A/N – So…this idea has been bouncing around in my head for awhile, though I couldn't get some of the characters just right. Luckily, I have help now.
Disclaimer: I only own Jane and the plot…everything else, I've borrowed for my own creativeness.
Summary: Everyone has a hero, whether they will admit it or not. It could be your best friend, your rival, a comic book superhero, your 'steady' or an idealized version of someone. For one, that hero is someone who doesn't act like the typical knight in shining armor.
Thanks to my Beta, WeirdsBestFriend, for helping me with John's character.
Chapter 01 – V is for Victory
John let out a final little jump of victory before continuing on his way, easily shrugging his trench coat up over onto his shoulders. Long legs stretched to carry him easily across the football field, as he began to head back to his house.
Rolling his shoulders back a little, he picked up speed slightly, carrying himself past the bleachers when he stopped suddenly, giving a sharp look toward the figure hunched over in the shadows, huddled in on itself, pencil moving across a page.
"Hey! What are you doing here?" he called, walking over to stand over by the figure.
Similar brown eyes to his own, yet more round in shape, looked up at him as the smaller, more fragile looking, girl stared up at him. "Too loud at the house," she answered quietly before looking back down at the page her pencil had been decorating seconds earlier.
He gave a heavy sigh, as if he was doing something torturous before shrugging off his coat and dropping it over her head. "Hey!" she exclaimed with sisterly indignation as she pulled it off her head, the sketch book and pencil falling into the grass at her feet.
"Put it on, and don't glare or Vernon'll come and kick your nuts in the dirt as he's told me. Unbecoming of a lay-dee," he over-enunciated.
She continued to glare, ignoring her brothers demands, and sarcastic comments, as she stood up, pulling his trench coat on.
It swamped her, but the shivering went down, or was hidden under the gigantic trench coat.
John almost seemed to ignore the cold that crucially blew into his face. The Illinois March hardly fazed him. He absent-mindedly put his hand on her arms and rubbed them up and down her arms slowly. He pretended like he wasn't since he was trying to keep up with reputation of being an uncaring bad boy, so he turned his head and looked at something else, anything, other then what he was currently doing. She mumbled out a thanks and wrapped herself even more in the oversized jacket before kneeling down to get her stuff.
"Why do I bother with you? " He questioned sarcastically and began to walk off without her.
A squeak and a hurried rush of steps told him she was running to catch up, easily walking next to him once caught up.
"Don't know," she answered and he rolled his eyes.
"Only I could have a ditz for a sister," he muttered smiling a little.
The silence that followed was not one he was used to and he turned, stopping suddenly. He didn't even flinch when she ran into him.
"Let me see," he ordered, he knew exactly what he was going to see, he just wanted on a scale from one to ten, on how bad it was.
She whined a little and hid herself more into his jacket, omitting her holding out a hand to him, which was bare, but he ignored that and pushed up the sleeves roughly up, the sleeves were almost up to her shoulder.
The bruises were a deep purple, creating a perfect band of pain around her upper arm. He didn't need to ask to know her other arm either looked like that or worse. Pulling back down both sleeves, he pulled his arm around her shoulders, walking off with her.
"Come on. I'll tell you about my day in detention and how this cracked-up school's not safe," he stated, pulling her protectively close, even if he would never admit it.
The girl only nodded, resting easily into an embrace she was very familiar with, John was the dream for an older brother, even though, again, he would never own up to it.
"Now, my dear sister, when we go to the prison called school, we must avoid the warden, Vernon, because he's…an asshole…" he began to explain a little sarcastic in the beginning
The pair easily walking back to their house on the wrong side of the tracks.
John just knew in his head that Monday was going to be a certain type of hell did not prefer at all.
End Chapter