[Author's Note: Thanks to xx-Gothic-Manga-Girl-xx for my first ever review! I totally agree while Jack and Stryker aren't swinging that way they would be cute together XD. Thanks to my favorites and followers and all those reading this it makes me feel so special XD.]

*******JP******

Next Day...

**********JP**********

Stryker gazed up at the ceiling wearily, lost in his thoughts as he watched the first fingers of dawn dance along the tiles. He'd been staring at the same crack for hours, praying that the sleep which had fled him would return. He sighed softly and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Didn't sleep well either, huh?"

He looked over at Jack, who'd rested the back of his head in his hands and was staring up at the ceiling as well. There were dark bags under his eyes and his mouth was pulled down in a tired frown.

"No, not really," Stryker said, turning towards him and propping himself up on his elbow. "You had that nightmare again, didn't you?"

Jack's eyes barely flickered to meet his.

"No," he lied.

"Don't lie. You heard me say I can read emotions; I can feel all that anxiety your hiding."

"Not really good at the poker face thing anyhow," Jack said, his frown deepening. "What's with that anyway? How can you just sense that?"

He waited for an answer, but when he looked over Stryker's eyes were clouded and pointed at the floor between them.

"Stryker?"

"Huh?" Stryker mumbled, startled from his thoughts. "Oh, uh...well, remember when I told you that...Uncle Chase and I share more than you'd think?"

Jack nodded.

"Well, uh...I'm part...snake..."

Jack's expression didn't really change as he sat up on his forearms.

"'Splains a lot," he said. "You know, your eyes and the mood readings."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"Compared to the talking dragon with an itching problem, the ghost of a two thousand year old nag, and the cyclops that can't brush his teeth to save his life? Nah, not at all. Pretty cool, actually."

Stryker stared at him in amazement, at which Jack just gave him a smile and ran a hand through his matted down hair.

"You're something, Jack Spicer," Stryker marvelled as Jack fished around for his goggles.

"Goes with being a genius," Jack joked, pulling his goggles around his neck and tapping his temple, giving Stryker a wink. "26% creativity, 15% smarts, and 59% insanity."

Stryker laughed and sat up, watching Jack stand and pull on his trench coat.

"Hey, genius?" he asked, making Jack pause. "You know it's going to be about ninety degrees outside, right?"

Jack started to answer, then stopped and looked down at his black coat, his biker gloved hands, and his thick ripped pants.

"But I...always wear this..." he said, although now he was second guessing it.

Stryker chuckled as he stretched his arms over his head and laid back down, his eyes reattaching to the ceiling.

"Well, you've got on skinny jeans and combat boots," Jack pointed out snarkily. "You don't see me telling you it's ninety degrees outside."

"Because you didn't think of it," Stryker said with a grin.

Jack pursed his lips and tugged at his coat, then pulled it off and threw it in the corner of the room.

"I've got cooler clothes in my bag," Stryker told him. "We both probably need to change."

"Why though?" Jack asked. "My house is air-conditioned."

Stryker grunted in response. Jack looked down at him.

"We are going back to my house, aren't we?"

"I don't know, bud," Stryker sighed. "My uncle might still be looking there."

"Yeah, but..."

Stryker glanced over and saw the fear creeping back into his face.

"We'll figure something out," he said, then had an afterthought and sat up. "Or...maybe you could just go home and..."

Jack furrowed his brow at him.

"And what? Leave you here? With the monks?"

"Maybe," Stryker said softly. "Or, maybe I'll go back home too..."

"But you don't want to, right? Don't think for a second I believe that you and your uncle get along."

"We butt heads, that's all."

Jack frowned and went over to him, squatting so they were eye to eye.

"Just 'cause you can tell how people feel doesn't mean you can hide your emotions, Stryke," he informed him. "I can totally tell when you're lying now."

Stryker blinked in surprise, then smirked and gave Jack a light shove that put the redhead on his butt.

"Just 'cause you figured that out doesn't mean you have to say it aloud," he shot back, finally standing. "Now come on, we should get ready if we're heading out."

Jack stuck his tongue out at him and grabbed his jacket. Stryker shook his Mohawk away from his eyes and pulled back the curtain to go out, then stopped at the sight of Raimundo. He looked like he also hadn't slept well.

"Uh," Rai started lamely. "H-Hi."

