Hello again, usual disclaimers about not owning BMW or its characters. Thanks for your continued patience for the next update and warm thanks as always for the messages, to all guests, Joyfish98, SL, Salia248, ronniefranco8 and Nicole for kindly reviewing and as always, hello to followers. As ever, appreciated greatly.

Chapter 21

"I just can't believe it. Oh God, poor Shawn." Amy wiped her face again. She had seen Shawn in their house, she had known something was amiss, deep down. But not this. As crazy as Shawn's home life was never had she thought he would be going through anything so awful.

"I know." Alan squeezed her hand briefly before he went back to a frowning contemplation of the coffee mug in front of him. "If I had known that damn step brother of his..." He paused, trying to swallow back the rage he felt. Someone had hurt not just his son's friend, but a kid he cared about. And that didn't sit right with Alan, not at all. But Eddie wasn't around any more to get angry at. The anger had to be put aside, for now. It was his own kids he had to be concerned about right now. One in particular.

"How do we tell Cory?

Amy took a deep breath. "I have no idea. What do we tell Cory? He's been pacing by that 'phone all day and we have to not only tell him what happened to Shawn, but somehow explain why his best friend doesn't want to see him right now."

"And its not just Cory. Shawn has been practically part of our family since… well since forever. We've got to talk to Eric and Morgan too."

Both looked up as the kitchen door burst open, Eric coming through with his arm slung around Jason's shoulder, a manic grin in place.

"Oh dude. We so have to do homework with Karin and Abbey again. I swear I have learned more about both biology and french with them that I would through a hundred lessons with Feeney."

Jason snorted laughter before coming to an abrupt halt. "Oh. Hi Mister Matthews, Missus Matthews. Um..."

Alan held a hand up. "I don't want to know. Jason, sorry son but we're about to have a family meeting so I'm going to have to cut short any plans you and Eric had for the rest of this evening."

Jason pulled a face and backpedalled through the door. If Eric was in trouble the last thing he wanted was a slice of that action. "Hey, no problem. I'll… just be going. Catch you later Eric. If you're still alive." Giving his best friend a smirk Jason left.

"Oh hey now. Mommy, Daddy! It was only kissing. I'm sure you guys remember kissing?"

"Eric, sit down."

There was something in his Dad's voice that stopped Eric's clowning in it's tracks. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen both his parents so… grave, so upset. Not since Grandpa Poppy had died anyway. Eric sat down abruptly.

"Oh no, its not Nana Boo-boo is it?"

"No Eric," Amy said quietly, "she is fine. There is something we need to tell both you and Cory though." She looked across at Alan, raised her eyebrows in question. "I should talk to Morgan. A more early primer edition of what has happened."

"Yeah." Alan again squeezed Amy's hand, thankful more than ever that she was his gentle, reliable rock. "Send Cory downstairs. I'll deal with the boys."

As Amy left the kitchen Eric stared at his Dad, wide-eyed. "You're kinda scaring me here. If nobody has died why are you and Mom so serious and sad?" He paused. "Oh my God. You're getting a divorce and I was adopted."

"No Eric." Alan said wearily. "No one is dead, or getting a divorce. I do wonder sometimes if I didn't mix up the cribs in hospital when you were born though." He looked over his shoulder as Cory came downstairs, slowing on the last few steps as he saw the serious face on his Dad. "Sit down Cory. I need to talk to you both, and I need you especially to listen."

Cory stood very still for a moment and then took a seat at the kitchen table between his father and Eric. "I know. I know. Its Shawn. And I'm guessing its something bad."

– – – –

"So I can't call him?"

Alan shook his head. "No."

"And I can't go over to see him tomorrow?"

"No. Not yet."

"I don't get it." Cory resumed pacing the kitchen floor. This wasn't right. Shawn was his friend and okay, so he had been hurt by Eddie. Why did that mean he wasn't going to speak or see his friend? They were always there for one another. He spun around. "Shawn doesn't want to see me or speak to me?"

"Yes Cory, at the moment." Alan tried to quell his impatience but it wasn't easy. Cory wanted one thing, and that was to go to his friend and do every Cory-thing he could to make Shawn feel better about the situation. "He is still your friend son, but he has been through a heck of a lot lately. Shawn needs some space to get his own head around everything, and you will respect that."

