A Life Fully Lived

By Chimera01

Sentinel Stuff

Title: A Life Fully Lived

Author: ChimeraWrites

Genre: Gen, Family Life

Fandom: Sentinel, CHiPs

Pairing: Frank Poncherello/Jon Baker

Word Count: 21, 334

Summary: Despite popular opinion, a Guide isn’t necessarily only ‘complete’ when they bond with their Sentinel. Frank Poncherello has to take the time to explain this fact to a very important person who is in the midst of a personal crisis.

Author Note: This was my Rough Trade entry a year ago. I recently came across it in my files and thought: What the heck? It’s not a pairing I would normally use, but they demonstrate my topic wonderfully.

1

2009

The lobby of the Los Angeles Sentinel/Guide Center was bustling with activity due to the first Meet-and-Greet of the new year, and Frank Poncherello could feel the tension in his oldest grandson’s shoulders.  Offering a gentle squeeze of comfort, Frank said, “We don’t have to go in, you know.  Ice cream is always on offer and nobody has to know you were here.”

Sixteen-year-old Michael cast a wary glance at the older Guide and asked, “Aren’t the Sentinels already aware of me anyway?”

Frank shook his head slightly.  “The Meet-and-Greets are always held in the shielded meeting halls usually reserved for formal Pride conferences.  Until you breach the doorway on the other end of the building, the only people who know you are here “officially” are you and me.  Even the receptionist only sees your face right now.  No imprints or impressions are made until you are formally introduced to the Alphas and, through them, the staff of the Center.”  Frank turned Michael to face him and said firmly, “This is a big step, kiddo, but nobody on Earth is going to force you to take it until you’re ready.”

Michael took a fortifying breath and held it for a moment before releasing it in a slow hiss, his head tucked down as he gathered his thoughts.  Finally, he looked up into his grandfather’s eyes.  “It’s just…I’m not online, yet, you know?  And Grampa Jon said it could be a long while before that happens—unless I meet my Sentinel in person really soon.”  Michael shrugged.  “I’m not sure if I’m ready for that to happen today.”

Frank offered a wry grin in response.  “Oh, Mikey,” he said softly, “there is absolutely no guarantee that your very own Sentinel is waiting for you today.  They could be, of course, or they could be on a football field or hiking or on an airplane on the other side of the country.”  He lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug.  “Sorry, kiddo, but that’s the way it is, sometimes.”

Michael’s face screwed-up into a mild squint.  “Then why am I here?”

Frank barked a short laugh in surprise.  “Well, mostly because this is the first M-N-G of the year; it’s like the first flower of Spring.  Not every un-bonded Sentinel and Guide from the territory will be here today, but there will be a good many, and some might be around your age.  Grampa Jon and I thought you might want to meet some kids like you; new friends, you know?”

Michael shot a side-glance toward the reception desk before quickly returning his gaze to his grandfather.  “So…you’re not planning on selling me off to the highest bidder?”

Suddenly, all of Frank’s good-natured mirth left him.

“Who told you that, Michael?”

Michael quickly became interested in the condition of his shoelaces, so Frank tightened his grip on the boy’s shoulder.  “Michael!  I need to know this!”

Michael bit his lip slightly.  “There’s talk.  In the locker room at school.  One of the guys on the baseball team came online as a Guide just before the last game of the season last year and he was out until the start of this semester.”  Michael paused and took another deep breath before looking straight into his grandfather’s eyes.  “He looked miserable, and when Coach Miller asked if he was sick or something and maybe he should go home for the day, he said he wanted to stay away from home for as long as possible because his parents sold him off to some rich Sentinel who was their age…what?”

But Frank was rigid with anger at that moment and had raised his hand to signal one of the security guards standing just outside the reception area.  When the man began to make his way toward the hesitant duo, Frank turned a tense smile to his grandson.  “Michael, firstly—you have said or done nothing wrong, so don’t think you’re in trouble, okay?”  When Michael nodded, Frank continued. 

“Now, secondly, I need to introduce you to the really harsh reality of being a Guide in the Law Enforcement profession, because what you just told me is against the law, both Civilian and Sentinel/Guide law.  I don’t want to scare you, but I’m going to need you to make a statement of fact to the Alpha Guide,” Frank directed mainly to the security guard, who nodded and activated his personal radio discreetly, “so that this situation can be investigated.  Do you understand why we need to do this?”

Michael shook his head, confused.  “Not really.  I mean, Greg said that sort of thing happened all the time.  He made it seem like Guides like you just got lucky in their Bonds because most Bonds aren’t real partnerships.”

Frank frowned.  “Does Greg know that you’re latent, or that me and Grampa Jon are a Bonded Pair?”

Michael shook his head again.  “No.  I don’t really talk about personal stuff at school.  It’s not anybody’s business, you know.  I just figured everybody would know after I came online, you know?”

At that moment, a woman approached Frank and Michael from the reception area.  She was on the short side, with greying red hair pulled back in a bun, and she was dressed comfortably in worn jeans, ratty sneakers, and a softball jersey that was faded from wear.  She looked anything but imposing, which was completely by design, but her aura was solid and competent—pure steel wrapped in velvet.

“Jerome radioed and said someone needed to speak to me?” she asked. 

Frank’s head dipped in reverence to her.  “Yes, Alpha Thompson.  My name is Francis Poncherello, and this is my grandson, Michael Walters.  I had been hoping to introduce him to some kids his age at the M-N-G today, but he had some misgivings and told me something I think you should be made aware of.”

Alpha Guide Megan Thompson smiled gently at Michael and said, “Of course, gentlemen.  If you’ll follow me to my office, I’ll be happy to listen to anything you have to say.  And I promise, Michael, that you are not in any trouble.”

Michael’s eyes widened in surprise, but he just swallowed and straightened his shoulders.  “Yes, ma’am, thank you.”

**

Two hours later, Frank was sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Michael as they both finished double-dip chocolate ice cream cones in front of the Ferris Wheel on the Santa Monica Pier.

“You did good, kiddo,” Frank said softly.  “What your friend Greg’s parents did was…very bad.  And that actually doesn’t happen ‘all the time’.”

Michael wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and tossed it in a trash can.  “It doesn’t?”

Frank shook his head and wiped his own mouth.  “Nope.  I’m not saying stuff like that never happens, but it’s very rare.  For one thing, Sentinels that damaged rarely come online.  There’s something fundamentally wrong, some physical or mental defect, that keeps damaged Sentinels from manifesting and doing damage to the Tribe.  Same for Guides, too.  It’s called ‘Dormancy’.”

Michael’s nose wrinkled in distaste.  “So, I’m probably not gonna meet someone like that at the Center, huh?”

“Not if I can help it,” Frank replied vehemently.

Michael Walters was the oldest of three grandchildren in the Poncherello/Baker family and was the only one to show signs of Latency.  The Sentinel/Guide Genes didn’t exactly run true in families.  Frank was the first Guide in his family in three generations and his Sentinel was the first ever in his family.  There was no planning for S/G children when Frank and Jon began their family, so they were pleasantly surprised when Michael pinged on the Guide Scale.

Surprised and completely protective.

Michael stood up and leaned forward on the rail of the pier, staring down into the water far below him.  Frank watched him for a while, giving enough room for the sensitive boy to collect his thoughts.  After a few minutes Frank joined him at the railing.

“What’s on your mind, Michael?”

Soft brown eyes looked up from a troubled face and Frank reached out to pull the boy into a gentle hug.

“What if I’m not enough, Grampa Frank?”

“What do you mean, Mikey?”

Michael huffed and ducked his head down again.  “What if I’m not good enough to Bond?  Some Guides don’t, right?”

Frank frowned.  “Yes, that’s true…”

“And I’m not interested in being a cop or a soldier or anything like that, so a Sentinel wouldn’t want to Bond with someone like me…”

“Whoa!” Frank exclaimed as he turned Michael to face him.  “Where is this coming form, kiddo?  You know that’s not how things work!”

Michael looked up at his grandfather with confused eyes.  “But you and Grampa Jon were both cops.  That’s how you met, right?  I’m not gonna meet my Sentinel like that!”

Frank tilted his head backwards and glared at the sky before chuckling softly.  “Oh, kiddo!  You have no idea!”

~~

1967-1971

Francis Llewelyn Poncherello was always a rambunctious child, chasing his older brothers around the yard or joking with his younger sister, but he was never a troublemaker.  It was the one thing Javier and Maria Poncherello never had to worry about.  They lived in a troubled neighborhood in the suburbs of Los Angeles, and more and more it seemed like danger lurked on every street corner.

In the year of Frank’s fourteenth birthday, 1963, the entire country was spinning from years of racial unrest and political drama.  From equal rights marches all over the country to the ‘Space Race’ between the United States and the Soviet Union, it seemed like nobody knew whether to be on a natural high or a depressive low, and amidst all of this emotional turbulence, young Frank Poncherello manifested as a Guide.

An empath during a time of tense unrest.

Frank’s parents worried over their youngest son, afraid that he might snap under the empathic pressure of the changing times—but he never did.  There were race riots and war protests, and Frank indulged his love of reading and sports.  President Kennedy was shot down in his prime, and Frank led the church in prayers for healing.  The United States entered the Vietnam conflict and there was more civil unrest, and Frank became a center of calm for their close-knit neighborhood. 

Frank drew attention from a lot of his classmates and was very popular, but he refrained from dating seriously, not wanting to lead anyone into a relationship that might one day have to end.  He remained quietly popular as his High School career came to an end but demurred when anyone asked what his plans were for after school.  If someone mentioned a desire to join the military, Frank supported them and calmed the forming protests.  It was a strange time for him—for his entire family.  Frank’s older brothers were both drafted, but they all knew Frank never would be.  Soldiering was not for an Unbonded Guide.

It would have been a far different story if Frank had entered into a Bond in High School.

And college never interested the lad, no matter how bookish he seemed.

Which was what he was trying, at the still very young age of eighteen, to explain to his parents and his Guidance Counselor at that very moment.

“Hey!” Frank finally shouted from exasperation, and the bickering adults stopped talking.

Frank sighed in relief.  “Thank you.  As I was trying to tell you all, I’d really like to go to Trade School.”

Frank’s father frowned.  “Trade School?  Are you sure, Francis?”

“Yeah, Pop, I am.  I want to work on cars.  On engines, actually; not bodywork.  Although I could also study that as well.  I want to get a good job and make good money, and auto repair really interests me.”

“Francis,” began his mother, “wouldn’t you rather do something that might attract a Sentinel?  It’s what you were made for.”

Frank shook his head.  “Ma, no.  If a Sentinel wants me, they’ll have to take me the way I am.  I’m not going to go out of my way in a job waiting for someone who doesn’t exist right now.  And I can’t keep living with you and Pop while I wait for my prince or princess to come knocking on my window.  You can’t wrap me in cotton and protect me forever, you know.”

And so, Francis (please call me Frank) Poncherello was enrolled in a Trade School where he learned about every type of automobile engine he could find.  And then he learned about basic bodywork.  And by the time he was twenty-two, the United States was completely embroiled in the Vietnam conflict, the voting age was lowered to eighteen, computers were becoming a big thing—and Frank was moving into his own apartment near Venice Beach.

Frank’s sister tried just once to call it his ‘hot singles pad’ before Frank shut her down.  Frank was still popular, was still very physically attractive, and was still yearning for his own Sentinel, even if he didn’t talk about it much.  In fact, Frank kept the fact that he was an Online Guide completely under wraps.  He attended meetings at the Sentinel/Guide Center, but it wasn’t the Center closest to his home.  And he was always available to assist with mental or empathic healing, but he wasn’t a high-level Guide, so he wasn’t called upon often.  People liked to be around him, but if asked they would always say it was because Frank was funny or smart or kind or attentive.

Nobody ever really considered, upon first meeting Frank Poncherello, that he might be a Guide.

That suited Frank just fine.

~~

2009

“Michael,” said Frank with more than a little exasperation, “there really isn’t a point in changing who you fundamentally are just in the hopes of making someone else happy.  I knew that for certain when I wasn’t much older than you are now.  I just tried to live my life the way I wanted and hoped that when my Sentinel came along—if they ever did—that they’d like me the way I was.”

Frank relaxed as the teenager leaned against his shoulder.  “I guess I thought you became a cop just so you’d be in the right place to meet Sentinels.”

Frank laughed jovially.  “Oh, kiddo!  Sentinels aren’t always police or military, you know.  Just like everyone else in the world, Sentinels have many different talents and interests.  The Los Angeles Alpha Sentinel is actually an artist—a painter, I think.  And his wife, Alpha Guide Thompson, is a High School Gym teacher and volleyball coach.”

Michael’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Wow!  How did those two meet?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Frank replied with a slight shrug.  “But it makes you wonder, doesn’t it?  Look, I met my Sentinel at work, that is true, but that’s not actually why I became a police officer.”

“So why did you become a cop?” Michael asked earnestly.  “Nobody in the family ever talks about it except to say how proud they are that both you and Grampa Jon served the community.”

