Title: And Now for Something Completely Different...

Author: Aqua Phoenix1

Disclaimer: 24 and any people or places affiliated with it are not property of the author i.e. me. Unfortunately.

Rating: PG-13

A/N: Thanks to everyone for all the positive feedback and great ideas. As always, I'm open to more suggetions. Also, if some people are still confused: Sherry isn't married to Palmer (though it would be strange if they were...) and Jane is Stephen's sister.

Hope this lives up to expectations.

The door slammed, loud sound of wood upon wood seeming to echo around the large bedroom. In the same moment, she whirled to face what was probably the only person in the world she affiliated the word "trust" with. Her closest confidant and partner. The stranger with a weapon.

'What were you thinking!' Leaning against the door, Nina shifted into her customary "don't-you-play-dumb-with-me" stance. Her hands curled into balls in a useless attempt to stead the shaking of her fingers, her long painted nails digging into flesh til she felt for sure she'd draw blood. This new development, she didn't like it. She was a bitch, not the mistress of some crime lord.

A sigh. 'It's only for protection.'

'And why doesn't that reassure me?'

He just looked at her, perhaps all words had left him, maybe he just couldn't be bothered dealing with her. She watched him pour himself another drink; caramel fluid flowed from the rectangular bottle, running too fast to be honey. A bit slipped onto the glass tabletop, spreading closer and closer to the edge until it settled into a broken trickle, drizzling miserably onto crimson carpet. 'You're drunk,' she observed, hoping to sound less surprised than he expected. Stephen never got drunk; he hated losing control. Why now?

He collapsed onto the couch in a manner completely contrary to his nature, sinking into sinfully soft pillows as he clutched at the glass with one hand. His free hand cradled his head and his eyes squeezed shut. No, not drunk. Tense.

Losing all conviction, Nina ended up beside him. 'What are you playing at?' It may have been genuine concern in her voice. She wasn't sure.

'It's only for a week,' he muttered, more to himself. 'Michael said it will be gone by then.'

Nina's eyes widened a little. Now this was a surprise. 'It? What "it"?'

When he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye, Nina knew exactly what was happening. Still denying it with a shake of her head, she stood up again, 'No. No, Stephen, tell me you aren't doing him a "favour."'

'A week, Nina.'

She'd kill Michael.

'I told you not to get involved with him!' It was a little louder than she had meant; suddenly on edge, her head whipped around guiltily as Stephen hushed her. Fire that refused to be extinguished urged her on; she snatched the glass from his white-knuckled hand and abruptly smashed it against the wall, all caution disappearing as quickly as it had arrived. The brown ooze was striking on the mahogany paint. Stephen blinked dazedly, his stare finding the broken glass, and recognition flooded back onto his face.

She had to understand. His financial situation, the stepfather that had left his mother alone to support two children, and the mother who couldn't tell the difference between a blue chip and a bond, and the banks that were too greedy for their own good, they'd get what was coming to them. 'They're after the house as well,' he said in a voice that didn't belong to him, a voice that compelled her to join him on the bed once again. She closed her eyes, trying to find some logic amongst this dog's breakfast. The money could do wonders for them and there was nothing wrong with protecting a friend's assets.

'Only a week?'

'And it will be gone. A man called Victor Drazen is picking it up.'

Nina sighed, defenceless. She'd always suspected Amador of being involved in darker activities than supplying underage kids with alcohol, and though Stephen constantly reassured her they were friends since childhood, since they lived in England, she sometimes wondered what "friends" actually meant to the man. This just proved it.

She wanted to ask him why they still had to pay Amador for the alcohol when they were the ones taking care of his stash but Nina knew nothing good ever came of questioning Stephen's methods. To do so would be a huge insult to him. Must be a trait he'd picked up from his late father, she surmised.

'What happened to Pink Lady?' came a voice Nina hadn't expected to hear. Not even troubling to mask her annoyance, Nina decided it was better to leave now. She didn't feel like fighting for Stephen's affection tonight.

