The Island: Jackson

Part II

By Nelson

 

William heaved an armful of dirty clothes into the washer and started the machine. 

 

"Where’s Jackson?" William groused to Tom. "He's supposed to be helping with laundry duty.  I shouldn't have to do it all."

 

Tom sorted another batch of clothes, tossing underwear to the white pile and navy socks to the darks.  "He's coming.  He's finishing up on the phone and I'm helping in the meantime."

 

"Again with the phone?!" William complained.  "They talk all the time."

 

"I hardly think twice a week is all the time.  That's enough soap."

 

"Sorry," Jackson said as he bounded into the laundry room, barely able to contain the smile playing on his lips.  "I had to tell Taggert about my math test."

 

"We could have waited for you but some people thought we should start," William complained with a pointed look at his TA.

 

"That's enough, William," Tom warned.  After a lingering gaze at his Cen, he turned his attention to Jackson. "Was Taggert happy for you?"

 

"Yeah, he was.  He's been a lot of help with the math stuff," Jackson said as he pulled the colored clothes from the dryer.  He shook out a polo shirt and carefully folded it on the folding table then placed it in a stack. 

 

"When are they coming back?" Tom asked.

 

"Three weeks," Jackson said with a sigh.  "It seems like a lifetime ago that they were here last time."

 

"Want some cheese with that whine?" William asked snidely.

 

"William--"

 

"What's your problem!" Jackson snapped.  "I'm five minutes late helping with the laundry and you get your panties in a bunch!"

 

"Jackson, I'll handle this.  You go find something else to do," Tom said. 

 

"But he has to help--!" William started.

 

"Quiet, William.  Jackson, go on."

 

With a haughty gleam in his eye, Jackson cast a satisfied grin in William's direction as he left the laundry room.

 

"You're not 'special' just because you get phone calls from guys!" William yelled after him.

 

"Go!" Tom said with his finger pointed at the door before Jackson could retaliate.

 

"He's such a prima – Ow!" William exclaimed as his new rant was cut off by Tom's palm against his shorts.  "Well, he is!"

 

Tom landed another swat and asked, "I said to be quiet.  Every time you open your mouth, you're getting yourself in more trouble."

 

William frowned his displeasure and massaged the warmed spot on his seat. 

 

Tom said, "I told you Jackson was coming and he wasn't shirking his share of the laundry duty.  He apologized when he came down and immediately started doing his part."

 

William slouched as Tom outlined a rational explanation of how he saw things.

 

"What's the problem, William?"

 

William crossed his arms and shrugged.  "I don't know."

 

"Are you wishing you were the one getting phone calls?"

 

"I don't know."

 

Tom straightened up and put his hands on his hips.  "Maybe you should think about why while you fold these clothes."

 

William's mouth fell open in shock.  "See?  He *is* treated like a prima donna.  Why do I have to fold when it's his turn to help?"

 

"Because I told you to," Tom said crisply, refusing to argue the point.  "Use the time to calm down and think about why you're doing it alone.  I'll be back for an answer."

 

Brad came into the kitchen to find Jackson about to raise the orange juice carton to his lips. 

 

"Glass, Jackson."

 

"Brad!" Jackson exclaimed in surprise.  "You gave me a heart attack."

 

Brad reached into the cabinet and withdrew a glass and handed it to Jackson.  "Aren't you supposed to be helping with the laundry?"

 

"Not according to Tom," Jackson said, filling the glass.  "He sent me away because William had a bug up his ass."

 

"Which is a slightly crude way of saying he was snapping at Jackson," Tom said as he entered the kitchen. 

 

"Oh," Brad said.  He leaned against the counter and said to Jackson, "Then you can help me clean the bathrooms."

 

"Braaad," Jackson groaned.  "Has anyone ever told you that you're the master of ruining a Saturday morning?"

 

"Once or twice," Brad grinned.  "I've already started on my bathroom so you can get started on the other ones."

 

Jackson finished off his juice and placed the glass in the sink.  "Fine," he answered cheerily.  "It beats laundry."

 

After Jackson left the room, Brad asked, "What's wrong with William?  Did he get up on the wrong side of the bed?"

 

"I don't know.  Could be, but my guess is he's a little jealous of Jackson's budding romance."

 

Brad laughed. "That's a table turner.  Poor Jackson's been on the other end of that spectrum for two years."

 

"Yeah.  It finally seems like things are going well for him."

 

"It does.  They're talking every chance that I give them.  And Jackson seems so happy."

 

"He really does.  How long are Jonas and Taggert staying this time?"

 

Brad said, "An extra long weekend. They'll be here Friday morning and don't leave until Tuesday."

 

"Jackson should enjoy that."

 

"I'm sure he will.  Speaking of Jackson and happiness, my guess is he'll be quite unhappy if I don't get in there and help him."

 

Brad found Jackson humming while he scrubbed the toilet, oblivious to Brad coming into the bathroom.  Brad cleared his throat to make his presence known so he could avoid giving Jackson another coronary. 

 

"About time," Jackson said. 

 

"How was your chat with Taggert?" 

 

Jackson leaned back on his heels and said, "It was good.  He was excited for me on the math test."

"That's good."  Brad smiled at Jackson's glow, something he didn't remember seeing when he was involved with the other two Alphas that didn't work out.  Maybe subconsciously Jackson knew they weren't the right matches.  Brad sincerely hoped that Jonas and Taggert knew what they were doing.  A break up with those two would likely hit Jackson harder than the others.

 

"I have Algebra in the next chapter.  I’m not so sure about that."

 

"You'll do fine.  Taggert seems to be a good coach."

 

"Yeah, he is.  I'm not so sure how well I'll do, but he'll help."

 

Brad started wiping down the sink and polished the faucet to a sparkling shine.  He was just starting on the bathtub when Tom and William came into the room.

 

"Go ahead," Tom urged, nudging William forward.

 

William looked at the floor as he addressed Jackson.  "I'm sorry I jumped on you about the laundry."

 

"What's your problem, anyway?" Jackson said without an ounce of grace.

 

"Jackson," Brad said.  "That isn't how to accept an apology."

 

"But I don't get it.  I was five minutes late, if that much."

 

"I said I was sorry," William said stiffly through clenched teeth, his face turning scarlet.

 

"Jackson?" Brad said.

 

Jackson said simply, "Accepted."

 

Brad and Tom exchanged a glance, grateful that the earlier spat didn't escalate any further. 

 

"Ok, we've got laundry to finish so we'll leave you alone," Tom said.

 

William turned immediately upon hearing the release and hurried out of the room with Tom following closely behind him.

 

"He's just jealous," Jackson said, as he hung fresh towels on the rod.

 

Brad lowered the seat of the toilet and pointed to it.  "Have a seat."

 

"What?"

 

Brad pointed at the toilet and repeated firmly, "Have a seat."

 

"What did I do?" Jackson asked as he sat down.

 

Brad turned from closing the door and stood over Jackson.  "Have you forgotten what it feels like not to have someone pursuing you?"

 

"Sure I know what it feels like, but I don't remember snapping at people—"

 

"Don't you?  Then maybe I didn't make my point after you got into a fight with Ashton, or after the time you cursed William for little or nothing, and let's not forget the salt—"

 

"Ok, ok," Jackson said before Brad could remind him of more.  "Maybe I got testy sometimes."

 

"Sometimes?"

 

"A lot of the time," Jackson conceded.

 

"A whole lot of the time," Brad said. "You need to be understanding with William.  That new VA is talking to Ashton a lot and you have Jonas and Taggert interested.  William hasn't been here long enough to even consider matching, and I'm sure he's thinking about being alone."

 

Jackson nodded.  "I'm sorry, Brad.  I didn't think about it like that."

 

"I'm not the one you should apologize to."

 

Jackson self-consciously folded the cleaning rag in his hands.  "Do you… do you think Tom would care if I helped William anyway?"

 

"William is being punished so I don't see that as an option.  You'll have to think of something else."

 

"Can I go talk to him real quick? I'll be right back to finish up."

 

"I think that's a good idea," Brad said, holding his hand out for Jackson.

 

He hugged Jackson and kissed his cheek.  "Go ahead."

 

Jackson walked through the living room to the kitchen, passing Ashton laboriously polishing the furniture.  He got a soda from the fridge and took it to the laundry room, getting his courage up to be the bigger man and set things right.  He paused at the doorway and took a deep breath.

 

"William?" Jackson said, and he and Tom turned to him from the folding table.  "I brought you a drink."

 

William looked uncertainly at his cottage mate then reached for the can Jackson offered.  "Thanks."

 

"I'm sorry I snapped back there.  I really do accept your apology and I shouldn't have jumped on you about it."

 

William nodded and answered shyly.  "It's okay."

 

"Friends?" Jackson said, extending a hand. 

 

William hesitated then took the outstretched hand, but Jackson pulled his friend to him in a hug. 

 

"I'm glad you're happy.  I really am," William whispered near Jackson's ear.

 

"Thanks.  You will be, too.  I promise."

 

"I know."  William pulled away and said awkwardly, "Thanks for the drink."

 

"You're welcome.  Um –" Jackson started, somewhat uncomfortable, "I guess I'd better get back and help Brad with the bathrooms before he sends the dogs out for me."

 

Tom gave Jackson a nod of approval as he left the room to go back to his chores.

 

 

 

 

 

"I'm still surprised you wanted to take Advanced Cooking with me," Sam said as he and Jackson headed toward the Education Building.

 

Jackson shrugged and said, "I have to be doing something and I figured it might as well be Advanced Cooking."

 

"Come on.  This is me you're talking to," Sam said, giving his friend a playful shove.

 

Jackson could feel the glow on his cheeks as Sam pressed for the truth.  "Nice try, Sam, but there's no hidden agenda in taking Advanced Cooking," he said with a grin.  "Maybe I just want to know how to cook better."

 

"Wanna know what I think?"

 

"What?" Jackson queried suspiciously.

 

"I think you want to make a special meal for your new boyfriends."

 

"They aren't my boyfriends."

 

"Yeah, right.  And I'm supposed to believe you about the cooking class now?"  Sam laughed and dodged a swipe to his upper arm by Jackson.

 

Jackson said, "Believe whatever you want to."

 

Jackson could hardly believe he was taking the cooking class hmself.  Basic Cooking he took just because it was a required course, but the advanced class was his decision.  He remembered that neither Jonas nor Taggert liked to cook and somewhere between hearing that and the time he had to select a class, he found himself daydreaming about making them something impressive.  Stupid, he thought.  If it sounded dumb to his own mind, there was no way he'd divulge the details behind why he chose the class, to Sam or anyone else.

 

"Wonder what we'll be cooking?" Sam said as they entered the classroom.

 

"It's a class on desserts," Jackson said, "so it has to be something good.  Hopefully easy."

 

"Easy would be nice," Sam agreed. 

 

"How hard could baking desserts be?"

 

"Ok, everyone," Kurt said at the front of the classroom.  "Find a seat if you haven't already so we can get started."

 

Sam and Jackson hurried for the back of the classroom and Jackson barely made it to the last of the rear seats, cutting off the new guy from 5B just in time.  Jackson ignored the nasty glare and picked up the syllabus that was lying on his desk that Kurt had passed out earlier. 

 

"You each have a syllabus on your desks.  Let's take a look at it so you'll know my expectations for the course and it will give you a chance to see what we'll be doing over the next few weeks."

 

Jackson glanced over the sheet and saw a listing of sweets and desserts they would be learning to make:  apple walnut cake, pate a choux -- he paused and wrinkled his forehead as he tried to even pronounce that one in his mind -- cream puffs, various cookies and scones. 

 

"For those of you who have had me for Basic Cooking, you know that I like to teach presentation as well as preparation, so that will be a given with everything you learn to make and will be part of your overall grade."

 

Sam caught Jackson's eye and rolled his own. 

 

"Basically, gentlemen, I want us to have a good time and learn to make more than simply slice and bake cookies.  I'll have you making sweets for your sweets by the end of this course."

 

A rumble of laughter as well as a groan or two rolled through the classroom at the corny joke.  

 

"We'll have a combination of classroom and kitchen work," Kurt continued.  "Tuesdays will be classroom and Thursdays kitchen.  On Thursdays, we'll meet in the dining hall kitchen for our hands-on work."

 

Jackson raised his hand.

 

"Yes, Jackson?" Kurt replied.

 

"Will we be making something every Thursday then?"

 

"Yes, that's the plan," Kurt explained.  "Sometimes you'll have some pre-work to do simply because of time restraints, but we should have a finished dessert every Thursday.  Your cottage mates should love you over the next eight weeks for having a special treat for the weekends."

 

Jackson took another glance at the syllabus and found the plan for Thursday two weeks ahead.  Checkerboard cookies.  The trick would be in keeping Ashton and William out of them long enough to share them with Jonas and Taggert when they arrive.  Maybe he'd dole out one or two each for the rest of the cottage and save the rest for Jonas and Taggert.  Let his friends do a taste test for him.

 

A knock on the classroom door drew Jackson's attention from the syllabus to Kurt who moved to welcome the unknown guest.

 

"I have a package for you," a voice on the other side of the door said.

 

"Good! I didn't think this was going to make it in time," Kurt said happily. 

 

He came back into the room carrying a medium-sized carton that he sat on his desk. 

 

"This is great, guys.  This is one of the highlights to this class in my opinion."

 

"What is it?" one of the Fives asked.

 

Kurt had a pair of scissors out and worked to split the tape holding the carton together.  He opened the flaps and pulled out a cookbook simply decorated with a white cover and blue stars and writing.  A banner angled upward with the words "Bruce's Bakery" printed on the blue backing.

 

"It's a cookbook," Kurt explained, "from one of the best bakers in New York.  They call Bruce 'Baker to the Stars'."

 

"That explains the cover," Sam said.

 

"Yes, well, the walls of his restaurant-slash-bakery are lined with pictures of him with all sorts of stars and athletes.  He had a dream of opening a combination bakery and restaurant, met his partner who had the same dream, and the rest is history.  Their story is in the front of the cookbook."

 

"Are they Alpha and Cen?" one student inquired.

 

"I have no idea," Kurt laughed.  "And I'm not asking."

 

"You've met him?" Jackson asked as Kurt walked through the classroom passing out cookbooks.

 

"I did.  He hangs around in his bakery enough to meet people.  He's a nice guy, one we're going to learn from at least for one or two recipes."

