Behind the privacy partition, Dr Westphall clears his throat. “Ready, Connor? Good. Tell me, your report says you were injured when you went through the Anomaly, can...”

“Not when we went through,” Connor corrects him, voice steady. “A little later. We had to set off a stun grenade. I caught the edge of the blast and fell out of a tree.”

“How far?”

“Maybe eight feet?” His voice rises questioningly.

“Eight’s about right,” Abby agrees.

Becker listens, though he knows the basics, as Connor details the results of the fall; bruises, muscle strain, sprained ankle. Dr Westphall listens, hmm’ing along.

“Any lasting effects?”

“Apart from a fear of trees?”

“That must have been hard,” Matt says, drowning out Westphall’s next words. “Trying to survive the Cretaceous with him injured like that.”

“It wasn’t for long,” Abby says distantly. “Muscles heal pretty fast. Least he didn’t break anything.”

“Aye, there’s that.”

Becker catches her eye. “You should drink some more.”

Abby glances at the half-full bottle in her hand. “I’ll be sick. We didn’t have very much to drink, we had to boil everything. Took a long time.”

“Well, as soon as you can.”

“Yeah, I will. Connor? How you doing?”

“Fine.” Connor’s voice is flat, but he does seem to be alright.

“We’re nearly done,” Dr Westphall says absently. “Breathe in, Connor.”

Abby glances around, finding the nearest chair and dragging it next to the door. Curling into the seat, she tilts her head, clearly focusing on Connor.

Matt tugs his jacket off suddenly, offering it to her. “You look cold,” he explains when she blinks at it.

“Hmm,” she agrees, draping the jacket around her shoulders. “It was warmer there, I think. Haven’t really had time to think about it until now.”

Dr Westphall comes to the door, waiting until she looks up to speak. “I need to close the door now. It’ll just take a couple of minutes.”

Abby nods, fiddling with her water bottle. Westphall closes the door.

Matt tries conversation a couple of times, but Abby is curt and monosyllabic and he gives up. Becker waits patiently. Behind the door, Connor and Westphall talk quietly. It’s taking longer than it did for Abby, and Becker isn’t sure why that seems surprising.

Abby scrambles to her feet suddenly, knocking her chair over in her hurry. Before Becker can stop her she’s through the door, knocking the privacy screen aside. Connor pauses in mid-motion, jumper held in front of his chest.

“Alright?” he asks Abby.

She searches his face before nodding, one hand on his arm. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“I think we’re done anyway.” Glancing at Westphall, he says, “No, I haven’t.”

“Right. That’s everything, then.” Westphall starts writing on the chart. “You can finish getting dressed.”

Connor nods, pulling the top on. Becker very carefully does not wince as the scars and bruises littering his chest come into view. Thankfully, most seem relatively minor.

Abby is glaring at him when he shifts his gaze, and he shrugs apologetically.

“You’re both good to go,” Westphall says briskly. “Be very careful what you eat, especially you, Connor. No ice cream sundaes just yet.”

“Especially Connor?” Matt repeats.

“I was sick a couple of weeks ago. Food poisoning.”

“I told you they weren’t oysters,” Abby reminds him.

“They were molluscs. I wasn’t expecting pearls, I just wanted something different.”

“Well, I trust you’ve learned your lesson on that,” Westphall says briskly. “Make sure to drink plenty, and you might find it easier to eat little and often – that’s fine, too. Whatever seems best to you.”

“What about the blood tests?” Becker asks. “When will the results be in?”

“Day after tomorrow.” He smiles absently at Connor and Abby, turning away.

Matt clears his throat, offering Abby his jacket again – she must have dropped it in her hurry to get to Connor’s side. Becker glances at Connor questioningly, but he shakes his head. “No, I’m fine, thanks. Can we go?”

“I’ll check with Jess, make sure the flat’s ready,” Matt offers.

“Does it have a bed?”

“Yes...”

“Then it’s ready.”

“There might still be people there,” Matt explains, already walking away.

“We do remember how to talk to people,” Abby says darkly. Connor glances at her and she subsides, pressed against him.

“So, Connor,” Becker says, mostly to fill the silence. “Are you going to keep...?” He gestures vaguely near his own chin.

Connor grins, rubbing a hand through his beard. “You don’t like it?”

“I’m not sure,” he says honestly. “It’s a bit...”

“Mad caveman?” Connor says brightly. “Evil scientist?”

“I like it,” Abby says. “It makes you look rugged.”

“It makes you look older,” Becker says quietly.

They wait in silence for Matt’s return.

Jess confirms the flat is empty. She’s had it stocked with the basics; Becker smiles at the huge fruit bowl on the kitchen table. He gives them a quick tour of the place, careful to point out the bath and the bed.

“I can stay,” he offers. “If you want someone around. Fill you in on the last year.”

Connor glances at Abby. “Actually, mate, I think we’re just going to crash. Not the best company.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Go home, Becker,” Abby says quietly.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, collect you for your debrief.”

“Thanks,” Connor agrees. “See you then.”

Becker nods, letting himself out of the flat and closing the door gently. Behind him, there are voices for several moments before Connor starts murmuring reassurances and Abby starts crying.

Becker slips into parade rest without really thinking about it. The fractured remains of his team are behind this door, and if the only thing he can give them is privacy then he’ll make sure nothing disturbs them until they’re ready. He’s honestly surprised it took them this long to break, but he’ll give them what time he can to start putting themselves back together.

He lost them once.

He’s not going to let it happen again.

I have no Primeval icon, so this one will have to do.

2011-02-18T22:12:58Z

Yes, I have inflicted myself on another fandom. Primeval, tag for 3.5. Connor had a really bad day, and it's up to Lester to pick up the pieces. No slash.

Primeval: People hunt dinosaurs and other pre- and post-historic creatures that arrive through rips in space/time anomalies. In ep 3.5, the team face a fungal parasite that's spread by touch and utterly consumes its' host. Connor, team genius and woobie, is accidentally trapped in a lab with the fungus and hits on the idea of freezing it, but can't leave. They have to drop the room to -30 C to kill the fungus, while Connor is still inside. Later, while dealing with another infestation, another team member is infected. Connor physically prevents her removal from a superchilled area until her infestation dies, risking her life in the process.
Abby is Connor's not-so-secret crush. Sarah is another teammate. Jenny is the infected teammate. Cutter was Connor's mentor until his death two episodes before this one. Just prior to this episode, Abby, Connor's flatmate, asked him to evacuate for a few days in favour of her younger brother. Connor attempted to live in his lab; Lester figured it out and reluctantly offered him space in his own apartment until something more permenant could be found.
This icon is vaguely suitable because it's Connor's actor in a different role.

Night Terrors

James Lester had made a lot of decisions in his life. Most of them he never thought about again; he wasn't the type to worry over decisions that had already been made. His decisions had given him a family and a career that, if not as calm as he might have liked, at least let him help people.

But he wasn't quite sure what he'd been thinking when he'd given Connor a key to his flat.

Connor Temple was a genius. Even better, from Lester's point of view, was that he didn't seem to realise he was a genius. It made dealing with him far easier when he could be quelled by a raised eyebrow or sarcastic turn of phrase.

The ARC needed him. In the wake of Nick Cutter's death Connor had somehow become their palaeontology expert, though his heart seemed to belong to his beloved machines, and his unrequited crush. Abby Maitland, skilled as she was becoming, simply didn't have the background to identify their 'visitors' as quickly as they sometimes needed. So Lester was willing to do a lot to keep Connor happy.

(Besides, Lester was a father, and the sight of the boy gamely trying to live in his lab without a hint or word of complaint made him uncomfortable in a way he normally ignored at work.)

But really, he had limits, and being woken at ten past two in the morning, sweltering in the far-too-hot flat – that was fast approaching them.

Climbing out of bed, he headed for the living room and the heating controls. One of Connor's pet whatever-they-weres snorted at him as he paused in the doorway. The light in the kitchen was on, throwing a dim glow over the living room; it was just enough for him to see the crumpled figure under the window.

Connor, wrapped in two blankets and the throw from the back of the couch, was huddled against the radiator, eyes closed. Lester considered him for a moment – he couldn't tell if the boy was asleep, though he doubted it – before heading into the kitchen, where he set the kettle to boil. Coming back into the living room, he switched on a small lamp, giving him enough light to see by without blinding either of them.

Connor opened his eyes when Lester crouched beside him. "Sorry," he muttered. Lester could see him grit his teeth to keep them from chattering. He was far too pale, even in the dim light. "It's too hot, I know."

"Well, you were hypothermic seven hours ago. I'll overlook it this time. When did you last eat?"

Connor shook his head, closing his eyes. "I can't."

"We'll see." The kettle boiled and he rose to his feet, pulling the desk chair across. "At least get off the floor. You do have to sleep in those blankets."

Lester dug out some ginger biscuits while the tea steeped – better than nothing if Connor was feeling sick – and left the bread out, ready for toast. He was thinking carefully as he moved, running through the day's events again.

Connor had been hypothermic for only minutes. He'd been checked out by a medic straight after leaving the lab, and again at the end of the hurried chase to catch the fungus and save Jenny. He'd been fine all that afternoon and evening, right up until...

"Right up until I took him from the ARC," Lester muttered.

Connor had made it off the floor, at least, huddled in the chair with his legs pulled up. Lester tapped his knees until he lowered them, unwrapping the throw from around him and laying it back over the couch. Connor watched without speaking, obediently taking the cup Lester offered him.

"It's the wrong way to warm up," Lester told him. "Start from the inside out. It's quicker and less likely to give you a heart attack."

Connor stared at the cup, braced against his knee. "I don't...I was fine."

"You're in shock, not hypothermic. Were you dreaming?"

"I...yeah, maybe. I don't remember." He didn't raise his eyes, still staring at the cup.

"Do you need me to feed it to you?" Lester enquired, voice deceptively mild. Connor shook his head quickly, ducking so he wouldn't have to lift the cup too far. It still shook hard enough to spill, but he did at least swallow a little. Lester had been careful to add plenty of milk, so it wasn’t hot enough to scald.

He thrust the kitchen paper at Connor; he had to disentangle his other arm to use it, and the blankets started to slip. Lester moved quickly, rescuing the cup before anything worse could happen.

"Let's try again," he said, once Connor was settled. This time he offered him the biscuit first, watching him nibble.

“Ginger. Yum,” he said unenthusiastically. Lester raised an eyebrow, and Connor ducked his head, still eating.

When he finished the biscuit Lester gave him the tea back. The heat and sugar were having an effect already, he was pleased to notice; Connor was still pale, but the shaking had calmed and he wasn’t gripping the blankets quite so tightly.

When he’d finished his tea Lester went back to the kitchen, putting the toast on. Connor was still sipping when he came back, but he put the cup down to accept the plate.

“What were you dreaming about, Connor?” Lester asked, watching him.

“Told you I don’t remember,” he muttered, staring at his plate. He crammed most of a slice into his mouth; mostly, Lester suspected, to avoid answering any other questions.

“Yes, of course you did.” Lester studied him for a moment, remembering the absolute horror on his face while the others had laboured to bring Jenny back. He’d seen it clearly in Connor’s eyes, the belief that he had killed her. “Did she die?”

Connor’s head jerked up so fast Lester heard his neck crack. “What?” he breathed. The plate of toast, forgotten in his hand, tilted alarmingly.

“Jenny, or maybe Sarah? In the control room? Or was it something else? When we were freezing the spores, did it not work? Were you trapped in there while the temperature kept dropping?”

“Stop,” Connor protested, shuddering. The little colour he’d regained fled his face.

“Was it Abby infected with that thing? Abby dying in the control room, freezing to death while you watched? Turning into one of those things?”

“I killed Jenny!”

The plate smashed against the floor. Neither moved.

“Jenny’s fine,” Lester said after a moment. “You know that.”

Connor shook his head impatiently. “Not...when we stopped the thing in the control room, Jenny was infected. Danny wanted to take her out, but I wouldn’t let him.”

“Yes,” Lester agreed when he didn’t go on. “But we got her back.”

“We didn’t,” Connor whispered. “Not when I...we didn’t. It wasn’t fast enough. She froze to death while I made Danny wait.”

“Yes, we did, Connor. You know we did. She’s alive and happy and...”

“Leaving.”

“And alive. You saved her, Connor.”

“Yeah.” Connor laughed bitterly, looking down at his cup and noticing the plate. “I broke your plate.”

“I’ll dock it out of your wages. Leave it, Connor.” Connor sat up, a piece of plate in his hand, and Lester took it from him. “Listen to me, Connor Temple, because I don’t like repeating myself. You saved Jenny. You may have saved London. You did it at huge personal risk, and you did it well.” Connor stared at him, and Lester groaned. “Oh, god, you’re not waiting for a hug, are you?”

“No,” Connor said quickly. “No, that’d be...no. Weird.”

“Right. Drink your tea, and don’t move until I’ve cleared that plate away. Do you want to eat any more?” Connor shook his head quickly, and he turned the heat down on his way to the kitchen.

Connor had finished the tea when he came back and he pulled his feet up while Lester cleared up the pieces of plate and toast. “I can wash the cups,” he offered when Lester stood.

“No, thank you. I am obliged to leave you some wages, so you might be paying it off for a while. Just go to bed, if you think you can sleep.”

“Yeah.” He sounded surprised, and Lester had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. “I think.”

“Connor Temple thinking,” he muttered. “God save us all.”

“Lester,” Connor said when he turned away, suddenly serious. “Did you—“

“Goodnight, Connor. Oh, and touch my heating again and I’ll have you at a homeless shelter before you can blink.” He continued into the kitchen, loudly running the water and emptying the kettle and generally tidying up until he heard Connor leave the room.

Then he quietly finished up, turned off the light and went back to his own room, hoping for a few hours without dreams.

Fic: Learn to Fall

2011-02-12T19:08:03Z

I grovel in awe at angel_negra's feet. Without her, this fic would not be even close to legible.

Post-series Alice (2009). Even in Wonderland, fairytales hadn't come true in a long time. Alice and Hatter face their Happy Ever After.

In the true tale, the Goose Girl’s maid was dragged through the streets in a barrel studded with nails.

It should have been the perfect fairytale ending. The evil queen and her court had been overthrown. The ~~princess~~ heroine had made peace with her past and redeemed both her loves; the young king who had ached to end his mother’s tyranny, and the conman searching for somewhere to belong. One would rule justly and fairly; one had followed her, abandoning everything he knew to be close to her. Now they were supposed to live happily ever after. That was how it worked.

But even in Wonderland, fairytales hadn’t come true in a long time.

First there’s the explanations to Carol. Hatter, ever adept at thinking on his feet, quickly weaves a half-lie about how he’s known Alice for a while now - feels like a lifetime, Alice puts in – but in the rush to get her to a hospital simply hadn’t thought to identify himself. He adds that he knows Jack a little and had worried about Alice, hence being nearby that evening. “Not that I think he’d’a hurt her,” he continues quickly when Carol raises an eyebrow. “Just – I wasn’t sure he was right for her.”

“Jack’s gone home,” Alice tells her. “Family emergency. And since we were – well, not sure where we stood – we decided to take a break. He doesn’t know when he’ll be back.”

The rest of the evening passes uncomfortably. Carol keeps calling him David; Alice keeps calling him Hatter, apparently not noticing Carol’s look each time she does. Hatter, who’s spent years taking note of everything around him, is starting to worry, just a little.

Finally Carol starts checking the time and he rises to his feet. “I should go. Lovely to finally meet you, Mrs Hamilton.” He brushes his lips over her knuckles, smiling charmingly, and is relieved when she smiles back. He doesn’t want to cause problems between Alice and her mother.

“I’ll walk you out,” Alice says quickly, hustling him out before Carol can object.

Outside she draws him into another deep kiss. Hatter is happy to oblige – it’s been a lot longer for him than it has for her – but it’s night time, and cool out, and after a minute she starts to shiver.

“Should go back inside,” he murmurs, loosening his grip on her.

“I can’t believe you’re here. What happened?”

“Well,” he smiles, “though I am rather high up in our new government, there’re still some people aren’t too happy with me. And there’s no more tea to sell; I’m faced with going legit. And...” He touches her cheek, so gently she can barely feel it, “you weren’t there. It wasn’t right.”

“Hatter...”

“Your mother’s waiting,” he reminds her. “You should go.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got a place.”

“Can I see?” she asks brightly.

“No. It’s not ready yet.”

“Hatter...”

He kisses her gently. “Go back up to your mother. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You promise?”

He smiles. “Do you trust me?”

“Completely.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turns to walk away.

“Hatter!” Alice catches him after only a few steps, rubbing both hands through his hair to muss it up. He smiles faintly, feeling it settle back into its usual dishevelled state. “Tomorrow? Wear a hat.”

In the true tale, the Sleeping Beauty’s briars killed many who tried to reach her before her prince came.

“Hatter?”

“Mmm?”

She sits up from where she’s been leaning against him, turning to study him. “How are you earning money?”

“What?”

“Money,” she repeats. “You don’t have a job. You’ve got this apartment, furniture, food and clothes...” She gestures around at his living room.

“Oh. Jack Pratt is taking care of all that.”

She rolls her eyes, elbowing him for the comment. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Hatter! Why is Jack taking care of your bills?”

He shrugs, leaning around her to turn the TV off. This doesn’t seem like something she’s going to let go. “Services rendered.”

“What services?”

Hatter sits up, eyeing her. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” She’s slightly defensive now, and he tries to remember to ease off. This isn’t her fault. She didn’t see what Wonderland was like after she left.

“You, an Oyster, walked into Wonderland and toppled the Queen.”

“We did that...”

“You did it. You woke the Oysters, you turned the Carpenter against the Queen, you turned Jack against his mother...”

“Hatter, none of that is...”

“Shush, not done yet. You turned the Suits against the Queen, that’s not even supposed to be possible. You saved the Oysters and started Wonderland back on its’ way to a new Golden Age.”

Alice is shaking her head, tears standing in her eyes. “None of that is true.”

“No,” he agrees, and she’s startled into raising her head to stare at him. “Not all of it. But it’s how you’re seen, in Wonderland. The Legend has two Alices now. And not all the Queen’s followers went down with her. Half the White Rabbits are still missing, some of the Suits are still suspect...anything happened to you, it’d be a huge coup for their side.”

“And that’s why you’re here.” Her voice is flat and she sits back, away from him.

“Was me or Charlie, and I didn’t think you’d like that much. Mind you, it took a while to talk him out of it.”

“So that’s why you came,” she repeats.

“What?” He suddenly realises what she means. “No! Alice...”

“It was longer on your side. Would you have even come, Hatter?”

“Of course I would. That was my excuse, not my reason. Alice...” He touches her arm and she shrugs him off, scrambling to her feet and taking a couple of steps away. Hatter rises but doesn’t move after her, letting her keep the couch between them. “The Looking Glass is locked down, Alice. No one can use it for any reason. Believe me, I’d’ve been through on your heels otherwise. Jack knew, but he couldn’t just send me. There has to be a reason, an excuse.”

“I wasn’t enough?”

It breaks his heart to hear the heartbreak in hers. “For me, yes. You’re everything, you know that. But Jack’s council were very clear. And since they don’t exactly trust me, there wasn’t much I could do. Not until Jack got a threat against you.” He gestures around. “He bullied the council into it. This place, and my wage. But it’s nothing. An excuse, Alice. I’d have found a way, I promise I would.”

She drops her head and he risks going to her, gently tucking her hair behind her ear. “If the mirror’s closed,” she says softly, “there can’t be any danger to me.”

“There are always ways,” he tells her, and he feels so old suddenly. Months battling a council who couldn’t see beyond his past, fighting to be heard when only Jack would even believe him, struggling to help with only Charlie by his side – he’s so tired of having to justify himself. But Alice can ask anything of him. He’s known that for a long time now. “Charlie attached himself to me for weeks, never left me alone. He was so afraid I’d do something stupid. I was desperate to get here, I’d’ve done anything. Please, tell me you hear that, at least.”

“I hear it,” she says softly.

He watches her for a moment, hand dropping back to his side. “D’you want me to leave?”

“No,” she says, and he nods quietly, relieved.

“I would have found a way to get to you. I swear it.” He ducks his head a little, catching her eye. “Do you trust me?”

“Completely,” she whispers, but it’s soft and broken and neither of them believe it.

Hatter sighs, holding out a hand. Alice doesn’t move and he grimaces, switching and offering her his left hand instead. It bothers him, a little; she knows he keeps tight control of his right hand, that it never holds anything more firmly than he wants.

She lets him lead her back to the couch, and she curls against him when he sits. “I love you,” he says quietly.

“I love you,” she echoes, and maybe she believes it, he can’t tell.

In the true fairy tale, Cinderella’s stepsisters cut off their toes and heels and the slipper filled with blood.

“Hatter, are you awake?”

He hums a response. They’re lying on Alice’s bed, her head on his chest and their fingers tangled together – though in deference to Carol, the door is open and they’re fully clothed, apart from their shoes. Hatter even debated taking off his hat, but it’s resting over his face instead. His free hand is stroking Alice’s hair, and he hasn’t been this content in a long time.

“Really,” she insists, and there’s a hint of laughter in her voice. “I want to talk to you.”

“So talk.” His voice slurs slightly and he frowns. Letting go of her hair, he props himself up on one elbow in an effort to wake up. He hadn’t realised how close to sleep he is.

Alice waits until he settles back down. “How long was it on your side?”

He tries, he really does, but his sleep-fogged brain can’t make anything of that. “What?” he says eventually.

“On your side of the Looking Glass. All the time I spent there, it was less than an hour here. You can’t have been far behind me, if you were the one who found me on this side.”

“It was longer,” he says softly.

“How much longer?” She sits up, turning to face him. Shifting her weight, she lets go of his hand to brace herself, and he tucks it behind his head, thinking.

“Months, anyway,” he says finally. “I stopped counting after a bit. Turns out rebuilding a country’s hard work, ‘specially when the new king only trusts three other people.”

“Three? You and Charlie...”

“The Duchess.”

“The Duchess?” she repeats in surprise.

“She saved him from the casino.” He shifts slightly, watching her. “He doesn’t love her. But he is fond of her, and she’s very smart. Spent a lot of time with the Queen, so she knows what not to do, at least.”

“Well, that’s nice,” Alice mutters.

“Aare you jealous?” Hatter asks, amused. He can afford amusement, now.

