Chapter 9

Richie came down after his shower to find Jon sitting there, his face as white as a sheet, staring at something in his hand. Taking a closer look, he realized that it was his cell phone.

"Stop playing with my phone."

When Jon didn't respond, Richie took the phone from him and looked at the number displayed on it. Puzzled, he put it to his ear.

"Hello?"

No answer.

Closing it, he turned to Jon. "What the hell? Did you just answer my phone? That call was from Jon's cell. Don't tell me you spoke to him."

Richie knew very well what kind of repercussion the two Jons speaking to each other would have.

"It was Romeo."

At that, Richie sat down on a chair across from Jon. "Listen, you need to stop this obsession with Romeo. I told you, he's only four. He barely knows his own number let alone mine. Now stop it."

Jon glanced up at Richie with a haunted look in his eyes. "It was Romeo."

Something about that look told Richie that Jon was not just kidding around. That he was very serious about it, whether he imagined it or........it really happened.

"What did he say?"

"He asked me not to go back yet."

"Then what?"

"Then I heard a girl's voice telling him to stop playing with the phone and it went dead. That was my daughter, wasn't it?"

Richie nodded, "Stephanie."

"What does this all mean, Rich? How did Romeo know your number? But more than that, how did he know that I would answer it?"

"Dumb luck?"

"I don't think so. There's something very weird going on around here."

"And you coming here twenty years from the past is not?"

*****

"Dad! Romeo is playing with your phone, again." Stephanie was holding the toddler's hand leading him out of their father's office.

Jon came up and took the phone from Stephanie and checked the display. "Hey, buddy, you've been calling Uncle Mookie?"

"No, I call daddy."

Confused, Jon bent down and picked up his youngest son. "What do you mean? Daddy's right here."

"No! Daddy went with Uncle Mookie."

Stephanie just shrugged and chalked it up to preschool weirdness, but this statement had Jon worried. He carried Romeo up to his room and settling them both down on the bed, he asked him again, "what do you mean? Daddy's right here, see?"

"No, daddy going back. Daddy going back!" He started to cry, big hiccuping sobs and Jon was helpless to do anything except hug him close and try to comfort him. "Shhh, it's okay, buddy. Don't cry, daddy's right here."

After Romeo had cried himself to sleep, Jon tucked him in and kissing his head, turned out the lights and headed back downstairs.

This incident with Romeo, coupled with the strange events of the past few days troubled Jon. The headaches, while painful, had a strange sensation to them. They were gone now, but the sensation returned from time to time, like last night.

When Dot had asked him to pick a movie, he felt the compelling need to choose The Godfather, over even the recent additions. If this was not puzzling enough, there was the ominous feeling that came over him when Romeo cried for his 'daddy'.

What does this all mean?

*****

"I need to go jogging."

"What? No, Jon, what the hell are you thinking?"

"Why not? It's evening, no one is going to see me. If you're worried, why don't you come with me?"

"No, I'm expecting an important call." Richie could see the pent up energy in Jon and took pity. "Alright, go, but take this phone with you just in case."




He had been jogging for about half an hour when he passed a small park and saw a strange sight. I'll have to ask Rich about that when I get back home.

Further down the road, he was running past a small building where there were several residents sitting outside on the lawn. When he looked closer, he could see that most of them were in wheelchairs. It must be a nursing home or something.

Just as he turned the corner, he saw something coming at him. Someone in a motorized wheelchair was barreling down towards him from the opposite direction.

It was Mrs. Ferguson.

Jon's first instinct was to make a run for it. Would she chase him? He wondered how fast the old biddy's wheelchair could go. He was pretty sure he could outrun her, but with the advance of technology, Jon could never be really sure. The last thing Richie needed to hear was news of some kid running down the street being chased by an old hen in a wheelchair.

Then he remembered the incident at the store and realized he had nothing to worry about.

As she came to a screeching halt in front of him, he gave her one of his million dollar smiles.

"Good evening, Mr. Bongiovi."

The smile faded.

"You recognize me?"

"Of course, I remember all my students. All my students." She had a habit of repeating her words.

He wasn't sure if she was having a lucid moment or not and decided to test her. "But I don't look like this now. I came here from the past."

"I realize that. And I must say that I had lost all hope for you at the time but now I am very glad that you've turned out to be a fine human being. A fine human being. Yes, very glad. I've read all about your endeavors. The charities that benefit from your support and the fine family you raised. You should be very proud that you will grow up to be him. Very proud."

Jon was dumbfounded.

"You mean you actually believe that I came here from the past?"

"But of course! But of course! Isn't that what I've always taught you young people? Always? That everything is relevant? That anything is possible if you understand math?"

"Come, Mr. Bongiovi, come chat with me for a while. For a while."

Chapter 8

Saturday morning Richie came downstairs to find Jon sitting in the living room staring at the antique grandfather clock.

"Mornin', bro. What are you doing?"

"Your clock."

"What about it?" Richie glanced at the time. It was almost eleven.

"I swear I saw the second hand move backwards."

"You don't suppose that coming through the wormhole has scrambled your brains a bit, do you?"

Jon just glared at Richie for a while but decided to ignore his remarks and turned back to watching the clock. "What if I'm right, Rich? What if this is the way to go back to 1987?"

Richie crossed his arms and stood there just watching Jon watching the clock, then shook his head and headed to the kitchen for some coffee. When he returned, he found Jon standing in front of the old clock with his back to it and eyes closed.

"What the hell are you doing now?"

"Standing closer to the source of time travel. Think about it, Rich. What could be more obvious than a clock as a means of traveling back in time? And don't you the fuck say a DeLorean."