The first thing she had noticed, apart from the rudely loud music and cluster of cars parked outside her house, was her most prized artefact abandoned on the floor amongst cans of half empty Bundaberg Rum like it was a piece of unimportant trash. The dark-haired woman resting her head on Steve's shoulder immediately sprung to attention when she heard the high-pitched voice and in two seconds flat she'd gone altogether. Steve followed her progress with his eyes until he made the connection, the inquiry finally registering. Bottomless hazel eyes met her own, 'Why did you come here?' Not the answer she'd been looking for but a starting point nonetheless. She saw his eyes flick to the baggage beside her and she hastened to say, 'It's not what you think.'

Pause. After a year, Jane was finding it hard to remember how you acted around your brother. He flashed her an unexpected smile. 'And what makes you think I don't want it to be?' he said, though she thought she detected some irony in his voice. He came over to her and ran one tentative hand through her hair as if he didn't trust what his eyes were telling him. 'What- Why aren't you with him?'

She shook her head, almost amused by the suggestion. 'He's on another business trip, doesn't know I'm here.'

'And he'll kill us both if he finds out.' No need to clarify; they both knew who "he" was. Jane chewed on her lip, something she always did when her stomach did gymnastics. One time in fourth grade, her teacher had said it made her look like a cow. She hoped she didn't look like a farm animal anymore. Hoped she was becoming the lady she knew her brother wanted her to be. 'And where's mum?'

'Aunt Lucy's,' he murmured absently, still absorbed in her feathery hair, the locks trailing through his fingers like 'It's nicer than the blonde...'

Jane fiddled with the back of one earring the way the chemist had taught her to prevent the holes from healing over, though it had been years since she'd had her ears pierced. Her fingers skimmed the smooth pearl, cool to touch against her burning skin. 'Steve, I- can I stay here for a while? Please don't say-'

'No.'

Even though it was expected, the refusal still hurt. Stifling tears, Jane found herself clutching at the sleeve of his jacket, the leather moulding gently into her palms. Looking up into his face – had he grown even more? – she said the only thing she could think of. 'Why not?' she asked, knowing it was unfair to put him in this position yet knowing he was the only person she could turn to. Memories of the boy who taught her to ride a bike would never vanish, nor the tangy explosion of juices from the strawberries they'd shared on their camping trip in the backyard. The voice that soothed her after a bad dream, the reluctant submission when she asked if she could stay with him, just for a little while, forcing him to sacrifice half his pillow and a good night's sleep. That was the brother she remembered. She knew that boy was still there, even if she hardly knew him anymore.

'You know why. Don't make me say it.' Of course she knew why: her father had bought out the jury. She belonged to him, now.

'Please. You can't just leave me with him. I'm- I'll cry!' Twelve-year-olds didn't cry but she was beyond caring. 'Please...' Clinging to him as if her very existence depended on it, on her knowing he was there, real. His stricken face was more than she could bare as an emotionless 'Don't' fell out of his mouth, warning her not to pursue the matter.

Lips pursed, Jane relinquished her hold and wiped away the beginnings of tears. 'Fine. But I'm staying for the party.'

Knowing full well that she planned on staying till way past her bedtime, Stephen nodded assent.

Jack lay on a plastic deckchair beside a matching table, gratefully swallowing smoke-free spring air. Watching the pool with false interest, he saw Kim's head resurface followed by slender arms that grabbed at an oddly immaculate skate shoe and pulled its owner in. A surprised cry, a watery splash, warm liquid rained down on Jack's form, bringing him back to the moment. He stretched then sat up languidly, finding himself graced with a first row seat of Chase's ensuing performance. The flowery gestures, knitted eyebrows, the anger in his voice, it all cracked too soon and he playfully dunked Kim under, chlorine filled water cutting off her surprised squeal. Amused by the scene, partygoers began placing mock bets on who would win the battle, cheering the pair on amidst the hoots and hollers. A few even decided to help the war effort, swimming over to join the fun.

'Jack! Help me!' Chase managed to gasp before being dragged under again. Jack shook his head laughingly, leant over to grab some chips from the table and went back to star gazing; the mist that had been shrouding the moon earlier had floated away, the satellite's crater-spotted face sent a silvery glow back down.

Suddenly, a whirling ball of something connected with his chest, making Jack inhale a salt and vinegar potato chip. It stuck in his throat; he tried to cough it up while an excited voice screamed gibberish at him, arms tightly around his midsection with a force that reminded him of a baby's firm grip on its pacifier.

