Part 19: I Can See Clearly Now…Sorta

Charlie was well on his way to pulling his hair out. It wasn't that Giles was a stupid man; it was that the translator chip couldn't translate words or concepts that simply didn't exist in this time period. End result? Most of the morning was eaten up by making sure both he and Giles were using the same definitions when they talked.

Then there was relaying what they were actually looking for, which was often interrupted by questions because Charlie failed to realized there were more words and concepts that didn't exist yet than he thought.

Then he had to repeat the story so Giles was clear about everything. Three times.

The first two times ended with an, "Oh, dear."

But on the third try Giles realized the ultimate goal involved travel to Moscow on short notice and that it had to be Alexander and Faith and no one else accompanying them. This resulted in an "Oh good lord" followed by much rubbing of his vision correction contraption.

Which meant Charlie had to launch into a fourth round of telling the exact same story with slightly more detail involving a lot of concepts and words for things that didn't exist yet that hammered home the need to keep the already screwed-up timeline as unpolluted as possible because Very Bad Things could happen if they didn't.

In fact, because they wound up where they weren't supposed to be and because a certain Slayer slayed a garden variety Tara vampire she shouldn't have slayed, they were pretty much stuck with working with what they had: Alexander, Faith, Cleveland, transport to Moscow ASAP, and 2003.

"Have I mentioned that this is an 'oh good lord' situation?" Giles asked. "There are passports involved and I'm not entirely certain we'll be able to get them for…er…all parties. You must admit, illegal aliens do not get much more alien than your lot." He chuckled as if he had made a great joke, although Charlie wasn't entirely sure what the joke was. "Furthermore, neither Xander or Faith have ever applied for a passport and getting the requisite paperwork together is going to take more time than you can imagine. Plus, they know nothing about Moscow. It could be quite, quite dangerous."

"You fear for them," Charlie nodded in understanding.

"I fear for the Muscovites."

Oh. Right. Back to the time travel problem. Charlie explained that his team couldn't try again and come back at a later date because of something involving something with the spell which could cause a logic feedback loop in the space-time continuum and that would be a Very Bad Thing. No he wasn't sure what the "something" was and he didn't know about the mechanics. Hada, they couldn't even leave this time period for at least another six days without killing J'Nal and maybe turning all of them into mush upon re-entry into their own time.

So, since they were in the neighborhood—"Yes, when interstellar travel is commonplace being the same planet as your target is considered the 'same neighborhood,'" Charlie said with exasperation while Giles sputtered about Moscow being just a hop, skip, and a jump halfway around the world—they figured they might as well try and retrieve it.

"But it's not completely hopeless," Charlie tried soothing. "The Arrow That Points the Way is right here in Cleveland."

Oh, futch. He forgot the bit about the Arrow. It had such a small role, really. All it did was point them in the right direction to the…right. The Arrow. No one really knows anything about it, except that it's a yellow color. Descriptions about what it looks like differ. Some reports are content to say that it's bright yellow and leave it at that. Other reports call it "screaming" yellow, but archivists and experts in ancient languages figure it has to be a mistranslation since colors don't actually scream. Unless, of course, the Arrow makes a screaming noise and turns yellow when it's in the general vicinity of…

"We don't have any mystical arrows, yellow, screaming, or otherwise," Giles interrupted, "unless Xander knows something about the status of our armory that I don't, which wouldn't be all that unusual now that I think about it."

So, one more time around the bend. This now made five repetitions. Five. This time he made sure to include everything he could think of that was pertinent, including the Arrow, while trying mightily to avoid words and concepts that don't exist yet, but being forced to once again explain about the whole time travel situation.

This was a conversation that was better suited to J'Nal's expertise, but Charlie feared involving J'Nal because that would mean even more exposition and definition-finding for words and concepts that didn't exist yet. Charlie hoped Giles was reading him loud and clear on the time travel bits and prayed that the Watcher wouldn't ask questions. He had a hard enough time dealing with the concept of time travel, mostly because it was only theoretical until they landed in Cleveland 2003.

Give him something he could lay his hands on. A broken bone, a bruise, a twisted ankle, emergency surgeries in raging blizzards, conducting blood transfusions on the battlefield during random demon attacks, and he was your guy. Give him something you could shove under a microscope or stuff in a test tube, and he was a futching genius.

Give him a concept you couldn't actually prove using science? Lost in space.

But time travel, he stressed to Giles as the Watcher's expression sunk into ever deepening horror when the realization dawned on just how bad the situation was in the merrie ol' future, had never been even attempted by anyone for one simple reason: causality is an uncontrollable bitch.

There were two reasons why his team tried it: one, because it had already been done. They had a Watcher's diary—no he wasn't going to say whose except that the diary was written by one of the Founders of Catherine's family line so the source is impeachable—that specifically spelled out that they'd done it and ended up in Moscow 2008. The second reason? Because the problem that needed solving was that horrific and the only item that could help them was in Moscow.

And since they had gone to Moscow and retrieved the item in 2008, it wasn't like they could wander into one of the massive vaults held by either of the two Watcher's Councils or the leading families of those Watcher's Councils and find what they needed.

