Disclaimer: Blah blah Disney owns it all. So welcome to Chapter 11, and yes, it does get a bit dark so consider yourselves warned. Thanks as always for reading this far and thanks for all reviews and comments, and to the new reviews from Guests, Pippy and The Marauder's Secret & Trisha. And many apologies as I read back over previous chapters & noticed typos, so my proofreading sucks and its bugging me there are errors. But to go back and correct them would mean not started Chapter 12 so as much as its making me grrrrr they will have to stay for now. Grrr.

Chapter Eleven

As he approached the back of his house Cory was relieved to see his Dad and Mom through the window, still seated at the table with Feeney and Turner. He could feel a grin form as he opened the kitchen door, "Mom! Dad!"

"Duck Cory!"

In time he remembered Morgan on his shoulders and swung her to the floor. "Mom, Dad," Cory begun again, "You -"

"Wait one moment." Alan interrupted with exasperation. "I thought I told you to take your sister to the park and spend the afternoon with her so you could both get some respite, and we could have some space to discuss things that only adults need to be privy to? And yet you're back here already. "

"No, Dad, please -"

Cory was cut off again by his father. "I wanted you to do something normal, to get Morgan out and have some fun. Was that too much to ask?"

It was too much for Morgan, who had been holding Cory's hand and literally bouncing with the desire to tell. "Don't be mad at Cory 'cos he spoke to a stranger! Even if he knows that was wrong, its okay, the stinky man wasn't a bad stinky man." She ran over to Alan, her face earnest. "The stinky man had good news!"

"Whoa. What?" Alan looked from Morgan to Cory. "Someone mind telling me what is going on here? Who is the stinky man?"

Amy put a calming hand on her husband's shoulder, knowing in his frustration he was liable to come over as angrier than he meant to. "Morgan honey, I think Cory needs to tell everyone about this stinky man. How about you and I go upstairs and practice doing hair and makeup?"

"Can I put make up on you Mommy?" At Amy's resigned nod Morgan began to drag her upstairs.

"You'd better fill me in on this soon." she whispered over her shoulder to Alan on the way up.

There was a moments silence until Turner pulled out a chair for Cory to sit on. "So, Matthews, what was Morgan babbling about?"

"First don't all ask a million questions at once. And don't be mad." Cory folded his arms on the table and looked from his father, to Feeney and then Turner. He grinned faintly and not without some nervousness. "I saw Shawn. I spoke to him. I thought it might be important enough to come back here to tell you immediately."

"Is he safe?" "Where is he?" "Why didn't you bring him here?" "What did he say?"

Cory waited for the expected onslaught on questions to stop. "Look, its easier if I tell you from the beginning. Because I don't know if he's safe, I don't know where he went, I couldn't bring him here but if you let me speak I can tell you what he said." He waited for the three adults to nod.

"Okay, so Morgan is playing with some little kids on the monkey bars and I'm sitting on a bench feeding the ducks. Morgan's so called 'stinky guy' walks past me and stops by the trash can. I'm trying not to look because, boy, he really did have that unwashed stink of the homeless about him."

Turner saw Alan stir, about to interrupt again, but put a hand up to silence him. His face was intent on Cory's. The fact that his pupil had actually seen Shawn was all he needed to want to hear every detail.

"So I'm sitting there, debating whether to move further down wind when I hear what sounds like Shawnie, whispering to me. Just like that, Cory, don't freak out." Cory got up and took a carton of juice from the fridge before sitting and continuing. "I look around, thinking he's behind a bush. I don't see anyone but then the homeless person, the stinky guy, looks across at me. And it is Shawn. Shawn was Morgan's stinky guy which is why he left before she realized it was him and caused a scene."

"Wait." Turner interrupted with mixed anxiety and shock. "Shawn was pretending to be a homeless person? How? I mean – I don't know what I mean, but was he okay?"

Cory looked down at his juice, running his finger over the condensation forming. "I can only tell you what I saw. And I saw a homeless person. He didn't look like my Shawnie. He had this big hat on, and a long dirty old coat, and a scarf pulled up over part of his face. You know you played that film in English when we were doing Charles Dickens? Shawn looked liked the Artful Dodger in Fagin's coat. Without a top hat obviously. He was dirty, and he was hungry enough..." Cory trailed off. He wasn't sure Turner would want to hear what Shawn had been prepared to eat.

