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Title: Butterfly Effect
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chaps1870
Pairing: John/Rodney friendship
Rating: PG-13
Summary: 21,000 words. Sometimes what we do or don’t do has long lasting effects
P.S. Big thanks to my betamisty4me.
Chapter One
Sergeant John Sheppard sat back in his chair, idly punching the keyboard in front of him as he perused the latest supply requisitions. Even though the Antarctic base was small in comparison to others he’d been on, there was still a lot of paperwork involved.
As supply officer, he had his hands full keeping the base stocked with all the usual items as well as the strange requests the scientists made. After three months, he was still in awe of the whole operation and sometimes couldn’t believe that such a place actually existed. Who would have thought there would be an Ancient outpost, as in ET-like ancient, buried under the ice and snow of Antarctica? Even more surprising was that after twenty years in the Army, he’d finally pulled a choice duty. Ambition wasn’t his strong suit and the only reason he’d managed to get the Antarctica duty station was time and rank.
Unlike many of the servicemen he’d met over the years, John Sheppard had never really been gung-ho about the whole advancing through the ranks thing. He was simply putting in his time. It was a job and not much more. That ‘be all you can be’ crap was just that…crap. He was only in the Army because his father had given him an ultimatum when he screwed up that final time; join the Army or lose the trust fund that his mother’s death provided. His father was executor and therefore decided how the money would be spent, at least until John had turned 21.
If he’d had a choice, John would have joined the Air Force and become a pilot, but the money was far more important to a young man than following his dream of flying someday. His grades were piss poor, but he might have made it into college with some decent ACT scores. He never bothered to try. By the time he figured out that money wasn’t everything, he’d already given the Army ten years of his life. He was stuck in the rut and kept telling himself that he’d get out one day.
There was always that gut feeling that he was meant for something more and if he was patient, bided his time, it would just happen. It was like he was waiting for something…something that would ease that lifelong feeling that things just weren’t right. Being in Antarctica was the closest he’d come to having that ‘right’ feeling and even then he didn’t feel like he belonged. He did his job and stayed to himself, unattached to anyone or anything. He’d never made friends easily and preferred to stay on the periphery. Antarctica was no different.
John’s musings were interrupted by a familiar Czech accent. “Sergeant, are you busy?”
Unable to recognize the object in the Dr. Zelenka’s hand, John had no doubt it was yet another Ancient device they’d been unable to decipher. Part of his job was to prepare everything for shipment to the SGC, usually in care of Colonel Carter or Daniel Jackson. Rumor had it that both were being considered to lead the science section of the impending expedition should it ever happen. John still had a hard time getting his head around that.
Being stationed on a top secret base had its perks and he’d been thoroughly briefed on the Stargate program. The whole idea seemed so farfetched that he often had to remind himself that it was all for a reason. Both the military and scientists involved were hoping to discover the location of the lost city of Atlantis and eventually send a team of explorers there. John wasn’t sure if they were going to maintain operations in Antarctica if and when that happened. It was a cake assignment but the weather sucked. He was used to moving around a lot and a new duty in a warmer climate would be a nice change.
Rising from his chair, John approached the nervous scientist and asked with his usual apathy, “What you need, Doc?”
Radek Zelenka held up the device in his hand. “I need to send this to Dr. Jackson. Do you have shipping case for it?”
Slipping around the desk, John crossed the room and retrieved a small metal box and handed it to the scientist. “That work?”
“Yes, thank you,” said Radek. “Do you have material to pack it or should I do that?”
John waved him off. “Just leave it over there on the table and I’ll pack it later. How come you’re sending it off to Jackson? Isn’t he due back soon?”
Zelenka shook his head and frowned. He answered sarcastically, “He is very busy man.”
“Having trouble with the minions, Doc?” asked Sheppard, knowing how much Zelenka hated being in charge when Jackson was absent from the base.
The scientist scowled at him, “Is like babysitting spoiled five-year-olds.” He muttered as he walked to the door, “I did not sign on for this. No time for research. Must stop petty fighting of small minds all day…”
Smiling, John shook his head at the scientist’s rant. Zelenka was one of the few that actually treated him with respect rather than distain. There was a gap between the scientists and soldiers on the base, especially between those of either group that hadn’t worked with the other. Some of the scientists, like Jackson or Zelenka, had worked around the SGC long enough to have a healthy respect for the military contingent.
