I know I still have another work in progress, but...yeah...well...you know me. ;D Just couldn't help myself and get another one started.

Chapter 1: A New Hobby

A day in 1993…

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Other than metal blades crossing, or the heavy breathing of the contestants, the St. Vincent School sports hall was silent.

It was a good match. Well worth watching. A textbook one in its technicity. The two boys were worthy opponents, both of equal match.

And then, the inexplicable thing happened. The horror of horrors on the Strip!

- -.-. -. . .

Two years before…

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"Mo-om! Please, mom, don't make me to that!" the thirteen year old whined as he hurried down the stairs in the wake of his mother.

She'd been up to his room to bring him the good news! His dad had entered him for fencing classes. That was not what teenage Timothy McGee had envisaged as a neat hobby. His idea of pastime was reading book after book. His realm was the library. Books and computers. Since his parents gave him his first Apple SE as both a birthday present and a reward for his excellent marks at school, he rarely left the sanctuary of his room.

And that was precisely why his parents had brainstormed to get their son involved into something more physical. They had become worried when their son, who should be playing with other boys his age, locked himself in his room. Some social contact wouldn't be amiss, they thought. He had but few friends at school, if any. It was time for him to leave the sidelines.

Theresa McGee, née Troubridge, had been a champion in her teens and his father, the Navy Commander, thought it the ideal opportunity to toughen up his boy by sending him to a combat sports class.

What nobler sport than the art of fencing?

"It'll do you good, Tim." Theresa reassured him, continuing her way to the basement holding the laundry basket under one arm and supporting it with the other.

"But mo-o-oooom..."

Theresa had her back to him, but there was a knowing smile on her face as she had no trouble imagining the pout on his young face. She knew her sensitive son so well. She could read his expressive face like a book...and his voice, too.

She put down the hamper and started stuffing the dirty linen inside the machine.

"It's a great sport, you know? I know I enjoyed it when I was your age. In fact, I may even think of taking it up again, myself. It's either that or athletics. Your choice. If you're so insistent on not wanting to join the fencing club, I can maybe persuade your father to cancel your subscription and enter you in the local athletics club. So, which will it be?"

Mrs McGee set the hamper to the side and started the washing program before turning to her pensive son, arms crossed in front of her chest.

He just stood there in the doorway, with a forlorn look on his face, as he pondered about the proposal.

She could swear she could see the cogs turning in his head. His eyes were vacant but his mind wasn't idle at all.

He never liked the idea of joining any sports club. He didn't fancy being part of a team and even at school didn't like to shower with all the other boys. He was skinny and lanky. His face looked like a girl's. He lacked stamina, or so his teachers let him believe. He certainly didn't think he possessed endurance, either, so he agreed with their assessment on his physique. He was the nerd. The freak. The wussy. And the other boys' sports consisted of bullying him mercilessly.

Then he thought about the gear of a fencer and suddenly he found the mask quite appealing. It offered anonymity... For the duration of the fight, at least, his face would be hidden.

The more he thought about it, the more he was warming to the idea. He had to admit it was a graceful sport. It had an air of elegance as well as history about it. Chivalry and swashbuckling.

Yes, it was definitely getting more appealing the more he tought about it.

Besides, if mom had been so good at fencing, then surely he would be able to follow into her footsteps? She might even teach him a trick or two. It wouldn't do to be only half the skilled fencer his own mother was. And wouldn't it make his dad proud?

As a very astute boy, he couldn't fail but notice his father's disappointment at his son's...lack of activity.

Tim had even overhead the albeit rare heated conversations between his parents when he was supposed to be asleep in bed.

No. Dad didn't like it one bit that his son didn't behave as was expected of boys.

Tim didn't like playing outdoors with the other kids. Tim felt a lot more comfortable with his nose dug deep in his books or his nose glued to his computer monitor.

The only times Tim enjoyed being outdoors doing something other than reading and computing were the times he'd parked himself and his telescope in the backyard, gazing at the stars up above. He knew all the constellations by heart. Okay, not all of them; only the ones visible in the northern hemisphere.

Of course, when going down to the fencing club, he wouldn't be able to spend as much time with his books or computer as he'd wish.

Yes. Theresa could tell the exact moment when his mind had wandered off to that place, seeing how his face fell.

She closed the machine and, standing patiently watching him, she understood how hard it would prove to draw her smart son away from the things he really loved.

Theresa McGee sighed and once more directed her attention to the washing machine to set the program.

The boy looked up as he heard his mother sigh, thinking he'd disappointed her, taking so long about such a simple decision.

"Mom...I..."

She straightened her back and looked at him with a warm smile.

"Tim, you don't have to if you really don't want to. I shouldn't have given you just those two options to choose from. Of course you can try something more to your liking. Your dad and I know how much you love your books and your Apple. But you have to understand you need some exercise, too. We'd prefer some outdoor activity but... Anyway. Just think about it, okay?"

She started mounting the stairs, out of the basement.

"Tim? Are you coming, or are you planning on staying down here all day?"

Tim nodded to himself and then, humming, bounded up the stairs.

His mother gave a little smile when she switched off the light and closed the door behind him as he continued his ascent to his own room. No doubt he was already feeling missed by his computer. This boy's best friend.

Having caught a glimpse from his face, she now knew for sure they'd succeeded in getting him interested in a new hobby.

Thanks for reading and feedback - any feedback as long as it's constructive - is more than welcome.