The Island: Jackson

Part 1

By Nelson

Brad eased himself out from under Jackson, and pulled the blanket up over the form of his Cen, resting fitfully. Brad sighed heavily and leaned down, lightly kissing Jackson's head. He looked back once more for a final check before pulling the door together and heading toward the living room.

Brad winced at the sharp slam of the front door as Alex let it bang shut behind him on his way into the cottage.

"Alex," Brad admonished.

"Hey, Brad," Alex said as he breezed by, halted by Brad's hand on his forearm. "What?"

"Jackson is resting. Try to keep it down, please."

"Oh, the door. Sorry." A frown of concern crossed Alex's face and he glanced toward the hallway in the direction of Jackson's room. "Is he ok?"

"He's fine," Brad said. "Why don't you watch TV with William?"

Brad waited until he saw Alex heading for the living room before he went out onto the front porch to clear his head. Voices mingled with the warm salt air lifting through the island trees as residents went to and from their destinations. He leaned on the railing with his forearms and looked out at the palm trees, big leafy limbs swaying softly with the tropical breeze, as he willed the tension in his neck to relax.

"Everything ok?" his cottage mate asked as he joined Brad on the porch.

Brad released a deep breath and shook his head. "Hi, Tom. Not quite but it will be."

Tom patted the seat of the swing as he sat down, silently inviting Brad to join him. Tom said, "Did you talk to Cal?"

"Not yet. I will, though. And Jackson has a session with him tomorrow, so that's good." Brad shook his head wearily. "He's taking this one hard."

"Anyone would."

"I wish I could do something to make it better," Brad said despondently.

"You're making it better, Brad."

"I don't feel like I am. I feel so helpless."

"I know you feel like that, but you really are helping. You're there for him and that's what he needs from you," Tom said.

"I care a lot for him. He deserves to have someone as special as he is." The sound of the floor creaking on the other side of the door announced an unseen visitor. Brad and Tom exchanged a glance and Tom stood to open the door.

"Jackson," he said, bringing Brad to his feet immediately.

"What's wrong?" Brad addressed Jackson with concern.

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I would try to find you." Jackson cast a wary glance at Tom and snaked his fingers through his tousled dark brown hair. "You're busy. I'll go back."

"No, stay. I was on my way in to check on Alex and William," Tom said graciously. "You two can have the porch."

"Thanks, Tom. Come here," Brad said, throwing his arm around Jackson's shoulders to lead him to the swing.

"You were talking about me," Jackson accused as he sat down carefully beside Brad.

"You've been upset. That worries me. Tom and I talk about things just like you and your friends do. What were you doing eavesdropping?"

Jackson shrugged. "I wasn't listening on purpose. I was only looking for you and heard you out here."

"It was eavesdropping."

"Sorry." Jackson leaned his head against Brad's shoulder and asked quietly, "Are you tired of me?"

The swing stilled immediately as Brad stopped its sway with his foot against the rough boards of the cottage porch, his finger finding the underside of Jackson's chin.

"Look at me. Look at me, I said." Brad waited until he had Jackson's undivided attention then said, "Do I look tired of you? Do I?"

"I don't know," Jackson said softly. "You looked bothered."

"You do know, Jackson. You were listening at the door remember? What did you hear?"

Jackson swallowed and dropped his eyes, rapidly filling. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Jackson," Brad said firmly. "What did I say?"

"You said -- you thought I was –" Jackson's voice cracked cutting off his words leaving the unfinished sentence hanging in the air.

Brad interjected in the middle of the uncomfortable pause, "Was what? A bother? Is that what I said?"

"No."

"What then?"

Struggling to maintain his composure, Jackson filled in the blank so quietly Brad could barely hear him. "Special."

"And that's exactly how I feel. Don't you *ever* doubt that," Brad said firmly. "Do you hear me?"

Jackson nodded. "I guess."

"Jackson."

"I know," Jackson relented and rested his head back on Brad's shoulder.

Brad ached for the Orphan and hugged him tightly, trying physically to confirm his words. "Why don't we lie down together? We'll read for a little while and see if that helps you rest."

Jackson agreed wordlessly, following inside as Brad led the way.

~~~~~~~

"Hand me that towel, would you?" Sam asked, holding a wet pot.

"Here you go," Jackson said, tossing a fresh towel Sam's way. "So, was Mike very mad?"

Sam grimaced and brushed a hand over his backside. "That would be what we call 'an understatement'. Brad?"

"Yeah," Jackson said then fell quiet. "That bastard."

"Brad? I thought you liked him. We knew when we pulled the salt thing that Mike and Brad were going to be…"

"No, not Brad," Jackson corrected quickly. "Michael."

"Oh." Sam fell silent, then said, "I saw him come through the line today. Did he say anything to you?"

"He tried to make small talk. I didn't have anything to say," Jackson said then snorted indignantly. "Nothing I could say and get away with, anyway. I don't exactly need Brad's feathers ruffled right now."

"You did good to bite your tongue. I don't know if I could have." Sam dried the last pot and set it aside. "Anyway, you're better off without him. You don't want to spend the rest of your life with someone like him."

Apparently, he was better off with no one, Jackson thought bitterly. He pulled the plug on the industrial-sized sink and rinsed the remaining bubbles down the drain.

"It doesn't matter," he said, then noticing the TA coming in the kitchen he added conspiratorially, "KP TA at 10 o'clock."

Sam hid a muffled laugh as the TA approached them. "Ok, Jackson," he said, clapping his hands together. "It's time for you to go. Come with me and sign out."

Jackson glanced at the clock on the back wall. "Coming. See you later Sam?"

"Definitely."

Jackson signed out and then, faced with two routes to Cal's office, selected the least direct path. He was grateful to see William and Alex approaching among some other Cens from 4A and he took the opportunity to stop and talk to them.

"Where are you guys going?" Jackson asked his cottage mates.

"Club time," William pointed out. "As usual."

"Oh, yeah," Jackson said.

Alex looked at his watch. "We can't stop to talk. The last thing we need is for Tom to get an email that we're late again."

"No kidding," William agreed.

Alex asked, "Aren't you supposed to be at Cal's?"

"I'm on my way."

The long way. He walked a few more paces then sat down dejectedly on the grass off the main path. He pulled at individual blades of grass gently, trying to uproot them without making them tear. He tossed each blade aside as looked out wistfully toward the beach. He'd much rather spend time there than in Cal's office "opening up" about things he didn't want to talk about. He contemplated sneaking to the beach instead but he knew a no show would leave Cal little choice but to tell Brad. And after yesterday…

Damn. Being late might be bad enough. He blew out a deep breath and stood up, brushing dirt and grass from his seat. Better late than never, he supposed.

Jackson half-jogged toward the admin building, and breathlessly entered Cal's office. "Sorry, Cal."

"There you are. I was beginning to think I had been stood up."

Jackson sat on the arm of the sofa and said, "It's just 15 minutes. You aren't going to tell Brad, are you?"

"I won't lie to him if he asks but I'm not offering the information if he doesn't."

"Thanks. I was finishing up some KP duty and lost track of the time on the way over here."

Cal grinned and said, "Filling the salt shakers?"

"No. I've been taken *off* salt shaker duty for some reason," Jackson said with a twinkle in his eye.

"I can't imagine why," Cal said jovially. Jackson helped himself to a Diet Coke in the mini-fridge in the corner of Cal's office. Cal reached up and easily caught the can Jackson tossed his way.

"Thanks."

The contents fizzed when Cal popped the aluminum top. Cal asked, "Did it make you feel better?"

"Feel better about what? It was just a prank."

Cal surveyed him and Jackson met Cal's eye without flinching. Finally, Cal spoke into the silent void. "You know, every relationship can't be The One."

"I know," Jackson said nonchalantly. "It's no big deal, Cal. Another guy will come along. I'm not made of china."

Cal leaned his elbows on his knees, bringing him closer to Jackson. "You can talk to me."

Jackson rose brusquely to his feet and said, "There's nothing to talk about." He stared out the window, arms folded protectively over his chest. "It happened. I'll move on like I did before."

"I know you will, but if I can help make it easier, I'd like to do that."

Jackson turned from the window and looked at his watch. "I'm fine, ok? I don't really have anything to talk about, so I'm going to go. You have other things to do and so do I."

"Wait a second, Jackson," Cal insisted as Jackson neared the door.

"Look, I'm fine," Jackson said irritably. "I don't know why Brad insisted I keep this appointment. I knew this was all you'd want to talk about."

"We can talk about something else if you want to. Come back and sit down."

"That's just psycho bullshit to get me comfortable so I'll talk about 'my feelings'," Jackson said, fingering invisible quotation marks in the air around his words.

"After all this time, you know me better than that. Why are you angry?"

"I'm *not*, I'm just…just…" he said, pausing to find the right words. Coming up empty, he gruffly shoved his fists into the pockets of his khakis.

"Angry," Cal finished calmly.

Jackson sighed and he felt his shoulders slump in defeat, and ran his fingers through his short hair. "Not at you, I'm not angry at you. I'm frustrated. Frustrated with the whole situation, with the thought of having to start over, of people stressing about me, being made to talk about it, with having to come see you about it –"

Cal's overly dramatic pained expression brought Jackson's tirade up short. He added quickly, "No offense."

"I'm not feeling the love, Jackson."

Both men burst out laughing, their laughter neutralizing the charged atmosphere. "Come on," Cal said. "Come back and sit down. You know you have to stay so let's just hang out. Think of me as your friend, not your psychologist."

"Aren't we on the clock?" Jackson asked shrewdly.

"Only because I have someone coming in after you."

Finding the answer acceptable, Jackson sat down on the loveseat across from Cal.