“No,” she says unconvincingly.

“You are! You’re jealous of Jack Pratt –“

She pokes him in the ribs and they have a brief wrestling match. It ends when Carol walks across the living room, heels clicking on her beloved wooden floors, and they both freeze guiltily, listening to make sure she isn’t coming past the door. Hatter winces; Alice is, completely unintentionally, leaning heavily on one of the scars that decorate his torso. They’ve never really healed right, not in all the months since then. He’s come to consider them a gift from the Tweedles, to make sure he’ll never forget his betrayal.

“He is not a prat,” Alice whispers.

“Anything you say,” Hatter agrees, voice strangled. “Please move...”

“What?” Startled, she shifts her weight in the wrong direction. Hatter bites back a yell as spots dance in front of his eyes; rolling to one side, he dumps Alice off and onto the floor. Sitting up, he curls around the scar.

“Everything alright?” Carol calls.

“Fine, Mom! I knocked some books over!” Alive yells, reaching out to shove the door partway closed. Lowering her voice, she adds “Hatter?”

“I’m fine,” he assures her without moving. “You just hit a sore spot. Give me a second.”

She kneels between his legs, one hand warm on his knee. After a moment he uncurls, easing back to lie across the bed. Alice straddles him, one knee either side of his hips, and pulls his shirt up; Hatter rolls his eyes but shifts his weight to help.

“I thought we were being respectful of your mum?” he points out mildly. She doesn’t answer, intent on what she’s doing.

He knows the moment she sees the scar; her whole body tenses. He doesn’t look down, he doesn’t need to. He sees the marks every day, just as fresh as the day they escaped the casino together.

“Hatter,” she breathes, fingers hovering over the scar without touching it. “What is...”

“Present from the Tweedles,” he tells her, and he’s pleased his voice is light and airy. Catching her fingers, he draws them down to touch the scar. “Touching doesn’t hurt. Just don’t put too much weight on it.”

“Tweedles?” Her fingers are so light he barely feels them, tracing over the scar and then across to the next one.

“Uh. Dee and Dum. You met them, in the...” He gestures vaguely. “Room with the desk, and no floor.”

“I thought they went down with the casino.”

“That’s what we’re hoping. No one’s seen them since, anyway. Hey...” He lifts his head to watch her draw away, sitting on her heels. “What’s wrong?”

“Those are fresh.” She gestures and he pulls his shirt closed, suddenly uncomfortable. It takes him a moment to realise what she’s talking about; she thinks the marks are fresh, that he’s gotten them since she left.

“Nah. They just heal weird. They’re fine long as there’s no real weight on ‘em.” He tugs her hand until she climbs off him, lying next to him again; she’s so careful not to put any weight on him that he finally has to laugh.

“Hey!” she protests, but she’s laughing as well.

“If I promise to tell you if you hurt me,” he says finally, “will you stop that? Honest, they don’t hurt.”

“Deal,” she agrees, curling against him. It’s not quite as comfortable as before – they’re lying across the bed instead of along it – but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

In the true tales, Cinderella’s stepmother was given a pair of red-hot iron shoes and forced to dance herself to death.

The fights always start out so small. Hatter never sees them coming. Alice is strong-willed and stubborn, and he – well, no one’s ever accused him of being too bright. He can never tell when to let things go, not until it’s too late and they’re screaming at each other. Not that that happens often, luckily.

Today what started it was that Alice walked home without waiting for him. It happens, on and off, but Hatter’s been uneasy for a couple of days, restless and feeling watched, and it’s making him snappy.

“I was done and you weren’t. I can travel ten blocks on my own.” Alice’s movements telegraph her irritation. She’s clearing dishes away and Hatter wonders idly if any of them will be left in one piece when she’s done.

“You didn’t let me know. I went to meet you.” Hatter is very carefully not moving, gripping the back of the nearest chair.

“I’m sorry! But if you’re not there when I finish, I come home. That’s how we do it. I don’t need you to follow me all over the city.” She looks up sharply, watching him. “I don’t, do I? No one’s come through?”

“Not...no –“ he has to admit. He has no proof, after all, just suspicions, and he knows that won’t mean anything to her.

“Then I’m fine. Honestly. I managed in Wonderland...”

“You nearly died in Wonderland!”

“I nearly died because you tried to sell me to gun toting rebels!” She slams the cupboard closed, leaning against it with her arms folded tightly across her chest.

“I was trying to help you.”

“How, exactly?”

“Alice...” he groans, turning away.

“No, come on!” She takes a step towards him. “How was it going to help me? Dodo wasn’t going to let me go, so what was the plan? Hand me over and forget about it? Another successful transaction?”

“Hey!” He whirls on her. “Everything I did for you, you still think you were just another transaction?”

“I was worth your usual cut, wasn’t I? What was your cut, Hatter?”

“Not enough,” he mutters, and knows by the way she glares he’s said the wrong thing. “My cut went back to the Library in food and supplies. Dodo knew that. And anyway, the rebels sent Oysters home! Got them out of the Queen’s reach. He’d have done it for you, too, you’d have just given him the ring.”

“If I’d given him the ring,” Alice says through gritted teeth, “he’d be running Wonderland instead of Jack, and you’d probably be dead.”

“You’d be safe,” Hatter points out.

“That’s not...” She takes a deep breath. “Not the point.”

“No. The point is, I’ve done an awful lot of good for you since that mistake.”

“Oh?”

Hatter takes a breath, trying to even his tone. “I got you away from the Resistance...”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I saved you from Dodo.” She’s back to leaning against the cupboard, arms tight against herself. Hatter is holding himself very still, afraid of what he’ll do if he lets loose.

“I got you away from March – leaving my Shop to be destroyed, thank you very much –“

“Oh, yes, where you made a living from selling emotions sucked out of human beings.”

“I saved you from the Tweedles—“

“Charlie saved—“

“I got you out of the casino—“

“By crashlanding us into a lake—“ She’s shouting now, but so is he.

“I went in there again after you! I got captured, for you! I got tortured, for you!”

“I didn’t ask you to do any of that!”

“I killed my brother for you!”

They both freeze. Hatter is breathing fast – too fast, there are dots in front of his eyes – and Alice is staring at him, wide-eyed.

She makes a move towards him and he jerks into motion, heading for the door. She’s too far away to stop him, but she stays on his heels on the way down the stairs and out of the building. “Hatter...”

“No.”

“No, what?” She’s still keeping up, hovering just behind him. He can’t see her, and he won’t turn to look.

“No, I didn’t kill anyone for you, it was all for...Alice, I can’t, not now...”

She catches his shoulder, spinning him around. He lets her do it, but he shrugs her grip off as he turns. “Hatter.”

“I can’t.”

“Alright,” she agrees, and he wonders distantly what he looks like if she’s dropping it that easily. His Alice is many things, and stubborn is not the least of them. “But don’t run away from me. Let me come with you.”

“I have to move,” he warns her, and she nods.

“Let’s move, then. Let’s do that. Let me go back and get our coats, though, ok? It’ll only take a minute.”

“Yeah,” he mutters.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she repeats.

“Yeah. I’ll be here.”

It’s closer to five minutes – there are a lot of stairs leading to their apartment – and Hatter is pacing, desperate to move, when she comes back. He doesn’t wait for her, shrugging the coat on as he moves, and she doesn’t try to make him, catching up after a moment. He speeds up until he can feel it, and she keeps pace without complaint.

She’s quiet until he speaks. He isn’t saying anything earth-shattering – we should try that restaurant, I heard that movie’s good, that’s a nice coat in that window – but as long as he talks, she answers, and when he stops she falls silent. It’s strangely comforting.

When some of the need to move has been bled off he finds a small park, sits down on a bench. Alice slides onto the seat beside him, tucking one leg under herself so she can watch him.

“ ‘Member March? The rabbit head thing?” he says after a moment.

“Yes.”

“He wasn’t always a rabbit head thing. He was Resistance, once, even. Until the Queen and the Tweedles got him.”

“When did you...”

“In the casino, the second time. The Tweedles wanted to know where the Library was. He knew I wouldn’t tell. He sent them away and tried to kill me. I got free and...” He shrugs, ducking his head into his shoulders.

She nods, absorbing it for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry I said that. It wasn’t for you, not really. He was gonna kill me.”

“Sorry,” she repeats softly, turning so she can lean against him. Hatter doesn’t move at first; after a few minutes, he realises he’s rubbing her arm, gently. It’s surprisingly comforting; he’s never really been tactile, but it’s easy with Alice. It’s even more comforting that he’s using his right arm, and despite how agitated he is, she isn’t showing any wariness.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and she nods. He can’t see her, but he can feel the motion against his shoulder. “I shouldn’t’ve said those things.”

“Me neither. Do you want to come home?”

“I won’t sleep tonight,” he says after a minute. “I’ll walk you back, and then...I dunno. I’ll find something.”

She touches his right hand, easing it open. “Don’t hit anything that can hit back,” she says softly.

“I won’t,” he promises. His right hand is just as strong here as it was in Wonderland, and he’s learned to be even more careful with it. Humans can’t crack brick without also cracking bones.

Alice rises to her feet, linking her fingers through his, and they walk home together.

There is no mercy for wrong-doers in fairytales. And Hatter has no illusions about himself.

“Wait. Just...wait.” Hatter twirls his hat, trying to calm his racing thoughts. They’re fighting again, and he’s so tired of it. He knows she’s tired of it too. They just can’t seem to stop.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” he says finally. “Maybe we should...”

“Take a break?” Alice suggests, and her voice is thick with bitterness and betrayal.

“No.” He deliberately keeps his tone mild. “Start over, I was going to say.”

“Start what over?”

“Everything. All of it. Right from the start, get to know each other all over again.” She’s retreating, he can see it in her, and he hurriedly continues, “We didn’t exactly learn much about each other in Wonderland, and these months here – they’ve been like a dream, Alice, but we’ve not learned much, have we?” Smiling, he adds, “ ‘Cept that we can both hold a grudge.”

“We’ve learned things,” she says stiffly.

“Not the right things.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” she protests.

He doffs his hat, bowing. “David Hatfeld. Pleased to meet you.” She doesn’t answer, and he stage whispers, “Alice, love, it doesn’t work so well if you don’t join in.”

“You can’t just say that,” she says distantly, and his heart stops for an endless moment until she continues, “If we haven’t been introduced, you can’t use my name. It’s impolite.”

“My apologies.”

“Alice.” She holds out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, David.”

“Hatter.” He lifts her hand to kiss her knuckles, adding, “My friends call me Hatter.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Hatter. It’s an unusual name. Where did you get it?”

He draws a breath, ready to spin a wonderful tale full of derring-do. She’ll be drawn in, she’ll be amazed, she’ll be astonished, and some of it will even be true.

Then he looks at her, and reconsiders.

“It’s a family nickname,” he tells her quietly. “My father, and his.”

“Thank you,” she says, and everything she isn’t saying is on her face.

Hatter kisses her – he can’t help it – and then draws back, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Tell me something about you, Alice.”

“My boyfriend is the best person I know.”

“Something I didn’t know,” he teases her, and she laughs, and the sun comes out.

Fairytales are overrated anyway.

Two strangers learn to fall in love again
I get the joy of rediscovering you
Oh girl, you stand by me
I’m forever yours
Faithfully.

A Very Mega Christmas

2011-02-01T20:06:52Z

Alright, I couldn't help myself. This way, I could explain everything under cover of Ashley explaining to Andros.

(see end for notes)

A Very Mega Christmas

"What do you call this again?"

"Pantomime," Ashley said patiently.

"Panto," Cassie corrected her. "No one calls it pantomime, it takes too long to say."

"I meant the actual name."

"Oh. Aladdin."

"And we couldn't do this in Angel Grove because..."

"Andros, lighten up," Zhane protested. "It's just a show."

"There's no panto troop in Angel Grove," Ashley told him. "It's not really an American thing. I came with my cousins when I was young, but I haven't been in years."

"It looks like fun," Karone offered.

"Atta girl," TJ said cheerfully, arriving just in time to hear her. "Everyone ready? Anyone want a flashy light wand? My treat."

"Yes please!" Ashley said quickly.

"What does it does?" Andros asked, following her towards the vendor.

"It flashes coloured lights in patterns," Ashley explained. "The performers can't really see the audience, because of the stage lights, but they can see these." She took her wand from TJ, smiling thanks at him.

Andros held out a hand and she gave him the wand, watching him wave it solemnly. "Something like that," she agreed, biting her lip.

"Looks good on you, Andros," Zhane said briskly. "Two, please." Karone smiled when he presented her with one, waving it quickly to make patterns in the air.

Cassie and Carlos came back, both carrying popcorn and bottles of water. "Ready?" Carlos asked. "They're seating people."

"Let's go," TJ agreed.

Andros jumped the first time Ashley booed the villain, glancing around uncomfortably. "Ash..."

"This is the point of panto," Ashley said softly. On his other side, Zhane was joining in loudly. "The audience joins in. Watch - Oh no you won't!"

"Oh yes I will!" the actor proclaimed.

"Oh no you won't!" the audience screamed.

"Ah, whadda you know." He stalked off stage, muttering angrily.

"We're supposed to - heckle?"

Ashley made a mental note to check how much time Zhane was actually spending watching the Muppet Show. "Not heckle, just join in. You'll get it."

"Boo!" Zhane yelled.

"That's the hero," Carlos told him.

"Yay!"

On stage Aladdin grinned, waving in their direction.

"It's not very serious," Andros noted.

"It's not supposed to be."

Widow Twanky paused the show to make fun of some latecomers who'd been trying to sneak into their seats; the backup dancers joined her on stage, torches in hand, and serenaded the unfortunate couple with 'You're late.' The man grinned, bowing to the audience before settling down.

Zhane leaned across Andros to catch Ashley's eyes. "On - at home - once a show starts, it never stops. There was a fire, once, when we were small, and the actors were still reciting even while we were evacuating. It kept the audience calm."

"Hey, in the balcony!" one of the actors called. "Are you joining in or what?"

"Yes sir!" Zhane yelled cheerfully.

"I'm not a sir, I'm Wishee Washee! Now let's hear you. One two three..."

"Ah-so," Andros offered, when Zhane just looked confused.

"Well done. At least someone is listening. All together now, one two three..."

"Ah-so!" the audience chorused.

Andros joined in the booing the next time Abanazar appeared, though Ashley had to nudge him to get him started. Zhane had given his wand to Cassie and was helping himself to popcorn. Andros leaned past him to catch Karone's eye; she smiled, waving her wand at him.

The three Kerovans got a little lost on some of the call-and-responses; since they didn't know the story, they weren't always sure what the actors should be doing. Zhane cheerfully yelled whatever came into his head; Karone and Andros were taking their cues from Carlos and Ashley, respectively.

When the genie appeared, catapulted into the air from below the stage, Andros sat forward, attention caught. The next dance was on a completely blacked-out stage; only the dancers dressed in white were visible, and by leaning on dancers dressed in black they were able to 'float' and 'fly' across the stage. When they cleared the stage the carpet appeared; lit from below, it genuinely seemed to float. When Aladdin, singing Defying Gravity, stepped onto it, it started moving, flying around the stage and right out over the audience.

The curtain fell on his last, triumphant note, and Andros blinked. "Is it over?"

"Half time. Come on." Ashley tugged at his arm. "Zhane, you too."

Zhane obediently followed her. "Where are we going?"

"Ice cream." Ashley smiled, making for one of the woman carrying trays. "Panto tradition. Hi, seven tubs, please."

"Sure." The woman passed the little tubs to Zhane and Andros. "Are you enjoying the show?"

"Very much, thank you," Andros said politely.

"Great. Here you go." She gave Ashley a handful of little plastic spoons. "Enjoy the second half."

"Thank you," Ashley said cheerfully, heading back to the seats.

Cassie and Karone had vanished - 'bathroom break', Carlos said when Andros asked - and Zhane carefully put their ice creams on the balcony rail. TJ dug into his, grinning.

Andros poked at his, frowning. "My spoon broke."

"Here." Ashley gave him a spare. "It'll be starting back up soon. Are you enjoying it?"

"I don't understand it. Why are we joining in?"

"That's the point of a panto."

"It's more fun for kids," Cassie added, resting a hand on Andros' shoulder for balance as she squeezed past him. "Kind of like being part of the show. Oooh, ice cream - thanks, Ash."

The lights dimmed and Andros frowned. "I haven't finished my ice cream."

"Just keep eating."

He carefully loaded up a spoon and offered it to her. Ashley grinned, letting him spoon it into her mouth.

The music picked up, the curtain rose and Wishee was back on stage with the dancers. Aladdin appeared in his shiny 'prince' clothes and the plot, such as it was, started up again.

Andros leaned forward to pay better attention. Zhane leaned across behind him for Ashley's attention again. "That little girl is creepy."

"Which little girl?"

"They're all creepy," TJ murmured, and Cassie hit him. "Ow."

Zhane was counting. "One, two, three..."

"Ah-so," Karone whispered, and he grinned over his shoulder at her.

"Fourth from the right," he told Ashley.

"It's the grin." Andros shrugged his shoulders; when Zhane let go, he sat back.

"They all grin like that."

"They're trained to," Ashley explained. "Look, the adults are doing it as well."

"It's not creepy on them," Zhane muttered, sliding down in his seat.

On stage the dancers vanished, leaving Aladdin to bemoan his princess, kidnapped by Abanazar. Wishee was attempting to cheer him up.

“He’s trying not to laugh,” Andros noted.

“How can you tell?” Ashley squinted down towards the stage. Aladdin did seem to be biting the inside of his cheek, but...

“I have to take Zhane to diplomatic meetings,” Andros said dryly. “I know that look.”

“Hey!”

“I’m so glad there’s no one sitting behind us,” Carlos remarked to Cassie.

“I know, we’d have been thrown out by now,” she agreed. Zhane grinned, stealing a handful of her popcorn and turning back to boo Abanazar as he came back on.

Aladdin was fine in his next scene. The scene after that, though, while he was ‘sneaking’ around Abanazar’s palace, Wishee turned up in what looked like a bright red pleather catsuit, and Aladdin just lost it. Laughing too hard to get his lines out, he retreated towards the back of the stage, trying to catch his breath.

“Four years of drama school and this is the best he can do,” Wishee lamented towards the audience. “How’re you doing, Aladdin? We’ve got a show to finish, you know?”

Aladdin waved him off, taking a few deep breaths. Finally settled, he came back to join them...

And broke down again.

The audience were in on it by now, laughing and good-naturedly catcalling him. Finally he took a deep breath, calming himself and coming back to centre stage to join the others.

“I’ve forgotten where we are,” he said finally, glancing around for help.

“Ah, here. ‘Scuse me, Mrs?” Wishee looked down at the front row. “What’s the last thing we said before he started laughing?”

The woman repeated Aladdin’s last line and the actors picked back up. Ashley, sides weak from laughing, leaned back against Andros. “Oh, wow.”

“That wasn’t part of the show?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Boo,” Andros said abruptly. Surprised, Ashley sat back up; Abanazar had reappeared, complete with knife-wielding servants, and the whole group was engaged in Scooby-doo-esque running around the stage. When they finally stopped Aladdin had the lamp and the Princess was safe behind the vast bulk of Widow Twanky.

“Abanazar! You have been defeated. The audience hated you...”

“No we didn’t!” someone yelled from the audience.

Laughing helplessly, Aladdin turned to the audience. “Whose side are you on anyway? Genie, what do you think we should do with Abanazar?”

“You cannot defeat me!” Abanazar proclaimed.

“Here, I think that’s your man from Boyzone!” one of the backing dancers suddenly hissed.

“I will return!”

“What’s he doing here?”

“You shall never be free of me!”

“Here, Mikey, you’re looking a bit sick, are you alright?”

“I will have my revenge!”

“He’s good,” Cassie hissed at Ashley, who nodded.

“Why?” Zhane asked.

“That second guy isn’t supposed to be doing that. He’s just trying to get a reaction.”

Abanazar ignored him magnificently, playing through his final scene and vanishing in a flurry of genie power. Aladdin and most of the others vanished, leaving Wishee and his back-up comic relief, UPong, to lead the crowd song.

“It’s a sort of 12 Days of Christmas thing,” he told the crowd, “but we’re using our own words. You’ll pick it up.”

“Are we supposed to join in?” Andros murmured.

“Yes,” Ashley told him, laughing as Wishee threw UPong’s props off stage. UPong retaliated by hanging Wishee’s too high for him to reach, and Widow Twanky had to come on stage to calm them down and get the song finished. Once they were done they ran off stage and the cast started filing back on for their final bows.

Andros stood when the others did, clapping just as enthusiastically. Wishee waved for everyone to sit back down, clearing his throat. “Now, you all know this is our last night...”

“Aw!” Ashley called, and the rest of the audience joined in.

“Yeah, yeah, we know, it’s a tragedy. But! We have some shoutouts, to people here in the audience and to people who helped make the show possible. Let’s do the audience first, then you can start sneaking away. I saw you,” he said, directly to a man in the second row. “Putting your coat on! Trying to be ready first! Huh. Right, what’ve we got. Ritchie!”

He ran through several names before saying, “And this one is to the Megaship crew...”

“Whoo!” Carlos cheered, and the others joined in. Wishee shielded his eyes, peering up at them.

“Aw, it’s you lot, might have known. Well done, lads. Next...”

Ashley laughed, leaning back against Andros and feeling his arm wrap around her. “That was great. Thanks, Carlos.”

“Me? I didn’t arrange that.”

She sat up again, eyeing him. “You didn’t? TJ?”

“I didn’t even know we were coming until today.”

“Not me,” Cassie added.

Ashley glanced at Zhane, but he shook his head immediately. “I didn’t even know what a panto was until...two and a half hours ago. How was I supposed to arrange this?”

She had to agree with that, and she settled back against Andros while Wishee read out the rest of the notes and thanked a bunch of backstage people. When he was finished, they scrambled to their feet again to sing the final chorus and applaud the cast.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Andros finished checking DECA’s systems and turned. Ashley was leaning against the doorframe, watching him.

“Well, did you enjoy it?”

“It was fun,” he admitted.

“So maybe we’ll go again next year?”

“Sounds good.”

She smiled, rubbing her face, and he grinned. “Come on, you’re tired. I’ll walk you to your room.”

“Thanks.”

They passed Alpha as they left the bridge, and Ashley paused. “Night, Alpha.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“A great time, thank you.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you enjoyed it. See you tomorrow.”

