Sooo... I think I'm just going to have to stop making promises... I'm busy and my priorities lay with school and getting into law school. I really love to write and this story, I'll be honest with you, I still think a lot about even though I'm not writing it, it's fun. I plan to finish it and it could take me some time but I don't forget the ideas I come up with when I'm daydreaming in lecture. I will not leave you hanging indefinitely. I may take unannounced hiatus' but I will finish. So thanks for sticking it out with me and thanks for your lovely comments. I hope you like this chapter :)

Shawn felt his heart thudding in his chest. The pulsating sound filled his ears, as he strained himself waiting for the door to finally open. It didn't. Shawn stared at the knob while counting the seconds in anticipation. However, there was nothing left to be heard except his own heavy breathing.

After the several minutes it took to muster up the courage, Shawn leaped over the back of the couch from his perch there, hidden behind the cushions. He hesitated briefly, awaiting any further noise.

As his heart rate began to even, Shawn remained frozen between the living room and the bedrooms, staring at the locked front door before him. Shawn, having just heard that door slam shut, was sure that someone had just left the apartment…and locked the door behind them.

Shawn felt a chill overcome him at the thought and his breathing hitched, as he ran his hands over goose bump covered arms. He shot toward the bedrooms, seeking a type of weapon. He skidded in front of Jonathan's bedroom door, instantly forgetting his original plan in desperation. He opened the door and wasted no time in waking his guardian.

"Jon! Jon, there was someone in the apartment! I think they have a key! Jon, wake up!"

Jonathan was barely asleep for an hour when he found Shawn standing over him. "What is it, kid?" He asked, rolling onto his elbow.

The 15-year old was looking green and shaking so violently, he was almost vibrating. "It's…It's…" He was suddenly incapable of speech.

Jonathan rewound the words that stole him from his unconsciousness. When the shock struck him, he thought his heart was about to pop out of his chest. "What did you say, buddy? Someone broke in, again? Shawn, talk to me!" Jonathan had his hands on the kid's shoulders, as he yanked himself from his bed. Never before had he ever despised the peacefulness of sleep. In this moment, he was enlightened to its illusionary safety. Evidently, his house was vulnerable when Jonathan was unconscious.

There were tears dripping from Shawn's chin by the time Jonathan could force him to sputter out a word. "Someone…Someone slammed the door! They're comin' to get me, Jon!" He was frantic.

"Stay here, boy." Jonathan said, coolly. He felt something cold bursting through his veins. His body stiffened and his eyes saw nothing besides the urge to pounce. He was primal, he was targeted in his natural habitat, he must protect his own.

Jonathan grabbed the bat that he kept ready at the door. A heavy, Louisville slugger — signed by Dan Driessen — but an effective choice of weaponry, since his arsenal was running a tad nonexistent. He turned on every light in the apartment, making as much noise as possible to divert any intruder from making a break for it. He hadn't wanted to swing his bat more since he was on the varsity team in college and his coach ordered him to bunt. He scanned the living room and kitchen first, gradually moving from room to room, closet to closet, until he confirmed that the apartment was, indeed, empty. He stopped outside his bedroom door and frowned. What did he say? …a key?

Jonathan spun around, his bat poised firmly over his shoulder. The front door was locked. The door knob, the dead bolt…everything except the chain. The chain that Jonathan checked every night religiously before turning in. He was so sure he'd latched the door just hours before that he felt sick to his stomach.

He burst into the bedroom — he felt guilty when he realized he almost gave the kid a heart attack — and picked Shawn up off the floor. "This is really important, Shawn. Did you unlatch the chain on the door, tonight? It's okay if you did. I won't be mad. I just need you tell me the truth. Did you go out tonight, Shawn?"

"I didn't! I swear, Jon!" Jonathan couldn't have pulled a different reaction out of the kid if he'd put a gun to his head.

"Shawn, shhh. It's okay. You're not in trouble! Just tell me the truth. Was the chain on the door when you went to bed?"

