Chapter 11

December 15, 1940

Forrest Lawn Memorial Park, Glendale, California

Jeff sat on the stone bench and watched the man place the roses on the grave with reverence. He had hoped to spend this time alone at Georgia's grave but had been interrupted by the one person he prayed that he wouldn't see: Coach Cady. There were still six hours before he had to return to VHQ and he wanted to make every second count. A gust of cold December wind smacked him in the back and he hunkered down further into his peacoat.

Though slightly irritated by the intrusion, Jeff watched with some interest as the man sat by the flat grave marker and pulled out a sketch book from under his coat. There had been little change in his appearance in the twelve or so years since Jeff last saw him and the familiarity was an odd comfort to him. The bench was near enough, even in the weak sunlight that managed to filter through the clouds, for Jeff to see that something was already drawn on the paper and that Fred was continuing the picture. He was a true artist, and his hand flew all over the paper as his internal vision came to life with simple carbon and wood pulp.

He drew for about fifteen minutes before he seemed satisfied and stood up to stretch. It was then that he noticed Jeff sitting on the bench several yards away. He glanced down at the grave, made the sign of the cross, turned around and tipped his hat to the young man on the bench a few plots away, who copied the gesture. "I see that rainstorm is moving in," Fred said loudly. "We're liable to get wet if we stay too much longer."

Jeff made an agreeing noise and shifted uncomfortably.

The coach wandered a bit closer to the bench so he wouldn't have to shout. "Who ya here to visit, son?"

There wasn't any point in trying to hide his intentions, so he sighed into the brown and red plaid scarf that covered his mouth and then pulled it down. "Georgia Coleman."

"I thought I was the only one who still came to see my 'lil bearcat," Fred said with a warmth that put Jeff both at ease and made him more nervous. "By the way, I'm her co- well, I was her coach, Fred Cady." He pulled his gloved hand out of his coat pocket and extended it to Jeff.

"I'm Jeff. Jeff Jones."

Fred smiled. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Jones. How'd you know Georgia?"

"I um, we..." Jeff licked his lips, "I met her at the LA Athletic Club once after a competition. She was amazing to watch. Always showin' up the boys, and I liked that. She had moxie."

Fred laughed loudly and slapped Jeffrey on the back. "Son, you hit the nail on the head! That girl of mine dove better than the boys and they all knew it. See this," he held out the drawing for Jeff to see, "this is Georgia at her best."

Jeff looked at the pencil sketch and felt his throat tighten; it was incredible. Georgia was performing a swan dive from the three meter board and she was beautifully drawn. It looked more like a black and white photograph than a pencil drawing, and all the important details were sharp while more minor ones were blurred. It was her face that was the most amazing thing; Fred had captured the joy in her eyes but also that amazing focus and determination she was known for. She had a Mona Lisa-type smile and she looked as if she would literally fly off the page.

Fred could read the look on the young man's face and smiled. "Georgia was a natural, she was one of a kind. She was my sunshine..."

He stopped suddenly and turned away from Jeff who understood the man's distress all too well. He had hoped that he wouldn't see Coach Cady today, but now he was actually glad the man was there. It helped him to know that Georgia was deeply loved till the end of her life and beyond.

"She was a ray of sunshine for this entire nation, Coach. Georgia had that spark of life and a vibrant spirit that shined no matter what happened to her. You couldn't help but fall in love with her, ya know? I wasn't as close to her as you were sir, but I promise you her passing has left its mark on my heart. It wasn't fair that she had to suffer like that and be taken away from us so young. She was one of a kind, and I miss her."

"There's hope for your generation yet," Fred said gruffly as he wiped his eyes. "Tell ya what, son. I'll leave the two of you alone, but promise to meet me at Mitzi's Coffee shop about a block from here and I'll tell you some stories about her diving." Jeff's look of shock put a smile on Fred's face.

"I appreciate that sir but, why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you sit and share stories about Georgia with a complete stranger?"

Fred clapped his large hand on Jeff's shoulder, "Because she's been gone for three months and I'm a lonely old man who misses a special young lady, and you are the first admirer of hers that's come to spend time with her since the funeral. If she was that special to you son, then you deserve to hear about her from someone who knew her best. I've got a few errands to run before this storm hits and then I'll head over to Mitzi's. Just take your time, I'll be there most of the evening finishing up this picture for you."

Jeff blinked in shock, "For me? No sir, Coach Cady. I couldn't possibly take-"

"It's poor manners to argue with your elders, Mr. Jones. I'll give my drawings to whomever I want for no other reason than it makes you happy. Now don't forget, Mitzi's as soon as you're done here. Just tell them you're lookin' for Coach and they'll send you right to me. I've apparently become a fixture there." Fred gave him a wink then turned and walked back up the hill to the main road.

