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Chapter Text

It was quiet in space, and for once, it also was quiet on board of the Federation ship USS Enterprise.

Captain James T. Kirk exhaled soundlessly and allowed himself to sink back into the Captain’s chair, relaxing the muscles in his shoulders bit by bit. The nightshift on the Enterprise was slow-going and his crew was either asleep or working efficiently. They didn’t need him right now to make snap decisions that could potentially put their lives in danger, and he could sit back and let them do their jobs.

He could look out to the stars and allow his thoughts to wander, to the never-ending freedom of space, and how much political decisions and diplomatic missions had put restraints on that freedom.

“Captain.”

He didn’t look up at the greeting, but a small smile curved his lips up.

“Spock,” he replied and let his voice get a warm tone. He knew that human emotions still puzzled his Vulcan first officer and confused him, but he also knew that Spock appreciated and valued Jim’s friendship despite its rocky start, and he made the effort to let Spock in small ways know that Jim appreciated it as well.

“You have not retired for the night.”

It wasn’t a question, just a statement, an observation, but Jim made a small affirmative sound anyway.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he explained after a moment. Thoughts had plagued him and had kept him from getting his rest, thoughts and worries about Klingons and the last diplomatic mission they had been sent on.

“Maybe you should talk to Doctor McCoy,” Spock suggested after a moment of silence. “You are scheduled to join the mission to Sulak in seven point three hours.”

Jim nodded and slowly stretched his arms over his head before standing.

“You’re right,” he said. “I should go to bed.” He grinned at Spock, who, despite the late hour, was as impeccable-looking as always and had his hands crossed at the small of his back.

As usual, Spock’s only reaction to his grin was a raised eyebrow that looked as if Spock didn’t know exactly if he wanted to be vaguely disapproving or slightly amused by Jim’s blatant display of emotions.

He resisted the urge to clap Spock on the shoulder as he stepped past him, respecting his wish not to get touched. “Night, Spock.”

“Good night, Captain,” Spock replied, just before the turbolift’s doors closed between them.

~*+*~

“The planet Sulak has been surrounded by a thick asteroid belt for more than one hundred years,” Spock said as Jim fell in step with him. “You will be required to travel there by shuttle.”

Jim nodded. He’d learned as much in the mission briefing the day before. “Scotty and Bones are already waiting in the shuttle bay,” he answered and flashed Spock a grin. “You better keep my ship safe.”

“Of course, Captain.”

They walked around the corner and found Dr. Leonard McCoy and Mr. Scott already waiting for them. McCoy was shifting from one foot to the other and double-checking the bag he’d brought while frowning unhappily. Mr. Scott was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, but he nodded a greeting when he saw Jim and Spock.

“Ready for a little road trip?” Jim asked and nudged McCoy’s shoulder slightly.

McCoy only gave him a dark glare and shifted his bag from one shoulder to the other while adjusting the strap carefully.

“Let’s go, then,” Jim said and rubbed his hands. “Mr. Spock, the ship is yours. Treat her well while I’m gone.”

He entered the shuttle bay, quickly followed by Scott and McCoy, and did his best to ignore McCoy’s quiet grumbling. His restlessness from the night before was coming back, and his fingers itched to get this mission underway.

“Remind me again why we need to go to this planet,” McCoy growled as he fell into his seat.

“Sulak is supposed to have some old artifacts,” Scott said over his shoulders as his hands wandered over the shuttle’s controls and he initiated the pre-flight protocols. “And old technology.”

“Plus, they asked for our help,” Jim added. “An old immunity deficiency the people are suffering from. They need your expertise, which means you’re going, Bones, so don’t argue.”

McCoy grumbled a little more under his breath, and Jim settled in his own seat and smiled slightly as Scotty piloted the shuttle skillfully away from the Enterprise and toward the ring of debris that surrounded the planet Sulak.

“Have to be careful now,” Scott muttered and adjusted their speed slightly. “This is a dangerous area…”

The shuttle shuddered and from the corner of his eye, Jim saw how McCoy’s knuckles whitened on the armrests of his seat.

“Scotty?” he asked, a hint of alarm in his voice.

“Just a little…” Scott’s voice drifted off and the shuttle swerved to the side. For a split second, the gravity generators failed to keep up with the sudden move, and a panicked sound escaped McCoy’s throat.

“What’s going on?” Jim asked.

“Not sure, Captain,” Scott admitted. His fingers were flying over the console now, and his forehead was furrowed in concentration.

“What do you mean, not sure?” McCoy asked just as Scott forced the shuttle into a tight spiral, to avoid a collision with an asteroid.

“It means, I don’t know…” Scott trailed off again as an alarm sounded and he stared in disbelief at the screen. “It’s a rip in the space-time-continuum.”

“What?” McCoy asked, disbelief and shock in his voice.

“We’re getting sucked into a rip in the fabric of space and time,” Scott called out over his shoulder before Jim could say something.

“You mean…like Nero?” McCoy demanded to know.

