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Chapter Text

Part I: Buck Begins

Chapter 1

Evan Buckley was just shy of his fifth birthday when he realized that his parents didn’t love him the same way they loved his siblings. While they showered an eight-year-old Maddie with affection and adoration, they largely ignored Evan until he was deemed useful . Instead of being lavished with the same devotion and attention as a seven-year-old Daniel was, Margaret and Philip Buckley looked down at their youngest. They showed such disdain and disgust that it caused something deep inside his chest to curl up like a scared, wounded animal, frantically hiding away from the circling predators. 

The only times his parents paid any sort of attention to him was when it was time to go to the hospital. He never remembered much, as the visits were few and far between, but his nightmares were always filled with white-coated doctors in dark, menacing masks hovering above him and the harsh scent of antiseptic. 

And the needles. 

Always the needles. 

It didn’t matter how loud he screamed and begged or how hard his little legs kicked out in frantic protest; the doctors never failed to pin him down with a mask shoved against his face as they brought the needle closer and closer until everything finally went dark. 

Every time he awoke to the plain white-washed walls of the exam room, his back, near his hips, felt sore and unpleasant, limbs still too heavy from the general anesthetic. To add to his confusion, Evan didn’t even know why he was there in the first place. His parents refused to even try to explain what the doctors wanted from him badly enough to torture him once every eight months. Instead, they dismissed every question and plea for answers, simply telling him to stay quiet and let the doctors do their jobs.  

What was worse, Evan couldn’t see Daniel for months after his trips to the hospital. He missed his brother desperately when he wasn’t around, especially when he felt alone and scared. He wanted the bear hug Daniel always had waiting for him when he got home from school and the warm comfort of sneaking into his big brother’s room after a particularly bad nightmare. When Evan tried asking where his brother was because he just didn’t understand , his parents’ faces twisted and hardened with disapproval, causing his heart to sink straight down into his stomach. 

Thankfully, Maddie took pity on him and brought him to the neighborhood park, away from Margaret and Philip Buckley’s near-constant degradation. It had stormed heavily the night before, leaving the playground equipment coated with a layer of rainwater and their shoes squelching as they hopped over puddles. They quietly made their way to the swingset, and Evan used his small hand to brush off as much water as he could before settling into one. 

As Maddie gently pushed him on the swing, high enough where he could kick his feet out freely but not high enough to where he’d hurt himself if he fell, she softly explained that Daniel was really sick and had been for a while. Apparently, Daniel needed to stay in the hospital after each one of his treatments, which happened to coincide with Buck’s visits, to ensure he didn’t get an infection, which is why he couldn’t come home. 

Evan had asked why they couldn’t go see Daniel in the hospital, because wouldn’t their brother feel better after seeing him and Maddie? That would be the only way Evan would feel better if their situations reversed, he reasoned. But, judging by the devastated look on Maddie’s face, he’d said the wrong thing. 

He was always saying the wrong thing.

It wasn’t until a few years later that he realized that Maddie did visit Daniel in the hospital, and often enough to know that he did, in fact, love visitors. Their parents just didn’t want Evan near their precious Daniel—the son they actually wanted . 

But Maddie, even at eight years old, knew that she couldn’t share that bit of information with her little brother without breaking his already fragile heart into a thousand different pieces. When they returned home, and Evan was asleep upstairs, she puffed out her chest and confronted her parents about how they treated him. Unsurprisingly, she was immediately shot down and told that she “just didn’t understand the situation,” and that they “didn’t treat Evan any differently than her or Daniel; he’s just a problematic child.” 

Maddie was old enough to know when her parents were lying to her—could see how they bulldozed over her baby brother with her own eyes—but not old enough to be able to do anything about it. So, instead of fighting for Evan like she fiercely wanted to, Maddie tried to give him the love he deserved. 

