Chapter Eleven

John

John stared at the box. This was the last thing he wanted to do—revisit painful memories.As if the nightmares aren't enough. The choice was no longer his; more was riding on his decision than sentimentality over his past. His life and possibly others' lives were on the line if they didn't figure out what the hell the Noah Project people were looking for.

"I'm sorry we have to ask you to do this," Stryker said. "I wish there was another way."

"I know you do."

They were back at the apartment, but the addition of one of the deputies sitting outside in a vehicle doing surveillance was an added insurance. They'd floated the idea of John moving out to the lake house to stay for his safety, but he'd refused. There was no way he'd put Julia, the kids, or anyone else in danger simply by his presence, so he'd stay where he was.

John picked up the box and brought it over to the kitchen table. The contents of his father's safety deposit box lay within, and a mystery over two decades old was about to be cracked open.

"Can I get you anything?" Stryker asked.

"Maybe a glass of water, please." His throat was dry.

"Be right back."

John picked up the scissors and slowly began cutting through the years of packing tape he'd used to seal the box. The strange thing was, he'd often stared at the box, imagined seeing the contents as they were laid out inside. A box of envelopes and files, writing indistinguishable, some coins and jewelry, a watch, and a picture of his family in front of their house. He knew that was impossible; it was only his imagination running away with him.

Ithadseemed weird though that the image had remained the same throughout the years, each time.

"Here you go," Stryker said as he set a glass of water on the table beside John.

"Thank you."

He continued to cut away at the layers of tape and cardboard. When he finally managed to get the box open, he found the original metal box he'd been presented with by the bank manager inside. He lifted it out as Stryker pushed the cardboard to one side.

This was it. He'd been haunted by this box and its contents for over twenty years.

Taking a deep breath, he took hold of the handle and lifted the top off the box, revealing its contents. It took John a second, but he soon realized something important: what he'd imagined seeing inside all those times he'd stared at the box over the years was, in fact, the items in the box, exactly, down to their positions. How was that possible?

"Stryker, if I told you something, would you think I'm insane?" Because he was pretty sure it sounded unbelievable.

"I've heard some pretty insane things in my life that turned out to be real, so I doubt you could shock me."

"I'm not so sure about that. You know how I explained to you that I can look at things and see what they should be in the wood before carving them?"

"Yes, I remember you telling me that. We were looking at that piece of mahogany."

"Right. What if I told you that it happens in different ways with different things?"

"What do you mean?"

Here goes nothing. MaybeIaminsane.

"I've been staring at this box for over two decades, and I'd often imagine seeing what was inside."

"Yeah, that makes sense. You were curious what your father had hidden away for you."

"What if I told you what I imagined seeing is, in fact, what is truly inside?"

"You mean like you could see through the box to its contents without even opening it?"

"Yeah. Crazy, right?"

"What else has this occurred with?"

"It doesn't happen all the time, but I found that if I stare at something long enough, I imagine an image in my mind. I never honestly thought perhaps I was seeing what was really behind it. A few times I'd freak myself out and get lucky, or at least I thought it was just a lucky hunch, but now, with this new information the detective gave us, I'm unsure if itismy imagination."

John didn't want to look up at Stryker. He didn't want to see the look of doubt in his eyes. He'd never told anyone this, not even Jason.

Stryker reached over and placed his hand under John's chin, raising it slightly so he was looking at him.

"Hey, it's okay. I believe you."

John searched Stryker's face for any hint that he might be lying or just playing along and found none.

"You do?"

"I do. Hell, on a mission last year, Harris and his sister stopped a bullet in mid-air that would have killed Gator. Freddie can talk to spirits or the dead, and Conor can tell if a person is being truthful and if they're hiding anything. According to the detective, he can heal at an insane pace. So why wouldn't I believe you have super X-ray vision of some sort? I trust you, and I think you trust me. We don't lie to each other."

John didn't know what possessed him, but he jumped out of his chair and flew into Stryker's arms. They stood holding each other, and John had never felt as safe and understood since before his parents were killed.

