Chapter Fourteen! I loved the anticipation; thank you so much for sharing your excitement in the reviews! Things are moving and everyone seems ready for it. :) Aaaaand we've got some stuff taking real shape now...
Romacarthur03, welcome! That you so much for the note - I really, really appreciate the encouragement and I think there are few higher compliments to a writer of a six-story series than "it never gets boring." Hearing that made me so happy all week! :-D I hope that holds true for this chapter as well!
Skyrider45, I always enjoy how you find the telling moments in the action (you often highlight the humor or subtle interactions in the middle of crazy plot moments), and I'm also keeping you in mind as the action ramps up. You are still the connoisseur who inspires me to up my game. :) I loved that Jughead got cheered on this week for bringing a gun to a... handcuff training, haha... and I also loved that you saw two breakthroughs there: the training one and the willing support for Clark even when it wasn't something Jug really wanted to do. He's growing! And yeah, we'll see how much explosive action comes... The ramping up begins!
Living Lucid Dream, I love glimpses of Betty training and having a much more traditional experience. She and Agent Sarah bring some sanity this time, but are also pulled into the magnetic force of Brand's (and now Clark's!) enthusiasm. Brand's horrifying but infectious, I think. :) I love the pun - and thanks; I was really curious how that would read, since it is a big move for Jughead. Brand had an inkling, but I am not sure I did until they were mid-altercation. :) Yay for Archie growing too! I'm excited about his album, and I feel like an entire parallax novel would not be out of place for this series of events - Archie, Veronica, and Gunnar are having quite an adventure. Agent Williams may get an arc, too! She has intrigued me for a while and she's proud and loyal - but such an innately terrible fit with Brand and Jug that I agree with you that best intentions might not be enough to avert disaster. :-D I'm glad you liked the extremely subtle cliffhanger. ;) I'll look forward to hearing what you think!
Enjoy!
-Button
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The media consultant deemed them 'adorable.' It did not improve from there, either.
"Okay, so we've got a lot to work with here, and you both seem to have the basics down from your hard work in the spring." The media consultant, Ms. Turner, was literally the only person who was giving them much credit for that. "Now I just want you two to just talk. Tell me a little about what your working relationship is like."
Brand began thinking through possible responses, but they all looked up sharply when the door to the conference room they'd been using opened a crack.
"Perfect timing!" Ms. Turner jumped up to cross the room and open the door all the way. "Come on in. We're about to do some practice interview questions and it would be great to have an audience."
Sarah Quinn and Chloe Williams walked in and claimed seats at the far end of the room.
Jughead grinned at Brand, who quickly shook his head with a meaningful glare. "Stay on script."
"Oh, no, no. This part is entirely unscripted. We'll just see where you naturally head and then we'll course correct as needed," Turner said effusively. "Be completely natural. Hold on for just a second, though. Let me make sure the camera angle's still working for you; we'll watch this together afterward and make adjustments."
"Hmmm, let me see. Brand stocks my favorite foods at work, and I sometimes help make the coffee that keeps him going." Jones smiled up at Brand. "We're symbiotic that way."
"I don't think that word choice is gonna fly, kid." Brand raised an eyebrow. As usual, having an audience was not helping anything.
Jones' smile spread into a grin. "He's also not afraid to say what he thinks to me. I always know exactly where I stand. That's a really good quality in any relationship."
The kid's eyes flashed toward Agent Quinn, and Brand could see where this was going to go if he didn't head it off. He leaned in toward Jones and hissed quietly. "Do not start saying stuff to try and get me in good with Quinn."
Jones blinked.
"Uh, of course, that's not to say that-,"
"Cut!" Brand stood up and hauled Jones out of his seat by one shoulder. "I think we need a quick lap of the building to burn off some energy. Exercise is vital in our line of work, right, kid?"
Jones nodded quickly, and shot apologetic smiles to everyone as Brand hustled him out of the conference room.