Laughing at the absurdity of this, Richie turned and went to his office to check on his email. "Why don't you wear a tin foil hat, too, while you're at it?" he called back.

"Laugh if you want, Sambora, but don't be shocked when you come back and find that I'm gone."

*****

After an hour answering emails and making some calls, Richie came back out to find Jon still standing under the clock face. Only this time, Jon had on an aluminum foil cone hat perched on his head.

Seeing Richie staring at him, Jon quickly pulled off the hat and grinned sheepishly. "You gotta try everything."

Richie snorted, "whatever. Just don't wear that to the mall."

"We're going to the mall?" Jon was running after him excitedly.

Richie stopped abruptly, turned and faced him. "What are you, twelve?"

"I just don't want to be cooped up inside the house all day. We're not getting any closer to finding the answer by sitting around here."

"And you think that there will be a solution at Chuck E Cheese?"

Seeing his sullen face, Richie suggested Jon go for a swim in the pool. When that didn't get any response, he gave in. "Alright look, we can't go to the mall. It's Saturday and the place will be crawling with people. If you want, we can go for a drive somewhere, but now right now. I've got a little more work to do."

He could have sworn that Jon almost jumped up and down.

"What should I do until then?"

"I don't know. Go watch some TV or something," he said absent mindedly and walked back into his office.

*****

They were having lunch out in the patio when Jon spoke up. "Politics sure have changed over the years, haven't they?"

Richie eyed him but said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

"I mean, I never thought I would see a black dude run for President. And he was running against a woman, too. I seen her husband before."

This surprised Richie. "Where?"

"In the photos at the house in Jersey. I saw several photos of me with him. Who is he?"

"Bill Clinton. He was the President before the one we have now."

Jon sat quiet for a few minutes. "There's photos of me with the President of the United States. We're doing some huge charity work. What else, Rich?"

"You own a football team."

"All I wanted when we started the band, was to write songs and be famous. Things like this never even crossed my mind." Jon raked his hands through his hair. "I wanna go back, Rich."

"Why? Aren't you proud of what you've accomplished?"

"It's not that. It's just too much to take in. I don't think I'm capable of handling all that. I mean, I can't handle anything without Doc. Does he help me with all that stuff?"

"No. Look Jon, you'll do just fine without Doc. It's not like it all happened overnight, it took years, but you've managed and did a great job."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Now stop worrying about it. We'll figure this out and get you back where you belong, okay?"

*****

The drive through the city and along the coastline was relaxing but uneventful. Jon was quiet for most of the way just taking in the scenery.

"Things really haven't changed all that much in twenty years."

"What did you actually expect to see, flying cars?" Richie chuckled. He couldn't fault Jon, though. The poor kid had been pulled out of his environment and catapulted twenty one years into the future. He was taking this much calmer than Richie would have in the same situation.

"Why don't we stop somewhere for an early dinner and head back home?"

They went in to a small diner where Richie knew the food was great. A couple of women who were there kept looking their way but for the most part, they were left alone.

Back at home, Richie left Jon on his own while he took a shower.

Wandering through the house, Jon came upon some sort of machine in Richie's office. It had a screen much like a television and a typewriter with no paper in front of it. He had seen something like this in Doc's office, only that one seemed huge and clunky in comparison.

He sat down at the desk and stared at the screen. The top of it read 'Time Travel', to the left, 'Wikipedia'. Jon began reading about gravitational time dilation, twin paradox and general relativity - words he did not understand. He saw what Richie had referred to earlier; wormhole, but the screen ended there. Jon tried to peer down the bottom of the screen to see if there were more information there. Finding nothing, he sighed in frustration and walked back out to the living room and turned on the TV.

He thought back to the events leading up to now, desperate for a clue. He wanted, no needed, to go back. As much as he was relieved to find that things are good in the future and grateful for Richie's friendship, he missed what he left behind. He knew there was no way he could continue living here. He would be among friends and family but still alone.

His thoughts were jarred by the now familiar buzzing. It was Richie's cell phone. He debated whether to answer it or not, when it kept ringing. Seeing no harm in taking a message, he picked it up and flipped it open like he'd seen Richie do and pressed a button.

"Hello?"

"Daddy?"

Jon's heart jumped into his throat at the voice. He knew it was Romeo.

"Daddy, don't go back yet, okay?"

Chapter 7

"Whoa, Rich. This ain't nothing like your basement bedroom at your mom's house." Jon wandered around the mansion in open mouthed awe, taking in the tastefully decorated interior. Walking up to the grand piano, he ran his hand over it lovingly.

"Well, this ain't nothing compared to your house. I mean, your house now," Richie retorted.

"You mean what I saw of it, which was mostly the inside of your room." Jon reminded him. "The first night was just a blur, but that office is real nice..."

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Which reminds me...who's Katrina?"

"What?"

"I saw a folder in the office labeled 'Katrina'. Who is she?"

Richie debated whether tell him or not. The mantra 'the less he knows, the better' kept playing in his mind. Will Jon knowing affect the original outcome?

Seeing his hesitation worried Jon. "She's someone I'm having an affair with, right?"

"What? No! Katrina is, or was, a hurricane." Shit!

"A hurricane? Why would I keep a file on a hurricane?"

"Why would you keep one on an affair, you moron?"

"I don't know. It just worried me. I mean, I can see that Dot and I ended up with each other, but after what happened with Diane...I don't know, man, Rich."

"Look, Jon, Katrina was a hurricane. A big one. It devastated New Orleans and a lot of other cities. Thousands of people lost their lives and their homes. The band is helping the people re-build their lives. That's what part of Habitat for Humanity is."