"Thank you, Stryker."

Stryker chuckled. "You're welcome, Clark Kent," he said teasingly. "I think we've just determined this team may be the new Justice League. I'm down with that."

***

Stryker

If Stryker felt protective over John before, it was tenfold now. If people knew what he could do, the unsavory among the human race could use that ability to their advantage. Unlike Conor, Harris, and Jennifer, who could defend themselves and those around them, John wasn't in the same category. With his injury and without any formal training, he could be a target for kidnapping.

"I think we should tell Brick about all this tomorrow, let him decide how we tell the rest of the team," Stryker said.

John looked at him. "Youdobelieve me?"

"I do. But I want to make sure Brick decides who should know the truth, and it certainly won't be that arsehole Woodley if I have any say in it. He seems the sort to use you as bait to find out what happened to his dad, without taking your welfare into consideration."

"Oh, okay. I didn't think of the repercussions of anyone knowing about me."

"That's what you have me for," Stryker said. "Do you want to take a look through the box now?"

"Sure, we might as well get this over with."

John sat down at the table and took items out of the metal box individually.

"This was my great-grandfather's watch. I remember my father telling me about him. He died in Korea."

"Your family has a long history of service to this country."

"Yeah, I'd hope to do the same, but my injury stopped that."

"There are different ways you can help people."

John nodded, but Stryker knew he was already lost in his thoughts as he stared at the watch. It was an old Timex, not of great value, but it obviously meant the world to John.

Next, John pulled out an envelope addressed to him. But instead of reading it, he placed it off to the side. Old coins and jewelry came next, obviously handed down generation after generation, and then he pulled out a rather thick file and handed it to Stryker.

"Don't you want to read it, John, or at least look at it first?"

"No. I assume it has something to do with this Noah Project, and you'll probably understand it more than I would. Besides, I'm not ready to look into the deep, dark recesses of my dad's mind and analyze his involvement in that project."

"According to the detective, your father was a victim and crucial in bringing them down."

"I hope he was right. I don't think I could handle it if he weren't."

"I understand," Stryker said.

While John continued to review all the personal items, Stryker opened the file to the first page. As he read, Stryker confirmed the file was information on the project and many of the members involved. Names, dates, locations, and code names were listed. John's father was on the list, as were Woodley's father and Aleksandr Popov, but four more names were listed. These had to be the ones the detective was searching for.

Page after page of information crucial to their investigation unfolded before him, and he knew he had to get this back to Brick and Spencer for further analysis. When he reached roughly midway through the stack of paper, he found something that stopped him in his tracks.

For the first time, Stryker was unsure what to do with the information in front of him. He glanced at John, still thumbing through the memories left within the box. He had to do the right thing. He'd promised never to keep anything from John, but how would he tell him something like this?

"John, how much do you remember of your past?"

"Why?" John asked without looking up.

"Now, I don't want you to get stressed out or jump to conclusions."

John shifted all of his attention over to Stryker. "What did you find?"

"There's some paperwork in here about…you."

"Me? What about me?"

"Would you rather me tell you, or would you like to read it?" Stryker asked as he held the file out to John.

John looked at the paper as if it would burn his skin if he touched it.

"Just tell me. Was my father more involved than we thought?"

"No. This is strictly about you, not anyone else," Stryker said before taking a cleansing breath and continuing. "Frank and Evelyn Seya aren't your biological parents."

"What?"

Stryker took a deep breath before delivering the horrific and life-changing information.

"You were brought into this world artificially, by combining a donor egg and sperm in a laboratory in one of the Noah Project's facilities," Stryker said. He reached for the inhaler sitting not far from them on the table and handed it to John, who took it with trembling hands, his face whiter than Stryker had ever seen.

"I was created, not born?" John asked, the words barely above a whisper. "I don't believe it."

Stryker looked at him in compassion. "It appears the task force found you and other children in a facility that they took down. Your father was there too and that's how you ended up with him."