"Take a few deep breaths, actually think about what I just said to you, and then we'll try this again." Brand kept hauling Jones through the building. "She already thinks I'm overly controlling when it comes to you-,"
"Oh, don't worry. Dragging me out of there probably changed her perception of you right around," Jones interrupted sarcastically.
"I'm pretty sure that was better than whatever was about to come out of your mouth." Brand fixed Jones with a stare. When the kid seemed to mentally review whatever it was he'd been about to say, he suddenly looked sheepish. "Ye-eah, that was my suspicion. So take a beat, get your head on straight, and then we'll go back in there."
"Okay. Sorry Brand." Jones' smile slowly started to return as they walked. "Do you think we should demonstrate any training techniques this time?"
"Do I get to handcuff and gag you?" Brand's tone was sarcastically cheerful.
"I meant-,"
"I was trying to say no, Jones. No, we should not." Brand ruffled the kid's hair. "Tell stories about cooking, studying, taking photos, Trigger, your dad, or anything we do in our free time. Steer clear of training, anything classified, and just for fun don't say anything that you think Agent Quinn would particularly like to hear."
Jones sighed longsufferingly. "All right, Brand. I'm just trying to be a good wingman for you."
"Please don't." Brand smirked. "Save that for Clark. I've already got a date with her on Friday, so you can really only do harm at this point. And keep in mind that we're being filmed; that means there's a permanent record of anything we say or do."
"Yeah. Good point." Jones finally seemed to get it. Fantastic. "So... I should probably talk to you right now about this book I really want-,"
"I don't know why I try reasoning with you, Jones." Brand rubbed the back of his neck. "You're a gremlin."
"Who is very willing to be bought off." The kid smiled up beatifically.
"Would you settle for a fancy dinner? Maybe something like... steak and lobster?" Brand was suddenly inspired. "I might even be persuaded to make a stop at a bakery if you do particularly well in there."
"Seriously?" Jones was shocked. "After everything you always say about not negotiating with terrorists?"
"I'm considering a new policy of choosing my battles," Brand replied. "What do you say?"
"Uh, yeah. I will be a paragon of virtue." Jones was grinning. "What bakery?"
"Oh, just you wait and see. Ever had derby pie?" Brand smiled back at him.
"Nope. Sounds weird."
"It's great. Just the kind of sugary mess you'll love." Brand tousled his hair a second time. "But remember, one wrong step and we're heading straight home after work."
"I've got this, Brand. Just make sure you have your credit card ready for the good steaks. And you have to spring for enough for Dad and Clark, too, because I'm not sharing. We don't get it very often, but Dad loves lobster; it might even make him less mad at you about the training." Jones was still grinning, though it had taken on an impish quality.
"My credit card will be ready. And that's good thinking about your dad; let's maybe let him believe that I brought it home for him." Brand hid his own smile.
"See? I'm not a bad wingman at all." Jones began leading the way back to the conference room. "Even though you are a terrible liar, Brand."
Brand's eyebrows shot up, but the kid just gave him a knowing smirk and then pushed open the door to the conference room.
Man, Jones was really starting to catch on to his methods. Brand wasn't even sure what had tipped him off this time. He hid another smile and then followed the kid back into the conference room.
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"Ribeyes?" FP had just gotten home from work and was heading toward his room to shower when the steaks caught his eye. "That's apology-level food, Brandon. I didn't know you were capable."
"There's lobster, too." Brand quirked an eyebrow at FP when the older man did a double take. "You were a good sport yesterday, all things considered. I don't mind being a good tenant from time to time."
"What's that from the bakery?" FP was in the refrigerator now, investigating what else might be on the docket.
"You'll see." Brand nudged the fridge closed. "Go shower. Food in twenty."
"Where are Jug and Clark?" FP seemed entirely disarmed by the obvious peace offering, so Brand was going to have to give Williams that much: she knew apology food.