 

Jackson tuned Kurt out as he scanned the story in the first chapter of the book and flipped through the recipes. They were making his mouth water despite the fact he had just eaten lunch.  His eyes wandered to the classroom clock and his stomach fluttered.  Just a few more hours before he would talk to Jonas and Taggert.  Willing himself to concentrate on the class, Jackson centered his attention on Kurt.

 

 

 

 

A digital knock sounded as Jonas signed into Yahoo! Instant Messenger and Jackson smiled when he saw the little Yahoo! face turn from sleeping soundly to grinning.  He hesitated, still uncertain if he should make the first move or wait.  Before he could think about it too hard, the message window popped up.

 

Jonas:  Hi.

Jackson:  Hi.

Jonas:  Did you have a good day?

Jackson:  I did.  I started a new class today.

Jonas:  Did you?  How was it?
Jackson:  Good.  It's a cooking class.

Jonas:  Cooking, huh?  I didn't know you liked to cook.

Jackson:  I don't. LOL

Jonas:  LOL Then why did you sign up for the class?

Jackson:  I figured maybe if I knew what I was doing I'd like it better, you know?

Jonas:  Sure. Maybe I should try that.  My favorite recipe is 'Microwave on High'.

Jackson:  LOL

Jonas:  Really, it's not much fun cooking for 2.  It's not much different than cooking for 1.

Jackson:  What do you mean?

Jonas:  Well, you end up eating the same thing every night for a week or it goes bad.

Jackson:  Oh.  Makes sense.

Jonas:  Anything exciting happening on the Island?

Jackson:  Not since I talked to you yesterday. LOL  How about in Maryland?

Jonas:  Nah.  Nothing much.  We're looking forward to our visit.

 

 

Jackson stared at the little messenger window, cursor blinking its urging for him to respond.  He didn't want to sound too anxious, but he couldn't sound disinterested either.  Hell.  Not answering fast enough was making him look disinterested!

 

Jackson:  Back, sorry.

Jonas:  No problem.

 

Jackson sighed with relief.  He didn't think until after he typed it that Jonas might ask where he went.  His mind was certainly somewhere else, so he didn't figure it for a total lie.  He still owed Jonas a response and he quickly typed then held his breath for a response, which came immediately on the heels of his note.

 

Jackson:  I'm looking forward to it, too.

Jonas:  We can't wait to get there.  Are you doing anything that weekend? :)

Jackson:  Um…I might have to wash my hair ;)

Jonas:  You'd better not! LOL

Jackson:  I guess it can wait. LOL

Jonas:  We were talking about what we might do.  Do they still have movies there?

Jackson:  Yeah.  Don't know what will be showing, but it's usually something decent.

Jonas:  Do you like movies all right?

Jackson:  Sure.

 

They were going to the movies.  Jackson didn't care what was showing as long as he was sitting between Jonas and Taggert.  A real date.  Brad had been allowing them time together, but it was always in a mixed setting with Brad nearby.  This visit was going to be a little less restrictive because Brad had agreed to let them have one outing without him watching like a hawk.  Baby steps, according to Brad.  They weren't matched yet so – Yet?  Jackson shook his head. 

 

"Baby steps," he reminded himself.

 

Before he knew it, Jonas' half hour was gone and he shifted gears to talk to Taggert. 

 

 

 

 

The next two weeks seemed to both fly by and creep along to Jackson.  He awoke the Thursday before Jonas and Taggert were to arrive with butterflies in his stomach, torn between excitement and worry.  Worry that he'd somehow mess things up again and excited that he might not.  Even though things were going well on the phone and on IM, face-to-face was different.  You can't see reactions and facial expressions on IM, and just because a line is followed with an "LOL" or a smiley doesn't mean that's the emotion behind the message box. 

 

Jackson closed his eyes and tried to remember their faces.  His memory always seemed to fade somewhat between visits.  He wanted a picture of the men but hadn't found the nerve to ask for one.

 

The thought caused another ripple of nerves to course through his middle and he rolled over and looked at the clock as a distraction.  Ten more minutes.  He threw his arm over his eyes but knew as he settled back into the pillows he wouldn't doze.  Giving up, he tossed the covers aside and got out of bed.

 

Jackson padded into the kitchen to the smell of bacon, which turned his nervous stomach inside out. 

 

"Morning," Jackson said, his voice scratchy from sleep.

 

"Good morning," Brad said, whipping a bowlful of eggs.  "You're the first one to wander out this morning besides Tom and me."

 

"Where's Tom?"

 

"Gone to wake up Ashton and William.  He was going to check on you, too, but you beat him to it.  How do scrambled eggs sound?"

 

"Gross."

 

Brad looked at Jackson over his shoulder as he scraped the eggs into the hot pan.  "You like eggs."

 

"I'm just not feeling very hungry this morning."

 

"Butterflies?" Brad asked with a knowing smile.

 

"Why would I be nervous?" Jackson asked.

 

"Oh, I don't know," Brad said, scrambling the eggs.  "Why don't you set the table for me?  These eggs will be ready in a second."

 

Jackson glanced at the eggs when he pulled the plates from the cabinet and grimaced.  "I really don't want any eggs, Brad."

 

"How about some toast?  Cereal?" Brad suggested.  "Those are light."

 

"I'm not hungry."

 

"Jackson," Brad warned.  "You aren't skipping breakfast so pick something else.  Cereal or toast."

 

Jackson knew Brad wouldn't go for a missed meal even when Jackson implied it.  "Toast," he conceded with a sigh.

 

As if on cue, the toaster offered up two slices of bread.  Brad said, "There you go.  Butter those for me, would you?"

 

"'Set the table, butter the toast'.  When are the rest of them coming to give me a break?"

 

"You're so mistreated," Brad teased as Jackson finished with the table.

 

Jackson buttered the two hot pieces of toast and added them to the stack Brad had started.  "Any more?" he asked.

 

Brad assessed the stack of toast and said, "No, that should do it."

 

Tom came into the kitchen pushing two sleepy Cens ahead of him.

 

Jackson set the plate of toast on the kitchen table and said, "Sure, now you show up when there isn't anything left to do but eat."

 

"Good morning to you, too," Ashton grumbled.


"Morning," Jackson said.

 

Ashton flopped down at the table, closed his eyes and mounted his head on the palm of his hand.  William playfully cuffed Ashton on the back of the head as he passed by.

 

"Wake up," William ordered.

 

"No," Ashton mumbled into his hand.

 

"Ok, breakfast is served," Brad announced, setting a steaming bowl of scrambled eggs on the table.

 

"Fix your plate," Tom said to Ashton, giving him a nudge.

 

Ashton's mouth split into a wide yawn and he lazily covered his mouth.  "Pass the eggs," he said around the yawn.

 

William served himself then passed the bowl across the table.

 

"One more day," Tom said to Jackson.  "Are you excited?"

 

Jackson swallowed hard as the butterflies took flight once again with the reminder.  "I guess so.  It will be nice to see them."

 

"Who are you trying to kid," William said.  "You get that dreamy look every time you sit still."

 

Tom cut his eyes over to William and uttered his name.  William said, "I did't mean anything by it, Tom.  He does get that dreamy look."

 

"Shut up," Jackson muttered.

 

"Nothing wrong with dreaming," Ashton offered.  "I'd like to be dreaming.  In bed."  He stressed, directing the comment to his Alpha who simply smiled in return.

 

"I have to go over to Admin this morning and drop off some things," Brad said to Tom.  "Do you need anything over there while I'm going?"

 

"No, I'm good."

 

"Jackson," Brad said. "Toast."

 

Jackson's empty plate looked more appealing to him than the toast Brad was ordering him to eat, but he took a single slice from the stack anyway and smeared a healthy helping of strawberry jelly on it to make it more palatable.

 

"Ew," William said, his face twisted in disgust.  "Tom made the coffee."

 

"He got to it before I could stop him," Brad teased, sipping some of the offending liquid from his mug.

 

"Hey," Tom said indignantly.  "There's nothing wrong with a good strong cup of coffee."

 

"Tom," Ashton said soothingly, "I hate to tell you, but that is what we call 'high octane'.  It's the He-Man of strong coffee."

 

Tom raised his mug and said, "It'll put hair on your chest."

 

"And eat the lining of your stomach," William added, getting up to dilute the coffee with some hot water.  "I like a smooth chest, anyway."

 

Jackson's mind wandered away from the breakfast chatter and he thought about his day while he ate his toast.  He was actually looking forward to cooking class where he could make something special for Jonas and Taggert.  He had never eaten checkerboard cookies, but they sounded fancy. 

 

"Earth to Jackson, earth to Jackson," William said with his hands cupped around his mouth in a makeshift megaphone.

 

"What?" Jackson said, blinking.

 

"What did I tell you?  Dreamy look."

 

Jackson picked up his empty plate and said, "I'm taking my dreamy look to the shower."

 

"That's a good place to 'contemplate' your weekend," Ashton said, laughing.

 

William started choking on his eggs and quickly grabbed his coffee. 

 

Jackson erupted angrily, "Shut up, Ashton!"

 

"Ashton, apologize," Tom said.

 

Ashton's mouth flew open.  "I was KID-ding!"

 

"Apologize," Tom directed.

 

"I was just joking, Jackson.  Do what you want in the shower."

 

William started laughing again and Tom interjected, "I said to apologize, not make it worse."

 

"I'm sorry," Ashton said, his tone lacking in contrition.

 

Jackson shoved his chair under the table and quickly left the kitchen before he could be embarrassed anymore.  Why couldn't they leave him alone?  He was nervous enough without their stupid jokes adding to things.  They wouldn't like it if the shoe were on the other foot, especially William.  You couldn't look at William sideways without him getting worked up.  He went into the bathroom and slung the door closed behind him.

 

Brad caught the bathroom door on the rebound and said, "Hey.  Don't pay any attention to them.  They're just teasing."

 

"They need to shut up," Jackson said in a huff.

 

Brad gathered him in his arms and hugged him.  "Look, I know you're tense." 

 

"I'm not tense."

 

"Uh huh," Brad said, unconvinced.  "I can feel it in your back even if I couldn't tell by watching you."

 

Jackson felt his shoulders slump and he leaned on Brad, letting him support him.  "I'm not trying to be tense," he mumbled against the soft knit of Brad's t-shirt.

 

"I know you aren't.  This is a big weekend for you.  You haven't seen Jonas and Taggert for almost a month.  It's got you on edge."

 

"Ashton shouldn't have said that and William didn’t need to cackle like a damn hyena either."

 

Brad pulled him away and Jackson self-consciously raked his fingers through his dark hair.  Brad said, "I agree, it shouldn't have been said but I think if it happened when you weren't feeling pressure, you might have laughed."

 

"Maybe."

 

"Maybe?" Brad asked with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

 

Jackson replayed the scene in his mind and said, "Ok, probably."

 

Brad said, "I think you might."

 

Brad turned Jackson around and kneaded his tight shoulders with his strong hands, causing a little shiver to ripple through Jackson's body. 

 

"Why don't you take a long hot shower, and try to relax a little?  There's nothing to worry about.  This is going to be a great weekend."  Brad patted the seat of Jackson's sleep pants.  "Go ahead."

 

Jackson took a deep breath.  A great weekend?  He certainly hoped so.

 

 

 

The day was flying by much to Jackson's surprise and he anxiously stood in front of his designated area in the kitchen for cooking class.

 

"You each should have a copy of the recipe with you and have familiarized yourselves with it," Kurt said, pacing in front of his students.  "It's not a difficult recipe, but the preparation can be a bit tricky.  We'll take it slowly, a step at a time."

 

Jackson slid his recipe aside, the paper dirtied from frequent handling as Jackson had read and re-read the recipe, trying to imagine how the cookies would taste and how they would look.  He had never seen square cookies, but it sounded like that's what they would be.  He hoped he would be able to make them without them looking too weird or tasting nasty. 

 

"I've set all your ingredients out, arranging them here and there so you can share them.  If you'll look at your recipe, you'll see that we need to start with creaming the butter and sugar.  Next we'll add the vanilla, lemon and salt, then gradually – gradually – add the flour, keeping the sides of your mixing bowl clean."

 

Jackson carefully peeled the paper off the stick of butter and sliced it into chunks that the mixer could better handle.  Double-checking each measurement before dumping it in the bowl, he doled out the ingredients according to the directions.

 

"It looks funny," he said to Sam over the din of several mixers.

 

"Mine is all crumbly.  Is yours?" Sam asked peering into Jackson's mixing bowl.

 

Kurt walked by and said, "Perfect.  That's what it's supposed to look like."  He raised his voice to the others in the class and said, "The mixture should look crumbly if you've made it correctly."

 

The students diligently mixed their ingredients for the required one to two minutes.  Kurt waited until mixers started shutting off around the room before he spoke.

 

"Now you want to knead the mixture," he said, taking one student's dough from the bowl as an example.  "Then you split it and add the cocoa to half –"

 

Jackson followed Kurt's directions to the "t", determined for the cookies to turn out right.  He kneaded the dough with the heels of his hands, just as Kurt showed them, then separated it into two halves.  He worked cocoa into one half and set it aside.  He studied his recipe card and started working on the next part.

 

"That's right," Kurt said to Jackson as he walked by.  "Press it between the plastic wrap and roll each half out into half inch thick squares about 7 by 7."

 

"Kurt. Marshall wants you," Zach said pointing toward the door.

 

Kurt turned to find his Alpha standing in the kitchen doorway.  "Excuse me for a minute guys.  Follow your recipe while I'm gone."

 

With a sharp knife, Jackson carefully sliced the squares into ¾ inch strips, taking care to make each strip the same size as the one before it.  He studied the recipe card and read the next part several times, committing the process to memory.  Alternate, alternate. One row then stack another alternating row on top.  Jackson began to build the second layer of dough; first a plain strip, then a chocolate, then a plain.

 

Sam said, "Your egg."

 

"What?"

 

Sam reached behind Jackson's mixing bowl and withdrew a hidden egg.  "To brush on the rows."

 

"Oh, right," Jackson said, snapping his fingers.  He almost ruined the batch!

 

He whisked the egg in another bowl and painted the top of his first row then proceeded to re-build the second row.  He quickly grew the "log" to three layers deep and bound it in the plastic wrap it was sitting on.

 

"Cookies are supposed to be round," Sam said, eyeing his own square sculpture. 

 

"Yeah. They might look odd, but they should taste good, huh?"

