Author's note: Yeah, the language is pretty bad, but it'll ease up eventually - maybe. Just so you all know, I'm done moving - except for some unpacking that I'm slacking off on - so I'll be updating a little more frequently. I hope

With one of them on either side of him, River was helped to the infirmary about five minutes later. Pressed against his still bleeding forehead was a soaking wet hand towel, and he was a little light-headed, but he was only leaning any weight on Shawn, refusing stubbornly to accept any more help from Ian than he had to. Of course, Ian had his hand tangled in the other cadet's uniform, holding him upright – and using the hand that Shawn hadn't grabbed.

"What happened to you?" The campus' head doctor asked. She was a Captain, and well aware of the fact that young men thrown together into a school sometimes didn't get along all that well and sometimes resorted to blows. This looked like such a case, until the blonde moved the towel and she saw that the gash on his head was not caused by a fist. It had definitely been something metal.

"He hit his head on the bottom of the bunk," Shawn said, answering for River, who was being helped onto an examination table.

The doctor frowned.

"What was he doing on the floor?"

"Bunk bed," Shawn clarified. "He was sitting on the bottom of a bunk bed."

She nodded, glancing at the youngest cadet. She'd heard of him, of course. Shawn Adams, young genius and all around interesting topic for discussion. Janet Fraiser – who happened to be a very close friend of the Captain's – hadn't really told her as much as she wanted to know, but she'd said that Shawn was definitely someone to watch and that he was the son of someone very close to her. Although she wouldn't say who. And when the Captain had mentioned he'd probably be bullied by the older cadets, Janet Fraiser had simply smiled and shaken her head.

"I doubt it."

She wouldn't say anything else, and the Captain had known better than to try and wheedle it out of her. Fraiser kept a secret better than anyone.

"It'll need stitches," The Captain decided as she used the wet towel to clean the blood from around the gash. She looked down at River, who was fairly pale.

"Are you feeling light headed?"

"A little. Mostly dizzy."

"Nauseous?"

River shook his head, and immediately wished he hadn't.

"No. Just a little dizzy."

"Good."

She looked over at Shawn and Ian.

"You two can wait for him out in the hall."

"Yes, Ma'am."

They both turned and left, and Shawn closed the door behind them.

"Let's go get lunch," Ian said.

"We were told to wait for him out here." Shawn said.

"She didn't order us to wait, she probably just thought we were waiting to see how he was doing."

"Well, I am waiting to see how he's doing," Shawn told him. "Besides, we were told we had to go to lunch together, remember?"

Brooks scowled.

"The Colonel didn't know Hayden was going to try and knock himself out when he gave that order, Adams. This is an extenuating circumstance... I'm sure he doesn't expect us to stand out here all afternoon while the Captain keeps Hayden's brains from sliding out his head."

"I'm staying."

"Come on, Adams! I'm hungry."

"No."

"God... what is it with you?"

"I'm doing what I'm told without complaining," Shawn said, just this side of being pissed off. "Why don't you try it sometime?"

"Fuck you, Adams."

Shawn snorted.

"'Fuck you Adams'... 'fuck you, Hayden'... Fuck, fuck, fuck... is that all they teach you in New York? How to make yourself sound like an illiterate peasant?"

"Shut up."

Since Shawn had already said what he wanted to say, he did what Brooks said, but even though he fell silent, Ian looked over at him, scowling again.

"Why are you here, Adams? Why aren't you at MIT or wherever it is that kid geniuses go when they graduate at ten?"

Shawn glanced over at him, debated whether he was actually curious or not, and decided that there wasn't anything behind the question, so he answered it honestly.

"I'm here because a lot of the adults I know are in the Air Force, and I respect them and want to be like them."

"I'd have went to MIT, if I were you. There's a lot more money in that kind of thing. R&D, Theoretical Sciences, shit like that... companies are paying a lot of money for people to do that stuff for them."

"Why didn't you go to MIT, then?" Shawn asked.

Brooks scowled.

"Because my dad went here, and he damned well wasn't going to let his son go anywhere else. I'm keeping up the family tradition..." The way he said it, though, Ian wasn't nearly as happy about keeping up the family tradition as Shawn was.

"So you're being an asshole to everyone around you because you're mad at your dad?"

"Fuck you-"He cut himself off, and scowled. "Go to hell, Adams."

Shawn grinned, despite himself, and Ian couldn't help but find the humor in that, as well. Although he didn't smile, his frown lessened a little.

"I'm not being an asshole to anyone, and don't try and psychoanalyze me. I'm unanalyzable."

"That's not a word."

"Yes, it is."

"Unanalyzable?" Shawn shook his head. "No, it isn't." He knew.

"It is."

"Look it up." Shawn told him.

"Fuc- no."

Shawn shrugged.

"I'm a genius, remember? Trust me on this one, it's not a word."

"It's a New York word," Ian told him. "Have you been to New York?"

Shawn shook his head.

"Everyone in New York uses that word, smart ass. So what do you think of that?"

"I stand corrected."

"Bet your little ass you do." Brooks said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall, obviously forgetting about the fact that he was hungry and wanted to go to lunch, and didn't care whether River was going to be okay or not.

Shawn didn't say anything, he just leaned back against the wall, too, and waited.