"You two aren't disappearing on us again this evening, are you?" Hawk teased Jon and Jennifer one night a few weeks after she'd returned. "You know, Jon, we missed her too. And you had a week with her to yourself in Eden. You need a lesson in sharing."

Jennifed smiled broadly at him. It was so good to be back with her family! The hugs she'd waited so long to get were still coming at unexpected times. Scout had gathered her up in an impromptu dance just that afternoon, laughing because she'd been able to help him come up with a solution to the problem he'd been working on in mere minutes. Tank would squeeze her arm whenever he passed her in the hallway. And Hawk had been throwing an arm around her whenever they walked to the hangar together. They were all joking and laughing together even more than they had before last Christmas had happened. It was as though they'd all gotten a wake-up call. They'd all faced the painful reality that time wasn't something to be messed with – they needed to take advantage of every minute they might have.

"We've got a job to do tonight," she said simply. "There's a box that has apparently been sitting in his quarters for a long time, based on the amount of dust that's accumulated on it."

"Ahhh," Matt said. "You've finally convinced him to open it? It's about time."

"Hey – I was waiting for the right person to go through it with," Jon said with a cheeky grin.

"You mean the person that's been back for..let's see, how long have you been back now, Pilot?"

"Ok, ok. We're going now," Jon said loudly, grabbing Jennifer's hand and pulling her out of the kitchen behind him. Matt winked at Jennifer as she exited the room, and she smiled knowingly back at him. They'd both seen the tension in Jon's shoulders, despite the teasing tone of his voice. This was something he was looking forward to and dreading at the same time.

To his credit, he walked straight to the box and set it on his workspace when they arrived in his quarters. "Here we go," he said simply, using a utility knife to cut through the tape on top of the box. He sat in the chair, and Jennifer stood behind him with her hands on his shoulders. He welcomed the physical show of support. He was more than a bit frustrated with the fact that his hands shook slightly as he opened the box.

"Oh, my goodness," he said, laughing softly as he began pulling items out of the box. The first thing to come out had been a bundle of papers. "I had no idea he'd saved these things," he said, completely surprised.

Jennifer peered over his shoulder as he sifted through them. "These are yours?"

"From school," he nodded. History papers, science reports, essays…there was a little bit of everything. Not all of the papers had earned full marks, he noticed. "I wonder why he kept some of these. They weren't all the ones I got the best grades on."

"There had to be some reason," she countered. "Do you remember anything about any of them?"

"This one – my science report on artificial intelligence…Dad helped me with it. I remember that I got to go into work with him more often, and got to see parts of his lab I hadn't seen before, as I was doing the research for it. My teacher thought Dad had helped me too much – that's why I didn't get full marks for it." He chuckled at the memory. "Dad was livid."

"It must've reminded him of the time you two spent together as you were writing it," Jennifer smiled.

Jon nodded, then put the papers down on the desk and reached into the box again. He brought out a leather-bound photo album that had seen better days. "Oh, my. I can't believe this still exists!" When he opened it, they saw page after page of pictures of Jon as a boy, from his first steps all the way up to playing ball with Mitch Masterson somewhere around age 13.

"You had the same smile then – how old were you, five? – as you do now," Jennifer laughed, pointing at a picture of Jon grinning ear to ear with a school bag on the ground next to him.

"First day of school," he said simply. "I couldn't wait to go. If I remember correctly, Mom and Dad had to hold me back from running at a full sprint the whole way there."

"You're missing a tooth," she giggled.

"I was five," he said, raising his eyebrows at her. "It happens."

"You were awfully cute," she said simply, continuing to giggle. He just shook his head and continued to leaf through the pages. She put her hand on the page to stop him when he came to a picture of himself at age ten or so. He was sitting on a pier, looking out over the water. "And there's that determined, serious look that I see so often," she said softly. "Even when you were so young, you got that look?"

