Disclaimer: Obviously, any characters, scenes, scenarios, etc, you recognize do not belong to me. They belong to Disney. I do own Jason's father, and later on, Cara and Michelle and anyone else you don't recognize.
A/N: This is probably my favorite piece ever. It's been at least a two years in the making, if not three. Ever since I started thinking about Jason, and about Jason's character, I've really wanted to do something that explored his character in detail, explored what makes him tick and why he is the way he is. I thought about it, threw around ideas, and wrote some one-shots, as well as "The Longer You Stay," which is still in progress (I promise xD). Over time, this developed. I kept going back to trademark Jason, the Jason we see in the movies, and feeling like there should be something more, some explanation. I know this is a stretch, but it's not like we really have anything to work with for Jason. So "Anywhere…" was born.
This is the prologue, which picks up in the middle of the story, then chapter 1 goes back to the beginning, and the story follows through, past this point, to its conclusion.
WARNING: This is definitely a very, very dark piece. It's wildly AU, and involves a lot of speculation and revision of canon. It starts out lighter, but if I follow my inclination, it's going to be pretty graphic on the drug use/alcohol abuse/sexuality/child abuse/etc.
Read with that warning in mind.
Enjoy!
Troy Bolton walked briskly out of the mall, packages weighing down his hands, a smile on his face as he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been home from college on Christmas break for all of two days, but had put off his shopping until the very last minute, rushing to the mall on Christmas Eve, fighting the crowds and the craziness that was last-second shopping. As it was, he had barely managed a spot, having had to park as far as possible from the mall entrance.
"Troy Bolton?"
Turning at the sound of the familiar voice, Troy smiled. Anthony Wright, an old friend of his dad's, was striding toward him, clearly having just accomplished the same feat Troy had, as his right arm was laden with shopping bags.
"Leave the shopping until last minute?" Troy joked good-naturedly, grasping Anthony's free hand.
"I notice you've done the same," Anthony quipped, looking Troy up and down. "Jesus, Troy, you've grown like two feet since I last saw you."
"Anthony, that was last year. That's impossible."
"But still, you look good. College treating you okay? What're you, in your second year?"
"Yup. Just finished for the semester."
"Basketball still working out for you?"
"Absolutely. I've got about a week off from Christmas, then we're back to training after the New Year."
"Glad to hear it. Listen, Troy, it was great seeing you. I've gotta run, though, Kathy's getting restless. You know we're having our third in about a month?"
"Dad mentioned it when he came up for the last game. Kathy doing alright?"
"Yeah, just getting a little tired. Doc put her on bed rest. Anyway, I've gotta get going. Tell your dad to give me a call sometime this week, we'll get together.
"Will do. Tell Kathy best of luck from me," Troy replied, shaking Anthony's hand again and smiling as the man hastened to his car. Filing away the mental reminder to tell his dad to call, Troy set off again for his own car, readjusting the bags on his arms as he went. Reaching the SUV, he unlocked the trunk, carefully arranging the packages in the back, smiling as he saw the bag from Zales resting at the top. He was planning to ask Gabriella Montez to marry him that Christmas, something he'd been planning for the last six months.
Shutting the trunk and smiling, Troy moved to the driver's side door, fumbling with the key before finally managing to unlock the door. Opening it, he was halfway into his seat when he looked up. Something a short distance away caught his eye, huddled on a bench at the edge of the parking lot. Shaking his head, Troy started up his car, but something continued to nag at him, an unsettled feeling deep in his stomach. After another minute's hesitation, Troy made up his mind.
Yanking the key from the ignition, he climbed back out of the car, making sure to shut the door behind him. Crossing to the bench in a few sure strides, Troy paused, wondering what had drawn him so intently to the figure huddled there.
A young man was curled in on himself on the bench, clad only in a tattered flannel shirt and jeans that had clearly seen better days. Troy couldn't see the man's face, but it was obvious there was something wrong with him. Even in clear unconsciousness, the man was shivering rather violently, his knees drawn up to his chest in an attempt to keep himself warm.
Apprehensively, and still unsure why exactly he was reaching out to this homeless man, Troy tapped him on the shoulder. Receiving no response, he tried again, more forcefully. The man's head lolled to the side, and Troy got his first clear look at his face. Troy gasped, realizing that the man he'd taken to be nearly thirty, was barely twenty. Vivid bruises stood out on the teenager's pale skin, marring nearly all of his features.
