Six Months Later…

Jack walked down the pathway to his house, grabbing the mail out of the box on his way. As he opened the door to the house, he dropped the mail on the patio. Bending down to pick it up, he noticed that one of them was addressed to him. He collected all of the mail and placed the pile on the table next to the door in the hallway. He looked down at the sender's name and address and a chill swept throughout his body.

Ripping the letter open, Jack dropped his backpack to the floor and read the note silently to himself. The familiar sensation of dread passed through him and he felt uneasy, paranoid. He fell to the floor, bringing his knees up to his chest . He shoved the letter back into the envelope, folded it and forced it into his pocket. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he felt the disgust, hot breath on his neck that he felt as a child and was instantly brought back to his hell.

"Miss me?" Henry asked, encircling the frightened boy.

Jack pushed himself into the corner of his room, hoping to keep himself from harm. The man drunkenly stumbled towards him and grabbed his arm, pulling him up off the ground. Jack winced in pain and screamed out a bit from fear. That's when Hank's hand slammed into Jack's face, splitting his lip open.

"Shut up!" The man screamed angrily. "Good for only one thing, Jack. Reason why you're here, you know. No one else wanted you, no one else could find any use for you."

Henry dragged the flailing little boy to the bed and threw him onto it. Jack hollered out for help, but no one could hear him, the house was far from any neighbors. He waited in dread for the man to start, but he was taking his time, enjoying the torture that was forced upon Jack when it took longer for him to deal out his punishment.

"Good for only one thing, boy. No one else could figure it out, lucky I did."

"I want you out of my head!" Jack screamed, covering his ears, as if Henry was really in the room with the teenage version of himself. "I'm good for more than that."

"Only good for one thing," Henry repeated, running his hand along the boys face, then grabbing his shirt and harshly and hoisting him into the air.

Jack furiously wiped the tears away from his face and stood up. He ran out of the empty house and didn't stop running until he got to familiar territory. He saw the boys just like him, dirty faced boys ruined from years of abuse and with pieces of their soul missing with each car that they got into. He felt the haunted past of his that reside on 43rd Street.

"New here?" a boy asked. He was younger than Jack by a few years and he appeared to have been on the streets for a while.

"No, just ain't been here in a while," Jack replied, putting up his shield.

"Thing's changed around here," he informed him. He hand Jack a joint and shook his head. "You're gonna need it man. Numbin' yourself is the only way to survive out here."

Jack nodded at the kid and reached into his pocket for a lighter. He lit it and started to inhale the substance, letting the effects wash through him. A car turned the corner and pulled over next to Jack. The driver's side window rolled down and a man not older than thirty stuck his head out .

"How much?"

"Depends on what you want…"

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Throwing open the door, Jack ran inside, locking it behind him. He stumbled over to the kitchen. He reached for the phone and pulled it out of its cradle. He slid down to the floor, shakily dialing the number he had repeated over and over in his head. He brought the phone up to his ear as he rocked back and forth, bringing himself back to the comfort zone he had as a child, but it was no longer the same.

The phone rang continuously. Each ring came out louder and longer, buzzing into his brain permanently. He begged for her to answer, he just needed to hear her voice for one moment. The phone clicked, the sound of it being answered, and a small voice of woman, who Jack thought must have been Isabelle's sister, took the place of the ringing.

"Hello, Johnson residence," Jane said.

"Yeah, um, is Isabelle there?" Jack asked, his voice frantic.

"May I ask who's calling?"

"Jack…Jack Mercer."

"Hold on a second."

Jack could hear the phone being placed down, a child crying and Jane asking Isabelle if she wanted to talk to him. There was a momentary silence, then the stomping of feet walking towards the phone, and the brushing of it being lifted off of a table cloth.

"Hello?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Isabelle?" Jack questioned, his voice frenzied.

"Jack, baby, what's wrong?"

"I really need you right now," he said. He hit his head against the palm of his hand. "I don't know what I'm going to do anymore. I just fucked up really badly."

"Slow down, what happened?" She was honestly worried about him, her voice could never hide that. "Jack, tell me."

"Can you come here? I need to talk to someone, I just can't do it over the phone."

