Authors notes: Anybody else stuck without power for a week? "Don't you dare give up on me!" Me to my computer while trying to get this chapter finished up and edited as my battery dipped under ten percent. Been a rough week guys. At least there is power and food again, but most importantly of all...internet.
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It was early enough in the morning that the wedge of shade that Sam sat in at the base of the cliff had not yet been chased off by the sun. It was comfortable outside even though the sun promised the same scorching hell that they had been enduring here for the past week or so. He kneeled on the rocky earth meditating with his sword laying before him.
Or he was trying to meditate anyway.
As always his restless thoughts ran rampant even though he strived for that long lost inner peace. At least outwardly things were peaceful here for now in the little secluded spot in the middle of nowhere. Sam occasionally cracked an eye open to peer down at the lodge and make sure things were still all well over there.
Bladewolf and his prickly blond pet had yet to return from their nighttime outing. This was not out of the ordinary as Jack had been pushing himself longer and harder day by day. Sam huffed out a chuckle wondering which would come first: the man working himself to exhaustion or the two teenagers gaining up on him to force him to rest a bit.
Sam had already heard them somewhat plotting on how to manage such a thing over mealtimes. They had been trying to get Kevin to join in as a voice of authority which Kevin had laughingly told them 'I learned long ago not to get in Rai's way when his mind is set on something. Good luck you two, you'll need it'. Despite the boy's protests Kev was doing his damnedest to stay neutral. After all, the man had his own personal worries to deal with.
Although he was used to his share of field missions, Kevin was not quite accustomed to this level of roughing it. He had always been stationed in some temporary command center or van to direct missions, not in some dilapidated old building baking in the heat of the desert. The man did his job without complaint but to Sam's amusement he could see that Kev was mentally having words with Boris every time he left the outhouse.
In an attempt at making the place more habitable in the long run (or as Sam saw it: an act of self preservation) Kevin had started a campaign with the help of the boys to get the lodge fixed up as best they could. The little generator and ac unit that had been brought along was largely useless with all the open doors and windows. The children seemed to enjoy the endeavor and it was good for the two to have something to do out here. It also had the added bonus that they left him alone.
Sam had never been any good with kids.
He often wondered what George would think of him if he knew that he used to be a part of Desperado, the group responsible for his current condition. As it was the teen seemed to get along with him well enough, even if he was overly fussy about the maintenance of his cybernetics and health. Sam chalked it up to the boy having really only one function in the group and being absolutely determined to fill it.
Perhaps George already knew his past affiliations, Sam mused as he shifted on the uncomfortably rocky ground. If he did, then their medic had as much care for them as he did for the darkness that lurked in the man he idolized. The teen seemed unflappable with the kind of eyes that spoke of an old soul that had seen too much. Although that look only came out when he thought that no one else was observing him.
John, the little spitfire, had seemed to regain that spark that had been dimmed by the attack at Maverick. The boy had loosened up around Sam considerably and almost seemed as if he were growing to like him. Thankfully the puppy was less concerned with nipping at his heels but rather with vying for his father's attention whenever he was around and not in a mood. Although both of said occurrences were admittedly rare. The man was driven to the point of being possessed.
On the surface it seemed that Blondie's intense desire to improve himself rather than mope around all day as he did at Maverick was a good thing. Once one looked deeper into it however, Sam was not exactly happy with this version of Jack that he was seeing. The passion was an improvement, no doubt, but it was a subdued, wary sort of change. It was less of a warriors spirit that was being cultivated and more like a pit animal gearing up for a fight.
It was the way his eyes looked, Sam decided. Restless, on edge, and sleep deprived. Sam had seen looks like that from many different faces in his travels and none of those encounters were ever good. It was certainly not that calm and collected, yet fiery look that Blondie had whenever he had taken on Sam in the desert. As it stood if they crossed swords now, even if Jack was back in his ridiculously expensive combat body, he would lose even worse than he had back in Africa.