~~~~~~

"You're making my favorite," Hobbes commented as he leaned over Cal's shoulder then helped himself to a kiss on Cal's neck.

Cal stopped stirring the potatoes and sour cream long enough to properly greet his partner. "I'm glad you like them," Cal said

before pressing his lips hard against Hobbes'.

"Can I help at all?" Hobbes asked as Cal sprinkled cheese and bacon bits on top of the potato mixture.

"Throw those away for me and set the table?" Cal said. Hobbes gathered the scooped out shells of baked potato skins and tossed them in the trash.

"How was your day?" he asked Cal as he gathered plates and silverware.

"I don't know. Frustrating. I met with Jackson today."

"Oh," Hobbes said knowingly.

"I worry about him."

"How did it go?"

"Ok, I guess. He didn't leave," Cal said with a laugh. "How about you? Good day?"

"I had a follow-up interview with those two Alphas."

"Jonas and Whosit?"

"That would be Taggert, and yes, Jonas and Taggert."

"So what's the verdict?"

Hobbes dipped his finger into the twice-baked potato mixture, barely managing to skirt a swat to the back of the hand, and said, "I don't

know. They're very grounded, happy together. A really strong couple."

"Then what's the problem? They're Alphas who want a Cen. They have a void to fill in their lives."

"I know the textbook answer," Hobbes said, leaning against the counter, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "Threesomes are difficult, though. Hell, twosomes can be difficult."

Cal put the casserole dish of potatoes in the oven and turned to his partner. "You don't sound convinced yet despite the fact that they have a healthy relationship and would like a Cen."

"Making it as a couple can be hard enough, but a threesome? I just don't know if I should advocate that."

"We've had success stories before with threesomes. Pass me the salt, please," Cal said.

"That's true. It's just not very common."

"Doesn't make it wrong," Cal commented, holding his hand out for the salt. "It sounds like these guys fit the bill. Salt."

Hobbes shook his head free of the concerns swirling and reached for the salt. "It's going to have to be the right Cen, too. Someone

who can handle, or rather *needs*, two Alphas…" he stopped, looking at the saltshaker he was handing off to Cal.

Cal studied his partner as he held on to the saltshaker Cal was trying to take. "What?"

"Someone who needs two Alphas? Does anyone come to mind?"

Cal frowned in thought. "Someone here now?"

"Oh, yes," Hobbes said, relinquishing the saltshaker.

~~~~~~~

"No. Absolutely not," Brad said resolutely. "It's too soon."

"Just hear us out, Brad," Hobbes said calmly. "Read their letter, hear what they have to say. I'll fill you in on the interviews."

"My only concern is Jackson, not whether or not these two find a Cen to suit them." Brad pointedly ignored the letter extended to him then transferred a stubborn gaze to Hobbes.

"Do you think Jackson isn't my concern as well?" Cal asked from across the room. "I care about what happens to him as much as you do. I want to help him find the right mate."

Brad stalked to the window of Cal's office overlooking the front lawn, and crossed his arms. "It's been two times," he said with an aggravated huff to the windowpane. "Two times of being pursued

almost to the point of matching then rejected. Not to mention his history…"

"I know," Cal said gently. "The kind of abuse he took growing up is tough in its own right. Compounding that with rejection from a potential partner…"

"Part-ners," Brad said, stressing the plural as he turned from the window.

"Partners, yes," Cal echoed as he sat on the edge of his desk. "But he hasn't asked to leave The Island in spite of that. He's still here to find a mate and that's what we're here to help him do.

Right?"

Brad pursed his lips in response. Hobbes said, "Cal is right, Brad. You can't protect him forever, and if he's ever to find a partner, he'll have to try again. You know that."

"This isn't fair, you guys."

"I know how you must feel right now –"

"You have no idea."

"—protective, territorial, afraid for him," Hobbes finished. "Sound familiar?"

Brad felt the tension begin to leave his shoulders as Hobbes accurately identified his feelings. "Why do I feel like I should be on the couch?" Brad said with a tight smile.

At Hobbes' encouraging nod toward his partner, Brad walked over to Cal, holding his hand out for the letter.

Cal smiled and said, "Thanks, Brad. I've given it a lot of thought and I really think this is worth talking to Jackson about. It's ultimately his decision whether to meet them or not."

Brad sat on the maroon sofa against the wall, and absorbed the contents of the letter. "A T8 and a T10?" he snorted. "Jackson will love that."

"It's exactly the kind of ratings that would work for him being a B8," Hobbes pointed out. Brad quirked an eyebrow at Hobbes, knowing it was true but unwilling to admit it. He returned his attention to

the letter and finished reading.

"Why don't I remember these guys?" Brad asked, tossing the letter onto the coffee table in front of him.

"They left just before you got here about three years ago," Hobbes explained. "They never expected to fall in love. They came looking for a Cen, not each other."

"So they said in their letter." Brad ran his fingers across his brow. "Sounds to me like they don't know what they want."

"Come on, Brad," Hobbes said. "They know what they want, they just happened to fall in love."

"How do we know that?"

"I've had several interviews with them, both remotely and in person. They were gracious hosts and clearly have a solid relationship."

Brad settled back on the sofa and crossed his arms. "I'm sorry, I just don't like it."

"Brad," Cal said calmly, "Hobbes and I agree -- and the board does, too – that it could be a good fit. Consider talking to Jackson, see if he's interested in meeting them. If he meets them and never

wants to see them again, story over."

"And what if they decide they don't want to see him again?"

"That's a risk they all take. Jackson can think for himself and decide if it's one he's willing to take. Taggert and Jonas are willing to take that risk."

"I'm sick of seeing him hurt," Brad said bitterly. "He doesn't deserve it."

"He's not the first Cen to have a relationship not go as far as committing. Things don't always work out the way we hope they will," Hobbes said.

"This is different," Brad said gruffly. "I'm the one who has to see him hurting and help pick up the pieces. I don't want him hurt again."

"Neither do we," Cal said. "But he'll never find a partner if he doesn't take a chance. I want him happy and I know you do, too."

Brad exhaled resignedly and shook his head. Hobbes said, "Just talk to him about it."

"I think it's the right thing to do for Jackson, Brad. Tell him he can come see me if he wants to," Cal said. "He knows that, but it bears reminding."

"Fine. I'll tell him," Brad conceded.

Hobbes gave Brad's shoulder a squeeze. "It'll be all right, Brad. He won't get hurt by thinking about it."

Brad took the long way back to the cottage, the folder with Jonas and Taggert's information clutched under his arm. It wasn't fair. Jackson deserved someone who understood and appreciated him, someone

who understood his needs. He was energetic, funny… While his wit got him in enough trouble, it was also part of what made him so endearing.

"Penny for your thoughts," Morgan said, joining Brad on the walkway near their cottages.

Brad looked up and said, "It's going to cost more than that."

"You seem a million miles away. Something wrong?"

"It's Jackson."

"Oh, no. What did he do this time?" Morgan asked easily.

"He hasn't done anything. Calvin and Hobbes want me to talk to him about this," Brad said, holding the folder out to Morgan.

Morgan paused and flipped open the folder and saw two dossiers. "Two Alphas are interested in him now?"

"At the same time. They're partners."

Morgan frowned and reviewed the information again, light dawning. "Came looking for a Cen and left together?"

"Yeah."

"That doesn't happen every day." Morgan shrugged. "It can work. We've had threesomes on The Island before."

"It's not the threesome aspect so much that bothers me. I mean, it does, but that's not the biggest problem. It's too soon," Brad argued.

"Is that what Cal thinks?"

Brad shook his head. "No. He wants me to talk to Jackson about it and let him decide for himself. Which I agreed to do." Brad took the folder back and added, "I know he deserves to hear about these

guys, but…"

Morgan clapped his friend on the back and said, "You're in protective Alpha mode right now. That's natural."

"I guess," Brad said.

"You are. I would be the same way."

"The threesome part definitely doesn't help, either. Too complicated," Brad said.

"You should call Garth. He knows all about threesomes. You know, Dylan and Jamie's Garth?"

"That's different. One Alpha, two Cens. This would be two Alphas and one Cen – Jackson."

"True. The dynamics are a bit different but still a threesome."

"I might. I guess my first move is to talk to Jackson. He might not even be interested."

"When are you going to talk to him?"

"Tonight. I'll talk to him after dinner."

