AN: I really don't know how I feel about this one. I think some of it might've hopped the train to Cornville. Oh well. I got the idea in my French class and I never do anything there, so I figured I'd write it. Thus, it is my gift to you.
T for language and mentions of physical and sexual abuse, but no vast detail. I don't think it deserves an M rating, but let me know if you think it does.
It had been a fairly normal day, concerning Jack. He was really over-joyed that Angel was home, so he had spent most of the day in deep conversation with his older brother, telling him all about school, his band, and in turn asking Angel about the Marines.
After Angel had told him a story about one of his commanding officers getting shit on by a bird, he'd dared to ask Jack how he was doing. Jack had known what kind of 'how are you doing?' he'd meant. It hadn't been a 'how's school?' or a 'got any future plans?', but more of a 'is your nightmarish childhood keeping you up at night?'.
After a few spaced-out moments, Jack had brushed the question off, quickly changing the subject by making the conversation about Angel again. Angel had childishly hoped that the casual brush-off had really been casual. It was something that still made him uncomfortable, maybe, but truly stayed in the past.
Angel soon discovered those hopes had been childish indeed, as he was up at three in the morning because he'd heard some noise coming from his little brother's room. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the problem because every member of the family had experienced years of restless nights with Jack.
No one got tired of it. No one complained about it. It just came with the territory when dealing with a kid like him. Angel got up, pulled on some jeans, and came out to the hallway. Ma was out of her room too, wrapping her robe around her and when she made a move toward Jack's room, Angel put his hand on her shoulder.
"I got it, Ma," he insisted.
She gave an appreciative smile. She'd probably been dealing with days or even weeks of this before Angel had come home. It was common knowledge; some months were good and some were bad. No one really knew what set Jack off, what ripped him out of his reality and hurled him back into the darkest parts of his youth.
Maybe it was nothing in particular, Angel thought grimly. Maybe it was just the universe, some cosmic douchiness not allowing him to forget the things all little kids should have been able to forget, the things that no little kid should've had to experience in the first place. The universe was an asshole - Angel had decided that a long time ago. It didn't give a shit about anyone's feelings.
Angel quietly opened the door to Jack's room to find that his brother was already awake, sitting up and gripping the edges of his bed hard, shaking and crying. It was probably one of his states of semi-consciousness because he hadn't acknowledged Angel's presence yet.
Angel sat down beside him, but only when he reached out to touch him did Jack spring up and take a bruising grip on both of his brother's bare biceps.
"Easy, Jackie, easy," he soothed, hardly concerned about Jack hurting him. "It's just me; it's just Angel."
It took Jack several seconds of confused glances before he realized where he was. He removed his hands from Angel's arms and wiped at this face, trying to hide to his brother that he'd been crying.
"C'mon, man, you know I don't give a shit about that. Jerry cries when he watches Titanic."
He hoped that Jack would at least find that a little funny, but his little brother turned away and hung his head low in shame.
"Shitty fucking homecoming, huh?" he muttered. "I keep telling Ma to go to bed and she never does."
"Well, you know she wouldn't," Angel said. He gave an empathetic sigh. "You wanna talk about it?"
Jack shrugged weakly.
"What was it, Cracker Jack?" he prodded gently.
"It's okay," his younger brother said lamely.
"Yeah, I can really see that."
"Angel, please..."
"Somebody hurtin' you?"
It was a routine question that all of Jack's brothers asked him - just to be sure.
"No."
"You're tellin' me the truth?"
"Yeah," Jack answered distantly. "Just me and my fucked-up self."
Angel crossed his arms. There was no way he'd let that comment slide. "Okay, now, what's wrong?"
"Angel..." Jack whined.
"Jackie..." Angel bothered.
Jack wiped his eyes again before answering. "I can't forget this shit, no matter how hard I try. It's not fair - I think I'm fine and then the littlest thing comes and fucks it all up."
Angel furrowed his brow. Maybe he still had things that set him off...'triggers', Ma called them, that was it. Jack still had triggers and what they were each time seemed to vary.
"What was it?"
"It's fucking stupid," Jack murmured.
"It's not to me," Angel said firmly.
"It was in my fucking sociology class weeks ago," he began. "Tonight's like the tenth fucking time this month."
"Pretty serious if you're droppin' the f-bomb every sentence," Angel said smoothly.
"I learned from the best."
"What happened in this class?"
"He had us take a stupid survey to see if we knew about different ways to report abuse. I thought I was okay until he told us the results. A lot of these kids in my class, shitty high school kids, know how to report abuse. If they know how, then so do adults. If adults know how to report, then why don't they do it?"
"Aww, Jackie..."
And he'd asked the question of a lifetime. What the fuck kind of person would keep quiet about stuff like that? Angel often wondered about how different all of their lives would've been if just one person had noticed them sooner, had cared - if someone had gotten to Jack before a sick fuck had left him with scars that couldn't heal and those scars were what had him up a night, moaning and crying out miserably as continuous flashbacks tore the rug out from under him.
"Did you tell Ma any of this?"
Jack shook his head. "I don't have to go into specifics with her. She just always knows. I'm sorry I have you all so worried. I've been trying to get sleep, honestly."
"I don't give a shit about the sleep I get. You're talkin' to a Marine here, little brother."
"It's just something that I gotta deal with because it ain't going away. All that shit is a part of me."
"Was a part of you," Angel corrected. "Look at how strong you already are."
"Crying in my sleep is strength to you?" Jack asked sharply.
"You're damn right it is. That means you've been through it. It means you got the emotions to show that you're not an empty shell. All the shit you've been through...that kind of abuse-"
"Angel," Jack warned. That kind of abuse. Each of Evelyn's sons had been through things that changed them, that molded them. They knew the true monsters of the world, Jack probably knowing the truest. Evelyn had never gone into vast detail about that part of Jack's past, but she'd told her other boys before he'd been an official part of the family to be wary of it and to make him feel safe all the time.
"It wasn't fair, Jack."
"Tough for me," Jack answered dismissively.
"I wish I had all the answers, man. The shit I've seen, especially recently, in the Marines and all...it makes me wonder what the hell God is doing up there, if He's even there at all. You know you're safe here. You know that, right?"
Jack nodded. "'Course I do."
"Good, because sometimes I feel like we don't say that as much as we should. And Jack?"
"Yeah?"
"You know I'd do anything for you, right? You know that my family is everything to me?"
"I know."
"No one is gonna hurt you ever again. That's a promise."
Jack gave another small nod, but Angel didn't feel like he'd fully convinced him. "Hey, you believe me, don't you?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Do you need anything?"
"Get me a normal life," Jack said with a small laugh.
A small laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.
"Try to get some sleep. I can't have you be the living dead tomorrow or Ma's gonna think that I'm really shitty at this kind of stuff."
The next morning, Angel was buried in the refrigerator, trying to find orange juice, when he heard soft footsteps from behind him.
"I drank the last of it," Jack informed him.
Angel turned around.
Jack wore a stupid little grin. It didn't matter to Angel that he would have to get his citrus fix some other way. Jack was smiling again.
Progress.