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Quinn’s fingers flew across the keyboard, the soft clacking filling the room occasionally interspersed with a few rapid clicking of the mouse. Finally, with a decisive and rather dramatic maneuver he hit one final key and sat back with a sigh. “Finished!” His proclamation was said to no one in particular, there was no one in the room to hear it anyway, but that didn’t stop him from voicing his own praise. “And a damn fine job if I do say so myself,” he muttered as he stretched, joints aching and popping as he moved. After finally sitting back and just taking in the space Quinn realized the room was silent, there weren't any of the normal sounds of phone’s ringing or paper rustling. There wasn’t even the background noise of soft music that he normally had on since it helped him concentrate.

With a slight frown the man got up and made his way over to the stereo. A quick glance showed it was on, it had power, it just wasn’t playing anything. “Strange,” Quinn muttered and poked at the electronic only to realize that he had apparently turned off the shuffle and repeat features on the damn thing… it played the entire collection of songs. Without it set to repeat it just went silent. “Well damn. How long have I been working then?” Green eyes shifted over to the wide windows that overlooked the city only to be confused since it was still daylight out. A glance at his watch proved it was only a few minutes after two. It wasn’t late at all so what the hell was going on?

“Sir?”

His contemplation on the music and the mystery of it was broken by a quiet voice from the door to his office. After straightening up Quinn turned to face the owner of the voice, his assistant. Well one of his assistants, since it was a stressful position, the people that work for him tend to take up positions elsewhere in the company or like this current one, take very needed, much earned, extended vacations. This assistant was a very competent lady who was more like an aunt to him, she had been his dad’s main secretary before he took over the position, and was currently covering for his normal assistant’s paternal leave. “Yeah Aunt…” He paused at the look he got and corrected himself, “Yes Mrs. Johnson? Is there something you need?”

She was such a stickler for names and positions so while at work no informalities like ‘Aunt’ or Quinn. It was all sirs and the like. Much like how Andrew, the family butler, insisted on calling Quinn ‘young master’ even though they both knew that Quinn wasn’t much of a ‘young master’ kind of person. Although in Andrew’s case it was more a form of familial teasing whereas Mary Johnson used the titles and formality as a bit of a shield, keeping everything professional rather than personal. It’s what made her such a good manager for all the assistants. Firm but fair. She also didn’t take crap from anyone, not even him.

“It’s nearly time for your 2:30 interview.” Mary gently reminded him before continuing, “They arrived early and if you are not currently busy I’m sure they would appreciate the extra time.”

“Oh, right, the interview.” The mystery of the music was forgotten as he headed back to his desk, “Give me a few moments and then send them in.” He wanted to straighten up his desk and make sure nothing was out of place. Quinn didn’t want to give the wrong impression since they were here to do an interview about the company’s directions and its future plans. Even if it was a small paper, good press was still good press.

A few minutes later Quinn had gotten everything in order and had even gotten the music back on, it turned out that he had accidentally put it on a long playing song only, so once that one song was done it just went quiet. It really only took him enough time to make sure any important papers were put away and his computer was locked, no point in accidently having something a guest shouldn’t see out where they could see it. So without much delay at all he hit the button on his phone that buzzed his assistant at her desk right in front of his office. Honestly he could yell for her, and had done that on an occasion when his hands had been full, but that wasn’t appropriate as she very politely, more like scolded, informed him. And most definitely not professional when there were guests waiting for him, likely sitting on the chairs that were out there, or standing there. Either way, not cool. Not cool at all.

“Yes, sir?”

“Please send our guests-” He paused for a moment when his cell phone chimed. A quick glance had him changing what he was about to say. “Sorry Mrs. Johnson, I just got a call I need to take. Please ask them to wait just a bit more.”

“Certainly sir.”

“Thank you.”

With that dealt with, Quinn turned to the much more pressing matter, the text he just received. It was from his mother. A simple text: Give me a call when you get a chance, nothing is wrong, just want to talk. It was innocent but also so ominous. What was going on that required him to call? Was she ok? Was his dad? There was no way he would be able to concentrate on anything without calling her first. Something he did right away.

“Mom? What's up?” His question was short and a bit abrupt, no greeting or anything once the phone was picked up.