Alone once more, Jeff walked back to Georgia's grave and sat on the cold grass beside the tombstone. The wind was gusting in waves and getting colder by the minute. The New York part of his brain scoffed at the thought of calling this 'cold' or a real 'storm,' but thirty-eight degrees with steady wind and the setting sun stuck behind storm clouds was most certainly cold. He wrapped his scarf around his face once more and picked idly at a blade of grass.

Before Fred had arrived, he had paced around the grave, sat beside it and even picked weeds away from the marker, all without saying a word. He'd spent two hours trying to figure out why he was here and what he wanted to do. And now he knew.

"Georgia, I uh," he cleared his throat, "I miss you. It's not fair that you had to die so young, and I wasn't fair to you back in 1928. I left you without saying why or telling you that I... well, that I love you." His heart pounded and he felt his eyes begin to water and he took a breath. Speaking those words out loud made him face the truth and it hurt.

"Here I am two weeks after I left you, seventeen and still in love with a sixteen year old, except it's been twelve years since you last saw me and you died three months ago at the age of twenty-eight..." He growled and glared up at the sky. "Time travel sucks. Why do you do this to us, huh? Why? It's not fair, do you hear me?"

A distant roll of thunder was his immediate reply and he gave a resigned laugh. "Yes sir, Counselor Garth sir. I'll stop whining." Jeff sighed and looked down at the grave marker, refocusing his thoughts. "I should really tell you why I left and what happened while I was there. You deserve that much. You see, I'm what you might call a Time Traveler..."

Two hours later Jeff was emotionally drained and bitterly cold. He'd shared everything with her, from how he met Phineas through this last encounter with Drake, and he held nothing back. And even though he was only speaking to a grave, he could feel Georgia's presence somehow and it was liberating to actually 'talk to' someone about what he considered his deep, dark secret life.

He exhaled loudly and brushed away the tears. "I hope you were really happy with your life and I'm glad you didn't have to suffer missing me; I'm going through it for both of us." He looked at his watch and then at the darkening sky and shivered as the wind gusted through the trees. There were still about four hours left for him to be here, and as much as he wanted to stay at her graveside, the weather wouldn't allow it. It was starting to rain.

Jeff caressed the edge of the grave marker as the rain made small dots on the carved stone. "I know you wouldn't want me to catch a cold out here so I'm going to head over to that coffee shop and visit with Coach for a while. I wish I could stay though," he said as he shoved his hands deep into his peacoat. A familiar object pushed against his knuckles and then it hit him. He could stay with her, or at least a part of him could.

He dug a small hole in the damp earth next to the grave marker about three inches deep, pulled Kabibe's white bead and red cloth out of his pocket and after one last look, dropped them into the hole.

"These represent what my life was worth to one little native girl. It was all the money she had and she gave it to my enemy and asked him to save me." He paused a moment before continuing, "Nobody really understands what these mean to me, so I'm leaving them here with you, because I know you would understand. You would have liked Kabibe, and I like to think she grew up to be just like you."

The rain was coming down more steadily now and Jeff made sure the dirt was packed down hard before finally standing up. His muscles protested the movement and he stretched out trying to get the blood flowing again. A flash of lightning crackled through the sky followed quickly by booming bass of thunder as Jeff looked at Georgia's grave one more time.

"Good bye, Georgia, and thanks for everything."

He made his way down the small hill toward the entrance of the memorial park and could just see the blinking sign that read 'Mitzi's' beyond the first traffic light. In a few short minutes he would be warming up with a hot cup of coffee with an old friend who didn't even know him, telling him stories about the girl he loved, and he smiled, feeling a sense of release and a happiness that he didn't understand. And he didn't care.

-0-

VHQ

The difference in Jeff when he returned surprised even Dr. Suarez, and she was glad to see the change. He had returned forty-five minutes before his deadline and asked her to call Phineas in so he would only have to share the story once. It took him about an hour to share the experience, and the adults were speechless when he showed them the picture the coach had given Jeff.

"I didn't realize he could draw that well," Phineas said as he studied the drawing. "He captured her perfectly."

"Jeffrey, how have the past eight hours changed you?"

The teen looked at his counselor and thought for a moment before answering. "I feel…free. Leaving the tribal money at Georgia's grave felt like I was finally letting go of … or releasing, oh I don't know. Like I've been carrying around this big burden or secret, and now it's almost gone."

"Almost gone?"

"Yeah. I know there's more stuff I've gotta work through, but I feel like I got rid of a lot of crap that was pulling me down. So it's not all gone, just mostly."