 

"They should.  You can't go wrong with lemon."

 

"How's it going?" Kurt asked returning to the room.  "If you're done, let me take a look then put the dough in the freezer.  We'll be cleaning up our workstations while the dough sets for fifteen minutes."

 

"We can't get out of doing dishes in this room to save our lives," Sam said with a groan.

 

"Yeah, but this time it's sort of voluntary," Jackson said.  "Not so bad when it's our choice."

 

Fifteen minutes passed quickly while the men cleaned behind themselves, plenty of time to make the dough firm enough for slicing.  Jackson eagerly situated his mixture on the counter, judged a distance of a quarter inch and sank the knife into the log.  The first cookie separated into thirds as he sliced it, little vertical square rows falling away from each other.

 

"Am I supposed to pinch these together or something?" Jackson asked Sam.

 

Sam looked at Jackson's first cookie and said, "Mine are staying together without pinching them."

 

Jackson studied Sam's cookies and saw perfectly square shapes of checkerboard design.

 

"What's wrong with mine?" Jackson asked in frustration as he sliced another cookie.

 

"I don't know."

 

Jackson sliced another, then another, each one falling to pieces as he carved them from the main structure. 

 

"This is crap," he snapped.  "Mine aren't right.  I followed the recipe exactly, I know I did!"

 

"What's the problem?" Kurt asked.

 

"These stupid cookies are falling apart."

 

Kurt investigated the problem and announced the issue. "You forgot the egg."

 

"No, I didn't," Jackson said in frustrated confusion.  "I almost did, but Sam reminded me.  I used the egg, didn't I, Sam?"

 

"He did. He used the egg," Sam said with a nod.

 

"No," Kurt corrected. "I mean along the sides of the strips.  It looks like you just used it between the rows across the tops."

 

"It didn't say anything about painting the sides!" Jackson said irritably. 

 

Kurt underlined a sentence on the recipe card with his index finger.  "It's right here, see?"

 

Jackson followed Kurt's finger and read the section of the sentence he had missed before.  Damn dyslexia!  He had taken his time like Brad had taught him, but he still managed to miss something.  An important something, this time.  The directions were clearly spelled out where Kurt pointed.  He had either read it and forgotten, or missed it entirely. 

 

His hopes of giving a simple, yet special, gift to Jonas and Taggert suddenly fell apart just like the disconnected strands of cookie dough lying limply on his workstation. 

 

He angrily slammed his fists into the dough.  "Damn it!"

 

"Calm down, Jackson," Kurt said.  "It isn't a big deal.  We can fix -- Wait!"

 

"Forget it!"

 

Jackson stormed from the room, Kurt's assurances falling on deaf ears.  He felt his face burn with anger and embarrassment at ruining something as simple as –

 

"Damn!" he cursed again, slamming the palms of his hands against the door of the dining hall. 

 

Walking out into the sun, he gazed longingly toward the ocean, then he thought twice. He needed alone time, time to regroup and there was nowhere he could do that better than under a tree by the falls.  But nothing could get Brad's dander up faster than an unscheduled trip to the off-limits falls, and he didn't need to make Brad mad, especially with Jonas and Taggert coming the next day.  He stopped short at that thought and realized with dismay that stalking from a class wasn't likely to make Brad a happy camper either. 

 

He walked toward the picnic area outside the dining hall and sat on the ground around the corner out of direct sight, resting his back against the cool stones of the wall separating the eating area from the creek.  He tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, willing his heated temper to drain away in the cool of the shade.  He was sick of fighting all the time, struggling to do simple things.  It got tiring after a lifetime of it.  Something as simple as reading a recipe had proven yet again to be a problem.  He knew what Brad would say.  He had heard it a million times before.

 

"'You aren't stupid.  Dyslexia is learning disability, not a handicap'," he muttered to himself.  "Yeah, right."

 

How many times had he written that thought or something close to it?  About as often as he had heard Brad say it, or maybe more.  His journal was chock full of lines relating to the difficulties and frustrations he endured as a victim of dyslexia.  Wait, he had written lines about that one, too.  He wasn't a victim, according to Brad, but he'd have to write a hell of a lot more lines to convince himself of that.  He took a deep breath of the salty air and exhaled, laying his head on folded arms propped on his knees. 

 

As his anger slipped away, he began to worry about what Brad would say.  Or what he'd do, rather.  Jackson raised his head and looked toward the path encircling the picnic area.  He knew he should head back, not stay MIA, but he couldn't make his feet cooperate.  It didn't matter now anyway.  Class was practically over and he wasn't in a hurry to go to the cottage. 

 

He was in trouble, and Jonas and Taggert were coming the next day.  Brad probably wouldn't let him talk to them that night after the show he put on and worse, they'd know he was in trouble.  Brad would tell them something vague about how Jackson couldn't talk to them, the unanswered questions as to why being answer enough.  They would know he was in trouble, just not the specifics. 

 

He leaned his head back down and struggled to keep frustrated tears locked inside.  His throat ached, but he stubbornly willed himself not to cry.  He didn't know how long he had been sitting like that when he heard a voice.

 

"Jackson."

 

Jackson raised his head at the call and a towering Martin stood over him, his position making him look taller than his 6' 3" frame.

 

"What?"

 

"Brad would like to see you," the security guard announced.

 

Jackson just looked at him, making no attempt to move, answer or follow.

 

"Come on, Jackson.  Don't make this worse," Martin said, holding out his hand.

 

Jackson hesitated then took the offered hand, using it to pull himself from the ground.  He brushed dirt and grass from the seat of his shorts and dragged his feet as he followed Martin to detention. 

 

Martin raised his walkie-talkie to his lips as they walked and said, "Let Brad know I found Jackson. I'll bring him to the detention area."

 

"Roger that," came an unknown voice.

 

Jackson's eyes scanned the horizon as they walked, looking for any sign of Brad, but he found none.  They entered the detention area and Jackson saw two other Cens he didn't recognize from behind, standing in designated corners awaiting their Alphas.  With Brad nowhere in sight, Jackson knew he'd be standing in a corner of his own to await the arrival of his TA.  His very irritated TA, if Jackson knew Brad like he thought he did.

 

"Number Four," Martin announced.  "You know the drill."

 

Martin dismissed Jackson by picking up the logbook and jotting notes, leaving Jackson to find his way to corner four by himself.  He could find it in his sleep.  Jackson spent no more than five minutes in the corner when he heard the front door of the detention hall open.  His heart quickened as he waited to see if it was his annoyed TA or someone else's, then he heard a familiar voice.

 

"Where was he?" Brad asked. 

 

Martin said, "He was by the dining hall, sitting in the shade in the corner.  I almost didn't see him."

 

"I'm glad you did.  Thanks," Brad said. 

 

Jackson stood stock-still and listened to the movements behind him: shuffling papers, scribbling pen, then footsteps that stopped just behind him.

 

"Jackson," Brad said.

 

"What?" Jackson responded quietly.

 

"Let's go.  I've signed you out."

 

Brad put his arm around Jackson's shoulders and walked him to the door, saying nothing until they were away from prying ears in the detention hall.

 

The door swung shut behind them and Brad said, "Tell me what happened."

 

"I messed up," Jackson said gruffly.  "I'm sure you've heard the grisly details."

 

"Tell me what I don't know," Brad said.  "What was bad enough that you felt you had to leave class and disappear without a word?"

 

Jackson stared at the ground as they walked, Brad's arm reassuring and heavy across his upper back.  "I told you. I messed up."

 

"Messing up cookies made you have to leave class?"

 

A lump formed in Jackson's throat as he clung to his failure, ashamed to admit how simple a feat he failed to perform.  The words couldn't get past his throat even if he wanted them to at that moment.

 

"You're going to have to answer me one way or the other," Brad said ominously.  He led them to a bench framing the pathway and sat down.  "Better to talk to me now."

 

Jackson took a deep breath and swallowed hard.  Struggling to maintain a steady voice, he said, "I screwed up, ok? I couldn't read the damn recipe."

 

"I see.  So this was a reaction to your disability.  Is that what you're telling me?"

 

"It's not that simple, Brad."

 

"Why don't you tell me how it is, then?"

 

"It's just – it's -- nothing," Jackson said in defeat.  "Just punish me and get it over with, ok?"

 

"That isn't up to you.  That's my call," Brad said firmly.  "What made it so bad?"

 

Jackson fought to find the words, words he couldn't seem to say. 

 

"Jackson Barnes…"

 

"I don't know, all right?!" Jackson exploded.  He sat on the edge of the bench and turned to Brad.  "Why do you have to push me to talk about it?  Can't you just let me be miserable sometimes?"

 

"No," Brad calmly replied.  "I can't.  Why didn't you ask Kurt for help?"

 

"I had already ruined them.  He couldn't help."

 

"Did you ask him?"

 

"No."

 

"You gave up," Brad summarized.  "You didn't give him a chance to help you."

 

Jackson thought about it.  No, he hadn't given Kurt a chance, but why should he?  There was nothing he could have done.  All Jackson wanted to do at the time was get away from the problem, not draw attention to it, and being the only one who needed help...  Well, that wouldn't have kept him out of the spotlight.

 

"I said I screwed up, I'm sorry.  I don't know what else you want me to say, Brad."

 

"I don't want you to say anything else right now.  I want you to finish your class," Brad said.

 

"What?" Jackson asked in surprise. 

 

"Kurt has graciously agreed to help you finish.  He's waiting for us."

 

"You're not going to – I mean, I'm not in trouble?"

 

"I didn't say that," Brad said with one eyebrow raised meaningfully.  "You're going to finish what you started, apologize to Kurt and then we'll talk some more."

 

Brad got up from the bench, a bewildered Jackson looking after him.  "Come on," Brad said, hand held out in invitation to Jackson.

 

When they re-entered the kitchen, Jackson checked the counter and found his abused mound of dough missing and Kurt drying a pan at the sink.

 

When Kurt turned to greet them, Brad pushed Jackson forward with a hand to his lower back.  Jackson said, "I'm sorry, Kurt.  I lost my temper and I shouldn’t have.  It won't happen again."

 

Kurt put the pan down and tossed the towel over the sink edge to dry.  "It's ok.  I appreciate the apology."

 

An uncomfortable silence filled the over-sized kitchen and Brad saved the day. "Kurt, thanks for agreeing to help salvage the cookies."

 

"No problem," he replied. "Jackson, you'll be surprised how easy it is to fix this."

 

Kurt took the dough from the refrigerator, imprints of Jackson's fists still visible in its soft surface.  Jackson's face burned when Brad took a look at the fist marks then turned a pointed glare on Jackson.

 

"We can reshape the strips and paint the sides with egg.  It won't be hard since you missed the sides the first time. It's not sticking together," Kurt explained. 

 

The strips of dough came apart easily with his urging and he carefully laid each section on its side in front of Jackson at his workspace.

 

"Ok, try to mold the strips back into shape with your fingertips. They'll spread out enough when they bake that they won't have to be perfect to work."

 

Jackson concentrated on reshaping the strips, manipulating the dough into something that resembled the sharp rectangles they had been before he punched them.

 

Jackson followed each instruction Kurt gave without fail while Brad looked on.  With the layers of dough reshaped and prepared for the next step, Jackson carefully stroked the brush filled with beaten egg along the sides of the strips and pushed them together.

 

"Think of the egg as mortar," Kurt explained.  "It holds everything together until it can bake.  That's why they fell apart before.  No mortar on the sides.  You'll be ready to slice them after the dough chills for 15 minutes."

 

After the allotted chill time, Jackson pressed the knife into the dough and a checkerboard cookie fell onto the counter cleanly, a slightly imperfect square but holding together as it should.  Jackson smiled at his success.

 

"Look, it's right, isn't it?" he asked Kurt.

 

"Yeah, it's right.  Nice job." 

 

Twenty minutes later, the first batch of cookies was done and cooling on a wire rack. 

 

Brad leaned over Jackson's shoulder as he peeked in the oven at the final baking batch.  "They look good, Jackson."

 

"Thanks," Jackson said.  He closed the oven door and turned to Kurt.  "Thanks for staying after and helping me.  I'm really sorry about before."

 

"It's not a problem," Kurt said. "I just ask that you give me a chance to help you next time before you give up on me."

 

"Deal," Jackson said.

 

 

 

The KP crew was filtering in by the time Jackson sealed the lid on his cookie container and he and Brad headed back to the cottage.

 

"So the cookies turned out to be a success after all," Brad said as they strolled down the path to home.

 

Jackson stared at the graveled pathway, preferring to concentrate on the tiny pebbles rather than what was likely awaiting him when they got back to the cottage. 

 

"I'm sorry."  Jackson heaved a sigh and said, "I get frustrated, you know that."

 

"Why do you get frustrated?"

 

"Brad, you know why," Jackson said wearily.

 

"I do," Brad agreed, "But I want to hear what you think."

 

Jackson realized that having completed the project, cookies in hand, the frustration at not being able to follow the recipe seemed silly in retrospect, the proverbial mountain out of a molehill.

 

"I let it get to me," he said.

 

"By 'it' you mean…?"

 

"The dyslexia," Jackson said quietly. 

 

Dealing with his disability was frustrating and frankly getting old.  He was sick of having to re-do homework, of having to read things over and over, of missing simple things like a single part of a sentence in a recipe.

 

"We've talked about this before, haven't we?" Brad said.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

The victory of having a bowlful of cookies made by his own hands wasn't enough to staunch the feeling in the pit of his stomach.  His insides always seemed to know when he was in trouble even if his head wasn't quite sure. 

 

"No one is perfect and that includes you," Brad said.  "And that's quite ok."

 

"It's just hard sometimes.  Harder for me."

 

"I know it is.  Why was it so much worse today?" Brad asked.  "We could live without the cookies."

 

"But I wanted to make them for –" Jackson caught himself before spilling the beans and said, "Never mind."

 

"For what?" Brad asked. 

 

"Nothing."

 

"Ah, for Jonas and Taggert."

 

"They're coming all this way!  I wanted to do something for them.  Something perfect and special and I ruined it because I couldn't read the stupid recipe card."

 

"You could read it," Brad said, guiding Jackson onto the front porch of their cottage.  "You missed part of the directions and that's something that could happen to anyone.  Sometimes you miss things. Doesn't make you –"

 

"Stupid, I know," Jackson said pushing the cottage door closed behind him. 

 

"Put those in the kitchen and then come to my sitting room."