"Okay, I'll be there as fast as I can," she promised. "Jack, just promise me you won't do anything stupid."

"I promise."

"I'm leaving right now."

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It took Isabelle nearly two hours to get there even though she was speeding the entire time. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest and she could have sworn it took up a new residence in her throat. As she pulled up to the Mercer house she noticed none of the lights on. She threw open the car, slammed it shut, and ran up the short walkway to the door. She tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge, and then resorted to knocking loudly.

"Jack, baby, you gotta open the door to let me in," Isabelle said, her voice loud enough to be heard, but still gentle.

Standing up, Jack walked over to the door. He went for the doorknob, but a wave of dizziness overtook him, and he leaned against the wall for support. He could hear a faint whisper of Isabelle's voice coming from behind the door and again tried for the doorknob. He unlocked it and slowly pulled it open a crack. Isabelle caught sight of him and shoved her way into the house, instantly wrapping her arms around him.

"You look like hell," she said.

"Missed you too," he tried to joke.

"What happened to you?" Isabelle asked. She turned the hallway light on, pulling away from his slightly, and looking up into his eyes. "You're all cut up and bruised."

"I got into a fight. I won."

Isabelle looked into his eyes, she noticed how foggy they were but made no comment. Jack felt guilty about his state, but he needed something to numb himself, even though it didn't work. Calling Isabelle was his first choice, but his second action and he regretted it.

"I know you don't approve of-" Jack started.

"Baby, that is the least of my concerns right now," she replied, cutting him off. She placed a hand against his bruised eye and leaned up to kiss his forehead. "Let's go into the living room, you look like you're about to pass out."

Jack nodded and let Isabelle dragged him into the other room. She pushed him down onto the couch and wordlessly headed into the kitchen. She grabbed a washcloth and ran it under warm water then went into the freezer and took out three ice cubes, grabbed a plastic baggie in the cupboard beside it and threw them into it. She headed back into the living room and took a seat next to Jack, reaching across him to turn on the lamp.

"Now, tell me what happened," Isabelle instructed him. She placed the cold ice against his eye and ran the warm cloth against the other parts of his face, cleaning the dirt and blood off of it.

"I went down to 43rd St., Belle," he said. She pulled the cloth away from his face and grabbed his hand so that he could hold the ice against his eye.

"Why?" she asked, softly.

"I don't know," he admitted.

"Did…Did you get into some guy's car?" she asked, looking away.

"Yes."

"Did he do this to you?"

"No, it happened after I left." He put the ice down on the table, but Isabelle quickly placed it against his eye. He reached for it, resting his hand over Isabelle's for a moment, but she instantly pulled her hand out from his. "I was walking home and I picked a fight with some drunk for no reason, I needed to let out some aggression."

Silently, Isabelle stood up. She turned so that her back was towards him. She shoved her hand through her hair as he spoke.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called you," Jack said.

"No, I'm glad you did," she said.

"Then why can't you look at me?" he asked, hurt.

"I just…I don't understand why you would go and do something like that Jack," she answered. She turned back towards him, wrapping her arms over her chest, trying to shake this feeling of coldness. "I mean, I went through basically the same stuff, but doing what you did tonight, that's the last thing I could ever do. I don't like being touched by someone I know most of the time, let alone a complete stranger."

"I just started to think about all the things he, Henry, said to me. I started to believe them again."

"Why didn't you talk to me or Evelyn first?" she asked. She kneeled down in front of him, gently resting her hand on his knee. "Either one of us could tell you a million times over that none of what he said is true."

"And yet he's the predominant voice in my head."

Tears were flowing from Jack's eyes at that point. Isabelle pulled the melted ice away from his eye and kept her hand placed against the side of his face. His skin was rough and cold, as hot, salty tears slid down his cheek, leaving their stains.

"Don't let him have the power."

"He wrote to me," Jack said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded up letter. He held it between himself and Isabelle, looking straight at her. "He got out about two months ago…Good behavior. He finally tracked me down."

"That's why you've been thinking those thoughts again," she said, more of a realization than a question.

Isabelle grabbed the letter and pulled the paper out of the envelope. She read it to herself, anger beaming from her eyes at his words. She ripped the letter into two pieces and waved it in front of Jack.

