Time Rider

Disclaimer:

All characters portrayed engaging in sexual activity are 18 years of age or older. Actual historical figures or living people represented appear strictly for context and humour; I lay no claim to them. If you had trouble following the plots of Pulp Fiction or Four Rooms because of the back-and-forth timelines, just turn around and leave now, as this fic will make you butthurt. As always, critiques and reviews all welcome; illiterate flames will be snickered at. Enjoy!

Chapter VI- It's Your Own Fault You Snooped!

Mark didn't speak for several seconds, trying his best to not gape at Roxy. She'd always been somewhat suspicious of him when he did just about anything, but the fact that she'd done actual research this time was something new. She had played her hand, and he was cornered. But still, he found himself not sure what to say.

"Well, c'mon, you little trouser snake," moving away from the door and sauntering toward him. She could tell she'd caught him dead to rights about

something

, but now she needed to find out what it was. "Y'might as well 'fess up, because I somehow doubt you want mom and dad to know what you're up to."

The mere thought brought a shiver to Mark and left a cold sweat on his brow. He swallowed, trying not to panic. Roxy had less mercy in a sibling confrontation than Mike Tyson had in the ring. He thought of the number of times she'd beaten his ass for tattling on her when they were younger, and how she'd always get some brutal form of revenge he was unlikely to forget.

And he dreaded the thought of how she could screw this up for him.

"I'm almost not wanting to find out, at least for a while, because watching your mind flop around in panic is kinda fun," she said, smirking as she stopped in front of him and leaned forward. "But I need to make a decision about whether the 'rents oughta know, so let's speed this up, okay?"

She then turned and sat on the edge of his bed, leaning back on her hands, one leg crossed over the other as she looked at him pointedly. "Spill it, little brother."

His mind raced. What could he tell her? She'd caught him in a flat-out lie that he had acquired his Falernian wine from a Ren Faire, and had no doubt pieced together that his other recent exotic acquisitions were likewise not from where he'd claimed. So what

were

her suspicions?

She no doubt was assuming, quite reasonably, that he was involved in some illicit activity that gave him access to these things, or gave him the money to buy them. In either case, if it had been legal, the little spore would have been bragging about it to their folks, and instead, he'd lied to them all. So it was something illegal.

This was gonna be good,

she thought. Having him squirm on a hook like this was almost giving her a tingle.

Mark took a deep breath, not exactly sure what was about to leave his mouth. But he had to say

something

. If he kept stalling and wasting her time, he wouldn't put it by Roxy to call their parents up and make them a part of the conversation. Any good will and credit he'd gained with them over the last few months would be down the toilet instantly, no questions asked.

It was now or never.

"I... I own a time machine," he finally said, deflating and sighing. "I found it before school got out and figured out how to use it. It's called a Holmes Field Device, because Ashley Holmes, the younger brother of Sherlock, invented it. Anyway, I can use it to visit various eras, and that's how I've come across things like the Falernian wine. I... I actually have been to ancient Rome, and bought some to bring back. I can even show you where it's buried."

Roxy stared at her brother dumbly. He kept talking, despite his fear.

"I've... I've been to Seventeenth-century France, Imperial Rome, and a few other places on short hops. I trade things we think nothing of for currency specific to the era I wanna visit. Those spices? The ones that were so good? From Crete during the Minoan Era, although I didn't really stick around, it just got recommended to me."

Roxy kept looking at him steadily.

"I don't even know how it works, it's just a platform with a frame that's all dials and numbers and lights," he confessed, shrugging. "But it takes me not just through time, but it kinda goes against the rotation of the earth, so if I know coordinates, I can go to the places as well. Y'know, like longitude and latitude on dials, and shit. It's kinda difficult, really."

The air hung heavy between them as Mark sighed again, apparently done talking. Roxy stared at him for several more seconds before getting up off the bed and walking slowly forward until she was standing over him. Mark looked up at his sister, while she gazed down at him, expressionless.

Then her hand went back behind her head as if she was going to strike him. Mark squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting the inevitable Roxy slap.

"You little brat," she hissed through clenched teeth, her hand still raised. "D'you really think anyone is

that

stupid?!"

Mark opened one eye warily, glancing up at her. Roxy was almost shaking in restraint as she glared down at her younger brother.