~~~

"Why don't you take the night off, William?" Brad said, getting up from the table. "I'll help Jackson with the dishes."

"Really?" William asked eagerly. "Great. You won't hear me complaining."

"Why don't you ever want to help when it's my night to do the dishes?" Alex asked as he carried his dishes to the sink.

"Maybe you can get Tom to help when it's your turn," Brad said.

"I'd have better luck turning water into wine," Alex complained.

"Out," Tom said, routing his two Cens out of the kitchen.

"Rinse or load?" Brad asked Jackson after the room cleared.

"What's going on, Brad?" Jackson asked cautiously.

Brad said, "I just need to talk to you and I thought we could do it while we did the dishes."

Jackson's mind reeled, searching for a reason Brad would want to get him alone. "I didn't do anything," he said defensively, coming up empty.

"I know you didn't, Jackson, I only need to tell you about something. I talked to Calvin and Hobbes today."

Jackson cringed. It was bad enough that he had to see Cal about his problems, but now his TA felt it necessary to talk to not one but two psychologists about him. That cut almost as bad as the piteous

looks he got from other Cens.

"So now it takes a committee to work on the Lost Cause?" Jackson snapped, hearing the bitterness in his voice.

"Hardly. Rinse," Brad said. "It seems there are a couple of guys who are interested in meeting you. I thought we could talk about it."

"A couple of guys?" Jackson asked, blinking in surprise. Hell, they either didn't want him at all or they were beating the door down.

"Yes, I have their bios and information in my office."

Jackson kept his eyes on the sink, studying the dishes he was rinsing without answering.

Brad continued, "These guys sound like they'd be worth talking to. They've been together for a couple of years and…"

"Whoa. They've been together? You mean you want me to consider a relationship with *two* Alphas?" Jackson asked incredulously. "No way."

"Why not?"

"Double the rules, double the trouble."

"Double your pleasure?" Brad said with a grin.

"There's more to a relationship than sex."

"I know that. It's just that it could be interesting. You have to agree with that."

"Not worth it," Jackson said as he rinsed another plate.

"You don't want to hear about them and think about it?" Brad asked.

He knew it. Brad had had enough of him, too. The last thing Jackson wanted to do was make it worse. "I guess I can think about it," Jackson said quietly, turning off the tap.

Brad took the dripping plate from Jackson and said, "You don't have to meet them, remember that. I'm not trying to push you into anything, I'm just offering to show you their bios. This is your

decision."

"Yeah, ok."

They continued to clean the kitchen in silence, each lost in his thoughts until Jackson broke the quiet. "That's it," he said, wiping off the table.

"I just need to put this pot away and I'll be finished, too."

Jackson draped the wet dishcloth over the edge of the sink to dry and said, "So, what are they like?"

"Why don't you take a seat at the table and I'll grab their folders from my office?"

Jackson pulled out a chair and slumped into it. Here we go again, he thought. Same guys, different names. He should only have to go through the motions for a little while until they dumped him for

someone else. Someone easier with less baggage.

Brad came back carrying two manila folders that he set down on the table. "Ok, here's their information. I can give you the basics."

Jackson opened the top folder and saw a picture of a handsome man, blonde hair softly highlighted, whether by sun or salon, Jackson couldn't tell.

"Let's see," Brad said. "That one is Jonas, I think."

"Yeah," Jackson said with an indifferent glance at the dossier.

"Right, he's the blonde one. They both enjoy outdoor activities, just like you do, but this one also likes art. He works at an art gallery. I'm not sure exactly what he does there, but he works at

one."

Jackson opened the other folder on top of Jonas' to see the picture of the other guy. Not bad on the eyes. Too bad it wouldn't work, Jackson thought. "Taggert? What does he do?"

"That one is an engineer of some sort. Builds city rail systems or something like that."

"Numbers guy," Jackson said, ruefully.

"You can talk about things that don't involve numbers," Brad said with a laugh. "Besides, maybe he can help you with Algebra."

"He could help me by doing my homework."

"You might not know what you want to major in yet, but you know it won't be math related. You'll make it through the required courses," Brad said.

Jackson read the enclosed information and shook his head. "God. A T8 and a T10?! I didn't even know Alpha ratings went as high as 10."

Brad laughed. "You did, so. Just like you know those ratings are a good fit for you."

"Yeah but for one Alpha. Add them together and you have a T18. Even I can do that kind of math."

Brad chuckled and muttered, "T18. Jackson, what am I going to do with you?"

Pawn me off on someone else, Jackson thought. "I don't know. You're the Alpha, you'll have to figure it out."

"All right, then. Let's start by making a list of pros and cons," Brad said, getting up from the table. He pulled a sheet of paper off the magnetic notepad on the refrigerator and grabbed a

pen. "Ok," he said, handing the paper and pen to Jackson. "Want to start with pros or cons?"

"Pros." Jackson drew a "t" with his left hand on the paper titling one column "Pro" and the other "Con", the letters slanting backward.

Jackson commented, "They're both hot."

"I thought you said sex wasn't everything?" Brad teased.

"Neither is money, but it's always nice to have." Jackson penned "hot" under the Pro column.

"Con?"

"T18," Jackson said, sounding out each syllable slowly as he wrote what he was saying.

"Ok, T18," Brad said, laughing. "Although, that's really a pro."

"Depends on your perspective," Jackson said. "What other hobbies do they have?"

Brad recounted what he could remember of the two Alphas' hobbies and interests while Jackson jotted down notes on the paper. "One is a Guardian and the other is a Field Marshall."

Jackson sighed and rested his chin in his right hand while scribbling furiously with the other under the Con column. "Great. T18 *and* a Field Marshall?"

"Jackson. A Field Marshall is not a bad thing."

"Unless he's a T18," Jackson muttered. "I wouldn't be able to pee without permission."

"Don't you think you're exaggerating just a little?" Brad asked.

It didn't matter. It would never work anyway. He'd just meet them and get it over with to make Brad happy. "It's ok. I'm just kidding. I'll meet them."

"Wait a second, there's no rush to decide. Let me see your list." Brad took the list showing three more items in the Pro column than in the Con. "Looks like you have more pros."

With some pretty big cons, Jackson thought. "I said I'd meet them."

"You're sure you want to?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Jackson said, and he managed to muster a smile.

"If you're sure."

"I said I am," Jackson said irritably. "The list says it all."

Brad glanced back at the list and pointed out the doodled drawing in the corner of the page. "Calvin? Of the original Calvin and Hobbes?"