Dr. Suarez nodded, "I see. And you, Phineas? How has this experience changed you?"

"Oh, well I, uh…" he gave a nervous chuckle. "Which part? The one where I thought I'd lost him forever and was ready to kill Drake with my bare hands as slowly as possible, the part where he came home and I couldn't stand to see the pain he was in and still wanted to kill Drake, or today when I woke up and Jeff was gone and even after knowing he was safe I still had a pit in my stomach until I knew he was back home?"

"D, all of the above."

Phineas heaved a sigh and looked over at Jeff. "You've been my kid for five years, but you're not a little kid. I never thought I'd be a parent, and I certainly didn't want to inherit a kid going into puberty." Jeff pulled a face at him. "I had a lot of learning and growing to do, and I did it, but I just kinda figured out today that our relationship is five years old, and so my 'internal parent' wants to protect you like you were a five year old child. You became a young man so fast… I had more adapting to do than I think you did at times."

Jeff was about to speak but caught the stern look in the doctor's eye and stayed quiet. Phineas stared at his hands for a moment before continuing.

"The Doc says I have to learn to let you be your own person; that I don't have to protect you so much. That, and I still have some issues to resolve where Drake is concerned."

"I'm impressed," the counselor said with a genuine smile. "I'm very impressed, actually. So impressed, in fact that I think you should take some time to regroup and we will have another meeting next week. In the meantime," she stood and the men followed suit, "doctor's orders are to go relax and have some fun. Before you know it, Jeff will be starting his first semester of Academy, and Phineas will be readjusting to voyaging on his own. I want you both well rested for it."

The shocked silence made her smile as they processed what she said. It was Jeff who finally spoke first.

"But, the semester starts in about two weeks. I thought you said-"

"I know what I said before, Jeffrey. But with what the two of you just shared with me I am more than willing to allow you to start your official education. It's about time you acted like a teenager, going to Academy, hanging out with friends… you need that just as much as anything else right now. And you," she pointed at Phineas, "are needed out in the field. You've proven yourselves ready for this. Now off with the both of you before I change my mind."

-Six months later-

"Mister Jones," Professor Cortland intoned, "Please define the word antidisestablishmentarianism."

"You've got this," Dalisa Mims whispered and gave Jeff a thumbs up and a wink as he stood up and walked to the front of the class.

He hated oral quizzes with a passion and took a moment to compose himself before speaking. Professor Cortland looked over her cat-eye spectacles at him with one eyebrow raised and he knew one of her famous caustic statements was about to be heard. But he was ready for her.

"Antidisestablishmentarianism. Establish means to set up, put in place or institute and is originally from the Latin stare, meaning to stand. Dis-establish means to end the established status of a body- in particular a church- given such status by law. For example The Church of England."

The class couldn't believe what they were hearing. Succeed or fail, Jeffrey Jones was about to become a legend.

"Disestablish-ment refers to the separation of church and state," he turned to her then, gesturing with his right index finger for emphasis, "in this context, the political movement of the 1860's in Britian."

Now he was pacing the width of the class, gaining confidence from the positive energy his fellow underclassmen were exuding.

"So anti-disestablishment would be opposition to disestablishment, correct? Antidisestablishment-ary means of or pertaining to opposition to disestablishment, and an antidisestablishmentari-an would be an opponent of disestablishment."

The room was perfectly silent and still, but the barely contained energy was a physical presence in the room that nearly suffocated everyone with the intensity of its desire for release. And it's exactly what Jeff wanted. He stood front and center, put his hands behind his back, and recited the final definition.

"Antidisestablishmentarianism- the movement, ideology or a political position that originated in 19th-century Britain in opposition to proposals for the disestablishment of the Church of England; the opposition of the disestablishment in the 1860's of the Anglican Church's status as the state church of England, Ireland, and Wales."

Jeff locked eyes with his professor and waited for her response.

After a very long pause Professor Cortland moved from behind her desk and stood beside Jeff. "Only one other student, a second year I might add, has ever succeeded in this challenge and I thought it would never happen again, or would be achieved by a first year. Not many people take words seriously anymore and I must say you defined your word with flair and confidence." She reached over and picked up her grade book from her desk. "As per the class syllabus, 'if a student or students can present to the class a flawless example of learning comprehension and full understanding of word definition to the satisfaction of the professor, then he or she shall receive the top mark for the quiz or test, the rest of the class shall receive passing grades and class shall be dismissed for the day and for the following session.' Congratulations Trainee Jeffrey Jones. Class dismissed."

The glass nearly came out of the window panes at the thunderous cheer from the underclassmen. They poured out of the classroom as if they were grade schoolers being let out for the summer, and the professor shook her head with a wry smile. No matter how young or old a student may be, there was always child-like joy at surprising the teacher and winning her favor. It had been too long since her students had that experience, and she was glad they'd finally done it.