“Yes,” Scott yelled just as the shuttle tumbled out of control and a loud, screeching sound swallowed the rest of his words. Sparks flew from the console and he yelped in pain, the sound unheard over the alarm klaxons.

Then – for an undetermined amount of time, darkness and silence.

Jim stirred slightly. “Scotty?” he asked, his voice rough. “Bones?”

“I’m here,” McCoy muttered. “I’m okay.” He shook his head slightly and pressed his fingertips to his own forehead. When he pulled them back, they were sticky, probably from his own blood. He would need light to confirm that, but the dizziness he was feeling already told him enough for a first diagnosis.

“Good,” Jim answered and reached for Scott’s shoulder. “Scotty?”

The engineer stirred slightly and groaned softly. “Captain?” he slurred. “Are we still alive?”

The lights came back on and revealed that Scott’s hands were reddened with burns, and McCoy pushed Jim out of the way to get a closer look.

“Looks like it,” Jim answered. “What happened, where are we?” He squeezed himself past Scott’s still dazed body and brushed his fingers over the controls. More sparks flew, and Jim jerked back with a bitten-off curse.

“Jim!” McCoy called out in alarm. “Dammit…”

“It’s okay,” Jim hastily said. “Just trying to find out where we are.” He grimaced. “And when.”

The computer beeped and spluttered, and Scott made a small sound of discomfort and reached for the controls again, waving McCoy off. “Just a moment, Captain,” he said, “based on the constellations we can find out where we are…and maybe also when.” He worked a few more seconds in silence before a sound of triumph escaped him.

“Captain?”

“Hmm?”

Scot brought a picture on the front screen, and both McCoy and Kirk leaned closer to inspect it.

“That’s not Sulak,” Jim commented dryly.

“No,” Scott agreed, his voice trembling. “This is Earth.”

“Oh, great,” McCoy said sharply. “If we beam down now, will we find people living in trees?”

“Bones, we can’t beam down, we’re in a shuttle,” Jim reminded him absent-mindedly, his eyes not moving away from the picture of the blue planet.

McCoy exhaled in a loud sigh. “What year?” he asked back resignedly.

“Late 20th century, maybe early 21st century,” Scott answered. “We’ve gone about two hundred years back.”

For a long moment, they all stared at the delicate-looking blue-and-green ball hanging in space in front of them, a planet they all called home, and yet, it wasn’t the home planet they knew.

This was a strange planet.

Finally, Jim stirred. “How do we get home?” he wanted to know quietly. “The shuttle?”

“No,” Scott answered immediately. “There is no way we can modify the shuttle to travel through time. It’s too damaged to do much more than what it’s doing right now.”

“That means…we’re stuck here?” McCoy asked.

“Not necessarily.” Scott shook his head and turned around to face them. “There might be another way.”

Jim shrugged with one shoulder. “Let’s hear it,” he encouraged.

Scott hesitated a split-second. “In the 20th and 21st century,” he started, “there was an organization that had control over an ancient device, the Stargate, that allowed them to travel to other planets…it was a top secret organization.”

“How does that help us?” McCoy interrupted impatiently.

“The Stargates…time travel was possible with them,” Scott answered. “They had barely started to explore that when most Stargates were destroyed in the middle of the 22nd century.”

“I’ve never heard of this organization or this device,” McCoy admitted.

“It was –and still is – highly classified,” Scott answered. “My great-great-great-great-grand uncle used to work for them…as their chief medical officer.” His lips twitched slightly at that.

“Okay.” Jim rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So, in order to get back home, we need to find this device – “ He raised both eyebrows. “ – which is top secret, and need to get the people in charge to let us use it?”

“In the right second, when there’s a sunflare that can transport us back in our time,” Scott added.

“A sunflare.” McCoy sounded unimpressed. “How should we know when there’s such a thing?”

“Our computers can tell us,” Scott answered. “The man we need to talk to is…” he hesitated and stared at the computer. “His name is Jack O’Neill.”

“Jack O’Neill?” Jim asked, surprised. “As in, General Jack O’Neill who was one of the most prominent supporters of the new space program that became active in twenty twenty-five?”

“Yes, that one,” Scott nodded. “Before he went to Washington, he worked at the SGC.”

“Okay,” Jim said again and tried to sort through his thoughts while acting as if this was something that happened every day to him. Rolling with the punches was the first thing he had learned when he’d taken over command of the Enterprise, and he used his experience now to keep everybody calm. “We need this device, and we need a sunflare – and in order to get the device, we need to convince General Jack O’Neill to let us use it?”

“Yeah, and how are you going to convince him to let three strangers get access to a top secret project?” McCoy tossed in.

Jim sighed. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “Maybe you can give him something, Bones?”

McCoy gave him a dark glare. “No,” he simply said. “I can not give him something.”

“Aw, come on, Bones,” Jim replied. “We need to find a way home here.”

“Find another way,” McCoy replied firmly. “I’ve sworn an oath. Dammit, Jim. I’m a doctor, not a lie detector.”