"I didn't go to bed! I'm sorry! I was just watching TV!" Shawn was already inconsolable.

"I don't care about that. It's okay. You can watch TV." Jonathan paused, wondering why Shawn didn't already know that. "So you're sure you didn't take the chain off the door?"

"Yes! I swear."

Jonathan couldn't swallow when he tried. "Okay, here's what you're going to do. Go in your room and get dressed. Pack some clothes for tomorrow in your schoolbag and make it quick."

Shawn's eyes grew wide. "What? Why? I didn't do anything! I—"

Jonathan could hardly accept what he was hearing, but now wasn't the time to fret over the boy's lack of dignity. He put a hand behind his neck and gave him his most meaningful look. "You didn't do anything. It's not safe for us to stay here. Someone broke in and I don't know how, but we need to go somewhere else. You go pack a bag, right now, and be back here in five minutes, okay? Do you understand?"

It took a few seconds, but Shawn eventually nodded.

"Good boy. Don't think, okay? Just do as I say. Everything's gonna be okay, Hunter. I promise."

The kid went flying out the door just as Jonathan's breathing began to escalate. What was it about this boy? Why couldn't he be left alone? Jonathan had had no idea what it meant when he promised to protect Shawn. He'd had no idea what he was agreeing to protect him from.

Shawn was back in an instant, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt, his backpack slung over his shoulder. "I'm ready," he told his guardian, running both hands through his hair. "Let's get out of here."

Jonathan nodded, stepping into a pair of his own jeans. He hated the feeling of his leather jacket on his sweat dampened arms, but was too pressed for time to care. He grabbed his wallet off his dresser and found his keys in his jeans pocket. "Okay."

He followed Shawn out into the living room before he stopped him. "Wait. Let me go first." He said, sticking his arm out in front of Shawn's chest from behind.

Shawn didn't argue like the kid Jonathan once knew would have. He fell into step behind Jonathan, inserting a firm hand around Jonathan's bicep.

When Jonathan opened the door, he half expected to be shanghai'd by the intruder himself. But the hallway was empty, silent, and ominous. Jonathan locked the door behind him, keeping a grip on Shawn while he had his back turned. He spun around instinctively, still to an empty hallway, and led Shawn out to the parking lot like he were blind. He took off on the Harley at 90 mph, having no idea where to head.

Carlo and Nicky bickered all the way to Connecticut. He probably thought his insolence served as a distraction, but realistically, Nicky's anxiety was off the charts since he climbed into the Chevy Impala with Carlo.

Once they pulled up in front of the student centre at Yale University, Nicky felt two doses of dread and one of relief to see his baby brother standing there with a duffel bag over his shoulder. The look on Matthew's face accounted for the surge of anxiety that ran through him, but damn it'd been so long. The kid had grown up.

Nicky leaped from the car before Matthew could even reach the handle. He looked surprised, but like a switch he dropped his bag abruptly and his face lit up like a match.

"Matty!" Nicky croaked, crushing his brother in a firm hug. "What did you do with my baby brother?" He released him. "What's that? There's a squirrel on your face, kid." He joked, slapping Matthew's prickled face.

"I didn't even know you were coming, Nick! This is great." Matthew grinned, simultaneously accepting a hug from Carlo.

Carlo slipped Matthew into a headlock, messing up his hair in due process. "That's right the boys are back in town. What do you think, Nick? Will we make his life complete hell this week or just a little?" He jested, giving Matthew a few pretend punches before letting him straighten.

"Ah, I don't know. It's been a long time and I'm sure he's got a few ass kickings comin' to him. Like taking over my room. Eh, what's up with that?" Nicky teased, shoving him, lightly.

Matthew laughed. "Hey, you should take that up with Ma. I mean, you should've heard her after the two of you left. I received full confirmation that Ma and Pop love me best."

Nicky caught the look Carlo was giving him. "Mhmm, like we didn't already know that."