Drawing closer, Troy reached out again tentatively to tap the teenager's cheek, wondering to himself how this kid had found himself alone on a bench, shivering and unconscious the day before Christmas. As he came within inches of the teen, however, Troy's hand was stilled. There was something familiar in the bruised face, something keeping Troy drawn to the figure on the bench.
With a start, Troy realized what he was seeing, though the hair framing it was significantly longer than he'd last seen it. Tears forming in his eyes, he placed a gentle hand on the teenager's shoulder.
"Jason?"
Jason Cross stirred feebly, his eyes barely opening as Troy called his name.
"God, Jason? Is that-is that you?"
At this second attempt, Jason forced his eyes open, looking blearily at Troy, clearly having difficulty focusing on the face in front of him. He recoiled in panic as Troy reached toward him again, crying out in pain as he hit the back of the bench, his right hand instinctively curling around his ribs, his left lying at an odd angle beside him, clearly useless.
Troy bit back a cry of surprise, chewing his bottom lip as he panicked, thinking desperately how to reach the teen he'd once called a close friend.
"Jase, it's-it's me. It's Troy. I-oh, God."
"Troy?"
The broken whisper, spoken as almost a sob, nearly cracked Troy's resolve as he inched slowly toward the hurting teenager. Jason backed away again, his left arm held stiffly at his side.
"Jason, we-I've-I mean-are you ok?"
"Troy?"
It was clear now to Troy that Jason was not comprehending much of the situation, and that it was costing him dearly to utter that one word-Troy's name. Swiftly making up his mind, he crossed to his friend in a second, wrapping his arm around Jason's shoulders.
"Jason, I'm taking you to the hospital. You need help."
He bent, intending to pick up the teen in order to carry him to the car, when Jason lashed out viciously, his fist catching Troy full in the face. Spitting blood, Troy back slowly away, trying to ignore his friend's feeble attempts to fight him.
"No! No, please, please, leave me alone. No more, please," Jason sobbed, renewing his struggles as Troy paused.
"Jason, please, I just-oh, Jesus, Jason, I just want-" Troy stuttered, unable to form a full sentence as Jason continued to fight weakly. He clutched the other teen's shuddering form to him, slightly heartened when Jason's struggles began to die down. The fight was quickly sapping Jason's energy, and he was reduced to sobbing brokenly into Troy's shoulder, tears falling quickly from beneath his eyelashes.
Startled, Troy held Jason to him, his own tears starting to fall from his eyes. Here was the friend he had searched for, sought for years. Jason had run away the spring of their sophomore year of high school, and despite their desperate searches, had evaded them until this very moment. As Troy held his sobbing friend in his arms, the weight of three-and-a-half years' guilt pressed upon him, making him desperate to stop the hurt Jason was so clearly experiencing.
"Jase, I'm going to make this right," Troy whispered, continuing to embrace his friend. "I'm going to make you right."
Gathering his resolve, Troy stood, hooking an arm under Jason's knees, the other bracing his shoulders as he lifted Jason in his arms. The other teen protested weakly, but was too overcome to do much other than sob. Troy felt his heart break again as he carried Jason to the car, alarmed at how light his once athletic friend had become. Carrying Jason to the car, Troy settled him in the passenger seat, reaching across Jason to buckle him in, not missing the way Jason shrank away from any touch.
"What the hell happened to you?" Troy muttered, settling himself in the driver's seat and starting the car. "What have we done?"
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Troy pulled around to the ER entrance, ignoring the signs forbidding parking in the ambulance bay. He figured that an unconscious teenager was definitely grounds for breaking the rules. Tires screeching, he pulled to a halt directly in front of the doors into the hospital. Taking one last look at Jason's shivering form, he threw open his door, running for the entrance.
"Help!" he cried, skidding to a halt in front of the triage window, any further entry barred by the security doors on either side of the glass partition. He barely noticed the scores of people already sitting in the waiting area, sporting everything from bloody noses to knife wounds.