Feeney reach across the table to put a hand on Turner's arm. "Mister Matthews, I think you had better tell the rest. As bad as it sounds Jonathan, you at least know he's still here."

"Um, okay." Cory took a sip of juice, suddenly aware how lucky he was to be able to simply go to a fridge and help himself to what he needed any time of the day or night. "Shawn got angry at me for throwing bread to the ducks when they weren't eating it. He said I should give it to him as he had only eaten an orange and was hungry. I tried to tell him the bread was stale but he said… he said it didn't matter considering he was looking in the trash to see if there was something to eat in there. So I gave him the rest of the bread and he ate some. I wish I'd known Dad. I would have had some candy bars, or money for a burger… or just a can of soda. I didn't know though, and I feel awful just sitting here drinking apple juice in a clean kitchen from a fresh carton when my best friend is limping about happy to eat some old bread."

Cory put his hands over his face, breathing deeply. "Its okay Cor," Alan replied quietly. "You weren't to know. None of us would have guessed what lengths Shawn would go to. Or just how alone Shawn felt himself to be that he would go to such lengths to remain hidden from everyone."

"I tried to tell him!" Cory explained, his distress apparent. "Its not like I just wanted to let Shawn go, not when I'd only just found him! I told him he wasn't like, on a wanted list. And that the police had been searching for him because he was classed as a vulnerable run-away, but Shawn was still -" Cory paused, searching for what he meant. "Shawn was still behind enemy lines. As far as he thinks, the world is against him. I think. Sometimes its hard to me to read what Shawn thinks."

Turner let out a slight groan and sighed. "One more thing Cory. Limping?"

Cory knew Turner would pick up on that. "Yeah. Sorry, I can't say it didn't look bad because he must have properly sprained his ankle and the only reason he could walk away was because he had an old shopping cart to lean on. Shawn had to hang onto it with one hand just to turn and catch the bread I threw to him."

The kitchen chair fell over with a jarring crash as Turner stood abruptly. "Yet you didn't stop him? You didn't find out where he was staying? You find Shawn and come here to tell us he's gone again, what good does that do?"

Alan stood up slowly and put a precautionary hand on Turner's arm. "What good," he said with a quiet anger, "does yelling at my son do?"

Feeney rapped on the table for attention. "Sit down Jon, Alan. I know you care about Shawn, but Cory cares about him too, and if I know Mister Matthews he wouldn't let Shawn disappear without there being something more. So. Sit Down."

"I'm sorry Matthews… its just Shawn. I have been worried out of my mind."

Cory looked gratefully at his father and Feeney and waited for the now chastened Turner to sit. "I couldn't stop him, not with Morgan running over to grass on me for talking to strangers. I may not know where he is staying and I wouldn't have been able to get him to come here, not how he looked. But I do know where Shawn will be at half six this evening."

He looked in triumph between the three men. "Shawn promised to be back at the bench at half six. He has my watch to return. And I have an idea that Shawn hopefully will be happy enough to go along with, that will get him into your apartment Mister Turner. I think Shawn knows that after five days living rough he has to either accept our help, or he's only going to be going down a dark road to nowhere. I guess he knows he will have to speak to the police, but one thing at a time. Once he is safe, and we've had time to sort him out, talk to him, then he may be able to see that. But if my plan is to work, we will need some bags of old clothes and Dad's work van. You're gonna need to make sure your window over the fire escape is unlocked Mister Turner. Oh. And I think we may need to pick up either something that gets rid of fleas or lice. Because Shawn was hellish itchy with one or the other, or both."

– – –

There was a dreadful sense of exposure, being out on the streets during the afternoon. Cory had only half-convinced Shawn that he wasn't still a fugitive, or that at any point someone passing would point him out as that run-away kid from the news. What he wanted to do was find somewhere to curl up and hide for a few hours. Until it was time to go back to the park.

Shawn kept his head down and tried to keep to side streets and back alleyways as much as possible, no destination planned, just moving for something to do as he deliberated over his encounter with Cory. His best friend was always there for him, that was the important fact. No matter what Shawn had done, or been accused of, or how much he'd screwed up over the past five days, Cory had found him. And Cory always knew the right thing to do.

