(Trek/SGA/SG1/Leverage/Warehouse 13) The Road Goes Ever On... for shinealightonme (Pt 2)
Read the beginning here!
Part IV: San Francisco
“What now?” Hardison asked and sat down on the edge of the bed. They’d gotten rooms at a small motel thanks to Hardison and Scott and their skills with the computer, and Scott had learned enough from Hardison and the historical information saved on his tricorder, not to mention the internet, that he felt confident enough to fake IDs and credit cards for them.
They could part ways with the three thieves anytime they wanted now, but just being in San Francisco didn’t tell them where they could find more information about the Stargate Project or who to ask, and no matter how eccentric Parker, Eliot and Hardison were, they knew this time and its dangers and how to handle or avoid them.
They didn’t need them anymore, Jim thought, but maybe they would still be valuable allies and help.
He didn’t think anyone had seen them when they’d engaged the self-destruct of the shuttle, and they had walked past more than enough police officers that they probably would have gotten arrested if someone had recognized them already.
The only person who could, most likely, identify them and become a risk was the man Eliot had fought the night they’d broken in General O’Neill’s office - and that had been almost a week ago now.
Eliot crossed his arms over his chest. He was leaning against the wall and keeping a careful eye on them, and Jim noticed how both Parker and Hardison kept their distance from them. Instead of sitting close to Scott and teaching him about hacking, Hardison was on the other side of the room now, and Parker was looking in between him and Eliot with something like anxiousness in her eyes.
It was obvious that Eliot was the most dangerous of the three of them, and that something was in the air. Jim nodded almost unnoticeably and concentrated on Eliot. The muscles in his shoulders knotted almost painfully, and he pushed, almost casually, his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.
His phaser was gone.
He bit back his panic and focused his attention on Parker - the phaser couldn’t have simply fallen out of his pocket, he was sure of that, which left only one option.
“I thought we’d agreed you wouldn’t steal my things again,” he said, his voice forced into quiet calmness.
“I didn’t mean to,” Parker said and glanced down, at her hands. She didn’t even try to deny that it had been her who had taken the weapon, Jim noticed - not that he would have believed her if she’d done so.
Hardison moved closer to her, a protective gleam in his eyes, and Eliot took a step away from the wall, too, while growling menacingly.
The Klingons, Jim thought, would be glad to have someone like Eliot in their ranks, but that didn’t help him in his situation right now. It only sent a wave of hysterical amusement through him, and he pushed it back with some difficulty.
He had to remain calm now.
“All right,” Eliot growled and put the phaser Parker had stolen from Jim on the small rickety table that was almost between them, like a wooden demarcation line. “Now would be the best time to tell the truth.”
Jim bit his lip and exchanged a quick glance with both McCoy and Scott. He knew that both men could hold their own in a fight - he’d been to enough bars with them to know how much, exactly - but he had no desire to find out how good Parker and Hardison actually were.
It was McCoy who threw up his hands and growled, “For God’s sake, Jim, what else do you want to do now? We’re not closer to this…thing than we’ve been last week! And if we don’t trust them, how should they trust us?”
“But the paradox,” Scott protested. “Telling them could risk everything!”
“All right,” Jim cut in, before Scott accidentally revealed anything else, “Enough.”
He stared at Eliot.
“Man, I checked everything,” Hardison said. “Every database that exists online. There is no Jim Kirk. There’s a family with the name Kirk in Iowa, but no Jim Kirk.”
“My name really is Jim Kirk,” Jim said carefully. “And I’ve really grown up in Iowa, but I wasn’t born there. I swear, all we could tell you, we did.”
Eliot nodded. “Want to know what I think?” he said calmly, but he didn’t relax his stance.
“Enlighten me,” Jim answered and mirrored his position.
Eliot nodded again. “You’re not from here,” he said. “Your weapons, your behavior, everything about you screams strangers. You were looking for access to General O’Neill, which means Area 52 and the Stargate Project, which means you’re not from this planet and need the gate to get back home.”
Jim stared at him. “And how do you know about all that?” he wanted to know. “The Stargate Project is supposed to be top secret, you know.”
Eliot smirked. “Then how did you find out about it?” he asked back.
Jim counted slowly to ten in his head before he carefully said, “You’re not wrong.”
“I knew it!” Parker exclaimed loudly. “Wait, you’re really aliens? Aliens exist?”
“Yes, they do,” Hardison said. “Our government is involved in some hinky stuff, I keep telling you.”
“Wait…” Parker started and cocked her head to the side. “Real aliens? But you don’t look like an alien. You’re not…green and slimy and you don’t have spaghetti tentacles!”
“That’s because most aliens probably aren’t green slimy spaghetti monsters, Parker,” Hardison said with the patience of a saint.
“Does everyone here know about aliens?” McCoy burst out.
“In this room? Yeah, pretty much.” Hardison nodded.
“I didn’t know,” Parker murmured, but Eliot did his best not to pay attention to her.
“Now that we’re all on the same page,” he said, “I’m going to meet with some contacts, to find out where they put the Stargate, because one thing is for sure, they removed it from Area 52 a while back -“
“About two or so years,” Hardison added, “but there’s no trace of it - it’s all very hush-hush, but one thing is for sure, the operation is still in full-swing, so they must’ve found something else.”
Eliot nodded. “Right. So, you stay here and lie low, you hear me?”
He waited until Jim and Parker both nodded before he rolled his eyes and left without another word.
The door fell closed behind him, and Parker tilted her head to the other side.
“Really, aliens?” she asked, and Jim collapsed onto the bed closest to him, all tension leaving his body. He couldn’t wait for Eliot to return and save him from Parker’s curious questions.
He didn’t know how much more he was going to break the first directive when faced with a determined Parker.
~*+*~
“Dex.”
“Spencer.”
Both of them bowed their heads briefly, and Eliot stepped onto the mat. The smirk on Dex’ face widened slightly, but he didn’t wait and started to circle Eliot like a giant, elegant predator.
“Been a while,” Eliot growled and quickly sidestepped an attack from the taller man. He tried to take advantage of Dex’ momentum, but he was too slow, or Dex was too quick on his feet.
“Yeah.” They traded a few blows.
Eliot felt sweat start to trickle down the back of his neck and his spine, and his grin widened. It had been a long while since he’d sparred with someone of Ronon Dex’ abilities just for fun, and he enjoyed every second of it now.
“What do you want?”
He briefly contemplated what he wanted to tell Dex, and Ronon took advantage of his moment of distraction - this, Eliot knew, couldn’t happen to him in a real fight, he would be dead now instead of just tasting blood from a split lip. He had to keep his focus.
“Well?” Ronon asked and held out a hand, to help him back to his feet. Eliot grabbed it and promptly used his grip to get the upper hand in the fight, overwhelming Ronon and managing to get him down to the ground, even if it was just for a split second before Ronon reversed their positions again.
“Your former employer,” he said. “We ran into some guys who’re not from around here.”
Ronon regarded him calmly. “Let me make some calls,” he said and elegantly jumped back to his feet. “You want a drink?” He grinned wolfishly. “Or some ice?”
“Yeah,” Eliot said and followed Ronon to his cluttered little office. He took the ice pack Ronon tossed his way and sat down while Ronon made his calls.
“Teyla and Sheppard are going to be here in a bit,” Ronon finally said and leaned back in his own chair. “You might wanna wait for them before you start talking.”
Eliot nodded and settled in to wait.
He’d met Ronon about two years ago, when Ronon had started to settle into San Francisco and had taught his first self-defense classes for kids and women. Eliot had been fascinated by Ronon’s fighting style - it was very distinctive, and yet, it wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen before - and he had started a casual conversation with the man. Ronon never said much, but he knew about survival and about fighting. They had bonded over that and about growing vegetables on the rooftop of a house, and whenever Eliot was in San Francisco after that, he dropped by for a fight, a drink and sometimes dinner.
Ronon stretched and gave Eliot a challenging grin. “Gotta teach,” he announced with a glance at the clock at the wall. “Wanna help?”
~*+*~
By the time Teyla and John Sheppard arrived, Eliot’s muscles ached in the pleasant way of a good work-out, and the cut in his lip had been re-opened by one of Ronon’s quick blows.
Teyla bowed her head respectfully when she saw Eliot, and he returned the gesture. Teyla was not a woman he wanted to have to meet in a fight - despite her slender figure, she could kick his ass just as well as Ronon. They’d crossed paths a few times when Eliot had visited and Teyla had taught a group of kids, or had let a group of people through meditation. She and Ronon were partners, and although she looked as calm and serene now as ever, everyone in the room, including Eliot, knew better than to underestimate her.
“Sheppard. You remember Eliot, right?” Ronon asked as he clapped John on the shoulder hard enough to make his knees buckle.
“Yeah,” John said and gave Eliot a brief nod. “He helped us when we needed a…specialist. To retrieve something to come back to you guys. A few years ago.”
“When you stole the jumper, you mean?” Ronon asked and shook his head. “Eliot knows about the Stargate.”
“You do?” Sheppard fixed his gaze on Eliot. “How?”
Eliot shrugged. “It’s what I do,” he simply said. He knew a lot of things, after all. “What I don’t know is where it is right now.”
Sheppard exchanged a quick glance with both Ronon and Teyla. “Why do you want to know where it is?” he asked. His entire body screamed mistrust and suspicion, even without moving a single muscle and despite his attempt to appear like a man with no care in the world.
Eliot shrugged again. “We picked up those guys,” he explained, “and they need a Stargate to get back home.”
Another glance was exchanged, then Teyla said, “John, it would be the right thing to help these people.”
“Yeah,” Ronon mumbled. “If they just want to go home and not be stuck here…”
This time, the glance between them had more of an edge in it. Sheppard suddenly looked guilty, and Teyla looked as if she was struggling with a great sadness and loss.
“Point is,” Sheppard finally said, “they can’t use…you know. The Atlantis gate. There is no way we can get them there without being seen and stopped. And I have no idea where the other one - the original Earth gate - is.” He drummed his fingertips on his thigh for a moment.
“We tried to find information in General O’Neill’s office,” Eliot offered, and John frowned.
“Can I borrow your phone?” he asked Ronon, and when Ronon nodded, he rose slowly and took the cordless phone before limping out slowly.
“He doesn’t like being kicked out of Atlantis by his own people,” Ronon explained to Eliot with a shrug and began to go through lesson plans and schedules with Teyla. There was nothing to do for Eliot but wait, but he didn’t mind.
At least Sheppard hadn’t outright refused to help.
It was almost two hours later when Sheppard returned to them.
“General O’Neill was not happy about the break-in,” he reported as he sat down carefully and massaged his thigh briefly.
“Wait, you called General O’Neill?” Eliot wanted to know. His spine knotted up with tension - if General O’Neill knew who it had been, breaking into his office, and where to find them…there was no way he could fight off both Ronon and Teyla, and there was no doubt that they wouldn’t help him against Sheppard. Both of them were loyal to Sheppard; loyal like sheepdogs.
He was doomed.
Sheppard shook his head exhaustedly. “I called Colonel Carter,” he said. “Let her call the general. She knows him better than I do.”
“And?” Eliot asked. His patience was growing thin, and the tension in his spine hadn’t lessened yet. He itched to get out of here and back to the others.
“Carter called O’Neill and asked him about the whereabouts of the Earth gate. Since we brought the…other gate here, there was no need to keep the Cheyenne Mountain Complex active…”
“I don’t…” Eliot started when John trailed off, but he stopped himself quickly. He didn’t need to get it, it didn’t matter for this job that he knew why another gate meant that the original gate had been taken away from Cheyenne Mountain. All he needed was the merchandise - in this case, the information where the original Earth gate was right now.
“Bottom line is,” Sheppard picked up again, when it became obvious that Eliot wouldn’t finish his sentence, “O’Neill wasn’t sure but he thinks the gate was taken to a place called Warehouse 13. He didn’t know or didn’t want to tell where or what that is, so, that’s all I’ve got for you.”
