Title: I'm Not Gonna Hurt You - Chapter 1

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Walter starts drinking and shows a totally different side of himself, but only to Drake. Contains Abuse & Self-inflicted cutting. No slash, sex, or profanity. R&R

Disclaimer: I don't own Drake Parker, Josh Nichols, Walter, Audrey, Meghan, or any of the other characters from Drake & Josh. I'd love to own everything/everyone from Drake & Josh...but that's not gonna happen anytime soon, so I credit the shows rightful owner(s).

A/N: I am a big fan of people being abused in fanfics for some reason, and when I heard Walter say (in episode two), "I'm not gonna hurt you," an idea popped into my head, and this story will be the result of those five seemingly harmless words. I will accept any form of reviews (suggestions, constructive criticism, corrections, etc)! P.S. I'm really sorry if basically all the characters are out of character, but I just simply can't let them be their normal humorous selves or this fic won't work.

I'm Not Gonna Hurt You - chapter one

He loved the bitter smell of the strong-tasting liquid. He loved the way it caught his throat on fire. It made him forget everything he wanted to forget, and it made him live the way he always wanted to live. Many at the bar were addicted to it. Walter was not one of them, or so he said. The problem was, the bartender only allowed ten glasses. He wanted more. No, he needed more. Throwing the fifty bucks on the counter, Walter quickly left the building, got in his car, and drove to the closest Package store.

To him, and every other alcoholic, walking into that store was like walking into Heaven. They had every brand of liquor in every type of color. Not to mention the entire store was crammed left and right with the expensive bottles. Selecting two crimson jugs (the two together were large enough to last a month) Walter walked to the front, taking out his wallet to pay.

"I'll need to see some I.D.," A bulky man who looked like he hadn't shaved in months said in a deep voice. Nodding, Walter took out his license, cringing at his picture. He had never been good at posing for pictures, and this photo showed it.

"You're that weatherman my wife watches! Believe me, when you're on, I can't even pull her away from the TV. She's been wondering where you've been, are you on a break?"

"No, I was fired. They replaced me," Walter had learned very quickly that it was better to talk slower and use shorter sentences to hide the slur caused from the alcohol.

"You don't say! They probably got some brainless beginner; I just know that my wife doesn't like watching the weather any more," the bulky man chuckled, "Well, have a good night!"

Saying a quick thank you, Walter took the two paper bags and carried them out to his car. He couldn't stand it anymore; the thirst for the liquor was intoxicating. Opening the bottle as fast as he could, Walter poured some into his Styrofoam cup that had held his coffee that morning. Breathing in the beautiful aroma, he lifted the cup to his lips. He made sure that he took small sips, so he could relish the taste.

Glancing at his watch, Walter saw that it was already ten, and almost everybody would be asleep at the Nichols/Parker residence. Gulping down the rest of the contents in the cup, he turned the car on and started his long journey home.

He knew he had to pay special attention to his driving, and make sure his tires didn't hit the line dividing the lanes more than twice. But it was getting harder and harder to stay focused; his mind kept wandering off to how rich the liquor looked. Then he would slowly start turning his head away from the road to see if he could get just one small sip, but he'd always end up crossing over to the other lane. Pulling over, Walter took out the bottle he had opened. Making sure no one was coming; he took off the top and took a few gulps of the liquid. Replacing the top, he put the jug back in the bag, and started driving again.

It was nearly eleven when Walter finally stepped through the door of his home, and he noticed (with relief) that no one appeared to be awake. Walking into the kitchen, he put the two bottles on the top shelf of a cabinet that was empty. Clearly pleased with himself, Walter went into the living room, and chewed on a few pieces of gum, hoping to conceal the smell. He heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and quickly spit out the cinnamon flavored gum.

"Walter?" A voice called out from the entrance.

"Hey Drake," Walter focused on keeping his voice steady, and quiet.

"Where were you? Mom was getting really worried," Concern traced Drake's every word.

Walter chuckled, "No need to worry about me! I was just driving around town, enjoying the peace and quiet." Drake walked over to the couch and sat down in the chair, his eyebrow raised.

"You've been driving around town enjoying the peace and quiet almost every night? What's really going on?" Walter could feel his heart beating faster. Does Drake know? He asked himself, panicking.

"N-nothing, Drake. Just go on to bed, it's late, and you need your sleep."

"If something's going on, I want to know about it! You're not…cheating on mom are you?" Walter heard the fear in Drake's voice.

"No. I just drive around, so mind your own business," As much as Walter tried to stop the anger and annoyance growing inside him, he couldn't.

Suddenly, Drake grimaced. He knew what Walter was doing; he was all too familiar with that smell by now.

"You're drinking, aren't you?" Getting no response, Drake stood up and sat on the end of the couch, and asked quietly, "Aren't you?" Walter's silence was enough of an answer.

Sighing in frustration, Drake stood as far away from the couch as he could, a lesson he had learned at a young age.

"Why? Why are you drinking? Are you trying to hurt my mom or have you already forgotten why she left her first husband?" Rage crept into the question shouted by the teen.

"Keep your voice down! And so what? A few drinks never killed anyone!"

"Why?" Was all that Drake could whisper.

Standing up from his place on the couch, Walter slowly began walking towards Drake.

"You have no idea how hard it's been for me! First to lose my wife, and then have to move to a completely different city, while selling everything that ever belonged to her just to move here! Then I get a great job, wonderful family. Yes, that parts nice. But that's not how it ends! I lose my job. That's how it ends. That's how it's all going to end! No one will hire me, because all I've been is a weatherman! So tell me why I don't deserve a few harmless drinks!" By the end of his tirade, Walter was shouting and breathing hard, his face red with anger. But this didn't scare Drake; he got right back into his 'new' father's face.

"Because! Those few drinks are NOT harmless! They kill-" Drake didn't even have time to finish the sentence when he felt himself being knocked to the side, his cheek stung with pain. Eyes wide in surprise, Drake raised a hand to his cheek that now had the red mark of a handprint on it.

Walter's eyes widened in shock at his actions for a moment, but were soon narrowed in anger.

"That's what you get, you selfish brat! For once, stop thinking about YOURSELF!" At that, Walter stomped out of the room and up the stairs.

Drake clenched his fists to try to calm his trembling, a wave of fear passed over him. Finally the trembling ceased and Drake tiptoed to his bedroom that he and his brother shared. As he lay down in his bed, he shut his eyes and forced himself to go to sleep.

That night he had the same nightmares he had had back when his mother was still with his first father, all night he tossed and turned, groaned and whimpered. Towards dawn, when his nightmares slowly came to an end, a tear rolled down the side of his face.

TBC