Title: Butterfly Effect
Author: Chaps1870
Pairing: Rodney/John friendship
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sometimes what we do or don’t do has long lasting effects
Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright is intended.

Chapter One

Sergeant John Sheppard sat back in his chair, idly punching the keyboard in front of him as he perused the latest supply requisitions. Even though the Antarctic base was small in comparison to others he’d been on, there was still a lot of paperwork involved.

As supply officer, he had his hands full keeping the base stocked with all the usual items as well as the strange requests the scientists made. After three months, he was still in awe of the whole operation and sometimes couldn’t believe that such a place actually existed. Who would have thought there would be an Ancient outpost, as in ET-like ancient, buried under the ice and snow of Antarctica? Even more surprising was that after twenty years in the Army, he’d finally pulled a choice duty. Ambition wasn’t his strong suit and the only reason he’d managed to get the Antarctica duty station was time in rank.

Unlike many of the servicemen he’d met over the years, John Sheppard had never really been gung-ho about the whole advancing through the ranks thing. He was simply putting in his time. It was a job and not much more. That ‘be all you can be’ crap was just that…crap. He was only in the Army because his father had given him an ultimatum when he screwed up that final time; join the Army or lose the trust fund that his mother’s death provided. His father was executor and therefore decided how the money would be spent, at least until John had turned 21.

If he’d had a choice, John would have joined the Air Force and become a pilot, but the money was far more important to a young man than someday following his dream of flying. His grades were piss poor, but he might have made it into college with some decent SAT scores. He never bothered to try. By the time he figured out that money wasn’t everything, he’d already given the Army ten years of his life. He was stuck in the rut and kept telling himself that he’d get out one day.

There was always that gut feeling that he was meant for something more and if he was patient, bided his time, it would just happen. It was like he was waiting for something…something that would ease that lifelong feeling that things just weren’t right.

Being in Antarctica was the closest he’d come to having that ‘right’ feeling and even then he didn’t feel like he belonged. He did his job and stayed to himself, unattached to anyone or anything. He’d never made friends easily and preferred to stay on the periphery. Antarctica was no different.

John’s musings were interrupted by a familiar Czech accent. “Sergeant, are you busy?”

Unable to recognize the object in the Dr. Zelenka’s hand, John had no doubt it was another Ancient device they’d yet to decipher. Part of his job was to prepare everything for shipment to the SGC, usually in care of Colonel Sam Carter or Doctor Daniel Jackson. Rumor had it that both were being considered to lead the science section of the impending expedition should it ever happen. John still had a hard time getting his head around that.

Being stationed on a top secret base had its perks and he’d been thoroughly briefed on the Stargate program. The whole idea seemed so farfetched that he often had to remind himself that it was all for a reason. Both the military and scientists involved were hoping to discover the location of the lost city of Atlantis and eventually send a team of explorers there. John wasn’t sure if they were going to maintain operations in Antarctica if and when that happened. It was a cake assignment but the weather sucked. He was used to moving around a lot and a new duty in a warmer climate would be a nice change.

Rising from his chair, John approached the nervous scientist and asked with his usual apathy, “What you need, Doc?”

Radek Zelenka held up the device in his hand. “I need to send this to Dr. Jackson. Do you have shipping case for it?”

Slipping around the desk, John crossed the room and retrieved a small metal box and handed it to the scientist. “That work?”

“Yes, thank you,” said Radek. “Do you have material to pack it or should I do that?”

John waved him off. “Just leave it over there on the table and I’ll pack it later. How come you’re sending it off to Jackson? Isn’t he due back soon?”

Zelenka shook his head and frowned. He answered sarcastically, “He is very busy man.”

“Having trouble with the minions, Doc?” asked Sheppard, knowing how much Zelenka hated being in charge when Jackson was absent from the base.

The scientist scowled at him, “Is like babysitting spoiled five-year-olds.” He muttered as he walked to the door, “I did not sign on for this. No time for research. Must stop petty fighting of small minds all day…”

Smiling, John shook his head at the scientist’s rant. Zelenka was one of the few that actually treated him with respect rather than distain. There was a gap between the scientists and soldiers on the base, especially between those of either group that hadn’t worked with the other. Some of the scientists, like Jackson or Zelenka, had worked around the SGC long enough to have a healthy respect for the military contingent.

For the most part, John got on with the scientific community, but then they needed him. Still, there was always that nagging guilt whenever he was around the really smart ones, the geniuses. They reminded him of a kid in high school, the one that hadn’t made it. He never really knew the kid, only had him in one of his math classes. The kid was a couple years younger but had fast tracked through school. He was a senior while John was a junior. It was strange that John even remembered the incident since he was only at that school for about a month. Most of what he remembered came after the fact.

His dad was military and they were booted around so often John could hardly keep up. By the time he got to high school, he’d given up on doing well when he figured out he was smart enough to get a passing grade without too much effort.

He never had any real friends, generally just those that gravitated to his easy going nature. Even in the short-term schools he managed to find one or two he could party with. When all he was really interested in by that point was drinking or smoking, mostly to piss off his dad, he didn’t have to be too particular about whom his friends were.

Sometimes when he was having a really bad day, he blamed that stupid kid for it all. If he thought hard enough, John could vaguely recall being there when they were beating on him one day. No doubt he was probably stoned at the time, which accounted for the hazy memory. He remembered enough though. The kid didn’t have any friends and he was always real shy, never saying much. The day of that particular beating he’d almost stopped and offered him a ride. There were too many rumors running around school about the boy genius and John feared his father’s wrath if he were to find him even going near the kid. He’d kept driving, his eyes glued to the rear view mirror until the hunched figure could no longer be seen.

That day, John and his friends were hanging out in the locker room the last period of the day, passing around a joint when they happened on the kid. The jocks had not only roughed him up, but they’d thrown him in the shower after. They’d walked away after the kid insisted he was just fine but John remembered the unshed tears in the kid’s eyes. It was still bugging him an hour later when on his way home, he saw the kid walking. He looked half frozen and John debated stopping to give him a lift, but he hadn’t. That memory probably wouldn’t have stuck with him if the authorities hadn’t found the same kid dead a couple days later. The paper said he’d died of exposure, but they couldn’t rule out foul play with all the bruising he had.

When John found out what happened, he’d spent the money he’d saved up for a motorcycle and tried to drink himself into oblivion. All he managed to do was wreck the bike, almost killing himself in the process and then ended up joining the Army at his father’s insistence. John never found a way to talk to his dad after his mom died and he really didn’t think it his father was all that interested so he never mentioned his love of flying or the desire to join the Air Force. They never really got along after John was forced into the Army. When the old man died, John finally figured out that dead was too late to fix things. So yeah…he blamed that damn kid for screwing up his life whenever he had a bad day.

He wasn’t having a bad day today so he pushed the maudlin thoughts away and ambled over to wrap up Zelenka’s package for shipment. Tilting his head, he eyed the device before picking it up. It looked more like a ball than anything else and could have been a child’s plaything but for the fact it was metal and had raised Ancient writing all over the surface. Dr. Jackson was one of the few that could decipher Ancient, although Dr. Weir had recently taken up the challenge.

Shrugging his shoulders, Sheppard picked it up and hefted it in his palm, testing the weight. It was very heavy for its size and John peered at it more closely, wondering if the Ancients put off and on switches on their gizmos. Concentrating on the idea of how it turned on, the device glowed brightly for a fraction of a second and Sergeant John Sheppard, along with the device, blinked out of existence.

Chapter Two

He could hear the sounds of laughter. A distant laughter sounding more malicious than those close by. Wondering briefly why his eyelids wouldn’t open, he vaguely remembered smoking something earlier. It had never dragged him down like this before though. The joint was either very strong or he was losing his tolerance.

“Hey, Sheppard, wake up,” someone said, the voice disembodied.

“Mmrph.” John’s eyes fluttered open and he looked around, slowly recognizing his surroundings. He blinked a couple times until his friend Bill went from two to one, even if he was still fuzzy. John suddenly had an uneasy sense of déjà vu but it left as quickly as it came and he worked on keeping his eyes open.

Gary, his other friend, was laughing as he drawled lazily, obviously high as a kite, “You are fucked up, man.” Not that he could talk; the tall blond was listing sideways as he spoke.

John felt himself being lifted, swaying as he got his feet under him and he shrugged from his friends grasp. “I’m good.”

Voices drifted to the trio from another part of the locker room and they curiously worked their way towards the commotion. Someone cried frantically above the sound of running water, “Don’t… do this. I can’t go outside if I’m all wet. I’ll freeze.”

Laughter filled the room and a deep voice teased, “Too bad. You can call mommy and daddy to come get you.”

More pleading followed, “Please. They won’t come get me.”

“Too bad, so sad. Throw him in gentlemen. Let’s see the little girl cry some more.”

John and his friends staggered from one set of lockers to the next, laughing the whole way. John walked, oblivious to everything, until he slammed into someone’s back. He stumbled back a few steps as the other person turned sharply on him. John flashed the bulky jock in his way an easy smile and held up his hands. “Whoa, dude. Sorry.”

Neither of his friends was concerned about the group of jocks gathered near the shower door. Bill, shorter and stockier than John, stepped around him and peered inside. He rolled his eyes as he confronted the group, “Beating on the underdog again, Drake?”

Drake was around six foot and had to weigh at least 250 pounds, but Bill wasn’t fazed in the least. John was a little more cautious and dared a look inside the steaming shower, seeing a small shape huddled in the corner. Staring at the kid, who was hugging his ribs and glaring at the group just outside the door, John figured him to be 13, maybe 14 and had to be the skinniest kid John had ever seen. He could almost see the outline of his ribs through the wet clothes that hung on his thin frame. The kid’s face was red with shame and seeing John, ducked his head, embarrassed. John watched as the kid gingerly got to his feet and scooted out another door while the two groups confronted each other. John remained silent as he turned back to the others, watching through a drug-induced fog as they traded barbs. The big guy, Drake, stepped closer to Bill, poking him in the chest as he spoke, “None of your business.”

Bill was either too stoned or too stupid and he swatted Drake’s hand, “I’m not afraid of you so save your macho crap for the kids that are too small to fight back.”

“He’s a faggot. Somebody has to put him in his place,” countered Drake angrily, his friends moving in closer to show their solidarity.

“It’s just rumors. What the hell does a kid that young know anyway?” Bill teased, “You feel threatened by that, Drake. You figure he’s gonna make the move on you?”

Drake’s friends snickered but it died on their lips when the big man glared at them. John listened, leaned heavily into the wall, letting it hold him up. Watching with amusement as the kid snuck towards the door at the far end of the room, John’s smile faded as the kid looked back at him with despair and fear in his eyes. John automatically diverted his eyes to keep from giving him away.

Gary grabbed Bill and pulled him away before his friend mouthed off and got them all in trouble. “Look, we don’t want no trouble.”

After a bit of posturing, the glowering behemoths let them all go and John sighed in relief as he glanced at his watch. He still had several hours before his father got home, giving him plenty of time to clean up the house.

Bidding his friends goodbye, he wandered to his car, an old Mustang he’d fixed up to get him back and forth to school. The wind had a bite to it, forcing John to pull his jacket tighter around himself. Looking up, John blissfully watched the darkening clouds for several minutes before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

Fumbling with his keys, his eyes drifted to the seat and he stared absently at the bag there. It took him several seconds to register the bag as food, and grinning madly, grabbed a handful of chips to satisfy his munchies. He started the car and kept eating until he was forced to lick his fingers for the last bit of food. Wadding up the bag, he chucked it in the back seat and focused his attention on the road, bemused he’d made it as far as he had. He didn’t remember making those last two turns.

The radio blasting, he pounded on the steering wheel in time to the music as he sang along. His head was finally clearing as he came to a stop at the light and he checked out the landmarks, mentally gauging how far he was from home. A sideways glance out his window and his eyes were drawn to the hunched figure trudging down the sidewalk, his coat tugged tight around him and an overfull backpack weighing him down even further. The wind had picked up and John shivered just watching the kid struggle against it.

