Apparently my muse likes you all. You're welcome

Chapter Two: Northern Lights

It felt like a slide. She spun and twirled in a concentric circle to a central point. She knew the others were with her. She didn't know how. There wasn't light outside a random brilliant flash of blue or white in the inky blackness. There was no sound beyond the wind so deafening she couldn't hear her own scream when she fell away. She couldn't feel anyone outside her own skin. None of her physical senses alerted her to the crew that fell with her.

A word, a thought, a glimpse of some image as each conscious touched her own mind let her know who followed. She thought of home and all the emotions that came with as each consciousness brushed against her own. The last to touch her before they tumbled through the maelstrom was brighter than any of the others. It shone like Sirius in the winter's sky; a beacon of hope for the darkness that consumed them all. It was the fear for her shining from the deepest form of love, and Charlie knew Jim was with her.

She hit the cold ground with a soft thump. The thickness of long pine needles cushioned her landing; cold, wet snow seeping into her backside as she sat up. Bodies fell around her, each colliding with a soft groan or yelp of pain on the freezing ground. The swirling mass above spit out Sulu and then dissolved as if it never existed, leaving a deafening silence in the wake of the voluminous din moments before. The air was calm; barely a sound echoed outside of their own cloudy breaths. No birds called, or animals scurried. The air held a hushed silence, their abrupt presence scattering the fauna in the early dawn.

Charlie took stock of their location, her head on a swivel as she gazed at the lines of pine trees stretching out in all directions. The forest wasn't crowded; most bushes were tucked back, their thin twigs empty of leaves. The trees were tall with long branches stretching out overhead twenty to thirty feet. But while their height soared to the clouds, their trunks were not thick - maybe a foot around and straight as telephone poles. Snow dotted the landscape in dirty piles, half melted as small rivulets ran down the gentle slope. The sky was a soft grey as the smell of new snow hung in the chilled air, each minute dropping a few more degrees.

"Where are we?" Uhura was the first to speak, running her hands up and down her bare arms as Spock came to her side to embrace her shivering form. "Where's Chekov and Carol?"

"They were behind the stage," McCoy said, rising. "They didn't get sucked into that whirling tornado of horror."

"Eloquent, Bones," Jim derided dryly. "So it's only the seven of us here. Where ever here is."

"I'm trying to get a reading," Sulu answered, spinning in circles with the tricorder in his hand.

"Anybody know what the hell that was?" growled Bones, puffing hot air into cupped hands then tucking them under his arms, surveying the forest they now found themselves in.

"Besides a whirling tornado of horror?" Uhura smirked.

A choir of 'no's' and shaking heads greeted that question as the crew took stock of the situation. All except for Charlie who still sat on the damp earth, trying to wrap her head around a very familiar sensation.

"I think I do," she answered, rising to stand with Jim's help, his arms wrapping around her shaking shoulders. "That thing was exactly like the portal that brought me here. I'm sure of it."

The eerie song of a bird called, the only sound that echoed in the silent woods as the others incredulously blinked.

"How is that possible?" Jim asked first. "The last of the New Red matter sent Kate and Philippa back. There wasn't any left."

"So, when the hell are we?" McCoy barked. "On top of where."

"The tricorder indicates a settlement," Sulu answered snapping the machine closed. "That way about half a kilometer," He pointed down the slope, his feet stamping in the same direction. "It's better than freezing to death," he added with a shrug.

In silent agreement, the troop began the trek down the hill, the walk slushy and slippery as they slid and tripped down the ridge. The air was beginning to finally warm as the sun began to rise higher in the sky, but it still only registered just above zero degrees Celsius according to the tricorder. Just as they started up another rise, Charlie felt a sense of familiarity with the area. The placement of trees, the way that boulder to the east looked like an elephant, the way her feet seemed to follow the paths to a familiar stream.