Frank wrapped an arm around his grandson’s shoulders and guided the boy away from the pier.  “It’s actually a funny story, really.  And it had absolutely nothing to do with Grampa Jon.”

~~

1977

Frank Poncherello was living a good life.

He had a decent apartment near a marina, so his social life was lively.  He had a lot of friends and a decent job at a garage near the beach.  He was young and healthy.

Most of his friends were paired off in one way or another, but Frank wasn’t interested in dating.  He went out with groups, of course, and played community sports, but he lived his life alone.  His most common companion was Sylvia, his boa constrictor Spirit Animal, and she wasn’t going to give his mother grandchildren, as she was often telling Frank.

No, Frank had a mostly good life, despite not being in a relationship.  There was just one problem.

He was bored.

His mechanic job was incredibly routine, but there was no real hope for advancement there.  His apartment was pretty swanky and in a rather exclusive neighborhood, so the only real way he could afford the rent was by doing odd repair jobs around the property that the superintendent didn’t get to.  Frank met a lot of his neighbors that way; not because he was ‘assigned’ a task in a neighboring apartment, but because someone he might have seen in the laundry room would ask him to check their air conditioner or oven or refrigerator because the Super was unavailable.  Frank inspired trust, something that most Guides did, and he was honest, earnest, and friendly, so he had no problems helping once in a while—especially if he got a break on his rent.

And occasionally one of his neighbors would invite him to go out to a nightclub or party, and he’d meet new people that way.  But Frank wasn’t a party animal.  Most often, he’d drive someone home who’d had too much to drink.  Or he’d escort young women around so they wouldn’t get hassled by random guys in bars.  Frank always knew how to avoid trouble, so his pals knew when they were safe.

But beach volleyball and pounding music in clubs could only do so much.  And there weren’t really activities available through the S/G Center that were geared toward un-Bonded Guides—unless it was the Meet-and-Greets, where Frank was ‘encouraged’ to present himself to lonely Sentinels.

They were never the ‘right’ ones.  And Frank was bored.

Frank was bored enough to initiate a conversation with someone at a supermarket near his home—someone who looked like some sort of scientist, with a white lab coat over his button-down and tie.

Only the guy, Harlan Arliss, wasn’t a scientist.  He was also a mechanic.

At the California Highway Patrol Motor pool.

And he mentioned that there was an opening for someone good with cars.

And maybe Frank wouldn’t be so bored working on police cars.

2

2009

“So, you became a cop because of Uncle Harlan?” Michael asked as the Guides walked along the high tide line.

Frank laughed genially.  “Not exactly, kiddo.”  He gently nudged his grandson’s shoulder as he guided the boy along the beach.  “You have to understand that it was a very different time back then.  Un-Bonded Guides weren’t always looked upon favorably, and a lot of that had to do with the war.”

“You mean Vietnam, right?  Grampa Jon fought there, didn’t he?”

Frank nodded.  “Yes, he did.  So did my two brothers, your Uncle Martin and Uncle Robert.  They were all drafted at that time, but Grampa Jon wasn’t Online then.

“See, a lot of Latent Sentinels went unnoticed because there wasn’t the genetic testing that we have today.  If a Sentinel was Bonded to a Guide, it was most likely that he or she was already serving the community in some way or other, be it in the military or in civilian service, so the Draft pretty much went right by them.  Un-Bonded Sentinels were ignored altogether by the military draft because everybody knows that Sentinels need a Bond to reach their full potential.”

Michael stooped down to pick up a shell that caught his eye.  “That’s why it’s important for me to find a match, huh?  So, I can help a Sentinel?”

Frank shrugged.  “That’s a part of it, yeah.  But the Sentinel isn’t the most important part of the pairing, so don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.  That’s why your friend Greg’s parents are in so much trouble; the selling of a Guide is our most heinous crime—all around the world.  And that’s why Vietnam was such a turning point for Sentinels and Guides.”

Michael brushed windswept hair from his eyes and frowned.  “I don’t understand.  I mean, we learned about the Vietnam conflict and how there were all these protests because people thought the United States didn’t really belong there, but why were Guides important there?”

Frank cleared his throat.  “Well, let’s take this from Grampa Jon’s point of view, okay?”

“Okay,” Michael agreed.

“Okay, so Grampa Jon was drafted into the Selective Service.  This wasn’t like back during World War Two, where you got drafted and someone told you where and how you were going to serve, and Jon figured he’d make the best choice he could.  So, he enlisted in the Marines because Marines are total badasses—don’t tell your mother I said that, okay?”

Michael snickered.  “Okay, I promise.”

Frank nodded.  “Okay, so Jon went into basic training and did really well, and he ended up in an Infantry outfit and was shipped out to the jungle.  He served with pride even if he personally didn’t agree with the United States being involved over there, and he also served with dignity—until something horrible happened.  He doesn’t like to talk about it, and honestly it still gives him nightmares, but there was a village that was under fire from American soldiers thinking it was populated by insurgents.  Only it wasn’t.  The only people in that particular village were elderly women and a few children.

“This didn’t happen a lot over there, but things like that happened often enough—innocent people getting caught in the crossfire.  I know you’ve seen news photos.”

Michael grimaced.  “Yeah, my modern history class is brutal.”

“Right, well, stuff like that sometimes triggers Emergence, and that’s what happened to Jon.  He flipped Online and dropped his gun right then and there, and he stopped fighting with his unit because the Sentinel saw a Tribe of people that needed protecting, and without a Guide to temper his reactions he was fierce in his protections.  One of his unit buddies had to knock him out so they could remove him from the situation.”

“Wow!” Michael gasped.  “Grampa Jon is so laid-back!”

Frank laughed in spite of himself.  “Yeah, he is.  And he was back then, too.  A lot of Sentinels are laid-back until someone threatens the Tribe.  And during that conflict, enough American Sentinels came Online in wartime and realized that Americans had no business being there—and they really didn’t care who they told about it.  Eventually the United States pulled out because we now had to deal with a lot of Un-Bonded Sentinels in some sort of Feral Drive or another, who all needed a lot of therapy, and who all did not have Guides to help them find their balance.

“In the meantime, Un-Bonded Guides like me were looked down upon by so-called Patriots who thought we should have been forced to serve so the Sentinels could keep fighting.”  Frank shook his head.  “A bunch of self-righteous dumb-asses, is what they all were, really, because any Guide worth his gifts will point a Sentinel at a proper target rather than away from it if the cause is good.”

Michael smiled at his grandfather with pride.  “I’ve seen how you and Grampa Jon team up, so I can imagine how that would have gone if you were fighting together.”

Frank clapped Michael on the shoulder and guided him away from the water and toward the parking lot.  “So anyway, before I worked with the Highway Patrol, I was able to keep my status under wraps.  It’s nobody’s business but mine and the S/G Center’s anyway, and that’s how we all like it.  Even today a Sentinel can’t be forced or coerced into fighting for an unjust cause just because the Government wants a war.  But after I applied to work in the Motor Pool, I had to disclose my status.”

“Why?”

“It’s a service thing, really.  Mostly it’s because there are cases of discrimination, even today, against Sentinel/Guide pairings, especially if they’re a same-sex pair.  So, I had to fill out the official form for the California Law Enforcement Services stating that I am a Guide, even though I was only working as a mechanic at that time.”  Frank shrugged again.  “Basically it was so nobody I worked with would be surprised if I had to take time off for Center business or for Bonding, or so nobody would be surprised to see me with another person being up close and personal—you know, holding hands or hugging while at work.

“But just because I filled out the paperwork, it didn’t mean that everybody automatically knew I was a Guide when they were introduced to me.”

~~

1977

“Frank?” came Harlan Arliss’ cautious voice, causing Frank Poncherello to pause his current task of performing an oil change on a police cruiser.

“Yeah?” Frank replied.

“Why is there a python wrapped around my dog?”

Frank frowned and pushed himself from under the cruiser so that he could see the dog in question.

Dave was a large German Shepherd, an ex-drug-sniffing dog retired from police service, and an utter baby-doll to most everyone at the Division Headquarters.  And he was, indeed, being ‘cuddled’ by a large snake in the corner of the vehicle bay.

Frank frowned at the sight.  “Sylvia is a boa constrictor, not a python, and she’s wrapped around Dave because she thinks he’s cool.”

Harlan started at the statement and visibly shook himself as he recovered from his shock.  “Well Dave is cool.  I’ve just never, um, seen Sylvia…in person.  Before now.”

Frank grimaced slightly and stood from the dolly he’d been resting on.  He crossed the bay and lifted his Spirit Animal from where she was resting on the dog, who growled at him for his trouble.  Wrapping the spiritual snake around his shoulders, he turned to his friend and asked, “Is this going to be a problem, her being visible?”

Harlan blinked and approached Frank and Sylvia slowly, holding out his hand for the boa to ‘taste’.  “Not as far as I’m concerned.  Her being visible just means you’re comfortable here, right?”

Frank relaxed as his friend made nice with Sylvia.  “It can mean that,” he agreed.  “But she’s mainly physically here to help me keep balanced.  Someone around here is really off, and they’re projecting in a big way.  Once I’m finished with these cars, I’m heading to the Center for some serious meditation.  I’m past due and I’m getting a headache.”

Harlan frowned and shoved his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat.  “Hey, if you need to leave now, go ahead, okay?  I’ll finish the cruisers; it’s not a problem.”

Frank smiled and Sylvia faded away.  “Nah, I got this.  Thanks, though.  I just have to get used to the atmosphere around this place.  There’s a lot of psionic feedback, which probably comes from the high energy job.  It’s not like my old job near the beach, where just about everybody was in a good mood until the bill came.”

Harlan laughed at the obvious attempt at humor.  “Okay, if you can handle it then I won’t push.  But, really, if you need to go for reasons, it’s not a problem.”

At that moment, Dave started growling, then began barking loudly as the Division Sergeant, Joe Getraer, entered the vehicle bay.

“Damn it, Harlan!” Getraer exclaimed.  “Why is that dog here again?”

Harlan rushed to Dave to calm him.  “He’s here because he belongs here—and I can’t leave him alone while I’m at work all day.  Besides, everybody likes him.”

Frank blinked, because obviously not everybody liked Dave, but he was ignored as Getraer questioned the Chief Mechanic on the status of several vehicles.  Frank dropped back down onto his dolly and was about to roll back under the cruiser when Getraer turned his attention away from Harlan.

“Poncherello, how are you doing on the motorcycle training?”

Frank grinned.  “I’ll be taking the certification in the morning, Sarge.  I think I’ll do really well, and then I can work on the motorcycles as well as the cruisers.”

Getraer nodded absently.  “Good, good.  Look, I’ve got to warn you that tensions are going to be running high around here for a while, so if you need to take some extra time to shore up your shields, do what you have to do.”

Frank really appreciated that Sergeant Getraer really understood the needs of a Guide.  Mostly it was because his wife, Betty, had a S/G pair in her immediate family, so Getraer was around Sentinels and Guides frequently.

“What’s up, Sarge?” Frank asked, concerned.

Getraer wiped a tired hand over his face.  “One of our motor officers was killed this morning in a crash while chasing a speeding car.  I sent his partner home for the rest of the week, but Gary Bertram was one of ours and we’re all feeling the pain.”

Frank nodded grimly.  “Got it, Sarge.  Thanks for telling me.”

“You’re a good man, Poncherello,” said Getraer as he moved toward the exit.  “I’m glad you joined our team.”

~~

2009

“Sylvia began to manifest around the Motor Pool all the time,” said Frank as he kicked sand off his shoes, “but for the longest time, Harlan was the only one to see her.  Well, him and Dave.  Sylvia really loved that dog.”

Michael laughed.  “I wish I could have known him.  But why did he always bark at Uncle Joe?”

Frank shook his head.  “It’s the darndest thing, really, but I think Dave reacted because Joe was a clear authority figure, but Dave wasn’t ‘on duty’ anymore.  Guides can read people easily, but animals are a different story altogether.  But really, looking back, I really think Dave resented the fact that he was retired, so he took it out on Joe because he didn’t have access to his former commander.  That’s one reason Harlan adopted him, rather than Dave staying with his former handler—Dave still wanted to do the work, but he was too old for it.  Keeping him at the CHP Los Angeles Division Motor Pool allowed him to be around police officers but kept him away from the temptation to ‘work’.”

Frank made sure Michael was buckled-in before starting the car and heading toward his home.  Traffic was light on the Saturday afternoon and the drive was quiet for a few minutes.

“Grampa Frank?”

“Yes, Mikey?”

“Do you think Grampa Jon will be disappointed that I didn’t go into the Meet-and-Greet?”

Frank scoffed softly.  “Nah.  I told you, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, especially regarding Sentinel/Guide stuff.  I had a life before I Bonded, and so did Grampa Jon, so we certainly don’t expect any different for you.  You’ll go when you’re ready, and not before.  And any time you want to go to the Center for any reason, I’ll be happy to take you—or Grampa Jon will.  They have classes and workshops there all the time that will help you as you prepare to come Online.”