“I’m going to get closer to the planet,” Scott announced. “Maybe I can access the planet’s communication frequencies and find out more about the exact time we’re in.”

Jim nodded and leaned back into his seat. It was only a few seconds before the planet came closer and closer.

“I’ve got it,” Scott reported. “The year, and I have a pretty good idea where to find O’Neill. There’s only one problem.”

“Only one?” McCoy muttered.

Scott didn’t pay attention to him. “The shuttle was damaged in the rip –w e can get through the atmosphere, but it’ll be the last thing this one will be able to do, I’m sorry to say.”

Jim sighed. “We don’t have a choice,” he realized. “Get us down, Scotty.”

“As close to Washington, D.C., as you can,” McCoy grunted.

“Aye,” Scott murmured and guided the broken little ship down as gently as he could.

Chapter Text

“You sure nobody will find the remains of the shuttle?” Jim asked and moved his shoulders uncomfortably.

“Aye,” Scott nodded and fiddled with the zipper of his jacket. It was a faded red color and the sleeves were already slightly frayed out, but they had to blend into this time and that meant that they had to get rid of their uniforms and find clothes to wear. “It’ll explode as soon as you engage the self-destruct, Captain.”

Jim nodded thoughtfully and squared his shoulders. He hadn’t told Scott or McCoy where he’d gone after they’d landed the shuttle and had given them the order to try to hide as much of evidence that they had been there as possible. An hour later he’d returned, a twinkle in his eyes, a bundle of clothes in his hands and a wad of cash in one of the pockets of his faded, washed-out jeans.

“Good,” Jim said and pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his black leather jacket. “Any idea where we can find O’Neill?”

“His office.” McCoy was wearing jeans, a faded jeans jacket and a checkered blue and yellow shirt. He was holding his bag close and had brushed his hair into his forehead, over the small cut he’d sustained on the rough shuttle ride. “We have an address, but we don’t know how to get there.”

“Jim nodded. “We’ll get there,” he promised. “And we’ll get home, Bones.”

He tried to sound convincing, to sound certain and as if there was no doubt whatsoever about their eventual return to their own time.

McCoy only glared at him, but Jim didn’t let his façade crack. He needed his old friend to believe in him and trust him to get them all back home safe and sound.

McCoy broke the eye contact first and glanced down again, and Jim reached out and squeezed his shoulder gently.

“We’ll figure it out, don’t worry about it,” he murmured. “Just remember, treat this like any mission to an under-developed planet. Don’t tell them where we’re from and what we know, and we’re fine. We don’t want to alter history, right?”

“Don’t worry about it?” McCoy repeated incredulously.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Jim affirmed and took a step back. “Where’s that office? Are we ready to go? Do we have what we need?”

Scott nodded and handed Jim a phaser and a communicator.

“Let’s go.”

Behind them, the shuttle exploded almost immediately. Seconds later, the three men had left the area. When the police arrived to investigate the explosion reported in by a jogger, they found no trace of what had happened here.

~*+*~

“How do we get inside now?” McCoy asked and crossed his arms over his chest while glancing up the façade of the building.

Jim followed his glance and shrugged. “Scotty?”

Scott shrugged. “Their security is really easy to crack,” he answered and pulled his tricorder out of his jacket. “I think we can simply sneak in, Captain.”

“Then let’s go,” Jim decided and squared his shoulders. “Lead the way, Mr. Scott, and we’ll follow you.”

Scott nodded and stared hard at the display of his tricorder while figuring out the best way to get undetected into the building. Once he’d found the best way in, he guided Jim and McCoy halfway around the building and then in.

“What is that?” McCoy muttered from the corner of his mouth at Jim when he saw the construction in front of them.

“A metal detector,” Jim murmured back. He grinned slightly, delighted that his interest in Earth history was paying off. “Remember, this is a time when a lot of weapons are based on metals.”

“Barbaric,” McCoy grumbled as he looked in mistrust and with barely hidden disgust at the machine.

Scott made a small sound at the back of his throat and touched a fingertip to the side of his tricorder.

“Again, hacking into this thing and manipulating it into turning a blind eye on our things should be easy,” he explained. “It’s rather us I’m more worried about. We don’t exactly fit in here.”

Jim nodded and glanced past the machine. “We need uniforms, or suits,” he realized.

Scott smiled slowly. “I have an idea, Captain.”

~*+*~

“Dammit, Jim,” McCoy hissed while buttoning the blue shirt and rolling up the sleeves. “I’m a doctor, not a cleaning robot.”

“Right now, you’re pretending to be a part of the cleaning stuff,” Jim replied calmly. “Come on, Bones. This is an adventure. I mean, how often do you get the chance to time travel?”

“Too often, apparently,” McCoy answered darkly, but he straightened and smoothed down his shirt. “I’m ready.”