Why was she holding back?

"I oughta knock your teeth out for treating me like an idiot," she growled, still wrestling with her fury. "Worse, I oughta call mom and dad up here and let them in on this bullshit of yours. Dad works for a forensics department, after all; I'm sure he can get to the bottom of this!"

Their dad

did

work for a forensics department, didn't he?

"So 'fess up, or you know what happens next!" she said in a dire voice.

"Nope," Mark said now, folding his arms. "Not gonna happen."

His sudden change in tone and demeanour gave Roxy pause. She blinked. "What?"

"I said, no, Rox," he repeated, standing up now and forcing her to move back. "Maybe I'm tired of being bullied by you, every time you've got a bee up your ass about something. If you were doing better in your courses, you wouldn't have time to worry about this bullshit; you're just looking for something to take the pressure off you."

Roxy's eyes blazed and her nostrils flared, but Mark held up a hand. "Y'might not wanna do that, Ronda Rousey."

"Whyzzat?" she managed to say through clenched teeth.

"Well," Mark said, walking around her and over to his bed, "because you wouldn't want mom and dad to find out about this..."

Mark reached under his pillow and pulled out a small plastic bag, in which was sitting a colourful glass pipe. "Look familiar?"

Roxy's eyes went wide, and she stopped dead. "How..."

"Does it matter?" Mark replied simply.

"It's... it not mine!" she said hastily, going pale.

"Oh, I would hope not," Mark said, shrugging. "But dad would be able to tell for sure in no time, right? He works for a forensics lab, after all."

"I don't keep it here, that should be at Danni's house!" Roxy protested, still losing the colour in her face. "How the fuck did you get that?! You fucking criminal! I'll-"

"You'll what?" he asked, dangling the bag. "Tell mom and dad? Go ask Danni how I got it? What possible scenario here could work out in your favour, Rox?"

"It's... it's legal!" Roxy huffed, getting desperate.

"Like mom and dad are gonna care!" Mark laughed. "Even if it is legal, you know damn well they'll assume it's one of the reasons your grades are taking a dive, and you'll be in such a world of hurt that any wrong I've done will look like a walk through a rose garden in comparison."

Roxy said nothing, she just glared at him.

"Well? What's it gonna be, sis?" he queried, looking at the little rainbow pipe. "Nice choice of bag, by the way, you can't smell a thing."

Roxy's glare was nothing short of venomous. "What do you want?"

"Simple," Mark answered, shrugging. "Leave me the fuck alone, and mind your own damn business for a change. Live your life, not like I care if you do this shit. But quit trying to make my life miserable."

"If I do, you gonna give that back to me?" she asked, eying him, and then the baggie he held.

"Not yet," he said, shaking his head. "I'll keep it for a little bit as insurance."

"Give it to me!" she snarled, surging forward, her fist raised.

"Uh-uh!" Mark said, holding up a finger. "Come any closer and I bellow. Guess who comes upstairs instantly?"

Roxy stopped dead in her tracks, her whole body trembling with the effort of restraining herself.

"Why is fucking me over such a big deal for you, Rox?" Mark asked, genuinely curious. "Is your life really so incomplete if I'm a little happy?"

Roxy put down her fist and took a deep breath, her eyes closed. When she opened them, she was obviously in control, but she gave him a look that would wilt a rock.

"Okay, little brother," she said quietly. "You've got a deal. I won't breathe a word of this to anyone. But just so you know, if the opportunity to expose whatever shit you're up to

does

present itself, you're going down like a two-dollar hooker."

"I don't know what that's like," Mark replied, shrugging. "I'll assume you're the expert here."

"Very funny," she sneered as she turned and walked rather stiffly toward the door. "And in the meantime, I'm gonna go and have a word with my dear friend Danni about how the Hell my bowl came to be in your possession..."

Roxy stomped out of his room, trying to not slam the door behind her. Once he heard her heading down the stairs, Mark sank onto the corner of his bed and exhaled loudly, another shiver running up his spine. He suddenly had to pee.