But… Shawn paused for a moment to take a mouthful of water. The bottle might not have been exactly clean, but at least he had been able to fill it from the drinking fountain at the park entrance before an enraged mother had exclaimed and scared him away. But what if Cory's idea of the right thing to do meant going to the police? He didn't feel ready to face that yet. Not like this, unprepared for what they were going to ask.

So what was Cory planning? Shawn knew his friend had to have some wild plan in mind when he'd insisted that Shawn take his watch to meet up again at half six.

He began walking again, not interested in what the plan was suddenly. It didn't matter what the details were, all that mattered was that Cory cared enough for him to try, and that was some consolation. He wasn't entirely alone after all. And for the stressed out, grieving, exhausted teen, that was just enough.

I always thought I was tough, but I'm not, I'm not at all. Everyone at school has always painted me as Shawn, the kid from the wrong side of town, fearless. Well, guess what people, I've spent pretty much every day for a few months now being anything but fearless. I've been scared, and weak, and screwed up everything. I didn't stand up to Eddie, and have a great collection of scars to prove how weak I was. I've been scared every day that I'll slip up and someone will see them, and then terrified of what Eddie would do to me, or Cory, or Turner, or any of the Matthews, if that happened. I spent weeks being angry at my Dad for not being there, when he was lying all alone in some woods, waiting to be stumbled upon.

I don't know what happened to Dad, except he didn't make it out and I didn't get to say goodbye to him. If I had been strong enough to face Eddie, maybe it wouldn't have gotten so bad so fast. Maybe Eddie would have left the trailer, left him alone, left Dad alive… But I wasn't strong.

Shawn rubbed his eyes, hating that he seemed on the verge of tears all the time. Some Hunter. The side alley he found himself at was quiet enough for him to rest up in for an hour or so. There was no point going back to the motel, he hadn't the energy. And hopefully he would never have to go there again.

He picked his way through the rubbish and squatted, unseen and hoping to stay invisible, on the far side of a rusting red garbage can, covered in graffiti tags. Surveying the crushed cans, broken bottles and burnt foil that littered the ground Shawn knew that this was the very bottom of where his rash decision to live on the streets could one day take him. He couldn't become that person, he had to trust Cory to save him from this.

– – – –

A fine drizzle fell over Brownsville in Brooklyn. It didn't improve the view from the grimed window Eddie stared blankly out of. It wasn't an area to inspire even without the rain graying over everything. He saw nothing, lost in his own thoughts. The view behind him was, if anything, less inspiring. The squat he had escaped to was emblazoned in graffiti, full of garbage and lacking in furniture other than dank looking mattresses and a beat up sofa, currently occupied by the two stoners who had accepted his presence without question. At least, not once he had brought their co-operation with a few threats and a bag of dope. Luckily there were still people he knew from prison who would do him a favor and give him the contacts needed when it became clear his attempts to throw blame would be short-lived.

His knife danced between the fingers of his left hand, beating a tattoo on the window sill. Eddie didn't think about what he was doing, he just liked to relax by playing Russian roulette with a knife seeing how quickly he could make it jump from between finger to finger without flinching or drawing blood. It allowed his mind to be elsewhere, contemplating the dark path that had ultimately led to him fleeing here. He didn't feel unhappy about his situation exactly, even if things had not gone entirely to plan. But thinking of the deed that had put him here… that gave Eddie a strange sense of exhilaration.

"Dude, can you stop that already?" The skinny one with the ratty goatee Eddie knew only as Ferret whined from the sofa. "I mean, just chill man, you're disturbing the cartoons."

Eddie stopped his knife play momentarily to glance over his shoulder. The T.V set was playing the Disney channel without sound, awash with the garish colors of whatever kids' show Ferret was staring at through a plume of smoke. He turned fully. "How can I disturb something that you haven't even got the sound on for?"

"Its the Gummi Bears man. You don't need sound for Gummi Bears." Ferret waved a hand aimlessly at the T.V. "Besides, you were freaking me out. I don't like the sight of blood."