 

Jackson's stomach clenched and he hugged the bowl to him.  "Can I bring them?  I don't want them to get eaten before tomorrow.  Please?"

 

"All right, you can bring them."

 

Jackson followed Brad to the sitting room and set his container of cookies on the end table.  He stood uncertainly by the sofa, watching Brad and waiting for direction.  He knew he was in trouble, but he didn't want to give Brad any ideas by moving to the corner or taking his pants off. 

 

"Go to the corner," Brad said.  "I'll tell you when to come out."

 

Jackson looked warily at Brad searching for some sign of what his punishment would entail, but finding none.  Jackson stood with his back to his TA and listened to the sounds behind him of Brad firing up the computer.  Great.  Jackson was left to stand in the corner and worry about what was coming while Brad surfed the internet.  He heard the soft clicking sounds of Brad's fingers stroking the keyboard as he worked or did whatever behind him.  A million minutes later, Brad called to him.

 

When Jackson turned around, Brad was at still at his desk and Jackson felt a nervous flutter when Brad opened a drawer.  A rush of released adrenalin dissipated when he saw his lines journal in Brad's hands.

 

"Have a seat," Brad said.  He pulled out a straight-backed chair from the small table and Jackson took a seat in the remaining chair opposite Brad.  "All right, Jackson.  This isn't the first time we've dealt with this.  We've been over it before, haven't we?"

 

"Yes, sir," Jackson said, leaning his elbows on the table.

 

Brad flipped through the journal and found a page, blank aside from a single thought hand-written across the top, then handed the open book to Jackson with a pen. 

 

"When you have a problem, you come to me.  Running is not the way to manage your frustration."

 

"I only wanted to get away for a minute."

 

"You come to me," Brad reiterated stubbornly.  "Is that clear?"

 

"Yes," Jackson said, looking at the tabletop as he clutched the notebook to his chest. 

 

"You were disrespectful to Kurt by leaving his class, and disrespectful to me for not trusting me."

 

"I know.  I'm sorry," Jackson said.

 

"Dealing with your disability will be frustrating at times.  I expect that, but what I don't expect is for you to deal with it on your own or quit."

 

"I thought they were ruined."

 

"Then you try again, with help if needed.  Understand?"

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"To help you remember, I want you to write this."  Brad tugged the notebook from Jackson's clutches, reading aloud what he had written in the journal.  "Being defeated is often a temporary condition. Giving up is what makes it permanent."

 

Jackson read over the two short sentences, their message hitting home and reinforcing what Brad wanted him to learn.

 

"How many times?" he asked.

 

"Twenty-five times."

 

Brad ignored the pitiful look Jackson had mastered even though it never worked then went to his desk, leaving Jackson to his writing, while Brad updated his punishment book.  This was an area they had to deal with many times, which was something he knew without looking back through the records.  He made the new entry into the punishment book then watched the profile of Jackson as he studied the words he was scribbling laboriously.  Writing those two short sentences would take Jackson a good thirty minutes even though it was only 25 times.  Brad knew to expect misspellings, just as he knew he would overlook them. It was more important that Jackson got the message correct rather than getting it written perfectly.

 

He was such a handsome young man Brad observed.  The sun coming in from the west window illuminated Jackson's chestnut hair, accentuating the short waves encasing his face.  His skin was tanned darkly from his time on The Island, golden brown tones complementing the coal black of his eyes.  Brad felt a pang of regret at the thought of losing him mingled with a rush of pride that he might be ready to match soon. 

 

There was something different about Jonas and Taggert than with the other men who pursued Jackson.  Their faces lit up just like Jackson's when they saw him.  They took an interest in him as a person, not simply a potential mate.  Brad smiled to himself as Jackson's lips moved while he counted his progress.  Jackson sighed and shook his head, then did his signature move of running his fingers through his hair before putting the pen back to paper.  Brad checked his watch and figured Jackson had about fifteen more minutes before he would be finished so he busied himself with other paperwork while he waited.

 

Another long drawn out sigh from the table got Brad's attention a few minutes later and Jackson stretched his back and legs as he stood with his journal in hand. He passed the notebook off to Brad and gathered his cookies while he waited for Brad to count. 

 

"Come here, Jackson," Brad said as he finished, laying the journal aside.  He pushed away from the desk far enough to gather Jackson in his lap.

 

"I'm sorry, Brad.  I wanted them to turn out all right."

 

"I know, and I'm sure they did.  I know you're probably feeling excited and a little nervous with Jonas and Taggert coming tomorrow."

 

Jackson shrugged and admitted hesitantly, "Maybe a little."

 

"I think more like a lot."

 

"Maybe."

 

"Probably."  Brad hugged Jackson and said, "I need for you to stay focused.  Remember what I expect, do what you know is right, and try to relax."

 

"I'm trying, Brad.  I really am."

 

"Good.  And when you feel yourself getting upset or worked up, what do you do?"

 

"Get mad and leave class?"

 

Brad lightly swatted Jackson's leg and said, "Don't make me second-guess my decision to give you lines."

 

Jackson rubbed his thigh and said, "Find you and talk about it.  Get help rather than give up."

 

"Much better.  That's exactly what I want you to do."

 

"I will."

 

Brad said, "Good.  Everything's going to be fine.  You're going to have a great weekend with Jonas and Taggert and now you have some delicious-looking cookies to offer them." 

 

"Thanks, Brad."  Jackson cracked the lid on the container and held it out to Brad.  "Try one?"

 

Brad smiled at his Cen, this man who would always own a little niche of his heart.  "Are you sure?  Don't you want to save them all for Jonas and Taggert?"

 

"Yeah, I'm sure.  They won't know one is missing.  Besides, I need someone I trust to taste them first."

 

Brad reached inside the container and pulled out one of the checkerboard cookies and took a bite.  Mixed flavors of sweetened lemon, vanilla and chocolate burst in his mouth with the first taste. 

 

"Mmm.  Perfect," he said.

 

"Really?  You're not just saying that?"

 

"Believe me," Brad said.  "They're perfect.  Jonas and Taggert will love them."

 

Jackson beamed.  "Thanks, Brad."

 

 

 

Later that night, Jackson logged into YIM, anxious to talk to Jonas and Taggert during their usual chat time.  He glanced at the time in the lower right-hand corner of his computer then back to the YIM window.  The little smiley icon slept on as one minute turned into ten.  They were supposed to be on at 7:30, and it was quickly approaching eight.

 

Jackson dejectedly tapped his fingers on the edge of the desk and continued to watch the smiley.  He was online, so the problem wasn't on his end.  He clicked on their individual IDs and then their combined account and got the same message:  JT appears to be offline and will receive your messages when they sign in.

 

"Appears to be," Jackson said aloud. 

 

He wondered if they were invisible.  Jackson had used that tactic when he didn't want to speak to someone or he was busy doing something else.  He knew how invisible worked.  Ten minutes until eight.  He wondered if he should send an offline message just in case they were there and hadn't seen him sign in.  Maybe they automatically signed in as invisible and missed it when he came online.  But what if it was on purpose?

 

His email.  He hadn't checked the email!  Something was up and they had sent him a note, they must have.  They were Alphas.  Weren't they required to be punctual?  There had to be an explanation, and Jackson was sure he'd find it in his email.  He clicked on his email icon and the computer launched him into cyberspace to his electronic messages.  There were there emails in his inbox and he clicked on the link to open it.  The inbox loaded and Jackson deflated when he scanned the notes, all junk mail. 

 

Checking the time again, he saw that they were almost a half hour late.  How long should he wait? He knew something was wrong and he knew what that something was.  They had finally seen the light and were giving him the brush off.  It always started with a breakdown of communication, a definite lack of interest.

 

Well, he wasn't going to be sitting at the computer waiting on them.  Let them sign in and wonder where he was rather than him waiting and wondering about them. See how they like it.  If they even sign in at all.  Suddenly, he wanted to get away from the computer.  He was just about to hit the "sign out" function when he heard the digital knock and the JT ID woke up with a smile.

 

JT:  Hi.  Sorry we're late.

Jackson:  That's ok. I was just leaving since you weren't coming.

 

The pause after his line seemed to stretch into minutes and Jackson frowned.  Late then non-responsive?  He stared at the quiet screen wondering if he should stay logged in or not.

 

JT:  Sorry, we're back.  We had someone at the door.

JT:  Are you there?

Jackson:  Yeah

JT:  It's been a crazy day.  We have to get packed for this weekend and we both ended up working late.

Jackson:  Ok

JT:  Hang on.

 

Damn it!  First they're late, then they're full of excuses, then they're distracted.  Jackson had to force himself to stay signed on, his gut telling him to sign the hell out and make plans for the weekend that didn't include Jonas and Taggert.

 

JT:  Back again.  We're sorry we keep getting interrupted. It was the neighbor again.

Jackson:  Ok

JT:  How was your day?

Jackson:  Sucked.  Yours?

JT:  What happened?

Jackson:  Nothing.  I don't want to talk about it.

 

There was no "JT's typing a message" indicated in the window as Jonas and Taggert paused again on their end of the conversation.  Must be the neighbor again, Jackson thought, rolling his eyes.  It took two of them to answer the door?  Just as he was beginning to wonder, they started typing again.

 

JT:  If you don't want to tell us, we won't push you.

Jackson:  Good because Brad makes me tell him stuff, but you aren't my TAs.

JT:  No, we aren't.  If we were your Alphas, it would be a different story.

Jackson:  You'd make me talk to you like Brad does?

JT:  Most definitely.

Jackson:  What is it with you Alphas and talking?

JT:  LOL We feel communication is important in keeping in tune with your partner.

Jackson:  You sure you don't want to just trap a Cen into getting in trouble?

JT:  Talking isn't what gets him in trouble. It's whatever he isn't talking about.

Jackson:  I guess.  Why did you have to work late?

JT:  Trying to get things squared away before we leave in the morning.

Jackson. Oh..

JT: Speaking of which, we hope to be there by 11 or so if everything's on time.

Jackson:  Ok

JT:  Are we still on for the movies?

Jackson:  I guess so.

JT:  We don't have to go to the movies if you don't want to.

Jackson:  It's fine.

JT:  Maybe we should do something different.

 

And now they were changing their plans!  Jackson's mouth fell open as he stared at the last sentence.

 

Jackson:  Whatever you want to do or we can do nothing.

JT:  Is everything ok?

Jackson:  Yeah, I'm tired, that's all.

JT:  Get plenty of rest then because we're looking forward to a great weekend.

Jackson:  Ok, I'll try.

 

Brad knocked on the frame of the door and said, "Time's up, Jackson."

 

"Ok, Brad, just let me say bye, ok?"

 

"That's fine.  Wrap it up."

 

Jackson:  I have to go.  Brad.

JT:  Sorry we were late.  We'll try to make up for it this weekend.

Jackson:  Ok

JT:  We'll see you tomorrow.  We can't wait.

Jackson:  Ok

JT:  Until tomorrow…

Jackson: Bye

JT: Bye

 

The closing door sounded almost immediately before Jackson had a chance to even get to the menu to sign out.  They were in a hell of a lot more of a hurry to sign out than they had been to sign in.   Jackson angrily signed out and shut down the computer then went straight to his room.  He had barely stretched out on the bed when he heard a knock on his door.

 

Brad opened the door and stuck his head inside.  "Jackson?  You ok?"

 

"I'm fine."

 

Brad came over and sat on the edge of the bed and took Jackson's hand.  "How was your chat?"

 

Pathetic.  "It was ok," Jackson said. 

 

"You get to see them tomorrow," Brad said with a smile.  "You must be excited."

 

"Yeah."

 

"You don't seem excited.  Did something happen?"

 

"No, I'm tired from today.  The cookie thing and all."

 

Brad gave Jackson the visual once-over and said, "Ok.  You rest. You have a big day tomorrow."

 

Brad left Jackson in his room and went directly to the computer.  Something was up.  As good as Jonas and Taggert seemed on the surface, they'd better not be saying or doing anything to upset Jackson.  He wouldn’t hesitate to go to the board if need be.  The computer booted up and Brad immediately logged into YIM in Jackson's ID then went to the message archive.

 

He read through the messages and frowned.  They had been late, but nothing else seemed to jump out at him other than Jackson's clipped electronic responses.  He moved to the inbox of Jackson's email, checking both the new and deleted mail, finding nothing suspect in either place.  Whatever it was, it was a mystery to Brad.  Maybe Jackson was simply tired and that was it.

 

JT: Hi.  We thought you were gone.

Jackson:  It's Brad, not Jackson.  He's lying down.

JT:  Sorry, Brad.  We're packing but we had the laptop on and heard you sign in.

Jackson:  I was checking on some things real fast.  How are you?

JT:  Busy.  We've got all our packing to do and we worked late.

Jackson:  I'll let you get back to it then.  Safe travels tomorrow.

JT:  Thanks, Brad, we'll see you tomorrow.

Jackson: Bye

JT: Bye

 

Brad was glad he had a minute to talk to the other two Alphas if only for a line or two. They seemed fine to Brad.  Jackson was the only one who seemed bothered.  Brad shook his head, convinced he was overreacting.  Jackson was just stressed from the day and knowing Jonas and Taggert were coming the next day.  Under those circumstances, nine o'clock wasn't so early for Jackson to want to get some rest.  Everything would be fine.

 

 

Jackson waited nervously beside Brad as they stood a safe distance away from the small landing strip, waiting for the all-clear after the plane landed. 

 

"Ready?" Brad asked him with a smile.

 

Jackson took a deep breath and nodded, then followed Brad over to the plane.  He tried to keep his feet and hands still while he watched one man, then two, then another step off the plane.  Then a tall figure with dark hair, handsomely dressed in a soft-yellow polo and navy shorts stepped through the plane door, his height making it necessary for him to duck as he cleared the doorway to descend the small plane's steps.

 

Taggert raised his head and scanned the horizon, his face breaking out in a smile as he spotted Jackson.  He lifted his hand in a wave and Jackson waved back.  As Taggert descended the steps, Jonas came into view, his honey-blonde hair carefully fingered into place.  He waved to Jackson with one hand and carried his bag with the other.

 

"Good morning," Brad said, sticking out a hand in greeting.

 

"Good morning, Brad," Taggert said.  "Good to see you again."

 

"Hi, again," Jonas said, shaking Brad's hand.  He turned to Jackson and smiled warmly when he saw Jackson's hand extended.