That nagging sense of déjà vu returned as John recognized the kid and his hand went to the window handle, stopping indecisively before he could roll it down. He could offer the kid a ride and face his father’s wrath or keep driving, make it home with plenty of time to clean the house and relax for a couple of hours before his father arrived and found a reason to rag on him.

A honk from the car behind startled him and spotting the green light, John floored it through the intersection to make up for dawdling. Glancing back in the rear view mirror, the nagging feeling returned and with it a tightness in his chest that wouldn’t be denied. Checking his mirrors, he turned the wheel sharply, executing a tight u-turn, He cursed under his breath, “Damn it. John. What the hell are you doing?”

Turning the corner just as the kid started across the street, John stopped the car and rolled down his window. Walking with his head down, the kid didn’t look up until he realized the car was in his way and would have to walk around. John nodded at him, “You want a ride?”

The kid looked at him in shock and then a touch of fear as he shook his head wildly. He stuttered as he stepped away cautiously, “Nooo…thanks.”

John wasn’t sure if the chattered reply was from fear or cold and he sighed, “Look I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re gonna freeze out here. Just get in the car.”

“Why…areeee…you…do…doing this?”

Losing his patience, John snapped, “So you don’t freeze to death. Get in the fucking car.”

The kid looked at John, then looked up the street, possibly gauging his chances of a clean escape before his shoulders slumped and he staggered to the other side of the car. He dropped his backpack to the floor and slipped into the seat, never taking his eyes off John as he crammed himself as close to the door as possible.

John rolled his eyes as he pulled away from the curb. “Where to?”

All he got was a stuttered, incoherent reply as the kid wrapped his arms around himself and commenced to shiver uncontrollably. John eyed him worriedly, noticing that the kid still had on the same wet clothes he’d left the locker room in earlier. Shit, no wonder he was so damn cold. He cranked up the heater and watched as the kid almost melted with the warmth, his eyes drifting shut as his head slumped into the window.

Thinking he’d fallen asleep, John was surprised by the quiet and tired voice that answered, “I’m hopeful that someday I’ll reach my full potential and I can to return to this shithole and seek serious and painful retribution for crimes committed against my person. So if you’re planning on hurting me, I’ll be adding your name to the list.” He tilted his head and opened one eye towards John. “Just so you know.”

“A simple street address would’ve been enough,” quipped John, smiling inwardly at the kid’s nervous rambling. He didn’t talk like any 13-year-old John knew.

Leaning back into the window, the kid closed his eyes in defeat. “Library.”

As cold as the kid looked, John questioned the soundness of his decision. “Shouldn’t you go home and change first?”

The kid’s widened briefly as he recognized who he was talking to and his face went red. “I’ll dry out at the library,” he said solemnly, his eyes closing as he dropped his head and continued to shiver.

“I really think…”

Opening his eyes, the kid stared out the window. “I can’t go home, so if you’ll just drop me off at the library, I’d appreciate it.”

“Why can’t you go home?”

Wrapping his arms tighter around himself, the kid shook his head. “Does it really matter? I just can’t.”

“It can’t be that bad.” John looked the kid up and down. “You’re all of what…thirteen. They take away your Nintendo or what?”

“Yeah, something like that.” John could swear he saw tears in the kid’s eyes, but he turned back to the window, muttering softly, “And I’m fourteen almost fifteen.”

“You don’t look fourteen… almost fifteen,” teased John, trying to go for levity, even though he found it hard to believe the kid was that old. He wasn’t all that tall and couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.

“I’m painfully aware of how old I look. It makes my life so much easier when I’m thrown in with a crowd of hormonal teens intent on proving their manhood by finding the runt of the litter.”

John remembered being that age, being the smallest kid until a couple growth spurts caught him up and shot him past most his classmates. He tried to offer some reassurance, “I know it’s tough but it gets better. You’ll get bigger and I know parents can be a pain in the ass sometimes. My old man…”

The kid sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve, refusing to cry. “Look, if this is where you go into the part where your life is more miserable than mine because you are older and wiser, then spare me. You don’t know anything about me.”

“I’m just trying to help. I’ve been there,” said John, indignantly, getting a little annoyed with the kid. He was just trying to help.

It was obviously the wrong thing to say because the kid sat up and glared at John, his face red and eyes glistening with unshed tears, “You have not been where I am, trust me. Your parents didn’t kick you out of the house making it crystal clear they didn’t care if you lived or died.” John flinched at the venom in the kid’s voice as he continued, “You don’t know what it’s like to know that you are going to get beat on every fucking day of your life simply because someone older and bigger takes a dislike to you.” The kid took a breath and went on, “You don’t know what it’s like to worry about how fucking cold it’s gonna get at night because you just might just freeze to death in your sleep if it drops too low. You’ve never been so desperate for food you’ll dig through fucking dumpsters hoping to find something to take away the gnawing ache in your gut that never quite goes away. Don’t tell my you’ve been where I have, because until you have you don’t have a clue.” The kid was practically screaming, blinking back tears. His breath caught in a gasp as John stopped the car in front of the library.

John reached out, but the kid looked at him sharply, the pain and humiliation of his admission plain on his face. His mouth opened to say something but he seemed to realize where they were and before John could stop him, the kid grabbed his backpack and bolted from the car.

Stunned beyond words, John watched him stumble into the library, shaking his head sadly as he disappeared from sight. “Jesus.”

He wasn’t sure how long he sat in the car, just staring off into space trying to imagine anything as horrible as what the kid had told him and even wondered if maybe he was exaggerating things, hoping for some sympathy. Something deep inside told John that the kid had never told anyone before just how bad his life was and that only made the hurt in John’s chest worse. How pathetic was it that the kid had to spill his guts to a total stranger because no one else cared or even took time to notice.

Chapter Three

Trudging out of bed, John dressed slowly, not exactly thrilled his dad would be home for a couple days. It was always stressful whenever he was around. It wasn’t like he beat him or anything, but there was usually a lot of meaningless talk, at least from 17-year-old John’s point of view.

He remembered the times before his mom had died how much better things were. His dad had time for him, took him and his mom places and they used to have fun. Now it was all work and endless lectures about responsibility. John had managed to avoid his dad the night before by pretending sleep. He’d laid awake most of the night thinking about what the kid had told him. He tried convincing himself that the kid had to be making it up, because there was no way it could be as bad as he made it sound and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more real than John could imagine.

The morning followed the same routine it always did whenever his father returned from a trip. Breakfast would be ready when John entered the kitchen and his father would engage in a pseudo-bonding moment before the lecturing began. I’m only trying to help, son. I just want you to make something of yourself… You could do better in school if you put in half an effort. The Army is what you need. It’ll make a man of you. Teach you responsibility. I only want what’s best. Blah blah blah.

It started out as it always did with his father asking, “How’s school going?”

John shrugged as he played with his eggs, his hunger off. “The same.”

“Which tells me nothing,” said his father, adding a couple sausage links to John’s plate. “Eat.” There was a gentle nudge on his shoulder that normally would have irritated him, but this morning John found it oddly comforting. John didn’t usually eat a big breakfast. When his dad was gone, he just grabbed something on the way out the door but when he was home, his dad cooked and they ate together regularly.

“So what have you been up to this week? Did Carol come by? I asked her to check on you.”

“Nothing. Yes. And I don’t need a babysitter,” said John, his answers automatic.

“Don’t be a smartass. I just hate leaving you alone so much,” said the elder Sheppard, returning his attention to eating his own breakfast. “Eat up or you’ll be late for school. Speaking of school, you might want to know that we’ll be moving on soon, but I think the next duty post will be long term.”

John’s response was unenthusiastic, “Great.” He sat with his elbow on the table, his head leaning heavily onto his hand as he shuffled the food around his plate. The meager bites settling like a brick in his stomach as John’s thoughts drifted. He was harboring a secret and he was suddenly angry at the stupid kid for sharing it. It wasn’t fair that he somehow found himself responsible for keeping it secret and yet he didn’t feel comfortable passing it on. He felt a sudden need to protect the kid when no one else would.

Senior Sheppard broke the silence, his voice wary, “You’re awfully quiet this morning. Did you get into trouble while I was gone? Something you need to tell me?”

Daring a glance his dad’s way, John shook his head and lied, “Nah, nothing worth mentioning.”

For the first time in a very long time, he actually looked at his dad and was surprised by what he saw. There wasn’t the expected scolding look but rather something John couldn’t identify. Concern maybe or worry and a lingering sadness with an almost hopeful longing. John ducked his head and stared at his plate, confused. In that moment, John wondered if maybe he’d been seeing his father’s questions and lectures a lot differently than his father intended.

The silence in the room suddenly felt too awkward and John pushed his plate back and stood up. “I gotta go.” He grabbed his lunch off the counter and stuffed it in his backpack and headed for the door, risking a glance back to where his dad sat at the table. John hesitated, his hand on the door and surprised himself when he said sincerely, “Umm…thanks for breakfast.”

His dad seemed as surprised as John but he straightened and smiled brightly, “My pleasure, son.”

John couldn’t stop the grin that broke on his face and he quickly ducked out the door, feeling embarrassed by his reaction to something so simple. It had been a long time since he’d seen his dad smile. That he could put it there was even more shocking. He’d spent a good portion of the night before wondering if his dad could ever hate him so much that he’d kick him out, but that smile took away all his fears and he breathed easier for the first time since the kid had told him his secret.

His dad still cared.

***********

It was lunch before John saw the kid again. He wandered into the lunchroom as John sat eating the sandwich his dad had fixed. That was another thing his dad always did when he was home. Another thing John had always taken for granted.

John watched the kid sit at an empty table, not bothering to look around for a friendly face and pulled an apple out of his bag. He finished it off just as quickly before burying his head in a book.

When the lunch bell rang, John cringed as the jocks filed past the kid’s table. Each one thumped him on the way by until the last in line gave the kid a good shove, knocking him out of his seat. The kid just picked up his book, stuffed it in his bag and hung back long enough to put some distance between them before leaving. No one else in the room even paid attention to the exchange.

It was sixth period before John saw him again and didn’t realize until that moment that the kid was even in the same math class. He came in close to the bell, his hair a mess and holding his ribs again. John held back the urge to get up and help the kid, who’d let his backpack fall off his shoulders before slowly easing himself into his seat in the corner. No one made any effort to talk to the kid or even ask if he was alright, when it was obvious he was in pain. John watched as the kid retrieved a pencil from his bag and turn away from the class as he rested his head on the desk.

The class came and went and the only time the kid raised his head was to scribble out the answers to an assignment. John hurried through his own problems. They were easy for the most part. Math was something he could pass without too much effort and he was usually the first one done. He was surprised when he glanced towards the kid and saw he’d already finished, the paper sitting at the edge of his desk. The kid had his head buried in his arms again until the bell rang. He wasn’t startled. He simply got up, hefted his backpack onto his shoulders, wincing as he did so and left without a word to any one.

John stared after him, wondering how miserable an existence it must be to live in that kind of isolation. Even moving as much as he did, John usually found he could associate with other kids, even if he didn’t call them friends. This kid might as well have been invisible. John followed him at a distance, watching in dismay as the kid was pinballed down the hall, pushed one way then the other by whoever took notice and lashed out.

John started to follow but was snagged by Bill. “Hey, what you doing after school? Gary’s folks are gone, we can hang out there.”

His attention diverted for just a second, when he looked back the kid was gone and John sighed as he turned back to Bill, “Yeah sure. I’ll meet you there. I gotta do something first.” Most of the time he only went because he was bored or didn’t have anything better to do. John was kind of discouraged to realize that the prospect of getting wasted didn’t hold the appeal it did yesterday. At the moment he just wanted to find the kid and talk to him, find out the whole story.