“Warehouse 13.” Eliot nodded and stood. He shook Sheppard’s hand and bowed his head toward Teyla and Ronon. “We’ll figure it out. Thanks, man.”
Sheppard nodded. Eliot knew that Sheppard didn’t trust him and had gotten the information only because Eliot had helped him in the past and because he still owed him.
It was all right. He grinned slightly and left.
John was silent until he was alone with Teyla and Ronon. Only then, he moved slightly and sighed.
“We should ask him and his guys to steal Atlantis back for us,” he then said. “When he finishes this job.”
Ronon only grinned. It was a dangerous grin, and John felt himself react to it.
There was still hope left in him.
~*+*~
“Warehouse 13?” Hardison frowned. “Never even heard of it, man.”
Jim glanced at Scott. “How about you, Scotty?” he asked nervously. The information Eliot had brought back wouldn’t help them to get home if they couldn’t use it and couldn’t figure out where to go next.
Scott shook his head. “No, Captain,” he answered. Jim flinched slightly, but nobody seemed to have noticed Scott’s slip-up. “Never heard of it, either.”
McCoy sighed from his spot in the corner of the room. Five hours of being locked into the room with the others, and the good doctor was feeling as if he was slowly losing his mind.
Jim shook his head determinedly. He wasn’t willing to give up just yet.
“If they brought something like the Stargate there, this Warehouse thing is operated by the government, right?” he said and paced between the bed and the table, three steps in each direction, before turning on his heel.
“Yeah, probably.” Hardison shrugged without looking up from his laptop.
“And if it’s government-operated, there’s…files. Information. Stuff.” Jim lifted his hands. “Anything.”
“Yeah,” Scott added and grabbed the tricorder. “And if there is anything, we’ll find it.” He sat down next to Hardison and started to search.
Jim continued pacing. There was nothing for him to do, and the continued inactivity was making him feel helpless. Judging from the expression on McCoy’s face, he wasn’t the only one feeling like that.
~*+*~
“Okay, this is what we found.” Hardison pointed his clicker at the screen. A picture of a woman appeared. Her hair was tied back, she wore glasses, and her skin was dark. She had a strict line to her jaw, and even from the picture it quickly became obvious that she was not to be messed with.
“This is Mrs. Fredrick,” Hardison explained. “She is Warehouse 13. No other things are known about her - where she’s from, how old she is, credit card statements, nothing. Seriously, she’s a ghost.”
“Then what do we know?” Jim wanted to know as he stared at the picture.
“We know this Warehouse exists?” Hardison offered and shrugged.
“Dammit, Hardison!” Eliot growled, and Hardison glared at him.
“Do you think I can wave my magic thumb drive and make information appear where no information is?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled up another picture.
“We know that these people work at the Warehouse,” he said. “Secret Service Agents Pete Lattimer and Myka Bering.” He pointed at the picture of the two agents. “Their job is to retrieve objects and bring them to the Warehouse. They work directly under this guy - Arthur Nielsen.” Another picture appeared, but it was slightly blurry and washed-out.
“That’s what we know. We don’t know where to find that Warehouse, how to get in, and how to get access to the Stargate,” Hardison concluded. The last picture disappeared and made room for a huge question mark.
Parker sat up straight. “Show me that last picture again?” she asked, and Hardison shrugged and pulled it up.
When he’d seen it the first time, it had reminded him of someone, and even if he couldn’t quite figure out who, the feeling of déjà vu still hadn’t gone away.
It didn’t prepare him for the delighted chuckle coming from Parker.
“Hey, that’s Artie!” she said cheerfully.
“Yes. Arthur Nielsen,” Hardison repeated with forced patience. “As I said…”
“No. Artie.” Parker shook her head. “He makes good cookies.” She glanced at Eliot. “Not as good as yours, though.”
Eliot stared at her unblinkingly. “You know this how?” he asked.
Parker shrugged. “He made me some.”
“Hold-hold on second,” Hardison interrupted. “You know this man?”
Parker nodded. “Yeah, why?”
“You know where to find him?” Eliot asked.
Parker nodded. “Yeah, of course, he works in this really huge building.”
“Really huge building?” Scott interrupted, disbelief coloring his voice. “You mean, like a warehouse?”
Parker nodded. “Yes?”
“Warehouse 13?” Jim asked resignedly, and Parker frowned in utter confusion.
“I thought that was just a codename,” she admitted. “Not a real warehouse. What kind of government top secret facility doesn’t have a really dorky codename?”
“Dorky,” Eliot repeated almost tonelessly. He gave Hardison a hard glare - it wasn’t a secret to him where Parker had picked up this particular part of her vocabulary. The way Hardison nervously tried not to meet his eyes told him everything he needed to know.
“There’s something wrong with you,” he growled at Parker and stood, to pace. It helped to control the urge to punch someone that almost threatened to overwhelm him.
“So?” McCoy asked.
Parker raised her eyebrows at him. “So what?” she asked back.
“Good grief, woman!” McCoy groused. “Where is it?”
Jim placed a soothing hand on his friend’s forearm. The muscles there were hard with tension, and Jim squeezed slightly and for a split second before pulling away. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to stop McCoy from starting to yell at Parker.
“Where is the warehouse, Parker?” Jim asked very patiently.
“South Dakota,” she replied. “The Badlands. It’s a really huge building.”
Hardison turned back to his computer. “South Dakota,” he murmured. “How do we get there?”
He pulled up several route planners and started typing. Soon, Scott joined him.
McCoy sighed and allowed himself to fall across the bed. “Another road trip?” he asked, his voice muffled by the forearm he’d thrown over his face.
This time, not even Jim managed an encouraging smile.
Part V: Road Trip: The Road Goes Ever On And On
A knock on the door made Leonard McCoy slowly rise from the chair he’d sunken into and stumble to the door. He was exhausted and stiff from a long day stuck in the van, and a dull headache had started to throb behind his temples.
A few miles after Salt Lake City, they had decided to take a break and stay at a motel for the night. Scott and Hardison had used their fake credit cards, and all of them had quickly disappeared for the night, unable to stand the sight of each other for one more second.
Pulling the door open, he found Jim Kirk lounging against the doorframe. For a split second, he flashed back to their academy days and all the occasions when Jim had cajoled him out for a drink or two in company; when he had come to Bones’ door loose-limbed and relaxed.
He wasn’t relaxed right now. His shoulders were hanging down limply, and a deep, unhappy frown was etched into his forehead, making him look years older than he really was.
McCoy pulled him into the room without a word. He knew Jim Kirk and knew exactly that his friend couldn’t stand the thought of being alone right now.
Jim sank onto the edge of the lumpy mattress and sighed deeply. He didn’t even bounce once on the bed, and that alone told McCoy more than he really needed to know.
He sighed as well and grabbed one of the sealed plastic cups the motel provided and handed it to Jim. Jim gave him a curious glance, but he held it while McCoy grabbed the bottle in the brown paper bag and poured a generous amount of amber liquid in the cup.
“Courtesy of Mr. Eliot Spencer,” he said as he topped off his own cup and sat down, his shoulder brushing against Jim’s. “Cheers.”
They drank. The alcohol burned down Jim’s throat, and he fought against the urge to cough.
“You can say what you want about this time, but they know how to make good bourbon,” McCoy muttered next to him. Jim nodded and took another sip.
Warmth filled him and without realizing it, he sighed again.
“Well?” McCoy asked. “You gonna tell me what’s bothering you now, or do you need another drink first?”
“How long have we been stuck here?” Jim asked softly, but he held out his cup.
McCoy shrugged. “Ten days?” he answered and raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Why?”
Jim shrugged. “It feels longer,” he murmured. “It feels like forever. Like a time loop. Or a road trip to nowhere.”
McCoy took another mouthful and held it in his mouth for a long moment.
“I mean…we don’t even know if we’ll find the gate, and if we find it, nobody guarantees us that this works. We could be stuck here forever.”
McCoy nudged him slightly. “If Spock were here right now,” he murmured, “he would tell you that it’s illogical to assume that we’re going to be stuck here forever. He would also tell you the probability of us getting home, up to the tenth place after the decimal.”
Jim chuckled. “Yeah,” he answered. “Could you imagine Spock meeting Parker?”
McCoy shook his head. “He would find her highly illogical and most likely very fascinating.”
“Yeah.” Jim’s lips curved upwards. “I miss having him around.”
“How would you explain his ears?”
“I don’t know - a tragic accident with a mechanical rice picker?”
They laughed quietly, and McCoy nudged Jim again. “Hey,” he said once their laughter had died down. “We’ll get this done without the green-blooded hobgoblin.”
“Yeah.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll find this warehouse,” Bones continued. “One step after the other. You know about road-trips - it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.”
Jim gave him a weak smile. “You’re right,” he said and turned his cup between his hands. “We will get home.”
McCoy nodded. “I’ll drink to that.”
And so they did.
Tomorrow, they would continue their journey, and nobody else would find out about Jim’s doubts about the success of their plans. Tomorrow, he would be Captain James T. Kirk again, confident and with a wide smile, and McCoy would never tell anyone about this side of his friend.
This was between the two of them and the bottle of bourbon.
Part VI: Badlands, South Dakota
“Okay, here we are.” Hardison squinted against the setting sun. “This is the thing? The…the Warehouse?” He scrunched up his nose. “Is that a pile of cow shit right in front of their door?”
Eliot didn’t do much more than throw him a disgusted look, but Jim smiled cheerfully.
“I believe it is,” he agreed. “What now? Scotty, how do we get inside? Parker?”
“We are really breaking into a top secret government facility?” Hardison asked and glanced at the warehouse again. He sounded slightly worried and excited at the same time.
“Aye,” Scott murmured. “If we can gain access to their computers, we can find out where they are keeping the Stargate.”
“That still doesn’t help us getting into the actual building,” Jim pointed out and narrowed his eyes at the building, as if he could make it give up the Stargate with the force of his glare alone.
“No,” Eliot agreed. “Best time to get in is most likely when Bering and Lattimer are gone. I mean, I could take them, but…” he trailed off and shrugged slightly.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of them,” Hardison started to tease, at the same moment as Scott said, “If we wait for them to leave, we miss our window of opportunity.”
“Okay,” Jim said and licked his lips nervously. “What is our window of opportunity here?”
Scott shrugged. “We have one tomorrow,” he said with a hesitant glance at Eliot. “After that, it’s a long wait. The next one is in fifty years.”
“Fifty years?” McCoy repeated sharply.
“Aye.”
“Well,” Jim said and consciously loosened the muscles in his shoulders. “We better don’t miss this one then.”
Hardison looked up from his laptop. “With the codes my man Scotty here gave me, I managed to hack into the Warehouse’s systems, but there’s something funky going on…” He trailed off and began to type furiously. “Whoever works there knows what he’s doing.” He stopped typing with a disgusted expression on his face. “I salute you, sir.” The last was spoken with vehemence and grudging respect in the direction of the screen of his laptop.
“Parker,” Eliot said gravelly. She was just standing next to the van, her arms crossed over her chest, and was frowning slightly.
“Parker, how do we break into this thing?” he asked, his voice pitched low. He wanted to avoid startling her - if he’d seen it correctly, she’d pocketed a fork and a spoon at a small diner on their last stop.
“Break in? Nobody can break into the Warehouse. It’s protecting itself, you know?” she answered and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.
“Great,” McCoy grumbled. “Now what?”
“Now, we call Artie,” Parker announced cheerfully. “Maybe he’ll make us cookies.”
Eliot’s hand snatched the phone out of her grip. “Dammit, Parker,” he hissed. “You can’t call the guy and tell him why we’re here! That’s crazy!”
Parker frowned. “Why? He already knows we’re here,” she pointed out. “I’m pretty sure he’s watching us right now.”
Scott nodded. “Someone is watching us,” he confirmed. “Has been for a while now.”
“Great,” Eliot sighed and handed Parker her phone back. “Go ahead, then.”
