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Believe Half of What You See...	By : Scribe Category: -Misc TV Shows > Crossovers Views: 1519 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the television series that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
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>*sound effects or actions* Thoughts and things that are to be emphasized are in italics //Indicates what the author wrote.//
Notes: Politically incorrect attitudes. Bernie Koppel played Alan-a-Dale in
When Things Were Rotten (Mel Brooks does Robin Hood) and Dr. Adam Bricker on The Love Boat, Gavin McCleod played Murray Slaughter on The Mary Tyler Moore Show and Captain Stubing on The Love Boat, Ted McGinnley played Ace on The Love Boat, Stan Gable in three Nerds movies, and Jefferson D'Arcy in Married--with Children.

Chapter Six

An Open Smile on a Friendly Shore... Usually Means You're About To Get Jumped

Scribe slogged through soft sugar sand, headed toward a large hotel. "I'm a little surprised you were waiting around for me, Xander. I would've thought that you would have located a nude beach by now, and been busy getting yourself arrested for making indecent advances to some beach bunny or surfer dude."

"Um, actually, I did."

"What? How did you manage to get loose? You're perpetually broke, so I know you couldn't post bail."

"I sorta made a deal with someone."

"Uh huh. Whose boyfriend were you?"

"Hey, it wasn't that!" Pause. "Well, it was a little of that. Mostly I had to promise introductions of a sort when you finally arrived."

She stopped by the road, eyeing him suspiciously. "What sort of introductions, and to who?"

*scrreeeech*

A sleek black car skidded to a halt in front of her. She eyed it and immedieately took off running, yelling, "Sexy sports car equals lead character. Exit Scribe, probably pursued by a hottie."

*SLAM* *thudthudthudthudthud*

"Oof! Crap! Couldn'tya just grab instead of tackling?! Now I have sand between my teeth. Xander, come drag whoever this is off me!"

*padpadpadpadpad* "Um, sorry, Scribe. No can do. It would violate the conditions of my parole."

"You are in SO much trouble when we get home! Tons of hurt and very little comfort comin' atcha, Alexander Harris!"

"Oh, crap! She used both full names! Please, man, let her up before I get in even deeper shit."

The weight lifted. Actually, Scribe was lifted, so smartly that her toes left contact with Mother Earth before she was settled back down. "While you have me airborn why don't you shake me a little? Maybe the sand will fall out of my panties."

"I can take care of that later. There's a trick with a Dustbuster I saw in Ruthless People that I've always wanted to try," said the tall, hunky man with the dark, receding hair.

Scribe scowled at him. "Ellison, how the hell did you manage to get time enough off from Major Crimes to go to Hawaii? And don't you dare let Sandburg anywhere near me with honey or whipped cream--not around this sand."

"A, the name is not Ellison, it's Mack Wolfe. B, who's Sandburg? Though I have to admit that the name is rather intriguing."

Scribe looked at him more closely. "Wolfe? You can't tell me there weren't some writers harboring secret slash fantasies when they named you're character, not when they gave you a last name the same as your Sentinel soulmate's spirit guide."

He looked at Xander. "You're right--she makes little, if any, sense. But she's cute." He got out a pair of handcuffs.

"Again with the handcuffs! Crap, if you have to be into bondage, why not some nice silk scarves?"

"Because nice silk scarves are not standard police issue equipment, that's why."

"Just what the poop do you think you're arresting me for?"

Mack and Xander exchanged looks. Mack ventured, "Poop?"

Scribe checked the rating on this episode. "Sorry. What the fuck do you think you're arresting me for?"

"Ummm... how about failure to render aid?" He rubbed his crotch against her. "I could really use some help here."

"You know, this may come as a shock to you, but I don't think horniness is classified as a life threatening situation."

"Well, it should be," said Xander stoutly. If they had anyone on the Supreme Court who wasn't either past mentalpause or to the point where the only thing their prostate was good for was as a navigation point for their urologists, it would be."

"None of this answers my previous question," Scribe groused. "Okay, you're not James Ellison, you're Mack Wolfe, but how and why?"

"Just a sec." Xander pulled out The Comprehensive Guide to Television: Past and Present. It was roughly the size of a telephone book for a fair sized urban area. He got it out of that same place that fanfiction characters conveniently store piles of tools, weapons, and other handy items in pockets that should normally be able to hold no more than a Pop Tart.

In fact, as the boy began flipping pages, Scribe said hopefully, "Xander, you wouldn't happen to have a Pop Tart, like, being used for a bookmark in that thing, would you?"

"No, Scribe. That would make life too easy. Ah, here we are!" He showed her the entry. "One West Waikiki" originally aired on CBS, beginning August 4, 1994. Ah, I see. 1994, PS."

Mack wrinkled his forehead. "PS?"

"Pre-Sentinel. Or Pre-Sandburg, if you prefer."

"Again with the Sandburg. Who is she?"

