Many thanks to (fanfare) sarahofearth! As usual, wonderfully fat review, completely encouraging-full of 4400 enthusiasm- and downright nice. Thanks sooo much, sarahofearth! I wish I had the time to write a longer thanks, but I have about two minutes left on the computer. mac111, many thanks to you! I really appreciated you review (:...klnolan, a nice big thanks to you (and a little Maia for you)...sheba, thanks for the reviews! I am going to try to work up to some real action...never fear...I have a plot, it's just taking me a long time to set it up...fwuzzfwuzz, thanks for you words of encouragement (; I really appreciate it!...and amy, thanks for the review! As far as the cussing goes, I made a bet when I was ten that I could go through life without one cuss to my sister. So far, I've done okay...but my sister's swearing a blue streak. ( : Next chapter is Shawn/Maia and Gifford Family/ Shawn. Anyone guess the twist in the next chapter? There's a little hint in this one. Shutting up now!
SIX
Tom raised his hand. "Whatever." If his nephew decided to leave, well, he had no control in the matter. After all, Shawn was free to do as he pleased. Tom didn't intend to babysit him anymore.
"Interfere's with my work." He slammed a pillow onto the sofa. "My time with Kyle-" kicking a pizza box along the floor-"my privacy-" summararily stepping on it. He'd run out of excuses. Baldwin's brow furrowed. "Oh! He goes behind my back."
"Are you through yet?" Shawn. Calm and composed, the least bit of stubborness in his tone. Somehow he had managed to slip up unnoticed.
"No. No." Tom lunged toward him, pointing a finger. "I'll finish when I'm good and ready."
The nephew sighed. "You may not be ready, but you're sure good."
"Meaning what?"
"You didn't tell me about Aunt Linda." Accusation.
"Don't turn this around."
"I didn't know how often you visited the hospital."
"It's none of your business. You think that you can waltz in here, into my family, after three solid years-"
"Uncle Tommy, why do you always try to pretend everythings okay? Even with my mom."
Baldwin froze. "Ha! No, that's you, Shawn. You're the one always going around with a chip on your shoulder, whining about things you never spoke up about!"
"Oh, come on."
"Yes! Like the time you went to the beach? You were feeling miserable because you had the flu, but you never told anyone. No, just blamed me for not reading your mind and taking your temperature. You ruined the whole day-"
"I did not."
"Started a fight with Kyle-"
"That was entirely different. He stole my sand shovel."
"And basically ruined the kid's birthday. We ended up stowing the cake, dumping potato salad out the window so you could use the bowl to-"
"Uncle Tommy, I was like five years old!"
"A five year old knows how important a birthday is."
Shawn studied the stair railing. "Are you finished yet?"
His uncle sank onto the couch. "No. No, I'm just beginning."
"Is this what you've been like? Since the accident?"
Shawn's candid stare was unnerving. "It wasn't an accident," Tom snapped.
"You still blaming me?" The younger man glanced at the floor. "Because it sure seems like you are."
"What was I supposed to think?"
"That was then. Today is totally different. Uncle Tommy, I told you what happened."
"No. You told me what you couldn't remember."
Shawn hesitated. "After all you've seen. Working with the 4400's, and you still think that what happened to Kyle had something to do with me?"
"You were there, Shawn. You can't even tell me that you don't remember not doing anything to him. Unless something's changed?"
"We've been over this a dozen times! What do I have to do? What do I have to prove to you?"
"Maybe feel something. Feel a little bit of something besides absolutely nothing!"
"You think I don't feel bad about Kyle?" Shawn gestured toward the room. "That I don't think, think about him every minute? I just lie here and relax, watch cartoons and sleep in Kyle's bedroom."
Tom shrugged. "You tell me."
"I guess because I'm not falling apart, I can't prove anything to you."
Baldwin's face reddened darkly. "Maybe you should leave, Shawn."