This time they managed to slip past the metal detector and into the building itself undetected. Scott guided them through a maze of hallways, sometimes ducking into less populated side hallways and empty rooms until they finally reached the door that announced in bold, capital letters that they’d reached their destination: General Jack O’Neill’s office.

“Great,” McCoy murmured and yanked at his collar. “What now?”

“Now, we break in and wait for the General to come back to his office,” Jim answered calmly and inspected his fingernails with pretended casualness. “I really don’t think he’ll be here this late.”

“Did you figure out a way to convince him to give us access to his top secret pet project?” McCoy asked quietly while Scott ran the tricorder over the door.

“Er…” Jim started, but before he could either come up with a good plan quickly or admit that he had no idea, a shout of “Hey!” made them all look up and whirl around.

An armed guard stood at the end of the hall, his hand on his gun, and his attention focused on the three of them and the blonde woman dressed in the same blue uniform of the cleaning crew as them.

Jim blinked. He’d never seen this woman before, hadn’t seen her arrive, but there she was, glaring at Scott with something like annoyance on her face.

“Step back from the door!” the guard ordered, “And turn to the opposite wall! Your arms over your heads! All of you, now!”

He waved with his gun, never moving it far from pointing at one of them, and Jim exchanged a resigned look with Scott and did as he had been told. The others followed his example.

The blonde woman gave him a sideways look as she rested her gloved fingers lightly on her head. “Were you trying to break into the General’s office, too?” she asked with unmasked curiosity.

Jim grinned at her and shrugged slightly.

“Then it was you who tripped the alarm,” she stated before frowning. “What were you looking for, the airplane designs?”

“No,” Jim said and glanced over his shoulder. The guard still had his gun trained on them and was talking into a walkie-talkie. “We just want to talk to the General.”

“That’s stupid,” the woman told him. “Why did you try to break in just to talk to the guy? Especially when he’s not even there.”

Jim gave her another flirty smile. “Let’s just say he knows stuff that we’re interested in.”

“You mean the Area 52 project?” she asked and pressed herself more firmly against the wall.

Jim looked at Scott.

“Yes,” Scott answered, surprise coloring his voice.

“Well, then,” the woman said simply, “you can wait for him and I can get the plans I came for?”

Jim grinned, exposing all of his teeth. “Great,” he answered simply. “I’m Jim.”

The woman gave him a long careful look, as if she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do next, but then she exhaled through her nose and said, “Parker.”

“Nice to meet you, Parker,” Jim said, but before he could add another word, McCoy interrupted.

“I don’t believe this,” he hissed at Jim. “In case you’ve forgotten, there’s an old-fashioned projectile gun pointed at our heads, and even if they are very primitive, they can kill you, so please stop your damn flirting for one little moment…”

“That’s my friend, Bones,” Jim simply said and nodded slightly in McCoy’s direction. “He’s a little grumpy sometimes.”

Parker smiled suddenly. “Oh! Like Eliot! And he doesn’t like guns, too!” she said, and Jim, who had no idea who this Eliot person was, nodded anyway.

Parker’s hand moved to her ear.

“Not good,” she murmured. “The guard called for back-up. Uh-huh. We need to abort this mission, come back later. With a better plan.”

“What?” Jim asked confusedly. “Why?”

She gave him a look that told Jim exactly what she thought of his question; a look that reminded him of Lt. Uhura.

“In five minutes, this place will be swarming with armed forces,” she explained in short, quiet words. “By then, we need to be gone.” She gave Jim another look.

“Look, she said with an eye roll when he didn’t react. “You can come, hang out and we’ll try again later.”

“You sure?” Jim asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, why not? I mean, you’re thieves too. Bad thieves, admittedly, but…” she shrugged and turned around.

Jim shook his head slightly and followed her example. They were both staring at the guard now, just in time to watch as a slightly smaller, stockier man with a ponytail and dressed in the same uniform they were wearing, crashed into the guard while keeping one arm pressed against his side protectively.

It was only seconds until the man had disarmed the guard and had left him unconscious.

“Eliot,” Parker said and took a step toward him. “What’s with your ribs?”

“Nothing,” the man growled. “Let’s go, Parker. Now.”

Parker, Jim thought with quiet amusement, had been right with one thing: this Eliot guy growled just as good as Bones did, and he had the same dark scowl on his face.

“Come on,” Parker said and tugged at Jim’s sleeve. “Let’s go.” Her voice sounded urgent, and Jim nodded and started following her.

“Your ribs.” Bones’ voice was quiet, but forceful, and he didn’t slow down as he talked. “They’re broken.”

“I said it’s fine,” Eliot growled. “Let’s go, man, unless you want to explain to the Air Force what you’re doing here, breaking into General O’Neill’s office.”

“You need someone to look at those ribs,” McCoy argued.

“Bones,” Jim said, the hint of a warning in his voice. “Not now.”

McCoy gave him another of his glares, but he snapped his mouth shut and silently continued following Parker.

Jim thought he could hear him grind his teeth, even from his current spot several steps away, and he turned to the man – Eliot – and flashed him his brightest grin.