That was not the type of man Sam was set on following.
"Time. You must remember time and not be impatient" Sam reminded himself with a sigh. He had never been one for denying his many flaws and this was a prime example of his haste outweighing his prudence. He had pushed for that confrontation far too soon at Maverick when Jack was certainly in no shape for it.
Sam's impatience came from a place of desperation. He had been desperate to seek out his answers before the whole mess was resolved and Jack took off for parts unknown once more. Or worse. What if the man decided that nearly losing his family was all too much and he decided to retire? Jack had already threatened such with his words about potentially being a single parent. Yes, he was preparing for the inescapable showdown against this hacker, but after that...then what?
Down by the lodge Kevin flew out one of the doors, pausing only only to point and scold before running around the building out of sight. Carrying something in an outstretched metal hand, George followed him all the while laughing so hard the boy could hardly keep his feet. Part of Sam wished that he were down there joining in on the mischief. Lighthearted and fun. Careless and free in a way he had not been in many years.
Despite his best efforts, his attempts at meditation always left him invariably more lost and frustrated.
"Resentment and complaint are appropriate neither for oneself or others." His father would often quote Musashi to him whenever Sam would grumble and gripe too much about having to meditate.
"I'm trying Pai. I'm trying." Sam let out a deep sigh and sagged out of his meditative pose to lean back against the rocks. Despite his abilities as a swordsman, Sam had never been quite able to match the old man with his skills of the mind. Nor his strength of spirit. That was why he was stuck relying on others to point him the right direction.
He had been following in Blondie's footsteps and still he could not suss out the difference. Sam had been working with Maverick seeking out those that would cause harm and honestly it was not all too different than what he had been up to before his failed raid on World Marshal. His skills were as sharp as ever, perhaps improved, yet he did not feel like he once had before his failure.
No, the secret had to come from the man himself. But how to urge that red eyed version of Jack back to life? Sam already nettled at him whenever he was present and Kevin was not around to try and break it up. Mostly his taunting was just ignored although sometimes he would be graced with a "Fuck off Rodrigues" whenever the other man was particularly tired. The day Sam replied with "You first Sears" Blondie had given him what had to have been the dirtiest look he had ever received in his life.
Perhaps that was part of the problem though, Sam thought as he drummed metal fingers against a nearby rock as he lounged. Being a pest and riling the other man up seemed to have little effect. Jack had proved time and time again to be unusually resilient to Sam's provocations that have sent lesser opponents into a rage.
Perhaps instead of acting as a foil, what if Sam took steps to act as a friend?
He heartily laughed out loud to himself at the thought, scaring a nearby rodent from its hiding place. While he was not opposed to attempting such a thing, the likelihood of success on that front seemed as good as himself deciding to give up the sword and take up knitting instead.
It was a pity though that Jack was not quite ready for actual fighting. Sam always found that it did wonders for his spirits. When one's mind was a gnarled up mess it was a refuge to shelter within the unchanging nature of blood and steel. While the possibility of them becoming friends was far fetched, them becoming sparring partners while they were stuck out here was not all that bad of an idea.
Well, once Jack got tired of playing tag with Wolfie amidst the rocks that is. Surely there was some scrap around here that can be fashioned into some practice swords for the both of them. Perhaps even for John as well. He had heard that the little spitfire liked some swordplay. The scar on Sam's side certainly attested to that fact.
It was a pity that Jack's technique was lacking in polishing, despite its effectiveness once backed with overwhelming force. He was for certain going to pass down those weak points down to his son. Sam closed his eyes and wondered what his father could have sculpted from the man. He would have loved to have seen the result. As it was only he was around to teach his family's technique, and he highly doubted that Blondie would be willing to take pointers from him.
The light footed shuffle of someone approaching him but trying not to be noticed pulled Sam from his thoughts. He opened his eyes to see John, short blond hair wild, awkwardly walking his way and trying to look in every which way but his direction.
