*A/N: This takes place in the fourth season and involves some story elements taken from the episodes "An Affair To Forget" and "Chick Like Me". The idea is to present a more behind-the-scenes look between the episodes, because those are the ones where Shawn could most be perceived as gay. I decided to go with that, and I brought Minkus into the story as well since he was always one of my favorite characters =) Hope you guys enjoy!

Shawn Hunter's heart was weighing heavy as he wandered aimlessly through the empty halls of John Adams High, nerves wracked with a horrible tension. Running his fingers through his hair—the move that countless girls had fallen for—he took a deep breath and steadied himself against a wall, once again falling into the trap of peering down every hallway to be sure that neither Cory nor anyone else was there.

"All clear," he whispered to himself, then immediately jumped back when he heard the noise of a mop swishing figure eights through the open door of a nearby classroom and let out a nervous giggle. It's only janitor Bud, he reminded himself. Dad has the day off. He hated being at school after hours, and nearly leaping out of his skin at almost every turn didn't help make matters any better. If anything, his chest only felt heavier. He needed desperately to talk to someone, and that was the only reason he was here. In and out was the plan, just to get everything over with. It was either now or suffer through the next week alone.

Cory would never understand, he thought again, the old familiar mantra clawing its way through his brain as he wiped a stray tear from his cheek. Just don't let Feeny see you cry.

He hadn't even realized it until he'd taken that last turn into the main hallway on the second floor, the same place where he and Cory's lockers stood side by side, just like best friends should always be. He wondered how much longer that would even last if…no. Just do this and get out. Get a grip, Shawn. Swallowing the lump in his throat as he wandered past and turned to move toward Mr. Feeny's office, he had to steady himself over the garbage can before walking up.

He took one last look behind him to be sure the hall was indeed empty before opening the door and tripping through the secretary's area. A dim light shone from the room he always dreaded walking into, but he reminded himself he wasn't in any trouble this time. A certain sense of calm washed over him as he began to realize that everything would be okay. Oddly enough, his principal and, dare he say it—friend—seemed to have that aura with all of his students. Even when you were in trouble, that man was always there to guide you straight, and Shawn couldn't think of a better person he felt lucky enough to have in his life besides Topanga and Cory.

Oh no, Cory, he thought again, but he was already there, strolling over to Mr. Feeny's doorway. By the time he finally opened his mouth, he knew it was too late to turn back. He gave a small knock on the frame before speaking to get his attention.

"Hey, Mr. Feeny?" Shawn said, staggering his stance a bit and leaning against the door to keep from falling over.

"Mr. Hunter," Feeny acknowledged him, finishing a sentence in his notebook before looking up at the clock on the wall with surprise. "Good heavens boy, it's after hours and you're still here? What have I done?"

Shawn smiled a sheepish grin. "You don't have to embarrass me."

"Oh no, I think we've known each other far too long for that."

"Well…" Shawn sighed, "you said earlier that your door was always open."

"Ah, yes," Feeny nodded. "As I recall, you and Mr. Matthews were working on an article for the school paper, and you were dressed as a girl. Is that something you cared to elaborate on? Now I promise, all your secrets are safe with me," the man said, raising his hands sincerely, though with a slight tone of sarcasm slipping through.

"Mr. Feeny, it wasn't about that," he smirked. "I just need someone to talk to." The old man offered a warm smile and gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Shawn once again began to feel more at ease.

"Have a seat, Mr. Hunter. What can I do for you?"

"I don't know," Shawn breathed, sitting down, running a hand through his hair. "I'm kinda lost right now."

"In what way?"

Shawn just shook his head, biting his lower lip. "I'm confused about stuff. Have you ever had a friend who you should be able to tell everything to because they really get you, but you have a secret you could never tell them because it would just ruin everything?" Feeny leaned forward on his desk in deep contemplation for a moment before answering.

"So you find yourself wandering for an answer, is that right?" Shawn remained silent as the man rose from his chair and began to circle his desk. There was always something more. "You know, there is an old quote by a particularly great author who has always been dear to my heart, and it goes a bit something like this. 'Not all who wander are lost, the old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost'. Now as I understand, poetry is not one of your better subjects, though I do believe that a young man as bright and cunning as yourself should be able to grasp the simple meaning in such a verse."