Jack stepped up behind Stryker, suspicion in his eyes. Stryker merely waited for Rai to continue.

"Look, this...may not come out right," Rai stammered. "But...I was wrong. I shouldn't have said all that stuff about Jack, and...I'm sorry."

Jack raised an eyebrow at him. He'd never seen the boy look so, dare he say it, humbled before. Stryker glanced back at Jack, then turned and stuck his hand out to Rai.

"Don't worry about it," he said.

Rai's eyes widened in surprise, but he gratefully took his hand and shook it. Stryker gave him a smirk.

"But don't think for a second this makes us friends or anything," he said. "We just aren't mortal enemies."

Rai blinked, then gave him a sarcastic grin as they let go.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he said.

Jack's eyes shot to something in the room as Rai looked at him. Stryker stepped aside a little as the Brazilian came closer and held his hand out to Jack. The other boy glanced at it, then finally looked at Raimundo. After a long moment he straightened and grasped his hand, gave it a firm shake, then stuck his hands in his pockets and walked past him towards the jet.

"Well, see ya later," Stryker said after an awkward moment of silence.

"You guys are leaving?" Rai asked, a little disappointed.

"Yeah, I think his house will be safe now, so we're going,"

"Oh..."

They tried to think of something else they needed to say, then Stryker gave Raimundo a lazy salute and started after Jack. Rai stayed and watched him go, then sighed contentedly and made his way to the dining room.

********JP********

Chase stood on the roof of the mansion, his arms crossed as he surveyed the grounds once more. He'd been doing the same thing since Stryker flew off with Jack, knowing that if his nephew would return anywhere it'd be here. He let a hiss of breath out his nose. Perhaps if he had taken Stryker in when his mother first abandoned him, things would've been very different.

"I can't do it, Chase! You know what will happen if I do!

"You can't expect me to clean up after all your messes, Samira!" Chase had snapped, barely looking at the small child before him. Even at five, Stryker looked much like his uncle. His hair was curling around his ears and his eyes, big and already filled with misery, were staring at him pleadingly.

"He's part of your family too!" Samira was insisting. "You know how I feel about children! I will not care for something someone else can take!"

While he tried to ignore it, Chase could feel that Stryker's eyes were filling with tears; something inside the young man told him that if he left his nephew with his sister she would do something terrible to him, but he did what he always did with feelings he felt were unnecessary.

He dismissed them.

"And you thought I would be a good option?" Chase had scoffed, waving an impatient hand at her. "Take him to Senka or Lucan and leave me in peace."

He turned with a flourish he had been so proud of, leaving his sister and nephew to stare after him. His pride had swollen immensely since he had taken the Lao Mang Long Soup, and he thought it felt wonderful.

Until that tug on his sleeve stopped him in his tracks.

He'd turned and gazed down at his nephew with more surprise than distaste. No one had dared lay hands on him since his first awakening to the Heylin ways.

"Uncle Chase?"

Chase shook himself free of the memory. That small, helpless voice had haunted him for ages, with just reason. After that day Stryker had spent many years jumping from horrible family to horrible family, each time ending up at Chase's door.

"I don't know why they keep bringing me back here," he'd said once when he was twelve. He hadn't bothered looking up at him as he kicked a stone across the floor. "You don't want me anyway."

The truth had stung greatly. Since then Stryker had ran away more often than he was placed in a home, and did everything he could to avoid his uncle. He never responded when Chase tried to speak, to explain himself, and more often than not he simply sat in the room Chase had given him and refused to come out. When he was moved to another house he kept his blazing eyes to the ground and gave no acknowledgement of Chase's existence. It wasn't until Stryker's social worker had come and told him that there were no more relatives, no more foster homes, not even an orphanage, that would take the boy, that Stryker grudgingly let his uncle take him in permanently. Yet Chase knew that now his nephew would never trust him, for when he told him that he should have done so a long time ago, Stryker met his eyes and scowled.

"I'm not your son," he'd snarled. "And you don't fool me with that 'shoulda done it sooner' crap. This is just till I'm eighteen and then I don't ever have to see you again."

Chase almost gasped at the sight of Jack's jet flying towards the mansion. Without a second thought he leapt from the roof and disappeared into the woods around the home, too afraid that his nephew would run again to care if others saw him.