"I don't know, I was just doodling. I must have had Cal on my mind while we were talking."

Brad looked at the likeness of the cartoon character wearing a scowl on his face while he peed. "Couldn't he have been doing something else?"

Jackson looked at the picture he had drawn as though he hadn't seen it before. "That image sticks in my mind I guess. I've seen it in truck windows forever."

Brad closed the folders and stood from the table. "I'll let the other Calvin know you're willing to meet these guys."

"Ok," Jackson said.

"You don't have to, you know. If you change your mind, that's fine. I'll support whatever you want to do."

Jackson shrugged. "I know. I'll meet them."

~~~~~~

"Nervous?" Brad asked.

Jackson tried to stand still as they waited in the entryway of the dining hall. "No."

Brad pulled him close and gave him a strong hug. "There's still time to change your mind."

"I'm fine," Jackson said, trying to quell the butterflies in his stomach.

"If you change your mind at any point, just give me a sign and I'll pull the plug."

"How's this?" Jackson asked, knifing a finger vigorously across his throat.

"That'll do," Brad said. "That must be them."

Jackson watched as two men in their thirties approached the dining hall led by Hobbes. His stomach clenched in anticipation. "They're taller than I thought," he said to Brad.

"They look to be right at 6 feet or slightly taller," Brad commented as they neared. "Same as me."

A warm breeze kissed Jackson's cheeks, biting through the airconditioned dining hall, as Hobbes pulled the door open.

"Hi, Jackson, Brad, " Hobbes said. "How are you?"

"We're good," Brad said as Jackson muttered a "fine".

Jackson looked beyond Hobbes and scanned the yard for Cal. He was nowhere in sight. The group meeting was supposed to make him more comfortable, but four Alphas? He was glad Brad was with him, but he would have felt better if Cal were there, too.

"Where's Cal?" Brad asked, and Jackson relaxed a bit as his TA of two years seemed to once again read his mind.

"He'll be along later. In time to eat," Hobbes said. "He wants us to save him a seat."

"We can do that," Brad said.

Hobbes said, "This is Jonas Graves and Taggert Lovell. Gentlemen, meet Jackson Barnes and his Temp Alpha Brad Davis."

The taller of the two stuck his hand out to Jackson and smiled. "I'm Taggert."

"Hi," Jackson said. T10, he remembered. He didn't look like a T10, not that they have a particular look. He was taller but didn't have a significant amount of breadth. He looked even better in real life

than in his picture, though, his eyes almost a bewitching green that wasn't clear in the photo. Either that or the teal polo he was wearing accented his eyes, making them appear greener in real life.

Jackson took Taggert's hand and was enveloped in a firm confident handshake.

"Welcome back," Brad said, shaking Taggert's hand. "I wasn't here when you came before."

"I didn't think I remembered you," Taggert said. "Good to know my memory isn't going."

"That leaves Jonas," Jonas said, shaking Jackson's hand. "It's nice to meet you, Jackson. Brad."

"Nice to meet you, too," Jackson said, the warmth in his smile belying the pessimism he felt.

"You guys want to go on down to the beach and find a place to sit?" Hobbes asked. "Who's playing?"

"I am," Jackson said at the same time Jonas and Taggert said they were as well.

"What team?" Taggert asked.

"Green. The Goblins," Jackson said. "You?"

"We're with the Red Dragons," Jonas said. "We were on the red team when we first met."

Jackson grinned conspiratorially. "I hate to tell you this, but I'll be kicking your butts shortly."

"Jackson," Brad laughed.

"You're good, huh?" Jonas asked.

"Oh, yeah." This might not be so bad, Jackson thought. His confidence was buoyed knowing that he was in fact, quite good at volleyball.

"He's on the volleyball team here on TI," Brad said. "He really is one of the best. He and his friend Sam are the stars on their team."

"This should be interesting," Taggert said, "because we're pretty good ourselves." His eyes danced in friendly competition.

"We shall see," Jackson said. He spotted his friend across the beach and waved to him. "Sam!"

Sam jogged over to the group and said, "It's almost time. You ready?"

"Sam, this is Jonas and Taggert," Brad said, introducing the VAs. "This is Sam, the other star player I was talking about."

Sam managed his enthusiasm long enough to shake the two Alphas' hands. "Are you on our team?"

"No, they're red," Jackson said.

Sam smiled broadly. "This will be fun. We're up first against yellow."

Jackson pulled his t-shirt over his head and handed it to Brad

Brad took the t-shirt but grabbed Jackson's wrist before he could disappear with Sam. "Did you remember…"

"Yes, I used sunscreen, Brad."

"Come on, Jackson, we're up first," Sam urged.

"Go ahead. We'll be over here where we can see," Brad said, tossing Jackson's shirt over his arm.

"I guess we'd better go meet our team," Jonas said. "Do you see the red flag?"

"Right there," Taggert said pointing past the volleyball net. "Looks like the team is gathering."

"Have fun," Hobbes said, sitting in one of the beach chairs.

The games ensued, and the spectators enthusiastically cheered on their favorite teams. Ultimately, the competition was narrowed down to green against red for first and second places. Jackson and Sam

whooped and high-fived each other after Jackson spiked an unreturnable ball that smacked the sand between Jonas and Taggert. As the game continued, so did the healthy competition between the

teams, and more specifically between Jonas and Taggert and Jackson and Sam. With the score tied, Sam returned a ball that was bunted into the net by a member of the red team.

Peels of excited voices filled the air from the green team, and some of the spectators cheered with them while others uttered "aww"s in condolence for the red team. The two teams rounded the net to shake

hands, congratulating each other on a game well-played.

"You were right," Jonas said, shaking Jackson's hand, and still breathing heavily from the exercise. "Consider my butt kicked."

Jackson shrugged and ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. "You weren't too bad yourselves. You didn't take it lying down."

"Maybe you'll win next time," Sam said. "With a little practice."

"I don't know," Jonas said. "I don't remember breathing this hard the last time we played, do you?"

"See? You do need to hike with me," Taggert laughed. "You don't get enough exercise."

"I'm hot," Jonas said, ignoring his partner's suggestion.

Jackson looked over the other man, his t-shirt clinging to his lean chest, which, despite his partner's accusation that he didn't exercise enough, was well-defined. Hot? Most definitely.

Sam said, "There's water over here."

The players grabbed bottled water from the nearby cooler before they joined Brad and Hobbes, Jonas and Taggert following Jackson as he led the way.

Brad said, "Good game, guys. It was a close match."

"You had me on the edge of my seat," Hobbes said.

The sun was beginning to set and the ocean breeze felt good on Jackson's damp skin. "I could jump in the ocean right about now," he said.

"It's cooling down," Brad said. "I guess you aren't ready for your shirt yet?"

"No, way," Jackson said, squirting water into his mouth. "We don't need a bonfire," he added seeing some of the others piling the wood into a teepee-shaped mound.

"We'll be glad for that later after the sun goes down," Hobbes said.

"I smell the barbeque," Jonas said. "That workout left me starved."

"You're always starved," Taggert teased. "Your metabolism is in overdrive."

"Looks like the line has already formed," Hobbes said, nodding toward the men falling into place at the buffet.

"We might as well sit here and talk until the line goes down some," Brad suggested. "It will give you all a chance to cool down."

"That works," Jonas said.

Great, Jackson thought. Why couldn't they just stick to volleyball? He spotted Sam in line, laughing and having a good time, and he wished to be with his friend where he could relax and

be comfortable. Instead he was stuck with several Alphas, two of whom wanted to "get to know him". Let Twenty Questions begin.

Question one.

"So, Jackson, Hobbes tells us you're taking classes?" Taggert asked.

"Just general ed right now. I don't know what I want to major in."

"Not a thing wrong with that," Jonas said. "I changed my major 5 times before I graduated."

Brad chunked Jackson with his elbow and said, "Told you so."

"I didn't think Alphas had trouble with decisions," Jackson said. Glancing around the circle at the ratio of Alphas to Cen, he added, "Present company excepted."

Jonas laughed. "I liked too many things. I ended up with a double-major."

"What in?" Jackson asked.

"Business Management and Art."

"Interesting combination," Hobbes said.

"I want to own my own art gallery at some point."

"Do you paint?" Brad asked.

"I do ok. I wouldn't be able to make a living at it. I can sell other people's work though."

"Cal!" Hobbes said, waving at his partner who was scanning the crowd. Cal waved back and managed to make it over to the group fairly quickly considering how many times he had to stop and

