So sorry, you guys! This one was meant to be up on Friday, but life and a big clan party kind of got in the way. Happy Spring Equinox and Ostara to you all! Just be grateful I survived cooking my 8-pound ham and 9-pound turkey for my group of 13. To make up for it, here's the chapter from Friday as well as today's. I'll be back on schedule on Monday – promise.
Enjoy!
"Describe a place or environment where you are perfectly content. What do you do or experience there, and why is it meaningful to you?"
"It takes no imagination on my part to identify the place where I find myself at ease and filled with warmth – it is here in my home in Maine, which I share with my family. I have lived all over the world, moving often with my mother as her archeological work carried her from continent to continent. At the age of thirteen, however, my parents decided that the time had come for me to spend more time with my father in what they called a "stable home environment." Clearly our definition of "stable" is somewhat to the side of the dictionary's version.
"This is also the home of Doctor Benton Quest and his two sons, Jonny and Hadji. It's a large manor on a swath of private property on the coast, complete with a lighthouse. I remember the first time I looked up, up, up against the cloudy sky at the steady light shining from the lantern room several stories above. I was more nervous than I would ever have admitted at looking at this strange place and wondering if I would ever call it 'home.' Dad and I had always been close, even separated, but all our vacations had been away from here. Somehow, the father I knew from trips and adventures didn't seem like the same guy walking me up the driveway to a house I'd never seen before.
"I remember there was a shout and suddenly a soccer ball was coming at me at full speed. I remember reacting on instinct, bringing up a knee and solidly intercepting it before it could take out my stomach. A moment later, a blushing, awkward boy with shining blond hair appeared, apologizing profusely, while beside him a thin Indian boy regarded me with warm eyes. These were to be my new friends, housemates, and playmates. I knew about Jonny and Hadji from dad's stories, but I didn't really know them. I was alone in an unfamiliar world, I, who had never felt like a stranger in Peru or Macedonia or Bali.
"It didn't last long.
"Almost four years later, I know every step of the house and the grounds, the lighthouse and the rocky shore. I have committed to memory the exact number of steps from my bedroom to dad's, the exact number of doors between the library and where Jonny and Hadji still have a playroom – though today it is mostly filled with what they cleverly call their 'stuff' and Doctor Quest and I prefer to name 'indeterminate junk.' I can climb the winding stairs of the lighthouse in my sleep, even skipping the one step that groans like a seasick rhino, until I can perch on the widow's walk and watch the stars sail over the sea in the dark.
"But sitting here, thinking about this place, it's the people who live here that inspire me while making me feel safe and welcome as nowhere else on earth. Doctor Quest is like another father and a teacher and mentor all in one – he has taught me enough science and philosophy to give me a lifetime of questions to ponder and study. Jonny and Hadji are the brothers I never had, not only in that I love them to death and can't imagine life without them; also, we fit together like the proverbial puzzle pieces. Whether it's shooting hoops with Jonny or meditating with Hadji or working together to design a new computer game from scratch, we work together like we were born together.
"I'm excited about the prospect of attending Rainier University. I want to find out what kind of home it will be, and what kind of adventure. But, no offense, there's nowhere I'd rather be than here, watching over my family with the wind and sea in my hair.
"Jonny and Hadji are both applying to Rainier University, too. By chance, does Rainier have a lighthouse?"
Jessie counted the words one last time, finally satisfied that her essay met the requirements. She saved the document and sent it out with a small smile. A reply email came almost at once.
From: Jonny
To: Jessie
CC: Hadji, Benton, Race
RE: All done!
AAARRRGGGHHH! You beat me by about 15 minutes! –JQ
All the way up in the lighthouse, Jessie couldn't hear the aggrieved shout she'd won from Jonny, along with winning their bet and thus the next week off from garbage duty, but she knew he'd made that noise for real. Pitching her voice sharply, she called into the soft wind.
"It's not my fault you spent all yesterday playing games!"