Like he said: causality? A very unpredictable bitch. Plus, you always got a headache if you thought too hard about it.

Upon finishing his fifth repetition of the story and watching Giles's face sink into despair over the hurdle Charlie had put before him, there was a firm knock at the door.

"Not now," Giles snapped.

The door opened and Alexander strode into the room. "This can't wait."

"Xander, I am rather busy at the moment. So if you have a problem…"

Alexander drew himself up to his full height and stated, "I'll only be a moment, and you will spare me the time."

Giles narrowed his eyes, but said, "Make it quick. This conference is rather important."

"I'd rather not say in front of one of our guests," here Alexander nodded at Charlie in half-apology, half-acknowledgement, "I need to keep this in the family for now."

"It's all right Giles. I've explained everything I can possibly explain," Charlie said.

There was going to be no dissuading Alexander from interrupting and saying what was on his mind and Charlie knew that without even thinking about it. Lords know that he knew that look. Strange that Giles didn't know that.

On second thought, maybe it wasn't that strange at all.

"At least now I know how we can explain it to the rest of your team," Charlie continued, pretending not to notice that Giles was now glaring at Alexander. "Plus, I'm pretty sure Catherine's got to be wondering what happened to me and I really need to talk to her and the others before we make our presentation tonight."

There was a brief flash in Alexander's eyes. He knew exactly what Charlie was doing: making his job a little easier. The flash of understanding was gone and the jaw set in a hardening determined expression.

And right at that moment Charlie realized that he was staring right into the futching maw of history. Or as Ms. Tikri put it, right at the beginning of everything. In this room at this moment, Charlie sensed that a seed of a future had been dropped. It was both something less than he expected and something more than he hoped.

He resisted the urge to bow as he left the room.

As the door closed behind him, he heard Alexander begin, "I need to talk to you about Ro…"

The sound of the lock catching was enough to bring him to a halt. He looked at painted woodwork before reaching out and touching it. Somewhere in there was a Key Medical Order Award-winning paper about nature vs. nurture. All he needed to do was interact more with both Alexander and Faith and he would be well on his way to…

"Hey!"

He spun around to see a dark-haired Slayer—Kennedy he thought her name was— suspiciously watching him with folded arms.

When she saw he had his attention, she added, "I'm pretty sure that you shouldn't be listening at the door."

"I'm not listening…"

"Look, I don't have time to shadow you all night. Don't you have a place to be? Your buds are down the hall, so if you don't mind? I really could use a snack and I can't do that until you're under guard in your own room. Making myself clear?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a charming woman who will win over the hearts and minds of men everywhere?"

"Have I ever told you that winning the hearts and minds of men is not exactly my goal in life?"

"And they say that some Slayers have no diplomatic skills," Charlie grumbled as he turned away and headed down the hall. "Such a charmless, little," he opened the door to see Catherine lying on her back staring dissolutely up and the ceiling, "cloud of depression. What happened?"

"I'm a futching idiot."

Charlie closed the door with a sigh. "What happened?"

She waved her hands at the ceiling. "No. No. No details. Just say, 'Catherine, you're a futching idiot.'"

"Is this because you let J'Nal talk to his precious Willow?"

"This is because I decided to train this morning."

"Well, that's good, right? Work off some of the tension that…"

"With Faith."

"Oh. Um. Technically speaking you shouldn't feel guilty if you landed a…"

"But I couldn't do it with Faith because there was an altercation."

"You got into a fight with…"

"No. Altercation involved Alexander and that awful man."

Charlie dropped his head in his hands. "Catherine? Please tell me you didn't hit…"

"No. I hit Alexander."

Charlie's head popped up. "You what?"

"See, that Wood person left after the altercation. Faith went to go talk to that bastardo. I checked on Alexander to make sure he was…what is that word again?"

"Ookee?"

"Right. Ookee. Because that…that Robin sucker-punched him. From his blindside. By the way, do you remember anything about Alexander being blind in his left eye?"

"He's what?"

"Well, technically, that's wrong. You need an eye to be actually blind in it."

"See, now I'm confused."

"So I decided to train Alexander in how to compensate."

Charlie stood there in silence for a few moments. "Let me get this straight. You took it upon yourself to teach Alexander Lavelle Harris-rah, the Lion of Tara, Founding Light of the Watchers Honoria, White Knight of the Faithists, Keeper of the Key Medical Order, co-Founder of…"

"Yes."

Charlie was fighting very hard not to laugh, he really was. "He soooo kicked your astra, didn't he?"

"I kicked his astra."

Charlie immediately sobered. "What?"

"I. Kicked. His. Astra."

"You're joking."

"Then I began showing off. I showed him the boogle-boogle move."

"You showed him the…Catherine!"

"What?" came the sullen reply.

"The boogle-boogle move only works in one-half standard gravities. You know that."

"I showed him the modified version."

"You…but…the modified version?" Charlie sputtered.

"The advanced modified version."

"The advan…Ohmylords." Charlie felt sick. Teaching someone—a someone who was angry and may be bearing a grudge—such a dangerous and deadly attack could only mean trouble followed by a dead body.