Scribe smiled mysteriously. "Let's see... Oo, no wonder I didn't remember it. Only six original episodes, then back for another fourteen and into syndication. Yeah, I wasn't getting cable when this went on. Mmm... Cheryl Ladd?" She looked at Mack in disbelief. "You've been palling around with Lucy Ewing, from Dallas?"

"No, Holli is from California."

"This incarnation. Hmm, a short, fiesty sidekick with long hair." *smirk* "Why is that familiar?"

"We're just friends."

"Yeah, yeah. They all say that. That was the big thing on the other show, too. 'It's all about friendship', Sandburg said. R-i-g-h-t."

Mack shifted a little, looking interested. "So, this Sandburg. What's she like?"

Scribe said, in as provocative a voice as she could manage, "Comes up around your chin, athletic, intelligent, big blue eyes, rippling auburn hair down over the shoulders, pierced left nipple." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Never wears a bra." She leaned closer. "Shares your character's loft apartment--out of wedlock."

Mack licked his lips. "A real hottie?"

"All my fellow fangirls think so."

Mack frowned. "What about fanboys?"

"Them, too."

"Do you think I could get an introduction?"

Scribe looked at Xander. "This is getting even more bizarre than usual. You don't suppose anything would, like, implode if Mack, here, and Jim were brought together?"

Xander got a dazed look on his face, and quickly rubbed his crotch. "Maybe not implode, but the explosive possibili are are definitely there. I'd pay to see it."

"Would you like to see a picture?" Scribe asked Mack.

"Hey," Xander protested. "Where the heck did you get a picture of Sandy?"

"Sandy, huh? How well do you know...? Nevermind. I got it the same place you got that freakin' Funk and Wagnalls lookalike." She pulled a snapshot out of her cleavage.

"I like your safety deposit box better than mine," sighed Xander, as she handed the photo to Mack.

"Be ready to run if you don't want to be left behind," she advised the teenager.

Mack took photphoto and looked at it. "Hey, she's foxy! Evan with that little mustache problem, she..." He squinted. "Wait a minute. That isn't a girl, that's a guy."

"Uh-huh."

"You're telling me that my alter ego is involved with a guy?"

"Uh huh."

"Why, that's... that's..."

Xander was bouncing up and down worriedly. "He's going to blow! I'll throw my body in his path, you run."

"Just wait a second, Xander," Scribe assured him. "The Sandburg Effect should kick in right about..."

"...strangely fascinating."

"Now." Mack had let go to grip the photo with both hands, staring at it. Scribe began to tiptoe rapidly away. "C'mon. I figure we have about three minutes before he comes out of it."

Xander followed. "But where can we go? We're on a freakin' island."

Scribe pointed to a great white ship docked at a nearby pier. "We leave the freakin' island." They got to the dock, and Scribe took another look at the ship, then groaned. "These geographic anomalies are starting to get to be a bit too m Th That is the Pacific Princess, roughly two-and-a-half thousand miles off course."

"Scribe, you went from the Titanic, through Dr. Evil's sea bass pool, to Gilligan's Island just by diving. This is a stretch for you?"

She shrugged. "You're right. Okay, let's get on that sucker, and it should take us back to the States, at least."

"But we don't have any cash or tickets."

"Hey, that never stopped a guest star. Mmm... Gopher is the one on the gangplank. This shouldn't be too difficult. Here's what we do..."
*whisperwhisperwhisper*

"You're a diabolical genius."

"No, I just watched a lot of prime-time in the seventies."

Gopher was blocking entrance to the ship one the gangplank, a clipboard in hand. A strangely familiar (but then again, weren't all the guests on the Love Boat strangely familiar?) woman wearing dark glasses a str straw hat squashed down low over her face bustled up. He straightened and gave her his best 'perky steward, ready to offer you any type of service, hubba hubba' smile. "Welcome aboard Princess Cruise Lines."

"Hi, short stuff. Y'all are about to pull out, so let me on."

"Certainly, miss. If I can see your ticket and boarding pass?"

She waved vaguely behind her. "My son has them. I'm taking him on a cruise to get away from his wacky, totally inappropriate in my eyes girlfriend, but I suspect that they will get together and have a series of madcap adventures that will remind me of my own youthful escapades, convince me that he knows his own heart, and possibly pair me up with her widowed father."

"Really, ma'am, I should see..."

"Wait, wait! Now I remember where I know you from! You were Herman the German. You know, Death Race 2000? You navigated for Matilda the Hun! Didn't you get blown up? Say, did you get well acquainted with Mary Worornov? I ran into Raoul on Voyager, and..."

His head swimming, Gopher stepped out of the way, ahe bhe bustled onboard. A few minutes later, just as the last warning was sounding, a lanky young man hurried up the gangplank. "Welcome aboard Princess Cruise Lines, can I see your...?"

"Let me in, man! I have to help my irrepressable girlfriend disguise herself as a pool boy, so we can be together under the nose of my lovable, but repressed Mom. We're going to set her up with Tiffany's widowed Dad, who's much more understanding, lonely as hell, and ripe for remarriage.
Mom just boarded. She has the tickets and passes."

