Your eyes are not deceiving you. This is no illusion. I have indeed completed the very last chapter of this story! First off, I offer my sincerest apologies for taking years to get back to this. It's been on my mind to eventually finish, but life does certainly get in the way. I started focusing on my own original story and got lost in writing/plotting that. Nowhere near done but it's amazing to work on my own ideas! So, considering it was a new year I decided to give myself a week to do this. I wrote it, edited it, and had my beta readers go through it. I hope my characterization remains on point. I haven't watched Boy Meets World in years. I made sure to re-watch one episode though. I read my entire story over again. Then began the process. It's my longest chapter for sure. But I owed you guys. I hope you'll all enjoy. I even made some parallels I remembered from the show. Also, side note, the poem included in this is mine (put in via request from a review). Rights reserved to me XD I challenged myself to write 100 poems in a year, plus this additional one. Success on that. I've got to get to the editing stage bc I want to get them published. Anyway, it's time for Shawn's journey to meet its conclusion! R&R~

Rain pelted the streaked window, small droplets catching on his skin as miniature slivers of sunlight parted grey clouds. The dampness clung to his arms, humidity humming in the air as he rested against the wet railing. The bleak skyline was gathered in view, captured by aimless sight, hazy in morning's welcome. Shawn allowed a sigh to flee his lips. He felt his bones rusting, cement forming around his feet to cage him in concrete. He craved the freedom spread beyond these four cluttered walls, but didn't wager or dare a chance of scurrying away to capture a sense of former living. His mind persistently circled the entrapment of this stationary dwelling, questioning whether or not this choice was permanent or another rented risk of hollow decisions. He missed what was stolen, ripped from his fingers, the day all crumbled. But this apartment was assembled by more than stability, a captivity he wasn't endeavoring to escape. It didn't bar his entire being, merely placed him in an unwavering position of choice.

Shawn withdrew from the fire escape, taking a necessary step inside. His fever was running its course, vacating his system. It nearly dissipated completely if not for the slim headache and radiating heat swarming too closely. It was pointless to consider the possibility of catching a glimpse of the outside. He didn't want to fall into another foul ploy of gambling addictions against his required care. He realized he couldn't capture both with a safety net or chance losing the only balance he's felt in weeks.

He fell back onto the sofa, weariness tracing the rim of his eyes. He may have been deprived of the essentials he thought he needed, but the exchange wasn't appearing as a cost. "Is it okay? Can I be done?" he asked, peering in Jon's direction. The assignments he's been working on were being read over, checked to gauge his dedication to the task. The concluding tests of the year, minus two, were taken here. It was an agreement with Mr. Feeny, but he was mandatory to come the last day which was placed on a Monday for attendance purposes. "If not, I can't do any better. I'm way too tired to keep going. Tell me that's the end of it."

Jon was in the process of grading, glimpsing up. "You know, Hunter, it's not easy to concentrate if you ask me that every five minutes. Your last finals are tomorrow. You'll be fine going back to school. Don't worry too much."

"Say that after you finish," he exhaled. Despite the rallied encouragement delivered to him from Topanga, who was probably at her wit's end tutoring him, he was able to bring his grades up a few points to level out his average. All the missed work that was cast off or sloppily handed in prior to his predicament was restarted as well. "Can you at least give me a small hint? Anything about what to expect on your test? Living with my teacher has to have some kind of perk. I need something. It's not cheating." He pulled himself up, walking over to the counter. "I don't like all those red marks."

"Your basics could use some work, structure isn't too bad, but overall it's good," he commented. He was reading over an essay from his class. He allowed Shawn to do any assignment he could focus on, whatever order it may be. He recognized the other's desire to wander from this place while he was eager to get back to the classroom. George was willing to make exceptions for them both, permitting the substitute to no longer fill in. "It's almost like you pay attention."

"Isolate me with a book against my free will and maybe I'll read it. Just so you know, my brain still hurts," Shawn uttered, placing his head down. "Am I ever going to be allowed outside? I'm dying in here. I've listened to everything you said to get better. And guess what? Still not better."

"Is that buzzing sound when adults speak finally fading then?" His student's words were muffled, not going unshared. Being confined would drive anyone's tolerance to the edge, but Shawn's stamina was generally low. If this sickness wasn't dealt with properly, it'd escalate and get worse. "Yes, tomorrow you can leave when I take you to school. Then you can go back to feeling suffocated in there." He handed over a glass of water before casting his stare back down. Shawn didn't appear too fazed by the aftermath of abandonment compared to previous conversations. It didn't sit idle, ribbons of conflict still residing on his tongue if any combative dialogue emerged prematurely. "Okay, minor hint. But only because I'm in a generous mood. We're covering all the reading material, a few questions per book. Since a good portion of the year we focused on poetry, you'll have to write one reflecting your life. At least twenty-four lines, and rhymes are up to you. Participation is a chunk of the grade. Be prepared to read in front of the class."

"Why?" he moaned, lifting his head, taking a sip of his drink. The soreness lodged into his throat wasn't as apparent but managed to linger after speaking. "Fail me now. I can write it down, but saying it aloud is another story altogether." He ran his fingers through his hair, energy threatening to deplete if he didn't sit up. The shambles of his life were being collected, the pieces not as fragmented as he imagined. Yet these steps felt rigid, unbalanced. He wasn't capable of expressing much, but what he wrote was personal, defining him. He knew he couldn't make up pointless verses like he once had to pass, not after Jon found out his actual talent.

"You'll be fine. Everyone will have to do it," Turner assured. "Don't forget your medicine. You're close to beating that fever. Another night of good sleep should do the trick. Slacking now won't help." He assumed the other would offer complaint concerning the task. There was ability there, an unwrapped potential Shawn wanted to conceal for no other purpose than fear of releasing it. "You'll survive. I swear."

"That's what we'd all like to believe but I can assure you, I won't make it," he added, swallowing the undesirable flavor. "Can you turn the heat down? I'm melting over here."

"It's not on," Jon mentioned, turning his head. "You let the hot air in after opening the window." The air conditioning was at full blast, contaminating the room with an unremoved chill.

The rest of the apartment was disorderly, a few scattered books, and uneven piles of paper laying on the counter space and table. He's never been one to keep his place spotless, too many possessions crammed into a small area. He knew having Shawn stay was going to imitate their previous attempt, but looking for a new place wouldn't be an option. He preferred the arrangement enough where Jon knew pushing the idea would unbury past disagreements. He didn't have the energy to manage more than making certain his student was complacent to healing.

Shawn yawned, heading back into the living room. "So you say."

"Focus on relaxing and you'll be alright." There was a loud thud against the door, causing him to pause for a moment. He strode over to open it, dodging the company.

"When do you lock the door?" Cory protested, rushing inside. He placed his hand against his forehead. "Ow, that's going to leave a mark. Shawn, I got some great news."

His own bruise was fading, hardly noticeable now. "If it has anything to do with school, I'm going to throw this pillow at you," he replied, laying down with his arm over stinging eyes. Sleep was not guaranteed no matter how tired he became. "Where have you been anyway? You haven't come by for a few days." It was out of his friend's behavioral pattern to play the vanishing act, avoiding him for some concocted reason. Their bond was crucial to his survival, too dependent on it, but constantly worried about losing it.

Topanga slid in from the side after, tapping her boyfriend's arm. "Are you sure springing it on him like this is a good idea?" she whispered. "He doesn't look up to it. Besides, I really think you should've asked first." It was originally her plan of action, but she didn't want to wager Shawn's emotional state without talking first. She hardly fared to catch Cory as he raced up the stairs.

He gradually sat up. "What did you guys do?"

"It's a good thing, Shawny," Cory expressed. "We managed to track down your dad and he wants to talk to you."

