Losses

I would first of all like to apologise for the delay of this chapter, and I do feel really bad about it! However I honestly had no time last week to sit down and write it, due to school work and re-catching up on sleep after a week long school trip. I also had to pack as I was at the Teen Wolf Convention Wolfs Bane 2 over the weekend and only got back earlier today after leaving on the Friday.

If you wish, feel free to follow me on tumblr – thatfandomblogg – as there's normally a post or so to explain any sudden absences that may occur, which I don't really do here.

Enough of that, lets get on with the story, I think you've all waited long enough!

This chapter has been prompted by Cburns1995 and the request was Joe was always seen as the 'head' of the family, the one his brothers went to when they were in trouble, a father figure if you will, but when Sandy tragically passed away, he finds himself having to step into the role for real, with no help. How does he handle this burden throughout the years, especially when his brothers find themselves getting into all sorts of trouble?

He was dressed too smartly for a situation like this. It was a stupid notion, but it was all Joe could focus on as he watched the terrified demeanours of his brothers as they all regularly looked up from the uncomfortable hospital seats they were sat on, either to try and get a glance into the room where she currently was, or to him for any sort of answers, not that he had any to give.

He was just as clueless as they all were, wondering how his evening had changed so much in such a short time. And Joe knew he should be looking for answers, trying to get any information that the doctor's had on her condition, but all he could focus on was the way his aftershave was so potent it was making it near impossible to breath in the stuffy hospital, and the way his jeans were just that little bit too tight to be comfortable.

He was about to leave to go on a date you see. She was a friend of Stan's apparently, a real good laugh and someone who would be really good for him. Lindsey something or other. He didn't know, didn't care, because some girl was nowhere near as important as his mum, not when she was fighting for her life.

He had practically been out of the door when he got the call, buzzing with nervous excitement at the thought of his first proper date since his last relationship crumbled, his ex, Sadie having decided to cut all ties when she had to go the police station to get Joe after a pub fight one too many times.

He had been tempted to leave it there, check the voice-message when he got home after the date, but the thought that it may the girl he was being set up with, stuck in traffic, or maybe even cancelling was enough to make Joe turn and answer.

But it wasn't Lindsey on the other side, it was the police. But this time they weren't there to have a go at him, give him a court date or anything similar, they were to give him much grimmer news. That she, his amazing, beautiful mother had been in a car accident, and was now in the hospital, fighting for her life.

The other driver had been drunk apparently, clipped Sandy's wheel as he tried to overtake, causing her to lose complete control of the car, crashing it into a nearby ditch, passerbys already dialling 999 before she had even stopped.

It didn't feel real, she had been on her way home, mind no doubt full of what horrific concoction she could cook up for dinner that night. And in less than a second, everything had changed. Not just for Sandy Roscoe, as she lay in the uncomfortable hospital bed, attached to more machines than Joe thought physically possible, but for her five children, as they sat outside waiting, desperate for any news.

"Joe? Joe what's happening?" Robbie asked, eyes wide as he watched a barrage of doctors run into Sandy's room, all shouting orders, the worry obvious in their eyes.

"I don't know sport," the eldest Roscoe said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible, whilst wrapping an arm around both twin's, though he didn't miss the way their eyes grew misty as both kids tried to keep strong.

Joe also took note of Ziggy's trembling lip, and the way Freddie was gripping the arm of his chair incredibly tightly, though not a single brother made a sound as the doctors worked relentlessly in their mother's room, hoping that maybe just maybe, if they stayed quiet enough, they would be able to hear something.

Hear that Sandy was going to be all okay, the tiny gasp of life from her, proving she was going to be just fine.

The doctors couldn't have been there for more than 10 minutes, but to the Roscoe's it felt like they had been waiting for days, desperately searching for some information. In that time, they hadn't moved, had barely even breathed, scared that if they did, the spell would shatter, that time would restart and the worse would happen.

It was stupid, but it felt like if they stayed still, if they didn't do anything, then maybe Sandy would be okay. They'd get proof that she was going to be fine. But as he was straining his ear, Joe didn't hear Sandy breathing. The doctor's sighing in relief.

He heard the constant drone of the heart monitor, and that was just wrong. Because it should have been beeping. And if it wasn't, well there was only thing it could mean. With just one glance at his brothers, Joe knew they hadn't connected the constant buzz from the heart machine with what it truly meant for Sandy, and he just couldn't be the one to enlighten them.