"Who's it by?" Shawn asked, genuinely curious.

"J.R.R. Tolkien," Mr. Feeny answered, gazing out his window for a moment before turning back to the troubled young boy in the vain hope he would understand. "Well throw me a clue here, Mr. Hunter!"

"Oh yeah, sorry," Shawn laughed. "'Deep roots are not withered by the frost'…you mean friendship, right?"

"Precisely," Feeny said, proud to have at last made an analogy that hadn't completely gone over the head of a student. Returning to his chair, he continued. "At least in this instance, I should think it applies. And being a gardener myself, that phrase is of particular use in the winter, but enough about that. The point is, Mr. Hunter…we should not fear a bit of frost getting in the way of such a deep-rooted tree, hmm?"

"Definitely," Shawn said with a nod, then gasped at the realization. "You know this is about Cory, don't you?"

"Oh, I know a lot of things," Feeny admitted, "including that perhaps not all of your grades are completely dictated by the sort of young man you purport to be in the hallways of this school. During your friendship with Mr. Matthews, I have seen you grapple with many issues that he might not have fully understood at certain times because of where he comes from, but if there is one thing I can be certain of, it's that you are a lucky man to have such a friend. I also hold the privilege of having his family as my neighbors, and I sense he would be there for you regardless of what you are going through, no matter how big it is."

"That's just it though," Shawn sighed, his eyes beginning to dart nervously around the room. Don't let Feeny see you cry, he reminded himself. "I mean how deep do you think the roots really go? What if this is too big? You know he can't possibly understand everything."

Mr. Feeny felt a slight tug at his heart, one of the many human instincts he had long forced himself to suppress as an educator, and now he knew he must do so again. It was never easy to deal with the swaying emotions of teenagers, much less to allow them to flourish on their own when they made mistakes.

Life, after all, cannot always be equated to a garden. In the end, he knew he loved them all, but he also knew never to speak a word of it. To do so would only invite ridicule and misunderstanding by outsiders, and so compassion in this sense was best expressed through the learning experience. All in all, it was his passion first and foremost. To help one to grow at every branch is to leave them dependent; however, to teach one to grow without such a parental constraint…now that, he found more value in.

"No one understands everything, Mr. Hunter," he answered finally. "Not even a 'dinosaur' such as I. If we did, there would be no room to grow and flourish. And that's the point of life, is it not? To seize the day, to take risks…to grow while you have the deep roots and the time you are given. Always remember that it's not about where you came from. No matter how far a seed may stray from its home, it still possesses the strength and security of the roots from which it sprang."

Shawn nodded, though he still felt a bit troubled. "So this frost thing…it's really not a problem?"

The old principal smiled. "It melts away rather easily in the spring. You are surrounded by warmth, Mr. Hunter. I think that should work to your advantage as well."

"Thanks, Mr. Feeny."

"My door remains open if you should need anything further."

"I'll keep that in mind," Shawn nodded, getting up from his chair and turning to walk out.

"Oh, and Mr. Hunter?"

"Yeah?"

"Try to be on time for your classes next week."

"Will do," he replied, leaving the office feeling slightly better than when he came in.

As he opened the door to the hallway, Shawn suddenly felt his thoughts beginning to drift back to fifth grade. He couldn't quite place a finger on what he remembered, and this bothered him with every step through the empty corridors and beyond until finally he emerged from the entrance of the school to stare up for a moment at the cloudless blue sky which at last cleared the barriers in his head as he took a breath of fresh air. It was a boy, he grinned to himself, one of the few times he ever allowed this to occur at such a thought.

More specifically, it had been the young boy behind his makeover for Cory's article Chick Like Me in the school paper. And if he wasn't mistaken, he was pretty sure that his best friend's speedy little transformation into a waitress at Chubbie's that night had been the handiwork of this same boy. Topanga had been sitting across from Shawn the entire time during the planned "date", so he knew for sure it hadn't been her. So who on earth was it?

Of course, he nodded with a smile.

"Stuart Minkus, my little buddy, I think it's time we have ourselves a little chat about my secret not getting out."

And with that observation, Shawn broke into a sprint to make it back to his parents' trailer in time for dinner.