"You brought him here? Why would you do that? I asked you not to get involved," he irately stated, getting to his feet. The crowded feeling was beginning to return, consuming the fought equilibrium he ultimately established. "I get that you want to help, but I've told you a million times to not interfere. It's not up to you. That's crossing our line. But you just can't help yourself, can you? Always willing to take a gun, stab me in the back, right in front of my own eyes to prove a point. I asked you, practically begged you to let it go. If you haven't realized by now, you're not listening. You know what he did and how I've felt about it this entire time. And you still go and do it anyway."

Cory was prepared for this response, having gone through it before. He simply wanted to extend the only method he knew to aid the predicament. "If you talk to him, this can be fixed. You can be a happy family again. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"You shouldn't have to ask what I want. You're supposed to know. I don't have anything to say to him. I didn't when he called and I won't now, not after you had to drag him back here. It's always you he listens to! And you he'll coming running back for. It's not because I need him, but because you convinced him. We all know nothing is going to change!" Shawn's rage didn't simmer, allowing a pool of apprehension to fester, boil over as he looked at his dad standing in the doorway.

"I know you're angry with me, but let me explain," Chet attempted, defeat deeply carved into his features before the opportunity arose.

He looked weather beaten, molded by the typhoon of misfortune, a calamity that didn't touch him. It swept over his form, mangling what was overlooked in the undertow. His appearance never ceased to alter, taking on the shape of a catastrophe, the design plans a withheld mystery. The confidential terms hidden from Shawn's knowledge. The gait in his walk proved an identical pattern belonging to a man on a roundabout display. It wasn't merely regret showcased in Chet's eyes, but shame that tried to evade the scene without expression.

"Don't bother," Shawn managed, discovering no solace in this foreseen façade parade. He longed to tame the beast of loathing caged at his core, but it blared louder than anticipated. "I can hear the excuses a mile away. You might as well leave. Clearly I'm not important enough for you to stay even though you promised me you'd change. All this time I thought you meant it. I fooled myself into thinking we were getting along. I wanted to hope we could be normal like Mom said." He found pause, isolating the thought. "But wait, I've got to stop myself there. Turns out Verna isn't my actual mother. I should've known. She never wanted to stay either and now I know why."

"She raised you like you were her own," he countered, a typical layer of militant tone taking hold. "That woman wasn't much for commitment. We both knew for a long while. I didn't want you to find out like that, all tangled up in an argument you weren't meant to hear." His son's ability to hover around those discussions weren't a disbelief. It was expected despite the hope he wasn't nearby.

"Instead you were going to keep it to yourself, never utter a word about it. I should've been told. I've accepted in that past that she wanted to leave, but you dragged her back. You're not even looking for her this time. You took off, ditching me to an empty lot, on an empty street, to be my empty self and survive alone." That emergency break in his head wanted to be pulled, yanked back to stall the inevitable crumble of his sanity. "You didn't tell me. There was no warning like all the others. There was no big, make believe plan. There was nothing. Do you have any idea what it felt like to come back from school that day and find you both gone? How it affected me? You do these things that hurt me and you don't care."

Chet felt the loss of words forming, trying to fight it, but the swell of regret mutated nonetheless. It tangled around his spine, siphoned his willpower. "I do none of those things lightly. I had to become scarce after you found out. I couldn't face you. It wasn't right for you to know. But no one told you to stay on your own. You should've gone to the Matthews or come here. I was doing what was best for you. It did you no favors to have me around. I needed to make sure I wasn't there to foul up your life more."

Desperation was hitching his tone. "Why can't you understand? All I wanted was to be a family. To be with you. Not the Matthews. Not with Turner. You deserted me to fend for myself, hoping I'd barge in on someone else's hospitality. Everyone you claim to care about gets cast aside. What about Stacey, Eddie, or Jack? Am I just another throwaway kid you can ignore after you get too tired of me?" Jack was his only true brother by blood, shared on his father's side. The other two were from Verna's, but grew up in the confines of poor living. Before all the Hunters vacated the trailer park to find new temporary places to call their own, they roamed close. Even his Uncle Mike disappeared with no warning. "I know I can be a lot to deal with but at least I needed you around. You don't want me in your way. You keep pushing me aside to be left alone."

"You're better off without me," he explained jadedly. Returning was a pitiable conclusion, the motive persistent, but it kept him faltering at urged words of parenthood. He fumbled at every given turn, unable to grasp what he was missing. Shawn pressed his necessity, but Chet couldn't uphold the willpower to settle too long. He was there and gone Shawn's entire life. "I can't hold down a job for more than a few months. I can't support you. I can't have a house for you. Everything I wanted to give you, I can't do. The trailer park isn't where I wanted us to be."

"We had a house once. Two blocks from Cory's when we first moved to Philadelphia. I never cared about living in a trailer park, not if it meant we could be together." He felt his chest aching, gashes formed by each slashing remark. The barricades they both constructed to succumb to this monsoon of disagreement were resistant to sentiment. There were many aspects he hated about their living situation, but he's come to accept it. At the end of the day, he valued what they shared. "My opinion never mattered to you. You say this is better. Tossing me onto the street to save yourself the trouble later. Why bother with your worthless son who gets in the way and only manages to be a disappointment? Every chance you get to be better, you swat it aside like it's a disease and I'm the symptom!"

"Don't you be putting words into my mouth," Chet stubbornly combated. "All of these things you're accusing me of were done to help you, not hurt you. I was putting you first. I was doing my job as your father."

A sharp inhale was taken, his eyes attempting to adjust to the man standing before him. This exchange was a masked rehearsal, the results coming to the same conclusion, falling into an identical, thrashing pattern. He was drained, exhausted from the existence of this standoff. "Well, it backfired. I've made mistake after mistake trying to keep up with you. I tried so hard, my whole life, for you to notice me. I practically begged to talk to you growing up. I sat there next to you every day after school, hoping a word would be spared, but not once did you start a conversation. You were too absorbed in watching TV, drinking your damn beer, to hand me any attention. It was only after you came back last year that you finally started opening up to me. I was so happy because I was getting to know you, and then you slammed a door on that too. I'm never good enough for you. Over and over, you do this. You come back to make all these promises and then before I can blink, you're gone again. What is so wrong with me that makes you leave?" He could feel tears crowding his eyes, threatening to fall. "I'm a broken mess without you, but you won't look at me long enough to notice. I've tripped through life thinking I was unwanted. What have I done that was so awful that my own father would sooner run away from me than be here? Am I that much of an idiot to think I mattered at all?"

"You're my world, Shawn. You gotta know that," Chet explained, lowering his head. "It's not you. I've told you before. It's me who can't take care of you right. I'm the one who messes everything up. I wanted what was best. I figured you'd be too mad to talk after what I've done. I can only drag you down. You got all this hope in me, but I ain't got nothing to offer. I'm sure you realized I didn't plan on coming back. I don't say that to hurt you, son. It's safer for you here. You can't be living with me. I can't protect you." He took a step forward, getting a better look at the other's pale face. Whatever sickness he gathered in that storm rest on his conscience. "I don't know what you got yourself into on those streets, but you still ended up here. It's where you belong. Everyone knows it."

