A/N: Hello! Huge thanks if you're reading this story because you read Confessions and decided not to give up on me yet! If you haven't read confessions, the prequel to this story, I suggest you do, not for any great literary prowess in it but because you're going to get a fairly large surprise if you read this one first…

A note on my OC. Yes, he is Australian and yes his name is Jack. No, he has absolutely no connection whatsoever to Jack West Jr. My Jack was well and truly alive and causing mischief in my head long before we had even heard of Jack West Jr. Besides, every third guy in Australia is called Jack and I decided that the name will stay as is. I thought about changing it to Jackson but I've already borrowed something from the TV show emmerdale – who also have a character named Jackson with similar inclinations – and I didn't want to be accused of copying them.

On that note, the calendar scene is appropriated from emmerdale, which I must say, has a wonderful thing going in the storyline of Aaron Livesy (though I can't vouch for the rest of the show as I don't watch the whole thing, just Aaron, worth checking out as he inspired my portrayal of the Scarecrow in a lot of ways). So, credit to the emmerdale writers for that little scene but it just seemed so much the sort of humorous thing soldiers would do, so I borrowed it but I stress, it's not mine.

Neither are any of the characters, except Jack and Skip. I just play with them… -evil smirk-

Finally, as Scarecrow and the Army of Thieves has been published, this story is probably mostly AU as it only follows canon until hell island, so any mistakes are mine and they are probably intentional. After all, Mr Reilly himself never lets reality get in the way of his stories so why should I? But I am going to try and make this story fit into the time period in between hell island and Thieves.

Apologies for the really long note (Again!) but if you stuck it out through all of confessions then you'll probably have been expecting them anyway.

Only one more thing before the story begins: so I don't get flamed, not that I'd mind that all that much, at this point I'd pretty much settle for any sort of review (hint- pretty please), anyway, rambling when I should be warning:

WARNING: This story contains SLASH, a male/male romantic pairing. If that offends you, that's fine, it's your right to hate it, just as it's my right to like it. If it's not your cup of tea, please don't read on and then blame me, you have been warned.

Chapter 1

Shane Schofield was somewhat more subdued nowadays. Much like in the early days following Libby Gant's gruesome death, he had retreated into himself. He was there alright, but he wasn't really. He attended training, yelled as any good commander will do and laughed with his team afterwards but there was something missing; the camaraderie, sense of belonging and close friendship associated with being a marine. He didn't seem to want to socialise with his friends anymore, preferring to sit in silence by himself.

They weren't sure if it was due to a lingering sense of shame surrounding his coming out fiasco, or if it was nerves about the upcoming arrival of his replacement but his marines were determined to get their Scarecrow back by employing another time honoured marine tradition; the giving and receiving of stick.

Because nothing reassures a guy him more than having his friends tease the crap out of him.

After all, most of their callsigns were well-meant but intended to mock their recipient, Robert "Always on the Rebound," Simmons being case in point.

First, There had been that incident with the calendar. It had been Astro's idea. Every other male in the unit had a pin-up calendar in his locker and it just didn't seem fair that the Scarecrow didn't. So, at great personal cost – the guy in the newsagent had looked at them very strangely when they bought it – they had found a copy of the New York Fireman calendar and stuck it on his locker.
Unfortunately, Astro had given himself away as the culprit by laughing riotously when Schofield found it the next morning.
The others had been pleased to see that he at least flicked through it with a small smile before throwing it at Astro's head.

Then there had been that time one Monday movie night midway through Top Gun, Mother had had the balls to ask Scarecrow if he preferred Maverick or Iceman.
He had looked at her quizzically but then, to their great surprise, he had actually answered the question and laughed with the rest of them.
They considered that progress.

But today, nothing it seemed would distract him. He was sitting, staring absentmindedly off into space, and they didn't really blame him for it. After three weeks of waiting, the people who ran the marine corp had finally decided on a replacement for Schofield. He would arrive today.

Schofield had read the guys file.

He was 29 years old and his name was Jack.

Australian born but with an American mother, therefore he was eligible to serve in the U.S. armed forces. Until recently, he had been with the Australian Special Forces but the marines had noticed him during an international weaponry technique and tactical exchange conference and offered him the position. It was unusual but then, so too were the circumstances. Other than that, Schofield knew nothing about the man.

What he might know about Schofield himself had also been plaguing his mind. Given the circumstances in which he was being replaced, Shane thought it unlikely that this new bloke would be as accepting as his team had been, and so the thought of having to work in such close proximity to him made Schofield slightly nervous.

"Hey handsome," Mother's voice called out to him, "You're gonna miss him if you don't get a move on."

Schofield looked up, startled out of his thoughts, to see the entire unit standing just outside the barracks door in their immaculate dress uniforms. He had given them the morning off training to get ready. Likewise, Schofield also wore his full dress uniform. He had contemplated wearing his medals again in an attempt to intimidate the new guy but had reconsidered, deciding that to be just a little bit petty. He had always advocated giving everybody a chance and it would be hypocritical of him to not do the same for this Jack fellow.