“Night,” Andros said, touching Ashley’s shoulder and leading her down the corridor. Alpha watched them leave before turning away, entering the bridge and letting the door hiss closed behind him.

Notes:

Pretty much everything the Astros saw here happened in the panto I saw. The main difference is that right near the start Wishee wasn't talking to the balcony; he spoke to a woman in the front and continued to talk to her during the show. But the people coming in late, Aladdin losing it on stage, the song with Wishee and UPong fighting over the props - all of that happened. I love the panto.

If you missed my post about panto and some of it's traditions, it's here.

Panto in Ireland

2011-02-01T19:55:50Z

Two of three entries tonight.

I went to the best panto I've ever been to on Sunday night. I spent most of Monday writing the story I'm going to post in a couple of minutes, featuring the Megaship crew going to a panto. Yes, the ways of my mind are mysterious. But since I know there's almost no panto tradition in America and various other places, I thought I'd explain a little bit about it first.

All my examples are from Aladdin, as watched by me two days ago.

Panto has a long and honorable tradition starting in ballet, but nowadays it's a show in its' own right. It's hugely interactive; the cast chat with the audience, comment on things other characters are doing, and ask for advice when faced with dilemmas. They may or may not follow the audience's advice based on the plot. Eg:

Widow Twanky (Aladdin's mother): Boys and girls, should I swap Aladdin's old lamp for a nice new one?
Audience: No!
Widow Twanky: I will then. Ah, he'll love it!

There's always a fair amount of social commentary:

The Emperor: Where has this (fabulously rich) prince come from?
Very Camp Visor: Ireland.
The Emperor: He's a liar!
Very Camp Visor: Why do you say that?
The Emperor: There are no rich people left in Ireland!
Audience: (Groans and boos)

Anytime the villain appears - which is always from stage right - the audience boo. That's a rule. If the hero says something sad, you 'aww'. That's another rule. There's a lot of singing, a lot of slapstick, a lot of really obvious jokes. The audience is encouraged to join in; the comic relief guy will always teach the audience to repsond to a particular line or event. In this show, if any cast member said 'one two three!' the audience had to yell 'Ah-so!' If the cast think the audience aren't trying hard enough, they'll stop the show and make us do it again. Often they'll divide the audience - first one side, then the other - to see which side is trying better. Or they might put adults against children, or balcony against stalls.

Since the show I saw was the last of the run, there were extra tricks and jokes played by the cast on each other, and it was a little more slapstick than it might have been otherwise.

The special guest star is a long-standing tradition; this year we had Mikey Grahame, part of Boyzone, as the evil Abanazar. This led to extra jokes when the voice of his 'master' was provided by Louis Walsh, Boyzone's manager. Louis is also famous for judging on You're a Star, Ireland's answer to America's got Talent, and all his voiceovers were given in that style:

Master of the World: Abanazar, your last trick was truly inspired. The crowd loves you! Keep it up and you could go all the way!

There's always a very camp gay, though that role has eased off in the last few years. The Visor was only in one scene with only a few lines; several years ago when I saw Sleeping Beauty, the Queen's mirror was the Camp Gay and was in several scenes. There's also usually an older woman character, played by a man in drag; it was the Widow Twanky in this show, and he was amazing.

This was our fabulous Aladdin, Fra Fee, on a break from playing Billy in Dirty Dancing. That is his 'poor' costume, and the lamp, but I don't know where he is - that's not any part of the theatre I saw. This version of Aladdin, unusally, was not based on the Disney movie; there were no Disney songs, the genie was a young woman, and of course Widow Twanky was present. The Visor featured only very briefly and Abanazar, the bad guy, was a sorcerer.

The Gaiety is the home of Irish panto. If you're anything in the Irish entertainment system, and the Gaiety wants you for panto, you do it, no matter what else you might be doing - Fra took a break from Dirty Dancing to do this show. They've been running pantos for something like 160 years. There's a dance school in Dublin, the Billie Barrie school, and they've been providing dancers for 40 years - some of their kids have literally grown up on the Gaiety's stage.

tl:dr; if you're ever in Ireland around Christmas, go see a panto. You won't regret it, I promise. Just make sure and go with someone who'll join in with it!

Light up the Sky, (Charmed/SGA Xover) chapter 6

2010-11-06T22:08:44Z

Chapter 6. Still not owned by me.

Agent Murphy closed his cell, looking troubled. “That was a contact in Homeworld...and we’re both risking prosecution just talking about this. They’re planning on retaking the City; they’ll land on it within the next hour.”

“That’s not enough time,” Piper protested. “We’re not ready.”

“There’s no way for me to stop them. Tell your people – whoever they are...” He glanced at Piper, who didn’t react, and continued, “...they have an hour. Tops.”

Leo nodded, looking away and concentrating.

“Your people don’t have much patience, do they?” Paige asked.

“This base is very important to them.”

“They’re not listening to me,” Leo said abruptly. “Something’s happening.” He glanced at Agent Murphy, who shrugged.

“I can’t stop you, but if you’re going, can you take me back to my office first?”

“No, you need to come,” Phoebe said.

“What? No.”

“Yes,” Paige agreed. “These Homeworld guys find us, you can talk them down.”

“I’m not even on their radar! They have no idea who I am.”

Paige gripped his arm, smiling. “Then you’ll have to talk very fast.”

“Piper, you can’t go,” Leo said softly.

“Excuse me?” Piper demanded.

“Someone has to stay with the kids.”

“You need the Power of Three to defeat Cantus,” she reminded him.

“They haven’t even found Cantus yet. Let your sisters go and look; they’ll call when they find him.”

“How about you stay with the kids, and I’ll go?”

“I can’t.” He gestured vaguely overhead.

“You’re going to the Elders now? Leo!”

“They have information. About Cantus. They’ve been calling for hours. I didn’t want to go while Chris needed to talk to us.”

“Leo, go,” Phoebe ordered. “Piper, if we need you, Paige will come and get you straight away. Promise. Paige, let’s go.”

Paige looked at Piper, shrugged, and orbed their group out. Leo started to apologize; Piper waved him away, resigned, and he reluctantly orbed out.

John had stepped out of the doorway and his gun was still pointed firmly at Chris, but he hadn’t come any closer and seemed resigned to being unable to communicate with them.

“Chris? Any ideas?” Coop asked softly.

“Not really. What does Radek say?”

“I turned off the radio.”

“Turn it back on!”

“You want me to do that while the guy who can’t understand us, no matter what we do, is pointing a gun at me?” Coop asked pointedly.

“So go back to the infirmary.”

“And leave you here? You know what Piper would do to me if I let you get hurt?”

John took two steps forward, gesturing sharply with the gun. Chris raised his hand, flicking one finger, and Coop startled as his radio turned itself back on.

“Radek, we’ve got a Colonel here...Sheppard. Ok.”

“His name doesn’t help, he can’t understand us.”

Coop listened. “Radek doesn’t think we could talk him down even if he could understand us. He says we should just go. But together. Fast reflexes.”

John swung the gun from Coop to Chris, who nodded quickly, hands still up.

“One...two...”

They vanished together, orbs briefly lighting the dim corridor. John startled, looking around.

Radek looked up as Chris and Coop appeared in the iso room. “We have company.”

Paige and Phoebe were fussing over Little Chris. Agent Murphy, eyes wide, was in one corner, as far from everyone as he could get without actually leaving.

“What’s up with him?” Coop asked, leaning over Phoebe.

“He’s afraid he’s going to be court martialed just for being here.” Phoebe leaned up, kissing him thoroughly.

Chris looked away, going to join Paige with his younger self. Radek looked down at his pad, tapping away very deliberately at it.

“They don’t do courts martials in Homeland, do they?” Chris mused.

“So, no luck with Cantus, then?” Paige asked loudly. Phoebe and Coop didn’t react.

“No.” Chris echoed her volume. “He’s around, but we couldn’t run him down.”

“He’s in the circle room,” Little Chris said.

“The what, little man?” Paige asked.

“The circle. With the circle.”

Chris and Paige looked at Radek, who nodded grimly. “Chris, are you sure?”

“He’s in the circle room,” he said impatiently. “Where’s Wyatt?”

“Wyatt’s at home, sweetie, and we’re going very soon. Promise.”

“Where’s this circle thing?” Chris asked Radek. At the same time Coop said, “What’s this circle thing?”

Radek glanced from one to the other, opting to focus on Chris. “The room is here. Look.” He tilted his pad to show him.

“Guards, defenses?” Chris asked, studying it.

“Guards yes. Or, when lockdown went into effect. Now? Who knows.”

“And the circle is what?” Coop asked again.

“Is a circle. You know.” He drew a circle in the air. Chris grinned, looking down at the pad to try and hide it; Coop scowled.

“Coop, he can’t tell us,” Chris reminded him. “I’ll go.” He held out a hand and Coop tossed him the radio.

“I’ll come,” Paige offered.

“Yeah,” Chris said absently.

“Don’t hurt anyone!” Radek said half an instant too late. They’d gone before he finished. Sighing, he turned to Agent Murphy. “It’s hard to keep up with them, yes?”

“He doesn’t keep up with us,” Phoebe said absently, moving to sit with Little Chris.

“I’m just useful when they want something,” Murphy added.

“This is often the way,” Radek agreed.

“Uh-huh, you’re so hard done by. Radek, where are we?”

“San Francisco Bay.”

“Not exactly what I meant...” Phoebe muttered.

“They call it Atlantis,” Coop told her. Agent Murphy looked up, alarmed, but Radek didn’t react, watching the others’ progress on his pad.

“Like the city?” Phoebe asked. “Atlantis that sunk?”

“Yeah.” Coop was watching Radek even as he answered Phoebe. “Like that.”

Chris and Paige orbed into the centre of the Gate room. Two guards were slumped at the foot of the stairs, but the ’Gate and Control rooms were empty apart from them.

“Huh. Circle,” Chris murmured.

They eyed the ’Gate for a moment before turning to look around. Chris fitted the radio on, tapping it, while Paige went to check on the two soldiers.

“Radek? Got a read for us?...ok.”

He caught Paige’s eye, gesturing upwards to Woolsey’s office. Paige nodded, orbing to the top of the stairs and looking around. Chris stayed on the floor, wandering across to the ’Gate and reaching up to touch it lightly.

“It’s so old,” he whispered to himself.

“Chris!” Paige whispered from the balcony. He orbed up beside her; as he materialized she yanked him down and a fireball shot over their heads to hit the wall behind them.

“I guess he’s here,” Chris said a little breathlessly.

“Yeah, he’s in the office.” She gestured towards it and Chris rose, looking towards the office. Cantus, in a demon-standard dark hooded cloak, was standing in the entryway, watching them.

“Mine,” he said when he saw Chris.

“You’d think the demon of language would talk more,” he noted.

“You’ve just been spoiled by Barbus.”

“He does like to talk,” Chris agreed. Looking at Cantus, he added, “Don’t suppose you want to stand still while we take a bit of flesh?”

Cantus shot another fireball. Paige hastily redirected it, sending it shooting back against him. It exploded against his cloak, but he didn’t seem affected at all.

Chris frowned, watching him.

“Any time you want to help!” Paige yelled.

“Hmm? Yeah.” He gestured and Cantus was sent flying backwards, but he was back on his feet before either could take advantage to get the flesh.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Paige muttered.

A door down in the ’Gate room opened jerkily; Chris took a step to the side, leaning over the rail. John stepped into view, gun still in his hand, staring at the fallen guards.

“Crap,” Chris muttered. “Paige, go back to the others.”

She orbed out. Chris jumped the railing, landing easily just behind John. The Colonel spun, but Chris already had a hand on him and they orbed out just as another fireball flew through the air.

John yanked away as they reappeared in the Iso room. Radek dropped his pad, crossing to catch John’s attention.

“He doesn’t understand.” Radek was looking at John, though the words were for Chris. “But he still trusts me.”

“Does he?”

Radek carefully took John’s gun. John scowled but let him do it. “Well, more or less. Close enough. Colonel?”

He guided John to the counter, showing him his pad. John studied it, though it clearly meant nothing to him.

“What happened?” Phoebe asked.

“Well, we met Cantus,” Paige told her. “Talkative chap.”

“No flesh?”

“No. He’s quite happily set up in that room, though.”

“Our people will begin there, when they come to retake City,” Radek said.

“I don’t think he’s going to let them do that,” Chris murmured.

Coop shifted, trying not to disturb Little Chris who was leaning against him. “Phoebe, can’t you and your sisters...”

“Mmm, not for an upper level demon. We need the potion.”

Chris sat up suddenly, realizing something. Paige looked over, curious, but he waved her off and kept thinking.

“I can go...” Coop offered.

“Sweetie, if Paige and Chris...”

“Perry,” Coop interrupted her pointedly.

“Perry?” Phoebe repeated. “Perry. If Paige and Perry couldn’t get it...”

Coop shrugged, accepting that – he hadn’t really expected her to let him fight - and glanced over at Radek. He hadn’t reacted to the conversation, still showing John different things on the pad, but Coop was fairly sure he’d heard it.

“Perry, can you attempt to heal Colonel Sheppard?” Radek asked. “Perhaps, if aphasia can be healed...”

“I’m not...”

“I’ll do it,” Paige interrupted him. “You save your strength.”

Radek nodded quickly. “Forgive me, I did not realize you could heal.”

“Yeah, it’s sort of a recent development. Is he likely to hit me if I touch him?”

“Colonel Sheppard does not hit women. Don’t threaten him.”

Paige approached John slowly, one hand held out. He tensed but allowed the touch, eyes flickering from her to Radek and back.

The healing glow appeared; John jerked, but stayed where he was. Paige frowned, eyes closed.

“I can’t...there isn’t an injury, exactly. It’s more like a block, like a wall.”

“Can you dissolve it?” Chris asked. “Break it down?”

“I’m not sure, I...gah!”

The glow flared abruptly and she was thrown backwards. Chris caught her neatly, and Coop stepped in to help her up. John slammed into the wall, grunting, but he didn’t go down.

“Colonel!” Radek cried. “What is happening?” His pad beeped a warning and he turned towards it.

Chris glanced up at the ceiling, eyes flickering as though he was tracking something. “Cantus didn’t like that.”

“You ok, sweetie?” Phoebe asked Paige, still clinging to Coop’s arm.

“Yeah. Ow.”

Coop let her go as she regained her balance, watching for a moment to make sure she was ok.

“Radek,” Chris said abruptly, “we need somewhere Coop can take Min - Chris, away from Cantus.”

Radek nodded, taking his pad back from John. “And you?”

“Slow him down. Try and get the flesh for the potion. C’mon, c’mon.”

Radek tapped more hurriedly; Phoebe and Paige shared a concerned look. “’Perry’?” Paige said pointedly. “You wanna calm down a little bit?”

“No, the Homeworld people are going to be here soon. We don’t have any more time.”

“Here,” Radek said. “Here, is empty living quarters...cleared, but not in use. No one there when lockdown began.”

“Good. Coop, can you take Radek and Agent Murphy with you?”

“I can fight,” Agent Murphy offered half heartedly.

“With bullets? No.”

“What about him?” Phoebe gestured to John, watching them suspiciously from his corner.

“Not all three,” Coop said, talking over Chris. “Chris and two, at the most.”

“Point Colonel Sheppard at Cantus, he will fight,” Radek told them.

“He’ll get himself killed,” Chris protested.

“He is...surprisingly resourceful. Also, is less likely to hunt you down afterwards if he has proof you’re the good guys.”

“For all he knows we started this,” Phoebe pointed out.

“We did start this,” Chris told her. “And we’re going to finish it.”

He picked up the gun and offered it to John; he studied it, suspicious, but took it from him.

“He can’t understand even gestures,” Radek reminded him. “You must take him to Cantus...there is no way to explain to him.”

“Right. Coop, go,” Chris said.

Coop swung Little Chris up into his arms, gesturing to Radek and Agent Murphy. They vanished together; John frowned, studying the gun a little more suspiciously, but he didn’t try and aim it at anyone.

Chris turned to find Phoebe and Paige standing, heads together, watching him. “What?” he demanded.

“Ah, it’s just like old times,” Paige told him.

“Yes, except for the part where people are actually listening to me.”

“Oooh! This one’s more snippy than the last one.”

Chris grinned at Phoebe, holding out a hand. She took it, and he looked at Paige. “Ready?”

“Ready,” she agreed.

Coop’s light briefly illuminated the room. When they faded, it was pitch black. “Radek?”

“Yes...”

Radek’s hands lit up. Agent Murphy watched, surprised, as the globes of light separated from his hands to float in midair, throwing shadows over them.

“You’re a witch too?”

“I don’t practice.”

“You look pretty good at it to me.”

Radek smiled politely, looking back at his pad.

“What’s it say?” Coop asked.

“It says cloak fails in two hours at most. Your friends are fighting, I cannot tell who is winning, and the reinforcements will be here in less than half an hour. There is nothing I can do.”

There was a sudden thump at the door, and they looked up, surprised. The light dimmed as Radek’s concentration faded, barely enough to see by; whoever was outside thumped a couple more times before turning away.

“I thought you said this section was empty!” Murphy hissed.

“I said quarters were empty,” Radek corrected him. “City holds several hundred people.”

“I haven’t seen anyone but your Colonel,” Coop said.

“Yes, because most are locked away. But even with no language, some are smart enough to move around City.” The light strengthened again and he glanced at his pad. “Ronon.”

“Ronon?” Coop repeated.

“One of our men. Very territorial, very skilled. Is lucky he did not find you here.”

“You had a Whitelighter, right?”

“Jannah,” Radek agreed softly. “Lost in Titan’s rampage, trying to help another charge.”

“Titans...?” Murphy asked uncertainly.

“They attacked the magical community about four years ago,” Coop said absently. “Killed a lot of the Elders and Whitelighters. The Charmed Ones stopped them, with Perry’s help.”

“Oh.”

“Didn’t the Elders assign you another Whitelighter?” he asked Radek.

“Two months after the rampage I was here. And no magic. No Cupids, no Whitelighters. Nothing.”

“Noth...you couldn’t do magic?”

“This does not help me work!” he snapped.

“It helps me understand. Your Cupid will be arriving soon, now that I’ve met you, and if you want me to intercept him, I need to understand why I’m doing it. You couldn’t do magic?”

Radek sighed. Murphy quietly backed up a couple of steps, sitting with Chris and trying not to be noticed.

Radek gestured to the lights hovering overhead. “I could do only that, and only very small. No scrying, no potions, no spells.”

“Those are basic powers,” Coop protested. “How far away was the City?”

“Let us say, there was no mail.”

Murphy cleared his throat. “Just so you know, I can hear you, and discussion of this base with non-military personnel is technically a court martial offence.”

Radek and Coop both turned to look at him and he grimaced, looking away. “Actually, now that I think about it, I can’t hear anything from over here.”

“Good call,” Coop agreed. “Radek, have you tried any of those things since the City’s been here?”

He gestured to the lights again. “That is stronger. I imagine my other powers are too, but no. I have not tried; I did not wish to. I do not want another Whitelighter, and any magic only draws the Elders’ attention.”

Coop started laughing, looking away.

“Laughing now. I have missed the joke?”

“No, I’m sorry, it’s just...never mind.” He shook his head, clearing his throat. “How long were you in love with Jannah?”

Radek stopped dead, staring at him. “Jannah was my Whitelighter. You live with Charmed Ones, so maybe you forget, but before Titans, witches and Whitelighters do not fall in love.”

“I’m a Cupid, Radek. Rules never stop anyone falling in love. How long?”

Radek shook his head, staring at his pad. Coop waited patiently.

“A long time. But she did not feel same way. No more talking, please.”

Coop nodded, satisfied, and turned away.

Light up the Sky, (Charmed/SGA Xover) chapter 5

2010-10-31T13:49:09Z

Part five. Still own nothing. Hope you enjoy. :D

Leo stopped dead as he walked through the hall. Paige, in the living room, watched him, frowning.

Leo half turned towards her, gesturing for a pad and pen. Paige scooped them off the table and carried them to him. He nodded an absent thanks, scribbling quickly; Paige leaned over his shoulder to read it.

After a moment he stopped writing, tilting the pad towards her.

“Mean anything to you?”

Paige read the scribbled note: Cantus, demon (language?) vanished years ago not loose but affecting

“Chris told you this?” she asked.

Leo nodded. “He says everyone else - not Radek or Little Chris, but everyone else - can’t communicate any more. There’s some kind of a pendant, Little Chris found it, and he thinks there’s something weird going on.”

“Does he want us?”

Behind Leo, Piper leaned against the door frame, out of his field of vision.

“No. They don’t seem to be infected right now, but he doesn’t want to risk any of us.”

“Why would a demon avoid witches?” Paige asked.

“Doesn’t want to be vanquished? I don’t know. Can you go look in the Book, please?”

“Yeah.” Seeing Piper, she added, “You’re busy, anyway.”

“I’m...Right.”

Paige headed for the stairs, smiling at Piper on the way. Piper came into the living room, walking into Leo’s arms for a hug. Leo wrapped his arms around her, holding on.

“Now, where are our sons?” she asked, letting go.

“Wyatt’s upstairs,” Leo said immediately. Piper smiled faintly...that wasn’t what she meant, and she knew he knew it.

“Chris and Chris are both in the city. Coop is with Little Chris, he’s fine, but Chris...the other Chris is afraid they might be carrying whatever’s affecting the city. He doesn’t want to spread it.”

“But they’re ok?” Piper asked.

“Yeah. Radek and Little Chris weren’t even affected, so they think magical beings are immune right now.”

“That doesn’t make much sense for a demon.”

“Yeah, I know. Paige is looking into it right now.”

He let go of Piper, looking towards the kitchen. “Do you want to tell Phoebe her husband’s in magical quarantine?”

“Nooo. You’re her Whitelighter, that’s your job.”

“You’re her sister,” he pointed out.

“What about my husband?” Phoebe called from the kitchen.

Leo looked beseechingly at Piper, who smiled, patting him on the cheek. “Walk with me,” she called to Phoebe.

“Oh, that sounds bad,” Phoebe muttered, coming to join her.

Little Chris had settled against Coop, not asleep but clearly getting there. Coop was playing idly with his ring, studying the window above them.

Chris stepped into view at the window, waved down at them and motioned for one minute before disappearing again.