Shawn found hesitation pulsating, hunting in his lungs, wanting to explode from trapped air. His head was pounding from reverberating pain that amplified with every beat slamming against him. He pressed his lips together, hand brought to his chest. "I did what everyone expected. I faltered like the delinquent, screw-up that I am. When you were gone I got caught up in one of Eddie's schemes to find myself in a cell at the police station for selling stolen merchandise, and underage drinking. I caught a fever that nearly got me killed out in that weather trying to ignore the only people who endlessly searched to make sure I was okay and safe." His words were spoken gradually, the irritation building in each breathed syllable. "While you and Mom were away to fix your broken marriage, I joined a cult, losing myself in more lies. I even worked for a mob once to make money, but we can add that to the never-ending list of things you don't know. I've tried to run away so many times it'd make your head spin. I was brought here by the cops two years ago for vandalism. I've set portions of my school on fire, flooded rooms, and sprayed graffiti all over the halls. I've gotten caught breaking and entering. That time I blew up a mailbox with a cherry bomb and ran away, you and Mom grounded me. That was the only time I was in trouble with you because none of those other things reached your radar. Nothing ever. Not a word. I've pulled stunts my whole life and I actually enjoyed them. That's how messed up I am. That's what you refuse to see."

Chet took a moment to absorb the information. "I don't know what made you think you had to do all of that for. If I had known, I wouldn't have ignored you-"

"Yes, you would! That's the whole point!" he shot back as a fierce cough entangled his voice. The room was spinning, his nerves flaring. It was like being surrounded by a fire, flames singeing his resolve, smoke cluttering his brain. "I gave you so many opportunities. But not once did you chose me for my sake. I'm done trying. I can't keep putting myself in your way, hoping not to get trampled by how little you care." He stormed past his dad, heading towards the open door. "This time, I get to be the one to leave."

Jon ran into the hallway. "Shawn, wait!" he called. His student was gone, no longer able to linger in this desperate situation. "Chet, I know you mean well. I can see that. But this has gone too far." He spoke calmly, grabbing his jacket. "Abandoning your son over guilt isn't being a father. He's plainly said he's needed you. That should be all it takes." He left afterwards, praying the other wouldn't get too far.

Cory sighed, stepping outside the background, blame falling into his lap. "Mr. Hunter…"

"I told you this was a bad idea. He didn't want to see me," he interrupted. The weight of distress continued to crush him, snap his determination. "I'm no good at this parent business. My boy's been suffering all this time and I've done exactly what he said. I've ignored him. I've lied and worst of all, I walked away at every turn. Every chance to be better and I've messed it up. It'd be best if I was gone for good this time."

Topanga crossed her arms, settling with the silence engulfing the room. "Sometimes Shawn needs more than words. He wants commitment. Mr. Turner will bring him back. So, stay. Talk to him. After Shawn gets the yelling out of his system, that's when he needs people the most."

"I've heard all I need to," he replied, eyes downcast. Dejection filtered through him. It wasn't Shawn who developed the layers to this outcome, he could only fault himself. "He doesn't need my excuses. It's all I got. He needs what I can't give him."

"Topanga's right. If you were to leave again, that's it," Cory continued. "At the very least prove to Shawn you won't hurt him again by being here. Even if he's mad, at least be the person you keep saying you're not. I know you care enough to be the father he deserves if you'd let yourself. It's why we searched for you in the first place. You did it before."

Chet took a seat on the couch. "Somewhere down the line I got lost, forgot what I had. Now it's too late to make up for it. Being wrong settles fine with me, but losing Shawn would end my entire world. He's not the broken record, I am." The moment he left, a part of him knew the error, but turning around felt impossible. He wasn't worth the trouble if he caused further pain. He could reprimand himself with obligatory purposes to the deed, but none sufficed.

Shawn ran as far as he could before his lungs collapsed from lacking air. Taking a drawn breath caused him to slow his pace, coughs escalating to a painful degree. His back ached, his legs were sore, and he couldn't begin to fathom why his mind was spiraling out of control with coiling thoughts. He knew speaking with his father wouldn't be handled well, the idea finally seeking refuge in the corner of his brain. It raised a fury so brutal he couldn't retain the control grasped with a weak hold. It was the way this unfolded, the manner of which Chet threw him aside, that lashed roughly with his need of a parental figure. It was a war of dominance, tugging between requiring his father and giving up on the notion completely. He's cast the desire far from sight so many times, he hardly recognized the image reflecting back whenever the net would return empty.

The rain came down harder than before, the earth muddy beneath his feet. He was overheated, surrounded by the moisture trapped in the atmosphere as it ensnared his raising temperature. No matter where he ran off to, he was faced with this bleak backdrop, plummeting into the same darkness he faced on a daily basis. His entire life was avoiding this feeling that welled inside, the drained suffocation. He picked up a rock, throwing it at the vacant building ahead, shattering one of the cracked windows. The sound was isolated, just a symphony of droplets splashing the ground, forming puddles around him. He grabbed another stone, launching it ahead, and did so repeatedly until his arm was seized.

"I really don't think that's going to help," Jonathan breathlessly said.

"Let go of me," he said, yanking his wrist free. "Why do you always have to follow me? I can't be alone for more than five minutes without you telling me what to do." He started walking away again, his jacket grabbed, tugging him to a rough halt.

"Yeah, because you run off and do something stupid like this," he opposed, bringing his hand back. "It took me half an hour to track you down. And where do you go? To the bad part of town to chuck rocks at a building." Shawn was an escape artist pertaining to his alleged talent of seeking trouble, but that didn't remove the anxiety propelling him forward. Jon could recall this same battle from a year ago, except the other returned home after finding nowhere to go. "We're not going down this road again. You have to stop running every time something scares you off."

"Then stop following me down it!" he shouted back. "If you're tired of me too, that's fine. You know this is how it goes." He steered his sight to the side, unable to keep a firm focus. His muscles were in agony after being put to use again, leading him to another desolate place. "My dad and I clearly aren't on the same page. He doesn't care what I do or what becomes of me. He doesn't even see me anymore. And what am I but another mistake he made. He's the reason I can't do anything right."

Turner shielded the wind from his face. "You're not defined by your dad. We're all human. We can't get it right every time."

"Stop with the lectures, Jon. I can't handle anymore," he exhaled, discomfort knotting in his stomach. "I'm trying so hard not to fall apart, to be the person you say I can be but it only works for a little while. My dad comes back and everything gets trashed. You don't know. There's no way you could. So, please let it be. I'm too close to losing it right now." His voice cracked as tears started streaming down his face, much to his attempt against it. "I'm not good enough for anyone. Not my dad. Not you. No one. And I don't know why. What did I do? Why can't I stop ruining everyone's life? Why doesn't he want me?"

"Shawn, you're not doing anything wrong. You have to believe that," Turner said, pulling him into a hug. "You're not broken. And you're not breaking anyone else."

He kept still, quiet engulfing him. His own father rarely found motivation to embrace him, the meaningful gesture spared on untraceable occasions. But it was a tipping point that let his fortifying walls down to only watch them get crushed by mislaid confidence. It was a letdown, a landslide of good fortune to be absorbed into the oncoming swarm of negativity. He allowed himself to remain in Jon's hold for a few more seconds, welcoming the comfort as he tried to stifle the tears.

Jon pulled back, hands left on Shawn's shoulders. "I'm sorry I can't make this better. I'm not your father. I can't fix what you're feeling. I can only offer what I've got. I can see it's not enough, but I'm here. I don't plan on going anywhere."

He wiped his eyes, the strength of his headache increasing. "We keep trying something that's never worked. We both know I'm more trouble than I'm worth. I shouldn't keep intruding on your life like this. You're better off without me too."

"You're a handful. You test my patience left and right. But you're nowhere near too much. I'm on your side. But that doesn't mean I can let anything slide. You're my responsibility. It doesn't have to be signed to show otherwise. Yeah, we fight and argue, but we're both learning how to cope. There's nothing wrong with that," he expressed sincerely. "I'm reaching out to you, remember? I'm offering you a home. Don't blow me off. You said I never screwed up on anything in my life. Let me prove to you that I can live up to that. But you know I make mistakes too. Heck, I have, especially when raising you. Like I said before, you didn't come with instructions. I was committed back then but those guardianship papers intimidated us both. You sensed it and took off. I don't want to be another one of those people you feel like you can't talk to. I'm here. Right now. I love you like a son, Shawn. That'll never change. I'm asking you to trust me, to have faith in me. Can you do that?"