“Do you think Grampa Jon will tell me about his life before he Bonded with you?”

Frank rolled his eyes good-naturedly.  “Please!  Why would he want to talk about that, when everybody knows I’m the best thing to ever happen to him!”

3

2009

Jon Baker had been having an extraordinarily good day.

He started with a leisurely breakfast with his daughter, Wendy, and his three grand-children, Michael, Josie, and Jon-Jon (everyone figured that nickname would last maybe another two years—until the boy reached the ripe old age of six and realized that ‘JJ’ or Jonny was a better choice) before Wendy took the younger kids off to the zoo and Jon’s Guide took Michael to the S/G Center to meet other Sentinel and Guide kids his age.

Then Jon took a spare cup of coffee and retired to the back patio, where he’d set up his easel and was settling in to finish a Christmas gift—a landscape based on a photo from their last family vacation.

Painting was Jon’s bliss.  His sense of smell was not one of his most troublesome, so the oils and acrylics that he preferred didn’t bother him, and his keen eyesight, coupled with an almost photographic memory, allowed him to create incredibly detailed works.  Jon’s paintings graced the walls of most of his family members and many of his friends, and each one was treasured.  Jon had always painted to relax, and since his retirement he was able to plan several paintings far in advance, tailoring each gift to its recipient.

He had only just begun part of the foreground when he heard the distinct sound of his Guide’s car approaching the house.  Jon set down his brush and checked his watch, realizing that Frank and Michael had only been gone for two hours.  Concerned, Jon gently covered the canvas to protect it from bugs and dipped his brush into the water jar next to his palette before entering the back door and making his way to the front of the house.  Jon had opened the front door by the time Frank had parked and was about to voice his concern before he noticed the subtle shake of Frank’s head, instead taking a deep sniff as Michael climbed out of the passenger seat.

“You’ve been to the Pier!” Jon accused genially, and Michael smiled and ducked his head slightly.

“Yeah,” the boy replied, “but only for ice cream.  I wouldn’t ride the Ferris Wheel without you, Grampa Jon, I promise!”

Jon smiled, partially because of the easy answer—it was well known to everybody that Jon’s secret joy was the Ferris Wheel at the Santa Monica Pier—and partially because Michael didn’t smell of distress or anxiety.  “Okay.  I can forgive ice cream.  So—how come you’re home early?  Was the Meet-and-Greet cancelled?”

Frank grimaced and answered, “Nope, but stuff happened, and then Michael realized he had a few more questions before committing to meeting the Alphas formally.  So, we came home.”

Jon’s eyes widened in understanding and he held the door open for the duo before following them into the house.  Once Michael was in the kitchen, digging around for his ‘special’ cup from what Jon could hear, Jon laid a hand on Frank’s shoulder and Frank settled back slightly against Jon’s chest.

“Michael said something concerning about one of his classmates,” Frank admitted softly, so Michael couldn’t overhear him.  “So, I had to contact the Alpha Guide before we even entered the reception area.  I’ll tell you more about it later, I promise, but right now Michael has tons of questions about what our lives were like before we Bonded.  It’s a huge deal for him, so we need to take this seriously.”

Jon frowned.  “I always take him seriously, Frank.  Especially since he’s on the cusp.”

Frank kissed Jon’s cheek and said, “I know you do.  But he’s at a difficult age right now and dealing with the Guide thing on top of his regular teenage angst is pretty hard on him.  I promise he’s not going to ask anything invasive.  He just needs a bit of reassurance.”

Jon kissed Frank’s temple before pressing their foreheads together briefly.  “Okay.  But can we talk outside?  I’m working on Grossie’s Christmas present.”

“That Yosemite landscape?  Yeah, we can go out there.”

Jon allowed Frank to corral Michael and lead him to the back yard, where two lounge chairs were pulled from the garden shed and placed behind Jon’s easel.  Jon eased back into his seat and uncovered the canvas before drifting back into his task.  He was willing to let Michael lead the way into his curiosity, so he painted in silence for a while as the other two watched.  Finally, Michael broke the silence.

“That is so cool, Grampa Jon!  I don’t think I’d ever have the patience for something like that.”

Jon smirked and turned to face his grandson.  “Oh, I didn’t really have the patience for it when I first started.  A counselor at the S/G Center advised me to do something to help quiet my mind and settle my senses before I found my Guide because my Emergence was pretty traumatic.  I tried a lot of different things before I found painting.   In fact, the first thing I found that could help me stay centered was flying helicopters.”

“Flying helicopters!” Michael exclaimed.  “But wouldn’t the noise mess with you?”

Jon shook his head.  “Sentinels have five enhanced senses, that’s true, but not every sense is equal—and not every Sentinel is equal, either.  My best senses are sight, touch, and taste, but my hearing and smell are only slightly enhanced.  I’m not an incredibly high-level Sentinel, but that doesn’t matter at all.  My senses are heightened enough to allow me to find clues and cues that others don’t notice, and that served me well as a police officer.  When I came online, the first thing I learned was how to dial back my hearing so that the noise of weapons fire didn’t drive me into a Zone.  That’s one thing I’m grateful to my unit commander for.  He’d been around Sentinels in the military before, so he recognized the signs when I came online.”

Silence followed that statement, mostly because Jon rarely talked about his time in the military.  Jon was happy to let Michael digest that small bit of information while he added some trees and a few mule deer to the painting.

Michael laughed when he saw the deer form on the canvas.  “I remember that!  Jon-Jon wanted to feed the deer, but Mom wouldn’t let him.”

“Well that’s because feeding wildlife in parks is illegal—and it’s bad for the animals,” Jon reminded him.  “We were just lucky that this herd was near the hiking trails that day.”

“Grampa Jon, what else did you do before you met Grampa Frank?”

1971

Getting discharged from the Marines at such a young age was not exactly in Jon’s plans, but after coming online as a Sentinel during his third tour in Vietnam, staying in the military just wasn’t possible.  It might have been if he’d have been Bonded during his service but coming online had never seemed like a possibility to him.

Jon Baker was the first person in his entire family to ever come online, either as a Sentinel or a Guide, and he’d had a bit of an adjustment to make.  More than one, actually.

After his release from the VA hospital in Burns, Oregon, Jon tried to retreat to his family home in Wyoming.  He was welcomed by his mother and brother, who had never really wanted to see him in a uniform of any kind, and he spent his days riding his horse along the plains near the family ranch.  The calm he found in the open air was a great comfort after Jon’s ordeal in the jungle, but there was no real calm in the family home.

“Your sister is coming to visit,” Jon’s mother told him one day after he’d been back for two months.  “I don’t expect it will be a pleasant visit.”

Jon sighed and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water to clear the dust from his mouth.  “I’ll try to be civil, Ma, but I don’t know what else I can do.”

Jon could hear the tick in his mother’s heartbeat, and he hated that it was his fault.  Not his fault directly, but his presence was indirectly causing his mother’s discomfort.  She had always valued her family over everything else, and she treasured her grandson—Jon’s sister’s son—more than anything else.  And Jon’s sister hadn’t been around since Jon had been home.

More noticeably, Jon’s nephew had also been absent, because his sister hadn’t allowed Wes to visit while Jon was in residence.

Jon sighed again.  “I’ll try to talk to Maggie, okay?  I’ll try to make her see reason, but she’s stubborn, and she won’t see that she’s not only hurting herself—she’s hurting Wes, too.”

While Jon had been the very first person in his nuclear family to come online as a Sentinel or Guide, he wasn’t the first person in the extended family to do so.  Maggie’s husband had the misfortune to come online as a Sentinel shortly after the birth of their son.  Maggie had been shocked, but she tried to stand by him as he found his feet.  Unfortunately, he also found his Guide, a lovely young woman who worked with a local veterinarian, and Maggie could not bear that.

Maggie refused to try to work with her husband or his Guide, who were willing to have a platonic Bond since she was also married, and once the Bond was complete, Maggie refused to allow her husband access to their son.  She divorced her husband citing irreconcilable differences and began to tell everyone who’d listen that she was a widow.  Unfortunately for everyone, Maggie found a judge who was sympathetic to her feelings, and Maggie was granted full custody.  Her ex-husband acquiesced and signed over parental rights—with the full understanding that he would also not pay child support.  When Maggie tried to protest, her sympathetic judge informed her that she couldn’t have it both ways.  Maggie then decided that she was the ultimate victim, and the Sentinel/Guide Foundation was the cause of her every hardship.  Her son, only four years old when Jon got drafted, grew up without a father, and the only male role-models in his life were his two uncles.

And now Jon was part of Maggie’s ‘problem’.

“I just miss my boy, Jon,” his mother entreated.  “I know it’s not your fault, and I am glad you’re home and that you’re doing so well.  But I miss my boy.”

Jon offered a rueful grin.  “I know, Ma.  And I guess I always knew I’d not be able to stay around here for too long.  I still need to find my way—and I’m sure there’s a Guide out there for me.  I’m not going to find that around here.”

2009

Michael watched as the canvas in front of Jon turned into a respectable copy of a treasured photograph, but he said nothing for a long time.  It wasn’t until Frank said something about getting some lemonade that the boy stirred.  Once Frank had gone inside, Michael asked, “Was it real hard, losing part of your family like that?”

Jon sighed and dunked his brush into the mason jar beside him before turning to face his grandson—a boy that looked just a bit like his nephew, Wes.

“It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure.”  Jon’s lips compressed tightly for a moment.  “My sister, Maggie, is older than me, but we were always close.  I was closer to her than to Brian, even though he’s the one that stayed in touch.  She never got over being bitter; it’s almost like her hatred and anger were feeding her.  It’s just pure luck, and the love of my mother, that Wes didn’t harbor the same feelings for Sentinels and Guides.”

Wes Baker had, in fact, managed to hunt down his long-lost father during his own college years, and he’d built a relationship with the man and his Guide, much to the displeasure and disgust of his mother.  Wes sent regular Christmas and Birthday cards to Jon and his family, but he didn’t visit.  None of Jon’s family had visited after Jon Bonded with Frank, preferring to stay in Wyoming on the ranch Jon’s forefathers had built.

“Okay,” said Michael after a moment, “I have to ask—how did you start flying helicopters?”

Jon laughed.  “Well, after I moved to California, I tried to find anything that gave me the same peace as riding on the open range.  Surfing was never going to be my thing because the feel of the salt water was too rough for my skin.  There are riding trails, of course, but I had no place to board a horse—or even a horse to board.  It wasn’t fair to move mine along with me after all.  Once I reached out to the Sentinel/Guide Center in Sacramento, my counselor turned me onto hang-gliding, and I realized a new-found love of the open sky.

“It wasn’t until I went through the Police Academy that I realized small-engine planes and helicopters didn’t cause problems with my hearing.  I got my private pilot’s license, and then I got my instructor’s license.  I made one of my best friends that way.”

1975

“I didn’t think they let un-Bonded Sentinels around aircraft?” came a voice from behind him, and Jon turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man in a flight suit standing behind him.

“Oh, well, I’m a special case,” Jon drawled.  “But I’m curious about how you knew I was a Sentinel and un-Bonded.”

The man grinned widely, his white teeth gleaming in the sunlight.  “Well I cheated,” he admitted, hooking his thumb over his shoulder.  “Sergeant Willis told me to be careful around you because you might be some sort of wild card.”

Jon rolled his eyes.  Sergeant James Willis had been a pain in Jon’s ass since he flew through the Police Academy, harping on how unfair it was that an un-Bonded Sentinel could ‘take the place’ of a stable mundane police candidate, or complaining that Jon would probably Bond with some librarian and waste the taxpayers’ money by training someone who wouldn’t make it as a cop.  Willis’ latest rants began when Jon became a Police Flight instructor as well as a Rescue pilot, showing anyone who looked that a Sentinel, at least a mid-level Sentinel, did not need a Bond to be productive.

Of course, Jon had gotten lucky by having a partner who bothered to learn how to act around Sentinels and could help if Jon found himself Zoned while on the job.  Gary Bertram wasn’t a Guide—wasn’t even a Sensitive, really—but he could act the part while on the clock, and that helped Jon break though most of the stereotypes of being a Sentinel.

“Yeah, well, if you want to work well with me,” Jon said with a pleasant smile, “then you’ll ignore Willis and make your own opinions.”

The man nodded and stepped forward, offering his hand.  “Oh, I already made my own opinion about you—when I saw your scores from the Academy.  Name’s Baricza; Barry Baricza, but everybody calls me ‘Bear’.”

Jon laughed and shook his hand.  “Because of your height, right?”

Bear laughed in return.  “I like that; I think I’ll use it when someone gets smart-assy on me.”  Bear stepped back slightly and looked the helicopter over from windshield to tail rotor.  “So—I’m here to get my final certification to become an instructor, and I guess you’ll be the one evaluating me.”

Jon looked at his clipboard and nodded.  “Yup, that’s me.  Looks like you fly small-engine airplanes as well.  Are you certified as an instructor there, too?”

