Dec.10, Log 10

Something is not right, but I've known that for a while.

I've always gone with my instincts, have always trusted them. They have not steered me wrong yet. And for that I am truly grateful.

I was right in my decision to watch my father, and again in my decision to not trust these strangers. I was right to find out as much as I can, as discreetly as I can. I was right to make a written record of all the things I thought were strange.

And now, the so called director requests my presence.

But my instincts are telling me to get the fuck as far away as I possibly can from these people, these intruders who have made a mockery of my mother's work.

The ideal person to go to would be my father. But I haven't seen his him in days; it is most troubling and I fear the worst. I can't let myself think on it too hard, because I know that what I will find will be heartbreaking. I know because he taught me to read the signs. I know because I realized the steps he took to protect me. I know. And now I just need to take my shit and run, run fast and far and never look back.

It's time to get the hell out of dodge...

10 days earlier

Sebastian was terribly apprehensive now. The problem was that he didn't know exactly what to do with that. He barely raised an eyebrow when his Dad suggested they get a tutor instead of him going to the high school he had been going to the past two years. He actually saw that coming with all the media coverage the organization has been getting and thought the reason seemed valid enough.

But lately, he's wondering if that was the real reason or a cover; because he was astutely aware of being watched closely, wherever he went. The organization seemed to always be a frenzy of activity lately. And those that get overwhelmed will miss certain indications of a subtle change; one that you can only detect if you've been around the organization for a long time.

Is all one's life a long enough time?

It sure as hell seems to be, because Sebastian can spot the nuances; the security cameras in the rooms of administrators, auxiliary workers and the medical team were very new... and very troubling. If the team is being watched then he is definitely being watched, of this he had no doubt. He now had to tread even more lightly than he was already. He doesn't even know if that's possible. He spread out his biology textbook and tugged the note book towards the edge if his desk.

Dec.1, Log 1

I've decided to make space in my Biology notebook to log everything that's been going on around here. This way it looks like I am studying should anyone happen to see me with a book.

It is dangerous to speak to anyone, to appear suspicious in anyway. And I fear they would tell me I'm paranoid and then relay what they think is innocent news to the wrong people.

There are too many wrong people in this place I call home. Well use to; not anymore, it doesn't feel like home anymore. Not how it felt with Mom here.

With Mom, this place was warm and welcoming. I had friends in every department and as a result, I had free reign to wander anywhere throughout the facility.

Now there are literally signs about 'authorized entry', scanners that had to approve your passage by cards and finger prints.

I suppose I could chalk it up to precaution after what happened to Mom.

However, I actually have a logically inclined brain that won't allow me to accept shit blindly. It's not like Mom was in an area restricted to her when it happened; in fact, no area would be restricted to her as she was the fucking founder. Therefore this protection spiel these strangers were sprouting was complete and utter bullshit.

God, I've wanted to say that for weeks. Maybe writing is a good idea.

Sebastian closed the notebook along with the textbook and tucked them into his bag, feeling a tad bit better that he wasn't completely internalizing everything anymore.

Dec.7, Log 7

My father has become more reclusive lately, no media appearances, no enormous smile on his face, none of the easy confidence that is his trademark. His appearance is wary, he seems fidgety, and his pupils often look dilated. Drastically unlike the man I have known all my life. He keeps saying nonsensical things and there is almost always a drink in his hand. I don't know if talking to him would even get a logical reaction.

It hadn't been this bad since we lost Mom.

However, I do know one thing. Every now and then it's like he gets this bit of sanity, and he looks right at me, eyes clear and sharp and says, "remember the battle of the Somme; never forget."

Now this... This, I understand perfectly. See, my parents were both history buffs. My Mom was more in love with the legacies left behind, the beauty, the art, the architecture... I know a shit ton on Ancient Egypt because my mom was fascinated. My Dad though... He was more of a history of war patron; a man of tactic and battle strategy. "Learn everything you can from the logistics of historical war, emulate victories, learn from defeats." This line was preached to me daily. Along with continued praises sung to the Spartan Warrior way of life.

Sebastian chuckled while he got lost in the memory; his pen hovered over the page. His father couldn't sing for shit, but there was no better way to describe it. He continued on to his point.

