Summary: Some people just shouldn't be in love. They just shouldn't.

Psycho Chan's Note: I know I've mentioned Jay, HotStreak's father in my mind, in many other stories. Most of which Francis abandons in his life. Well, I've thought about it and wondered 'What kind of a story would he make?' And so this was created. Twitter Chan is so excited and we are still planning everything but need to set a few things up first before the real story begins. This is the story of how Jay's life continues…granted he isn't murdered like in a few of our other stories… well this just keeps getting awkward. There are pretty much original characters in here, but I will bring in characters in the show. You can't have a Static Shock Fanfic without…well…Static Shock characters. We really hope that you enjoy our story that…unfortunately…the both of us will write and I will spend countless hours typing it up…Enjoy.

Warnings: Yeah…I donno where to start so…I'll simply state this…it's mature for a reason.

Disclaimer: We do not own Static Shock or it's characters. But we do own a few of the original characters, granted they live, that will appear in this fic. I'll mention along the way. I'll start with Jay…yeah…I own him…he's fuckin' awesome…in my mind.

Torture…With Love

Left Behind

Another restless night. They never seem to go away. Accepting the fact that he won't get any sleep, Jay crawls out of his bed, stretching. Looking at the neon green numbers on his alarm clock, the red head was angry about sleeping in. only seven thirty, but he had a lot to do, just like every other day. The sleepy man straightens out his sheets, making his bed so it was perfect with absolutely no folds or creases, then, after grabbing some clean clothes, headed for the bathroom.

Along the way, Jay noticed something. It was quiet. Which was never good. Walking past his daughter's room, the man stops, noticing a note taped to the wooden door. Annoyed, Jay rips the paper off the door, reading the note which was written in pink crayon.

Gone. Won't be back. Joined the Meta-Breed. Wish me luck Daddy

Rereading the note, Jay just stood there in the hall, stunned. "The little bitch…" Needless to say, the man was angry. Tammy was his property. His and his alone. How dare she just up and leave. Then again, now that he thought about it, he couldn't hunt her down and drag her back. Aside from the fact that she was metahuman, so was the gang that she joined. And he knew what Ebon, the leader, was capable of. He learned full well the kind of person Ivan was through Francis. It was best to stay away.

Crumpling the note, the man growls, continuing his trip to the bathroom. He needed that shower more now than before. His daughter always pushed his buttons. Always. Though not as bad as Francis did. Jay hated his son more than anything. Tossing the crayon note into the bathroom trash, Jay undresses, pulling his loose clothing off of him, folding them before setting them into the hamper.

Turning on the hot water, the man rubs his face with his free hand, irritated. "Not even up fer five minutes and that girl ruins my damn day…" Once the water is to his liking, Jay pulls the curtain, stepping into the tub, loving the feel of the water on his skin. Not wanting to waste anymore of his life, the frustrated red head grabs shampoo, lathering the soap into his long red hair, something he never really liked. His hair was red with six strips of blonde hair, a trait he got from his own father. A man he never speaks of. The man he will never forgive.

The feeling of being clean seemed to have been washed away with the soap, having given up being 'clean' years ago, Jay rinses his self of any soap, turning off the water.

He never understood that girl. Never. Tammy was just messed up in the head and it gave him aches. For some reason, Diana never really helped him. In fact, she was gone for the majority of the day. Jay loved the blonde beauty, always. Ever since his father had brought her home. The woman was a fashion model now, and a damn good one too. The only reason she had a shot at being famous was because of him. He had paid for everything for her to get started.

Now she's gone. Either out over night or just out of the country. But Jay never really cared. She always returned to him. Even as children. She always came back.

It took Jay a moment to realize that he was standing in the shower and had been for a while. Green eyes scan the room before stepping out slowly, reaching for a towel on the rail. "Next time I see that girl I'll…" He stopped drying himself. He honestly didn't know. If he did anything to her he'd have to answer to Francis.

Ignoring the anger that boiled in his mind, Jay dresses, pulling on boxers and beige jeans. Unlike his son, the man actually wore his pants right, snapping the belt into place around his waist. He then grabbed a dusty blue tank top, tugging it over his head. Running his fingers through long red tresses, Jay grumbles.