Bear shook his head.  “Nope, not interested.  I’ll do coastline search and rescue, and I’m good for climbing and rappelling, but I’m applying for Highway Patrol.  I’m just not meant for city work, you know?”

2009

“I realized that if I’d continued to work with the State Police, I’d be with Sergeant Willis constantly, and that man just set my teeth on edge.”  Jon grimaced and took a sip of the lemonade that Frank handed him.  “I could almost have dealt with him in order to work Rescue, but then he started ragging on Gary—inferring things about our relationship that weren’t true, and I couldn’t stand that.  That sort of thing could have ruined his career.”

Michael cocked his head to the side in confusion.  “What do you mean?  How could acting as your Guide have hurt him?”

“Michael,” said Frank gently, “things back then aren’t like they are now.  Sentinels and Guides have always stood apart, with their own set of social rules, and nobody was allowed to discriminate against them or complain about their privileges.  But there was rampant discrimination against those thought to be ‘different’ than normal.  Gary Bertram wasn’t a Guide, but this Willis person tried to make it sound like Grampa Jon was romantically involved with him.  That sort of thing could have hurt him badly, both personally and professionally.  Back in the late seventies and early eighties, there was a lot of anti-homosexual discrimination and a gay cop lived a dangerous life.”

“Wait,” said Michael, sitting upright suddenly, “you mean somebody would have hurt him on the job?”

Reluctantly, Jon nodded.  “Or he could have been refused back-up in a dangerous situation.  And not only that, but Gary was engaged to a lovely woman—an Emergency Room Trauma nurse—and rumors about him and me could have damaged their relationship.  She was always cool about our friendship and our work partnership, but if she’d even had a hint that there was something going on…well, that would not have gone over well.  As it was, I was constantly reassuring her that I was on a Guide hunt, and that I was attending Meet-and-Greets and Social Mixers whenever I could.  I even had to show her proof that I was registered at S/G Centers all over the greater Los Angeles area before she’d let me into her apartment when Gary introduced us.”

Michael wrinkled his nose in distaste.  “That sounds like a lot of work to me.”

“It really is,” agreed Frank.  “Look, Michael, one of the reasons Jon and I wanted you to start going to the Center before you come online is that you need to learn what to expect from the S/G community at large—and what people are going to expect of you.  You told me that you think your status is nobody’s business but yours, and you are correct—up to a point.  But after your gifts fully Emerge, people are going to look at you differently.  Depending on how strong your gifts are, you’ll be open to emotions that are not your own, and that takes getting used to.”

“Close friends might become distrustful or secretive,” added Jon, “or someone you think is a friend might start accusing you of ‘reading their mind’ or some nonsense.  It’s not fair; none of it is fair.  Look at what happened between me and my sister, for crying out loud!  And that crap with Willis trying to accuse my partner of being more than that and almost ruining his life and career was way overboard, but stuff like that happens.  Even today, stuff like that happens, so we want you to be prepared.”

Michael nodded in understanding.  “I guess it’s a good thing that Grampa Frank’s family is so cool, huh?”

Frank laughed.  “I certainly got lucky in that department, that’s for sure!  I’ve never even met Jon’s sister or nephew, and I only saw his mother briefly after our Bonding ceremony, but my Ma wrapped Jon in her Poncherello blanket and just never let him go!”

Jon chuckled softly.  “Well, she never let go after she determined that I wasn’t going to hurt you or keep you from being an independent person.  Mama Maria was very invested in making sure you could take care of yourself—and that I wasn’t going to make you into some sort of slave.”

Michael stiffened slightly, which Jon took notice of, but then he relaxed and asked, “so then you moved to the Highway Patrol and met Grampa Frank and lived happily ever after?”

Jon and Frank both snorted, sharing a look of pure incredulity.  “Um, no,” Jon said when his laughter was under control.  “I mean, really, have you met your Grampa Frank?”

4

2009

Frank smiled and waved again as his daughter, Wendy, drove off with the kids—all of them, even though Michael had begged to stay overnight.

The conversation with Wendy when she had returned to pick up Michael had been a bit tense.  First, Frank had to explain that Michael would be attending counseling sessions at the Center twice a week until he came online because he had questions that neither Frank nor Jon was equipped to answer.  Then Michael mentioned that sometimes Jon-Jon felt like Grampa Jon after Wendy told a cute story about Jon-Jon introducing his invisible friend to the snakes in the reptile house—calling one active boa constrictor ‘Sylvia’, and everybody turned and stared at the young boy chattering to his sister, Josie, about their trip.  The invisible—or imaginary—friend had once been a topic of concern until the family pediatrician explained that lots of children had them and it was very much a normal thing.  Only now perhaps it wasn’t, and Frank had to extend his psionic shield over the boy, something he was hesitant to do due to his mid-level status, and was surprised to feel a slight push-back—barely there, but definitely there.

So now two of his grandchildren had to make appointments with the S/G Center the following morning and Frank hadn’t even gotten to tell his husband/partner/Sentinel about the brouhaha that he’d actually been partially responsible for that morning.

Frank closed the front door and sighed, shaking his head slightly in wonder as he turned to follow Jon into the kitchen.  A talk was about to happen; there always was one when Frank did something unexpected.

Jon was just about to close the refrigerator door after pulling out two beer bottles when Frank entered the kitchen.  “Want to tell be what really happened this morning at the Center?” he asked wryly as he moved to reach for the bottle opener.

Frank sat at one of the counter stools and shrugged, trying for nonchalance and failing.  “There may have been an incident involving one of Michael’s schoolmates—and a suspected Guide Trading Ring.”

Jon sighed and again opened the refrigerator, replacing the unopened bottles in their place on the door and instead removing a pitcher of lemonade.  “Okay, so how about from the top?”

Frank winced slightly and shifted on his stool as Jon poured them both some lemonade.  Neither man was much of a drinker, but they never indulged in alcohol when discussing anything of a Sentinel/Guide matter, preferring to keep clear heads because such things were often sensitive.

“Okay, so one of Michael’s classmates came online suddenly last spring and was removed from school.”  Frank paused to sip at his drink while Jon processed the given information.

“Yeah, I seem to remember that,“ Jon acknowledged.  “But that’s not exactly unheard of.”

“No, it’s not,” Frank agreed.  “And the boy, Greg Davis, had apparently found a Sentinel and returned to school after the start of this semester—which is also not unheard of.  But you know how teenage boys are, and they were maybe razzing this kid in the locker-room, trying to tease him about his new Bond and other stuff that they didn’t know about and didn’t have a right to know about.”  Frank grimaced and sipped more lemonade.  “The mundanes in the world think Bonding is some all-day sex-fest at the worst of times, and teenagers think that and worst.  Anyway, at some point Greg bursts out with the earth-shattering news that Guides are just sold off for money and his life isn’t that great and maybe people should shove off.”

Jon blinked and stared at his Guide.  “Wow.  That’s just—wow.”

Frank blew out a hard breath.  “Yeah, I know.  And that’s why Michael was hesitant to attend any Center functions geared toward Emerging Sentinels and Guides.  And that’s what he told me just before we went to check in at the reception desk.  So, I called for the Alpha and had Michael tell her what happened, and then I took him to the pier for ice cream and a long talk.”

Jon raised one eyebrow over his glass before asking, “And what was this talk about?”

“The talk was about how it would do Michael no good to shut off his entire personality in order to find a Bond, because he’s all messed up about what kind of job he’ll be forced to do before finding his Sentinel, and what will be expected of him after he Bonds.”

Jon laughed.  “So, you told him it was all a load of crap?”

Frank grinned.  “The kid thought I became a cop because I wanted to find a Sentinel, so I had to set him straight.”  Sobering, Frank continued.  “I don’t think the public-school system is doing potential Sentinels and Guides any service by continuing the myth that Guides only live to serve their Sentinels.  I mean, that’s what I basically learned in school back in the dark ages, and you know what Wendy brought home from that lousy Health class she was forced to attend.  I told Michael to be true to himself and when the right Sentinel came along, then he’d be accepted for who he really was.”

Jon reached across the counter to caress Frank’s hand.  “That’s the best advice for him, really.  I’d have accepted you even if you’d stayed in the motor pool.”

~~

1970

The jungle was hot and wet, which was the worst kind of hot Jon could imagine.  Wyoming was never like this, ever.

Slogging along with his platoon, Jon kept a look-out for insurgents.  Not because they expected to be over-run, but because for several days now there had been something large and heavy looming at the edge of Jon’s mind—like a shadow, always out of sight and out of reach, but following and looming.

Maybe Jon was getting jungle fever or something.  Word had got around at their last check-post about a few men who had gone completely ‘round the bend and had to be air-lifted out of the in-country because they were refusing to fight the enemy.  Nobody said what was actually wrong with those men, but word got out that they weren’t being sanctioned or anything, so maybe being in the jungle just got to them.

Jon could actually understand that because he was starting to feel it as well.  This was Jon’s third tour in Vietnam, and he was getting sick of being here.  Though he’d never voice his opinion aloud, he’d long come to the conclusion that he really had no business being there—and neither did anyone else wearing a United States Military uniform from any branch of service.  It was one thing for the United States to provide assistance, training, and maybe armaments for an ally trying to fight off the threat of Communism, it was entirely an another thing for the United States to provide soldiers to fight that ally’s war for them.  Jon just couldn’t understand why his government wanted him to fight for another Tribe.

Wait…what?

Through the hum of the insects that called this jungle home, Jon heard the faint trumpet of a rather large animal, and the shadow over his mind began to become clearer.

1973

“Okay, don’t get me wrong, but why did a guy like you want to become a cop in California?”

The question was asked in good humor, so Jon answered the same—mostly.

“What do you mean, ‘a guy like me’?”

Gary Bertram–medium height, dark hair, laughing brown eyes—shrugged and returned his attention to the cold-cut sandwich in front of him.  “Well, you’re obviously not a California guy; you look a little caged-in around all the concrete and steel.  And I’ve seen how you look out the classroom window when the clouds are far enough away to see the ocean clearly.”

Jon laughed and opened his tiny milk carton before plopping a paper straw through the opening.  “I am a little caged in around here, actually.  Wyoming is nothing like Los Angeles.”

Gary’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Wyoming!  What the heck are you doing here?”

Jon sighed and slouched back in his chair.  “Things got…interesting…for me during the war, and they got even more interesting back home with my family.  I think I figured the best way to get over it all was to go some place different and far away, and while California isn’t all that far away—it is different.”

Gary silently ate his sandwich as he pondered the reply, allowing Jon to eat his own lunch of specially packaged soup and a peanut butter sandwich.  Somehow, his fellow cop-in-training had either managed to not see the Sentinel seal on the package, or he ignored it, which spoke to his character as most people would have looked around to find Jon’s missing Guide—a Guide Jon had not yet found and was not currently searching for.

“So,” Gary said, finally, “you got tired of the wide-open spaces and came to live in the land of the eight-lane-freeway, huh?”

Jon laughed again, surprised at the question.  “I actually went to Seattle first, just to dip my toes into crowded spaces, and then talked to a few guys who made working for the Highway Patrol seem like a good idea.”  It wasn’t even a lie, because Seattle was his first stop after Cascade and the S/G Center there.  Once the Alpha Primes of the Pacific Northwest were certain that Jon could function well without a Guide—something the Marine Alpha had determined before allowing Jon’s honorable discharge—he was shipped to Seattle to see if he could live comfortably in an urban environment.  From Seattle, Jon moved to San Francisco until he found the ambient damp and cold of the place to be too uncomfortable for his skin, and then he moved to Sacramento.  Jon’s senses settled to the ‘California vibe’, just as Alpha Prime Jacobs thought it would, and Jon was recommended as a candidate to the police academy.

The Highway Patrol wasn’t Jon’s first choice, but he wasn’t really fit to walk a beat as a regular officer and specialty squads like Vice or Homicide were right out as long as Jon was un-Bonded.  Once he was resigned to riding on the highway all day, every day, Jon found out that Highway Patrol Officers were often called upon to assist in Search and Rescue along the coastline as well as patrolling the marinas and beach areas.  It was an assault on his senses at first, but he adjusted well enough.  He’d had no Zones, at least, else he’d be refused a place on the CHP.

And then Jon found out about the rescue piloting program, and he realized that flying a helicopter was the next best thing to riding his horse on the open plains—just a lot noisier.  Guide-designed headphones soon settled his sense of hearing while dealing with the roar of the engines, and Jon was working on his license to train after obtaining his own pilots’ license.  Searching for lost hikers and climbers along the coast while encased in metal and glass might not seem like a great thing for an un-Bonded Sentinel, but Jon was in his element, especially since his sight was his best sense.  He had more troubles with touch and taste, but gloves and a special diet helped him there, and he was now ready to get involved with the motorcycle training for the CHP.

Gary Bertram was going to be Jon’s training partner, and his permanent partner if they managed to get along.  This day had been their first meeting, but they’d not had a chance to speak until the lunch break.

“I’m from San Diego myself,” Gary continued easily.  “Lots of Navy around there, so my folks always figured I’d join up after high school.”

