Author's Note: This is kind of a companion piece to "Home is Where". Since I swore up and down Wes would not appear in that fic, I had to do a bit where he could appear. The misc forms that he has to fill out are some of the same forms I had to for a government job.

Paperwork
by Selma McCrory
copyright 2003

Wes Collins returned after a long, hard day at the headquarters of Collins Guard and Defense, much better known as the Silver Guardians, to his rented house in a semi-affluent suburb of Silver Hills, bordering on the town of Turtle Cove.

He had gotten used to hard work as a member of Time Force's Ranger team, as well as one of the partners in the business known as "Nick of Time Odd Jobs". But that had not required the amount of paperwork he went through every day as one of two co-commanders of the Silver Guardians, and sometimes he wondered what exactly he'd gotten himself into when he'd taken up his father's officer to lead the newly non-profit force.

Between the paperwork required to keep the Guardians in order, and the paperwork required by an organization that liaised so frequently with the police of Silver Hills, Wes was nearly overwhelmed. Sure, he'd been exposed to paperwork as the son of John Collins, but it wasn't anything of the level he had to put up with every day in his present job.

The doorbell rang. He got up slowly, stretching to unkink some of his muscles, and promised himself a workout in the morning before he got to the office. He'd gotten soft with Jen not there pushing him to keep in shape.

He looked out the spyhole in the door. Neither of the two men at his doorstep were familiar, but one wore Time Force insignia. Wondering what Time Force wanted here, and what two unknowns were doing on the doorstep, or if this was some elaborate prank, he opened the door.

"Hello," the younger of the two greeted him. "I'm Dr. Spencer, of Time Force Medical, this is Michael Fuorto of Civ-Ad, formerly of Temporal. Are you Wesley Arthur Collins?"

"Yes," he said, his throat suddenly dry.

"Good. Can we come in?" Spencer asked, smiling.

"Sure," Wes managed. He flattened himself to the door as the two men came in. Spencer was carrying a stereotypical doctor's bag, Fuorto a briefcase, no doubt to blend in with the twenty-first century civilians of Silver Hills.

After he closed it, Spencer said, "I bet you have no idea why we're here." He had the kind of smile that made one almost want to trust him off the bat.

"No," Wes admitted.

"Well, Time Force decided that, since you're one of our Rangers, you are a member of Time Force. So, we're here to take care of some of the bureaucratic details. I'm here to set up your medical records, while Michael's here to get some of your personal details."

"Oh," Wes said. Fuorto was digging in his briefcase, while Spencer was digging out some conspicuously thirty-first century medical equipment out of his doctor's bag.

"If you don't mind," Fuorto said, speaking for the first time, "I'm a hundred years old and I don't move as fast as I used to. Do you mind if we sit down?"

"A hundred?" Wes managed. Fuorto looked in his seventies.

Spencer cleared his throat. "Advances in genetic engineering, centuries of genetic therapy, and such. You know. I would advise sitting down. Both Michael and I have a lot of work to do, and we'd like to get it done this evening."

Wes could only manage to nod semi-coherently. He brought out a TV table just in case for Fuorto, and Fuorto accepted it gratefully. "Now, I had someone put together a history of your life up to this point," Fuorto said, with an expression that indicated that someone better not have included anything past that. "I'd like you to review it. We'll put together a biography with it, and then... well, there are quite a few forms I have to have you fill out. Including some that, as I would guess, don't make much sense to you."

"Including the loyalty statement," Spencer put in, taking ahold of Wes' arm.

"Loyalty statement?" Wes asked. Spencer applied something from a kit and he winced.

"All Time Force officers have to swear an oath of loyalty to Time Force," Fuorto said. "However, since you're based here, I don't see how you can uphold it. It's one of those things that I questioned, but... the Committee says you have to do it, so I brought it."

"The Committee. Isn't that the group of people who are above the ranking officers, above the heads of the divisions?" Wes asked, remembering what the others had told him about the structure of the Force.

Spencer's hand slipped. "Sorry," he apologized, cauterizing where he had accidentally stuck Wes. "Yes, there is. They're the ones that, as you can guess, make the big decisions."

"If you really want to get out of the oath," Fuorto said, "I suppose you can apply to Time Force to get those bits where your teammates told you about future events struck out of your memory. From what I was told, Time Force doesn't want what you got told influencing the future."

"I can understand that," Wes admitted. "I'd kinda like to keep my memories, thanks."

Spencer was still doing something to Wes' arm, finished, and drew the sleeve of his shirt back up. "Could you unbutton the top of your shirt?"

Wes did so, as he started to scan the padd. "They really want to know if I'm going to use my own vehicle in the course of my duties to Time Force?" he asked, trying to think of the last time he had done that. It must have been really early on.

"I would advise just putting any vehicles you regularly drive on there," Fuorto said. "It is, after all, just paperwork. I sincerely doubt anyone believes that you are going to be doing any more Time Force duties unless Time Force requests your assistance."

"And I guess I put my work for the Silver Guardians on this 'Outside Work' form." Wes scanned the bewildering amount of forms that Time Force bureaucracy wanted.

"You might as well," Fuorto said, "Though again, I doubt Time Force would forbid you to work. Your loyalty oath should be sufficient to counteract any conflict of interest, especially since you are a unique circumstance."

Wes almost groaned, but held still as Spencer put something on his chest. "Sensor," Spencer explained briefly. "You'll have to wear it for a day or two, and then you can take it off. I just have to get your baselines."

Nodding, Wes let the doctor center the sensor.

While he was at it, Fuorto kept handing Wes the thirty-first century equivalent of paperwork. Forms, forms, and more forms. Wes was just grateful that he wasn't being told to do a skill test... though the ability to figure out and fill out these forms might constitute one.

Finally, the two members of Time Force finished up with all the stuff they had to be doing. "Those sensors are waterproof," Spencer said, "So you can shower and such. Just don't take them off."

"I won't," Wes promised.

"I guess I won't be seeing you around," Fuorto said, "Unlike Spencer. So, keep yourself out of trouble, you hear? We'll just keep your paperwork in order."

Wes smiled at the older gentleman.

"Oh," Spencer said, "And Jen says to say hello. Or would, if she'd known I was coming. She should find out soon." He paused. "Anything you want to pass along?" he asked.

Wes froze. There were a million things he wanted to say to Jen... but not like this. Not secondhand. "Tell the team that I miss them."

Spencer and Fuorto exchanged looks. "I can certainly do that. Just don't make me come back!" Spencer exclaimed jovially.

Fuorto just smiled.

Wes smiled in return. "I won't." Spencer winked at him.

"We'd better get moving before our pilot worries," Spencer said. "It was a pleasure meeting you. Maybe we'll see each other someday... under more pleasant circumstances."

With that, Spencer ushered Fuorto out the door, and Wes was left alone. With only his Silver Guardian paperwork to do. Smiling, he put it away. He'd had enough for the night.