say "hi" to someone along the way.

"You waited for me," Cal said.

"Not really," Hobbes said, standing and dropping a peck on Cal's cheek.

"Did you already eat? Where are your plates?"

Hobbes looked toward the long line of men waiting for their serving of barbeque. "Over there buried under people."

Hobbes introduced Taggert and Jonas to Cal then they sat down to wait for the line to diminish a bit.

Jackson tried his best to keep up with the small talk and seem interested but it looked like the harder he tried, the less he had to say. He eagerly answered questions posed to him just to appear

to be a part of the conversation and was relieved to go stand in what was left of the line when they went for food. As he walked toward the tables, he caught his best friend's eye as Sam approached

the dessert buffet. Sam grinned at him knowingly and Jackson rolled his eyes to let him know how much fun he was having.

"I'm going to find out the secret recipe for this barbeque one day," Cal said, seating himself at an empty spot at the long table.

"It is good, isn't it?" Brad agreed. "This macaroni salad is good, too."

"Do either of you like to cook?" Cal asked the Visiting Alphas.

"Like it? No," Taggert said. "I only cook if I have to."

"I like it better of the two of us," Jonas said. "Neither of us are Emeril by any means."

"So I do the bills, he does the cooking," Taggert said.

"You're an engineer, right?" Brad asked.

Wonderful. The numbers guy, Jackson thought to himself as he spooned up a mouthful of baked beans.

"I do some work with the city on their railway construction and design, mostly as a consultant."

"That means you like numbers," Jackson accused.

"Guilty," Taggert said with a smile. "Do you?"

"Hate them," Jackson said quickly. "I'm not interested in anything numeric that doesn't involve the calculator, and I mean one of those cheapo ones from Wal-Mart. Not the kind with so many functions that

you need a cheat sheet to use it."

Taggert smiled and said, "I'm not surprised. I'm usually in the minority."

"I hate numbers, too, which is why it makes sense for Tag to do the bills. I'll be glad to take the cooking," Jonas said.

"Your bio said you like to hike?" Jonas asked.

"I do," Jackson said. With a grin, he added, "And volleyball."

Everyone laughed and Taggert said, "Well, you're good at it."

"Thanks."

"Jonas goes hiking grudgingly with me. Hiking is my passion, not his."

"But I go because then he can't gripe too much when I want to go to art exhibits," Jonas said.

"That's what it's all about," Hobbes said. "Give and take, right?"

"You got that right," Cal said.

Jackson spoke mostly when spoken to, struggling to be upbeat and courteous. Brad caught his eye at one point and Jackson almost had to sit on his hand to keep from dragging his forefinger across his

throat.

He didn't have a chance to give Brad the signal before the conversation turned to baseball. Before he knew it, they were sitting near the bonfire and Brad was breaking up a passionate discussion between the VAs and Jackson on why the Yankees sucked.

"Ok, so they only make it to the World Series because they have all the money," Brad said.

"Exactly," Taggert said.

"Give some of the other teams that money or cap what they can offer, and you'd see the Yankees on a more even playing field," Jackson said.

"You guys have trashed my team long enough," Brad said, laughing.

The clean-up crew was starting to filter in, removing serving trays and tying up the trash. "I think it's time for us to head home."

"Before they boot us out," Hobbes said, standing from his seat and holding out a hand to his partner.

Jonas and Taggert stood and shook hands with the residents in their circle. "I enjoyed it," Jonas said.

"Same here," Taggert said, holding his hand out to Jackson. "I enjoyed meeting you."

"Me, too," Jackson said, surprised that the evening had slipped away so quickly. He shook Jonas' hand as well and felt a pang of regret as they went their separate ways.

He quickly buried the regret and reasoned with himself instead. A conversation about something they both liked was nothing. It wasn't enough to make them want him once they knew him better. He could

talk baseball with a number of guys, but that didn't mean they could spend the rest of their lives together.

He barely noticed Brad had put his arm around his shoulder until Brad spoke. "What did you think?"

Jackson shrugged.

"Come on, now. I know you're thinking something. I smelled the smoke," Brad said playfully.

Jackson cast him a disapproving glance and said, "They're nice, but we had baseball in common and baseball season isn't long enough to sustain a relationship."

"And hiking, and a hatred for numbers…"

"Yeah, I guess."

"What if they want to see you tomorrow? I'm sure they'll be at the Meet and Greet," he said, using the more official name for the Sunday Social.

"I forgot they'd be at the Greet the Meat tomorrow," Jackson said regrettably and sighed.

"I'd be surprised if they don't look you up. They seem nice."

"Do I have to go?"

Brad asked, "Don't you want to go?"

Jackson sighed again. "I guess."

Brad tugged him close and kissed his head. "Thanks for meeting them. It doesn't hurt to be sociable."

"No," Jackson replied. The hurt comes later when they decide he's not right for them.

"Jackson?" Brad called while gently knocking on Jackson's door. He opened it to find Jackson stretched out on the bed, hands folded behind his head. "What are you doing in here with the door closed?"

"Sorry, Brad. I was resting a bit, that's all."

Brad sat on the edge of the bed, palm finding Jackson's forehead. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine. A little tired is all."

Brad looked at Jackson's eyes to determine how fine he was for himself. "That was Taggert on the phone. He wanted to know if you'd like to spend some time just the three of you this afternoon

at the Sunday Social, but if you're too tired…"

"I told you, I'm fine," Jackson said.

"Do you want to go see them some more?"

"Sure," Jackson said indifferently.

Jackson tried not to squirm under Brad's scrutiny and said, "What?!"

"I thought you said you enjoyed yourself yesterday. If you don't want to see them, you need to tell me."

"I hate it when you look at me like that," Jackson grumbled. "I wouldn't go if I didn't want to."

"I'm trying to figure out what's going on in that head of yours since you prefer to keep it to yourself."

Jackson sat up and straightened the back of his rumpled hair. "I'm not hiding anything. You don't care if I'm with them alone?"

"You won't be totally alone. It's the Sunday Social so just about everyone on the island will be there. Not to mention, I'll be close by and have an eye on you."

"I'm sure. You told them I'd do it?"

"I told them I'd decide after I talked to you."

Jackson thought for a moment then said, "I'll talk to them again. I'm ok."

Brad laid a hand on Jackson's thigh and said, "Ok, we'll walk over together and find them. You can take it from there. If you change your mind, just say the word, and I'll stay around."

Brad sure was trying hard to make this work. Jackson worked to maintain his poker face and said while snaking his finger across his throat, "How about I just go like this?"

"Ok," Brad said with a smile. "That'll work." He patted Jackson's leg and stood up, hands on his hips. "You're sure you want to do this?"

"Would you quit it? I'll talk to them again, ok?" Jackson said standing. "I need to get ready to go."

Brad and Jackson arrived outside the dining hall at 1:45 to find Jonas and Taggert there and waiting.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Brad said, extending a hand to each of the Visiting Alphas.

"Good to see you again," Taggert said. "How are you, Jackson?"

"Fine."

"Thanks for talking to us during the Social today. We were hoping to get one more visit in since we have to leave in the morning," Jonas said amiably.

"Yeah, this works out good," Jackson said with a tight smile.

"Why don't we head down to the picnic area? Are you coming along, Brad?" Jonas asked.

"I'll walk over in a minute. Give me a second with Jackson and then you can go."

"What?" Jackson asked as Jonas and Taggert gave them some privacy. "I said I was fine."

"I know what you said," Brad replied. "We need to leave at 4:30 unless you let me know you want to leave earlier. Ok?"

"Yeah, ok," Jackson said, glancing around the lawn.

"Are you listening to me, Jackson?"

"I heard you."

"We have chores to do this afternoon at the cottage and that doesn't change because of a date."

"Four-thirty," Jackson parroted. "So I don't miss out on an exciting afternoon of chores."

Brad grinned at him. "Have a good time with them. I'll get you at 4:30 unless you let me know otherwise. Go on."

Jackson turned from his TA and approached the two Visiting Alphas.

"Hi," he said. "We're done."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and patiently waited for the uncomfortable silence that was bound to follow.

Here it comes, Jackson thought as Brad distanced himself. He looked back at the men indifferently, curiously waiting to see how they would handle the next move.