She would ruffle his messy blonde curls, brushing a thumb over the pink-dotted birthmark over his left eye, and wrap an arm around his little shoulders whenever she was close enough to touch. Their daily bedtime routine grew as she gifted him a set of books from her own room, seeing as Evan’s bookshelf was heartbreakingly empty, save for a few polaroid photos she, Daniel, and Evan had taken together. She made her baby brother laugh by reading to him with an array of funny voices and did her best to keep that smile on his face for as long as possible. 

However, she was only one person and far too young to stop the freight train of abuse Buck endured around their parents and each and every trip to the hospital. Her willingness to love her brother couldn’t stop what was coming, no matter how hard she tried. 

Despite her efforts, Evan Buckley couldn’t escape the mounting trauma that resulted in him coming online just shy of his fifth birthday. 

XX

The world’s population of Sentinels and Guides had steadily been decreasing over the past few centuries. While almost half of the soldiers who fought in the First World War had the Blessed Gene embedded in their DNA, only one in every one hundred people carried the capacity to come online nowadays. Scientists attributed the steady decline to Natural Selection—the differential between survival and reproduction of organisms due to the characteristics of the environment. Naturals, those born without the Blessed Gene, had adapted to the changing of the times—and their innate competition with those carrying the superior genome—through sharp increases in technology, machinery, medicine, and so much more. This led to the working theory behind the decline in the Blessed Gene being an equally steep increase in the abilities of Sentinels and Guides. 

While rare in numbers, Sentinels possessed overly-heightened senses. Where they previously could only fully tap into one or two of them, the evidence of Natural Selection is highlighted in the fact that modern-day Sentinels hold the ability to utilize all five elevated senses. 

As expected from the evolutionary adaptation of the Sentinels, Guides, in turn, have grown exponentially more powerful than their ancestors. A Guide’s base function of simply acting as a Sentinel’s anchor evolved into an empathic ability with the potential for outward physical, mental, and physiological stimulation. With the proper training and discipline, a modern-day Sentinel-Guide team is practically unstoppable. 

Due to the diminishing numbers, when an individual with the Blessed Gene comes online— always during puberty—the law requires registration with the closest Center. There is usually one in every major city, but those in less populated areas might need to drive or fly a few hours to reach one. At the Center, the individual will undergo a series of tests and examinations of their newly-formed tattoos to determine if they manifested as either a Sentinel or Guide. They would subsequently receive a mentor to study under and a training schedule to take back to their families. 

The public’s opinion on Sentinels and Guides is generally positive. Because of their natural abilities, they usually fall into more demanding roles and career paths such as military personnel, first responders, and jobs of that nature. Naturals previously held a lower opinion on Sentinels and Guides due to their instinctual need to bond with their counterparts. 

While a Sentinel was astonishingly powerful with full control over their heightened senses, they risk falling into a zone, or fugue state, where they become hyper-focused—losing awareness of the world around them. Only a trained Guide can pull a Sentinel out of this fugue state. In turn, when a Guide is overwhelmed with the onslaught of emotions, only a Sentinel can truly anchor them to the world, using that foundation to reaffirm their senses long enough to come back to themselves.

Because of this biological imperative, a compatible Sentinel and Guide can proceed with an imprint and bond if they so choose. Bonds can either be romantic or platonic, but regardless, they are always exceptionally intimate and spiritual in nature. Additionally, bonded Sentinels and Guides have elevated control and emotional connections to their counterparts due to the heavily involved process of becoming one. 

However, modern medical advances include suppressants for those with the Blessed Gene. When an individual comes online and does not have the opportunity or necessary funds to follow the provided training schedule or a counterpart to help them adjust to their new way of life, the Center prescribes suppressants to allow a buffer so as not to overwhelm the new Sentinel or Guide. 

Older Sentinels and Guides, who either didn’t want to or couldn’t bond for whatever reason, are allowed suppressants as well. However, their brain chemistry is far too advanced for the medicine to fully satisfy their biological need. As a result, they aren’t as readily available as the adolescent suppressants and exponentially more expensive, although there are those who swear by them. 