"No. Someone has to make you listen. My mom won't. She's wrapped up in her little safe world, and doesn't even want me because I'd risk that. Don't stir the boat. Aunt Linda's gone. How long do you think it'd take me to see through the 'visiting her mother' story?"
"I don't think you want to go there."
"Or what. Or you'll beat the crap out of me? Tell me how wrong I am? I know. I'm just one of those freaks. You know, the kind people peer out their curtains at and cross the street when they see me coming?"
Somewhere in the distance, a clock struck eleven.
Tom broke the silence with a sigh. "Why don't you go upstairs."
"I'd rather take a walk."
His uncle refused to meet Shawn's eyes. "I don't care."
"Don't worry. No one will see me leaving your house."
The front door slammed, sending a vibration clear through Tom's feet. He sighed, this time in exhaustion. Let the kid go. He would appreciate the time alone. Like it had been. Shawn didn't deserve to be in Kyle's bedroom; in the same house as his son. Kyle. Baldwin wiped the tears form his eyes with a rough hand. Shawn had left his jacket at the foot of the steps. He tossed it out of the way.
X
It was cool outside, this time of night. Moonlight feathered through the lacy trees, standing dark and sceptre like in the distance. A lonely dog barked a few blocks down, and Shawn felt the need to feel something. A warm furry body, pressing against his knee. During his absence, Benny had died. The shaggy black cocker/lab mix had been a present from the local pound when he was barely ten. From diabetes. Funny, how animals got sick same as humans. No one had really noticed, just that Benny grew thinner and thinner. Shawn ran a palm across rough tree bark, relishing in the harshness. He need something. The sidewalk to slam up. There were so many things he blamed himself for.
Not protecting Kyle enough.
Leaving Susan and Danny to Joe Gifford.
Benny.
Everything.
The dog was penned in a fenced yard, slumped mournfully with it's shiny black nose sticking through the slats.
Shawn sank to one knee. "Hey, fella. What's wrong? You all by yourself tonight?"
The animal seemed to relish the scratching, thrusting it's head out so far Shawn worried it might become stuck.
"You're a good boy. Wonder what your name is?"
"I see you like the dog."
The question came out of the night, so abruptly that Shawn jumped. The returnee got to his feet, brushing at his jeans. "It's a nice dog."
"And it ain't for sale."
"I wasn't thinking of buying it." Shawn stuck out a hand. "Shawn Farrell."
"I know who you are. You're one of those 4400's."
"News travels fast." Shawn tucked his hand into a pocket, instead.
"Bad news." The stranger peered into Shawn's face, his cap making it hard to return the favor. "But you don't scare me."
"I hope not."
"Heard you had a run in with Gifford."
"We had words." Shawn glanced about, sensing a threat. The street was dark, save the occasional pool of lamplight.
"Well, some of my boys want to meet you."
"I really should get going. My uncle's-"
"The old man just threw you out of the house."
"That's none of your business."
"Really? You scared?"
"I don't want any trouble."
"We don't want one of you on our block."
"I don't live here, so you can forget about it."
"That's not what I heard."
"Step off."
"Or what?"
Shawn didn't bother answering, shouldering the shorter boy out of his way. His own words had come back to haunt him.
Before he had taken three steps, something slammed him in the back with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs. He turned about, fists raised instinctively. The smaller kid had melted away, replaced with a burlier assailant.
"What's this about?"
"I think my brother cleared things up."
"I could yell. The police would be down here in two minutes."
Now Shawn made out what had struck him. The shadowy faced guy was tapping something that resembled a pipe against his palm. Tap Tap.
"And you could be eating your teeth in two seconds."
"I'm warning you. Back off."
"Oh. Did you say something? I can't hear real well."
They began circling, Shawn trying to figure a way to break the man's concentration enough to grab the weapon.
"I don't like games." The pipe swung down, hard enough to break a knee cap. Shawn jerked aside just before it connected, feeling the bruise spreading along his calf but not yelling in agony. Perspiration wet his face; he could feel it with the light breeze cooling against his neck.