His eyes darted to the side, the words feeling hollow in his throat. "I want to but… I'm tired of being let down and pushing everyone away." He inhaled, attempting to locate relief from this aggravated beast residing inside, provoked by trailing cynicism. The mounting failures ambled around to take charge, unwilling to bend unless harshly shoved aside. He needed to compact it, suspended it in the deepest recesses he could find or else it'd come back to snatch more than he could stand. "I do trust you. You're not trying to replace my dad, I know that. After all this time, I started to realize what it meant when I'm with you. You don't have to fill his role. You've got one already."

Jon nodded, taking a measured step in reverse. "That means a lot," he replied. He was glad Shawn wasn't tussling with his placement. It used to be a confusing puzzle to the teen, yet it sorted itself out. They've found support in knowing they had each other. "But you have to decide where your dad belongs in all this. He came back. Regardless of who brought his attention, he came for you. It seems to me that he's fighting the same feelings you keep locked inside. It's not easy for either of you, but you should find common ground. It doesn't have to be a battlefield. And whatever decision you make, I'll stand by you."

Shawn glimpsed up, turning around to face the pastel horizon, the coated field of water racing along the asphalt being brushed down the street. The trailer park was a few blocks from here, this being a typically active road parallel to the highway separating the good and bad side of town. As a child, if Cory was occupied with family life, he'd find himself here, testing the will of his driving need to survive on his own. "I'll think about it, but I already have a feeling the choice isn't as up in the air as you think."

"Take as much time as you need. It's your life. You can decide how you want to live it," he stated, bringing his palm forward. "So, why don't you come back home with me where you belong?"

He breathed out, collecting the scattered pieces of resolve as it endeavored to scatter. Making up his mind was a grueling task, objecting any trace of option. It was an antagonistic interrogation, having to choose as his heart was done being violated with this jabbing harm, no fragments left to gather. But for now, he wanted to get out of the rain, return to the rush of composed thought. He clasped his hand with Jon's. "Alright, you win."

Shawn was surprised to see Chet waiting for him after returning to the apartment. They both exchanged a glance, no words given. The long walk back dulled his aggravation, leveling his decision on the matter. This entire struggle proved to be instructive, clarifying matters he usually evaded. It didn't alleviate the repetitious problem but he wasn't expecting wonders. He could incessantly combat this worn debate, but it was time he located a solution instead of relying on distance.

"I thought you'd be halfway across the state line by now," he said cautiously, taking a seat. This place was a safe zone, an apparent shelter he's come to recognize. He remembered the first time he and Cory stepped foot here, to turn in an essay for a book. He copied the description on the back of a movie for lack of wanting to waste time. But Jon's class gradually conveyed his interest in reading forward.

Chet brought his hands together, stalling for limited seconds. "I thought about it, but I realized that wasn't where I should be. I think it's time I slowed down, talked to you a bit. I'm not really good at it, but I want to try. You've been asking for it your whole life. You've got my attention now."

He bit back the retort forming between words, letting out a calming breath. "What exactly does that mean? Are you planning on taking off after some heart to heart or something?" It wouldn't surprise him due to the tendency they shared. This life they lived wasn't a fictitious downfall, the collisions leaving both participants with mental scars too raw to repair. By definition of their relationship, they shouldn't be offering strain. It heedlessly mounted in shared proximity. He's seen Cory and Alan argue, yet no matter how harsh the defeat became, they climbed back up.

"No, it took me too long. I truly want to stay for you. If you'd give me the chance to be your father again," Chet offered, little conviction connecting his wavering tone. He wasn't sure if it was rejection that he feared or if he was simply too late.

"How about you tell me about my real mom first?" he asked, looking away. "She didn't want me, did she?" The blood in his veins felt foreign now, but portions were recognizable.

Those memories were left to collect dust for years, untouched for lack of digging up the past. "That woman, I thought it was love, like I had with my Verna. It's not much of a story. The moment you were born, she left. It was me she wanted nothing to do with. She was a flight risk, being a stripper and all. Should've seen that one coming. Can't say I wasn't disappointed. I raised you myself for a while, best I could. It wasn't easy. I meet Verna not too long after. We got married young, but you know that one. She was obsessed with being normal. And if you know your mother like I do, there was nothing normal about her. She had her head on straight with the bills, worked enough hours for all three of us, but it got old. She tried though. Whenever she left, I'd find her, bring her home to you. Could never find your real mom, but Verna loved you like her own."

"Why'd she'd leave this time? It can't all be because of some fight. You guys argued all the time." It added to the surrounding yelling echoing through the trailer park. It was considered abnormal if a commotion wasn't heard in the background. Surprise wasn't evident on his face concerning the news, but it was brewing inside. It sounded more like a fling, a fleeting romance for her, yet not for Chet who lost people just as often. Shawn knew what it was like to be judged by his last name, where he lived, or simple reputation. He made sure to keep his emotions in check, not allowing another fury to rise. It wouldn't help this discussion, only pressure him to take off again.

"Them arguments never sat well with her. We tried that counseling nonsense, but it only helped for a small while. I think in the end she wanted to be set free. Find her own life without a poor excuse of a husband to hold her back. You know her, she likes to be the eccentric type," he sighed. It wasn't an undemanding lifestyle, neither able to have leisure to find comfort in it. Shawn was the purpose in her attempts, somewhere down the line, it blurred. "I can't say it enough. It wasn't you."

"You didn't force her in that car, Dad. Just like you didn't force her to live across the highway last year when she was scared to try again." He leaned forward, moving his bangs aside. "We Hunters can't seem to catch a break." Ease was falling in place, but it wasn't guideless. He was judging the reasons, assessing the space they'd fill to evaluate later. "Don't get me wrong, I'm still mad that you didn't tell me about any of this. There apparently wasn't much to say. She doesn't want to know me or she would've found us. While mom, maybe she'll stick to her patterns and come back one day. Until then, we're on our own."

Chet studied his son's face. He appeared to be taking this better than expected, but no explanation was commendable. It didn't remove the pain he brought or might cause again if he wasn't careful. "All those things you mentioned before, I'm sorry I wasn't there, sorry I wouldn't listen. I should've seen you were struggling, probably did but ignored it. You're a smart boy. I thought not meddling was the best way to set you on the right path. I want you to enjoy life, go to some fancy college, and be better than me. You already did that last one. But mostly, I want you to be happy. I can see I've done a lousy job of that."

"Not every reunion can be at a police station," he said quietly, inclining his head. "You and I have a bad track record with promises. 'For the rest of my life, I'm going to be the best father you could have.' I wanted that more than you could imagine. It wasn't a secret. I know you tried, but it's not fair to me. You left me a lot. But not once did you go without telling me. Whether it was dropping me off at the Matthews' house or giving me money to stay at a sketchy motel, you made sure I had a roof over my head. It was too different this time. That complicates things for me. How am I supposed to believe it won't happen again?"

"I've only proved that you can't," he dejectedly answered, placing his hand along Shawn's cheek. "I hear what you gotta say, clear as a bell. You don't have to accept my apology. You don't need me, not when you've got all these fine people around you who can show their care."

His dad's hand slipped away. Shawn witnessed the misery clinging to his stare, how familiar it was becoming. "We really are the same," he muttered. "I get it all from you. Never able to commit, never able to think I can be happy, always relying on the disappearing act." Moments like these confused his convictions, unable to distinguish the tidal wave of sentiment crashing into him with criticism. "I do need you. And I think you need me too. We've always had baggage. Maybe we should try sorting it out once and a while. Start over?"

"You'll take me back then?" Chet asked. "I can do that. I want to be the father you need."

