To the reviewers! To Klnolan for support and enouraging this story along. It really means a lot when you bother to let me know if you liked the story. I am offering you a slice of Tom's pizza today, as you don't enjoy peas. V ( : I hope you like it. There's a stuffed crust.lol. To Sarah I have no food to give-there are only dehydrated peas o left, after sitting in the bowl all night. But I bring you something from somewhere other than Susan's kitchen-I bring you a rose---o from the bush Shawn squashed. You will understand this better after reading below. As far as "kind" contests go-you've won. I am only responding to the very nice things that you said in the first place. You are the reason I even continued this story, so bug off and let me be nice. Okay? lol. I've written lots of stories, and you're one heck of a reviewer. I actually realized that you responded to some of the stories I've written on here before! But those were under a different user name. Please accept the rose (it's actually from Shawn. I was kind of ticked that he wanted me to give it to you, instead of keeping it for myself. Oh well) in all it's squash-edness. Here. ---o
And I end. It's probably about time. ( :
TEN
Shawn sorted through the dusty stacks of DVD's littering his cousin's closet. Floor space was definitely at a minimum. Swiping a shirt out of his eyes, the returnee chuckled softly to himself. Beauty and the Beast.
Dirty Dancing. Lucas.
"What are you doing in there?" Tom's voice made Shawn jump, and the movies slid from his grasp.
"I was looking for something to watch. Didn't know Kyle was such an 80's freak."
"There are plenty of those downstairs."
"I'm sorry, Uncle Tommy." Shawn rose to his feet, eyes portraying his confusion.
Baldwin's gaze roamed over the neatly stacked DVD's, and his face hardened. "You changed them all around."
"Well, ya, I mean they were spread all over the floor. I was stepping on them."
The agent strode past his nephew, firmly elbowing him aside.
Shawn cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, I just-"
"Just don't from now on, okay?"
The returnee helplessly watched as his uncle took in every detail of the cluttered room. "Everything's changed."
"I picked a few things up-"
Baldwin continued as if he'd never heard him. "It's not even his anymore."
If a pin had dropped, it would have sounded like thunder. The sparrow chipping contentedly outside suddenly seemed incongruous.
Shawn held his tongue, letting the moment slip away. Now wasn't the time to start an argument. Something was bothering his uncle; for one thing, he'd never come upstairs that Shawn could remember. And it was hours before Tom usually returned from work.
"I'm sorry, " he offered, softly. He almost thought the older man looked close to tears.
"Forget about it." The agent's voice was harsh. Turning to study his nephew's face."Change your clothes and come on. We have somewhere to be."
X
Shawn hastily slipped out of the wrinkled tee and snatched up his old shirt. It had almost returned to normal, the bloodstains having receded to the background. Tom's oxy clean had removed the dark splotches, but also bleached the entire fabric lighter. As long as it was serviceable.
Running a comb through his hair. It had a habit of slicking over his forehead like a little kid fresh for school, and it irritated him. He didn't care to look like a nerd. Freak was one thing.
The returnee was hastily tying his shoes when the front door banged.
"Come on, Shawn!"
If Uncle Tommy bothered to tell him where they were going-
X
Baldwin rested against the wall, ignoring the streaming sunlight and sheer contentedness of a perfect summer day. Taking in his nephew, who took the stairs four at a time. The kid was so dang tall. Tom disliked people who looked down at him, even by an inch. It was harder to intimidate them.
Shawn's expression radiated uncertainty, the look he tended his uncle far from trusting. "Where are we going?"
"You'll find out when we get there." Tom scooped up his keys, absently fidgeting with them.
The returnee back stepped. "I forgot something. Be right out."
"Shawn-"
But the slender man waved a placating hand. "I have to use the bathroom , Uncle Tommy."
Baldwin's lips narrowed. No denying that Shawn was good. Darn good. He almost had Tom fooled-but not quite. "I'll wait," he offered, mildly.
The returnee shrugged. "Don't bother. I'll be right out."
Seconds slipped into minutes, and Tom impatiently knocked on the bathroom door.
"Give me a minute, okay?" Shawn's voice sounded slightly exasperated.
Baldwin hesitated, then decided it was best to let Shawn think he was unaware of the subterfuge. "I'll be outside. Hurry it up!"
The agent walked over to the front of the house, slammed the door and ducked silently into the hallway. When the kid came out, he was going to grab him. Tom tapped his wrist watch.
Another ninety seconds, ticked off by the mantle clock.
"Shawn!"
No response. Baldwin mentally kicked himself. In any other situation, he would have anticipated this-
"That little-"
The bathroom window gaped open, flowered curtains fluttering in the breeze. Tom surveyed the lock he'd just broken, rubbing a sore shoulder. This was the first time he'd actually have to fix a door he'd kicked in.