"But Dad," Cory protested. "you know what Shawn's like. He doesn't make good decisions when things go wrong. This is the last time he needs to be shutting people out. That is what got him in this situation to start with, not telling me!" He paused. "Well, not telling anyone."

Amy returned to the kitchen, stopping any retort Alan was about to make. "Morgan's gone to bed. She was a little upset knowing that someone had hurt Shawn. Even watered down it was a lot for her to process. Its a lot for us all to process." She sat down in Cory's vacated seat and leaned into Alan's shoulder. "She found Mister Snuggles and took him to bed with her." she ended sadly.

"Mister Snuggles?" Alan queried. "I thought that old rabbit went into the charity bags after Morgan said she'd outgrown him."

"I rescued Mister Snuggles." Eric looked from Amy to Alan. "I gave it back to Weasel and told her to hide him somewhere because one day she'd want him. Because sometimes its only an old and familiar friend that can make the world right when you need a hug." He turned to stare at Cory. "And you are Shawn's Mister Snuggles. You're his oldest best friend. And just because he's put you in a box doesn't change that Cor. Shawn will know when he needs you, just as Morgan knew when she did. When it matters. When he is ready." Eric shrugged dismissively. "I dunno. I just didn't want to see Morgan lose Mister Snuggles."

"I am not Mister Snuggles!" Cory hissed back, furious. "And you're wrong. Shawn never wants help when he most needs it." He strode to the kitchen door, opening it with an affronted flourish. "I'm going out. To talk to Feeney. Maybe he will have a little more understanding beyond toy rabbits."

"I'm coming with you." Eric used his slight height advantage to out stare his younger brother. "Someone needs to protect Feeney."

As the door closed Amy looked over to Alan. "Should we warn Feeney?"

"No, no." Alan gave a tired grin. "I'm sure Feeney can handle our insane genius son."

"And which one would that be?"

Alan chuckled. "They're both idiots. And they're both good sons who only ever mean well."

– – – –

"Feeeeeney! Feh-feh-feh-Feeeeeney! Fee-neh-neh-ney!"

Cory stared at Eric with astonished horror. "What are you doing? Are you completely crazy? Feeney will flip!"

The back door opened to reveal a rather stern faced Feeney, tying a paisley, silk dressing gown around his waist. "Eric!" he exclaimed impatiently. "How many times do I have to ask you? You can use the door bell and not yodel for me like an andalusian sheep herder."

"But where would the fun in that be?" Eric replied. "Mr Feeney, Cory needs your advice. He won't accept he is Mister Snuggles and -"

"Will you stop with the Mister Snuggles references already?" Cory looked imploringly at Feeney. "Its about Shawn Mr Feeney. My parents think I'm wrong wanting to help him and Eric is being no help."

"You know I'm always here to listen to the problems of my students Mister Matthews." Some more than others, Feeney thought ruefully. As much as he tried to keep relations with his students on a strictly teacher-pupil basis, living next door to the Matthews meant they, and in turn those they cared about, became rather more important to him too. "I guess you had both better come in. But take your shoes off!"

– – – –

It was very weird sitting in Feeney's house Cory thought. Everything was so very neat. He fidgeted awkwardly. "I hope we weren't disturbing your evening Mr Feeney."

"Oh no, no, not at all boys." Feeney sat in a comfortably stuffed leather chair and regretfully closed the book he had been reading. He picked up the balloon glass and swirled the brandy around the bottom for a moment, observing. Eric, as ever, looked as at home as he did most places. Cory on the other hand… looked anxious and on edge. "I was merely enjoying a re-visit of F. Scott Fitzgerald, but that will be here another night. So, what brings you to my door Mister Matthews?"

Cory took a deep breath to calm himself. "Its Shawnie. Mom and Dad told me how Eddie has been beating on him for ages. And Shawn never let on, never opened up to me or told anyone he needed help. And now they say I can't call him, I can't go visit him. Because Shawn doesn't want to see me right now." Cory threw his hands up in frustration. "I don't get it! He's my best friend and he says he can't see me? And my parents can't understand that Shawn never makes good decisions when he's hurt or upset, he always wants to go off or do something stupid, but I always find him."

"Like Mister Snuggles." Eric added unhelpfully, taking some of the grapes from the fruit bowl on Feeney's coffee table and popping them into his mouth. "You can only be there when he needs you, not before."