A minute or two passed before another email came across.
From: Hadji
To: Jessie
CC: Benton, Race, Jonny
RE: RE: All done!
Jonny is too busy furiously typing the last lines of his essay to respond, but he wishes me to convey that he was not, in fact, playing games. Instead, he was attempting to bypass certain network security codes to ascertain what sort of competition we might be up against in applying for a mid-year placement at Rainier. He also says that it would have gone faster if either of us had been willing to assist him, but I assure you, I have had this discussion about cheating with him already. I shall read over your essay now before I resume work on my own, but I am certain it is excellent as always. –Hadji
Jessie grinned. The odd mix of verbal and email communication amidst the family had taken on a life of its own with Jonny's Sentinel abilities. Since there were only a few rooms in the house where one wasn't within a yard or two of a computer or laptop or else a direct interface to the Quest system built into the very walls, email had always been a common tool. Sometimes it was useful, like when Doctor Quest had locked himself in one of his sterile rooms and needed to be let out. Sometimes it was important, such as when Race had gotten hurt practicing in the dojo and used the voice-activated computer AI named IRIS to summon help. Mostly, it was trivial-bordering-on-a-bit-silly, like when any one of the three kids wanted a snack and sent a house-wide email to find out who was nearest the kitchen and would they please make a sandwich and bring it up? For years, Hadji had been the designated typist of emails due to being the quickest at a keyboard, so the beginning words of "Jonny says…" or "Race says…" before he repeated whatever had been said with his own twist was a tradition already.
With Jonny online as a Sentinel now, though, he could participate in verbal conversations without even being in the same room. It had started as a sensory awareness game, tuning Jonny's hearing so that he was always at least peripherally aware of the others in the house and able to listen to them without needing to concentrate. Over the course of the summer, it had become convenience itself to assume he heard what was said. These days, it wasn't uncommon for the email exchanges to consist only of Jonny's replies, usually sent through Hadji, to whatever someone had said.
However, Jonny had a tendency to talk while walking around, even leaving the room where he'd begun the response via his brother. So, some of those replies were bellowed from rooms or hallways away, Hadji dutifully transcribing whatever he'd thought he'd heard.
It only took a few of Hadji's creative responses before Jonny took the hint and stopped talking as though everyone else could hear him as clearly as he heard them.
A ping alerted Jessie that another reply had arrived.
From: Benton
To: Jessie
CC: Race, Jonny, Hadji
RE: RE: RE: All done!
The essay looks great, Jessie. I'm flattered you chose to write about our home as your place of peace. It was always a special place to me, too, and even moreso when you came to join us here! I believe this old house will not be the same without you and the boys for the next few years. I don't know off-hand if Rainier has a lighthouse of its own, but I'm certain we can ask Blair when next we see him. Oh, and Jonny? Stop rushing. Your essay will be fine even if it comes an entire hour later than Jessie's. Also, we'll be having words about hacking into university records even to peek at your competition. I hope you're looking forward to raking half the forest this season, son. Hadji? How's yours progressing? Would you like someone to read it before you submit it? –BQ
Jessie wasn't surprised that Doctor Quest had read her essay so quickly – he was a master of speed-reading. Her father, she expected, was in the middle of something, but when he did read it – and he would – he would give her his feedback in person. She would be gratified for his answer, but it was Doctor Quest's praise that rang highest. If anyone was a judge of a good essay, it was him!
Speaking of which, Jonny's response was almost immediate. That is, Hadji's response for Jonny.
To: Benton
From: Hadji
CC: Race, Jonny, Jessie
RE: RE: RE: RE: All done!