“Oh, Quinn! What a nice surprise!” Sarah’s voice was as calm as ever. It carried nothing that Quinn could pick up, at least not as far as anything that is a concern.

“You texted?” The man questioned, frowning absently.

“I did? Oh, yes I did.” How much of it was just for fun, for teasing him, and how much of her apparent forgetfulness was actually an indication of a different issue.

“Mom?” There was no hiding the concern in Quinn’s voice. After the accident he wasn’t sure if he could handle any more bad news when it came to his folks.

“Oh relax Quinn,” Sarah sighed, she knew exactly what her son was thinking. “I might be old but I’m not senile, at least not yet. I’m just a bit distracted right now. Shouldn’t you be working right now anyway? Rather than talking to your elderly mother?”

“You're not old mom and I am but I would rather talk to a pretty lady any day over paperwork.” He mentally sighed at the snappy responses from his mom. That was normal for her. She was cheeky as ever so he returned her teasing with some of his own. “So why the text?”

“I was just wondering if you were coming by for dinner.” She paused and after a moment of indecision, continued, “There are a few things I would like to discuss with you. I know you're busy-”

“It's ok. I’ll be there,” Quinn gently cut his mom off. There was no point in her apologizing for asking him to come by. He wasn’t exactly planning on stopping by that evening but he was pretty sure he could move things around. Anything for his folks really, besides he had some news to share with them as well. “What time is dinner?”

“Six. Thank you honey.”

“Ok, I’ll be there by 5:30. It’s really not a big deal mom, besides this way I will get a free meal.” He cracked the joke hoping to make her laugh, a smile flashing on his face when he heard her giggle through the phone. “I’ve got to go now but I’ll be there tonight. Love you mom, give my love to dad too.”

“Certainly darling. Have a good rest of your day.”

With that the call was ended and he had yet more added to his metaphorical plate. Hopefully Mrs. Johnson would be able to rearrange his schedule.

If anyone could do it, she could.

“Dad? I’m coming in. I’ve got dinner!” Quinn announced himself before he did some rather precarious juggling with the food tray and the door knob but he eventually nudged the door open. After a pleasant meal with his mother and the staff, since his folks had always insisted everyone eat as a family, it was time to ‘gird his loins’ and see what his father was up to in person. Quinn’s first impression of the space was chaos. Papers were everywhere. Pinned to walls, strewn on the floor, there were even a few that were suspended off of the ceiling with string. Newspaper clippings, print outs, photos; everything from color to black and white. Words practically covered the entire office space, even the once elegant couches and antique desk were covered in haphazard stacks of paper. Even the windows were covered in paper.

Dear God! This was worse than he had expected. It had been bad years ago when the accident had just happened but this… this was next level. “Dad?” The younger man asked hesitantly, the urge to just turn around and close the door behind him was a rather strong one. The grunt from the back side of a book and paper covered couch had Quinn moving quickly. He practically shoved a stack on the desk out of the way as he hurriedly put down the tray of food and rushed over towards the couch. “Dad?!?”

There he found the older man laying on the floor, his head resting on a book even as he was covered in a newspaper. s**t, “Dad! Where are you hurt?” Quinn had assumed that his father had fallen and hurt himself since he was still reliant on his cane for any significant traversing, at least according to the last health report he had. Quinn’s assumption was quickly disposed of when his father started to smack away his outstretched hands.

“Get out! Get! Out! Out! Out, I say!” The older man tried to below but it was more like a coughing gasp as he sat up. The once vibrant and clean cut man was now scruffy and ragged. He had once looked 20 years younger than his actual age but the accident had changed all that, now he looked practically ancient, especially considering his actual age.. His once well trimmed and tidy sandy blonde hair was more white then blonde and it practically stuck out everywhere. An untrimmed beard added to the vagrant appearance, add in the stained and dirty ill fitting clothes and it wasn’t a stretch to believe that the elder Arthur James Quinnton was a vagrant. One who had broken in and was making a paper camp here on the third floor of the manor.

“Dad! It's me, Quinn. Are you hurt?” He tried to calm the older man down but still backed off some, not willing to deal with the flailing older man.

“Alien! Out! Get out! You're no spawn of mine!”

