Claudia: Throw on your brake lights, we're in the city of wonder

[moonshadows]

Artie slid into his seat and reached for the scones. "Good morning, Leena, Claudia."

Mouth full of cold cereal, the younger girl waved back, but Leena smiled sunnily. "You're in a good mood today."

"Yeah, um...I'm going to need to...borrow your kitchen. If that's okay."

Claudia's eyes widened and she choked her mouthful down. Nothing had gone spectacularly bad in the last day and a half, nor had she done anything spectacularly good, which meant... "New agents?"

He wanted to deny it, he really did, but they both knew him better than that.

"New agents!" Leena exclaimed. "Artie, that's great! Do you have names?"

A mock-glare for each of them, and he gave in. "Myka Bering and Pete Lattimer, both Secret Service. Myka is the one who stopped the whammied museum employee, and Pete is the one who brought the bloodstone out just as I was going in to snag it. Claudia, I want you to stay out of sight until I've gotten them welcomed and through the whole tour." The last sentence was uttered with parental finality.

"But-"

"No buts! Out of sight! You can meet them when I'm done, and you can have two cookies while they're still warm."

This was bribery, pure and simple. Claudia loved New Agent Day, Artie knew she did, and now for the first time she was being told to stay out? There had to be an ulterior motive. Even Leena looked suspicious. Then the names caught up to her and the realizations came like a string of firecrackers going off. Pete Lattimer. Jane Lattimer had a son named Peter. She was a Regent, her deaf daughter was her One, she'd never brought her son by or even given much detail about what he was up to. Now he was going to be a Warehouse agent, and he didn't know his mother was already involved up to her eyebrows, and Artie didn't want her to accidentally let that spill. He was watching her, trying to guess how much she'd figured out. If she argued back, he'd think she hadn't grasped the point and take precautions. If she capitulated, he'd suspect she was up to something and take precautions. She had to let him know that she understood and make him think he'd won.

"Three," she countered.

There, that was a brief look of gratitude. "Fine, three. Just stay out of sight."

Slowly, Claudia smiled. That was the third time he'd used that exact phrase. "Out of sight. Got it."

=========================

 

She couldn't do anything while he was there, of course. Even if he was willing to turn a blind eye, Leena was sure to chide her. Instead, she curled up on the couch with her laptop and immersed herself in the complex math Rheticus used in his teleportation experiment. Her brother wasn't going to un-stick himself, after all. To be honest, it wasn't all that immersing. It was just something she could mentally gnaw at while listening for all she was worth and look like she was immersed. When Artie came back out of the kitchen (cookies in the oven; Leena handled the actual cooking), he joined her on the couch and glanced over her shoulder.

"Got the math all sorted out?"

"I think so. Want to take a look?"

He made a disgruntled sound. "I need to get back. Bering and Lattimer were told to arrive at noon and I want to get the office..."

"...not looking like it normally looks?"

"Straightened," he countered, grinning at her teasing anyway. "I'll be working through dinner, though. Stop by in the evening and we can check it together."

She nodded. "I still feel like we're missing something. I mean...I went over Josh's notes, and he had all of this. So what went wrong?"

Artie scratched his chin. "You know what? Maybe we are missing something. I haven't looked at Rheticus's junk for longer than it took me to shelve it, but I'll show you where it is and you can check it out."

"Larkspur shelf, San Anselmo grid, number ten-twenty-one?" She grinned at him, unrepentant.

He glared fondly back. "Devil child."

=========================

 

As soon as Artie was gone (cookies still warm in a Tupperware container, crumbs on a napkin from the three that were her bribe), Claudia sauntered up to her room and then dove into her closet. Any other child who'd kept a Halloween costume might have it crumpled in the back, or tucked into a box. Any other child wasn't Claudia Donovan, artifact-orphaned devil child, who'd successfully puppy-eyed her guardian into using classified and confiscated materials to make her a Batman cape that not only blurred her out of conscious perception but actually dampened sound made by anything beneath it. Originally, it had been folded up and ensconced in black cloth since the material itself didn't react well to being cut. She'd long since freed and unfolded it. Smooth as silk and almost as light, it was voluminous enough to cover her little motorbike but folded small enough to shove into her backpack. Harry Potter could suck it, her invisibility cloak was better than his.