Due to the extensive research and studies surrounding this phenomenon, society as a whole is reasonably well informed on those individuals who carry the Blessed Gene. Countless fiction and non-fiction books, movies of all genres, and various forms of music exist with the Blessed Gene right at the heart of the subject. 

Despite all of this, when a four-year-old Evan Buckley jerked awake with a piercing, guttural scream rather than slowly coming awake from the anesthesia, the doctors and nurses within reach were all at a complete loss for what was wrong until the tell-tale tattoo blossomed across the pale skin of his chest, directly over his heart. 

XX

As Evan’s screams filled the room, Margaret Buckley clutched at her husband’s arm, her chest seizing in shock. Her son’s tiny nails clawed at his head and up his rib cage, hard enough to break through the skin. 

“What’s going on?” Philip shouted at the doctors and nurses flooding towards their son, his hand gripping his wife’s tightly. “What’s wrong with him?” 

His usually steady voice trembled as the hospital staff grew steadily more frantic. They didn’t look any closer to finding a solution until Evan let out a sharp whimper, and everyone in the room froze, their eyes never leaving the small boy. 

“What?” Margaret demanded, wanting to get closer to see what they were looking at but afraid to know the answer. 

“Will there be complications with Daniel’s bone marrow transplant?” Her husband asked warily, and Margaret felt a weak stab of embarrassment that Daniel was both of their first priorities while their youngest son was clearly in distress. However, she shook off the doctors’ uneasy looks and her own guilt with a quick roll of her shoulders. Her son was dying , and she would do anything to save him. Evan would thank her one day once he understands the sacrifices they made to save Daniel. 

A pair of nurses attached themselves to Evan while Daniel’s surgeon turned to look at Margaret and Philip with wide eyes behind his thick-framed glasses. The others who had filled the room earlier quickly made their escape, leaving a high-strung tension permeating the air around them.

“Well?” Philip challenged hotly. “What happened?”

Doctor Cooper’s mouth fell open for a moment as he glanced at Evan and then back at the Buckley’s. “Your son…” he hesitated, “are either of you familiar with a family history detailing the Blessed Gene?” 

Margaret reared back as if slapped. “ Excuse me? What does that have to do with anything?” It was common for families to have some history of Sentinels and Guides in their ancestry. But, Philip and Margaret were a part of a Naturalist Group who took pride in the fact that their blood had diluted enough to ensure that nobody in their family had come online in three generations. They didn’t need heightened senses or blubbering empathy to succeed in this world, not when they had their own mind to think rationally and independently from those who depended on others to survive. 

“Well,” Dr. Cooper continued, swallowing thickly, “it seems as though Evan has come online.” 

“ What? ” Philip roared, making everyone in the room, including herself, flinch away from him. “That’s impossible! There shouldn’t even be enough of the Blessed Gene in his DNA to allow this to happen; regardless, Sentinels and Guides don’t come online until at least puberty , if ever!” He swiped his free hand across the air in front of him, taking a menacing step forward. “So, you’re wrong .”

Dr. Cooper shook his head, straightening his shoulders against the verbal assault. “Mr. Buckley, I understand how difficult this might be for you to understand. I confess that even I will have to take some time myself to wrap my head around it, but the evidence is indisputable. The tattoo has formed over his heart. Therefore, per protocol, we will take Evan to the hospital’s testing floors to determine if he is a Sentinel or a Guide. We are contacting a representative from the Global Sentinel-Guide Association as we speak.”

Margaret’s hands trembled as she clutched onto her husband tighter. “How—how is this even possible? He’s four years old.”

“I don’t know,” the doctor admitted, looking back at a struggling Evan with a crease between his eyebrows. “To be honest, this is unprecedented. Perhaps the GSGA will have more information.” He pushed his glasses on top of his head and rubbed at his eyes before returning his attention to the Buckley’s. “Would either of you like a moment with your son before we take him downstairs?” 

