Dear Diary

Dear Diary Chapter 41

Dear Diary,

Friendship is such a cool thing. I know I'm probably sounding like a dork or something when I say that, and I know I am a little biased by the fact that I spent so much time growing up not having any friends until I met Jessie. He still counts as my best friend even if he is my husband now. I also still can't say the word husband without giggling and blushing a bit. I'm told that is perfectly understandable and normal for my age and background, according to Uncle Stepn.

Back to what I was saying, though, friendship is so awesome that it can connect so many different people in so many different ways. I mean, there's the already long-time friendship between Mamee Auntie René, and Grandmama Annie, but they have included Aunt Pet, Aunt Libbie, and Aunt Emily in a Shopping Sisterhood that spends at least one day per week in Charleston, going to stores and having coffee at some little book shop place they all also love. Mom meets them at the bookstore coffee shop, but she doesn't like the shopping part so much. She and Aunt Alia spend a lot of time together, though. Mom has sworn me to secrecy, not to tell the other moms in our family, but she and Aunt Alia feel a little intimidated not being able to cook quite as well as some of the other ladies. She insists that no one has made either of them feel bad; they just like to spend the time that the other ladies are off compound learning to cook better together.

Dad and Uncle Roger have bonded over being fans of a baseball team that doesn't exactly have a great record of winning games. Not all the friendships are same sex, either. No one was really surprised that Uncle Melvin and Aunt Kim were instant fast friends; fast because of their shared love of motorcycles. Aunt Delilah and Aunt Pet are close because they hate motorcycles. Aunt Kim and Aunt Delilah also have a lot in common with Uncle Doug, and Uncles Casey and Jasey because they are all older than they look, even though Uncle Doug is almost the same age as Mamee, Auntie René, and Grandmama Annie. Oh, he gets called Uncle Jasey so we don't confuse him with Jason Blankenship. Fortunately, the two Jasons are the only ones with the same name in our big family. Even my brothers and I have different names since we all came from different realities.

I have to admit there is a part of me that thought some of the newer members of this division of the Clan would just never fit in, but I should have known better. Clan Short has never been about excluding people because they don't fit into a mold or set pattern. It's about making a beautiful pattern out of the one-of-a-kind, unique people that make up our family. We don't shun difference, we embrace it. We hug it and feed it and help it grow right along with us as we all adapt to one another.

If you had asked me if I would ever have even two words to say to Casey Griffin that could be repeated in polite society, as Mamee would say, I would have laughed in your face, if I didn't punch you in the mouth. But he's not Casey Griffin anymore, he's Casey Griffin Tremaine now. He adores my three sons, and he literally sobbed as he apologized to the Popsicle Patrol for what he forced them to do. He never thought about how his wanting his boyfriend not to be hurt by his own father and his boyfriend's uncle could negatively impact anyone else. He just wanted his Jason not to be hurt.

I get that. I really do understand, because I know the temptation to go back and fix things so that my husband would still have his parents and not have been hurt by my mom, or that crackpot preacher and his son. I know, though, that the pain he went through is what made Jessie the guy he is today, whom I love more than anything other than our boys. Changing or erasing that pain would change Jessie completely. If Jessie wasn't who he is, I wouldn't be who I am now either.

Hmm, that's odd. I have a request for an incoming diplomatic message. Not something I usually deal with, as that's more Cory's gig as the patriarch. Oh well, it wouldn't come to me if it weren't meant for me, I suppose.

I'll check back in with you later, diary.

 

**********************

 

"Director Wiggins-Blankenship, thank you for accepting my call." Dixon blinked as he stared into the face of an adult G-Cat, but dressed very differently than any he had ever met before. "I am Ambassador Mr'arash of the Federation member planet of Caitan."

"I am honored to meet you, Ambassador," Dixon returned with a dip of his head, customary for showing respect to someone while you were seated for a call.

"I have been directed to you by my good friend, Ambassador Sarek, and his honored descendant, Patriarch Cory Short, in hopes that you, or that is, members of your division of your Clan, will be able to assist my people."

