Oh My GOD II
Warnings: more innuendo and silliness bounce around like Blair on a caffeine binge
“Oh, my god!” Blair’s jaw dropped open.
The figure crossed his arms and viewed them with an air of sublime derision as if viewing motes of dust. Blair felt the hackles rising on the back of his neck.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“I told you. I am Ares, the God of War.” He took a leonine step forward. “And you…are… my…son.”
“I don’t think so.” The Sentinel stepped between them.
Ares looked him up and down. “Ah, a sentinel.” He dismissed him with a flick of his hand.
Blair burrowed his head in his hands. This couldn’t be really happening. It didn’t make sense. Roman Gods? No, Ares was the Greek version of Mars. Greek gods, then. He had to be dreaming. That was right. This was a dream. Maybe if he went back to bed and it would all be over.
“A guide!” Ares said with the air of contempt. “You’re a guide? I don’t believe it; I bet Naomi brought you up as a pacifist. That woman.”
“Hey!” Blair darted forward, to be brought up against the Sentinel’s steel-like arm, before he could enter the interloper’s personal space. “That’s my mom you’re talking about!”
“And very nice she is too.” Ares smiled toothily.
Blair sucked in a shocked breath, momentarily speechless, then. “You, bastard…”
“Blair!” Jim snapped, and tucked him behind his back, out of view of the man.
“Ptfft,” Blair spluttered.
“Well, I’m glad to see that there is some passion. Passion… it runs in the family.”
“Jim, let me go,” he demanded, struggling to put the man in his place.
“Look,” Jim addressed the god. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re not welcome. I don’t know how you did that light and smoke trick and appeared, but if you don’t leave now, I’m going to throw you out.”
Ares threw his head back and laughed uproariously.
“Okay!” Jim launched himself at the man.
Ares clicked his fingers. A dazzling flash of light engulfed the Sentinel. Blinded, Blair wiped futilely at tearing eyes.
“Jim? Jim? Are you all right?” Blinking furiously he managed to clear his vision.
At Ares’ feet sat a sat a tiny black cub, mewling.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” the god said sounding disgruntled. “You were supposed to turn into a tadpole.”
Blair darted forward and plucked the kit from Ares’ feet.
Okay, if this was a dream it was really realistic.
The cub snarled and spat at Ares.
“Turn him back!” Blair demanded.
“Put him down and come with me.” The man held out his hand. “It’s time that you were introduced to your legacy.”
“Like Hell I will,” Blair snarled back at him. “Who do you think you are? Just coming in here and…”
“What did I do to deserve this? Always half mortals are intent on making my life a misery. If it’s not Xena it’s someone else (and don’t even begin harping on about Hercules) trying to…thwart… me.”
Ares glared balefully at him. Blair glowered back at the god.
“Fact, kid. You’re a demi-god. You’ve come into your inheritance as of today. You learn to use it or you become a danger to everyone around you.”
Ares looked perplexed for a moment.
“What?” Blair asked suspiciously.
“Nothing…” Distracted Ares paced over to the balcony windows. "I don't believe that I said that -- it's so… conscientious."
The cub mewled a question, Blair shrugged. Ares crossed his arms and tucked his head down against his chest, evidently deep in thought.
Blair slowly inched towards his bedroom door.
Okay, if this wasn’t a dream it was a toss up to whether or not he was insane or not. But if he was questioning whether or not he was insane he couldn’t be insane. That was the dogma about insanity wasn’t it? If you questioned it, you had to be sane. So Naomi had … he wasn’t going to go there. His father was the god Ares. Fine. Ares had just turned Jim into a panther cub.
“Phew,” Blair exhaled. If Ares was a god, didn’t that make him a half god? Or a demi-god as Ares had just said. Shit.
“You are my son,” Ares intoned, apparently he’d come to a conclusion from his big think. “The only one to survive to majority. You’re coming with me.”
Blair darted into his room and out down the fire escape.
Could you run away from a god? Blair was about to find out. If only he knew where Naomi was; she would be able to help him. Evidently she had some kind of influence otherwise a *God* wouldn’t have agreed to the bargain to leave him alone for thirty years.
Who could help?
Poor Simon – he had enough trouble coping with the sentinel thing, how was he going to handle godhood?
Blair flagged down a taxi and jumped in the back. “Central Precinct – now!”
The little stocky taxi driver turned in his seat. “You got problems, mate?”
“Yeah!” Blair peered out of the side windows. He couldn’t see Ares anywhere. “Please, just get me to the precinct.”
The taxi driver shrugged, brushed his blond curly hair out of his eyes and peeled away from the sidewalk with tires screaming. “I just love driving. I’m so glad that they invented cars.”
‘Is everyone doing drugs today?’ Blair sagged back into car seat. The panther cub nuzzled his chest and then settled on his lap.