She took the phone and dialed with nimble fingers. Within moments, her call was answered.
~*+*~
The man entering the little diner in Univille half an hour later had grey, curly hair, glasses and he was clutching a bag tightly and protectively to his chest. He seemed twitchy and nervous, and he didn’t come alone. A young woman with a blue strand in her hair was with him, and exactly twenty seconds later, a man and a woman entered the diner and chose a seat that allowed them to keep an eye on them.
From the files Hardison and Scott had pulled, Jim immediately recognized all of them: the older man slipping into the booth opposite him and Parker was Arthur Nielsen, the woman with him was Claudia Donovan, and the other two were Pete Lattimer, who had a nice smile for the waitress when she poured him a cup of coffee and then went back to staring at Parker and Jim inconspicuously, and Myka Bering.
Parker smiled widely. “Hi Artie.”
“Parker.” Artie took off his glasses and polished them on his sleeve. “I thought we’d agreed that you wouldn’t try to break into my warehouse again.”
“I didn’t!” Parker protested, her eyes wide and innocent.
“Well, someone hacked into our computer system!” Claudia replied sharply and leaned over the table, scowling at Parker.
Parker stared at her unblinkingly. “Not me,” she replied firmly before grinning again. “But I might know someone who might have done so.”
Jim’s lips twitched. They had done the same thing the Warehouse agents had done and had split up to avoid too much suspicion and attention from the locals, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Scott and Hardison bent over Hardison’s laptop, two bottles of orange soda on the table in front of them.
Whatever they were talking about, Jim just hoped that Scott wasn’t teaching Hardison anything that could interfere with the natural cultural development of the planet. It would be fatal - of course Jim was familiar with the grandfather paradox, but he had the prime directive deeply instilled in him, which meant that the fact that they were here was making him uncomfortable, and he had tried to blend in as much as possible. Of course, all his efforts had been thwarted when Parker had stolen his phaser, and he hadn’t expected that people from the early 21st century knew about life on other planets…he shook his head, to clear it from those thoughts. What was done, was done, and there was no way they could undo it now.
“Children!” Artie snapped and pushed his glasses up his nose again. “Great, how did I end up with two juvenile criminals on my hands?”
Claudia turned huge, wounded eyes in his direction, but Artie managed to ignore it.
“Why did you want to meet me, Parker?” he asked with a deep sigh.
Parker pointed her chin at Jim. “He and his friends need something from your warehouse to go back home,” she explained.
Artie flinched slightly before pulling himself up to his full height. “No. Absolutely not.”
Parker’s smile fell. “We’re not here to steal it, Artie,” she said patiently, the hint of disappointment in her voice. “We just want to borrow it.”
“No.” Artie shook his head firmly.
“Why not?” Jim wanted to know.
Artie glared at him. “Because the things we keep safe here are dangerous!” he hissed before glancing around suspiciously “I’m sorry, Parker. I appreciate what you’ve done for us in the past, but my answer is still no.” He started to rise, nudging Claudia to follow his example.
“Just out of curiosity, which artifact were you guys trying to use to get home?” Claudia asked, not moving, and glanced from Parker to Jim and back.
“Claudia!” Artie hissed a warning.
“What, I’m just asking!” she hissed back.
Jim let his hands fall open onto the tabletop. “The Stargate,” he said truthfully. The little spark of hope in his chest that kept the belief of going home to his own time had dimmed at Artie’s harsh refusal, but now, he smiled winningly at Claudia, trying to win her over to his side.
“What is he, your brother?” Artie snapped at Parker before sighing and sitting down again.
Parker flinched almost violently and clenched her jaw shut while shaking her head forcefully.
“Tell me your whole story, then,” Artie said and waved at the waitress, who apparently was caught between flirting with Pete and with Eliot, to bring him more coffee. “Don’t leave anything out.”
He had a feeling he would need it.
Jim flashed him another bright smile that looked very much like Parker’s when she’d just pulled off a great heist, Artie thought uncomfortably, and began talking.
~*+*~
“The agent, Lattimer?” Eliot murmured after a small sip of his drink. “Ex-Marine.”
“Oh?” McCoy shot him a carefully guarded look. “How can you be sure?”
“Way he moves,” Eliot explained. “It’s very…distinctive.”
“Oh, sure,” McCoy growled. “Why didn’t I see that? Wait - it’s because I’m a doctor and not a pantomime! Dammit…”
Eliot’s lips twitched slightly and he took another sip of his drink. McCoy wasn’t afraid of Eliot, despite the fact that a few nights ago Eliot had explained - and demonstrated - to him in great detail how to disarm and eliminate a threat with nothing more than a whisk. McCoy’s only answer had been a raised eyebrow and a growled comment about how the carotid artery best be cut right under the left ear, if Eliot already was at it, and later, he’d murmured with Jim about something called Klingons.
McCoy reminded Eliot vaguely of Hardison, only less annoying, and that, plus the part where he’d put Eliot back together twice and had miraculously healed his shoulder, as well, made him start to grudgingly respect McCoy.
~*+*~
Jim finished his heavily edited version of their story and sat back. He could tell that Artie was thinking about what he’d said, but all the other man was saying was, “Stay here while I check some things.”
He rose and left abruptly, leaving Claudia, Pete and Myka to scramble after him.
“Huh,” Jim said and took a sip of his coffee. It had grown cold, and he grimaced slightly. “That went…not bad. I’m not sure he understood the part with the window of opportunity, though.”
Parker moved her shoulders. “I hope he brings cookies when he comes back,” she said wistfully.
Jim gave her a look from the side. Eliot, he thought, not for the first time, was right about her when he said that Parker was crazy. There was something wrong with her.
She also was nice and friendly to him and had been since the first second they’d met. Jim couldn’t quite make up his mind about her, but a part of him wanted to take her with them to the future, just to see her pick the pocket of an Orion.
~*+*~
“Well?” Claudia demanded and spun her chair around idly. “What are you going to do?”
Artie glared at the Farnsworth in his hand while he made his way through the Warehouse, until he found what he was looking for.
The Stargate.
It was bigger than he remembered, and no matter how hard Parker would try, she wouldn’t be able to steal it from under his nose. It was physically impossible. Artie had no doubt that Parker could infiltrate the Warehouse if she set her mind to it, but no matter how she weaseled her way in, she wouldn’t be able to take the huge ring with her.
Claudia coughed pointedly. “Are you going to let them use this thing to get back to their time?” she asked.
Artie snorted. He had, at first, thought the guy, Jim, who looked so much like Parker and resembled her in manners too, was making fun of him. His story had been unbelievable, like some of the stories Parker had told him, but as he had kept on talking in low, urgent tones, Artie had found himself contemplating how he could help him - after all, he dealt with the unexplainable and weird every single day, and the thought of alien life forms, and time travel, wasn’t as absurd as some of the things stowed away in the Warehouse, under his own nose.
“Artie!” Claudia whined.
Artie sighed, but before he could answer, steps sounded behind him. He whirled around, only to find himself facing Myka and Pete. He breathed a sigh of relief - a part of him had expected Parker there, or even… He quickly forced his mind away from that line of thinking.
“Nostradamus,” Myka said triumphantly. Pete nodded enthusiastically.
Artie frowned. “Aisle twenty-seven…” he started, but Myka shook her head firmly enough to send her hair flying.
“We found this in the lost prophecies of Nostradamus,” she explained and handed him an old book, open at a page toward the middle of the tome. Artie had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he took the book and let his gaze wander over words that seemed to flicker in front of his eyes and form new sentences while he was watching.
“You can’t be serious,” he told Myka as soon as he’d finished reading the short paragraph. “Three strangers on a long and backward journey?”
She just shrugged.
“Who told you about this in the first place?” Artie asked, exasperated at her behavior, and snapped the book shut.
“Uh…that would have been me,” Claudia admitted over the Farnsworth. “But you were the one who told me!”
Artie rolled his eyes. “I didn’t tell you so you could tell anyone else!” he snapped. “Don’t touch that, Pete!”
Pete had stepped up to the large crate that contained the Stargate and was inspecting it carefully.
“I’m just looking,” Pete said and ducked when the static energy around them crackled dangerously.
“What are you going to do now, Artie?” Claudia asked. “The Nostradamus prophecy says they need to step through that thing at a certain time, when the sun’s glare is erupting power - I’m guessing he means a sunflare or something.”
“Great,” Artie muttered, “and when would that be?”
Claudia rolled her eyes. “How should I know, these things are not exactly predictable.”
“No,” Pete agreed slowly, although Artie was certain that Pete knew next to nothing about sunflares, “but if these guys are telling the truth and travel through time, they might know.”
“Good thought,” Myka agreed, although she looked vaguely uncomfortable at the idea of time travelling.
Artie sighed. As much as he didn’t like it, he had the vague feeling that it didn’t matter what he thought. He could agree to let these strangers into his Warehouse, to try and find their way home, or he was certain Parker would just try to break in anyways. The way it looked right now, his own people would even hold the door open for her, he thought bitterly.
Besides, Nostradamus said it was okay and necessary.
“Where are you going?” Myka called after him.
“Calling another juvenile criminal,” he tossed over his shoulder. He knew Parker was an adult, but she hadn’t been when they’d crossed paths for the first time, and in his heart, she was still the little, awkward girl from then.
“Hey!” Claudia protested, and Artie resolutely closed his Farnsworth, terminating the connection.
There was nothing left to discuss.
~*+*~
“Welcome to Warehouse 13,” Claudia said, ignoring Artie’s dark look. It was more than evident that Artie was less than thrilled by the idea of strangers in his Warehouse, but after staring for almost an hour at the Nostradamus prophecy and after a brief conversation with Mrs. Frederick - he had no idea how she’d found out about his little dilemma, but he hadn’t been surprised that she had, and she had given her express permission to grant these people access to the desired item - he had called Parker and had told her to bring her friends to the Warehouse.
“What is this place?” McCoy wanted to know with a curious look on his face as he reached out to brush his fingertips against the old coat of armor in the corner.
“This,” Artie said as he squeezed past him, “is America’s attic. Don’t touch anything.” He frowned at McCoy’s look of disbelief. “Our job is to take the unexplained and safely tuck it away,” he added to his explanation.
“In this supersized Pandora’s box,” Myka added with a glance in Artie’s direction. Pete had followed her in and was rubbing his hands expectantly now.
“Okay, we’re here.” Eliot gave Hardison a warning look, but for once, Hardison wasn’t doing much more than staring at the computers in the room. To Eliot, they simply looked extremely old, but Hardison looked like a kid in a candy store. “What now?”
“Now, we need to power up the Stargate and find a way to dial it,” Scott replied. “And we need it before tomorrow morning, 5:37 am.”
“The sunflare,” Claudia guessed.
Scott gave her an appreciating look and a surprisingly shy smile. “Aye.”
“Okay.” Pete glanced at his watch. “That gives us…eight hours and…fifty-two…fifty-one minutes.”
“We need about half an hour to get from here to the Stargate,” Myka said.
“And the US Air Force didn’t send their dialing computer stone thing or their MacGyver computer with it,” Pete added.
“And no extra batteries,” Claudia piped up. “I checked the inventory. All we have is this giant ring.”
“Maybe we should take a look of our own,” Jim quickly cut in. “To find out what exactly we need and if we can get it in time.”
~*+*~
Thirty minutes and several incidents with the static energy of the Warehouse later, they stood in front of the huge crate. A brief discussion later, Eliot, Jim, Pete and Scott were busy prying one side of the crate open, to reveal a huge ring made from a dark, unfamiliar material inside.
“Wow,” Scott whispered as he brushed his fingertips reverently against one of the symbols engraved in the ring. “A real Stargate.” He gated at it for a long moment before shaking his head. “Never thought I’d ever get to see one in such a good condition,” he added.
“Great,” Jim said with more enthusiasm than he really felt. “What do we have to do to make it work?”