The Battle of the Somme was a particular bloody battle of the First World War. The British premiered the tank to the battle field. The tank went on to be iconic as well as deadly from then on. It was the ace up the sleeve of the allied forces.

"Always have an ace up your sleeve, a back-up plan to back up your back-up plan."

I hear you Dad.

I understand.

Sebastian slammed his book shut.

It's been days since his tutor came. Days since he was even let through the front door for his daily run around the compound. Days since he last saw the sun. Apparently the whole compound is on lockdown. But that bit of info was bullshit. He saw people coming and going every day. What they really meant was that the compound was on lockdown for him.

He didn't like this. Not one bit. It felt like too much like a prison; a maximum security prison. Complete with armed guards and impossibly high fences; all of which were new additions.

He was worried sick about his Dad and the tumbler that seemed permanently glued to his hand. Incidentally, said tumbler seemed to be rigged with a HP-esque refilling charm, because it's never empty.

The thing that really gets him is his Dad's favourite battle reference. If he's telling Sebastian to remember the Somme, then things are worse than Sebastian even thought they were; far worse.

That night Sebastian Smythe began to discreetly stow pertinent objects away into a duffle bag under his desk.

The next day he went in search of his father. The battle of the Somme, to his family, meant either a full scale battening down of the proverbial hatches, or an all out retreat to parts unknown to the enemy. Sebastian knows what he thinks it means this time, but he needs to be absolutely sure.

The minute he stepped into his father's study, he knew something was wrong. His dad spends more time in this room than anywhere else on the property, however this room looked like no one's been in it for at least a week. A look at the bedroom reveals that his father either perfected bed making (which would be impossible, because his mom gave up on teaching him) or he hadn't slept in his bed for days.

His father was missing.

Definitely retreat then.

Though Sebastian can hardly imagine a retreat without his father, it's looking more and more like he will have to. And more disturbingly, it's looking more and more like his father knew this; way in advance. Like his father prepared for this. An ace up his sleeve.

"Remember the Battle of the Somme; never forget." Sebastian repeated. He went to his father's desk safe and tried the combination "07011916". The click the safe made caused him to sigh in relief. July 1, 1916 was the start of the game changing battle; he was suddenly very happy he had been listening to his father.

He emptied the contents of the safe in a bag. Bonds, cash, fraudulent papers; you name it, his father had it stashed away for the three of them. This was his father's ace; a means to run for a while or even disappear completely for his family, a way to survive in case the world was turning to shit.

It was safe to say that Sebastian's world had turned to shit.

He tucked the bag under his coat. He was very mindful of his position at all times; he reasoned that if they had cameras on him, then they damn sure had cameras on his father. He plugged in a jump drive and logged on to his father's desktop. He scrolled through until he found the info he was looking for. He saved all the files on the drive, then retrieved it and stowed it away. He stood up from his father's chair and exited the room.

The lowly watch agent observing the camera feeds on his 5 hour shift didn't think it strange that the boy entered his father's quarters. And his sole job description was to report anything suspicious to Director Spektor. Usually the man himself would be in there, breathing down the agent's back and looking down his nose at the camera feeds. It made the agent antsy. If they wanted to scour the feeds themselves, then why was he here? He didn't question that for long. A job was a job; his family had to eat and the kid didn't look suspicious. However if he didn't report this and it's seen later it would be on his ass. He jotted down a note of it and went on with his daily routine.

Dec.10, Log 10

... It was time to get the hell out of dodge.

No way in fuck am I gonna be in a room alone with this man.

This is it.

Later.

Sebastian stuffed the book in his rucksack, his duffle place right by his bathroom door. It was one of the only blind spots in his room. He has been utilizing it as discreetly as possible since the day he discovered exactly where the cameras were positioned. He needed to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He needs to find a place where the director's reach isn't that strong. And according to the info he's been steadily collecting, that place would be Ohio. Senator Burt Hummel's state.

Right now that is the only reason the state hadn't been completely taken over frequency meters and genome checks in schools. And the reasons he is guessing that Burt Hummel is still alive are that he's under Anderson protection and if he were to die, the first suspect would be someone from this organization, or that he may be an asset to these impostors for some other reason he couldn't fathom.

