"Dark Encounter at CERK"
by Christina Kamnikar, MMG, Wars 7 & 8
(with help and thanks to Dianne la Mercenaire, GHP, and
Lizbet "Plague/Rosemund/Merc Toy" the Mercenary Agitator Adjutant)

Time: Yeah, right.
Concurrent with "Horsechicks Ravage Toronto" ;
prior to the Rift's closure... but not by much

Place: Outside the offices of the CERK radio station

"Why are we here?"

Chris shrugged deeper into her trenchcoat and raised a Vulcan eyebrow at
Dianne. "Because this is where the taxi let us off?" At her friend's
glare, Christina sighed and returned to her study of the building opposite
her.  CERK, AM 650, was emblazoned on the door; various Cousins were going
in and out of the Tower, and she thought she glimpsed a Lacroix or two
among them. 

"I'm serious, Kiki. This is just *asking* for trouble... which is fine,
but we're not getting paid for it." The redheaded GHP shivered in the fog
that was rolling in, and huddled deeper into her black trench. Shopping
had improved her mood immensely, but standing in the cold was making her
testy again. "I repeat: *why* are we here? If any of those Cousins
recognize you, you're toast." 

"Maybe." The MMG tilted her head back, and gazed upward toward the radio
antennae on top of the building.  "Although I didn't hijack it this time
around, you know."  She grinned. "God, that was fun, that first War." 

"I thought you were scared out of your mind."

"I was. But it was still fun." Christina lips turned down in sadness. "I
didn't get to do *anything* to CERK or Lacroix this War. I was too busy,
then I was too scared, then we went shopping... " 

"You could hijack it right now," Dianne suggested.  "I'm sure we could
find someone to pay you for it--" 

"No. It wouldn't be the same." The brunette kicked at the sidewalk,
scuffing her shoes. "Besides. I don't think we'll have the time." 

"How can you tell?" Her friend asked acerbically, sitting down on the
curb. "We're *still* stuck in No-Time.  Hell, we could probably hijack it
four or five times, if we wanted to." Dianne's tone became thoughtful, and
Chris recognized the $$$ lighting up the GHP's eyes. 

"I just can. I just feel like... it's ending. I just know it in my soul,
okay?" 

"You're _not_ psychic, Chris. No matter how many Tarot cards you've turned
over. We can still--" 

"No." The MMG cut Dianne off quietly. "I only wanted to see it. To say
good-bye, maybe?" She sat down next to her Co-Leader. "I've been to the
Raven, Merc Central, the Happy Souvlaki, the station... and I think I
managed to make it to Nick's place and Natalie's too, just for a few
seconds at some point during the Wars. I'd never made it here, all the
times I stole it.  This was the last stop."  Chris studied the CERK Tower
for another long moment.  "I love this place." 

"You've lost it. Time for more chocolate."

"Really! I love this place the same way you love...  Merc Central. It's
special." A rueful smile spread across Chris's face. "I always envied
Lacroix. He got to play with CERK full-time; I just wanted to steal it for
a *little* while... Besides. I wouldn't have met you, or Lane, or Lizbet
or Jamie, or Mo or Perri or Cath, if it weren't for CERK. And Lacroix too,
I suppose. That rat." 

"I am gonna _miss_ him," Dianne mourned. "I'm gonna miss humiliating and
tormenting him... I haven't done *anything* to Lacroix since we got here." 

"What are you talking about? You got to wrestle with him and give him
weird flashbacks just a little while ago.  That ought to count." 

"He was a penguin. You don't get anywhere near the same effect." 

"Hunh. Maybe not." Chris shook her head. "I suppose I'll miss him the same
way. He made a terrific enemy..." 

"I'm going to miss the Raven. I never made it there this time." Dianne
rested her chin on her hands. "I wonder if Miklos is serving drinks right
now. *A* Miklos, anyway." 

"There's always a Miklos." The MMG stood up abruptly. "I was wrong.
There's one more thing I have to do." 

"What?" Dianne asked warily.

"I have to make a request. They have to play R.E.M.  for me before this
night is over." 