With an ache in his head, the man grabs the wet towel, shaking it a few times before placing it back onto the rack. Thick fingers line the rail, removing any creases while the other hand pulls out folds. Once happy with the perfectly even display, Jay leaves the bathroom, making his way to the kitchen.

Full aware that he is alone at the moment, the man just opens the fridge, pulling out a bottle of green tea. Something white catches his attention. Sauntering over to the kitchen table, he finds papers spread lazily across the table. Setting down the unopened bottle, Jay slides the papers into place before picking them up. "Who the hell put these here?"

Leaning on the table, narrowed eyes clouded in anger skim over the first page. It wasn't looking too good.

He got to the second line when he realized what he was reading. What these papers were for.

"The bitch!"

Divorce papers.

"That no good fuckin' whore…" Jay's voice is full of venom. Gritting his teeth, Jay slams the papers down. "Not only does Diana git knocked by another man, she wants to leave me!? Who the hell does she think she's dealin' with!? I've taken her in when nobody else would. I made her who she is today and she just-" The man stops himself. "Should have just let the old man take her…"

This was the last thing he needed today.

"I can't think of anyway for this to get any worse…" Irritated, the man abandons the mess on his kitchen table, grabbing his tool belt, he left for work. He use to work at the community center, however, him and this big guy got into a disagreement on how to treat any metahumans who turned to them instead of just turning themselves into the police or the city. Needless to say, Jay found himself without a job and found himself in court.

The red head found out it was for the best. Now he was a construction worker. It was a lower paying job but it guaranteed him work with the constant destruction of the city and it's buildings since the big bang. And one thing that Jay discovered, the construction sight was much easier to hide the body of a whore than simply tossing a body into the lake. Much easier.

Work always seemed to fly by for the man, loving to keep busy. Though today was just slow. No matter how busy Jay kept himself, the day just keep dragging it's feet. It fact, there were times that Jay thought that time had not only stood still but ticked backwards as well.

Jay was alerted to see his son's car in his driveway. There were boxes littering the backseat. It didn't look good. Pulling in, Jay didn't bother to park in the garage. Putting his truck into park, the red head falls forward, pressing his forehead against the wheel. "No no no no no…c'mon…" The man cusses, irritated as hell. He knew exactly what he would find inside. Who he would find. And it wasn't looking good. "C'mon!"

Swinging the truck door open, the man steps out, leaving his tool belt in the front seat. He is unable to keep himself from slamming the door shut, storming up the narrow walk.

"Francis!" Jay barges into his home. "Where the hell are you!?"

"Hey Jay…" His green eyed son didn't even flinch. Make matters worse, there was another person with him.

The other person was a younger man of African background, shorter than Francis. Hair in long dreads, basically telling Jay he needed to bathe and cut his hair. The boy wore bright clothing, white jeans that hung loose of his body and a light yellow sweater. He wasn't as confident as his son was however.

"Why the fuck is there a nigger in my fuckin' house boy?" Jay speaks with little control, tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter. Hearing that, the brown eyed boy flinches, as if he were going to say something but stopped himself. "I told you not to bring anyone in this house. Yer as fuckin' bad as your mother."

The spiky haired man ignores his intolerant father. "Jay, this is Virgil." Jay stood there for a second, trying to figure out why the hell he needed to know the runt's name. Well, he was actually denying the truth to that. "He's my boyfriend." Francis burst that bubble of denial. "And I'm movin' in with him."

That hit his father pretty hard. "What the fuck did you three do? Plan to git away from me at the same frickin' time?"

"Was it that easy to figure out?" HotStreak quipped, taking a quick glance at the divorce papers his mother had left that morning. Virgil remained quiet, only coming to help pack up some of Francis's things. He wasn't too keen on learning the kind of abuse Francis had to deal with, and wanted to report the man. However, he learned that the only reason Jay got away with the things he did was because not only was he two faced and knew how to act in public, unlike his son, Jay had money. Lot's of it.

"What the fuck did you do?" Jay's entire being leaked anger, clearly shown in his green eyes, which have narrowed dangerously. "Convince Diana to divorce me and Tammy to join a stupid gang?"