"So," Taggert said.

"So," echoed Jonas.

"So," Jackson couldn't resist adding.

Jonas started laughing. "I hope you'll forgive us. We aren't really good at this. We've been with each other so long, we haven't had to try to impress anyone for a long time."

"We're not real suave. We might as well warn you now, if you didn't pick up on that little detail yesterday," Taggert said.

"Yeah, well," Jackson said with a grin. "I'm not real good at this stuff either, so it shouldn't be a problem."

The uncomfortable silence Jackson expected managed to creep in as they watched several people heading to the picnic area, which must have been rapidly filling with other guests and residents.

Jonas interrupted the quiet and said, "So," and the three started laughing again. "We were thinking maybe we could head over and find a spot to just sit and chat. How does that sound, Jackson?"

A private chat. How romantic. "That's fine," he answered.

They followed others toward the area where the Sunday Social was held in a shaded place filled with tables and surrounded by a wall separating the lawn from the softly babbling brook that encircled

the area. Cens and VAs alike had found seats along the wall where Jackson usually sat.

"Want to grab a bite and then find a seat?" Taggert suggested.

"Sounds like a plan," Jonas chimed in. "Jackson?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

Jackson started toward the finger foods, wondering which of the men he followed, if not both, would decide he wasn't worth the trouble. It shouldn't take long. As soon as they realized he was more

trouble than he was worth, they'd be gone like all the others in his life. It was such a waste of a perfectly good Sunday afternoon, but at least Brad wouldn't think he had given up or that he would be

staying in Cottage 8A forever.

"These look good," Jonas said, piling his tiny plate with various selections.

"They are. The sausage balls are what keep me coming to these things every week," Jackson said, popping one in his mouth and tossing a few more on his plate.

"There's a table in the corner over there that hasn't been taken. Does that work for you, Jackson?" the T10 asked.

"Yeah, that's fine," Jackson repeated.

Jackson watched the ground as they strolled, lost in thought, then quickly checked over his shoulder for Brad. He had followed and had his eye on Jackson. Jackson felt relieved to see him when Brad

tipped his head in a supportive nod.

Jonas said, "We're really glad you agreed to meet with us this weekend. We had a great time yesterday at the barbeque."

"It was fun," Jackson said. "I like the Saturday activities."

"We like them, too. I remember a volleyball competition when we were here before," Taggert said. "We were the ones kicking butt then, weren't we?"

Jonas smiled and agreed. "When we weren't looking at each other. That was the day we hit it off."

"Probably why it sticks out in my mind. Do they have the volleyball competition often?"

"Oh, yeah. About once a month," Jackson said.

"You must like it a lot to be on the Island team," Jonas asked.

"Yeah, I do."

"Here we are," Jonas said. Several people were nearby but the corner table offered the most privacy on the crowded lawn.

Jackson stopped short as the other two men took opposite sides of the small table, leaving Jackson to choose who he would sit next to.

Taggert and Jonas exchanged a glance and Taggert suddenly slipped out of his seat and moved to the other side next to Jonas. "You can sit here," he said. "We're so used to sitting across from

each other. Habit."

Jackson sighed and sat down, feeling a bit like a third wheel. The Greet the Meat functions were uncomfortable enough without adding the complexity of getting to know not one, but two Alphas. Stuck

alone with them didn't allow him to slip away as easily as he could if they were just mingling.

All of a sudden he was angry with himself, feeling boxed in and trapped with the two men. He should have never agreed to this. Never.

"Why do you want a Cen all of a sudden anyway?" he asked abruptly.

"It's not sudden," Jonas said. "We've been thinking about it for a while."

"For two years, actually. You know, we came here looking for a Cen and found each other," Taggert said. "We just got sidetracked."

"I heard. Why now?" Jackson pushed. There was nothing to lose by being himself. No reason to pretend.

"That's a fair question," Jonas said unruffled. "We love each other but we're still Alphas. We've reached a point where we felt like the time was right. We're settled, ready and we have a lot to offer a

Cen that we can't really offer each other."

"Fulfill certain needs for someone," Taggert added. "And we'd be getting something out of it, too."

"Yeah, I know all that," Jackson said. "That's why I'm here. But what made you think the time was right?"

The two men looked at each other for the answer to Jackson's question. Taggert finally cleared his throat and said, "It's hard to say. It's like falling in love. When it's right you just know it."

"Right, and we knew it. We've been talking about it seriously for six months or so. It really wasn't a sudden decision."

Jackson nodded. "I can buy that. Alphas don't make sudden decisions."

Taggert smiled and said, "Not usually."

"And like we were saying, we can offer more to a Cen than we can another Alpha," Jonas added. "We're still Alphas while we're with each other."

Jackson couldn't help but return a smile. "You're trying to top each other?"

"No, I wouldn't say that," Taggert said.

"What would you say?" Jackson asked.

The two were thoughtful, but quiet as they searched for an answer.

Finally, Jonas laughed. "I'm trying to think of an example, but I'm not doing a good job."

Taggert took a bite of the mini-ham biscuit on his plate and said, "Oh, I have one."

"Good, because I'm blank," Jonas said.

"He's a Guardian," Taggert said with a nod toward Jonas. "When I'm sick, for example, I want to be left alone. He wants to nurse me back to health."

"Good example. Do you have any idea what horrible patients Field Marshalls are?" Jonas asked.

"That's because we don't like being waited on hand and foot," Taggert explained patiently. "Something Guardians don't seem to understand."

"Everyone needs help occasionally," Jonas said, popping a chip in his mouth. "Even you."

"No, I don't."

"You do."

"I do not. Not when I'm sick," Taggert said. Jackson was captured in the debate and watched the two men argue back and forth.

"You especially need it when you're sick. It's not a blow to your manhood for me to get some juice for you, you know."

"I didn't want any juice."

"No, you just didn't want me to get it for you."

Taggert laid his ham biscuit down and said, "That's not true. I don't like to be nursed when I'm sick. I like to be in my bed, in the dark and left to suffer through it. You're one to talk, anyway."

"Oh," Jonas said laughing, "don't even try to turn the spotlight on me, here."

"I'm not," Taggert said jovially.

"You are! You're—" Jonas stopped talking abruptly when Jackson started laughing. "Sorry, Jackson. You must think we're horrible."

"No, funny," Jackson said.

"I think we've made our point," Taggert said playfully, "which is I don't need the kind of nurturing Jonas likes to give. A Cen would likely be more receptive to it. Fulfilling each other's needs would

make us an even stronger unit. A unit of three."

"Makes sense," Jackson said. "What about if you disagree on things with your Cen like rules and stuff?"

Taggert said, "We're not about to pretend it would be easy. We'd have to really pull together to make decisions."

"The Island admin have already talked to us in-depth about stuff like that," Jonas said. "When we're ready to make a move, they'll work with us to try to get some of the bigger things resolved and

then do a lot of counseling in the early days."

Jackson shrugged. "Sounds complicated."

"But worth it," Taggert offered without hesitation.

The table fell silent, Jackson contemplating some of their comments as he ate.

The conversation turned to less intense topics including art and baseball again. Jackson often caught himself enjoying the company of the two men before reminding himself not to fall for them. They

seemed to be enjoying his company, too, but then so did the others at first.

"Do you need to be back at a certain time?" Taggert asked after Jackson took what he thought was a discreet look at the time.

Jackson said, "I'm good."

"What time do you need to be back?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it," Jackson said dismissively.

"Glad to hear it," Taggert said easily, "but I still don't know what time Brad is expecting us to wrap this up."

Jonas leaned across the table and whispered to Jackson loud enough for Taggert to hear him, "Humor him."

"Don't worry. Brad will let you know," Jackson said.

"What time can I expect him?" Taggert asked again.

Something stirred in Jackson at Taggert's refusal to give in. His strength and determination drew Jackson in, attracting him to the man. He tamped down the feeling before it could surface,

protectively masking the attraction before he lost control of it.

Jackson said, "Four-thirty."

