CHAPTER 16

The next morning, Gibson knocked softly on their door and said "I'm 
going to go play chess..."

John leapt from the bed and threw open the door. "Oh, no you don't," 
he grinned. "You're joining me out back for calisthenics."

Gibson snorted. "Do I look like someone who's into calisthenics?"

"No, you don't," John answered. "And it's high time you started. Be 
out back in five minutes."

"And what if I'm not there?" Gibson challenged.

"Then I'll send Monica to look for you. She'd love to have you join 
her for her yoga routine. Ever tie yourself in a knot, Gibson?" John 
smirked.

Five minutes later John was teaching Gibson the fine points of push-
ups. After three hard-won push-ups Gibson was exhausted and moved to 
a lawn chair as John continued his routine. Gibson's job was to 
count, while John continued his running commentary on the importance 
of exercise for an FBI agent. "If you want to fight with us," John 
grunted. "You'll need to pull your weight." 

"Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four..." Gibson continued.

"You have to be able to run, keep your balance, lift things, push 
things, pull things..."

"Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two..." Gibson droned, looking at his 
watch. A shadow passed over it and he looked up to see Monica, 
wrapped in a bathrobe, admiring John's stength and stamina. He felt 
as much as saw Monica's appreciation for John's body, and suddenly 
his sixteen-year-old mind grasped the importance of physical fitness.

"These super-soldiers can do anything," John continued, oblivious to 
Gibson's disinterest. "You have to be in shape if you're going to 
join us, Gibson..."

Gibson looked at Monica, panicked, as she looked at him in 
surprise. "What was that?" she asked.

John fell onto his stomach, then rolled over. "Monica!" he blurted 
out. "I thought you were inside..."

"What's this about Gibson joining us?" she looked from one to the 
other, her eyes demanding the truth.

"You need me," Gibson stated plainly. "And if I don't help you, what 
good is it being special?"

John and Gibson cringed equally when they saw the betrayal in her 
eyes. She turned and ran into the cottage, and within seconds John 
was following close behind her. "Mon...!" he shouted. "MONICA!"

He found her in the living room, where she was rocking herself in the 
rocker, her head in her hands. "Mon," he said gently, pulling one 
arm away from her head. "Mon, it's okay..."

She looked up at him, her eyes reddening but not tearing. "What was 
I thinking?" she shook her head. "How could I have let him fool 
me.... of course he doesn't want a normal life... and he *knows* we 
could never offer him one... What was I thinking?" she repeated.

John squatted to her eye level and stroked her hair. She sighed in 
what had become a habitual response to this type of 
petting. "Monica, I was thinking the same thing... and there's no 
shame in it. We both wanted to believe him. We both wanted ..." He 
stopped, seeing her face struggling against an onslaught of tears. 
He wanted to make it all go away, but he also didn't want to betray 
Gibson's confidence. "You need to talk to him," he urged, still 
sympathetically stroking her hair.

"And you!" she accused him. "You knew! And you didn't tell me! How 
long did you know? How long were you going to let me...?"

"Just last night," he answered soothingly. "And I couldn't tell you 
right away." He slipped his hand under her hair and massaged the 
back of her neck. "Remember? You weren't feeling very..."

"It doesn't matter," she sniffed. "I thought we told each other 
everything."

"Except what Gibson tells us in confidence," John reminded her.

Suddenly Gibson appeared at Monica's other side and put a hand on her 
shoulder. "Don't fight over me," he pleaded. "Go ahead and tell 
each other everything. I sure know enough about you."

Monica impulsively reached for Gibson's hand and they exchanged 
awkward smiles. "I'd rather have heard this from you, Gibson. Care 
to tell me now?"

As John looked on, Gibson repeated his wishes to Reyes, his voice 
resolute yet also tentative. John could see in the boy's face a 
child-like desperation, wanting to please Monica, wanting her love, 
wanting to belong to someone, but as he continued talking about the 
aliens, John could see that Gibson was poised to enter manhood, and 
he felt a sudden obligation to help him do that.

Monica studied Gibson's face with admiration, and when he was 
finished she said, "Gibson, don't give up on your dream of being 
normal. You deserve it. Your life needs to be about more than..." 
she waved a hand randomly in the air, as if the right word could be 
caught in a mental butterfly net. She gave up searching, and settled 
for a contemptuous "This."

Gibson stood silently, looking into her face, fighting with his urge 
to blurt out all his feelings. When Monica didn't rescue him by 
saying something, he looked from Monica's face to John's, then turned 
back to Monica and said, "I know you don't want anything from me. 
You're the first ones... You want to help me because..." he sighed, 
mustering the courage to continue. "Because you care about me. For 
myself, not for what I mean to science, or what I can do, or what I 
represent... That's why I want to stay with you... But I can't 
ignore what I am. And I can't ignore what's about to happen."

"No, you shouldn't," Reyes conceded. "And I'm sorry I expected 
otherwise. And your GED... you don't have to..."

"I want to," Gibson interrupted. Then he turned to John and 
added, "And I want to get in shape, and learn to drive, and I want 
to..." Gibson paused, waves of doubt crossing his face for a long 
moment.

"Want to what?" Monica gently urged.

"Learn to shoot a gun," he gulped, his face twisted in fear, his 
lifelong, deep-seated fear, the fear he masked with his sarcasm and 
superiority: the fear of being taken again and not being rescued. 
And again John and Monica saw the little boy underneath the peach 
fuzz and the bravura, the little boy who grew up wondering if each 
day would be his last.

John and Monica looked at each other, silently communicating with 
their eyes and subtle nods. "Okay," John said. "We'll teach you to 
shoot a gun..."

"...and clean it, and carry it, and lock it up," Reyes added. John 
and Gibson rolled their eyes in unison. "What?" she yelped, then 
smiled when she got the joke. "Okay, I'm no fun..." she stood up, 
raising her hands in mock defensive gestures. "You guys have your 
fun. Don't worry about old worry-wart Monica..."

She walked toward the bedroom but John grabbed her arm. "Have a good 
session, pretzel lady," he smiled. She smiled back and continued on 
her way. After Monica had closed the door behind her, John turned to 
Gibson and said, "And now for Lesson Two. Curl-ups."

***
After breakfast, Catherine laid out the basics of their code, which 
Monica comprehended first, followed by Gibson then John. Monica 
worried that John might give up, or that he might never catch on and 
she'd have to do it all, but once John accepted its principles and 
stopped trying to relate them to Marine codes, he quickly became 
Catherine's top student. And at that point they thought they saw a 
hint of a smile flash over Catherine's face. And for the first time 
since learning about the Via Sub Rosa, John started to believe that 
this network might save them.

At lunch John made a point of insisting that Monica come with him to 
the courtyard before the Bible readings started. Her having the 
willies gave him the willies, and he was starting to worry that this 
place was shaking her confidence even as his was recovering. They 
sat near the rose bush, sipping their coffee, each turning over their 
own thoughts, until John broke the silence by saying, "Let's send a 
message to Skinner."

They decided on a simple query: was it safe to come back? The fact 
that they still hadn't heard from Gibson's parents made them 
skeptical about the network, but they decided it was better than 
trying official routes. The decision made, they walked back to the 
refectory, hand in relaxed hand, and arrived in time to hear:

"Whoever knows what is right to do
And fails to do it, for him it is sin."
--James 4:17