He'd underestimated his nephew.
X
Shawn tumbled out, landing hard. His foot had gotten caught on the sill, so he ended up in an inglorious heap. Smack against the rose bush.
"Oh." He'd been so concerned with escaping, he hadn't stopped to use his head. Thorns made jagged stripes down one hand and the side of his face. He swiped the hand against his jeans, peering into the street. Few girls on bikes. Man walking a dog. It looked clear. There was no sign of Baldwin. Yet.
The returnee got to his feet, started to run-and narrowly missed tumbling into the flower garden.
"For the love of-" Shawn rubbed his ankle, realizing he must have twisted it when he fell.
There was no time for self recriminations. Making sure that the agent hadn't discovered his ploy- the returnee ducked into the road, making time as best he could. The ankle throbbed, but didn't burn. Shawn had been in enough tumbling contests with Danny to realize it was probably just a sprain.
A few cars passed him, but nothing resembling Baldwin's. At the first side street, he cut right and ducked behind a cluster of trees. Tom would expect him to take the road leading out. Get away.
But then he might figure Shawn would take the obvious course-double back and hide out by the house. Cicada's buzzed shrilly, contrasting with the steady hum of traffic off the main road. Leaves rustled overhead, emerald and cool in the mid day sun. The returnee steadied himself against the rough bark of an elm, frantically trying to form a plan of escape.
There was no right way. Catching his breath, the returnee dashed toward the next corner, ignoring the steadily mounting throb of the injured foot. As long as he could-
Tires squealed against asphalt. Shawn spared but one glance behind him-and Baldwin, already out of the car and running.
Give up or-
He took a short cut across someone's lawn, around a deck and past two more houses before coming up against a thin fence. It was chest high, cheap wooden slats strung between wire. Shawn shoved it, but the rusty metal squeaked, not giving an inch.
The returnee threw his whole weight into it, but there was no getting through. He choked for air, eyes searching through the sunlight for a way out. Tom was rounding the corner of the garage, there wasn't time to think.
Shawn backed away, running the last few steps and lunging for the top. He almost made it. The rickety fence swayed, unable to support him, but Shawn wrenched free, rolling clear on the ground below. Earth slammed up, cushioned by the uncut grass. Still, Shawn had trouble sucking in air, stumbling up and taking off toward the bustling corner grocery.
"Shawn!"
Not stopping, neither looking to right nor left. The ankle slowed him down, Shawn couldn't rest all his weight on it or it would give out. There was more traffic here, but he ducked past it, ignoring the yells and warning horns.
He- wasn't- going- back- to- quarantine-
Each pounding of the heart in his chest seemed to take on the words.
Not-going-back-
The small market loomed up, outdoor fruit stands and shopping carts, people milling about. It was the only option he had. Tom could take him down immediately on a full fledged street chase. He had to outsmart his uncle. Somehow. The NTAC Agent.
A small part of his mind knew it was hopeless, acknowledging defeat. Shawn put a hand to his side, trying to alleviate the stitch there. Looked down for one moment-
X
Tom landed hard. His fingers just managed to tag the returnee's shirt, and he brought his nephew down before he could twist free.
Shawn was half underneath him, not protesting. Yet.
"Come on." Baldwin got to his knees, resting a moment. The returnee started to move, but the agent straddled the kids leg's. "Nice and easy."
"Get off me." It was more a groan.
"When you promise to behave." As if Shawn were a child. Letting Shawn know his best wasn't good enough. He'd tried to outsmart NTAC, and Baldwin wanted to rub his nephew's face in it a little. "You never stood a chance."
People were starting to cluster around, so Tom eased up, wanting to clear out before anything made the news. "On your feet."
Shawn gingerly raised himself, rolling over to face Baldwin. That face had always been easy to read if the returneewas upset. The cool facade melted under Tom's glare, replaced with a look of defeat.
"Shawn. You played your little game. It's over."
There was blood on the returnee's lip, where it had met sidewalk. Shawn swiped his mouth, grimacing at the gravel in his palm.
Tom leaned down, grabbing at the runner's wrist. Hauled him to his feet. "Walk in front of me." A sharp jab to accompany the words.
Shawn didn't bother to protest, moving stiffly past the gaping onlookers. He tried not to favor the injured ankle, desperate to retain some shred of pride.
"Come on. We have to get out of here." Baldwin shoved Shawn in the back. He was in no mood for tea and sympathy.
The returnee picked up his pace, but stumbled against the curb and would have fallen if Baldwin hadn't held onto him.
Tom studied the thin stream of blood that ran down his nephew's chin. "Let me see that."
Shawn winced at the blunt examination, but didn't say a word.
It would need to be taped up, maybe a couple stitches. "You have your teeth." Satisfied the damage was temporary, Baldwin resumed his prodding.