For the most part John got on with the scientific community, but then they needed him. Still, there was always that nagging guilt whenever he was around the really smart ones, the geniuses. They reminded him of a kid in high school, the one that didn’t make it. He never really knew the kid, only had him in one of his math classes. The kid was a couple years younger but had fast tracked through school. He was a senior while John was a junior. It was strange that John even remembered the incident since he was only at that school for about a month.
His dad was military and they were booted around so often John could hardly keep up. By the time he got to high school, he’d given up on doing well when he figured out he was smart enough to get a passing grade without too much effort.
He never had any real friends, generally just those that gravitated to his easy going nature. Even in the short-term schools he managed to find one or two he could party with. When all he was really interested in by that point was drinking or smoking, mostly to piss off his dad, he didn’t have to be too particular about who his friends were.
Sometimes when he was having a really bad day, he blamed that stupid kid for it all. If he thought hard enough John could vaguely recall being there when they were beating on him one day. No doubt he was probably stoned at the time, which accounted for the hazy memory. He remembered enough though. The kid didn’t have any friends and he was always real shy, never saying much. The day of that particular beating he almost stopped and offered him a ride. There were too many rumors running around school about the boy genius and John feared his father’s wrath if he were to find him even going near the kid. He’d kept driving, his eyes glued to the rear view mirror until the hunched figure could no longer be seen.
That day, John and his friends were hanging out in the locker room the last period of the day, passing around a joint when they happened on the kid. The jocks had not only roughed him up, but they’d thrown him in the shower after. They’d walked away after the kid insisted he was just fine but John remembered the unshed tears in the kid’s eyes. It was still bugging him an hour later when on his way home, he saw the kid walking. He looked half frozen and John debated stopping to give him a lift, but he hadn’t. That memory probably wouldn’t have stuck with him if the authorities hadn’t found the same kid dead a couple days later. The paper said he’d died of exposure, but they couldn’t rule out foul play with all the bruising he had.
When John found out what happened, he spent the money he’d saved up on a motorcycle and tried to drink himself into oblivion. All he managed to do was wreck the bike, almost killing himself in the process and then ended up joining the Army at his father’s insistence. John never found a way to talk to his dad after his mom died and he really didn’t think it his father was all that interested so he never mentioned his love of flying or the desire to join the Air Force. They never really got along after John was forced into the Army. When the old man died, John finally figured out that dead was too late to fix things. So yeah…he blamed that damn kid for screwing up his life whenever he had a bad day.
He wasn’t having a bad day today so he pushed the maudlin thoughts away and ambled over to wrap up Zelenka’s package for shipment. Tilting his head, he eyed the device before picking it up. It looked more like a ball than anything else and could have been a child’s plaything but for the fact it was metal and had raised Ancient writing all over the surface. Dr. Jackson was one of the few that could decipher Ancient, although Dr. Weir had recently taken up the challenge.
Shrugging his shoulders, Sheppard picked it up and hefted it in his palm, testing the weight. It was very heavy for its size and John peered at it more closely, wondering if the Ancients put off and on switches on their gizmos. Concentrating on the idea of how it turned on, the device glowed brightly for a fraction of a second and Sergeant John Sheppard, along with the device, blinked out of existence.
Chapter Two
He could hear the sounds of laughter. The distant laughter sounded more malicious than that close by. Wondering briefly why his eyelids wouldn’t open, he vaguely remembered smoking something earlier. It never dragged him down like this before though. The joint was either very strong or he was losing his tolerance.
“Hey Sheppard, wake up,” someone said, the voice disembodied.
“Mmrph.” John’s eyes fluttered open and he looked around, slowly recognizing his surroundings. He blinked a couple times until his friend Bill went from two to one, even if he was still fuzzy. John suddenly had an uneasy sense of déjà vu but it left as quickly as it came and he worked on keeping his eyes open.
Gary, his other compadre, was laughing as he drawled lazily, obviously high as a kite, “You are fucked up, man.” Not that he could talk; the tall blond was listing sideways as he spoke.
John felt himself being lifted, swaying as he got his feet under him and he shrugged from his friends grasp. “I’m good.”
Voices drifted to the trio from another part of the locker room and they curiously worked their way towards the commotion. Someone cried frantically above the sound of running water, “Don’t… do this. I can’t go outside if I’m all wet. I’ll freeze.”
Laughter filled the room and deep voice teased, “Too bad. You can call mommy and daddy to come get you.”
More pleading followed, “Please. They won’t come get me.”
“Too bad, so sad. Throw him in gentlemen. Let’s see the little girl cry some more.”