Had he

really

told Roxy the truth? He hadn't planned to, but he didn't exactly know what he planned to tell her, either. Now that he thought of it, telling her the truth was even more ridiculous than any appreciable lie he could have come up with, wasn't it? Of course she wouldn't believe him about a time machine, and she was quite reasonable not to. Just because it was true didn't mean she was committing an error in judgment.

But now what? He had no idea how long her coerced 'promise' would hold her. She was really hot under the collar, and Roxy didn't take losing well at the best of times. He'd just have to be careful, he supposed. More so.

He sighed and looked down at her little weed pipe, still in its baggie. In a moment of panic, when Roxy had been standing over him and threatening to slug him across the jaw, he'd made an instant decision- taking a lesson from his playbook with Becky- and resolved that he would get into Danni's house and filch the pipe, because he knew Roxy kept it there. He'd heard her talking over the phone about it with Danni at various points, and never really thought anything of it. Until now.

He was familiar with Danni's house, since she'd been best friends with Roxy since they were little. When the two families were having dinner together, the girls had often dragged Mark upstairs and dressed him in girl's clothes and put makeup on him, like he was a doll for their tea parties. He also knew that Danni's parents didn't care if she smoked, because he'd heard Roxy lament this fact over the phone, wishing her parents were that cool.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to do the math of all this in his head. It would take Roxy thirty minutes to reach Danni's house in her car, to ask what the Hell had happened. But Danni would protest, insisting she'd

never

betray her friend and give Mark the pipe. Then she'd prove it by showing Roxy it was exactly where it was supposed to be, which was taped inside to the top of her underwear drawer.

Only it wouldn't be there.

Unless Mark went back to Danni's place and stashed it again, before the girls got up to her room. And then got out again. That'd really fuck with Roxy's head, and make Danni think Rox had gone insane.

It took eight minutes for Mark to fire up and prime the Holmes Field Device, which was sitting in a corner in the basement that no one ever used. It was dead space, and as safe as any place else could be that wasn't Becky's basement. Eight minutes to prime it and program in the coordinates and the time. Like, literally a minute after he'd apparently gotten the pipe out of there to begin with.

What?

His mind was almost spinning at the logic flips. He had to

return

the pipe before he actually stole it? When did he steal it if he hadn't done it before returning it? And did that mean he had to steal it twice?

He could account, apparently, for Danni not being in her room the first time, because he'd seemingly gotten away with it. If he landed a minute or so after he had burgled her, he would have the time he needed, he hoped, before she came back from wherever she was.

Return it... steal it later, when no one is looking, then return it... I think.

He heard the distinct sound of Roxy's Mustang roaring away down the road angrily. He somehow doubted that he had thirty minutes.

What if he miscalculated and got caught? The obvious issues aside, how did he explain the Holmes Field Device?

Could he explain it? People in this era thought time travel was fanciful sci-fi, after all. What happened then?

He dropped the baggie on the bed, clasped his face in his hands and groaned, the number of calculations he needed to do making his head hurt. He

really

needed to stop pulling his solutions out of his ass, he was going to give himself a time-hemorrhoid.

Time was wasting...

***

"Wow, Mark," Becky mused as she sat in her lounger, sipping at the Falernian wine. Her bottles were almost gone, and they'd soon have to go back to their secret place in the woods and get more. It had been a rather involved operation, getting the giant vats aged a certain number of years back in the Roman era, then transporting them into the present and burying them again, so that they had a large stock of perfectly aged wine. "You sure like to play with fire, don't you?"

"Tell me about it," he said wearily, as he sat on the couch, long pull drink from his own wine glass. "Can't believe it went off without a hitch."

"You were near death that first night with me," Becky said rather somberly, concerned about the stress on her student's face. "And that only required one trip on your part, and my belief in myself. This little circus, however, I'll be amazed if your time cops don't show up to lecture you again. You'd deserve it."

"I felt trapped, okay?" he said, trying to keep the exasperation out f his voice. He knew Becky was right, and he didn't want to snap at her. It had just really worn him out. He'd lost track of when he was supposed to be there, and how often. He'd eventually concluded that dumb luck had saved him from criminal charges, not to mention any other headaches. "I just... when telling her the truth didn't make her go away, I jumped into my playbook, which at this time, consists of what I did with you."

"What would you have done, exactly, if she'd believed you about the Holmes Field Device?" Becky queried, looking at him with interest.