Jon nodded absently.  “Military not your thing?”

Gary lifted one shoulder as he reached for his bottle of soda.  “I got married right after graduation, you know, and Mary-Ann wasn’t interested in raising the baby by herself if I ended up on a boat somewhere.”

Jon raised a knowing eyebrow but said nothing in response.

“So—how do you really like Los Angeles?” Gary asked slickly.  “I mean, I hear the Center here is really top of the line, but us normal folk don’t really get invited to visit.”

Jon leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest in a not-quite-defensive posture.  “The Center is okay, but I’m rarely there.  The city is loud, of course, but I’ve got a little hole-in-the-wall near Monterey Park that’s nice and quiet.”

Gary smirked at him and Jon realized that his status would not matter to this man.  His next words would seal their friendship.  “I don’t think you get to complain about noise if you spend half your day in a helicopter, man.”

Jon was happy to be right about Gary, and they proceeded to get along like a house on fire.  After their training was complete and they were given their Division assignment, Gary introduced Jon to his wife, Mary-Ann, and their daughter, Alice.  Mary-Ann was a nursing student at a hospital near USC, and she’d taken a real shine to Jon, inviting him for dinner several evenings a week.  Mary-Ann’s brother and sister-in-law were a Guide and Sentinel respectively, so her home cooking was carefully tailored to a delicate palate, which Jon appreciated.

Jon also appreciated that neither Bertram seemed eager to nag him into Bonding with just any Guide out there.

“Really, Jon,” said Mary-Ann with a laugh, “it’s not like Roger bonded right out of school.  I think Alicia was Online for almost ten years before she met my brother, and that meeting was almost an accident because Roger wasn’t invited to that Meet-and-Greet.  Nobody thought he was high-level enough for her and Alicia had been sequestered for a very long time waiting for her perfect Guide.”

Jon sighed and drank deeply from his water glass.  “I’m not holding out for ‘perfect’, you know.  My family—let’s just say that my coming Online was not a welcomed event for anybody.  I wasn’t in a great place physically, just like a lot of other soldiers, and my homecoming was very tense.  My sister’s husband came online a long time ago and he left her when he found his Guide.  Maggie didn’t take it well at all, and when I came Online, she acted like I did it to spite her.  I guess I left home to keep the peace, but it really feels like they chose her over me and I was forced to leave everyone and everything I ever loved behind.  The only cleaner break I could have made would have been to move to New York.”

Mary-Ann’s nose wrinkled in disgust as she expertly flipped the steaks on the charcoal grill.  “Who in their right mind would want to live in New York?”

1975

“Officers Gary Bertram and Jon Baker, reporting for duty, sir,” Gary announced his that pseudo-pompous way of his, and Jon was hard-pressed not to laugh, covering his mouth just in cast.

The sergeant in charge of this Division Headquarters looked up from his paperwork and frowned at the two uniformed men standing in his doorway for a moment before standing up to greet them.

“Sergeant Joe Getraer,” he said, offering both men his handshake.  “Sergeant Getraer until we get to know each other better, and then we’ll see.  Do you have your locker assignments already?”

“Yes, sir,” Jon acknowledged.  “We’ve also been given our vehicle assignment by the chief mechanic in the motor pool.”  Jon frowned slightly.  “He’s a bit over-protective of the motors, isn’t he?”

Getraer groaned and rolled his eyes upward.  “Ah, Harlan!  Yeah, he’s over-protective alright, so do me a favor and don’t wreck or anything, okay?  And Baker—I’ve been told you’re the new pilot trainer at the helipad.  It’s nice that we have so many adaptable officers around here.”  Getraer’s eyes glanced at the Sentinel patch on Jon’s uniform, just under his name patch, and he asked, “Will the two of you need a solitary room often mid-shift?  Because this station doesn’t have one just yet.  Your assignment was a bit of a surprise.”

Jon frowned for a moment before his eyebrows shot high on his face in surprise.  “Oh, no, sir,” Jon stammered just as Gary began laughing beside him.  “Gary is just my work partner, not my Bonded Guide.”  Jon drove his elbow into Gary’s ribs hard, making the man laugh even harder, and Jon just sighed.  “Sorry, sir, but most people don’t automatically assume that Gary and I are a Bonded Pair because they’ve met Gary’s wife before meeting me.  Gary and I are close enough that he can help me out of the rare Zone, but I’m not in an active Guide Search right now.”

Getraer’s mouth pressed tightly before the man apologized.  “Sorry—I just assumed, and now I know what they say about ‘Assuming’.”

“It’s okay, sir,” Jon assured.  “I’m guessing that there aren’t any other Sentinels in this Division?”

Getraer shook his head before escorting Jon and a still laughing Gary away from his office.  “No, not as such.  There are a few other Sentinels that I’ve worked with, and my wife has a Bonded Pair in her family, but I’ve not met any other Guides in the CHP.”

Jon nodded seriously.  “Well, when you do, you’ll want to take real notice of their work patch because it’s much more obnoxious than the one I’m wearing.”

Jon’s Sentinel patch was in the same bland beige of the uniform, with the word Sentinel in plain black block lettering, and was worn directly under the glittering gold name-and-shield plate that every CHP officer wore.  Since the uniform’s other patches were worn on the shoulders, it was quite plain, and the Sentinel patch stood out clearly.

“How obnoxious?” Getraer asked seriously.

“It’s gold and blue on a white background,” Jon replied with a smile.

Getraer groaned.

After that first meeting, Sergeant Getraer seemed to forget that Jon was a Sentinel and treated him just like any other officer under his supervision.  Occasionally he’d give Jon a contemplative glance, but Jon was used to that.  Un-Bonded Sentinels got a lot of attention for a variety of reasons, and not all of them were good.  There was still some social backlash about Sentinels serving in Vietnam, mostly because it was common knowledge that a lot of Sentinels came Online during the conflict, even if it was not common knowledge what the repercussions of that were.  There was a small percentage of the population that thought a Sentinel needed a Guide to be functional, and they were only somewhat correct.  High-Level Sentinels needed a Guide to function well in society, but Jon was Mid-Level and got on just fine.  Of course, those same people also thought that Guides were slaves to a Sentinel, and there was a lot of impolite speculation about what Bonding really was.

Jon just let it all wash over him like a gentle rain, and he got on with his job and his life the best he could.  He had infrequent phone calls with his brother and even less frequent calls with his mother, and Gary and Mary-Ann and little Alice wrapped him in their family as best they could, and Jon was mostly content.  There was one small snag in his life, when a fellow CHP officer took one look at Jon’s lack of a wedding ring and decided to try and fix him up with several of her friends in the few months that he’d been part of the Division.

Gary, of course, just laughed at him.  A lot.

Mary-Ann, the angel, came to his rescue on evening when most of the Division officers got together with their families at a local pizzeria.  “Bonnie, honey,” she’d said with as much kindness as she could muster, “even if you managed to get Jon to go out on a date, that lady would never thank you.  I don’t know how you’ve managed to not see the Sentinel patch on his uniform, but you’re honestly the only one who’s missed it, and I’d hate to think of your fellow officers laughing at your attempts at match-making behind your back.”

That conversation happened on the other side of the dining area of the restaurant, while Jon was playing pool with Gary and Getraer and a few other officers, but Jon heard it clear as day.  As a thank-you, Jon offered to babysit Alice while Gary and Mary-Ann went to the beach for the day.

1975, continued

“I’ve been having weird dreams lately,” Jon told his counselor at the Center one dreary afternoon.  He’d learned while still in the Marines not to lie to a Guide Counselor, so he didn’t even try to hide anything.

“What kind of weird dreams?”

Jon sighed.  “It’s like I’m being followed by some sort of shadow.  It almost feels like it did in the jungle, when Gertie was sneaking up on me.”

The counselor laughed.  “Having met Gertie, I have a hard time believing she could sneak up on anybody.”

Jon laughed as well, because it was true.  Gertie, Jon’s Spirit Animal Guide, was a huge Asian Elephant with an attitude to match her size.  “Yeah, well this is similar, but…not.  The presence doesn’t feel like Gertie exactly.”

“Well,” said the counselor hesitantly, “it could possibly be your Guide becoming known to you.  That has happened, you know—a Spirit Guide reaching out first, to test the waters so to speak.  We can start scheduling Meets for you if you want.  You’ve been psionically alone for a long time, Jon, and you’ve done very well, but maybe it’s time to meet your other half.”

Jon sighed again.  “It’s just—I hate being in a room full of wrong people, you know?  If I could only meet people who were mostly right, then I’d have an easier time meeting my Guide.”

“You know, Jon…that’s not as far-fetched an idea as you might think.  The Centers all over the world are coming so close to understanding what makes a good Pairing, and new information is coming in almost every day.  Maybe if you tell me what this shadow feels like, perhaps we can arrange a meet with only Guides with those…criteria.”

Jon hummed for a moment, considering his words.  “Well, the shadow feels cold, but warm as well, and it’s not really walking around me so much as…slithering?  I’m not saying this very well.”

“Slithering?  Like a snake or other reptile?”

Jon shot the counselor a look.  “Maybe.”

The counselor nodded absently and made several notes in his notebook.  “Well, that’ll be easier than I thought.  Reptile Spirit Guides aren’t exactly common, so if we send out invitations to Guides that are un-Bonded but have reptilian Spirit Guides, that will narrow your field.  It will make for an interesting pairing, that’s for sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” said the counselor as he packed away his notes, “Sentinels with gentle Spirits Guides like yours are noted for being non-aggressive.  You’ll finish a fight, that’s for sure, but you’ll never start one and will most likely move to avoid one.  That’s what makes for good police officers—but very bad soldiers.”  Jon managed to ignore the pointed glance shot his way.  “But,” the counselor continued, “Sentinels and Guides with reptilian Spirit Guides are self-sufficient in a lot of ways, and they’re very hard to get a rise out of.  Snakes in particular symbolize healing and transformation, so such a Guide will be soothing to be around, will be extremely helpful to the community, and will be able to move from one life path to another easily.”

Jon stood almost angrily.  “I’d never ask any Guide to change his or her life for me!”

“No, you wouldn’t,” agreed the counselor, “but such a Guide would have no troubles moving closer to you so that you could be together.  Such fluidity is in their nature.  You’ll get more bend than resistance with a Guide like that.  It’s something to think about.”

And Jon did think about it—a lot.  The dreams had started just after he and Gary Bertram had transferred to the Los Angeles Division of the California Highway Patrol after working together for two years.  They got worse after Gary was killed in the line of duty, struck by a truck while pursuing a speeding car.  Jon felt the loss of a good friend that day and he secluded himself at the Center for a week after the funeral.  Jon didn’t have a Guide, but Gary had often acted the part when Jon needed a balance during working hours.  A month after Gary’s death, Gary’s widow, Mary-Ann, announced that she would be returning to San Diego with her daughter, Alice, so that her family could rally around her.  She’d apologized for leaving but Jon didn’t blame her and promised to keep in touch.

The shadow dreams became a nightly thing after Mary-Ann’s departure, and they were almost a comfort for Jon—knowledge that someone was seeking Jon just as Jon was seeking his partner.  Jon, however, had no clue as to who was seeking him.  He’d not really been back at Division Headquarters since Gary’s death, instead serving as a S/R pilot along the coastline.  He took turns with Barry Baricza so that both pilots were ‘fresh’ for duty during the summer months when hikers tended to get careless.  Jon missed riding along the highway, but motorcycle officers needed partners and Jon didn’t have one at that moment.

That was about to change, however, because Jon had gotten a message that he was needed as a training officer for a new class of recruits to the CHP, and Getraer had hinted heavily that one of those recruits would eventually become his partner.

~~

2009

“You know, I was in the motor pool the day Gary Bertram died,” Frank said as he and Jon worked together to make breakfast in their sunny kitchen.  Two days had passed since Frank had tried to take his grandson to a Meet-and-Greet at the S/G Center and failed spectacularly, and Frank and Jon had been working hard to make sure Michael understood that coming Online wasn’t going to be the end of his world.

“Hmmm?” Jon replied.  “No, I didn’t know that.  How long had you been at the motor pool?”

Frank flipped his omelet onto a plate and cracked two more eggs into the pan.  “I hadn’t actually been there long.  I was working mainly on the cars because I’d never worked on motorcycles and I was a day or so from my certification to do so when the accident occurred.  Joe came in to warn me to watch for emotional turmoil because one of their own had been killed.”

Jon added a splash of milk to the coffee he’d poured and placed it next to the plate on the kitchen table.  “So, you hadn’t planned on applying to the academy at that point?”

Frank shrugged.  “I’d certainly thought about it.  Harlan had almost talked me into it when suddenly you were down a man.  I just didn’t want to cash in on a tragedy, you know.”

“Mmm-hmm, I do know,’ agreed Jon.  “Because that’s not the man you are.  But we might have met sooner if you’d applied earlier.”