"They're picking out handguns on Clark's laptop."
"They're what?"
And just like that, they were back to DEFCON 1.
"For Clark! Not for Jones." Okay; Brand obviously had a little further to go before FP would be back to normal. "His buddies at work thought he could use a sidearm after this weekend. They all kicked in for it, and I'm helping him choose something decent."
"Huh." FP's eyes were still narrowed, but he contented himself with opening the refrigerator a second time and this time peeking into the bakery box. "All right, then."
"Yeah, I thought you'd like that. It came highly recommended." Brand smirked. "Now go shower."
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After dinner, Brand made a point of explaining his plan to Clark so that he wouldn't startle him in the middle of the night. The replacement backpack in hand, he wanted to make the switch after Jones had gone to bed and then have a conversation with the kid before school in the morning.
Clark was amused and intrigued by the whole plan; he offered to help, and did a quick bed check to make sure that Jones had actually fallen asleep before they retrieved his backpack.
"Just move the books over to the new bag. Notebooks too. Jones can move pens and pencils and whatnot in the morning. It's meant to be a visual more than anything." Brand was glad that he'd included Clark in this. The intern was looking a lot more alive after a day back at the RA, and he'd been deeply touched by the card and gift, but he was almost gleeful about the surprise for Jones.
"It's symbolic, sure. I like the new bag. You have good taste," Clark said as he adjusted the straps so that they were in full backpack configuration. "Jones is going to be thrilled."
"I hope so." Brand felt pretty good about it, though. They quietly sneaked it back into Jones' room and left it right where his backpack had been.
The next morning they exchanged conspiratorial glances when Jones came out to breakfast like a zombie, without comment.
FP made coffee and talked Jughead through the day's plan - which apparently included Tim and Roger coming over, and a delayed dinnertime - and when FP left the kitchen to finish getting ready for work, Jones began texting while making slow progress on his second bowl of cereal.
Eventually Brand figured he'd better nudge the kid, or they wouldn't have time for a conversation - not to mention moving those pens and pencils - before it was time for Jones to head to school.
"Hey, go get your backpack, kid."
"In a minute, Brand." Jones had finished his cereal and was cutting a piece of cinnamon raisin bread off of the loaf that Brand had made a few days before. "I want to make some toast and this is really hard to cut thin enough."
"I got it. Go get your bag."
Jones gave him a confused look, but seemed happy enough to hand over the task of cutting a toaster-width slice of bread.
Brand quickly realized why, when the bread refused to cooperate.
And then there was an incoherent exclamation from Jones' room and the sound of things being roughly moved - or maybe even thrown. Clark leapt up from his chair before stopping and looking to Brand for direction.
"Stay here, Clark." Brand motioned to the intern. "I'll go talk to him."
FP came out of his room and gave Brand a questioning look.
"Backpack." Brand figured that said everything.
"Oh. That's all you, Brandon." FP raised his hands as if to distance himself from the dramatics and went back to getting ready for work.
Brand knocked on Jones' door, figuring he'd better not compound the issue by walking in on his fit. Or search. Whatever was going on in that room.
The door whipped open.
"Did you steal my backpack?" Jones was definitely awake now.
"I got you a new one. It was meant to be a gift. Can we talk for a minute?" Brand was beginning to see why FP had not tried to get the backpack away from the kid sooner.
"Where is it? You didn't throw it away, did you? I need my stuff from it, and you had no right to-,"
"I have it. Breathe. Your pencils are fine, and I-,"
"Where is it? Give it to me right now." Jones was spitting mad.
"It's in my room-," Brand raised his eyebrows when Jones shoved past him and went straight into his bedroom. "Look, it's fine. It's right there in the corner, but don't you think we should talk about why you're having this sort of reaction to-,"
"It's mine, Brand. You can't take my stuff. That's not okay." Jones was gripping the backpack and feeling the pockets carefully now. His expression relaxed slightly. "Just… don't do it again."