He considered and gave a halfhearted shrug. "I guess I knew she wouldn't, because if I told Roxy I was a guy, she'd yank my pants down to make sure. But to answer your question, I... I dunno. I was just really outta options."

"I know you know this, Mark, but we obviously have to find ways for you to be even more careful," she said in a gentle tone. "You haven't timelocked yourself yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if you came really close there."

"No shit," he muttered, scowling at his glass. "Sorry, just stressed."

"Oh, poor baby," Becky cooed, getting out of her seat and coming over to sit down next to Mark. She pulled him into lean on her and then rested his face between her opulent breasts, knowing exactly the effect this would have on him. "Just relax, it's all fine now."

Mark sighed and nuzzled into her breasts, relaxing a little. His teacher's scent and her glorious softness had a calming effect on his frazzled nerves. "Gawd, we should go on vacation in some remote time for a year or so. I could use it."

Becky giggled, stroking her fingers through her student's dark hair. "If only we could."

"Well, why couldn't we?" Mark reasoned, still nuzzling and refusing to leave his nest. "We've got a time machine, don't we?"

"Mark, a two-week vacation is one thing, but longer stretches are problematic."

"Why?"

Becky sighed and put down her wine, opting to just hold him while he nuzzled her boobs. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy the sensation, after all. She knew that Mark, even though he was at least as experienced a time traveller as she was at this point, was still an eighteen-year-old boy, who had failed her Physics course. He just wasn't good at this stuff yet. But he took her with him readily, and she would have all the patience in the world until he caught up.

If he ever did.

"Mark, let's say you and I did indeed go on vacation for a year, somewhere in the timestream," she began, still stroking his wavy, dark hair. "And let's say we left tonight."

"Sounds good, I'm in," Mark replied in a muffled tone.

She smirked and continued. "And we come back after a year, to, say, an hour after we left, no one would notice, right?"

"That's the beauty of it," he agreed, nodding in her boobs.

"But

we'd

notice," she pointed out. We'd be a whole year older than when we left. When you got back, everyone would be trying to celebrate your nineteenth birthday, when, in reality, you're twenty. And you're the only one aside from me who knows it. Thanks to my captivity in the Louvre, I'm already a month older than our calendar indicates, so my birthday is technically inaccurate."

He paused as he considered what she was saying.

"And let's say, God forbid, that the time machine broke down somewhere in the past," she said, her voice taking on a serious tone. "Neither of us knows how to fix it, and there's absolutely no guarantee that we'd be able to find someone who could. What if it took the two of us five years to repair it, against all odds? We'd arrive back, an hour after we left, if we could, and everyone would notice we were magically five years older. I'd be thirty, you'd be twenty-three. We'd both look somewhat older, undoubtedly. How would we account for that?"

Mark said nothing, just listening.

"The only alternative would be to arrive five years in the future, to make up the difference, but then we've been AWOL with no explanation for five years," she continued. "Sure, maybe you can say you joined the merchant marines without a moment's notice, but what would I say?"

She took his chin gently and turned his head to look up into her blue eyes.

"We can't mess with the timestream and people's lives like that," she said quietly, almost sadly. "We're not from an era where time travel is the norm and people know what to expect."

"You sure know how to take the fun out of time travel, Becks," he sighed, shaking his head. She giggled and cradled him in her bosom again, knowing he didn't mean it.

"Silly," she cooed, jiggling her breasts against his face a little. "You know better than anyone how much fun I can be in the timestream."

"Yeah, that's true," Mark admitted, smiling and turning over on his back to look up at her while he lay in her lap. She was wearing black yoga pants, and a tight tank top and gave her impressive bust lots of breathing room. "But I really could use a little time away, to be honest. This nonsense stressed me out."

"I'm sure it did, and hopefully you'll start thinking about these things ahead of time," she agreed, poking him in the nose. "In terms of what we could do, I have been giving the matter some thought."

Mark raised an eyebrow. Becky never had bad ideas. Not compared to his, in any event. "I'm all ears."

"Hardly," Becky giggled, reaching her hand down to gently cup his crotch beneath his jeans. "Let me explain first. You're not the only one with a predicament, although mine isn't necessarily self-inflicted."