Frank passed the salt and pepper to Jon as he took his own seat, leaving the other man to finish his eggs to his own liking.  “Should-have and could-have are imaginary things, Jon.  We got to where we are because it was the perfect time for it, and that’s all that matters.  I do wish I could have known Gary, but that just wasn’t meant to be.  I’m glad he was your friend and family, and I do regret his passing the way he did, but I’ll never regret the timing of us.”

5

2009

“So, Greg wasn’t in school all week and his parents apparently haven’t been to work in a while either.”

As far as opening gambits worked, this one was pretty good in Frank’s opinion.  Rather than replying, Frank opened the door wider to admit his oldest grandchild and asked, “Are we going to the Center this weekend, or are we hanging at the beach for more talks?”

Michael nudged him with a shoulder as he passed through on the way to the back patio where Jon was, again, painting.  “We can go to the Center, but I really need to understand what happened this week with Greg.  I feel like this somehow pertains to me because I’m gonna be an online Guide, too, and the two of you are cops so I know you know something.”

“Did you ride your bike all the way across town?” asked Jon, who, of course, had heard everything from the time Frank answered the door.

“Yes, I did,” Michael said, leaning in for a hug.  “And I parked in the open garage, like I always do, and the helmet is hanging on the handlebars.  You can check if you want.”

Jon returned the hug before turning back to his canvas.  “Oh, I believe you.  But I want to know if I have to expect a call from your mother about you leaving the house so early in the morning.”

“Nope,” Michael said as he plopped down on Frank’s abandoned deck chair.  “I told her I was heading over for some Sentinel/Guide talks today.  My homework is done, so I’ve got all weekend free.”

“I didn’t see a bag when I secured the garage,” Frank interjected as he joined them on the back deck, “so I’m guessing you don’t actually plan to stay here the whole time.”

Michael shrugged easily.  “I hadn’t planned on it, no.  But I figure you can tell me as much as you can about Greg this morning, and then maybe you and I can drive over to the Center this afternoon while Grampa Jon finishes this painting—and then maybe you can show me how to make your sauce so we can invite mom and the kids for dinner?”

Frank laughed at the sly request before sobering and sharing a telling look with Jon.  “Okay, two things: First, showing you how to make my sauce is a done deal—after we get you introduced around at the Center.  You need to meet your counselor anyway, so this will work.  Second, your Grampa Jon and I are retired police officers and our involvement in whatever is happening with your friend is extremely limited.  But,” he added, interrupting Michael when he opened his mouth, “we did get permission from the Alpha to let you know the bare basics of what happened—just so you know what to watch for as you begin to come online.”

Michael relaxed slightly and waited until Frank pulled another deck chair from the side of the little house he’d shared with Jon for more than half of his life.  Jon, knowing when a Guide’s gentle touch was needed, kept his eyes on his canvas and his mouth shut, preferring to only speak up if asked.

“Okay,” said Frank as he settled into his seat, “here are the bare basics of what you need to know.  Some of this might not sound relevant, but I promise it is, so keep your questions for when I’m finished, okay?”

“Okay,” Michael agreed.

“Okay.  So, sometimes something will happen to physically or mentally impede a latent Sentinel, and this will keep a Sentinel from coming online.  This is called Dormancy, and it could be caused by anything—a birth defect, a traumatic injury during childhood or childbirth, an illness of some kind or other.  Nobody really knows what causes it sometimes, and sometimes it’s very apparent.  I’ve personally met dormant Sentinels who had Downs Syndrome or other birth defects.  Jon knows a few vets who potentially could have come online if not for injuries suffered in combat—like missing an arm or leg.  Mental defects are more difficult to determine because they’re not as obvious.

“But sometimes a latent will have most of a condition—slight eye problems or hearing difficulties—that will not cause dormancy but will impede their ability to function as a Sentinel.  The urges might be there, but there is no way for the psionic connection to be made.  Mental conditions can also cause this sort of disruption of Emergence, and this is what happened to the Sentinel that tried to buy a Bond with your friend.”

Michael frowned in confusion.  “Wait, so you mean that this guy could have been a Sentinel—except he really wasn’t?”

Frank see-sawed his hand a bit.  “That’s close, but not quite.  There are Sentinels in that particular family going back generations.  A Sentinel/Guide pairing doesn’t necessarily guarantee Sentinel/Guide children, but sometimes genetics win.  Look at you!  I mean, I was the first Guide in my family in a long time, and Grampa Jon was the first ever, but then you’re going to be a pretty strong Guide if I don’t miss my mark.”

“And Jon-Jon,” Michael interrupted.  “Don’t forget about Jon-Jon.”

“Oh, believe me, we are not forgetting Jon-Jon,” Frank laughed.  “But he’s way too young to really be tested, so we have a few years until we have to deal with that.  But to get back on track—in this man’s family, the Sentinel/Guide genes are really strong, so by all accounts he should have come online and been strong Sentinel.  But something went very wrong in his past and that didn’t happen.  What did happen was that a couple of senses came online for him, and that is very rare, and so he was convinced that he was online as a Sentinel, and then his family began a Guide search for him.”

“It was when a Guide wasn’t found in more than ten years that someone at their former Center realized that a counselor should be brought in to evaluate this man,” said Jon quietly.  “But his family was very rich and powerful in some circles, and they denied the evaluation.  The Alpha of the South-West Quadrant figures they’ve moved around to six or seven countries before coming here, doing legitimate searches before going the illegal route—and all the while, they were denying proper treatment to someone who desperately needed it.”

“Michael,” Frank said gently, “this man was not totally at fault.  What happened to your friend was horrible and nobody will dispute that, but this man was ultimately abused as well—by his own proud family, who couldn’t stand that there might be some sort of defect that would prevent Emergence.”

Michael stared at his hands for a long moment before saying, “So I should be upset for Greg, but I shouldn’t hate the guy who tried to buy him?”

“You should never hate anyone, Michael,” emphasized Frank.  “It’s not good for your psyche.  Hate is a powerful emotion that leads to stupid and dangerous situations.  But no, you should not hate this man.  Pity him, but do not hate him.”

“So, what happened to him?  And what’s happening to Greg and his family?”

Frank sat back and blew out a hard breath.  “Well, Greg’s grandmother’s sister was found—his grandmother is dead—and she’ll be taking custody of him since there are no closer relatives who were not aware of his parent’s deal with this man’s family.  I think she lives in Arizona, so Greg will be moving.  She’ll have him in therapy, of course, and she’s very much pro-Guide, so she’ll make sure he’ll either find a proper Bond or get along just fine without one.

“As for Greg’s parents?  What they did was basically human trafficking, and the S/G Centers want to treat this case just like a trafficking case because they need to spread the word that Guides are nobody’s property.”

“They’re going to jail, aren’t they?” Michael asked.

“They’ll have a trial.  So will the father of the man who tried to Bond with Greg.  A jury will ultimately decide what will happen to those people.  As for that man?  He’s in a therapeutic home, and I think a High-Level Guide is going to completely sever his link to the psionic plane—not that he has much of a connection in the first place.  He’ll be taken care of for the rest of his life, and he’ll be comfortable, but he’ll always know and remember that he did something horrible and could have scarred a boy for life.”

Michael pressed his lips tightly together as he processed the information provided to him.  “That’s good, then, that someone will take care of him.  And it’s good that someone will take care of Greg.”  His questioning eyes met Franks.  “Do you think that, maybe if his parents weren’t so greedy, that Greg could have found a Sentinel around here?”

Frank shook his head.  “There’s no point in pondering that, Michael, and for a lot of reasons.  For one thing, there’s no guarantee that a Sentinel would be found for him anywhere, much less right here and right now.  And then there’s the fact that, with better testing, Sentinels and Guides have the ability to travel almost anywhere to find their best matches.  Arizona isn’t so far that a Los Angeles Sentinel might not travel there to meet him.  But any Meet-and-Greets will be off the table for Greg for a very long time because he needs therapy as well.  His mental and physical well-being is the first priority here, so anything else can wait.”

“Okay, so—tell me about this testing thing.”

~~

1975

“Are you sure you want to go to the academy, Frank?” Joe Getraer asked one day after their weekly racquetball game.  “It’s not all that easy, and men and women younger than you go in—often right after high school.”

Frank tossed a towel to the other man and wiped his own face.  “I’m really sure.  I mean, Harlan basically wore me down, but he makes a lot of good points.  And once I get through the main academy, I can choose which type of police work I’d like to get into.  I’m really thinking Highway Patrol.”

Getraer laughed at his friend.  “If you make it through the academy, I’ll vouch for you to get into Motor Training personally.  I’d love to keep working with you if I can.”

“Aw, Sarge, that’s sweet!” Frank laughed.  “You know, I’d still invite you here for racquetball even if I didn’t work with you.  The fact that you got Officer Bonnie off my case is reason enough!”

Officer Bonnie Clark was a hard-ass policewoman on the Highway Patrol—but was a real sweetheart when out of uniform.  Her one drawback was her penchant for trying to play matchmaker, and she took one look at Frank Poncherello—all greasy from working under patrol cars all day—and decided that he was going to be her next project.  Nothing he said to her could dissuade her.  Fortunately, Bonnie was good friends with Getraer’s wife, so he got Betty to ask Bonnie to back off—all without mentioning that Frank was a Guide.

“I still don’t know why you hide your Guide status, Frank,” Getraer said in the locker room.

“It’s personal, is all,” Frank replied.  “Sometimes people find out and start to treat me differently.  I really hate that, because the only thing that changed is their knowledge of my status.  I’m still me, but some people act like I’m trying to read their minds or something.”

“Don’t think I don’t know there’s a reason you never come to poker night, Frank,” Getraer laughed.

“This is true,” Frank agreed.  “I tell people when I have to, but until then I like to keep it personal.  I know it’ll be on my uniform when I get through the academy, so I’ll deal with it then.”

“It’ll be harder for you in the academy, you know that, right?  Your training officers will know your status, and while I like to think everyone is as fair as I am, we both know there are some total assholes out there wearing the uniform.  You’ll get a hard time while in training.”

“Thanks. Sarge, but I’ll be okay.  I can handle anything they dish out, and I’ve always got Sylvia to lean on if things get difficult.”

Getraer clapped a hand on Frank’s shoulder as they parted ways.  “I know you can handle it, Frank.  But if anyone gets too rough with you, for any reason, you tell me.  We have a zero-tolerance policy on bull during training, and someone putting you at risk because of your status is someone who does not need to have a position of authority.”

But Frank did excel in the Police Academy, despite everyone else betting against him, and he chose to further his training with the Highway Patrol.  His first day in a Cadet’s uniform was interesting—mainly because of the tacky, very noticeable Guide Patch under his name badge.  While Harlan and Getraer gave back slaps and handshakes, Bonnie Clark turned bright red and stuttered out an apology about Guide Abuse that Frank struggled to understand for moment—before remembering how often she tried to find him dates.

“Hey, Bonnie!  Trust me, I know from Guide Abuse, and nothing you did even comes close.  Were you enthusiastic at times?  Sure, but you backed off okay, and I’d like to think we’re friends now, right?”

Bonnie nodded gratefully.  “Yeah, of course, Ponch.  I’m just so embarrassed.  I mean, what does your Sentinel think of me?”

Frank rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.  “Well, I’m not Bonded, Bonnie.  I haven’t met the right Sentinel yet—so no matchmaking!  It’ll happen when it happens.”

But the sideways glances Frank got in the hallways got old very quickly, and he gave many knowing looks to Getraer when they passed in the breakroom. 

And ever since the academy, Frank could feel a presence in the back of his mind—a pressing nudge that something was about to change in a big way.  Meditation didn’t make anything clearer to him.  In fact, meditation only muddled things worse in Frank’s mind. 

Once, while visiting with Sylvia on the Spirit Plane, Frank came face-to-trunk with a huge elephant, and it startled him so badly that he fell out of meditation.

And then came the summons—or rather, the request: an invitation to a select Meet-up at the Greater Los Angeles County Sentinel/Guide Center.  It seemed that an online Sentinel was ‘seeking other’ and the Center was throwing a ‘do’.  Frank could RSVP in the negative.  He’d done that lots of times before because he never had any luck at those functions.  But this wasn’t at his local Center—this was the County Center, so there would likely be Sentinels from all over Los Angeles County as well as other metropolitan areas within decent travel distance, and, well, Frank wasn’t getting any younger.

So, he sent in his acceptance letter and marked his calendar—and then he got out his iron and pressed his uniform for the next day.  He was still a professional and he refused to look like anything else.  His training was a little rough.  Who knew riding a motorcycle was so much work!

~~

2009

“So, Michael,” said Frank by way of introduction, “this is Guide Elise Hartley, and she’s one of the many counselors here at the Center.  She’ll be your intake counselor, which means she’ll chat with you for a while to see where you’re at in your development and what you comfort level is before assigning you to a regular counselor.”

“Hello, Michael,” said Guide Hartley with an easy smile.  “I hear you have a lot of questions about being a Guide.”

Michael shot an uneasy glance to his grandfather before asking, “So, it’s okay if I ask you some of this stuff?”