"He's not right, Jack," Isabelle insisted. "This is complete bullshit. He has no idea who you grew up to be, he has no right saying you would have been a disappointment to Helen. You're not going to turn out like him, you're going to be so much better than him." She sat down beside him, kissing the top of his head. "You already are."

Jack turned towards her, wrapping his arms around her. He felt the need to feel her warmth against him, to ward off the chilly feelings inside. She held onto him just as tight, gently rubbing his back between his shoulders.

"Come on, Jackie boy, let's go get cleaned up," Isabelle whispered, standing up and shoving the torn letter into her pocket.

Isabelle grabbed his hand and slowly led him up the flight of stairs. She opened the bathroom door and walked over to the shower, turning it on and testing the water temperature for him. Jack stood in the middle of the floor, barely moving and keeping his eyes cast down on the patterns the tiles of the floor created.

"Jack, get in," Isabelle said, tugging lightly on his sleeve.

Jack nodded softly and slowly stripped down, every part of him sore. Instantly, the water hit his bruised shoulder as he stepped into the shower. He pulled the curtain closed around him and heard Isabelle's footsteps leading out of the room.

"Where are you going?" he asked, sticking his head out.

"I'm just going to get you clothes," she answered. "Right across the hall, I'll be right back, I promise."

Nodding softly Jack watched her walk away. Instead of getting back into the shower completely he waited for her to return, clothes in hand. Something about being alone in the room felt wrong. He was scared, he was afraid to admit it, but there was no denying it.

"See, I'm back," she said. She placed the clothes on the edge of the sink and walked over to him. She placed a hand on his head. "Now go take a shower, you're a dirty mess, Jack."

Jack slid back behind the curtain and began to wash himself. The water began to soothe his aching body as he stood there, letting fall onto him. He glanced at the frosted shadow curtain, seeing Isabelle's blurred form sitting on the closed lid of the toilet waiting for him to be done.

"Isabelle?" he asked, his voice merely a croak.

"Yeah," she replied, standing up.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," she said. She stood beside the shower, resting her head against the doorframe. "I promised you that I would be there if you ever needed me to be. Nothing's changed."

"I don't deserve it."

"Maybe not, but you have it." She heard a loud knock coming from the door downstairs and sighed. "I'll go answer that. I'll be right back."

Isabelle jogged down the stairs and to the door. She pulled it open, carelessly, and smiled as Jeremiah stood there.

"Hi," Isabelle said.

"Are you insane?" Jeremiah asked.

"What?"

"You should not be opening the door so wide like that without checking out who it is first," he warned her. "You don't know what kind of people could be waiting at the other end of the door. Especially, being a girl in a town like this."

"Do not turn this into a sexist debate," she said. "Anyway, I haven't seen you in like six months and this is how you greet me?"

"It's good to see you again, Isabelle," he said. "But you sure can be stupid sometimes."

"Mwah!" she joked, blowing a kiss at him.

"Where's my little brother at?"

"Jack's in the shower," she said, turning around.

"Oooohhh," he replied, suggestively.

"Ain't nothing like that going down. He just needed a friend."

"So you drove all the way over here just to be his friend?"

"Yes. You make it sound so impossible."

"Who was that at the door?" Jack asked, coming down the stairs.

Jack was clad only in a towel around his waist, that slung far too low, which didn't help Isabelle's case any. Jeremiah looked back at her, smiling, but she just ignored him. Jack took a look over at his brother and walked over to him, acting as if nothing seemed suspicious.

"What are you doing here, Jerry?" Jack asked.

"Ma, told me to come and check on you," he said. "She told me that you didn't answer the phone and she was worried. But I guess I understand why now."

"Nah, man, it's not like that. I was out earlier, I guess I forgot to check the messages when I got home."

"What were you doing out tonight? Didn't ma tell you to stay home?" he questioned.

"Yeah, she did, but-"

"Jeremiah, Jack's a big boy, he can go out on Friday night without having to be checked on," Isabelle said. "Besides, we were talking before you got here, and it seems Jackie Boy here's got a new girl. That's why he called me over here to talk. Right, Jack?"