'Well speak of the devil and he will appear. Or the devil's son at least.' Sam thought with a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"Need help clearing out the creepy crawly things again? Things were sounding rather intense down there earlier." Sam didn't move from his lounging pose as the boy came to stand before him, shifting back and forth with uncertainty.
"Nah. George has that well in hand. Literally. He has a big scorpion and is chasing Kevin around with it." This prompted a hearty laugh out of Sam. He made a note to tease the man about the pitch of those screams later. John chuckled along with him but made no motion to leave or to spit out what he wanted.
"Well that is one way to get out of cleaning up the lodge." Sam continued to play along. He wasn't about to ask the boy what he had approached him about. Whatever it was, he was going to make John work for it.
"Yeah. Kev locked himself in the office and George is right outside waiting for him. My money's on George outlasting him. Kev has to use the outhouse sometime. I took the opportunity to sneak out while they are busy to come talk to you about something."
Ah, there it was. It didn't take the child nearly as long to get to the point as he expected him to. That was his father's straight to the point nature right there. Once again Sam found himself wondering what kind of woman Rose was. She would certainly have to possess a formidable will to be able to manage her two little monsters.
Intrigued now, Sam motioned for John to take a seat on the ground before him. To the man's mild surprise, John sunk down into a perfect meditative pose that mirrored the one that he had held only a few minuets prior. Evidently the boy had been watching him for a while. Straightening up, Sam returned to the keeling position and faced the teen head on.
"Well you have my attention now. What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"
That initial impression that the boy was straight to the point was fractured as the child was quiet for a few moments rather than speak what was on his mind. John's eyes fell to the sword that lay stretched out between the two of them slowly growing warmer as the sun chased the shadows away.
"Your sword is different from the HF blades I've seen Dad use. Or at least the ones that Dad kept at home anyway. Is that...is that a trigger on there?" John peered at the sword, trying to get a better look at the weapon.
"Indeed it is." Sam decided to indulge the child for the moment. After all, what else did he have to do until the temperature rose high enough to herd him indoors? Picking the sheathed blade up, Sam turned it over in his hands a few times then handed it over to the boy to inspect. The ID lock was still on so there was no worry that the impulsive little imp could seriously hurt either of them should the madness be genetic.
John took the blade respectfully and looked it over carefully. The teen inspected the trigger mechanism curiously and Sam could see the moment that realization hit. The child had certainly put it together faster than his father had.
"Talk about quick draw." John murmured. He looked up to Sam briefly for permission then after receiving a nod of approval pulled the sword loose from its sheath an inch to peer at the blade. "What style do you use?" John continued to inspect the deactivated blade closely, seemingly fascinated by its crimson color.
"My father taught Brazilian Kenjutsu. The 'Rodrigues New Shadow School', he so humbly called it. His specialty was the Uradachi technique. You might have possibly heard of it as the 'murdering sword' or Satsujin-ken." Sam paused for a moment wondering if he should counter with a question of his own. The hesitation was brief as he decided that his curiosity outweighed his hesitation in asking a child. "What style is it that you have been taught? I have the scar to testify that you have at least some training. But I am not quite sure what the style your father uses is called."
"Scar?" John asked before memory caught up with him. The smooth flow that their conversation was setting up to be was interrupted as the kid flushed with embarrassment. "Oh right...sorry about that." He sat the sword back down between them before resuming his fidgeting.
"Do not apologize. Despite what my face may suggest, not many have been able to land a hit on me. You should be proud." The boy seemingly didn't know how to react to that and so moved on to answering Sam's question rather than addressing his praise.
"I don't really know what Dad's style is called. I don't know if he's even named it or not. Not that he would teach it to me. It would be pointless after all. I just know some things here and there anyway. Mish-mash isn't really a style, you know?"
"Now why would you say that it is pointless for him to teach you?" What curious bitterness there was behind the child's words. Sam was finding this encounter more intriguing by the moment despite his earlier reluctance at being approached by the boy.