They made their way to the front of the compound and waited, baking in their formal uniforms.

They didn't have to wait long however, as a nondescript black car pulled up in front of them only a few minutes later and he stepped out. For Schofield, all the little details he'd stored in his mind from the file suddenly became reality, standing in front of him.

Captain Jack Matthew Taylor

Australian
Tanned skin and a friendly, easy smile.

Eyes: Blue
At least as strikingly blue as Schofield's own.

Hair: Brown
Light brown, falling almost into his eyes in messy waves.

Height: 6 feet
Just a little bit taller than Schofield, so he was looking up at him.

A small cough from Book II standing a couple of places down the line, made Schofield realise that Jack had offered his hand and he hadn't noticed it. He pushed aside the uncomfortable feeling that had settled in his stomach and shook the offered hand.

He could tell this Jack fellow had sniper training because he could feel the calluses of the hand clasped in his matched his own.

It was Jack who broke the slightly tense silence first.

"Hi," he said simply. Schofield was astounded to hear how many vowels his unusual accent could fit into one short word. His brain seemed to have momentarily stopped functioning and he couldn't think of anything to say.

"Hi," was all he eventually managed. Hoping to inject a cool calmness he didn't feel into his voice, he feared it came out more as cold aloofness.

Mother, thankfully, came to Schofields rescue as always. "Hoiya," she said, in imitation of Jack's broad accent. Practically pushing Schofield aside, she too grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously. "Ignore him," she continued as she nodded in Scarecrow's direction, "he doesn't do social all that well even on a good day. Now, aren't you all supposed to say g'day mate?"

Schofield watched closely as Jack made his way down the line, greeting and being greeted in a warm, easy manner. Something inside of him roared unhappily at the sight. These were his marines, his friends and now, it seemed, just another thing he was going to lose.

"Come on," he barked, "you've had all morning off, no more lazing around, I expect double effort this afternoon to make up for it. I will see you all for hand to hand combat in ten minutes." As he walked away, he cursed inwardly. Something in his brain had just snapped and it was so unlike him. He was normally so collected and in control. Maybe that was the issue, he wasn't sure right now which one of them actually was in control so he'd jumped, perhaps a little over-enthusiastically, at the chance to emphasise his authority.

'A natural response, though perhaps one to be curbed," he berated himself. 'And,' a small voice in his head added, 'not something he'd ever felt the need or even desire to do before.'

His marines were left standing in stunned silence, save one.

"You," Mother said to Jack, "go put those bags away. You lot," addressing the others, "do as the man says and get your skinny little asses to the training rings."

"Well, go!" She said when they didn't respond immediately. She grabbed Jack's arm quickly as he turned to leave. "He's not normally like that," she tried to explain quickly before turning and jogging to catch up with Schofield's disappearing back. He was heading, she didn't fail to notice, in exactly the opposite direction to which he'd ordered his team. That, more than anything else, alerted her to the fact that something was not right with him.

He didn't seem to notice her approach, so she clocked him, hard, on the back of his head.

"Ow! What the hell do you think you're doing?" He exclaimed angrily, one hand on his head where she'd hit him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She responded, "What was that back there?"

"What?"

"You, being a jerk!"

He stopped in his tracks and whirled around to face her.
"Don't you talk to me like that. I'm your commanding officer in case you forgot."

Mother recoiled. She looked stunned, hurt even. She stepped towards him just as he moved away from her. So she extended an arm and grabbed his shoulder tight, pulling him back.
"I beg your pardon," she said slowly, menacingly, drawing out each word. "I'm your friend and I ain't gonna take any o' that officer shit from you, buster."

"You never talk like that," she said as she searched his face for any clue. For once, those silver sunglasses seriously frustrated her, preventing her from seeing his eyes and anything they might reveal. "What's going on here?" She asked gently but gave him a small shake all the same.

For a moment, the line of his jaw seemed to soften and Mother wondered if he would actually tell her but then he managed to wrench himself free of her grasp and brushed roughly passed her.
"Nothing," he said shortly.

"Bullshit," she retaliated, "And you're going the wrong way." She called to his retreating figure.

Schofield knew that, just like he knew he had to get away for a few minutes to clear his head. He hoped Mother wouldn't follow him and was already regretting speaking harshly to her. He walked the long way around to the training rings where the others would be stretching and probably also anxiously waiting for him, but before appearing, he stopped short behind a cluster of out buildings.

Leaning back against a brick wall and staring up at the sky, he allowed himself to recall Jack's face. When he had arrived, it had all been so sudden but now, the details were getting sharper.
And the feeling had returned to his stomach.

It had caught him by surprise before and it had been such a long time that he hadn't recognised it, but he could place it now.
It was attraction.

Screwing up his face in frustration, he cursed to the sky.
"Dammit," he said quietly, "that's so inconvenient."

A/N: So that's chapter one. Not sure how I feel about it, let me know what you think. I'd particularly be interested in finding out if people reckon he would choose Maverick or Iceman. I know who I reckon it would be but I deliberately left the question open ended. Thanks for reading!