'Jack! Oh my God, how are you? You won't believe what I've been up to. Dad's had me everywhere, New York, Mexico, Boston, San Francisco, overseas, Jack, I even went to England! England! Jack? Jack, oh my God, are you okay?'

Mushed potato chip fell onto the pavement as Jack greedily drank in oxygen. He struggled for a few seconds before nodding, squinting at her, disorientated, before his eyes readjusted. Instantly recognising the face, he felt a small smile creep onto his features. 'Jane, what're you doing here!'

'Dad's letting me stay over for the weekend,' she dismissed the comment with a wave and settled herself beside him. 'So, what's happening in Boringville? Teri doing okay?'

Jack swallowed, not wanting to talk about it, not wanting to have to tell Jane about it while at the same time knowing he was the only person that could. The right person for the job. He met her eyes, that odd hue between green and brown like a mirage of autumn leaves, and watched her thin brow work themselves into a puzzled knot. 'You don't know...' he said softly.

A bump travelled down her neck, 'What?'

Jack couldn't watch her, didn't wish to see the pain her face would reflect, his own anguish. They all asked "What?" but they didn't really want to know, it was just a quest for knowledge, the typical human need to know and then the hate that followed the knowledge. But Jack knew. He knew that once he told her, she'd hate him, like so many others. Like his mother.

He sniffed and scratched his nose, something that had become a habit over the past year, and spoke to her shiny pink shoes. 'Last year, she was in a fight...'

The rest didn't need saying; Jane didn't need to know what he'd done to his father after that or what he'd done with Nina, his ruined friendships – he wondered if Saunders had told her. A sharp intake of breath; Jack pictured Jane's face, the distress and utter hopelessness he knew she felt. He watched the water dance across her shoes and next thing he knew, her arms were around him again and she was crying quietly, her shoulders jerking with each hiccoughed sob, he felt more moisture on his shirt. His sister's death had shattered everything for him, changed the world into a bleak and unforgiving place. What would it do to a girl who'd only just started high school, a girl who'd lost one parent to the other?

Some party.

They eventually broke apart, Jane apologising for his loss before retreating to bed. This time, Jack didn't have to wipe his eyes. He wondered what he was becoming.

Rubbing his hands together, he decided stale air was better than chilly gusts of wind and shuffled back indoors. In the corner of the room, the grandfather clock chimed twice, a noise that was barely discernible over the music and general racket that comes with placing fifty crazy teenagers and alcohol in the same room. He was just wondering how long Chase planned on staying when the man himself emerged from the bathroom minus wet clothes, fastening the buckle of a belt he must've borrowed. When he was within earshot, Jack called to him. 'Isn't it high time we left? Kim's probably passed out somewhere by now.'

'Yeah, I think she's had enough. We'll be out of here soon, just waiting for my clothes to dry.' Jack looked him up and down; Chase's face took on a pink tinge and he glared back defiantly. 'What?'

'Who the hell convinced you to wear that thing?' Jack looked disapprovingly at the black turtleneck. The taller boy flapped his arms, the sleeves that drooped over his hands thrashing about like a fish's wild tail. 'What's wrong? You don't like?'

Jack rolled his eyes but discontinued the interrogation. Chase had his own reasons for the weird stuff he did, reasons Jack probably didn't want to know. Sometimes it was like the guy was two completely different people: the clowning, fun-loving dolt and the brooding, melancholy boy confused with himself. He'd sometimes confide in Jack, sharing secret fears that not even Kim knew about. Chase didn't like appearing weak but when he was with Jack it was unimportant. They'd been friends forever, so he was willing to put his pride aside. Jack enjoyed this, knowing that people still relied on him, sought out his advice even if it wasn't what they wanted to hear. It gave him something. And even if that wasn't a lot, Jack hadn't had much to begin with anyway.

In the background, the drier beeped and Chase hurriedly turned to retrieve his garments, glad to be away from Jack's scrutinising stare. The blonde patiently sat himself down as Kim sidled over, clothes dripping everywhere as she fell into the chair beside him. Her usually smooth hair was frizzy, reminding Jack of a dandelion. 'Still sober?' he said and nearly fell out of the chair when she replied with a 'Yes.' The girl grinned at his reaction then widened her mouth into an O as the urge to yawn overwhelmed her, making her eyes tear up. ''Scuse me!' she giggled, her wobbling voice telling him if she wasn't tabletop dancing drunk, she was at least tipsy.