"I, and my family, are always happy to provide any help we can, but perhaps you could explain more about the situation," Dixon nudged verbally.

"Yes, my apologies, Director," the ambassador said after shaking his head a bit. Dixon tried very hard not to think about how much the gesture reminded him of a stray cat he had known when he was younger. "I must confess to being distracted by a photo on the wall behind you. May I ask if that is a member of your, I believe you call them G-Cats, staff with your two kittens, I mean offspring?"

"Please feel free to call me Dixon, Ambassador." Dixon smiled and moved so that the photo could be seen better. "Yes, sir, those are my sons Emile and Etienne with our friend and their guard, Georges."

"Thank you, Dixon. You may call me Murr, as do many of my human friends. It is your feline security detail that I wished to speak with you about," the man said softly. "A Federation vessel recently encountered some sort of space anomaly, which resulted in the rescue of a very badly damaged, very old Caitian ship. The Caitian ship in question appears to have been in some sort of time warp situation. When I say it is old, I mean that it is very nearly 800 years old, and yet, there were life signs aboard it. The adult crew were all dead, and what remained is a ship full of young kittens. Some of them are old enough to be aware of what happened to their parents, however."

"Am I to understand that this found ship is populated only by children?" Dixon asked.

"Yes, Dixon, children that according to our database were listed as missing and presumed dead along with their parents 798 years ago."

"You emphasize that age as if it is important for some reason," Dixon observed.

"Up until roughly 500 years ago, Caitians hunted humanoid lifeforms as a source of food," the ambassador said quietly. It was clear that if his race could blush, he would be doing so.

"That does make things awkward," Dixon agreed.

"Further complicating the matter is the fact that apparently these young ones were betrayed by an adult of our species, so they do not trust adults and have reacted most aggressively to any attempts to… well, to do anything with them, honestly."

"Logic would dictate that you need young ones that resemble your race closely, but are dependable and trustworthy enough to be of help in retraining these previously lost children and bring them into current times," Dixon said softly. "Yes, I can see where a G-Cat crew would be of use. Also, I see why not just any G-Cat crew would do. You need teachers as well as protectors. I must tell you that I would never make such a decision for them. Let me call my friend Alex, as he is the leader of the crew assigned to my division."

Just at that moment, the chime sounded at the door of Dixon's office. The door opened to reveal the G-Cat in question. "Thibbie said you needed to see me, Dixie. Oh, I mean Sergeant Dumas reporting as ordered, Director."

"At ease, Alex," Dixon grinned. "You were right the first time. You have been requested, not ordered. Oh, Ariel, you came too?"

"Dixon, it has been an honor to serve you and protect you, and a great pleasure to pick on you about how to alienate the postal workers in three easy lessons," Alexandre smiled.

"I never intended to alienate anyone," Dixon defended.

"You stunned two of the postal delivery personnel," Alex returned with as much of a smirk as his jaguar face allowed. "One of them intentionally, I might add."

"He was throwing something at the gate," Dixon pointed out.

"He was throwing the mail because he was afraid to get any closer after you stunned the guy before him," Ariel said pointedly. "And don't forget the poor woman who replaced him."

"I still say there should have been a safety protocol in place to keep the gate from shutting on her truck," Dixon pouted.

"There was, and as Director of the base, your fingerprint overrode that, because it was programmed to assume that if you pushed that particular button, it was an emergency lockdown situation," Alex reminded Dixon.

"She never lost consciousness, though," Dixon said defensively.

"No, but Doctor Doug was called to mend her broken arm and sprained ankle," Alex retorted, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, boss, I'm looking forward to the kittens so I can get some peace and quiet." The teenage G-Cat walked over and hugged Dixon at that point. "I'm just kidding. I will miss you, Dixie, but Georges and I can't pass up this chance to be teachers as well as warriors."

