Author's Note: This story was a direct response to the poem called "Home" posted on this site by Dawn Owens. I love that poem. I e-mailed Dawn and told her I wanted to write about how it came to be written, if she would let me. Her enthusiastic encouragement led to my first draft, which she graciously agreed to read and then she gave me permission to print her beautiful poem in the body of my story. I hope you like it!

These characters were created by James Parriott and I am thankful to him for allowing all of us to write about them.

Happy Thanksgiving, Bogg

Chapter 1 Resilience

Phineas Bogg and Jeffrey Jones landed at dusk, on the hard gravel surface of an isolated alley. Bogg recovered first and immediately crawled over to Jeffrey who was slowly sitting up.

"Did it hit you?" Bogg asked urgently as he laid his hands on the boy.

"I don't think so," Jeff gasped, his voice shaking.

Phineas saw the arrowhead protruding out of his shirt collar and put his hands on Jeff's neck and moved them down to the arrow. When he felt the shaft of the arrow on the back of his hand and realized that it hadn't pierced Jeff's skin, he slumped down and took a deep breath. "There wasn't another, was there?"

"No."

The tremor in Jeff's voice as he answered had an instantaneous effect on Bogg and he pulled the boy onto his lap and held him tightly as he sat down hard on the gravel.

They sat together for several minutes, until Jeff finally spoke as he pushed himself away from Bogg's chest and sat up, "I'm okay now."

Phineas let him go and they separated. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he started to work the arrow out of Jeff's collar, "I got back as soon as I could."

"I know, it's okay."

They both got to their feet.

"So, where are we?" Jeff asked.

They walked single file through the alley to the end so Bogg could see the omni in the dimly lit area under the lamppost.

Bogg glanced around, "feel like guessing?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood. It was part of a game they often played.

Jeff smiled and looked around while Phineas relaxed again. He was always surprised by Jeff's ability to recover quickly from whatever horrors they experienced. Maybe that quality was the defining quality of a Voyager, he thought. Being resilient was vital out in the field.

"Well, there isn't much to see," Jeff began, breaking Bogg's train of thought. He watched the boy take in his surroundings. He stared at several crates piled up on the sidewalk beside them, the street lamp on the corner, a vehicle across the street and the general area. "A city, midwest United States, 1912?"

Bogg opened the omni, "Omaha, Nebraska, November 18th, 1917, red light," he answered, "not bad kid."

"Another red light?" Jeff asked. "Isn't this about the gazillionth red light in a row? I mean, I know you told me Voyagers don't get holidays or vacations, but, aren't you ready for a break, I know I am," Jeff's tirade made Phineas sigh.

"Yeah, me too Jeff, me too." He couldn't help thinking about their last mission, where Jeffrey had been literally seconds away from being tortured in the Amazon jungle, before Phineas could get there to omni him out. He'd set the omni to a green zone and they'd left in a hurry. Obviously it hadn't worked. "Let's just hope this one will be quick and the next will be a green light."

Suddenly a boy ran around the corner, too fast to stop. He knocked Jeff backward into the crates. The boy continued to run as Bogg heard the crates fall and caught him around the waist.

"Hey, that's far enough," Bogg said as he lifted him up with one arm and stretched his other hand out toward Jeff while the boy's legs were kicking in the air, as though he was still trying to run.

"Jeff?" Phineas' tone asked the question, and Jeff understood and answered.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

Phineas turned his attention back to the boy he was holding as a police officer ran up to them, followed by another man.

"Thanks for catching him," the officer said as he grabbed the boy's arm roughly.

"Hey, go easy," Bogg said in response to the rough treatment. He refused to relinquish the boy.

"Thank you for catching him," the man who had followed said after he caught his breath. Bogg could see he wore a priest's collar on his neck.

"Sir, you need to let go, this boy is a thief, and needs to be in jail for his own protection as well as to protect law abiding citizens." The officer was tall and dark haired and had a long scar across his left cheek. He was in uniform and held a billy club in one hand.

Bogg hesitated, unsure what to do. If he hadn't caught the boy, he would've gotten away, but now it seemed he would end up in jail. The officer didn't look very friendly either.

The priest stepped forward and took a sack out of the boy's hand, "these are the candlesticks from the altar of St. Patrick's," he said, and Bogg slowly lowered the boy to the street as the officer stepped forward.

"Come with me," he said and gripped the boy's arm tightly. Phineas let the boy go and watched the officer walk away with him.

"I'm Father Ed," the priest began extending his hand.

"Bogg, I'm bleeding!" Jeff's voice was strident as he said the words and Phineas turned to him immediately and realized he couldn't see him very clearly. He picked him up by the shoulders and moved him a few feet away where there was more light from the street lamp. Phineas could see he was staring at his hand, and that it was covered in blood.

He put him down and saw blood trickling down his neck from a cut on the side of his head, but Jeff's hand went to his knee and Bogg could see quite a bit of blood there as well.

"Bring him in here, it's close," Father Ed said, immediately grasping the situation. He led the way into the building that was on the corner and Bogg picked Jeffrey up again and carried him inside. He followed the priest into the kitchen and laid Jeff down on the table in the center of the room where Father Ed had hastily made room.