See Part One for Disclaimers

"Let me get your sheets changed.  Wet silk has its place, but not on a sick bed."

Jonathan watched the man work.  He moved with a fluid grace that matched Jonathan's.  When he was well.

"You've trained."

That slow smile.  "Some.  Your bed's ready."

Jonathan settled into his bed, the sheets clean and inviting.  He started to drift back to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillows.

"You're cheating."

A female voice.  An unfamiliar voice.  He tried desperately to wake up.

"He won't remember when he's well."

Aaron, he identified that voice.  What was he talking about?  And to whom?

"You're in trouble."

"This is not news."

"Aaron Beauregard Acton, this is serious."

"So is this," came the soft reply.  "So is family."



Jonathan Raven, early 20's, slayer of ninjas, awoke with a start.  He looked wildly around him, trying to place the sounds and sights.  He was in the cabin of a small Lear jet.  There was no one else in the jet cabin.

Cautiously, he unlatched his seat belt and moved forward to the cockpit.  A man with shoulder length graying hair sat in the pilot's seat.  He gestured for Jonathan to join him.  The younger man regarded him suspiciously, but took the co-pilot's seat.

"Ever learn to fly?"

"No."

"Now's as good a time as any." He took his hands off the wheel.

Jonathan moved to catch the wheel on his side, then stopped.  Nothing had happened.  He frowned at the other man.  "Auto-pilot?"

"You catch on quick."

"Where are we going?"

"Hawaii."

"Why?"

"Seems like a good place to go.  Warm.  Sunny.  Breezes.  You'll like it."

"And you?"

"I already like it."

"Oh."

"And I think your girl will like it, too."

"What girl?"

"The little Nipponese girl you've been going with for a while, the one carrying your child."

"What?" He hadn't wanted to sound like that.

"What's her name?  Aki.  Yeah.  Aki.  She's pregnant."

"How do you know?"

"I do."`

"She would have told me."

"Would she?"

"Yes." Doubts crowded into his mind.  "Of course.  She knows I love her."

"Does she?"

"I told her."

"Before or after you killed all those people?"

He knew.  How did he know?  Who the hell was he?  Am I dead?

"You're not dead.  I'm your Uncle Aaron.  I *am* dead."

Jonathan goggled at the last.  He tried not to do so.  He tried very hard not to do so.  Ghosts are a part of Japanese mythology and cosmology, very close to the living.  He swallowed hard and tried to understand what was going on.  He failed.

"Try that again."

Aaron laughed.  He turned to look at his nephew.  "This is not real.  We're talking because I need to let you know I did not ignore or forget you.  I could not come to you."

"Because you were dead?"

"Because I was in jail.  Because the Japanese government officials involved did not want problems.  Because the US officials involved thought you were better off where you were than you would be with a jailbird uncle.  Because -- because by the time I found out where and who you were with, you were gone.  I finally figured out I must have missed you by about an hour.  I wasn't dead when this actually happened."

Jonathan shook his head.  None of this was making sense.  "But you're dead now."

"My now.  Yes."

"Your  now -- your --- "

Jonathan's eyes snapped open into darkness.  He blinked, focusing on nothing.  What had he said?  Aaron Acton was dead?  But -- He shivered, frowned and tried to go back to sleep.  He couldn't get comfortable.




He got up, still weak feeling, but without the staggers, and got a drink from the kitchen.  The juice was cool and filling.  He went back to bed and settled in, hoping he would not dream again.  The dreams were almost as exhausting as being ill was.

He tried to sort out dream from reality.  He had fallen ill.  That much was real.  He could feel the debilitating effects of the illness as he lay there thinking.  He had -- had what?  Hallucinated an uncle where there was none?  Maybe.  He certainly didn't know exactly what was going on.  Why would he invent an uncle who couldn't do anything?

// Because when you needed family, clan, it wasn't there, // the calm, reasoning portion of his mind answered him.   // Because you still need an answer as to why your real family abandoned you to the Japanese when you were a child. //

He shook his head.  That made no sense.  They did not abandon him, they died.

// All of them?  Or just the ones you avenged? //

The ones he avenged, of course, he thought irritably, annoyed at his other self for asking stupid questions.  Or were they?  This was no time to get into this argument with himself.  He drifted off to sleep.



"Jonathan.  Jonathan."

He was aware of Ski's abrasive voice calling to him.  He sounded excited.  He opened his eyes with a groan.  "Ski, not now," he told him in a tired voice.  What he needed now was sleep.  A lot of sleep.

"Jonathan.  It's important."

It was always important -- to Ski.  With an effort he opened his eyes again to gaze at the graying blond bear of a man he called friend.  He frowned.  There was something odd about Ski, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.  Maybe it was the outdated uniform.  Maybe it was the 35-10 haircut.  Maybe it was the slightly dream-like quality of the moment.