The next rise, a glint in the trees caught Charlie's eye. It spun and swirled in the early morning wind, the sun's rays reflected off in all directions. Charlie squinted, breaking from the group as she gracelessly jogged over to the tree the talisman was attached to. Surprised by her sudden movement, Jim called after her as Uhura followed steps behind, but Charlie never answered. Her attention was riveted on the piece, the familiarity a smoothly balm on her soul that she didn't know she needed.

Charlie reached up to settle the spinning metal, the horse shaped pendant stilling in her hand. She knew that pendant, had nailed it to the tree herself. Next to the horse four letters were carved into the wood - WF and CN. They were weathered, but not in the way two hundred years' worth of rain, snow, and sun would. Their slightly rounded edges and lightened interior had a freshness about them. Maybe a decade's worth of erosion had corroded the etchings.

"No fucking way," she breathed, just as the others ran up behind her.

"What is it? What's that?" Jim asked, breathless as he pointed to the carvings, Uhura running her hand over the letters as if they were a linguistic puzzle only she could figure out.

Charlie sighed as she realized the predicament they now found themselves in, her gaze flickering between the tree and her friends.

"Well, the first letters- WF - stand for Will Field. And the other -CN - are my initials. I helped to carve these."

"Who the hell is Will Field?" Jim growled.

"So, you've been here before, Spitfire?" McCoy asked at the same time, shooting a glare at the jealous captain.

"Yeah, I'd say," Charlie answered, pointedly ignoring Jim's question. "I. . . think we're on my parent's land. Or what was theirs." She gestured behind them, the newly formed wind whipping the hair that had come loose from her bun across her eyes. "The settlement Sulu mentioned must be the main house. Over that next ridge."

"But there's no guarantee this is your time," Uhura added reluctantly, her thin arms wrapped tightly around her frame, her teeth chattering.

"You're right," Charlie spun around until she saw what she was looking for. "But there's one way to find out."

She jogged along the path to where an old rope was swinging in the breeze, hanging down from the branches above. She pulled on it a couple times, and then finding it secure, Charlie hauled herself up the rope and into the structure hidden in the branches of a large ponderosa pine tree. As if walking into a dream, Charlie found herself in her childhood fort, built by her grandfather for herself and her sister and brother. It was their hideout, their secret lair where the expectations of their parents could be escaped for a few hours. Where they battled magical foes, and casted their wishes into the night. Their treasures were still on the shelves; old books, pieces of colored glass, other trinkets that a child would find fascination in. Weathered blankets were stacked in the corner, moldy and covered with leaves, but still held the promise of warmth.

Charlie surveyed the now decrepit treehouse with its sagging roof and leaf covered floor. Although it was dirty and had not been used for at least a half a decade, the memories she spent there, the hopes and dreams that she fed into the universe where as fresh as if they happened yesterday. Charlie hesitantly moved across the floor, testing the obvious weak spots while bent over by the short roof. Grabbing the old WWII binoculars off the shelf, Charlie crawled over to the far window to survey the area and see if her suspicion was correct.

With a grunt from behind, she turned to see Jim hauling himself through the small door in the corner, wiggling his way through the child sized opening while his fingers turned white gripping the fraying rope that miraculously held his weight. Like a fish caught, he flopped onto the floor panting, a bead of sweat on his brow.

"You made that look way easier than it was," he rasped as Charlie grinned.

"Muscle memory is an amazing thing," she laughed. "Here," she added, tossing him the blankets hiding in her corner. "They're a bit smelly and have been tucked away for a while, but they're warm. Drop them down to Uhura and the others. It's freezing out here."

With a call below, Kirk let the fabric fall to the grateful group, a shout of thanks sent up. Hunched over, Jim shuffled his way over to where Charlie sat, her gaze focused out the window to the sight that awaited her.

"Was this yours as a kid?"

There was only a hint of awe in his tone, his gaze roaming over the small room filled with memories he never thought he'd get to experience. Her past was so far gone, never to be reached or touched, that Jim didn't know what to think now that he was in the place her child-self played.