"Because there's no way I could ever fight like Dad." John said bluntly and without hesitation. "I don't think anyone out there can fight like Dad. Kev's showed me some videos. I've seen the things that he can do. It's pointless because it's impossible. I would have better luck sticking with guns. But I can't seem to get that right either." This last bit was mumbled more to himself than to Sam.
The man had to admit that the boy had a point. Jack fought rather energetically, to put it mildly. The man darted, flipped, and leapt here there and everywhere. It certainly helped that such energy was powered by expensive fuel cells rather than flesh and blood. It was difficult to tell which direction, or limb, he was going to attack from. Add in the unholy speed that the man possessed and he was an utter terror to try and fight.
Sam had loved it.
But for someone flesh and bone, and not even fully grown at that, that style of high powered cybernetically enhanced blitzing was simply unobtainable. No wonder the child felt inadequate compared to his father. Such a relatable point they discovered this day between the two of them as Sam knew that feeling all to well also.
"Those two people in the garage…" John began, pulling Sam away from his memories of shared bloodshed with Jack and his failings going up against his own father. "I didn't get to see it, but I saw the mess afterwards. And they went down so fast too." The boy's eyes were cast down to the dirt but it was clear his mind was far elsewhere.
Sam managed to mostly hold in his sigh of exasperation. He very much did not want to play therapist to a traumatized child. From everything that he's seen so far, Blondie has kept his kid rather soft. Of course the child would be upset by the things that he had seen. Not only from the violence in the garage, but with the other two opponents that had been dispatched. Jack's recounting of events to Kevin about what had happened was rather dry but Sam could see the red oozing between the lines.
He was trying to figure out the best way to disengage from the conversation without upsetting the boy when John spoke and once again caught Sam by surprise.
"Can you teach me kenjutsu?"
"...Excuse me?"
"Like I said earlier, no one can fight like Dad, but I can fight like you." John said brightly, eyes full of hope. "I know you have a cybernetic arm and all of that, but the rest of you is all normal. Well...from what I can see anyway. And you had no trouble with those guys, like, at all."
"Ah, kid…look…" Sam held up his hands in an effort to ward off any further words.
"I'm useless!" John spat out in a very familiar self loathing. "Sunny's super smart. George knows all that medical stuff, and he's strong as hell because of his cybernetics. I know he could mess somebody up if he wanted. Kev is the tech guy that can multitask and hunt out information like in the spy movies. You're a shadow school master and Dad is...Dad. I'm nothing. I thought I had some training and could take care of myself. I was wrong…" John's rant ended with his voice cracking and a valiant effort to fight back a few sniffles.
"I will be honest with you kid. It's not going to happen." Sam said, honestly feeling bad for the child. "I can't teach you to fight like me."
"What?" The hurt look that John shot him was enough to make Sam actually feel a little guilty. Damn those damp blue eyes, like an oversized puppy. He was starting to get soft in the heart as he aged. Sam sighed and backpedaled to explain himself better.
"Before you look at me like that you have to realize several things. The main one being that I don't intend to stay out in this desert wasteland forever. It would take far longer than our visit out here to even be able to properly teach you the basics. Learning to fight, and particularly the way of the sword is a lifelong journey. Even I have things I have yet to learn. It's not something to take lightly."
"Wasn't going to." John sullenly grumbled, rubbing at his nose. "I've been thinking about this stuff for a while now. Not much else to do around here. And I'm not stupid. I know...I know that things are going to be different now. Even if all this safe house business was over with I'm not going to be able to go home and act like nothing has changed. Everything has changed." John muttered towards the ground as he picked at a flaky limestone chunk and picked at it.
Sam was trying hard not to feel empathy for the little devil and failing. Having your whole world flipped upside down and thrust into a new sort of life...he knew what that was like as well.
