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 turned his head to 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 best 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.”

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