“You know, I hope you grow up less intense,” Coop told the child. “He makes me feel lazy.” Little Chris laughed sleepily.

Radek let himself in, glancing over his shoulder as the door locked behind him.

“Hey,” Coop said.

“Hello. How is...”

“Asleep, or close to it. Where’s Ch...Perry?”

“Looking around. He will be back soon.”

“Is that safe?”

“Safer for him than for most. He at least can orb away. He is young, yes?”

Coop coughed, looking down at Little Chris to hide his smile. “He hasn’t been a Whitelighter long, no.”

“Hmm.”

“Has he talked to Leo?”

“Yes, the Charmed Ones are working on it.”

Coop nodded, sliding carefully away from Chris and coming to look over Radek’s shoulder. “So where have you been for the last five years?”

“Here in the City.”

“And the City was...?”

Radek didn’t answer, staring at his pad. Coop leaned against the table, watching him. “Perry and the witches, they’d believe you just weren’t practicing,” he said conversationally. “But I’m a Cupid. We don’t lose our charges.”

“I have no need of a Cupid,” Radek said without looking up.

“You’d be surprised how often I hear that.”

Radek snorted agreement, laying down his pad. “I can’t tell you where we were.”

“Wyatt calls this the Star City. He’s not too far off, is he.”

“If I tell you, if I even say ’that is close’ or ’not so far off’ there is big trouble. For everyone. I am witch by heritage, but I choose loyalty to these people and they have never given me cause to regret it.”

“I understand that,” Coop told him. “But your City has unleashed a demon on us, and we have to deal with that.” Radek inclined his head; Coop nodded slowly.

Chris orbed back in, looking startled. “What’s wrong?” Coop asked in surprise.

Chris crossed to the bed, lightly touching Little Chris’s head. “Nothing. Sorry. What’s...”

The lights went out; the room was plunged into darkness. Little Chris cried out, afraid.

Radek’s hand lit up. It only threw a little light around them, just enough not to bump in to each other.

“He made a light,” Chris murmured, dazed.

“Chris,” Coop said pointedly.

“He’s alright,” Radek said, crossing to the bed where Little Chris was still sitting. The child reached for the light in his hand, sniffling.

Chris shook it off, turning to Coop. “Have you heard from Phoebe?”

“No. What about Leo?”

“Not yet. Can you get the lights back, Radek?”

“No. Power supply needs attention, all the time. I can’t do it alone.”

“Even just in here?” Coop asked.

“Cloak must stay up; that’s most important. That’s all I can do.”

“There’s a time limit on that?” Chris was watching his younger self play with the ball of light.

Radek shrugged, rocking a hand back and forth. “Half a day. Ten hours, perhaps. Not more.”

Chris nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Ok. I’m going to talk to Leo. Here...”

He concentrated, creating a ball of orbs and throwing it into the air. Coop poked at it, looking impressed; Chris glared at him, taking a step back out of the light.

In the Manor attic Leo straightened up, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” Piper asked.

“Power’s gone out on the City. Their cloak goes down in a couple hours, and then this thing will spread.”

“Are...”

“Everyone’s fine. It’s just dark.”

“Lucky Radek’s a photokinetic then, isn’t it?” Phoebe said brightly. Piper smiled despite herself.

“They need to know if we’ve found anything,” Leo said.

“There’s an entry in here on Cantus, but it just says all the stuff we already know. High level demon, language is his playground, he vanished centuries ago. It sounds like no one even met him...whoever wrote this is just repeating something they heard. There’s no picture or anything.”

“So no vanquish?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, he’s an upper level demon, that’s somewhere to start,” Piper said tiredly.

“If he’s an upper level demon, we need some of his flesh for a vanquish potion,” Paige reminded them as she came in.

“He hasn’t manifested yet,” Leo said. “Or if he has, Chris can’t find him.”

“He can’t possibly know who Chris is,” Piper protested.

“He doesn’t need to know who he is, just that he’s powerful.” Paige sat down beside Phoebe, shrugging. “If I were a demon who’d broken out after centuries, I wouldn’t go near someone like him.”

“That’s encouraging, Paige, thanks,” Piper told her.

Chris stepped back into the pool of light. “They think he’s an upper level demon.”

Radek winced. Coop shrugged, clearly not sure what that meant.

“You need the flesh of an upper level demon, or the vanquish won’t work,” Chris explained.

“The demon doesn’t have flesh. He just has...” Coop gestured towards the amulet.

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Chris agreed. “Can you track movement around the City?”

“The City is locked down,” Radek protested.

“Yeah. But Cantus isn’t in that.” He gestured to the pendant. “And if he’s manifested here, he’s probably not obeying the lockdown. Do the scanners have enough power?”

“I can run scanners, but the cloak will die sooner.”

“Cloak won’t matter if he gets out.”

Radek looked at Coop, who shrugged. “Perry was the Charmed Ones’ Whitelighter for a while. He knows what he’s talking about.”

“A disgraced witch, a Cupid, the Halliwell heir and a Whitelighter. Some team,” Radek muttered to himself.

“Disgraced?” Coop repeated sharply.

Radek waved it off, tapping at his pad.

The girls were scribbling at a notepad, quietly bickering and crossing things out, when the phone rang. Mel cried from somewhere downstairs; Leo headed for the door, tossing the phone to Phoebe as he passed it.

“Hello?”

Piper and Paige looked up at her, frowning.

“Agent Murphy,” Phoebe said pointedly. “How nice of you to finally call back.” She listened for a moment before tilting the phone away. “He says he had to call in every favor he had owed to get the information for us.”

“Does he have it?” Piper asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” To Paige, she added, “Go get him.”

Phoebe’s eyes widened and she lifted the phone again. “Agent Murphy, are you alone?...Good. Paige is coming to get you.”

She listened for a moment, stifling a laugh. “He’s delighted.”

“Oh, yeah, it sounds like it, too,” Paige agreed. They could all hear him cursing on the other end of the phone line.

Phoebe hung up and gestured at Paige, who vanished. Leo came back in, carrying Mel and with Wyatt trailing behind him.

“Hi, little man,” Piper said to Wyatt. He came to join her; Leo looked around, frowning.

“Where’s Paige?”

Paige orbed back in with Agent Murphy before anyone could answer. Leo automatically backed up a step to give them room, circling them to join Piper. Wyatt watched curiously.

Agent Murphy looked around, straightening his jacket. He was obviously a little taken aback. “Well, that’s some way to travel.”

“Beats carpooling,” Paige said with a shrug.

“You have something for us?” Piper demanded.

Agent Murphy nodded, offering her a folder. Phoebe intercepted it, scanning through the first couple of sheets.

“The base is under the control of a branch of Homeland called HomeWORLD, but they’re about seven clearance levels above me,” Murphy told them. “That’s everything I was able to get without getting myself arrested.”

“Why is Homeland Security running a military base?” Paige protested.

Murphy spread his hands uncertainly. “What’s going on, anyway?”

Phoebe passed the folder on to Leo, eying Murphy. “One of our kids is on the base, and some of our guys went after him, and now the base is locked down and they can’t get back off.”

“The base locked down early this morning and it’s been out of contact since. Who have you got there?”

“People,” Piper said lightly. Murphy knew who her kids were, and he knew who they’d married, but he’d never known about Chris and she had no intention of telling him.

“They’ll be sending people in, right?” Leo asked.

Murphy nodded. “The last message said there was something infectious in the City. They’re preparing a rescue mission but they have to go in prepared. You haven’t got long to get your people out. They’ll assume anyone who isn’t one of theirs is part of the problem.”

In the Iso room Chris frowned, looking away for a moment. Coop stopped playing with Little Chris, watching him.

“Radek, how long before your guys break back in?” Chris asked.

“Now that power is gone? Not long. We told them to stay away, but with no messages...”

“Can you talk to them?” Coop asked. “Tell ’em to stay away?”

“No authority. Perry, here.”

He tilted the computer pad so Chris could see it. Chris studied it for a moment, nodding. “Right. Coop, stay with Chris?”

“Oh yeah, we’re having loads of fun, huh Chris?”

Radek fiddled with the pad. “I can stay with boy, if you wish to go.” He held up a radio headset.

Chris considered it, looking at Coop. “He can’t affect a Cupid.”

“Or a Whitelighter,” Coop agreed.

“That might not matter, though.” Chris carefully didn’t look at Radek; they hadn’t suggested Chris was anything other than a Whitelighter, and they didn’t want it to occur to him. Anyway, since his younger self hadn’t been affected yet he was pretty sure he’d be alright.

“No, I suppose not,” Coop agreed. “Yeah, sure.” He took the radio from Radek, hooking it awkwardly over his ear.

“You know where we’re going?” Chris asked.

“I’m just following you.”

“Fair enough.”

He orbed out, Coop a heartbeat behind him. Radek studied his screen for a moment before tapping his earpiece.

“Coop? Can you hear me?” He absently lifted a hand as Chris crawled down the bed to sit beside him. “Right. All doors are locked shut; you’ll have to go around them your way. Signal is two sections to the left...your other left, Coop.”

Coop tapped the radio, looking slightly bemused. “Bossy little thing, isn’t he?”

“Hmm. Knows his stuff, though,” Chris said absently. They’d reached another door; this one was frozen half open. Both stopped, eyeing it warily.

“Radek, this one’s half open,” Coop told his radio. Chris edged forward, examining the door, as Coop listened. “He says systems down this far often hiccup. Can you see anything?”

“Nothing to worry about.” He slid through the gap. Coop waited, still listening to the radio; a moment later a low whistle echoed back through, and he ducked through.

“You know this isn’t a Famous Five story, right?” he asked.

“Who?” Chris said absently. Coop laughed, shaking his head. Apparently Enid Blyton would finally lose popularity over the next twenty years.

“Never mind. There’s only you and me here, you don’t need to whistle at me.”

“I wasn’t whistling at you, I was whistling at this.”

He gestured around. Coop followed the gesture and, without meaning to, whistled lowly. They’d come into a large atrium; the ceiling was two stories above their heads with a balcony running around it.

“Ok, I see what you mean,” he admitted. “Pretty impressive.”

His radio beeped and he listened for a moment, catching Chris’ eye and gesturing upwards. Chris looked up, taking a step back in an attempt to see along the balcony. He orbed out, reappearing directly over Coop’s head.

Coop appeared on the balcony opposite him, so that between them they could see the whole length of it. The dim light didn’t help, creating shadows in every doorway and bend.

Coop caught Chris’s attention, gesturing to a doorway halfway down the length of the balcony. It was recessed and in deep shadow, but something was moving in it.

Chris nodded, slipping quietly down the balcony. Coop moved so he could watch him, reporting quietly to Radek through the radio.

Chris lifted a hand, orbs swirling in his palm, and they stared into the suddenly lit up doorway.

John Shepperd glared at them, weapon in hand and pointing firmly at Chris.

Light up the Sky, (Charmed/SGA Xover) chapter 4

2010-10-22T22:00:38Z

The joke in this part is that the Culture Centre is an invention of jadelyntate's, created for an SGA fic she wrote. Because she likes to visually cast her fics, she had Holly Marie Combs as Nicole, head of the Culture Centre, with all the other Charmed characters playing various people. The only other one mentioned here is her brother, Oliver, 'played' by Drew Fuller, better known to us as Chris Perry Halliwell.

John tapped on the door of Woolsey’s office, leaning in without actually stepping over the threshold. “We may have a problem.”

“What problem?” Woolsey asked.

“Three of the Culture Center crew have aphasia, or something like it. Beckett wants to quarantine all of them, plus anyone who was in the infirmary, plus anyone who may have dropped by Nicole’s office today.”

“That’s likely to be a long list.”

“Yeah. He’s ready to commandeer some of the empty living quarters. He wants to close the City, too; no one in or out, for now.”

“Tell him to go ahead. Any idea what’s causing it?”

John came into the office, perching on the edge of the desk. “Chris’s pendant, far as we can tell. The first victim was the guy working on it, and the next two were his teammates.”

“I thought the pendant was checked?” Woolsey protested.

“Rodney and Carson ran every test we have and a few they made up before they sent it to Nicole. It’s just a hunk of rock on a chain.”

“Apparently not.”

John’s radio beeped, and he reached up to tap it.

“Colonel Sheppard, have you talked to Mr Woolsey yet?” Carson asked.

“Yeah, Carson, you can go ahead. We’re going to call Daedalus and the SGC, tell them not to send anyone over for now.”

Woolsey tapped his own radio. “Unless you need more help.”

“Right now they’d just be more people to get infected. One of my nurses just went down.”

John hissed, straightening up. “Carson, you need bodies?”

“Not right now, thank you.”

“I’m putting guys at the end of the infirmary corridor, alright? Let me know if you need more.”

“Aye.”

Woolsey sighed, slowly rising to his feet.

“I’ll call Daedalus if you call the SGC,” John offered.

“Deal. Let’s go.”

Chris and Radek had been moved back to the iso room to make space for the influx of new patients. Teyla came into the iso room with a tray in her hands; Radek glanced up from his computer. Chris was still sleeping.

“Thank you,” Radek murmured.

Teyla passed him the tray, glancing down at Chris. “Have you heard what is happening?”

“Yes, three linguists and a nurse.”

“Two nurses,” Teyla corrected him. “And a Marine who was in the infirmary. And two more of Nicole’s linguists.”

Radek chuckled softly. “Ironic that the linguists are falling sick more quickly. More chance that they would understand the infected.”

“Are you and Chris...?”

“Exposed, I suppose, but no symptoms yet. Although how one would tell, with Chris...”

Teyla smiled wistfully and Radek sat upright, suddenly realizing. “Is Torren...”

“Torren is safe, for now, so long as I do not go near him.”

Radek sighed, smiling sympathetically when she looked up. “He will be well.”

“Yes, I hope so.”

Chris stirred, sitting up. “Where’s Wyatt?”

Radek went back to his computer as he answered; they’d had this conversation several times before. “Wyatt is at home, Chris.”

“I want him,” Chris said.

“I am sure you’ll be home soon, Chris. Are you hungry?”

Chris thought about it before nodding firmly. Teyla began to go through the tray with him.

A little later Teyla stepped back into the infirmary proper. Carson finished up with a Marine and crossed to her.

“How’s the wee lad?” he asked.

“He seems well. He misses his brother.”

“Aye. Well, we can’t let him go home yet, I’m afraid.”

“Luckily, he shows no signs of stars.”

Carson frowned, studying her. “Say it again, love?”

“I said that he table no signs of stars.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t go too far, Teyla.”

She frowned in realization. “It has begun.”

“Aye. I’m sorry.”

“Allow me to help. While I can.”

He nodded, leading her away.

Paige was awake when Coop appeared, scribbling in a notebook. “Hey, Coop,” she said absently. “Phoebe’s upstairs.”

“What are you working on?”

“Spell to get Chris back home when we’re done. Piper keeps destroying them when we’re done.” She put the notebook aside.

“Why’s she do that?” Coop asked.

Paige frowned, studying him. “Did you find something?”

“Where’d you say Phoebe was?” He was already heading for the stairs before she could answer.

“Come back here! Coop!”

Chris and Phoebe were working on a potion, Chris quietly guiding Phoebe. She stopped when Coop came in, crossing to kiss him. Chris shook his head, smiling, and continued with the potion.

Paige sidestepped Coop and Phoebe and joined Chris at the table. “What are you making?”

“Sleeping potion. Mom’s about to reach breaking point and storm the city.”

“Are you using it on her, or for her?”

“Not sure yet.” He grinned at her.

Paige slapped his arm, smiling. “Where is she?”

“Putting Mel to bed.”

Coop and Phoebe came to join them arm in arm. “Chris, you’re sure you don’t remember anything?”

Chris threw his hands up, frustrated. Paige rescued the bottle he’d knocked off the table, taking a discrete step away. “For the last time...”

Coop raised his hands apologetically. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Phoebe asked warily.

“Radek’s been missing for the last five years.”

“He hasn’t been practicing, sure, but...”

“No, he’s been missing. After the Titan’s attack, when the Cupids got sorted out, Radek was due a visit from one of us. But we couldn’t find him. And believe me, we looked.”

“So, what, he’s been hiding out in the Underworld for the last five years? He’s not a demon,” Paige protested.

“I don’t know where he was. But he wasn’t here.”

“He saved me,” Chris insisted.

“Someone saved you.” He frowned suddenly. “Someone will save you. Is going to save you?”

Chris waved it off. “If Radek was a demon, he had plenty of time to hurt me. He di...won’t. I came home fine.”

“Yeah, but you’re here. Things are different this time.”

“Sweetie? This isn’t encouraging,” Phoebe said quietly.

“I’m trying to be honest, Phoebe. Radek’s Cupid looked for a year. He wasn’t anywhere on the planet.”

“He wasn’t just blocking himself from you...?” Paige suggested.

“You can’t block love. It finds a way in.”

Chris absently threw the last ingredient into the pot, beginning to draw out the potion. “I really don’t remember Radek doing anything to hurt me.”

“Maybe your Radek didn’t,” Phoebe said gently.

“I don’t think we should tell Piper this,” Paige suggested.

Chris pocketed the bottle, pushing away from the table. “I’ll go.”

“What?” Phoebe said in surprise.

“I’ll go get Mini Me. I should have just gone anyway.”

“Chris, we have no idea where he is!”

“I’ll know. When I get there.”

“Chris, you can’t just...”

Chris orbed out before Paige could finish. She cut herself off, scowling.

Phoebe turned to Coop. “Go with him.”

“What?”

“Go with him!”

She smacked his arm and he vanished, still looking startled. Paige blinked. “Can he find Chris?”

“Sure. I’m sure. I think.”

She shrugged, turning back to the pot and drawing off more of the potion. Paige sighed, passing her more bottles.

In the iso room Radek was typing frantically at his pad when Chris orbed in. Little Chris, sitting miserably on the bed, perked up.

“Daddy! ... Daddy?”

Radek looked up in surprise. “You are not Leo. Oliver?”

“I’m...Perry,” Chris said after a moment. “Leo couldn’t come.”

“It’s not safe here.”

“Hence why I’m taking him away.”

He looked around, frowning. Radek stood, watching him. “You sense it, yes?”

“What is that?” Chris asked, crossing to the bed.

“Something was released. Something that’s hurting my people.”

“Something Chris did?”

“No. Or, not deliberately. He was...”

He paused when Coop appeared. Little Chris grinned and held out his arms, recognizing him. Coop scooped him up, looking around. “What the hell is that?”

“As far as I can tell, only Chris and myself are unaffected,” Radek told him.

“Unaffected by what?”

“Something Chris released,” Chris said thoughtfully.

“Only because he happened to walk past,” Radek assured them. “Anyone entering that room at any time would have done it.”

“What is it?” Coop asked.

Chris shook his head. “Take Chris home.”

“No, nonono!” Radek scrambled to his feet. “You are infected now, Perry, both of you. You cannot leave.”

Coop started to speak but Chris waved him to silence. “Phoebe and the others know where we are. If we don’t leave they’ll just come looking.”

“No. This...what was released...it began like aphasia, yes? Words all mixed up, no one to understand them? But writing, writing they could still understand, so City still worked. But then writing stopped too, and even gesturing, no one could follow. No one communicates.”

“Tell Leo to keep away,” Coop told Chris.

He nodded, wandering towards one of the walls. Coop turned back to Radek. “Where are we?”

“Military base, code name Atlantis.”

“And where’ve you been for the last five years?”

Radek looked away. “I didn’t tell them about you. I can’t tell you about them.”

“Coop. Done,” Chris said, coming back to join them.

“A Cupid?” Radek said in surprise.

“Who are you?” Chris asked him.

Radek held up a hand, letting it light up. Little Chris laughed, reaching for it, and Coop let him down to the ground. Radek hunkered so he could reach the light.

“A little witch,” he told Chris and Coop. “That is all the power I have.”

The light flickered out when Chris tugged on his arm. Radek picked him up absently, setting him on the bed.

“I knew of the Charmed Ones. I knew of Wyatt. And when I saw a child witch who could orb, I knew there must be another. But this is military base. I could not get him away.”

“What did he release?” Chris asked.

“A machine turned on, and when it turned off there was a pendant. We tested it, I tested it, and there was nothing. But when our linguists looked, the aphasia began.”

“Where’s the pendant now?”

“In the Culture Center. The linguists’ lab.”

“Stay with Chris?” Chris asked Coop.

“What? I can’t...if anyone gets in...”

“I can lock door,” Radek offered. “Keep everyone out...no one can remember how to open it any more.”

“Call me if you need me,” Chris added.

Coop wasn’t happy about it, but he nodded. Radek used his pad to unlock the door, and he and Chris left.

“So, buddy, want to play hide and seek?” Coop suggested. Little Chris laughed, kicking his legs.

Radek led the way down a corridor, Chris keeping a careful eye out around them.

“Where is everyone?”

“We went into lockdown perhaps two hours ago. Everyone was locked into whatever room they were in.”

“Anyone in the...what’d you call it, Culture Center?”

Radek shook his head. “No. The linguists were the first to fall sick. Nicole closed the Center some hours after the first case.”

“Nicole?”

“Head of the department. She was unaffected last I heard, but communications went out a little while ago.”

“Is it far?”

“No. This way.”

Piper and Paige stood in the kitchen watching Leo, who was concentrating hard. Phoebe sat at the table, waiting.

Leo shook his head. “Chris isn’t listening.”

“Well, go after him!” Piper protested.

“Piper, he told us not to go,” Paige told her. “He must have a reason.”

“He always has reasons! Our whole family is disappearing into that place!”

Leo tried to hug her, but she pushed him off and turned to the counter.

“What did Chris say, Leo?” Phoebe asked.

“They found Little Chris, and Radek, but they need to check something out and we’re not to go after them.”

“What do they need to check out?”

“I don’t know, he wouldn’t say and he’s not listening now. What about Coop?”

“He’s alright. A little worried, I think, but not hurt or anything.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Mel cried upstairs. Piper sighed, turning and leaving without speaking or even looking at the others.

Radek fiddled with his pad. Chris leaned against the wall, watching him.

“You control the whole City from that thing?”

“Not all of it. Just the important bits.”

Chris wandered away a few steps, running one hand over the engravings on the wall. “I don’t remember any of this,” he murmured to himself.

“Why should you?” Radek asked absently, not really listening.

“Nothing. Sorry. Got it yet?”

“Almost. When Nicole locks something, it’s really locked...there.”

