Hi, guys! Turns out that I run on carbs. Give me pasta or bread, and I'll write all day! Thanks, Creative Girl, Tikatu, Bow Echo and Whirl Girl. I like Charlie, too. Weirdly enough, I even sorta like Havok and Fuse. They've grown on me. =)

52

West dome, seven hundred years in the future, at a deserted old playground-

Caleb stared at the girl on the swing, his smile fading. Had to blink, huff out a deep breath, and look away for a second, because Kaise was a mess. She looked like Frankenstein's Barbie-doll, with stitched and plastered unhealed cuts, bruises and swellings filled with dark, puddled blood, and great patches of missing blonde hair. Her true skin colour was more tarnished and ashy than golden, but her eyes were the same; big, green, and awfully sad. The little finger on her left hand was twisted and bent, he noticed; broken long ago and never quite healed.

He should have been disgusted, maybe, but instead, Caleb's heart went out to the battered girl. Turning the charm back on, he said,

"Okay, no fair. That's a lot more than one boo-boo. You may have to schedule a follow-up appointment."

Then he grinned at her, winning the faintest of smiles, in return. Wasn't much of a medic, yet (all he knew was basic CPR and first aid) but Caleb did what he could. Applied anesthetic and Bacta-Block, spread Nu-Skin like butter, and put a welding cast on that bent, broken pinky. (Read the instructions, first, and everything.)

It had to hurt her, but Kaise stayed quiet; one long-fingered hand tangled in the folds of her faded blue tunic. (Like the rest of her people, the tall stick-girl wore a hodge-podge of colours and styles, seeming to have wandered through all of those empty houses and picked stuff at random.)

Because he liked to talk, Caleb told her all about his unequaled prowess and skills… in the kitchen.

"And, I make a killer Caccio e Pepe," he boasted, dabbing at the sagging threads of a badly-stitched cut. "A simple dish, true, but it drives the ladies wild."

Seeing her puzzled look, Caleb paused in reaching for the half-empty Nu-Skin dispenser.

"You… have no idea what I'm even talking about, do you?"

Kaise ducked, then shook her raggedy, bald-spotted head.

"Is to be saying "no", Cabe. I do not know catchy-peepee, or wildness ladies."

Having got used to her cartoonish physical reactions, Caleb mimed cold-water shock.

"Laser-Babe, have you missed out! It's pasta. Al dente, y'know? Just a little fight left in the noodles, with butter, some olive oil, salt, cracked pepper, fresh parmesan and… my own, secret ingredient… chives. Seriously, you'll think you've died and gone to foodie Nirvana. And I'm not just saying that because I rock on all fronts. It's the truth."

She still didn't get it, Caleb could tell. But, at least she was smiling for real, this time. There were people coming; some of hers and his. Seeing them pass between hollow, empty-eyed buildings, Kaise whispered,

"Cabe, it is knowing to me, that you are to going back, when is the Speaker withdrawing, again. But… is to be hoping for me, that you are not forgetting Kaise, who will not ever, for all her whole life, forgetting of you."

She was the youngest left of her kind. He'd found that out, as they'd gone around asking for myths and stories. The other children, even younger than Kaise, had just stopped growing. Then, they'd died. As the blight took hold, no one else had been born, nor could the survivors heal from wounds or infection. That sucked, man. Life in the future had handed poor Kaise a stupid-raw deal… and her friend didn't like it, at all.

"I thought everything was supposed to get better and better, forever," Caleb complained, adding (as Kaise changed back) "And the only forgetting is you, Babe, forgetting you ever said that. In fact, we're gonna cure you guys. The Brain is way smart. Like, believe it or not, two of me. He'll come up with a magic pill, or something. In fact, I bet that's where he is, right now."

Because, Caleb and Kaise could see Professor Moffat, Sheffield and Kym in the group, but not Dr. Hackenbacker. Winking at the girl, Caleb helped her back off of the swing.

"We're International Rescue, Doll-Face. Give me a smile, and consider it handled."

XXXXXXXXXX

London's (mostly) evacuated and (badly) trashed GDF Tower hospital-

Gordon reached a more or less undamaged floor, then paused to get his bearings. The siren was no longer blaring, but stunning-bright flashes of light still tore at the air, as the building's rapid evacuation went on. He needed to get away from all the noise and chaos… get away from innocent people… and find some way to run Charlie home to his folks.

Funny thing is, sometimes the Universe listens, but you don't always get what you bargained for. As Gordon shifted the sleepy, mumbling boy into a better hold, then started cautiously out through the surgical waiting room lobby, something weird happened.

All at once, he felt as though everything around him was speeding up. Sounds became higher and higher in pitch, till they zipped and whined like mosquitos, and then fell utterly silent. Those flashing lights went from pulse-stop-pulse to a rapid flicker, and then to nonstop bright glare. Something had happened to time. He tried to move, but the air was like syrup, then concrete. Charlie stirred in his arms, woke up and cried,

"No!"

…and everything just went right back to normal. Gordon nearly fell over, but managed to hang onto the kid and stay upright. He almost joked with Charlie about controlling his nightmares, but then saw an oddly-dressed man stepping out of a hallway to block their path. Not very tall, but reed-thin, with long, light-brown hair tied back at the nape, and a prominent hawk-nose, he didn't seem to be hanging out there for funsies. Right. Option A: Keep it professional.

"If you're lost, Sir, the main evac is being routed through the…"

"Be silent." The man's voice cracked like a whip; hard and intense.

Another wave of weirdness hit the young aquanaut. Worse, this time, because now the air burned like fiery tar. Charlie sat up in his grip, leaned forward and snarled,

"NO! Stop!"