"Eric. Shush." Feeney could understand Cory's consternation. The pair had always had an inseparable bond since kinder garden. To be shut out now, knowing his friend had hidden something so huge from him, was a double blow. And Cory probably didn't know the full extent of what had happened which is why it was so difficult for him to comprehend the seeming rejection of his friendship.

"Mister Matthews, I agree with you partially. Yes, Shawn has done things in the past where he has made mistakes and not reacted by making the most sensible of choices. But this wasn't a mistake Shawn made. This was something forced on him. Something so terrible he was afraid to speak to anyone about it. Yes, he should have turned to someone, but in extreme situations people aren't wise. People are scared, or ashamed, or want to protect those they care about from retribution."

"But -"

Eric gave Cory a strangely adult look that silenced him. "Mr Feeney," Eric said quietly, "what didn't Mom and Dad tell us? We're not kids, Shawn's like a brother to me as much as Cory is. They said Shawn's pretty much been having to look after himself and that Eddie was beating him up regular."

Feeney bit his lip, looking down into the brandy glass. He occasionally liked a small sherry before bed, but the events of the past few days had called for a rather larger glass of brandy. There were some things a teacher just should not miss, and he had. It preyed on his mind. "I don't know all the details either at this time. I guess your parents had a similar telephone conversation that I did. But it was more than just 'beating up' Shawn. Eddie fractured Shawn's skull."

"Holy shit." Eric flopped back on the couch, staring at Feeney, the expletive slipping out without thought.

Cory's face paled, a taut horrified oval. "Is Shawn… is he gonna be okay?"

"In time, yes." Feeney stood and patted both boys awkwardly on their shoulders. "But at the moment Shawn has to come to terms with what happened to him before he can face you, or anyone else. He is still your friend, but when someone has been through a traumatic event, sometimes… sometimes they just need time to process it. And it isn't just everything that Eddie put him through, he has a missing mother, his father is dead, his world is completely torn apart." Feeney paused, adding sadly, softly. "When you don't have a lot, to lose someone is tragic, to lose them in such a way is… devastating."

There was a lengthy silence finally broken by Cory sighing hugely. "I get it, I guess. But to not be able to just tell Shawn I'm here for him, or to see how he is… urgh." he ended with a groan. "I don't want Shawn to think I'm mad at him for not telling me. 'Cos I know Shawn, and he will think he's betrayed me in some way by not talking to me."

"Couldn't you just write him a letter or something?" Eric shrugged. "That can't be an intrusion can it?"

Feeney nodded, clapping Eric on the back. "That may be just the thing. A carefully thought out note Mister Matthews. Deliver it to me tomorrow morning before lunch. I'm seeing Jonathan Sunday afternoon as I need to pick up his lesson plans, any homework he has been marking and arrange cover for his absence whilst Shawn is off school. I will see that Shawn gets it, and will tell you how he is."

Cory pursed his lip slightly. "So you get to visit, I don't?"

"Don't be petulant Mister Matthews." Feeney admonished gently. "I am Mr Turner's employer and he would usually come here but does not wish to leave Shawn alone right now so suggested I go to his place. I dare say Shawn won't be thrilled to see me but as his teacher, I have to speak to him too. Rest assured if you bring me a letter, I will pass it on tomorrow afternoon. And I will speak to you after to answer any questions I am able to."

Cory nodded, thankful that at least he had some way of communicating. He wasn't satisfied, but he knew Feeney was doing his best, as ever.

– – – –

Sunday morning found Turner sitting at his breakfast counter, nursing his second coffee. He checked his watch. 9.25am. Twice he had gotten up in the night, small sounds rousing him from restless sleep. The first had been to find Shawn on the couch, watching TV in the dark with the sound off. Couldn't sleep he had said. Eyes like saucers and yet, he couldn't sleep.

Turner had sat with Shawn for a while, watching some late night B-movie western in silence with him until finally the boy's head had begun to nod to his chest and he could be steered back to bed. That had been what? About 2am?

Then there had been the incident at the window. Turner didn't know what had woken him but he'd left his bedroom to find Shawn standing in the kitchen, leaning against the fire-escape window. He had called his name, but as he had approached it was clear Shawn was more asleep than awake.

"Shawn? What is it?"

And that fearful, unaware voice replying. "He's still out there. Eddie. Somewhere. He'll come back for me Jon. I'm unfinished business."