The door hissed open, and Chris came back to join him. “And this is...”

“Culture Center. Linguistics and anthropology.”

“All your mysterious artifacts end up here?”

“Artifacts here, machinery in the labs.”

He stepped into the Culture center. The lights were on half; Radek glanced around, heading for a control panel, and after a moment they brightened.

Chris studied the room, eyeing a translation hanging on the wall. “Those look almost like runes.”

“Some languages we encountered seemed to come originally from magical sources. Corrupted through years, of course.”

“And your linguists can read them?” Chris said in surprise. Magical languages were hard enough for him, and he’d spent all his life studying them. Wyatt still couldn’t handle them.

“In places. Nicole is very good. She has an instinct for them.”

“Huh.”

Radek headed for one of the offices. Chris continued to wander around, examining the different translations, pictures and signs hanging on the walls.

“Here,” Radek said from behind him.

Chris turned just in time to catch the pendant Radek tossed to him. He immediately dropped it, backing away.

“That is...”

Shaking his head, he backed away a few more steps. Curious, Radek circled him and picked it up; whatever it had done to Chris, it didn’t affect him.

“You don’t feel that?” Chris asked.

“I don’t like holding it, but it does not hurt me.”

“It didn’t hurt me, it just...it’s very angry, and very old. Hold it up?”

Radek obliged, holding it still so Chris could study it.

“That’s the...turn it over, please.”

Radek did so, frowning as the light hit it differently, throwing the carvings on it into sharp relief.

“Cantus,” Chris murmured.

“I’m not familiar...?” Radek said apologetically.

“No, you wouldn’t be. Cantus was a demon, but he vanished centuries ago. I read something about him in Magic School, years ago.”

“They must have found how to imprison him,” Radek said thoughtfully.

“Who must?” Chris asked. Radek frowned, and he shook his head. “Never mind, then. Cantus was the demon of language, as far as I remember.”

“That fits. Can you remember how to defeat...vanquish him?”

“He wasn’t vanquished, he just vanished. Let me talk to Leo. Maybe they can find something.”

He turned away, wandering towards the window. Radek put down the pendant, absently scrubbing his hand against his leg as he watched.

Light up the Sky (Charmed/SGA xover) pt 3

2010-10-08T22:09:58Z

Chapter three. I still own nothing except the glowing sense of pride I get when someone reviews. :D

Leo orbed back in to the living room. Paige and Chris were waiting for him.

“Where are the others?” he asked, glancing around.

“We made them go to bed. What’s going on?”

“Your witch is called Radek,” he told Chris. He frowned, thinking, but it didn’t mean anything.

“Radek. That’s, what, Russian?” Paige asked.

“Czech, I think. He’s a born witch, he had a Whitelighter who was killed during the Titan’s attack, and he stopped practicing after that. But he recognized Chris and Wyatt.”

“Wyatt’s Crown Prince of the magical community, of course he recognized him,” Chris said, mostly joking. “Where is Mini Me?”

“Playing hide and seek with them. He’s somewhere in the city, but they can’t get near him.”

“Leo, we have to go get him,” Paige protested.

“He’s fine,” Chris assured her. “Hide and seek is the one thing I could beat Wyatt at, even without orbing. He’ll stop when he’s tired, or bored.”

“Yeah, but until he stops, Radek can’t bring him home,” Leo pointed out.

Chris shrugged again. Paige swatted at him, grimacing. “Can you pretend to be concerned, please?”

“He’s obviously alright, or I wouldn’t be, remember? And it didn’t traumatize me, or anything.”

“Any idea why he’s not coming home?” Leo asked quietly.

Chris shook his head reluctantly. “No. I don’t know.”

“I might,” Paige said suddenly. “Piper told you--him—not to orb.”

“He already orbed there.”

“Maybe he thinks he’ll be in less trouble if he doesn’t orb again? His orbing’s not very accurate, anyway; he keeps getting lost.”

“Really? I don’t remember that. But then how is he avoiding their soldiers, if he’s not orbing?” Chris sat back, rubbing his head.

“Still bothering you?” Paige asked sympathetically.

“Yeah, a little.”

“What happened?” Leo asked, moving to heal him.

Chris waved him off. “That won’t help, Paige tried.”

“Chris tried a memory spell,” Paige told him. “Turns out, remembering things that haven’t happened yet? Not a good idea.”

“It didn’t work,” Chris clarified.

“Go get some rest,” Paige told him.

“Yeah, but what about...”

“’Yeah but’ you’re the one who keeps telling us he’s fine. If you wake up traumatized we’ll know he’s not.”

“It’ll be too late by then,” Chris pointed out, but he headed upstairs anyway.

Leo dropped into his chair, head in his hands. Paige rubbed his shoulder sympathetically. “We’ll get there,” she promised him.

John, Lorne, Rodney and Woolsey gathered in Woolsey’s office the next morning.

“Besides that one machine, he hasn’t done anything,” Lorne reported. “He’s just running the men around. Ronon’s started taking it as a personal insult...he’s stalking the kid.”

“Have we determined what the machine does?” Woolsey asked.

“Not yet,” Rodney admitted. “It’s doing something, but the instruction manual doesn’t exist, so...”

“Business as usual,” John agreed. “It does look like it was activated through proximity; Chris didn’t actually do anything except walk near it.”

“Which will be very comforting if it turns out it’s dangerous...he’ll have destroyed us by accident instead of on purpose.”

Woolsey looked up, alarmed. “Is that...”

“No. Not likely,” John assured him.

“Can we lock down the City?”

“Tried it. The doors open for him.”

“Without the ATA?”

“He does have telekinesis, right?” Lorne asked.

“On a sealed door?” Rodney protested.

“Apparently.”

“Alright.” Woolsey pushed to his feet. “Find out where he is, get every man in there. I want him found.”

“Right.”

John lingered in the doorway, letting the other two leave and closing the door. Lorne glanced back before heading off.

“Something on your mind, Colonel?” Woolsey asked.

“Radek,” John admitted reluctantly.

“What about him?”

John sat down, leaning forward. “He says that he knows who Chris is.”

“I see.”

“He also says he can’t tell us, and if we don’t let him take Chris away pretty soon we’ll be sorry.”

“Radek said this?”

“Well, not in so many words, but...”

“Why can’t he tell us?”

“He’s in some kind of group with Chris’s parents, and he can’t give them up to us. He keeps telling me the City’s not in danger unless we refuse to let Chris go.”

“And the other child? The brother?”

“Genuinely his brother, apparently. Radek doesn’t think we’ll see any more of them, not until it’s too late.”

“And has he given you any indication how late is too late?”

John frowned, sitting back. “You’re buying this?”

“Is Radek in the habit of lying to you?” Woolsey asked.

“No, but...”

“How long?” he repeated.

“He didn’t say. I got the impression we didn’t have much time, though. We really should track the kid down.”

“Hmm. Ask Radek to come in here, please.”

“Right.”

John headed out. Woolsey sat back, thinking carefully.

Radek was on his computer, talking on his headset, when John came in. “...and three sections down. Yes? Alright.” He clicked the headset off, laying it aside.

“Still hiding?”

“More men in that sector than whole rest of City, Ronon hunting him down, and still we cannot find him.”

“Can you find him?” John asked.

Radek looked up, frowning. “I’ve been looking for fourteen hours.”

“No. I mean, can you find him.”

Radek caught the change in tone and looked up. John gestured vaguely; Radek shook his head firmly. “No. Chris doesn’t know me.”

“You sure?”

“If I thought I could find him I’d have gone when he went missing. Chris will not trust me any more than any of you.”

Both looked up at a noise at the door. Chris stood there, watching them. He was dirty and tired looking, but he didn’t seem to have hurt himself.

“Hey there, Chris,” John said, as casually as he could. “What’cha doing?”

“Where’s Wyatt?” Chris asked.

“Wyatt’s at home, Chris, with your mama and papa,” Radek told him.

“If you wanna tell us where home is, we can call ’em,” John added.

Chris studied him, scrubbing at his eye. Out of John’s line of sight, Radek let his hand lit up again. Chris grinned, skirting John to stand beside him.

“Won’t trust you, huh?” John said pointedly.

“Because he thinks I’m here to take him home,” Radek said.

“Right now you’re here to take him to the infirmary, got it?”

“I wanna go home!” Chris protested.

Ronon appeared in the doorway, glaring at them. John waved him down and turned back to Radek.

“Very soon, Chris, home very soon,” Radek promised. “First, we make sure you haven’t hurt yourself, alright?”

“My daddy would make me better,” Chris told him.

“Hmm, but we must be sure. Come, it won’t be long.”

“You come too?”

“Yes. I will come too.”

“Woolsey wants to see you,” John told him. “When you have time.”

Radek smiled tightly, leading Chris out. Ronon took two steps back to let them pass and then followed them.

Rodney passed them in the doorway, twisting to look over his shoulder at them. “Hey, was that...”

“Yeah, the kid. He seems to like Radek.” He tapped his radio. “Lorne, stand down, we found the kid. And get some extra security to the infirmary.”

“Yessir.”

Rodney logged onto his computer, flicking rapidly between files. “The machine he started up has gone dormant again.”

“Figure it out yet?”

“It’s not Scalextric, it actually takes effort.”

“That explains that, then.”

“Oh...” He pulled a pendant on a long chain from a pocket, tossing it to John. “This was sitting on top of the machine when it powered down.”

“You checked it out, right?” John asked turning it over in his hands.

“It’s not going to hurt you. I checked it, Carson checked it...it’s fine.”

“It came from an Ancient machine, turned on by a child with powers,” he said patiently.

“He didn’t turn it on with his powers.”

“Rodney...” John tossed the pendant up in the air, catching it easily. “It’s carved,” he noted.

“Yeah, we noticed that. Throw it over to the Culture Center, maybe they can figure it out.”

“Good idea.” He pocketed it and headed out, leaving Rodney to work at the computer.

Radek was sitting by a bed in the infirmary when the sun rose the next morning. Chris was fast asleep on it, one hand tucked under his head.

Jennifer came up, checking his chart absently. “Finally asleep?” she asked softly.

“Hmm. Twenty hours in he finally decides he’s tired. Children this age should take naps, no?”

“You can’t really tie them to a schedule. He really likes you.”

“He has very bad taste.”

“Mmm, I don’t think so.”

Radek scowled, looking away.

“Where are you from, little guy?” Jennifer murmured. “Is someone waiting for you?”

Radek shifted uncomfortably but didn’t answer. Jennifer glanced at him but didn’t ask, focusing on the chart, and a moment later Woolsey came around the curtain, pausing when he saw them.

“Ah, Dr Zelenka.”

“Ssssh!” Jennifer hissed.

Woolsey grimaced, raising his hands apologetically. “Busy?”

“Chris screams every time Radek tries to leave,” she told him. “If you want to talk to him, you’ll have to do it here.”

Woolsey stared at her until she took the hint and left, hanging the chart back on the end of the bed as she went. Radek picked it up and studied it, trying to avoid looking at Woolsey.

“You know what I’m going to say, Dr Zelenka.”

“Yes, you are going to say, ’He can get through our shield, Radek, he might be dangerous, Radek, give him up for good of City, Radek.’”

“Something to that effect, yes.”

Radek lowered the chart. “Suppose for a moment I take him home. And I tell his parents, We found him. They will say, Where did you find him? What kind of place? Why does he talk about a place that sounds like nowhere on Earth?”

Woolsey nodded reluctantly. “I suppose I see your point. I still can’t just let you take him, though. We know nothing about him.”

“He is human, and an American citizen. And if you keep him here much longer, his family will come for him, and you will not be able to stop them.”

“How long?”

“Until they come? Perhaps another day. If that. More likely, before noon today...he will be here one full day by then, and they do not let their children go.”

Woolsey nodded, turning away. Radek frowned; he thought Woolsey had muttered, “I know,” under his breath, but he must have been mistaken. He looked at Chris; the child was awake and he blinked sleepily, checking Radek was still there before falling asleep again.

Chris was flipping idly through the Book of Shadows, not really reading it, taking comfort in the pages he knew so well. Piper came in carrying Melinda; she checked slightly on seeing him before pacing slowly forwards to join him. “Well, that’s déjà vu,” she murmured.

Chris laughed softly, making room for her at the podium. “Just trying to think. Hey, Mellie.”

Piper looked over his shoulder. The Book was open on the page they’d filled in after defeating Christy and the Triad, listing everything that had happened to them in the eight years before that.

“This helps you think?” she asked, rereading her own entry.

“The Book does,” Chris agreed. “Wyatt’s better at making up spells cold, but he can’t find anything in here. Book research is my job.”

“So when you were back here, and you spent all that time up here...”

Chris shrugged. “I haven’t found anything useful, though.”

“Hey, your witch is going to bring him home, right?”

Chris eyed her. “You’re very calm.” He didn’t say “All of a sudden” but she heard it anyway. Smiling, she passed Mel to him and closed the Book firmly.

“Can you get the phone, please?”

Chris glanced around; the phone was on a table near the door. He gestured and it flew into his hand.

“Thank you,” Piper said, taking it from him and wandering towards the couch as she dialed.

Chris jogged Mel lightly, watching her carefully. “Who are you calling?”

She waved him to silence. “Agent Murphy, please. Yes, I’ll hold. No, no message.”

Phoebe appeared, grinning at Mel and moving to tickle her. She glanced at Piper, frowning. “Who’s she talking to?”

“Agent Murphy,” Chris told her. “He’s Homeland Security, right? He’s retired by 2026, I never met him.”

“Yeah, he helped us out after we died.”

“Which time?” Chris asked innocently.

Phoebe swatted at him, grinning. Chris grinned, fending her off with Mel.

Piper sat up suddenly. “Agent Murphy? Piper Halliwell. We need some help.”

Phoebe and Chris quieted, watching her. Coop appeared; he was about to speak when Phoebe shushed him, so he pulled her into a kiss instead. Chris absently made a face. Coop pulled away from Phoebe, grinning and patting Chris on the shoulder.

Absently Chris noted that Coop was taking his sudden reappearance very calmly. Living with a Charmed One obviously prepared you for oddities like your nephew coming back from the future on a semi-regular basis.

“It’s about whatever you’re hiding in the Bay,” Piper told the phone. “He says he doesn’t know anything,” she added to them. “My son’s missing, Agent Murphy. I suggest you talk to whoever you need to and find out what’s out there.”

Coop started to say something; Phoebe elbowed him in the ribs, and he grimaced, stepping away from her.

“How do we know that’s where he is,” Piper repeated. “How do you think we know?”

“Ok, that’s enough.” Phoebe took the phone from Piper, who swatted angrily at her. Chris quickly stepped forward, offering Mel back to her.

“Sorry, Agent Murphy, she’s a little upset right now,” Phoebe said to the phone. “We know it’s a military base; that’s the only reason we haven’t gone in after him, but we will if you don’t help us.” She listened for a moment, smiling. “Half an hour is fine. Thank you.”

She tossed the phone onto the couch. “He’ll call us back.”

“What’s going on?” Coop asked warily.

“Mini me is missing,” Chris told him.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Coop said to Phoebe.

“You were busy.”

“Not too busy for this! Piper, is there anything I can do?”

“You know anything about the base out in the Bay?” Piper asked.

“Uh...”

“Then no, you can’t help.”

She left the attic before he could answer. Phoebe winced, patting him on the shoulder. “She’s mad at everyone right now. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, so I see,” Coop agreed. Looping his arm through Phoebe’s, he led her over to the door. “Why is Chris here?” he asked softly. “I mean...” He gestured towards Chris, who was flicking idly through the Book again.

“Slight error in a summoning spell. We asked for Chris, just didn’t specify which one.”

Coop winced, glancing at Chris again. Phoebe swatted at his arm. “He doesn’t really remember this, but he says Mini Him is fine. And there’s a witch in the base who’s looking out for him.”

“A witch? Really?” Coop said in surprise.

Phoebe nodded, heading down the stairs, and he followed her. In the living room Paige was conked out on the couch; Phoebe glanced at her before answering Coop.

“Well, a lapsed witch,” she said quietly. “He says his Whitelighter died when the Titans attacked and he stopped practicing.”

“A lot of witches did,” Coop agreed. “It took the Elders a long time to track everyone back down, but I thought they had. Every witch should have a Whitelighter by now.”

Phoebe draped a blanket over Paige, only half listening to Coop. “If he stopped practicing, maybe he just didn’t show up. He knew enough to call Leo.”

“Leo’s pretty famous in the community, Phoebe. Anyone on either side could call him.”

“Everyone thinks Radek is evil! Chris doesn’t remember being hurt at all, he remembers that Radek helped him.”

“Radek,” Coop repeated thoughtfully.

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s familiar.”

“You think you, uh...helped him?” She tapped his ring.

“No, I don’t think I did, but...I’m gonna go see if I can chase it down, ok?”

“Hmm. Come back soon.”

She reached up to kiss him, leaning against him. He returned the kiss for a minute before gently pushing her back.

“Call Henry,” he said over her shoulder, “he’s worried about you.”

Phoebe twisted to follow his look and found Paige up on her elbows, clearly just woken up. When she looked around again Coop was gone.

“Wassat Coop?” Paige asked, still half asleep.

Phoebe sat beside her. “Yeah. He just came to check in.”

“Should call ’Enry,” she mumbled, trying to push away the blanket. Phoebe stopped her, tucking it back up over her shoulder.

“Go back to sleep, sweetie. I’ll call him for you.”

“Really? Wha time izit?”

“Eleven.”

“He’s at t’office. ’Anks Phoe...”

She drifted off again before she was done talking. Phoebe tucked the blanket in again, getting up and heading for the kitchen. Piper was feeding Mel, and Wyatt was coloring at the table.

“Where’s the phone?” Phoebe asked.

“On the counter. What’s up?”

“Just calling Henry for Paige. She crashed out before she could do it.”

She picked up the phone, dialing. Piper kept feeding Mel, half listening to the conversation.

“Henry? It’s Phoebe.”

“Come on, sweetie, eat up,” Piper encouraged Mel.

“No, she’s here, she’s fine,” Phoebe said. “Yeah, we’re having a little emergency.”

“’Little’?” Piper repeated indignantly. Phoebe waved irritably at her, turning her back. Piper scowled, turning back to the kids.

“No, I don’t think you can help, but we’ll let you know. Paige is asleep right now, but she’s fine. Ok. Bye.” She hung up the phone, coming to join Wyatt at the table.

“A ’little’ problem?” Piper said again.

“Oh come on, Piper, what was I supposed to do? Get him over here so he can hang around in the living room? Henry definitely has no contacts who can help us right now.”

Chris came in, pausing as he sensed the tension. “Um...Wyatt, can you come help me for a few minutes?”

“Got something?” Phoebe asked.

“Not sure. That’s why I need Wyatt. Mom, you want me to take Mel?”

“Were you this helpful the last time?” Piper asked suspiciously.

“He was older. Maybe I’ll grow out of it.” He took Mel from her, grinning, and he and Wyatt left the room.

“Why does he remember what an alternate, older version of himself did?” Phoebe asked thoughtfully.

“Why do we care?” Piper asked.

“Yeah, good point,” she admitted, helping Piper to clear up.

Light up the Sky (Charmed/SGA xover) pt 2

2010-10-01T12:43:52Z

Part two! Still don't own them. ::Goes trawling for comms to post to::

In the Manor Chris was rounding the corner from the hall to the living room just as Wyatt orbed in. He halted, eying him warily.

“Wyatt? Where were you?”

“Looking for Chris.”

Chris sighed, sitting on the couch. Wyatt scrambled up beside him.

“You know you’re not supposed to be orbing,” Chris told him.

“Mommy said you were Chris,” Wyatt said thoughtfully.

Chris laughed softly. If dealing with Wyatt as a baby had been odd, dealing with him when he could talk was downright surreal...like much of the rest of his life. “Yeah. I’m Chris all grown up. Twenty one years old.”

“Where’s me?”

“You all grown up? He’s waiting for me, at home. Wyatt, did you find Chris?”

Wyatt nodded. “The man will bring him home.”

“What man?”

“The witch man. He’s going to call daddy.”

Chris studied him for a moment, thinking quickly. “The witch man...did he make a light?”

“Yes!” Wyatt agreed happily.

“I remember that,” Chris said, mostly to himself.

Wyatt climbed down from the couch and ran out towards the kitchen, calling for Leo. Chris sat back on the couch, still thinking.

Phoebe came in, halting when she saw him. “Chris?”

“He makes light,” Chris said, still mostly to himself.

“What?” Phoebe asked.

Chris sat up, suddenly realizing she was there. “The man in the city, the one who brought me home. He’s a photokinetic.”

Phoebe sat on the arm of the chair facing him. “Photokinetic. He controls light?”

“Yeah.” He held out one hand, palm up. “I’m not...we were in a dark place, a room, and he made a little light, because I was afraid.”

“Why didn’t you just come home?” Phoebe asked quietly.

Chris shook his head. “I don’t remember. I don’t think I was there for very long, though. Mini Me could be home soon.”

“Photokinesis is a Good power, right?” Phoebe said thoughtfully.

“It’s unaligned, it can be good or bad. But he brought me home. He can’t be Evil. Anyway, isn’t all Evil still in hiding here?”

“Pretty much, yeah. We haven’t been attacked in...”

She paused to try and remember. Chris grinned. “A while, obviously.”

“Yeah. How’s the future?” she added, a little wistfully. She didn’t expect him to tell her any details...he never had...but he might give her something.

“Fine. Everything’s fine.” Or not. “Hey, where’s Uncle Coop?”

“Working. Why?”

“Just wondering. Thought this would be all hands on deck.”

“He’s around,” Phoebe assured him.

“Hmm. Constantly, as I recall.”

He stood up suddenly, heading for the door. Phoebe twisted to watch him, surprised at the sudden movement. “Where are you going?”

“I need to look at the Book.”

He headed upstairs, leaving Phoebe sitting alone.

John tapped on the door of Radek’s lab that evening; Radek looked up in surprise, flicking off his screen.

“Heard you had a visitor.”

“Heh. Yes. Not so eager to stay as his brother.” He looked down, fiddling with some wires. “How is Chris?”

“Sleeping. Kid tell you anything?”

“No. He just wanted his brother. He was not much afraid, though.”

“Chris doesn’t seem to be afraid, either,” John pointed out. He came to lean against the desk; Radek’s hands stilled, but he didn’t look up. “Radek, something you want to tell me?”