Charlie dropped the binoculars in her lap with a sigh, finding the large house ahead peaking between branches with smoke drifting lazily from the chimney. It didn't look any different from the last time she crossed its threshold. She could see her grandfather's '57 Ford truck next to the main barn as well as the rusted old farm tools her father refused to part with. The house was the same tan with blue trim her mother picked before graduation to "liven things up".

As all these familiar scenes swirled in front of her, her dark eyes sought out Jim's blue, emotion swirling in their depths as Charlie realized for the first time in three years she might actually be going home.

Suddenly, she couldn't speak, her voice locking up, so she just nodded once as a sob found its way to the surface like a hiccup. Home. She was going home. She didn't click her heels together three times, or wish upon a star, but somehow that tornado still found her.

Her hand came up to brush the single tear from her cheek, her smile growing. "Jim. This is my treehouse. This is my land. I'm… I'm home." She giggled then, throwing her arms around his neck, sending him off balance and to the floor. They laughed together, his arms wrapping around her frame. "I'm back," she whispered, her face buried in his chest as a thousand thoughts warped across her mind.

"Does that mean I'm about to meet your parents?" He meant it as a joke, but she stiffened. With a shove, Charlie snapped up.

"Shit, my parents! What-What are they going to think? What are they going to say? What if—"

Her heart started thumping in panic. She had left for England three years before, and then disappeared eight months later. Had there been a search? Had they been frantic to find her? How was she going to explain that she warped two hundred and fifty years into the future and was now back with no explanation?

"I've been gone for three years. Maybe more , I don't know what year it is. What if they forgot about me?"

"They didn't forget you," Jim reasoned, sitting up slower and rubbing the spot on his chest she used as a launching pad. "We'll figure something out, something to tell them. But they're going to be happy you're alive. Think Charlie, they probably think you're dead."

He didn't want to point it out, but it had to be said. He watched as her eyes dropped, pulling in her full bottom lip to worry it. With the brush of his finger he tilted her chin up and saw the indecision in her eyes. "I'll be right here the whole time," he added. "We'll get through this. Together."

"What if they're not happy to see me? What if they're angry?"

"Are ya lot comin' down anytime soon? We're freezin' down here!" The irate Scottish brogue shouted.

With a roll of her eyes, Charlie shouted, "Yes, hold on!"

"We'll face it together," Jim emphasized, taking her hand and squeezing it. "I will not leave your side."

With a hesitant smile, Charlie nodded, grateful for the support she knew she was going to need. Her parents were not the normal nuclear parents many of her friends had. Her mother had a master's in psychology with a doctorate in neuroscience while her dad held a master's in mechanical engineering. They were both military since ROTC in high school, and her mother held top positions in intelligence. To fool her parents, Charlie was going to need all the skills of the 23rd century crew.

With a deep sign, Charlie and Jim slid down the rope to the anxious group below. Uhura wrapped one of the blankets around her shoulders, using the corner to wipe the blood from the cut on her temple. "Well?" she asked. "Do you know where we are?"

Charlie scanned the restless faces waiting impatiently. "Well guys, I won't know for certain until we're over there, but I think it's time I welcome you to the 21st century."

"Well that's just great," Bones growled throwing up his hands. "Might as well be the stone age."

"Relax, Bones," Jim snapped, his arms wrapped around his barreled chest as his breath frosted in the winter air. "We'll figure out how to get back. All of us." He stared emphatically at Charlie. "We've got two centuries worth of knowledge over the people here. We will go home."

"But for now," Charlie added. "Follow my lead. I don't know how this is going to go, or what will happen but be prepared. You're walking into a military household and one where they very well may think I'm dead. I've been gone three years my time, but I don't know what year this is. Could be three, could be five, could be ten. All I know, it's not going to be the same as Starfleet." Charlie surveyed each face as they all nodded in understanding. That's when Charlie took in the slanted eyebrows and pointed ears of one of their members. "Shit, Spock. What are we going to do with you?"

It took a minute for the others to grasp what Charlie meant. Understanding dawned when they realized they were no longer in the United Federation of Planets, but the United States of America circa 2016.

