A/N: This story is finished, but I can't announce a posting schedule quite yet because I've asked my betas (jennytork and immortal_jedi, whose help has been invaluable) for a final read-through and it may be a while before they can get back to me. Still, I wanted to get this chapter posted before the first scene gets Jossed, which it probably will this week!

Ich Schenk' Dir Die Welt
By San Antonio Rose

Ich schenk' Dir die Welt, den Mond, die Sterne,
Hol' die Sonne für Dich her.
(I'd give you the world, the moon, the stars,
Fetch the sun down for you.)
—Die Prinzen

To the world, you may be just another girl,
But to me, baby, you are the world.
—Brad Paisley

Part 1
Hypotheses and Theories

Chapter 1
Through a Door

Four years. Four accursed years, totally alone yet never left alone. The Wulfenbach Empire crumbling about his ears, The Other resurgent, von Blitzengaard as her puppet playing the Storm King, people dying faster than he could save them, and always, always, his father's copied consciousness battering his mind, overruling his choices, usurping his actions, keeping him locked away in his own head and unable even to speak to his only friend, his one love.

He and sanity had parted ways long ago, shortly after sleep had abandoned him. By now, he no longer cared. Even if the insomnia and the loss of Agatha hadn't been enough to break him, his failure to save Sturmvoraus would have been the final straw. Yes, Agatha lived and had escaped both the time stop and von Blitzengaard, but he would never hold her in his arms again. His father had seen to that. But Sturmvoraus, once best friend and fiercest rival, had crumbled to dust in his hands, in spite of everything, and only the demands of state had forced him to survive that loss. Well, physically, he survived. His mind was a lost cause; he couldn't let his heart be broken yet again. It was easier this way, to abandon hope and embrace the madness, not to wait for help that was sure now to come too late.

For time had run out. The extradimensional horror was nearly to Mechanicsburg, the one miserable place in all Europa he still stood even the slightest chance of saving. He'd gotten most of the people out in one piece, he thought, though they'd disappeared shortly afterward; that must have been the Jägers' doing, but he had no way of knowing whether The Other had managed to find them. And he couldn't worry about it now. Castle Heterodyne, which had presided over centuries of terror until Bill and Barry Heterodyne had forsaken the ways of their ancestors and turned to heroism instead, was in too much of a panic to calculate how many days remained until the great beast arrived, and what would happen then was beyond anyone's power to guess. Every other solution had proven to be a dead end. He had no choice—the device his father had used to stop time in Mechanicsburg had to be shut down now. Lacking any better option, he was readying his death ray to shoot the thing out of his father's hand.

The plan was mad. He knew that. But sometimes madness was the only path to take, despair the only choice. And he had to try to save Agatha's city for her—especially since he couldn't save himself.

Running footsteps through the time tunnel behind him, a buzz like the rush of the Dyne beneath his skin, forcing cool clarity through the fevered haze that had settled over him years ago. No one else, not even Sturmvoraus, had ever had that effect on him. No one else was mad enough to come so near him now, after everything, knowing what he had done, was capable of doing, was about to do.

"Gil! Stop!"

Only Agatha still called him that. Still dared to hope for him when he had no hope for himself. His other friends were dead or fled, and everyone else called him only 'Herr Baron.' Some days he wasn't sure he'd ever had another name, ever had a self apart from his father.

He didn't turn, couldn't give his father the chance to take over, to stop him or attack her. "Agatha, we're out of time." His voice was dull and hoarse, frayed and ragged, like his psyche, like the clothes he'd forgotten to change out of for the last month.But at least it was his own... for the moment.

"Listen to me! Dr. Zardilev's made a breakthrough. He thinks there could be disastrous consequences if we don't shut the device down properly."

"There will be disastrous consequences if I don't shut it down now." He took aim and put his finger on the trigger.

"No, Gil, WAIT!"

He would never know by whose will his finger moved.

"Unscheduled offworld activation!"

Lt. Col. John Sheppard, who was in Stargate Ops to try to drag Dr. Rodney McKay away from some diagnostic or other he was working on with Dr. Radek Zelenka and get some lunch into him before his blood sugar bottomed out, looked up at the alert shouted by Gate technician Chuck Campbell. "Raise the Gate shield," John ordered.

Chuck pressed the button to raise the force field that protected the Stargate against intruders, but the control panel beeped negatively at him. "It won't engage, sir."