Too angry to do anything just yet. Almost too angry to think straight. Tom ran a hand over his sweat slick forehead, noticing the tear in his jacket. It had been a gift from Kyle, birthday's past. The memory made him seethe. There was Susan's son, deliberately or not, wrecking every memento he clung to. "Let's go."
Shawn jerked away, not trying anything. The stony line of his profile told Tom nothing. Once his nephew had time to gather his emotions, there would be no seeing beneath the mask.
"Get in."
The returnee stiffly lowered himself into the car, avoiding Tom's gaze.
Neither of them said a single word.
X
Maybe Tom had called his bosses. Maybe he was too angry to deal with him now. Whatever the reason, Shawn was relieved to close the door to Kyle's bedroom, leaning against it. The returnee felt a strange mixture of sadness and humiliation. That Uncle Tommy would hand him over so readily. So deceitfully. That he had tried to outsmart NTAC, and failed. That NTAC was his uncle and he had failed so miserably.
Shawn dug a hand into his eyes. Trying to think. Blot out the crazy thoughts, the self doubt. The pain in his hands and his face and his ankle. He wanted to throw himself against the bed, sinking into those soft blankets and lose himself. But he would get blood on Kyle's things, another reason for Uncle Tommy to hate him.
Maybe he should be angry, too. But he hurt far too much, too exhausted to do anything but sink to the floor, back against the unyielding door, and stare blankly into space. What was left?
X
The evening meal came and went. Tom thawed frozen pizzas, baking them till the cheese bubbled and turned golden. He was indescribably angry, but starving as well. There would be no catering to his nephew tonight. If Shawn was hungry, he'd have to come downstairs and ask for food. Politely as you please. Baldwin wasn't running a hotel here.
The dishes were stacked in the sink, two cups of coffee downed and still no sign of his nephew. If Shawn's make up was anything similiar to Kyle's, then there would be brooding far into the night. Wounded pride routine.
It made Tom heartily sick.
After a few hours, the agent resurfaced in Baldwin's brain. It was entirely too quiet. Shawn might have tried a daring rooftop escape. Easing out of the overstuffed chair, Baldwin pressed his ear against the bedroom door. No light spilled underneath, so he twisted the handle. Quietly.
Dark, but not total blackness. The shade was up, and moonlight spilled across the room like liquid silver. Outlining shapes in the dimness. Baldwin slipped inside, releasing the knob slowly. Night breezes caressed his skin, cool and soothing. The returnee must be asleep.
A small sound made his glance dart toward the window. The desk chair was drawn against it, graced by a still silhouette with head resting against the curtains. Shawn was leaning back, watching the silent stars. His features were chiseled in the semi dark, eyes open but empty. One foot rested on the bed, stretched out in front of him. Baldwin hesitated, but his nephew was as yet unaware that anyone was watching.
The returnee had discarded his begrimed shirt, hair messed and strangely child like in the moonlight. Tom stepped forward, eager to break the spell that wound about him. The foolish touch of sympathy at the sight of that candid face.
Face of a devil.
"Thinking about anything?" It came out rougher than he'd intended.
Shawn jerked his head about, starting to rise then thinking better of it.
"Planning another attempt?"
"I'm sorry, Uncle Tommy." The words were low, dead.
It caught the agent unawares. Shawn must have taken surprise for something else, because he tried again, as emotionless as before. "I understand-you were just doing your job."
Baldwin felt the situation unraveling. He was no longer in control. The anger that drove him subsided, finding nothing to linger on. His nephew's face was weary, repentant.
"I understand." Shawn repeated the words, almost inaudibly. His eyelids drooped, almost too tired to stay awake.
Tom was startled by the suddenly slack body, but his nephew righted himself with a self deprecatory shake. He must have identified the concern in Tom's eyes, for his expression cooled. "Uncle Tommy, it's late."
"You need something checked out?"
"No."
Sleep had dulled the stubborn male edge, but when it fled, so did the exterior softness. "I won't try anything tonight."
"No, you won't." Baldwin gathered up an armload of blankets. "I want you to rest downstairs."
A pained expression flitted across those sensitive features. Shawn's brows lowered. "I said I wouldn't."
"I'm sorry, but your word isn't any good to me. Not anymore."
The returnee got to his feet, mouth twisting when he started down the steps. Tom followed, keeping the sheets from trailing on the floor. Shawn hadn't bothered to clean up, there was dirt and dried blood smudging his skin. Piling the armful on the couch, Baldwin waited while his nephew hobbled toward the bathroom. "Don't close it tight."
Shawn didn't acknowledge the warning, but he left the door slightly adjar, none the less.
It hurt Tom to say it. He knew he was going to destroy the bond so painfully built these past few days. But he didn't have a choice. Shawn had broken his trust first.