Jonny says, and I quote, "I am NOT rushing!" I offer no evidence to support that statement at this time. As for my own essay, I shall submit it for family approval tomorrow. –Hadji
"Family approval," Jessie repeated the words aloud. She smiled. Leave it to Hadji's shorthand to come up with a way to carefully not say everything and yet imply it. He wasn't suggesting that the family was required to approve of his essay. Rather, she could read his meaning as being much more complex. Hadji would send his essay, not to brag as Jessie had, nor to prove himself as Jonny would, but to honestly share its contents with the rest. He wasn't looking for justification or praise or even a critical eye to ensure the quality of his writing. Hadji would send his essay to them because it was in his heart and what Hadji held inside him, he shined outwards.
"Maybe sharing with others is a Guide thing. Blair does it, too," Jessie said to herself as she closed the laptop and slid it into her bag. Ever since beginning to work as a Guide to Jonny, the fervent light that had always burned in Hadji seemed brighter, clearer, warmer. For that matter, Jonny seemed happier, too. For all that being a Sentinel was a regular trial on him, his senses slipping from his control at least once a week and needing to be reined in slowly by the skillful help of his Guide, Jonny was never less than totally committed to them and to what they represented.
Jessie stepped down to the door that led back inside, pausing to glance one last time out at the view over the rocky point and the sea beyond. She really would miss it up here in the spring if she got accepted to Rainier.
The panel on the wall just inside beeped at her – it was IRIS telling her that she had received an email and checking if she wanted to access it here. Jessie shouldn't have been surprised, but it won a smile anyway as she brought up the message.
To: Jessie
From: Jonny
RE: "Family approval"
Definitely a Guide thing. They are supposed to be teachers, after all. Lucky us, we got the best one there ever will be. –JQ
Someone might have read that last line as exaggerating or even sarcastic, but Jessie knew Jonny meant it seriously. He really felt lucky to have Hadji as his Guide, and, more importantly, as his brother and friend. Jessie did too – she was grateful to have this whole family in her life. With the Quests and her father at her back, there was nothing the world could throw at her she couldn't handle. She meant what she'd said in the essay, after all: there was nowhere she wanted to be but watching over her family and knowing they were watching over her in return.
"With a Guide like that," she said aloud, beginning down the long staircase, "maybe we don't need a lighthouse in Cascade. Maybe we just need Hadji. And Blair, too, of course. Between them and the two of us, I bet we can find our way through the storm."
He didn't send another reply, but Jessie could feel Jonny agreeing with her anyway.
-==OOO==-
Blair had a headache.
Lately, Jim had been teasing him that it was the weight of his To Do list that was responsible for the regular ache at his temples and behind his eyes. To which he typically responded with something snappy and dismissive (and sometimes a rude gesture). It was either that or admit that his partner was right.
Blair was being pulled in three different directions, and while his legendary energy was holding him up, it was the weight of all the secrets that really got to him. One third of his life – the university part – had been largely ironed out due to the help and interference of Doctor Quest. Blair had finally won back his position after the board overturned his wrongful dismissal and actually apologized. The damage done to his reputation after the press conference the previous spring hadn't yet been undone, but the fallout from it wasn't as bad as Blair had imagined. He had learned that he had many, many friends at the university, not just students, but also his peers and professors across multiple departments. Now that he had attained his doctorate in full, he was able to lighten his load a bit, focusing on the two parts of academia he loved best – teaching and research. He was listed as an "Adjust Professor" for this fall term, teaching classes but taking none of his own for once.
This had opened up some room in his life for the second task – being Jim's partner with the Cascade PD. He'd lined up his schedule so he had an early morning class three days a week and an afternoon class the other two with one night seminar on Mondays, giving him a great deal of time to be with Jim whenever he was needed. Jim's hours were as erratic as always, from late-night stakeouts to all-day pavement-pounding, but the tension of the previous spring had led to an unexpected advantage: Jim and Blair both knew the Sentinel could work independently. What had been a period of distance and coldness and, on Jim's part, outright refusal to have his partner along, had served as something of an inadvertent test. Though Jim and Blair both felt better working together, they had a great deal less anxiety about leaving the Sentinel without backup for routine tasks. And, of course, Blair had no place with the District Attorney or testifying in court, so Jim tended to schedule those during Blair's classes. They'd always done things that way – it was just easier now.