He had no idea where to start looking. After an hour of searching the hallways, classrooms and locker rooms, he gave up and headed out the back door to his car. It was snowing lightly, but there was no wind and it wasn’t as cold as it could have been. Standing in the door, he heard a noise off to his right and a movement in the shadows caught his eye. He moved back into the darkness at his back and watched, his curiosity getting the better of him. Probably a cat or something. His eyes widened when he saw a lone figure dart out of the shadows, then duck behind the closest dumpster.

John stared in shocked disbelief as the kid in question climbed the dumpster, reached in quickly and darted back into the shadows. Even with the distance between them, John could hear the kid’s heavy breathing. John stayed hidden, almost terrified of being seen after spying on the kid. He didn’t move, barely blinking as the kid made another lunge in the dumpster before heading out across the barren football field. He walked slowly and the sun was beginning to set as he approached the small building at the far end of the school property. John guessed it was the equipment shed/restrooms for the outdoor sports. The kid stood at the door, looked around furtively and in the blink of an eye was inside the building with the door closed behind him.

Waiting several minutes, John finally left his hiding place and started across the field only to stop half way. He stood there, staring at the building, suddenly unsure of why he was so intent on talking to the kid. He didn’t know him, had never really seen him before yesterday. Besides, it was already getting late and his dad would be wondering where he was. Changing his direction, he headed to his car, casting glances over his shoulder every few seconds. Maybe the kid was just using the facilities. Somehow John didn’t think that was the case as he got in his car and the kid still hadn’t reappeared.

John sat in the parking lot under the pretext that the car needed to warm up. When he’d sat there for almost a half an hour and it was too dark to see, he finally gave up and went home. He couldn’t remember ever feeling guilty for having a house to go home to with a hot meal and warm bed.

*********

The next day was pretty much a repeat of the day before but John made a conscious effort to talk to his father. The conversation stalled at times, but both men were aware that this was something they’d both missed and they moved past the awkward silence to something that worked. Rebellious blinders suddenly gone, John began to see his father in a whole new light and what once came across as meddling now meant something else entirely.

School was much the same, but John didn’t see the kid at lunch. He even missed his bell hoping he’d show up. He wasn’t too sure what he’d do even if he had. John hadn’t thought that far ahead. There was just something drawing him to the damn kid and he needed answers. He needed some way to assuage the nagging sense of wrongness he’d been feeling since meeting the kid. It took all he had not to spill his guts to his dad, but he didn’t figure the kid needed the added attention without knowing more about his situation.

When the kid limped into math class, minus his coat, John knew he’d been ambushed again and it made his blood boil. Without hesitating, John got up and took the seat next to him. Everyone stared at him in horror, including the kid himself, who hissed in a whisper, “Are you nuts?”

Before John could question him, the teacher appeared between their two desks. His voice was low and menacing, “I suggest you return to your assigned seat, Mr. Sheppard. Class is about to begin.”

“I was just gonna help.”

The teacher glared at the kid, “Well?”

The kid shook his head, “I’m fine.” He shot John a piercing glare, practically begging him to drop it. “Really. It’s nothing.”

“Please return to your seat or if you prefer you can always spend an hour in detention.”

John wasn’t buying it, but the last thing he needed was trying to explain another detention to his father. He slapped the desk and stood up. “Fine.” He returned to his seat.

The kid let out a sigh of relief and buried his head in his arm just as he had the day before, totally ignoring the rest of the class period. He didn’t even bother doing the day’s assigned problems. John couldn’t figure out what had happened or why the teacher was so hostile towards the kid. He was too small to be a threat to anybody and most of the time he looked too tired or worn out to really care.

John’s problem was the more he saw, the more he wanted to know…the more he needed to know. He figured he had about three hours after school before he had to be home and that was more than enough time to follow the kid and have a talk.

Chapter Four

Standing in the same doorway as the night before, John waited, wondering if he’d been wrong about the kid’s hide out. It was colder than shit and it was snowing a lot harder. The parking lot was all but empty, everyone in a hurry to get home before it got any worse. Much longer and he’d risk getting stuck in it himself.

Shoulders hugged tight, he tried to sink further into his jacket but must have zoned because the next time he looked out over the field he spotted a lone figure trudging through the snow. Tugging his jacket tighter, John watched the kid make his way across the field. When the kid’s pace slowed and he started to stagger, John lurched from his hiding place to catch up. It was hard to see through the blowing snow, but John frowned when the kid stopped and let his backpack drop to the ground. He wasn’t wearing a jacket so he had to be freezing and yet he just stood there, unmoving.

Only halfway there, John increased his pace, his eyes never leaving the kid. His heart beat faster and alarm raced through his veins. In the next instant the kid took a couple of steps then dropped to his knees and hung his head. John ran the last few yards, barely catching the kid as he toppled over. He was shivering and felt like ice under John’s fingers. Holding him up, John pleaded, “Hey, come on. You gotta get up.”

Half buried in the already deep snow, the kid weakly pushed him away. “Go away. Just leave me.” His eyelids fluttered shut and snow settled on his face.

John felt the panic rising. “Oh don’t you give up now.” He glanced towards the shed, then back at the kid shivering in his arms and made a decision. Removing his own jacket, he manhandled the kid into it and hissed as the wind buffeted against his exposed skin. With one hand, he grabbed the kids backpack and slipped it over one shoulder. Shifting, he got one foot under him for leverage and lifted the kid in his arms. He was shocked by how little effort it took to stand up. The kid slumped into John’s shoulder without protest, still shivering.

John clenched his teeth against the cold and fast walked back to his car. Sitting the kid in the passenger seat, he hurried around to the driver’s side. Cold, icy fingers fumbled for keys and they shook as he tried to get them in the ignition. “Shit. Come on. I need some heat here.”

The key made contact and John quickly started the car, cranking the heat up to full as he hunched in the driver’s seat, rubbing some warmth back into his arms. The kid was curled up on the seat, mumbling incoherently as he shivered. Putting the car in drive, John shook his head. After several blocks he began muttering, “This is so stupid. The old man is gonna rip me a new one.”

He looked down at the kid, still shivering and dropped a hand to his arm, rubbing it as he drove. “What the hell am I thinking? Why the hell did you have to pick the worst day of the year to call it quits. Okay, so today probably wasn’t one of your best days but cut me some slack here.”

A quiet, forlorn voice came from under his jacket, “Shoulda left me.”

John stared at the huddled figure under his coat, the lump in his throat not letting him speak. Nothing made sense anymore. One day he’s strolling through life without a care in the world and suddenly this one kid turns his life upside down. Turning down his street, the house came into view and John checked his watch. Good. He still had a couple hours before his dad came home. Pulling into the drive, he nudged the kid. “We’re here.”

The kid tried to sit up, but was shaking too hard. His arm faltered as he tried to leverage himself up and he fell back into the seat. John cursed under his breath, “Damn. I’m so stupid. What am I thinking?”

It took some maneuvering and a lot more swearing before John had the kid safely ensconced in his room. The kid looked terrible and John was shocked to see how thin he really was under the snow wet clothes and the numerous bruises, some faded to greens and yellows while others were still purple. Even some of John’s old hand-me-down sweats hung on him. He covered the shivering form with more blankets and hurried to the kitchen for something warm to eat.

Ten minutes later he held a mug of steaming broth to the kid’s lips, while he held him up. “Go slow. It’s hot.”

Nodding, the kid drank it all, faster than John would have thought possible. He slumped back on the bed. “Thanks.” Curling around himself, the kid stared at the wall. His voice was but a whisper when he spoke again. “G…give me a f…few minutes and I’ll b…be gone.”

John rolled his eyes. “Sure kid, you’re just gonna crawl right outta here.”

“I’m f…fine. I ju…just… needed something t…to eat. L..low b…blood sugar.” he stuttered, as he burrowed under the covers.

“I’ll get you some more later. Let that settle first. I don’t need you throwing up in my bed.” Sitting at the end of the bed, his legs stretched out and his own mug of hot soup, John asked, “When was the last time you ate?”

The kid shrugged under the blanket. “I don’t know…yesterday.”

“I didn’t see you at lunch. Is that when they beat up on you?” John guessed.

Sitting up and shucking off the blankets, the kid looked around the room. “Where are my shoes?”

“Hey look, you don’t have to leave. I didn’t mean to pry,” said John, putting his cup on the floor so he could stop the kid from taking off.

Jerking away, the kid bolted to his feet and made a spectacular crash to the floor when his legs gave out. “That went well,” said John shaking his head as he helped the kid back to the bed, even as he struggled. “Stop fighting me. You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

“Why do you care?” shouted the kid, looking thoroughly confused.

“I don’t know,” John shouted back, frustrated he couldn’t answer the question. Taking a deep breath, he spoke more calmly, “I just do.”

Sitting up, the kid lifted his chin defiantly, even as his hands shook. He crossed his arms and stared at John. “I can’t stay here. I heard you. You’ll get in trouble.”

John shook his head. “If I tell him the truth maybe he can help.”

Terror suddenly filled the kid’s eyes, ripping right through John. His words came out in a panicked flurry as he grabbed John’s sleeve in a tight fist, “No. You can’t tell him about me. I’ll end up in protective services and I…I…can’t go back there.”

“You’ve been there?” asked John, shocked.

The kid nodded. “Once, when I was younger. When my sister moved out.” Tears welled up in his eyes and he pleaded desperately, practically cutting off John’s circulation as the grip on his shirt tightened, “Please don’t make me go back.”

Easing the hand off his shirt, John tried to calm the frantic kid. “Okay, okay. I’ll figure something out.” He looked around the room thinking for a couple seconds. “We can hide you until tomorrow if we have to.”

Doing everything he could not to cry, the kid was making it hard for John to sit there passively. Everything in him screamed to reach out and just give the kid a hug. He remembered how good it used to feel when things were at their worst and his mom or dad would hug him. John got the impression that this kid had never gotten that kind of comfort.

Unsure what to do or say, John stood up and crammed his hands in his pockets. “Look, you want some more to eat?”

Seemingly thankful for a change of subject, the kid nodded, but didn’t or couldn’t say anything. He just sat there, kind of numb looking and John used the moment to sneak off to the kitchen.

John had to wake him up a half hour later. “Hey, kid, I brought you more to eat.” He shoved a bowl of macaroni and cheese at him. “Eat up.”

The kid’s eyes lit up and he practically inhaled the food. John watched in awe and a bit of sadness that a kid could get so delighted over a simple bowl of mac and cheese. So intent on eating, the kid didn’t realize John was staring until he finished. Redness crept into his face and he ducked his head. “Sorry.”

Smiling, John took the bowl. “Don’t be. Can’t help it if you’re hungry.” He pointed to the nightstand. “Don’t forget your milk.”

If eating was an experience, the milk provided another show in pure food ecstasy. John couldn’t recall milk tasting as good as the kid made it look. John laughed, “I’ve never seen anyone enjoy eating like you do.”

“Starving does that to you,” snapped the kid, suddenly defensive.

“Yeah, I’m not making fun of you, okay. I’m trying to help, remember?”

“Why?” the kid asked, suspicious of the unexpected kindness.

“You keep asking that. Can’t you just accept that someone wants to help?”

Shaking his head, his brow furrowed, the kid said matter-of-factly, “No, I can’t.”

Seeing the sincerity and distrust in the kid’s answer, John fiddled with the blanket as he tried to explain. “I can’t really explain it. I just feel like I have to fix this somehow. From the first time I saw you I felt like I could make a difference. I don’t know why, it just is.”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” said the kid.

“What, you never had déjà vu?” John asked indignantly, feeling the need to defend his actions.

The kid shrugged and the silence between lengthened until he said quietly, “They’ll hurt you if they catch you associating with me.” He looked meekly at John waiting for a response.

John raised a questioning eyebrow. “Is that why you freaked in math class?”

The kid’s voice was low, barely audible, “They’ll stop talking to you. You won’t have any friends.”

“Maybe. I can take care of myself.” John asked curiously, “Why did the teacher act like that?”