As if he was on automatic, Joe stood, pushing Robbie and Jason to the others with ease, before making his way to the hospital room, pushing open the hospital door to catch the sight behind the wooden frame.

He couldn't even begin to focus on the doctors before him, all telling him to leave, that he shouldn't see his mother like she was, but their protests were doing nothing for him. Because here he was stood, at 21 years old, with four younger brothers, staring at the bloodied and motionless form of his mother.

At 21 years, Joe Roscoe was made an orphan.

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Joe didn't remember how he had gotten home. Whether he had driven or maybe the hospital had called a taxi for him and the others. He doubted he was really in the state to drive anyway. He couldn't focus on anything for longer than ten seconds, his mind always replaying the scene in the hospital, Sandy's battered body lying on the bed, looking nothing more than a rag doll as the doctors slowly began to leave her side, having called time on her life.

They should have kept fighting.

The crash into the ditch had been the cause of Sandy's death, it just took a bloody long time to take full effect. One of her lungs had collapsed after the crash, and she'd lost a lot of blood too. But they ultimately weren't the factors to take Sandy Roscoe away from her children. No, when she smacked her head of the steering wheel, she had been knocked unconscious at the sheer force of impact.

Unknown at the time, the injury had been fatal, and whilst the doctors could have combated the collapsed lung, the whiplash, the blood loss and the broken bones, they were powerless to fight the brain injury that was taking hold.

They shouldn't have given up so easily.

"Joe come out," Freddie called, his voice croaking and muffled, banging on the bathroom door, trying his best to get the now eldest Roscoe to open up, though with little luck. It wasn't that he couldn't hear Freddie, it was just that Joe couldn't take in the words, couldn't understand their meaning or even act on them if he did.

He was numb, in a state of shock as his entire world collapsed underneath him. He was meant to go on a date that very night, hell, she could have even been the one for him, his true love, not that he'd ever find out now.

He was getting ready to leave home, had been looking at little flats downtown, he'd been ready to build a real life for himself, away from his family.

But all that, and all his other dreams now lay in tatters beneath him, because there was no way he could go for them, not without Sandy. She'd left them, she'd left him, and with it, Joe knew he'd have to take on a whole other role of responsibilities.

Freddie would be okay or at least, good at acting like he was. He was an adult himself, even if it was just barely, but it meant he could look after himself. Ziggy and the twins, well they'd be less so. Ziggy had his exams in just a few weeks, and with a sigh, Joe knew they'd be shot to hell, he was never going to get the highest grades, but now Alan Roscoe's youngest would be lucky to even scrape a single pass.

And the twins, well Joe wouldn't be surprised if either boy had a full on mental breakdown in the coming days. In just the space of four years, their father had walked out on them, never to be heard of again, and then they'd lost their only remaining parent.

They weren't even ten years old yet, how was that even fair, Joe couldn't help but wonder, wiping away a few errant tears that had fallen, turning to the bathroom door with a steadying breath.

He had to be strong, he was the only one left, and for the sake of his brothers, he had to be the one who didn't break down. There would be time for that later, but now, well Joe had a duty to carry out, and it wasn't crying in the bathroom like a girl.

Opening the door to come face to face with Freddie, Joe pushed down his emotions, his grief, anger and devastation to pull his younger brother into a tight hold, only gripping tighter as Freddie collapsed into him, sobs wracking through his body.

And as he stood, desperately fighting against his own tears, only one thought crossed Joe's mind. The doctors should have done more, they should have fought harder to save Sandy's life. They shouldn't have given up.

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The funeral was a quiet affair. Joe was left in charge of organising it all (after all, who else would?), and he didn't have the energy to book more than the basics. Not that he thought anyone would care.

It wasn't that he didn't think anyone would turn up, after all he knew that his mum was loved by many people. Sandy was always on the phone to a friend, making plans for the weekend or for an upcoming holiday, but he just didn't think people would be bothered to show up.

But boy was he wrong. The moment Joe stepped into the church his breath was blown away, simply by the number of people present. The church was completely packed, with some people even standing up at the back due to the lack of seats, whilst he and his brothers all made their way to their reserved seats at the front, trying to keep up a strong face in front of all the sympathetic stares from their neighbours, teachers and complete strangers.