"What?"

"I found him."

That was urgent.

"Found who?"

Ski looked disgusted.  "*Him*, for cryin' out loud.  The kid.  H'kari."

Ski's entire attitude told him he should be more enthusiastic than he felt.  "Good."

Ski deflated.  "Good.  Good?  Just "good"?  Jonathan, *your son*, the boy you been movin' heaven and earth to find for the last 10 years.  I found him!  But we gotta move fast."

Fast?  Fast.  Yeah, right.  A snail on prozac would be  faster than Jonathan a the moment.  "Why?"

"'Cause it looks like the Dragons may have found him, too," Ski informed him in a conspiratorial stage whisper with exaggerated looks around him.

Dragons.  Black Dragons, to be exact.  What was left of the clan still trying to exact vengeance for his act of vengeance.  Where did it all end?  With his and H'kari's deaths?  No, dammit.  He would keep the boy alive if it cost him his life, his honor, his friends.

"Where?"

"Come on."

He followed Ski out to a white Jeep Renegade.  It was only after they were on the road he thought to question where his own vehicle, a black Jeep of the same model, was and why Ski was driving.

"You're in no shape to drive.  Gotta be fresh for the kid, for meeting him."

"No point in wearing yourself out this early in the game," a slight southern drawl confirmed from the back seat.

Jonathan froze.  He turned his head slowly to meet the unperturbed gaze of his uncle.  He shot a sharp glance at Ski.  Nothing.  What the hell was going on here?

"Ski?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you met my Uncle?"

"You got an Uncle?  I didn't know you had any family left."

He looked around at the man in the back seat.  "I'm hallucinating," he mouthed.

Aaron grinned at him.  "Let's just say, you're experiencing an altered state of consciousness."

"Why?"

"Unresolved issues."

"Phsyco-babble double-speak," Jonathan muttered.

"What?" Ski asked as he concentrated on getting them where they were going,

"Nothing."

"You OK?"

"I'm fine," he shot back a little too quickly.

Ski shot him a troubled glance.  Jonathan felt apologetic for worrying his friend, then reminded himself that none of this was real and sat on the feeling.

"So, what is this all about?" he mouthed at the other phantasm, wondering why he bothered, since both this non-Uncle and Ski were figments of his imagination.

"Family."

"I don't have a family," he pointed out, surprised at the bitter bite to the words.  The Black Dragon clan had destroyed his family.  Then he had destroyed the family they became for him.  There was nothing left.

"You have a son."

"Where?  I've searched for years.  I'm no closer to him now than I have ever been.  The boy could be dead, for all I know."

"The Dragons still seek him."

"Then they're bigger fools than I am." He sagged in the seat.  He felt drained, defeated.  He was wondering why he fought so hard when he was losing.

"Maybe you're not losing."

"What?"

"We're here!"

The Jeep came to a screeching halt, nearly throwing Jonathan, who had neglected to fasten his seatbelt, through the windshield.  "Ski -- watch it."

"Oh, sure.  We're here."

"I'd gathered."  He ignored the smirk on his Uncle's face.  After all, the smirk and the face were all in his mind.  Weren't they?

He looked around at sand and surf and a large gang of kids between 18 and 10 on the beach.  Most of them were locals.  One of the older ones stood out, fair skinned, long dark hair braided out of his face, almond eyes nearly black, he was slender and well muscled.  The girls on the beach seemed to be watching only him as he moved among the group.

"H'kari?" Jonathan breathed.

"Your son," Aaron drawled softly behind him..

The boy was apparently teaching basic martial arts to the group.  Jonathan watched him move, felt the years drop away and saw himself training at the same age.  His mouth went dry.  The boy was better than he had been., much better.  He moved with a grace and ability it had taken Jonathan years to master.

He shook his head.  If the boy had been training for years, it was not so difficult to understand.

"Ski --?" It was a whispered plea to his friend to break the spell, or not.  He was afraid to move, afraid he would lose this knowledge, this sight.

Ski wasn't in the car.  He was on the beach, approaching the mob of kids.  One of the older ones intercepted the golden bear of a man who was Jonathan's friend.  They spoke for a moment, and Ski headed back to the Jeep.

"Come on, the boy's agreed to meet you."

The dream-like feel of the situation did not abate as he stepped out of the Jeep and took a deep breath.  He walked onto the sand to meet the young man Ski believed to be his son.  As they neared each other, he could see a touch of Aki here and there in the lines of the boy's face.  He revised his definition as they came face to face.  Young man, that was what he faced, not a boy.

They stopped about five feet apart.  The younger man regarded the older warily.  He gave Jonathan a curt nod.  "You are the one Mr. Jablonski spoke of?" he asked in fluent Japanese.

Jonathan nodded slowly.  "I am Jonathan Raven," he responded formally in the same language.  "I seek a son I have never met."