But it was the last third of Blair's world that kept everything in balance. The office Benton Quest had established for the Sensory Evaluation and Learning Foundation was only a short distance from Rainier, and it was here that Blair kept his office now. It allowed him to hold his office hours in the same place he was doing the vast majority of his research, but it also meant he could be remotely assisting Jim with police work as well; Benton had gotten the SELF office hooked into the police systems as well as the Department of Homeland Security and other governmental networks, not to mention the vast Quest system. By hanging out at the SELF house, Blair could do his own research, work his computer magic for Jim on any given case, advise students, or take a nap. Plus, some combination of the DHS and SELF paid him a solid salary without asking him to maintain specific hours or punch a clock, which eased a whole other set of worries.
But if that was the advantage of introducing his work with SELF to his life, it came with major disadvantages too. Blair described it to Jim once.
"It feels like walking a tightrope while holding onto a flaming baton," he'd said with a grimace. "There's so many ways I could slip up and either get burned or go crashing down, and it's all I can do to keep focused on moving forward."
It really was a delicate balance. At school, Blair knew he was still under significant suspicion, if not of his academic dishonesty, then of what was "really" going on, doubly so with his known association with SELF and its provocative name and mission. People were starting to think his whole theory about Sentinels must have something to it, because otherwise why would he be working with a group dedicated to studying senses, a group connected with the government? Blair had to navigate carefully, never saying too much, but saying just enough so if a student ever actually wanted to come to SELF for help, Sentinel-type help, the hints would be there.
However, at the police station, it was the total opposite, a veritable "don't ask, don't tell" about every bit of it. Simon knew, of course, and Blair was fairly sure the rest of Major Crimes suspected something, but that was it. There had been griping when he had first returned to Jim's side, including some pretty serious anger directed his way by officers who felt he'd betrayed his partner, but it had died down over time as the story of Blair's involvement with the DHS had spread. Jim had overheard a pair of uniforms gossiping about Blair, and the rumor-du-jour seemed to be that Blair had been roped into something to do with the government trying to create super soldiers based on Jim Ellison and using Blair to gather intelligence.
This amused Jim to no end, even though it was vaguely true if totally inaccurate.
But the continual scrutiny and genuine morass of secrets was taking its toll on Blair regardless. He'd developed a sort of internal checklist every time he was asked about Sentinels or the press conference or SELF. He had to be careful to drop the right hints to the right people to make sure any genuine Sentinels or partial Sentinels knew about SELF and came to him for help, but not actually give away Jim's secret or burn any more of his own credibility. He could affirm he had worked with the DHS, but he also had to be careful people didn't assume he was a spy for the government. He could speak vaguely about the purpose of SELF, but he couldn't actually out and say "we're looking to find Sentinels around the world and help them."
It would give anybody a headache. Blair was no exception.
"Huuuugghhhhhnnnnffff," he groaned inarticulately, tearing off his glasses and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He felt the sudden desire to bang his head on the desk really hard, but settled for letting his elbows slide until he pillowed his forehead on his hands, the cool wood smooth under his cheek.
"Blair?"
"Huuuuuhhh?" He drew out the syllable questioningly without lifting his head.
"You okay?" Joel sounded worried, so Blair looked up. The bullpen was mostly empty, everybody gone for the evening, but the alternate Major Crimes captain had remained.
Blair shifted back into sitting upright, trying to smile. "Yeah. Just tired."
"I can see that," Joel said dryly. "You should think about getting more sleep, son."
"It's not the sleep," Blair shook his head, privately warmed at the man's concern. "It's everything else. Besides, what do they say? 'Sleep is for the weak?'"
"I think they mean the other kind of week, Chief," Jim appeared beside him. "As in, you shouldn't take that Sunday-as-a-day-of-rest thing to mean Sunday is the only day of rest."