“You should listen to him,” he said. “He’s a doctor, he knows what he’s talking about.”

Eliot growled again. “Not. Now.”

Jim decided to shut up and followed him out of the building and around a few corners and finally into a black, unmarked van, where he found himself face-to-face with a young, dark-skinned man who gave him one look and turned toward Parker.

“Hell, no,” he said. “We had this talk, girl. We talked about this.” He pointed an accusing finger at Jim. “You’re not supposed to pick up strays and bring them home, Parker.”

“But they needed help. We help people.” Parker sounded confused. “And they know about Area 52.” She frowned slightly. “They are weird – they have almost no money, and no credit cards, and that one – “she pointed at Scott – “said it’s easy to hack into the government computers. He could help you crack that thing.”

The young man opened his mouth and closed it repeatedly, but no sound escaped.

“And that one is a doctor. He can help Eliot’s ribs,” Parker added cheerfully.

The man threw his hands up in capitulation and climbed into the driver’s seat with no further comment.

“Weird period of time,” McCoy murmured, close to Jim’s ear, and Jim had to agree.

These were weird times, and weird people, and they weren’t any closer to their goal – access to the Stargate – than they had been before, but on the other hand, they, apparently, had found some friends, and thieves on top of that.

That whole day, Jim decided while leaning back against the wall of the van, mindful of the equipment stored there, could have gone better.

Much, much better.

~*+*~

One thing, Jim thought as he pressed himself tight against the wall and let Parker run the show, was for certain: the young blonde knew how to do her job. Jim had seen a lot of thieves in his time, including the quick-fingered Sallam who moved so quick that their movements couldn’t be seen by the naked human eye, but Parker was methodical and well-organized and knew exactly what she was doing. She also was as limber and athletic as an Orion slave girl.

“All clear,” Scott reported through the comms the man in the van, Hardison, had given them. Hardison had still been shooting them dark glares whenever he thought Jim and his men weren’t seeing it, but he wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was. He’d let them stay begrudgingly when Parker had insisted, and so had Eliot, who’d told McCoy that he could take care of his own ribs until Parker and Hardison had told him not to be an idiot. Only then had he allowed McCoy to take a look at his ribs and bind them tight. McCoy had complained the entire time about barbaric methods, and Eliot had looked at him warily, but when McCoy had been finished, Eliot had given him a brief nod before he’d hopped off the table and put his shirt back on.

“Okay, go, go, go,” Parker whispered furiously, and Jim and Eliot crept hastily around the corner.

“Three armed guards ahead,” McCoy’s voice reported. He’d stayed in the van that was, once again, parked just a short distance away, together with Scott and with Hardison.

“Yeah, I got them,” Eliot murmured back and unzipped his jacket.

“Need help?” Jim asked, but Eliot only flashed him a brief grin and disappeared on silent feet around the corner.

“Eliot is the best at what he does,” Parker whispered quietly.

“Oh yeah?” McCoy’s voice grumbled in their ears. “And what is what he does?”

Parker grinned and guided Jim around the corner. The three guards were unconscious on the ground, their hands tied behind their backs with plastic ties.

“This is what I do,” Eliot replied. He wasn’t even out of breath, Jim noticed, despite the broken ribs.

“Impressive,” he said and shook his head slightly.

With Hardison’s help, they made their way unerringly to the right office, and it took Parker only seconds to break in.

Jim was impressed. Parker knew exactly what she wanted and went for it with no hesitation, Before he even realized what she was doing, she was sitting behind General O’Neill’s desk and had booted up his computer. Jim caught himself and busied himself with the safe.

“Copying files,” Hardison reported over the comms, quickly followed by Scott’s muttered, “Aye.”

“We’ve got company,” Eliot cot in. “Hurry up, Parker!”

“One more minute,” she answered absent-mindedly.

“You don’t have one more minute,” Eliot hissed quietly.

“Almost got it,” she sing-songed, just as the safe clicked open under Jim’s careful hands.

“Huh,” he said. “Models of airplanes – the really old kind – and pictures. Looks like those have been drawn by pre-schoolers…this guy doesn’t really know what a safe is for.”

“What, no bars of gold?” McCoy muttered in his ear. “How disappointing.”

Parker chuckled. “We should rob a bank together,” she suggested before standing and pocketing the small drive Hardison had given her.

“Eliot,” Hardison warned, and Eliot growled.

“I see him,” he answered, just as Parker grabbed Jim’s arm and tugged him toward the door and out of the office. They only caught one glance at the huge, dark-skinned man in uniform and a black, knitted hat who was arching a disapproving eyebrow at Eliot, who looked almost small next to him.

Eliot looked up and rolled his shoulders, to loosen them. He grinned and lifted his arms into a defensive pose. The other man bowed his head for a split second. As soon as he straightened, Eliot attacked him in a flurry of movements.