"Chris, they'll never---"

"We could hold them at gunpoint," Christina said hopefully. The GHP got to
her feet and loomed over her second-in-command. 

"We left the guns at Merc Central before we went shopping. Give it up,
Kiki!" 

"So? We could stick our fingers in our pockets and point at them. We're
Mercs. They'll never believe we're not armed." Chris grinned. "Heck,
they'll never believe we have less than a grenade on us!" 

"You've been watching too much DUE SOUTH."

"*I've* been watching too much DUE SOUTH? Which one of us would like to
see the last scene of "The Deal" happen *without* Ray's pajamas?" 

"Hey!"

Before things could get ugly, another patch of fog rolled over them,
making the Mercs blink and shiver.  Footsteps approached them, and as the
fog cleared, both women stared at the newcomer standing on the sidewalk. 

"Could you tell me the way to the airport?" Natalie, dressed in a pale
camel trenchcoat and fedora, smiled at the two women with a certain degree
of uncertainly. She spoke with the faintest trace of some Scandinavian
accent. "I have to meet someone by midnight..." 

"This is your fault," Dianne said without missing a beat. Natalie took a
step backward, looking even more ill-at-ease. 

"My fault? Doubt it, Dee!"  Chris glared at Dianne, then transferred her
gaze to Natalie, her expression easing as she asked, "Which airport? And,
if you don't mind my asking... where are you going?" There was something
weirdly... familiar, about this Natalie. Aside from her being Natalie, of
course. Maybe it *was* her fault, maybe the Rift grabbed this Natalie from
a world that matched Chris's subconscious. She felt like she ought to
recognize who Nat was supposed to be, but she couldn't put her finger on
why. 

"The city airport, of course. I'm saying good-bye to someone who is taking
a flight to Lisbon," the AU Natalie said hesitantly. "At least, I'm hoping
he'll be there...." 

"Uh-hunh. Well, I don't know about midnight arriving on schedule, Natalie,
but we can probably get you to International--" Dianne was saying, when
the woman interrupted her. 

"My name isn't Natalie. What do you mean, midnight might not arrive?" 

"Wait. Hold on. Back up. Umm, what *is* your name?  And how long have you
been wandering around?" Chris asked. 

"I... don't know how long I've been here. I've just been walking through
this fog, hoping to find someone to ask directions from." Natalie sighed
in exasperation, and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "And my name is
Natasha Lund." 

"Natasha?" Dianne asked, then grinned. "Where's Boris?"

"Lund? Lund, Lund, Lund... oh my God." Chris stared at the AU Natalie.
"Casablanca." 

"Yes," Natasha said, in the *duh!* sort of tone that Natalie usually
reserved for Nick's greater idiocies.  "That's the name of this city. What
about it?" 

The MMG started giggling. Dianne stared at Natasha for a blank moment,
then said, "Casablanca? As in Humphrey Bogart?" 

"Who?"

"I have to call Lizbet, she's never going to believe this," Chris
chortled. Dianne rolled her eyes as her friend pulled out her cell phone. 
"Besides, Perri and Cath are with her, and this is the first Natalie we've
run into--maybe they'll have some idea of what we should do--" The redhead
snorted and crossed her arms as Chris grinned and spoke into the phone.
"Mulder, it's me."

"Scully! What's going on?" Lizbet giggled back. "No, forget what's going
on with you, you'll never *believe* who's with ME--" 

"Doesn't matter. What's your favorite movie?"

"Princess Bride."

"Oh. No, your next favorite movie."

"Philadelphia Story."

"No, no, no.. look. Ilsa Lund aka Natasha Lund, is standing right next to
me--" 

Lizbet *squeaked* and nearly deafened Dianne, who didn't even have her ear
to the phone. "Rick is with me! I mean, Nick is with me! Us! Here!
Blaine!" 

"Blaine!?" Chris *squeaked*, which had both Dee and Natasha holding their
ears, "Yes! Okay! Great! This is good!  We have to get to a flight to
Lisbon." She frowned. "Wait.  We have to get to a flight to Lisbon. Where
would get a flight to Portugal from Toronto?" 

"City airstrip, ten miles north of downtown. I keep track of all outgoing
foreign flights, just in case," Lizbet answered. 