"I was debating it on my way back." He stood, hands drawn together. "I want you in my life more than I can express. But you've lost my trust."

"I see," he said, frown deepening as he also took a stand. "I deserve that."

"You can earn it back," he said, turning to face him. "Just don't leave me. Move back into the trailer park, find a job, and show me you want to be here. But in the meantime, I've decided I want to stay with Jon. I messed up a lot when you were gone. I have to earn it back too. We can work on it together. We've got our entire lives to be better. I was hoping we could start now. I've still got finals to take. And if I do well on them, Jon wants to take me to Europe with him." He leaned to the side. "That's still a thing, right?"

"It was our deal," Turner assured. "Pass the exams and we can go. After we talk to Mr. Feeny. There's still a whole lot of graffiti to clean that has your name on it."

"That's real nice of you, Teach. You know, I was on a plane once. Not sure how I got there. Woke up in the cargo hold with, well that's a tale for another time. Life lesson, son. Never make friends with a stewardess who doesn't speak a lot of English," he said with a chuckle before taking to a more serious tone. "Wish I could afford the life I wanted for you. We traveled the states that one summer. We had a good old time."

"It was great," Shawn replied, feeling the weight progressively lifting. This issue wasn't restored, but it was a shaky beginning. He'd leave the doubts for later, shelf them in the back of his mind. "One of the best summers. Not because of the travel. I liked spending time with you. And come on, not all kids can say they out chased the cops in six different states. We survived somehow. No money and no plan, but we made it back in one piece."

"If you stay here, the trailer's going to be awfully lonely," he uttered.

"There's nothing wrong with having more than one place to call home," Shawn reassured. The dynamic compared to last year shifted. In the end, none of the solutions felt correct, but Jon's apartment provided a sturdy foundation. Between being here, at the trailer, or Cory's house, he's had more than willing to realize. "I will be there too. Just when I get back, all I ask is that you're still here. I couldn't handle you leaving again. It's the only fair way I can see trust being earned back."

"I will be. I mean it this time. No more secrets or lies. I'll be honest and upfront. You're my boy, the best part of my life." He lowered his head, genuinely happy to not be overlooked despite knowing at heart it was another test he could fail. The anger was a warranted response to his missteps, technically he believed this chance wasn't justifiable considering how many times he let Shawn down. "I won't lose you again. I'll own my mistakes."

"And I'll try to own mine, but don't count on all of them. I'm still a kid after all. I'm allowed a few," he said with a smile. "Thank you. No matter what, you're still my dad. Nothing's going to change that."

He offered his own grin as a counter. "You love me, huh?"

Shawn put his arms around him. "Ain't that a kick?"

"I should be thanking you," Chet said, returning the hug. "I couldn't have asked for a better son."

The security he felt was incomparable, but never a certainty. Shawn decided he'd make the effort too, tie back his drama if it seemed endurable. It wasn't going to be uncomplicated. He knew there'd be more arguments, more frustration, and more hurt. But he wasn't going to cast an illusion on his life and pretend nothing could go wrong. He knew his luck better than that. But for once in his life, he wanted to let things be.

"I love happy endings," Cory said from the kitchen. "Some people like the tragedy but it's the ones like this that make it worthwhile." He looked to Topanga. "Told you it'd work out."

"Settle down," she replied. "It's a step. Not an ending."

"Don't ruin this for me." He entered the living room. "I know I shouldn't have gotten involved. You were right, I went over the line. I went behind your back."

Shawn took a moment of silence before speaking. "I should be the one apologizing. I'm sorry I blew up at you. You were only trying to help like usual. I should know by now. That's why you're my best friend." He's supported himself on that factor so often it was instinctual, yet insecurity often caused fissures to take root.

"No, I was wrong. You asked me to stay out of it and I didn't listen." He couldn't help it, watching Shawn battle his demons on the sidelines crushed a part of him too. "But if you're still mad about it, it was Topanga's idea," he said lowly.

She nudged him. "Hey, don't throw all the blame on me. It was a team effort."

"You know what I think this moment calls for?" Cory asked. "Group hug."

"No, no, no. I'm all hugged out," Shawn protested, ducking under his friend's outstretched arms. "Besides, I could get you sick, remember? Still dying. The last thing I need is you thinking pneumonia will literally kill you. I'm not going through that again."

Chet settled against the counter. "I want you to take good care of him. Can't say I'm upset with his decision. I get it. You mean a lot to him."

Jon shrugged, eyes brought away from the scene. "You know I will," he promised. "The important thing is making sure Shawn's alright. He's not tossing you aside. He's willing to fix your relationship if you meet him halfway. We can help each other out. I might be able to find some places willing to hire you too." He folded his arms. "Shawn's not choosing me over you. I think he's trying to find a way to choose us both. It's what works for him. After everything's said and done, you're his father. He's wants to know he can count on you."

"I appreciate you saying that. More than you'll know." He sighed, bringing himself to move. "Alright, time for me to head out. I left the trailer parked outside. Gotta get it back where it belongs. There's a vacant spot with my name on it. Shawn, good luck on those tests of yours. What do you say about coming by tomorrow after school? We could talk a little over dinner. Maybe start on that whole bonding thing you mentioned."

"I'd like that," he replied, diverting from his friends. "I can help you get settled in."

"Be sure to kick that fever out of your system though," he reminded, nearing the door. "Well, I got enough parking tickets, don't need another one. I'll see you later, son." He closed the door on his way out.

"You okay?" Jon asked from across the room.

"I will be," Shawn supplied, strolling back to the couch.

The hallways were submerged with the accustomed tone of blaring chatter, students bustling through with the end of the year in sight. Shawn filtered his way in, reaching his locker, leaning against it. The noise flooded his senses, tying a portion of his thoughts to the tiles. This place was considered another method of escape on those congruent days of complication. It served a purpose in conveying his focus on positive matters or redirecting it to another source Shawn took acceptance in. The clarity it fared to give was meshed in the guidelines of a motionless shadow. It held him steady, but only for an undeclared timeframe. He didn't want to minimalize the rationality of the encompassing security. It was simplistic in nature, a combative one at times, but it served as a place he could always return to.

"What was the verdict?" Topanga asked, judging his mood.

"A week," Shawn replied, reeling his attention back. The graffiti was a mess residing in the past, a deconstructive maneuver to temporarily outrun the shambles of a homeless life. Although the mention was brought up in an argument, he found satisfaction in the task. It wasn't due to much more than a simplistic displacement of hurt. But he couldn't root the sensation he required to push the boundary lines of claimed behavior. It was the usual excitement he sought to plunge into and find a thrill in his life outside the standard lines of the law. He knew it wasn't praiseworthy, but he didn't technically plan on changing that side of him. He figured he'd tame the necessity for a while though. He lived it in episodic intervals, stretching to fund purpose in an unrelenting reality. "I have a whole week to clean this entire mess, repainting and all." He looked over to Cory. "Feeny did say I could take some volunteers to help."

"How early are we talking?" he asked, shuffling to the side to avoid a crowd. "I have a morning routine and all."

"Whatever time Jon deems early enough," he sighed, taking a step back to admire his work. "It's a shame. I think the redecorating is an improvement. It took nearly all night too."

"You're lucky the punishment wasn't expulsion," she reminded. Despite the reason, she never comprehended why Shawn's downward spiral shoved him to conclusions such as this. She decided a while ago that disagreeing with him didn't have to reflect poorly in their friendship. "You can count me in on helping, but the next time you want to pull a stunt like this, consider the consequences more carefully." Topanga closed her locker, all contents emptied. "What about detention time?"