"Thousands? Wow. When does it happen?'

"Actually, three years ago to this date."

Richie went on to tell him a little more about the flooding and how Jon and the band joined Habitat. Jon sat in one of the couches and was quiet for a while, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

"Bro? What's going on in your head?"

"Hmmm? No, I was just wondering if that's the reason I came here. You know, to warn people."

Richie stared at him. "How is warning them three years later going to help anyone?" he asked rather crossly.

"No! I don't mean about the hurricane. I mean something else. Something bad that's gonna happen in the future."

Richie thought about this for a moment before he spoke, "I think you've got it backwards. If you were here to warn us, you would have come back from the future. Right now you don't even know what to warn us about because it hasn't happened yet."

Knowing Richie had a point did not deter Jon's way of thinking. "I still think there's a reason for me coming here."

"Wormhole," Richie offered.

"What did you just call me?"

Richie narrowed his eyes at Jon. "Terms of endearment hasn't changed that much in twenty years, asshole. A wormhole is a scientific theory on how time travel is possible."

"And this is common knowledge in 2008?" Jon scoffed.

"No, I looked it up on the web." Damn it!

"What is this 'web' you keep talking about? Where is it?"

*****

Luckily, Richie's housekeeper was off for a couple of days, though she did stock up the fridge and pantries when Richie called to let her know he was coming home.

They were sitting around the kitchen table with their sandwiches and drinks when Richie remembered something.

"What did you mean by 'Romeo knows'?"

"I don't know, Rich. It's a gut feeling. He just knows, maybe more than we do, about what's going on. I could see it in his eyes."

Richie put his sandwich down and looked at Jon in exasperation. "He's four. How in the hell could he know more than us? We don't even have a clue what's going on. I'll bet that look he gave you is more of fright at seeing his dad's old photos come to life."

"No. He knows."

*****

"We need to go shopping."

"What for? I rather you not leave this house, Jon."

"I don't have any change of clothes. I can borrow your T shirts but your pants are...well..."

"Legs are too long?" Richie tried unsuccessfully to hide his smirk.

"Fuck you, Sambora."

"Alright, fine. But don't forget to stick to the story that you're an actor." Richie grabbed his keys and they made their way to the garage. Opting to take the less conspicuous sports car over the Hummer, they drove to the nearest mall. They were in luck as it was nearly deserted being a Friday afternoon, before the crowd hit. Flipping through the racks of a clothing store, Jon noticed someone staring at them.

"Holy shit, Rich. That's Mrs. Ferguson."

"Who?"

"Mrs. Ferguson. That old bat used to be my math teacher in high school. I can't believe she's still living."

"Just ignore her. Maybe she won't notice you."

"No, she's staring at me. She's one nosy little poker, always trying to stick her nose where it's none of her business. She used to trail Dot and me trying to eavesdrop on what we were saying." Jon lowered his voice to a whisper as Mrs. Ferguson leaned over and almost fell off her motorized chair into the bargain bin.

Both men tried to keep a straight face as they watched her stuff herself back into her chair, but it was hard to disguise their amusement.

"That's very rude, young man. Very rude," she scolded waggling her finger at Jon, "I shall have to call your parents. Yes, I shall. Now get going to your next class or I'll send you to the Principal's office."

Jon and Richie looked at each other. "I guess we don't have to worry about her."

Going up to the counter to pay for their purchases, Jon looked at Richie apologetically. When Richie rolled his eyes but started to pull out his wallet, Jon smiled, "Thanks, bro. I owe you."

****

Back at the house, they opted for a quiet evening of watching a movie. Richie decided to toss his concerns to the winds and let Jon look over his DVD collection to choose something he wanted to watch.

"Whatever happened to video tapes?"

"Long gone, bro. This way, you won't have miles of tape stuck inside your VCR."

After taking some time going over the synopsis of several movies, Jon selected one and handed it to Richie.

"You're kidding, right? After all that, The Godfather?"

Jon just shrugged. "I love that movie."

*****

Jon and Dorothea had just gotten the kids to bed after several requests for water and a story. "It's still a bit early, what do you want to do, babe?"

"Jon, don't you think you should rest, too? How's your headaches?"

"I'm fine, Dot. Seems like since Richie left this morning, my headaches have disappeared. Maybe I'm allergic to him," he chuckled, gathering his wife into his arms and sitting down together on the big couch in the family room.

"Well, how about a movie, then?"

"Mmmm...I had other ideas in mind..." he murmured into her ear, nuzzling the spot that made her shiver.

"Jon! The kids just fell asleep." Dot jokingly pushed him away and brought a stack of DVDs to him. "Here, you pick."

Jon scanned the selection for a while and finally chose one and handed it to Dot.

"You're kidding, right? After all that, The Godfather?"

Jon just shrugged. "I love that movie."

Chapter 6

"There you are, little guy!"

A big pair of hands scooped up the toddler in one swift motion and carried him out of the office.

"But Uncle Mookie, there's a man in there and he looks just like....."

"Yeah, ooookay......hey, why don't we go find that Disney movie you like, huh, buddy?"

Richie was never so happy as now that Romeo had an attention span of a gnat. "Oh boy! I know where it is. Are you going to watch it with us?"

"Maybe for a little while. Then I have to go pack for my trip."

"Where are you going, Uncle Mookie?"

"Home. But I'll be back real soon." I hope.


"Good, you've found him." Relief showed on Jon's face as Richie came walking through the family room with Romeo perched on his shoulder.

After Romeo dug up the DVD, Jon put it in the player and they all settled down to watch Aladdin, although Romeo kept glancing back towards the office every now and then.