“Colonel?” Radek asked, carefully noncommittal.

John didn’t answer, watching. Radek held up under the stare for almost half a minute before giving up, dropping his wires and turning to look at John straight on.

“I...may know Chris’s parents,” he admitted.

“You may...and you’re telling me this now?”

“I know of them, is more accurate. I have never met them, and they would not know of me.”

“Well, who are they?”

Radek winced as he answered. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” John demanded.

“They are...in a group, of sorts, which I also belong to. I cannot speak of it.”

“Radek...”

“There is no danger.”

“Radek, these people can get through our shield.”

“Technically, no,” Radek said quickly. “They can only get through our cloak. Cloak provides no protection anyway.”

“Not the point, Radek.”

Radek sat back. “The City is my home. There is no danger to us. I can take Chris home, but I cannot tell you where his home is. Those are the rules.”

“They’re some screwed up rules, Radek.”

Radek spread his hands apologetically. John sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“We can’t let you take Chris, you know that.”

“Colonel, if you keep him here too long, you won’t have a choice.”

John blinked, studying Radek. The Czech returned his gaze steadily, and John felt a stirring of something that might have been fear when he realized he was absolutely serious.

Piper was banging loudly around at the stove in the kitchen. Wyatt, very quiet, was sitting at the table. Paige came in, looking from Piper to Wyatt and back.

“Wyatt, honey, why don’t you go look for Chris? Tell him dinner’ll be ready soon, ok?”

Wyatt slid down from the seat and slipped out. Piper slammed the saucepans around a bit more. Paige sat down, ready and willing to wait her out.

“I want him home.” Piper’s voice was muffled, half-crying.

“I know, sweetie,” Paige murmured. “We’re working on it, I promise.”

“No we’re not! Chris doesn’t remember anything, and Leo won’t go get him, and...”

“Wyatt went,” Paige interrupted her.

Piper turned to stare at her, disbelieving.

“They didn’t tell you? Wyatt went to the city, to look for Chris. He met a man, a witch, who’s promised to get Chris back to us.”

“A wi...what witch?”

“The man Chris remembers is a witch, a photokinetic. He’s promised to bring Chris home to us.”

“Well how do we trust that?” Piper demanded.

“He knew Wyatt’s name. And Chris remembered his power before Wyatt said anything.”

“He knew Wyatt’s name. That proves he’s alright, then, doesn’t it. Paige, everyone on both sides of the magical community knows Wyatt’s name!”

“But they don’t know Chris’s. This witch linked them.”

Piper sighed, carefully setting down the saucepan in her hands. “So we’re trusting some witch we don’t even know with my son?”

“We don’t have a choice right now, Piper, but we’re working on it. I promise.”

Wyatt orbed in before she could answer. “Mama...”

“Wyatt, I’ve told you not to orb! Do you want to get lost, too?”

Wyatt blinked hard, looking down. Piper turned back to the sink, bracing herself on it.

Paige hunkered next to Wyatt, smiling. “Hey, Wyatt, your mom’s not really angry at you, OK? She’s just tired, and worried. Now what’s wrong?”

“He won’t wake up,” Wyatt told her.

“Who won’t?”

“I went to tell him, like you said, and he won’t wake up.”

Paige’s eyes widened. “Chris.”

She orbed herself away, Wyatt quickly following.

Piper turned from the sink. “What about...hey!” Glaring at the ceiling, she headed for the stairs.

John scowled. Radek looked miserable about it, but he wasn’t giving in.

“I cannot tell you that either.”

“Radek, you’re going to have to...”

His radio beeped, interrupting them. Scowling, he tapped it, half turning away from Radek. “Sheppard.”

“Sir, Chris is gone!” Jennifer said urgently.

John turned to look at Radek, who looked honestly surprised. “Gone?” he repeated.

“I turned my back for two seconds, sir...” Jennifer said apologetically.

“Where’s Ronon?”

“He took Teyla and Torren to get something to eat and a rest. I didn’t think it would do any harm...Chris was almost asleep himself.”

“Right. Have a look around, he might be hiding somewhere. I’m on my way.” He switched the radio off and glared at Radek, who raised his hands defensively.

“I’ve been right here with you,” he pointed out.

“Get the security feed up,” John ordered.

Radek turned to the screen and, after a minute of flicking back and forth, found an image of Chris simply climbing off the bed and walking out of the infirmary.

“How did he get the doors to open for him?” John protested. “He doesn’t have the ATA.”

Radek shrugged, switching cameras to try and pick Chris up again.

“I’m gonna find Lorne, get some men. You call me when you find him, got it?”

“Understood,” Radek agreed absently.

“I mean it, Radek. We have to find him.”

“I understand. Atlantis is no place for small child alone. But I think you won’t find him unless he wants to be found.”

He turned back to the screen, focusing on it. John watched him for a moment before heading out.

Piper reached the attic to find Chris awake, sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. Paige was trying to mop at his face with a cloth, and not having much luck. Wyatt sat next to him, patting awkwardly at his knee.

“What’s going on?” she asked, coming to join them.

“He tried a memory spell, and it backfired,” Paige explained.

“A mem...Chris?”

Chris lifted his head, taking the cloth from Paige. His nose was bleeding sluggishly, and he wiped absently at it.

Piper sighed, kneeling in front of him and taking the cloth.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she said gently.

“I thought I could remember.”

“So what happened?”

She wiped gently at his cheek. Chris’s eyes drifted closed for a second and he relaxed into her touch.

Piper smiled faintly. Her youngest son had so rarely taken comfort from her in the year he’d spent with her.

“I couldn’t see anything,” he explained, sitting upright again. “I think it’s because it hasn’t happened yet. I mean, in this timeline.”

He brushed absently at his nose again. Piper caught his hand, putting it firmly into Wyatt’s and continuing to wipe his face.

“Paige, could you get him something to drink?” she called.

“Sure. Come on, Wyatt.”

Wyatt hugged Chris clumsily and followed Paige out. Chris immediately tried to wipe his nose again.

“I will tie that hand down, mister,” Piper warned him, smiling.

“Sorry,” he said automatically.

She sat back on her heels, watching him. “It’s not your fault.”

Chris nodded slowly, well aware that she wasn’t talking about the nose bleed. “Mini Me’s OK, Mom.”

“Yeah. I just want him to come home.” She wiped gently at his face again.

Lorne was leading three other men through one of Atlantis’ corridors, studying the life signs detector. He gestured two of the men off in a different direction, tapping his radio. “Nothing here, sir, we’re moving on.”

“Roger that.”

Lorne and the remaining guard headed down the corridor. Catching movement from the corner of his eye, Lorne paused to look back, but the corridor was empty.

“Major Lorne, we have lifesigns two corridors back,” Radek told him.

“We just cleared that sector,” Lorne protested.

“He’s very fast.”

“Alright, we’ll check it out.” Lorne gestured to his guard, heading back the way they’d come.

“Be quick, he’s moving,” Radek warned him.

In his lab Radek watched his screen, watching Lorne’s lifesigns close in on Chris. Rodney came in behind him, nudging him out of the way.

“Hello, Radek, nice to see you, thanks for keeping City running while I yelled at idiots in Home World Security...” Radek grumbled, making room for him.

“Have you really not found this boy yet? He’s a kid!”

“Yes, is very fast child with powers we know nothing about.”

“Oh, yes, the famous powers,” Rodney agreed absently. “He made a blanket move.”

Radek muttered to himself in Czech.

“I heard that,” Rodney warned him. “What’s happening?”

“He was in sector three-beta.” Radek gestured to the screen. “Major Lorne was nearby and went to look. He seems to be avoiding the cameras.”

“He’s two!”

“Four.”

“How can he possibly know where cameras he can’t even see are?”

“How can he have appeared in City in first place? You are not thinking big enough.”

Rodney studied the screen. “What kind of search protocols are you running? This won’t find anyone.”

“It’s been finding him. He moves fast.”

“Yes, so you keep saying.” Tapping his radio, he added, “Sheppard, I’ve got a lifesign two levels below you.”

“Rodney! When’d you get back into town?”

“Someone had to find this kid.”

Radek made a face from the other desk, tapping angrily at a computer.

“Whoa whoa whoa, stop!” Rodney said abruptly. “You’re right on top of him.”

“There’s nothing here.”

“He’s right there.”

There was silence for a moment, then everyone was yelling. Radek sat up straight, sharing an alarmed look with Rodney.

“Sheppard?” Rodney demanded.

“Yeah. One of you get down here, please.”

“What’s wrong?” Radek asked, half out of his seat already.

“Not sure yet. Looks like Chris turned something on.”

“I’m on my way,” Rodney told him. To Radek, he added, “Try and keep an eye on the kid?”

Radek muttered to himself as Rodney left. Glancing around, he made sure the door was closed, tapping at his computer for a moment before leaning back and saying quietly, “Leo Wyatt.”

Leo orbed in, looking around in some surprise.

“You’re Chris’s witch.”

Radek nodded quickly. “Radek. Leo, we have not much time before cameras come back on. Chris ran away from our infirmary and our men cannot find him...he’s somewhere in City.”

“You lost him?”

“He is here. Look.” He gestured to one of the screens; Leo leaned over his shoulder, watching the light representing Chris wander along a corridor. “He knows when our men are coming, and he is not there anymore.”

“Hide and seek,” Leo murmured absently.

“Wyatt is back home?” Radek asked.

“He said you knew his name.”

“Halliwells are very famous. I have not practiced in five years, but I know Wyatt. I had Whitelighter once who was very fond of you...she spoke highly of you, and the sisters. Supported your wedding.”

He glanced at his screen again as it flickered.

“Cameras are coming back on. I will find Chris for you, Leo, but my people know he has powers and I may need help to get him away.”

“Anything. Paige and I are listening for you.”

“I will call. Go!”

“Who was your Whitelighter?” Leo asked.

“She was lost. In Titan’s rampage, killed for her powers like many. I stopped practicing, so was not assigned another. Go, Leo, quickly.”

Leo orbed out. Radek turned back to his computer, typing quickly.

“Radek, any sign of our wayward kid?” John called over the radio.

“Sorry, Colonel, scanners have glitched. I am repairing them now, should be back up in a moment. What was machine?”

“Not sure yet. Get those scanners back up, we need to find him before he turns anything else on. Or off.”

“They’re back on line now, sir. I’m tracking him two levels above you, three-gamma.”

“How does he keep getting around us like that?” John demanded. “Lorne, let’s go.”

Light up the Sky (Charmed/SGA xover)

2010-09-26T13:36:12Z

This was originally my Script Frenzy project in April last year, making it about a year and a half old. It's set just after the final episode of Stargate: Atlantis and two years after the end of Charmed, with no adjustments made for the comics. I own neither series.

It's seven or eight chapters long.

Light up the Sky

The science labs, like most of the rest of the City, were darker than usual, and almost deserted. Most of the screens were powered off; more than half the City’s residents were away debriefing, either back at SGC or at Homeworld security.

John leaned against the door, watching Radek poke half heartedly at the screen in front of him. “Bored, Doc?”

“Hmm. Rodney left strict instructions. No work is to be done until he returns to supervise.”

“Surprised you didn’t go with him. I thought Homeworld Security wanted to talk to everyone.”

Radek shrugged. “Someone has to keep the City running. Even on reduced power there are checks to run and repairs to monitor. What about you?”

“With Woolsey and Rodney and Carson all gone, someone needs to keep an eye on things around here.”

His radio beeped. “Sir?” Lorne said.

“Yeah, Lorne.”

“Sir, we have a...situation in the ’Gate room.”

“I don’t like the sound of that pause, Lorne. What kind of situation?”

“The kind you really need to see for yourself, sir.”

John rolled his eyes. “On my way. Let’s go, Radek.”

Teyla was waiting when they stepped out of the transporter closest to Control. Torren was in her arms, chuckling as she bounced him.

“I do not believe there is any danger,” she told John. John nodded, tickling Torren under the chin as he passed.

The two or three techs in the Control room were lining the railings, looking down into the ’Gate room. John headed past them without looking, pausing halfway down the steps. Radek stopped just behind him.

Lorne was crouched next to a dark haired child in the middle of the floor. John came down the rest of the stairs, watching them warily.

“Lorne?”

“Appeared out of nowhere, sir.” He shifted, trying to disentangle his gun strap from the boy’s grip.

“Appeared?” John repeated.

“Not any form of transporter we’re familiar with. Blue lights and he was here.”

“He say anything?”

Lorne shrugged. “His name’s Chris.”

Teyla stepped past John, sitting carefully on the floor beside Lorne and Chris. “Hello, Chris. My name is Teyla, and this is Torren.”

Chris laughed, reaching towards Torren. Lorne carefully eased backwards, rising to his feet and moving to join John.

“Scanners say human, sir, but Medical’s on their way up to check.”

“And no warning?”

“No sir. Blue light, child.”

John looked up towards the Control room. “Chuck, get the security footage ready. Teyla, you OK?”

“We are fine. Look, Chris, my friend Jennifer is here.”

Jennifer halted her techs, waving them to stand back, and sat beside Teyla, smiling at Chris. “Hi there. My name’s Jennifer, what’s yours?”

“Chris!”

“Chris, hi.”

“Hang around,” John murmured to Lorne.

“Yes sir.”

John headed up towards the Control room. Lorne turned back to watch Teyla and Jennifer chat with Chris.

Radek stepped up beside him. “Blue lights, child?”

“Blue lights, child. Why?”

“Hmm. Is odd. I will examine the footage.”

In the control room John was leaning over one of the monitors. He glanced up as Radek arrives, taking a step to one side so he could see. “Lorne’s right. Blue light, child.”

On the screen, the ’Gate room was normal until a shower of blue lights appeared in the middle of it. When they cleared, Chris was standing there, peering around.

Radek frowned, sitting down and rerunning the footage.

“Got something?” John asked.

“Maybe,” Radek said absently. “There are tests, first.”

Chuck turned from the railing. “Sir?” John glanced up, crossing to the railing.

“Sir, we’re heading down to the Infirmary,” Jennifer told him. John looked past her; Chris was holding Teyla’s hand, smiling up at her.

“Right. Keep me posted. Lorne, get an extra guard down there.”

“John,” Teyla protested. “He’s a child.”

“Humor me.”

Lorne nodded, touching his earpiece and beginning to murmur.

John glanced over his shoulder, grinning. “Lorne! Cancel it.” Ronon came in, joining John at the rail. “Go ahead, Keller.”

“What’s going on?” Ronon asked, watching Teyla slowly lead Chris out.

“Got a visitor. Do me a favor, go keep them company?”

“You’re worried about a kid?”

“I’m worried about a kid who can get through our cloak with no warning. Go keep an eye on them.”

Ronon nodded, heading out after them. John glanced briefly at Radek, still staring at his screen, before leaving.

“Wyatt? Chris?”

Piper walked into the living room, looking around. “Chris? Are you in here? Wyatt?”

Wyatt ran in from the sun room. “Here, Mama!”

“Where’s Chris, Wyatt?”

Wyatt looked around, wide-eyed. “I don’t know.”

“Were you orbing? You know you’re not supposed to do that.”

“I wasn’t!”

“And where’s Chris?” Wyatt looked away, avoiding her eyes. “Wyatt, you know you’re supposed to watch him. He’s only little, he doesn’t know how to use his magic properly.”

Wyatt muttered something that might have been an explanation. Piper sighed, kneeling in front of him. He was almost as tall as her this way, and she wondered absently when he’d gotten so tall. “Wyatt, you’re not in trouble. OK? I just need to know where Chris is.”

“He wanted to see the star city,” Wyatt blurted. “I told him he couldn’t.”

“The star city?”

“We saw it in the water.”

Piper frowned, trying to figure out what he could mean. “Can you show me?”

Wyatt nodded, running out of the room. A moment later he reappeared, clutching the map of San Francisco they used for scrying.

“It’s here. In the water. We saw it with Daddy.”

He pointed to the center of the Bay. Piper stared at it for a moment before deciding she needed help.

“Leo!”

Wyatt sniffled, looking down. Piper wiped his cheek, smiling when he looked up. “It’s OK, Wyatt, you’re not in trouble. I just need to find Chris.”

“He’s in the star city,” Wyatt told her again. Piper started to answer but paused when Leo orbed in, looking around.

“Piper? What’s going on?”

Piper rose to her feet; Wyatt leaned against her leg, watching him warily.

“You tell me. Wyatt says Chris went to see the star city. Something you showed them.”

“I didn’t show them any...Oh. Wyatt, when we were on the Bridge?”

Wyatt nodded. “I told him not to. I did, I promise.”

Leo scooped him up for a hug. “I know, buddy. It’s OK.”

“Leo, what’s going on?” Piper asked.

“Remember last week, we saw those shooting stars? The government said it was rubbish from the space station, not to worry about it?”

“Yes, and we checked, and it wasn’t an omen of anything, either.”

“It’s some kind of military base. It’s sitting just off shore, hidden--regular people can’t see it.”

“So you took the boys to sight see?”

“I didn’t know it was there! We left right away, and I told the boys to forget it.” He carefully loosened Wyatt’s arms from around his neck, putting him back on his feet and crouching in front of him. “Are you sure that’s where Chris went?”

“He thought it was pretty,” Wyatt told him. Leo nodded, rising to his feet.

“Well? Go get him!” Piper demanded.

“Piper, I can’t just orb onto a secret military base. Exposure, remember? And besides, it’s huge. I have no idea where to look.”

“Well, I’ll just have to summon him, then. Can you get my sisters, please?”

“I’ll go get him,” Wyatt offered.

“No!”

Wyatt flinched; Piper grimaced, taking a deep breath. “No, sweetie, you stay here. No orbing, got it?”

The baby monitor sounded suddenly. Piper pushed her hair back, glancing at it.

“I’ll get her,” Leo offered.

“No, you go get my sisters; we can’t summon Chris without the Power of Three. I’ll take care of Mel. Wyatt, sweetie, you go play with your toys, and no orbing, alright?”

“No orbing,” Wyatt agreed quietly.

“Come on, buddy, let’s get you set up,” Leo said. Piper stared at him, and he added, “Paige is already gone to get Phoebe. They’ll be here in a couple of minutes.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

The baby cried again and Piper headed out. Leo and Wyatt went into the sun room.

Chris was sitting with Torren on the bed in the isolation room. He was playing, but he was clearly getting tired and cranky. Teyla stood by the bed, watching them. Ronon was lurking near the door, looking vaguely bored.

“Like Mel,” Chris said quietly.

“Who is Mel, Chris?”

“Little, like him.” Chris yawned, looking around.

“Is Mel your friend? Your sister, perhaps?”

“Where’s Wyatt?”

“Who is Wyatt?” Teyla asked patiently.

Up on the observation deck, Woolsey stood with John and Jennifer, watching them. “He hasn’t told us anything?”

“He’s four, sir,” Jennifer told him. “I’m not sure he knows anything.”

“Four?” John repeated.

“Yeah. Completely human, too...he doesn’t even have the ATA.”

“So the blue lights didn’t harm him?” Woolsey asked.

“Not that we’ve been able to detect, no.”

“So what are we thinking?” John folded his arms, leaning against the wall. “Alternate dimension, time travel, some new alien race...some old alien race...?”

“If it’s time travel, they’ve done their homework.” Jennifer gestured to Chris’s Bob the Builder TShirt, looking convincingly distressed. “It’s too soon to tell if it’s an alternate dimension...entropic cascade failure won’t set in for a while yet.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” John said quietly.

“Indeed,” Woolsey agreed.

“Dr Keller?” Teyla called from below them.

“What is it, Teyla?”

“Can you come down here?”

Jennifer nodded, heading for the door. John leant on the window frame, peering down; Teyla had taken Torren off the bed and Ronon looked more alert, but he couldn’t see anything wrong.

“Teyla, what’s up?” he called.

“He moved the blanket.”

“So?”

Jennifer stepped in; Teyla turned her back on the bed to look up at John and Woolsey.

“He wasn’t touching it. He looked at it, and it moved.”

John looked at Woolsey, frowning. “Keller said he didn’t have the ATA, right?”

“Neither does Daniel Jackson,” Woolsey pointed out.

“Jackson never got any of the abilities - he just skipped straight to Ascending. What about, what’d they call it...hokey?”

“Hok’tar?”

“He’s not Hok’tar,” Jennifer said from below. “He’s a perfectly normal human.”

“So was Cassandra Fraiser, as I understand.”

“Cassie was changed before she ever set foot on Earth. It’s in all her records. Nothing like that’s been done to this boy.”

Deep in one of the labs Zelenka watched the conversation on a screen, chewing nervously on a fingernail.

“...records,” Jennifer said. “Nothing like that’s been done to this boy.”

“This is not good,” he murmured to himself. “Not good at all.”

In the attic of the Manor Piper and her sisters stood around the lectern, reading from the Book of Shadows. “Blood to blood I summon thee, blood to blood return to me.”

Leo looked up from the couch where he was sitting with Wyatt, but nothing happened. Piper took a deep breath, staring at the Book to avoid her sister’s gazes.

“Again.”

“Sweetie, we’ve done it four times already,” Phoebe said gently.

“Then the fifth will be the charm,” she said briskly. “Come on.”

Phoebe and Paige exchanged helpless looks, communicating with their eyebrows for a moment before going along with it.

“Power of the witches rise, course unseen across the skies. Come to us who call you near, come to us and settle here. Blood to blood I summon thee, blood to blood return to me!”

A figure somersaulted out of midair, smashing into the potions table and falling off the other side. Leo orbed Wyatt to Paige and carefully approached.

“It’s a man,” he reported.

Piper sagged. Phoebe hastily steadied her, leading her to a chair and standing over her.

“It’s Chris!” Leo said in surprise.

“How can it...”

“We summoned the wrong Chris,” Paige realized. She set Wyatt beside Piper and went to join Leo, behind the table and out of sight of the others.

“He’s alright!” she called back. “A bit cut up. Leo’s taking care of it now.”

Leo stood, pulling Chris up after him. He looked the same as he always did; no matter when he came back, Chris never seemed to change much.

He was a little dazed right now, though, hanging on to Leo to keep his balance. “Dad. Aunt Paige. What’s...”

He looked around, taking in the attic. When he saw Wyatt with his mother he frowned, suddenly alert. “What year is it?”

“Two thousand nine,” Paige told him. “January, if you’re wondering. What is it where you were?”