"He decided to take me home like a lost puppy?" John said angrily, blinking back tears.

Fuck, this news must be devastating for him.

He set the file down and went to his knees in front of John.

"No. I think he wanted to save you. To keep you safe. If he knew what you were capable of, and by all indications, he did, he knew better than anyone what could happen to you."

"How can you be so sure?" John asked as if looking for a lifeline.

"Because deep down, he was a protector and tried to protect you until the very end."

John sat silently for several minutes, and Stryker wished he knew what the man was thinking. Then John stood up suddenly and began pacing, and seemed to be muttering under his breath. He'd stop for a moment, then shake his head and continue pacing. This carried on for several minutes before he turned to Stryker and he smiled brightly. "I've had enough of walking down memory lane for one day. How about we cook dinner then I'll find us something to watch?"

The sudden turnabout in mood took Stryker by surprise but he went along with it. The man was still processing what had happened to him, and if this was his way of dealing, then fine. For now.

"Sure. If that's what you want."

"I know there's gotta be a baseball game on somewhere. It's summer, after all," John said.

So we're going down the distraction route. Need to keep an eye on this situation.

"Sounds like a perfect plan. Let's go. How do you feel about grilled steak? Gator"s apartment has a grill built right into the stovetop, and I'd like to try it out," Stryker said.

"I could be talked into a steak. How about I make us some baked potatoes?" John was acting as if his world hadn't been turned around, spat out by the universe, then trampled into the ground by a pair of size fourteen boots.

"Now I'm getting hungry," Stryker teased as he stood and reached out for John's hand. John didn't hesitate. His calloused hand clutched Stryker's and he squeezed it, then let go.

"This meal won't make itself. Best get started." John went to the kitchen, Stryker following. They grabbed the steak, potatoes, and a couple of beers and began preparing dinner. It felt natural doing this with John, and Stryker enjoyed every minute.

He'd called Brick, who'd said the new information could wait until the morning. There was nothing anyone could do right now. So Stryker would enjoy the prized moments while they lasted because some day he'd no doubt return to his prior life—one that wasn't as appealing anymore.

After the food was eaten and the dishes cleaned, the two sat on the couch, watching the baseball game in comfortable silence. It was the ninth inning, and the game would be over soon, meaning another night of him sleeping on the couch.

John got a little fidgety and his attention to the game seemed to drop. Stryker wondered what was going through his mind. He found out soon enough.

"Don't take this the wrong way," John murmured.

"That's never a good way to start a conversation," Stryker said uneasily.

"It's not all that bad. I was just wondering if you'd like to, or maybe if you'd want to, um, sleep with me tonight in the bed."

"Really?"

"I don't mean I'm trying to have sex with you or anything. I just, it's been a hard day, and I know the nightmares are going to be fast and furious tonight, and I was hoping."

"You got it. I promise to be an angel and keep my hands to myself."Unless you change the rules. Then all bets are off.

"Okay." John laughed nervously. "Now that that's settled, I'm going to get ready for bed."

"I'll check everything is locked up tight and shut everything down for the night. I'll be there in a minute."

John nodded and walked into the bedroom.

Stryker had never turned off a baseball game so fast in his life. He did his checks and by the time he reached the bedroom, John was already in bed. Stryker quickly stripped down to his boxer briefs and crawled in beside him.

"How do you want this? Me on the opposite side of the bed or somewhere in the middle?" Stryker didn't want to make assumptions.

"How about we meet in the middle?"

"Sounds perfect."

Stryker moved over and opened his arms for John, who didn't hesitate to lay his head down on Stryker's chest. Stryker pulled up the covers and reached over to turn off the table lamp. It wasn't long before he could hear John's breathing even out as he fell asleep. He'd had a long, arduous day and had to be exhausted.

Stryker couldn't help himself and gently pulled the man tighter into his arms. If this was all he had, all he was given, he would take it happily and never regret a moment because, for the first time in his life, Stryker felt wanted and not simply needed. And that was a gift that he'd spend his life never being able to repay.