"We were watching the fighter planes come and go from a naval base," Jon said, remembering the day the picture was taken. "I was in my glory watching those pilots being put through their paces. The noise, the speed – it was everything a boy my age was interested in. I was worried I'd miss something…and at the time, I'd heard people whispering about what might be coming. I was torn between wanting to be up there with them, experiencing that speed, and wishing that we didn't need them."

"You've got a similar look on your face now," she said softly, leaning down to wrap her arms around his shoulders and squeeze him tightly. He reached up and laid a hand on her arm, then smiled at her and turned the page. "Oh, no…"

The peals of laughter coming from Jennifer now reverberated off of the walls of the room. The page held an enlarged picture of Jon at about age 13. He was wearing only what looked like a pair of swim trunks and had a guitar in his hands. His arms and legs had been so long and skinny, but the rest of him still looked very much like a little boy. There was a look of fierce determination on his face, and he was strumming the strings with a wild movement. Behind him, Mitch was pounding with great gusto on a set of drums.

"Hey, it was completely normal to want to start a band when I was 13," he said, trying to defend himself. But he also felt the heat rising in his cheeks. He finally gave up and grinned, watching Jennifer brace herself with one hand on the desk while she laughed. "That's quite enough, Corporal," he growled, grabbing her hand and pulling her into his lap. "I think we've seen enough of these pictures for now."

"Oh, but that one is too good to leave in a book," she managed to say as she caught her breath. "It needs to be displayed."

He ignored her pointedly, closing the photo album firmly and swiveling in the chair so that he could grab the next few items out of the box. He kept one arm around her waist when she made to get up. He needed her close to him at this point. For all the teasing and laughter, the idea was settling in on him that these were his Dad's things. He wanted her as close as he could get her.

There were several books in the box next. A few of them had been favorites of his mother's, he'd explained. Jennifer had read many of them, but he insisted she take the copy of Little Women when he found out that it hadn't been one of the books she'd read in Eden. She'd argued, saying that she didn't want to take something that had been his mother's. "Mom would be scandalized that you had this gap in your literary education," he'd said with a smile. "I think she'd be the one pushing it into your hands if she was here."

Once the books had been put aside, there was only one more item in the box. Jennifer felt him stiffen when he leaned over to get a good look at it. "Jon? What is it?"

He lifted it from the box carefully and set it down on the desk, clearing the cardboard away now that it was empty. "Mom's jewelry box," he said softly. He ran a hand over the top of it. "Her grandfather made it for her when she was a girl. She always said it held a lot more than just her jewelry. She always kept anything that was important to her in it."

Jennifer waited for him to open the box, but he simply sat there with a hand on it. "Jon?" she prompted again. "Don't you want to open it?"

He shook his head. "I wasn't allowed to as a kid. This was the one thing that was off-limits. Something that was so important to her that I wasn't allowed to touch it. I don't think that Dad ever even went near it."

"I don't think she'd mind now," Jennifer encouraged him softly. After all of the stories that Jon had told her over the years about his parents, she knew for a fact how much they'd cared about their son, and how much it would hurt them that he'd been left without them at such a young age. "I think she'd want you to have any part of her or your dad that was left."

It took a moment, but he'd nodded in agreement. Then, using both hands, he gingerly opened the box, as though afraid it would fall apart. But the hinges opened without so much as a squeak. Inside, blocking anything else that might be in the box from his view, was an envelope. There was one word on the outside of it – his name – in his father's handwriting.

He heard Jennifer's quick intake of breath. "Is that…from your dad?" she asked him in a whisper. He was only able to nod. She leaned her head against his for a moment as he took the envelope in his hand and simply stared at it for a moment. Finally, she kissed his forehead and got up.

He panicked for a moment. "Where are you going?"

"Jon, I think maybe you need to read that by yourself," she sighed. "It's from your dad, and it was meant for you. Why else would he have put it in a box marked 'personal' that was all taped up? He didn't want anyone else to have these things. This is between you and your dad."