John and his friends staggered from one set of lockers to the next, laughing the whole way. John walked, oblivious to everything, until he slammed into someone’s back. He stumbled back a few steps as the other person turned sharply on him. John flashed the bulky jock in his way an easy smile and held up his hands, “Whoa dude. Sorry.”
Neither of his friends was concerned about the group of jocks gathered near the shower door. Bill, shorter and stockier than John, stepped around him and peered inside. He rolled his eyes as he confronted the group, “Beating on the underdog again, Drake?”
Drake was around six foot and had to weigh at least 250 pounds, but Bill wasn’t fazed in the least. John was a little more cautious and dared a look inside the steaming shower, seeing a small shape huddled in the corner. Staring at the kid, who was hugging his ribs and glaring at the group just outside the door, John figured him to be 13, maybe 14 and had to be the skinniest kid John had ever seen. He could almost see the outline of his ribs through the wet clothes that hung on his thin frame. The kid’s face was red with shame and seeing John, he ducked his head, embarrassed. John watched as the kid gingerly got to his feet and scooted out another door while the two groups confronted each other. Sheppard remained silent as the turned back to the others, watching through a drug-induced fog as they traded barbs. The big guy, Drake, stepped closer to Bill, poking him in the chest as he spoke, “None of your business.”
Bill was either too stoned or too stupid and he swatted Drake’s hand, “I’m not afraid of you so save your macho crap for the kids that are too small to fight back.”
“He’s a faggot. Somebody has to put him in his place,” countered Drake angrily, his friends moving in closer to show their solidarity.
“It’s just rumors. What the hell does a kid that young know anyway?” Bill teased, “You feel threatened by that Drake. You figure he’s gonna make the move on you?”
Drake’s friends snickered but it died on their lips when the big man glared at them. John listened, leaned heavily into the wall, letting it hold him up. Watching with amusement as the kid snuck towards the door at the far end of the room, John’s smile faded as the kid looked back at him with despair and fear in his eyes.
Gary grabbed Bill and pulled him away before his friend mouthed off and got them all in trouble. “Look, we don’t want no trouble.”
After a bit of posturing, the glowering behemoths let them all go and John sighed in relief as he glanced at his watch. He still had several hours before his father got home, giving him plenty of time to clean up the house. Bidding his friends goodbye, he wandered to his car. The wind had a bite to it, forcing John to pull his jacket tighter around himself. Looking up, John blissfully watched the darkening clouds for several minutes before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing.
Fumbling with his keys, his eyes drifted to the seat and he stared absently at the bag there. It took him several seconds to register the bag as food, and grinning madly, grabbed a handful of chips to satisfy his munchies. He started the car and kept eating until he was forced to lick his fingers for the last bit of food. Wadding up the bag, he chucked it in the back seat and focused his attention on the road, bemused he’d made it as far as he had. He didn’t remember making those last two turns.
The radio blasting, he pounded on the steering wheel in time to the music as he sang along. His head was finally clearing as he came to a stop at the light and he checked out the landmarks, mentally gauging how far he was from home. A sideways glance out his window and his eyes were drawn to the hunched figure trudging down the sidewalk, his coat tugged tight around him and an overfull backpack weighing him down even further. The wind had picked up and John shivered just watching the kid struggle against it.
That nagging sense of déjà vu returned as John recognized the kid and his hand went to the window handle, stopping indecisively before he could roll it down. He could offer the kid a ride and face his father’s wrath or keep driving, make it home with plenty of time to clean the house and relax for a couple of hours before his father arrived and found a reason to rag on him.
A honk from the car behind startled him and spotting the green light, John floored it through the intersection to make up for dawdling. Glancing back in the rear view mirror, the nagging feeling returned and with it a tightness in his chest that wouldn’t be denied. Checking his mirrors, he turned the wheel sharply, executing a tight u-turn, He cursed under his breath, “Damn it.”
Turning the corner just as the kid started across the street, John stopped the car and rolled down his window. Walking with his head down, the kid didn’t look up until he realized the car was in his way and would have to walk around. John nodded at him, “You want a ride?”
The kid looked at him in shock and then a touch of fear as he shook his head wildly. He stuttered as he stepped away cautiously, “Nooo…thanks.”
John wasn’t sure if the chattered reply was from fear or cold and he sighed, “Look I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re gonna freeze out here. Just get in the car.”
“Why…areeee…you…do…doing this?”
Losing his patience, John snapped, “So you don’t freeze to death. Get in the fucking car.”