The car in behind the boys honked suddenly, seeming to have appeared out of nowhere, wanting their spot for pickups.

Nicky watched Matthew blush as he suggested, "maybe we should hit the road."

Carlo went around to the driver's side, while Matthew made a move for shotgun.

"You wish, kid." Nicky laughed, knocking him back. He paused. "Still working off that freshman fifteen, huh?"

After being on the road for a mere twenty minutes, the brothers were back to bickering.

"Gimme a break! You can't just write off a whole restaurant because you got a bad hotdog. It's a pizza place not a street meat vendor. They do pizza. That's it."

Matthew choked down his soda, eager to retort and unwilling to wait for minor things like swallowing to do it. "There was a fingernail in it! A fingernail! Not just a clipping, a whole nail. That has nothing to do with a recipe and everything to do with sanitary violations. And, by the way, the fact that you just referred to a hotdog stand as if it's gourmet standard makes your opinion heretofore invalid."

Carlo snorted. "'Heretofore invalid'? Oh, I'm sorry professor. I forgot I was talking to Dr. Who."

"Shut up, you're an idiot." Matthew sulked in the backseat, evidently nothing having changed since his teen-angst days.

Nicky, having just warmed up enough to participate, chimed in. "I might have to walk home, your voice is starting to make my ears bleed."

"Yeah, you do that. Skinny little faggot. Probably fall on your ass after 2 miles and wither away in an hour." And just like that, Nicky regretted coming along at all. Carlo was so breezy when he said it. It was so quick off the tongue, like he'd been thinking it. The words were sitting right there at the brink just waiting for one slip of the tongue to come spilling out. It was the kind of thing they would've said to each other as teenagers, but they weren't teenagers anymore. Now it was laced with an underlying meaning. Now it was pure conviction.

"Excuse me? Faggot? You think I'm a faggot? Why do you think, Carlo? What piece of information do you have on me that might make you think that? Why don't you pull over right now so I can beat the shit out of you?!" Nicky had spent fifteen years taking it on the chin, but he wore no armour these days.

"Jesus, Nicky. You know I didn't mean it like that. I'm used to messing around with my brother. That's all this is." Carlo didn't pull over, but his attention was completely drawn away from the road.

Nicky could hardly believe that this guy had a perfect driving record. "Pull the fuck over." His voice was icy.

"Come on, Nicky. Take it easy. He was just kidding." Matthew tried, sitting forward.

Nicky's eyes shot daggers at the young man. "Shut up."

"It's okay, Matty." Carlo was onto the shoulder and slamming on the breaks a second later.

"Get out."

Carlo scoffed. "What are you doing? Leaving me here?"

"I said, get out!" Nicky bellowed, his ears popping at the abrupt volume.

When Carlo had finally capitulated and stood at the passenger side on the dusty shoulder, Nicky opened his door and climbed out.

He could feel Matthew lingering behind him. "Let's get one thing straight." His voice was loud enough to overcome the noise of the highway.

Carlo let his brother approach him, as his brow creased with concern. "Nicky, you need to calm down."

"You think I'm so weak. Sure, you all do. Well, I'll tell ya something. Even at my weakest point, I can still kick your ass six ways from Sunday. I'm your big brother and I've been beatin' your ass since the day you've been born."

Carlo stifled a laugh. "Are you kidding me? You wanna have a pissing contest? Nicky, you are so out of line!"

"Come on, guys. Let's just go home." Matthew moaned, a hint of fear in his voice.

"I don't want to have a pissing contest! I want you to stop looking at me like that and respect me the way you used to!" Nicky couldn't feel anything but rage. He enclosed the distance between him and Carlo, grabbing his collar roughly. "What the hell do I do to be who I used to be?!"

Carlo's eyes were full of tears and Nicky was about to give up when he felt Matthew's hands on his arms. He swiftly spun around and his right hook collided with Matthew's cheek.

