JD paced the sleek Jag as far as their paths coincided, then peeled away on his Kawasaki towards campus with a wave of his hand. The Jag's lights blinked at him briefly in farewell and he smiled.

"Bye, Ez," he said under his breath. "Seeya later."

It took no more than another fifteen minutes to find somewhere to park and head into his first of three classes for the day. He was still smiling when a hand clapped him on the back.

"Hey, Dunne, trying to make a go of it again?" A mocking male voice carried over the general chatter of the students around him, and he gritted his teeth. Morgan. The man had made a personal project of tormenting him from the day he first arrived. JD had already had three years at Denver under his belt, and at seventeen, he had no idea why beyond his private suspicions of homophobia. He had endured the years of Morgan's bullying and torment until he had left to nurse his mother, without a word to anyone but his advisors. And now of course, the man doubtless thought he had yet more ammo to loose, and was going to waste no time using it.

"Morgan," he said coolly. The man slapped him hard on the back, and JD hid a smirk. He was wearing his good leather jacket and while the blow probably left a bruise on him, he was willing to bet the sting hurt Alex Morgan's hand more.

"Try not to crack up under the strain this time," he said with mock sympathy when JD didn't rise to his bait. "They can only give you the benefit of the doubt so many times."

JD shrugged him off and headed into the first lecture of the day. Walking away had never made Morgan give up away before, but it was easier than getting into a fight that would only humiliate and upset him. A bitter lesson, thoroughly learned--never trust. He paused, struck by a thought. He hadn't held back with Ezra. It had been as though he knew he could trust him.

He sat down towards the front of the lecture room, and pulled out his laptop, plugging it into the power point at his feet, and acknowledging the wireless connection to the university LAN absently, his mind still turning over his unexpected realization. The whole business of the auction seemed more like a dream than anything real. Him sitting naked in a landscaped garden as rich men and women wandered past with no more interest in him than in the rest of the gardens, sometimes eying him like a choice cut on a meat counter. It no longer seemed real. Ezra was real. Ezra's house, and Ezra's friends.

His whole life was completely different, and he grinned abruptly. To people like Morgan he probably looked the same. Too short, too know-it-all, too insecure and over compensating for it. A geek who couldn't get a date with a girl and settled for boys. But inside he was a different person. Tempered by the loss of his mother, and given new strength by his own success at solving his financial troubles.

He ducked his head, and wondered what they would make of Ezra.

He caught his name and looked up to find a bevy of students gathered around Morgan, and listening avidly to him. He said something and as one the group broke into laughter, and several looked over at him, looking hastily away when he waved cheerily back.

Only a year ago he would have reddened at the implied insult. Would have felt himself near to tears. He'd had a mantra he would whisper to himself -- that he was okay, they were stupid and his mom loved him no matter what. He'd known it was childish at the time, but sometimes that steady litany was the only thing that kept him from bolting when he was the butt of innuendo and cruel mockery. Now, he didn't care.

Someone had paid half a million dollars for the privilege of his company.

He was worth more money than most of them would ever hold in their hands.

Ezra had assured him it would be platonic, nothing sexual about their relationship. But when he had made a pass at him -- he smirked a little, okay, he'd all out seduced the man, Ezra had tumbled into bed with him with every evidence of eagerness. Had slept with him, held him, praised him, introduced him to his friends.

Chairs around him thumped as Dr. Rosomon walked in and perched on the front desk, and everyone hastily took their seats.

"Morning, class. Everyone who is here for Probability 502 is in the right place, anyone who isn't should probably go recheck their class schedule," he said with a friendly smile. No one moved and his smile broadened. "Well done, you've all passed the first test!" he teased, and JD relaxed. Rosomon had encouraged him to apply for graduate school three years ago. He somehow managed to make mathematics blindingly clear and straightforward, turning lectures into sessions where he challenged them all to stretch and learn.

He settled back and listened.

At the end of the class Rosomon dismissed the class, then called to JD, "Mr. Dunne, if I could have a minute?"

"Sure, Professor." JD slung his backpack over one shoulder, hitched his helmet over his elbow, and waited by the desk.

"JD, I can't tell you how pleased I was to see you in class this morning," the man said warmly, and JD shifted in pleased embarrassment.

"Thank you, sir."

"I understand your mother..." he paused delicately and JD dropped his head.

"Mom passed away in May." He found himself choking on the words.

"I'm so sorry, JD," Rosomon said quietly. He looked away deliberately, picking up his papers and tapping them four square to give JD a moment.

JD shrugged helplessly. "Me too."

"Well, I was delighted to hear you were returning to us. JD, if you have any problems, anything at all, please don't hesitate. Just come over. My door is always open to you."

JD struggled to produce a smile. "Thanks," he said hoarsely.

"Now, as I recall, you were rather advanced with that project of yours," he changed the subject, kindly ignoring JD's discomfiture. "How is it going?"