"Jennifer…" He wasn't sure how to express to her how much he needed her to be close to him while he read it. How he simply wasn't as strong when she wasn't near him. She must've seen it in his eyes, though – and he was once again thankful for the fact that she seemed to know him so very well. She smiled at him and suggested a compromise. "Okay - how about I just go over here?" She gestured to his bunk. "I'd like to start your mom's book, if that's ok. And that way I'll be here when you're done reading."

He smiled at her gratefully and watched her take his mother's book and stretch out across his bunk. She'd given him one last encouraging look, and then resolutely opened the book and began to read. He stared at the envelope for another minute before opening it and letting the pages inside slide out into his hand.

Dear Jon,

I didn't want to write this. I didn't want to think about the possibility that you might be left alone. It was so hard when we lost your mom…to think that you might have to go through all of that again – without me – is hard. But these are frightening times, son, and I had to put some of my thoughts down on paper, just in case.

You know that if I'm not there, Matt will be there for you. He's still hurting, too, Jon. He shouldn't be alone, either. Maybe the two of you could form your own little family. And hopefully you'll find others to fill that family out – people you can trust, and that you can work with.

No matter what happens, Jon, never forget that being human is a blessing, not a curse. Humans have created so many beautiful things in this world – music, literature, art, architecture. The only one better at creating beauty is nature itself. That beauty is not something inferior, no matter what slogans Lyman might spout. Your mother and I taught you about those beautiful things, and I want you to be able to hold onto them through however bad a mess this turns into.

I know you'll keep fighting, Jon. That's not what I'm writing this for. That kind of passion is in your blood, I'm afraid. But I don't want you to forget about living while you fight. You're so determined, son. Your mother called it tunnel vision, and I admit that you come by it honestly. Just make sure you pick your head up and look around you from time to time. No fight is worth sacrificing yourself. No enemy is worth you giving up everything that makes living worth it. There were times that I neglected everything else as I tried to make this world better. I know that sometimes you and your mother wanted me to be around more than I was. Don't let yourself make the same mistake.

Things are getting serious right now. Even now, we don't have many safe places to go to that aren't military installations. So I decided to put a few things away that I don't want you to lose. Some school papers, just because I was so proud of you for working so hard. Some of the books that your mother and I loved to read. I don't know how much time you'll have to read them, but I wanted to make sure that you could. A photo album, so that someday you can show your children what their father was like when he was a boy. And your mother's jewelry box. I don't have much left of her, Jon. She wasn't one to collect many things, and a lot of what she had was lost when we lost her. But her jewelry box made it. I was surprised by how empty it was when I found it. There's some hair in there from your first haircut, and a card that you made her one Mother's Day. Her grandmother's locket is there, which she always said brought her luck. And there's a letter in there from her mother to her when she'd first gone off to university, telling your mom how proud she was of her. The last thing I found was a picture of the three of us that I think I remember Matt taking when we all went to the beach several years ago, back before everything got so twisted up. It was the last really carefree trip we took. I admit that I had a copy made of my own that I could keep with me. I need to be able to look at it and remind myself of how it was, and what we're fighting for.

I've decided to leave our wedding rings here, as well. Your mother's been gone for a few years now, but I haven't ever been able to take off my ring. It was a bit too final of a goodbye. Now, since I'm sending this box someplace completely safe, I want to include them. That way you'll have a little piece of the two of us, even though we're gone. Who knows…maybe you'll be able to use them some day. I hope with everything that I have that you find that, Jon. I hope that you allow yourself to feel for someone as strongly as I felt for your mother. Life isn't worth it without that kind of connection to someone.

Since you're reading this, things are either really bad, or the war is over. Either way, I've programmed Mentor to alert you of the location of the second base so that you'll eventually find this. If things are bad…maybe the pictures and the memories will make you smile. If the war is over, I hope you'll be able to share these things with whatever family you've surrounded yourself with. I meant what I said – your children should be able to see what their dad was like when he was their age. And if that's the case now, tell them that their grandfather is watching over them from somewhere.