Jim slowed his steps and looked over his shoulder. He couldn’t really distinguish between the two men anymore. All he could see was a tangle of arms and bodies. Eliot was quick on his feet, his hits and jabs sharp and precise, but his opponent was, despite his bigger mass, just as agile.

The fight looked to be equal on first glance, Jim thought, but the other guy had a wider reach than Eliot, and just as he watched, the man ducked under Eliot’s defense and managed to hit Eliot in the ribs.

He’d lost his hat somewhere along the line, and Jim could see gold shimmer on his forehead as the man came back up and hit Eliot again.

His fist connected with Eliot’s jaw, and Eliot stumbled, momentarily dazed by the force of the blow.

Jim decided that he’d watched for long enough without interfering and that Eliot could use some help, no matter if he wanted it or not.

The phaser in his pocket was familiar, and he didn’t need that long to set it to stun or to aim it at the fighters.

Eliot grunted, and Jim decided that he’d really heard enough. The only problem was that he couldn’t get a clear shot at the other man without Eliot getting in the way, but Jim didn’t think he could wait any longer without risking more than serious injury to Eliot.

He didn’t hesitate any longer.

“Hey,” he said, and when both fighters spared one quick glance in his direction, the beam of the phaser hit both of them. They broke down soundlessly, and Jim hastily put the weapon back into his pocket and raced forward, to get Eliot’s unconscious body.

Blood was tickling down Eliot’s face from a cut above his eyebrow, and Jim grabbed his arm and pulled. Eliot was heavy, and for a split second, Jim wished for Spock’s inhuman strength.

Parker slipped under Eliot’s other arm.

“We need to get out,” he told her as he wrapped Eliot’s arm over his shoulders. “Before this guy wakes up again or his friends realize that something is wrong.”

Parker simply nodded, and together they dragged Eliot out of the building.

~*+*~

“The thing you’re looking for is, according to the data Parker got from this guy’s computer, most likely in California,” Hardison explained and pointed his clicker at the screen.

“San Francisco,” Scott clarified.

“Oh, great,” McCoy murmured and pressed an ice pack into Eliot’s hand. “How do we get there?”

Hardison turned with his chair. “Flying?” he asked.

“No.” Parker shook her head. “These guys have no ID and almost no money.”

“How exactly do you know that?” Jim asked. This, he realized, was the second time Parker had mentioned that they had no ID or money, and he was starting to get worried that she had gone through his pockets, even if he hadn’t noticed it.

“Plus, we’re kinda…wanted,” Scott added.

“Faking IDs, man, that I can do,” Hardison muttered. “How wanted are you guys?”

“What’s wrong with fl –“ Jim started, but he quickly realized that it would be best if they interacted with as few people as possible. The fewer people even knew that they were here, the better. Getting exposed to a whole plane and a whole airport of people could spell disaster. He just shrugged – if he let Hardison think they were wanted, it could only help them, he figured.

“San Francisco is our goal, then,” Hardison sighed.

Parker cheered. “Road trip!”

Jim caught McCoy’s gaze. His old friend glared at him, and Jim suddenly remembered what he’d told Bones before they’d left the Enterprise. It seemed like it had happened an eternity ago – almost a lifetime ago, even if it was less than twenty-four hours for them.

They would get back home, and if it was the last thing Jim would do, he swore and forced himself to smile at Bones. He didn’t know yet how they would get there, but they would find a way.

They always found a way.

“Road trip,” Eliot sighed before glaring at Parker. “You are not driving!”

“Wait a second,” Jim interrupted and stood. “You want…to come along?”

Eliot, Hardison and Parker exchanged a look, but it was Parker who answered.

“I haven’t been to San Francisco for ages,” she said. “And you need our help. How else are you going to get there? You don’t have money.”

“What about those plane blueprints you were after?” Scott asked, but Parker just shrugged.

“That was just for fun,” she said with a dismissive shake of her head. “We’re in between jobs right now, and Nate and Sophie won’t be back for weeks.” She grinned widely. “Come on, guys, it’ll be fun!”

“Fun.” Eliot didn’t sound impressed. “That’s about 45 driving hours, plus stops for gas and food.”

“Sounds about right,” Hardison nodded and looked up from his computer to grin at them. “When do we leave?”

Chapter Text

Forty-five driving hours, plus stops for gas and food, Eliot had said, but it was only a little over seventeen hours when Jim started to develop serious doubts that it had been a good idea to trust these people to get them safely to San Francisco.

He’d tried to hide his doubts, but McCoy knew him too well to get fooled by his constructed cheerful attitude. He didn’t say anything, but Jim could feel his worried looks like a tangible weight resting on his shoulders.

In addition to that, they were locked into a van for hours, and even if they couldn’t see Eliot and Hardison’s faces as they were taking turns driving, Jim was certain that the two men were suspicious of them and didn’t trust them, and Jim didn’t trust them either.

He’d borrowed Scott’s tricorder before they’d started their trip. He had, with no problems, found information about General Jack O’Neill and big parts of his career, but there hadn’t been anything about the three individuals they were travelling with right now.

