Fic: Not With a Bang

[melworks]

Fandom: Crossover Fic
Rating: G (I'm just as shocked as y'all!)
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. No infrinement of copyright is intended. No profit is being made off this. It's all for fun.

NOT WITH A BANG

December 1991.
They had the whole of first class to themselves, which was a nice change of pace. The stewardesses were attentive and curious, but their friendly inquiries were skillfully deflected. If pressed, the group would have sold the official story; they were a private firm hired by the British government to consult on domestic matters. The little girl accompanying them was the woman’s granddaughter.
Lillian hadn’t been happy with that last part.

“Couldn’t she be my niece?” she had demanded. “I look far too young to be Victoria’s grandmother.”

McCall had stood fast. The cover stories had been arranged. There was no reason to change them just because of Lillian’s vanity. He took some comfort in the fact that this time Lillian hadn’t tried to change his mind by flirting with him.

“What do you make of this matter, Simon?” McCall asked.

He and the diminutive genius were sitting together. Simon McKay glanced up from the book he was reading, some dense metaphysical text, and offered a wan smile.

“You know I don’t like to speculate on an investigation before we’re on the scene, Robert.”

“I know, but if I don’t ask your opinion, I’ll have to ask her majesty.”

Simon chuckled. He was actually quite fond of Lillian, and, weirdly enough, Lillian seemed fond of him. In a way, they were both outcasts in the world. McKay because of his size and Lillian because of her personality.

“You should be more open to Lillian,” chided Simon. “She’s not that bad.”

“Compared to whom? Minerva Mayflower? That awful Mrs. Robeson?” He glanced at the redheaded woman, idly flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine. “Honestly, Simon, I don’t know why she didn’t return to her home with the rest of her family?”

“She had nothing to go home to,” said Simon. “And she wanted to make a fresh start. An admirable goal in my humble opinion.”
He gave McCall a pointed look.

McCall scowled. “I walked right into that, didn’t I?”

Simon smiled and returned to his book.

Their passage through customs was speeded up by the British government, and there was a car waiting for them as well. It was long, black and nondescript. McCall approved of it. Their liaison with the British government was a military officer, a Brigadier Winifred Bambera.

“You’re the specialists?” Bambera asked, sounding more surprised than dismayed.

“We are,” said McCall. He glanced at Bambera’s uniform and frowned. “May I ask why the head of UNIT’s UK Division is squiring us around?”

Bambera smiled. “You’ve got sharp eyes, Mr. McCall. I’m here because the government feels that, although this incident falls under UNIT’s remit, we lack the practical experience to investigate it fully.” From the way she grimaced, it was clear what Bambera thought of that. “So they made some calls and brought in your lot.”

She glanced at Victoria.

“Although, I have to say, even I wasn’t expecting you people to bring a child.”

“Which just goes to show why your government doesn’t trust you to handle this matter,” said Lillian, archly. “Now, are we going to stand around this airport all night or can we go to the hotel? Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”

“I apologize for Miss White,” said McCall, smoothly. “She doesn’t travel well.”

Bambera shrugged and gestured at the car.

The next morning, after breakfast, Bambera escorted them to the site of the incident. The house was in a pleasant residential neighborhood. None of them failed to notice the presence, discreet though they were, of plainclothed policemen patrolling the block.

At the door, they were met by a somewhat apprehensive gentleman who was introduced as Peter Banning. He ushered them into the house, and showed them to a pleasantly-appointed parlor.

“Can I offer anyone anything to drink?” asked Banning.

“We’re all on the job, Mr. Banning,” said Bambera. “But I wouldn’t say no to a nice cup of tea.”

“Of course. My wife’s in the kitchen. I’ll just go help her. Please, make yourselves at home.”

He rushed out before anyone could say anything.

“Squirrelly little fellow, isn’t he?” remarked Lillian.

McCall said nothing, but silently agreed. Banning was nervous. Why?

The others had settled about the room. Bambera remained standing, hands clasped behind her back. Simon was perusing a bookshelf. Victoria sat on a velvet chair, looking more doll-like than ever. Lillian and Rashid occupied the couch; she looked bored while Rashid looked somewhat intrigued.

Mister Banning returned with his wife, Moira. He was carrying a silver tray, laden with tea things. Placing it on the table, he stepped back and let his wife, a pretty woman with dark eyes, serve.