 

He slipped his hand into Jackson's then pulled him to his chest for a hug.  "It's great to see you."

 

Jackson felt himself stiffen, but he tried to talk his muscles into relaxing.  The musky scent of Jonas' cologne was soft yet detectable and Jackson breathed in deeply.  Taggert gathered him in an embrace as soon as Jonas let him go.

 

"It's been a long three weeks," he said in Jackson's ear before he released him. 

 

Brad said, "Are you guys hungry?  We thought we'd let you drop your things off and check in.  Then we can meet in the dining hall afterward.  I need to swing by Admin, which will give you time to get checked in."

 

"That sounds like a plan.  I could eat a horse," Jonas said.

 

"We can drop you off," Brad said, leading the way to the golf cart.  "We weren't sure how much you'd have to carry so we checked out the cart from the hotel.  Is that where you're staying?"

 

"No, we're at the bungalows this time," Taggert said.  "But they said we still need to check in at the hotel.  Is that right?"

 

"That's right," Brad said.  "The bungalows are nice.  They'll give you more privacy than the hotel."

 

"It should be nice." Taggert threw an arm around Jackson's shoulders and said, "We brought you something."

 

"Did you?"

 

"We did," Jonas said.  "We'll give it to you when we get some time together."

  

With men standing beside him, the uncertainty from speaking to a faceless ID the night before slipped away.  Jackson felt a pang of guilt for being cool to them on IM.  Maybe he had been wrong, overreacting.

 

"I can't wait to see what it is," he said, as he slipped into the front seat next to Brad.

 

 

 

 

"What took you so long?" Jackson barked as Brad came out of the admin building.  "We're going to be late!"

 

"No we aren't," Brad said calmly.  "Settle down.  It won't take us five minutes to walk over to the dining hall."

 

"What was so important, anyway?" 

 

"Pritchard needed to talk to me."

 

"About what?" Jackson asked, hurrying toward the dining hall.

 

Brad caught the back of Jackson's short sleeve polo and said, "Slow down, Jackson.  They aren't going anywhere and we aren't late.  They're probably just getting there themselves."

 

"I haven't seen them for a month," Jackson said with a huff.

 

"I know, and I'm sure you're anxious.  Just settle down and enjoy them."

 

"I'd love to.  IF we ever get there." 

 

Brad and Jackson walked into the dining hall and Jackson halted when he saw Morgan sitting at the table with Jonas and Taggert. 

 

"What's wrong?" Brad asked.

 

What could Morgan want?  Or was that Logan?  He never could tell the twin TAs apart.  Whoever he was, he was a TA for high-rated Cens just like Jackson.  Cens who were apparently good matches for T18s according to the Board.  He silently watched as Morgan/Logan stood and shook hands with the two Visiting Alphas.

 

"Jackson?" Brad asked again.

 

"What?" he answered.

 

"What's the matter?" Brad repeated. 

 

"Nothing."

 

Jonas and Taggert waved to Brad and Jackson, beckoning them over, and they passed the TA on the way.

 

"How are you doing, Morgan? Brad asked.

 

"Good.  How are you two?"

 

"We're good," Brad said.

 

"You having an early lunch?"

 

"We're here to meet them for lunch," Jackson said tightly, his suspicious mind still pondering why Morgan would be chatting with the Alphas.

 

"They're nice guys," Morgan said.  "I hadn't met them before."

 

"They really are," Brad said.  He glanced at Jackson after Jackson's elbow softly and subtly connected with his ribs.  "I guess we'd better get over there. Good to see you, Morgan.  Tell Logan hi for me."

 

"I will, see you later," Morgan said.  "Have a good lunch."

 

"What did he want?" Jackson asked Brad.  "Why would he be talking to them?"

 

"Probably just wanted to say hello.  They can talk to other people, you know."

 

"I know," Jackson muttered under his breath as they neared the table.

 

"Did you guys get settled in ok?" Brad asked.

 

"We did.  The bungalows are really nice," Taggert said.  "A bit more room for two than the hotel."

 

"Yes, they're great for couples," Brad said.  "Actually, they were intended for couples so you're in the right place."

 

"Sounds good.  How are you, Jackon?" Jonas asked.  "Is today a better day?"

 

Brad looked at Jackson with a raised eyebrow.  "Yeah," Jackson answered, ignoring both Brad and his eyebrow. 

 

"Ours is better, too," Taggert said.  "I swear, every time I'm planning to be off from work, all hell breaks loose."

 

"And it broke loose for both of us yesterday.  Nothing major, just lots to do," Jonas said. 

 

Brad looked at his watch and said, "Why don't we grab our lunch and then you can tell us about your day? The hordes will be coming in any minute and we'll be longer getting our lunch."

 

They went through the cafeteria-style line and got open-faced roast beef sandwiches with sides of mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables, steeped in creamy butter. 

 

"This lemon pound cake is good," Jackson said to Jonas behind him.  "You want some?"

 

"No dessert for me," Jonas said as he bypassed the various cakes and Jell-Os.  He grinned and added jokingly, "I don't want to get love handles." 

 

Jackson deflated.  Jonas wouldn't want cookies if he didn't want dessert.  He turned from the line and Brad paced himself with Jackson on the way to the soda fountain.

 

Brad spoke low as they walked and said, "He was kidding.  I'm sure he'll want to try your cookies."

 

"How do you always know what I'm thinking?" Jackson asked with a sigh as he reached for a paper cup.

 

"If I don't know you by now, I never will.  I saw the look on your face."

 

"Oh, good," Jonas said coming up behind them. "They have iced tea."

 

"He doesn't care for soft drinks," Taggert explained, bringing up the rear.  "We keep tea in the fridge at all times."

 

"It's not that I don't like them," Jonas said.  "I'll drink them but I prefer tea.  I'll have a soda tonight at the movies."

 

Taggert smiled and winked at Jackson.  "He's weird.  I'm definitely the more normal of the two of us."

 

"No, no," Jonas said.  "Remember, he likes numbers, Jackson."

 

Jackson found himself laughing at the two and their jovial banter.  "You're both weird," he said, sitting at the table.  "But in a good way."

 

"Is there a good way to be weird?" Brad said.  "Switch sides with me, lefty or we'll be elbowing each other all during lunch."

 

"I think you can have good weird," Jackson answered, changing places with Brad.  "A lot of famous people are weird.  Johnny Depp."

 

"Oh, yeah, he's got some strange ways," Jonas said, cutting into his sandwich.  "But definitely good."

 

"Real good," Taggert added.  "We love Johnny Depp movies."

 

Jackson stopped with his food halfway to his mouth.  "Me, too!  I can't get enough of Sleepy Hollow. That's my favorite."

 

"And Donnie Brasco.  Did you see that one?" Taggert asked.

 

"Yeah, I did.  I liked Nick of Time, too."

 

"Is that the one where someone kidnaps his little girl?" Brad asked, and a chorus of 'yes's came from around the table.  "I'm not the fan you all are," Brad said, laughing.

 

"Have you heard about the pirate one that they're working on?" Jonas asked.

 

"Yeah, that's a Disney movie.  I'm not too sure about that one," Jackson said.

 

"Johnny Depp is making a Disney movie?" Brad asked.

 

"It's based off the ride Pirates of the Caribbean," Taggert said.  "He plays a pirate.  What about From Hell?  That will be out later this year."

 

"October 19th," Jackson said.

 

"That you remember?" Brad commented with a chuckle.  "Why don't you remember things I tell you to do that well?"

 

"This is Johnny Depp we're talking about," Jackson said, grinning.  "Sorry, Brad, but you just don't stick in my mind quite the same way."

 

"Too bad that isn't playing yet," Jonas said.  "What's playing tonight, by the way?"

 

"The Mummy and The Mummy Returns," Jackson said. 

 

"They show two movies on the weekend and they're usually a couple of months or more behind the rest of the world," Brad said.

 

"Those sound good. We could see them both if you want to and Brad's ok with that," Taggert said to Jackson.

 

"That's fine with me," Jackson said.  "Brad?"

 

Brad nodded.  "As long as you come home right afterward."

 

"We'll be sure of it.  How about you?" Taggert asked Jonas.  "Does that sound good?"

 

"Sounds good to me," Jonas said. 

 

"Do you like action movies?" Taggert asked.

 

"Yeah.  And scary," Jackson said.

 

"Oh, God," Taggert groaned.  "So does he!" 

 

"You don't?" Jackson asked.

 

"No, if that's what we had to watch tonight, I'd be watching through my fingers."

 

"He's a weenie," Jonas joked.

 

"I am not," Taggert said defensively.  "Just because I don't see the entertainment value in blood, guts or ghosts…"

 

"I'm with you," Brad said, laughing. 

 

"The Others comes out later this year," Jackson said.  "Have you heard of that one?"

 

"Yes!" Jonas said.  "I can't wait to see it."

 

"Me, too, but it will be after Christmas here," Jackson said.  After Christmas.  He wondered with a flutter of excitement if he would still be on TI after Christmas.  That was six months away. 

 

"How do you keep up with what's going on at the movies?" Taggert asked Jackson.

 

"Internet," he and Brad said simultaneously, but Brad said it with a weary note to his tone.

 

"He'd spend all evening on the internet if I didn't limit his time," Brad said.


"I don't like to be on there that much.  Our chats are great, but if I'm not doing something constructive, I can't just sit there and surf for hours," Jonas said. "I like to be moving."

 

"I don't like to move around as much as he does, but I don't usually spend a lot of time online.  I go on there to pay bills and do research if we're looking to buy something, check email," Taggert said.

 

"I'm the same way."  Brad pushed his tray away as he finished his lunch.  "Jackson has group today and that will be over at 3.  You can pick him up between 4:30 and 5 at our cottage."

 

"That works for us.  We have a couple of meetings we need to go to while we're here, so we're going to try to get those in this afternoon," Jonas said.

 

"Speaking of which," Taggert said, looking at his watch, "we're going to need to make a move."

 

"Yeah," Jonas said. "We don't want to be late."

 

"Neither does Jackson, do you?  You need to get to practice."

 

"Not volleyball practice," Jonas asked warily.

 

Jackson grinned.  "Yep.  Every Friday."

 

"No wonder you beat us," Taggert said.  "No math today?"

 

"No, thank God," Jackson said with a roll of his eyes.

 

"I'm going to help you with that algebra part tomorrow," Taggert said.  "It won't be bad, I promise."

 

"I hate it," Jackson said.  "It's Greek to me."

 

"I'll help you translate it."

 

"Have a good practice and group," Jonas said as they stepped through the dining hall door.

 

"Have a good meeting," Jackson answered.

 

Taggert said, "Thanks for meeting us for lunch.  We'll see you between 4:30 and 5:00."

 

"Closer to 4:30," Jonas added.

 

 

 

Jackson paced the living room, stopping to look out the front window and run his fingers through his hair.  Where were they?!  So much for 'closer to 4:30'.  It was pushing 5:00 and there had been no sign of them.

 

"Sit down, Jackson.  They'll be here."

 

"I can't sit down, Brad."

 

"Jackson," Brad said, his tone brooking no argument.  "Now."

 

Jackson sighed dramatically and stomped to the sofa, sat down with a flourish and crossed his arms.

 

"I don't care if you like it or not, so you can stop with the dramatics," Brad said calmly, never taking his eyes from his magazine.

 

"They aren't here yet?" Ashton asked, coming into the living room to put his shoes on.

 

"No, they aren't!  What are you worried about it for?" Jackson said, his voice sharp enough to cut wood.

 

"I'm *not* worried about it," Ashton said, snapping back. "I just wondered."

 

"All right," Brad said, raising his voice over those of the two Cens.  "That will be enough."

 

"I just asked a simple question," Ashton muttered as he pulled on his tennis shoes.  "He's so touchy."

 

"Shut up!" Jackson snapped.

 

"I *said*," Brad interjected with a firm tap to Jackson's knee, "that is enough.  One more word out of either of you and you're going to find yourselves studying a corner."

 

"But, Brad --!"

 

"Jackson. I mean it."

 

"What's all the shouting about?" Tom said, coming into the living room.

 

"A little verbal sparring between these two," Brad said, swinging his forefinger in the direction of Jackson and Ashton.

 

"Ashton?" Tom queried.

 

"All I did was ask where his boyfriends are! He's the one who got all hot under the collar!"

 

"Let's drop it, please," Brad said with a warning look to Jackson before he could retaliate.

 

"I think that's a good idea," Tom agreed.  "No more about Jackson or his date."

 

"Good," Jackson muttered.  "It's my business anyway."

 

Brad swatted Jackson's leg.  "You're pushing it."

 

"I'm ready," William said, bounding into the living room.  "You're still here, Jackson? Where are Jonas and Taggert?"

 

"*Not* a word, Jackson," Brad warned quickly before Jackson could erupt again, his mouth already open to retort.  "Never mind, William," Brad said.  "You guys go ahead.  I'll catch up later."

 

As the door closed behind the trio, Brad asked, "What was that all about?"

 

"He was taking shots at me because I've been stood up!"

 

"What?" Brad asked incredulously.  "It's 5:05 now.  That's barely late and –"

 

"They said 4:30. Jonas said it," Jackson said bitterly.  "They don't want to see me."

 

"Stop it, right now.  If you're going to get worked up, maybe I'd better think about whether you should go with them at all tonight."

 

"It's not going to matter anyway," Jackson said, getting up from the sofa.  "They aren't coming."  His eyes stung as he realized the joyride was over and he was about to be dumped again.  He never made it past the three-month mark and he was right there again.  The timing was perfect. 

 

"Hold it, right there," Brad demanded, rising from the sofa. 

 

Jackson stopped the snarled "what" that almost rolled past his lips but he couldn't manage not to cross his arms while he waited to see what pearls of wisdom Brad was about to dish out.

 

"Think for a minute," Brad said.  "They spent God knows how much money to come here to see you.  Doesn't it make a little bit of sense to you that they might have gotten held up?  Being a few minutes late doesn't mean they don't want to see you."

 

"Almost 45 minutes late."

 

"Between 4:30 and 5:00 means anytime between the two.  Technically, they're ten minutes late.  Hardly late enough to write them off."

 

"They should have called," Jackson said stubbornly.

 

As soon as the words left his mouth, the phone started ringing. 

 

Brad turned toward the phone and swept his hand toward it.  "Wonder who that could be?"

 

Jackson glowered at him unanswering as Brad when to quiet the ringing phone.