"Secondly," Sam sighed, wondering why he was still trying to argue with the child. Or was it himself that he was trying to convince that it wasn't going to happen. "I don't know how observant you are, but surely you have noticed by now that your father and I do not get along in the slightest. He would be rather livid at me for teaching you my style of fighting."
"But I thought you liked pissing him off?" John asked sincerely. Sam bit back a laugh, then on second thought let it fly. The little monster had a point. He had been worrying about Jack teaching the boy improper swordsmanship, hadn't he? Sensing Sam's refusal weakening, John pressed onward. "Your style of fighting might not be right for me either but I won't know unless I try. What else do we have to do while were stuck here?"
It was unfortunate that he had just resolved himself to try a more amiable approach with Jack rather than an antagonistic one. If Sam were looking for ways to piss the man off then one had certainly fell right into his lap. Sam knew Jack would never approve the training and to go behind his back would certainly hurt any chances of improving their relationship.
But Sam also could not deny that part of himself was feeling rather petty towards the other man for not giving him the answers that he sought and this would be the perfect sort of harmless revenge. The swordsman never was one for going by the high road after all. It was far more fun to go in the other direction. There was also the fact that the kid needed someone to lean on and take his frustrations out on during practice while his father was busy putting himself back together.
It was sure to be a disaster. But then again hasn't his whole life been a disaster so far? Why change things now?
"Before I agree to this I have several conditions." Sam waggled a finger at the teen, wondering what the hell he was doing agreeing to this. "First and foremost, we are going to keep what we are up to a secret from your father."
"Right." John agreed readily, his young eyes sparking with that light of life that his father lacked. "Can I ask why though? Or am I not supposed to ask questions?"
"Of course you can. I encourage all of my students to ask questions. What sort of sensei would I be if I discouraged that sort of thing?" Sam put on a front of mild offense.
"You've had other students?"
"You are my very first, and likely the only one I may ever have seeing as how unlikely it is that I will ever have children of my own. You see why this is so serious now, right? Unless you are dedicated and learn the Rodrigues Shadow School way the techniques die with me." Sam told him in full seriousness. The loss of his family's techniques was something that he had made peace with years ago, but this was an unexpected little sliver of hope that at least something would be passed on.
"Right. I understand." The boy looked decidedly less eager but instead of shying away from such a responsibility, John took on a serious solemn look that the man knew all too well.
"And to answer your question, your father is going to be quite angry at me whenever he finds out that I've been kicking the crap out of his kid. I'd like to avoid his pissiness for as long as possible." John looked even less eager at the reminder that this was not going to be a painless journey by any means but did not yield.
"Yeah. Dad can get moody. But you do start it most of the time."
"I do, don't I?" Sam chuckled in a very self satisfied way. A man had to have his hobbies after all. "Also, while I know that I joke around a lot, martial arts is no lighthearted affair. This isn't play. This isn't exercise to pass the time. This is learning how to most effectively kill your opponent. You will be learning how to be a killer. Now, are you still sure you want to be taught this?"
John looked to the ground to avoid the serious look in Sam's eyes. He didn't answer immediately, but instead thought it over. 'Smart boy.' Sam thought to himself. To agree without hesitation would mean that the teen did not truly understand what he was agreeing to.
"I think...I think that the world isn't leaving me many options. If I don't need to fight anybody then it's not a big deal to know how to, umm, to kill properly. I would rather know it and not need it rather than the other way around, you know? We got lucky when we escaped Maverick building, but I really don't want to rely on luck the next time something bad like that happens."
"Very wise." Sam was pleased with this. An exceptionally prudent answer from someone who had lived a rather sheltered life. Perhaps his father had taught him something after all. The child was adapting rather well to the circumstances rather than crumbling like so many others Sam had seen thrust into hard times.
Given the boy's almost squeamish reaction at the thought of having to kill, and many other hints that Sam has picked up over time, he was willing to stake his life on the fact that the boy did not know of his fathers sordid history. What lies had been told to keep the child in the dark? Nothing secret ever remained secret and Sam wondered how that was going to play out once the ugly truth became impossible to conceal.