And Brand was suddenly suspicious. "You take up drug dealing on me, Jones?"
"What? No. Why would you even say that?" Jones shoved past Brand a second time, heading back to his room.
"Because you weren't actually upset about your bag. Or your pencils. What's in that backpack?" Brand followed Jones across the hall.
"My stuff, Brand."
"What stuff? This is not a normal reaction, and you can't tell me this was about the backpack. That is not what I just saw." Brand folded his arms when the bedroom door slammed in his face. FP came through the hallway then, bumping hard against Brand's shoulder as he walked past.
Brand rolled his eyes. "Go to work, FP."
"Figure this out," FP hissed, gesturing to Jones' room. "I don't think he's hiding anything. He really is protective of the few possessions he brought back from Toronto, Brandon."
"Uh-uh. You didn't see what he just did. Trust me; this is something else."
"Just fix this. Jughead's exhausted and he's under a lot of pressure from the RA, so cut him some slack. You also disrupted his morning routine, and you know that never ends well." FP gave him a deeply frustrated look. "You know what? I don't have time for this. Call me if you two break anything or wind up in the ER."
"Go. Tell Clark to go too. I'll find a way to get myself to the RA once I've talked Jones down."
"All right." FP shook his head, only partly appeased, and continued toward the kitchen.
Brand thought it over for a few moments and then went into his own room. He sat on his bed and checked the time on his phone. He'd give Jones a few minutes to calm down while the house emptied, and then they'd just see what this was all about.
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Jughead was not convinced that his heart was ever going to stop pounding. He was very close to a panic attack, and he wasn't sure that he even had it in him to wait for the front door to close.
Finally he heard his dad leave, and call his goodbye to Clark. Then, as soon as the front door opened and closed a second time, Jughead pulled the burner phone out of his backpack and powered it up.
There was a message. Jughead retrieved it with shaking hands, and found himself listening while sitting on the floor without any memory of how he'd gotten there.
"Jones, our conversations have been somewhat less productive than I'd hoped. I trust you'll recall our discussion about fishing and cutting bait. Let's leave it that I am officially unconvinced of your merit at this time - after the events of this weekend - and that is not something that I had anticipated at this stage. You won't be hearing from me again through this means, but you may be assured that I'll make the best decision for my interests. All of my interests."
Jughead wondered if he was about to pass out. He was vaguely aware that he should be controlling his breathing, but that would necessitate actually being able to concentrate on it.
"Kid?" Brand was suddenly standing over him, but that didn't make sense. Maybe he was hallucinating as well as hyperventilating. "Hey, kid, I didn't think you actually had drugs. Did you take something? Jones, you need to slow down. Hey, come on - breathe with me."
Jughead felt Brand - or his hallucination of Brand - crouch down and then sit on the floor behind him and pull his back against his chest. Brand wrapped his arms around Jughead and began breathing in an exaggerated manner. "Come on, Jones. Slow it down with me. Please don't do this or I'll have to take you to the ER and your dad will never let me live it down. I'm sorry that I - whatever I did - I'm not sure, but I'm sorry. Stay with me, kid. At least slow down enough that you can tell me what's wrong."
It was hard to reconcile how angry he'd been just minutes earlier with how desperately Jughead now wanted Brand to be real, to be right here, and to offer protection from what Jughead was pretty sure was about to turn into a death warrant for him and for everyone he cared about.
And, with that last panic-inspiring thought tightening his chest still further, Jughead felt his consciousness recede and his body fold forward.
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Brand really, really didn't want to call FP from the ER.
"Kid, come on. You're breathing. You're okay, right?" Brand hoisted Jones' limp form up onto his bed. There was a small disposable phone on the floor, and Brand eyed it the way he might a venomous snake. "I'm going to kill whoever did this to you, and then maybe I'll kill you too for pulling this on me."