John frowned at Rodney. "McKay—"

"Not our fault," Rodney replied immediately. "We haven't taken anything offline, and we're working on a completely different system."

John huffed in annoyance and tapped his radio earpiece. "This is Sheppard. Security to the Gateroom."

With a kawhoosh, the wormhole connected.

Chuck shook his head. "No IDC, shield's still down."

"Colonel!" yelped Sgt. Amelia Banks, staring at her laptop. "Reading a weird energy signature from the wormhole!"

"I see it," said Rodney, studying his own. "—Huh. That looks like—"

"And yet unlike," Zelenka agreed. "Further afield than merely another dimension, perhaps, and encountering another energy field—"

"Similar to a solar flare. We'll need more analysis to be sure—"

"Later," John snapped as security teams hustled into the Gateroom. "What's comin' through?"

"How am I supposed to know that?!" Rodney snapped back, looking up at him. "It could be..."

It was, in fact, what looked like a fight in progress—three humans and a white cat in a red uniform coat, from what John could make out, all struggling against each other as they hurtled through the Gate at high velocity before landing hard halfway across the Gateroom as the wormhole disconnected.

"OOF!" cried... four voices.

Something fuzzy and orange with pointed ears and a pointed muzzle poked its startled head out of the hair of the bespectacled blonde who forced herself up off the pile first. "Ce... ce a fost asta?" she gasped, putting a gloved hand to her head and looking around the room in shock.

"Rumuna," Zelenka murmured, surprised, as he followed John and Rodney to the top of the Gateroom stairs. "Z Sedmihradsko!"

John frowned at him in confusion as the big guy with ridiculously red hair replied to the blonde. "What was that?"

"The girl—she is Romanian, from Transylvania. I had friends from Sibiu at university; I know the accent."

"Engelz!" she cried suddenly, apparently spotting a British flag on someone's uniform or something, and flung herself away from the big guy, hands raised. "Please help! I have been kidnapped!"

"Shhh, Agatha!" hissed the cat, scrambling after her with its ears back.

The girl—Agatha?—said something else in Romanian, and the purple-clad person who'd been at the bottom of the pile shoved the big guy off of... her, yes, that was clearly a female figure, and crawled quickly to Agatha's side. This second girl had shaggy hair the same unnatural red as the big guy's, but it looked like she was trying to put as much distance between herself and him as she could without getting shot.

"She lies!" boomed the big guy, unwisely jolting to his feet and ignoring the P-90s that immediately trained on him. "I am Martellus von Blitzengaard. Seize her!"

"I am in command here," John barked, charging down the Gateroom steps with Rodney and Zelenka on his heels. "And until I get some explanations, nobody's goin' anywhere."

Von Blitzengaard rounded on him. "That is how you address the Storm King?!"

"Listen, buddy, I don't know you from Adam. And whatever authority you think you've got back home, it won't wash here."

"Silence, minion!"

"That's Lieutenant Colonel Minion to you, fathead!"

"I like this guy," the cat said to Agatha—in English, apparently intending John to hear it.

"Why, you insolent maggot!" von Blitzengaard snarled and reached for something in his jacket. But the dagger he grabbed fell from his hand when a familiar whreePOW heralded a bolt of red light that struck his back and sent him to the floor, stunned.

"Be careful," the girl in purple cautioned as John started to reach for the dagger. "That may be poisoned, and he may have more."

John nodded. "Gotcha. Thanks. Rivers?" he added, motioning the Marines forward to see to von Blitzengaard while he cautiously picked the dagger up by the handle.

Sgt. Rivers himself took charge of the dagger. "I'll get this to the tox lab right away, sir."

"Thanks."

But Agatha, when John turned to her, was focused on Ronon Dex, who was shouldering past the Marines to join John. "That is a wonderful death ray," she said, pointing to his pistol-shaped blaster as the purple girl helped her to her feet.

"Glad you like it," Ronon rumbled. "Can't let you have one."

She nodded, suddenly looking drained. "I... I understand." She swayed, and the purple girl caught her.

"Hey, whoa," said John. "You all right?"

Agatha nodded again, putting an arm across the purple girl's shoulders. "I am very tired and hungry, and I need a bath, but that is not his fault." She took a deep breath. "Forgive me, Colonel. Introductions. I am Agatha Heterodyne. This is Violetta," she added, indicating the purple girl, "and this is Krosp," meaning the cat.