Because they didn't need anyone's pity. They had each other to keep them strong, and Joe knew that was all they needed. He would move heaven and earth for his brothers, and he wasn't going to let them ever forget that.

They didn't need anyone else, it just caused more pain and heartbreak.

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"I swear if that's another casserole from Mrs Links I'm going to actually throw it in her face," Freddie muttered, smirking as he heard Joe's chuckle from the front door. It had been two weeks since the funeral and although the pain wasn't getting any better, the brothers were slowly starting to find things to smile at.

One such thing was their portly neighbour from across the road, Mrs Links, who insisted on making the five brothers nearly every meal she could and more.

It had been a thoughtful gesture at first, and one the family could all understand, they must have been sent a good sixteen dinners in the first two days of the crash alone, and whilst the other packages had soon stopped after the funeral, Mrs Links still persisted, dropping off everything, from a lasagne to a casserole at the front door of the Roscoe's household.

It wouldn't have been so bad either, after all her food was the best thing the boys had ever tasted and the dishes were always scraped clean in next to no time, but every single time, Mrs Links insisted on having a chat.

She'd always ask the same questions too, would always want to talk about Sandy, and whilst the five brothers were slowly beginning to heal, to move on with their lives without their mother present, they were in no means ready to start talking about their loss, not in such a matter of fact way.

So distressing, both Jason and Robbie had taken to sneaking out the back garden to get to school, as it meant they didn't have to pass their old neighbour's house and be subjected to conversation about Sandy. It wasn't ideal, but Joe didn't have the energy to sort it all out, not yet anyway. Most days it was still a struggle getting out of bed in the morning, but he knew if he wanted to be strong for his family, to show them he wasn't breaking, it had to be done.

At the sound of an unfamiliar voice from the entrance of the house, Joe breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that he'd get to miss the daily torture, though he stiffened when Freddie called for him, the worry apparent in his tone.

"She's from the social," was all the taller man said when Joe joined, eyeing up the short blonde who was clutching a green folder tightly.

"Can we help you?" Joe asked, making no move to let the woman in, even though it appeared that was what she was currently vying for, probably eager to avoid a crowd, Joe couldn't help but think, uncaring of what the neighbours opinions on him would be.

"My name's Kate Lester, as your brother said, I'm from the social scheme for this area."

"And you're here why?" Joe drawled, moving so he was only blocking the front door even more. There was no way Kate was getting into the house, she didn't even have the right to be standing on their doorstep. The last thing Joe wanted or needed was the social interfering.

He and Freddie had been doing fine, and sure they weren't always getting the washing done on time, and the twins were in desperate need of a haircut, and Ziggy was turning up to school once in a blue moon, but they were coping, and the mechanic was pretty certain that at this stage, that should be good enough.

"To just talk Mr Roscoe," and although Kate used his last name, talked to him in the most formal manner ever, Joe couldn't help but view her as condescending. "After the tragic accident involving your mother a little under a month ago, we couldn't help but note you haven't made any counselling sessions or gone for any help."

"I don't need any help, that's why," Joe said, his tone tight, ignoring the worried glance Freddie shot his way. "We're doing just fine, and I don't need you coming over telling me how to live life and what I should be doing in regards to my family."

"This isn't why I'm here Mr Roscoe. I'm merely here to help you in case you are in need of it, sometimes people are unaware of what help is out there for them."

"Yeah, well I'm fine without it," Joe spat out, fighting the restraint to slam the door in Kate's face right then and there.

"You may be, but are your brothers? They're all still so young, the twins especially, getting them to speak up could really help them out."

"Don't talk about them," Joe snarled, feeling Freddie wrap a hand around his arm, a warning to stay still, to not lash out at this woman like he so desperately wanted to. "We all know why you're here, and it's not because you have our best interests at heart. You want to take the others into care, you don't think we're coping. Well I've got news for you, because they're not going anywhere, ever!"

Kate looked oddly undisturbed by Joe's spiel, not even blinking when he'd finished, instead, just giving him a calming smile and a further minute to calm down. "No-one has any intention of taking anyone away, like I said, we're just here to let you know what your options are and to give you any help you may need. For the benefit of everyone we will be keeping in regular contact with you, but this isn't any sort of attack on you or your family, I just hope you can see this Mr Roscoe."

Handing both brothers a small card with all her contact details, Kate turned heel and began to make her way down the driveway, turning only once to give the two brothers a sunny smile.

