A/N: I left a lot open in this one, I think. Not sure if the end makes any sense, and I might've slipped up on the voice a little. Lots of loose ends. Keep in mind it's 3:10AM and I just finished the last half of this chapter. And both halves were written separately. And if I ramble anymore, I may end up sounding like even more of an idiot than I really am. So here ya go. Enjoy.

The Fool

Chapter Three: Truly Fucked Up Individual

After dropping Emma off, Jay had only gotten two hours of sleep. When the alarm went off at 5:00AM, he groaned. And as he was getting ready for work, he contemplated the idea of hitting his head against the wall until he was unconscious. He should not have taken such an early shift.

The drive to the garage was short, and far too quick. It was his uncle's garage, and he'd only ever helped out a little before he got the job. He'd had to after Hatzilakos' expulsion spree. And now he was being paid 7.50 an hour to sit behind a desk like a fucking secretary for half the day. On the up side, in the afternoons he learned more about cars from Uncle Bailey.

It was about four hours into his shift, and he was watching the clock like it was about to jump off the wall and run away if his eyes weren't glued to it. 10:00. 10:01. Lunch was so close, and yet so far away. And he thought if he didn't have a cigarette soon, somebody was gonna be leaving here with one less limb. The tinkling of a bell alerted him to the presence of a customer. He sat up straight, and shifted some papers on the desk. One thing he had learned from this job; employers like it when you look like you're doing something productive. The footsteps of the patron stopped just short of the counter, and he started to speak before he looked up.

"Hey, welcome to Bailey's Garage…" he trailed off as he met Sean Cameron's eyes. Well, at least the chronic acne seemed to have cleared up. Honestly, he didn't know where things stood with the two of them. He didn't even think things stood with them at all. So he kept talking. "What can I do for you today?"

"I, um… I need some parts for my car." He seemed nervous, and Jay almost smiled. At least someone around here had some sense left in their head. He knew how to react to fear; intimidate. It passed the time considerably well.

"And what kind of car would that be, Cameron?" He leaned back in his seat, unconsciously returning to his old habits. He remembered the groove he'd dug for himself next to Sean. It was remarkably comfortable, that particular point in time. But, by the look on Sean's face, it didn't seem like he was in for a trip down Memory Lane.

"It's a '96 Kia." He looked almost ashamed as he said it, fidgeting with the hem of his brown suede coat. It became apparent why as Jay cracked a grin. Mr. Car-Expert was driving a loser cruiser.

"Just… shut up; it's all I could afford. And besides, I don't think you have any reason to feel high and mighty." Jay's smile fell into an exhausted straight line as he saw the anger burning through Sean's eyes. He saw Sean about to open his mouth, and cut him off before he could say anything incriminating.

"Not now, Sean. I'm at work." He rubbed his eyes, for the first time showing how tired he really was. His body seemed to sag in the chair, and a sigh came out, like letting air out of a tire. But before Sean could say anything, Jay was sitting up, and it was all business again. He had forgotten for a second, that he was currently on everybody's permanent shit list. That wouldn't happen again; back to sarcastic jack-ass Jay. That was who he was. He didn't expect anybody to like it, or even tolerate it. But sooner or later, they accepted it.

"Just… tell me what ya need."

xxxx

His day had been hell, pure and simple. Cameron had gotten his parts, one of which needed to be ordered, and had left. Things had hung between them, to be left for another day. And yet, even after the shit-fest that was the beginning of his week, he still had to go shopping. The florescent lights inside the store buzzed in his eyes and ears, and bothered him to no end. He passed the alcohol aisle without a second thought. He wasn't buying that shit tonight, and if he stopped for even a second, he'd cave.

It was a weird mix of skewed morality, concern, and budgetary concerns that had led him to the conclusion that beer was not on the menu. Even though his dad would probably find some way to buy his own, Jay sure as hell wasn't gonna supply it for him. His dad could get as fucked up as he wanted, but he wouldn't have any part in it; not this time. And it wasn't like he couldn't stand to get wasted tonight. After the last few days he'd had, he felt like sinking into his bed for a night and drowning his troubles away.

But just a look at the remnants of last weeks paycheck told him that wasn't about to happen. Food was more important than beer. Any of his former classmates would never believe that Jay could have such a thought. For a second he was almost glad to prove them wrong, even if they couldn't see it. For a goddamn minute, he almost felt righteous.

And then reality came crashing back down on him. He grabbed a loaf of bread and threw it in the cart with the other groceries, and he got in line to pay. It was all very practical, and he somehow felt dirty. Which was a very odd way to feel when shopping. He imagined 'normal' people didn't feel quite this bad when doing something quite this 'normal'.

As he left the store, mentally and physically exhausted, he decided that he was a truly fucked up individual.