"John Sheppard," John replied. "This is Dr. Rodney McKay, Dr. Radek Zelenka, and the guy with the death ray is Ronon Dex."

"Nice to meet you."

"And what's that thing?" Rodney asked, pointing to the orange creature on Agatha's shoulder.

"Oh! Ah, a wasp eater. They detect slaver wasps."

The wasp eater, meanwhile, was sniffing in John's general direction but chirruped happily and wound around Agatha's neck to get a better view of the security team remaining behind her. That in turn gave John a good look at its eight-legged weasel-like body.

"Guess I check out," John stated.

Agatha nodded. "Is good. Sorry, has been a very long day."

The wasp eater chirruped at the security team but then made a curious noise as Richard Woolsey, the civilian head of the Atlantis expedition, hurried in. Woolsey had been off in another part of the city sorting out some sort of squabble among the botanists, and apparently he'd just now gotten free.

"Col. Sheppard!" he said. "What's going on?"

"Got some unexpected visitors, sir," John replied, "but so far everything's under control. Had to send one guy to the brig. Still tryin' to get the story from the ladies here. This is Miss—"

"Lady Agatha Heterodyne," Violetta corrected. "I am her guard; my name is Violetta Mondarev. And this is Krosp, emperor of all cats."

"Richard Woolsey," Woolsey returned. "I'm the head of this expedition. Welcome to Atlantis."

Agatha's green eyes went wide. "At—At—" Then they rolled back in her head, and she collapsed against Violetta.

"Oh, dear," said Woolsey as Rodney radioed for a medical team.

"Yeah, we hadn't gotten that far yet," John stated with a grimace.

"My lady did not faint," Violetta replied severely, ignoring the wasp eater as it ran across to sit on her head. "She has not eaten since last night and has not slept since Monday night."

Agatha snored as if in agreement.

"Why not?" Woolsey asked. "What happened?"

Violetta sighed. "It is a long story, but..."

"Mechanicsburg was under siege," Krosp interrupted. "Agatha had to get Castle Heterodyne repaired to save the city."

"Which she did, and then... Tweedle happened."

Woolsey blinked. "Tweedle?"

"My cousin Martellus."

"That's the guy we sent to the brig, sir," John explained.

"There was some kind of craft coming down from Castle Wulfenbach..."

"Which is an airship," Krosp put in, seeing their confused frowns. "And while we were trying to figure out what it was, von Blitzengaard grabbed Agatha. She fought him, and we gave chase."

"He threw a knife at my cousin Tarvek," Violetta continued, "who is the real Storm King, no matter what Tweedle tells you. And he dragged Agatha to this doorway in the cathedral. The abbess had activated it somehow. But... something happened just as we came through, and... now we are here."

Zelenka asked her something in Russian, and she shook her head and replied in kind. "This is not a linguistic problem," he translated. "She truly doesn't know what went wrong."

Woolsey frowned. "Forgive me, Lady Mondarev, but where is Mechanicsburg?"

Violetta blinked. "You do not know? It is in Europa—Transylvania."

"On Earth?"

"Yes." She paused. "We are not... on Mars or something, are we?"

"Or something," John quipped.

The medical team arrived just then, and while they dealt with Agatha, John waved Woolsey and Ronon over to huddle with Rodney and Zelenka. "Tell him what you guys found," he ordered Rodney.

"We detected an energy signature in the wormhole," Rodney told Woolsey. "It's similar to what we saw in other cases when we've encountered visitors from other realities."

Zelenka nodded. "Yes, but interlaced with something like the signature in a wormhole that's been affected by a solar flare. From what von Blitzengaard was saying, he expected the wormhole to open someplace where he was known. So something must have interfered with the wormhole to redirect it here."

"Yeah, and maybe the combination of all that triggered the shield program's back door or something. We'll need to look at that later."

Woolsey frowned. "So you're saying they may be from another time as well as another universe?"

Zelenka shrugged. "It's possible."

"But solar flares don't do that, do they?"

"Not normally, no," Rodney confirmed. "We'll need to study the data more carefully, but it's probably got something to do with whatever was happening outside the cathedral while von Blitzengaard was kidnapping Lady Heterodyne inside."

"So what do we do?" Ronon asked.