He didn't know if Shawn had been truly sleep-walking, or was so in need of sleep he barely knew what he was saying. Turner did the only thing he could think of and pulled Shawn away from the window and into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"I won't let him get you kid. The police will get Eddie first, trust me. You're safe now."

When he got Shawn back to bed that time he made sure that the night light and lamp were left on. So what if the teen couldn't sleep without lights on, he had enough reasons to be afraid of what was in the darkness.

And that had been somewhere near 5am. Turner finished his coffee and stretched, shoulders popping. He had made it through one day and night of being Shawn's guardian and he was already exhausted. Oh well, if he ended up with a head of gray hair, it was nothing compared to what the kid had to deal with.

With his stomach reminding him that breakfast was running late, Turner tapped lightly on Shawn's bedroom door, listening closely. Not hearing any movement he eased the door open and gave a small shake of his head. The room appeared dimly lit after the brightness of the main room but he could see Shawn was curled up fetally in a swath of dressing gown and duvet like a small animal burrowed deep in its earth.

As much as he wanted Shawn to sleep, he felt that the boy needed food more at this time. He could always nap on the couch later if needed and hopefully have a less migratory night of wandering later.

"Hey, Shawn, rise and shine buddy." Turner gently shook the area he assumed was a shoulder and stepped back. He wasn't surprised when Shawn gave a startled grunt and instinctively rolled away frantically. Unsurprised, but saddened that the first reaction was to get away from someone. He pasted a smile on as Shawn emerged from his nest, bleary eyed. "Time for breakfast kiddo."

As Turner was buttering toast Shawn finally slouched out of his room, pulling up a stool to the counter. He watched Shawn over the rim of his mug. It was hard to read what the boy's mood was, other than weary and somewhat distracted. More bread was being torn into squares than was going into him anyway.

"C'mon Shawn." Turner cajoled. "I didn't burn the toast, at least eat it."

He was relieved when food and juice actually started being taken in, but knew something was still off with Shawn. But it was a grope in the dark as to what. "Do you remember getting up at all last night?"

A shrug. "Dunno. Maybe."

"Nuh-uh. Don't pull that on me Shawn. No more 'dunno' or 'fine' or 'whatever'. We need a pact, a pact that we talk to each other. That means you talk to me about what is going on in your head. And I if am bothered about something, I'll be honest with you. Okay?"

A blue eye peered up at him from under a link hank of hair. Wary, probing. "Okay. So be honest with me Jon. How many times have you regretted signing that guardianship form so far?"

You're a sharp kid. And boy, can you read peoples' emotions at times. "Shawn," Turner responded emphatically, "never. Not once. I will never regret that decision. Why would you think so?"

Shaw returned to chewing on a square of toast, shrugging and looking downwards, avoiding Turner's gaze. "Dunno. Just that you..." he hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to know, but he had to know. If he was just being allowed to stay here because Jon felt it was the right thing to do but he didn't need some screwed up kid messing up his life… I'll leave. I'll go somewhere. I'll get my stash from under the trailer and just take off. I don't want to be Jon's burden. Shawn didn't notice he was tearing the break into smaller and smaller pieces. "You don't have to let me stay here. Not if its just 'cos you feel guilted into it. I see you look at me and frowning, sort of. If you're wondering if you've messed up your life taking me in -"

"Jesus Christ Shawn!" Turner grabbed Shawn's hands, ignoring the greasy crumbs. "Look at me. I've not been guilted into anything, having you here… its what I want. What I missed from the moment I let you go. Honestly, yes, its going to a challenge, but for both of us. And if sometimes I look a bit off-kilter, its not you kid, believe me." He paused and then lowered his head so he could catch Shawn's eyes. "I'm sorry Shawn, if anything I've done has made you think that way. I don't regret this. I regret not having realized what was going on, I regret I'm a total amateur at this and don't want to let you down. But regret signing those forms? No."

Turner waited for the slight nod before relinquishing Shawn's hands. "Okay. See, this is why we need to talk to each other Shawn. So you don't get crazy ideas like that. Anything else bugging you?"

My Dad's dead, I don't know how to deal with that, or when I can properly say farewell to him. Eddie is out there somewhere, free to do what he likes. I've turned my back on Cory because I know he'll be mad at me for not telling him what was going on. Each time I have a shower I just see a whole bunch of scars that show exactly what a coward I am. I got my Dad killed so why do I deserve having people like Jon and the Matthews looking out for me?