“Of course, it is!  That’s part of my job here at the Center.  Part of Intake means taking your concerns seriously so that I can match you with someone who won’t make you uncomfortable.”

“But I though all Guides were comfortable people.”

Guide Hartley laughed softly.  “You would think that, but some people are very uneasy around Guides.  There are prejudices, of course, and we try very hard to push past them, but you still find small-minded people in the world who think Sentinels are brainless muscle that the government use to fight wars—and that Guides exist to read minds and manipulate people.  Unfortunately, some of those small-minded people are actually latent Guides and Sentinels, so we have to fight social conditioning in order to make them comfortable in their own skin.  I don’t expect that attitude from you, however, since you were raised in a family with close Sentinel/Guide relationships.”

Frank cleared his throat.  “Um, Michael was friends with Greg Davis, and he has some concerns about that situation.  Jon and I told him a bit, but…”.

“Ah,” Guide Hartley said with a nod.  “Okay, well—that’s understandable, of course.  And I will try to fill in any appropriate information that you could not reveal, if that will ease Michael’s mind.”  Michael drooped in obvious relief and Guide Hartley held out her hand.  “Now, why don’t you come with me, and I’ll begin your evaluation?  Guide Poncherello, you can pick up Michael in about…three hours?”

Frank’s head bobbed in agreement.  “Sounds good.  I need to hit the grocer’s anyway, since we’re having a family dinner tonight with some special ingredients.”

Frank watched, wistfully, as Michael was led beyond the reception area and deeper into the Center.  He vaguely remembered his first evaluation when he was very young, so very long ago, and knew that Michael was ultimately in good hands, so he turned and made his way back to his car, checking his shopping list on the way.

His sauce was a family secret, passed to Frank from his beloved mother, Maria.  Frank had grown up loving to cook, and once he moved out of his parents’ home, he made sure every apartment he had, had a functional kitchen and large eating area.  Frank’s sister, Patti, loved cooking just as much, but his brothers were useless in the kitchen, so it was just as well that they eventually married women who saw to their nutritional needs.  But Frank’s sisters-in-law were never let in on the Family Sauce secret, so the only way Frank’s brothers could have it was at family dinners, which were plentiful as the family aged.

As Frank roamed the grocery aisles, he ruminated on his family: his widowed mother, who held them all together with only her love and strong will; his sister, Patti, married with two lovely children of her own—and a few grandchildren; his brother, Robert, a layman minister within the family church, with a lovely wife and three children—but no grandchildren yet; his brother, Martin, the reformed black sheep who turned around with the love of a wonderful woman, with no children of his own. 

His family was a direct contrast to Jon’s, and Frank knew that Jon was grateful that the Poncherellos had wrapped him willingly inside their family unit as soon as he and Frank had Bonded, pretty much without question.  Maria had accepted that Frank knew Jon would be good for him, and that was enough for her.  Patti had fallen in love with Jon as soon as she’d met him, and it was her idea to carry a baby for them—with Jon as the donor rather than an anonymous donor—after they’d only been Bonded two years, building and strengthening the family bond even further.  Robert kept a careful distance for more than a few years, making sure Frank wasn’t setting himself up for heartache, but once Wendy was out of diapers he’d come around.  Martin was the only hold-back, and that had more to do with his own personal demons than anything.  While Jon was lucky enough to have therapy provided after the war, Martin wasn’t as lucky, and his life took a major down-turn for many years after he got out of the military.  Once he found his way back into the fold, Jon took him aside and provided a lot of support to the damaged man, and soon enough Martin was one of Jon’s closest friends.

Frank privately mourned Jon’s lack of contact with his own family, but Jon’s sister made that almost impossible.  When Wendy, at the tender age of twelve, decided that Frank and Jon should get married—Civil Union-ed, actually—Frank had personally sent invitations to Jon’s mother, brother, and sister, but they only got two replies: Jon’s mother wrote to congratulate them on finding each other, but regretted not being able to leave the ranch at that time, and Jon’s brother said that while he could not make it for the ceremony, he would try to visit later in the year.  The fact that the man had managed to sneak in a private note to Jon from his nephew, Wes, made it easy for Frank to forgive the man’s absence—along with the fact that Roger Baker actually did manage a short visit while on a business trip between Halloween and Thanksgiving, bringing Wes along to meet his Uncle Jon.  Jon wrote frequently to Wes, and infrequently to his mother and brother, now, but Frank knew that the emotional distance from his birth family had cut him deeply.

It was, after all, the reason Jon had traveled to California in the first place. 

But since things had become good and solid for Jon in the time since he’d first come to live in Los Angeles, Frank was willing to forgive the asinine actions of Jon’s sister that allowed the wedge to be driven deep.  The fact was, Wes was older and wiser and was working and living in a different region of Wyoming than his mother, and he had begun a relationship with his birth father after heading off to college, and now Maggie was much older and mostly alone—and it was all her own darned fault.  Frank had a hard time holding anything against such a bitter person—but he still had trouble pitying her.

And as for Jon’s mother and brother?  Christmas cards were exchanged every year, but neither one wanted much to do with Wendy or any of her children, and when Roger visited after the Civil ceremony, he barely spared the girl a glance.  Wendy had been hurt until Martin Poncherello took her aside and explained personal pain and guilt in a way that the pre-teen could understand.

And Wendy?  Frank had to laugh at the change she had made in his life.  He’d always been tolerant and responsible, and Bonding with Jon had only enhanced that behavior because a Sentinel was really only as good a person as his or her Guide.  But parenthood had taken them both by surprise!

Their extended family within the Poncherello unit and the CHP folk had rallied around both Frank and Jon, providing advice and childcare and emotional support.  Joe Getraer’s wife, Betty, had helped Frank find the little house they still lived in, and Artie Grossman, a fellow CHP motor officer, had helped assemble furniture and place the childproofing for the baby.  Babysitting trade-offs were made so that all the parental units could take time for Date Night activities, and Wendy never lacked for positive adult attention.  And when she was older, Harlan, Bonnie, and Artie were on hand to help with homework that Frank or Jon didn’t understand, and Bonnie made sure that Wendy understood that women could be strong and independent, too.

And all of that still didn’t prevent an unexpected pregnancy when Wendy was only fifteen.

Frank sighed as he remembered that troubled time—and banged his head lightly against the kitchen cabinet he was stocking.

Jon had not taken the news of the pregnancy well at ALL—not that Frank was any better—and it was a huge family effort among all of them to keep Jon from going out and doing grievous bodily harm to the seventeen-year-old high school senior who had managed to turn Wendy’s eye.  Of course, once Maria Poncherello, Betty Getraer, and Bonnie Clark had calmed and corralled Jon in their living room, Frank had gone out and had a ‘come to Jesus’ meeting with that young man and his parents, explaining that impregnating the very young daughter of a Sentinel/Guide pair was not a very smart thing to do (and then they had to discuss with Wendy her need to keep secret the fact that her fathers were S/G Bonded), and what his responsibilities were going to be from then on out.

To say that his parents weren’t impressed might have been a bit of an understatement.

That young man graduated high school, as per Frank’s agreement with him, and made his way into the Navy of all things, where part of his meagre salary was garnished for child support.  The huge extended family that had helped raise Wendy now helped raise Wendy’s baby boy while she continued school, and the paternal grandparents were completely involved with the support, much to everybody’s relief.  Wendy finished high school and enrolled in nursing school, all the while living at home with her son, and when she was nineteen—and Michael was four—she actually married Michael’s father, a man now released from the Navy after four years and working as a paramedic in Los Angeles.

They moved into a house near his parents and little Josie came along two years later, with Jon-Jon following four years later.

Was any of it easy?  Of course not, but Frank would not have changed a bit.  Well, maybe he would have changed the age of Wendy when she had Michael.  Michael’s father, Joseph Walters, was actually a good man and was a great husband and father, which was all Frank could ask for his daughter, but it took a lot of tough love for him to get that way.  When Michael started to exhibit signs of latency at the age of twelve, Joseph had come pounding on Frank’s front door in the middle of the night all frantic that he might somehow screw up, and could Frank please help him get his head on straight like he did all those years ago?  And Frank took pity on him and spent the rest of the night telling Joseph what he might expect from a latent-to-Emerging Guide.

And now Frank laughed, because Jon had had to do the exact same thing with Joseph only the previous week, only this time regarding Jon-Jon as a possibly latent Sentinel.

Frank’s little family was certainly something else!

~~

1975

That freaking itch in his mind was back again, only much stronger, and it was driving Frank crazy!

He’d figured it was that way because he’d finally made the decision to attend a Center Meet-up, but Sylvia had been corporeal more often than not since then and she was starting to freak out the other cadets.  So, Frank had managed to convince her to stay close but invisible while he was at work, so he could feel the comfort of her silky scales sliding around his neck but could avoid the uncomfortable glances in the classroom.

So it was with that heavy psionic comfort wrapped around him that Frank entered the main classroom, only for Sergeant Joe Getraer to say to him, “Frank, I’d like to introduce you to your new motorcycle training officer, Officer Jon Baker”—only for Frank to feel his entire life tilt on its side.

From the look of him, Jon was feeling much the same way.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t take this cadet under my training at this time,” he’d said with a barely steady voice.

Getraer was confused.  “What?  Baker, what are you talking about?  You said you were ready to come back to train!”

“Yes, sir,” Jon agreed with a shaking voice.  “And I really meant it.  But I really wasn’t expecting you to introduce me to my Guide.”

“Introduce you to your…what?  What!”  Getraer glanced around frantically.  “Do you need the Iso room?  Do I need to clear the building?  Dammit, Baker, what do you need from me?”

Jon struggled to keep his hands to his sides as he replied, “I don’t need anything but for you to fill out the paperwork allowing this cadet to miss training for at least two weeks.  The I think we’ll be going to the Center, perhaps?”

But Frank was shaking his head negatively.  “Not on your life, Sentinel.  I’ve waited my whole life for you, and if you think I’m going to Bond in the Center, you’ve lost your freaking mind!  My condo is Sentinel Friendly, well insulated, in a gated community, and only fifteen minutes from here.  I can call my neighbor, Melissa, to run for groceries for us, and she’ll leave them outside the door when she gets off work this evening.”

Jon nodded unevenly.  “That—that sounds good, actually.  Separate vehicles?”

“Yeah, I think that’s for the best.”

Getraer rubbed his face with both hands and shook his head.  “Okay, I’ll get on the paperwork, so you two should just leave.  Oh, and Frank?  Expect a call from Betty in two weeks, okay?  She’s probably going to want to throw you a party or something.”

Frank laughed and pulled his notebook from his pocket, scribbling something quickly before handing it to Getraer.  “Tell her to call my mother, okay?  I’m not going to be fit to making outside calls after I arrange for groceries, and I think my mother deserves to hear this from someone she trusts.”

“Oh!” Jon exclaimed before moving toward the phone in Getraer’s office.

“Who are you calling, Baker?”

“Sorry, sir,” Jon apologized, “but I need to call the Center and report this before we’re too into the Bonding that they’re alerted anyway.”

“Great,” Getraer muttered.  “As soon as you make that call, I want the two of you out of here and I don’t want to see either of your faces until my wife tells me it’s safe!”

While Jon was calling the Center and Getraer was filling out the paperwork, Frank decided to just not move from his spot, keeping still and settling his mind.  He’d certainly not expected this when he woke up that morning—finding his Sentinel at work of all places.  And why hadn’t they met until that moment, anyway?

Jon Baker.

Frank searched his memory, trying to find the name among all the CHP officers that he’d dealt with while working in the motor pool, but he failed—until he succeeded.

Jon Baker hadn’t been at headquarters during the time Frank had decided to attend the Police Academy, so he’d never met the man, but he did know who he was.  Frank vividly remembered that day early in the year when the whole Highway Patrol mourned the loss of one of their own—Officer Gary Bertram, who was killed while in pursuit of a speeding vehicle.  Jon Baker had been the man’s patrol partner, and so Jon Baker had taken personal time after the accident, and then he’d temporarily transferred to the Search and Rescue Unit while Frank was at the academy.  It was pure chance and dumb luck that the two had not actually met until that very moment, but Frank could finally appreciate the tense build-up of anticipation that he’d been feeling recently.

That huge shadow that had been invading his meditation sessions had to have been Jon’s inner Sentinel, seeking out the Bond that they would soon form.  Frank absently stroked Sylvia, who had shimmered into physical manifestation while he was waiting, wondering what that shadow really meant.  Unless…?

Jon reappeared quickly, but still kept a respectable distance, not wanting to start something private in such a public place, and Frank noticed his startled glance at the large snake encircling his shoulders.

“So, tell me, Jon, now that we’re about to get to know each other rather…well—what is your Spirit Animal?”

Jon swallowed and cleared his throat. “It’s, um…she’s an Asian Elephant, actually.  Her name’s Gertie.”

Frank grinned widely.  “I can’t wait to meet her.”

~~

1977

“A baby?”  Frank was confused, and from the look of him, so was Jon.