Woolsey sighed. "I don't know yet. We need more information. Dr. McKay, Dr. Zelenka, you work on analyzing that energy signature, see if you can work out a way for them to get back. Col. Sheppard, perhaps you could ask Teyla to get Lady Heterodyne's side of the story once she's awake. And I suppose you or I should interrogate this von Blitzengaard."

John's eyes narrowed. "How 'bout we let Todd do it?"

Ronon chuckled evilly. He had never entirely gotten along with the Wraith who had been their uneasy ally before circumstances had forced Todd to join the Atlantis expedition after accepting a gene therapy that eliminated his need to feed on humans, but even Ronon knew the advantages of the creep factor Todd would bring to the table.

"It would be more diplomatic for me to go first," Woolsey noted.

"Diplomacy means nothing to von Blitzengaard," Krosp stated from somewhere around John's knee, and John looked down to see the cat standing on its hind legs between him and Woolsey, front paws clasped like hands behind its back. "You should have seen the way he showed up at Mechanicsburg, supposedly to help Agatha. He waltzed in with a few dozen war clanks and declared himself—completely oblivious to the fact that he was walking right into the baron's trap. And even when the trap was revealed, he still acted like he was going to win the entire battle himself. Same thing after the battle; Castle Heterodyne was what actually broke the siege, but von Blitzengaard acted like he had saved Agatha single-handed." Krosp shook his head, and his ears went back. "He is dumb as a post and has the manners of a hyena. But he is also a spark, so do not underestimate him."

"A spark?" Woolsey echoed.

Krosp nodded and pointed to Rodney and Zelenka. "Like these two."

Rodney and Zelenka looked at each other in surprise. "I thought you said he was stupid," said Rodney.

"The two are not mutually exclusive. One can be brilliant in his own field and a blithering idiot in every other way."

Rodney tried not to look insulted. Zelenka tried not to laugh.

For his part, John shot Krosp a knowing look. "And Agatha?"

Krosp drew himself up to his full height and glared up at John. "Agatha is a Heterodyne and a strong spark. She is brilliant at everything except politics and romance. And I am her liege lord and want to know what plans you have for her."

"I think that depends on whether we can find a way for you all to go home," Woolsey cautioned. "She'll be in Isolation until she's cleared medically. That's standard practice here. After that, if we can send you back, we'll do so. If not... well, you say she's a scientist. Part of our mission here is scientific. We may be able to find a position for her."

Krosp studied him for a moment, then nodded once. "I like you, too." And with that, he stalked away after the medics, who were wheeling Agatha off to Isolation.

Woolsey blinked. "Did he really say he's Lady Heterodyne's liege lord?"

"Dogs have owners," Rodney deadpanned. "Cats have staff. They don't normally talk, though."

Ronon shook his head. "Your planet's weird."

John snorted in amusement.

Martellus woke on a hard bench in a cell made of... not so much bars as rough-hewn horizontal slats of metal. There was space enough between them that getting a hand through to pick the lock would be child's play. But picking the lock itself might not be—he realized with a start that he'd been stripped while he was unconscious and was now not only weaponless and armorless but clad only in the rough blue jumpsuit of a peasant mechanic. Even his stockings and shoes had been taken from him.

This was humiliating. He might actually have preferred to find himself naked.

Sitting up, he continued taking stock of his surroundings. The floor was a solid slab, probably concrete. There were more bars between him and the ceiling, which also appeared to be solid concrete, as did three of the walls beyond the cell. But the fourth, in front of him, had an open doorway, though he couldn't see much of the corridor beyond. The doorway itself was flanked by two guards, both wearing the same strange dark grey uniform and carrying the same odd black guns as had the men who had surrounded him earlier. There were sigil patches on their sleeves, but he couldn't quite see them well enough to decipher them; the artificial lighting inside the cell was brighter than the lighting outside it.

In the time it took Martellus to observe all of that, one of the guards reached up to touch something in his left ear and said something Martellus didn't quite understand.

Frowning, Martellus turned to the other guard. "You. Smoke Knight. Why am I a prisoner?"

The second guard didn't answer.

"He's awake, sir," said the first guard in English. After a moment's pause, he said, "Yes, sir," and fell silent once more.

"You are English?" Martellus tried in the same language. When he got no reply, he ventured, "American, perhaps? I have never met an American before."

Neither guard reacted as if he had heard anything. Martellus huffed in frustration.