Francis took his time answering. Virgil was not a big fan of divorce and sure as hell wasn't one of gangs. However, it was clear that anyone like Jay getting hitched and raising kids was a definite no and divorce was much better and Tammy was a good girl who knew how to take care of herself all thanks to her brother who had raised her. That, and Talon wouldn't let her do anything too stupid. "Diana has been thinkin' of leavin' yer ass the moment you killed Jenna."

"She still sore about that? Fuckin' bitch. The girl just would not listed worth shit. She got what was comin' to her." Jay talked as if murder was nothing. To him, it probably wasn't.

Virgil's eyes widened at the way the older man spoke. He was talking about his daughter. The daughter that he had beat to death, literally. HotStreak had mentioned her once when Virgil bumped into him in the cemetery while visiting his mom. Jenna was only thirteen when she died. Francis was eleven. He remembers her well. In fact, he watched helplessly as his beloved sister was beat. He watched her die.

"Damn bitch." Jay is shaken but refuses to let it fill him. "I've always made sure she was okay. Always. Even when Mom was murdered and Elliot decided to…" There is a sign of pure frustration. "Why the fuck would she do this now? Why?" Jay took a moment to think about it. "It's cuz of you, isn't it boy?" Fierce green eyes focus entirely on the flame manipulator.

"Tammy was movin' in with Theresa, I told her to wait so I could talk to mother. She thought it was best to just bail at the same time as well." Francis stands upright, moving away from the counter. "Time to face facts Jay. You've left us in the dark for years. Now it's your turn to be in the dark. Only we had family. You ain't got anybody." HotStreak grabs hold of Virgil's hand, leading out of the house he grew up in. "You're all alone…and I think it fits."

Nearly fear struck, Jay watches as his son leaves his house. His now empty house. He listens the sounds around him, which unfortunately, was the slamming of Francis's car, then it's start up. The reality was sinking in to the older man as his child left him, possibly for good. Most likely for good.

The man lets out an awkward cackle, making sense of this. For as long as he can remember he always had someone around. Someone to kick around. Someone to take out his frustrations on, rather it was his wife, his sister, his children or random hookers he'd pick up from time to time. Didn't matter who it was, someone was there.

Now he was completely alone. Nothing surrounded him. This wasn't just the home he raised his family in, it was the home he too had grown up in. The home he shared with his own mother before the incident that started everything. "What the hell am I suppose to do now?" Jay mutters to himself, shutting the front door. "Hate to admit it but the slut is right…" The man wonders throughout his home, not aware that he was doing so. Now that he was alone, which he never really had experienced, all he had now were memories. And that man didn't have many to dwell on.

On his way up the stairs, he stops about halfway. His eyes skim over the banister, two of the wooden pegs a lighter shade than the rest. He recalls all too well of why that is. One night he returned from work, not at all pleased to find that his wife had left the kids with a babysitter, who was passed out in the living room, Tammy coloring in her coloring book quietly, which was a rare sight, even though she was six. His ten year old daughter was doing dishes even though that was the babysitter's responsibility, Jenna was always the reasonable one. His son did some dumb shit. Jay stared rather blankly at his son, who had his head lodged between two of the spokes. After smacking the babysitter, sending Tammy to bed, kicking the rail to free his son and then sending the remainder of his kids to bed, Jay finished up the dishes, relaxing at the feel of soap on his hands. His night wasn't any better when his wife returned home either. After arguing, Jay ignored her completely as he fixed up the banister.