"In case of what?"

"In case I need to go somewhere without extradition laws, of course... We
go now?" 

"Now, yes, we go. Meet you there. Airstrip. Cool!"

"Cool! Bye!" Lizbet hung up, and Chris pocketed her phone, then stepped
into the street and flagged down a cab.  She turned to Natasha and said,
"I found out where there's a flight to Lisbon departing, and the others
are meeting us there with Nick." 

"Nick?" Natasha's face clouded as she got into the cab. "That's strange. I
was going to say good-bye to Lucien alone--" 

Dianne turned a stricken face to Chris, whose eyes had widened in horror.
"Oh, no..." 

***

"You May Not Remember This"
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis

Time/Place:  And We Care?

"Where have all the flowers gone..." sang Perri, a bit distractedly.

Lizbet was poking through her bag of purchases.  "Look at these handcuffs
I bought.  They've got velvet lining, so they don't rub..." 

"Nick!" Perri squealed.  Lizbet didn't cover her ears; she'd squeaked
enough that the RatPack had occasionally threatened to take her over.  She
looked up in time to see Perri run across Eaton Center and attack Nick. 

"Perri!  StatWar!  Yo, Lil Sis!"  When none of Lizbet's shouts got any
attention, Lizbet wandered over to the Nick and Perri.  ~Damnit, I wanted
to get through the War without meeting an alternate universe character...~

She had to admit that this one was appealing.  It was a vampire, for sure
(don't ask how I know, it comes from being fed on a few times in other
stories, we're just not going there now).  But Nick in a trenchcoat was
always appreciated, and Nick in a trenchcoat with a fedora pulled down low
over his brow was downright droolable.  The smoking was making her stomach
turn, but the noble suffering in his face managed to overcome it.  Lizbet
was tempted to join the one-woman puppy pile Perri was attempting, until
Perri hauled off and smacked him. 

"You idiot!  What the heck did you think you were doing, damnit!" 

"Whoa, Perri, chill.  What's with the smack?"

Perri turned and looked at her Merc Toy, blinking.  "Um, well, it's habit. 
I'm supposed to do this.  It's been required for the past four Wars." 

Lizbet sighed, shook her head, and reminded herself that she was dealing
with a former-Knightie-now-turned-NatPacker HorseChick, rather than a Merc
HorseChick.  Merc HorseChicks she could understand.  "Come on, we have to
figure out what's up with him.  OK," Lizbet demanded.  "What's your name?" 

"Nick Blaine.  And I need to get to the airstrip."

"Why?" Lizbet demanded, hands on hips, ignoring the fact that she was a
good foot shorter than Nick. 

"Because she thinks that we are going away together.  But it's can't be." 
Nick sighed deeply, and dropped the cigarette, crushing it underfoot. 

Perri leaned over and whispered, "Why does Nick's voice sound so strange? 
Like he's got a stiff upper lip or something...?" 

"Does he ever *not* have a stiff upper lip?" Lizbet asked under her
breath.  "Who?  Who can't you be with?  Why?" 

"Because she's married."  Nick sighed again, pulling a flask from his
pocket and drinking deeply.  "We met in Paris.  I loved her more than life
itself.  We were going to run away together.  But she left me at the train
station.  She left a note, saying she couldn't be with me, that she had to
be somewhere else.  And I didn't see her again until --" 

"Casablanca!" Lizbet shouted.

At that moment, as though on cue, Lizbet's phone chirped.  With the
reflexes of someone seeking profit, she grabbed it.  "Plague here.  What's
up?" 

[For the ensuing conversation, please see "Dark Encounter At CERK".  We
don't need to inflict it on you twice.]

Lizbet hung up the phone, grinning.  "Come on.  Perri, Rick... um, Nick. 
We've got to get to the airfield.  Taxi!"  The diminutive Merc waved her
arms over her head.  "Taxi!" 

Perri put her fingers to her lips and shattered a few eardrums with a
whistle.  A well-trained yellow cab pulled up to the curb.  "You rang?" 

Lizbet pushed Rick/Nick into the cab.  "Come on, the airfield, pronto!  We
have a tragic romance to fulfill!"