“No,” Philip denied harshly, dropping down onto the couch pressed up against the hospital windows and burying his face into his hands. “No.”

Margaret secretly agreed but kept quiet. She didn’t understand what was happening nor what this meant for their family. Their Naturalist Group would surely find out if hospital staff had already called the GSGA representative. The group would remove them as active members for breaking the fundamental code of ethics, and they would lose their support system surrounding Daniel’s illness. Margaret fought hard not to allow the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes to fall. 

Daniel . How would this complication affect her sweet son? Surely, any future transplants would be tainted? Would they even be viable? 

What was going to happen to her son?

XX

Evan wanted to go home . 

He wanted Maddie and Daniel to hold him tight and tell him that everything was going to be okay, that he didn’t do anything wrong . He didn’t want to be taken to an entirely different part of the hospital and asked questions he didn’t understand. 

The nurses put him in a room by himself, except for one lady with long, curly brunette hair, a stern-looking face he was instantly wary of, and an iPad. She sat him atop a bed high enough off the ground that he couldn’t jump off and run away. The lady was quiet as she attached colorful wires to different parts of his body—his chest, the base of his neck, and various points around his head—before finally addressing him. “Hello, Evan, my name is Dr. Schmidt. Can you tell me how you are feeling?”

Evan looked around for anyone or anything he might recognize, but everything was frighteningly unfamiliar. “It hurts,” he whined, hating to sound so much like a baby, but it did . His entire body felt like tiny fire ants had crawled underneath his skin and were trying to burrow their way out. He wanted to tear the wires off of his body and toss them across the room with another loud scream. The throbbing in his head made everything fuzzy, and all he wanted was Maddie . She would know what to do to make him feel better. 

“What hurts, Evan?”

“Everything!” He shouted, scratching over his chest again, where the nurses had added a thick, lumpy bandage over his heart, right where it hurt the most. 

Dr. Schmidt’s face twisted unpleasantly, so much like his parents did when he did something they didn’t like, that Evan grumbled to himself and forced his hands to his side. Why wasn’t she helping him? Wasn’t that supposed to be her job?

“I understand you’re upset, Evan, but I need you to concentrate. This is very important.” She told him smoothly, bringing her device closer to her face before looking up at him again. “Now, there is a person right on the other side of that door.” Dr. Schmidt pointed towards the wall to his left with a manicured finger. “Can you tell me what they are saying?”

Evan blinked, opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it again. He looked over the wall, trying to figure out if she was trying to trick him. How was he supposed to know what someone was saying if he couldn’t see them? They weren’t even in the same room!

“No…” he frowned, feeling frustration well up in his throat as his eyes burned. “I can’t hear anything .” 

“Are you sure? Can you smell anything coming from this person? What about tasting something new on your tongue?” 

“No!” He repeated, the tears finally leaking out of his eyes, streaking down his cheeks. “They aren’t in the room! How am I supposed to hear or smell or taste anything !? I want to go home!”

Dr. Schmidt took a deep breath and clicked on her tablet a few times, her mouth pulling into a grimace. She touched a finger to her ear, whispering something that he couldn’t make out. When she finally brought her attention back to Evan, her face was blank in a way that had him scooting back against the pillows. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, Evan. You must be very scared.”

He curled his hands together and looked down at his lap, nodding slowly. He was terrified . His parents dragged him to the hospital, again , even after he begged not to go, and the doctors did something to him while he was asleep because his hip hurt like it normally did when they forced him to come here. But when he woke up from his nap this time, it wasn’t just his hip that hurt—it was everything . There was just—just so much , digging into his brain and yanking at his heart like they were trying to take it straight out of his chest. The doctors must have given him something to make him feel better because the pain was muted now, though he could feel everything hovering, just inside his veins, pushing outwards, desperate for freedom.