"Y…Yeah, that's why Isabelle's here, I just wanted to give her…the heads up," he said, barely stammering out the lie.

"Don't think that I believe you for a second."

Isabelle laughed and walked into the kitchen, turning on the lights. She grabbed the phone and played the message Evelyn had left, dialing the number of where she was at and handed it to Jack.

"Tell her you're okay," Isabelle said.

Jack nodded and pressed the phone to his ear, listening to the rings until Evelyn picked up. Isabelle walked into the kitchen as Jack spoke, Jeremiah following behind her. As walked a piece of the torn note fell to the floor. Jeremiah picked it up and was about to hand it back to her when he noticed the name on the paper.

"That asshole sent something to Jack?" Jeremiah asked.

Jack looked up from the other room and over at Jeremiah, his eyes bulging out of his head. He stammered a quick goodbye to Evelyn and ran into the kitchen, grabbing the paper out of Jeremiah's hand.

"What the hell is going on Jack?"

"It fell out of my pocket," Isabelle said.

"It's not an issue, Jerry," Jack said, his eyes cast down on the floor.

"Bullshit, it is an issue," he replied. He grabbed his brother's face and forced him to look over at him. "Tell me that you didn't do some stupid shit tonight because of this letter."

"I didn't."

"Jack, you can't lie to me."

Isabelle went to walk into the other room, knowing better than to get involved in a Mercer brothers fight, but Jeremiah grabbed her hand arm, keeping her in place. She looked down at the floor, feeling small.

"What did he do?" Jeremiah asked.

"It's not my place to tell."

"You're not protecting him by not telling me," he replied.

"I went down to 43rd St. and picked up a trick, Jerry," Jack said.

Jeremiah let go of Isabelle's arm and looked over at his brother. Jack's face instantly hardened. None of his brother's knew the truth about his past, he had been able to keep most of it secret, including everything that had happened after he had runaway from his house until the time he came to Evelyn.

"Why would you do that?" he asked, more saddened for his brother than mad.

"Because I felt worthless, I felt like I was a kid again," he said. "I needed to let out a little steam so I got into a car with a guy, I left before anything too serious happened. Then I went down a back alley and I picked a fight with a drunk. Okay?"

"No, it's not okay!"

"Well, there ain't nothing either one of us could do now. I fucked up, Jer, but I ain't gonna do it again."

"Tomorrow you're going to the clinic, you don't have a choice," Jeremiah said.

"I didn't do anything. I got the hell outta there before anything got serious."

"I don't care little brother. You're going." He looked over at Isabelle and then back at Jack. "It's late, you two should get to bed."

"Yeah, I should head home any-" Isabelle started.

"I didn't say anything about home, I said bed," Jeremiah corrected. "It's too late for you to be driving around by yourself. You're spending the night here."

"But-"

"No buts, now go," he instructed.

As Isabelle reached the top of the steps she walked over to Bobby's room, thinking that it would be best if she spent the night there but she felt Jack's hand wrap around her wrist. She looked back at him, noticing his pleading eyes that expressed what he wanted to say, but knew was unnecessary. Isabelle let go of the doorknob and followed Jack into his room without a second thought about the repercussions that it might cause.

Jack opened the door and Isabelle smiled at the fact that it hadn't changed much. Letting go of her, Jack walked over to his dresser as Isabelle walked over to the bed. She saw her picture on top of the headboard and smiled. It felt good to know that he still thought about her in a good way.

"I couldn't take it down," Jack mumbled, searching through his drawers.

"I always hated that picture, I look horrible," she muttered, shaking her head.

"I love it," he replied, looking up at it. He eyed the picture with a smile and walked over to it, picking the frame up and running his hand along the outline of her face, frozen in a half smile and eyes cast down towards the floor. "This is who you are. Understated beauty and grace, the only person I thought I would be able to love."

"Amazing how time changes things," Isabelle said, looking away from him. "Look, it would probably be best if I just took Bobby's ro-"

"Please stay."

"Do you have any clothes for me to change into?" she asked.

"Yeah."