“Power, of course,” Scott answered immediately. “Maybe we can use the static energy the Warehouse generates for that. We need a dialing algorithm, or enough manpower to dial manually.”
“All right.” Jim clapped his hands. “Then let’s get started.”
~*+*~
They quickly organized into groups, according to their talents and abilities. Hardison and Claudia were combining their computer skills and trying to figure out some sort of makeshift dialing program - something the Air Force had needed more than fifteen years to create, and they were attempting to do it in eight hours. Scott, Jim, McCoy, Eliot and Pete were trying, together with Artie, to rig up a system to power the Stargate and moving it to an area where its activation wouldn’t destroy any of the other items in the Warehouse. Myka was trailing Parker and making sure she didn’t steal anything.
“How can you keep up with her?” she finally asked Hardison.
Hardison grinned without looking up from the screen of his laptop. His face was lit up in a blue hue by its screen, but his fingers never stopped moving over the keyboard. “We don’t,” he admitted. “But if she likes you, she gives the stuff she took back, right, Parker?”
Parker gave Myka a sheepish look and handed her wallet back.
Myka took it, a confused expression on her face. It took her a moment before she stuttered, “Will cookies make you stop stealing things?”
Parker tilted her head to the side. “Probably not,” she admitted. “But maybe they do. Who knows?”
Myka shook her head and told Hardison and Claudia, “Make sure she doesn’t take anything!” before disappearing. Moments later, she returned with a plate of cookies.
~*+*~
It was about three in the morning when Eliot nudged Jim and asked him quietly, “What are you going to dial?”
“Huh?” Jim asked back and wiped a forearm over his sweaty face.
Eliot shrugged. “It dials somewhere, doesn’t it?” he asked. “Do you know where or are you just…pressing keys and hoping it’ll work?”
“I don’t know,” Jim admitted. “Scotty?” He waved at the engineer who was tightening something at the top of the Stargate. This was not the engine nacelles of the Enterprise, but Scott was in his element nonetheless.
Scott hastily climbed down and landed on his feet a few steps away from them. “Captain?”
“Do we have someplace to dial?”
“Aye,” Scotty confirmed breathlessly. “We’re going to dial Sulak. If my calculations are right, we’ll end up right where we were supposed to be in the first place.” He glanced at the Stargate. “At least we will if this works.”
Jim nodded. “Carry on, then,” he said. They still had a lot to do and time was ticking away.
~*+*~
“How is it going, with the dialing program?” Parker asked and snagged the last cookie of the plate. Hardison glared at her.
“Not that good,” Claudia admitted around a yawn. She had pillowed her head on her folded forearms and was resting half on her keyboard.
“Huh,” Parker answered. “The batteries are almost finished.” She took a bite out of the cookie, and Hardison’s glare intensified.
“Time’s almost up, too,” she added and left.
Twenty minutes later, Scott entered. He was dragging his feet exhaustedly, and he was bleeding slightly from a small cut on his forehead. He fell into a chair and yawned.
“Parker said you’re stuck?” he asked after a moment of silence.
“We’re not stuck,” Hardison protested. “We just…hit a corner.”
“Let’s see,” Scott answered and stretched his hands over his head for a moment. His accent had thickened, Hardison thought, and he needed a moment to make sense of Scott’s words, and when he did, he moved aside and let Scott see the screen of his computer.
Scott made a few distracted noises and started to type slowly. Twenty minutes later, Hardison caught up with what he was doing, and Claudia only needed a few moments longer, despite the fact that she was almost incapable of keeping her eyes open from exhaustion.
~*+*~
It was 5:21 am when they all found themselves around the Stargate again.
This, Jim thought, was the moment of truth.
Despite his exhaustion, his body was vibrating with energy, and a quick glance over his shoulder at McCoy, who was still busy cleaning a cut on Pete’s forearm, revealed that he wasn’t the only one.
He gave Artie a smile - a flash of teeth - and when Artie rolled his eyes, Jim nodded.
Hardison began to type on his laptop.
Next to Jim, Parker held her breath.
Claudia muttered quietly - a prayer, or lines of code, Jim couldn’t tell and he couldn’t make out the words either.
Static energy crackled, stronger than before, before it was harnessed by the mechanism Scott had whipped up, and finally, the gate slowly began to move with the grating sound of stone grinding against stone.
The first of seven locks - chevrons, Scott had called them - engaged.
Jim could feel his heart beat a heavy staccato in his chest, and he forced himself to take even, deep breaths.
The second chevron engaged.
The third.
The fourth.
The fifth.
The sixth.
Finally, the seventh chevron engaged, and the Stargate came to life. The event horizon exploded outward, and then, the wormhole stabilized. Jim couldn’t quite suppress the surprised gasp at the view.
“It worked,” Claudia whispered breathlessly. “It really worked!”
At the same time, McCoy asked, “Is it safe to travel like this?”
Scott laughed in exhilaration. “As safe as beaming,” he promised and glanced at his tricorder. “Five more minutes.”
“I guess that means goodbye,” Jim said quietly. He shook hands with the Warehouse agents, Eliot and Hardison, and found himself face to face with Parker.
Instinctively, he smiled, and her lips twitched slightly.
“Are you sure you want to leave?” she asked him. “You would make a really good grifter, Jim.”
He chuckled ruefully. “Thanks, Parker,” he said softly. “But no. I have to go. My crew…they need me.”
She nodded and bit her lip, and suddenly, she took a step toward him and gave him a brief, slightly awkward, but yet firm hug.
“I already forgot your name,” she quipped as she stepped back.
Jim smiled at her. “I’ll never forget yours,” he promised. “Bye, Parker.”
She nodded again and went to stand by Eliot’s side.
As Jim made his way up to the Stargate, he saw from the corner of his eye how Scott hugged Claudia and fistbumped Hardison, and then, McCoy fell in step next to him and frowned doubtfully at the shimmering surface of the Stargate.
Scott stepped up next to him, his eyes fixed on his tricorder.
“Almost there,” he said, “in ten…nine…eight…seven…six…”
Jim took a deep breath and held it while he glanced over his shoulder and grinned at the people who had helped them so much.
People that had become from strangers with secrets to friends.
Friends who still had secrets, but friends, nonetheless.
“Five…four…three…two…one…go!”
They stepped through the Stargate, into the stable wormhole…
…and disappeared.
The Stargate closed, and Claudia exhaled sharply. “They did it?”
“Looks like it,” Hardison agreed, still typing on his laptop.
“Great!” Parker grinned, just as Claudia added, “That means we can finally go and get some sleep?”
“Yeah,” Pete agreed and turned to leave, the others following him.
Artie stared at their backs disbelievingly. “Hey!” he called, “Who’s going to clean this up?”
Nobody answered, and with a sigh and a shrug, Artie decided that the cleaning could wait until after they’d all slept a few hours.
Part VII: Epilogue: Back To The Future
Jim shivered almost violently against the cold wind and the effects of their journey through space and hopefully time and curiously looked around even before the Stargate he’d stumbled through could close behind them.
They were in the middle of a square, surrounded by buildings. The sun was shining, and the Stargate behind them definitely looked older than the one he’d just stepped through - it looked worn, somehow, he thought, even if a second glance revealed that it was in perfect condition, barely a scratch on it.
They definitely weren’t in South Dakota anymore, and they most likely weren’t on Earth either.
But were they in their time, back where they belonged? Jim turned his head toward Scott.
“Scotty?” he murmured, but before Scott could answer, four armed men stepped up to them and ordered them wordlessly to follow them. Their heads were hidden behind heavy helmets, and Jim shrugged and followed the order.
They were led to one of the houses and into a large room. At the head of a table, an old man was sitting.
His back was bowed, and he was dressed in some sort of dark cloak, and Jim frowned. Unlike the armed guards, this man wasn’t wearing a helmet, and on his forehead, a golden symbol gleamed.
A snake in a circle, Jim recognized it from the pictures of the briefing he’d had on board of the Enterprise, before they’d left - how much time had passed since then, he wondered briefly, but he couldn’t tell.
Weeks.
Centuries.
Or maybe, if Scott’s calculations had been correct, just hours?
One thing was for sure - they had made their way to Sulak.
The old man slowly looked up.
“We were expecting you, Captain James T. Kirk,” he said, “but we did not expect you to come through the Chaapa’ai.”
Jim blinked as images in his mind and in front of his eyes shifted, overlapped, and puzzle pieces fell into place.
“You must be Teal’C, then, the leader of the free people of Sulak,” he said carefully after a moment.
The man bowed his head slightly. “Indeed.”
Something about the gesture was vaguely familiar, but it took Jim a moment before he realized where he’d met this particular man before, and when.
“You look pretty good for a guy who’s at least two hundred years old,” he quipped, and the old man’s lips quirked up in a small smile.
“Almost three hundred years,” he agreed. “This is old, even for my people.”
Jim nodded his understanding. “I’m sorry for stunning you, back then,” he said after a moment. “One day, you’ll have to tell me what you were doing on Earth there.”
Teal’C nodded. “Am I right to assume that you used the Stargate to travel through time?”
“Yes.” Jim frowned. “If you excuse me for a moment, I should contact the Enterprise.”
Teal’C nodded his agreement, and Jim reached for his communicator, which he’d put safely away into the inner pocket of his jacket, only to discover that it wasn’t there.
He needed less than five seconds to realize what had happened.
“Dammit, Parker!”
~*+*~
“You returned earlier than anticipated from the surface of Sulak, Captain,” Spock noted, his hands resting at the small of his back. “And your attire is more than unusual. Earth, late 20th century?”
Jim grinned and patted the side of the shuttle that had brought him, Scott and McCoy home to the Enterprise. “The old people still call the planet by its real name,” he said cheerfully. “Chulak. And it’s early 21st century, to be exact, Mr. Spock.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you we took a two hundred year long road trip, right?”
“Captain?” Spock arched a brow confusedly.
“I’ll explain it later,” Jim promised. “First, a shower. And a nap.”
They had remained on the surface of the planet for several days, and while McCoy had worked with the local medical personnel to work on a cure for an old immunity deficiency the inhabitants of Sulak were still suffering from and Scott had tried to figure out how exactly the Stargate worked, Jim had sat with Teal’C and had listened to the old man’s stories about his adventures on General Jack O’Neill’s team, exploring strange new worlds, seeking out new life and new civilizations and to boldly go where no man or Jaffa had gone before, and he had told Teal’C about his own adventures on 21st century Earth.
He clapped Sulu, who had piloted the shuttle, on the shoulder and left the shuttle bay, a happy smile slowly spreading over his face.
He was home.
Their road trip to nowhere had, against all odds, found a happy end.
Scott caught up with him just as he reached the turbolift, and Jim waited until the doors had closed before he said, “Whatever you shared with Hardison and Claudia there, I hope it didn’t change history too much.”
Scott grinned widely. “Aye, it did.”
Jim frowned confusedly, and Scott handed him the tricorder he was holding. The little screen showed him just lines of text, and Jim took it and started to read.
“A. H. Leverage and C. Donovan, the founders of modern computer science?” he said aloud.
Scott’s grin widened. “Aye, sir.”
“A. H., huh?”
“Alec Hardison.” Scott took the tricorder back. “Took me a while to figure it out, but…we were supposed to be there, sir. Without our influence, Hardison and Claudia would never have met, and we wouldn’t have the computers we have today.” He frowned slightly. “We did make history, sir.”
Jim chuckled. “All right then,” he said and leaned against the wall. He could feel the slight, almost unnoticeable vibrations of the ship - his ship - around him, and smiled as he tried to imagine Eliot, Parker and Hardison in this time.
Parker would be the best thief in the entire known galaxy.
Eliot…would probably give the Klingons nightmares.
And Hardison? Hardison would most likely hack into the Federation computers on a regular basis.
They were almost at the end of their ride when Scott shifted and said, in a thoughtful voice, “I wonder if they still make this orange soda.”