 

"Hello?"  Brad nodded toward Jackson who crossed his arms and toed the carpet.  "I thought it might be you.  Uh huh.  Oh, you did?  No, we didn't see it.  Ok, take your time.  We'll be here. Bye."

 

He hung up the phone and held a hand out to Jackson. "Come here."

 

"What do you want?" Jackson said as he dragged his feet moving toward Brad.

 

"It seems none of us bothered to check the machine," he said, taking Jackson's hand and moving him in front of the kitchen answering machine that was flashing red.

 

"Would you like to play that?" Brad asked, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned a hip against the counter.

 

Jackson scowled and hit the play button, his suspicions rapidly becoming over reactive and stupid. 

 

"Hi, this is Taggert calling for Jackson.  Our meeting is running late and it looks like we'll be there around 5 or 5:15.  We'll get there as soon as we can.  Bye."

 

The digital recording played out and another recorded voiced asked if the message should be skipped, replayed or deleted. 

 

"I told you there was a logical explanation."

 

"What kind of meeting could they have had that was so important they couldn't be on time?" Jackson asked, having trouble letting go of the bad mood he had worked himself into. 

 

"You need to have a seat," Brad said, grasping Jackson's wrist as he passed by, tugging him back to the living room and directing him to the couch. 

 

Jackson sat down glumly, and found it hard to look at Brad's eyes, his annoyance clearly etched on his face.

 

Brad towered over him and said, "I want you to hear this loud and clear:  I won't put up with this all weekend, Jackson.  You need to stay level-headed and quit letting your imagination run away with you."

 

"They were late! It wasn't something I imagined!"

 

"No, it was all the rest of the drama you imagined and added to the facts.  Rather than find out where they were, you immediately started jumping to conclusions.  That led to you snapping at Ashton and almost William – don't even try to deny it.  I saw your mouth open, and the look on your face."

 

"Well, my business is none of theirs," Jackson said irritably, hunkering in the corner of the sofa with his arms folded.

 

"I'm telling you right now, you'd better watch it.  Quit writing fantasies in your head about what may or may not be going on then reacting to everyone around you.  Focus on what you know, not what you suspect.  Do you understand me?"

 

Jackson nodded once, a barely visible tip to his head.

 

"I couldn't hear you," Brad pressed.

 

"Yes, sir," Jackson said, an embarrassed flush tinting his cheeks. 

 

Brad glanced out the window and saw the two visiting Alphas on the path in front of their cottage.  "Here they come."

 

He stood up and took Jackson's hand, lifting him from the sofa.  He hugged Jackson hard and said, "Take a deep breath, think about the good time you're going to have and quit stressing.  That's an order."

 

He took a cleansing breath just as Brad instructed and was surprised to find it did in fact help calm the butterflies just a bit.  He stroked his fingers through his hair as Brad released him and brushed the front of his polo to smooth it out. 

 

"I think you should give them their cookies before you go," Brad said as he went to the door.

 

"I don't know," Jackson said.

 

Brad opened the door and welcomed the two.  "Hi there."

 

"Hi, Brad. Sorry we were late.  We couldn't get away," Jonas said.

 

"Come on in."

 

"Jackson," Jonas said.  "You look nice."

 

"Thanks.  Hi, Taggert."

 

"Hi, I'm so sorry we were late.  We wanted to get here as quickly as we could and ended up almost an hour later than we wanted to be."

 

"It's ok."

 

"Can we sit down before we go?" Taggert asked.  "We'd like to talk to you for a minute."

 

Jackson's stomach wrung itself into a knot.  Here it comes.  He felt like he was in another world, deja vu settling around him like a cheap cloak.  It had all been a paper fantasy, the hope of something better, the desire –

 

Brad, who conspicuously cleared his throat, interrupted Jackson's thoughts.  Jackson glanced at him and saw a determined expression that spoke silent volumes.  Damn it.  He must have had a look on his face that Brad recognized as well as Jackson recognized the one he was seeing on Brad.  He struggled to put the distrustful thoughts aside. Focus on what you know, Jackson coached himself, not on what you suspect.

 

"All right.  I'll leave you guys alone," Brad said. "Curfew is 11:15.  That gives you time to watch the two movies and come straight home.  I need to check something in my office.  I'll be there for a few minutes if you need me." 

 

Jackson could see that Brad said the last sentence specifically for him.  Of course he was going to need Brad!  It was coming.  The moment he had been dreading for three months.  Jackson felt helpless as Brad, his support system, disappeared from the room, leaving him on his own to try to keep his composure while he got dumped for the third time.

 

Jonas and Taggert flanked him on the sofa and Taggert reached over and took Jackson's hand for the first time.  Varying emotions swirled through Jackson leaving him almost lightheaded.  He wasn't sure if he should be feeling tingly from the physical touch or dread from the bad news on the horizon.

 

"Jackson, we've been talking for three months now.  Three months that seem like both yesterday and a lifetime," Taggert said.

 

Jonas took his other hand and held it between his own.  Jackson noticed that Jonas' hands were softer, not effeminate, but not as calloused as Taggert's. 

 

"We've enjoyed every minute of it.  We're looking forward to getting to know you better and spending the weekend with you," Jonas said.

 

Taggert reached down beside him and pulled up a bag Jackson hadn't noticed before.  He slid out a box, wrapped in simple blue paper adorned with a white ribbon and bow.  "We wanted to bring you something this time.  We hope you like it."

 

A gift?  That was an odd intro to a break-up speech.  They were supposed to be telling Jackson how it wasn't his fault.  How it was just something that didn't work out.  How they thought he was Special and deserved someone, just not them.

 

Jackson tore into the sky blue paper and a shoebox with the words REI printed on the side was revealed underneath. 

 

"No way," Jackson said when he saw the name brand.  "These aren't cheap."

 

"No kidding," Jonas teased.  "We wanted to do something special to show you how special you are to us."

 

"REI hiking boots," Jackson said in awe.  "Waterproof ones, too."

 

"We figured you're on an island.  You might run into a puddle or two," Taggert said.

 

"Probably."  Jackson pulled the shoes out of the box, inspecting the tread and outer workings of the shoe.  He kicked his own shoes off and slipped the new ones on for a try.  "Perfect fit!"

 

"We cheated.  We called Brad," Jonas said.  "He gave us your size."

 

"Sneaky," Jackson said.  He took a trial walk across the living room and then stopped in front of the two Alphas, impulsively throwing his arms around Taggert's neck. 

 

"You like them?" Jonas asked when Jackson let go of Taggert.                                                                                                                                                                                     

"I love them," Jackson said, entwining his arms around Jonas' neck.  As he released Jonas, he looked at the floor and said uncomfortably, "I um, I have something for you, too, but it isn't anything like REI hiking boots. And uh, Jonas won't like it."

 

"I'm sure I'll love anything you have for us," Jonas said.

 

"I don't think so," Jackson said.  "I'll be right back."

 

He looked at the cookies in the storage container.  Remembering what Kurt stressed about presentation, Jackson had arranged them in a circle, each cookie overlapping the next one.  They looked good but they didn't seem like much next to the gift they brought.  He wiggled his toes and looked down at his new shoes, crisp and unblemished black with yellow accents.  Well, the cookies were all he had so they would have to do.

 

He sighed and went around the corner of the half-wall dividing the living room from the kitchen and sat between the men.

 

"It's cookies," Jackson said.  "Dessert, Jonas."

 

"You made these?" Jonas asked, looking into the dish at the arrangement.

 

"Yeah, in Cooking class."

 

Taggert took a bite and said, "Oh, my God. These are great."

 

"They are," Jonas said, lobbing off half a cookie in one bite.  "Why would you think I wouldn't like these?"

 

"You said no dessert."

 

"That was cafeteria cake," he said.  "Not specially made cookies by someone I care about."

 

"You're not on a diet?"

 

"No, I just try not to eat anything that I really don't want if it's not good for me. These, I want."  He popped the last of the cookie in his mouth and hugged Jackson.  "Thank you.  They're even better since you made them."

 

"He's right," Taggert agreed, pulling Jackson to himself for another hug.  "Do we get to keep them all?"

 

"Yeah, they're for you."

 

"Thank you," Taggert said.  'They're perfect."

 

"I hate to interrupt this moment but if we don't hurry, we're going to miss dinner and be late for the movie," Jonas said.

 

"Wow, he's right," Taggert said, checking the time.  "We'd better go."

 

"Ok," Jackson said.  "Let me tell Brad we're leaving."

 

He found Brad in the office off from the living room, idly flipping through some paperwork while he sat patiently at his desk.  Brad looked up when Jackson came in and said, "What did they want?"

 

"To give me these," Jackson said, stepping a foot out toward Brad to show off his new shoes.

 

"Whoa, those are nice," Brad said, his smile lighting his face. 

 

"I know."  Jackson leaned down suddenly and threw his arms around Brad and said, "Thanks for waiting, just in case."

 

He felt Brad's arms tighten around him and Brad said, "You know I'll always be here for you."

 

The embrace lasted several long seconds until Brad patted Jackson's butt.  "Go have a good a time.  You're going to be late."

 

Jackson smiled and said, "Yeah.  I have to go."

 

 

 

The movie ended early enough that the men could walk back to Cottage 8A without hurrying.  Jackson knew his feet were touching the ground only because he could hear the gravel crunching as they walked.  The evening had been great, just like Brad predicted.  The more he learned about the two men, the more he liked them.  Part of him was euphoric, while another part shouted warnings.  He remembered how good it had been with Michael and Derrick and also how painful it was when the good was squashed by rejection. 

 

"So we were thinking maybe we can get some use out of those hiking boots this weekend if you want to and if Brad's agreeable," Taggert said.

 

"That would be good," Jackson said, sitting on the swing on the cottage porch. 

 

"And I'll be by in the morning to help you with your algebra homework."

 

"What are you going to do while we work on that?" Jackson asked Jonas.

 

"I'll find something to do," he said.  "Maybe I'll hang out here while you guys work on that or I could go for a walk."

 

"Brad will put you to work, if you're here.  It's chore day."

 

Jonas laughed.  "That's fine.  I can help with chores."

 

"I'll be by around ten," Taggert said.

 

"Well," Jonas said as the three turned quiet.

 

"Well," Taggert said, stretching.  "I guess we'd better get out of here before Brad has to run us off."

 

"Yeah, because he will."

 

"You seem to know him pretty well," Jonas said.

 

"I do.  I've been his Cen for two years."

 

"That's a long – um," Taggert cut himself off.

 

"A long time, I know," Jackson said.  "You can say it.  It's not like it's a secret."

 

"I don't understand it," Taggert said.  "How you haven't been scooped up by someone.  You're a great guy."

 

"I'm high maintenance," Jackson said, the hurt crushing him with the thought.  No one had 'scooped' him up because he's too much to handle.  Not worth the effort.

 

"Well, I for one am glad no one's taken you because I'd hate to think we missed a chance to get to know you," Jonas said.  He slipped his hand into Jackson's and squeezed.

 

"Same here," Taggert said.

 

Jackson couldn't respond.  His throat was tight with past hurts and the fear of future ones.  He was thankful for the cover of night, in case his eyes reddened and gave him away.  He had been lucky to meet Jonas and Taggert, but he knew deep in his heart it would never work.  There was no way they would want a Cen like him, one that was in trouble as often as Jackson, one with the baggage of an abusive childhood, and the insecurities that went with it.  One that needed counseling and constant boundaries, who would spiral out of control over the least little thing.  They couldn't know his history, otherwise they wouldn't be here and they wouldn't –

 

"I don't know about Jonas, but I'd like to kiss you goodnight if that's ok with you."

 

Jackson's whirling thoughts came to a screeching halt.  The red flags were waving.  If he kissed them, the break up would be harder, yet he found his mouth answering for him despite the warnings from his brain.

 

"Ok," Jackson said.

 

Taggert leaned toward him and slipped his arms around Jackson, and kissed him deeply.  As they parted, the awkward silence greeted them, and Jackson wasn't sure what to say or do next.

 

"Now, you know I'm not going to let him get a kiss goodnight and not get one myself," Jonas said.  "Do you mind?"

 

"No," Jackson said. 

 

After Jonas pulled away, Jackson laughed nervously.

 

"Hey, you didn't laugh after Taggert kissed you!" Jonas joked with feigned indignance.

 

"It's just odd, that's all," Jackson said. 

 

"My kissing?"

 

"No! Us.  A three-way is new for me."

 

"It's new for us, too," Taggert said.  "But nice."

 

"Yeah, it is," Jackson said.

 

The porch light came on and Jackson blinked against the glare. 

 

"That's bright," Jonas said, squinting.

 

"That's Brad.  He's real subtle, isn't he?" Jackson said.

 

Taggert looked at his watch and said, "It's curfew for you.  We'd better go so you can get inside."

 

They stood and Taggert pulled Jackson to him for another quick kiss, and Jonas did the same. 

 

As they left the porch, Jackson went inside and turned off the porch light.  Brad was standing just inside the doorway and Jackson felt Brad's probing assessment as he looked Jackson over.

 

"So?" Brad asked.

 

"It was good," Jackson said.  "I forgot to tell you earlier, they liked the cookies."

 

"I knew they would.  You had a nice time?"

 

"I did."

 

Brad hugged him tight and rubbed Jackson's back.  "I'm so glad, Jackson."

 

Jackson pulled away and said, "Brad?  What do they know about me?"

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"I mean, do they know –" He couldn't say it. 

 

Brad smiled at him, cupped Jackson's face between his hands and said gently, "They know all about you."

 

"Everything?"

 

"Everything we knew to tell them."

 

"Really?"

 

"Yes, really," Brad said.  He released Jackson with a kiss to his forehead.  "Go get ready for bed and I'll come see you in a minute."

 

They knew.  Jackson's mind scrambled to wrap itself around the fact but it had a tenuous grip on the information. They couldn't know everything, could they?  Jackson couldn't believe it.  Why did they still want to see him? Why weren't they running from him?  They couldn't truly be considering him, could they?  He thought back to the kiss and raised his hand to his nose.  He could barely detect the lingering scent of Taggert's cologne on his hand.  They were intelligent men so they must know what they were doing.  And they were still interested? 

 

Jackson was still struggling to understand it all as he got ready for bed.  He folded the comforter back and crawled under the sheet, his thoughts swirling as he waited to tell Brad all about the evening.

 

 

 

 

 

"Forget it!" Jackson snapped.  "I can't get it."