“Umm…” The kid hesitated, took a deep breath and answered, “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors.” John had heard rumors but the kid hadn’t substantiated them. He didn’t react and the kid continued, “If you think teachers are any more accepting than students then you would be wrong. Some of them don’t have a problem turning the other way when I’m getting the shit kicked out of me.”

“Is it that bad?” asked John, wondering if the kid ever got a break from the harassment.

“Once a day at least, depends on their mood.”

“Geez kid, why don’t you tell someone?”

“Who? Who am I gonna tell? Nobody gives a damn about me. I’m a nobody. If you hadn’t picked me up out of the snow earlier, I would have…” The kid stopped, realizing what he’d revealed. His hands danced nervously as he added solemnly, “Well, I can assure you no one would have mourned my passing.”

“I would have.” The words were out before John had time to think about it, surprising both of them.

The kid clearly didn’t believe and sighed, “You don’t even know me.”

John shrugged, “Maybe. So why did your par…” The phone rang and both boys jumped in alarm. “Damn,” said John and hurried off to answer the phone.

He returned a couple minutes later to find the kid making a place to sleep on the far side of the bed, practically under it. John smiled, “You don’t have to do that.”

The kid jumped and squeaked, “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

John laughed, “Sorry. That was my dad. He’s staying at the base because of the snow.”

The relief that washed over the kid was visible and he sank to the floor, all the tension gone. “I’ll be gone by morning, so you don’t get in any trouble.”

John was getting pissed at the kid’s persistent nature. “It’s snowing and you don’t even have a jacket. How far do you think you’ll get?”

Yanking the blankets, the kid flopped on the floor and covered himself. He snapped from under the blankets, “I did just fine before you came along. I think I can manage.”

“Fine.” John stormed to the door and turned off the light on his way out.

********

John spent the next couple hours avoiding his room. He picked up the house, did the dishes and tried to watch TV. Nothing kept his interest and in defeat, he locked up the house and went back to his room. Tiptoeing around the kid, he slipped into his bathroom and grabbed a quick shower before donning clean sweats and a T-shirt. Turning off the light first, he opened the door and negotiated his way around the blob on the floor.

The streetlights gave the room a hazy glow of gray shadows and John turned on his side, watching the snow fall outside his window. With any luck they’d cancel school and he could just sleep in tomorrow. His mind refused to let him sleep and he flopped back over onto his back. A quiet voice came from his right, “I’m sorry about earlier. I know you’re just trying to be nice. I…uh… I’m just not used to that. Nobody has ever done what you’ve done for me.”

Rolling to the edge of the bed, John lifted up on his elbow and rested his head. “What about your family?” The dark somehow made it easier to talk.

The kid snorted, “Oh right, the one that kicked me out without a second thought.”

“Why did they kick you out?”

“They claimed they couldn’t have an abomination living under their roof.”

John scrunched up his face, “Huh?”

“Abomination. Faggot. Queer. Sinner.,” sneered the kid.

“So are you?”

“What?”

“Gay?”

Silence permeated the room before the kid answered hesitantly, “No. Yes…I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“I’m fourteen, I don’t exactly have a lot of experience to make an informed decision,” huffed the kid. John could practically hear him rolling his eyes in exasperation. “This doesn’t freak you out. Most people either run in fear or beat the hell out of me.”

John chuckled in the dark, “You’re not my type and besides I don’t find a scrawny 14-year-old all that threatening.” He added jokingly, “You’re not gonna make a pass at me are you?”

“Right, because I’m such a catch I can easily imagine you actually being attracted to me. Besides, you’re the only person that’s ever really talked to me. Like I’m gonna screw that up.”

“You’re not exactly talkative at school.” John found the kid he was talking with now a complete opposite to the quiet and withdrawn kid from school. He had a strange sense of humor but seemed willing to talk. The initial pull that drew him to the kid only grew stronger the more time he spent with him. He should have been unnerved by it all, but it felt right for some reason.

The kid voice grew distant again, his earlier animation gone, “It’s easier if people don’t see me or hear me.”

“Seems pretty lonely,” said John sadly, finding it difficult to imagine.

“Yeah,” sighed the kid. The silence stretched between them.

John rolled to his stomach and dropped his head onto his forearms, his head half on, half off the bed. “How long you been on your own?”

“Couple months.”

“Did you try talking to them, going back?”

“They kicked me out with what I could carry. When I tried to sneak back to get some of my things, they found out and changed the locks. I can take a hint.”

John couldn’t hide the shock in his voice, “Geez kid, were they always that bad?”

The kid answered snidely, “They weren’t Ozzie and Harriet. Okay, maybe nobody is but they should never have had kids. My sister was six years older when I was born and ended up taking care of me. My mom never left the house and wasn’t the most pleasant person in the world. My dad worked. When they were both home they fought constantly.”

“What happened to your sister?” asked John curiously.

“She went away to college. After that, my parents found out that raising a 12-year-old genius was just too much work, so they waited impatiently for some excuse to get rid of me.”

“Why didn’t your sister help when they kicked you out?” John worried he’d asked too much when the kid got all quiet. In the dim light, John watched as the kid wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his head. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

“I called her, begged her to take me,” his voice filled with emotion, but he kept talking, “She said she couldn’t. She had a life now. She said she couldn’t do it any more and…and…” Tears fell and he gasped between sobs, “She…hung…up on me.” When he looked at John, the anguish was plain even in the dark, “She was…all I had left.”

The kid’s shoulders shook as he mumbled between great heaving sobs, “Nobody… cares… Can’t… do it… anymore… Not fair… I’m just… a kid.”

John slipped off the bed and took the kid in his arms, fighting back his own tears as he listened to the pain and despair in the kid’s cries. Embraced by John, the kid cried harder and John just held on and let him. Fingers clenched his shirt, holding it in a death grip as tears soaked the front. John figured it was the first time the kid had let anyone close enough to see the hurt he was in and how fragile his hold on things really was. He’d done what he had to and managed to survive against all odds, but he’d given up today. The kid had lain down in the snow and given up.

That nagging sense that had burned in his gut since the first time he laid eyes on the kid, demanding John fix things, tugged at him and he hugged the kid tighter, his voice a half strangled whisper as he pleaded, “Don’t ever give up, kid.”

Eventually the grip on his shirt lessened and the kid’s cries eased off until John was holding a limp form in his arms. Carefully shifting the kid to the floor, John covered him up and leaned back heavily against the bed. Wiping away the wetness on his cheeks, he watched the kid sleep.

Chapter Five

John must have dozed off at some point because he woke with a terrible crick in his neck. The kid was still sound asleep, so John left him. Checking the time, he shut off the alarm and wandered to the window, scratching his belly as he stretched and peered out. A grin emerged at the amount of snow that had accumulated over night. Nope, no school today. Hurrying out of the room, he turned on the radio to verify his suspicions then went back to bed.

Waking up around ten, he noted the kid was still asleep and was tempted to wake him. He shrugged it off and wandered to the kitchen. The smell of food should get him moving. The kid stumbled in a half hour later, dressed in his own clothes. His face was red and puffy, evidence of the night before and kept his head down as he sat at the table. John put a plate of bacon, eggs and potatoes in front of him and sat down with his own meal. Conversation was put on hold further as the kid ate with his usual gusto. John was only half way when the kid finished. Pointing to the stove, John smiled, “There’s more if you want it.”

The kid jumped up and started to refill his plate then hesitated on the second spoonful of potatoes. Seeing the warring thoughts on the kid’s face, John waved his hand. “Finish it up. It’ll just go to waste if you don’t.”

The kid filled his plate with the leftovers and John watched as he ate, barely stopping to breathe. “Slow down, kid. It’s not going anywhere.”

Fork in midair, the kid blushed and mumbled around a mouth full of food, “Sorry.”

“I believe the proper response would be screw you.”

Mouth sputtering, the kid reddened further, “Excuse me?”

John shook his head, waving his own fork to emphasize his point. “You gotta be tougher if you want people to leave you alone. Hiding out and keeping quiet hasn’t done you any good. You gotta get an attitude if you want to survive. I know it’s in you. You’ve got a sharp tongue, use it.”

The kid snorted, “Before or after they cut it out? In case you haven’t noticed they are much bigger than me.” He shook his head and eyed John like he was crazy as he shoveled in more food.

John stood and grabbed his empty plate. He thumped the kid on the head on his way by. “Use your brains, kid. Figure out a way to stop them, so they don’t mess with you.”

“And you’ll come to my funeral when your idiotic advice falls flat?” quipped the kid.

Seeing the wheels turning in the kid’s head, John smiled, “Sure, what are friends for.”

The kid dropped his head on the table. “I’m a dead man.”

******

That afternoon when the kid insisted on leaving, John gave him an old coat and tried to pawn off several hand-me-downs but the kid refused. He couldn’t afford to have too much in his tiny hideout. John relented, admitting the kid had a point. Scrounging the garage he found an old sleeping bag that he refused to take no for and smiled when the kid took it without arguing.

The drive was quiet, the streets all but empty. John’s dad would have had a fit if he’d known John was out driving on the snow covered streets, but the kid was determined to go, even if he had to walk.

“I wish you would reconsider. You’re gonna freeze out here,” said John as they sat in the empty lot at school.

The kid shrugged, “It’s not so bad with the snow. It’s a nice insulator.”

“My dad will be gone in a couple days. You can stay with me.”

“You don’t have to. You’ve already done enough,” said the kid meekly. He moved to get out and stopped. “Look, I appreciate what you’ve done but you have to promise me you won’t do anything at school.”

John’s hands tightened on steering wheel as he clenched his teeth. “I’m not afraid of them.”

“If they see you with me or even talking to me, it’ll just make it worse. Why do you think no one talks to me? Just promise me…please.”

The look the kid gave him was pleading and stubborn at the same time and John finally nodded. “I won’t promise, but I’ll try to mind my own business…at school. How’s that?”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.” He looked at John with shining blue eyes, “but thanks…for everything.”

John shrugged and playfully slapped the kid’s arm to ease the awkwardness. “Come on. I wanna see where you live.”

Embarrassment flashed across his face and the kid shook his head. “There’s nothing to see. Besides, I’m going to have to go the long way around so nobody sees the tracks.” He gestured to all the snow.

John didn’t want to hurt the kid’s pride any further. “Okay.”

The kid sighed quietly and got out of the car, grabbing his backpack and new sleeping bag. He hesitated, then stammered a final good bye, “I’ll…uh…see you…tomorrow.”

Nodding, John watched him leave. He sat in the heated car and smiled when the kid kept looking over his shoulder to see if he’d gone. John waited until he was safely inside the equipment shed before driving off.

*********

True to his word the kid didn’t even act like he knew him, but John saw the surreptitious looks cast his way at lunch. Bill and Gary both hounded him about joining them after school, but he begged off. Pushing off their annoyed looks, he left with them anyway. On his way past the kid, he tossed him his lunch sack and winked, “Throw that away, kid.”

He knew it wasn’t the best approach, but the kid refused to take any food from John yesterday and would be hungry. His dad always fixed enough, hoping his son was actually eating it. It was always too much and John knew the sandwich, apple and granola bar wouldn’t go to waste. By tossing the kid the bag, he’d kept his promise even if John felt horrible treating the kid that way. Hopefully, the food would make up for it.

By math class he was feeling even worse for the way he handled it. When the kid entered class, split lip and all, John felt even worse, but the kid just glanced his way with a quick look that showed his gratitude. John wasn’t sure whether to feel relief for being forgiven or angry that the kid had taken another beating. He couldn’t protect the kid every hour of the day and was gonna have to teach him to defend himself.

He stalled as class let out and slipped beside the kid as they left the room. He asked out the side of his mouth, “You okay?”

The kid nodded quickly and darted down the hall. John was a little hurt until the kid turned and smiled over his shoulder when he deemed the distance between them safe. John grinned back and went to his last class of the day, preoccupied with finding a way to get supper to the kid without being too obvious. He spent the first few minutes of class cramming for a test then breezed through it, leaving him time to think on the problem.