-END-
Prompts:
-road trip to nowhere (it's about the journey, not the destination)
-reluctant allies (the enemy of my enemy might or might not be my friend)
-conspiracies and secrets
Part IV: San Francisco
“What now?” Hardison asked and sat down on the edge of the bed. They’d gotten rooms at a small motel thanks to Hardison and Scott and their skills with the computer, and Scott had learned enough from Hardison and the historical information saved on his tricorder, not to mention the internet, that he felt confident enough to fake IDs and credit cards for them.
They could part ways with the three thieves anytime they wanted now, but just being in San Francisco didn’t tell them where they could find more information about the Stargate Project or who to ask, and no matter how eccentric Parker, Eliot and Hardison were, they knew this time and its dangers and how to handle or avoid them.
They didn’t need them anymore, Jim thought, but maybe they would still be valuable allies and help.
He didn’t think anyone had seen them when they’d engaged the self-destruct of the shuttle, and they had walked past more than enough police officers that they probably would have gotten arrested if someone had recognized them already.
The only person who could, most likely, identify them and become a risk was the man Eliot had fought the night they’d broken in General O’Neill’s office - and that had been almost a week ago now.
Eliot crossed his arms over his chest. He was leaning against the wall and keeping a careful eye on them, and Jim noticed how both Parker and Hardison kept their distance from them. Instead of sitting close to Scott and teaching him about hacking, Hardison was on the other side of the room now, and Parker was looking in between him and Eliot with something like anxiousness in her eyes.
It was obvious that Eliot was the most dangerous of the three of them, and that something was in the air. Jim nodded almost unnoticeably and concentrated on Eliot. The muscles in his shoulders knotted almost painfully, and he pushed, almost casually, his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.
His phaser was gone.
He bit back his panic and focused his attention on Parker - the phaser couldn’t have simply fallen out of his pocket, he was sure of that, which left only one option.
“I thought we’d agreed you wouldn’t steal my things again,” he said, his voice forced into quiet calmness.
“I didn’t mean to,” Parker said and glanced down, at her hands. She didn’t even try to deny that it had been her who had taken the weapon, Jim noticed - not that he would have believed her if she’d done so.
Hardison moved closer to her, a protective gleam in his eyes, and Eliot took a step away from the wall, too, while growling menacingly.
The Klingons, Jim thought, would be glad to have someone like Eliot in their ranks, but that didn’t help him in his situation right now. It only sent a wave of hysterical amusement through him, and he pushed it back with some difficulty.
He had to remain calm now.
“All right,” Eliot growled and put the phaser Parker had stolen from Jim on the small rickety table that was almost between them, like a wooden demarcation line. “Now would be the best time to tell the truth.”
Jim bit his lip and exchanged a quick glance with both McCoy and Scott. He knew that both men could hold their own in a fight - he’d been to enough bars with them to know how much, exactly - but he had no desire to find out how good Parker and Hardison actually were.
It was McCoy who threw up his hands and growled, “For God’s sake, Jim, what else do you want to do now? We’re not closer to this…thing than we’ve been last week! And if we don’t trust them, how should they trust us?”
“But the paradox,” Scott protested. “Telling them could risk everything!”
“All right,” Jim cut in, before Scott accidentally revealed anything else, “Enough.”
He stared at Eliot.
“Man, I checked everything,” Hardison said. “Every database that exists online. There is no Jim Kirk. There’s a family with the name Kirk in Iowa, but no Jim Kirk.”
“My name really is Jim Kirk,” Jim said carefully. “And I’ve really grown up in Iowa, but I wasn’t born there. I swear, all we could tell you, we did.”
Eliot nodded. “Want to know what I think?” he said calmly, but he didn’t relax his stance.
“Enlighten me,” Jim answered and mirrored his position.
Eliot nodded again. “You’re not from here,” he said. “Your weapons, your behavior, everything about you screams strangers. You were looking for access to General O’Neill, which means Area 52 and the Stargate Project, which means you’re not from this planet and need the gate to get back home.”
Jim stared at him. “And how do you know about all that?” he wanted to know. “The Stargate Project is supposed to be top secret, you know.”
Eliot smirked. “Then how did you find out about it?” he asked back.
Jim counted slowly to ten in his head before he carefully said, “You’re not wrong.”
“I knew it!” Parker exclaimed loudly. “Wait, you’re really aliens? Aliens exist?”
“Yes, they do,” Hardison said. “Our government is involved in some hinky stuff, I keep telling you.”
“Wait…” Parker started and cocked her head to the side. “Real aliens? But you don’t look like an alien. You’re not…green and slimy and you don’t have spaghetti tentacles!”
“That’s because most aliens probably aren’t green slimy spaghetti monsters, Parker,” Hardison said with the patience of a saint.
“Does everyone here know about aliens?” McCoy burst out.
“In this room? Yeah, pretty much.” Hardison nodded.
“I didn’t know,” Parker murmured, but Eliot did his best not to pay attention to her.
“Now that we’re all on the same page,” he said, “I’m going to meet with some contacts, to find out where they put the Stargate, because one thing is for sure, they removed it from Area 52 a while back -“
“About two or so years,” Hardison added, “but there’s no trace of it - it’s all very hush-hush, but one thing is for sure, the operation is still in full-swing, so they must’ve found something else.”
Eliot nodded. “Right. So, you stay here and lie low, you hear me?”
He waited until Jim and Parker both nodded before he rolled his eyes and left without another word.
The door fell closed behind him, and Parker tilted her head to the other side.
“Really, aliens?” she asked, and Jim collapsed onto the bed closest to him, all tension leaving his body. He couldn’t wait for Eliot to return and save him from Parker’s curious questions.
He didn’t know how much more he was going to break the first directive when faced with a determined Parker.
~*+*~
“Dex.”
“Spencer.”
Both of them bowed their heads briefly, and Eliot stepped onto the mat. The smirk on Dex’ face widened slightly, but he didn’t wait and started to circle Eliot like a giant, elegant predator.
“Been a while,” Eliot growled and quickly sidestepped an attack from the taller man. He tried to take advantage of Dex’ momentum, but he was too slow, or Dex was too quick on his feet.
“Yeah.” They traded a few blows.
Eliot felt sweat start to trickle down the back of his neck and his spine, and his grin widened. It had been a long while since he’d sparred with someone of Ronon Dex’ abilities just for fun, and he enjoyed every second of it now.
“What do you want?”
He briefly contemplated what he wanted to tell Dex, and Ronon took advantage of his moment of distraction - this, Eliot knew, couldn’t happen to him in a real fight, he would be dead now instead of just tasting blood from a split lip. He had to keep his focus.
“Well?” Ronon asked and held out a hand, to help him back to his feet. Eliot grabbed it and promptly used his grip to get the upper hand in the fight, overwhelming Ronon and managing to get him down to the ground, even if it was just for a split second before Ronon reversed their positions again.
“Your former employer,” he said. “We ran into some guys who’re not from around here.”
Ronon regarded him calmly. “Let me make some calls,” he said and elegantly jumped back to his feet. “You want a drink?” He grinned wolfishly. “Or some ice?”
“Yeah,” Eliot said and followed Ronon to his cluttered little office. He took the ice pack Ronon tossed his way and sat down while Ronon made his calls.
“Teyla and Sheppard are going to be here in a bit,” Ronon finally said and leaned back in his own chair. “You might wanna wait for them before you start talking.”
Eliot nodded and settled in to wait.
He’d met Ronon about two years ago, when Ronon had started to settle into San Francisco and had taught his first self-defense classes for kids and women. Eliot had been fascinated by Ronon’s fighting style - it was very distinctive, and yet, it wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen before - and he had started a casual conversation with the man. Ronon never said much, but he knew about survival and about fighting. They had bonded over that and about growing vegetables on the rooftop of a house, and whenever Eliot was in San Francisco after that, he dropped by for a fight, a drink and sometimes dinner.
Ronon stretched and gave Eliot a challenging grin. “Gotta teach,” he announced with a glance at the clock at the wall. “Wanna help?”
~*+*~
By the time Teyla and John Sheppard arrived, Eliot’s muscles ached in the pleasant way of a good work-out, and the cut in his lip had been re-opened by one of Ronon’s quick blows.
Teyla bowed her head respectfully when she saw Eliot, and he returned the gesture. Teyla was not a woman he wanted to have to meet in a fight - despite her slender figure, she could kick his ass just as well as Ronon. They’d crossed paths a few times when Eliot had visited and Teyla had taught a group of kids, or had let a group of people through meditation. She and Ronon were partners, and although she looked as calm and serene now as ever, everyone in the room, including Eliot, knew better than to underestimate her.
“Sheppard. You remember Eliot, right?” Ronon asked as he clapped John on the shoulder hard enough to make his knees buckle.
“Yeah,” John said and gave Eliot a brief nod. “He helped us when we needed a…specialist. To retrieve something to come back to you guys. A few years ago.”
“When you stole the jumper, you mean?” Ronon asked and shook his head. “Eliot knows about the Stargate.”
“You do?” Sheppard fixed his gaze on Eliot. “How?”
Eliot shrugged. “It’s what I do,” he simply said. He knew a lot of things, after all. “What I don’t know is where it is right now.”
Sheppard exchanged a quick glance with both Ronon and Teyla. “Why do you want to know where it is?” he asked. His entire body screamed mistrust and suspicion, even without moving a single muscle and despite his attempt to appear like a man with no care in the world.
Eliot shrugged again. “We picked up those guys,” he explained, “and they need a Stargate to get back home.”
Another glance was exchanged, then Teyla said, “John, it would be the right thing to help these people.”
“Yeah,” Ronon mumbled. “If they just want to go home and not be stuck here…”
This time, the glance between them had more of an edge in it. Sheppard suddenly looked guilty, and Teyla looked as if she was struggling with a great sadness and loss.
“Point is,” Sheppard finally said, “they can’t use…you know. The Atlantis gate. There is no way we can get them there without being seen and stopped. And I have no idea where the other one - the original Earth gate - is.” He drummed his fingertips on his thigh for a moment.
“We tried to find information in General O’Neill’s office,” Eliot offered, and John frowned.
“Can I borrow your phone?” he asked Ronon, and when Ronon nodded, he rose slowly and took the cordless phone before limping out slowly.
“He doesn’t like being kicked out of Atlantis by his own people,” Ronon explained to Eliot with a shrug and began to go through lesson plans and schedules with Teyla. There was nothing to do for Eliot but wait, but he didn’t mind.
At least Sheppard hadn’t outright refused to help.
It was almost two hours later when Sheppard returned to them.
“General O’Neill was not happy about the break-in,” he reported as he sat down carefully and massaged his thigh briefly.
“Wait, you called General O’Neill?” Eliot wanted to know. His spine knotted up with tension - if General O’Neill knew who it had been, breaking into his office, and where to find them…there was no way he could fight off both Ronon and Teyla, and there was no doubt that they wouldn’t help him against Sheppard. Both of them were loyal to Sheppard; loyal like sheepdogs.
He was doomed.
Sheppard shook his head exhaustedly. “I called Colonel Carter,” he said. “Let her call the general. She knows him better than I do.”
“And?” Eliot asked. His patience was growing thin, and the tension in his spine hadn’t lessened yet. He itched to get out of here and back to the others.
“Carter called O’Neill and asked him about the whereabouts of the Earth gate. Since we brought the…other gate here, there was no need to keep the Cheyenne Mountain Complex active…”
“I don’t…” Eliot started when John trailed off, but he stopped himself quickly. He didn’t need to get it, it didn’t matter for this job that he knew why another gate meant that the original gate had been taken away from Cheyenne Mountain. All he needed was the merchandise - in this case, the information where the original Earth gate was right now.
“Bottom line is,” Sheppard picked up again, when it became obvious that Eliot wouldn’t finish his sentence, “O’Neill wasn’t sure but he thinks the gate was taken to a place called Warehouse 13. He didn’t know or didn’t want to tell where or what that is, so, that’s all I’ve got for you.”