*****

"Remember, if anyone asks, you had your name legally changed because people kept telling you that you look like Jon."

"I am Jon."

"Look, if you're going to be difficult about this, you little twerp, then you're on your own. Go ahead and see how far you'd get with that attitude."

Jon sulked at this, but he knew he had no other choice, especially after Richie had rescued him from being discovered. He was afraid to go about it alone and he needed Richie's help. "Alright, fine. I used to be Bob Guggenheim but changed my name so I can attract chicks. Satisfied?"

"Whatever. Just don't draw attention or they'll take you away for sure. And if you ever pull a stunt like back at the house again, I'll disown you and leave you to your own devices. What the hell were you thinking, anyway?"


They had somehow gotten through the check in, but not without difficulties.

"Your ID says you were born in 1962," the attendant, whose name tag read Joseph, had looked at Jon with a skeptical eye, pushing his bifocals up his nose to get a better look.

"Plastic surgery," Richie had replied while grinding his foot into Jon's before he could protest.

Joseph hesitated for a few minutes and Richie and Jon held their breaths. Finally, he looked him over once more and claiming, "they didn't do a very good job," had proceeded to issue their boarding passes. When Jon's eyes flashed indignant, Richie grinned but grabbed his arm and dragged him away.

*****

Richie was cautious enough to book them first class seats. This way, they could wait for boarding inside of a private lounge instead of in a public area where Jon was sure to attract some kind of attention.

They had somehow managed to cover up Jon's make-shift tank top made from cutting off the sleeves of a T shirt with one of Richie's jackets and his eyes were shaded with a pair of borrowed sunglasses, but there was no way to disguise his wild, flowing hair. Jon was shocked that Richie would even suggest cutting it.

"No fucking way! I saw what I looked like when I'm old."

"Older" Richie interjected.

"What?"

"Not old - older," Richie smirked at him, "you might want to remember that."


They had found a quiet corner in the lounge and ordered drinks, a beer for Jon and coffee for Richie. Jon looked at him in surprise, "you're not having a beer?"

"Nope. That stuff is poison in more ways than one."

Jon saw pain and regret in his friend's eyes. "What happened, Rich?"

"You will find out in due time," was all he would say.

Both men sat in silence for a few minutes, each deep in their own thoughts.

"That was my son, wasn't he?" Jon said quietly. "He knew it was me. I could tell by his expression, that he knew."

"Good thing I was able to distract him, you idiot." Richie was recalling the near disaster. His heart had practically stopped when he discovered Jon and Romeo staring at each other. "I cannot imagine what would have happened if he started screaming for his dad. In fact, I'm worried about what he might be telling him right now."

"He won't say anything."

"You don't know that. He's barely four, no telling what he'll do."

Jon said nothing but was pretty confident that his secret was safe. When they had sneaked out of the house and Romeo had looked back at him, he merely waved at Jon and turned back to his movie.

*****

Luckily the flight was not crowded and they were able to relax, unnoticed, for most of the way. The flight attendant didn't seem to be a fan though clearly she knew who Richie was. She kept eyeing Jon, who was sleeping most of the time, but said nothing.

Upon landing, they made a quick exit since Richie only had a small carry on bag. He hailed a taxi and when the driver opened the door for them, Richie looked back to find Jon standing amid a crowd of women. They were oohing and aahing over him and trying to get a photo with him. The little twit was rather enjoying this and was mugging for the cameras and kissing the women.

"Jon!"

The women turned and looked from one man to the other and when the second of shock had passed, they descended upon Richie. "Richie, can we get a shot of us with the both of you?" "Is there a puppy version of you, too?" Puppy version?! What the hell is that?

They finally managed to detangle themselves from the alarmingly growing mob and escaped into the safety of the cab.

Jon did not have to wonder if Richie was upset, for when he looked over at his friend, he could practically see steam coming out of his ears. "Don't worry bro. I told them that I was an actor playing the part of young Jon."

When Richie said nothing but just glared at him, Jon shrugged and settled back for the ride. This was worse than having your parents chaperone a date. His mind drifted to last night. I wonder if I'm missing. Are they looking for me back there?

After a long silence, Richie finally spoke. "You need to be careful about what you do and who you meet."

"Why?"

"Because you have a good life now and I'm not going to let you do something that's going to fuck it up."

Jon was about to protest when he stopped. It dawned on him just how good a friend Richie was that he cared enough to go out on a limb to protect him.

"Thanks, bro."

As they neared the house, Jon noticed Richie looking pensive. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just dreading the phone call from Jon asking who the hell was in his house. I'm betting Romeo told him about seeing you in his office."

"No, he didn't."

"What makes you so damn sure?"

The taxi went through the gate that Richie had opened, drove up to the front of the house and stopped.

"Because he knows."

Chapter 5

Richie's brilliant idea of getting up before anyone else to make coffee so he can bring back two cups without being noticed, was thwarted when he ran into Jon on the way back to his bedroom.

"So, you do have Bimbo Bella in there, don't you?"

"No! It's not her."

"Who is it then?"

"He's not anyone you....."

"He?" Jon's eyebrow shot up as he studied his friend.

"No! You know I don't swing that way."

"Rich, that's none of my business. Just don't tell me that you've stayed with this fricking band because you've always had an unrequited crush on me." Jon smirked.

Richie stared at his friend for a moment. "Fuck you, Bongiovi."

"That's what I'm afraid of"

If Richie wasn't holding two cups of coffee, he would have flipped him off.

*****

"You can't stay here, you know."

"Why not? This is my house."