"Thank the Founders, and by that I mean literally since both Alexander and Faith were personally involved, I got interrupted before I could show him a couple of gee-han-jo moves. I only got to the first step where you slam your foot into the back of your opponent's knee."

"Oh. Well. At least he didn't look like you broke him or anything," Charlie fought to keep his tone light. "I just saw him and…although that might explain why he looked really, really angry. You didn't try to break him, did you?"

Catherine lifted her head off the floor and she gave Charlie a glare. "I did not try to break him. He's not a Slayer you know. And I resent the implication I've ever tried to break another human being. I have never broken a Slayer, not in all my time teaching hand-to-hand combat at the Academy, not in all my field time. Ever. Besides, Slayers don't break that easily. Half the time I keep Ruda from trying to break herself."

"Calm down. I'm just…"

"Plus he was really, really having a lot of fun. Training I mean. Even when I kicked his astra. Several times. So if he's angry, it's not at me. At least I hope not."

"Catherine? Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Given Alexander to the right tools to kick Robin's astra?" she hopefully asked.

"Catherine," Charlie began through gritted teeth, "we're not supposed to be arming one side with smooth moves while sowing the seeds of discontent between…"

"I know, I know!" Catherine sat up and continued her moping glare at the carpet. "This guy is supposed to be a legendary fighter and Watcher and… This guy. Know what I found out? He's nothing more than a scrapper."

Charlie picked his way across the carpet and settled on the floor opposite his fearless and depressed leader. "Well, he's got to be more than that. He's still walking upright after, what, almost ten years of fighting demons? Means he has a healthy idea of how not to die."

Catherine snorted.

"Fine, you don't exactly have a high opinion of his hand-to-hand abilities. So why did you start teaching him? What possessed you?"

Catherine picked at the carpet. "He wanted to learn. Everything I showed him he just…just…absorbed it. But you'd think someone would've seen to formalized training before now, right? So why is he listening to me when…"

"You always did have the teaching knack," Charlie shrugged. "C'mon, I knew you back when you were teaching hand-to-hand at the Academy. Half the time I think you had a lot more fun than the Potentials and new Slayers did."

The Watcher Honoria scrubbed her hands through her hair. "Prefer teaching anyway. Not sure I like field work all that much."

"You're just saying that because of the mission," Charlie dismissed with a wave of his hand. "This is really getting to you, isn't it? You're usually Ms. Level-headed when everything gets emotionally odd."

"Oh, like you're surprised."

"I guess not. But you're forgetting, we're all going through the same thing."

Catherine gave him the raised eyebrow of doubt.

"Fine. Probably not Ruda. Hada, I'm pretty sure her Lanoire-rah-sen and Harris-rah-sen could sprout fangs and begin feasting on the hearts of innocent babies and she'd still have that unshakeable belief that they'll do right in the end. And maybe not me so much because I'm just the rube doc in these here parts. And Tikri…well…who knows what she thinks. But I'm sure that J'Nal…hey? Where is J'Nal by the way?"

"Meditating. He needed to recover from the spell, correction, spells he was throwing around yesterday and, if I heard him right, nonstop talking from his ca-Rosenberg and the stress of dealing with, and I quote, 'watching primates play with sticks of dynamite.'"

"I guess it didn't go well?"

"Let's put it this way, if you want a perfect picture of what preconceived notions splattered across a landscape look like, you definitely want to talk to our resident witch."

"Or look at you," Charlie added.

"That's just it, I don't know." Catherine grimaced. "I'm worse than Ruda. I want to believe, but I just can't see past reality."

A brief flash of the look on Alexander's face as he strode into Giles's room zipped through Charlie's mind. "And what exactly does reality look like to you?"

"Alexander's nothing more than a good-natured thug with street fighting skills that are passable against unsuspecting and untrained humans, but has nothing resembling a warrior bone in his body," Catherine moped. "Faith dresses like she should be picking up trade in the LoveRent districts on Karisa, she's playing futch-me-this with that Robin, and Tikri's hinting around that her interview is gong to blow the lid off her reputation."

"And once again, I've got to remind you that you're looking at them before they became who they are. Or is that will be?" Charlie squirmed. While he and Catherine were close friends, he was used to her being the person everyone could lean on. Usually if something bothered her he had to pull teeth after applying copious amounts of alcohol to get her to talk. The fact that Catherine was willingly admitting that she was less-than-fine while still sober? Not a good sign. His mind scrambled for something comforting. "We got what we got, but you know that they grow and change. Lords know of everyone here you've got more reason to believe that than even Ruda."

Catherine studied him a moment before saying, "One small problem."

"What problem is that?"

"The boogle-boogle move," Catherine said quietly. "A form of combat that doesn't even exist yet."

Charlie absorbed that statement a bit before the full meaning behind Catherine's eyes hit him square between his eyes. He didn't even consider the possible ripple effect. Oh, hada! He just knew there was a Very Bad Thing involving universal time-space continuum feedback loops just waiting to turn his trapped-in-the-past self to mush. He just knew it. "Futch," he said quietly, "your little teaching and training session may have changed…"

"Everything," the Watcher Honoria glumly finished for him.

TBC…