"I can stay in the structure above," Spock consented. "Until we can determine how to introduce me to the inhabitants of this time."

Charlie worried her lip, shaking her head. "That's not a good idea," she said.

"I have taken the appropriate survival classes at the Academy, Cadet. I will be fine."

"Spock, what was the average temperature on Vulcan?" Charlie asked, crossing her arms.

"My planet would range from 43.3º C to 51.6º C, although it was not unheard of to reach 70 ºC."

"Right. Well this is Colorado. And judging by the light, and the snow on the ground, we're probably in late fall or winter. We can easily reach -10º C at night. You'll freeze out here."

"I have an idea," Uhura announced, grabbing the base of her torn uniform and ripping off a long grey strip from the bottom. Reaching up, she secured the band around Spock's eyebrows, covering his ears in the process.

"That should work," Sulu remarked.

"Oh aye, until the poor man needs a scratch from that wool," Scotty grumbled.

"It'll do for now," Charlie placated. "We'll figure out something more permanent later. Is that alright, Commander?"

Spock adjusted the strap. "This will suffice."

"Good," Jim said. "We follow Charlie. Be careful what you say and do. We're already familiar with what happens when the past is messed with."

Her hands were shaking as Charlie led the group down familiar trails toward her childhood home. The paths were still worn from years of her and her siblings racing through the woods. The same cold bite of winter stung her cheeks, and the mile-high altitude was quickly making itself known as everyone panted out of breath behind her. What was she going to say? Should she ring the doorbell? What if they weren't home? What if they moved? Marcus mentioned their ranks had changed. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that a move could have happened.

A warm hand slipped into her chilled one, holding it firm as Jim leaned over and whispered, "I'm right here."

She squeezed back, too overcome to add anything else. The path led them into the clearing, the dampened winter sun shining on the paddocks and barns. The land was awash in yellows and tans, the dull brown vegetation of winter only muted by a thin layer of snow. Horses could be heard in the stable closest to them, too cold to be allowed in the fields.

Charlie followed the familiar path around the out buildings, coming to a stop as the main house loomed before her. Although it had been years since she was home, it looked unchanged. The cabin-inspired house was large and imposing, the strong wood beams and rustic brick were stout and solid. The second story deck with its iron railings added a modern element while the mired of windows were spot free and clear, reflecting the early morning sun.

"This was your home?" a shocked Uhura asked, staring at what she thought was a mansion among the hills.

"Was my home," Charlie acknowledged. "It stopped being my home years ago."

"Well lassie, it's still an impressive sight," Scotty remarked, his hands on his hips.

Bones snorted, "Well let's see if anyone's home, shall we? Before we all catch hypothermia and die."

"Is there ever a time you're not dramatic?" Charlie admonished.

"Spitfire, you've known me how long?"

Charlie thought a moment. "Okay, fair."

With hesitant steps, Charlie came to the base of the deck, the stairs winding above to the back of the house. The door was usually unlocked so the trainers and field hands could come in to take a short break, or let her parents know how one horse was doing over another. The wooden stairs creaked and bent with her weight, the wood weathered and worn from years of use. Reaching the top, Charlie was overcome with the familiarity of the situation. The lawn chairs and deck furniture tied up and sheltered for winter. The tables moved to the side, and the grill covered and pushed into the corner.

The dark wooden French doors stood before her, and with a grasp on the ornate handle, Charlie stepped into the house she swore she'd never see again.

The warm air was a relief as it hit her in the face. The gas fire was on in the living room, adding heat and light to the new morning. The dark, rustic furniture was free of dust, the curtains drawn back, and the floors swept clean. If there was one thing her mother hated, it was a dirty, cluttered house. As Charlie stepped further into the kitchen area, the living room to her right, movement caught the corner of her eye. Turning, a woman with salt and pepper black hair tied in a severe low knot was standing at the stove, her blue robe covering her flannel pajamas with her black slippers peeking out underneath. She was a tall woman, lithe and strong, and Charlie knew the set of those shoulders and the no nonsense way she was scrambling eggs.