The man stumbled backward, turning… Gordon was ready to swear… ten years older. It hit him, then, that this arrogant, murderous crud was another Dos Santos. Maybe the boy's father, or something.

"Come, Anton," said the grown time-bender, reaching a hand out for Charlie. Only, the kid wasn't having any. He shrank even closer to Gordon, shaking his head and clinging tight with both arms.

"No. We're gonna find home. Go 'way!"

Something flared out of Charlie, then, that turned the man into a stiff, rock-like statue. Frozen. Gordon thought about how the world had gone suddenly fast, on him. How the air itself had started to burn, and the sounds had gone dead. Very gently, to the hard-breathing, red-faced boy, he said,

"You gotta let him go, Big Guy. That crap hurts."

Charlie squirmed around in his grip to stare at him, wide-eyed and serious.

"You said we're finding home, Gordon. You promised, get out of here, and find home."

"Yeah, I know… and I meant it. Just… let him go, okay? I'll tell Mr. Personality to take a hike, and we'll move on to plan B."

…Because bringing Charlie back to his folks didn't seem like such a good option, anymore. The young time-bender looked right at him. Didn't have many gestures or responses, yet, because everything he knew about people (other than his captors) he'd got from Gordon Tracy.

"I don't like Mr. Personality. He's bad. He's fighting me."

"Okay… so, he'll get out of that time-lock on his own, then? I mean, being frozen, like that? He'll break free?"

Charlie appeared to consider. Then, he nodded, sending toffee-coloured hair flopping into his big, brown eyes.

"Yeah," he said, imitating Gordon. "He's gonna break free and take a hike. We're going home."

And he yanked on Gordon's neck, leaning hard for the door, like steering a horse.

"Okay, you realize…" the aquanaut started to say, as he gave in to Charlie's impatient tug. Stopped the rest of his statement, though. The poor kid had, what…? A month's life experience, most of that spent in a hospital prison? How was he supposed to tell Charlie that he'd just frickin' rejected home? That he'd met his own kind and shut him down, to save Gordon. Meanwhile, the kid was still waiting for the rest of that sentence. He listened so closely. Took everything seriously, because the whole world was brand new.

"Uh… you realize it may take a while to get there? Y'know… could be pretty far away. We might have to stick together, for a few days."

Charlie cocked his head to one side, then put a hand against Gordon's shoulder and pulled it away a few times, as if seeing whether or not they'd really stick. Keeping a straight face, Gordon set the kid down, again, and took his small hand. Behind them, that other Dos Santos had started to glow.

"Nice and quiet," the swimmer warned. "But, if we run into trouble and you want to do that "slow everything down" trick, again, that'd be aces. Teamwork, Kiddo. What it's all about."

"Teamwork," Charlie repeated. "That's home, too, right? Like brothers and swimming? Teamwork is home?"

"Yeah, Big Guy," Gordon responded, smiling at a kid who was just learning how to smile back. "Teamwork is absolutely home. All we gotta do is hook back up with the rest of the crew, save Rigby, and figure out what to do next… besides getting you some real clothes, and a haircut. No ponytails in the Tracy household, I'll tell you that."

Not with Lee and Dad around… but that seemed an almost impossibly distant concern. First, they had to get out of the hospital, and away from Havok and Fuse.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

High overhead, in the cloaked Chaos Cruiser-

Havok was piloting, because her giant d*mn lunk of a brother could not be trusted to stay on target. Tended to get pulled off course, he did, by interesting adverts, match scores, or passing scrummies in tattooed clothing. On the other hand, he did alright with tracking targets.

"Oy! Havok!" Fuse bellowed, setting off another level-3 migraine. "I think I got 'im! Powerful rotter, in't 'ee?"

Havok glanced away from her viewscreen long enough to see what her brother was on about.

"Bloody 'ell…" she breathed. "That's a thirty-three t' one time differential, right there… an' he in't 'alf tryin'!"

The plaza below them was packed with evacuated people and scurrying peace officers. Bomb squad had turned up, too… much good it would do them. Red and blue lights speared the night, just as they'd done a few weeks ago, when General Steele collapsed. She'd caught it all on telly, from Mars. Now, studying the scan data, Havok said,

"'Ees on th' tenth floor, 'ee is… bit under Tracy's wrist-tracker. It ain't movin', neither. Toldja Dos Santos bloody killed him!"

Fuse grinned at her, twirling an electronic shock-collar around and round his right index finger.

"Put me in close, Havok, an' I'll go fetch 'im. Then, it's payday, at last."

Havok gave her brother a stern, blue-eyed stare.

"In 'n out, an' no foolishness with th' nurses," she ordered. "Y' get down there, collar th' blighter, an' pinch 'im clean away. Got it?"

"Ahh… y' worry too much, Havok! I'll bend it like the Reds, an' they'll never see me comin'."

Havok snorted, saying,

"Aye, well… b'lieve that when I sees it. Good luck, anyroad, an' don't do nothin' I wouldn't do."

Thirty seconds later, Havok had blasted a hole in the wall and fired an explosive zip-line right to their mark. Fuse rode straight in through the smoke and dust, shrugging off bullets like rain. Made certain to kick over their frozen target, too, because if you couldn't have fun, why bother? That he'd gone and collared the wrong Dos Santos… a time-trapped, scowling adult… made not one bit of difference to Havok or Fuse. One bleedin' special was as good as another, and the Hood's money would spend, either way. Waited until they were twenty minutes out before setting off Havok's bombs; leaving no doubt at all that the Chaos Crew had been there, and got what they'd come for.