TITLE: Flashes

CHAPTER/TITLE: Six/Sex, Love and Violence

RATING: T (language and mature content)

SUMMARY: Pre-Movie. "I ain't Ma. I ain't gonna hold your little hand. I'm gonna kick you in the - until what I want to hear comes out your mouth. It's called tough love… Deal with it or see what happens…" Jack's hiding something, from everyone. Time for a little intervention, Bobby Mercer style.

A/N: We're getting there! Only one more chapter left after this! Thanks for sticking with me and for all the awesome reviews!

DISCLAIMER: Yeah, yeah, yeah…

Please read and REVIEW! Reviews help Bobby understand Jack...maybe

Chapter Six: Sex, Love and Violence

"Then how 'bout this Angela, huh? How's 'bout I go talk to her?"

Jack slammed the guitar on the bed and leapt up, as if to verbally, or quite possibly, physically attack Bobby. He opened his mouth and then snapped his jaw shut suddenly. Turning around, Jack crossed his room to the window.

"Whatever, man," Jack's voice was deeper and calmer than it had been, and for Jack, that was far more dangerous.

"So it is this chick that's doin' this to you – messin' you up in the damn head? What'd the bitch do?"

"Don't call her that," Jack hissed protectively.

"So, Cracker Jack still has feelings for the girl."

"Shut up, man."

"Defensive, protective, brooding. Could our little Jackie be – in love?"

Jack hesitated a beat before separating the blinds with his fingers to peer out and sighed.

"Love is just an illusion," Jack whispered, mostly to himself. "It's not real. No matter how you feel."

Bobby was taken aback by his brother's suddenly dark persona and deep words.

"Song lyrics," Jack quickly and quietly explained, nodding towards the notebook.

"Right," Bobby nodded slowly, "just song lyrics. I think we both know that they're not. Talk to me, man. Get whatever the hell this is off your damn chest and mind so we can figure this out and so you can go back to quiet brooding Jack instead of annoying as fuck, bitchy brooding Jack."

"You're a real motivator, Bobby. You'd make a great counselor."

"I ain't Ma. I ain't gonna hold your little hand. I'm gonna kick you in the ass until what I want to hear comes out your mouth. It's called tough love, brother, and that ain't no damned illusion. Deal with it or see what happens when I go and find Angela."

Jack was silent then. He kept his gaze out the window, running his fingers across the dust that he had let accumulate on the blinds. He pulled his hand back absentmindedly and stared at his new discolored fingertips. Brushing it off on his pant leg, Jack cleared his throat and closed his eyes.

"I – I'm having – flashes, Bobby," Jack was nearly inaudible as he ran a trembling hand through his mop of hair.

"I can't help you with your menopause, Jackie," Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Fuck you. You know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah," Bobby sighed uneasily, "but, Jack, man, it's been years. Years. I thought that all stopped."

"It never stopped. The nightmares, the flashes, the memories. They're there, Bobby, all the time. I just deal with them better than I used to. But – now – this – I can't get it out of my head." Again, his fingers found his hair.

"What's goin' on Jack?"

"Angela – she – damn it, Bobby. I can't talk about this with you." This time both hands went to his head, grabbing strands and pulling.

"You get that girl pregnant?" Jack just shook his head as his brother was simply not understanding. "She give you AIDS or some shit like that?" Again, no verbal response. "She fuck around on you?" Another head rattle. "Help me out here, Jackie. How long she been your girl?"

"She's not anymore."

"You know what I mean, smartass."

"Tomorrow – tomorrow woulda' been three months."

"Damn, kid. My longest I've ever been able to hang onto a chick is like three weeks, tops. How'd you meet her? One of you gay concerts you run off to that you think Ma doesn't know about?"

Bobby wasn't one for small talk or sharing feelings, but knew the only way Jack would talk is by starting small and casual and building from there.

"A party," he mumbled.

"Party? What kind 'a party?" Bobby asked with an accusing edge to his tone.

"Just a party, man. Nothin' illegal. She recognized me from school. That was last year."

"She run straight?"

"Straighter than you."

"Ma likes her," Bobby said, ignoring the jab.

"Yeah. Teachin' her how to cook. She, uh – she don't have a mom anymore and her father isn't around much so she came over here a lot."

"Man, and I thought you were the only fairy-ass-rocker-kid in this city," Bobby shook his head.

"She sings," Jack said suddenly, both brothers surprised at the volunteered information. "She's good."

"Well, I bet you two just make the cutest damn couple then," Bobby ribbed.

"We're not together anymore, Bobby," Jack reminded him again.

"Oh, Jackie. You don't know how wrong you are, kid. Jerry told me she been callin' you and that she came here the other day lookin' for your sorry ass, all torn up too. You – you're walkin' 'round like the world's biggest bitch and lockin' yourself in your room writing fucking anti-love songs. You're together. You just don't know you are."

"Doesn't matter. I don't want to be with anyone."

"Jack, please don't tell me you're a fucking eunuch."

"Why does everything have to be about sex with you?" Jack suddenly hollered.

"Well, considering that little reaction of yours just now, I'd be putting all my money on that whatever the hell you're avoiding talking about is about sex."

Jack again fell dead silent and spun around, but with nowhere to run or hide now. There was no way Bobby was letting him through that door and trying to climb out the window was both pointless and childish.

"I think we have a winner," Bobby announced dramatically.

And then, Jack snapped.