Driving home, he still hadn’t come up with anything and finally gave up with the subtle approach. He stopped, picked up a pizza and drove back to the shed. When the kid didn’t answer he left it by the door and drove back home. He was a little unsettled by the disappointment he felt in not getting to talk to the kid, but with his dad home he couldn’t risk hanging out waiting for him. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t figure out why this one kid brought out his protective streak the way it did.

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

If John thought he’d kept the kid’s promise not to interfere, it all went to shit the next day. It all started out innocent enough with John tossing the kid his lunch again. Instead of backing down, the kid came back with a snide remark, “I’m not your personal slave, flyboy.”

John looked back at him in surprise, noting the tension in the kid’s posture as if he was waiting to be hit or ridiculed. John smiled and any insecurity the kid was feeling seemed to disappear in a sigh of relief. Curious to see if the kid could play it out, he countered, “Flyboys are Air Force. I’m an Army brat.”

“Probably a good thing, I’ve heard the Army will take any one.”

The kid wasn’t backing down, but John’s friends were trying to drag him out and he had to concede defeat. Too bad. John was actually enjoying the banter even though he did his best to look annoyed for the benefit of others.

John lingered near his locker waiting for the lunch bell to ring when he spotted the kid come out of the lunchroom. It was only seconds before the jocks converged, snagging the kid’s lunch bag. They held it above his head, teasing him and John saw red. He’d seen the kid hungry, seen his ribs against pale skin and stealing the kid’s lunch was the final straw. John stormed up to the group and growled menacingly, “Give it back to him.”

“Back off, Sheppard,” said Drake, waving the bag higher. “This ain’t none of your business.”

Drake flinched when John stepped closer, his eyes dark with fury and his voice was low and threatening, “You just made it my business.”

One of Drake’s thugs laughed, “What? Genius boy here your new boyfriend?”

The kid began to panic, his whole body twitching nervously as he looked between the two combatants. He grabbed at the bigger of the two, protesting, “I don’t even know him.”

“Hands off, cocksucker.” Drake backhanded him, sending him sprawling. The kid sat up, dabbing at the blood at the corner of his mouth.

John grabbed Drake’s wrist, twisted his smaller frame and had the big man’s cheek pressed to the floor and a knee in his back before he even had a chance to react. Those watching stood open-mouthed, too stunned to move.

Lifting his head he glared at the kid, “Get out of here.” The kid swallowed hard, but didn’t move. John barked, “GO!” The kid flinched, scrambled to his feet and took off.

Turning his attention back to Drake, John leaned over and spoke with a firm and calculating coldness in his voice. “Leave the kid alone.”

Even with his face plastered to the floor, Drake snapped back, angrily, “You’ll pay for this, Sheppard.”

John grinned but those that witnessed it saw no humor and he twisted the arm in Drake’s back a little higher. “I don’t think so. You see I really don’t care what you say about me, so your threats are meaningless and I’m pretty sure I can take on any one of you.”

“You’re an Army brat. You won’t be around forever. Your kind never are,” spit Drake, trying to struggle but was helpless under John’s grip. “You can’t watch him every minute of the day.”

“True, but someday you’ll push him too far and you’ll be the one crying.” John let him go and moved away. Tilting his head, John flashed him a cocky grin, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Drake was seething and John held his worry in check. Don’t let them see you sweat. He’d screwed up big time and he knew it. The worse thing was he could protect himself, but Drake was right, he couldn’t protect the kid 24/7. He needed to find the kid, warn him and apologize for his stupidity.

He searched through his next class and when he didn’t find him, John hoped the kid had made it to class without running into trouble. When he found him already at math class, head bend over his desk, John knew he was too late. Ignoring everyone, he went straight for the kid and nudged him gently. “Hey.”

“Go away,” muffled the kid, refusing to look at John.

“Let me see,” John insisted, tugging at the kid’s arm. Reluctantly, he lifted his head and John swore under his breath, “Damn. I’m sorry.” One eye was swollen shut and heavily bruised and there was a cut on his left cheek. The kid started to drop his head, but John grabbed him. “Come on, let’s go.”

The kid tried to refuse, but John was bigger and practically dragged him to the door. The teacher crossed his arms and glared at them. “Where do you think you’re going?”

John stood up straight and growled, “I’m taking him home. If you have a problem with that, too bad.” He stalked to the board erased a couple of calculations and fixed them. “You can work on that while I’m gone.” He walked out, his hand gripping the kid’s arm tightly as he stormed down the hall.

Fingers scrabbled on his hand, trying to remove it as the kid said angrily, “You promised me!” Free of John, he stomped away, still fuming, “You are stupider than I thought if you didn’t see this coming. Do you even think before you rush in to play the hero? Did you even consider that I might not want your help? I wasn’t just trying to protect you, you know. Did you honestly believe they would leave me alone because you asked?” The kid tried to roll his eyes in frustration, but winced as the pain flared across his face. He glowered at John before snapping, “Just…just go away. I need to figure out how to convince them to spare my life.”

“Maybe you should put some ice on that,” said John, pointing at the kid’s eye.

“Thank you so much for the medical advice, Dr. Sheppard.” The kid pushed him away and stomped off. John didn’t follow, thinking the kid needed some time to cool off.

*******

Of all the possible things John could come up with that the kid would do, he never would have guessed he would rig the locker of every single one of his tormentors to release the foulest smelling liquid known to man when opened. He practically busted a gut at the sight of students gagging and holding their noses. They were very unhappy, and John looked around frantically for the kid. It was a great joke, but likely not one that was going to go over well. John wasn’t expecting to find the kid leaning against the wall, arms crossed and chin held high in defiance as he waited for shit to blow up. John sidled up next to him and spoke out the corner of his mouth, “You should probably think about…oh, I don’t know…Running!”

The kid shook his head, “No. This was your idea so my death will be on your head.”

John looked incredulous, glancing over his shoulder nervously, waiting for someone to realize who was responsible. “What? I told you to douse them with skunk piss?”

“Yes… sort of.” The kid reached in his pocket and pulled something out then gazed at John and said earnestly, “Whatever happens you have to promise you’ll let me handle it.”

The kid held a little black box. John couldn’t see it clearly. “What is that?”

“The means to an end. Now promise me you won’t interfere.”

“But…” John started only to be cut off.

“No. Just shut up. You made this my fight and now I have to do this. Go somewhere else if you can’t control your hero urges. Someone has to protect you from yourself.”

John frowned. “Where did the shy, quiet kid go?” He sulked away, before turning back, “Oh my god, you’re one of those multiple personality people and this is the evil, power-tripping identity.”

The kid held up his hand when John tried to move closer than ten feet and hissed, “Stay!”

Taking a deep breath, John crossed his arms and leaned into the wall, looking all the world like he was holding it up. He pouted, “Fine.”

Just as John suspected, it didn’t take the victims long to figure out who was responsible. When they advanced on the kid and himself, John politely pointed a finger at the kid, “Take it up with boy genius over there.”

The kid flashed him an evil glare. “Thanks.”

John sneered back, “My pleasure.” His smile faded and his body tensed when Drake’s biggest buddy had the kid up against the wall, his feet well off the ground in seconds. The bell rang and the hallway cleared, leaving only the two groups. Well, John and the kid and the group of angry jocks.

“You little shit. You think that was funny?” snarled the big hulking jock.

The kid was trembling as he held the black box up out of reach. “Put me down.”

“Fuck you.”

The kid stared him down and said with shocking vehemence, “No, FUCK YOU!” and he pushed the button.

A loud thump could be heard outside and the kid dropped to the floor as they all rushed to the window. After several minutes, the crowd turned back, numb. Drake looked at the kid then his friend and said in total disbelief, “He blew up your car.”

Before the big guy could tear the kid apart, the kid spoke up, fingering the box nervously as they towered over him, “Yours is next, Drake. I suggest you and your friends back off. If one person beats on me or is anything but polite from now until say…” He paused then added emphatically, “FOREVER, your car is toast.”

Drake anxiously held back his friend. “No, don’t touch him. Something happens to that car and my dad will kill me.”

His bulky friend jerked away and advanced on the kid. John was ready to step in when the kid’s eyes darted to the rest of the group, “After his, yours are next.”

The rest of the group jumped in and held the big guy in check. The kid stepped closer and said with conviction, “That’s why you don’t mess with a brilliant scientist!”

John grabbed the kid and left before things got really ugly. They managed to maintain a walk until they were around the corner than they looked at each other and took off running, not stopping until they were outside.

The kid was bouncing around John, his face filled with delight as he gleamed, “Did you see that? I was amazing!” The kid’s hands flew as he re-enacted the whole thing for John, his smile never fading.

John shook his head, grinning from ear to ear at the kid’s enthusiasm. It was the first time he’d seen him so animated and full of life. It was pretty cool seeing the fourteen year old shining through instead of the tired and weary kid he’d first met. He playfully pushed him towards the car. “Remind me never to piss you off, kid.”

Chapter Six

The kid’s personality changed that day from shy to exuberant and there was no holding him back. John treated him to lunch and watched as he ate three hamburgers with fries like they were the best food on Earth. Burger in one hand, the kid talked around a mouth full of food, “Even if I die tomorrow that was so worth it. The looks on their faces was priceless.”

“So you’re gonna grow up and be the mad scientist, I take it?”

“I prefer brilliant scientist,” said the kid smugly. “I’ll have you know that I have a free ride to Northwestern.” His grin faltered and he glumly set the burger down.

“What’s the matter, kid? That sounds like a pretty good deal.”

“It’s a great deal. It would be even better if I wasn’t here or college wasn’t across the country.”

John felt for the kid but didn’t know what to say and motioned for them to leave. As they drove around town, John asked, “How did you manage a free ride?”

“Genius thing and the CIA.”

“Huh? What does the CIA have to do with a 14-year-old going to college?”

“I built a working model of a bomb in sixth grade. Seems that’s a big deal in their world. After convincing them I wasn’t a part of some terrorist youth group they took an interest. Northwestern has a great astrophysics program and I just have to get there.”

“You’ll get there. It’s still a ways off.”

“Six months.”

“Huh? You’re a senior? That’s just wrong,” said John, frowning. He added with a discouraged sigh, “I’m seventeen and can’t get through chemistry.”

“I could help,” beamed the kid, enthusiastically.

“What’s the point?”

The kid frowned, “You want to go to college don’t you?”

“Not really a requirement for the Army.”

“You’re easily the smartest person I know, outside of myself of course and you’re going to waste that going into the Army?”

John looked confused, “What do you mean the smartest person you know?”

“Oh please, I’ve seen you in math class. I’m very observant. If you can do that then you’re not an idiot.”

“We move too much to keep up. I do enough to get by,” shrugged John, unused to being complimented about his intelligence. He’d spent years trying to hide it, so he could fit in.

“So you’ve decided to join the Army rather than do something meaningful with your life.”

“There is nothing wrong with the Army. My dad’s in the Army,” John said defensively, surprised to find himself supporting his dad.

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it…for some people. You could do more.”

John sighed, “My dad thinks it will make me a better man.”

The kid looked at him and asked, “What about what you want?”

Staring forward, John said wistfully, “I always wanted to fly, be a pilot.”

“In order to be a pilot you have to be an officer. To be an officer you have to go to college. Funny how we keep going back to that.”

“Shut up, kid.”

The kid looked hurt, but kept quiet until the silence gnawed guiltily at John. “Look, my dad expects me to join the Army. I’ve never had the nerve to tell him I don’t want that.”

The kid laughed, “Well what’s the worse that can happen? You think he’d kick you out?”

John thought about it. They might end up getting mad and yelling at each other, but he had to admit that he really didn’t think his dad would kick him out. He looked at the kid’s smug look. “It really doesn’t matter. My grades suck.”

“You have a year left. With your math talent, you do good your final year, do good on the SAT and you can go where you want, trust me.”

“I don’t know. I’d still have to tell my dad and right now we are actually getting along. I’d hate to ruin that.”