He spared a glance, taking notice of her frown. He knew no one condoned it, but breaking into the school wasn't a simple task. Then again, he and Cory managed it before. Not that he considered the accidental fire a fortunate result, but he didn't think long on it. "That's the best part. New personal record. Getting detention before the year starts. It'll be three months, but my partner in crime has plenty of time to get detention too."

Cory nodded. "I'm sure I could find something. You know I live for danger." His girlfriend shot him a look. "I mean, there's a possibility that I may be on my best behavior. But I could pay you the occasional visit." He knew the rare times he managed to get confined in a classroom after school, Shawn was there for the jailbreak. "Anyway, how are you feeling?"

"I have so much medicine in me right now. I feel like that time you dragged me to Disney and I went on that one ride five times in a row. Nauseous but alive," he replied. After Cory and Topanga reunited that weekend, he decided to take advantage of the theme park, aware he'd never be able to get the chance again. "The worst of the fever was gone this morning. I'm in the clear for now. After my week of cleaning duty, I should be back to perfect health." He ran his fingers through messy hair. "Since I'll be hanging around the trailer park after school today, I won't have time to go to Chubbies like we planned. Raincheck on that. Besides, the idea of greasy food still makes me feel sick."

"Are you sure about staying with Mr. Turner and not your dad?" Cory asked. He knew his efforts weren't in vain, but expected the opposite conclusion. Nonetheless, he knew this time didn't equate to the last. The motive that caused this avalanche of chaos was liable to a different source, one Shawn didn't seem to fully accept yet. But given time, he knew his friend would find support in the alterations.

"As sure as I can be," he said with slight hesitation. "I think it's what's best. It's not like I kicked my dad out of my life. I'm just giving him a chance to pull through. He's the one who wanted space to begin with." The other two looked at him. "It's fine. I'm fine. We have to work it out. That's all. I have to know if he's willing to do that." He was tired of molding his life around crumbling hope. Chet was never one to loiter in the repercussions, but even in the unfairness of the situation, Shawn continued to cling to whatever expectation he could muster. He wasn't prepared to let go of his dad completely.

Cory silently agreed, attentive to Shawn's attempt to sway distrust aside. He suddenly darted behind his friend. "It's Harley. I'm not here."

"He doesn't seem to be in the best of moods," Topanga mentioned. She personally had no interaction, but heard the accounts from the others of their relations.

"Johnny Baboon, I need a word," Harley said, shoving Shawn aside. "You see, I had a disconcerting situation come to my attention. A matter, in fact, that you can aid me in." He led Cory a few steps from the others.

"I'm always willing to help and all, but I have class," he tried. "I wish you a lot of luck. Goodbye." He moved, only to be pulled back in place.

Harley kept his hostage from squirming. "I'm looking for my sister. She liked you. I was thinking you might have a notion of where she could've gone."

"TK? I haven't heard from her," he said. He dated her for a while, but their interests in a relationship didn't fall in the same category. He knew Harley's deep care for his sister, having snuck in the school for a grasping answer, but he was no longer an alumni and shouldn't have been able to without suspicion. "What's wrong?"

"It's a tragedy too fresh to tell. You're the only nice guy she went out with. I figured with all probability she'd come to you with her current dilemma. But I see I was mistaken," he offered, releasing Cory. "She and I had a disagreement. I'm all she has left. I've heard you're good at tracking people down. I'd ask, but it's not a question. You're helping me find her."

He didn't want to know what would happen if he denied the request. "Sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is wait it out." He glanced at Shawn for a second. "Interfering might be what's keeping her away. Listen, I'd be more than willing to help, but you're wrong about one thing. It's not me she'd come to. TK will come back when she's ready. But if it'll ease your mind, yeah I can keep an eye out and let you know if I hear anything."

He fixed the collar of his shirt. His sister's safety rest on his diligence, a side of him often concealed. She still spoke of Cory on occasion, leading him here to survey the quandary. "You make sense, Baboon. I'll consider your proposal."

"Does that mean we're good?" he asked, hope filling his tone.

"No," he said, tracking back in his typical bulling ways. "But maybe. One day. Reformatory school didn't sit with me well. But I've come to many aspiring conclusions about my former actions." He paused, taking a step back. "Oh, and if you do find out where Theresa is and don't tell me, I'll pound you into the ground."

"I'll be sure to let you know." After Harley left, he let out a sigh of relief. "My life flashed before my eyes."

"I'm sure his sister will be okay," Topanga offered to console his apprehension. "We can ask around later. I'm sure she'll turn up. For now, our concern is our tests. I didn't spend all this time studying to ruin my chances at valedictorian now."

Shawn placed his hand on her arm. "You've got it. Even Minkus can't beat your intelligence. You're the smartest person I know. Trust me, you've got nothing to worry about."

"Thank you," she said, her palm placed on his fingers. "Let's just hope I was able to give some of that intelligence to you."

"I said you were smart, not a miracle worker," he replied.

The bell rang, the swarms scattering. At the sound, Shawn wanted to deviate from the obligation, in spite of preparation. Topanga and Jon made certain he was mentally caught up with the subjects, but they all mixed into a mesh of contradiction. He assumed coasting the level of barely passing was feasible. It didn't make him any less anxious about the day.

English class was the last exam of the long, taxing day. Shawn wasn't struggling on the question portion as much as he anticipated. Being left with nothing but reading material and sleep offered time to absorb more information than he thought. It wasn't a chore as it had once been. The time went by rapidly, swift enough to maintain a level of concentration, but his nerves began to hit his stomach and it had nothing to do with his sickness. It was the poetry portion that numbed his mind, becoming the crucial part of debate.

"Alright," Jon said, leaning back on his desk. "We've got one more left. Hunter, your turn."

He slouched. "My throat is a little scratchy," he attempted. "Might be losing my voice. Any chance you'd pass me without the whole participation part? I still get vertigo when I face that side of the room. How could I possibly outshine Cory's poem about his life compared to celery?"

He pointed to the front. "Shawn."

"Okay," he dragged out, forcing himself up. "But it's not any good."

"If it's anything like your electric chair poem, I'd share the concern." Jon leveled his glance. He could tell Shawn was shuffling the idea of writing nonsense to drown out his talent during the writing section. He couldn't convince his students to utilize skills if they preferred to ignore them. "Go ahead."

He brought his paper eye level, taking a breath.

"You lay this road out for me, a collage of mixed reviews
It's jagged, torn up inside, but I predict you never knew.
The world spins on an axis, one breathing when able.
It's getting harder to determine, to understand this fable.
My mind becomes jumbled in deceptions, a lullaby for my fleeing sleep.
It's no wonder you manage to sell all the lies you aim to keep.
It's an empty promise, the one we weave through, the one you hold.
My migration pattern is withered, not one memory willing to be sold.
But the horizon paints a bleak picture, a catacomb of disaster.
You begin to coat reality of tumbling truth, a staged broadcaster.
The realms numbly pass me by, not a second to wonder why.
Your footsteps are scribbled letters, a dizzying spell, tarnishing our shared sigh.
These bars you molded were set aflame, extinguisher the tossed blame.
I never realized how our reflection became the same.
It's not a burden resting along my shoulders, the weight a press.
Where we end up down this path, only you could wager that guess.
I'm the passenger collecting fragments of the lost, the broken souls.
But this guilt trip, this resounding game, it fills our hearts with holes.
Don't gamble me an imitation, an artificial part of a malfunctioning machine.
I've witnessed all you wanted to be seen, but it was plaster on a screen.
My steps follow a typhoon, one I'd never trade the storm brewing to break all.
I can imagine a place, a home, where these walls don't threaten to fall.
But let's not forget the adage, the counsel given, spoken to barter this flood.
You can be an instrumental structure, not sharing an ounce of blood."

The class was silent for few ticking seconds. Shawn passed his paper over, studying his hands. "Told you. No good."