“Twenty six,” he said absently. “April, almost Beltane.”

Piper stood up, moving to hug him. As though reminded, the others piled on as well, grabbing him into a group hug. Chris was smiling when they let go, but he sobered as he looked around.

“Why did you guys summon me? I’m not supposed to be here now.”

“We were looking for Chris,” Phoebe explained, motioning ‘small’ with her hands. Chris nodded, frowning.

“He vanished a little while ago,” Paige added.

“I never...oh. Oh.” Looking at Leo, he continued, “The star city?”

“So you remember it?” Piper asked quickly.

“Sort of.”

“’Sort of’? What do you mean, sort of?”

“Mom, I was four!” he protested.

“OK. Piper, sweetie? We need to calm down.” Phoebe touched her shoulder, trying to guide her away. Piper brushed her off, watching Chris intently.

“Chris, do you remember how you got home?” Leo asked.

Chris frowned, thinking. “There was a man, in the city. He brought me home.”

“What man?” Piper asked.

Chris looked helplessly at Leo, who shrugged. “Mom, I’m sorry. I haven’t even thought about it in years. Look, I wasn’t hurt there, so Mini Me should be fine.”

“Can you find him?” she asked quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Chris murmured.

Phoebe steered Piper out, waving Chris back when he moved to follow. Paige looked after them, biting her lip.

“I’m sorry,” Chris said again.

“It’s not your fault,” Paige told him. “She’s just really worried about...you.” She repeated Phoebe’s ‘small’ gesture. Chris nodded, turning away.

Left behind and unseen by anyone, Wyatt orbed out.

Radek was walking down a corridor in Atlantis, muttering to himself, when Wyatt appeared. Radek stopped dead, looking worriedly around before crouching beside him.

“Hello, little man. Are you looking for Chris?”

“He has to come home,” Wyatt told him.

“Yes, of course. But you can’t be here. You should go home, Wyatt, and I will make sure Chris gets back to you safely.”

Wyatt stared at him. Radek checked the corridor again, making sure they were alone, before holding out one hand; a tiny globe of light formed, flickering gently.

“See?” Radek murmured. “I am witch, too. I will send Chris home to you, I promise. Please tell your father I will call him, when it’s safe.”

The light in his hand vanished. Wyatt studied him, eyes wide.

“Go home, Wyatt,” Radek said again.

“Doc?” Lorne called from behind him.

“Go!” Radek whispered.

Wyatt didn’t move, watching interestedly as Lorne approached. He slowed as he caught sight of Wyatt, pacing slowly up to stand just behind Radek.

“Doc? Something you want to tell me?” he asked warily.

Radek sighed, pushing to his feet. “Is Chris’s brother. He came looking.”

“Chris’s brother, huh? Hi there. Are you looking for Chris?”

“My mommy wants him to come home,” Wyatt informed him.

“Uh huh, I’ll bet. Where is home?”

“Home is our house. Where is Chris?”

“If you wanna come with me, I’ll show you,” Lorne offered.

Wyatt shook his head, orbing out. Radek fell back a few steps, feigning astonishment when Lorne turned to look at him.

“You think there’s many more of them?” Lorne asked.

“Let us hope not. I will check sensors; maybe they saw something.”

“Yeah.” Tapping his radio, he added, “Colonel Sheppard? We may have a problem.”

Radek turned away, one hand balled into a fist.

Prompt!fic for tptigger

2010-08-22T21:14:36Z

Tigger's prompt was "RJ and Dominic, Pai Zhua, friendship." Not sure how well I did, but they are both here, it's set in the Academy, and they are friends. Enjoy? (Also, lame title is lame. It's my downfall!)

Friends in odd Places

It should never have happened.

The two students were several years apart. One was a legacy student, the latest in a line of powerful Masters. The other, while skilled, was constantly on the verge of flunking out due to his attitude. One was the greatest hope for the next generation. The other had been given up on by all but one Master.

They should never have met.

But the Power protects her own, even when they don't know it...

Master Mao was watching him practise again.

RJ absorbed the knowledge, examining it from all sides as he continued his kata. If the Master wanted him, he decided, he would ask. If not, he would wait until RJ was finished. Either way, there was no action necessary on RJ's part.

Mao waited until he was done, offering him a bottle of water. "Very impressive."

"Thank you, Master."

"Not Shark style, I see."

"No."

When RJ didn't continue, Mao prompted, "I'm sure you have a reason?"

"I'm...not sure the Shark style and I are suited, Master."

"I see. Have you spoken to Master Finn about this?"

"I've tried. My father doesn't always hear what is said." Shrugging it off, he added, "Did you want me for something, Master?"

"Yes. There is a mediation session tomorrow for the younger classes, and I am unable to lead it. I would like you to supervise." RJ nodded and he added, "I believe it falls during your session with Master Finn. I'll inform him you’ll be unavailable."

"Thank you." RJ bowed, turning away to gather the rest of his belongings.

"RJ? Have you decided what style you will study?"

"I am keeping my options open, Master."

"Good. That's very wise. One mustn't rush into judgement, after all." He nodded briefly, turning away.

"Sit still!"

Dominic sighed, shifting his position slightly. "I'm sitting on something."

"Yes. The ground."

"No, something sharp."

"Then sit on it! This is meditation, you can't..."

"Problem?"

The student overseeing their class had seated himself at the very back, behind everyone. Dominic, as usual, was at the very front.

He hadn't heard a thing. The overseer had come all the way up from the back, was crouched between them, watching with interest, and he hadn't heard a thing.

"No problem," Jarrod was already saying.

"No problem, Mas - sir." Dominic stumbled over the honorific.

"RJ. Having some problems...?"

"Dominic," Jarrod offered when he trailed off.

"Dominic," RJ repeated.

"No problems," Dominic repeated. "Everything's fine."

"Well, everything's fine apart from you disturbing the whole class." RJ rose from his crouch. "Go and find something else to do, and come back to me after this class."

Dominic scrambled to his feet. "Sir - RJ..."

"This isn't working." There was no censure in RJ's tone. "You're not in a meditating mood. Work it out as best you can and come back to me later, alright?"

Dominic nodded reluctantly, turning away. Jarrod caught his eye, shrugging sympathetically before settling back into lotus.

Dominic headed for the track, hoping to run some of the restlessness out.

The courtyard was empty apart from RJ when Dominic returned. The older student was folding the mats back into storage; Dominic joined him and they worked around the courtyard in complete silence.

"So," RJ said finally, turning to face him. "Trouble meditating?"

"I...sometimes have trouble switching off." RJ raised an eyebrow and Dominic sighed. "All the times."

"I see. What style?"

"Rhino."

"A very physical style. Show me your kata."

"My..."

"Any one you like, in your own style." RJ backed off to the edge of the courtyard, watching as Dominic fell into familiar movements.

"He's very skilled."

RJ didn't turn, watching the smooth movements. "He is, Master."

Mao took half a step forward, moving into RJ's peripheral vision. "You sent him out of class."

"He wasn't meditating, he was disturbing others. I think this is his meditation. Who is he?"

"Dominic was discovered by Master Guin three years ago, just before she left."

"And no other Master has taken him?"

"Not yet. Dominic is not appreciative of authority."

"I believe my father has said similar things about me, Master."

"Most children have it said at one point or another. Dominic has a good heart, and a smart mouth. And he doesn't always listen to the right one."

Kata finished, Dominic stood in front of them, waiting patiently.

"Very good, Dominic," Master Mao told him. Dominic bowed briefly. "In future when your class has meditation, you are to come to RJ and work with him."

"Master..." RJ protested.

"Yes, Master," Dominic said at the same time.

“Dominic is your responsibility,” Mao told RJ.

“I’m not a Master...”

“No, you are a student. My student. So you will follow my commands. Dominic is now your responsibility.” He turned sharply, walking away before either could respond.

RJ took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “Alright, amigo. When’s your next meditation class?”

“Sunrise day after tomorrow.”

“Alright. I will be in the gym at sunrise. I will see you then.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ah – RJ.”

Dominic smiled suddenly. “Yes, RJ.”

“Left hand up, Dom.”

RJ watched as Dominic restarted the kata. The six months of their odd student-Master relationship had done the younger boy a lot of good. Channelling his energy into practise instead of attempted meditation had taken a lot of pressure off him and his technique was coming on in leaps and bounds.

“Good,” he said briskly as Dominic finished. “Remember to keep that hand up.”

Dominic nodded. “Are we done?”

“Yes. Apart from one thing.” He tossed Dominic’s towel and water bottle to him. “Master Finn spoke to me about your behaviour in class two days ago.”

“Master Finn...” Dominic very obviously reigned himself in, taking a sip of the water. “Yes,” he said instead.

“Yes...”

“Yes, I told him I hated the stupid Shark style and I wanted to train with someone else.”

“And then walked out of class.”

“Yes.”

RJ sighed. “You know I can’t allow that to go unpunished.”

“Yes.”

“Extra runs.”

“Fine.”

“And an apology to Master Finn.”

Dominic rolled his eyes, but he nodded. “Yes. I will apologise.”

“Good...”

“But I will not train with him.”

“Dom.”

“It’s the style, RJ, I can’t...Shark style’s too different. I can’t do it. And he won’t let me practise any other style while I’m studying under him.”

“He can be inflexible,” RJ agreed. “I’ll speak to Master Mao. Don’t go back to class until you hear from me.”

“Thank you.”

“But since you have no class, you can help the cubs clean and tidy around here.”

“Aw, RJ...”

“Cubs,” he said firmly. “Go find the Cub Master and tell him you’re at his service until I come back to you.”

“Yes, sir,” Dominic sighed, turning and trudging away.

Master Mao was teaching some of the youngest students. RJ silently joined in, staying at the back and out of their sight. He didn’t need to think about the simple exercises; it was as good as meditation, in a way.

Master Mao drew the group to a close and RJ stepped back into the shadows at the edge of the yard. The kids scattered, heading off to wherever they were going, and he turned to find Master Mao at his shoulder.

“Master,” he said calmly.

“RJ. A little below your level, aren’t they?”

RJ shrugged, eyes lingering on the last two kids, a boy and a girl. “We all started somewhere.”

“I hear your boy had a slight altercation with Master Finn.” Mao started to walk and RJ fell into step beside him.

“Yes. Shark style does not suit Dom any better than it did me, and my father won’t allow him to practise any other. He’s determined not to lose another student.”

“I see.” Mao considered it for a moment. “I will remove Dominic from Master Finn’s class and place him in mine. You will impress upon him that this arrangement can be reversed at any time, if I feel he is not making sufficient effort. You will remain his meditation supervisor. Where is he now?”

“I sent him to help the cubs until this was sorted out.”

“Good. Let him stay there for a day or two.”

“Yes, Master Mao.”

RJ turned, attention caught by movement in the courtyard. The two kids were still there, the girl just rising from tying her shoelace. Jarrod was coming from the other direction; pausing, he spoke briefly to them before laughing and heading off. The girl scowled, starting after him; the boy caught her arm, keeping her back.

“RJ?” Mao said quietly.

“It’s so dark,” RJ murmured.

“There is darkness in him,” Mao agreed. “But I think we can hold it at bay.”

“If you say so,” RJ agreed.

“Leave Dominic where he is for a couple of days. Take some extra meditation classes. You seem tired.”

“I’m not cut out to be a master, Master.”

“Time will tell.”

“You don’t have to go.”

“Master Mao told me to, so I’m thinking I kind of do. You might get away with disobeying him, but the rest of us don’t.”

RJ stood, deliberately leaning on Dominic’s duffle. “Dom...”

“I’m not expelled, RJ. He just wants me to go experience stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Life. Everything. Everything that isn’t this.” Dominic gestured vaguely, managing to take in the whole Pai Zhua experience. “I’ve been here for ten years, RJ, Master Mao thinks I need to get the world out of my system before I can settle.”

“It’s not a revolving door...”

“He’ll take me back. When I’m ready. When they’re ready.” Dominic eyed him for a moment. “You’re not going to stay, either.”

“No,” RJ agreed.

“You shouldn’t.” He glanced around automatically before adding, “Get away from your father. It’s not healthy, I’m serious.”

“I’m perfectly happy ignoring him.”

“Hmm.” Dominic pushed him gently aside, closing the bag. “Well, that’s it.”

“Write me,” RJ ordered.

“I will.” Dominic bowed, a very formal movement in the usually informal boy. “It was an honour, Master.”

“RJ.”

He smiled faintly. “Master RJ.”

“Dom...”

“I’ll see you, RJ.”

He didn’t look back as he walked away.

DW codes

2010-08-20T20:57:11Z

What it says. I have codes if anyone wants 'em.

I don't think there's anyone on my flist who watches both these shows...

2010-07-12T21:25:40Z

...but I wrote it to keep my hands busy this weekend, so I'm not expecting much from it.

This crossover only exists because Kristian Schmid was in both shows.

In Tomorrow People Kristian played Adam, the de facto leader of the Tomorrow People. The TP were 'the next evolution of humanity' and had telepathy and teleportation. They also tended to fall into mad scientist's schemes with alarming regularity. Megabyte was Adam's second in command. His father had some ill-defined government or possibly private security job, meaning he was occasionally useful when they wanted information. When the show ended, Jade was playing the 'kid who desperately wants to be a TP and oh look, she is!' role.

There is brief discussion of the off-screen, non-canonical death of a TP. I have nothing against this person in particular, it just turned out easier to kill them off.

In Sea Patrol Kristian plays Robert Dixon, radio operator on HMAS Hammersley, a patrol boat in Australia's Navy. He's pretty closed and standoffish to most of the crew, though he's not actually unpleasant most of the time, just very very sarcastic. Mostly he's friendly with Bomber, the ship's cook and second medic, though most of that is her effort rather than his.

Sea Patrol's actually pretty interesting, and their arcs run over a season which makes rewatching fun as you pick up the clues you missed first time around. Everyone has nicknames, though, and they're not shy about using military terms. It makes it more realistic, but also more intimidating for a newcomer.

Now, who did I use...Flynn is the boat's Commander, he mostly gets called Boss. X is the second officer (XO) and everyone calls her X. Swain (Coxswain) is the ship's medic and occasional pilot. ET (Electrical Technician) runs the boat's electric systems and does a lot of the strong arming. Buffer is the strong man of the crew. He's also in authority over most of the non-comms on the boat. Robert is the radio operator, and thus his nickname is RO, which is actually pretty handy. Depending on who's talking to him for what reason, it's either pronounced Ro (row, like a boat) or RO (Arrrr-oh.)

So remember: Robert = Ro/RO = Adam.

I don't know if Robert could have gained his position in the five years I'm pretending is between the shows. Who cares.

Look, we're all running away from something. You're ahead. At least you know what you're running from.

Robert had lied, just a little bit. Just enough to make Bomber feel better. He knew exactly what he was running from.

He never expected it to come back to haunt him in the middle of the Coral Sea, though.

It started so slowly, with a headache he had trouble shifting. Six years ago he'd have known it straight off; but he was out of practise, out of the habit of thinking in those patterns, and the significance of the pain escaped him until it was too late.

In the afternoon of the third day he intercepted a distress call, passing the details to Commander Flynn. "It's a charter boat, sir. From the sounds of it the captain's gone down...the girl thinks maybe a stroke, she doesn't know...and neither of the passengers can steer. They're currently drifting."

"Did you get co ordinates?"

"Yes sir." He passed them over to Nav, who scanned them and did the sums quickly.

"We're about half an hour off, sir."

"Make the course correction, Nav, and warn the crew. Charge, get on the EOD."

"Aye sir."

Ro turned back to his console, ignoring the noise behind him. Flynn leaned over his shoulder. "Are you still in contact, Ro?"

"No sir, the connection..." He swallowed against a surge of pain. "The connection dropped."

"You alright?"

"Yeah, it's just a headache."

"You need to go see Swain?"

"No sir. Thank you." He carefully began fiddling with his controls, trying to resume contact with the drifting charter.

Flynn wandered off, watching the EOD for a few minutes, checking over Nav's shoulder. When he came back to Ro almost fifteen minutes later the charter was still incommunicado, and Ro was having to shield his eyes against the light coming in through the window.

"Ro, go find the Swain. That's an order," he added when Ro baulked. "X can keep trying to raise the boat."

"Aye sir," X agreed easily. Ro capitulated, heading out on deck.

"Something to worry about, sir?" X murmured.

"Not sure yet. I'll let you know. Keep trying that boat...they may not be in the cabin."

"Right."

Swain was on deck, talking to ET, when Ro tracked him down. "Talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, mate." Swain nodded to ET, leading Ro inside the nearest doorway. "Something wrong?"

"I've had this headache," he said reluctantly. "Boss sent me down to talk to you."

"Right. How long have you had it?"

"Four days, on and off?" Ro followed him into the room that served as ship's infirmary. "It's not all the time, worse in the day, but it's been getting worse."

"This ever happen before?" Swain was counting his pulse under his breath.

"When I was a teen, for a bit. My doctor said it was puberty. I don't think it's that this time."

"Light bothering you?"

"It is today. It hasn't been up to now."

"Right. Anything else? Just the headache?"

"Just the headache."

"Ok. It sounds like a migraine. I'm going to sign you off for today, give you some painkillers. I want you to eat something and then go lie down in your rack, alright?"

"Swain, we've a rescue..."

"We can handle it without you. Here." He handed him a packet of pills. "Take two, wait twenty minutes. If it hasn't worked, take another. The third one will knock you out, though, so make sure you're in your rack, yeah?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Ro tucked the packet into his pocket.

"I'll talk to the boss. Go eat something, now."

"Yes sir."

Swain grinned, watching him go, before heading up to the bridge.

Bomber was the only person in the mess when he wandered in. "Aren't you on duty?" she asked, glancing at the clock.

"Medical leave." He gestured vaguely when she frowned. "Migraine, Swain thinks. He wants me to eat something."

"I've got some soup I could heat up?" she offered. "Only take a couple of minutes."

"Sounds good. Can I get a glass? Got to take the painkillers."

"Yeah." She passed his the glass, watching him carefully fill it and swallow the two pills. "I've never seen you have a migraine before."

"I've never had one. Not since..."

The glass slipped through his fingers and smashed into pieces. Bomber flinched, already reaching for paper towels.

"Sorry," he muttered, crouching awkwardly.

"It's...Ro? It's fine. Go sit down. Soup's almost done. I've got this."

Ro did, staring at his hands. Bomber cleared up the glass and water and brought his soup over. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just...nothing.”

Bomber eyed him uncertainly for a moment before nodding. "Right. Eat up. There's more if you want it."

Ro struggled through the soup. The noise in his head was getting louder and when he stood up from the table it was a moment before he could focus on the door.

"Ro?" Bomber sounded very far away. "Are you alright?"

"Mmm." He took a step, lurching to one side.

"ET!" Bomber yelled, and someone was holding him up from behind.

"Ro, mate, you alright? -Where's Swain?"

"I've seen him," Ro said carefully. "M'supposed to lie down."

"Let's get to your rack then. Bomber, go find him for me, will you?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I'm alright!" Ro protested, but if ET answered he couldn't hear it over the sudden yelling in his head. It was almost words, now, in two voices, a man and a woman...

Ro pulled away from ET suddenly, hurrying to the nearest hatch. ET cursed, following him, but Ro had a headstart and he made it to the deck rail ahead of him. Below them the RHIB was returning from the little charter; Swain was working on a man who had to be the captain, while the two passengers were talking to X.

"Mate..." ET said from behind. Ro waved him off, barely realising that the noise in his head had cleared as though it had never been.

Then the girl looked up and saw him.

They brought the injured man up first, taking him straight down to the infirmary; Swain had time for a quick glance at Ro, but he didn't stop and Ro didn't ask for his attention. The headache was fading away, now, without the noise in his head to sustain it.

ET was still hovering nearby, but Ro continued to ignore him, watching as the passengers climbed the ladder. The red-haired man was talking to the girl; she was ignoring him, eyes locked on Ro, and as soon as she was on deck she made straight for him.

Ro backed up fast, knowing what was coming, and Buffer caught her before she could get too far. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, you'll have to come with me."

"Adam," she protested, "what's going on? Where've you been?"

"My name is Robert, ma'am," Ro told her. "You must have me confused with someone else."

Adam, she protested.

The sudden intrusion set off a spike of pain and he reeled, snatching blindly at ET's sleeve. Buffer pulled her further back, handing her off to Spider and her friend. "ET, you got him?"

"Yeah, it's all good," ET assured him. "Ro, will you let me take you below now?"

"Yeah," Ro muttered, turning his back on the two young passengers. The man was glaring at him, one hand pressing the girl’s face into his chest. "I'm coming."

It was too late, of course.

Jade had pierced what remained of his shields and, out of practise, he couldn't get them back up. Every word she and Megabyte said was as clear as if he'd been standing next to them.

It's not Adam, Jade. You know it's not.

He heard me.

He was sick, that's all. Adam would never ignore us like this.

That was a little pointed, Ro mused, wondering if Megabyte knew he was listening. They'd spent three years together; he'd known Jade for only a year or so. It would be much easier for Megabyte to sense him.

There was a soft tap at his door and Swain put his head in. "Ro? You awake, mate?"

"Yeah." He sat up, gesturing the other man in.

"I talked to ET."

"Yeah?"

Swain sat, watching him carefully. "How're you feeling now?"

"Better, actually." Jade and Megabyte were still murmuring somewhere in the back of his mind, but it was easier to ignore when he had something else to focus on.

"You had some trouble earlier?"

"Yeah, I thought I was going to be sick for a minute. Wasn't really thinking, I suppose, I didn't realise you guys had gone already."

"Show me your wrist, mate. You look a little better. How many pills did you take?"

"Just the two. Once I was lying down it started to get easier."

Swain nodded, counting under his breath. Megabyte was cautioning Jade about leaving Austere.

"How are they? The passengers?"

Swain glanced up at him. "Concerned after your run in?"

Ro shrugged. "Just wondering when they'll be off the boat."

"Their captain's stable. We're transferring him to HMAS Melborne and towing the boat back to land. We'll let the passengers off then. A day or so. Listen, get some sleep tonight, come see me in the morning before you start your shift. If you're still feeling ok, I'll sign you back on."

"Yeah, righto."

Swain nodded, letting himself out and closing the door quietly behind him.