Jones was pale, but he already seemed to be recovering now that his circulation didn't have to work against gravity.
"Come on, kid. Wake up. You ate like a horse this morning, so I know you can make it. Just breathe." Brand felt for a fever and, once he'd confirmed that Jones didn't have an obviously raised temperature, his eyes fell once again to the phone on the floor. Restless, he snatched it up and hit a few buttons to play the stored messages.
Brand's mouth fell open when he recognized the voice. And then his jaw felt like it might unhinge as it dropped further and further in shock while he listened to the messages that Jones had been receiving over the past three weeks.
And suddenly he wasn't so sure that he wanted Jones to wake up. It might be easier to give him something to keep him under for a few hours, while Brand figured out what needed to be done.
Except they'd moved past that kind of take-charge relationship. Jones had learned too much, been through too much, accomplished too much - and that genie was never going back into the bottle.
All of which was not to say that the kid had actually had time to grow up.
"Oh, Jones. You never stood a chance," Brand breathed the words as he smoothed the kid's hair back from his forehead. "You were set up. But I'm not going to let you go down for this. This is not how it's going to end for you."
Jones turned his head to one side and began showing signs of waking.
Brand took a deep breath. This was going to be bad. But there was probably no way forward other than going straight through.
"Hey kid, that's right - wake up. We need to talk."
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"You set up a dead drop with Rose."
"It's a burner phone, not a-,"
"Jones, you set up direct contact with Dominic Rose."
"Yes."
"And then you deliberately disobeyed one of his orders."
"I… guess I did. Yes."
"I thought you liked living here. I thought things were great with Betty, your friends, your dad. You had a life here, Jones. What possessed you to do this?"
Brand was sitting on the bed next to the kid, still trying to wrap his head around what had transpired between his godson and Rose.
"I - I didn't think I had a choice, Brand."
Brand tried to ignore the fact that Jones was looking up at him with a pleading, trusting expression that clearly indicated that he was waiting for Brand to finish punishing him and to then step in - protect him - and somehow make this all go away.
And now Brand had to rip off the band-aid and see that expression vanish, never to return. He felt sick.
"Go pack your things. I hope you said goodbye to your father this morning. He'll know you're okay - he'll assume you're with me -, but that's that." Brand forced himself to meet Jones' widening, horror-stricken eyes as he elaborated, so that there would be no misunderstanding.
"We're out of here, and I'm probably going to need to put you to sleep once we're in the car. Pack a pillow and that weighted blanket so that I can regulate your body temperature. Get a jar of peanut butter and some bread, too, because this is going to be a long trip."
Brand ran a hand through his hair and began thinking aloud. "We'll need another vehicle pronto, and this time we're buzzing your hair off; I sincerely hope that FP knows better than to come looking for us, but we're not going to take chances with anyone else recognizing you. I'll buzz mine off too. I don't know that we can claim to be father and son a second time, but I'll think about it. It simplified a lot last time."
Jughead covered his face with his hands, shaking his head weakly against Brand's words. "No. Please."
"Get a move on. Don't think right now, and don't cry right now. You'll have plenty of time for all of that later, when we're no longer endangering everyone we know."
Brand stood up, and it felt like a physical wrenching sensation when he pulled his thoughts away from Sarah Quinn in order to focus solely on his godson. That mental discipline was going to be important, though, right up until they were somewhere safe enough that they could both break down and begin to process all that they'd lost.
"That's all I get?" Jones' voice was strangled. "Six months?"
"Sometimes that's all we get, kid. At least they were good. Your dad was sober, your girlfriend said she loves you, and you even got a vacation with your friends. That's more than some people ever get. Come on, now; move."
"I-I can't leave Dad. I just got him back."
"You can't stay here until he's murdered in cold blood, either. You know that, and you also know that there's no way that Donn and the attacks are unrelated to what's been going on between you and Rose. And based on that last message, it's about to get a whole lot worse, both for you and anyone who's near you."