Minutes later, she was zipping down the road. She had to be early, because she'd be sneaking in with her new friends. Artie would turn a blind eye only as long as she made it easy for him to do so, and the Warehouse door didn't just open of its own volition. As luck would have it, as she crested the hill and began the descent towards the distant building, motion caught her eye. Artie emerged with the traditional "fix the FISH" ensemble, climbed into his little car, and zoomed off. Sweet! Now all she had to do was get down there before he got back and before the new agents arrived.

Naturally, a sturdy SUV-type rumbled right past her as she'd almost reached the door. The last hundred yards were taken slowly, in a wide, puttering berth. The last dozen, she walked the bike. Not long after she'd come to a stop right next to the door, the football came hurtling home and impacted the wall a few feet over her head, bouncing to a stop close enough that if Lattimer focused, the cloak wouldn't hide her. She held her breath as he approached, crossing her fingers that an errant breeze wouldn't send the material to caress him with the gentle fingers of treachery. It didn't, and he turned away with the football in his hands just as a second rental vehicle pulled up and Bering stepped out.

While they were bickering, Claudia hit her remote and the outer door swung open. Carefully, making sure the material covered her feet and ignoring the new agents, she picked the little motorbike up and shuffled inside. She had been planning to leave the bike outside and covered, but she didn't have time now. Luckily, Artie was coming back and that would keep them distracted enough for plan B. Once in the umbilicus, she picked up the pace and let herself into the office, hurrying straight through to stash her wheels on the inside balcony where no one would be likely to trip over it. Then she dashed for the stairs.

By the time the umbilicus door opened, she was laying flat on her back on the reading balcony, where she could hear but not be seen. Unless someone came upstairs, but that was unlikely.

"Come on," Artie cajoled. Three sets of footsteps. "Right this way." He led them through the office and onto the Warehouse-side balcony. "Ms. Bering, Mr. Lattimer, welcome to Warehouse 13." There was a generous pause while Claudia imagined their dumbstruck looks and tried not to giggle. "I'm thrilled you're on the team," he said once he'd judged they were ready to listen again.

"What team? What is this place?" Bering sounded less than thrilled. Claudia tried not to hold that against her.

"Officially, K-39 triple-Z on the North American grid," Artie said lightly. "But...I like to think of it as...America's attic." More silence. Claudia hoped it was awed as he led them back inside. "Pete, close the door."

No protest at being called by given name; good sign.

"Tell me exactly what I'm doing here," demanded Bering. Not so good a sign.

Claudia crossed her fingers and silently cheered Artie on. The job description was never easy for him, and especially not when he was being judged by someone with a negative predisposition.

"Exactly? That's a little dif... Yeah, uh…well, to put it plainly, you're both joining me as fellow gatherers and protectors of secrets."

"Put it plainer." Bering's voice was sharp enough that Claudia winced.

"This... This warehouse..." Artie took a breath and tried again. "Look, the Warehouse needs you. It needs... Pete, don't touch. It needs your combined talents. He's intuitive, and you're...you've got a scrupulous eye for detail. He's scattershot, see, and you're meticulous. You look, he leaps."

Well, that kind of explained things, except for the part where he dodged the entire job description. Claudia was mid-way through a tolerant sigh when...

"There's been a mistake. I'm too valuable to be wasted here."

Oh hell no. The last twelve years flashed before her eyes and then she was six again, seeing the horrible wreck of the car her parents' bodies had been dragged out of. "Wasted?"

"Claudia," Artie called warningly, but he may as well have been trying to melt a snowman with a match.