"It's almost that time," Jonas said. "We should clear our trash."

"Here he comes now," Taggert said.

Jackson saw Brad's familiar form heading their way right on time.

"See? I told you he'd let you know," Jackson said, draining his cup.

Brad walked up just as Jonas was returning from the trashcan. "Have you guys had a nice visit?" he asked, slipping his arm around Jackson's waist.

"We did," Taggert said. "Thanks for giving us some time with Jackson this weekend."

"Jackson," Jonas said, "I'm sorry we have to leave tomorrow. I feel like we were just starting to know each other."

"Yeah," Jackson said simply.

"The weekend went by far too quickly," Taggert said. "I had a nice time."

"Me, too," Jackson said. "You leave in the morning?"

"Right," Jonas said. "Ten o'clock."

"Why don't we go for a walk?" Jackson suggested. "You have the rest of today. There's a trail that…"

Brad interrupted, "Chores don't get done from a trail. You need to head back to the cottage and get started. I'll be along right behind you. Hobbes needs to talk to me for a minute."

"I'd rather go for a walk first. I'll do my part when we get back, Brad."

Brad's voice hit a lower pitch, a warning tone Jackson recognized. "Jackson. We have plans this afternoon. We need to get going."

Once he started down the path, Jackson couldn't seem to stop. It wasn't because he wanted to spend more time with the men, or go for a walk even. He didn't know why he kept pushing Brad; he knew who always won that showdown.

With a glance at the VAs, Jackson argued, "Come on, Brad. Don't get all worked up about it. It doesn't matter when they get done, as long as I do them, right?"

Brad turned to Jonas and Taggert and said, "Excuse us a second."

Jackson felt Brad's fingers sink into his forearm as he moved them out of earshot of the visiting Alphas.

"What are you trying to accomplish, Jackson?" Brad asked with his hands on his hips.

"I just want to spend a little more time with them, that's all. Isn't that what you want?"

"You know better than to defy me. You're making it worse by defying me in front of them."

"I'm not. I'm not defying you –"

"Are you in the cottage?"

"No."

"Are you on your way there?"

"No, but –"

"Did I tell you to go there?"

Jackson risked a look over Brad's shoulder at Jonas and Taggert looking decidedly uncomfortable with the situation. This scene should take care of any more "dates".

"Look at me, not at them." Jackson drew his eyes back to Brad and tried to ignore the two men behind them. "I really don't want to have to swat you in front of them," Brad said, "but I will if you

don't answer me."

"Yes, you told me to go there."

"When I tell you it's time to go, I expect you to move. Now move. And you can go to my sitting room when you get there."

"Brad!" Jackson said alarmed.

"Jackson, I won't say it again."

"But!"

"Do I need to escort you?" Brad asked resolutely.

"I'm going!"

Jackson heard Brad's voice as he hurried down the pathway. "Sorry about that."

"You'll have to excuse the most difficult Cen on TI," Jackson muttered as he stalked away.

The walk back was quiet with only his thoughts for company, starkly different from the getting-to-know-you chatter that took place in the picnic area. So it was over, Jackson thought with a bit of

relief. Knowing it was going to cost him with Brad overshadowed his new freedom, but still. Good to be done with it before he got too close to them. Emotional pain hurt a lot longer and deeper than

physical pain.

He let the door slam behind him as he entered the cottage and stalked toward Brad's sitting room.

"Hey, Jackson, how'd it go?" Alex asked as he passed by.

"Fine," Jackson said as he shoved past Alex.

"Excuse me," Alex said sarcastically.

Tom entered the hallway leaving his sitting room and asked Alex, "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Alex said, throwing up his hands. "Someone pissed in Jackson's Wheaties again."

"Shut up, Alex," Jackson growled just before he slammed the door to Brad's sitting room with his foot.

Jackson sank into the sofa, resting his head on the back edge. Brad looked plenty annoyed. Big surprise there. Just how annoyed, Jackson wasn't sure. He looked toward the corner and wondered if he

should be over there.

Brad hadn't said to wait in the corner, but then, after two years, he could usually predict what would happen. He had intentionally pushed against what Brad told him to do. "Defied him," he corrected his conscience. "In front of people."

In front of Jonas and Taggert.

Jackson groaned and threw his forearm over his eyes. "Crap."

He got up toed the heel of his tennis shoes, slipping them off then unzipped the fly of his shorts, sliding them down his legs. He stepped out and folded them, placing them across the arm of the sofa. He went to the corner and leaned his head against the wall and waited. That had been easy, squashing out the glint of a spark in a budding relationship. Not a problem. He was good at killing relationships.

It seemed like Brad was taking an eternity, probably telling Jonas and Taggert all about him. Or maybe he wasn't: the more he told, the more likely the two Alphas would look elsewhere for a partner and

the longer Brad would be stuck with him. Maybe he was busy making excuses for Jackson's behavior, telling the unwitting Alphas that he isn't usually like that, he's usually not like that at all.

A lifetime later, Brad came in and closed the door behind him, and Jackson straightened up, struggling to remain facing the wall. He heard Brad walk up behind him, feeling his presence filling the

space behind him.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?" Brad asked sternly.

Jackson raised a shoulder.

"Ok then, you need to stand here and think a little longer," Brad declared.

Great. It just keeps getting better. Jackson faced the corner and stared at the cream paint he had seen a million times before. No matter how many times they went through this drill, he never got used to it. The corner was always just as boring and going over his TA's knees was always just as hard. He desperately wanted the whole ordeal to be over with, Jonas and Taggert things of the past. He sighed and slumped forward to lean his head against the cool wall.

"Straighten up," Brad called from his desk.

Jackson lifted his head from the wall and sighed. His chest ached like a weight was on it and his mouth was dry. As much as he was dreading an encounter with Brad, he was glad the afternoon put an end to anymore façades of "relationship building" he would have to endure with the two Alphas. They would go home, glad they hadn't put any more energy into getting to know him. He would run into them

when they came back but at least they'd be busy pursuing someone else, and not him.

His ears went on full alert when he heard Brad get up from his desk.

"Ok, Jackson."

Jackson turned from the corner as Brad centered the straight-backed chair in the middle of the room. "Let's get this done."

Minutes later, his backside felt like it was ignited, but he felt closer to Brad than he had twenty minutes earlier. "I'm sorry, Brad," the Cen said, curled up tight against his TA on the couch.

"What happened, Jackson? We talked about coming home at 4:30, didn't we?"

"Yes."

"Why did you fight me then?"

"I was caught up in conversation I guess."

"You had a responsibility to leave when I told you to."

Jackson sniffed and repeated, "I'm sorry."

"That's not the only reason you got spanked though," Brad said.

Jackson cringed. As usual, he acted before he thought earlier. What seemed like a good idea at the time, didn't seem so smart now.

Brad continued, "I won't stand for you defying me. You know that, and today you not only refused to obey me, you did it in front of Jonas and Taggert."

"It's just as well that they see the real me now before they waste more time with me," Jackson said forlornly. "At least it's over."

Brad gently patted the now cotton-covered bottom under his hand and said, "Is that what you want? Was that the whole point?"

"I don't know. I don't care."

Brad handed Jackson a tissue from the end table and Jackson wiped his stuffy nose. Brad said, "Did you enjoy getting to know them some this weekend?"

"They're ok."

"I thought you must have really been hitting it off to fight me so hard to stay with them. Was I wrong?"

"We were having a nice time but I had a nice time with other guys at first, too. They won't waste anymore time on me after today."

Brad kissed the top of Jackson's head and said, "How do you know that?"

"I know," Jackson said confidently. "I've been here before."

Brad chuckled and said, "Well, I'll tell you one thing. We've managed to whittle down your choices for majors. It won't be Math or Mind Reading."

"What do you mean?" Jackson asked without raising his head.

"I mean it's not over as far as they're concerned. They asked if they could email you since they're leaving in the morning. They gave me their addresses in case you'd like to talk some more."

Jackson leaned up and looked in wonder at Brad. "They-- they did?"

"They did." Brad straightened his leg, giving him enough room to reach into the pocket of his pants to withdraw a folded piece of paper.