With a quick smile, the red headed man finishes his way up the stairs, turning down the seemingly long hall. The first room he reached was Francis's. Curious, the man opens the bedroom door, peering inside. He never bothered to enter any of his children's rooms. He never needed to nor did he care. Francis left his posters and magazines behind. Looked like all the boy took were clothes, CD's, and most likely little things that mattered to him. The only thing Jay could remember in this room were the many many times he had taken his son. Sometimes it was consensual, most the times it wasn't. It had never really bothered him to be honest. If Francis didn't want that to happen he'd stop coming home. It was that simple. In fact, now that Jay thought about it, Francis tried to leave him once. When he was fifteen. He returned a week later after discovering that in his absents, his little sister was used instead. It was the perfect trap for the kid. Now that Tammy was gone, so was that threat to use her, so it was only natural that Francis would take off. Jay remembers his son the first night he returned after becoming a bang baby. Jay was cautious at first about using his son with his powers. He was more than pleased when he realized that Francis wouldn't hurt him. That he was too afraid to. The heat of being buried in his son was a surprise. A real surprise that felt wonderful. Jay was soon addicted to that. Tammy possesses the same heat. But he could live without it. It just sucked that he had too.

Turning out of the room, Jay heads to the next one, Tammy's, right across from his own. Opening the door with rather distracting doodles of ungodly adorable animals, the man steps into his daughters room, quickly blinded by the massive amount of pink things that he never understood where she got the money for. Tammy was an talented girl, her walls covered in paintings. Her art varied in her mood. Some where paintings of animals, some were of her friends. Her most resent ones though were of her newest obsession. Gay porn that she calls yaoi. Jay would sometimes catch her talking on the phone to her friends about it as he was doing dishes. He never let his kids wash them. He did all the cleaning. All they had to do was not make a mess. One of the many explicit pictures caught Jay's attention. One of HotStreak, not Francis, HotStreak with Static, the girl's current obsession next to Gear and Static. Jay examines the picture. He didn't bother with the picture it's self, just Static's face. Even though it was just a painting, it seemed oddly familiar. Like he had seen that face before. "The cotton picker kinda looks like that nigger from today…" Shrugging it off as Tammy placing his face into the picture, Jay leaves. He never really came in this room. He remembers why.

The last room was once Jenna's room. Jay went in there once. He always left the kids with Diana. He took care of them anywhere else in the house. Bedrooms just made the man uncomfortable. Carefully, the distraught man turns the knob, pushing in the door. The room hadn't changed one bit from when he had last been in there, years ago. Jenna's room was plain, a bed, a desk, and a dresser, still full of clothes. The walls were faded, all except the blood splatter from the first strike to her face. The carpet was light blue, again, stained by blood. Green eyes skim over the room. The only thing that remained of her was the little book shelf with a few things on it. Being a picture of Jenna, Francis and Tammy that Diana once took for summer. There was also a little figuring of a group of sea turtles with a piece of paper underneath it. The man knew that sheet of paper well. It had been the cause of his daughter's death. Apparently, the girl was too reasonable because she was planning on taking her brother and sister somewhere else. Jay never really figured out if it was the police or where ever but he was not going to have it. Enraged, he had grabbed the lamp and smashed it against the girl's face. She screamed, causing Francis to run in. Jay kept hitting the blonde until she stopped moving. Stopped breathing. The beating continued, only on Francis, who was crying hysterically. He obviously lived, spending over a week in the hospital. Jay got away with everything, Diana calling the police saying that someone had broken into their house. They had questioned Tammy but she said she was asleep because she was very sleepy that night. They were going to question Francis, however, he had told the police that he had no memory of the night. That was a total lie.

With the slight rise of anger once again boiling, Jay left that room, with more than enough memories of it. That room wasn't just his daughter's. It was also his sister's from back when they were kids yet. He protected her from Elliot's hands. A lot of good that did.

Trembling slightly, Jay looks forward, past his closed door. His room. There was a bedroom downstairs but he hadn't been in there since he was a teenager. That had been his father's room and he had no desire to go in there what so ever. Not wanting to head for bed quite yet, Jay leaves the upstairs. He thought about leaving but decided to reminisce a little more. He was involved in his family's life more so than they know, or were willing to remember. The man stops his dazed walk in the living room. A bleached spot catches his attention in the back of the room. Memories begin fill him.