Jack placed the picture back on the headboard and walked over to the drawers, pulling out a t-shirt and sweat pants for her. He handed them to her and she walked out of the room, heading towards the bathroom. As soon as the door shut, she slid down to the ground, covering her face with her hands. She wanted to scream but she resisted the urge.

Standing up, she looked at her face in the mirror and stared at her reflection for a moment until it made no sense. Her face was no longer her own but merely an array of shapes that formed a picture. She turned the water on, splashing the cool liquid on her face and then took a look back up.

"Just tell him," she said, with a sigh. "If only it were that easy."

Isabelle quickly changed and walked back into the bedroom, where Jack was already sitting on the bed, dressed in his pajama bottoms and nothing else. She tried to ignore the fact of how he looked, after all it was more than the towel had been, but still it was hard to not stare at his body.

"Let's get to bed, I have a long drive home tomorrow," she blurted out.

Shutting the lights out, Isabelle climbed into the bed and rested head on the pillow. Instantly, she felt Jack's arms wrap around her, his head resting on her chest. In the darkness of the room, a single ray of light from the streetlamp lit Jack's face. She looked down at him, noticing just how like a child he was. Gently, she ran her hand through his still damp hair and kissed his forehead.

"Try to get some sleep, okay baby?" Isabelle asked in a motherly tone.

Jack made a soft sound of contentment and tightened his grip on Isabelle before trying to sleep. Isabelle, on the other hand, stayed awake watching Jack just incase he needed her.

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"Did you have another nightmare?" Isabelle asked, pressing her hand to Jack's forehead softly.

"Yeah," he whispered.

Isabelle reached over him and turned on the lamp. She looked down at him, beads of sweat on his face and chest. She sat up, kissed the top of his head gently, and held him in her arms.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked.

"It's the same damn thing over and over again. It's the third time I've woken up tonight because of that bastard," Jack said, angrily.

"I know," she replied.

Isabelle looked over at the clock. They had only tried to go to sleep two hours ago and Jack kept waking up from nightmares concerning his past. If he had never gotten the letter from his foster father none of this would be occurring.

"Maybe we should forget about sleeping for a while," Isabelle suggested. "We can go downstairs and watch some late night infotainment."

Jack nodded and stood up from the bed. It was a cold night, but from the state of him you couldn't tell. Isabelle slowly slid out of the bed as well and wrapped her arms around him protectively. Just as he felt an obligation to protect her no matter what, she felt the same need. It was never work for her though, she loved him and knew she always would, despite the many times she tried to convince herself that she no longer did.

The two of them headed down the stairs, not letting go of one another. As soon as they reached the bottom of the steps, they noticed the light in the kitchen was on. Evelyn's voice, stern and filled with a low angry growl escaped from the room. Jack stopped walking and switched positions with Isabelle so that he was holding onto her, her back pressed against his chest. He listened to Evelyn, never had either of them heard her so mad.

"…No, I understand well that threatening you won't get anything done but if I have to come down to that station and nothing is done I swear someone will pay. He is not supposed to be harassing my boy," she said, her voice raised and frantic. "It do not care if you say he didn't break any law by sending a letter, that it technically didn't violate the restraining order…Do not tell me to calm down…He is causing an upset in my house with his form of so-called acceptable contact…That's it, I'm coming down to the station and you will have to deal with me face to face…"

Evelyn heard a soft noise coming from the other room and saw Isabelle and Jack standing off to the side. She looked at her son kindly and hung up the phone. She crossed over towards him and placed her hand on the side of Jack's face.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she said.

"It's not a problem," he said, monotonously.

"Miss Evelyn, can't you update the restraining order and have a no contact policy thing added?" Isabelle asked, resting her hand against Jack's.

"I am on my way to find out now. And to give that rude officer a piece of my mind. No one calls me an old bat and gets away with it," she replied, smiling softly. She grabbed her coat and threw it on. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Will you be okay by yourselves?"

"Of course, I'll keep an eye on him," Isabelle joked. Jack didn't laugh.

As Evelyn left the house Isabelle pulled out of Jack's grasp, but held onto his hand and pulled him the rest of the way into the living room. She sat down on the couch, pulling him down beside her. She reached for the remote and handed it to Jack, as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"What do you want to watch?" Jack asked, softly.