All he knows is that the files on his drive tells a foreboding story. One of infiltration and subtle takeovers by a group called The Sector. He has no doubt that's what happened to his Mom's pride and joy. The bastards took advantage of his father's vulnerability, his want for some kind of justice for his wife, while never intending to help at all.

As Sebastian thinks about this, he knows his father is gone.

His stomach lurches and his heart ache at the thought.

He was alone.

And this fucker wants to finish him off too? No fucking way.

He took the duffle in one hand and put the rucksack on his back. Then he went through his bathroom to the window right over the toilet and peeked out. It was a bit of a drop, and there were guards walking along the perimeters of the compound. He dropped the duffle first and then jumped after, aiming to cushion his fall on the bag. And, you know, hopefully not break his damn ankle.

The duffle did take away some of the shock, though it still hurt like a bitch. He stealthily rolled to his side as an armed guard trekked by the bushes he landed in. When the guard was gone, Sebastian made a sprint for the fence toward the opening he'd made earlier. Precise and discreet; He'd been busy. He dragged himself through it; ignoring the scrapes he got as a result, and ran pell-mell toward the city.

After about a mile he used his cell phone for what most certainly will be the last time to get a cab to take him to the train station. He then dismantled the phone piece by piece and scattered them by the side of the road. The pickup point he described to the cab company was five minutes away from he where he was, if he ran fast enough. Luckily, his body was used to running.

Sebastian took off without looking back.

"Are you going to do nothing about this breech? He's going to get away." The short shuffling man was incensed.

"Patience, Higgins. I would be nowhere if I weren't a patient man. Let him go. He's of no use to me here." Spector replied in calming tones.

Higgins scowled as they watched the boy run away from the compound on the monitors.

Kurt could hardly believe what was happening right now.

It wasn't the fact that he was on a date with Blaine that he couldn't believe; because that is just a fact of his life now. A completely fucking awesome fact.

And it isn't the fact that they were on a blanket at nightfall, a picnic basket in between them, and that Blaine was trying (and failing) to throw grapes directly into his mouth. Instead they kept bopping Kurt gently on the nose which leads Kurt to make what Blaine calls his 'scrunchy face'; which then causes Blaine to laugh uproariously. He's such a five year old!

And it certainly wasn't the fact that they are actively trying to put Kurt's research, Blaine's control his of powers (or his lack of control may be more accurate) and the very real threat of killers looking for Blaine, out of their minds, and just be with each other. Just the two them. Just enjoying what it means to be in lo-in very intense like-damn it.

And it definitely isn't the fact that they were both half naked and blissed out from the mutual hand jobs that happened completely by accident. Seizing the little time they have alone together to progress further than the rushed frotting they've had to make do with. Taking the time to savor the pace and movements they both like. Getting completely lost in the moment together. Finding out exactly which kind of upstroke made Blaine's eyes roll to the back of his skull, exactly the kind of face he made when he reached his peak this way.

No, what Kurt couldn't believe was that all this was happening on the head of the Great Sphinx.

THE Great Sphinx.

You know, Pharaoh's head, lion's body.

On the Giza Plateau.

In Egypt.

Yep.

With all the jumping Kurt did with Blaine, and Cooper constantly telling them that excess jumping was dangerous; Kurt didn't even fathom something like this when Blaine asked him out on a date. His father thought they were at Blaine's house, for Christ sake; which is entirely plausible, since Kurt spends most of his time in the lab Cooper created for him there.

Instead, he was across the ocean, on nearly the other side of the world, sitting on an iconic monument he had only admired in pictures before. An iconic monument he had sex on with his boyfriend moments ago.

And this was his life now. He could feel the contentment Blaine was exuding at this point in time; the safe space between them where he could relax. Though why he could feel it so strongly was yet another thing they had to worry about.

Yes Blaine has Mutation 2.0. Yes it's given him some sort of source of power no human has ever had access to. But what about this mental, emotional, bridge, link, whatever it is they have? Because he can't chalk it up to his strong feelings for Blaine alone. He can literally feel Blaine, and Blaine can feel him.

"You're thinking about it again."

Case in point.

"I'm sorry." Kurt apologized. "It's just... I know we should just put all the stress down for a couple of hours, and just be us. But it's kind of hard. Couples don't usually sense each other's state of mind directly. Normally there are words, explanations, body movements, something."