"Wasted??" She sat up, ignoring the new agents going 'Who is that?'  and got to her feet just long enough to throw herself down the stairs.

"Claudia!"

"You're too valuable to be wasted here," she hurled at the woman with curly hair tied severely back. So furious she was trembling, she got right into Ms. Bering's face. "Well, gee, I'm so sorry my parents weren't as important as the President, but would it really have wasted your valuable time to take four freaking hours and get the music box away from my sister before she killed them in an artifact-induced telekinetic rage?"

Bering got angry right back. "What are you talking about?"

"Claudia..."

"No, Artie." She didn't even bother to look. "I lost my parents and my sister to an artifact because there weren't enough Warehouse agents to look into it sooner. Dozens of Warehouse agents have saved hundreds of lives in the two decades I've been alive, but that's not important enough for Ms. Bering. Her time is being wasted saving lives instead of making sure no one gives the President a dirty look!"

"I saved a life last night!" Bering shot back. Behind her, Pete tried to look like he wasn't involved.

Claudia wasn't intimidated. "Yeah, by stopping someone who was affected by an artifact!" A beat for that to sink in. "So would you have jumped to stop him if he'd been going for a random guy in the crowd instead of the President? Or would you have stood there and watched because the target wasn't someone important?"

Bering looked shaken. Good. Unfortunately, Artie'd had enough time to get around the desk and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Claudia...it's time for you to go back to the B and B."

That was the 'you done fucked up' voice she so rarely heard; there was no fighting, no blustering or pleading or reasoning that would sway him now. The battle was over, he'd won, and they both knew it. That didn't stop her from glaring daggers at Bering, who was looking less certain. "I have to get my bike off the balcony outside."

The hands lifted. With one last dirty look, she turned with her snottiest body language and flounced out to the balcony. It took a few seconds to grope for the bike and then she hefted it, still covered, and did her best to flounce back through the office. Artie was waiting at the umbilicus door to open it for her, and with her head held high she marched through and down the stairs, looking neither left nor right and exuding a lack of remorse only achievable by rebellious teens.

 

=========================

 

That Claudia would be in her room until dinner was a given. The unspoken rule of New Agent Day was that the new agents would be given the afternoon to settle in, introduced to Claudia again at dinner, and not see Artie until breakfast. Most of the time, it didn’t sink in that Claudia lived in the B&B until dinner. When there was a knock on her door about three-thirty, then, the assumption was that it was Leena. Claudia paused her music and yelled out, “Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s, uh, Pete Lattimer.”

Oh. Well, for her unwittingly future big-brother figure, she could suck up her resentment towards his as-of-today partner. “Come on in!”

He opened the door slowly and peered around it as if unsure of his welcome. No, that wasn’t quite it. He was nonverbally communicating his understanding that this was her room, and inside it, she was the boss.

His sister taught him well, she thought with a grin. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Having been accepted, he stepped fully inside and looked around. “Heard your music and figured you live here. Thought I’d stop in and introduce myself.”

Claudia sat up from her lounging position and set the laptop beside her on the bed, waving him to the desk chair. “I appreciate that. I know I didn’t make the best first impression out there…”

“No,” he said quietly. “But you made the most effective first impression. I thought this was all some crackpot joke until you stormed down and gave Myka a piece of your mind. Listen, uh…I’m sorry about your folks. My dad died when I was twelve, but I still had my mom and my sister. I can’t imagine what it would have been like if I’d lost them, too.”

She shrugged uncomfortably. “I was six. My brother was in college, and we toughed it out together. I remember the pain of losing them more than I remember them.”

“Brother, huh? What’s he up to now?”

Claudia took a breath and met Pete’s eyes squarely. “He’s trapped in an inter-dimensional rift as the result of a failed attempt to use an artifact to teleport. Has been since I was almost ten. Artie took me in.”

Pete looked relieved. “I was afraid you were going to say Artie was your brother. Whew!” He laughed, and she couldn’t help but join him. “Wow. So you’ve basically grown up here in U-niville, huh?”