He didn't have long to wait for conversation, however. Not even a minute later, brisk footsteps sounded in the corridor, and the guards snapped to attention as... an officious-looking, balding little man with spectacles walked in. His uniform was of a similar grey as the guards' but cut differently and had a wide red stripe on either side front below what ought to be the yoke and another on the sleeves above what should be the cuffs. He stopped in front of the cell door and looked at Martellus narrowly for a moment.

"I don't believe we've met, Your Highness," he said then, still in English. "I'm Richard Woolsey. I'm commander of this expedition."

Martellus frowned. "What about the other man?"

"Col. Sheppard commands the military portion of the base."

"What is this?" Martellus demanded as he stood and went to the door. "Why am I a prisoner? What have you done to the Refuge of Storms?"

"There appears to have been a malfunction in the device you used to leave Mechanicsburg. Our scientists are still trying to determine precisely what went wrong. But whatever the cause, you've missed your destination by quite a long way. You're in Atlantis."

Martellus staggered back a couple of steps in shock. "At—no. No, you lie. The Heterodyne Boys destroyed New Atlantis. The Spark Emperor of the Deepest Trench—"

Herr Woolsey raised his chin. "Who was operating off the coast of Haiti, correct? Your cousin's already told us that story."

"It is not just a story!"

"Well, regardless, we're several million light-years from Haiti."

"Light... you mean we are not on Earth?"*

"Not even close to it."

"Then... then where..."

"We're in the Pegasus Galaxy."

Wide-eyed, Martellus stumbled back to the bench and sat down on it hard.

"As to why you're a prisoner," Herr Woolsey continued, pacing a little way along the front of the cell, "Lady Heterodyne has alleged that you abducted her."

"She is mad," Martellus recovered enough to reply. "I was rescuing her."

"She also claims you stabbed Prince Tarvek Sturmvoraus. And there is the small matter of your attempt to murder Col. Sheppard."

"I did not. He attacked me; it was self-defense."

"Even if I ignored the witness testimony to the contrary... we've analyzed the knife you attempted to stab him with. The blade was coated with a very exotic, fast-acting poison."

"A mistake."

"As were the twenty other knives we found on you."

"I am the Storm King. I must take precautions against assassins."

"Well, there seems to be some question about that. In any case, we've checked every historical reference we can find. There's no record of anyone in the history of our Earth claiming that title."

Martellus' heart started pounding. "What? But... surely you have heard of Andronicus Valois..."

Herr Woolsey shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Louis XIV of France was known as the Sun King, but he was a Bourbon."

"Do not play games with me, clerk," Martellus snarled, standing up again.

Herr Woolsey didn't look cowed in the slightest. "I'm not your subject, Your Highness. Even if your claim is valid in the universe you came from—"

Martellus blinked. "In the—"

"—and even if that claim extended to territory in present-day Europe in this universe—"

"What do you—"

"—your authority does not extend to citizens of other nations, nor can any national government lay claim to this expedition. Furthermore, since you are not recognized as sovereign of any nation on our Earth, we are not obligated to grant you diplomatic immunity for the attempted murder of Col. Sheppard nor any presumed privileges of rank. The just and humane treatment due to any accused criminal is the most that you may claim."

"You worm!" Martellus roared and lunged toward the bars, intending to reach through and throttle Herr Woolsey. But he never got the chance. His hands struck something invisible between the bars—and a jolt of energy threw him backward to the ground, leaving him conscious but stunned.

"I wouldn't try that again if I were you," said Herr Woolsey mildly. "We've recalibrated the force field in accordance with your physiology. Dr. Kusanagi wasn't certain how many shocks your heart could potentially withstand before it stops altogether."

"You swine," Martellus growled as best he could for lack of breath and pushed himself up on his elbows. "If this is how... you have treated... the Lady Heterodyne..."

"Lady Heterodyne is in no danger."

"You do not understand. She will shock herself, kill herself. She is a spark; she is mad. I must protect her."

"It's hardly madness to refuse to be kidnapped and abused. And I think you'll find we have very different attitudes toward the rights of women these days."

"... these... days?"

Herr Woolsey smirked. "Welcome to the twenty-first century." And he spun on his heel and left.

Martellus lay back down before his arms could give out on him and closed his eyes to stop the room from spinning. Maybe... maybe if he went back to sleep, he'd wake up to find reality back the way it should be.

.

* Before anyone cries foul: according to Merriam-Webster, light-year was first used as a unit of measurement in 1888 in our world, so the Girl Genius crew should in fact know what it means.