"Oh, right!" Gopher stepped out of the way, and Xander hurried on board. He was just disappearing into the forward deck when Gopher blinked and said, "Wait a minute..."

From somewhere deep withing the ship a female voice drifted up, "L-o-o-ove, exciting and n-e-e-e-w! Come ab-o-o-ard, we're ex-pecting y-o-ou!" The horn blew, and the Pacific Princess set a course for adventere, with an eye on a new romance. Gopher, unfortunately, didn't move fast enough, and the gangplank dropped into the surf, with him on it. A little later a very frustrated Mack Wolfe arrested him, and, well, he wasrunning around in a soaking wet pair of tiny white shorts...

Xander and Scribe sat at the bar by the pool, sipping flourescent colored drinks, graced by tiny umbrellas. Scribe smacked her lips. "I always wondered what the heck these things were--now I know. Shirley Temples. Now they can't use 'boy, was I drunk' as an excuse."

"Scribe," Xander hissed. "This is all well and good, but what are we going to do for someplace to sleep? The cabins will be locked."

"Not necessarily, but what makes you think we'll be here long enough to sleep?"

"Well, duh! It should take us several days to cruise back to California."

"In the real world, but this is fanfic, right? The series never lasted more than an hour. Look," she waved her glass. "Sunset already, and it was around noonish when we sneaked on board."

Xander blinked. "By golly, you're right! You're so clever!" He reached to hug her, and she pulled back, frowning.

"Can it, oh Horny One. I'm still pissed at you."

"Aw, Scribe..."

A white uniformed man wearing glasses stopped, looking interested. "Did you say Scribe?"

"Hey, Siegfried." Xander yelped and leaped behind the bar. "What's the matter with you?"

"I'd rather not get my ass eaten by a white Bengal tiger, thank you very much."

"Not that Siegfried," Scribe explained. "No Roy, no Vegas act. I'm talkin C.H.A.O.S, here." She looked at him. "Or was it K.A.O.S?"

He shrugged. "Search me. I'm Adam Bricker, the ship's doctor."

"Sure you are. You took this job because it's moreaxinaxing than running a bumbling international crime syndicate?"

"Well, it certainly pays better than that job I had traipsing about in green tights. Care to come down to sick bay for a full physical--my treat?"

"Why? It's too early in the cruise. You know damn good and well that if you get me alone down there, some honeymooner will show up with a severe case of sunburn, or some obnoxious child will swallow the wedding ring of his soon to be married mother, leading to a conciliation between him and his once despised step-father to be."

Adam sighe. "You're right. I'll check back in about a half hour or forty five minutes." He strolled off, in search of sub-plots.

"Whoops." Scribe suddenly dived back behind the bar, joining Xander.

"What is it? Did the white tiger show up after all?"

"Shh."
Xander shhhed. A head bearing a cruise uniform cap, but not much haiobbeobbed past. "Hey! The captain."

"Yeah, but in a previous life he was Murray Slaughter, and I'm convinced he had a thing for Mary Richards, and since I seem to be able to turn THIS world on with my smile (or my smart ass smirk, for that matter), I think it's better that I stay out of his sight." She sighed. "If I have to run into people, why not that gorgeous ship's photographer, Ace? I mean, he survived three Revenge of the Nerds movies and playing opposite a lesbian who was playing a voracious nympho on Married--With Children, and still managed to stay sexy."

"Yeah, but he was only on this show for sea season. We must've missed it."

"Damn. Oh, well. I suppose I could check for guest stars. John Ritter did a guest shot as a guy dressing in drag for some reason. Lessee, was this pre or post Three's Company?"

"What does it matter?"

"Just trying to figure out the irony factor. I had such a crush on him." She blinked, looking thoughtful.

"What is it?"

"I was just thinking. He played Jack Tripper on Three's, masquerading as a fey gay guy, and I had a huge, puppy-horniness crush on him. Do you suppose that could have anything to do why I've gotten so hung up on slash?"

Xander blinked. "Look, if you want brooding and philosophy, we can go get Angel or Giles."

"Did you happen to notice how the lights dimmed and brightened?"

"Uh..."

"Day passed."

"Uh..."

*flashflash*

"There went another one. We should be arriving at any moment."

They got out from behind the bar and sure enough, they were pulling into the port. They started for the gangplank. Scribe skidded to a halt as a still dripping wet Gopher stomped up on deck. He spotted her and Xander and pointed at them. "Ahah!"

Scribe turned to Xander! "Oh, son! I've been so foolish! You and Tiffany have shown me that the only thing that matters is love, and you have brought me together with the man, who though I have only known him for a few abrievieated days, will be my soulmate!" She howled. "I'm so happy!" She grabbed Xander and kissed him. Xander, never one to miss a chance, kissed back.

Gopher sniffed. "Oh, that's so sweet! A mother and son bonding." Xander grabbed her ass and ground against her. "Uh... wow. Close, aren't they?"

Xander grabbed Scribe's hand and dragged her past him. "We's from the south. Yee-haw!"

Gopher watched them go, shaking his head, and said, "But they didn't look like Luke and Daisy."
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