Blair rolled his eyes. Then he rolled his shoulders to work out some of the tension. Before he'd quite gotten one full rotation in, he felt Jim's large hands begin to work the tension from his neck. Blair stopped moving and relaxed happily into the expert grip. Jim could make a killing as a masseur, he thought. Way to put those Sentinel senses to work, buddy!
Over his head, Jim was addressing Joel even as he used his touch to find and slowly relax each spot of soreness from his partner's shoulders. "We just got back the final forensics on that double homicide," he said. "Open and shut case, for once. Now I just have to file all the reports so the DA can move."
"I can do that," Blair woke up enough from the impromptu massage to offer.
Jim squeezed once comfortingly before returning to his efforts. "Nah. This one's really straightforward, and thanks to your notes there isn't much actual typing to do. I just have to copy everything over. But Simon wants it done tonight."
Blair couldn't help the small groan he let out, partly because that meant waiting around watching Jim try to work the computer for a couple of hours and partly because Jim had found a lump the size of a golf ball under one of his shoulder-blades and was ruthlessly breaking it apart.
"You rode in with Jim after lunch, right?" Joel looked at Blair. "I could give you a lift home if you want. Spare you hanging around here any longer than necessary."
Blair glanced up at Jim. "Would you mind?"
Jim snorted and shook his head. "You don't need my permission to go home, Sandburg. And you could probably use it. Yeah, head out with Joel and I'll be along soon. I'll even pick up takeout so you can just snooze for a while. Sound good?"
"Better than good," Blair admitted. He would probably mediate rather than sleep, but some calm and quiet was exactly what he needed. He smiled at Joel. "Thanks, man. Seriously."
"Any time, Blair." Joel smiled gently. "I'm ready whenever you are."
"So ready!" But Blair was obliged to wait a few moments while Jim finished loosening up his neck before he let his partner up. Blair shoved his things into his backpack and didn't even wince when it pulled on his shoulders. "See you at home, Jim!"
Joel drove a big, comfy SUV, and Blair practically melted into the plush seat as soon as he had clambered aboard. "I know Jim loves his truck," he said as Joel started the engine and headed out of the underground parking lot, "but there is something to be said for a nice new car!"
"This from the guy who wouldn't buy a new car if his life depended on it?" Joel teased. "I've seen what you drive, kid."
"Hey, it might be an old classic, but it's a comfortable classic!"
They bantered cheerfully as Joel steered his way towards the loft. But Blair could see a question lurking in Joel's eyes. Sure enough, when they stopped at a red light, he cleared his throat. "Hey, Blair?"
"Yeah?"
"Is there…something you want to tell me?" Joel said slowly. He turned to make eye-contact.
Blair felt a lump rise in his throat. Joel was one of the hands-down kindest men Blair had ever had the rare honor to know, and all that kindness was turned on him now. He felt his heart speed up a bit and was grateful Jim wasn't around to hear. Fishing for time, Blair coughed and said, "What do you mean?"
The light turned, but Joel put the hazard lights on and stayed put. "You know there's nothing you could say that would make me think less of you, don't you Blair? That you could trust me, no matter what?"
"Yes," Blair said around the lump in his throat. "I know that."
"Jim, too," Joel said intently. "You've both saved my life too many times and been too good of friends for me to not support you, no matter what anybody else might think."
Oh, man, Blair winced internally. There was no good direction for this conversation to go. Either Joel had some ideas about Blair and Jim's…personal lives, which he did not want to discuss, or he had suspicions about the whole Sentinel thing, which he really did not want to discuss. He cast about for a quick distraction.
"Hey, do you see that?" he pointed past Joel to the shop on the other side of the street.
"Not falling for it, Sandburg," Joel rumbled good-naturedly.
Real alarm sparked in Blair. "No, man, I'm not kidding!"
Joel was just turning to look when the front window burst outwards in a ball of flame.