"Oh. You don't." Eddie virtually pounced across the room and knelt over Ferret pressing his knife against the others cheek. "How about I make you bleed then, and you might just keep freaking quiet. Huh? You want that? You wanna bleed a little, or you want to shut the hell up?"

"Whoa. Hey. Um. Whoa." The other occupant of the sofa roused himself enough to take an interest, blearily. Of a bigger build than Ferret, and introduced as Chubby Zeke, glassy eyes stared from a pale, doughy face under an unruly mop of black hair. "Drastic. I get that you need your space to do what you need to do, but cutting up the Ferret is just a bit intense for now. I need something stronger than this if you're gonna start Ferret slicing." He held out his hand, smoke curling up to the yellow stained ceiling. "Calm it down dude. Have a smoke. Watch the Gummi Bears."

Eddie slowly withdrew his knife and flopped onto the stained sofa between Chubby Zeke and Ferret. Pair of wasters. "I could kill you both, you know. Its incredibly easy." But he took the proffered smoke and inhaled deeply. "Gummi bears suck anyway. I prefer Darkwing Duck."

Eddie wasn't sure at what point he decided to kill Chet. He still wasn't sure even now what had prompted him. But he had been sitting outside the trailer, having a quiet smoke in the afternoon when his father had driven up in his truck. Which was surprising enough, seeing as he had ran out two weeks ago without a word.

– – – –

"Well, I didn't expect to see you back here anytime soon. Shawn thought you'd run out on him for good this time."

Chet eased himself out of the driver's seat and looked uncomfortable for a moment before his usual bluster took over. "I know, I know. I should have left word, but I got a job offer I couldn't turn down and had to take it immediately. And it wasn't entirely legit y'see, so I didn't want to let lil' Shawnie know I was doing anything… um… not exactly on the up and up." He winked over to Eddie, still unsure as to how to read his eldest son's moods. "But I made a bit of cash and decided was about time I came back to check on my boys. And because I figured I may need to make it up to Shawn, me leaving an' all, I thought I'd give him a nice little surprise when he gets outta school."

Eddie ground his cigarette into the dry dirt and circled the truck, his manner neutral. "That what this is, in the back of the truck? Camping gear and fishing rods?" He lifted a rod and let it drop, a hint of sarcasm in his voice now. "You planning a little father-son bonding trip then?"

"Well now, hey." Chet scratched his head and shrugged. "Its not been easy for Shawn around here lately. Me an' him, maybe some camping would be a good chance to reconnect. You get the trailer to yourself for a few nights." he added hopefully.

"Yeah, isn't that nice." So once again it is the Runt who gets all the attention, who everyone wants to please. Dad wants to play happy families with the Runt, how Mr Rogers of him. Eddie swallowed his anger. Partly. "Where you planning on going camping then, just the two of you?"

"Oh hey." Chet shifted, suddenly interested in making sure the camping gear was secure in the back of his truck. "Me and Shawn need some time together, I gotta make things right for that boy. That's not to say you wouldn't be welcome another time. Hell, we could make it a proper family excursion next time. You, me, Shawn, have a little fishing trip? I was thinking of somewhere in the Valley park."

Eddie didn't know what prompted him, but he was fingering the knife in his pocket as he spoke. "That would be good. And you're right, you and Shawn should have some time together." He glanced away, knowing his eyes would blaze out a different message to his words. It was always about the Runt. Always would be. He kept his voice soft. "How come you never wanted to go camping with me then, when I was Shawn's age?"

There was an awkward silence, Eddie leaning, arms folded, on the tail gate of the truck, Chet making a poor pretense of checking the tent. "Well," Chet finally turned and said, "I know I was a poor father to you. Its not like I didn't want to… but back when you were a kid, me and your Mom, we was both drinking a lot and I guess… I guess we both messed up. And boy, your Mom, she didn't want nothing to do with me after she left with you."