“Well nothing says you have to do it all at once. We can start by letting me help you with chemistry.”

John raised a brow. “We?”

The kid beamed, “Yeah…we, flyboy.”

******

Their days changed after that. John took lunch for both of them and the kid actually allowed him to eat with him. The jocks kept clear and any others that thought to take a hand to the kid were quickly discouraged. The kid still watched over his shoulder alot, but was, on the whole, much more animated and talkative. John would join him after school at the library or they would go to his house, depending on whether his father was home or not. On the nights his father was gone, John cooked, making sure the kid got his fill. After two weeks of regular eating, the kid was filling out some and looking less like a holocaust victim. Gary and Bill were history.

They sat huddled over the kitchen table, eating while the kid tried to explain chemical formulas. “Look, it’s not hard. You have to look at the valences.”

“The plus and minuses?”

The kid rolled his eyes, “Yes, the pretty little pluses and minuses. They have a name. Say it with me…va-lence.”

Head resting in his hand, John mumbled, “Why am I looking at them?”

“They are how you balance the equation. When you combine chemicals the valences must balance, it’s what makes for a stable bond. Hydrogen has a valance of plus one. Oxygen minus two. If you want to form a stable bond, you have to have two hydrogens to balance the minus two of oxygen.”

John sighed his frustration, “Isn’t there an easier way to do this? Can’t I just memorize the equations?”

“You could memorize but that wouldn’t actually be learning it would it?” said the kid sarcastically. He paused in thought and tried again, “Look, just think of it like you do a math equation. The chemical symbols on one side of the equation have to equal the symbols on the other side. If you have two oxygens on one side you have to have two on the other. It’s like algebra. You have to figure out how many of each chemical you need to balance the equation. By knowing the valence you know how much of each chemical is needed to make the bond stable.”

Something clicked in John’s brain with the kid said math and he gazed down at the paper and thought X and Y and suddenly it all made sense. Picking up the pencil he worked a problem and brightened as the kid smiled.

“Do another one, flyboy.”

“Why do you call me flyboy?”

The kid frowned, “I’m hopeful it will impress upon you and you’ll do something meaningful with your life. You want me to stop?”

“No, it’s cool.” John flashed him a lopsided smile, “I kinda like it.” He went back to the problems, finishing them easily. “Damn, why didn’t somebody just say so in the first place.”

“I’m sure they were simply trying to make your life miserable by not explaining it in Sheppard terms.” The kid ducked expecting to be thumped and then ended up laughing when John couldn’t keep a straight face.

After a month, John couldn’t believe he’d made it through 12 years of school without the experience of having a best friend. He’d had friends in the past but no one had ever made him work at it so hard or made it so much fun.

His grades were as good as they’d ever been and he didn’t feel the least bit uncomfortable hanging out with the kid. He made learning seem like a thrill, like a treasure hunt. John discovered the kid had a tongue like quicksilver and only the bravest could walk away unscathed but had John biting his cheek to keep from laughing out loud.

After a couple of weeks of agonizing every time he dropped the kid off at the shed, John introduced him to his father and lied through his teeth so the kid didn’t have to go back to the cold shed. When John asked if he could spend the night, his father just shrugged and said sure, whatever. If the kid spent too many nights at John’s house while his father was home, he’d go to the library and John would leave his window open a crack so the kid could sneak in. He was always gone in the morning. The kid didn’t mind. It was warm.

His father never asked why the kid spent so much time at the house and John suspected his father liked the fact that the kid was a good influence on his son. He still hadn’t worked up the courage to tell his father about the flying thing.

John marveled at how little the kid knew about just being a kid and set about teaching him. They played John’s Nintendo until all hours of the morning trying to better each other’s scores. They spent time out playing in the snow, having snowball fights and sledding until they were both sore and bruised. They sat in the movie theatre for two days, gorging on popcorn and candy while John watched Top Gun over and over. They lay on the roof in the middle of the night, freezing their asses off as they learned the constellations. When John told him about the money he was saving for a motorcycle, they poured through every magazine they could find looking for just the right bike.

When Sheppard senior informed John he was being transferred and they’d be moving in two weeks, John went to his room, slid to the floor and cried.

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

The kid looked up at him, blue eyes shining, trying hard not to let the tears fall. “This really sucks.” He turned his back and scooted closer to the bed, resting against it and effectively hiding his face from John, who sat on the bed.

John leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and sighed, “Yeah it does.”

“When?”

“Two weeks.”

The kid’s shoulders slumped and he dropped his head, an unmistakable sniffle audible in the quiet room. John closed his eyes for a moment then dropped a hand on the kid’s shoulder. A sob escaped and the kid bolted, scrambling to his feet and was out the door before John could react. He grabbed the nearest thing at hand and threw it across the room. “Fuck!”

It took him an hour to work up the courage to seek the kid out. The shed was dimly lit but he knew the kid was there. He really had no place else to hole up. Shutting the door, he stood in the silence until the sound reached his ears, giving him a direction to go. The shed was crammed full of equipment with small semi-clear paths to various piles. He moved forward and after half crawling through a maze of sport gear, he found the kid in the far corner curled up under the sleeping bag. Pulling his long legs up, John sat beside the kid. “Hey.”

The kid gave a muffled response, “How did you get in?”

John shrugged, “I wasn’t always a saint. I jimmied the lock.”

“Privacy be damned,” huffed the kid from under his cocoon.

“Come out of there. I can’t talk to a lump,” teased John, nudging him.

Wiggling out of the bag, the kid leaned against the wall, and pulled the bag around him. He said sullenly, “What’s there to talk about? You’re leaving and I’m staying. End of story. You might even call it the story of my pathetic, miserable existence.” He pulled the bag up around his shoulders and sniffed, “You should’ve just left me in the snow.”

John erupted inside and grabbed the kid through the blanket, shaking him, “Don’t say that! Don’t ever say that! I dragged your ass outta the snow and by god you are gonna prove to me just how smart you really are. You are gonna go out there and show everybody what you are made of. Don’t you ever give up! Do you hear me, kid? You do whatever it takes to survive.”

The kid blinked furiously, shaking in John’s grasp and unable to stop the tears that threatened. “Why have friends if it hurts this bad?”

The words tore at John and he released the kid. The sadness and pain in the kid’s eyes only made the tightness in John’s chest worse and he slumped back in to the wall, scrubbing his fingers through his hair.

Lying on the floor, breathing loudly, the kid stared at him, expecting an answer. John shook his head, his own tears barely in check. He was older, supposedly old enough to have outgrown silly childhood outbursts of emotion. He had to be the strong one. John was losing his best friend, but the kid was losing so much more. “I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“What? You weren’t expecting to move. I thought you moved all the time.”

John thumped him. “I was talking about you, genius. I’ve never had a best friend.”

The kid looked dubious. “Really?”

“Look, just because I’m moving doesn’t mean we still won’t be friends. We can write.”

Moving to his knees, the kid crawled and sat with his back to wall, shoulder to shoulder with John. “No.”

John felt the ache in his chest and couldn’t hide the hurt. “What do you mean, no? You don’t want me to write?”

The kid wouldn’t look at John as he shook his head. “Oh you’ll write for a few weeks, a month, maybe even a year. Eventually you’ll forget or be too busy and the letters will stop and I’ll never know why.” He looked at John. “If you don’t write then I can always call you my best friend, because when you leave you’d still be my best friend and I don’t have stupid letters to remind me that you stopped writing some day and weren’t my best friend anymore.”

“Ah.” John nodded, a little bewildered. “Your logic scares me when it makes sense in a strange, warped kind of way.”

“It’s easy to befuddle a lesser mind,” said the kid smugly and John knew they’d worked past some of the discomfort.

He nudged the kid. “You wanna go for ice cream?”

“Are you crazy? It’s cold outside.”

John rolled his eyes. “So?”

The kid shrugged, “Good point, but I’m going to eat the biggest thing they have and make you pay for it. It’s only fair since you’re the one leaving.”

Standing up, John grinned as he reached out a hand, “Come on, kid. It’s on me.”

Leaving the shed, the kid asked, “Why do you call me kid? Do you even know my name?”

John draped an arm over the kid’s shoulder, dragging him closer, “Yeah but kid just sounds better.”

“Of course it does,” huffed the kid, then freed himself and bounced ahead, doing his best to shake the melancholy. John wasn’t convinced but he grinned when the kid said with feigned excitement, “Hey, let’s go look at bikes. We still haven’t picked out what you want. How long you figure before you have enough saved up?”

“I’ve only got three thousand. That won’t buy much of a bike yet.”

“How much do you get a month?” the kid asked curiously, as he got in the car.

“My trust pays me two fifty a month, but I only manage to save around a hundred and fifty.” John didn’t mention that he’d been saving a lot more before he’d started spending more money on food and entertainment the last month. Hell, it was worth it. “Hey, I’ll let you pick out the color, how does that sound?”

The kid was beaming. “Honest?”

John laughed, “What do you think? What color should I get?”

“Silver.”

“Why silver?”

“Like a jet. Silver. I’m sure you’ll be cruising top speed, wind messing up your hair.” He motioned to John’s hair. “Though how you could tell I’m not sure. Just try not to get yourself killed.”

“Well yes, that was on my list of things to do. Get killed riding bike,” retorted John, rolling his eyes at the kid.

“Ha ha.” He grabbed his side, laughing. “You slay me.”

John grinned and pushed him into the door. “I will if you don’t shut up.”

*****

The next two weeks passed by quickly and before either boy knew it, the movers were packing up the house. They watched quietly from the sidelines, both lost in thought. Every time John glanced towards the kid, he could see the overwhelming sadness just below the surface and John couldn’t speak through the lump in his own throat.

By midafternoon, the movers were all but done and they couldn’t put it off any longer. Thankfully it was a nice day, almost spring like and they could walk off some of the awkwardness. The second pass around the block, John handed off the envelope that had weighed heavy in his jacket all morning.

The kid frowned as he took it and John covered his hand. “Don’t open it. Not ‘til I’m gone.”

“Why?”

John closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself and said softly, “Because I asked.”

Nodding, the kid answered just as quietly, his voice catching, “Okay.”

“Look, I took care of some things for you is all.”

The kid looked ready to refuse, but closed his mouth and slipped the envelope into his own jacket. His voice was whispered, the emotion heavy in his words. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I managed before you came along.”

John smiled weakly, “Yeah, I remember.”

They walked in silence back to the house. His dad was there, the movers already gone. He was sitting in his car waiting and rolled his window down when they approached, “I left the house open if you want to check it one last time. Just be sure you lock it up when you leave.” He glanced at both boys and said sympathetically, “I’m sorry, son. I know this is hard.”

John nodded. “I’ll follow you. Just need a few more minutes.”

“Okay, but I don’t want you too far behind me. It’s a long drive.”

“I know. I won’t be long.”

Sheppard senior turned to the kid and stuck out his hand. “You take care of yourself.”

The kid stepped forward and took the offered hand, shaking it. “I will. Thank you.”

He looked at his son a final time. “Remember, not too long.”

John nodded and both boys watched him drive off before turning back to the house. They went directly to John’s room and stood in the door, staring into the now empty room. John entered the room and walked around, checking the closet and shelves for anything missed. When he turned back to the kid, his shoulders slumped at the silent tears the kid could no longer hold back. Seeing John had noticed, the kid wiped his face and smiled gamely, “Sorry.”

John unconsciously opened his arms and found himself being hugged fiercely and he held on tight to the boy. It was several minutes before he found his voice, “I’m gonna miss you.”

The kid nodded against his chest and backed away, sniffling, “You…you should go.”

Nodding, John led them both outside and the kid stopped, sitting on the front steps. His eyes were red and puffy, and John’s were no less so as he sat beside him. “You sure I can’t write?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll take care of yourself?”

“Sure. I have this guardian angel, thinks I need protection.”

“Hmph,” John smiled, and leaned into the kid’s shoulder playfully. “You’ll take the world by storm.”