"What the hell were you playing at?" Freddie asked the second the blonde had gotten into her car and driven away.
"I was just making it crystal clear that we're not letting the others being taken into care."

"By acting like a barbarian? If anything, you'll just have reinforced the idea, you can't just act like that Joe!"

"And what are you going to do about it?" Joe hissed, pushing past Freddie to make his way to his room, completely missing the worried look he was shot by his younger brother, because with each passing day, Freddie was only getting more and more worried.

His brothers were acting like they were coping, pretending that they were getting better, but it was clear to see they were all crumbling, too blind and stubborn to reveal the truth. One of them was going to crack under the grief, Freddie was wondering just who it would be.

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He was in bed when he heard it. It was late, almost two in the morning when the door began rattling, a sign of someone trying to get in. His body tensed in reaction almost immediately, and Joe pushed himself up, searching his room to try and find a suitable enough weapon that would scare off the intruder.

It didn't take long for him to find the cricket bat by the side of his wardrobe, not that that was too surprising. He hadn't been asleep, nowhere close in fact. Sleep was difficult for the eldest Roscoe nowadays, at best he got a handful of hours but they were becoming a rarity.

Most nights were spent staring at the ceiling, willing for the darkness to envelop him, whilst his mind worked at a million miles an hour, what ifs and maybes entering his head at break neck speeds. He only went to bed to try and keep some form of normality, to help the others keep a routine, though Joe had no idea if they had any better luck with sleep than he did. The bags under Freddie and Ziggy's eyes would suggest that those two were in the same boat as him.

Grabbing the bat, Joe pulled his bedroom door open slowly, just in time to hear the front door finally being opened, the stumbling of the intruder echoing through the otherwise silent house. Shooting a glance at the still closed bedroom doors of his brothers, Joe made his way to the stairs, hoping to sort out whatever was going on downstairs without the others finding out. A burgler would do nothing for their current mental states.

But it wasn't the sight of a stranger that Joe was met with. In fact it was Ziggy, stumbling about as he tried and failed to make his way up the stairs, stinking of booze and completely out of it. Joe was unable to contain his sigh at the sight of his younger brother, realising he must have snuck out when he went to bed earlier that evening, though he really didn't want to spend time thinking where he had found himself, the visible hickeys on one side of Ziggy's neck were already too much information.

"Lets get you some water," he said instead, dropping the bat and jogging down the stairs, able to lead Ziggy to the kitchen easily enough as the young Roscoe was already unstable on his feet. "How much did you even drink mate?"

"A lot of the alcohols," Ziggy slurred, falling onto the chair when Joe pushed him onto it, almost falling off a second later, though he managed to keep himself upright.

"I could tell," Joe said dryly, pouring Ziggy a generous glass of water, hoping his brother would drink it with little complaint. "If you wanted to go out you should have just said you know? I could have given you a lift back too, anything could have happened walking back in a state like that."

"Weren't planned," Ziggy shrugged, staring into the glass of water like it held all the answers of the universe. "Just needed to get out y'know?"

"Yeah, I do," Joe sighed, understanding exactly where Ziggy was coming from. He felt constricted in the family home, having to walk past Sandy's room every day, stumbling on little bits and pieces she'd had lying around the house at random intervals. He wanted to scream, to get drunk, to hurt something and let out his anger, but he knew that he couldn't do that.

His brothers were all relying on him more so than ever, and he had to move past all his sorrow and be the better person, he had to be strong, that was what they needed, not a snivelling pathetic mess. So forcing a smile onto his face, he watched Ziggy drink the rest of his water before helping him up the stairs, ignoring the tightening of his chest as he walked past the closed door that led into Sandy's room.

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Joe knew it was coming. The moment when he would lose control, he could feel all the rage and grief simmering deep within him, threatening to break free, growing stronger with each day. And he fought so hard to keep it under control, he really did, but it was going to come out one day, and when it did, it was going to be nothing but messy.

And messy it was.

On the 64th day since Sandy had passed, Joe Roscoe finally lost control, giving into all the negative emotions he had been holding onto so tightly beforehand. He had been in a pub, having a quick drink before he'd have to go back home to make dinner for the twins, revelling in the time alone, however short.

The mechanic couldn't remember how the fight started, if he had been the one to throw the first punch, or if it had been the wiry ginger across the bar. All he knew was that he was now lying in hospital, with two broken ribs and a fractured wrist to his name.