"So, you are all going?" Dixon asked softly. "Just remember that we are only a call away, so no excuses not to keep in touch at least, even if you don't get to come back."

"Michelle and I are staying, as are the JP twins," Ariel told him. "J-Paul and J-Pierre said they couldn't even imagine telling your Popsicle Twins that they were leaving and might never see the little boys again."

"And what about you and Michelle, not that I'm complaining that you want to stay," Dixon pushed.

"Michelle has a crush on Jean-Paul," Ariel said with a snicker.

"I think someone else might also have a crush on Jean-Pierre," Alex snorted.

"Alex, you weren't supposed to tell anybody that," Ariel hissed angrily.

"Relax, Sergeant, your secret is safe with me," Dixon laughed.

"Excuse me, Director, but does this mean I can expect some of your crew to come help us?" the ambassador interrupted, reminding everyone that he was still on the vid call. "Are you sure they have had sufficient time to think things over?"

"Didn't you call yesterday?" Alex questioned the man. "That's when Casey came to tell us about it."

"I was just getting in touch with Ambassador Sarek yesterday," the Caitian responded, a little confused.

"Relax, Murr," Dixon chuckled. "Due to some rather unique members of this division, I have gotten used to people knowing what I am going to ask them before I ever do so." He stood and turned to Alex, giving him a full formal Starfleet salute, followed by the Vulcan raised and separated fingers. "Live long and prosper, Alexandre Dumas. It has been an honor and a privilege to know you, work with you, and be protected by you. Please don't take this too personally, but I think I will miss your brother, Georges, most of all, though."

"He seems most anxious to move on to this next great adventure, as he calls it," Alex admitted. He then returned the military salute as his paws weren't exactly developed for the Vulcan salute, although he did say the correct response. "Peace and long life, Director Dixon Wiggins-Blankenship. As you have said, we are always just a call away. I must go now. Roger is waiting to take us to rendezvous with a Caitian ship that will finish our journey." He stepped out of Dixon's office and shut the door, just as the Caitian ambassador had his door chime.

"Enter," he spoke and then gasped. "Sergeant Dumas! How…? But you were just…. I don't understand."

"I was instructed to tell you and Director Dixon that, and I quote, 'Miky's, dads, and ankle biting nephews can't have all the fun," Alex said with a happy smile.

"Ah, Mitch," Dixon smiled.

"Yes, he said his dad and nephew get enough jobs to do, so this was his turn. Casey told us about the situation yesterday, but Mitch is the one who got us here two days ago."

"Two days ago?" the ambassador blurted in confusion. "But I… and then he… and I wasn't…."

"Murr, my apologies for this being rude, but I am so happy to see this happen to someone else for a change," Dixon laughed. "I recommend headache medicine and a nap with your significant cuddle person."

"That sounds like a very good idea, Dixon," the ambassador agreed. "Particularly the headache medicine. I think I will end this call now, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, sir. Try to have a good rest of your day, Murr," Dixon responded with a smile. Once they were disconnected, Dixon called out, "Thibbie, do I need to go make sure that my security team can handle the loss of several key members?"

"Oncle Dixie, you knowed better than that," the imp of an AI responded with a giggle as he suddenly appeared next to Dixon. "They did need for you to signed that request for a few folks to replace our kitties, and then you signed that other one what approve the reassignment of two folk from the Lafayette, who make friends with Oncle Strark when he work there. Then that last paper approve the transfer of the ensign from Starfleet what been waiting for an opening in our division."

"I know I'm just the director around here, but sometimes I would at least like to meet new people when they show up to work here," Dixon grumped.

"Ensign Freeman waiting rat out you door," Thibbie pointed out. "Could I told him to come in, or you want to pout a little more?"

"One of these days I'm going to unplug you, you little brat," Dixon snapped, but he was laughing, so the holoCajun just grinned and signaled for the door to open as he disappeared again.

"Ensign Clemmons Freeman, Director Wiggins-Blankenship, sir," the young man stood proudly at attention with a perfect Starfleet regulation salute.