"Look, we went over this. This is not your house. Not the you you were then. The you you are now, yes, but not you," Richie pointed to Jon. "Understand?"

"No."

Neither did Richie.

But he had to make him see that Jon cannot just do whatever he pleased because this was going to wreak havoc in Jon's life. If Jon started doing things now that had never happened to Jon, how is it going to affect the life he has now? Would it be better? Worse? Or.....would he not exist at all?

Shit!

"We have to leave. Today."

"Where are we going?"

Jon was glad that he wouldn't have to go about this by himself. Glad that Richie felt the brotherly love for him and was willing to help. He felt a sense of calm knowing that their friendship had endured over all these years.

Richie wasn't about to let the little twit go running around making a mess of things.

"I'm taking you to my house in LA."

"LA? When did you move out there?"

"Never mind, we're going there, pack your stuff."

"What stuff?"

*****

"Hey, Rich, I thought we were going to finish that song we were working on." Jon had walked into the kitchen as Richie was refilling the coffee. "Why are we heading off to LA?"

Richie stopped what he was doing and stared at Jon. "What makes you think we're going to LA?" How did he know? I never said a word to him.

"I thought you told me to pack my stuff." Confusion crept up Jon's face. "Didn't you?" Now Jon was doing the staring. "And why can't I stay here? This is my house, you know." He felt the strange headache beginning to return.

"Jon, I think Dot is right. You must be coming down with something." Richie was starting to feel a bit nauseous himself.

"I feel fine, Rich." Except for that headache I had earlier.

"Jon, I'm just going for a couple of days to tend to some business and see Ava. I should be back by Monday." As long as the history of the world doesn't change.

"But I thought you wanted me to go with you."

"No, where did you get that idea?" Richie knew then that he had to get Jon as far away from Jon as soon as it was possible. Like right now.

"I....I don't know. I guess you're right. As soon as Dot comes back, I'm going back up and get some rest. So, I'll see you back here Monday?"

"Yeah, Monday." Richie hurried off to find Jon.

*****

"Jake, where's Romeo?" Jon was in charge of the two younger ones while Dot was dropping Jesse off at a friend's and taking Steph shopping for some new shoes, though he never understood why she needed new shoes every two months.

"I dunno," Jake shrugged. "Maybe he went up to his room."

Sighing, Jon trudged back upstairs to check on Romeo. He wanted the two boys in one place so that he can keep an eye on them easily. "Romeo! Come on back down here, buddy. Why don't we watch a movie or something?"

*****

Back in his room, Richie was on the phone making reservations for the first flight out to LA.

"May I have the name of the second party, please?" asked the operator.

"Huh? Shit!"

"Excuse me?"

"Uh, sorry. I.....I'll call you back." And with that, he slammed the phone down. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Now what? No way am I driving back to LA from here.

Richie sat on his bed with his head in his hands. He knew that even if he gave them a fake name, they would be asked to show an ID at the check in counter. He was pretty sure that Jon had one on him. Maybe if they were lucky enough, they would get someone who didn't know them. He had no choice. They would just have to chance it.

Seeing that as the only option, he picked up the phone again and dialed.

That was when he noticed that Jon was not in the room.

*****

Wow. Look at all this cool stuff.

Jon was wandering around what seemed to be an office. The rich mahogany of the woods mixed elegantly with the tailored upholstery of the furnishings. Lining the shelves were photos, books and mementos. Jon studied some of the photos closely. Is that Dave and Tico? Where the hell is Alec? And who the hell is this white haired dude in the photos with me .... wait, that's me?!

The desk seemed to be littered with papers and files strewn across it. Several of the folders were marked "Philadelphia Soul" and "Habitat for Humanity". The last one he came across held his interest and he picked it up and opened it. I wonder who this...


"Romeo! Where are you, buddy? Jake, he's not in his room. Come and help me find him."

Uh oh...better get lost. Rich will kill me if he found out that I was roaming around - in my own house - again.

"Romeo! Stop playing! Where are you?"

Putting the folder back where he found it, Jon turned and looked down into a pair of bright blue eyes.


"I'm in here, daddy!"

Chapter 4

"Hey guys, how was the play?" Richie was trying to be casual.

"Good. All our hard work during the year really paid off." Dot had been a part of the committee for the settings and props, and had spent many nights in the school's cafeteria painting and hammering. Jon had come out to help whenever he could.

"We're going to get these two to bed and then we can go over that song you were talking about. I'll be right down." Jon followed Dot up the stairs carrying Jake. "Anything happen while we were gone?"

Yes, you came here from the past. "No, just the usual."

*****

They were in the studio hashing out some lyrics to the new song they were working on when Jon noticed Richie was very distracted. "Why do you keep looking back towards the house?" It seemed like every ten minutes or so, Richie's attention was diverted to the house. What Jon found strange though, was that so was his. Someone or something in his house seemed to be calling out to him.


Richie was thinking about the other Jon hiding in his bedroom. He wasn't quite sure if he wished that it was all a hallucination or not. In fact, he was rather enjoying this. Too bad he wouldn't be able tell anyone else about it. Right?

"Rich!"

Richie jumped, nearly dropping his guitar. "What?!"

"Where did you go, man?"

"Sorry, I guess I'm just a bit tired."

"Okay, why don't we take a break. Maybe some coffee and something to eat?"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

Back at the house, Richie got the coffee started and Jon rummaged through the fridge looking for cold cuts and cheeses to fix them a sandwich. They were standing at the counter, putting their sandwiches together when Dot walked in.

"What did you do tonight, Richie?"

"Not much. I watched a movie but they mostly had re-runs on TV."