“Warehouse 13.” Eliot nodded and stood. He shook Sheppard’s hand and bowed his head toward Teyla and Ronon. “We’ll figure it out. Thanks, man.”
Sheppard nodded. Eliot knew that Sheppard didn’t trust him and had gotten the information only because Eliot had helped him in the past and because he still owed him.
It was all right. He grinned slightly and left.
John was silent until he was alone with Teyla and Ronon. Only then, he moved slightly and sighed.
“We should ask him and his guys to steal Atlantis back for us,” he then said. “When he finishes this job.”
Ronon only grinned. It was a dangerous grin, and John felt himself react to it.
There was still hope left in him.
~*+*~
“Warehouse 13?” Hardison frowned. “Never even heard of it, man.”
Jim glanced at Scott. “How about you, Scotty?” he asked nervously. The information Eliot had brought back wouldn’t help them to get home if they couldn’t use it and couldn’t figure out where to go next.
Scott shook his head. “No, Captain,” he answered. Jim flinched slightly, but nobody seemed to have noticed Scott’s slip-up. “Never heard of it, either.”
McCoy sighed from his spot in the corner of the room. Five hours of being locked into the room with the others, and the good doctor was feeling as if he was slowly losing his mind.
Jim shook his head determinedly. He wasn’t willing to give up just yet.
“If they brought something like the Stargate there, this Warehouse thing is operated by the government, right?” he said and paced between the bed and the table, three steps in each direction, before turning on his heel.
“Yeah, probably.” Hardison shrugged without looking up from his laptop.
“And if it’s government-operated, there’s…files. Information. Stuff.” Jim lifted his hands. “Anything.”
“Yeah,” Scott added and grabbed the tricorder. “And if there is anything, we’ll find it.” He sat down next to Hardison and started to search.
Jim continued pacing. There was nothing for him to do, and the continued inactivity was making him feel helpless. Judging from the expression on McCoy’s face, he wasn’t the only one feeling like that.
~*+*~
“Okay, this is what we found.” Hardison pointed his clicker at the screen. A picture of a woman appeared. Her hair was tied back, she wore glasses, and her skin was dark. She had a strict line to her jaw, and even from the picture it quickly became obvious that she was not to be messed with.
“This is Mrs. Fredrick,” Hardison explained. “She is Warehouse 13. No other things are known about her - where she’s from, how old she is, credit card statements, nothing. Seriously, she’s a ghost.”
“Then what do we know?” Jim wanted to know as he stared at the picture.
“We know this Warehouse exists?” Hardison offered and shrugged.
“Dammit, Hardison!” Eliot growled, and Hardison glared at him.
“Do you think I can wave my magic thumb drive and make information appear where no information is?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled up another picture.
“We know that these people work at the Warehouse,” he said. “Secret Service Agents Pete Lattimer and Myka Bering.” He pointed at the picture of the two agents. “Their job is to retrieve objects and bring them to the Warehouse. They work directly under this guy - Arthur Nielsen.” Another picture appeared, but it was slightly blurry and washed-out.
“That’s what we know. We don’t know where to find that Warehouse, how to get in, and how to get access to the Stargate,” Hardison concluded. The last picture disappeared and made room for a huge question mark.
Parker sat up straight. “Show me that last picture again?” she asked, and Hardison shrugged and pulled it up.
When he’d seen it the first time, it had reminded him of someone, and even if he couldn’t quite figure out who, the feeling of déjà vu still hadn’t gone away.
It didn’t prepare him for the delighted chuckle coming from Parker.
“Hey, that’s Artie!” she said cheerfully.
“Yes. Arthur Nielsen,” Hardison repeated with forced patience. “As I said…”
“No. Artie.” Parker shook her head. “He makes good cookies.” She glanced at Eliot. “Not as good as yours, though.”
Eliot stared at her unblinkingly. “You know this how?” he asked.
Parker shrugged. “He made me some.”
“Hold-hold on second,” Hardison interrupted. “You know this man?”
Parker nodded. “Yeah, why?”
“You know where to find him?” Eliot asked.
Parker nodded. “Yeah, of course, he works in this really huge building.”
“Really huge building?” Scott interrupted, disbelief coloring his voice. “You mean, like a warehouse?”
Parker nodded. “Yes?”
“Warehouse 13?” Jim asked resignedly, and Parker frowned in utter confusion.
“I thought that was just a codename,” she admitted. “Not a real warehouse. What kind of government top secret facility doesn’t have a really dorky codename?”
“Dorky,” Eliot repeated almost tonelessly. He gave Hardison a hard glare - it wasn’t a secret to him where Parker had picked up this particular part of her vocabulary. The way Hardison nervously tried not to meet his eyes told him everything he needed to know.
“There’s something wrong with you,” he growled at Parker and stood, to pace. It helped to control the urge to punch someone that almost threatened to overwhelm him.
“So?” McCoy asked.
Parker raised her eyebrows at him. “So what?” she asked back.
“Good grief, woman!” McCoy groused. “Where is it?”
Jim placed a soothing hand on his friend’s forearm. The muscles there were hard with tension, and Jim squeezed slightly and for a split second before pulling away. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to stop McCoy from starting to yell at Parker.
“Where is the warehouse, Parker?” Jim asked very patiently.
“South Dakota,” she replied. “The Badlands. It’s a really huge building.”
Hardison turned back to his computer. “South Dakota,” he murmured. “How do we get there?”
He pulled up several route planners and started typing. Soon, Scott joined him.
McCoy sighed and allowed himself to fall across the bed. “Another road trip?” he asked, his voice muffled by the forearm he’d thrown over his face.
This time, not even Jim managed an encouraging smile.
Part V: Road Trip: The Road Goes Ever On And On
A knock on the door made Leonard McCoy slowly rise from the chair he’d sunken into and stumble to the door. He was exhausted and stiff from a long day stuck in the van, and a dull headache had started to throb behind his temples.
A few miles after Salt Lake City, they had decided to take a break and stay at a motel for the night. Scott and Hardison had used their fake credit cards, and all of them had quickly disappeared for the night, unable to stand the sight of each other for one more second.
Pulling the door open, he found Jim Kirk lounging against the doorframe. For a split second, he flashed back to their academy days and all the occasions when Jim had cajoled him out for a drink or two in company; when he had come to Bones’ door loose-limbed and relaxed.
He wasn’t relaxed right now. His shoulders were hanging down limply, and a deep, unhappy frown was etched into his forehead, making him look years older than he really was.
McCoy pulled him into the room without a word. He knew Jim Kirk and knew exactly that his friend couldn’t stand the thought of being alone right now.
Jim sank onto the edge of the lumpy mattress and sighed deeply. He didn’t even bounce once on the bed, and that alone told McCoy more than he really needed to know.
He sighed as well and grabbed one of the sealed plastic cups the motel provided and handed it to Jim. Jim gave him a curious glance, but he held it while McCoy grabbed the bottle in the brown paper bag and poured a generous amount of amber liquid in the cup.
“Courtesy of Mr. Eliot Spencer,” he said as he topped off his own cup and sat down, his shoulder brushing against Jim’s. “Cheers.”
They drank. The alcohol burned down Jim’s throat, and he fought against the urge to cough.
“You can say what you want about this time, but they know how to make good bourbon,” McCoy muttered next to him. Jim nodded and took another sip.
Warmth filled him and without realizing it, he sighed again.
“Well?” McCoy asked. “You gonna tell me what’s bothering you now, or do you need another drink first?”
“How long have we been stuck here?” Jim asked softly, but he held out his cup.
McCoy shrugged. “Ten days?” he answered and raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Why?”
Jim shrugged. “It feels longer,” he murmured. “It feels like forever. Like a time loop. Or a road trip to nowhere.”
McCoy took another mouthful and held it in his mouth for a long moment.
“I mean…we don’t even know if we’ll find the gate, and if we find it, nobody guarantees us that this works. We could be stuck here forever.”
McCoy nudged him slightly. “If Spock were here right now,” he murmured, “he would tell you that it’s illogical to assume that we’re going to be stuck here forever. He would also tell you the probability of us getting home, up to the tenth place after the decimal.”
Jim chuckled. “Yeah,” he answered. “Could you imagine Spock meeting Parker?”
McCoy shook his head. “He would find her highly illogical and most likely very fascinating.”
“Yeah.” Jim’s lips curved upwards. “I miss having him around.”
“How would you explain his ears?”
“I don’t know - a tragic accident with a mechanical rice picker?”
They laughed quietly, and McCoy nudged Jim again. “Hey,” he said once their laughter had died down. “We’ll get this done without the green-blooded hobgoblin.”
“Yeah.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll find this warehouse,” Bones continued. “One step after the other. You know about road-trips - it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.”
Jim gave him a weak smile. “You’re right,” he said and turned his cup between his hands. “We will get home.”
McCoy nodded. “I’ll drink to that.”
And so they did.
Tomorrow, they would continue their journey, and nobody else would find out about Jim’s doubts about the success of their plans. Tomorrow, he would be Captain James T. Kirk again, confident and with a wide smile, and McCoy would never tell anyone about this side of his friend.
This was between the two of them and the bottle of bourbon.
Part VI: Badlands, South Dakota
“Okay, here we are.” Hardison squinted against the setting sun. “This is the thing? The…the Warehouse?” He scrunched up his nose. “Is that a pile of cow shit right in front of their door?”
Eliot didn’t do much more than throw him a disgusted look, but Jim smiled cheerfully.
“I believe it is,” he agreed. “What now? Scotty, how do we get inside? Parker?”
“We are really breaking into a top secret government facility?” Hardison asked and glanced at the warehouse again. He sounded slightly worried and excited at the same time.
“Aye,” Scott murmured. “If we can gain access to their computers, we can find out where they are keeping the Stargate.”
“That still doesn’t help us getting into the actual building,” Jim pointed out and narrowed his eyes at the building, as if he could make it give up the Stargate with the force of his glare alone.
“No,” Eliot agreed. “Best time to get in is most likely when Bering and Lattimer are gone. I mean, I could take them, but…” he trailed off and shrugged slightly.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of them,” Hardison started to tease, at the same moment as Scott said, “If we wait for them to leave, we miss our window of opportunity.”
“Okay,” Jim said and licked his lips nervously. “What is our window of opportunity here?”
Scott shrugged. “We have one tomorrow,” he said with a hesitant glance at Eliot. “After that, it’s a long wait. The next one is in fifty years.”
“Fifty years?” McCoy repeated sharply.
“Aye.”
“Well,” Jim said and consciously loosened the muscles in his shoulders. “We better don’t miss this one then.”
Hardison looked up from his laptop. “With the codes my man Scotty here gave me, I managed to hack into the Warehouse’s systems, but there’s something funky going on…” He trailed off and began to type furiously. “Whoever works there knows what he’s doing.” He stopped typing with a disgusted expression on his face. “I salute you, sir.” The last was spoken with vehemence and grudging respect in the direction of the screen of his laptop.
“Parker,” Eliot said gravelly. She was just standing next to the van, her arms crossed over her chest, and was frowning slightly.
“Parker, how do we break into this thing?” he asked, his voice pitched low. He wanted to avoid startling her - if he’d seen it correctly, she’d pocketed a fork and a spoon at a small diner on their last stop.
“Break in? Nobody can break into the Warehouse. It’s protecting itself, you know?” she answered and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.
“Great,” McCoy grumbled. “Now what?”
“Now, we call Artie,” Parker announced cheerfully. “Maybe he’ll make us cookies.”
Eliot’s hand snatched the phone out of her grip. “Dammit, Parker,” he hissed. “You can’t call the guy and tell him why we’re here! That’s crazy!”
Parker frowned. “Why? He already knows we’re here,” she pointed out. “I’m pretty sure he’s watching us right now.”
Scott nodded. “Someone is watching us,” he confirmed. “Has been for a while now.”
“Great,” Eliot sighed and handed Parker her phone back. “Go ahead, then.”
She took the phone and dialed with nimble fingers. Within moments, her call was answered.