"I was told of a father who did not care."

Jonathan flushed at that.  "A father who did not know until it was too late," he edited softly.  "Aki did not tell me.  We were -- lovers, not husband and wife."

"Discarded," the young man shot back harshly.

Jonathan met his gaze squarely.  "No.  I -- I had to leave the country, swiftly.  Actions I took precluded finding and bringing your mother with me.  When it was -- safe to arrange for her to join me, it was too late."

For just a moment, a soul deep desolation showed in Jonathan 's eyes.  The younger man saw it, felt it.  "My mother gave me a name at birth."

"Hikari."

"My mother said you trained as a ghost warrior."

"I am Black Dragon."

A surprised intake of breath greeted that admission.  "Ninja."

"You've heard of them?" Jonathan felt a sudden chill inside.  How would his son have heard of the clan?

"Mom told me tales of the Japan she knew.  One of them was of a gaijin who destroyed a ninja clan.  "  He saw Jonathan's frown.  "Your woman was my birthmother, the one who gives me rights as a Japanese citizen if I want to claim them.  Mom is the woman who raised me.  Osuna Mai Luna.  Japanese-American.  She married a soldier boy from New Mexico.   She knew the woman my mother trusted to find a home for me."

"She knew about the Black Dragons?"

"She was told many things to keep me safe."

Jonathan looked the young man up and down and smiled.  "She does a fine job."

"Yeah," he came back in American, with a slight blush.  "Mom's pretty good at keeping her kids safe.  Look, you have answers to questions I was told were important if my father came looking for me.  But Mom and Dad are -- well, Mom and Dad."

"They're both still alive?"

"Yeah.  Dad retired from the Army a couple of years ago after 30 years.  They decided to move here because it -- well, it's beautiful, it's warm and it's not inclined to get earthquakes," he told Jonathan with a laugh.

"And you don't know exactly where to fit me into this picture."

"No.  I mean -- Oh, hell."

"It's all right.  I was never certain what would happen when I found my son.  Found you.  At a younger age, under different circumstances, I wanted to be able to provide a home.  You don't need a home."

"But I might need to know my father, my blood father, better."

Jonathan smiled again.  "And I would like to know my son."



"I would like to know my son," Jonathan muttered, half waking.  The images of his dream slipped away from him like smoke on a light breeze.  He tried to hold onto the image of his son, of the beach.  Somehow, all this seemed so important.

"Jonathan?" Ski's voice from the front of the house.

Jonathan lay there for a few moments more, wishing he knew where the beach in his dream was, where to find the faintly golden skinned young man whose face he was even now having a hard time remembering.

"Jonathan?" Ski's voice was closer.

"In here."

Ski poked his head through the doorway.  "Damn, you look like hell."

"Thank you."

"Aw, I didn't mean nothin' by it.  But you look like you been sick for a while."

"I have."

"There was a letter in your mail box.  I brought it in for you."

Jonathan frowned.  He hardly ever got mail.  He looked at the envelope.  It seemed a bit weathered.  The return address was a discreet post office box.  Frowning, he opened it.  There were two sheets of thin legal paper inside, and a key.  The letter was from a New Orleans lawyer informing him of a bequest left him by one Aaron Beauregard Acton.  The key was to a lock box at the Hibernia National Bank in New Orleans.  The contents was his.  The box was paid up through the end of the year 2000.

"Aaron Beauregard Acton," Jonathan read the name aloud and with wonder in his voice.

"Who's that?"

He looked up at Ski, having almost forgotten he was there.  "I'm -- not sure.  Maybe the lock box will have some clues."  He folded the letter back into the envelope and got up.  He felt much better than he had a few hours ago.  "Where have you been?"

"Checking out a kid I heard about.  No luck.  No birthmark.  Good lookin' kid, though."

Jonathan gave him a warm look and a smile as he headed into the bathroom for a shower.  He was thoughtful as he soaped up and rinsed off.  Acton.  Aaron Acton.  The name seemed as though it should be familiar.  Very familiar.  Yet he couldn't place it.  Well, he'd find out.  New Orleans was one city he had not visited in a very long time.  This could be interesting.

When he was dressed, he joined Ski in the kitchen.  "Finding what you want?"

"No."

They both laughed.  The younger man found he was hungry.  The refrigerator was disappointingly bare.  They went out for dinner.

"So, you gonna go to New Orleans to check out the lock box?" Ski asked when he was about half way through his hamburger.

Jonathan looked up from his thoughts as though he'd almost forgotten Ski's presence.  "I'm sorry, what?"

"New Orleans.  You going?"

"Yes."

"Why?  Sounds serious."

"It is."

"Why?"

Jonathan thought about it for a moment, then looked up to meet Ski's open blue gaze.  "Family, Ski.  This is family."

fin

Next Story in the Series

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