"Oh, I thought you might have found something better to do."

"Why would you think that?"

"Our bed is messed up." She put her hand on her hip and looked Richie straight in the eyes.

*****

"I can explain..." No, I can't.

Richie quickly bit into his sandwich hoping to stall for time. "Hey, this is really good cheese, Dot. Where did you get it?"

"Richie..." There was a warning note in Dot's voice.

"Uh...maybe your housekeeper forgot to make it this morning."

When Dot crossed her arms and declared that today was Grace's day off, he gulped and grinned at her through a mouthful of sandwich. That little prick! Why do I have to take the heat for something he did?

Richie's mind was racing for some kind of explanation when Jon spoke up.

"I think I was the one who did that. I think I took a nap before we left for Steph's school."

"I don't remember you taking a nap." Dot eyed him curiously.

Neither do I, but somehow it seems like I did.

"It was just for a short while. I was kind of tired."

"Hon, I really think you're coming down with something. You need to go get some rest before that charity concert next week."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I'm going to call it a night, Rich. See you in the morning, okay?"

"Okay, you get some rest, kid."

"Did you just call me 'Kidd'?"

Richie shrugged. Somehow now, it seemed appropriate.

Just then, Richie looked past them and he saw Jon standing there with his mouth agape and nearly fainted. His eyes went wide and he started waving his arms to shoo him back to his room, oblivious to the stares that Jon and Dot were giving him.

"Rich, what the hell are you doing? Do you have someone here?"

"No! It's just that um...I..."

"You've got that bimbo in your room, don't you?!" Jon gave him a withering look.

"No, I don't! I wouldn't bring her here even if I was still seeing her."

"Good." Jon turned back when he had a second thought, "whoever you've got in there, keep it down. I'm starting to get a headache, again."

*****

"Are you out of your freaking mind?!" Richie was furious that Jon would be stupid enough to venture out of the bedroom. "What if they saw you?"

"What if they saw me, huh, Rich? What would happen?"

"There's two of you and you can't come in contact with each other. You'll just spontaneously combust, or something."

Jon just stood there staring at him. "I think you've watched too many movies, Rich."

"Oh, really? Then I suppose that when I wake up in the morning, you'll be gone and I'll realize it was all a dream, right?"

Seeing Jon's dejected face curbed his anger. "Look, we're going to figure this out, but not tonight. I'm tired and I'm going to bed."

*****

Jon lay awake in his bed, dog tired from the day's activities, but he was unable to fall asleep. He turned to his side and watched his wife peacefully sleeping snuggled up against him and he smiled. Nearly twenty years have passed since they said their 'I dos' on the steps of Graceland Chapel and he still loved her just as much, if not more than when they exchanged their vows. He thought back to when it almost didn't happen and shuddered. He had gone through a period of stupid, and thanked whatever gods that made him open his eyes and see what he would have lost.

So, why was today bothering him? Something was bringing back these memories and it troubled him. His headaches, while painful, also brought on a strange sensation that he couldn't put a finger on.

He lingered over that thought for a while and finally fell into a fitful sleep.

*****

"Get the hell out of my bed!" Richie had just come out of the bathroom, ready for sleep when he found Jon already tucked in under the blankets.

"Where am I supposed to sleep, then? Isn't this my house?"

"Not yet, asshole." Richie stomped over to the closet and dragged out a pillow and an extra blanket and threw them at Jon. "Go sleep on the couch over there," he pointed at a small sofa in the sitting area.

"Fine. But don't forget, this is going to come back to bite you, Sambora."

"Whatever. Just shut up and go to sleep, you little prick. Now I wish that this is some stupid nightmare and you'd be gone in the morning."



Morning came soon enough and when Richie looked over to the couch, he saw Jon sprawled out on it, snoring away.

Shit.

Chapter 3

"It's really you, isn't it?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Jon gave no answer. He had none. Was I really me? What the hell kind of question is that?

This nightmare could easily fit right in with being stuck in one place while being chased by a giant aardvark, or waking up in the middle of a busy shopping mall and realizing you have no clothes on. Jon wondered if he sat there long enough, some scary clowns would come walking through the kitchen looking for a sandwich.

"Rich?" he ventured, "if this is some fucking joke you and the guys are playing, it's not funny." He wanted it to be a joke. Wanted for the rest of the band to pop up from behind the counters gloating that they'd pulled a big one over him.

But he knew somehow, that that would not happen. That he would not just wake up and find that this was all a dream. Fear clung to him at this realization and he needed to break the spell.

"WHY ARE YOU SO FREAKING OLD?!"

Richie crossed his arms and glared at him with a withering stare.

This was not going too well.

"Yelling is not going to help."

"I mean...what's happening, Rich?" Jon was raking his hands through his mane again. "Why am I here? What happened to twenty years?"

Richie sighed, "I don't know. How the hell should I know?" He realized that Jon - this Jon - had more at stake than he did. Richie, at least, was in the right place at the right time.

"Look, just think back to last night. What happened?"

"I told you already, Rich. We went out to a club and that idiot Alec..."

"No! I'm talking about anything unusual. Did you see a portal to another world and walked through it? Maybe you met some weird fortune teller like in that movie."

"What movie?"

"Big. You know, with Tom Hanks. Don't you remember going to see it with Dot?"

At Jon's confused look, Richie realized that the movie must have been after his time. It suddenly dawned on him that he needed to be careful of what he said. He'd seen enough movies about time travel to know that the less the main character knew about the future, the better. Fuck! How am I going to remember what happened when?

Now it was Richie who was raking his hands through his hair.

"What about any strange people you've met?"