~*+*~
The man entering the little diner in Univille half an hour later had grey, curly hair, glasses and he was clutching a bag tightly and protectively to his chest. He seemed twitchy and nervous, and he didn’t come alone. A young woman with a blue strand in her hair was with him, and exactly twenty seconds later, a man and a woman entered the diner and chose a seat that allowed them to keep an eye on them.
From the files Hardison and Scott had pulled, Jim immediately recognized all of them: the older man slipping into the booth opposite him and Parker was Arthur Nielsen, the woman with him was Claudia Donovan, and the other two were Pete Lattimer, who had a nice smile for the waitress when she poured him a cup of coffee and then went back to staring at Parker and Jim inconspicuously, and Myka Bering.
Parker smiled widely. “Hi Artie.”
“Parker.” Artie took off his glasses and polished them on his sleeve. “I thought we’d agreed that you wouldn’t try to break into my warehouse again.”
“I didn’t!” Parker protested, her eyes wide and innocent.
“Well, someone hacked into our computer system!” Claudia replied sharply and leaned over the table, scowling at Parker.
Parker stared at her unblinkingly. “Not me,” she replied firmly before grinning again. “But I might know someone who might have done so.”
Jim’s lips twitched. They had done the same thing the Warehouse agents had done and had split up to avoid too much suspicion and attention from the locals, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Scott and Hardison bent over Hardison’s laptop, two bottles of orange soda on the table in front of them.
Whatever they were talking about, Jim just hoped that Scott wasn’t teaching Hardison anything that could interfere with the natural cultural development of the planet. It would be fatal - of course Jim was familiar with the grandfather paradox, but he had the prime directive deeply instilled in him, which meant that the fact that they were here was making him uncomfortable, and he had tried to blend in as much as possible. Of course, all his efforts had been thwarted when Parker had stolen his phaser, and he hadn’t expected that people from the early 21st century knew about life on other planets…he shook his head, to clear it from those thoughts. What was done, was done, and there was no way they could undo it now.
“Children!” Artie snapped and pushed his glasses up his nose again. “Great, how did I end up with two juvenile criminals on my hands?”
Claudia turned huge, wounded eyes in his direction, but Artie managed to ignore it.
“Why did you want to meet me, Parker?” he asked with a deep sigh.
Parker pointed her chin at Jim. “He and his friends need something from your warehouse to go back home,” she explained.
Artie flinched slightly before pulling himself up to his full height. “No. Absolutely not.”
Parker’s smile fell. “We’re not here to steal it, Artie,” she said patiently, the hint of disappointment in her voice. “We just want to borrow it.”
“No.” Artie shook his head firmly.
“Why not?” Jim wanted to know.
Artie glared at him. “Because the things we keep safe here are dangerous!” he hissed before glancing around suspiciously “I’m sorry, Parker. I appreciate what you’ve done for us in the past, but my answer is still no.” He started to rise, nudging Claudia to follow his example.
“Just out of curiosity, which artifact were you guys trying to use to get home?” Claudia asked, not moving, and glanced from Parker to Jim and back.
“Claudia!” Artie hissed a warning.
“What, I’m just asking!” she hissed back.
Jim let his hands fall open onto the tabletop. “The Stargate,” he said truthfully. The little spark of hope in his chest that kept the belief of going home to his own time had dimmed at Artie’s harsh refusal, but now, he smiled winningly at Claudia, trying to win her over to his side.
“What is he, your brother?” Artie snapped at Parker before sighing and sitting down again.
Parker flinched almost violently and clenched her jaw shut while shaking her head forcefully.
“Tell me your whole story, then,” Artie said and waved at the waitress, who apparently was caught between flirting with Pete and with Eliot, to bring him more coffee. “Don’t leave anything out.”
He had a feeling he would need it.
Jim flashed him another bright smile that looked very much like Parker’s when she’d just pulled off a great heist, Artie thought uncomfortably, and began talking.
~*+*~
“The agent, Lattimer?” Eliot murmured after a small sip of his drink. “Ex-Marine.”
“Oh?” McCoy shot him a carefully guarded look. “How can you be sure?”
“Way he moves,” Eliot explained. “It’s very…distinctive.”
“Oh, sure,” McCoy growled. “Why didn’t I see that? Wait - it’s because I’m a doctor and not a pantomime! Dammit…”
Eliot’s lips twitched slightly and he took another sip of his drink. McCoy wasn’t afraid of Eliot, despite the fact that a few nights ago Eliot had explained - and demonstrated - to him in great detail how to disarm and eliminate a threat with nothing more than a whisk. McCoy’s only answer had been a raised eyebrow and a growled comment about how the carotid artery best be cut right under the left ear, if Eliot already was at it, and later, he’d murmured with Jim about something called Klingons.
McCoy reminded Eliot vaguely of Hardison, only less annoying, and that, plus the part where he’d put Eliot back together twice and had miraculously healed his shoulder, as well, made him start to grudgingly respect McCoy.
~*+*~
Jim finished his heavily edited version of their story and sat back. He could tell that Artie was thinking about what he’d said, but all the other man was saying was, “Stay here while I check some things.”
He rose and left abruptly, leaving Claudia, Pete and Myka to scramble after him.
“Huh,” Jim said and took a sip of his coffee. It had grown cold, and he grimaced slightly. “That went…not bad. I’m not sure he understood the part with the window of opportunity, though.”
Parker moved her shoulders. “I hope he brings cookies when he comes back,” she said wistfully.
Jim gave her a look from the side. Eliot, he thought, not for the first time, was right about her when he said that Parker was crazy. There was something wrong with her.
She also was nice and friendly to him and had been since the first second they’d met. Jim couldn’t quite make up his mind about her, but a part of him wanted to take her with them to the future, just to see her pick the pocket of an Orion.
~*+*~
“Well?” Claudia demanded and spun her chair around idly. “What are you going to do?”
Artie glared at the Farnsworth in his hand while he made his way through the Warehouse, until he found what he was looking for.
The Stargate.
It was bigger than he remembered, and no matter how hard Parker would try, she wouldn’t be able to steal it from under his nose. It was physically impossible. Artie had no doubt that Parker could infiltrate the Warehouse if she set her mind to it, but no matter how she weaseled her way in, she wouldn’t be able to take the huge ring with her.
Claudia coughed pointedly. “Are you going to let them use this thing to get back to their time?” she asked.
Artie snorted. He had, at first, thought the guy, Jim, who looked so much like Parker and resembled her in manners too, was making fun of him. His story had been unbelievable, like some of the stories Parker had told him, but as he had kept on talking in low, urgent tones, Artie had found himself contemplating how he could help him - after all, he dealt with the unexplainable and weird every single day, and the thought of alien life forms, and time travel, wasn’t as absurd as some of the things stowed away in the Warehouse, under his own nose.
“Artie!” Claudia whined.
Artie sighed, but before he could answer, steps sounded behind him. He whirled around, only to find himself facing Myka and Pete. He breathed a sigh of relief - a part of him had expected Parker there, or even… He quickly forced his mind away from that line of thinking.
“Nostradamus,” Myka said triumphantly. Pete nodded enthusiastically.
Artie frowned. “Aisle twenty-seven…” he started, but Myka shook her head firmly enough to send her hair flying.
“We found this in the lost prophecies of Nostradamus,” she explained and handed him an old book, open at a page toward the middle of the tome. Artie had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he took the book and let his gaze wander over words that seemed to flicker in front of his eyes and form new sentences while he was watching.
“You can’t be serious,” he told Myka as soon as he’d finished reading the short paragraph. “Three strangers on a long and backward journey?”
She just shrugged.
“Who told you about this in the first place?” Artie asked, exasperated at her behavior, and snapped the book shut.
“Uh…that would have been me,” Claudia admitted over the Farnsworth. “But you were the one who told me!”
Artie rolled his eyes. “I didn’t tell you so you could tell anyone else!” he snapped. “Don’t touch that, Pete!”
Pete had stepped up to the large crate that contained the Stargate and was inspecting it carefully.
“I’m just looking,” Pete said and ducked when the static energy around them crackled dangerously.
“What are you going to do now, Artie?” Claudia asked. “The Nostradamus prophecy says they need to step through that thing at a certain time, when the sun’s glare is erupting power - I’m guessing he means a sunflare or something.”
“Great,” Artie muttered, “and when would that be?”
Claudia rolled her eyes. “How should I know, these things are not exactly predictable.”
“No,” Pete agreed slowly, although Artie was certain that Pete knew next to nothing about sunflares, “but if these guys are telling the truth and travel through time, they might know.”
“Good thought,” Myka agreed, although she looked vaguely uncomfortable at the idea of time travelling.
Artie sighed. As much as he didn’t like it, he had the vague feeling that it didn’t matter what he thought. He could agree to let these strangers into his Warehouse, to try and find their way home, or he was certain Parker would just try to break in anyways. The way it looked right now, his own people would even hold the door open for her, he thought bitterly.
Besides, Nostradamus said it was okay and necessary.
“Where are you going?” Myka called after him.
“Calling another juvenile criminal,” he tossed over his shoulder. He knew Parker was an adult, but she hadn’t been when they’d crossed paths for the first time, and in his heart, she was still the little, awkward girl from then.
“Hey!” Claudia protested, and Artie resolutely closed his Farnsworth, terminating the connection.
There was nothing left to discuss.
~*+*~
“Welcome to Warehouse 13,” Claudia said, ignoring Artie’s dark look. It was more than evident that Artie was less than thrilled by the idea of strangers in his Warehouse, but after staring for almost an hour at the Nostradamus prophecy and after a brief conversation with Mrs. Frederick - he had no idea how she’d found out about his little dilemma, but he hadn’t been surprised that she had, and she had given her express permission to grant these people access to the desired item - he had called Parker and had told her to bring her friends to the Warehouse.
“What is this place?” McCoy wanted to know with a curious look on his face as he reached out to brush his fingertips against the old coat of armor in the corner.
“This,” Artie said as he squeezed past him, “is America’s attic. Don’t touch anything.” He frowned at McCoy’s look of disbelief. “Our job is to take the unexplained and safely tuck it away,” he added to his explanation.
“In this supersized Pandora’s box,” Myka added with a glance in Artie’s direction. Pete had followed her in and was rubbing his hands expectantly now.
“Okay, we’re here.” Eliot gave Hardison a warning look, but for once, Hardison wasn’t doing much more than staring at the computers in the room. To Eliot, they simply looked extremely old, but Hardison looked like a kid in a candy store. “What now?”
“Now, we need to power up the Stargate and find a way to dial it,” Scott replied. “And we need it before tomorrow morning, 5:37 am.”
“The sunflare,” Claudia guessed.
Scott gave her an appreciating look and a surprisingly shy smile. “Aye.”
“Okay.” Pete glanced at his watch. “That gives us…eight hours and…fifty-two…fifty-one minutes.”
“We need about half an hour to get from here to the Stargate,” Myka said.
“And the US Air Force didn’t send their dialing computer stone thing or their MacGyver computer with it,” Pete added.
“And no extra batteries,” Claudia piped up. “I checked the inventory. All we have is this giant ring.”
“Maybe we should take a look of our own,” Jim quickly cut in. “To find out what exactly we need and if we can get it in time.”
~*+*~
Thirty minutes and several incidents with the static energy of the Warehouse later, they stood in front of the huge crate. A brief discussion later, Eliot, Jim, Pete and Scott were busy prying one side of the crate open, to reveal a huge ring made from a dark, unfamiliar material inside.
“Wow,” Scott whispered as he brushed his fingertips reverently against one of the symbols engraved in the ring. “A real Stargate.” He gated at it for a long moment before shaking his head. “Never thought I’d ever get to see one in such a good condition,” he added.
“Great,” Jim said with more enthusiasm than he really felt. “What do we have to do to make it work?”
“Power, of course,” Scott answered immediately. “Maybe we can use the static energy the Warehouse generates for that. We need a dialing algorithm, or enough manpower to dial manually.”