"That was amazing," Cory stated to break the silence. Shawn never once expressed his hidden ability, but assumed it was a matter too personal to reveal with ease. Their friendship may have formed in a matter of seconds, but the years were slow to expose much and Shawn seemed to conceal more than required. "You put my celery life to shame."

Jon chuckled at the comment, satisfied. "See, no problem."

"Never make me do that again," he said, meager jest placed into the words. His stress over the matter hadn't dispersed. He ultimately decided not to take the uncomplicated way out of the assignment. "What's my grade on that? Passable?"

"Passable. The rest is a mystery." He started clapping, the class following suit. He then placed his hand on Shawn's shoulder. "I'm glad you decided to put the effort in. Don't sell yourself short."

"Hard habit to break," he replied. He went back to his chair, placing his head on his desk as the last bell rang. It took more energy than he expected to keep up with the work, pressing his tiredness.

Cory turned around. "Why didn't you tell me you could write like that?"

"Why don't you tell me how you managed to write twenty-four stanzas on a vegetable?" he muttered.

"Talent, my Shawn," he joked, standing up. "But really, that was great."

"Thanks," he sighed, looking towards the other. "I'm just glad I survived somehow. What are you and Topanga doing now that school's over?"

"We've got options," he said, taking his girlfriend's hand. "Sure you don't want to hangout a bit before going to the trailer park?"

"We have all week to catch up, Cor. We'll find plenty of time to not clean in between all the reprimand Feeny's going to handout. I think he's been saving up a nice, long speech about not defacing school property," he added, sitting up. "I'll see you guys later."

"If you need any more of my tea, don't be afraid to ask. It does wonders," Topanga mentioned as they started walking.

"Definitely going to pass on that. I appreciate the offer," he threw in, aware the taste was repulsive from Cory's warnings. He was sure it helped cure any illness through the sheer means of murdering the germs and taste buds.

Turner strode over, taking a seat on the opposite desk. "Do you want a ride to the trailer park?"

"I could use the walk," Shawn said, desiring the normalcy. "I'll probably stay the night in my own bed, kind of miss the place. You can swing by to get me to detention in the morning. If not, I can't promise to show up."

"You got it," he said. "Be awake nice and early. We can't go to Europe until Mr. Feeny is satisfied with the work. A week is plenty of time."

"If we're going off Feeny's inspection, we'll never make it there." He stood, stretching his arms out. "See you tomorrow."

Jon smiled after his student left. This ordeal was an unraveling mess, portions of distress jetting out on all sides. It came to an unforeseen conclusion. He didn't expect Shawn to find trouble after returning home, hoping the reconnection he sought with Chet would be what was imagined. The shared custody was alright with him as long as it worked in Shawn's favor. He wouldn't be disappointed if one was chosen over the other, but he had a feeling his student meant to broaden his definition of home from now on. And that his couch would be occupied more often than not.

The air was warm, entangling the breeze as it spiraled along, wrapping heat around his skin. It felt like another layer outside the leather jacket bound to him. The summer temperatures hadn't climbed to the unbearable yet, leeway to the morning hours and the participants relishing in the brevity of it. Shawn took a moment to breathe, his lungs accepting the freedom without a whirlwind of coughs to subdue his motivation to move. After the tumbling labors of trying to rid his system of persistent sickness, he was given permission to roam the familiarity of outside life without a shadow of loitering supervision. The last few days were revitalizing, allowed to fall back into former routine. He jumped down from the tree in Cory's backyard, landing steadily on the ground.

"I'd think you'd outgrow that by now," Mr. Feeny mentioned, walking towards the gateway. He was awake with the sun, taking in the view of his newly planted flowers. He noticed nearly every time Shawn utilized the alternative entrance, whether it was on the run from minimal trouble or solely a visit. "Have you considered using the door like everyone else?"

"No way," Shawn replied nonchalantly, strolling over, hands pushed into his pockets. "Why be normal? I've been using the window since I was a kid. Doors get locked. The window's always open for me."

He gave a meager nod, perceptive of the significance. "I'd expect no less. By the way, Mr. Hunter, Jonathan showed me your English exam." He was impressed, oblivious to the gift, but there was an inkling from previous encounters. "You could very well have a future in writing if you apply yourself. It's never too early to consider which colleges you'd like to apply to."

"School talk during summer. Make it stop," he said, covering his ears. He assumed Jon wouldn't keep the secret of his capability, but that didn't mean he'd improve his academic life. He didn't hold the same level of care, certain his grades and higher education didn't align. "Cory! Are you coming down or not?"

"Give me a second. There's a group of squirrels up here. One's staring me down. I'm not sure if he wants to fight or thinks my head is an acorn. Nice squirrel. Don't move," Cory coaxed, trying to lower himself from the last limb, managing to lose his grip and fall with a crash onto the patio.

"Your landing needs work," Shawn said, helping his friend up. His reliability in the unchanged began reappearing. His life was a teetering landslide of self-induced mayhem, few aspects thrown in beyond control. It was an infernal nuisance, stashing secrets behind a wall, awaiting the correct moment to pounce, the exact second security was felt. It was a recycled gesture delivered to him, one he avoided until it became overwhelming. That's when his reliance on others was tested. He faltered during this trial, but next time he was sure he'd feel more capable accepting aid.

"You make it look so easy," he complained, brushing dirt off his shirt. "I think I pulled something."

"You wanted me here early. Why?" he asked, backtracking to the fence.

Cory clasped his hands, mindful of the approaching time. "I wanted to see you before you and Mr. Turner left. You'll be gone for two months. Another summer without my best friend. A dismal sixty days of no Shawn. An entire vacation from education without you. A guy might start taking it personal."

He lowered his head. "Oh, here we go."

He requested the other to promptly come to his house, the seconds ticking to his friend's departure. "I'm not complaining or anything, but you, me, and Topanga should make our own plans. Last time it was with your dad, which was good. But we've got to do summer together."

He basically spent the whole week with them, but inside the school building wasn't how they preferred to start their break. They didn't protest though, the criticisms mostly coming from him. A sigh fled as he spun back around. "Yeah, because I love being the third wheel with you guys."

"You're never a third wheel. The three of us did a great job repainting together. So, therefore we're a team," he assured. He glanced towards his neighbor. "I still say we should've gone for some carpet in the halls. With new paint, I think it'd be nice. I could still get a good price. I know people."

George shook his head, waving a dismissive hand. "Unless you plan to pay for it yourself, you're out of luck. You two and Miss Lawrence did complete the job rather well." He paused, focus moved to Shawn who stifled a laugh. "Although I did admire the dedication to cleaning up after your mess, Mr. Hunter, I must inform you that the board argued against me due to your graffiti stunt, and the flooded library. You're lucky you got off easy. Keep the antics outside of school property."

"I understand and I'm sorry again," he replied. It wasn't his first offense in the building, not by a long shot. Mr. Feeny was far more forgiving than he deserved especially for some of the more cruel jokes he's played in the past, particularly the one with the newspaper. He figured there was a boundary line for how far he could actually push someone's tolerance. "Thanks for having my back."

"With a mind as sharp as yours, it'd be a shame to result to expulsion," he added, adjusting his glasses. "You put a lot of effort into running circles around your problems. If only you'd place that exertion of energy to your studies."

"He's doing it again," Shawn uttered, hands back to his head. He valued the compassion conveyed, but wasn't about to let it morph into a siphoning lesson circling learning once more.

Cory leaned on the fence. "Summer equals no school talk, remember? You know it hurts Shawn's brain."

"How could I forget?" he wearily commented. Teaching was one of his greatest privileges, particularly with a select few student he's managed to cherish above all others. But he'd never admit that aloud. They made his career an interesting journey, somehow following each other through the years.