The kid nudged back, “And you’ll be a great pilot…after you finish school. Use your brains before the military sucks away your free will.”

John stood and looked down at the kid a final time, “Don’t ever give up. Who knows, maybe we’ll cross paths some day.”

The kid gazed at him, eyes shining. “I think I’d like that.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, John nodded towards the car. “I…uh…better go. Don’t want the old man hunting me down.” The kid nodded and John walked slowly to his car, afraid to look back. Settling in driver’s seat, John started the car and watched as the kid pulled the envelope from his jacket. John’s hands shook as he put the car in reverse, knowing he couldn’t stay and watch when the kid found what was inside.

He was right. As he pulled out of the drive and glanced back one last time, the kid’s head was buried in his hands and John didn’t need to hear to know he was crying. His own tears welled up and flowed freely as he drove off. The only consolation he had was knowing he’d done all he could in the short time he’d been with the kid and maybe just maybe he’d made a difference. It didn’t make leaving any easier nor did it fill the hole in his heart.

Chapter Seven

John was terrified, knowing he wasn’t supposed to touch anything and now he was sitting in some glowy chair that apparently had a mind of its own. He really liked Antarctica and hoped General O’Neill was as easy going as he seemed or he’d be shipped off to god knew where this time for disobeying orders once again. He was running out of places to go. Thankfully, they were more impressed with some gene he had than anything else.

The scientist in orange kept eyeing him every time he turned around but he managed to keep his distance with every one all abuzz and talking all at once. There was something about the guy that John couldn’t put his finger on and found himself staring back a time or two, trying to figure it out. When General O’Neill finally contacted him to warm up the chopper because they were heading back to McMurdo, John was ready to go.

He’d just boarded the elevator and the doors closed when the guy in orange rushed forward. “Major Sheppard!”

John smiled down at him as the lift started to ascend, “Sorry, maybe next time.”

“No wait, I need to talk to you,” insisted the man.

“Sorry, I have orders,” John shrugged, flashing an unsympathetic smile. His eyes caught on the blue gazing back at him, the tinge of hurt there vaguely familiar. He frowned as he struggled to place the guy and was totally unprepared when someone called out from below. “Dr. McKay.”

John stood with his face to the edge of the caged elevator trying to peer down when the man shouted back at someone, “What, you can’t manage for five seconds on your own? I’m not here to babysit and wipe your ass.”

His knees threatened to buckle and John turned to the Marine running the elevator, trying to keep his tone even, “Take me back down.”

The Marine shook his head, “Sorry, Sir. The General ordered me to escort you topside. He’s leaving in five minutes.”

John looked back down the elevator shaft, his face pale, his hands shaking as he muttered under his breath, “Damn.”

*********

Rodney stared up the empty shaft, upset with himself for not confronting the man sooner and now he’d lost his chance. He remembered rounding the corner and setting eyes on the man in the Ancient chair. The similarities to the one and only friend of his youth were too coincidental and the name on the jacket quickly confirmed the scientist’s suspicions. After twenty years of no contact, of occasional wistful wondering, their paths had finally crossed again.

He’d been too shocked to even contribute when Dr. Weir cornered Sheppard after, practically begging him to join the expedition. Sheppard looked overwhelmed, hiding it behind a smile and knowing nods that Rodney remembered all too well. The cockiness of a 17-year-old barely masked by the military stoicism.

It was rude to stare, but Rodney couldn’t help it. Before he could recover from the shock of it all, Lieutenant Ford arrived, informing Sheppard that the General would be leaving soon. Weir left in a rush to find O’Neill. Sheppard left to warm up the chopper and Rodney watched him go, unable to process quickly enough to catch up. By the time he realized his mistake, John was gone.

He didn’t know whether to be saddened that the Major hadn’t recognized him or proud that Sheppard had actually realized his dream of becoming a pilot. Through the years, he’d resisted the urge to look him up or worse use his connections to find Sheppard’s records. If he was military, Rodney could have easily found his file, but could never make himself do it. Besides violating his friend’s privacy, he was terrified of finding out he been killed in action or some such horrific fate. Ignorance was definitely bliss in this case.

The rest of that afternoon was spent in a flurry of activity, everyone excited at the prospect of going on the long awaited journey. Even knowing it might very well be a one way trip didn’t curb their enthusiasm. Too distracted, Rodney couldn’t concentrate on preparations and ended up taking off early, barricading himself in his room to avoid the endless questions about possible manifest for the trip.

He rummaged through his duffle and found his wallet. He opened it and pulled out a piece of paper. Eyes transfixed on the paper, he absently dropped the wallet back in the bag and shuffled to the bed. Sitting down, his hands trembled slightly as he carefully opened the worn and tattered letter. The words were faded, but it didn’t really matter. Rodney knew them by heart.

Hey kid,

The key gets you into the apartment I got for you. It’s not much but it beats sleeping in a shed and it’s paid up until Fall. You said you had a full ride to college but no way to get there. Here’s your plane ticket, so no excuses. Get your skinny butt to college and don’t look back. The rest is for food. If you don’t splurge on steak and lobster it should be enough to keep you from starving. Wish I could’ve done more, but more than anything I wish I didn’t have to go away. Sorry about that.

Do what you have to do to stay alive and don’t ever give up. Someday we’ll meet up and you can let me know how it all turned out.

Take care kid, J.

Rodney vision blurred and he blinked away the moisture. His hands shook worse now, the way they always did when he was pulled back into the past. He remembered that day like it was yesterday. The hurt watching John drive away had never really faded. The best he’d ever managed was to hide it behind arrogance and sarcasm, vowing never to let anyone that close to him ever again. It had served him well until today.

He remembered too well the devastation he’d experienced seeing John leave that fateful day, feeling abandoned. Not know for his patience, he’d opened the envelope as soon as John had walked away. That day, his hands shook when he discovered the key, the ticket and the money, almost a thousand dollars in cash nestled in the envelope.

It took Rodney only seconds to realize where the money had come from and he couldn’t stop the overwhelming grief when he realized the only person that ever gave a damn about him was leaving. He wanted to run after the car, beg John to stay or take him with him. It was a totally irrational plan and in the end Rodney ducked his head and bawled like a baby. It was the last time he felt sorry for himself or let himself cry over his pathetic existence. After that, his determination to be the best overrode all else, confident that someday he’d run into Sheppard and prove that his sacrifice had not been in vain.

Sitting on his bed, his hands shaking, Rodney wiped his eyes and carefully folded the letter, putting it away for safekeeping. It was the one and only thing of his childhood that he refused to part with. He paced his room after that, berating himself for not speaking to Sheppard and working himself into a sleepless state. By midnight, he’d convinced himself that the man had recognized him and had chosen not to reestablish contact. By dawn, he’d worked himself into a sorry state and decided he’d put in a call to McMurdo, see if Sheppard would meet with him.

It was noonish by the time he worked up the courage and not a soul was spared his wrath that day. For Rodney, it was too little, too late. Major John Sheppard had been shipped stateside for a thirty day leave just that morning and couldn’t be reached. The final week at Antarctica was a living nightmare for anyone unfortunate enough to cross paths with Dr. Rodney McKay.

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

Two weeks at the SGC making the final preparations and Rodney was granted two weeks vacation to make any final goodbyes, get his affairs in order, blah blah blah. Before leaving, he scanned the personnel list, taking note of the fact that the name John Sheppard still hadn’t appeared. He ordered take out, picked up a six pack and had every intention of holing up in his apartment for the duration of the two weeks.

The third day of his self imposed isolation, the doorbell rang, taking five years off his life as he tumbled off the couch. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he tried to focus on his watch but gave up as he half crawled to the door, squinting against the harsh light of day. Leaning heavily into the wall, Rodney opened the door, his verbal lashing at the interloper dying on his lips at the sight of man standing in the doorway. He stood staring, unable to formulate any words and the only thing holding him up was the death grip on the door knob.

Sheppard smiled sheepishly, peering over Rodney’s shoulder as he asked, “You gonna let me in, kid.”

Flustered, Rodney waved him in, “Um…yeah…come in.”

John stepped inside, taking in the cluttered apartment and Rodney stood there watching, unsure what to say or do. He finally asked, “How did you know how to find me?”

Shrugging, John answered, “I asked.”

Rodney’s hands were a flurry of motion as he spoke, “You want coffee or something because right now I have no idea what to say and my brain is still caffeine deprived and I could really use something to wake me up so I’m assured this isn’t a dream or worse a liquor induced hallucination.”

John laughed and followed Rodney to the kitchen. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your touch.”

Flipping him off over his shoulder, Rodney snagged a pair of pants off the chair and stumbled into the kitchen. John caught up and dropped a hand on his shoulder, turning him. “Why don’t you go take a shower and let me fix the coffee. You look like shit.”

Rodney scrubbed at the three day growth of beard and said bitterly, “Yes well, I was agonizing over not being able to contact a certain Air Force Major so you’ll forgive me if I’m not at my best.”

The hand on his shoulder tightened and Rodney found himself being hugged. He tried to pull away but damn if he really wanted to and he was suddenly transported back to a time when friendship meant more than breathing and he returned the embrace. His voice didn’t even break when he muttered, “I missed you.”

John patted his back, “I missed you too, kid.”

Rodney pushed away, rolling his eyes and sneering, “I believe I’ve grown out of that distinction. You on the other hand haven’t changed much.” Looking him over more closely, Rodney teased, “Although you aren’t as tall as I remember, flyboy.”

“I’ve actually added an inch or two since then,” John said indignantly. Crossing his arms, he leaned into the wall as he said contritely, “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. You’ve changed.”

Rodney looked down at his much bigger frame, stuttering a reply, “Regular meals and life in the labs aren’t the best combination.”

John reached out and grabbed his arm, getting his attention. “You look good, really.” He smiled and pushed Rodney away from the kitchen door. “Go get a shower. You’ll feel better and we can talk. I want to hear what you’ve been up to all these years.”

Nodding, Rodney trudged to the shower. He stalled, even taking the time to shave. The smell of coffee finally lured him out of the bathroom and he entered the kitchen to find a coffee and a plate of breakfast waiting for him. He couldn’t decide whether to be offended or touched that Sheppard was once again looking out for him. Going with grateful. he muffled a thanks as he pounced on the coffee and began inhaling the bacon and eggs. After a few bites, he asked around a mouthful of food, “Where did you get food? I’m pretty sure there wasn’t anything in the house.”

Eating his own breakfast more leisurely, John answered after he swallowed, “I was camping out for a few days. I had some stuff in my cooler. If I’m gonna stay here for the rest of my leave you are going to have to go grocery shopping.”

Rodney brightened, shoveling more food into his mouth. “Yes, yes of course.” He waved his fork at John, “but only if you cook. I can heat a can of beans but that’s about it.”

“How did you manage to avoid learning to cook all these years?”

“Take out suits me just fine. No clean up that way.”

John looked around the messy apartment, teasing, “Yeah I can see where that would be a problem.”

Rodney sniped back, “I wasn’t expecting company.” Finishing his breakfast, he pushed the plate aside and reached for more coffee. He looked at John’s half eaten breakfast and snapped his fingers. “Eat up. There’s something I want to show you.”

“Are you always such a pushy bastard?”

Nodding, Rodney grinned, “Yeah, pretty much. You can add arrogant and bad with people to that. I’m sure you’ve already heard all the bad things about Dr. Rodney McKay. No point glossing it over.” It surprised him at the ease he felt around this man, his friend. It was as if the intervening years hadn’t been spent apart.

“You forgot brilliant,” said John.

Rodney rolled his eyes, “Yes, well that’s a given.”

Taking a sip of coffee, John asked hesitantly, “So what have you been up to all these years?”

“How high is your clearance?” asked Rodney, half serious.

John raised an eyebrow. “Well, I know all about the Stargate Program. Is that high enough?”

Rodney nodded and asked a question of his own, “Have you made a decision? We could really use someone with the gene. Those that have it don’t seem to have the natural affinity for the technology that you do.”