Chet gave a soft depreciating laugh, without any humor. "Oh I messed up for a good number of years. You and your Mom left, I got involved with another woman. She left with -" he paused. "Well, lets just say she left too. It was easier to just keep drinking and getting by. You didn't seem like you wanted much to do with me. Then I got involved with Shawn's Mom, and she ran out leaving me holding a baby I didn't know how to look after." Chet sighed. "I met Virna at an AA meeting and I thank the Lord I did 'cos she loved little Shawn from the first time she saw his little diapered butt." He looked up at Eddie, eyes uncharacteristically moist. "I ain't been a good father to any of you, but I swore to Virna I would try with Shawn."

A delightfully dark flame of joy lit itself inside Eddie. So Virna wasn't Shawn's real Mom. He knew something that Shawn didn't know and that was power. Wherever Virna was, it didn't matter, because she wasn't Shawn's Mom. Oh, how he could picture the look on the Runt's face if he told him that piece of news. Eddie couldn't help grinning, knowing Chet had let slip more than intended. "So..." he drew out. "Who is Shawn's mother?"

"Um. Look, Eddie, you can't tell Shawn this." Chet was wary of Eddie's moods but this was too important for him to back away from. He looked serious and poked Eddie in the chest. "You do not tell Shawnie that. Understood?" At Eddie's brief nod he looked relieved. "It would do Shawn no good knowing that Virna ain't his real Mom. Or that I'd keep that from him. Truth is..." Chet sighed again, heavily. "Truth is his mother was a stripper I was with for almost a year. But soon as she had given birth it was -" Chet mimed catching a football. "And she said she was popping out to the store then never came back. Dunno what happened to her. New low for me. All the other women I've been with, they wanted their kid, they didn't want ol' Chet. Elaine though, she didn't want either of us. That is why I wanna try and do right by Shawnie. Not that I'm doing such a great job. I don't even know where to go camping with him."

Eddie let his finger slide up and down the blade in his pocket. Inside he felt angry beyond reason, beyond mere anger. He was something new entirely. Something dark and terribly exciting scrabbled to be unleashed in his mind. Outwardly though, he appeared calm and supportive. "I know some places in Valley Park, a bit off the main trails but they would be perfect for your and Shawn's little camp out. Me and you may not to get to have a camping trip this time but it would be cool if the two of us could head out there this afternoon and scout out someplace that you can show Shawn later."

His smile didn't reach his eyes, but Chet was too happy to hear of this change of heart to notice. "How about it Dad? You and me, take a drive up there and have us a bit of a hike about, find a sweet spot and that way, when Shawn's home later, you can take him straight there." Eddie looked down, a hint of faked disappointment showing. "That way… that way I'll feel like I'm involved in this father-son stuff too. I haven't had a lot of that."

He allowed himself a smirk as Chet gave him a bear hug. Some buttons were just too easy to press.

"Hell boy, that sounds like a plan!" Chet pulled himself back into the driver's seat of the truck. "No time to be wasting, you hop in shotgun and we'll have us a father-son pre-camp trip drive huh."

"Yeah, great. Just let me grab a jacket." Eddie went back into the trailer, his mind buzzing. Without really thinking he grabbed one half of Shawn's broken skateboard from where he had hidden it in the bottom of a cupboard and stuffed it into a rucksack. Tugging on a jacket he rejoined his father in the truck. "All set. Let's go see some woods. Dad."

– – –

It had been so easy. Easy to manipulate Chet into doing as he wished. Easy to ensure Chet was on CCTV on a few store cams so his last movements would be traceable. Easy enough to keep a hoodie pulled up and slouch down in the passenger seat so to the casual observer it would appear to be possibly a smaller, younger person. Eddie didn't think it would be any less easy to come up with a reasonable alibi to cover today and tomorrow. His ex-girlfriend was still malleable if she knew she'd score of him and he had enough loyal members of his gang who would go along with whatever he asked of them. There was still the problem of the truck, but Eddie was confident in his contacts that he would be able to find someone willing not to ask too many questions. Someone who could fix up new plates and a re-spray at least.

They had been driving for a couple of hours before Eddie knew for certain what he was planning to do. It was simple. His father had never loved him, but he loved Shawn. And the Runt didn't deserve it. What was so special about him, not Eddie? Why should the Runt have a father, when he'd never had either parent caring what happened to him? It was simple, and it was far darker. Eddie wanted to, because he knew he could. He wanted to see what it felt like. The rush he had gotten inflicting pain on Shawn would be nothing compared to this. A school counselor had once written in a report on 13 year old Eddie that he suspected sociopathic tendencies. Eddie hadn't understood the word and didn't care. He had however given the counselor a black eye and enjoyed another session of suspension and class exclusion.