***

"Toronto; or, As Time Goes On..."
by Christina Kamnikar and Lizbet Lewis of the Merc Guild
(with help from Perri & Dianne)

Time: Shortly before the Rift closes....
Place: An unmarked airstrip north of Toronto

The fog refused to lift.

Lizbet, Perri and Nick arrived at the airstrip to find that Chris, Dianne
and Natasha were already there, standing in a pool of light cast by a
streetlamp next to the airfield. A chain-link fence ran the length of the
airstrip, with a single gate leading onto the almost empty airfield. A
twin-engine plane could be seen in the distance, with tiny figures working
on it, preparing it for departure, appearing midget-sized from where Chris
and Dianne stood. 

Nick disembarked from the taxi, pulled his fedora down, then froze when he
saw Natasha. Lizbet and Perri paid the cabdriver, then turned to follow
his gaze, and the shorter Merc bit her lip, stifling a sigh. "We'll be
right here," she said softly, patting him on the back, then pulled a
frowning Perri toward the other two Mercs. Natasha didn't even notice
them; all of her attention was on Nick, as she slowly walked toward
Blaine. 

Chris was looking glum and Dianne mildly confused as the last Merc and the
NatPacker joined them. Nick and Natasha began speaking quietly, their
voices drifting down the sidewalk to the women standing on the corner. 

"This movie *sucks*. I hated the ending the first time I saw it!" Perri
groused, tapping one foot angrily on the sidewalk. "And I hate that we get
_this_ AU to find...  of all the set-ups in all the world... arghhhh...." 

Dianne shrugged, watching the couple talk intently.  "I never saw it all
the way through." 

"I can't believe we're just standing here..." Chris lamented. "I can't
believe we're letting this happen..." 

Lizbet swallowed hard, then smiled shakily at Chris.  "There's nothing we
can do about it. Oh, God, here we go..."  she whispered. 

Nick was holding onto Natasha's shoulders, and they could see that the AU
Natalie was silently crying. Blaine's grim, intense voice reached them
through the fog, and Lizbet gave a *squeak* of distress, quickly stifled
in the Kleenex Christina handed her. 

"You have to go with Lucien. We can't be together.  Where I'm going, you
can't go with me. What I'm doing, you can't be any part of.  If you don't
get on that plane with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today, maybe not
tomorrow... But soon, and for the rest of your life...." 

Perri growled. "Oh, please!"

"If there's one thing I know, it's that the problems of three people don't
amount to a hill of beans in this world..... We'll always have Paris. We
didn't, not until you came back, but now, we'll have it forever." Nick was
smiling, but it was a sad, lonely smile, and Natasha's eyes were
shimmering with tears. 

Another cab pulled up behind them, and a French-accented voice thanked the
cabdriver. Chris turned to see Don Schanke, dressed in a French flic's
uniform, and realized that Blaine's best friend Captain Renault had come
to see the final reel of this story. He exchanged a cynical, sad look of
resignation with Chris and Lizbet, then joined them in their silent vigil. 

Finally, Natasha nodded, and squeezed Nick's hand, her face a study in
pain as she walked through the gate towards the airstrip. Nick Blaine took
a tentative step forward, and stopped, clutching the edge of the gate with
white knuckles as he watched her walk toward Lucien Lacroix and the
distant plane. 

Renault walked over to Nick, and put a silent hand of support on his
shoulder. "I have to make sure the plane takes off," Nick said in a
strained voice. "To make sure they get away safely." 

Chris and Lizbet were crying. Dianne was sniffling and whispering, "He's
just going to let her *go*?" 

"Uh-hunh," Christina gulped.

Perri was *still* pissed. "Why are we still standing here? You _knew_ this
was going to happen...." 

No one moved to go, though, despite that.

And then.... Halfway to the airplane, Natasha stopped walking. 

Lucien continued on for a few steps, then turned, looking at her, a
question on his face. It was too far away to hear what Natasha was saying,
but Lizbet felt herself gasp with hope. 

Natasha kissed Lacroix very softly on the lips, and he smiled sadly... 

...then she turned to run back to Nick.