“I spent hours flipping a coin, kept coming up heads.”

His heart raced and Rodney questioned anxiously, “Is that a yes or a no? I’m not good at flyboy speak. I need something more articulate to go on here.”

Laughing, John replied, “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go and since you’re going, I figured someone should be there to keep you out of trouble.”

Rodney beamed, too damn happy to be offended. The day was just getting better and better. “Well thank you for the vote of confidence. I’ve managed on my own for some time now.”

A moment of awkward silence passed between them before John asked again, “So, what have you been up to? Did you get to school in one piece?”

Thankful for the cup of coffee to hide the momentary pause, Rodney answered quietly, “Without you, I don’t think I would have made to college. You…well…you made all difference.” He ducked his head, talking into his coffee cup that shook slightly in his hands. “I’m glad you came along when you did.” Rodney couldn’t say anymore and left it at that for now, even though John deserved to hear more. Another sip of coffee and he began telling John what he had done through the years and they traded stories, talking until lunch rolled around.

John dug through his cooler and they managed to come up with a decent lunch. Rodney finished off his two sandwiches in record time and sat impatiently for John to finish. “Okay, now that we’ve traded life stories, I want to show you something.”

“So you said. I thought you’d changed your mind,” countered John, smiling mischievously.

Glancing at John’s plate for the third time, Rodney finally huffed, “I thought they taught you to eat fast in the military.” Grabbing the plate, he finished it off in several bites, and pushed it back, “There, you’re done. Let’s go.”

John pouted, “You ate my lunch.”

Rodney pulled him out of the chair and pushed him towards the door. “Next time you’ll just have to eat faster.”

Glaring at him over his shoulder, John snapped, “Are you always this demanding because it’s not a very endearing quality?”

“Hmph,” huffed Rodney, pulling John down several flights of stairs, through the parking garage to the storage area on the far side.

“Where are you taking me?” asked Sheppard, hiding his curiosity with a whine.

Chapter Eight

Walking down the line of storage units, Rodney stopped in front of 22 and pulling a lone key from his pocket, hunched over the padlock and opened it. Slipping the lock out of place, he grabbed the handle and with some effort, raised the heavy door. John looked on with barely contained perplexity.

The inside was too dark to reveal anything and John stood watching as Rodney entered. After a few muttered curses and bruised shins, Rodney flipped on a light. He warily stayed his place for a moment, glancing cautiously at John before taking a couple of steps to remove the dust cover from the object taking up most of the small unit.

Rodney turned enough to see John’s reaction, feeling the clenching in his gut as Sheppard’s wide eyes darted between Rodney and the object in question. John’s footfalls were slow, stunned almost and he whispered, his voice filled with awe, “You bought the bike.” He stepped forward slowly, his hand coming up reverently to touch before he was even close enough.

Shrugging shyly, Rodney answered just as softly, “For you.” When John frowned, Rodney continued, his actions more animated as he flitted around the bike nervously. “I know it’s not what we picked out, but it took me a few years before I could buy it. I did manage to get it in silver though.” He paused, then added in a rush, “I hope it’s okay. I know where all that money came from and I wanted to repay you somehow. It took me a few years to buy it but I wanted to have it for you in case I ever ran into you again.”

John circled the bike, his fingertips dancing lightly over the surface. He stopped near the tank and traced a finger around the blue Air Force symbol painted on the gas tank, but said nothing. Rodney’s nerves were close to shot when no response was forthcoming and he spoke hesitantly, “If you…um…don’t like it, I…uh…you don’t have to take it. It’s not a…ah big deal, really. I just…”

A quiet voice interrupted his rambling. “I love it.” John finally looked up, beaming, his eyes shining. He cleared his throat before speaking, “It looks brand new.”

Rodney shrugged. “I’ve had it for about ten years now. I’ve never ridden it, though.”

John raised a brow, shocked. “Why?”

Again Rodney shrugged, ducking his head shyly and feeling fourteen all over again. “It was for you. After all you did for me I figured you should be the first one to ride it.”

“Let’s go,” grinned John, slapping Rodney in the chest.

Rubbing the offended spot, Rodney emitted an incredulous squeak, “Now?”

John grinned, “Yeah, it’ll be great. Come on.”

“But we don’t have helmets,” argued Rodney anxiously, looking for a way out.

“We don’t need helmets,” John said, grabbing the bike and pushing it out of the unit. Looking over his shoulder he smiled, “Grab the door.”

Rodney followed behind blindly, but arguing nonetheless. “This really isn’t a good idea. I’m about to embark on an important journey, one where my intelligence might be the only thing between life and death, namely mine. It really wouldn’t be wise to have my brains splattered like road kill on some highway in the middle of nowhere.”

“Don’t be such a girl,” teased John, straddling the bike and looking up at McKay. “If it really worries you that much, we’ll stop and get some helmets.”

Snorting, Rodney rolled his eyes, as he begrudgingly settled behind Sheppard as he started the bike. “With my luck I’ll die between here and the bike shop, depriving the world of my genius.”

John revved up the bike, dropped it in gear and Rodney was pretty sure he squealed, but with his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he couldn’t be sure as he hung on for dear life. His hands grabbed John’s shirt in a death grip, and he was too terrified to even speak. A trip to the motorcycle shop for helmets, another stop for beer on the way out of town and Rodney was finally able to breathe normally again, but only because John was tired of getting pinched every time he pushed the speed limit.

Two hours later found them lounging beside a fire in small roadside park drinking beer and reliving their younger days.

Taking a swig of beer, Rodney finally spoke up, “So how did your dad take the whole Air Force thing?”

“Well he didn’t kick me out,” laughed John, shifting a bit closer to the fire. “He wasn’t too happy but when he saw my grades he caved.” Shrugging, John added, “Guess he figured if I wanted to be a pilot I might actually go on to college. The grades convinced him it was something I was serious about.”

Rodney replied longingly, “I didn’t see your dad as the type that would dump his son, regardless of what your aspirations were.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out. I knew he’d be pissed but at least he was willing to listen. It was weird in a way.”

“How so?” asked Rodney, peeling the label off his beer and throwing the pieces into the fire.

“After my mom died we kind of drifted apart and never really got along. About the time we moved, I got along with him better than I ever had,” John said, following Rodney’s example by pulling the label off his bottle.

Rodney chuckled, “Maybe because he wasn’t pulling his hair out trying to get through that stubborn, thick, flyboy skull of yours. Let’s face it. You were no longer hanging out with scum of the Earth, killing your brain cells with toxic substances. I’m sure that was rather a relief to him.”

John sneered, “Don’t you think scum is rather harsh?”

“Oh please, I was there, remember?”

There was a slight catch in John’s voice as he uttered solemnly, “Yeah, I do.”

Rodney looked up to see the sorrow reflected in his friends eyes. He cringed, “Sorry. Not the best of times, I suppose.”

A small smile graced John’s face as he stared into the fire “Actually they were.”

Eyes wide, it took Rodney a few seconds then his features softened and he smiled in agreement. “They were, weren’t they?” They sat for several minutes in quiet contemplation before Rodney muttered softly, “The best of times, the worst of times.”

John nervously grabbed another beer for himself and handed the last one to Rodney. “I didn’t want to leave.”

“I know.” Rodney nodded, his eyes transfixed by the fire. “It didn’t make it any easier. You were the only person that ever… cared” Looking up from the fire, he looked across at John, “Even now I still don’t know why you did what you did.”

It was John’s turn to stare into the fire. “I wish I could answer that. It was something I had to do. If I hadn’t done it then I would have regretted it the rest of my life.”

The silence descended again, only the sound of the crackling fire filled the air. Rodney occasionally glanced John’s way and sensed there was more. “What?”

Taking a drink, John swallowed hard, “Did you ever talk to your parents or sister again?”

Giving him a crazed look, Rodney snorted, “Why would I do that?”

“So you never tried to see them after that?” questioned John, determinedly.

Rodney shifted uncomfortably, hesitating before he finally spoke, “I talked to my sister on the phone a few times, but I moved around so much that it was hard to make any real connection.”

“And your parents?”

“I never tried. My sister kept me updated and I was assured they hadn’t had any late in life epiphany’s regarding me. I doubt I would have believed them anyway. I had my life, they had theirs. There was no happy medium.” Rodney was decidedly uncomfortable with the conversation and changed it, “You still talk to your dad?”

John dropped his head, shaking it. “He died a while back.”

Rodney felt the heat in his face, mentally chastising himself at his blunder, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. We had a great relationship after that month with you. I guess I figured out that he wasn’t so bad after all,” said John, smiling fondly. “Once I made up my mind to become a pilot and he realized I wouldn’t be talked out of it, he did everything he could to help.”

That sat in comfortable silence when John asked, “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t met?”

Rodney gave a clipped laughed, “Well, I’m pretty sure I’d be dead. You on the other hand would probably be some Army dog, hating every minute of your miserable existence.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” pouted John, then he smiled wickedly, “I should point out that based on your predictions, I did more for you than you did for me.”

“Yes well, it’s not all that difficult to do better than dead,” sniped Rodney, giving John his best you-are-a-moron look.

John countered, “Good point.”

Epilogue

Standing on the balcony, overlooking a moonlit ocean, John enjoyed a moment of peace after their first week on Atlantis. Amazing new discoveries, harrowing moments of near death and waking the scourge of the Pegasus galaxy were just the highlights. The party went on inside and had boosted the morale of the crew, but John couldn’t wait to get away from the sympathetic well wishers. He’d signed on as a soldier, but with the death of Colonel Sumner, he suddenly found himself as military commander by virtue of seniority. It wasn’t at all what he expected when he’d agreed to join the expedition.

Rodney had been ecstatic when he finally made the decision to join and spent their final week on Earth filling him in on anything and everything about the Stargate program. Ironically, as hesitant as he’d been to join such an important mission and now being thrust into role of leader, John wouldn’t have traded the last few weeks for the world. He’d found his best friend and everything paled compared to that.

They hadn’t had much time together since arriving but John managed to spend some of the time observing McKay in action. While others bitched and moaned about the arrogant and often times verbose scientist, made unflattering remarks about his eating habits or people skills, John could smile. He remembered too well the quiet and withdrawn 14-year-old, the half starved kid just barely hanging on by a thread.

He remembered when the thread had broken, leaving behind a shattered kid with no hope. When those on the expedition questioned his friendship with the scientist, John let it roll off him. He knew all the reasons why Dr. Rodney McKay was the way he was and John’s heart would swell with pride for the 14-year-old boy that had found a way back. Sometimes he would try to envision the expedition without McKay and he couldn’t.

Taking a breath of ocean air, John’s thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Hey.”

John didn’t turn, instead he waited for Rodney to join him at the rail, knowing he would. Rodney stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder and John was comforted by the closeness.

“Why aren’t you at the party?” asked Rodney.

“Didn’t feel like celebrating,” shrugged John, his gaze still forward.

Rodney didn’t try to offer any sympathetic platitudes for which John was grateful. He gladly changed the subject. “Dr. Weir wants me to pick members for my offworld team. I thought Ford and Teyla.”

“She’s hot,” said Rodney, his eyes wide with lust as he spoke.

John laughed, “I thought you were gay.”

“Bi actually. I’m a firm believer in equal opportunity sex,” countered Rodney.

“Hedging your bet?” John joked, nudging Rodney.

“Something like that.” Rodney admitted reluctantly, “I need all the help I can get.”

“You want to be on my team?”

Rodney turned his head sharply towards him, shocked, “Huh?”

“My team. I need a fourth.”

“And you want me? I’m a scientist, not a soldier.”

“As you so often point out, you are also the smartest man in two galaxies. I’d be stupid not to take advantage of that.”

“I can’t shoot a gun.”

“I can teach you.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure, what are friends for?”

“Um…okay then,” said Rodney. John turned to look at him as he gazed at the water below. Seeing the smile on Rodney’s face, he knew he’d made the right decision.

THE END

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