"You do dance well." Jab.
Near miss. Shawn wanted to reach out and grab the pipe, take a whack in the process, but get it out of that kid's hands.
"Show me the magic."
The taunt sent him forward, crashing into his attacker as heavily as he could. The metal tube crossed his side hard enough to stop him.
But he had his fingers around it.
It became a contest of strength. Shawn's skin was slippery with sweat, but his adversary's was, too. They struggled to gain control of the pipe, jerking each other back and forth like puppets.
It came free at last, and Shawn landed across the sidewalk. Rough cement bit into his skin, but the pipe was his. Before Shawn even got to his feet, the second figure had disappeared down a side street. He contemplated pursuit, then hesitated. Who knows how many friends the idiot had. Maybe waiting for him around the corner. Shawn wasn't that naive.
The dog whimpered softly, not making a sound through out the fight. Shawn patted it on the head, trying to control his wheazy breaths of air. The pulse pounding in his ears, the returnee made his way back up the street.
He hoped Uncle Tommy had gone to bed. Something wet fell across his wrist. Shawn reached a hand up, surprised to find his nose bleeding. Great. He sniffed, swiping at the moisture. Trying to walk with one's head thrown back. He didn't have a kleenex, and his whole face was getting messy. The returnee opened the front door softly, relieved that it wasn't locked.
And walked in on his uncle.
X
Tom didn't bother trying to wipe the irritation from his face. Shawn had given him a talking to that was supposed to be the other way around. He'd left in the middle of the night, expecting Uncle Tommy to be in bed when he returned. Neatly avoiding the consequences of the confrontation.
"This is just what I'd expect from you, Shawn."
Peering through the semi dark. His nephew mumbled something and tried to get out of sight.
"What are you doing?"
Shawn's shirt was bunched up, pressed against his face. Tom rose, jerky movements only accenting the dark expression marring his features.
"It's only-"
"A nose bleed. I can see that." But Baldwin was staring at the darkening bruise across his nephew's torso. "What happened, Shawn?"
"I tripped."
"You can quit lying." Grabbing his nephew's shoulder and giving him a warning shake. Shawn winced. "Oh.You fell." Sarcastically.
"Just leave it, Uncle Tommy." Pulling away.
"As much as I hate to admit it, you are my responsibility. So I can't leave it." Circling the returnee in frustration. "I'd like nothing more. Believe me."
His nephew sighed. Talking, through the clothes. It was hard to understand. "I'm going to get cleaned up."
"I'm coming with you." Taking his relative by the back of the shirt.
Shawn allowed himself to be steered down the hall, knowing by the force of the hand on his back he hadn't any choice.
Tom flicked the light on. The bathroom glowed to life, and Shawn sniffed again.
"Bend your head back." Tom opened the medicine cabinet, sifting through the assorted containers. "We'll put some of this on."
Shawn complied, staring at the ceiling as Uncle Tommy swabbed a cool moisture along his bruise.
"Anywhere else?"
Shawn tried to see around the material. "By knee. I can dake care of dat byself."
"Just lose the shirt." Tom snatched up a handful of toiletpaper. "Here."
Shawn pressed it against his nose, wincing as Uncle Tommy found the welt on his shoulder.
"You sure I shouldn't take you in? That's no bump."
The returnee shook his head.
"Mind telling me what happened?"
In the hesitation that followed, Baldwin recapped the medicine. "I'm not asking."
"Somebody jumped me."
"And you don't know why?"
"I was petting a dog. Two guys came up. One of them had a pipe. I took it away and came back."
"Thanks for including the details. Where were you?"
"Just down the street."
"Meaning?"
"Two blocks north."
"I'll take it up with-"
"It's because I'm a 4400, "Shawn blurted out.
"Really." Tom looked thoughtful. "From now on, you stay inside the house."
"Uncle-"
"Just until I get to the bottom of this. Trust me, I can do it. I'm experienced. Those guys weren't overly bright." He surveyed his handiwork. "Off to bed."