Shawn swallowed the acidic feeling that rose in his throat. As much as Turner was instigating an honesty policy Shawn had become so accustomed to the constant need to dissemble, to put on a front, it was too soon to drop the masquerade. "I've only got a few bits of clothing here." he offered instead. "I only ever brought over what I needed, most of my stuff is still in the trailer."

The first thing that Shawn ever said was rarely the truth. Turner knew that. He also knew that this was an issue that needed to be addressed. "Well, I've got some of your stuff in the drier so you will have enough clean clothes for today, tomorrow. I'll have to contact the police department and see about getting permission to access the trailer so we can pick up the rest of your stuff."

"Permission?" Shawn queried, sitting up straighter. He pushed the hair of his forehead, glaring angrily up at Turner. "I have to ask permission to go into my home?"

"Its a crime scene Shawn, you can't just walk in there." Turner wished immediately he could recall the hastily spoken words as he saw Shawn's mouth close to a thin line. "Look, I'll make a call this morning, see if I can't get Emma to pull a few strings and get us in there."

Shawn rose from the counter, the anger emanating from him. He jabbed a finger in Turner's direction. "It is not a crime scene. It is my home. I don't have to ask permission from no one to go into my own home."

"Shawn," Turner moved around the counter to grab hold of Shawn's sleeve, knowing in a few words he had probably undone any good he'd achieved that morning. And not a little hurt at the emphasis Shawn had put on home in relation to the trailer. "Shawn! Damn it!"

He watched as Shawn pulled from his grasp and slammed into the bedroom. When the music started, he sighed. At least it was at a reasonable volume. Turner shook his head. One day he would hopefully learn Alan's way of dealing with his kids. Hopefully he'd learn quick. Breakfast abruptly over, Turner went for a shower. He would talk to Shawn again about organizing a trip to the trailer once he'd washed up and they'd both calmed down.

– – – –

Turner hummed quietly to himself as he rubbed a towel through his hair, a bath sheet wrapped around his waist. The shower had been what he had definitely needed. The time spent under the hot spray had given him time to think as well as relax. He knew in future if he just paused for five seconds before answering some of Shawn's comments, he be in a lot less danger of blurting out something so callous again.

Draping the towel around his shoulders Turner padded over to Shawn's bedroom. Hearing the music still playing he tapped loudly. "Shawn buddy? I just want to apologize for what I said earlier… it was stupid and I wasn't thinking. Shawn, can you forgive me?"

The music continued, but otherwise there was no response from behind the door. Sighing Turner went to grab a T-shirt and some sweat pants from his room. He paused as he moved past the kitchen area, frowning. Had he opened the drier? He was pretty sure he hadn't… Empty. Okay, so Shawn had retrieved his clean clothes and dressed whilst he had been having a shower. Why was his heart suddenly doing flips in that case?

Turner spun, gazing at the room trying to work out why he felt something was wrong. Shawn's jacket was gone, as was his skateboard. Shit. Turner ran back to Shawn's bedroom, hoping he was going to find Shawn sat listening to his grunge music as he threw the door open. Seeing he was not, he sagged against the door frame. He'd been in the bathroom about 45 minutes, and in that time Shawn had dressed, taken his skateboard and disappeared in a fairly typical angry-Hunter move. One he should have seen coming. "Damn it Shawn!"

Hopefully he hasn't done anything more stupid and my hunch is right – he's gone to the trailer.

Turner only hesitated for a moment before dialling the mobile number on the business card lying by the telephone.

- Emma Sanders. Hello?

"Um. Its Jonathan Turner, I'm sorry for calling you on a Sunday but its kinda urgent. I really need your help Emma. I'm sorry if I'm disturbing anything."

- Not at all, in fact I was just taking my dog out for a run. Has something happened to Shawn?

"I think he's gone back to the trailer." Turner flushed. "We had a small row, he stormed to his room, I went for a shower. When I came out he had gone. It was getting access to the trailer that started the disagreement which is why I am hoping he has gone there."

- Right. I'm parked near the station so I'll grab the paperwork and then pick you up and we'll head down there. You can tell me what happened on the way.

Turner felt slightly reassured by the brisk, no-nonsense tone as the connection ended. He just hoped he was right and not only had Shawn gone to the trailer, but he'd still be there by the time they got there too.