“Un-iville,” she corrected. “Yeah, this has been my room since I was almost ten. I spend a lot of time in the Warehouse, too, helping Artie when there’s no agents. He gave you the tour, I take it?”

“Yeah, he took us out in Edison’s weird little car and then shelved the bloodstone. And then I was holding a kettle,” he said in a weirded-out tone.

Claudia covered her face briefly. “Oh god, the kettle. Tell me you didn’t…”

“No, but Myka did. And now she has a ferret.”

“That thing got me grounded so much when I was little.”

Torn between sympathy and incredulity, Pete asked, “How do you ground someone who lives in Un-iville?”

“You turn off the wifi,” she said dryly.

“Wait – there’s wifi here? How come…”

“…Leena didn’t mention it? Technically it’s Warehouse wifi. Hidden SSID, and I don’t give out the password. Lets me check things in the Warehouse systems when Artie’s out but he needs info.”

“Ah.” He shook his head slightly as if settling this bit of information. “You know, that’s the other thing that really stuck with me – how used to all this you are. You walked a bike-sized blur through the office like it was no big deal. That really made me see that this kind of thing is real and, more than that, it’s normal. Well, for you, anyway.”

She grinned. “It was my Batman cape when I was eleven. Artie folded it up and sewed it into some black fabric. It blurs the wearer and muffles sounds. I loved the hell out of it…until I outgrew it. Then I picked the seams apart and pulled the material out to use on its own.”

“Not going to lie, I’m a little jealous. So, uh, guessing that’s your bike around the side?” At her nod, he whistled. “Pretty sweet ride!”

“It was my reward for passing my GED. Artie didn’t want me driving his car, but he wanted me to be able to come to the Warehouse without needing to chauffer me.”

Pete nodded, but he looked surprised as well. “So he really is…”

“Like a father to me?” Claudia scrunched her nose up and nodded. “Yeah.”

“What about…a mother?”

Eyes drifting to a picture on the wall, she said, “There was one Warehouse agent who was around long enough to be sort of like a mother to me. I miss her. Other than that, there’s Dr. Vanessa but I’m not sure she counts ‘cuz I only get to see her a few times a year for checkups or when she comes to spend a quiet weekend with Artie rather than him going off to see her somewhere.”

Now she had his attention. Pete sat straight up. “Wait, Artie has a girlfriend?”

“Yup.”

He whistled. “Way to go. I guess this isn’t going to be much like the Secret Service.”

Claudia grinned; even predisposed to it from knowing Jane and Jeannie, she liked Pete. “Yeah, we’re more like a weird family. So that brings us to the question: are you going to be my uncle, my cousin, or my big brother?”

Pete looked at her solemnly. “That depends,” he said, “on if you’re going to let me play Rock Band.”

“I’m guitar,” she shot back instantly. “You can play base, or drums, or be on vocals, but I’m guitar. And sometimes vocals.”

“You’re probably better at guitar than I would be anyway,” he conceded. “Can I make my own character?”

“Of course!”

“…right now?”

Claudia grinned. “Let’s see how good you really are, big brother.”

 

=========================

 

Myka walked into the dining room at five on the dot and stopped in the doorway, staring. "Claudia," she said in surprise. "I...didn't expect to see you. Again. So soon."

"Well, believe it or not, Myka, Claudia actually lives here...which kinda makes sense for someone last seen in the Warehouse, being told to return to the B and B." Pete smiled winningly at her and wasn't surprised by the sour look he got in return.

Claudia gave Artie's usual chair a withering look. "Don't worry, Agent Bering, you'll either get used to me and settle into your new job...or you won't be here long enough for it to matter."

"Claudia," hissed Leena from the doorway, a salad bowl in her hands.

"Help you in the kitchen," she announced, deliberately misinterpreting the warning. "Right. Be right here."

Forcefully ignoring the woman still standing in the doorway, she scrambled out of her chair and slid past Leena, who rolled her eyes and set the dish on the table.