“Yes,” said Frank’s sister, Patti.  “I’d like to give the two of you a baby, to make your family complete.”

Jon nervously rubbed the back of his neck.  “Um, no offence, Patti, but…I don’t really want one of your kids.  And I’m pretty sure Paulo would object, so…”.

Patti laughed heartily, the noise drawing the attention of her husband and Frank’s mother, who were on Frank’s little patio/balcony.

“What’s so funny, honey?” asked Paulo as Maria looked at her like she’d lost her mind.  Frank was starting to think she had.

Patti waved a hand in Jon’s direction.  “Jonny thinks I want to give him one of our boys!”

Paulo gaped at Jon.  “Why would he think that?”

Patti struggled to get her laughter under control.  “Because I told them I wanted to give them a baby for their family.”

From Paulo’s complete lack of reaction, this was not a surprise to him.  “Uh-huh?  And he thinks you want to hand over one of the boys?”

Franks tilted his head as he regarded his sister and brother-in-law.  “What else could she mean?”

Patti heaved a sigh, laughter finally finished.  “Surrogacy, stupid!  I would like to carry a baby for the two of you.  I figured Jon could go to a clinic to make a donation, and this way the baby would genetically belong to both the Bakers and the Poncherellos.”

And now it was Frank’s turn to gape at his sister.

Frank and Jon had been discussing, off and on for the past two years, adding to their family.  Frank was heavily involved with the youth shelter near Venice Beach, teaching kids sportsmanship and community pride, and Jon was always available to help out with Grossie’s kids, taking them camping or fishing on weekends since Artie Grossman was not exactly an outdoorsman.  They’d figured adoption would be in their future, but even though their Bond was considered a Sacred Right, adoption for same-sex couples was difficult.  They had just begun starting the paperwork to become Foster Parents, something they had mentioned to Frank’s mother during the last family dinner, when Patti made her announcement.

“Can we…talk about this, between just me and Jon?’

“Of course, you can, silly,” Patti admonished.  “I just wanted you to know that Paulo and I discussed this, and we’re both in agreement about it.  The two of you are great with our boys—and with the other kids you watch over—and we both think you’d make outstanding parents.  I’m not just exerting my will over my husband here—he really does agree with me.”

And he really did.  Paulo had come to talk with Frank and Jon two days later, explaining how he had been the one to broach the subject after reading about another surrogate situation in his OB/GYN practice, and Patti had been thinking about it since their youngest son’s last birthday.  Paulo and Patti didn’t want more children themselves, but this was something Patti was willing to do for her beloved older brother.  So, Frank and Jon discussed it for a few weeks before making the decision, and then Paulo helped Jon make an appointment at a fertility clinic for the donation portion of the event.

During the actual pregnancy, Frank and Jon were as involved as Patti would allow them.  One or both of them would accompany her to her doctor’s visits, and Frank volunteered to be Patti’s Lamaze partner, citing his Guide Gifts being optimal for that situation.  Since the sights, sounds, and smells of a delivery room would likely overwhelm Jon, he agreed to pace in the waiting room like a typical father-to-be.

And pace, he did.  When Patti was pregnant with her own two boys, her labor was intense—twenty-five hours with the oldest, and sixteen hours with the youngest.  Patti’s labor this time around was turning out to be quite the marathon event.  Frank wasn’t allowed in her hospital room at first, so he and Jon entertained the boys while Paulo sat with Patti.  They made food runs and read stories and made friends with the other family members who were awaiting impending arrivals.  Jon remained fairly stoic until Active Labor began, and Frank was replaced by Paulo in the waiting room.  Paulo made the requisite phone calls on the payphone in the lobby while Jon made lists of things they might need that they may have forgotten—not that Patti and Maria hadn’t made sure their apartment wasn’t properly stocked.  The CHP folks even had a baby shower for the two of them, piling the break room with all sorts of baby paraphernalia.

When Frank popped in to announce that they were moving Patti to the Delivery Room, Jon began to pace.  And then Paulo and the boys joined him in a little mocking parade around the waiting room.  By the time Maria had arrived with food for everyone, everybody who had been sitting in the waiting room was pacing around the large room, with Jon in the lead like some absent-minded drum major.

Maria just laughed at the lot of them.

And Frank?  Well, he was just awed when the nurse brought back a baby girl after a clean-up, and Patti passed her along with the words, “Happy Father’s Day, big brother!”

She was perfect, with Jon’s sandy hair and blue eyes—though the eye color could always change.  She was a screamer, too, and had let everyone know how unhappy she was with her new situation.  Frank was allowed to bring her to the waiting room for only a moment, to show her to her family, but it was long enough for Jon to fall completely in love.  And since he’d been reading ‘Peter Pan’ to Grossie’s kids, Jon immediately wanted to name her Wendy—Wendy Maria Baker.  Jon wanted to hyphenate her last name, but Poncherello was a mouthful all on its own and Frank refused.

~~

1980

“You found us a what?”

Betty Getraer just snorted as her husband flipped burgers on his charcoal grill next to her.  Beside her, Jon Baker was wiping mustard from the face of his adorable—and messy—toddler, Wendy.

“I said, I found you a house.  Just a small one, and it probably needs a lot of work, but that’s what friends are for.  And the neighborhood is pretty good, too.”

Jon frowned.  “But we’re happy in the condo, Betty.  And it’s close to the beach, which seems to be really important to Frank.”

“Where is this house, Betty?” Frank interrupted.

“But Frank…”.

“Jon, Wendy is getting bigger and the apartment is not,” Frank said reasonably.  “And it’s not like we have to buy a house, you know.  It just wouldn’t hurt to look at it.”

Jon sighed and set Wendy on the ground, whereupon she promptly stumbled off to find the Getraer Family dog.  “Fine.  We’ll go look at it.”

Betty practically glowed.  “Good, because I made an appointment for the two of you to see it tomorrow, while I take care of that little sweetie of yours.”

Of course, both Frank and Jon loved the house.  It was in the South Gate Park neighborhood, which was pretty nice.  The park itself was within walking distance of the house, which was a two-story home with three bedrooms, one and one-half bathrooms, a nice kitchen, and a small back yard.  There was a driveway big enough for two cars, a back deck big enough for family cookouts, and a dining room big enough for proper dinners.

It did need a lot of work.

Their bid was accepted, which was good, and they moved in before spring had properly turned into summer.  Days off were spend repairing plaster and drywall.  A proper contractor was hired to replace the roof, and another to fix the plumbing.  Bonnie had her fun helping pick paint, wallpaper, and furniture.  Joe Getraer bemoaned the lack of a racquetball court anywhere near the place but was easily placated with promises of softball games at the park.

And since there was a Sentinel/Guide Intake Center nearby, Frank began supplementing his income as a counselor on odd weekends.

Their little family now had a more permanent home to grow into, and Frank felt more settled than ever before.

~~

1992

“You’re what?”

Frank stood, stunned, in the living room of his modest home, watching as his Sentinel struggled to control his temper, and his daughter struggled to stop crying.

“I’m sorry, d-d-daddy,” Wendy stammered.  “I’m so sorry!”

“You’re FIFTEEN years old, Wendy Maria!” Jon shouted, again losing his temper, and Frank rushed forward to fold his Shields around the man.  Jon went slack in Frank’s arms as the temper abruptly left him.  “You’re fifteen years old, how can you possibly be…no, scratch that.  I know you understand how this works! We’ve talked about sex and birth control until both your Papa and I were blue in the face!  How could this happen?”

Frank looked at his distraught daughter and immediately left Jon’s side to comfort her.  “Hey, Wendy, you know we’re not mad at you.  Yes, we’re angry at the situation, but we love you.”

“I kn-know, Papa,” Wendy sniffed.  “I was so scared!  And I had to ask Melody to go with me to get the test…”.  New tears started falling and Frank turned helpless eyes toward Jon, but he was at a loss as well.

“Wendy, honey, do you want Daddy to call Bonnie for you? Or maybe Miss Betty?”

Wendy nodded into Frank’s chest, so he jerked his head toward the hall phone, and Jon went to place a call to a loyal family friend.  Frank didn’t actually care who showed up, as long as they were female and could help corral an angry Jon.  Later, after Wendy had calmed down a bit more, Frank would call his mother and sister, but that would have to wait.

“Wendy, you know you have to tell us who the father is, right?”

“But you’ll just get mad,” Wendy cried.

“Wendy, I can honestly say that there will never be a time when your Daddy and I would ever stand against you, so you have nothing to be afraid of.  But I need to know who the father is so I can make sure he does right by you and this baby.”

Wendy lifted shocked eyes to meet Frank’s.  “You’re not going to force me to get rid of it?”

Frank blinked.  “Well, I admit that never once crossed my mind, honey, and I bet your Daddy never thought about it, either.  But if that’s what you want, then we can discuss it.”

“I just don’t—I don’t know what I want,” Wendy said, crying again.

“Okay,” Frank soothed.  “Then we’ll all talk to someone, so that you can make an informed decision.  And I promise that your Daddy and I will not try to make this decision for you, okay?  So, you really need to tell me who the father is, because he needs to be a part of this process, as well.”

“Why?” Wendy mumbled.

“Well, because he was already a part of this.  If you decide to keep the baby, he’ll have to know because he’ll have some responsibilities in that regard.  If you decide not to keep the baby, he’ll have to be told afterwards, just so he understands what happened and what he put you through.”  Frank cuddled his daughter close and watched as Jon approached cautiously.  “Wendy, honey, a real man wouldn’t let you deal with any of this alone, so he needs to understand that, while the decision is completely yours, he does bear responsibility.  He should have stood by you when you took the test and when you told us, and maybe you don’t want him to know right now for some reason, but you also owe it to him to tell him.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, but don’t let Daddy kill him?”

Frank laughed despite the serious circumstances.  “Oh, baby, haven’t you learned by now that I’m the one you need to watch out for?”

~~

2009

Frank and Michael laughed as he taught the boy how to steam the tomatoes before peeling the skin off, and soon the juicy fruit was simmering in a shallow pan on the stovetop.  Jon leaned in the doorway, just watching as the ‘magical family sauce’ began its journey from raw veggies to deliciousness.  Michael had called for pick-up from the Center almost exactly three hours after Frank dropped him off, and he seemed more relaxed than he had been in a few weeks.

He also smelled more like an Online Guide than he had in the last few weeks, at lease according to Jon’s nose.

“So, how did your intake go, kiddo?”

Michael looked over his shoulder to smile at Jon.  “It went okay.  I was assigned to Guide Jacob Saltzman for my counseling sessions; do you know him?”

Jon shook his head.  “Nope, the name doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Well, anyway, he’s way cool, and he has a grandson who recently came online as a Sentinel, so he’s kind of fresh with what I’m going through.  And he likes Memphis Jazz, so he played that on his stereo while we talked.  I think I’m going to be okay.”

“Oh, I know you’re going to be okay,” said Frank with a shoulder nudge.  “Did you get all of your questions answered?”

“Oh, even better!” Michael exclaimed.  “Guide Saltzman actually called Greg at his great-aunt’s place, and he let us talk for a bit, so now I know Greg is in a good place and will be getting the help he needed.  Greg even thanked me for telling you about his situation, so that was nice—even if I didn’t do it to get thanked or anything.”

“We know you didn’t do it for the attention, Michael,” Frank assured.  “Nobody raised you to act that way.  Now, how about you go and call your mother while this simmers, and then we can put the finishing touches on it.”

“Okay, Grampa Frank!”

Once Michael bounded into the front hall, where he left his cell phone, Jon joined Frank in the kitchen.

“He’s going to be fine, Frank,” Jon said as he leaned in to nuzzle his nose under Frank’s ear.

“I know he is, Jon.  He’s just in for one hell of a ride, and I wanted him to be as prepared as possible.”

“And he is,” Jon promised.   “At least he’s older than you were when you came online, and there’s not as much turmoil in the world now as there was back then.”

Frank laughed easily.  “Yeah, not as much.  I got to live through the Civil Rights mess, and Michael has the first black President.  We’re still fighting in the Middle East, but it’s a mostly righteous fight.  At least same-sex marriage is gaining traction now.”

Jon kissed Frank on the nape of his neck.  “Do you want to get married now, Frank?  We’ve already had a Bonding, a Bonding Ceremony, and a Civil Union, I think at our age we can maybe swing a marriage, if you want one.”

Frank wiped his hands on a paper towel and turned in Jon’s arms.  “I’ve got everything I could ever want, Jon.  I don’t need a formal marriage on top of everything else.  I’ve just been thinking about my personal journey—and our ride together.”

“Oh, yeah?  And what do you think about it?”

Frank sighed and pretended to think hard before grinning.  “I think I had the very best ride!  There were ups and there were downs, but everything turned out okay in the end.  Walt Disney couldn’t have planned it out better.”

Jon kissed Frank lightly on the mouth.  “We have had a good life, haven’t we?”

“Yes,” Frank agreed.  “A very good, very well-lived, life, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

~~fin~~