Quinn had to duck as a flung book came his way even as he tried to tell his dad that it was him, his son, but the older man was having none of it. He was only getting more and more agitated. After nearly being clocked in the head by a book Quinn gave up and made a rapid exit, the sound of thrown books and what had to be old dishes, if the sound of breaking porcelain was any indication, following him out the door.. Once the door was closed behind him he couldn’t do anything more than stand there in shock.

He had no idea how long he stood there just trying to process what had just happened when a soft clearing of a throat had him look over to the side where Andrew was standing. Quinn didn’t know what to say, he could only gape, his mouth trying to form words that never actually came out, even as he helplessly gestured to the office door he had just bolted out from.

With a sigh Andrew just gestured down the hall, “Come, Young Sir. We have quite a bit to discuss regarding Sir’s father.” The sound of crockery shattering against the wooden door wasn’t what sent a chill down his spine… it was the way Andrew referred to his dad, and his own new ‘title’. <******** class="clear">

Quinn took a bracing breath and before he lost his courage he pushed open the diner door, noting the clang of the bell attached to the door.

“Be right with you!” A voice called out from behind the counter. “Go ahead and sit anywhere.”

Quinn followed the mysterious voice’s directions and slid into one of the chairs at the counter, easily able to look through the dinner’s cut out and into the kitchen. He could also see the figure currently rummaging under the counter but focused on the menu that was printed on the paper placemats rather than the denim clad backside that was the majority of what could be seen. The person was head first in some void under the well worn countertop, shuffling stuff around. It wasn’t until the person popped out that he knew exactly who he was dealing with… the person he had actually come in to talk to.

“Hi. Sorry about that… printer paper is always hidden in the back.” The woman held up a few spools of paper that were presumably for the cash register, before she excused herself for ‘just a moment’ so she could get that all fixed and clean up. Quinn said nothing, just nodding in understanding, while squashing the urge to pull his ball cap even further down over his face, instead he practically hid behind the menu. Good god, how did people do this!

The waitress finished up and headed back his way, pulling out a pad and a pen as she arrived in front of him. She started off with letting him know what the specials were that day before ending on a ‘what will you have’. “Just coffee for now,” He answered before he sighed and put down the menu. Next he slid his hat off and cleared his throat, “actually, I was kind of hoping you could help me. I’ve been trying to contact Martha Parson and I was hoping you could at least pass my message on to her.” He didn’t look up, not wanting to see the horror or disgust. Quinn knew exactly who he was talking to, she was the exact person he was looking for, but he didn’t want to freak her out… not any more then he already had. “See, we apparently met back in college several years ago when I was going through a really bad time. Spent most of my time drunk out of my mind. The last few years I’ve been in therapy and one of the things I’ve gotta do is apologize in person to everyone I caused harm to.” None of this was false, it just wasn’t the only reason he was looking for her.

He really was in therapy. Really did go through a period of apologizing to those he had wronged. And really did want to make amends… It just so happened he also needed to know if that little boy in the picture was his son. “I’ve tried emailing her and even wrote her a letter. Honestly this was a long shot but I still felt like I had to take it.”

“How-” The woman paused and cleared her throat, all the while eyeing the young man. “What makes you think she works here?”

“Oh, well a friend of a friend of an acquaintance kind of thing.” Quinn shrugged, and pulled out a piece of paper on it. “Look, I know I’m asking a lot but if you could just give her my number and ask her to call me. I need to meet with her. It can be in public and everything. Anywhere and anytime she wants.” He slid the paper over towards her. “Please.” This time he did lock eyes with her, trying to convey just how serious he was. He needed to talk to her… One way or the other… He just wanted to be nice about it. “I get it if you would rather I just leave so can I get the coffee to go at least.” He was fairly good at reading people and right now his instincts were screaming at him not to press his luck so when Martha poured him a quick cup he over paid with cash, murmuring ‘keep the change’ and headed back out. Now he would have to wait to see if she would call him.

If she didn’t… he would have to cross that bridge when he got to it.

God he hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

Havasu took a deep breath, cleared his mind, and let his breath out slowly. He had been doing this for quite a while now. The dim meditation room, and the roaring of his falls, really made keeping track of the passage of time difficult, not that he had to worry about that. He was stuck here. Stuck on his wonder.