JD smiled, this was something he could talk about without worrying about unexpected emotions ambushing him. "I've got the parameters set up in a program I've been writing and it looks like it might work -- I just need to build the model and--"

"Have you spoken to Lucy Nikoredes recently? No," Rosomon interrupted himself, "of course you haven't, she joined us last September, but you were a little busy at the time. No, she has been working on a project that has some interesting parallels with your own work."

"Parallels?" JD said warily.

"Oh, she's not reproducing your data, her expertise is hippocampal learning, mapping, topographical mathematics, that sort of thing. But you should find that your work will mesh rather nicely with hers when you come to build something that can navigate for itself."

"My reasoning software and her mapping software?" he asked hesitantly, still not entirely happy with the idea of sharing his work with someone else.

"Exactly! Now," Rosomon gathered his papers and stuffed them under one arm and ushered JD from the room, "if you'd like to come with me, I'll introduce you to Miss Nikoredes, and a couple of other people whose work might interest you."

JD trotted happily after the professor, submerging himself back into the life of the department with an ease that would have startled him, if he had thought about it at all. He ignored Morgan and his cronies, who were lurking near the vending machines in the student lounge. He had a class in half an hour, and he wouldn't have to see them again for the rest of the day with any luck.

Two hours later his wrist was aching from keeping notes, and he was starting to think about lunch.

"Hey! JD! Where the hell did you come from?!" A woman's voice yelled across the road at him, and he whirled. He knew that shriek.

"Casey!" He grinned at the small red headed woman sprinting across the road to him. "Good to see you!"

She slapped his upper arm hard. "Where've you *been*?"

He shrugged, and she thumped him again. "Don't give me that, JD, you *vanished*, what *happened*? You went all quiet on us, and then you just disappeared. Not a word. Not even an owl."

"Sorry, K." He smiled awkwardly.

"You don't do that, you know, not to friends, right? All I got was rumors, and you know, Morgan and his dumbass bunch of morons were trying to tell me you'd gone found yourself a sugar daddy, or a 'source', trying to tell me you were doing drugs and shit, and man, that's so not cool, so, come on, give, what happened?"

JD paused for a long moment and she dropped a hand onto his sleeve.

"JD, what is it?" Her voice suddenly went from strident to gentle and he was horrified to find tears stinging at his eyes again.

"Mom," he had to stop and clear his throat. "Mom, she got diagnosed with stomach cancer, a while back."

"Oh, JD, honey. Why didn't you say something?"

He offered a half hearted smile. "I, I don't know. I didn't have time to think."

"Is she--" She stopped.

"No." He shook his head and closed his eyes briefly. Her arms wrapped around him and she hugged him tightly. A sob caught in his throat and he gulped. He wasn't going to cry here. Not in front of the student building, in the middle of the road, with everyone staring at him. But no one had hugged him after she died. No one apart from Ezra, and that was different.

The thought of Ezra steadied him and he lifted his head, a stoic expression on his face, trying to control the grief before it ran away with him again. She loosened her arms and looked anxiously at him.

"Babe, you okay? You shoulda *said*, I wouldn't have gone on at you. Oh, JD, honey, I'm so sorry."

"She, it was in May. I've been trying to get things together since them. You know."

"But you're okay, right? Come on," she dragged him away from the road to a relatively quiet patch of grass. "Sit down, tell me all about it."

"Not much to tell." He dropped to the grass cross legged and stared at his backpack on the ground in front of him. "It kinda spread. Real fast. There wasn't anything -- she, they said she was terminal in February."

"You dropped out." Casey grasped the timing instantly.

"Talked to Professor Sanders, and Rosomon. They agreed to give me a leave of absence or whatever they call it." He tried to smile. "They were so cool, K. Rosomon said to call him if I needed anything. Professor Sanders gave me a bunch of ideas about people to talk to and stuff."

"But you didn't talk to any of them, did you, babe?" she said quietly. "Oh, you *idiot*. One phone call. Just one phone call, and I'd've been right there. You have no idea how worried I was. How worried we all were."

"I--" he met her eyes, completely shocked that she was so distressed. "I didn't think."

"Well *that's* not news, JD," she shoved at him in a friendly fashion and he shoved back.

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

"Oh god, Casey."

Instantly her arms were around him, and they sat together, his head buried in her shoulder for a long time, Casey brushing her hand over his back again and again, murmuring nonsense softly over his head.

"You're coming home with me, okay?" she said some time later.

"Can't." He sat back and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Sure you can. I'll call Aunt Nettie and she'll set you up in the spare room. You aren't going to be alone any more, y'hear. I'll call her now." She rummaged deep in her bag, ignoring his protests.

"K, Casey, no, please, I can't! I've got -- I won't be alone!"

She paused dialing, and looked quizzically at him. "Huh?"

"I'm not alone."

"But you -- oh." She reddened. "*Oh*."

"Yeah." He cursed his fair skin as he blushed too.

"JD," she started hesitantly, tugging at strands of grass as though they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Yeah."