The kid looked at John, then looked up the street, possibly gauging his chances of a clean escape before his shoulders slumped and he staggered to the other side of the car. He dropped his backpack to the floor and slipped into the seat, never taking his eyes off John as he crammed himself as close to the door as possible.
John rolled his eyes as he pulled away from the curb. “Where to?”
All he got was a stuttered, incoherent reply as the kid wrapped his arms around himself and commenced to shiver uncontrollably. John eyed him worriedly, noticing that the kid still had on the same wet clothes he’d left the locker room in earlier. Shit, no wonder he was so damn cold. He cranked up the heater and watched as the kid almost melted with the warmth, his eyes drifting closed as his head slumped into the window.
Thinking he’d fallen asleep, John was surprised by the quiet and tired voice that answered, “I’m hopeful that someday I’ll reach my full potential and I can to return to this shithole and seek serious and painful retribution for crimes committed against my person, so if you’re planning on hurting me, I’ll be adding your name to the list.” He turned his head to John. “Just so you know.”
“A simple street address would’ve been enough,” quipped John, smiling inwardly at the kid’s nervous rambling. He didn’t talk like any 13-year-old John knew.
Leaning back into the window, the kid closed his eyes in defeat. “Library.”
As cold as the kid looked, John questioned the soundness of his decision. “Shouldn’t you go home and change first?”
The kid’s widened briefly as he recognized who he was talking to and his face went red. “I’ll dry out at the library,” he said solemnly, his eyes closing as he dropped his head and continued to shiver.
“I really think…”
Opening his eyes, the kid stared out the window. “I can’t go home, so if you’ll just drop me off at the library, I’d appreciate it.”
“Why can’t you go home?”
Wrapping his arms tighter around himself, the kid shook his head, “Does it really matter? I just can’t.”
“It can’t be that bad.” John looked the kid up and down. “You’re all of what…thirteen. They take away your Nintendo or what?”
“Yeah, something like that.” John could swear he saw tears in the kid’s eyes, but he turned back to the window, muttering softly, “And I’m fourteen almost fifteen.”
“You don’t look fourteen… almost fifteen,” teased John, trying to go for levity, even though he found it hard to believe the kid was that old. He wasn’t all that tall and couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.
“I’m painfully aware of how old I look. It makes my life so much easier when I’m thrown in with a crowd of hormonal teens intent on proving their manhood by finding the runt of the litter.”
John remembered being that age, being the smallest kid until a couple growth spurts caught him up and shot him past most his classmates. He tried to offer some reassurance, “I know it’s tough but it gets better. You’ll get bigger and I know parents can be a pain in the ass sometimes. My old man…”
The kid sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve, refusing to cry. “Look, if this is where you go into the part where your life is more miserable than mine because you are older and wiser, then spare me. You don’t know anything about me.”
“I’m just trying to help. I’ve been there,” said John, indignantly, getting a little annoyed with the kid. He was just trying to help.
It was obviously the wrong thing to say because the kid sat up and glared at John, his face red and eyes glistening with unshed tears, “You have not been where I am, trust me. Your parents didn’t kick you out of the house making it crystal clear they didn’t care if you lived or died.” John flinched at the venom in the kid’s voice as he continued, “You don’t know what it’s like to know that you are going to get beat on every fucking day of your life simply because someone older and bigger takes a dislike to you.” The kid took a breath and went on, “You don’t know what it’s like to worry about how fucking cold it’s gonna get at night because you just might just freeze to death in your sleep if it drops too low. You’ve never been so desperate for food you’ll dig through fucking dumpsters hoping to find something to take away the gnawing ache in your gut that never quite goes away. Don’t tell my you’ve been where I have because until you have you don’t have a clue.” The kid was practically screaming, blinking back tears. His breath caught in a gasp as John stopped the car in front of the library.
John reached out, but the kid looked at him sharply, the pain and humiliation of his admission plain on his face. His mouth opened to say something but he seemed to realize where they were and before John could stop him, the kid grabbed his backpack and bolted from the car.
Stunned beyond words, John watched him stumble into the library, shaking his head sadly as he disappeared from sight, “Jesus.”
He wasn’t sure how long he sat in the car, just staring off into space trying to imagine anything as horrible as what the kid had told him and even wondered if maybe he was exaggerating things, hoping for some sympathy. Something deep inside told John that the kid had never told anyone before just how bad his life was and that only made the hurt in John’s chest worse. How pathetic was it that the kid had to spill his guts to a total stranger because no one else cared or even took time to notice.