Brand softened his tone, thinking quickly through an array of distasteful options for the least disturbing one that he could come up with on short notice: "I don't want to put FP in the trunk and chain him to a pipe in our basement. But I will if you make me, so why don't you give me a clue right now how this is going to go, and I'll call him to come home if those are your terms."
"We were home, Brand."
"We were on borrowed time. We just didn't know it - or want to face it. You wanted so badly to be a teenager that you were in denial about the fact that you were a hostage to Rose's whims. I didn't want to admit it either, but I'm nothing more than a dirty fed."
Brand wished it didn't hurt so much to say that out loud. Somewhere along the way he'd come to love being an FBI liaison, and he'd even managed to convince himself that it was reality, though he knew that FP - just for instance - had never bought it for a second.
Brand's voice was harsher when he continued. "We have no future here, Jones. We never did. And we came unconscionably close to taking everyone we care about down with us. It was selfish and it was stupid, and we have to leave."
Jughead's eyes burned - and then his eyesight blurred.
"Look, kid, you have no choice in the matter so don't start Hamleting on me. I'm going to make it real simple: I'm not letting you die over this." Brand's voice was getting husky in spite of his best efforts not to react to Jughead's shock and grief. He sat back down next to his godson. "Although… I guess there is one other option. But it's not a sure bet, and you know how I feel about gambling when it's not a sure bet."
"Don't. You can't kill Rose."
"Huh. You're getting the hang of this. Impressive. Why not?"
"I can't lose you too, Brand." Jughead made a sound that was halfway between a hiccup and a sob.
"You'd only have a shot at being safe if we go that route, so it's not my first choice, but I'd give it better than fifty-fifty odds. You're right, though: I won't be back if I do that, no matter how it plays out. And if it didn't work, you'd need to hit the road on your own to protect everyone here, and I can't see that ending well. We'll be better off together."
"No. Maybe… I think that there has to be another way to do this."
"Oh, yeah? How do you figure?"
"We can tell everyone. We could just… get help, Brand."
"There aren't enough guard dogs in the world-,"
"We could bust Rose."
Brand froze.
"What?" Jughead wiped his eyes and looked around fearfully. "Did you hear something?"
"Yeah. I heard the first idea that might actually give us a shot at the whole pie." Brand was silent for a few moments, but his emphatically stoic expression fell away and he was suddenly - guardedly - energized. "I'd need to get Wilson in a SCIF, though, and don't you lose sight of those fifty-fifty odds because this wouldn't be much of an improvement."
Brand took a deep breath and locked eyes with Jones. "I'm going to ask you to make the most adult decision of your life, so think very carefully before you answer. How willing are you to risk getting killed for a fighting chance at keeping your life here, kid?"
"I don't want to go back to Toronto, Brand. I'd stake my life to stay here - with you and Dad and everybody." Instead of taking time to think, Jones was blurting out the words as if he thought Brand might take back the question if he didn't respond quickly enough. He searched Brand's expression, and something seemed to scare him; he was suddenly begging: "I'll do whatever I have to; I'm ready. I promise, Brand, I'll do anything you tell me to do and I'll never keep another secret from you."
When Brand hesitated, Jones grabbed his forearms and became even more frantic. "You can have my college fund. And my car. I'll give Trigger away. I'll make Dad let you buy the house down the street, and I'll, uh, cook and do your dishes and clean your bathrooms. Anything. Just please, please help me stay in Riverdale."
Brand's stomach twisted painfully, and when he pulled Jones against himself in a crushing, bracing hug, it was in part to hide his own expression from the kid. Jones instinctively wrapped his arms around Brand in response, even though he was practically vibrating with confusion and desperation.
"That's a funny way of putting it, kid, since Toronto's probably our next stop if we try this. And I'm not after your stuff - or even an indentured servant, tempting as that offer is. We've got an awful lot to lose, but that also means we both have a lot to gain if we pull this off."