 

"Jackson, calm down," Taggert said.  "Listen to me while I explain it again.  If x equals 3, then –"

 

"How the hell am I supposed to know what y is?  Letters belong in the alphabet, not in math.  And how can a letter equal a number?  It's stupid."

 

"Stop arguing about it and listen."

 

"Fine," Jackson grumbled.  He propped his chin in his hand and stared at the piece of paper before him, scribbled on with x's and y's and a myriad of numbers.

 

"What we're trying to do is figure out what number is missing.  The y represents the missing number.  For example, if I said, 'blank plus 2 equals seven', could you fill in the blank?"

 

Jackson stubbornly kept his lips together.  He could fill in the blank but he still didn't know what the hell y was supposed to equal.  He was so frustrated, he was beyond caring what Taggert might think.  He could have his stupid algebra.  Jackson wanted no part of it and was sick of thinking about it.

 

"Jackson, are you listening to me?"

 

Jackson began to scribble on the paper, his eyes fixed firmly there as he tuned Taggert out.

 

"Jackson!" Taggert said a little more loudly.

 

"What?!" Jackson snapped.

 

Taggert gave him a long look before speaking again.  "You're getting worked up, and I need you to calm down and pay attention before I have to call Brad."

 

"It's not the first time I've been worked up and won't be the last in case you haven't heard," Jackson fired back.  "If you can't handle it, you can leave."

 

"I've heard, and I'm not planning to leave.  Not until Tuesday morning," Taggert said firmly.  "Believe me, I can handle it."

 

Jackson hesitated at the surety he heard in Taggert's voice then pushed it aside.  "Bravo," he said sarcastically.

 

"All right, that's it.  I'm going to find Brad."

 

"Thought you said you could handle it," Jackson said sarcastically.

 

"I can but it isn't my place to.  It's Brad's."

 

Taggert pushed back from the table and Jackson said, "Fine.  Handle it by running to Brad.  Don't even give me a second chance."

 

Taggert stopped and said, "Are you going to pull yourself together so I can give you one?"  Jackson stubbornly sat at the table, his eyes fixed on the pencil in his left hand.  "Are you?"

 

Jackson nodded and mumbled a barely audible "yes".  Taggert sighed and sat back down at the table.  "Ok, let's try this again.  It's really simple if you look at it like this –"

 

"Oh, so now, I'm stupid?" Jackson flared again.

 

"I didn't say you were stupid –"

 

"No, you said it was simple so if a dumbass like me can't get something simple, I must be stupid."

 

"All right, I'm going to find Brad."

 

Jackson's fury engulfed him as Taggert left him to go tattle to Brad.  He couldn't understand algebra and he couldn't help that it made absolutely no sense.  He shoved away from the table and stormed out the front door, leaving Taggert and Brad and all the reminders of his failure behind him.

 

 

 

Brad looked up from his work as Taggert came into his office.  "Brad, we need you in the kitchen."

 

"What's up?"

 

"Jackson's wound up and he's snapping, and being insulting.  I thought I'd better get you."

 

Brad was out from behind his desk immediately and Taggert followed him out of the room.  They entered the empty kitchen, no signs of Jackson being anywhere around.  Brad took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

 

"He took off," Brad said, immediately recognizing the signs of an AWOL Cen, his Cen. 

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"I'm sure but I'll check his room and the bathroom before I call security."

 

Taggert's face creased in a worried frown.  "I'm sorry, Brad.  I don't know what happened.  He got so frustrated with the math then started taking it out on me."

 

"That's Jackson, Taggert.  He's insecure and that's his way of dealing with it.  He would pick a fight with just about anyone when he first got here."

 

"I knew that about him, but I didn't know how to get him calmed down.  I thought getting you was the best thing to do, but I never thought he'd take off."

 

"You did the right thing, you really did.  Don't beat yourself up over it," Brad said.  "I'll be right back."

 

Taggert sat down heavily on the sofa and put his head in his hands as Brad left the room.  Brad wasn't the least bit surprised to find the bathroom and bedroom empty.  All the others were preparing for the Saturday activity and had left early leaving Brad, Jackson and Taggert at the cottage.  When he went back to the living room, he found Jonas had arrived and was sitting on the couch, holding Taggert's hand.

 

"I don't know how it got so out of control," Taggert was saying.

 

"It sounds like he was pretty upset."

 

"Hi, Jonas.  Jackson can get that way at the drop of a hat," Brad said, coming back to the room. "I watch him closely for signs and head him in the right direction if I can, but sometimes it's going south no matter what you do."

 

"This is normal then?" Jonas said.  "I knew he had a temper, but we hadn't seen it."

 

"Yes, he has a temper and while I wouldn't call it 'normal', it isn’t entirely uncommon," Brad said.  "I'm going to call security but I'm pretty sure I know where he went."

 

Taggert said, "I'm going to pick his books up, clean up the kitchen table."

 

"I'll help you," Jonas said.

 

Jonas picked up the piece of paper that Jackson had been scribbling on and looked intently at a small picture at the bottom of the page.  It was a penciled image of a waterfall, and a creek running beside it.  The trees etched in the drawing were paused from their swaying but he could almost see the gentle breeze that moved them.

 

"Who drew this?" he asked holding the paper to Taggert.

 

Taggert stared at the drawing and said, "Oh, Jackson did that instead of listening to me I guess."

 

"Ok, thanks, Martin.  I'll check the falls.  Bye," Brad said and hung the phone up.

 

"Brad, did you know Jackson could draw like this?" Jonas asked, passing Brad the paper.

 

Brad studied the paper and said, "I've seen him doodle some so this doesn't surprise me.  It also confirms where he might be."

 

"Do you realize how talented he is?  Has he ever had a lesson?"

 

Brad shook his head and shrugged, "No, I don't think so.  I thought he was just doodling."

 

"This is not just doodling," Jonas said. "This is talent.  Pure and simple. I'd love to talk to him about it."

 

"Well, you won't get to talk to him tonight.  I guarantee he won't be up for company when I'm finished with him.  Maybe tomorrow," Brad said. 

 

"I feel horrible about getting him into trouble," Taggert said, and Jonas looped his arm around his partner's waist in support.

 

"You didn't get him into trouble, Taggert," Brad said.  "He got himself into it from the moment he stepped foot outside this door, and he knew it."

 

"I feel responsible.  I should have gone to find you earlier, but I didn't know he was upset enough to run off.  He was frustrated, but not that bad or so I thought."

 

"Upset or not, frustrated or not, he knows better.  I'm sorry to run you out but I'm going to have to find him."

 

"We understand," Jonas said.  "We'll follow you out."

 

"Will you do us a favor?  Let us know when you find him and that he's ok?" Taggert asked.  "I'm worried about him."

 

"I'll let you know."

 

 

 

Jackson lay back against a rock under a tree and cupped his hands behind his head.  He closed his eyes listening to the nearby falls and tried to relax in the cool shade by the creek.  Brad was going to kill him.  No doubt about it.  And Taggert –

 

His chest tightened and his throat ached as tears welled up.  If they weren't scared off by what they already knew, today did it for sure.  He was as certain of that as he was of how Brad would respond.  Maybe 'scared off' wasn't the right term.  Taggert didn't seem the least bit intimidated by a Jackson Tantrum, not in the least.  He didn't blanche like the others had when they saw flashes of the real Jackson.  Michael had looked at him like he was the star of Alien, shaken and unsure.  Taggert, on the other hand, was firm and unyielding.  He said what would happen, then he followed through.

 

Jonas was easy-going and jovial, nothing like the T8 he was rated to be.  Or not what Jackson expected, rather.  Jonas probably wouldn't be up for having Jackson full time, not after Taggert told him everything.  Jackson wiped a stray tear off his cheek as it trickled out of his closed eye and traveled down the side of his face.

 

Jackson paused his thoughts when he heard footsteps even over the sound of the falls.  He knew it would either be Brad or someone from security, so he kept his eyes closed, not anxious to see either one.

 

The footsteps stopped right beside him. 

 

"Jackson," Brad said.  "Get up."

 

Jackson cracked open one eye and saw his TA gazing down at him, a fixed and unpleasant look on his face.

 

"Did he leave?"

 

"Yes, he did.  Get up, right now."  Brad crossed his strong arms over his chest and waited while Jackson rose to his feet.

 

"You're going to spank me, aren't you?"

 

"Yes," Brad said simply, taking Jackson's hand as they walked.

 

"You're taking his side," Jackson said sullenly.

 

"This has absolutely nothing to do with sides.  It has everything to do with you leaving without a word and being by these falls.  Pick up your feet.  Dragging this out won't make it go away."

 

Jackson tried to follow without lagging behind, although he occasionally slowed unconsciously only to step it up when Brad would tug him along.  The cottage came into view way too fast for Jackson, and he tried pausing on the porch but that worked about as well as walking slowly had.  Brad wasn't having any of it.

 

"Go straight to my sitting room," Brad said, towing him into the cottage.  "Take your pants off and wait in the corner."

 

Brad watched the unhappy young man trudge down the hallway toward his room and he shook his head.  What the hell was he thinking?  It wasn't the first time that thought had crossed his mind over the last two years.  He waited until he heard Jackson close the sitting room door to pick up the phone then, dialing The Island switchboard, he asked for Jonas and Taggert's bungalow.  The phone rang and rang, finally tossing Brad into the bungalow's voice mail.  He frowned.  Not too worried after all, he thought as he waited for the default message to play.

 

He waited for the beep and said, "Hi, it's Brad. I just wanted you to know I found Jackson and he's in one piece.  You can call me later if you want to check on him.  Bye."

 

 

 

 

Jackson wiped his eyes when he heard Brad come into the room.  He wasn't looking forward to the next few minutes with Brad, but his thoughts were more centered on Taggert and Jonas and how he had ruined everything even after things seemed to be moving in the right direction.  He was such a failure.

 

"Jackson, come here," Brad said as he moved the chair away from the table by the wall.

 

Jackson turned to find Brad already seated and waiting for him.  "Brad, I know you're mad –"

 

"Why wouldn't I be, Jackson?  You know better than to leave here like you did and you especially know better than to go to the falls.  We've talked that to death and you've been punished for it before, so come on."

 

Brad had his hand held out to Jackson and Jackson could hardly make his feet move.  "I couldn't help it.  I was upset."

 

"You have full control of your body.  It didn't walk out of here and to the falls without your head telling it to.  Hurry up."

 

Jackson started toward his TA then paused when he saw the paddle lying against the leg of the chair.  "Don't, Brad," he pleaded.  "Please."

 

Brad stood up and walked two paces to Jackson, took his wrist and brought him over to the chair, pulling Jackson over his lap as he sat down.

 

Jackson felt the tears spring from his eyes when Brad's fingers slid into the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down.

 

"How many times, Jackson?"  Brad asked as he leaned over for the paddle.  "How many times do I need to repeat this lesson?"

 

"I don't know," Jackson sniffed.  A familiar panicky feeling spread over him, even though he knew from two years' experience Brad wouldn't hurt him.  Not permanently, anyway. 

 

"Why did you go there?  Why would you do it again, knowing this was going to happen?" Brad asked.

 

"I don't know," Jackson said.

 

Brad brought his right knee up and Jackson felt his butt rise toward the ceiling.  Jackson grabbed the rung of the chair with one hand and Brad's ankle with the other just as Brad brought the paddle down on Jackson's bare behind.  The sting spread as the smooth wood passed over Jackson's backside, and Jackson's tears were flowing freely almost from the first lick. 

 

The pain inside rivaled that of the pain Brad was causing, and Jackson cried tears of hurt, hurt that poured from his soul. Despite his vow to lie still, his legs kicked out on their own volition as Brad continued to bring the paddle down, determined to get his point across this time. 

 

Jackson's right hand flung back to protect a particularly tender spot, and Brad said, "Move your hand out of the way, Jackson."

 

Jackson let his hand hover where it was, unable to move it even though Brad told him to.

 

"Jackson!" Brad demanded.  "Move your hand or I'll hold it out of the way."

 

"Please, Brad, don't paddle me anymore. I won't do it again. I won't go to the falls," Jackson declared on a voice thick with tears.

 

Brad took his hand when Jackson didn't move it and pinned it at the small of Jackson's back.  The feeling of being immobile tore down the last shred of control Jackson had, and he dissolved limply against Brad's knees, sobbing, as Brad finished paddling him.

 

Brad released Jackson's hand and gently stroked Jackson's back while he cried.  It was taking longer than usual for him to calm down, and he had started crying almost immediately when the paddling started.  Brad helped Jackson to his feet and moved him to the sofa, positioning him so he wouldn't be sitting on his sore backside.  Jackson laid his head in Brad's lap and Brad continued to pet and console him.  The longer it took for him to calm down, the more concerned Brad became.

 

"Jackson, what's wrong, babe?"

 

"You paddled me!" Jackson choked incredulously.

 

"There's more going on here than that," Brad said while biting back a smile.  "What happened with Taggert?"

 

"I ruined everything!" Jackson lamented. He turned his head into Brad's lap, tears erupting again.

 

Brad looked up at the ceiling and sighed.  That's what he had been afraid of.  The trigger that made Jackson run was his own behavior, not anger over something as trivial as algebra. 

 

"Come here," Brad said gently, moving Jackson to his lap.  Jackson curled up tight against Brad and cried on his neck, while he clutched at the front of Brad's shirt. 

 

Brad had to wait out several long minutes of new tears until Jackson was quiet enough to hear him.  "Jackson, you don't know that you ruined anything.  They were worried about you when they left."

 

"They left?!" Jackson cried.  "I knew it!"

 

"The cottage," Brad corrected quickly.  "Not The Island."

 

"But you said 'they'."

 

"They, meaning Jonas and Taggert.  Jonas got here just after you left."

 

"Great.  Then they both know how I acted today for sure," Jackson said, burying his head against Brad's neck again.  "They know firsthand how I am."

 

"Of course they both know," Brad said tenderly.  "Knowing you doesn't mean rejecting you, Jackson."

 

"It usually does."

 

"Doesn't mean it does in this case."

 

Jackson was sure it was over no matter what Brad said.  Brad didn't know everything and Jackson had the luxury of experience to back up his assumptions.  His butt was on fire but it wasn't enough to take his mind off the horrible day.  He reconciled himself to the fact that Brad might be right but in all likelihood, he was wrong and it was just a matter of time until Jonas and Taggert pulled the plug.