"Maurice is that you?" she called without turning around in her husky, alto voice. "I need you to look at that new gelding. I think he's got some inflammation in the right foreleg."

Charlie swallowed the lump in her throat as the others filled in behind her.

"Hello, Mother."

Charlie's mother froze, the spatula in her hand collapsing onto the counter as the woman spun around, her green eyes wide in alarm. Her face was more worn than Charlie had last seen, and there were prominent lines around her eyes that didn't use to be there. But for Charlie it was like looking into a mirror. Other than their eyes and her mother having darker hair now streaked with grey, the two were almost identical. The same, full shaped mouth, the same upturned small nose. But where Charlie only stood at five and half feet, her mother was easily five nine.

"Charlotte?" Margaret Noland gasped. "Is that you?"

"It is, Mother. I'm back."

Before Charlie knew what happened, her mother ran across the kitchen, throwing her arms around her daughter's shoulders as a giant sob escaped her throat. She crushed Charlie to her chest, tears running down her cheeks as she held on to her oldest girl.

"We thought you were dead," her mother wailed. "Kate and Philippa said you were never coming home. That you were lost forever. Oh, my daughter, where did you go?"

Charlie held onto her mother, the familiar scent causing tears to spring up in her dark eyes. "Mom so much has happened," Charlie cried, the comfort of her mother's embrace a soothing balm she didn't know she was missing. While her father was the enforcer, the woman clutching her to her chest was still her mother, still the one who soothed the hurts and tried to be the mediator between the two stubborn family members.

Her mother pulled back, holding Charlie at arm's length as she scrutinized everything about her child, from the disheveled bun, the streaks of dirt across her cheek where small cuts lingered, down to her grey jacket and skirt that were torn and burned in several areas. As if waking from a dream, the Air Force officer realized the state her daughter was in, and that there were others standing behind her child. With practiced movements, Charlie was thrown behind her mother as she drew a sharp kitchen knife from the nearest block, wielding it between herself and the others in the room.

"Who are you?!" Margaret spat. "What did you do to my daughter?"

"Mom, no!" Charlie shouted, jumping between woman and her friends who had all taken a hesitant step back. "No, these are my friends. They . . . uh . . . they saved my life."

Margaret looked between her daughter and the gaggle behind her, seeing the same uniforms with the same wear and tear marks. The one dark-skinned woman had a cut on her temple with dried blood, while the others sported small cuts and bruises. Slowly, she lowered the knife, placing it next to her on the counter, but not out of reach. "Saved your life how?"

Before Charlie could answer, a thunderous wave came hurtling down the stairs in the front of the house. Barking huskies and a young woman came skidding around the corner into the kitchen. Rolling her eyes, Margaret turned and shut off the burner to the stove, the eggs she'd been cooking beginning to burn.

"Mom! What were you shouting? I heard—" she paused as the three dogs rushed by her to sniff at the new arrivals, Scotty and Sulu hunching down to scratch the available bellies. The woman was clearly the youngest Noland, her black hair hung loose and short, while her green eyes trained on Charlie as her mouth dropped open in shock. "Charlie?!"

"Rachel!" Both sisters collided and a fierce hug, more tears released as they began talking at once, falling back into the sibling rhythm as if nothing happened.

"What are you doing here? When did you get back?! I thought you were dead. We searched everywhere—"

"You have no idea what I went through, where I've been. It's incredible what I've seen—"

"Girls!" It was evident this was a common occurrence in the Noland household. "Rachel, let your sister breathe."

Rachel took a step back from her older sister, her face alight in a way Margaret hadn't seen since before 'the disappearance'. "Where were you?" Rachel glanced over to the side, finally taking notice there were six other people in her house besides her family. "Oh, hello."

"Rach, Mom, let me introduce you to my friends. They're the reason I'm here today."

Charlie introduced the group one by one, stumbling over Spock's name, which had her sister raising her brows in suspicion, especially since Charlie was only using the first names.