"Sir, please sign in and take a seat," the triage nurse said tiredly, looking up from the patient she was assessing. "There are dozens of people ahead of you, I'm sure-"
"No, you don't understand. It's my friend, he's out in the car. He's-"
"Sir, please, I assure you-"
"No!" Troy interrupted, aware that he was beginning to draw an audience. "He's having some kind of attack, he won't stop shivering."
"Is he conscious?"
"No, and he was barely breathing when I ran in here."
"Where's your car?"
"Outside." Troy pointed through the doors to illustrate his point.
Standing, the nurse turned to a colleague, directing her to take the patient to an exam room. Slinging her stethoscope around her neck, she stood, pressing the security release as she walked around to Troy.
"Take me to your car," she told Troy, pausing only long enough to shout behind her shoulder to another colleague. "Mark! Get a gurney and meet me outside!"
In a matter of seconds, they reached Troy's SUV, Troy pulling open the passenger side door, allowing her access to Jason's shivering form. Just behind them, Mark, the orderly she had shouted to, appeared, pulling a gurney with him.
The triage nurse, Laura, climbed into the car, kneeling next to her patient. She quickly placed two fingers on his neck, feeling for a pulse while looking him over.
"Jesus," she whispered, feeling the erratic beat beneath her fingers. Turning to the orderly, she barked another order while whipping her stethoscope off her neck. "Run inside, and get Dr. Carter. Tell her we've got a high-risk kid about to arrest out in the ambulance bay."
Waiting only for Mark's affirmative, Laura turned back to Jason, ripping apart the teen's flannel shirt, inhaling sharply as she took in the mess that was his chest. Placing the bowl of the stethoscope to Jason's chest, she began to listen for breath sounds. Troy hovered at her elbow, barely concealing his own shock as he saw the bruises and lacerations that littered Jason's chest. He was particularly horrified by the deep cut on Jason's side, which had been badly sewn together and was oozing a nasty mixture of blood and pus.
"What's his name?" she asked Troy, frowning as she replaced her stethoscope and began running her hands along Jason's ribs.
"Jason. Jason Cross. He's nineteen."
"How long has he been like this?"
"Unconscious? He passed out on the way here, about five minutes ago. He's been shivering like that since I found him, though."
"Do you know what he took?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Drugs. What'd he take?"
"I-what?"
Troy's shock was interrupted when a young woman ran through the doors, her white coat trailing behind her.
"What've we got?" she asked, running up to the car, quickly looking at Jason before addressing the nurse.
"His name's Jason Cross, he's nineteen. Obvious signs of withdrawal, highly erratic heart rate, severely depressed breath sounds, and track marks on his arms. His vitals are out of control."
"What's with the bruising on his chest?"
Laura shrugged. "He's got some cracked ribs from what I can tell, but other than that I don't know. And there's that god-awful laceration on his flank, but who knows."
"Alright, let's get him on the gurney and into Trauma. Who's this?"
"Friend, brought him in."
"Alright, kid, we're taking your friend into a room. Why don't you move your car to the garage, and then head on in and wait inside."
"But-"
"You've done all you can. Let us take care of him," Dr. Carter assured Troy, gently pushing him aside as she stepped up next to Laura. "You can see him once we've assessed his injuries."
"But Jason-"
"Mark, help us get him out of here and onto a backboard," Dr. Carter barked over her shoulder, firmly ignoring Troy's pleas. Troy stood aside, watching as the doctor and her colleagues worked to stabilize Jason, before they slid him gently out of the car and onto the waiting gurney. As Jason was quickly whisked away from him, Troy found himself staring blankly at the spot where, just seconds before, he had watched the doctor work feverishly over his injured friend.
Seeing Troy still standing beside the car, Laura stopped following the gurney momentarily, backtracking quickly to Troy's side.
"Listen, kid, I know you're scared, and I know you're worried. But you got him here, and that's the best you can do for now. Park your car, get a cup of coffee, and then come back inside. We'll come find you when we know how he's doing."
"Okay," Troy acquiesced, nodding his head. He shut the passenger door quietly, his eyes following Laura as she ran back into the ER, barking orders at staff members as she went.
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An hour later, Troy sat in the waiting room, carefully avoiding the eyes of the room's other occupants. A now-cold cup of coffee rested at his feet, left behind in his worry for Jason. Troy clasped his shaking hands between his knees, to stop himself from tapping his fingers against the arms of his chair, as he'd been doing for the last thirty minutes.