"At ease, Ensign," Dixon greeted warmly. "So, I'm told you specifically wanted to be posted to this particular division of the Clan. You want to tell me why we are more important than any other division?"

"That would be because of my little brother, Bull, sir. I mean Taurean. His name is Taurean, but I call him Bull for all the obvious reasons, but I swear it's just meant as fun. I love my brother very much, sir, and I would never hurt him on purpose, no matter how annoying he can be," the freshly graduated ensign admitted. "Our mother died recently, and that left me with custody of my brother. It was her last wish that we come back to this area where her father grew up and look for our distant family."

"Well, you should have plenty of time off duty for family research," Dixon smiled. "I'm sure any of us here in the compound will be happy to help as well, although if you're looking for old families, Mamee and Grandmamma Annie Mae will probably be your best bets."

"Yes, sir, I'm pretty sure Mrs. Annie Mae will know my family since she's my late grandfather's only surviving sister."

"Wait, what?" Dixon choked out. "Was this in your personnel records?"

"No, sir, it didn't have any impact on my career in Starfleet, so it was never made part of the public or private record."

"Wow, just wow. I was definitely not expecting this today," Dixon blurted as he walked around his desk and hugged the ensign tightly. "You already are family," he grinned. "Thibbie, don't alarm anyone, as it's not an emergency, but I would like to have Mamee, Grandmamma Annie Mae, Aunt Pet, Uncle Mel, and Huey and his family join us at their earliest convenience. And Thibbie, this includes you, since Huey is one of your Papas."

"AAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!! Dey is on de way rat now, Oncle Dixie," the little A.I. squealed as he and the rest of the living members of the Parker family beamed into the room.

"Mercy me if he ain't the spitting image of Abe," Grandmama Annie Mae gushed as she grabbed Clemmons and hugged him tight.

"As if you remember what the big brother who left here 65 years ago looked like," Mamee teased. "He is awfully familiar-looking though."

"My memory does not have the degradation common to humans our age, and although I did not interact often with Abraham in the few months I was here before he left for California, I do concur that the resemblance is most astonishing," Doug said with a slight squirm.

"I love it when you forget that you are capable of blushing," Huey teased. "What's up, Doc? What else is hiding in that memory chip?"

"Josey and I might have maybe possibly sort of sometimes entertained not so appropriate thoughts about Abraham Parker," Doug admitted as he actually did a bit more blushing.

"No offense, Doctor, but I'm afraid you aren't in my age of attraction range, by any definition of your age," Clemmons said softly. "Bull and I would both love to hear anything any of you can tell us about our grandfather, though. He was killed in a robbery at a convenience store when I was a kid, and Bull was a baby. Oh, crap, Bull! Director, may I…."

"I've been wondering why he isn't here already," Dixon laughed. He then turned to look at his division A.I. "Thibbie, do I need to be aware of a new house being created somewhere in the compound?"

"No new houses, Oncle Boss Man. Clemmons and Taurean got the apartment in the security dorms that Alex and Georges just move out of, so it all good."

"Ok, I guess everything is all set then," Dixon smiled. "Welcome to the family. Have you met with Layton, my security chief?"

"Yes, sir," Clemmons answered.

"Ok, no calling me sir unless we are in a situation that absolutely requires it," Dixon corrected. "We're a very laidback family first, and a military division second. And third, it's too crowded in here, let's all go outside to the picnic area behind Auntie René's house."

 

 

* Author's Note *

This chapter is dedicated in memory of the man who for around fifteen years was the man behind the character of Georges. Georges was first created as a role play character in the virtual world of Second Life, and when I learned of the existence of G-Cats in the Clan universe, I had to have them in Dear Diary so that I could include Georges. I was also the end of life caregiver for this wonderful man who was one of the dearest friends I have ever had, not to mention I fell in love with him. We talked of getting married, but it never got to happen.

To Chris,

I love you and miss you so very much. We were supposed to have more time.

Forever yours,

Boudreaux