“I am trying to discern what exactly made you sick, and then I’ll give you the right medicine to make you better. Do you understand?” 

Evan nodded again, his lip wobbling at her softer tone. Things always got worse when his parents stopped yelling. 

Dr. Schmidt hummed. “Thank you, Evan. Now, I know you are confused but could you try to focus on the person in the next room one more time. Do you think you can tell me what they are feeling?” 

“How?” He asked quietly. He didn’t want to make the doctor upset with him again, but he didn’t know what to do . 

“Why don’t you close your eyes for me? Maybe that will help.”

Evan pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, careful of the wires, but followed her instructions. 

“Very good,” she praised lightly. He felt a small spike of satisfaction ping inside his head. “Now, think about the room next to us, the one I pointed to earlier. It looks exactly like this one, but a person is sitting in a chair inside.”

His imagination stretched and reached out as if flexing a muscle as Daniel sometimes did. The room materialized within his mind, settling in a flurry of muted colors and abstract shapes. Evan knew the room should be a copy of the one he was in, but that’s not what his brain decided it looked like. 

Inside the chaotic painting sat a man, younger than Evan’s father by quite a few years if the lack of wrinkles indicated anything. His form blurred and melted without warning, making it impossible for Evan to make a guess as to what he looked like. 

However, while Evan was living in color, grays and dark blues covered the room; a yellow light shone brightly from deep inside the man’s chest. It was warm and inviting, and Evan wanted to burrow into that feeling. 

“Well?” Dr. Schmidt pressed again. “Do you know what this person is feeling, Evan?”

He opened his eyes once more, almost disappointed when the world returned to its rightful state. Evan nodded, rubbing a hand over his puffy eyes. “He is happy.”

Dr. Schmidt’s eyebrows shot upwards, almost disappearing behind her curly bangs. She looked down at her tablet once again for a long moment before meeting his eyes. “That’s…correct.”

Evan didn’t understand why she sounded so surprised. All of this was her idea, wasn’t it? Didn’t she want him to get the answer right? 

“Do you know what’s wrong with me now?”

She sucked in a sharp breath and stared at him. Evan’s eyes felt heavy, and his limbs started losing their feeling. All he wanted was to go home .

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Evan. These tests confirm that you have what’s called the Blessed Gene. You’ve come online as a Guide.” 

XX

While Philip rested his eyes for a few minutes, Margaret kept hers wide open and focused intently on the hallway, watching for any movement from the hospital staff. Sure enough, Dr. Cooper greeted a slim woman with a certain air around her who looked to be in her late sixties, with long gray hair parted straight down the middle. They spoke for a few minutes, with Dr. Cooper writing something down on the chart in his hands. After that, they turned to enter Evan’s room. Margaret tugged on her husband’s arm and encouraged him to his feet. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Buckley, I’d like to introduce you to Charlotte Keen, the GSGA representative I mentioned earlier.” 

Mrs. Keen held out her hand for both Philip and Margaret to shake, which they did, albeit reluctantly. The woman stood before them in a well-pressed navy pants suit; the regal authority she carried in her shoulders would, in a normal situation, have Margaret inquiring about an invitation for coffee. But, unfortunately, her affiliation with those with the Blessed Gene ruined any possibility of friendship. 

“I’ll leave you in her capable hands,” Dr. Cooper addressed, “but I wanted to inform you that the lab has finished rendering the results of Evan’s bone marrow sample.” Margaret sucked in a sharp breath of air and tightened her grip. “I’m pleased to inform you that it will still be viable for Daniel’s transplant. I’m going to go check on him now; if you’ll excuse me.”

As he ducked out of the room, Margaret and Philip let out matching sighs of relief and shared a pleased glance. Thank goodness their son wouldn’t suffer from this horrible misunderstanding. 

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Mrs. Keen said pleasantly, though there was a strange undercurrent of disapproval Margaret couldn’t quite grasp. “I’d like to speak with you both about your son, Evan. Please, have a seat.”