Part 3-4
Author:
chaps1870Pairing: John/Rodney friendship
Rating: PG-13
Summary: 21,000 words. Sometimes what we do or don’t do has long lasting effects
P.S. Big thanks to my beta
misty4me. Chapter One
Sergeant John Sheppard sat back in his chair, idly punching the keyboard in front of him as he perused the latest supply requisitions. Even though the Antarctic base was small in comparison to others he’d been on, there was still a lot of paperwork involved.
As supply officer, he had his hands full keeping the base stocked with all the usual items as well as the strange requests the scientists made. After three months, he was still in awe of the whole operation and sometimes couldn’t believe that such a place actually existed. Who would have thought there would be an Ancient outpost, as in ET-like ancient, buried under the ice and snow of Antarctica? Even more surprising was that after twenty years in the Army, he’d finally pulled a choice duty. Ambition wasn’t his strong suit and the only reason he’d managed to get the Antarctica duty station was time and rank.
Unlike many of the servicemen he’d met over the years, John Sheppard had never really been gung-ho about the whole advancing through the ranks thing. He was simply putting in his time. It was a job and not much more. That ‘be all you can be’ crap was just that…crap. He was only in the Army because his father had given him an ultimatum when he screwed up that final time; join the Army or lose the trust fund that his mother’s death provided. His father was executor and therefore decided how the money would be spent, at least until John had turned 21.
If he’d had a choice, John would have joined the Air Force and become a pilot, but the money was far more important to a young man than following his dream of flying someday. His grades were piss poor, but he might have made it into college with some decent ACT scores. He never bothered to try. By the time he figured out that money wasn’t everything, he’d already given the Army ten years of his life. He was stuck in the rut and kept telling himself that he’d get out one day.
There was always that gut feeling that he was meant for something more and if he was patient, bided his time, it would just happen. It was like he was waiting for something…something that would ease that lifelong feeling that things just weren’t right. Being in Antarctica was the closest he’d come to having that ‘right’ feeling and even then he didn’t feel like he belonged. He did his job and stayed to himself, unattached to anyone or anything. He’d never made friends easily and preferred to stay on the periphery. Antarctica was no different.
John’s musings were interrupted by a familiar Czech accent. “Sergeant, are you busy?”
Unable to recognize the object in the Dr. Zelenka’s hand, John had no doubt it was yet another Ancient device they’d been unable to decipher. Part of his job was to prepare everything for shipment to the SGC, usually in care of Colonel Carter or Daniel Jackson. Rumor had it that both were being considered to lead the science section of the impending expedition should it ever happen. John still had a hard time getting his head around that.
Being stationed on a top secret base had its perks and he’d been thoroughly briefed on the Stargate program. The whole idea seemed so farfetched that he often had to remind himself that it was all for a reason. Both the military and scientists involved were hoping to discover the location of the lost city of Atlantis and eventually send a team of explorers there. John wasn’t sure if they were going to maintain operations in Antarctica if and when that happened. It was a cake assignment but the weather sucked. He was used to moving around a lot and a new duty in a warmer climate would be a nice change.
Rising from his chair, John approached the nervous scientist and asked with his usual apathy, “What you need, Doc?”
Radek Zelenka held up the device in his hand. “I need to send this to Dr. Jackson. Do you have shipping case for it?”
Slipping around the desk, John crossed the room and retrieved a small metal box and handed it to the scientist. “That work?”
“Yes, thank you,” said Radek. “Do you have material to pack it or should I do that?”
John waved him off. “Just leave it over there on the table and I’ll pack it later. How come you’re sending it off to Jackson? Isn’t he due back soon?”
Zelenka shook his head and frowned. He answered sarcastically, “He is very busy man.”
“Having trouble with the minions, Doc?” asked Sheppard, knowing how much Zelenka hated being in charge when Jackson was absent from the base.
The scientist scowled at him, “Is like babysitting spoiled five-year-olds.” He muttered as he walked to the door, “I did not sign on for this. No time for research. Must stop petty fighting of small minds all day…”
Smiling, John shook his head at the scientist’s rant. Zelenka was one of the few that actually treated him with respect rather than distain. There was a gap between the scientists and soldiers on the base, especially between those of either group that hadn’t worked with the other. Some of the scientists, like Jackson or Zelenka, had worked around the SGC long enough to have a healthy respect for the military contingent.