It wasn't that easy, of course. Megabyte and Jade were still arguing; Ro couldn't risk yelling at them. He was too wary even to try and raise his shields in case they sensed it. It would prove beyond doubt he was who they thought he was.

Jade was getting more and more desperate, yelling at Megabyte, who had somehow found himself in the role of peacekeeper. It wasn't a role he'd been used to when Ro had known him, but a lot could change in five years.

He suffered through the argument for almost another twenty minutes before climbing out of bed and heading up on deck, hoping the fresh air would help calm him down. If he was relaxed enough, he might be able to ease some shields into place without alerting the others.

ET was coming out of the mess as he passed. "Hey, mate, you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Thanks, for earlier."

"No worries. Sure you're ok?"

"Mmm, fine. Night."

"G'night."

Bomber chased him. He'd been hoping she wouldn't, but the weird friendship they'd formed had made it virtually impossible.

"Ro?"

He paused just outside the hatch. "Yeah, Bomber."

"You sure you're alright? You were very far away earlier."

"Yeah. I'm alright. I just..." He struggled with his habitual secrecy for a moment. He hadn't confided in anyone in years, brief talks with X aside. "Bomber, can you keep a secret?"

"Yeah, course I can."

"No, I mean a real, take-it-to-your-grave secret?"

"Ro, talk to me. You're creeping me out."

He drew her to the rail at one side, briefly checking on the others. Jade was asleep, worn out, and Megabyte was...on the move. That wasn't good.

"The two passengers we brought on board? I know them. Or...I used to know them, I guess."

"Ro, you told that girl..."

"When I was a teen, I...some stuff happened. I ran away, I made it all the way to London and I lived there for nearly three years. I knew them then, but it was...Bomber, it was lifetimes ago. I was a whole other person then. I've mostly dealt with the stuff that made me run, but I can't...I can't talk to them. I can't do it. It's not part of my life, this life."

"Ro, calm down," Bomber ordered. "Seriously. Take a few breaths, alright? No one's going to tie you to a chair with them or anything."

He dropped his head, forcing several deep breaths and distantly registering that Megabyte had come up on deck. Buffer was shadowing him, but he wasn't doing anything bar standing at the rail.

They were at opposite ends of the boat. He still didn't have to do anything.

"Better?" Bomber asked.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"No problem. Right, I have a very important question."

"Yeah?"

She took a deep breath. "While you were living in London, did you do anything illegal?"

He huffed out a breath. "No. I did...sort of consultancy work. It's complicated. But no, I never did anything illegal." He thought for a minute. "Maybe B&E once. Didn’t steal anything, though. That's it."

"You were good friends?"

"The best."

"And what happened?" He shook his head, and she added quietly, "You can't leave it there, Ro."

"I can."

"You shouldn't."

Catching his look, she crossed her heart. "To my grave. Now talk."

"Our friend died. It wasn't any of our fault; mine, maybe, for not getting to her faster - but she was put in danger because we were together, because of what we were doing. I couldn't...face them, after that. It all fell apart. And when I came back here my dad was sick."

"Why'd you sign up?"

"To get away from my dad," he muttered. "It doesn't matter," he added at her look. "It just...I'm not who I was then, and they aren't part of who I am now."

"I don't think that's true," Bomber said gently. "If they weren't anything to you, you wouldn't be sitting up here trying to talk yourself out of talking to them." Ro made a face, and she added softly, "We're all running from something."

Ro sighed, rubbing his face. "Talk to him?"

"I think you have to."

"You suck," he said without heat.

"I've been told. Go on. I've got stuff to do in the mess, so come see me afterwards." She squeezed his hand, getting up and heading back belowdecks.

Buffer was still watching Megabyte, well within earshot. Ro paused beside him.

"Something I can do for you, RO?" Buffer asked.

“Buffer, do me a favour,” Ro said quietly. “Go get a coffee.”

“Why?”

“I need to talk to him.” Buffer raised an eyebrow, and he added, “We were friends, once, and it ended badly because of me. I want to try to sort it out. Just go get a brew, give us ten minutes.”

“Can’t do it, Ro.” Buffer glanced around, adding more loudly, “Oh dear, that rope over there is not stowed properly. I should take care of that.”

“Thanks,” Ro murmured.

“Ro,” Buffer said, more seriously. “Stay out of arm’s reach.”

“He isn’t going to...”

“Ro.”

Ro nodded quickly. “Alright. Out of arm’s reach.”

“I’m watching,” Buffer warned him.

“I got it.”

Megabyte hadn’t moved, hadn’t given any indication that he was aware of them, but Ro could feel the tension from here. He leaned against the rail, a careful arm’s length away.

“Do you need anything?” he asked quietly.

“Do you care?”

“Megabyte...”

“Mark.” He half-turned, leaning one hip against the rail to glare at Ro. “I use Mark now. You’d know, if you’d bothered to speak to us in the last five years.”

“Meg—Mark...”

“Jade cried herself to sleep. Did you know?”

“Yeah,” Ro murmured. He’d heard the echo of it, distorted through a link that had been all but dead until today. “I knew.”

“Adam...” Megabyte was tired, suddenly, the white-hot anger gone from his tone.

“My name is Robert,” he said gently. “Robert Dixon. My name’s always been Robert. I’m sorry I ran. It wasn’t you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Megabyte turned back to look out over the railing. “We knew it wasn’t us. But you never...you wouldn’t talk to us. We tried, for months we tried. And after a while you weren’t even ignoring us. You just weren’t there.”

“Yeah.” Ro sighed, leaning against the rail. “Can...if I explain, will you listen?”

“You have excuses?”

“Not excuses. Reasons. I don’t have any excuse.”

“Yeah. I’m listening.”

He glanced across the deck. Buffer was watching them carefully from just out of hearing range. “After we...I couldn’t stay on the island anymore. It wasn’t – right, there. I didn’t mean to go home, I went to see an old friend. But he had a message for me. My dad was sick. Really sick. So I went home, just quickly.”

“Adam, you should’ve...we’d have helped you.”

“I didn’t want you near him.” He had to concentrate to keep his voice even. “My dad wasn’t anyone I wanted anyone near. I wasn’t going to stay.”

“But?” Megabyte said gently.

“It was...time passed. I didn’t realise how long. And the more time that passed, the more it seemed like I didn’t...”

“Belong,” Megabyte finished softly. “You’re broadcasting,” he added off Ro’s look. “Turn it down, or you’ll wake Jade. And she definitely won’t listen to you.”

“Sorry. Out of practise.” He closed his eyes, pulling his shields up again. It was harder than it should have been; once those shields had been part of him, but he’d gotten out of the habit and it was so much harder now.

Megabyte watched. “You always belonged with us, you know.”

“I know. But we’re dangerous together, Meg—Mark. You two haven’t gotten in nearly as much trouble since I’ve been gone.”

“We work with my dad,” Megabyte said dryly. “Plenty of trouble.”

“Not before that,” Ro insisted. “After I left and it was just you two. No mad scientists, no alien invasions. None of it.”

“No,” he agreed slowly.

“Because together we’re trouble. We’re dangerous. Apart...”

“It wasn’t your choice.”

Megabyte took a step towards him; Ro shook his head quickly. “Better not. Buffer’s watching us, if he thinks you’re trying something...”

“He worries about you?”

“He worries about the crew. That’s what he’s here for. He’s not that worried about me.”

Megabyte studied him, frowning. “Robert,” he said after a minute.

“I was born Robert.”

“Your name was Adam. We all knew.”

“Adam Newman,” he said reflectively. “First of the Tomorrow People...I didn’t want to be Robert anymore, Mark, and I believed it so strongly you all did too. I wasn’t lying. I wasn’t Robert then.”

“You didn’t have to go back to him if you hated him so much.”

“He was my dad.”

Megabyte nodded. “We’d have taken you, and danger, over safety without you.”

“It was my job to project you.”

“Adam...”

“Ami died, Megabyte!”

He could see Buffer shifting out of the corner of his eye, and he made a conscious effort to lower his voice. “Ami died. Because we were together.”

“Ami saved the world, Adam. Don’t you dare take that away from her.”

“I’m not taking anything. She died because I was too slow.”

“You weren’t even there. None of us were.”

“That’s my point.” He shook his head when Megabyte went to speak again. “That’s not what I came to talk about.”

"Reasons," Megabyte agreed.

"Yeah. Reasons. I wasn't...it was never about leaving you guys. But I had to forget Adam, when I went home. He couldn't...I had to be Robert to survive."

"And this?" Megabyte waved vaguely at the boat. "When did this happen?"

"This was running away too. But I don't think I'll be running any more."

"How can you be a soldier, Adam? You still can't kill anyone."

Ro smiled faintly. "I'm a peacekeeper. I'm a radio operator, Mark, I barely leave the boat except for shore leave. I can't remember the last time they asked me to hold a gun."

Megabyte nodded slowly. "Right."

Ro glanced at the hatch. "Think we have any chance of explaining to Jade?"

"You can try if you like, I'm not getting into that one."

"Hmmm. How's the General?"

"He's good. He keeps talking about retiring, but he's never going to do it. He wouldn't be able to stand it, watching us go on missions without him."

"Yeah, you said you were working with him? How's that work?"

"Espionage. I'm James Bond, man."

"Yeah? Gadgets and all?"

"On his budget? I have a phone, which I'm only supposed to use to call him." His voice dropped to mimic his father. "You and Jade don't need phones after all, Marmaduke."

"No, I suppose you don't."

"You can hear us."

It wasn't a question; Ro shook his head slowly. "I can now. Tonight. Headaches the last few days; I guess you were somewhere close. But not before that, not since I left."

"I thought I caught bits of it, tonight. Were you talking to someone?"

"Swain." When Megabyte frowned, he added, "Ship's doctor. He's been treating my 'migraines'."

"I met him on our boat, I think. Nice guy."

"Yeah, Swain's a good guy."

"High praise," Megabyte murmured.

"Sir, I have to ask you to go below now," Buffer said, stepping back into hearing range. "RO, you should hit your rack as well."

"RO?" Megabyte repeated.

"Radio operator," Ro said absently. "I'm going, Buff. G'night."

Night, Megabyte, he added.

Night. "Good night."

Swain signed him off next morning after making him promise to come back if he felt any migraine symptoms. Ro promised easily enough; now that he knew what had caused the pain, he could avoid it without any problems.

Flynn leaned over his shoulder while he was checking over the morning reports. "A little bird told me you had quite a chat with one of our passengers last night."

Ro glanced up at Buffer, who lifted both hands innocently. "Never said a word, mate."

"You knew?" Flynn demanded.

"I saw you through the window," Nav told Ro. "I didn't think it was important."

"It wasn't." To Flynn, he added, "Mark's father recommended me into the Navy. We were just catching up."

Flynn eyed him for a moment before nodding. "Right. We'll reach port this evening; that's all the time you have for catching up."

"We're good now, Boss."

ADAM!

He winced automatically, but Flynn had turned away and no one else was watching. I'm working, Jade.

You lied to me!

I know. I'm sorry. Mark told you, then.

As if he could lie about it! You've been gone too long if you thought he would.

No. I knew he'd tell you. Deliberately widening the thought, he added, I thought he might wait until you were off the boat, but...

Hey, leave me out of this, Megabyte demanded.

"Ro, are you listening?" Flynn said. Ro jerked, slamming his knee into the counter. "Do I need to send you back to the 'Swain?"

"No boss, I'm fine. Sorry. Won't happen again." Jade, I really can't talk now.

Jade scoffed, but she did stop yelling at him. She didn't bother shielding, though, so their conversation drifted in and out of his mind as he worked. Now that he was paying attention, he could ignore it, and after a while it was oddly comforting in a way he'd all but forgotten.

He went down to the mess when his shift ended, ignoring Spider and ET to talk to Bomber. "Hey."

"Hey! How did last night go?" She piled some lasagne onto his plate.

"Pretty good, I think. Time will tell." He pulled a face at the food. "What is this?"

"Lasagne. It's good for you."

"I'll bet." Mark, want some lasagne?

I'll pass.

Bomber leaned forward, studying him. "Where do you keep going?" she demanded, half-exasperated.

"London." He was only half joking. "It's all good, Bomb." Taking the plate, he settled beside Spider and began to eat.

Adam, we’re leaving soon, Megabyte told him.

Yeah, I know.

You really like it here?

He automatically checked to make Jade wasn’t listening. Yeah, I do.

These guys are your friends?

We live, work and fight together, he said, vaguely amused and knowing the tone would come through.

Not what I meant.

“Budge up,” Bomber ordered, sitting next to Ro. Spider moved along the bench to make room and Ro slid along after him, stealing Bomber’s glass when she wasn’t looking.

“Oi, get your own!”

“I would, but I’m stuck on the inside,” he told her solemnly, going as if to take a sip and then passing the glass back to her. ET came in, and he added, “ET, grab us a glass, will you?”

ET waved at him, busy piling his plate with the remaining lasagne. When he was done he settled next to Spider, passing Ro’s glass down to him. Spider absently filled it for him, already arguing with ET about something. Bomber tipped glasses with him, laughing at the surprise on his face.

Yeah, Mark, he thought. These are my friends.

TVD Fic: These things I Know

2010-06-16T10:43:36Z

My first attempt at fic in this fandom. You can read this as OT3, OTP, or platonic, in any combination of the three characters. Assume it's sometime after the season finale and nothing too damaging to the status quo happened.

These Things I Know.

She watches them sometimes, her boys.

Caroline giggles whenever the topic comes up. Bonnie stares into the distance and refuses to speak until the conversation moves on. Matt does his best to change the subject, trying to spare her.

(Matt stumbled through a conversation along the lines of ‘If they hurt you I’ll kill them for you’ early on, after Vickie went missing. He’d been more worried about Damon at the time, but he included Stefan anyway. She’d smiled, genuinely touched, and promised to call him if she needed to.

She didn’t tell him he wouldn’t be able to help.)

Elena doesn't care what they think. She doesn't listen when Jenna tries to warn her - or, at least, she listens, because she respects Jenna, but she doesn't hear. Jeremy has stopped trying. The odd friendship Damon carefully cultivated with him may have helped with that. (She’d wondered about that. It wasn’t like Damon to take so much care over anything. But he is skilled at the long con.)

She thinks she should be angry at him for using Jeremy like that, but as long as her brother is unharmed, she’s happy. And it’s good for Damon; Jeremy’s the only person who doesn’t, on some level, treat him like a bomb about to explode.

Elena understood, very early on, that she and the Salvatore brothers are tied together in a tangled web of destiny and fate. She doesn't mind. The boys have always had a weakness for Pierce girls.

She thinks that maybe they need her. Her or Katherine, the ancestor she can't quite bring herself to hate. (Katherine is evil, ruthless and selfish. Elena knows this. But she turned Stefan and Damon, sent them through time to Elena's side, and she can never be anything but grateful for that.)

To hear them talk about it, they've spent the last hundred and sixty years in a constant state of low-level war, Damon doing his best to destroy anything Stefan built. Since they came home, back to Mystic Falls, they're been working together, supporting each other. Saving each other’s lives. Damon can cry self-interest all he likes; his life would be easier if Pearl’s vampires had killed Stefan, if he wasn’t worrying about his righteous, blood-addicted little brother.

She thinks this may be the closest they've been since they died. She thinks they need a Pierce girl to draw them together, to help them focus on something outside their odd relationship.

She's watching them now, half-hidden on the windowsill in their palatial living room, diary propped against her knees. Stefan is attempting to finish an English essay; Damon, sprawled beside him, is alternately mocking his conclusions and stealing his supplies. Stefan is mostly ignoring him, reclaiming his stationary as needed.

Stefan glances up to catch her eye and she smiles at him. He smiles back, taking his pen from Damon’s fingers without really looking at him.

"I miss quills," Damon announces. "So much more elegant."

"And messy," Stefan agrees mildly.

"That's because you, dear brother, never learned to blot properly."

He's smirking at her when she looks up. Elena returns the look steadily. She learned at Halloween not to back down from him.

"You used quills?" she asks as he goes back to playing with Stefan's highlighter. "I thought they were passé when you were born."

"Our father was not a forward thinker," Damon tells the ceiling, head thrown back. "We were Southern gentlemen, and we wrote our letters as a gentleman should."

"With a messy quill," Stefan adds, pulling his notebook off the table just in time to avoid Damon's grab.

“Or dictated to a slave,” Damon says thoughtfully.

“Father’s slaves couldn’t write. If they could, they hid it very carefully. He didn’t want them to be educated.” Stefan is concentrating very carefully on his homework as he speaks.

“Some of them were...very well educated.” Damon’s smirk removes any doubt as to his meaning. Stefan snorts, still staring at his notebook.

Elena smiles as she watches them, her light and dark boys. Bright, open Stefan; shadowed, closed-off Damon. Stefan, her soulmate; Damon, her warrior-protector.

Isobel didn't tell her anything she didn't know. Damon isn't subtle. She’s been pretty sure since Vickie died again, since he came to her house looking for redemption, looking to help in any way he could. If this is what you want I’ll do it. She’s been sure since they stood in the rain outside Pearl’s house, since he held her face in his hands and promised to save Stefan’s life. She doesn’t think it’s all because of Katherine, either. She knows enough about her ancestress to know they’re not really at all alike.

Damon wants her. And he’s used to getting what he wants. But he loves his brother - at least, he does now - and he's never tried to make her choose.

"Don't you have a date?" Stefan asks, mildly exasperated. Damon's game of keep-away has escalated and he's currently holding Stefan's entire pencil case hostage.

"Are you encouraging me to indulge myself?" Damon asks in mock horror. "I thought you liked it when I was all repressed and boring."

"Since when do you care what I like?"

Damon won't answer that, Elena knows. The easy answer - I don't - is too obviously a lie, and the real answer - always - is too truthful. He won’t say it, he’ll probably insult Stefan instead – she catches the look on his face and decides to put them both out of their misery.

She slides off the windowsill, crossing behind them to take the pencil case away from Damon. He relinquishes it, pouting, and she musses his hair as she passes. "Behave, boys," she says, giving the case back to Stefan and sitting beside him.

"She wants you to behave," Damon informs Stefan.

"I know exactly what she wants," he says easily.

"Can I watch?"

Elena smirks at him. Damon's stopped trying to shock or embarrass her; he flirts on automatic now. She starts to worry when he's serious.

Dark boy Damon, who loves her enough to kill for her.

Stefan would die for her. He's tried to, in fact, and he'll keep trying no matter how often she begs him not to. He can't help it. Damon...

Damon would (and has, but she tries not to think about that) kill for her, to keep her safe or avenge her. Stefan's the only other person in the world who shares that dubious honour with her. She’s never quite sure whether she’s grateful for the honour or not.

Damon's been reigning himself in. They all know it. He hasn’t killed a human, as far as she knows, since Zach. He hasn’t drunk from a human in almost as long. He saved Stefan twice, once from Pearl’s followers, once from the blood addiction she herself had triggered. He’s almost friends with Alaric. He stays as far away from Bonnie as possible.

He turned Katherine down.

Stefan worries about it, about him. They’ve talked about it more than once, when they were sure Damon was otherwise occupied and far, far away.

“He’s going against his nature,” Stefan had protested. “It can’t last. I’m worried what he’ll do when he snaps back.”

“I don’t think he’s going against his nature,” she’d said thoughtfully. “Against his habits, yeah. He’s used to being Damon the Big Bad Vampire, taking whatever he wants. But I don’t think he’s going against his nature.” Stefan had shaken his head, but he didn’t speak, and she continued more gently, “He loved you. In 1864.”

“Yes.” No doubt there.

“He still loves you. If we can help him be better, we have to try.”

“If we can’t?”

“Then we’ll deal with it then. Right now we’ll take what we can get.”

So Damon walks a tightrope he doesn’t know he’s on, and Stefan and Elena guard him on each side.

Damon snatches her diary suddenly, leaning back out of her reach to study the cover. “Am I in here?”

“You’re in my life, aren’t you?” she retorts. “Large, terrifying, exhausting parts of my life now revolve around you.”

“Ouch. Better check and make sure you’re not slandering me, then.”

“Libel,” Stefan corrects him absently. Damon makes a face, opening the diary at a random page. Elena’s watching, though, and he’s not actually looking at the words.

“Dear Diary,” he ‘reads’, “today Damon watched us at cheer practise. He looks good in sunglasses. Someday I’d like to...why, Elena,” he interrupts himself, tilting his head as though looking over the glasses, “you really shouldn’t leave this lying around where anyone can get it if that’s the kind of thing you’re going to write.”

“Give it back,” Stefan says without looking up.

“But it’s just getting good, little brother.”

Stefan finishes his essay, closing his notebook and dropping it onto the table. “There.”

“All done?” Elena leans in to kiss him.

“Keep it in the bedroom,” Damon advises them briskly.

“Do you want to go out?” Stefan asks, ignoring him. “We’ve got time before the Grill closes. You can catch up with Bonnie and Caroline.”

Elena sits back as she considers, catching Damon’s eye as she moves. He’s already closing down and she hesitates uncertainly.

“Have fun, kiddies,” Damon says blithely. “I’ll go find myself someone more interesting.”

Stefan starts to protest, knowing exactly what he means, but Elena’s ahead of him. She’s made her choice. She stands, easing past Stefan to stand over Damon. She holds out a hand and he dutifully passes her the diary.

She drops it on the table and sits between them. There isn’t much space; she’s pressed against both of them. Stefan’s very still but he smiles when she looks at him, lacing his fingers through hers.

Damon’s watching them; Elena’s fairly sure he isn’t breathing. On anyone else, the expression on his face would probably be amazement. On him it’s closer to disbelief.

Elena reaches for his hand; he doesn’t resist, but it lies limp on her thigh.

She studies him for a moment before smiling. She’s never been afraid of Damon, not really. Necklace or no, she’s never believed he wants to hurt her.

“Let’s stay in tonight,” she says finally. Damon nods, fingers finally tightening around hers, and she settles back, relaxing.

It won’t last forever, she knows. Eventually she’ll have to change, or leave them behind. Damon might decide to leave them; she doesn’t think he will, but he does make a habit of going against her expectations. Stefan may even leave; if his addiction raises its head again she thinks he’ll run rather than face them.

But none of that will happen tonight. Tonight, as her dark and light boys bicker over the TV remote – Damon favours reality TV, Stefan some kind of comedy – she’s content to simply sit and enjoy their company.

Nothing lasts forever, but sometimes one perfect moment is enough.