"Is that -- I mean, um, with your Mom and all, is that a -- you know, did you think it through?"

JD grinned at the convoluted sentence and shook his head. "I thought about it a lot. You might say I've been thinking about nothing else for about two months."

"Are you doing it for the right reasons?"

JD smiled at her, absurdly touched by her concern, and he dropped a light kiss on her cheek. "K, he's about the only thing I'm really sure I'm doing for the right reasons."

She smiled back brightly, "So?"

"So?"

"Come on, *tell*."

"His name's Ezra Standish, and I met him -- "

"Standish!"

JD stopped. "Yeah. Why, do you know him?"

"Stuck up rich boy."

JD tried to think of a way to answer that, but was saved from having to come up with a reply when she went scarlet and clapped a hand over her mouth.

"God! I'm sorry! He's your boyfriend, and I'm-- I. Damn!"

"You kiss your aunt with that mouth, Casey Wells?" JD teased.

"You just surprised me."

"So, how do you know Ez?"

"Oh no, you first, I asked first."

JD smiled. "We met a while back. A long while back in a club. And we kinda exchanged email addresses, and then he emailed me at a bad time, and he was -- " he stopped, torn between not lying to one of his best friends, and not telling her the truth either.

"I get it," she said with some difficulty. "He was there for you."

JD shrugged. "He reminded me, reminds me, that there's a whole world out there of things that aren't about, oh, you know." He stopped, lost for words, and she nodded.

"When Mom and Dad died, I used to get Aunt Nettie to take me to this theme park. I was just a kid, you know? We'd do the rides, even though she thought they were silly, and she hated them. But--" She met his eyes, understanding deep in them.

"You forgot."

"For a bit," she agreed.

"So, how do you know him?"

"Who? Oh, Ezra?" She grinned abruptly. "I better be careful. You gonna beat me up if I bad mouth your boyfriend?"

"Nah. You punch meaner than me." He nudged her. "Quit stalling."

"I don't know if I should," she hedged.

"K..."

"Oh, okay, but I didn't tell you this, okay?"

"Sure." He leaned forward.

"The farm was kinda in trouble. And the bank was gonna close up on us."

"Foreclose?"

"Yeah. Anyway. Aunt Nettie's got this guy she used to teach, years ago. I think he reminds her of Dad." She shrugged. "Anyway, he found out, and he got Mr. Standish to put up the money until the spring. Once we'd had the calving we came about and we paid him back, but he was just...." She stopped again, clearly trying to come up with an acceptable description.

"Just spit it out, Wells, "JD urged, grinning.

"Oh, he uses all these big words like he's better'n us, and he wouldn't do a lick of work, 'a gentleman doesn't do menial labor'. A gentleman doesn't *sweat*, like honest people, either, I s'pose."

"I don't know about that," JD murmured and Casey's mouth dropped open.

"JD Dunne!" She swatted him and then fell over laughing. "You're bad."

"To the bone," he straightened his jacket and tipped a mock hat at her. "Bad to the bone, missy."

"But you -- he's different with you? He's okay?"

JD smiled, and Casey's eyes warmed. "I can see he is, just from that look on your face there."

"He's kind, and funny, and generous, and --" he grinned, "well, you don't need to know any more."

Casey giggled. "You're happy."

"More than I thought I'd ever be again," he said seriously.

"Well, I guess I can forgive him then."

"I'm sure he's grateful."

"Oh, *you*." She scrambled her feet under her. "I'm gonna be late."

"I've got a class with Marques." He stood, brushing grass from his jeans and scooped up his backpack and helmet.

"Hey, how cool is it that I knew your boyfriend! Small world!"

JD grinned. "Who was that guy you were talking about?"

"Who? Aunt Nettie's blue-eyed boy?" JD nodded and she continued, "Vin Tanner."

"I met him on Friday!"

"Oh *cool*. Isn't he just the *cutest* ever?"

"I think I have to refuse to answer that on the grounds of self-incrimination."

"Oh, you can tell *me*," she batted her lashes angelically at him.

"You! You are *eeeeevil*. Worse than evil!"

She stuck out her tongue and he smirked.

"Later, K," he called.

"Sure! You got my number?"

"Sure have," JD laughed at her scowl. "I've got your phone number too."

"I'll call, okay?" He jogged away, waving back at her. He was going to be late, so he didn't really pay any attention to the tall gray haired man watching from the steps of the pure sciences building. Not even when he brushed past him on the way into the mathematics department. He certainly didn't notice the man turn around and watch him as he disappeared into the building.

"Mr. Torrence?"

The gray haired man turned back to lift an eyebrow at the flunky calling his name by his car.

"Yes, Michael?"

"We're going to be late for your five o'clock appointment, sir?"

"Reschedule. And get me everything you can find on the boy."

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Disclaimer: I don't own any of the fandoms listed herein. I am certainly making no money off of these creative fan tributes to a wonderful, fun show.