“I have to admit,” said Mr. Banning, “I’m a little confused as to who you people are? Are you police?”

“No, sir,” said McCall. “We’re more like private consultants brought in to investigate unusual incidents.”

“Unusual?” said Mrs. Banning. She glanced at her husband. “What’s unusual about this matter? Our children were kidnaped, Mr. McCall. As awful as it was, they’re back. Safe and sound.”

Rashid spoke. “True, Mrs. Banning. However, it is not every day that children are kidnaped to another world.”

Peter Banning’s face paled. His wife, however, was unfazed.

“Is this a joke?”

“If it is,” said Lillian, “it’s not very funny.”

She lifted her hand, flexed her slender, pale fingers. Foxfire, blue and green, danced around her hand.

“The walls between worlds are soft and thin in this house,” said Lillian. “Any number of things could pop through from other worlds.”

“Mrs. White is correct,” said Rashid.

Mrs. Banning sighed. Her husband touched her arm.

“I think the game is up, Moira.”

He looked at them and, for the first time, McCall saw something of the corporate lawyer in Peter Banning’s eyes. Something hard and daring.

“What do you want to know?”

“Just the truth, Mr. Banning,” said Simon. “That’s all.”

“All right,” said Peter Banning. “I’ll tell you the truth, but you may not believe it.”

McCall chuckled. “You might be surprised, sir.”

To anyone else, Peter Banning’s story might have seemed impossible. A fantastic account more suited to fiction than reality. He told of a magical land where time did not pass, where flying children fought pirates. Banning told of his life there, then his life in this world, putting aside childish things, moving on, forgetting about Neverland. However, the pirate captain did not forget his old foe and returned to vex Banning and his family. He spirited away Banning’s children, forcing him to return to Neverland and resume his childhood identity of Peter Pan. In the end, that had been Hook’s undoing.

“How did this Hook travel between the worlds?” asked Rashid.

“I don’t know,” said Banning.

“Fairy magic, I’ll bet,” sneered Lillian. “I can still taste it on the air.”

She looked like she wanted to spit.

“You believe us?” asked Moira, wondering.

“My dear, Mrs. Banning,” said Lillian, “we’ve heard and dealt with much stranger things than otherworldly pirates.”

“With your permission,” said McCall, “I’d like my associates to examine the house, Mr. Banning.” He glanced at Lillian and Rashid. “Can you shore up these dimensional walls?”

“Of course,” said Lillian.

Rashid nodded.

“Good,” said McCall. “While they’re doing that, I’d like to ask you a few questions, Mr. Banning. Just to clarify a few points.”

Victoria stood in the doorway of a bedroom. There were two child-sized beds, and a number of toys and games scattered across the floor. A doll lay on the floor, a ragged thing with red yarn hair and mismatched button eyes. She picked it up and studied it.

“Victoria?”

She turned. Mister McKay was standing in the hallway, his old carpet bag in one hand, a PKE meter in the other.

“Yes, Mr. McKay?”

“Are you all right, my dear?”

“I am fine, Mr. McKay. Thank you for asking.”

Victoria placed the doll back on the floor and stepped out of the room. Simon studied her for a moment, amazed as always by the genius of her creator and the sophistication of Victoria herself.

“This is a very nice house,” said Simon. He smiled at the controlled chaos of the children’s nursery. “It makes me a bit homesick for my own.”

“Are you thinking of leaving, Mr. McKay?”

“I’m considering the future,” admitted Simon.

Victoria’s mouth turned down. “I think I will ask to be boxed when we return from this mission,” said the artificial girl.

“Why?” asked Simon, startled by this sudden revelation.

“I have been considering it for some time,” said Victoria. She looked at the nursery, the scattered toys, the cheerful storybook prints, framed and hung on the walls. “I do not have a future in the larger world. Not as I am.”

“Have you discussed this with anyone, Victoria?”

“Yes. I have spoken at length with Miss Miller and Mister Mann about the matter. Their insights and experiences as artificial intelligences have been useful in reaching my decision.”

“If you feel your physical form is restricting you, Victoria, I’m certain that could be adjusted,” said Simon.