Shawn mopped his skin with a dark washcloth, gathering up his stained shirt. "I have to soak this-"
"Leave it in the sink." Tom twisted the faucet. "We'll talk tomorrow."
Just before his nephew reached the stairs, he hesitated. "Could I have some tylenol?"
Baldwin emptied a few pills into the kid's palm.
Shawn took a few steps, then hesitated. "Could I borrow a shirt in the morning?"
"Yes. Take one of mine."
Not Kyle's.
Shawn mutely nodded, pills, water and medicine bottle clutched in both hands. Tom sighed in satisfaction. Now he could get some sleep.
X
About half an hour passed. Tom thumped his pillow, turning over in an effort to get comfortable. Rest eluded him, accented by the squeaking leaves against his window. The moon shone, still bright and full. Brilliant orb in the black night sky. It was completely still inside, almost too quiet.
He was restless. Tom slid out of bed, remembering to lock the front door. He'd forgotten, what with all the excitement earlier.
Found himself following the curve of the steps, smooth railing under his fingers. Almost without thinking. He needed to see Kyle's room. Some nights he even slept there, sitting on a chair far into the night.
Pale yellow light decorated Kyle's floor. Shadows rose from the corners, assorted sports equipment and strange posters. Tom picked up a book, it must have fallen. Stacking it with the others on the desktop.
Shawn was buried in the roomy bed, almost fooling him. It looked as if Kyle had never been to the hospital, but was lying there before his father, innocent and unguarded in sleep.
Tom held his head, trying to work past the pain. All the pain and loneliness and anxiety that seemed to take over his world these days. He knew it wasn't good, pairing Shawn with him. Both of their problems seemed to rub against each other; he doubted it was doing either of them any good.
But how young Shawn looked. His hair touseled, face relaxed in sleep. The sheet was drug over his body, barely covering one side and trailing off the other. Tom twitched it straight, staring for a moment.
He didn't know what it was, but something tugged inside his chest. Something long buried.
X
Uncle Tommy studied Shawn over the bowl of scrambled eggs. They hadn't said a single sentence to each other since last night.
Shawn stirred the food with a fork, red ketchup staining the breakfast pink. He tried to hide some of the stiffness from his uncle, waiting until the man left for work and he could sprawl across the couch.
"My partner called. She needs to find a sitter for one of the returnees. If she doesn't, I guess I won't be home till late." Matter of factly buttering toast. The scrape scrape soothed Tom's nerves.
"Sitter?" Shawn didn't raise his gaze from the eggs.
Tom raised his coffee to his lips. "She took a little girl home for the weekend, after she was returned by her adoptive parents. Anyways-" shoving the cup aside-"NTAC doesn't honor weekends." He needed to get out of the house before he said something he'd regret. The strain between uncle and son was far from gone.
"Pretty important case, huh?"
"Actually, I'm tracking down a 4400 that can start things on fire. Supposedly."
Shawn laughed. "X men running around in the street?"
"I'm not joking. A lot of the 4400's are starting to exhibit-gifts. For good or bad. You might as well know."
"I saw something about it on a show." Shawn frowned thoughtfully.
"Ya, well you can forget that show. A woman crusading for-never mind. I'll be late."
Shawn took a sip of coffee. "I hope you find a sitter."
"Me, too. Sometimes I think that girl acts older than I do. But you can't leave a kid in an apartment all day. Abilities or not." Tom snatched up his coat.
"Abilities?" The curious light in Shawn's gaze grew.
"Maia. She can sort of forecast the future."
"Maia? My Maia?"
Tom frowned. "What do you mean, your Maia?"
"Rutledge. She's the little girl I met in quarantine."
"You two know each other?"
"Yes. We hung out a lot." Because we didn't fit in. Shawn didn't voice the words.
"Huh. Well, that's great. Change your shirt and come on." Tom caught the blank look, flipping the cover on his cell. "Diana. It's me. I've found your sitter."