They followed her lead and sat back down on the small couch while Mrs. Keen perched atop the closest chair, setting the tablet from the nearby workstation onto her lap. When her attention returned to them, Margaret felt an uncharacteristic impulse to fidget. 

“Evan completed his testing downstairs within the hospital’s designated ward, and the results were quite astonishing.” 

Philip clenched his teeth so tight Margaret could see the muscle jumping from the strain. “And you’re sure there’s no mistake?” 

Mrs. Keen’s face made a complicated movement before smoothing out once more. “I can assure you, Mr. Buckley; there is no mistake. Testing confirms Evan is a Guide and his results, which are unprecedented, have been filed with the GSGA.”

“But he’s four years old ,” Margaret stressed, her voice trembling. “How is this even possible?” 

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Mrs. Keen narrowed her eyes as she continued. “I shared Evan’s results with two of the GSGA’s specialists to ask that very question.”

Margaret and Philip stared at her as she paused, annoyed with the fact that she seemed to enjoy putting them on edge. “Well?” Philip snapped. 

Mrs. Keen simply raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “They believe his early manifestation was a result of his participation in these bone marrow transplants.” 

“What?” Margaret breathed, bringing a hand up to her mouth in disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, Mr. and Mrs. Buckley,” she answered with a frown, “that Evan undergoing the donation process resulted in enough trauma and fear that it sparked an abnormal increase in the neurochemicals to which the Blessed Gene responds. Because of this, Evan came online far, far earlier than nature intended.” 

“Are you saying this is our fault?” Philip demanded hotly, pushing up to his feet once more and bringing his wife with him. “We’re trying to save our son here!”

Mrs. Keen stood to her full height as well, not the least bit intimidated by the man. “I’m not accusing anyone of anything, Mr. Buckley, just stating the facts.”

Margaret’s chest seized at the thought of someone looking down on her family. She couldn’t stand the idea of people having the wrong idea about them. They were good people! They donated money to charity and made sure that their children never went hungry. They didn’t deserve to have a dying son without any chance of survival until his parents did something about it. “Daniel has been ill for a long time, Mrs. Keen. Evan was his only hope; we didn’t have a choice . We had to save our son. Please, you must understand.” 

The woman pursed her lips and nodded, looking down at her tablet and clicking on the screen a few times before lowering it again. “Be that as it may, the GSGA is concerned about Evan’s adjustment as a Guide in his current state. He’s far too young to be prescribed suppressants, and without a counterpart, I’m afraid he will have a difficult time adapting to his new way of life.”

“Well, what do you suggest, then?” Philip sneered, crossing his arms over his chest, the plaid stretching with the movement. 

“I’m glad you asked, Mr. Buckley,” Mrs. Keen told him with a slight smirk. “The GSGA is assigning a mentor to Evan. We feel it is in Evan’s best interests to meet with this seasoned Guide for a few hours at least twice a week—no exceptions. He will take diligent notes on Evan’s well-being and progress to ensure he is comfortable and cared for in his home. If this Guide comes back to the GSGA with anything short of an exemplary, then we will send an agent to investigate. Do I make myself clear?”

Philip sputtered while Margaret swallowed around a lump in her throat. “What—what is the meaning of this? How can a stranger be the judge to determine how I run my household?”

Mrs. Keen narrowed her pale blue eyes at him. “I’ve already flagged Evan’s file due to the circumstances surrounding his coming online. He’s the youngest Guide to date, due to trauma no less, and everyone’s eyes will be on him. So the world will be watching you, Mr. Buckley.” 

“Is that a threat?” Philip growled, his eyebrow twitching in barely contained rage. 

Margaret cleared her throat in an attempt to push the attention away from her husband to give him a few moments to calm down. “Who will the GSGA be sending to mentor Evan?” 

“His name is Robert. Robert Nash.”

XX