"You didn't...mention...that Claudia lived here," Myka said as she stiffly took a seat at the table, choosing the lesser evil of being closer to Lattimer over the greater evil of Claudia and the chair she was glaring at.

"Artie told me that you two had already met her," the younger woman said serenely. "I just assumed you knew. I'm sorry."

Myka's chin came up so much it made her neck look stretched. "No, it's my fault. I should have realized that a girl with access to the Warehouse and no family would be staying at the same place as the agents."

"Claudia has a family," Leena said in a tone just shy of being stern. "We're just not related to her by blood." Before either of the two agents could respond, she slipped back into the kitchen. "Going somewhere?" she asked Claudia, who was packing fried chicken and mashed potatoes into a covered bowl with three biscuits in a ziplock baggie off to the side.

"I'd be bringing Artie his dinner anyway," she answered shortly, slipping her dish into the insulated bag with Artie's and tucking the biscuits on top. "And he's checking my math this evening. I just thought I'd eat with him this time."

"And this wouldn't have anything to do with you being angry at Myka?" Leena's tone, expression, and posture all declared that she was calling bullshit.

Claudia had seen it all before; she wasn't even slightly fazed by the aura of maternal disapproval. "No, Leena, why would it be at all related to Agent Bering thinking that the Warehouse is a waste of her valuable Secret Service self?"

That made her frown. "Claudia..."

Insulated bag in one hand, halfway to the door, the younger woman stopped and threw her head back in teenage dramatics. "I know, Leena. Give her a chance to settle in. I'm trying. But if I stay around her until she's changed her mind about the Warehouse, all I'm going to do is antagonize her. So I'm eating dinner with Artie and spending the evening poking at Rheticus's stuff and letting her settle in. Okay?"

Smiling, Leena stepped forward to hug the irritated teen. "Okay. Have a good evening..."

"...be back by midnight, I know." Almost reluctantly, Claudia turned around to return the hug. "Thanks."

Pete looked up as she strode out of the kitchen. "Not joining us?"

She kept her eyes on the far door and didn't even slow down. "Nah. Spending the evening in the Warehouse researching how to get my brother out of the inter-dimensional rift he's been stuck in since I was nine. See you at breakfast, though." And with that, she pushed through the other door and out of the dining room before either of the new agents could muster any kind of response.

It took three minutes to grab her laptop bag and affix it to the frame of her bike, another minute to secure dinner, and then she was speeding off into the dusk. When she pushed open the office door with the insulated bag in one hand and the laptop bag in the other, she was in a much better mood. Artie didn't ask pointed questions or make judgmental statements, only hugged her tightly. Somehow, that was more effective than any nagging or nudging could have been.

"I should have stayed out of sight," she sighed as they parted and she put her laptop bag on the side table.

He laughed humorlessly. "I'm not sure I completely disagree with your reaction, so if anyone asks, I reprimanded you but unofficially...you okay, kiddo?"

She didn't meet his eyes. "Pete makes up for his partner. I'm pretty sure we've got him locked in; he came and introduced himself this afternoon and we spent a few hours playing Rock Band and hanging out. He'd probably fight a reassignment back to DC. I snitched you an extra biscuit."

The distraction worked. They spent a comfortable hour eating and then looking over complicated equations before Artie's Farnsworth buzzed. "Mrs. Frederic," he said as he hurried over. "Out of sight, out of hearing, got it?"

"Got it," Claudia answered, placing herself behind the desk and making a lips-zipped motion.

"Well," the Caretaker demanded unceremoniously, "how did it go?"

"Good, good, listen, uh...are you sure about Ms. Bering?"

Claudia could almost hear the disapproving look. "Positive. Is there a problem?"

The pudgy man removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose briefly. "That will depend on Agent Bering. She feels being here is a waste of her talents."

"You've got to lock her in! Have you selected a case?"