 

Hours later, Jackson had settled down and was resting somewhat peacefully on the sofa in the living room with his head in Brad's lap.  There was an I Love Lucy marathon on and he found himself unable to laugh at any of Lucy's antics.

 

"She's a Cen if I ever saw one," Brad said chuckling at Lucy's surprise when she learned the hard way how much meat made up a side of beef.

 

"This is a good one. Have you seen it before?"

 

Jackson answered one of many questions Brad tossed out in a vain attempt to make small talk.  "No."

 

"It's hilarious.  Wait until you see what they do with all that beef."

 

It was a statement, not a question, so Jackson didn't feel inclined to comment.

 

William came through the front door carrying a kite and said, "There you are.  We wondered what happened to you."

 

"We decided to take the afternoon off," Brad said.

 

"We won third place with our kite," he announced excitedly.

 

"Good job," Brad said.

 

William sat down in the chair across from the sofa and glanced back over his shoulder toward the door.  He said, "I thought you'd be with Jonas and Taggert but I saw them eating lunch with that new guy in 7B."

 

Brad felt a flash of dread when he heard William's announcement.  God, please don't let Jackson have been right.

 

"What new guy?" Jackson asked raising his head from Brad's lap.

 

"Morgan's new one. Brandon I think his name is," William said.

 

Tom and Ashton came entered the cottage in time to hear the last of William's conversation.  "William Ryan.  My room.  Now," Tom demanded, his order followed by a snap of his fingers.

 

"Tom!" William said, jumping a mile.  "I didn't know you were right there."

 

"I'm sure you didn't.  Move."

 

William grudgingly went where he was directed, the kite competition forgotten, with Tom following close on his heels.

 

Ashton shrugged and sat in William's place, "We missed you at the competition earlier.  We thought you might be there to cheer us on if you were finished with your math."

 

"What were they doing eating together?" Jackson asked, not interested in activities other than those of Jonas and Taggert.

 

"Don't worry about it, Jackson.  I'm sure it was nothing," Ashton said.  "Morgan was with them."

 

"Ok," Brad interjected.  "I think it's time to change the subject."

 

"I want to go to my room, please," Jackson said quietly. 

 

The phone rang and Ashton ran to answer it.  Brad said, "I don't think you need to hide away in your room alone."

 

"Brad, it's for you," Ashton said, coming back into the room.

 

"Wait here," Brad said to Jackson as he rose from the sofa.

 

William's anguished cries echoed from Tom's wing as Ashton sat back down.  He looked toward the hallway and said, "He wasn't supposed to say anything about the new guy and Jonas and Taggert."

 

All the more reason to worry.  If Tom didn't think something was going on, why would he want William to stay quiet?

 

"What were they doing that he wasn't supposed to tell?"

 

"Tom told him not to say anything because he didn't want you getting upset about it.  They were just eating."

 

Brad came back into the room and said, "Looks like you're going to have to do without me for a little while, Jackson.  I need to go to admin for a minute.  Why don't you go stretch out on my bed, ok?"

 

"Why can't I lie down in my own bed?"

 

"Because I'm going to lie down with you when I get back and your bed is too small.  Go ahead."

 

Brad waited for Jackson to leave the room then went to his meeting somewhat wary and more than a little curious.  An hour later as he walked back, all he could think of was how to tell Jackson.  When he got back to his room, Jackson was lying on his side, snoring so softly Brad could barely hear him.  However he decided to tell him, it would have to wait until morning. 

 

 

 

"Are they even coming today?" Jackson asked sullenly as he wiped down the kitchen table.  "Have they called at all?"

 

"They called last night to see how you were doing."

 

"Great.  They know I got in trouble."  Jackson felt his face heat up with the thought of Jonas and Taggert knowing he got spanked the night before.  He didn't know how he would look them in the eye.

 

"Well, if they didn't figure that one out," Brad said with a smile, "then I'd have serious reservations about their intelligence."

 

"They didn't want to talk to me?"

 

"I didn't give them a chance."

 

"They didn't ask, did they?" Jackson surmised.

 

Brad put the last of the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher and put a detergent tablet in the tray.

 

"Jackson, we need to talk."

 

Jackson's stomach clenched and tears pricked his eyes.  This was it.  It was time for Brad to deliver the bad news.  Those two didn't even have the balls to tell him themselves.  Suddenly, Brad's impromptu meeting last night made sense.  He knew last night but probably didn't have the heart to tell Jackson.

 

"You don't have to say it.  I already know," Jackson said.  A tear escaped his eye and he angrily wiped it away.

 

"Come here," Brad said gently, gathering him in his arms.  "I thought I told you before that mind reading wasn't your forte."

 

"I don't have to be a mind reader to know what you're going to say."

 

"Then you already know that Jonas and Taggert have put in a request to match with you?"

 

Jackson blinked, and pulled away from Brad, his face twisted in confusion.  "What did you say?"

 

Brad smiled and brushed away a tear from Jackson's cheek.  "You heard me.  They want to match with you."

 

"I don't understand," Jackson said.

 

"They want to match," Brad said slowly and hooked his finger under Jackson's chin.  "With you."

 

New tears filled Jackson's eyes and his throat threatened to close.  "With me?"

 

"With you," Brad said.

 

Jackson pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes as tears of relief flowed.  Brad hugged him tightly again, rubbing his hands down Jackson's back.  "They want you, Jackson Barnes.  You."

 

"I don't believe it," Jackson cried.  "I knew they were done with me."

 

Brad's eyes stung as he held his Cen, this special man he had cared for over the last two years.  "Does this mean your answer is yes?"

 

"Yeah, it does.  Yes," Jackson said, smiling through his tears.

 

"You know what?" Brad said, his voice steady only through sheer effort.  "I'm going to miss you."

 

Jackson's arms tightened around him and he said, "I'm going to miss you, too."

 

Brad released Jackson from his embrace, but held him at arm's length, fingering his hair into place where it got mussed against Brad's shoulder.  "You know what else?"

 

"What?"

 

"I'll bet there are two anxious Alphas pacing the carpet to ruin over at their bungalow.  I should probably call Pritchard and let him know your answer."

 

"Ok."

 

"Then I'm sure they'll want to spend some time with you today."

 

Brad left Jackson to make his call and Jackson watched him leave.  Matched.  He was matched.  He wasn't sure he'd believe it until he was on a plane with them headed to Maryland.

 

 

 

"Does everybody have to sit around watching me?" Jackson said irritably as he waited for Jonas and Taggert to come.

 

"We're just watching a movie, Jackson.  What did you want us to do, hide until they get here?" Ashton asked.

 

"I feel like I'm on display or something.  The sideshow freak."

 

"Jackson, they know we live here," Brad said. 

 

"Why are you grinning?" Jackson asked Brad.

 

"I'm just happy for you, that's all."

 

The doorbell rang and Jackson's heart skipped a beat, and didn't start thumping again until he remembered to breathe. 

 

"They're here!" Ashton said, shifting in his seat for a better vantage point.

 

"Ashton," Tom said.  "Cut it out."

 

Jackson opened the door and greeted his new official boyfriends.  He still couldn't believe it.  They seemed more handsome to him since he got the news they wanted to match with him.

 

"Hi, let's go," Jackson said, trying to keep them on the porch away from prying eyes.

 

"Hold it, Jackson," Brad said.  "Let them in."

 

Jackson sighed and stepped back so they could come in. 

 

"Hi, everyone," Jonas said.

 

Brad stood up and shook their hands.  "You'd think we never saw a matched couple – or threesome – around here.  Congratulations, gentlemen."

 

"Thanks, Brad," Taggert said.

 

Tom stood to offer his congratulations and shook their hands as well.  "You've got a great guy here."

 

"We thought so," Taggert said, slipping his hand into Jackson's.

 

"What are you doing to celebrate?" William asked.

 

"William," Tom said.

 

"That's ok," Jonas said. "We thought a quiet dinner at our bungalow later this afternoon would be nice, and Brad was kind enough to give his blessing."

 

"Alone, huh?" Ashton said.

 

"No, the rules still apply," Brad interjected.  "No sex yet."

 

Jackson interrupted irritably, "Excuse me!  Can we talk about the weather or something besides our sex life?"

 

Taggert grinned and put his arm around Jackson.  "How about we talk about dinner?  We ordered lasagne from the dining hall to celebrate."

 

"We even ordered dessert," Jonas said. 

 

"Sounds nice," Brad said.  Noticing Jackson's impatient shifting, he added, "Well, you guys better get out of here and enjoy the rest of the day."

 

"Thanks, Brad," Jackson said, relieved to be leaving center stage.

 

"Jackson, you still have my rules and that means an 10:00 curfew.  I'll be by to pick you up at 9:50."

 

Jackson rolled his eyes.  "All right, Brad."

 

Brad kissed the side of Jackson's head and said, "Have a good time."

 

 

 

They had spent the day hiking on the beach, getting to know each other even better and more personally in light of their new relationship, sharing intimate details of their lives that seemed to mean more with the added element of commitment.  The stress Jackson had felt all week miraculously vanished when he learned the men wanted him as a partner, a lover.  The fear of losing them had lessened to a slight percentage of what it had been before.  The afternoon was gone in no time and Jackson set the table as Taggert tossed the salad and placed it on the table.

 

Setting a steaming pan of lasagne in the middle of the table, Jonas said, "We hope this tastes ok."

 

"I'm sure it's good," Jackson said.  "The food's pretty decent most of the time from the dining hall."

 

"Jackson," Taggert said filling his bowl with salad, "I can't tell you how happy we are.  You're everything we could ask for."

 

"When Brad wanted to talk to me this morning, I thought it was to tell me you had given up on me."

 

"What?" Jonas asked, lasagne falling from the serving spoon as his attention went elsewhere.  "Whatever gave you that idea?"

 

"Several things," Jackson said.  "First, you were late for our date."

 

"Pritchard.  That was his fault," Taggert said.  "We had this intensive interview to do with him and it went way longer than we thought it would."

 

"Not to mention all that paperwork.  He must have sent us a mountain of paper to go through," Jonas said.  "We were still wading through it all the night before we left."

 

"Is that why you were distracted on IM?" Jackson asked.

 

"No, that was the neighbor like we said.  He was in the bathroom and I had to answer the door.  She can be a bit annoying, but you'll find that out the hard way when we get to Annapolis."

 

"Wonderful," Jackson said with a grin.  "I can't wait."

 

"But you'll have to wait, unfortunately.  According to Pritchard, we'll be going through a lot of counseling together since we're a threesome. They want to be sure we've sorted the big stuff before we leave The Island," Taggert said.

 

"Which is best, but it's going to be a long wait," Jonas said.

 

"Yeah," Jackson said.  "Why were you having lunch with Morgan and his Cen? That's another reason I thought you weren't interested."

 

"Oh, Brandon has an interest in art, and Morgan asked me to look at some sketches," Jonas said.  "Which reminds me, you have quite a talent."

 

"What?" Jackson asked in confusion.

 

"We definitely need to get you into some art classes.  I saw your math paper.  That scene of a waterfall?  Absolutely beautiful."

 

Jackson groaned and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  "I don't care if I never see that waterfall again."

 

"Where is it?" Taggert asked.

 

"By the creek.  The falls are off limits and it wasn't the first time I went over there."

 

"I guess Brad was less than happy then," Jonas said.

 

"Far less," Jackson agreed.  "Far, far, far less."

 

"Why did you go?" Taggert asked.  "I was surprised when you took off."

 

"I needed to be alone.  I just knew I had ruined everything with you after I lost my temper.  Then after I left like I did, I was sure you wouldn't want to be bothered with me."

 

Taggert's hand covered Jackson's and Jackson stopped eating to look at him.  "I want you to hear this loud and clear," Taggert said with a gentle edge.  "You can throw a tantrum, curse me, have a fit, run off, whatever, but nothing you can do will make me or Jonas leave you or give up on you.  Do you understand me?"

 

Jackson nodded and his heart almost burst.  "Yes, sir," he said, and it seemed right.

 

"Things might get uncomfortable for you if you do all those things, but you won't be alone."

 

"That's right," Jonas said.  "We didn't make this commitment lightly, and we intend to see it through."

 

"So, um, what would you have done if we were in Maryland and something happened like yesterday?" Jackson asked.

 

"I'm sure the same thing that happened when Brad found you," Jonas said.  "Except worse."

 

Jackson's eyes widened in alarm.  It had been plenty bad.  "Worse?"

 

"Yes, because the only water fall you would know about near us is Niagara Falls," Jonas teased.  "Running that far away would mean serious trouble, young man." 

 

His wink after his comment took away any sting that could have been implied, and Jackson smiled. 

 

"But before you go that far, we'll show where Muddy Creek Falls is in Maryland.  It's closer and would get you in less trouble," Jonas added.

 

"Ok," Jackson said, embarrassed but enjoying the teasing in spite of himself.

 

"Don't worry about the details," Taggert said.  "We'll work all of it out.  That's part of what Ryan and Emerson will help us with before we leave."

 

"They'll help us understand how our ratings and personalities can work best together," Jonas said.  "Of course, we'll be in contact more with Brad.  He knows you better than anyone here, is my guess.  He'll be instrumental in helping us smooth out the wrinkles."

 

"That's good," Jackson said, relieved he wouldn't be cutting Brad off cold turkey.  "You know, I was worried about how high-rated you are when Brad first told me about you."

 

"Were you?" Jonas asked.  "They would have never let you match with a low-rated Alpha being a B8."

 

"Yeah but two of you?  Plus," Jackson said, picking at his lasagne a bit nervously, "Taggert's an FM."

 

"A Field Marshall isn't a horrible thing, is it?" Taggert asked.

 

"Field Marshall's are more… strict and unbending, I guess," Jackson said.

 

"We are," Taggert agreed, "but high-rated Cens often need firm boundaries and unyielding consequences."

 

"I know," Jackson said.

 

"Besides," Jonas stated, "I'm a Guardian, so I'm a nurturer, which makes me a good balance to the Field Marshall over there."

 

"Yeah, that's true," Jackson said.

 

"Is Brad a Field Marshall?" Jonas asked.

 

"No, a Guardian," Jackson said. "Most of the TAs are Guardians."

 

"It'll be fine," Taggert said. "We have the rest of our lives to work out the details and we'll have people here to help us."

 

Jackson looked from one of them to the other. 

 

The rest of their lives. He could handle that.

 

The end.