Nick Blaine was frozen, one hand on the fence, unable to move.
Schanke/Renault shoved him through the gate, saying with a chuckle, "Go." 
Nick turned, and smiled the perfect Nick smile of unlooked-for joy,
grasped Renault's hand hard for a moment in gratitude and friendship, then
he turned and began to run toward Natasha. 

Perri was crying.

Natasha and Nick met halfway across the airfield, laughing and crying, as
they embraced.  They kissed passionately as the onlookers cried and
laughed with them;  and then the fog hid them from view. 

When it dispersed, they were gone.

Schanke walked across the airfield to Lacroix, saying, "I'll buy you a
drink, mon ami." 

Lucien shrugged, smiled slightly, then said as they walked off, "I think
this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship..."  More fog obscured
them for several moments;  and when it lifted, they and the airplane had
disappeared. 

The Mercs sniffled. Perri wiped her eyes. "Oooh, mannnnn.... y'know?" 

"I know," Chris agreed huskily, scrubbing the tears from her face. "I
know." 

"Is that the way it ends?" Dianne asked, then took a deep breath. "No,
don't tell me.  This is the way I'm going to remember it." 

"I hope they're happy... wherever they are."  Lizbet's voice was soft, her
eyes still dreamy as she gazed at the abandoned airstrip. 

Thickly cold fog suddenly engulfed them. Dianne's irate voice was heard
through the opaque cloud of mist.  "When is this going to lift, damnit??" 

Complaints, groans, then the fogbank finally cleared--- into bright,
glaring sunshine. 

"What the---?"
        
"Where are we?" Lizbet turned around, blinking, then blinked some more.
She *eep*'d, getting Perri's attention, then promptly lost it a second
later. 

"What would you like to drink?" asked the tall, dark-haired waiter, his
chiseled features looking concernedly at the two over-dressed women in
front of him. 

"An.. An.. Ang..." Lizbet tried to say more, but the needle was stuck. 

"Breathe," Perri said faintly.

"Breathe." Lizbet repeated, her eyes riveted on the angelic vision before
her. 

"Breathe. Good. Now, attack!" The waiter was promptly swept off his feet
as Lizbet and Perri puppy-piled him and started placing as many drink
orders as possible. 

"Ow! Bright light!" Chris yelled. "I want my Raybans!"

Dianne squinted and fumbled at her pocket, sticking the shades on her
face. "No, they're mine now. I stole them fair and square." 

Christina grabbed them off Dee's face, and Dianne tried to get them
back---but she was suddenly distracted.  Chris giggled at her friend's
expression, then turned to see what caused it. 

Another waiter, who looked a very like a certain Chicago cop, smiled and
asked the tall redhead, "Can I get you anything?" Dee gulped. Nodded.
"What do you want?" the Ray-clone inquired, sizing her up. 

Dianne made an incoherent noise. "She'll have water, for now, but I think
she'll have something else in mind by the time you get back," Chris told
him out of pity for her awestruck and hormone-overloaded Trill. 

She was still giggling when she heard another voice, a Brit voice behind
her, ask, "And what do you want?" 

Kiki turned around and blinked. Blinked again.  "Daiquiri?" she said
hoarsely. A dead ringer for the Oldest Guy in the Whole, Entire World put
a strawberry daiquiri in front of he on the bar, and she took a long sip
before asking, "Where are we? Who are you? What's your sign?" 

"The Bahamas. Your bartender.  Does it matter?" he asked, smiling back at
her mischievously. 

"Uhhhhh. NO. Silly me. Better question: when do you get off work?" 

Chris's cell phone chirped and she groaned, said, "Hold that thought," and
extracted it from her trenchcoat.  Dianne's sister's voice came out of the
earpiece, sounding more than slightly peeved: "What am I supposed to do
with this chincilla that just showed up in my apartment? It has a collar
with Dianne's name on it!" 

"Just don't let it near the cats. And if you have some scorpions around,
that's a good thing. Call her back later, okay?" Dianne was currently
smiling happily at a bemused waiter, who appeared not uninterested. Chris
hung up the phone and turned back toward Methos-the-Bartender. 

"Right. Where were we?"