He hadn't; she knew that. But she suddenly knew which one would lock in Agent Bering and maybe knock out some of her arrogance. Claudia nodded vigorously and dashed for the board.

"Y-yes. I think."

Mrs. Frederic either didn't know or didn't care about the source of his uncertainty. "Good. Dickinson wants them back."

"Well, uh, he can't have Pete."

Claudia caught a sliver of surprise on the tiny image as she sidled closer, one photo from the board held low and out of the Farnsworth's field of vision. "Is that so?"

"He spent the afternoon bonding with Claudia. I think we've got him." Artie glanced down and picked up the photo as if he'd had it on his desk the whole time. "I'll send them out on their first case tomorrow."

"Good. Keep me informed." The connection ended.

Artie looked at what he'd been given. "Seever City, huh?"

"You can send them to the zoo after that," she said with a shrug. "I just think this one's going to get under Bering's skin better."

"I'll take your word on that," he grumped. "You're the expert on getting under people's skin."

She didn't seem offended by that, judging by the broad smile she was wearing. "It's a gift."

"Then can I return it?"

"Not without a receipt."

He glared unconvincingly at her. "Devil child. I banish thee to the Larkspur shelf! Go," he sand grandly, gesturing out the window, "and amuse yourself with Rheticus's old junk."

"Your wish," she said with a flourished bow, "is my command."

That made him chuckle. "Yeah, right. If that were true, you'd have been a lot less trouble to raise."

"I'm trouble," she sang, dancing towards the door. "I'm trouble, now. I'm trouble, y'all. I disturb my town."

The door shut behind her. Still singing, she danced past the window. Artie shook his head and laughed.

 

=========================

 

Agents Bering and Lattimer looked distinctly worse for the wear when they walked into the office.

Claudia glanced up from the bronze globe-thing she was studying to study them, instead. "Dude, you look like you came out second-best against a wall."

"Close," Pete said. "Dead Italian cougar rolled my wheels."

Claudia set Rheticus's globe aside and sat up. "Okay, hold up. Do you mean the possessed lady had sex with you, a zombie European wildcat crashed your car, or a different mix of the two?"

Artie sniggered. Pete looked like he was contemplating his options.

"Possessed lady crashed the car," Myka said sharply, setting the neutralizer can on Artie's side-desk.

"Sor-ry," the teen muttered, hiding behind the bronze globe again.

Myka turned to give her a look that fell just short of a glare. "No," she announced challengingly, "I'm sorry. I was wrong. And now, if you don't need me, Artie, I'm going to take a hot shower and sleep."

Once she'd stormed out of the office, the other three eyed each other warily. Finally, Artie sighed. "Okay, who died?"

"The Italian professor," Pete said. "Neither of us thought it was an artifact until he torched himself at the gas station. If Myka weren't crazy observant and noticed that his alphabetically-shelved books were slightly out of order, we never would have identified the comb."

"Given what you were dealing with, one death is getting off light." Artie made a beckoning gesture. "You have the box?"

Pete fished it out of his coat. "Right here."

"Good, good. Oh, and...good work out there."

Halfway through a tired turn to the door, Pete flinched and stopped. "A man died, we almost died, and my car got trashed. How is that good work?"

"Only one man died, you got the artifact, and neither of you died," Claudia said quietly.

When Artie nodded confirmation, Pete gave them each a slightly-horrified look and somberly followed his partner out.

"Think we got her?"

Artie snorted. "You were right, you can take Steve McQueen's motorbike and put these-" he waved at the canister and box "-in the Pentagonal Quarantine."

"Woo!"

"Remember your-" Artie turned around to see his ward pulling on purple latex. "...gloves."

Claudia leaned over to hug him before retrieving canister and box. "You taught me well, sensei."

That made him laugh. "If only you practiced what I preached half the time."

She snorted. "Please. I said you taught me, not that I actually followed your teachings."

"Devil child."

"Silly old bear."

"Go," he growled, signaling that she'd toed the line enough.

She went.