"Finally, this is Jim," Charlie introduced, grabbing his hand and pulling him up next to her. Her smile, and the light that shone in her eyes were so obvious, Rachel figured fireworks would have been subtler.

"Hey buddy," Rachel grinned, none too subtly as she winked at a scowling Charlie, reaching out to shake his hand.

Jim grinned good naturally. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Now that formalities are done, where were you Charlotte? It's been over three years. No word, no call, we were worried sick. We thought you were dead. There's a gravestone next to your grandparents at the cemetery." Margaret's eyes bore into her daughter's, the mother having had her closure the intelligence officer was ready and waiting.

"That story is pretty complicated."

"We heard nonsense about time travel, star ships, space battles and aliens. I doubt it's more complicated than that."

There was anxious shuffling happening behind her. Even though Charlie was one of the top students at the Academy, had faced Klingons and Augments, the withering glare her mother used had Charlie cowering in her boots.

"Yeah, Mom, um, about those stories . . . well the thing is we—"

"Hey, Peg have you seen my— what the hell is going on here?"

A tall, imposing man stood at the entrance to the consortium, surveying the group with his dark eyes narrowed. He was a bald man, well over six feet tall with muscle definition that made men half his age jealous. He stood tall and erect; the very notion of slouching a distant memory. Bones and Jim immediately emulated his stance, sizing him up as he took their measure. His thick hands were in fists, and although he was an engineer, Charlie knew that he boxed every Tuesday and Thursday, and could easily take Jim, Bones, and possibly Spock in a fight.

"Hello, Daddy."

The same eyes locked with each other, the first set shocked while the other was contrite. Three years was a long time to be away from her family, but had it been three decades, Charlie was sure she'd still see the same emotion swirl in her father's eyes.

"You're back," he barked. If she was conscious of standing taller, facing her father directly, she didn't make it known. But Rachel raised one brow, interested in this new turn.

"Yes, Sir."

What else could she say? She hadn't planned on coming home, nor did she think Jim would ever meet her family. They were becoming a distant memory, one that she missed, but had resigned herself to never seeing again. But now she was again in the 21st century, and whether her family knew it or not, she was going back with Jim when they figured out their way home.

Robert's gaze roamed over the group, assessing everyone then as he pointed. "Who are they?"

"They're my . . . friends. Sir."

Nodding dismissively, his keys dropped on the table and he turned, stomping away to the study at the south side of the house where the door closed with a snap. Charlies hand flinched into a fist, indignation and shame raising the color in her cheeks. No hug, no 'I'm glad you're alive'. Not even a 'where the hell have you been?' Nothing.

"Robert!" her mother yelled, her hands rising to her hips.

"I'll go talk to him," Rachel said, her sympathetic gaze going to Charlie, understanding passing between the sisters. "It's just a shock, ya know? Just give him some time." With a shrug, she headed to the study and slipped inside where her father's deep muffled voice immediately began shouting.

Charlie winced then, folding into herself as every disappointment she ever had resurfaced. Jim's arm wrapped around her frame, pulling her into his warm chest, his eyes like shards of ice as they stared at the closed door. "What the hell was that all about?"

"Charlotte, take your friends to the basement while I speak with your Father. We'll discuss this later." Margaret squared her shoulders and marched toward the study, her voice matching with her husband's once she was behind the closed door.

Charlie turned to her friends, her face alive with shame. "Well guys. Uh. Welcome. Mi casa, su casa."

"Your father was not happy to see you?" Spock, who's been a silent observer in the back, finally voiced what they were all thinking.

"No, you green blooded hobgoblin. He was so ecstatic he had to go collect himself," McCoy barked. "Your old man's a piece of work, Spitfire. No wonder you wanted to stay with us."

Charlie gave a tentative smile, catching Jim's concerned gaze before darting away. "Let me take you guys downstairs. It's going to be a minute." She opened the door to the basement, the others filing down the stairs where they waited for the storm to calm.

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