Movement on the horizon and the faint sounds of two distinct sets of footsteps heralded the end of their little chat. "I am afraid that we will have to go over the rest of the rules at a later time." Sam announced to the boy, returning to his lounging position.
At John's confused look Sam tilted his head in the direction of the interruption, which happened to be the boy's father and Wolf finally returning from their little nightly romp. It did not take long for Blondie to spot the two of them sitting together and for him to immediately change his trajectory from the lodge to their direction.
John looked to Sam for guidance, as he had just told the boy that they needed to keep this under wraps from his father and now here he approached. Sam motioned for him to stay put and calm. Seeing this silent communication between them, Jack had also motioned for Wolf to go ahead and return to the lodge and approached them alone.
Time to see if the kid could keep a secret or if the fireworks were about to go off early.
"What's going on here?" Jack asked as he finally approached, looking between the two of them.
"Nothing. Just talking." John replied back in the most unconvincing lie that Sam had ever heard. Deus do céu the boy was bad at this. Sam was under the impression that John's mother was an expert at deception. Apparently it was not an inherited trait.
"We were wondering where you were Mr. Absent." Sam stepped in to help the kid out. "Would you be back before mid morning or would we have to send out a search party? Also wondering what kind of mess you would be like this day. Are you actually training or do you just go out and roll in the dirt away from prying eyes? No judgment on my part if you do. Do whatever works for you." Sam held up his hands placatingly, eyeing Jack up and down.
Ah. Here he was resolving to be more friendly and already he was antagonizing the man. Old habits and all that.
The narrowed eyes leveled to him showed that Jack far less than amused at the ribbing, but to Sam's defense the man really was filthy. The grey tee and pants brought with Kevin and George were now practically beige with the sand and dust of the desert saturating them. The yellow hues were interspersed with streaks of red, courtesy of bloody knuckles being wiped off and the multitude of small cuts and abrasions. Their dear local medic/mechanic was going to be positively insufferable for the next several hours.
"John, could you go ahead and head back to the lodge? I need to speak with Sam." Jack's voice held no wrath or warning, just that same dull calm calculating tone that itched at Sam's teeth when what he really wanted was a spirited exchange.
John was not about to let an out so easily given to him slip on by. The boy scrambled to his feet and took off without an answer or a look back, leaving the two men to themselves. Waiting until John was well out of earshot, Jack finally broke the silence.
"What was that about?" The tone was accusatory without being hostile, but it was toeing a fine line. "I know when he is hiding something, and John was most certainly hiding something."
Deciding that meditation was a lost cause for the day, Sam got to his feet with the resolution to act upon his musings of the morning. He picked up the Murasama and fixed the weapon back to his side.
"Come and take a walk with me. I have something to discuss with you. Several somethings in fact." Jack lifted a curious brow but did not object. Sam chose a path perpendicular to the lodge at a rather leisurely pace, having no true destination in mind. At his side the other man fell into step with him, silent and brooding as always.
While he was not avoiding the conversation, Sam knew that this called for tact. Unfortunately this happened to be a skill he was sorely lacking in and he wanted to sort his thoughts properly before letting them out. Sam could tell that Jack was growing impatient at the silence as their walk stretched on. His company bore the wait with that same frostiness that Sam had come to expect from him.
"Nice knife." Sam said, nodding to the weapon at Jack's side in a bid to gently break the tension and ease into the conversation. He recognized the blade as one of Wolf's. The sleek design was marred by old twisting cloth to form a handle and an even cruder hilt made of braided string attached to Jack's sweatpants. 'Whatever works I suppose.' Sam thought to himself, idly resting his wrist against his swords hilt.
"Beggars can't be choosers." Jack pulled the weapon forth and twirled it around with surprising deftness. "It's either this or a stick."
"A stick might be better actually." Sam mused thoughtfully. "You can at least shape one into a sword. You'll never get your old moves back practicing with that short thing."