For the most part John got on with the scientific community, but then they needed him. Still, there was always that nagging guilt whenever he was around the really smart ones, the geniuses. They reminded him of a kid in high school, the one that didn’t make it. He never really knew the kid, only had him in one of his math classes. The kid was a couple years younger but had fast tracked through school. He was a senior while John was a junior. It was strange that John even remembered the incident since he was only at that school for about a month.
His dad was military and they were booted around so often John could hardly keep up. By the time he got to high school, he’d given up on doing well when he figured out he was smart enough to get a passing grade without too much effort.
He never had any real friends, generally just those that gravitated to his easy going nature. Even in the short-term schools he managed to find one or two he could party with. When all he was really interested in by that point was drinking or smoking, mostly to piss off his dad, he didn’t have to be too particular about who his friends were.
Sometimes when he was having a really bad day, he blamed that stupid kid for it all. If he thought hard enough John could vaguely recall being there when they were beating on him one day. No doubt he was probably stoned at the time, which accounted for the hazy memory. He remembered enough though. The kid didn’t have any friends and he was always real shy, never saying much. The day of that particular beating he almost stopped and offered him a ride. There were too many rumors running around school about the boy genius and John feared his father’s wrath if he were to find him even going near the kid. He’d kept driving, his eyes glued to the rear view mirror until the hunched figure could no longer be seen.
That day, John and his friends were hanging out in the locker room the last period of the day, passing around a joint when they happened on the kid. The jocks had not only roughed him up, but they’d thrown him in the shower after. They’d walked away after the kid insisted he was just fine but John remembered the unshed tears in the kid’s eyes. It was still bugging him an hour later when on his way home, he saw the kid walking. He looked half frozen and John debated stopping to give him a lift, but he hadn’t. That memory probably wouldn’t have stuck with him if the authorities hadn’t found the same kid dead a couple days later. The paper said he’d died of exposure, but they couldn’t rule out foul play with all the bruising he had.
When John found out what happened, he spent the money he’d saved up on a motorcycle and tried to drink himself into oblivion. All he managed to do was wreck the bike, almost killing himself in the process and then ended up joining the Army at his father’s insistence. John never found a way to talk to his dad after his mom died and he really didn’t think it his father was all that interested so he never mentioned his love of flying or the desire to join the Air Force. They never really got along after John was forced into the Army. When the old man died, John finally figured out that dead was too late to fix things. So yeah…he blamed that damn kid for screwing up his life whenever he had a bad day.
He wasn’t having a bad day today so he pushed the maudlin thoughts away and ambled over to wrap up Zelenka’s package for shipment. Tilting his head, he eyed the device before picking it up. It looked more like a ball than anything else and could have been a child’s plaything but for the fact it was metal and had raised Ancient writing all over the surface. Dr. Jackson was one of the few that could decipher Ancient, although Dr. Weir had recently taken up the challenge.
Shrugging his shoulders, Sheppard picked it up and hefted it in his palm, testing the weight. It was very heavy for its size and John peered at it more closely, wondering if the Ancients put off and on switches on their gizmos. Concentrating on the idea of how it turned on, the device glowed brightly for a fraction of a second and Sergeant John Sheppard, along with the device, blinked out of existence.
Chapter Two
He could hear the sounds of laughter. The distant laughter sounded more malicious than that close by. Wondering briefly why his eyelids wouldn’t open, he vaguely remembered smoking something earlier. It never dragged him down like this before though. The joint was either very strong or he was losing his tolerance.
“Hey Sheppard, wake up,” someone said, the voice disembodied.
“Mmrph.” John’s eyes fluttered open and he looked around, slowly recognizing his surroundings. He blinked a couple times until his friend Bill went from two to one, even if he was still fuzzy. John suddenly had an uneasy sense of déjà vu but it left as quickly as it came and he worked on keeping his eyes open.
Gary, his other compadre, was laughing as he drawled lazily, obviously high as a kite, “You are fucked up, man.” Not that he could talk; the tall blond was listing sideways as he spoke.
John felt himself being lifted, swaying as he got his feet under him and he shrugged from his friends grasp. “I’m good.”
Voices drifted to the trio from another part of the locker room and they curiously worked their way towards the commotion. Someone cried frantically above the sound of running water, “Don’t… do this. I can’t go outside if I’m all wet. I’ll freeze.”
Laughter filled the room and deep voice teased, “Too bad. You can call mommy and daddy to come get you.”
More pleading followed, “Please. They won’t come get me.”
“Too bad, so sad. Throw him in gentlemen. Let’s see the little girl cry some more.”