"A lot of the people we meet are strange, Rich. What do you expect in this business?"

"Jon! If you want me to help you, you're going to have to focus, okay?" Even as the words were leaving his lips, Richie knew that he had no idea what he was supposed to do to help him. It wasn't like he could just take him to the emergency room of a hospital or even to a police station. He chuckled to himself as he thought of what their reactions would be when he told them what was wrong with Jon.

"I'm glad somebody is enjoying this."

"Sorry, bro. But you gotta admit, that this is a pretty fucked up situation."

"No shit. Now help me get back to 1987."

"Do you have a DeLorean?"

*****

"Honey, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Dot. Just had this mean headache, but it's gone now."

They were driving back from watching Stephanie in her class play when the headache hit. The intensity of it took Jon by surprise and he was glad they were stopped at a red light at the intersection. It had gone as swiftly as it came and it left him puzzled as it had never happened before. I think.

He glanced back and saw Steph and Jesse, both lost in their own worlds of iPods and Gameboys. The younger two were fast asleep, snug in their car seats.

He sighed. Jake and Romeo still thought the sun revolved around their dad, but the older ones were slowly but surely starting to be more rebellious. They tested him whenever they could and found it embarrassing to have him around when their friends were there. Earlier in the week, Steph had even tried to get her parents not to go to see her in the play. When he had made no bones about going, she had uttered her one thousandth "Fine, whatever."

"They're just going through a phase, Jon." Dot was more accepting of Stephanie's behavior than he was. He was just not ready to let go of his little girl.

Going through the gates and pulling up the driveway to the house, he felt the fleeting sense of the headache return. But this one, too, had gone before he even put his hand up to his temples.

"Are you sure you're okay? Maybe you're coming down with something."

"Yeah, maybe." He knew that Richie was waiting for his return to go over some material and wondered if he could make it through a session.

He pulled the car into the garage and turning off the engine, he sat for a while resting his head on the steering wheel. Rubbing his eyes, he slowly got out of the car, smiling at Dot to assure her that he was fine.

"Come on. Let's get the kids into bed."

*****

They had been sitting in the kitchen for a good hour going over what Jon remembered. Richie was interrogating him on the events of 'last night', sure that any little detail should not be overlooked. He was starting to feel that he would have made a pretty good detective if this whole rock star thing hadn't panned out.

Jon was getting agitated. "What are you asking me all these things for? You were there, don't you remember anything?"

"It was twenty years ago for me, last night for you, birdbrain."

"And what are we supposed to do with all this information, anyway?"

Good question. Richie had no idea.

"We could surf the web for some clues. There's a lot of crazy stuff out there."

"Surf the what?"

Shit! I did it again!

That's when they heard the garage door open and the sound of the engine being cut.

Richie bolted out of his chair, grabbed Jon by the arm, and practically dragged him off to his room.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Hiding you."

"From who?"

"From you."

*****

Chapter 2

Richie was staring at his friend. A friend he knew twenty one years ago. He was staring but his brain refused to process what his eyes were seeing. It kicked back every iota of information Richie was trying to send to it. No, you stupid fuck, that is not Jon. Where is your logic, your common sense?

"I'm going to ask you again, who the hell are you? And what are you doing in Jon's house?"

He stepped back trying to put some distance between them, and as he did, his foot slipped on the spilled soda nearly sending him crashing to the floor. He caught the edge of the counter just in time to prevent a fall. "Shit! Look what you did! Now get out before they come back." He looked around for something to wipe up the mess but couldn't find anything.

The kid walked over to the other side of the counter and opened a drawer. Pulling out a towel, he handed it to Richie.

Richie's head snapped up, "how did you know where to find the towels?"

"I.....I don't know.....it just seemed like the logical place.....where I would put kitchen towels, I mean." Jon felt a dizzying pain rip through his head just then and staggered to the table, sitting in one of the chairs. He put his head down, and moaning, waited for the pain to recede.

"You didn't answer my question. Who are you? And don't give me that bull about you being Jon Bon Jovi. I wasn't born yesterday, you know." Richie circled around to the other side of the table and sat down. He had gotten two more cans of Coke from the fridge and offered one to the kid.

Jon looked up and winced from the pain. "Coca Cola Vanilla?" He frowned at the can. "What the hell is this?" He opened it and took a sip and grimaced.

Richie shrugged. "The kids like it. I rather have the original stuff but you get used to it."

"Hey," Richie continued, "are you in one of those tribute bands? Cause if you are, man you've got it in the bag. You look just like Jon. Or at least how he used to look twenty years ago."

"Twenty years?!" Jon's face had an anguished look. "What do you mean? How could I have missed twenty years?"

This could not be happening. He had watched episodes of The Twilight Zone, but had never thought any of the stories were true. He was not that naive. Then another thought occurred to him. How do I know that this is really Richie? It could be any old dude who looks like him and thought it would be cool to get the same tattoos and stuff. Maybe this guy's having a mid life crisis or something. Or missing a few screws.

"I have a better question," Jon jumped up from where he was sitting, "who the hell are you? Some comedian making his living portraying Richie Sambora as an old fart?"

"Old fart? Old fart?!" Richie sputtered, "listen to me, asshole. I am a part of that band just as much as you are and....."

This was ridiculous. He was beginning to believe that this was Jon. This kid had Jon down pat - from his voice to his speech patterns, hell, right down to his mannerisms. Richie almost wished he hadn't gone cold turkey because being drunk would certainly be a better explanation. At least to himself.

"Look, I'm not going to sit around arguing with you. Just get your stuff and go before they come back."

"I don't know where to go," the kid said softly, "I don't even know where I am."

