This a 5 months after s4 ending
He was sitting in the recliner in the dark living room. Only light shown from the kitchen, that shown the back of his head. He stared absentmindedly at the tv, which wasnt turned on. A bottle of scotch loosely hanged from his fingers of his right hand. He was on the verge of sleeping, but didnt fall asleep.
He spent many a night like this since they had come and told him the dreaded news. The dreaded news that would throw him into a drunken oblivian(sp?), not that anyone cared. He had no one left. His wife had died few years back. He thought that was hard. This was alot harder, almost killing. His son was taken away from him. His only child. His pride and joy. How could a parent bury a child, he would think to himself. Well now he was considered that parent, who had to bury their child. It was beyond words of how much it hurt. The drink would numb it some, but not enough. He felt guilt, grief, and anger. Anger towards the government and himself. Guilt for not being a better father. And grief for his son.
When he was sober enough he would go visit his grave. They had consequently placed the grave next to his son's wife, which seemed fitting enough. His granddaughter was in denial the whole time, up until the burial. Thats when she broke down finally. Of course dear old grandpa had to comfort her, when he could barely deal with it himself.
He heard knocking on his door, as he yawned looking at the door. He passed it off as nothing and took another sip of the almost gone scotch.
The knocking came again, but louder this time. He glared at the door, not wanting to get up. He sighed heavily, setting the scotch down on the small table next to the recliner where the remote to the tv was as well, he glanced at the clock as he was getting up. It was 10 pm. He blinked a few times, manuvering through the reckage of his house to the door, he hadnt been in any shape mentally to clean, so it just piled up on him.
He got to the door and opened it. There was a man there with a box that looked like there was a living thing in it, at his feet.
"Mr. Richard Bauer?" The man asked. Richard absentmindedly nodded in response to his own name.
"This is for you" The man handed him a letter, and also pointed to the box. Richard took the letter, and opened it. Before he started to read it he glanced up to see the man was gone, and now he was alone on the porch of his house in the dim light of the door lights. He read the contents of the letter slowly. Almost half way through getting done with it he dropped the letter in shock, staring at the box.
The box was like an animal crate, 6 feet long by 3 feet wide. He quickly pulled the box in carefully, and closed the door behind it. He flipped on the entry way light and looked at the box. It had 'fragile' stamped all over it. It was dirty, like it had seen many places.
He scrambled quickly to get something that could open this. He came back with a hammer just as quickly. He could barely breathe, and his heart was in his throat, at what the letter said was in the box. He quickly and nonchalantly pried off the boards 1 by 1.
Once the box was opened, he dropped the hammer and looked in it for the first time. He sat there shocked staring at what was inside. He couldnt believe his eyes. He rubbed them, and looked at what was inside again. He knelt down and placed his hands inside. He pulled out a prone body and laid it on the carpet. He then placed to fingers on the body's neck.
He gasped, he was alive. He was alive! that was all he could think of. He didnt even take note of how gaunt and injured his son looked, just the fact that he was alive was enough.
After a minute of this overwhelmingness, he looked at his son even closer. He was ghost pale, and frail looking. Cuts and lacerations covered his arms, legs, and face. Along with bruises, his eyes looked swollen shut. Four of his ten fingers were missing, two on each hand. His clothing was tattered and caked with mud, and blood. Richard filled with sorrow then, his son had been through so much by the looks of it, and he couldnt do a thing. The letter said that this couldnt go public, it would cause to much trouble for them, it said.
Richard sighed, as he gathered his son in his arms and moved him shakingly to one of the guest bedrooms, actually his son's old bedroom before he moved out. Richard laid him on the bed.
"Everythings going to be alright now, Jack" He said to his currently unconcious son.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Richard had moved out of the room and went hastily into his own room. He pulled out a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. Luckily for him, his son was basically same height and built as he was maybe just a hair shorter, but that didnt matter. He then went into the bathroom and pulled out the whole drawer itself that contained all his first aid kit stuff, also some towels and a basin of water. He went back into the room where he had placed his son and flipped on the switch.
Jack still laid undisturbed by his surroundings on top of the bed. Richard moved to him dropping all the items he had gathered on the side of the bed. Richard sighed heavily as he began to strip Jack of his clothing, wincing every time he found a newer wound that he had yet seen, as well as wincing at the older scars that he already knew about.
"What kind of hell have you been through my boy?" He asked aloud as he got Jack down to the point where he was just in his boxers. He then pulled out one of the towels he had grabbed and dapped it in the water. He then proceeded to clean off Jack in what would be almost like a sponge bath. He had gotten to his right hand, his pinky and middle finger were missing on this hand. He sighed heavily taking off the dried blood, trying not to touch the stub of the fingers he had left. He had hit it without noticing at first then the whole hand moved. Richard was slightly shocked by this as the fingers wrapped tightly to the cover below it as if in pain.
"Jack?" Richard glanced to the face. His mouth had opened as if in a silent gasp of pain. He was awake.
"Im sorry" Richard apologized, patting the hand softly. Jack's hand relaxed.
"Can you speak?" Richard observed Jack's face closely. There was a good ammount of time before Jack had responded with a slow head shake.
"Thats okay...dont worry I have you now. Everythings' going to be fine, Son" Richard bit back tears.