He stretched his arms over his head and yawned before giving Parker a wide grin. He still didn’t know if Parker was a first- or a last name, or why Eliot and Hardison had insisted that she didn’t drive the car.

Parker scrunched up her nose, but she didn’t move otherwise and kept on staring at Jim. It was making Jim vaguely uncomfortable – he felt as if Parker knew something about him that he didn’t want other people to know.

Eventually, the car slowed. “Bathroom break,” Hardison announced over his shoulder, and Scott groaned appreciatively. Jim was glad, too – he needed to walk around, stretch his legs and work the kinks out of his back before they could continue their journey.

He nudged Scott slightly. “This would be the perfect time for you to invent beaming,” he muttered under his breath. “Save us some time here.”

Scott snorted and climbed out of the van as it came to a stop. “Do I look like MacGyver to you?” he asked darkly – apparently, his mood had suffered from the trip, as well.

Jim shrugged and let Scott pass before rolling his eyes at McCoy behind Scott’s back.

“Who?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” McCoy growled. “Probably some Scottish saint of some sort, how should I know? I’m a doctor, not a damn encyclopedia, Jim!”

He stomped off, and Jim sighed as he followed them at a more sedate pace.

“Hey,” he told Eliot, who had his hands buried deep in his pockets and who was glaring at a family of five who was piling out of a tiny car next to them. “Want me to drive?”

Eliot transferred his glare to him. “Can you even drive?” he asked.

Jim grinned again. “Yeah, sure,” he answered. “I’ve been driving since I was a kid.”

His memory flashed back to the day he’d crashed the old car of his stepfather , how he’d driven it into the canyon and had almost died while doing it.

“So did Parker,” Eliot growled. “Doesn’t mean anything.” Despite his words, he handed Jim the keys and Jim flashed him another grin he didn’t really feel.

He just wished that they had already reached San Francisco and a concrete lead on the Stargate; and even more, he wished that they’d already managed to find their way home.

Parker brushed past him, and Jim frowned. The move was vaguely familiar and reminded him of his last shore leave, how he and Bones had gone from one bar to the next, and how the Orion slave girl had sidled up to him and he’d woken up the next morning with a headache the size of the Klingon empire and all of his money missing.

“Parker,” he said, a hint of warning in his voice.

She froze. “Oops?” she offered and turned on her heels. She gave him a look through her bangs and a small, apologetic shrug before offering him his phaser back.

Jim felt hot and cold shudders run down his back – his words about not influencing this society and time came back, and a feeling of dread befell him. What if he’d change the course of history, simply by being careless and letting Parker steal his phaser?

“I’m sorry?” Parker asked, and Jim swallowed his panic and forced himself to think rationally about the entire situation.

“It’s okay,” he answered. “Don’t do it again, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Parker promised, and Jim nodded and pushed the phaser back deep into his pocket. There was no need making a lot of fuss about it now and would only pull attention to where Jim didn’t want it – maybe, he hoped almost desperately, she would forget about what she’d taken from him and not think about it anymore.

Two hundred years, he told himself. Whatever happened here between him and Parker, it wouldn’t make any difference over the distance of two hundred years.

“That wasn’t the first time you’d gone through my pockets, right?” he asked resignedly, and Parker’s shoulders slumped slightly.

The damage already had been done, Jim thought, and Parker hadn’t told anyone about their strange weapons yet – if she’d even realized that the phaser was a weapon. Making a scene around it now for being a thief wouldn’t make her stop stealing, and it would be unfair, especially since he and his men had profited already from her expertise and most likely would do so again before they reached San Francisco.

“Don’t do it again,” he murmured softly, but he made sure to keep the threat and displeasure out of his voice. He didn’t want Eliot to get involved into this discussion.

McCoy and Scott came back. McCoy gave the keys in Jim’s hand a quick glance and sighed. “God save us all,” he muttered and climbed back into the van.

Parker took the opportunity and slipped away from Jim, to stop next to Eliot and tug slightly at his sleeve. She tilted her head to the side almost imperceptibly.

Eliot frowned at her, but he followed Parker to the other side of the car and a few steps away. Jim, who had caught the wordless conversation, swallowed thickly. He had a pretty good idea what Parker was going to tell Eliot right now.

“Everything okay?” Scott whispered, and Jim nodded firmly.

He had to trust that Parker would keep her word, or he had to shoot them all and hope that he and his men could find their way without help, and he wasn’t quite willing to do that yet.

“Yeah,” he answered softly. “Just…keep your eyes open.”

~*+*~

Eliot stared at Parker’s hunched shoulders.

“What?” he finally growled.

Parker didn’t turn around to face him. “Can I drive?” she asked.

“What?” Eliot frowned. “No!”