John and his friends staggered from one set of lockers to the next, laughing the whole way. John walked, oblivious to everything, until he slammed into someone’s back. He stumbled back a few steps as the other person turned sharply on him. John flashed the bulky jock in his way an easy smile and held up his hands, “Whoa dude. Sorry.”
Neither of his friends was concerned about the group of jocks gathered near the shower door. Bill, shorter and stockier than John, stepped around him and peered inside. He rolled his eyes as he confronted the group, “Beating on the underdog again, Drake?”
Drake was around six foot and had to weigh at least 250 pounds, but Bill wasn’t fazed in the least. John was a little more cautious and dared a look inside the steaming shower, seeing a small shape huddled in the corner. Staring at the kid, who was hugging his ribs and glaring at the group just outside the door, John figured him to be 13, maybe 14 and had to be the skinniest kid John had ever seen. He could almost see the outline of his ribs through the wet clothes that hung on his thin frame. The kid’s face was red with shame and seeing John, he ducked his head, embarrassed. John watched as the kid gingerly got to his feet and scooted out another door while the two groups confronted each other. Sheppard remained silent as the turned back to the others, watching through a drug-induced fog as they traded barbs. The big guy, Drake, stepped closer to Bill, poking him in the chest as he spoke, “None of your business.”
Bill was either too stoned or too stupid and he swatted Drake’s hand, “I’m not afraid of you so save your macho crap for the kids that are too small to fight back.”
“He’s a faggot. Somebody has to put him in his place,” countered Drake angrily, his friends moving in closer to show their solidarity.
“It’s just rumors. What the hell does a kid that young know anyway?” Bill teased, “You feel threatened by that Drake. You figure he’s gonna make the move on you?”
Drake’s friends snickered but it died on their lips when the big man glared at them. John listened, leaned heavily into the wall, letting it hold him up. Watching with amusement as the kid snuck towards the door at the far end of the room, John’s smile faded as the kid looked back at him with despair and fear in his eyes.
Gary grabbed Bill and pulled him away before his friend mouthed off and got them all in trouble. “Look, we don’t want no trouble.”
After a bit of posturing, the glowering behemoths let them all go and John sighed in relief as he glanced at his watch. He still had several hours before his father got home, giving him plenty of time to clean up the house. Bidding his friends goodbye, he wandered to his car. The wind had a bite to it, forcing John to pull his jacket tighter around himself. Looking up, John blissfully watched the darkening clouds for several minutes before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing.
Fumbling with his keys, his eyes drifted to the seat and he stared absently at the bag there. It took him several seconds to register the bag as food, and grinning madly, grabbed a handful of chips to satisfy his munchies. He started the car and kept eating until he was forced to lick his fingers for the last bit of food. Wadding up the bag, he chucked it in the back seat and focused his attention on the road, bemused he’d made it as far as he had. He didn’t remember making those last two turns.
The radio blasting, he pounded on the steering wheel in time to the music as he sang along. His head was finally clearing as he came to a stop at the light and he checked out the landmarks, mentally gauging how far he was from home. A sideways glance out his window and his eyes were drawn to the hunched figure trudging down the sidewalk, his coat tugged tight around him and an overfull backpack weighing him down even further. The wind had picked up and John shivered just watching the kid struggle against it.
That nagging sense of déjà vu returned as John recognized the kid and his hand went to the window handle, stopping indecisively before he could roll it down. He could offer the kid a ride and face his father’s wrath or keep driving, make it home with plenty of time to clean the house and relax for a couple of hours before his father arrived and found a reason to rag on him.
A honk from the car behind startled him and spotting the green light, John floored it through the intersection to make up for dawdling. Glancing back in the rear view mirror, the nagging feeling returned and with it a tightness in his chest that wouldn’t be denied. Checking his mirrors, he turned the wheel sharply, executing a tight u-turn, He cursed under his breath, “Damn it.”
Turning the corner just as the kid started across the street, John stopped the car and rolled down his window. Walking with his head down, the kid didn’t look up until he realized the car was in his way and would have to walk around. John nodded at him, “You want a ride?”
The kid looked at him in shock and then a touch of fear as he shook his head wildly. He stuttered as he stepped away cautiously, “Nooo…thanks.”
John wasn’t sure if the chattered reply was from fear or cold and he sighed, “Look I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re gonna freeze out here. Just get in the car.”
“Why…areeee…you…do…doing this?”
Losing his patience, John snapped, “So you don’t freeze to death. Get in the fucking car.”