"You're trespassing in Jon Bon Jovi's house."

"This is my house?" he was surprised.

"Not your house, you little prick. What the hell is wrong with you?" Richie suddenly realized that there could be a number of things wrong with this kid. He tried to remember if he'd read any news of mental institution escapees but could not recall any. Better to be careful, though. Squirrels are known to miss an occasional nut now and then.

He tried a softer approach, "Look, I'll call and pay for a cab to take you wherever you need to go, okay?"

"I don't know where to go," the kid said again, raking his hands through his wild blond mane.

Richie took pity on him. "Well, how did you get here in the first place?"

"I don't know. Last night we went out to celebrate our album going platinum. We were all pretty boozed. That fucker Alec puked and passed out right on the dance floor and we all just danced around him. One of the strippers came and laid down right on top of him." he snickered at the recollection. "We all kept saying that he finally gets the chance to get laid and he's not even conscious."

We were the only ones there. No one else could have known this...

"The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the bedroom upstairs and bumping into stuff." The boy was shaking his head, looking like he would cry any minute. "I used to tell Rich that one day we're gonna be rich and famous. And that I'm gonna buy a mansion and fill it with antiques." He smirked at Richie, "you know what that fucker, Rich, said to me? He said I wouldn't know an antique from bean bags chairs and........"

Richie's eyes grew bigger.

Then, the kid had an idea. "I need to call my mom. Can I use the phone?"

"Don't you have your own phone?" Richie asked as he dug into his pocket for his cell.

When the boy gave him a quizzical look, he sighed and slid his phone across the table.

Jon picked up the small rectangular object and turned it over and over in his hands. "What is this?" He jumped a little when his finger found a switch and the lid flipped open.

Richie was incredulous. "Give me that! What's your mom's number?"

The kid started to rattle off the phone number. The Sayreville home number of Carol Bongiovi.

He did not get a chance to finish for when he looked up, he saw Richie sitting there with a totally stunned look on his face.



"Jon?"

*****

Chapter 1

In the luxurious bedroom a lone figure slept. It was not a peaceful slumber as evidenced by the jumble of sheets tangled around his body. The silk duvet lay strewn on the floor, along side a few of the pillows.

The antique French dresser that stood like a sentinel at the other end displayed photos of a young family. In one, a dark haired woman sunbathing on a beach. Around her, four children in various stages of play...obviously her brood. A young teenage girl sat near her mother engrossed in a book. A boy, a little younger, were watching his two brothers, perhaps toddlers, build a sandcastle. A handsome man in dark glasses and a baseball cap lay dozing next to her. On his arm, a fading tattoo of the Superman logo.

Next to the dresser a plush side chair sat holding the remnants of a hurried exit. A pair of jeans ready for the wash, and thrown haphazardly on top of it, a T-shirt that read 'Philly Soul'. On the back of the chair hung a leather jacket with red wings embroidered on the back, forgotten in the haste.

The figure stirred. He got up and dropped his legs down, sat on the edge of the bed and raked his hands through his near waist length hair. Groaning, he stood and walked towards the small sliver of light coming from under the door. As he did, he ran right into the tall etagier, nearly knocking the crystal candle holders to the floor.

Who the hell put this here in my room?

He turn and walked a few steps backwards trying to get a sense of where he was and bumped into the back of the couch in the sitting area.

What the fuck?! Where is this?

He tried to recall the events of last night. They had gone for a night out which had turned into a binge. He and his band mates. Their album had just gone platinum. They each knew in their gut that this would be the album.

He remembered something about strippers in the shower but not much else.

Was that last night or was it during recording? Why can't I remember?

I'm twenty five years old and can't handle a fucking drink. Although that idiot Alec is worse -- sprawled out on the floor like sick dog.

He snickered as he thought of his bass player's prone position.

He groped through the dark until he finally found the door knob. He turned it and stepped out into a long hallway and crept down the sweeping staircase.

Whose house is this? How did I get here? Where the hell is everybody else?

As he came upon a landing, he looked over the side down to the elegant foyer. Not a soul.

What time is it?

Reaching the bottom, he continued to wander through the house. He walked past what seemed to be the family room, dotted with comfortable looking couches and chairs. There was a huge screen of some kind on the far wall. What is that? In front of that sat a small box with cords coming out of it. Attached to the cords were what looked like remote controls. He stepped closer to get a better look. Next to the box lay several flat rectangular boxes with pictures of race cars and basketball games. He opened one. In it was a silver disc - he knew what that was.

Who the hell would want CDs of auto racing or basketball?

To his left he saw what he supposed was the formal living room and gazed in awe at the expensive furnishings and antiques placed tastefully around the room. An ornate blue couch caught his eye. It looked French but he wasn't sure.

Cool. I have to get me one just like that.......someday.

He walked further down the hall and found the kitchen. The lights were on and he thought he heard someone...or something in there.

Maybe he or she could tell me where I am.

The man had the refrigerator door open and was rummaging through it looking for something. He wore a pair of sweats but no shirt. His dark hair was just short of shoulder length. Even from the back he looked like.....but it couldn't be. This guy was much older and a bit heavier, but there was an unmistakable sign. A tattoo of a winged guitar on his upper right arm.

"Rich?"

Richie turned at the sound and dropped the can of Coke at the same time his mouth fell open. The carbonated beverage retaliated by bursting open and spewing its contents around the pristine kitchen floor, but it went ignored. Nothing short of an atomic blast could detract from the sense of shock that permeated the room.

For long moments, neither man spoke.


"What the fuck?! Jon?!?! It can't be! Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here?"

*****