Brand hesitated again, realizing as he spoke that this was probably a little too much of what he wanted to hear. He could not be certain of his own objectivity, and he needed to make absolutely sure that Jones understood exactly what it was that they were discussing.
"But look, this choice is not between the life we had in Toronto or staying here. I'm talking about pulling up stakes and making a real life with you somewhere that you'll be safe. We wouldn't be here, but we wouldn't be criminals either - beyond whatever I had to do to hide our identities. You can bank on that; if nothing else, Rose would find us if I ever tried to go back into business. I'd get you into college and we'd do this the right way. I'd take care of you. And I can't promise that I'll be able to protect you anywhere near that effectively if we try to bust Rose."
Brand felt Jones already shaking his head and he stilled the motion by placing a hand on the back of the kid's skull. "Hey. I'm serious. I need you to know that if we go after Rose, I cannot guarantee that you'd be safe."
"I know you can't protect me from every possibility. You never could." Jones sniffled, and then the begging tone returned in full force. "You always try, though. So that's what we'll do, right? We'll just… try. Please, Brand, we have to try."
Brand looked down at the kid, and there it was: the pleading, trusting expression that he'd thought would be gone forever once they began this conversation. He blinked back painful tears of relief, hating himself for it as he realized for the first time how intensely he craved Jones' blind faith in him.
"No final answers yet. You need to think about this, and I want you to change your mind if you decide that you're scared. Because that would be the sane response. This is a gamble, and let's be clear: it's the big one. There's no taking it back if we go full guns. On the other hand, if we disappear we can always regroup and try to come home later on."
"I don't need to think about it. You said Toronto. Should I still pack? I'm not going to change my mind, Brand." Jones swiped at his cheek even as he lowered his chin stubbornly.
"We'll see." Brand was increasingly certain that this was going to be their decision, but it still felt much too conveniently like the right thing for him, and not necessarily the right call for a seventeen-year-old who could far more easily start his life fresh.
As long as he was alive to do so.
Then again, the kid had come a long way. He understood what Brand was asking, at least in broad strokes, and he had earned the right to have a say in what they did next.
"Pack for your father, too." Brand sighed when Jones choked on a sob of relief and clung to him even more tightly. This had better turn out to be the right call, because it wasn't looking like Brand would be given any opportunity to take it back. "He might not even have to ride in the trunk if this works. We'll also have to find somewhere to stash Clark for the duration, or else he'll be a sitting duck."
"Thank you, Brand. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It's going to work. I know it's going to work."
"From your mouth to God's ears." Brand tousled his godson's hair ruefully. "I'm going to start by making a phone call, and if everything goes well I'll be having a few meetings today. Jones, I want you to keep thinking it over; it's not too late to change your mind. If this is really what you want, we'll most likely be leaving the country tonight. Find your passport, and your dad's too if you know where it is."
Jones' eyes were wet with tears that were visibly waiting to be shed, but Brand was reassured by his flushed cheeks that he was not likely to pass out a second time. The kid nodded and, after one last tightening of his hug and a deep fortifying breath, he let go of Brand and sprang into action.
In moments the kid was retrieving a large suitcase from the attic and simultaneously tugging on a duffel bag that seemed to have its straps caught on something.
"Take it easy; we have some time. I don't want to find you facedown on the floor because you worked yourself up again. And don't forget to pack for that dog of yours," Brand directed as he likewise stood and moved toward his own room. "He can't stay here alone, and we may need all the help we can get."
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We are leaving Kansas, Toto (I mean, Trigger)! And all of the steps are taking vague, foggy shape in a specific direction now. I can't wait to find out what FP thinks of all this, as well as hearing your reactions. Thank you in advance for any and all notes as I work on chapter fifteen! :-D
Okay, enough from me... have a wonderful weekend, and I hope you are having an amazing start to May!
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