Jackson took the piece of paper tentatively and unfolded it. There were three addresses listed with a short note:

/Jackson, we enjoyed the weekend and getting to know you. If you'd like to talk more and get to know each other better, here are our email addresses. The third one is a joint account that we could use

for IM if we decide to talk that way in the future. We hope to hear from you soon, Jonas and Taggert./

These guys were crazy, had to be. Jackson had managed to stay on his best behavior with Michael and he didn't want him. These two had been offered a glimpse into the "real" Jackson and wanted more?

"I'll be reading your email if you decide to write to them until I'm comfortable you aren't being pressured and things aren't getting too personal. You know the drill," Brad said. "And no IM until I say

so."

Jackson nodded and continued staring at the paper. They weren't done with him yet? They weren't running for the hills? That didn't make any sense.

"What do they want? I don't understand."

"What don't you understand? They want to talk more."

"Why can't they just let it go? It's never going to work," Jackson said despondently. "Can't they see that?"

"Why not?"

"They aren't going to want me, Brad. It'll all happen just like before."

"Jackson Barnes," Brad said tenderly, "you are one of the funniest, smartest, most fun men I know. If they can't see that, then they don't deserve you. But I think they see something in you that they

like, just like I do."

"I'm not smart," Jackson commented, avoiding the gist of Brad's comment.

"You are too smart. Dyslexia is not synonymous with dumb. We've talked about that before, haven't we?"

"I know," Jackson said unconvinced. "I'm so far behind everyone else here though."

"Because you got a late start. I don't compare you to other people to see how well you're doing. It's about doing your best according to your own capabilities. You're right on target and you do very

well with your classes."

"I don't even know what I want to major in," Jackson sighed.

"We'll figure that out together," Brad said. "And in the meantime, you can decide if you want to swap some emails with these guys. We'll talk after you've had time to give it some thought."

Jackson re-folded the piece of paper and clutched it in his fist. "Ok, I'll think about it."

The cursor sat in the text box, blinking in anticipation of the words that would appear on the screen. Jackson wiped his hands down the front of his jeans and stared at the monitor. He couldn't

believe how nervous he was. It was just a stupid email! "Come on, Jackson," he muttered to himself. "You've done this before." Hell, he could probably use a copy of first emails he had sent in the past if he wanted to. It would just take a name change; that was all. It was the same old song and dance.

He poised his fingers over the keyboard, habitually feeling for the "f" and "j" keys' nodules for proper forefinger placement.

"Short and sweet," he said as he began typing.

He spent more time re-writing than he did writing, and ten minutes later, he had a perfectly innocuous email to Jonas. He saved it as a draft then clicked the "compose" button to start over with a note

to Taggert.

Jackson spent more time on the second note, having to shift gears mentally to keep from writing a duplicate of what he drafted for Jonas in case they compared notes. A grueling 20 minutes later, he

was finally satisfied and Brad came into the room as Jackson was pushing away from the desk in the office.

"I was just coming to see if you were writing a book," Brad joked.

Jackson sighed heavily. "I couldn't decide what to say."

"I'm sure you did just fine."

Brad sat in the desk chair Jackson had just vacated and went to the draft folder. He opened the first one and read silently.

"Is it ok?" Jackson asked uncertainly. "It doesn't sound stupid?"

"Not stupid at all. I'm ok with it if you're ready to send it."

Jackson scanned the note again over Brad's shoulder. "It's ok, I guess. Wait!" he blurted just before Brad hit the send button.

"What's wrong?"

"No, send it," he said wearily. "I'm tired of thinking about it."

"It's fine," Brad reassured him. "I would tell you if I thought it sounded off or anything."

Jackson took a deep breath and nodded. "Send it."

The image of an envelope appeared on the screen, swallowing the electronic message and blinking it into cyberspace. Too late now. It was gone.

"Ok?" Brad asked.

"Yeah."

Brad opened the second note and took just half a minute or so to read it, a fraction of the time it took to write it. "Ready?"

"I guess," Jackson said.

Brad paused a second or two then looked back at Jackson after he hovered the mouse over the send button. "Sure?"

"Send it," Jackson said, releasing his breath.

One click later, the little envelope reappeared stealing away another note. It was really too late now. Both men would be getting a note from Jackson. Now the hard part began.

The waiting.

He was grateful for the study schedule he had to stick to. If he had too much free time on his hands, he was sure he would wear a path to the office computer checking his mail.

"It's going to be fine," Brad said. "Time to hit the books."

Jackson did his best to retain what he was reading on the battle at Gettysburg to keep from having to read and re-read the same question. Realizing he had glazed over again, he stretched and

leaned back in the kitchen chair, tipping it onto the back legs so he could see around the door into the living room. Brad was there with some papers spread out in his lap, and apparently not the least

bit concerned about whether or not a return email was patiently waiting in Jackson's inbox.

"All four feet on the floor, Jackson," Brad said without looking up from his work.

Jackson's mouth fell open as he let the chair land evenly with a thud on the kitchen tile. "How do you always see me?"

"I see everything," Brad said with a grin. "You should know that by now. How's it coming?"

"Slow," Jackson said wearily.

"You need to finish up. Tom is going to run you out of the kitchen to start dinner in a half hour. Do you think you can be done by then?"

Jackson glanced back at his paper and reviewed his progress. Three more questions. He could have been finished if he could keep his mind off of – No. He wasn't going to think about that anymore.

"I can get it done," he said confidently. Forcibly putting thoughts of Jonas and Taggert out of his mind, Jackson focused on his work and pushed through the last of his homework.

He rubbed the back of his neck and closed his books with a snap just as Brad walked into the kitchen.

"All finished?" Brad asked.

"Yeah. Finally."

Brad placed his hands on Jackson's shoulders and massaged deeply. Goosebumps broke out on Jackson's arms as Brad worked to loosen the tight muscles.

"Why don't you go read your email while I check your work?" Brad said, kissing the top of his head.

Jackson turned around to face Brad. "They wrote back?"

"You got a note from Taggert," Brad said with a smile.

"What did he say?" Jackson asked anxiously.

"It's a nice note. Go read it."

Tom and Alex came into the kitchen and Alex said, "Are you finished yet? We need the kitchen."

"It's all yours," Brad said. A page of Jackson's work slipped to the floor and the air beneath it landed it in front of Alex's feet.

He leaned over and picked it up, grinning at what he saw. "Hey, this looks like your new boyfriends," Alex commented.

Jackson snatched the paper away from him. "That isn't yours to look at," Jackson snapped. "OR comment on."

"Jackson, go on," Brad said before an argument could ensue. He took the paper from Jackson and looked at the images in the margin of the page, long-used to Jackson's doodled pictures. "Go read your email."

Quickly forgetting about Alex, Jackson took a deep breath as he gathered his books and headed to the office.

"Doesn't matter," he mumbled to himself as he logged into his account. He had four new messages. Probably junk mail since Brad had already opened the mail from Taggert. He clicked on the inbox

and waited for the messages to load.

"Brad!" he shouted into the next room. "Brad!"

"What's wrong?" Brad asked as he entered the room seconds after being summoned.

"There's another one," Jackson said, staring at the screen.

"Jonas, too, huh? You want to read Taggert's then let me look at Jonas' or read them both together?"

Jackson dug in his pocket for a stick of gum, hoping it might generate some saliva for his dry mouth. "Read them both at the same time."

Jackson paced in the back of the office while Brad silently reviewed the second note. The two minutes it took for Brad to read it felt like two hours.

"Ok," Brad said. "Help yourself."

Jackson's pacing stopped suddenly and he stood in place. Brad rubbed a hand across Jackson's back and said, "Stop worrying. It's another nice note."

Jackson felt his nerves settle slightly with Brad's words and reassuring pat to the butt. He was vaguely aware of Brad leaving him to himself as he sat back down at the computer. He opened each

note and read them a few times, absorbing the responses he received from both men.

Then he allowed himself to smile.