A/N: Thank again for all ofyour wonderfulreviews! Anyways, I hope you like this chapter!

Disclaimer: ) I still don't own the characters...

Chapter 2

The car ride home was unusually silent. Neither Jack nor Bobby felt like talking. Bobby was frustrated that Jack wasn't telling him the truth and, ironically enough, he didn't feel like arguing. Jack just didn't feel like talking period. So many things were going through his mind right now that he felt like his head was going to explode. His hands started shaking as the affects of his last cigarette started to ease off.

Jack quietly headed up the stairs of the seemingly vacant house. "I'm going to go take a shower," he added as he was almost at the top of the staircase.

Bobby didn't say anything back, but took off his coat and headed tiredly into the kitchen. Angel and Sophi were out someplace and Jerry was at home with his family so Jack and Bobby were the only ones home.

…

Jack put his head under the steaming water coming from the showerhead. He took a deep breath, rubbing his hands through his hair. The shower felt comforting compared to the coldness of the weather outside.

He turned off the water, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist as he stepped out of the shower. He threw on the clothes he grabbed out of his room earlier and walked through the hall to his room.

Plopping down on his bed Jack grabbed his guitar and started strumming. Music helped keep his mind off of things. As long as he had something to focus on, he couldn't think about all the bad things.

There was a knock on his door. Great. Bobby. Again.

"Yeah?" Jack called through the door, not missing a beat and he kept playing his guitar.

Bobby opened the door and walked into the room. "You hungry, Fairy? 'Cuz there's food in the in the –"

"I'm not hungry." Jack cut in.

"La Vida Loca made this pasta thing and..." Bobby continued with his useless chatter.

Jack put his guitar down. "What do you want, Bobby?" he asked in a dull and tired voice.

Bobby paused for a moment, not sure if he should just be blunt or beat around the bush a little more. "I want you to tell me what the hell happened tonight," Bobby finally said. He decided he couldn't hold it in any longer. "You're not acting like yourself," he added.

Bobby walked further inside Jack's room and sat in the chair next to the bed. He was willing to wait for an answer because he wasn't going to leave until he found out the truth.

"I already told you. I got mugged by a couple of thugs." Jack stated simply.

"Yeah, and I already told you," Bobby stated just as simply, "that's a bunch of bullshit."

"Then what the fuck do you want me to say!" Jack shouted angrily. "You never believe me!" He was tired of being questioned. He was tired of bad things always happening to him. He was tired of being toughed when he didn't want to be touched. Bobby seemed unfazed by Jack's yelling. He sat back in the chair and crossed his arms. He felt stuck. He didn't want to make him mad, he just wanted to find out what happened, and then beat the shit out of the guys that did it to him.

"Fine. You want to know what happened!" Jack was so mad, he could feel his face burning. He stood up quickly and took off his shirt. His movement was so sudden that he even surprised Bobby whose face, until now, was showing no expression.

"Jack what the hell are you doing?" Bobby asked, also standing up.

"This is what happened, Bobby. This is what they did to me." Jack said. He was starting to cry now. Talking about it just made him feel like he was reliving the incident all over again. "They held me down and... and they kicked me... They wouldn't stop, Bobby… I told them to stop... and they wouldn't..." Jack was breathing heavily now. The shakiness was back.

"Jack..." Bobby began, walking closer to him. His eyes examined his torso. There were several large bruises, already a dark purple, along with several scratches up and down his arms, ending with a ring-shaped bruise around each wrist. He looked back up his chest, this time looking at his scars. He had several from the abuse he had suffered from as a kid, but his eyes stopped on one scar in particular. That was the mark left from when he had been shot. This kid had been through so much already. He didn't need something like this to finally make him break.

"It's gonna be ok, Jackie," Bobby said finally.

"No, Bobby, it's not gonna be ok. It never has been, and it never will be."

By the look in Jack's blue eyes, Bobby could tell that he was hurting, and no ass whooping he could give to the guys that did this to him was going to take that hurt away.