The kid looked at John, then looked up the street, possibly gauging his chances of a clean escape before his shoulders slumped and he staggered to the other side of the car. He dropped his backpack to the floor and slipped into the seat, never taking his eyes off John as he crammed himself as close to the door as possible.
John rolled his eyes as he pulled away from the curb. “Where to?”
All he got was a stuttered, incoherent reply as the kid wrapped his arms around himself and commenced to shiver uncontrollably. John eyed him worriedly, noticing that the kid still had on the same wet clothes he’d left the locker room in earlier. Shit, no wonder he was so damn cold. He cranked up the heater and watched as the kid almost melted with the warmth, his eyes drifting closed as his head slumped into the window.
Thinking he’d fallen asleep, John was surprised by the quiet and tired voice that answered, “I’m hopeful that someday I’ll reach my full potential and I can to return to this shithole and seek serious and painful retribution for crimes committed against my person, so if you’re planning on hurting me, I’ll be adding your name to the list.” He turned his head to John. “Just so you know.”
“A simple street address would’ve been enough,” quipped John, smiling inwardly at the kid’s nervous rambling. He didn’t talk like any 13-year-old John knew.
Leaning back into the window, the kid closed his eyes in defeat. “Library.”
As cold as the kid looked, John questioned the soundness of his decision. “Shouldn’t you go home and change first?”
The kid’s widened briefly as he recognized who he was talking to and his face went red. “I’ll dry out at the library,” he said solemnly, his eyes closing as he dropped his head and continued to shiver.
“I really think…”
Opening his eyes, the kid stared out the window. “I can’t go home, so if you’ll just drop me off at the library, I’d appreciate it.”
“Why can’t you go home?”
Wrapping his arms tighter around himself, the kid shook his head, “Does it really matter? I just can’t.”
“It can’t be that bad.” John looked the kid up and down. “You’re all of what…thirteen. They take away your Nintendo or what?”
“Yeah, something like that.” John could swear he saw tears in the kid’s eyes, but he turned back to the window, muttering softly, “And I’m fourteen almost fifteen.”
“You don’t look fourteen… almost fifteen,” teased John, trying to go for levity, even though he found it hard to believe the kid was that old. He wasn’t all that tall and couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.
“I’m painfully aware of how old I look. It makes my life so much easier when I’m thrown in with a crowd of hormonal teens intent on proving their manhood by finding the runt of the litter.”
John remembered being that age, being the smallest kid until a couple growth spurts caught him up and shot him past most his classmates. He tried to offer some reassurance, “I know it’s tough but it gets better. You’ll get bigger and I know parents can be a pain in the ass sometimes. My old man…”
The kid sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve, refusing to cry. “Look, if this is where you go into the part where your life is more miserable than mine because you are older and wiser, then spare me. You don’t know anything about me.”
“I’m just trying to help. I’ve been there,” said John, indignantly, getting a little annoyed with the kid. He was just trying to help.
It was obviously the wrong thing to say because the kid sat up and glared at John, his face red and eyes glistening with unshed tears, “You have not been where I am, trust me. Your parents didn’t kick you out of the house making it crystal clear they didn’t care if you lived or died.” John flinched at the venom in the kid’s voice as he continued, “You don’t know what it’s like to know that you are going to get beat on every fucking day of your life simply because someone older and bigger takes a dislike to you.” The kid took a breath and went on, “You don’t know what it’s like to worry about how fucking cold it’s gonna get at night because you just might just freeze to death in your sleep if it drops too low. You’ve never been so desperate for food you’ll dig through fucking dumpsters hoping to find something to take away the gnawing ache in your gut that never quite goes away. Don’t tell my you’ve been where I have because until you have you don’t have a clue.” The kid was practically screaming, blinking back tears. His breath caught in a gasp as John stopped the car in front of the library.
John reached out, but the kid looked at him sharply, the pain and humiliation of his admission plain on his face. His mouth opened to say something but he seemed to realize where they were and before John could stop him, the kid grabbed his backpack and bolted from the car.
Stunned beyond words, John watched him stumble into the library, shaking his head sadly as he disappeared from sight, “Jesus.”
He wasn’t sure how long he sat in the car, just staring off into space trying to imagine anything as horrible as what the kid had told him and even wondered if maybe he was exaggerating things, hoping for some sympathy. Something deep inside told John that the kid had never told anyone before just how bad his life was and that only made the hurt in John’s chest worse. How pathetic was it that the kid had to spill his guts to a total stranger because no one else cared or even took time to notice.
Part 3-4
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PS: A very interesting story, though depressing when you think of the events of the original timeline.
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