She picked up her grade book and followed the sound of victory out the door and down the hall.

As the door clicked shut a voice broke the stillness. "Well, that was impressive, wasn't it?"

A flash of flame illuminated the end of a Cuban cigar as the owner lit the tip and drew in a long breath before blowing smoke into the room.

"My protégé did quite well today. He has my drive and thirst for knowledge."

Drake paced between the rows of desks and smiled. "I never would have thought that who he is today is a direct result of my intervention. But just look at the boy! Top marks in most of his classes and the need to prove that he is not Phineas Bogg. I'd say that's a step in the right direction."

He glanced around the room and remembered the day that he met the syllabus challenge all those years ago and smiled. "Just watch your new star pupil, Prof. Cortland, and don't be surprised when you see me in him. I shall watch and mold him from afar, and that shall be far more disturbing to Phineas Bogg than anything else I could conceive."

As the bell tower chimed the quarter hour, Drake pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and placed it on Jeff's desk before vanishing from the room. When the English class resumed the following Monday, everyone noticed the faint smell of stale smoke but only Jeff understood what it meant.

He picked up the paper from his desk and felt some fear as he read the words written in that familiar script.

'Until we meet again.'

Dalisa walked over to him and he crumpled the paper quickly, but she snatched it away. "You should know better than to hide things from your best friend. Who's this fro... oh. Oh." She glanced up at him nervously. "You should tell the prof, Jeff."

"Nope." He took the paper back from her, wadded it into a tight ball and tossed it into the trashcan in the back of the room. "Ha! Magic does it again. Nothin' but net."

"But Jeffrey..."

He shook his head, "No. And I'll tell you why." He took his seat as more students filed in. "Because it doesn't matter. I'll always be afraid of what he might do, but I always have been. He didn't tell me anything I don't already know, so why bother. He's always going to be after me and Bogg, so that note doesn't change a thing. And if I keep holding on to the anger and hatred that got me into trouble with him before, then I perpetuate the cycle and he wins. But not this time."

Prof. Cortland rang the delicate blue and white china bell that sat on her desk and the last few students scuttled off to their desks.

Jeff reached over to Dalisa and put his hand over hers, giving it a squeeze. "Just let it go, D. Let it go."

THE END

Thank you everyone who stuck with me for the THREE YEARS it took to complete from posting the first chapter. It's taken me 5 years total to write this, and I did a lot of growing as a writer because of it. First of all I want to thank Leanne (SpencertheKat) for challenging me to write this story. We had been chatting online back in 2008 talking about Voyagers! and stories and before I knew it, there were rules and points and challenges-within-the-challenge and I was off and running!

Anywho, I thought you might like to know what my rules were and see how well I succeeded. :)

1) It had to involve Polio in some way. Originally supposed to be a main plot point, but due to inaccurate info online (age Georgia Colman contracted the disease), polio had to take a back seat.

2) Drake needed to at least make an appearance (didn't have to be 'the star'), he needed be more like what we saw hi in the show, AND there needed to be some form of redemption for him somehow.

3) The story needed to be CANON, and I wasn't allowed to use any OC's I'd previously created. However I could use my OC Curt Rogers who ran Omni Control. This proved to be difficult in that I was making Jeff 17 instead of 12 or 13, and we have NO canon for that. So I got to use creative license with Leanne's permission. And I kinda fudged it a bit by adding Dr. Suarez, but I think she might let that slide...? I hope!

4) It needed to be a minimum of 3 chapters long. Psh. Piece of cake.

As an added challenge, her wonderful husband Mark told her (jokingly) that I had to use words like Bunsen burner, Mt. Kilimanjaro, saran wrap, Onomatopoeia, wookie, Antidisestablishmentarianism and triple A batteries. I think that using four of the seven words, even making one a major plot point, qualifies as a smashing success, don't you? :D

As I look back on the early chapters and drafts, I realize how much this story has changed, and really why it took 5 years to write. I haven't had a 'writing assignment' in over 20 years, and everything I'd written since 2005 had come from my own ideas. So this felt a lot like homework to me, which was a challenge in and of itself. I had to work at ideas instead of just letting them flow, and things changed SO MUCH from my original ideas to now... Like the story was supposed to center around Georgia and Jeff and Georgia's polio. That was great until I learned that she didn't contract it until her mid 20's and I needed her to be 16!

But I wouldn't change this challenge or the experience for anything. I'm very proud of what I created and all the study and labor was well worth it. So THANK YOU LEANNE AND MARK. I hope you like your story.