"I have to start somewhere. Besides, my journey with swordsmanship is a rather new all things considering. My experience with firearms and more particularly knives is a far older and more ingrained set of skills. If I can't manage with at least this then there is no hope for me." Jack's tone was nothing short of self depreciating as he slipped the blade back where he pulled it from.
"And if and when you decide you want to move onto something with a little more finesse?" Sam shrugged, trying his best to keep his tone casual instead of challenging or confrontational."Myself? I am not used to being so inactive. It won't be as fun without live blades but there is plenty of material here to craft something crude to spar with. I am game for it if you ever want a different sort of challenge than playing tag with Wolfie."
"Is that what you wanted to talk about? A sparring partner?" The shorter man shot him an incredulous look, sprinkled liberally with doubt.
"Not only this, but I wanted to address the possibility first."
"I'll keep it in mind." The tone in which this was said suggested that Jack would do no such thing. "And what else? And what were you two talking about that had John looking so guilty?"
"He really did, didn't he?" Sam chuckled at the memory of the boy's poor poker face. His company became visibly annoyed at the defection. Sam rushed on to the point so as to not agitate him further. "But in all seriousness, the child sought me out because he needed someone to talk to."
"About what?"
"It was about what happened at Maverick. About the fighting. And the bloodshed." Not quite the truth but not a complete lie either. It was a fine dance between the two of them but Sam thought he pulled it off rather well as Jack seemed to have bought it, casting his thoughtful gaze to the dusty earth.
"Did he say why he felt he couldn't come to me about it?"
"When could he?" Sam shot out before he could help himself. "You're always gone out in the wilds. And besides, I have a strong suspicion you are avoiding such a conversation." Oh now that earned Sam a look. "It is glaringly obvious from the boys squeamishness about bloodshed and the way you clam up whenever your history is even hinted at that he does not know the truth of who you are."
"And its going to stay that way." Jack stopped walking and turned to fully face him. Behind that sharp eyed look full of warnings and promises of violence was a subtle undercurrent of another emotion that he had not seen in the man before. Fear.
Sam didn't like the look of it.
"While I do not completely agree with the choice to keep him in the dark, and mark my words it will come back to bite you on the ass, you have nothing to worry about from me. I will not say a thing or even hint of it. This I promise you."
"And you always keep your promises…" Jack parroted quietly, turning away from him.
"I do my damnedest to anyway." Sam smiled grimly at the reminder of his failures. "While we may not have the specifics, I am correct in assuming that we both know a rather adequate amount of each others history, yes?"
"Yes. The basics anyway." Jack chose to look out over the desert lands rather than to face Sam.
"Right. So while it was most certainly not the same, I also grew up amongst fighting and a bloody sort of life. My father all but encouraged it. I know you get pissy when I question your parenting but don't you think you are being a little too soft on keeping the boy completely in the dark? We ended up fine after all."
"Are we fine though?" Jack asked, more introspective than angry. Finally the man turned to look back at him with an odd thoughtful expression. "We are not right Sam. We are abnormal. The things we do without blinking would scar any other person for the rest of their lives. I don't think it's softness, I think its how things are supposed to be. I suppose I'm trying to give John what I never had a chance to have."
"I see." It was Sam's turn to look away now. The other man pressed his point on.
"If you could go back and chose, would you choose all of this over again? Walk the same blood soaked twisted path or a simpler straighter way?"
Sam did not answer him and instead looked off to the horizon. The question prickled at him uncomfortably. He had truly never reflected on a different sort of path to take in his life. It was not for a lack of a choice but that he had been so set on his chosen path that any other options might as well have not existed to him. The thought of abandoning his lost way to choose a different sort of road to walk down made him unsettled in a soul twisting sort of way.
"Should the boy bring up the subject, how do you wish me to address it then?" Sam asked, suddenly desperate to change the subject. "Shall I play it off, be blunt with the child, or avoid the topic altogether? Despite my disagreements with your choices, I do not wish to undermine how you raise him."
