Listen to some Brand New when you read this. If you haven't heard of them, shame on you.


"Come on you piece of shit." That's what he constantly heard in the back of his doesn't matter that he has a new family, that this family constantly tells him those things that happened to him don't define him, don't make him tainted. He still feels that way, will continue to feel that way, until he finally feels nothing. Until he can't feel a damn thing. Until he slips into oblivion. He thinks to himself of all those times he told himself he would finally fight back, that tonight would be that night. That tonight would finally be the night he grew a fucking backbone. But that never happened. He continued to suffer, to tell himself that today will me that day…maybe.

Today was never the day for him though. He was always caught off guard. Always.

It didn't matter if he would try to stay up all night, he would always find himself being woken up from a slumber he didn't remember slipping into. "Shh…don't make a fucking noise." It was always the same greeting. Always.

It didn't matter what day or how intoxicated that piece of shit was.

Never. He told himself the first time.

Never would he allow himself that feeling of comfort of sleep. It wasn't much of a comfort anymore anyway.

So he stopped eating the meals he would prepare for him, but couldn't eat at school either. They wouldn't give him lunch money. So he scrounged when he could. This home was probably the worst he thought idly. Even worse than that old lady, she forgot he was there.

The only reason anyone noticed was because one day at school he wouldn't sit down. Until finally he passed out from lack of food and exhaustion.

That's the only reason anyone ever actually looked me over he thought bitterly. Why would these people be any different? It's always the same. The novelty wears off as soon as the worker leaves. Always.

The boy is so deep in thought he doesn't realize he has an audience. Not that he would interrupt the boy's thoughts; he obviously had needed to do some contemplating. He just didn't like where the boy had chosen to do it. He didn't trust the look he had when he excused himself, politely, after dinner.

In the two weeks he had been staying with them he had been nothing close to polite. That's why he didn't trust it.

Never trust that glint and the changing of actions, the man had learned that the hard way. Never.

And as the man watches the boy it clicks. Everything.

Every odd thing this boy does. Every mannerism he thinks he hides so well this man firmly understands. As soon as it clicks he is disgusted. But not at the boy. He feels slightly dirty for watching the boy in his private moment, deep in thought.

As soon as he hears the intake of breathe he knows he's not alone. He knows someone's watching him. In this moment he tried to have by himself. But it's okay, he doesn't mind, not really. That way when they come to see why, the family can say they tried everything, didn't see the signs, just thought he wasn't warming up to the family, but that he would, slowly but surely. He just hopes it's not the burly man that's in the door frame. He reminded him of a small version of a lumberjack. But only vertically smaller. That thought did not comfort him though. But the thought that did was that it wasn't the woman. He didn't want that on her conscience. Even though deep down, under the hard exterior he built up, he would feel sorry for her, because it would be, a constant reminder in this house. But he didn't let that bother him too much. He turned around slowly to stare at the man who was invading this private event in his life.

As soon as he looked in the boys eyes, he knew. He knew what this boy, barely having a good memory in his hard, short, but excruciatingly long time on this Earth was planning. He ran forward as soon as he saw the slight backward lean of the boy's body. "JACKIE! NO!"

As the boy started to lean back out of the window he heard the man yell his name and run. Run forward. The serene smile on his lisps suddenly vanished as soon as he felt the hand on his wrist. Only this time it didn't make him think of him, that poor excuse for a human he was supposed to call his father. It got a completely different reaction. One neither one was expecting.

"Bobby…" the man heard a weak voice say before the body he had just prevented from performing a backward swan dive out of the window came back in the window. When he pulled the body back in, he expected violence. Kicking. Screaming. Hitting. Slapping.

Anything than what happened.

A small body crushed into him and was shaking. He could feel his shirt getting wet, but at this moment he didn't really give a shit. The small boy needed this. He would always let him have this. Always.

He would let him because he couldn't empathize with this case.

Sure he could and did sympathize but he couldn't truly empathize. He honestly, a small voice in the back of his head said, hoped he never would be able to. But god damn it, he would sympathize for the small boy who had already seen and been subjected to so much more than he deserved to be.

"Shh…" he told him. "It's okay, let it out. Let it all out. You can tell me anything when you feel ready."

And those were the last words either of them was expecting from Bobby Mercer's mouth.


A/N: sorry if that confused you. It's going back and forth in Jack's head and Bobby's head. Just thoughts.. Review? for now it's complete. Unless you want more....? if not that's cool, just let me know.