The first one was of Tammy and Francis when they were older. The were no older than 14 and 12. Diana had brought them a puppy they named Jezzi. No more than a mere stray, everyone loved that dog. Even when Tammy had asked Jay one of her stupid ass questions. That one being 'if I burn lavender scented hand sanitizer will it smell like lavender.' The next thing Jay knew he was watching Tammy applying the nearly clear purple liquid onto Jezzi and Francis pulling out matches. Jay couldn't help but laugh as their dog ran around the living room, yelping and jumping. His kids were laughing as well, even as they were trying to protect themselves from the dog that was running at them. Needless to say, the room did not smell like lavender in the least bit. Even Jay had to admit that was fun even though he was putting out fires in the living room. Tammy learned that apparently, dogs do not like to be set on fire and that you should never pet a burning dog.

Not too far off, there was another singed spot that wasn't bleached out. Their cat shared the same fate. Tammy learned that cats don't like to be set on fire either.

The man wasn't entirely an asshole either. He had his good moments.

He also remembers holding his daughter, Tammy when she was a baby as well. He had a long day, and Diana just shoved the crying baby in his arms. Jay was irritated that the brat had shut up almost immediately. Not wanting the crying to start up once more, Jay sat in his chair, and quickly fell asleep. A thud had woke him up. Startled, Jay jumped up, dazed as he looked around for the sound. Giggling caught his attention. The man looked down to see his kid on the ground. She looked up at him with the widest green eyes imaginable, giggling some more. Quickly, the man picked up the girl, holding her once again. If his wife had seen that, he'd have that headache again. It was their little secret.

Though the girl never did seem very normal. Jay just shrugged it off.

Then there was his son. Now Jay knew for sure that Francis was never right in the head. Between torturing small animals and his sister, well, he just didn't know. Late one night, the man remembers waking up to a scream. The startled man sat up, bickering about how his daughter had better be dying or something. Moments later he heard that scream echo from his laundry shute. After storming down to the laundry room, which had been two flight of stairs down, Jay was quite angry considering Diana was gone for yet another damn photo shoot. The man remembers kicking both Tammy and Francis in the asses then sending them to bed. Well, maybe more than a simple ass kicking.

Francis always had a fascination for fire. Always. Even as a kid. Jay could not even begin to count the many things that his boy had burned. Things ranged from animals, furniture, Tammy's dolls, hell, even some of the trashed out hookers that Jay never got around to ridding of. The boy even lit his hand on fire. A little gasoline and a match. That's all it took to make Jay laugh his ass off at the sheer stupidity of his only son. Not that Tammy was any better. After all, it was her brother that pretty much took care of her.

Jay allows his mind to wonder. He had never been alone before. He always had his sister, his wife, his children, unfortunate people he picked up, he even counted his father. Elliot wasn't a good man but he was company all the same. Nothing had been quite right since his mother…

Entirely by mistake, Jay remembers the one thing he wanted to forget. He had been trying his entire life. He was about fourteen. He had never disobeyed his father before, and this was the first and only time. And it wasn't even anything to get mad about. Jay was teased about his hair color, blood red with six blonde streaks. He thought as a freak of nature, and the fact that everyone knew he came from an abusive home didn't help the matter. His mother wasn't the abusive one. She was actually really kind hearted. The woman was tall, with blonde hair and gray eyes, nothing like Jay. In fact, he looked like his father, right down to the blonde streaks. Elliot had been growing more and more impatient. Especially with the kind woman, who just could not bring herself to leave her two children. She always defended her children, taking her fair share of the abuse. The night Jay dyed his hair all red just happened to be the night that his mother and father were fighting. Pretty bad. Something about the school calling, asking about the bruises on Diana.

Having more than enough memories for a life time, Jay stands up, shaking his head to rid of the memory that he had been trying to suppress. Not wanting to be in this house for another fuckin' second, the red head grabs his keys in the kitchen, ignoring the papers, ignoring his tea from earlier, ignoring that incredible urge to just cut up his family.

"Be damned if I stay here another fuckin' second." Jay hisses out to himself, slamming his door. Flicking his long hair back off his shoulder, the man hops into his truck, heading off into town. Didn't matter where, just anywhere else.

He wished he could hunt down his cheating whore of a wife, find his slut of a son and his crazed daughter. Beat them down, rape them till they couldn't move then slice open their flesh till they stopped breathing. Stopped bleeding. Stopped living.

However, he would not gain from that. Not one bit.

So he settles for going to a bar.