“Not without violating the Colossus Protocols. I am incapable of changing, Mr. McKay, while the world around me continues to do so.” She turned her back on the nursery. “I will speak with Mr. Smith when we return.”

She walked down the hall, past McKay. He watched her go, frowning.

Lillian White studied the painting hanging in the hallway with a critical eye. It was a watercolor of a forested glade, the sun shining gently through green boughs, illuminating wild roses. Looking at it, one could almost imagine small woodland creatures frisking innocently among the clover.

“Ugh.” She sniffed. “The decor in this house is so, so banal.”

“I think it is rather pleasant,” said Rashid Zarou.

“You would,” said Lillian.

Rashid did not rise to the bait and Lillian sulked. She really wished she could have stayed with McCall. Now there was a man with fire! What did it matter that he had a little snow on the roof? Lillian was certain that she could melt it with just a twitch of her finger if the silly man would only let her. She had known knights who weren’t as ramrod straight as that man. He infuriated her and, perhaps because of that, she found herself intensely attracted to him.

“Tell me, Mrs. White,” said Rashid, “do you sense anything unusual in this area?”

Lillian’s mind returned to the present. She tilted her head, hummed and listened. Her fingers twitched as if she were plucking the strings of some ethereal harp.

“Nothing at all. Why?”

Rashid frowned. “I am uncertain. Perhaps it is my imagination . . . ”

“Never discount your instincts,” warned Lillian. “What do you sense? Out with it, man?”

The Egyptian mystic shut his eyes and took a breath. Lillian watched him closely. Her magics were grossly physical, but Rashid’s tended to the more spiritual. He had a sensitivity to the spirit world that Lillian knew that she lacked. She knew it, but did not mourn it. The last thing she wanted was to be plagued by pestiferous ghosts. The dead could be such a bother at times!

“It is nothing,” said Rashid, opening his eyes. “A shadow, I think, of something powerful moving through the Higher Worlds. It is gone now.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes,” said Rashid.

“Fine,” said Lillian, trying to hide her relief.

She was no pushover, but confronting entities from Higher Worlds was not something any sane person would do. At least, not without a lot of careful preparation and an army at your back.

“Let’s get on with our work,” said Lillian. “I’ve made an appointment at the hotel spa and don’t intend to miss it.”

She strode down the hall, purple foxfire drifting in her wake.

The Bannings thanked them for everything they had done, then showed them to the door. McCall suspected that the couple were glad to be rid of them. He couldn’t blame them. Their lives had been disrupted enough.

Bambera seemed just as happy to drop them off at the Hotel Tipton. She shook McCall’s hand then climbed back in the car and was gone.

“Well, this was a complete waste of our time,” declared Lillian.

“Don’t be such a gloomy Gus, Lillian,” warned Simon. “You’ll give yourself wrinkles.”

She gave him a dirty look, then marched into the hotel, to keep her spa appointment.

Victoria was examining the city street with interest. “May we go sightseeing, Mr. McCall?”

McCall frowned. His orders regarding Victoria were very strict. “I’m . . . ”

“I’ll go with her, if you like, Robert,” said Simon. “I wouldn’t mind revisiting London myself.”

“I suppose that’s all right then,” said McCall.

“Care to join us, Rashid?” asked Simon.

“No, thank you, Simon. I think I will return to the room and take a nice, long bath.”

“Robert?”

“I have a report to file,” said McCall.

“Please yourself,” said Simon. “We’ll be back in time for supper. Shall we, Victoria?”

Across the street from the Hotel Tipton, in a bustling café, a man in a white coat and a straw boater regarded the small group going their separate ways. He sighed, a bit forlornly, and fiddled with his cup of sweet tea.

“And so ends an era,” he murmured.

Across the table from the man, his companion, a teenage girl in a black leather jacket, did not look impressed.

“You brought us here to show me that lot, Professor? Why? What’s so special about them?” She leaned forward, grinning a tigery grin. “Are they villains?”

“No, Ace. Quite the opposite.”

The girl, Ace, looked disappointed. “Oh. So who are they?”

“A warrior and a wizard, a wicked queen who really isn’t, a good man and a loyal toy soldier.”

Something in his voice made Ace shiver. “Professor. . . .”

“Never mind. Finish your tea, my girl, and we’ll be off. The Eye of Orion awaits!”

THE END