For who knew how long.

It happened a few days ago, as far as he could tell. He had traveled to his wonder just for a quick check as he did nearly every month, and maybe a mental break, when some strange feeling washed over him. It was like someone tilted the planet by only a degree or so. Not enough to really tell but enough to know something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Concerned Hav tried to go home… tried being the operative word here. It didn’t work. It didn’t work the first time or the second time or the multiple times after that. Each subsequent attempt drove him closer and closer to madness. Or at least he was being more vocally pissed. Finally, exhausted, the knight just slumped down into the chair of the small study he had been in when the ‘incident’ occurred. He was trapped there. Next steps were to try to find his ancestor, who was nowhere to be found. From there he wanted to get to the code but he couldn’t even open the passageway down to the space where only Havasu Falls Knights could go. No other door or gate was locked, just that one. Something was seriously going on.

The knight wasn’t concerned about being stuck there for himself, it was his life back on earth that drove him to attempting going home every so often. He had even taken to writing out letters to every knight or senshi he knew, and coming to the realization that he didn’t actually know that many active order fighters anymore. And yet, he tried to send out those letters to those he did know. All saying the same thing, ‘Trapped on Wonder. Safe but need assistance returning.’ Well, all of the letters but a few special ones that went out to his companions who knew who he was.

Those read differently after the first two parts that all the other letters were sent. ‘Trapped on Wonder. Safe but need assistance returning. Need help for RL, contact Venice. Cancel my meetings. Repeat, NO MEETINGS!” Only a few of those letters went out but the delay that each letter, the short ones and the longer ones, took to go out had him concerned. Would his messages make it? Would Shang and Venice and the others understand that he was more worried about his work? And how would his staff take his absence?

With nothing else he could do, other than send out a few more repeated, or even shorter, letters, Havasu hunkered down and did what he could to keep the worry from spiraling too badly.

Time passed and he did a lot of meditation…. A LOT of meditation.

His phone chirped, drawing Quinn out of his current work document. That was perfectly fine with him since he was getting to the point where he wanted to pull out his hair. Who ever said this s**t was easy should be shot. Absently working out the kinks in his neck the man picked up his phone and looked at the text, immediately breaking into a smile. The preview was a simple message: Season’s first Snowball!

He knew what he would see when he opened the phone, his smile getting bigger when he did just that. There in full color was a picture of his son with a blue mouth, clutching a cup full of syrup and ice. MJ and his mother were up at the beach in Maryland. Quinn convinced her to take time off and spend the summer with their son, enjoying it to the fullest. He was having a blast if the pictures, the calls, and the facetime videos were anything to go by. Both him and his mom were loving the sun, the sand, and the surf. Quinn was actually quite jealous but his little impromptu ‘trip’ some weeks back was still causing a few problems even now. They were like Whack-A-Mole. Every time he got one fixed, another shows up. It was frustrating, that is for sure.

Add in the third degree he got from his mother and, well, let's just say he was still salty with the Code for his rather undesired ‘vacation’. He still got the distinct feeling that his mom didn’t fully believe the lie about being stuck in a random place due to weather. It technically wasn’t a lie. He had been stuck in a random place, his wonder, due to weather, space weather. Granted the rest of the stuff was all a lie. The place he had been stuck, how he got there, the actual weather, ect. All lies. And if he was any judge on the matter… his mom suspected something. That look was definitely, ‘I know you're lying but I won’t say anything yet’.

Quinn knew he was going to have to figure something out to erase that doubt in her mind but that would have to wait. Right now he once again scrolled through the pictures that had been sent to him, leaving little iPhone hearts and thumbs ups here and there. He tossed Patty a text asking her if they had gone to see the horses over on the island yet. For the next few minutes he spent time texting Patty, Anna, and generally fiddling with his phone. It wasn’t something he regularly did, at least not before he found his son and got a girlfriend, since work was work but since he worked so much sending out random texts just letting the people he cared about know he was thinking about them was the least he could do.

After sending out the texts, and smiling at the new pictures that were shared with him, he turned back to work. The sooner he got it all done the sooner he could take a break and maybe be able to spirit Anna away for a weekend. Or possibly get up to the ocean to spend some time with his child.