Just then Kurt felt a bout of sadness that was most certainly not his own steal over him.

"I'm not usual Kurt. Not normal." Blaine pulled back a bit from the space the shared together. "I thought you were okay with that."

Kurt was puzzled for a bit, til he went over his words in his head.

"How is it that we can feel each other's emotions and still manage miscommunication?" He stretched across the distance Blaine created and held his hands. "I just want to understand B. Of course you're not the norm, but that doesn't automatically mean wrong, or bad. I love that you aren't the usual." Kurt put a hand to his jaw. "I thought you knew that." He finished. And then he worked on radiating acceptance and love (even though he hasn't said it yet) towards this presence he has come to call a mind meld, but actually feels like it's a part of his very being. Like Blaine is a part of his very being.

Kurt only had to register the wave of relief that washed over him to know that Blaine had got it. He didn't need to see Blaine let out a breath he was apparently holding and his shoulders relax. It was fascinating. They've been experimenting with it in the training room quite a bit this week; he couldn't wait to find out more.

Blaine glanced at his watch and immediately started getting anxious. "If we don't go now you are going to miss your curfew. And Burt is gonna shoot me. I like not being shot."

Kurt chuckled as they stood to pack up the picnic and pulled their pants back up. "I don't know why he bothers with this curfew business. He's in Washington half the time and I'm basically at your place 24/7 then. I'm sure he knows this."

"Which is probably why he enforces it a bit when he's home. Let's just respect the man's wishes."

"You just don't want to be shot."

"You're damn right I don't"

Kurt laughed at the ridiculousness. His father would never hurt Blaine.

Blaine took the rolled blanket from Kurt and held the picnic basket in the other hand. "Ready to leave Egypt?" He said holding his hands out and creating a space for Kurt in between them.

"Ready." Kurt said as his stepped in Blaine's open arms and put his own around Blaine's neck. They've now perfected the art of tag jumping, as Blaine knew they would. Blaine disappeared with the faintest pop, taking Kurt and the picnic with him. He reappeared in his garage right beside his car.

Kurt let out a sigh. Gone are the days of feeling punch drunk after tag jumping. They've practiced so much; Kurt's body expects every movement Blaine's body makes and just goes with it.

Blaine untangled himself from Kurt and put the picnic supplies in the back of his car. He then opened the passenger side for Kurt before rushing to his side.

"Let's go babe, curfew." Blaine insisted.

Kurt chuckled and jumped in the front.

After 30 mins of Kurt teasing Blaine for being just a little afraid of his father, they were in front of Kurt's house with 15 mins to spare. Blaine exhaled in relief. Kurt guffawed.

"You virtually have weapons for hands and you're afraid of my lowly congressman Daddy."

"Not afraid of," Blaine retorted. "I just value my Kurt time. Getting you home on time ensures more Kurt time."

Kurt found himself giggling like a 14 yr old girl at that. He leaned over the console and kissed Blaine chastely on the lips. Every time he has kissed Blaine, it felt like the first time. Like he can't breathe. Like an electric current is pulsing through him. No matter what kind of kiss it was. And he tried to move away, he really did, but his body betrayed him. He deepened the kiss and Blaine let him. He let him push and take whatever the hell he wanted. But then Blaine was stopping it.

"Kurt." He breathed the name. "You can't start this when we are virtually a minute away from your Dad kicking my ass." Blaine's words were saying a completely different thing from his body, his hands somehow found their way in the back of Kurt's shirt and up the creamy soft skin of his back.

The lights on the porch of Kurt's house turned on and that sobered them up fast. Blaine kissed him one last time before breathlessly saying goodnight. Kurt jumped out of the car and started towards his porch. Blaine watched Kurt walk; watched the sway of his hips and the stretch of his legs, watched as he bent down to retrieve a key from under the mat at the doorway. Blaine's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Kurt opened the door and waved at Blaine before closing it behind him.

Blaine was left wondering what he ever did to deserve someone so special.

Blaine's phone rang just as he was about to lie down on his bed. He smiled as he saw Mr. Smarty Pants flash on his screen and clicked the answer option.

"I miss you already."

"I dropped you off about half an hour ago Kurt."

"So? I can't still miss you?"