Looking up for what seemed to him the thousandth time, Troy scanned the glass doors to the treatment rooms for Jason's doctor, his eyes falling back to the floor when he wasn't rewarded. Passing a shivery hand over his eyes, Troy stood, grabbing the Styrofoam cup from the floor and crossing to the nearest trashcan. Tossing it in, he extracted his cell phone from his pocket, stepping outside into the growing dusk, hitting speed dial for his house.
After two rings, his mother answered, a laugh in her voice as she finished asking his father a question.
"Mom?"
"Troy? Sweetie, how's the shopping going? You've been awhile, aren't you almost home?"
"Mom, I-" Troy broke off, gathering himself to figure out the best way to break his news. "I found Jason."
"Troy," Lucille began, clearly not registering what her son had said. "It's Christmas Eve, you should-what?"
"I found him. He was passed out on a bench in the parking lot."
"Troy, Jason? Jason Cross? Are you sure it's really him?"
"Yes, mom, I'm positive."
"Where are you now?"
"I had to bring him to the hospital mom, he was-he is-"
"Troy, what is it?"
"Oh, god, mom, he's awful. He's in such bad shape, he's a mess. They've been with him for over an hour, and I haven't heard anything. I don't-mom, I don't think he's gonna make it."
"Oh, Jesus, Troy," Lucille whispered, any trace of her previous happiness gone in a second. "Troy, I'm coming with your father, we'll be there within the hour, okay? Just hang on."
"Okay," Troy replied, glad that some of the weight was being lifted from his shoulders. "And mom-don't tell Andrew, okay? I don't think Jason needs to see him."
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An hour after Troy's parents, Jack and Lucillie, had arrived at the ER, they were finally rewarded with the reappearance of Dr. Carter, the doctor who had rushed to Jason's aid hours previously. She crossed immediately to Troy, looking interestedly at the two new arrivals.
"Dr. Carter?" Troy asked apprehensively, terrified by the look on the doctor's face.
"Listen, kid, I know you brought your friend in, but I really am going to need to talk to his parents."
"I don't think that's possible," Jack muttered, his face darkening.
"Excuse me? And you are?"
"Jack Bolton. This is my son, Troy, and my wife, Lucy. I was Jason's basketball coach three and a half years ago."
"Well, Mr. Bolton, I'm afraid I can't reveal Jason's condition except to his family-"
"Jason has no family," Troy whispered, looking at his father.
"He has no family? Surely his parents-"
"Look, Dr. Carter is it?" Jack began, placing a hand on Troy's shoulder. "Jason's family life has been-complicated, to say the least. As it is, the is the first we've seen or heard from him in nearly four years. We're all he's got."
"You mean to say-"
"Please, doctor, tell us if he's going to be okay," Lucille pleaded, her tone desperate.
Dr. Carter sighed, looking from Lucy, to Jack, and finally to Troy.
"Jason's condition is grave. He's suffering from extreme withdrawal symptoms, following years of drug abuse. He's got a hairline skull fracture, several broken ribs, and he's suffering from severe pneumonia, dehydration, and malnutrition. He's got a hell of an infection from the half-sutured stab wound on his side. His left hand is shattered, his arm broken in four places, the shoulder and elbow dislocated. We're waiting on the results of the blood tests to see if he's contracted any sexually transmitted diseases that could be hampering his recovery, the most worrisome being HIV or hepatitis."
"You think-"
"If he's been living on the streets, he's at high risk for any number of things. It's truly a miracle that he's made it this far in the condition he's in. Now, really, I'd like to speak to a parent or guardian regarding where we go from here with his treatment."
"He ran away," Troy continued whispered, the shock of Jason's condition affecting him deeply. "His mom died when he was four. His dad-" Troy trailed off.
"His dad?" Dr. Carter prompted, her tone expressing that she knew what was coming.
"His dad used to beat him. A lot," Troy conceded, hanging his head.
"Is that why he ran?"
"Yes."
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A/N: So that's the prologue. It's a little lengthy, but you won't see it again, because when I reach this point in the story I'm going to write it more from Jason's point of view (in a way) than Troy's.
Reviews greatly appreciated. =D
Peace and love,
jetsfanforlyfe