Chase came from the bathroom again, this time in his own attire, and Kim wrapped her arms around him and whispered something. His face took on a puzzled look; Kim pointed beyond Jack and Chase craned his neck to get a proper view. When he saw what she was on about his face contorted into a look halfway between awe and revulsion.

'C'mon, she needs a ride,' Kim begged, her arms seeking out his waist, batting her eyes at him in a completely comical way. Chase rolled his own as he fixed the cuffs of his denim jacket and pretended to think. Applying one hand to his chin where he stroked an imaginary beard, Chase shared a questioning look with Jack, who shrugged indifference. Discovering no objection from his friend, Chase nodded affirmation. 'Fine. Just make sure she doesn't throw up in the car.' Despite the harshness of the words, he spoke in a non-threatening tone.

'Knew I could count on you!' Kim said, already trotting away like a kid whose mother, after baking a cake, has allowed her to lick the bowl clean. Chase sighed and stared at the ground, not wanting to face what Kim had gotten him into this time. A moment later, Kim reappeared, dragging a very drunk Kate behind her. 'We're good to go!' she announced as she removed her grip on the other girl. Not the smartest thing to do: Kate teetered and fell against Jack, whose eyes widened at the unanticipated contact. He hopelessly tried to steady her, the weight of her relaxed body proving too great and they both went sprawling into the chair.

'Um, a little help?'

Chase smirked, remembering the pool incident; Jack groaned, staring helplessly into the unconscious face of the girl he didn't know. 'You can always ask Nina for help,' Chase pointed out as the brunette walked past, paused, took one look at Jack's current position and continued on her way. Great, now Nina thought he was a player as well as a loser. Not that it mattered much; she'd made it clear she wasn't interested in him anymore. Had she ever been interested in the first place? Was that night they'd spent together just something she'd done to get back at Stephen, the worst kind of betrayal, or was there something else... Had she even been thinking with a clear head? Jack had asked himself these things a thousand times, there seemed to be an endless supply of motives. Jack watched her walk by, shaking her head; in anger or disbelief he didn't know.

He made another despairing sound and tried to tidy his hair before scooping Kate up, this time ready to bear the load. With great difficulty he staggered after his friends, not caring who saw him or what they thought. If the past year had done anything to Jack, it had freed him of all those inhibitions the "cool" kids were subject to: as he couldn't possibly sink any lower on the social ladder, Jack just didn't care anymore. The realisation didn't shock him. At the beginning of the night, he felt he may revert back to his old life but now he knew it'd never happen. Anyway, if he was given the opportunity, would he choose to accept it? He wasn't sure.

When they reached the car, Jack half-pushed the new girl into the back and took his place beside her. As the engine revved up again, Jack leaned his head on the window and studied the blinking light of an aeroplane until the window ran out of sky.

'Do you know where she lives?' Chase shoved the gearstick into first, ignoring the awful grinding sounds of protesting metal that would make even the toughest man cringe. Kim scratched her arm and readjusted the strap of her dress, 'Ummm...' She began filing through Kate's purse while her boyfriend's fingers tapped on the wheel, beating out their own private melody. Jack tried to block it out.

'Just drop her off at my place,' Kim gave up her search and stuffed the wallet back into the bag.

'Did you try her cell?'

'She doesn't even have one.'

The drumming ceased; Chase had reaffirmed his grip on the steering wheel. He shrugged. 'Just don't blame me when your parents go psycho,' he said, the warning not in his voice making Kim avert her eyes.

'She does,' Jack heard himself say, even though he'd thought he wasn't paying attention to the conversation; he was sure he'd seen her using it sometime earlier. He looked over at her, slumped in her seat but now conscious, sunshine hair falling over her face, shielding her from the world. 'Where's your phone?' he asked, wondering if she could comprehend his words. Kate mumbled and gestured in the vague direction of anywhere in Los Angeles.

'My place it is then,' Kim said, and they were off. Jack sighed, suddenly disappointed that the night had come to a close. He had to admit that for all its crappiness, it'd sure been better than sitting at home.