The kid fell to the ground with a groan.

"SHIT!" Before Nicky could react, Carlo had him pinned. He slammed him against the Impala and Nicky felt himself crumble on the inside.

He did it again before he spoke. "You listen to me. You can't be who you used to be! Don't you see that?! That was a lie! Just look at yourself. You did this to YOURSELF!" His voice was furious, but the way his hands trembled around Nicky told him he was just as fearful.

Nicky could feel tears on his cheeks, but lacked the mobility to hide it beneath the weight of his brother. "Just let me go." He choked, his shame stemming from his lack of strength. Everything he'd said was a lie. He couldn't fight Carlo. He was bigger and stronger, but mostly he was better. Better by every definition.

Carlo stole a glance over his shoulder at Matthew, who was just beginning to climb to his feet. Carlo's grip got stronger. "You ever lay a hand on him again, I'll put you out for a week. Do you understand me?"

Nicky felt sick. The thought of himself completely nauseated him. He was the monster he tried to suppress. He was everything he hated. "I'm not gay." The whole of it. Everything boiled down to a definition and now not even that applied.

Carlo shook his head. "No. You're just sick."

Jonathan wasted no time in making his decision. He felt it impossible to make a wrong one when he could feel Shawn's arms around his waist, holding on for dear life in more ways than one. He needed Jonathan to put his feelings aside. He needed the best.

The frustration that Jonathan felt revolved around his notion of injustice. Once, the boy on the back of his bike was the battered son of a drunk. Then, he was the battered son of a drunk and the plaything of his half-brother child molester. Now, he's the battered son of a drunk, the plaything of a child molester, and the target of a degenerate stalker. Jonathan feared tomorrow for the boy.

When Jonathan first brought Shawn to the police, he had a team of detectives, who despite minor differences — Nicky's intuition that Shawn was hiding a key piece of the puzzle and that it was Jonathan's treatment of him — gave Jonathan the support he needed and faith to carry him into the next morning. But somehow he was only down to one detective, a lawyer who — though attractive — wouldn't leave Jonathan alone about the trial, and a half-shattered life that he couldn't piece together even if he tried.

He ignored Shawn when they pulled up in front of Nicky's apartment building in stead of the police station. This man had given Shawn's case everything he had to give and more. He gave up his safeguard when he thought Shawn was going to jump off of the hospital roof. He made Jonathan believe that he could get Shawn past this horrible reality and then he disappeared.

He understood that it wasn't easy. He understood what it did to Nicky. After all, he had witnessed the scene of Chris and Nicky's father carrying his drunken mess of a son out from that very building to his car. Perhaps it was fear, or maybe it was that notion of injustice that made Jonathan believe that he had to prevent things from getting any worst than they already were even if fate begged for it. Maybe he was selfish, but Jonathan felt no guilt when he silenced a frantic Shawn, led him up the stairs, and began to hammer on the door of Nicky's apartment.

I know that some of you asked for more scenes with Cory in it, so I'm sorry I couldn't deliver. It's just that since I decided to make this story about Shawn and not Cory, I had to pull in a lot of outside characters to help secure a background for his character. Now with all of those storylines going on it's hard to write in the main character of the actual show, because I neglected to tie him in with this character arc. Personally, I don't see much need for Cory in this story. Don't misunderstand me, I do intend on bringing him in, but just like in real life, he'll have a lot of trouble understanding Shawn's situation and will see that it's probably best that he gives his friend a little space until he gets everything together. If you recall, The Matthews' hired a Private Investigator to help with Shawn's case in the second book, so I intend on giving the whole family another go at being involved in the story. I know it's been a long time and I've brought in a lot of events, but try to remember them all because they're all about to tie in and make one really big event that is coming really close to happening.

Thanks for putting up with me! Let me know what your thoughts are on what I've said, your ideas, and thoughts on this chapter. Thanks you guys, I'll update again soon.

xoxo Meg