He absolutely hated seeing his son like this. It was worse then the time that Jack showed up on his doorstep, being addicted to heroin. Richard could tell that Jack had relaxed some. Richard continued to clean Jack off as much as he could, and placed bandages on his wounds. He got some in-pain reactions from Jack, but managed to keep him relatively calm through the process. Richard was only able to slide the sweat pants on his son, before he was too tired. His torso was injuried enough anyways, and it would only cause more anguish for Jack, which he didnt want. He just wanted Jack to rest peacefully for now, so he could get better.
By the time he was done it was around 3am, he had glanced at the clock then back at Jack. Who seemed to be asleep, but Richard couldnt really tell since Jack's eyes were swollen shut. Richard realized that Jack was in a cold sweat. He placed his hand on Jacks' forehead, to find it burning up. Richard only assumed that to be natural, to have a fever after all of which happened to his body. He managed to get the covers of the bed over Jack.
After all that Richard was tired, he stumbled out of the room and flipped the light off in Jacks' room. He then slowly made his way to his room, stopping at the foot of his bed, and basically collapsing on the bed with a soft thud. He was beat tired, but still didnt want to fall asleep. Finally the fatigue won and he fell asleep.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Richard awoke after hearing a loud thud coming from the other room. He pushed himself up onto his elbows on his bed, shaking his head slightly. He was in a definitly large hangover. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, ignoring the noise he heard at first. He yawned and moved to his bathroom. He glanced in the mirror for the first time in months to see he looked positively terrible. He splashed some water on his face and cleaned himself up some, along with taking 4 advil for the killer headache.
He pulled on some sweat pants that he lounged around in all the time and walked out into the hallway and down to Jacks' room, walking in. The room was dark still, though it was 9 in the morning. He walked over to the window and pulled up the shades letting in some light. He then looked to the bed to see Jack wasnt there. His eyebrows raised in confusion and slight panic quickly as he scanned the room. He then found Jack, half tangled in the covers, on the floor.
"Trying to get up are we?" He asked allowed half amused by the position of which his son was in. He walked over to Jack and knelt down, picking him up and putting him on the bed.
"Your alot lighter then I remember" He half joked. The last time Richard had to actually 'carry' Jack, was when they went out for a friendly beer, which turned into some wild party at the bar, and Richard had to drag Jack home finally.
"very...funny..." Jack coughed, resting his head on the headpost of the bed in a half sitting up in the bed.
"He can speak!" Richard said aloud half amused, but happy to actually hear his voice.
"How are you feeling?" Richard asked, sitting on the edge of the bed that was unoccupied.
"Like...shit..." His voice was off, it was raspy and quiet, and he had to pause between each word.
"You look like shit" Richard remarked.
"Im...Thirstttyyy..." His words slurred some.
"Okay I'll get yea some water" Richard answered getting up and moving out of the room.
He swiftly sauntered into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. When he got back to the room, Jack was still, his head was leaning on his right shoulder. Richard moved up to him setting the water on the night stand and realized Jack had fallen asleep. He sighed heavily. 'thats some improvement...i think' He thought to himself.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Richard came through the front door holding several bags. He shut the door behind him with his foot and walked into the living room placing the several bags down on the couch. Before he dug through them he walked to Jacks' room to make sure he was alright. He peeked it quietly to find Jack hadnt moved since that morning, propably still asleep.
He walked back into the living room to where he had left the bags. The first 2 bags were from target, the last one was from the grocery store. He dug through the first one tossing out the cloths that he had bought for Jack, and placed them on the table behind him. He went to the next bag and it was all first aid supplies, to treat Jacks' wounds, he set them aside. The last bag was from the grocery store, he grabbed that one and went into the kitchen and started to unload the items into there perspective places.
Suddenly he heard the breaking of glass noise coming from Jack's room. His ears perked up and he jerked his head towards Jack's room. The crashing noise followed by a barely audiable groan. Richard dropped what he was doing quickly and almost literally sprinted to Jacks' room.
He stopped in the door way to see Jack half hanging onto the bed and half falling off. His head and arms were off the other side of the bed. He moved around to the other side of the bed, to see the glass of water he had brought in before splattered all over the ground and Jacks' hands, cutting the bandages open.
"If you wanted a drink, you could have just asked me..." Richard stated grabbing Jacks' shoulders and pushing him gently back onto the bed.
"Thirrssttyyy..." Jack mumbled softly, as Richard got him leaning against the head of the bed with pillows.
"I figured...just hold on" Richard picking up the shattered glass and disposing it in the waste basket in the corner of the room.
"thirsty..." Jack continued to mumble quietly like a broken record.
"Just hold your horses" Richard huffed as he moved out into the kitchen and got Jack another glass of water. He came back into the room quickly and sat down on the edge of the bed close to Jack, holding the glass to Jack's bottom lip.
"Its water" He said, pushing the glass to Jack's parched lips. Jack drank as quickly as he could. He started to choke, coughing some. Richard pulled the glass away, and put it on the night stand, as Jack coughed water out.
"Not so fast..." Richard said. Richard noticed that blood was mixed in with the water that he was coughing up. Jack coughed a few more times, spitting up some more blood. Then finally he spit out one of his teeth, and that ended his coughing session. Richard saw this, and wondered how bad his mouth was.
"Open your mouth" He told Jack. Jack paused for a second then slowly opened his mouth a little.
"More then that" Richard said. Jack opened it as much as he could. Richard saw that most of Jacks' teeth were missing. There were only about 7-10 left in his mouth, and his gums were just bleeding and swollen.
"Alright son you can close your mouth" Richard placed his hand on Jack's shoulder. Jack closed his mouth slowly.
"its...bad isntt it..." Jack sighed softly.
"Its definitly not Good..." Richard answered back.