“All right.” Jim clapped his hands. “Then let’s get started.”
~*+*~
They quickly organized into groups, according to their talents and abilities. Hardison and Claudia were combining their computer skills and trying to figure out some sort of makeshift dialing program - something the Air Force had needed more than fifteen years to create, and they were attempting to do it in eight hours. Scott, Jim, McCoy, Eliot and Pete were trying, together with Artie, to rig up a system to power the Stargate and moving it to an area where its activation wouldn’t destroy any of the other items in the Warehouse. Myka was trailing Parker and making sure she didn’t steal anything.
“How can you keep up with her?” she finally asked Hardison.
Hardison grinned without looking up from the screen of his laptop. His face was lit up in a blue hue by its screen, but his fingers never stopped moving over the keyboard. “We don’t,” he admitted. “But if she likes you, she gives the stuff she took back, right, Parker?”
Parker gave Myka a sheepish look and handed her wallet back.
Myka took it, a confused expression on her face. It took her a moment before she stuttered, “Will cookies make you stop stealing things?”
Parker tilted her head to the side. “Probably not,” she admitted. “But maybe they do. Who knows?”
Myka shook her head and told Hardison and Claudia, “Make sure she doesn’t take anything!” before disappearing. Moments later, she returned with a plate of cookies.
~*+*~
It was about three in the morning when Eliot nudged Jim and asked him quietly, “What are you going to dial?”
“Huh?” Jim asked back and wiped a forearm over his sweaty face.
Eliot shrugged. “It dials somewhere, doesn’t it?” he asked. “Do you know where or are you just…pressing keys and hoping it’ll work?”
“I don’t know,” Jim admitted. “Scotty?” He waved at the engineer who was tightening something at the top of the Stargate. This was not the engine nacelles of the Enterprise, but Scott was in his element nonetheless.
Scott hastily climbed down and landed on his feet a few steps away from them. “Captain?”
“Do we have someplace to dial?”
“Aye,” Scotty confirmed breathlessly. “We’re going to dial Sulak. If my calculations are right, we’ll end up right where we were supposed to be in the first place.” He glanced at the Stargate. “At least we will if this works.”
Jim nodded. “Carry on, then,” he said. They still had a lot to do and time was ticking away.
~*+*~
“How is it going, with the dialing program?” Parker asked and snagged the last cookie of the plate. Hardison glared at her.
“Not that good,” Claudia admitted around a yawn. She had pillowed her head on her folded forearms and was resting half on her keyboard.
“Huh,” Parker answered. “The batteries are almost finished.” She took a bite out of the cookie, and Hardison’s glare intensified.
“Time’s almost up, too,” she added and left.
Twenty minutes later, Scott entered. He was dragging his feet exhaustedly, and he was bleeding slightly from a small cut on his forehead. He fell into a chair and yawned.
“Parker said you’re stuck?” he asked after a moment of silence.
“We’re not stuck,” Hardison protested. “We just…hit a corner.”
“Let’s see,” Scott answered and stretched his hands over his head for a moment. His accent had thickened, Hardison thought, and he needed a moment to make sense of Scott’s words, and when he did, he moved aside and let Scott see the screen of his computer.
Scott made a few distracted noises and started to type slowly. Twenty minutes later, Hardison caught up with what he was doing, and Claudia only needed a few moments longer, despite the fact that she was almost incapable of keeping her eyes open from exhaustion.
~*+*~
It was 5:21 am when they all found themselves around the Stargate again.
This, Jim thought, was the moment of truth.
Despite his exhaustion, his body was vibrating with energy, and a quick glance over his shoulder at McCoy, who was still busy cleaning a cut on Pete’s forearm, revealed that he wasn’t the only one.
He gave Artie a smile - a flash of teeth - and when Artie rolled his eyes, Jim nodded.
Hardison began to type on his laptop.
Next to Jim, Parker held her breath.
Claudia muttered quietly - a prayer, or lines of code, Jim couldn’t tell and he couldn’t make out the words either.
Static energy crackled, stronger than before, before it was harnessed by the mechanism Scott had whipped up, and finally, the gate slowly began to move with the grating sound of stone grinding against stone.
The first of seven locks - chevrons, Scott had called them - engaged.
Jim could feel his heart beat a heavy staccato in his chest, and he forced himself to take even, deep breaths.
The second chevron engaged.
The third.
The fourth.
The fifth.
The sixth.
Finally, the seventh chevron engaged, and the Stargate came to life. The event horizon exploded outward, and then, the wormhole stabilized. Jim couldn’t quite suppress the surprised gasp at the view.
“It worked,” Claudia whispered breathlessly. “It really worked!”
At the same time, McCoy asked, “Is it safe to travel like this?”
Scott laughed in exhilaration. “As safe as beaming,” he promised and glanced at his tricorder. “Five more minutes.”
“I guess that means goodbye,” Jim said quietly. He shook hands with the Warehouse agents, Eliot and Hardison, and found himself face to face with Parker.
Instinctively, he smiled, and her lips twitched slightly.
“Are you sure you want to leave?” she asked him. “You would make a really good grifter, Jim.”
He chuckled ruefully. “Thanks, Parker,” he said softly. “But no. I have to go. My crew…they need me.”
She nodded and bit her lip, and suddenly, she took a step toward him and gave him a brief, slightly awkward, but yet firm hug.
“I already forgot your name,” she quipped as she stepped back.
Jim smiled at her. “I’ll never forget yours,” he promised. “Bye, Parker.”
She nodded again and went to stand by Eliot’s side.
As Jim made his way up to the Stargate, he saw from the corner of his eye how Scott hugged Claudia and fistbumped Hardison, and then, McCoy fell in step next to him and frowned doubtfully at the shimmering surface of the Stargate.
Scott stepped up next to him, his eyes fixed on his tricorder.
“Almost there,” he said, “in ten…nine…eight…seven…six…”
Jim took a deep breath and held it while he glanced over his shoulder and grinned at the people who had helped them so much.
People that had become from strangers with secrets to friends.
Friends who still had secrets, but friends, nonetheless.
“Five…four…three…two…one…go!”
They stepped through the Stargate, into the stable wormhole…
…and disappeared.
The Stargate closed, and Claudia exhaled sharply. “They did it?”
“Looks like it,” Hardison agreed, still typing on his laptop.
“Great!” Parker grinned, just as Claudia added, “That means we can finally go and get some sleep?”
“Yeah,” Pete agreed and turned to leave, the others following him.
Artie stared at their backs disbelievingly. “Hey!” he called, “Who’s going to clean this up?”
Nobody answered, and with a sigh and a shrug, Artie decided that the cleaning could wait until after they’d all slept a few hours.
Part VII: Epilogue: Back To The Future
Jim shivered almost violently against the cold wind and the effects of their journey through space and hopefully time and curiously looked around even before the Stargate he’d stumbled through could close behind them.
They were in the middle of a square, surrounded by buildings. The sun was shining, and the Stargate behind them definitely looked older than the one he’d just stepped through - it looked worn, somehow, he thought, even if a second glance revealed that it was in perfect condition, barely a scratch on it.
They definitely weren’t in South Dakota anymore, and they most likely weren’t on Earth either.
But were they in their time, back where they belonged? Jim turned his head toward Scott.
“Scotty?” he murmured, but before Scott could answer, four armed men stepped up to them and ordered them wordlessly to follow them. Their heads were hidden behind heavy helmets, and Jim shrugged and followed the order.
They were led to one of the houses and into a large room. At the head of a table, an old man was sitting.
His back was bowed, and he was dressed in some sort of dark cloak, and Jim frowned. Unlike the armed guards, this man wasn’t wearing a helmet, and on his forehead, a golden symbol gleamed.
A snake in a circle, Jim recognized it from the pictures of the briefing he’d had on board of the Enterprise, before they’d left - how much time had passed since then, he wondered briefly, but he couldn’t tell.
Weeks.
Centuries.
Or maybe, if Scott’s calculations had been correct, just hours?
One thing was for sure - they had made their way to Sulak.
The old man slowly looked up.
“We were expecting you, Captain James T. Kirk,” he said, “but we did not expect you to come through the Chaapa’ai.”
Jim blinked as images in his mind and in front of his eyes shifted, overlapped, and puzzle pieces fell into place.
“You must be Teal’C, then, the leader of the free people of Sulak,” he said carefully after a moment.
The man bowed his head slightly. “Indeed.”
Something about the gesture was vaguely familiar, but it took Jim a moment before he realized where he’d met this particular man before, and when.
“You look pretty good for a guy who’s at least two hundred years old,” he quipped, and the old man’s lips quirked up in a small smile.
“Almost three hundred years,” he agreed. “This is old, even for my people.”
Jim nodded his understanding. “I’m sorry for stunning you, back then,” he said after a moment. “One day, you’ll have to tell me what you were doing on Earth there.”
Teal’C nodded. “Am I right to assume that you used the Stargate to travel through time?”
“Yes.” Jim frowned. “If you excuse me for a moment, I should contact the Enterprise.”
Teal’C nodded his agreement, and Jim reached for his communicator, which he’d put safely away into the inner pocket of his jacket, only to discover that it wasn’t there.
He needed less than five seconds to realize what had happened.
“Dammit, Parker!”
~*+*~
“You returned earlier than anticipated from the surface of Sulak, Captain,” Spock noted, his hands resting at the small of his back. “And your attire is more than unusual. Earth, late 20th century?”
Jim grinned and patted the side of the shuttle that had brought him, Scott and McCoy home to the Enterprise. “The old people still call the planet by its real name,” he said cheerfully. “Chulak. And it’s early 21st century, to be exact, Mr. Spock.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you we took a two hundred year long road trip, right?”
“Captain?” Spock arched a brow confusedly.
“I’ll explain it later,” Jim promised. “First, a shower. And a nap.”
They had remained on the surface of the planet for several days, and while McCoy had worked with the local medical personnel to work on a cure for an old immunity deficiency the inhabitants of Sulak were still suffering from and Scott had tried to figure out how exactly the Stargate worked, Jim had sat with Teal’C and had listened to the old man’s stories about his adventures on General Jack O’Neill’s team, exploring strange new worlds, seeking out new life and new civilizations and to boldly go where no man or Jaffa had gone before, and he had told Teal’C about his own adventures on 21st century Earth.
He clapped Sulu, who had piloted the shuttle, on the shoulder and left the shuttle bay, a happy smile slowly spreading over his face.
He was home.
Their road trip to nowhere had, against all odds, found a happy end.
Scott caught up with him just as he reached the turbolift, and Jim waited until the doors had closed before he said, “Whatever you shared with Hardison and Claudia there, I hope it didn’t change history too much.”
Scott grinned widely. “Aye, it did.”
Jim frowned confusedly, and Scott handed him the tricorder he was holding. The little screen showed him just lines of text, and Jim took it and started to read.
“A. H. Leverage and C. Donovan, the founders of modern computer science?” he said aloud.
Scott’s grin widened. “Aye, sir.”
“A. H., huh?”
“Alec Hardison.” Scott took the tricorder back. “Took me a while to figure it out, but…we were supposed to be there, sir. Without our influence, Hardison and Claudia would never have met, and we wouldn’t have the computers we have today.” He frowned slightly. “We did make history, sir.”
Jim chuckled. “All right then,” he said and leaned against the wall. He could feel the slight, almost unnoticeable vibrations of the ship - his ship - around him, and smiled as he tried to imagine Eliot, Parker and Hardison in this time.
Parker would be the best thief in the entire known galaxy.
Eliot…would probably give the Klingons nightmares.
And Hardison? Hardison would most likely hack into the Federation computers on a regular basis.
They were almost at the end of their ride when Scott shifted and said, in a thoughtful voice, “I wonder if they still make this orange soda.”
-END-
Prompts:
-road trip to nowhere (it's about the journey, not the destination)
-reluctant allies (the enemy of my enemy might or might not be my friend)
-conspiracies and secrets