I love you, son.

Dad

Jon sat there for a long time, staring at the letter in his hands. Finally, he became aware of the tears on his face, and reached up to wipe them away. He'd been able to hear his father's voice in his head as he'd read. It was like having him there again, just for a moment. A part of Jon hadn't wanted to stop hearing that voice, and he'd read the letter over and over again.

Finally, he put the letter down and reached into his mother's box. He saw the bag with the dark hair in it from his first haircut, and the locket that he remembered as being bright and shiny, but now was tarnished. He'd opened it to find pictures of himself as a baby and his father in it. He skimmed the letter from his grandmother to his mother, looked at the Mother's Day card written in his childish handwriting. Then he picked up the picture of his family so long ago. The three of them were barefoot on the sand with the ocean at their backs. His mother had a large, floppy hat on to keep the sun out of her face, and she was laughing as she held it on her head with one hand. The other arm was draped across Jon's back, her hand resting on his father. Jon's face was red from the sun, and his hair was windblown. He was grinning up at the camera as if he was having the time of his life. Stuart Power's smile was one of the most genuine that Jon had seen in a picture of his dad. He looked about twenty years younger than he had when he'd died, and wasn't looking at the camera at all, but at his wife and son. The tears came back to Jon's eyes as he looked at it for even longer than he'd sat staring at the letter. His hand brushed against the three rings nestled carefully in the proper place in the box. His mother's engagement ring and wedding ring still gleamed there, along with the wedding band that he hadn't even realized his father had stopped wearing. Stuart Power couldn't have written this letter very long before he'd died, or Jon would've noticed that. I hope that you allow yourself to feel for someone as strongly as I felt for your mother. Life isn't worth it without that kind of connection to someone. How thankful he was that he could honestly tell his father that he had learned that lesson, though it had been painful at times.

His eyes immediately sought out Jennifer, and he caught her stealing a glance at him as she was supposed to be reading. His heart swelled, and he rose from his chair. As he crossed the room to where she was, he was so very grateful for the fact that she was here with him right now.

L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L

Jennifer tried to concentrate on the book in her hands. She could tell that, under different circumstances, she would have been able to lose herself in it almost right away. She'd noticed, when she'd first settled down, that Morgana Powers' name had been written inside the cover on an engraved book plate. It was obvious that the woman had treasured the book. The pages were a little worn on the edges, telling Jennifer that they'd been turned many, many times. But the spine was still fairly sturdy, and the cover barely had a scratch on it.

However, she was more concerned about the man sitting in the chair on the other end of the small room. She watched Jon's body language as he finally opened the letter and settled down to read it. From her furtive glances in his direction, she could tell he'd gone back and re-read it multiple times. When the tears had first started to fall, it had taken everything she could do not to put the book down and go to him. But she'd meant what she'd said – this was something he needed to do on his own, at least initially. She settled for stealing glances at him every few minutes. She saw him switch his focus to the box and its contents, and saw him focus on another photo for a long period of time. Then, the next time she'd glanced up, he was watching her. She grinned sheepishly from her spot on the bunk, and he'd given her a sad sort of smile in return. He rose from his seat and sat down next to her. She immediately sat up and wrapped her arms around him. He held her tightly, his breathing a bit uneven. Eventually they relaxed back onto the bunk with her leaning against the wall, and him leaning against her.

"Are you ok?" she'd asked him after sitting in silence for a long while.

He sat up and looked into her eyes. She still saw sadness in his, but she also saw a great deal of tenderness as he looked at her. He reached up and tucked a piece of hair that had escaped her ponytail back behind her ear, than laid his hand against her cheek for a moment. Finally, he'd smiled at her. "Yeah, I am."