And it was only as his brothers ran into his room, looks of pure terror painted on their faces, did the adrenaline that had had him flying high suddenly disappear to be replaced with guilt and sense of self loathing.

He was meant to be the head of the family, looking after all the others, not getting into stupid pub fights that landed him in hospital. God, how could he have been so stupid?

"What were you thinking?" Ziggy asked, eyes dark as he glared at Joe from where he was stood. "You've barely let me out of your sight since the other week, but apparently it's okay for you to get absolutely slaughtered and start beating people up!"

"Ziggy don't," Freddie sighed, placing a comforting hand on both of the twin's shoulders, hoping it would do something to help. "This really isn't the time."

"Then when else? Because as soon we get home, we're not going to talk about it, we never do! No-one ever talks in that place anymore, we just sit there, watching the world go past, it's driving me insane."

"We're trying our best Zig," Joe started, a wave of guilt washing over him at his brother's words.

"And yet, you're still doing a crap job. You're not living Joe, not anymore, you're just existing. And if you were really trying to do best by us, you'd have rung up the social by now, talked to someone – yeah I saw the card that was given to you the other week. People want to help, but you've made the decision that we don't need it without actually asking us what we want!"
"So what do you want?" Freddie asked softly when it was obvious that Joe wouldn't.

"To talk to someone about mum, about all the crazy that's been going on lately, we all do," Ziggy sighed, motioning to Jason and Robbie who only nodded.

"Then we'll get something sorted," Joe broke in. He had been trying for so long to hold the family together, to try and make sure he was all they needed, but this one conversation had proven he was doing nothing but making the whole situation worse.

And it hurt, he had been putting his all into trying to keep his family together, but lying on the hospital bed at that moment, all bloodied and bruised, Joe knew he needed to swallow his pride. He needed to listen to his family and do what they needed to do for their own healing, not what he thought they needed. And maybe, he'd start to heal along the way too.

So with a weary breath, Joe promised to book a meeting as soon as he was back at home. He thought it would leave him feeling defeated and worthless, after all, he was meant to be strong for his family, not relying on others to get him through it, but as they all shuffled out, promising to be back the next day, Joe only felt a sense of relief.

It wasn't unwelcome, was the best he'd felt in a long time in fact, and it gave him hope that maybe the future wouldn't be as bleak as he initially thought it would be. Maybe he would start living again, going out on dates, seeing friends and having fun.

With a renowned sense of confidence, Joe couldn't help but turn to the doctor who was making sure everything was in order in his room.

"So I know this probably goes against every protocol in the book, but how about once I'm out of here, we go for a drink? You won't be my doctor then."

"I'm not your doctor now, I'm just a trainee," the woman said, smiling at Joe's words, her cheeks flushing a slight pink.

"Then there should be no problem? I'm Joe by the way," Joe said, painting a easy smile on his face, like it was always there, ever present, when in fact, he hadn't smiled properly since Sandy...

"I know who you are, my notes tell me everything."

"Do they tell you my number or shall I give you that myself?"

"You're awfully full of yourself aren't you?" The trainee grinned, her blush only growing at Joe's cockiness.

"I like to say I have confidence, it's not necessarily a bad thing..."

"Lindsey," the brunette said, smiling over at Joe as she spoke. "My name's Lindsey."

"Well then Lindsey, what do you say to you and me, at the Glen tomorrow evening at around six?"

"I say goodnight," Lindsey laughed, leaving the hospital room, though not before shooting a teasing smile over her shoulder which filled Joe with hope.

Maybe things were finally looking up for the Roscoe's, he couldn't help but think, going to sleep with a smile on his face for the first time in months.

If there are any mistakes I do apologise, but I have had less than 20 hours sleep since Friday (as is con life), so am more prone to missing spelling mistakes at the moment!

Next Chapter -Fraser's a complete gentleman and wouldn't hurt a fly, or at least that was what Sandy thought. But after getting on the gangster's bad side, she learns exactly how evil her husband is – Chandy

I want to say I'll be posting this chapter in 5 days, but I'm moving back into my Dad's in the next week, so won't really be stopping (July is incredibly busy for me this month!). Not only do I not have a laptop there, so will struggle to write as much on my ipod, but we also don't really have the internet (pray for me).

I will be over at my mum's a fair bit, just less so than before, meaning less writing! Thank you for all understanding