"I know. I miss you too." Blaine sighed. "Your dad still up?"

"Yeah. I wish you were here though."

"You know I can't-" Blaine's sentence got cut off as he felt himself move without any conscious thought whatsoever.

The next thing he knew he was on the floor, looking at a very familiar piece of carpet, and listening to the voice he thinks he'd recognize even if he were dead, repeat his name into his own phone... While it was still coming through Blaine's phone.

"What the fuck?" Blaine whispered, but apparently not as softly as he thought because Kurt turned around and looked straight at him, surprised.

"Blaine..." Kurt was half questioning, half happy that Blaine was actually there. This was alsowhyhe was questioning. He was sure Blaine was about to give him the speech about him not jumping over while his dad was in the house; an argument he's heard time and again, and even agreed with the logic, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. And if that was the case, then what was Blaine doing looking dazed, bewildered, and adorably sexy as hell in his pajamas on Kurt's floor?

"What are you doing here?" Kurt blurted. His curiosity always had a knack of getting the better of his filter.

"Well don't look so happy." Blaine said with a little smile. "But to be honest, I don't have the slightest clue babe. I didn't intentionally jump. In fact I was about to list some reasons why I shouldn't."

"Okay let's back track." Kurt's scientific mind took over. He got up off his bed to pace without even realizing it. "We were talking on the phone, I said I missed you, you said you missed me too and now you're here." Kurt stopped to think for a minute. "You know, you're getting stronger and stronger every day Blaine and we've been practicing so hard lately; maybe your body is obeying your subconscious?"

"What? No. Really?" Blaine looked genuinely perturbed. "I've been jumping for as long as I can remember Kurt, I've always had to at least think about where I'm going."

Kurt plopped down on his bed deep in thought. He turned and looked at the space he occupied before Blaine fell into his room. His eyes grew wide. "That's impossible." He whispered.

"Okay, number one," Blaine began, "I've learned to stop saying anything is impossible since the day my hands became literal weapons. Secondly, could you share with the rest of the class what exactly is supposed to be impossible, Mr. smarty pants?" Blaine smirked teasingly.

"Umm... Okay I have an idea... but I wanna test it first." Kurt took a deep breath. "Can you, umm, just go into the bathroom and bolt the door."

Blaine has long since learned to trust Kurt's scientific methods implicitly. He's learned to trust everything with Kurt implicitly. He went into the bathroom and bolted the door. No sooner had he bolted the door than he was back on the carpet of Kurt's room. Again, without conscious thought. From his place on the floor Blaine heard Kurt gasp.

"Okay babe spill. What's this theory for my crash landing on your carpet?"

"I... I umm... I think it's me."

"What?"

"I think it's me." Kurt repeated. "On both occasions, I really wanted you here. That's what's common."

Kurt took a couple slow steps toward Blaine.

"I think you're responding to me on a subconscious level."

He took a couple more steps.

"I think we've become so attuned,"

He took a couple more...

"So in sync," He took the last step that landed him right into Blaine's space. "That your body is just drawn to mine, it wants to obey me." Kurt finished in that low sultry tone Blaine has come to know and love, running his thumb over Blaine's bottom lip.

"K... Kurt." Blaine half sobbed half whined the name. "You can't say things like that, your dad's in the house." Blaine hissed.

"Then let's go someplace where my dad isn't." Kurt said.

"Kurt... we can't... your Dad... I really don't want him to shoot me!" Blaine tried to say this jokingly but it came off nervous and worried. Guess he was a little scared after all. The man did say he had a shot gun.

Kurt pouted playfully but then became sincere almost immediately, when he realized what this could mean. "Well at least take me to the lab. This is so much more than you reacting to my distress Blaine, so much more than us feeling what the other feels. And I really think that the sooner we find out about this, the better it is for us."

Blaine knew that Kurt was right. "What are you gonna tell your father. You technically just came from my house babe."

Kurt realized the predicament, but this situation felt pressing. He had to factor in these possibilities to his model.

"We can be in, out and back without him noticing. I just want to enter the data while it's fresh. Please?"

Blaine sighed exaggeratingly. "Fine." He grabbed Kurt's hand. "If your father shoots me I am blaming you!" He said, before they both disappeared with a faint pop.