"...Thank you." Jack eyed him suspiciously, no doubt uncertain about Sam's unexpected sincerity. It made Sam feel a pang of guilt about the promised lessons which would most certainly be undermining the other man's wishes. He resolved to let that be a problem for future Sam, he had other things on his mind right now.
"I suppose talk to John however you see fit. Within reason of course." Jack added in quickly. "He needs to see the other perspectives of the world now that he's been thrown into it. Since we're talking without being at each others throats, I'll be honest with you. I've been worried about him seeing me fight and even more worried that he would bring it up. But then again maybe that's why he came to you instead of me. Maybe I frightened him."
This last sentence was muttered to the dirt. Sam could not help but cast his eyes to the heavens in a plea for strength in dealing with the overly moody man. Even though he had been freed, Blondie still spent way too much time in his own twisted head.
"I think that you are severely underestimating how much love a son could have for his father. I think that John is more likely to understand than you would realize." Sam shot him a look, hoping that through sheer force of will he could pull the other man's head out of his ass.
"I wouldn't know much about a fathers love." Jack said wryly before continuing on their slow walk. Walking along in silence they both wordlessly agree to begin drifting back to the lodge as their conversation was nearing its end.
Except that it wasn't. Not quite.
"I have one last thing that I wish to discuss with you." Sam said as they arrived at the rusted out playground with the cool shade of the lodge nearly within reach. "The most difficult thing I think."
"I was wondering when you were going to spit it out." Was his companions amused dry reply.
"I will be blunt. We are both men of action and in the end words truly mean very little but I am going to try anyway." Sam stopped walking to turn and face the shorter man. "I can't fix what I did in Africa, or all of my other actions under the command of Desperado, but things have changed. I have changed. While we may have been opponents I have never considered you an enemy. I know that we will never be anything remotely resembling friends but I want to know if there is any possibility that we can move past this antagonistic back and forth that we've been doing and move into something more closely resembling allies?"
Jack looked at him for a moment then turned away to the horizon. He gave away nothing in either his expression or his body language. Sam tried to convince himself that since it was not an outright refusal or a burst of anger that it was a good sign but he felt that was not the case. Sam pressed the subject further.
"I know that I can be an asshole sometimes. Well...most of the time. It is in my nature to poke and prod but I will try to back off. I apologize in advance for any shortcomings. I'm not used to playing nice after all."
"I have to wonder why are you bothering to play nice at all." Jack turned to look at him, a cold suspicious look burning behind those blue eyes.
Well shit.
Sam tried to think of something to say to smooth the situation out but the other man took a step back from him. That angry look morphed into one of bitter amusement.
"My whole life I have been used by others so I know the feel of someone who wants something from me. If you're going to try and manipulate me into what you want instead of being blunt then forget it. You can talk to John. I'm even very strongly tempted to take you up on the sparring offer. But as to whatever this is, why you are trying to suddenly get on my good side, I want nothing of it."
And with that Jack abruptly turned away and headed back to the shelter of the lodge, leaving Sam standing out there in the punishing sunlight.
"Fine job Rodrigues." Sam grumbled to himself, feeling like a complete ass.
Not only was he left feeling like a failure because his rightly called out attempts at manipulation had been spotted a mile away, now he had sunk even further in Blondie's eyes. Sam was now listed amongst the long list of names that had tried to use the bristly blue eyed devil for their own gain.
Unbidden, Jack's words about choices came to mind once more.
Sam thought he knew what he wanted, the road he wanted to travel. But it seemed that every attempt he made at finding the passion in his heart left him burnt out and full of regrets. He was tired of going through the same old motions trying to find that old extinguished flame.
All he wanted this morning was to meditate, to find a sliver of peace of mind. Instead Sam was left with a multitude of additional worries and thoughts weighing down his already troubled soul.