by Anne
Author's notes: This ficlet is a scene from the fic 'Time and Tide'. It was written for GW500 prompt # 115: come, although it grew somewhat. It's also for prompt #44: circle, for crossovers100.
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency.The Tomorrow People belong to Roger Damon Price, Thames/Tetra and ITV television. Highlander is the property of Panzer/Davis, Rysher/Gaumount Television. Alex belongs to Kevin and he's very possessive and overprotective so don't touch or even think about it. I promise to return the characters in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.
Thanks to: Linda and Misanagi for beta reading.
Quatre opened his eyes and looked around. The sensation – teleporting they had called it – had been very disconcerting, but strangely familiar, although he couldn't work out why. Reaching out for Trowa empathically, he could feel his lover trying to stay calm.
It had been a lot to take in over a short period of time, even for a couple of ex-Gundam pilots. Firstly, their plane had crashed, then the meeting with the strange alien ship on the island, and finally landing in the ocean only to be rescued by a group of not very trusting people possessing what appeared to be psychic powers. Quatre wasn't even sure when they were, let alone where. The ship had communicated with him empathically but it was difficult to interpret precisely. Unable to ignore its desperation, he and Trowa had agreed to help, not knowing the specifics of the mission. He could imagine Heero shaking his head, but he wasn't the one asked, hadn't felt the intensity of the cry for help.
They appeared to be in a bar of some kind. The tall dark-haired man sitting at the piano stopped playing, frowned, and stood, giving Trowa and Quatre the once-over. "Who are these people, Alex? Is everything okay? You're late."
"Everything's fine," Alex reassured him, releasing Quatre's hand. "This is Quatre, and the guy next to Kevin is Trowa. They're staying with us for a while. Quatre, Trowa, meet my over-protective brother, Jamie."
An older man, his beard peppered with grey, walked over to them leaning over heavily on a cane. "Interesting names. Not from around here, I'm guessing?" He held out his hand and Quatre shook it. "I'm Joe Dawson. I own this place." There was a loud cough from over by the bar. "Oh yeah, and that's Adam Pierson. Just ignore him; he's only here for the beer, although he likes to think he makes passable conversation."
Pierson snorted. "Jealously isn't the sincerest form of flattery, Joe, but I'm touched you care enough to try."
His accent was English; he appeared to be in his mid-twenties, dark-hair, dressed in jeans and a loose sweater. The voice was unmistakable. Even his mode of dress hadn't changed. Quatre stared, blinked, and moved closer to Trowa. No, it couldn't be. "Mr. Pierson?" he asked, wondering what the hell he and Trowa had done in agreeing to come here. Wherever here was.
"You know him?" Kevin's voice was sharp. He didn't sound impressed. Alex laid a warning hand on his arm and a look passed between them.
Nodding slowly, Quatre frowned. "I'm sure I do, but I can't. It's not possible." Adam Pierson had been his tutor before he became a Gundam pilot, teaching him how to fence, and opening his mind to possibilities and ways of thinking that had never occurred to him.
"Sorry, kid," Pierson drawled, watching Kevin with some amusement. "I've never seen you before in my life. Where did you say you were from again?"
"He didn't." Trowa stepped between Quatre and Pierson. "If you just come here for the beer, maybe it's time you left."
Pierson rolled his eyes. "Someone's been putting testosterone in the water supply and they didn't tell me. Joe, you're slipping." The expression, tone and reaction were the same. It had to be him, but if Quatre's suspicions were correct and they were either in the past or another reality, both scenarios surely being impossible, how could it be? Unless Pierson was some kind of double, or perhaps connected with whatever they had been sent to stop. Quatre's mind was going around in circles. Sighing he massaged his temples; he was getting a headache.
"I'm not your personal information service, Adam." Dawson rolled his eyes. He looked at Quatre, frowning. "What makes you think you know him? Maybe if you told us something about yourself it would help." They were both fishing for information, but it wasn't information Quatre was prepared to give, even if he could. Until they knew exactly what was going on, this mission would be treated like any other undercover operation.
"You don't know everything, Adam," Kevin said. Alex sighed. Quatre could feel something from them, but it was gone almost instantly as though a brick wall had been thrown up to block his empathic ability. Kevin shook his head. Alex shot him another look, and Kevin cringed. "I'll take you home, Jamie. Alex says you have to be somewhere."
Jamie hesitated, and then shrugged. "I'll talk to you later," he told Alex. "How long do you want me to keep him for?"
"Don't be a smart-arse," Alex started to say and then blushed bright red. Kevin smirked, took Jamie's hand and the two of them disappeared in a flash of light.
"Please tell me you can't do that," Pierson begged Quatre and Trowa, mock shuddering. "It's enough to drive a man to drink."
"Too much alcohol is bad for you," Trowa said. He kept glancing between Quatre and Pierson. "Although I suspect that advice comes too late."
"Is your boyfriend always this charming?" Pierson asked Quatre before smiling slowly, and taking a long sip of beer, deliberately savouring the taste as he returned Trowa's glare. "You're too overprotective of each other to be just friends." He leaned back against the bar, stretching.
"Friends can be protective too," Quatre cut in, trying to keep the peace.
"Don't waste your breath, Cat," Trowa snorted. "He obviously missed the chapter on tact when he read 'how to win friends and influence people'."