“Hm.” Parker finally turned around and looked at him with wide eyes. Eliot wasn’t quite sure if something had scared her or if she was playing with him, but he was willing to think that she really had been spooked by something. He was willing to put his money on this stranger – Jim, the others called him, or Captain – as the reason for Parker’s suddenly more than weird behavior. Hardison had ran all three of them through his facial recognition program and had checked the FBI’s most wanted list, plus the most-wanted lists of several other countries.

“Man,” he’d told Eliot, “I found you, and if I handed your ass over, I’d be rich…richer than I already am, but not a trace of them, El. They’re hiding something.”

Eliot tended to agree with Hardison there. He hadn’t been able to identify the big guy’s fighting style at first, the one he’d fought the night they’d broken into General O’Neill’s office, but he knew that the government was involved in some top secret projects and he’d figured that the man had been involved in one of those projects. The fighting style had been very distinctive, even if he’d needed some time to figure out where he knew it from.

Plus, there had been some more weird things about these strangers – their inability to deal with traffic, for example, or the Doc’s muttering about “bone mending” and “barbaric methods” as he’d stitched up Eliot and had bound his broken ribs. He’d done something with that computer thing he was carrying around – a computer Hardison hadn’t been able to identify or hack – and had given Eliot a shot of something, without asking first, that had numbed the pain without influencing him otherwise before ordering Eliot in a gruff voice to take it easy for a few days or week.

Eliot had broken ribs before. He knew they needed time to heal, and yet, it had taken him only a few days this time to feel better.

“Do you think we should call Nate?” Parker asked him now hesitantly. “These guys…I don’t trust them, Eliot. They’re hiding something – something big.”

Eliot shook his head. “No,” he said after a moment of thinking. “We can take care of this on our own. We’ll get them to San Francisco and then, we go home. We helped them enough.”

Parker looked at him doubtfully. “You think they’re from the government?” she wanted to know. “Or the military?”

Eliot shrugged. “Some kind of military, maybe,” he admitted his suspicions. “But no idea where they’re from. I’ve never seen anything like that…”

“Their weapons.” Parker frowned. “He used his weapon to stun you, but it wasn’t a taser. I checked.”

There was no doubt who this he Parker was referring to was.

“I mean, he probably saved your life – that guy with the golden sign on his forehead was going to smash in your head, Eliot,” Parker continued.

Eliot growled in annoyance. He had to admit that Parker was probably right, as little as he liked to say, or even think, so, and so far, the strangers hadn’t really done anything to get them in danger yet.

Yet.

“We’ll get this job done,” he said. “Just…be careful, Parker.”

She nodded, and slipped back around the corner of the car.

~*+*~

Hardison took his sweet time returning, and when he did, he was carrying a six pack of orange soda and a bag of gummifrogs. Eliot gave him a glare that Hardison ignored with the experience of years of working with Eliot, and Eliot took the passenger seat in front and let Hardison squeeze in the back with Parker, Scott and McCoy.

Jim gave him a grin as he pushed the keys in the ignition and started the car, but Eliot could see that the grin was getting brittle and started to crumble around the edges. Jim Kirk didn’t like the situation he was in any more than Eliot did.

“So…” Jim said as he eased the van carefully back into the stream of traffic, “I still don’t know why you’re doing this. Helping us.”

“It’s what we do,” Eliot answered shortly.

Jim gave him a quick glance before concentrating on the road ahead of them again. “Even if you don’t know if we can pay you?” he wanted to know.

“Let’s just say we’re working on an alternate revenue stream,” Hardison said from behind him.

“What the hell is an alternate revenue stream?” McCoy asked, annoyed, but Hardison didn’t reply verbally, and Jim had to concentrate on the traffic around them and didn’t try to continue the conversation or pry for answers.

~*+*~

Leonard McCoy woke because someone was shaking his shoulder insistently, and he didn’t need to open his eyes to know who it was.

“Dammit, Jim,” he murmured through clenched teeth, but before he could add another word, Jim interrupted him.

“We’re here,” he said quietly.

McCoy forced his eyes open and shook his head dazedly. His entire body was tense and aching from spending so much time in the same position in the car. They hadn’t really stopped, except to fill up the car with gas, which Leonard found barbaric – didn’t these people know that this kind of fuel was destroying the environment? – and for food. Jim, Eliot and Hardison had taken turns driving, and when he wasn’t driving or sleeping, Hardison was typing on his old-fashioned, antique computer, which he treated like Scott treated the engines of the Enterprise.

Weird people, weird times, McCoy decided as he slowly climbed out of the van and stretched his muscles while blinking into the early sunlight.

San Francisco was sprawled out in front of them. The car was ticking softly in the morning sun – no other sun ever felt like this one did, McCoy thought, no matter what year and century they were in, and the thought comforted him as much as the warmth on his skin and bones.

The city was smaller than he remembered it from his Academy days, much smaller, the building weren’t as tall or as modern, but he could see the Golden Gate Bridge glittering beyond it, half-hidden by the fog he remembered all too well.

They had made it to San Francisco.

Chapter Text

“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.

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter Text

“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.

Chapter Text

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.