Chet turned to his eldest son, finally ceasing his singing along to the radio. "Valley Park. We'd best park up and have us a walk, I want to find a good place to camp for when I come up with Shawnie. And I don't want to get back too late, I wanna see my boy and tell him about the trip."

"Relax." Eddie forced a fake smile whilst inwardly seething at the precedence Chet once more put on is youngest son's feelings. "You know when you go off Shawn goes over to stay with that Matthew's kid. He won't get in until after dark." He allowed himself a brief grin of satisfaction. He knew Shawn ran about the parks and streets until long after dark, sometimes showing up barely before midnight when he knew his Dad wasn't there. And that meant Shawn was unlikely to have any way of proving where he was.

They began to walk through the park as the afternoon faded slowly into evening, Chet beginning a long and improbable story about the time he had gone moose hunting with the Canadian Prime Minister and been they'd been chased by a black bear. Eddie let the story wash over him, leading the way off the main trails and onto smaller tracks into the woods.

"Of course, if it weren't for those Mounties riding up things could've gone a lot worse." Chet paused and looked around the small clearing, wheezing slightly from the unaccustomed walking. "Whoa there. I need to stop and take a breather. And this looks as good a place as any." He sat heavily on a fallen pine and looked about. It was kind of pretty with the sun setting turning the clearing into dusky shades of gold. "This could be just the right place to bring Shawn. I could fix up the tents here. Looks like someone has once had a camp fire down here too. Not so far out I'm gonna bust my gut walking here, but far enough so we have privacy."

Eddie squatted behind Chet, removing his rucksack and slowly unzipping it. "Yeah, its perfect. Privacy. You said it."

"Yep. I don't always get many good ideas but I know this is a good idea." Chet turned to look at Eddie over his shoulder. "Shawn -" He broke off his smile fading with puzzlement. "Why'd you need to bring that with you?"

The broken half of skateboard felt a nice weight in his hands. Eddie hefted it thoughtfully, looking down at Chet. "Sentimental reasons." he stated blandly. "Scientific reasons." There was no warning. With Chet still sitting half-turned, frowning with confusion, Eddie raised the board up and smashed it with all his strength onto the back of his father's head. There was still enough light left in the day for him to see the edge of the skateboard was darkly sticky with blood.

Chet made an unintelligible sound, and slowly toppled sideways from the tree trunk to sprawl almost face down on the earth. "TIMBER!" Eddie called out, laughing. "Whats up, been drinking again?" He crouched and regarded his handiwork with interest. Guess ol' Chet's head wasn't as thick skulled as he'd have supposed. Or he'd hit him a lot harder than he'd hit the Runt. The Runt had bled, but this way more fascinating. The back of Chet's head had a definite concave area now.

Eddie poked the terrible wound, feeling broken bone fragments. His father, now just a curiosity to Eddie, twitched helplessly and made an incoherent protest. "Reckon I've scrambled what little brains you might've had in there." he said conversationally. "Well, you ain't dead yet old man. I'm gonna keep you alive for a while longer. You can't die until I say so." He touched the shattered edges of Chet's skull again, harder, watching without compassion as the body jerked.

He didn't know what Chet was trying to say as it was garbled half-sounds partly muffled by the earth. Didn't really matter. "No good trying to beg now." Eddie smiled. "I'm going to be doing you a favor when I finish you. If I got help to you now, you'd be a freak, a vegetable." He crouched low to stare into his father's face. "I'm doing you a kindness."

It was an agonizing few hours for Chet, but at least towards the end he was barely aware of what was happening. As Eddie finally let the remaining life bleed out from Chet's neck he felt only a strange euphoria. He had done it. And it had been so easy!

Eddie wiped his knife on Chet's jacket, and walked a little way off from the clearing to push Shawn's broken skateboard under a bush. He thrust his gloves back into his jacket and took one final look back at what had been his father, now mostly in shadow.

He whistled to himself as he made his way back along the trails to the spot where the truck was parked.