Pierson smirked. "Yes, don't waste your breath, Cat." He stretched again and yawned. "So where did you and Kevin find these two, Alex? I didn't think Kevin was in the habit of taking in strays." He paused. "Even stray cats."
"They landed in the ocean at the island," Alex kept his voice calm, but Quatre could feel their new friend's rising temper. Since Kevin had left, the empathic brick wall had disappeared which suggested that somehow he had been responsible for it, although Quatre had never managed to shield for someone as well as himself. "They aren't Tomorrow People though."
"Oh?" Pierson raised an eyebrow. "So where did you come from then, I wonder." He looked them up and down. "You look harmless enough but then, appearances can be very deceiving."
"There's an understatement," Dawson muttered under his breath. "Would you boys like something to drink? I have some soft drinks if you're interested."
"It's very dangerous to judge a book by its cover," Trowa stated calmly. He leaned back against the bar, not taking his eyes off Pierson. "Beer if you have it."
"Thank you," Quatre agreed, helping himself to one of the empty bar stools. Alex glanced at Dawson, shrugged and slid onto the empty stool on the other side of Pierson.
"Are you kids over eighteen?" Dawson looked them both up and down, frowning.
"Yes." Trowa confirmed, still standing.
"I'm sorry we can't prove it, but I assure you we are," Quatre added apologetically. Trowa tended not to be very forthcoming when he was in one of these moods. They were both carrying wallets but Quatre doubted their identification would do much more than cause more questions, and he needed answers.
"He's telling the truth," Alex said, absently. He seemed distracted. "I'll have a beer please if you're offering. Kevin would like one too."
"You still haven't bought me a beer for my eighteenth birthday or my twenty first," Pierson pointed out. "I've been waiting a long time."
"And you'll keep waiting a very long time." Dawson made his way behind the bar. "On the house, Alex," he said when Alex pulled out his wallet.
"See?" Pierson griped. "Every time I think we're getting somewhere and bonding he makes me buy my own beer."
"I'm afraid I don't have of your currency." Quatre doubted that credits were legal tender. He had noticed something that looked like old-fashioned American dollar bills in Alex's wallet. Duo collected old tender from the early twenty-first century and Quatre had managed to track some down for his friend as a birthday gift.
"On the house," Dawson repeated. "Quatre, wasn't it? Is there a last name with that?" He put two glasses of beer in front of Alex.
"Winner," Quatre said. "Thank you for your hospitality. Trowa and I appreciate it." He took his glass and handed another to Trowa who took a sip.
"Do you always talk for your boyfriend?" Pierson asked. "Cat got his tongue?" Alex choked on his beer, stifling laughter. Pierson smirked again.
"His boyfriend is more than capable of talking for himself, thank you," Trowa said. "However, unlike some people, I don't believe in opening my mouth unless I have something intelligent to say."
"But you've decided to make an exception for me." Pierson shook his head and lowered his voice. "We've only just met, too. Should I be flattered or scared?"
"Your choice, but I suggest you make the right one." Trowa took another sip of his beer.
"Ooh, a threat." Pierson was amused and not bothering to hide it. "I'd hide behind my glass except it's empty." He gave Dawson a pointed look.
"Trowa…" Quatre cleared his throat. "It's very kind of you and Kevin to let us stay, Alex."
"We've got the room," Alex shrugged. "The others don't. We do need to find out where you're from though." He frowned. "It's weird that you don't know how you landed in the ocean."
"Very weird," Quatre agreed. "Our plane crashed and we found your ship, and then we were in the water." He didn't see why he needed to lie when he could just tell the truth, but not the whole truth. "This isn't home, but I'm not sure where home is, in relation to here."
"In relation to here?" Pierson's tone was suddenly sharp, his eyes narrowed in thought. His manner hid a bright mind, but then it always had. Without thinking, Quatre reached for Pierson empathically, and went pale. Trowa caught his lover's glass as it fell.
Pierson's empathic signature was the same. It was him. But that was impossible. Empathic signatures were unique and as far as Quatre knew, they couldn't be faked.
There was a flash of light and suddenly Kevin was standing next to Alex. He stared at Quatre, and then at Pierson. "Bloody hell."
"Kevin?" Dawson shook his head. "What is it?"
Kevin sighed, took the beer that Alex offered and took a long gulp. Wiping his hand across his mouth, he took a few minutes before replying. "Quatre's empathic." Kevin smiled at Quatre apologetically before continuing to explain to Pierson, "like me. Wherever he's from, you're there. He does know you."
Another empath? Quatre leaned back into Trowa's embrace, needing his presence as an anchor. "I don't understand." He took a deep breath. Kevin had trusted them enough to share one secret; they would share one in return. "We're not in an alternative reality, are we?"
"I doubt it." Kevin shook his head. "Empathic signatures between realities are slightly different. Don't ask me how I know, I can't tell you."
The circle in the sand. That's what the flash from the ship had meant. This was why the teleporting had seemed familiar; it had been what they had felt before their own reality, their own time, had faded. "What's the date?" Trowa asked, his voice very calm, too calm.
"2004." Pierson groaned. "Oh wonderful, this day just keeps getting better and better."
Trowa's face held the shadow of a smirk, hiding his unease, keeping his façade of calm control firmly in place. "If Quatre says he knows you, I believe him. So, Pierson, who are you, exactly?"
"The stuff of your nightmares, kid." Pierson shoved his empty glass towards Dawson. "Your past and I very much suspect…" He paused. "Part of your present, and I hope like hell - your future."
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