A/N: Your wish is my command... so here's the next part. I'm afraid it's still quite sad... No cliffhangers, though. Thank you for reading and reviewing.
"Dinner's ready in five minutes, Jack!" Bobby hollered while turning the oven off. When no answer came he hurried to set the table then reached the bathroom, knocking on the door.
"Dinner's ready!" He shouted again, hoping that this time his voice would be heard over the shower. Why was the shower still on? It was already half an hour. He knew that since the shoot-out Jack took more than his usual ten minutes for the shower but the previous times he was out of the shower and dressed in twenty minutes top. Maybe he was just tired and needed some more time. It was obvious that he had overdone it a little with the therapy but it was even more obvious that he had needed to take out his frustration somehow.
"Jack! Dinner's getting cold!" He shouted even louder. There was no way Jack had not heard him.
No answer.
"Jack, mate! Everything's ok?"
Still no answer, only the sound of the water. Manny had assured him that the bathroom door was not locked before leaving so he could enter but he didn't want to do it if it wasn't really necessary. Jack was a very private person and he wouldn't appreciate such disregard for his privacy.
What if Jack wasn't feeling well, though? What if he had fainted?
"Jack! Answer me, Jack!" He knew he sounded frantic but didn't care. Still nothing. Something was wrong. "Jack! I'm coming in!" He alerted then he promptly swung the door open and strode towards the shower booth.
Last chance. He raised his hand to knock on the shower stall when he heard a faint noise over the falling water and his own pounding heart. He forced himself to calm down and strained his ears to hear better.
Sobs. Jack was sobbing in the shower. Gosh! What was he supposed to do now? He sat heavily down on the closed toilet lid and rested his elbows on his thighs, his head tightly gripped between his hands. He had never felt so out of his depth in all his life. He didn't know what to do to help his friend. He didn't even know if he could do something for him. He felt useless and tired and scared to death. He just wanted to sit there forever and weep along with his friend. He couldn't, though. He couldn't because… because… because he couldn't let Jack catch pneumonia staying in that shower forever! There! He had found something he could do. Then he could make sure that Jack ate. Good, two things he could do. Not much but at least it was something. He took a deep breath and got up.
"Jack, mate, are you ok?" He asked in a loud voice while knocking on the stall.
A startled gasp and a sniffling sound later, the long awaited voice of his best friend reached his ears, hoarse and muffled by the sound of the water.
"Yeah, yeah. Just a moment."
Less than a minute later the water turned off.
"Uh… could you hand me the towel that's on the sink, please?" Jack asked after a moment.
"Sure."
The Australian picked the requested item and let it fall from the top of the shower in what he hoped were Jack's awaiting hands.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. Listen mate, dinner's ready. I'll wait for you in the kitchen, ok?"
"Yeah." Came the mumbled reply.
"Are you ok?" Bobby asked, concern again taking hold.
"Sure."
The reassurance had been a lot more subdued then he would have liked but the Aussie turned around and started leaving the room. He had managed to reach the door when he heard Jack's voice.
"Crash?"
Bobby retraced quickly his steps and stopped in front of the shower.
"Yes?"
Silence.
"Jack?" Bobby prompted.
More silence. Then a deep inhalation.
"Could you..." Bobby winced at the hesitant voice coming from the other side of the frosted glass panel. "Could you give me a hand? I can't seem to get out of the shower on my own."
The Australian decided to ignore the bitter tone of the last sentence. He didn't need it to know how much that situation and that request had cost his very independent friend.
"No problem, mate."
A minute later Bobby found himself face to face with his best friend. Jack diverted his puffy and red rimmed eyes immediately, settling his gaze on his lap and the towel covering it.
"Ok, I'm ready when you're ready." Bobby said.
Another minute and Jack nodded stiffly.
"Ok. Now I'm going to lift you just a little so you can secure the towel around your waist. I'd like not to be scarred for the rest of my life."
Jack chuckled weakly and nodded again, shooting the Australian a grateful glance.
"Then we'll get you on the chair, ok?"
Again, Jack nodded.
"You know, you'll strain some muscle with all this nodding. A simple yes or even a grunt might be healthier."
With a lopsided tiny smirk Jack nodded again.
"Smart-ass." Bobby muttered while settling himself for the manoeuvre.
Not even ten minutes later Jack was on the wheelchair, dressed and towelling his hair, his eyes still downcast.
"I'm sorry." Jack said in what was little more than a whisper.
"What for?" Bobby asked, perplexed.
"You shouldn't have to do this." Jack replied then resumed to dry his hair.
Bobby sighed then sat on the closed toilet lid to be at eye level with his friend. Which was impossible if his friend kept staring at his lap. With a firm but gentle grip Bobby stopped the frantic motions of Jack's hand and forced his arm down.
"You keep it up you'll end up bald." He predicted with a small smile. Jack's sombre expression didn't change this time. Bobby sighed again.
"Jack, look at me." He ordered. "I refuse to talk to the top of your head."
When Jack reluctantly complied Bobby was taken aback by the intensity of Jack's gaze, by the sorrow and the shame he could see there.
"Jack, mate, I chose to live with you for a little while, remember?"
"To protect me."
"Yes, and to help you." Bobby corrected.
"You shouldn't have been forced to do this." Jack insisted.
"No one forced me, Sparky."
"You shouldn't have to do this kind of things." Jack repeated, frustration colouring his words and his face.
"What kind of things?"
"This!" Jack replied annoyed, encompassing both the bathroom and himself in an angry sweeping gesture.
"This is what friends are for, Sparky." Bobby countered.
The Australian held his friend's gaze trying to convey his sincerity through his eyes and his expression.
"I don't regret my choice and I'm glad I could help you somehow."
Jack studied him a moment longer then nodded slowly. Bobby nodded back then got up and started pushing the wheelchair out of the room.
"I want to go to bed." Jack said when it was clear that Bobby was bringing him to the kitchen.
"Yeah, I know. You need to eat, though." Bobby replied, stopping the wheelchair and putting himself in front of it.
"I'm not hungry."
"I'm sure that once you start eating you'll change your mind."
"I wouldn't count on it." Jack grumbled.
"Maybe. Maybe not. Just one way to find out." Bobby said, wiggling his eyebrows. Then he returned to his previous position and resumed pushing the wheelchair towards the kitchen.
"Crash!"
"Sparky!"
"Bobby, I don't want …"
"You need to eat, mate. You need to be strong to get better."
After a moment of silence Jack nodded and was rewarded with a light slap on the back of the head. He smirked.