I own nothing

God loves, the rest of us are only good actors-Leonardo DaVinci

Shawn stood on the steps that separated the bedrooms from the living room. He didn't know what to do, what to say, even what to think. All he knew was that he wanted-co, he needed to be adopted. But things had to be taken care of first.

"Jonathan?" Shawn came up before his foster-parent, blocking his view of the TV. Turner looked up, saw Shawn's face, and turned off the football game (Giants vs. Eagles). Turner didn't say anything. He waited for Shawn to be finished.

Shawn took a deep breath. "If the offer still stands, I would love for you to be my dad."

The effect of the words could only be compared to a gunshot on a calm evening. Turner stood up, smiling broadly, words tumbling over themselves in haste as they tried to leave his mouth. Shawn held up two hands and stepped back.

"You're not going to be like Him, are you?" he asked cautiously.

These words, too, had great effect. Turner sat down and seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

"Shawn, what your father did to you was cruel and unforgivable. It should have never happened, and I know how hard it must be for you to except..." his voice trailed off, he was thinking, weighing his options.

"To except that there are adults in the world who you can trust. I know that there are very few of those people on your list. Mr. Feeny, maybe, and the Matthews." He stopped again before saying quietly. "I want to be on that list, Shawn."

Shawn held his gaze for a second. He wanted nothing more then to throw himself into Turner's arms, but there was one more thing. "You won't hit me?"

Turner furrowed his brow. He wished that Shawn wouldn't be so blunt. "Do you think I would hit you?"

Silence. Complete silence throughout the apartment. It lasted for ten seconds. Twenty seconds. A siren wailed outside. Thirty seconds.

"No." Shawn said finally. "No, I don't think you would."

Turner held out his arms. Shawn let himself be enveloped in his arms. Few people had ever held Shawn like this-like a son or brother rather then a stupid foster kid. Turner ran his hands through Shawn's hair, feeling the bumps and cuts that covered it.

He knew that he was doing the right thing.

Shawn called Cory later that evening, when he was finally able to sit down after being so excited. No, excited wasn't the word for it. He was over-the-moon ecstatic.

"Hey, Cor." Shawn spoke into the phone. He was happy to hear the familiar voice greet him.

"I'm being adopted." Shawn looked up at the ceiling as he spoke, hearing Cory's words or congratulations. He felt whole.


Hey, you like it? I think one more chapter will do it.