"I don't care, you choose," she replied, honestly. She was more than content just to sit there with Jack beside her, feeling secure that he wouldn't have anymore nightmares.

Jack wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his chin on the top of her head. He began to flip through the channels, not stopping on one long enough to even get a clear image of what was on the screen. Isabelle closed her eyes, not even bothering to try to figure out what was flooding past her eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded and mumbled something, that wasn't clear to either one of them. When she heard the clicking of the remote stop she opened her eyes and saw that Jack had flicked onto some station showing one of those old fifties shows with the mothers who wore pearls and had dinner on the table when their husband got home from work. She laughed bitterly to herself. What would it be like if she or Jack had grown up in a household like that instead of the hells that they had been given.

"Do you ever wish that you had grown up like that?" Isabelle asked. "You know, with the perfect mom and the perfect dad? A house with a garden, a white picket fence and a dog named Spot?"

"No," he admitted. "I would have lost so much if I hadn't had the history I did."

"You mean, like Evelyn and your brothers?" she questioned, pushing her back against him.

"Yeah…There's you, too."

"I'm not worth it, trust me, Jack."

"I still love you," Jack said.

Isabelle looked up at him and shook her head softly.

"You don't Jack," she replied. "You love the idea of me, the idea of us."

"No, it's you." He gently rested his hand on the side of her face, running it against her cheek. "I love you, Isabelle. It's six months later and you're all I think about. I can't stop loving you, no matter how hard I try."

Isabelle released herself from Jack's grip and stood up. She walked a few feet away from the couch and looked over at him, before letting her eyes drift to the ground. She needed to confess to him and it was now or never.

"Jack, you were right," Isabelle said.

"Right about what?"

"About Ian. He did want something from me."

"What happened?"

"I slept with him," she admitted, shaking her head. "It was a week after we broke up. I was upset and I needed a shoulder to cry on. Before I knew it we were kissing and then…Look, it just happened. I regret it, but it happened."

"Okay, we all make mistakes, Belle. I love you, nothing you did while we were broken up matters to me," he said, standing up and walked over to her. He wrapped his arms around her but she pushed him away. "That's not it, is it?"

"No. I'm seeing someone," she admitted. "I have been for four months. He's a really great guy."

"Who?"

"Gavin."

"Did you fuck him too?" Jack asked, harshly. When he had met the guy he had no problem with him, but now that he knew he was with Isabelle his anger rose and he couldn't keep it to himself. "Come on, Isabelle, tell me. Are you the town slut now?"

"What the hell is your problem, Jack? One minute you're telling me that you love and the next you're calling me a slut. What happened to the boy I loved?"

"He found his girlfriend fucks anything that moves."

"Fuck you! I didn't fuck him for your information. The only guy I ever fucked was Ian and that was because I was hurt and I tried to find comfort in the arms of someone because I didn't know what else to do. He told me that he knew me and that he cared about, he said all the right things just to get in my pants. But I was so blinded by sadness that I let my defenses down and didn't care! And just so you make this clear in your warped mind, I'm your ex-girlfriend."

"You're wrong about something, Belle. You fucked me too, or did you forget about that?"

"I never fucked you, Jack, it was more than just fucking with you."

"I didn't it see as much more than that."

Isabelle knew that he was just saying it all out of anger but she felt her stomach tie up in knots and clench tightly. She bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from crying, then turned away from Jack when she couldn't control the tears from falling down her face.

"I rather stay in a fucking hotel than deal with your shit," Isabelle muttered.

Isabelle didn't bother to get her clothes that she had left upstairs, just grabbed her purse and headed out the door to her car. Jack stood there in the darkened room lit only by the television set and heard the loud start of Isabelle's engine and the squeal of her tires as she pulled away from the house.

Quickly, Jack ran up to his room and grabbed the picture frame off of the headboard and threw it onto the floor. He stared down at the broken glass that used to encase Isabelle's face and fell back onto his bed.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed the teenaged versions of Jack and Isabelle because the next time you read they will be adults (well, not adults, but not teenagers, so whatever comes inbetween those two). The next chapter will be from the movie period. So I hope you all continue to read! Much love, XNegAttentionX.

Thank You:

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