Jon came from the side of the house. "Hunter, we have to go if we want to make the flight." Shawn took off this morning with a few spared words to his destination, leaving him to finish packing. Alan agreed on giving them a ride since he didn't own a car.

He turned slightly. "What?"

He pulled Shawn's hands from his ears. "You. Me. Airport. Now."

"My dad's not here yet. I have to say goodbye," he replied. He was restless to leave as well, aspiring to quell his wanderlust. But he refused to head out without the proper sendoff of family around. "Neither is Topanga."

Voices inside caused their attention to be brought towards the door, Chet exiting. "Sorry about being a little late." He held a quick conversation with the Matthews as he was passing through, having already spread his apology to all the justifiable companies. "My alarm clock went off this morning, but it was still wedged between the counter and the wall, you know that little spot we lost the remote once. Took me a while to get it out. Musta happened during a sharp turn. I like to take those quick to avoid the traffic lights."

"We lost a lot of plastic silverware that way," Shawn commented.

He pulled his son into a hug. "Have a good time. Take some of those pictures you're good at. I want to hear all about it when you get back." He was able to settle in after Shawn's help, accepting of the gracious attendance he offered. It was merely seven days of on and off time together, but he'd accept what the other was willing to give.

"Jon gave me one of his cameras. As long as I don't lose it, I can keep it," he said. Turner noticed him reading a column about travel in the paper, commenting about his enjoyment of photography. He never owned a real one, having a disposable camera in the past. "I'll send you postcards too."

Topanga rushed into the yard as Chet went to speak to Jon. "Sorry, I'm late. I'm glad I didn't miss you. My aunt didn't let me out of the house without explaining where I was going even though I've been to Cory's a hundred times." She was grateful Prudence allowed her to live with her so she could remain in Philadelphia, but her rules were skewed compared to her parents. They've learned to compromise rather well regardless.

"No, you're fine," Shawn allowed passively. "Who's that?"

"Oh, this is Angela Moore," she clarified. "Angela, Shawn Hunter."

"It's nice to meet you," she said, stretching out her hand, meeting his in a shake. She and Topanga were introduced the last few days of school, becoming fast friends. She must've passed them countless times in the halls, but their schedules didn't match. "I heard you were going to Europe. I've travelled a lot, but never across seas." She gave a small smile. "Maybe we'll have some classes together next year."

"Looking forward to it," he replied. He was caught in a gravitational pull, all attention migrating to the spellbinding glance shared between them. That second applied an enthralling entrance around his mind, tugging further words from his mouth. The upturn of her lips captivated his eyes, tossing all circling thoughts from the precipice of his mind, straight into the impact of the beating in his chest. He tried to locate more to say, but found breathing more complicated than intended.

She's heard the circling tales of Shawn through the hallways, but the judgements of gossip weren't where her mind settled upon meeting someone. Her father promised this would be their last stop for a few years at best, but couldn't hold those words in confidence, used to being uprooted. Her friendships were particularly short-lived. "You can let go of my hand now."

"Oh, right. Sorry," he said, bringing his fingers back, a minor nervous laugh leaving him.

Cory glanced at his girlfriend. "Not to be rude, but why'd you bring her?"

"I wanted her to meet Shawn before he left," she replied, whispering now as she pulled him aside. "She's single. He's single. I was thinking maybe they'd get along."

The gesture was apparent, but his friend's track record was well accounted. "Shawn's a two week kind of guy," he supplied. He's had relationships in the past, but the breakups became a disheartening burden which allotted the switch to a cutoff date.

"And she's a two week kind of girl, but I think they'd be great together. They have a lot in common." At the very least she knew another in their group wouldn't be a disapproving factor. "Don't worry. I only planned on introducing them. Nothing more."

Cory suspected as much, yet didn't believe a line would be drawn, one that dared either of them to cross it. His interference was cleaved at times, strained away from control whenever matters escalated too far from influence. He merely hoped Shawn wouldn't become one of those factors himself, journeying towards the unreachable if another misfortune landed in his path. "I learned my lesson. No meddling. That includes you too," he reminded. He turned around, gauging the scene. They did appear interested in one another, but he forced the idea aside. "Now come on, Shawny, group hug before you go. You're not sick anymore."

"That just means I can outrun you," he said, taking a step back in jest. The implications of the last month weren't weighted, no pessimism enclosing him like a ravenous vulture. It was liberating to feel the restrains loosen. Even if it wasn't meant to last, he was content in the moment. "But okay, this one time I'll do the group hug thing. Only because you brought me cake the last day of cleaning the school."

"I knew that'd work," Cory said as he and Topanga formed their three person hug. "Come on, Mr. Feeny, you know you want to."

"I'm content on my side of the fence, Mr. Matthews," George answered.

Shawn already said goodbye to Cory's family after arriving. The confusion found clarity upon revising their care. He suspected neither side of his conscience to wage war against concepts of grief, choosing to delegate the process in a neutral mindset. "Now that you got that out of your system, we can go. Make sure to feed Little Cory for me while I'm gone." He also knew Eddie was no longer roaming the trailer park, having to leave before the police came too close for leisure living conditions. It was heard in passing, but he assumed his step-brother didn't intend on staying where he wasn't welcome. It relaxed the negligible unease of having Cory crossing paths with him.

"Good. That last thing we need is to miss the plane." He was relieved to see Shawn's mental state mending. After the collapse of his false haven on the streets, his student found meaning in recognizing home wasn't a place but the people around him that supplied care. Jon looked towards Chet. "I'll keep him out of any international trouble."

"You can try," Shawn said, waving to the others. "See you when I get back."

"I'll be here. You can count on that," Chet replied heartedly. Acceptance of the new formed situation was located soon after the words formed. He yearned to find his wife, but she'd return if the desire could find her first. He had to focus on being where he was necessary. "Be sure to stick by your teacher's side. Don't need you getting lost in a different country."

He intended to, but recognized his adventurous tendency might not coordinate well with the task. "I know five languages, I'll manage."

Jon sent him a quizzical look. "Since when? I can hardly get you to focus in English class."

"I'm an idiot savant, what can I say?" he replied offhandedly. "After I figured out it wasn't math, it started making sense."

He shook his head. "Okay, time to go. You ready now?"

With one last glance around, he nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be."

His tarnished soul used to occupy his mind with defenses, aimlessly ambling around in the silhouettes of an unattainable self. He was desperate to feel whole, filling that space with whatever negligence could offer. Shawn came to realize after this demanding trial of derailing heartache and acceptance that he had family surrounding him no matter where he found himself. The reminder became required as turmoil threatened to drown him. He had others to help him stand up again. He wasn't a forlorn orphan repeatedly relying on no one, searching for a glimpse of consideration. It was there all along.

"Feel like running yet?" Shawn asked as they went into the front yard. "You can't take a signature back. You're officially my legal guardian now. Between you and my parents, that's way too many people able to tell me what to do. But I can make an acceptation here and there."

Jon put his arm around Shawn. The papers were signed the previous week, Chet wanting to allow guardianship for another caretaker in his son's life. He mentioned it was another step of holding responsibility pertaining to the chosen living situation. "I'm not going anywhere, remember? But to answer your question, no. You're stuck with me now, Hunter."

Shawn maintained a smile. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

The end! It was such a joy writing this chapter. I loved jumping back into Shawn's life and finding an ending that'd satisfy him as a character. To this day, Shawn and Jon's father/son relationship holds a special place in my heart. It was actually the inspiration for my story that I've been working on. Again, I offer apologies bc I know this shouldn't have taken so long. But it's here now. When I was re-reading, I went back through all your reviews and they kept my spirits up while getting back on track. I look forward to your feedback for this last one as well :D Thanks for sticking through this story and sharing in the adventure. Shawn Hunter deserved nothing but happiness. I extend my gratitude to you all!