Maybe Ares would find the twentieth century as confusing as everyone else?
Blair ran up the stairs to the seventh floor. There was no way that he was going to tempt fate and chance the elevator. He burst into the bullpen. Heads lifted as he darted in between the desks, unerringly heading to Captain Simon Banks’ office.
“Hey, Hairboy. What ya got?”
“Nothing.” Blair rushed past and burst into Simon’s office without knocking.
“Sandburg! What have I told you?”
“Not today, Simon. Not today.” He plopped the cub on the desk. It mewled piteously. “It’s okay, Jim. I’ll figure something out.”
“What the hell’s that?”
“Well… uhm…” Blair scratched his head. “It’s Jim.”
“Jim?” the Captain said levelly. “Jim Ellison?”
“Yes.” Blair grimaced a smile. “Ares-the-Greek-God-of-War-turned-him-into-a-jaguar-cub,” he said in a rush.
“Ares the Greek God of War turned Jim Ellison into a jaguar cub?” Simon leaned back in his comfortable leather seat and pulled out a cigar. “I’m not even biting this one.”
“It’s true,” Blair shrieked.
“What do you take me for? It’s hard enough thinking a Northern European White Anglo Saxon Protestant has a Peruvian Native Spirit Guide now you’re telling me that the Greek God of War has turned him into a representation of said spirit guide.”
“Why can’t Jim have a Peruvian Spirit Guide? He rediscovered his sentinel abilities in the jungle. Maybe his mother was of Olmec descent several generations back? But that’s beside the point. My…” Blair paced to the end of the desk, made an abrupt about face, and then paced back. “My father turned him into a jaguar.”
“Your father? Why? You do know that the authorities are going to go postal on your ass when they find out that you're running around Cascade with an endangered animal. Oh, what am I saying, I am the authority.”
“Simon,” Blair wailed. “I know it’s hard to believe, but this is Jim. I didn’t steal a cub from the city zoo.”
Simon fired up his cigar and stared, deliberately, out of the window, patently ignoring them.
“Jim, don’t do that.”
The cub was huffing and puffing at the end of the cigar, trying to put out glowing end. He sneezed suddenly and fell back on his rump.
“Your damn cat’s allergic to my cigars.” Simon wiped cat sneeze off his face.
“You know Jim doesn’t like your cigars.”
Jim gleefully shredded his ink blotter. Blair scooped the kitten up before Simon could turn it into a furry muff.
“I know that you think I’m insane. But can you please put an APB out on Naomi. She has some -- I really hope -- all of the answers to this… er… predicament. Or at least someway to maybe get Jim turned back.”
“Sweetie.” Naomi sailed into Simon’s office riding a wave of sage. “Hello, Simon.”
“Great, just what I need,” Simon grumbled.
“Mom, thank god.” Blair was caught between screaming or hugging her.
“Interesting choice of words?” She smiled happily.
Incensed, Blair began to splutter, unable to form the words.
“Ares?” Naomi said helpfully.
Blair thrust out the cub at arms length.
Naomi cocked her head to the side. “It’s a boy cub.”
Blair blushed and snatched the kit back against his chest.
“I want to know what happened.”
“Surely you remember, darling. I told you about the bird and the bees when you were nine.” Blair darted a horrified glance at the Captain. He was ignoring them concentrating on the basic consumables for the department – they got through an obscene amount of coffee.
“No, I meant Ares.”
“Well, even though he’s a god, the mechanics are the same. It doesn’t mean that he’s spectacularly…”
“Why are you doing this to me?” Blair interrupted.
“I don’t understand.”
“Why are you being deliberately dense?”
“You don’t mind if we use your office, do you, Simon?”
The Captain waved regally at the couch between the office doors. “Help yourself, I’m ignoring you.”
Blair let his mother shepherd him to the couch. “I don’t understand, Mom. Ares’ is my father?”
“Yes, Sweetie, he’s your father.”
“He’s a god.”
“He’s also a man,” Naomi licked her lips.
Blair breathed in harshly, the breath whistling through his teeth. “How?”
“I met him at rally. He was trying to foment the Vietnam War. I distracted him for a little while. A couple of months, actually,” Naomi said proudly.
“And you found out?” Blair waved vaguely at her stomach.
“Yes, that I was going to be a mother.”
“And how did Ares handle it?”
Naomi looked into the middle
distance. “He had some vague ideas about sequestering me in a
“You managed to hide from a god?”
Simon snorted and then buried his head back in his paperwork.
“Oh, he followed. But I challenged him to a game of chance and I got you for thirty years.”
“A card game?” Blair blurted.
“No, I won you in a game of scissors, paper, stone.”
“What can I say, he likes pointy objects.” Naomi shrugged.