A/N: This story is set when Jess is eight years old, which would make Luke approximately 29. If my calculations are correct, this would probably make it about a year before Luke opened the diner. In this world, Luke currently lives in what was his parents' home, shortly before being forced to sell it, after struggling for years to try and pay off all the debts that his father's hospital care, funeral, and failing business had left behind. It's uncertain, and not terribly important, whether at this point the girlfriend mentioned briefly in the story would have been Rachel or Anna.

Before I get hate mail, saying that this story is OOC for Luke, stop and remember that Luke has always been a man of action, not swerving from a course once he's begun. Despite the fact that he's "bah-humbug" about town events, he's very traditional, and by-the-book. He practically worshipped his father, and was always prone to doing things the way he did. And this was probably the way his dad did things.

And, yeah, I feel really bad for both of them. Especially Jess. Poor kid just can't catch a break.

Cancer Stick

Why couldn't she leave well enough alone? Didn't she know he only came here to get away from her in the first place? He had a four day weekend away from school. Couldn't he spend it in peace? She was happy enough ignoring him when he was in the apartment. Why'd she have to get drunk off her butt and call while he was away, with her wheezy "Jess, honey? Baby, whassa matter? Why don't you wanna talk to your mommy?"…Ugh. He could practically taste the cheap liquor reeking from her breath through the mouthpiece of the phone. Worse still, he could hear Jake and his buddies in the background - one of them shouting incoherently, glass breaking, drunken guffaws. He shuddered, reminding himself that they weren't shouting at him, the breaking glass was over a hundred miles away, and the laughter wasn't at his expense. They couldn't touch him here. He was safe here. He sunk down onto the concrete steps with the sliding glass door at his back, pulling a paperback from his back pocket before he sat down all the way. He tucked it beneath his leg and fumblingly pulled out one of his smokes and a lighter from the pocket of his coat.

As he felt the nicotine enter his bloodstream, Liz's smarmy tone started to fade. Another puff, and the laughter filling his mind got farther away and stopped jeering at him quite as much. Another, and the shouting was no longer making him flinch. One more, and he could almost stop dreading those shards of glass. The story was even better. It took him out to the Midwest where the main character taught school and seemed to be falling for the guy who always drove her home on the weekends. That part was kinda sweet, if you liked that kind of thing. It was a relief to mentally live somewhere that the worst thing you had to deal with was bratty school kids…oh, and the possibility of freezing to death. Then again, there was that one crazy lady who stood over her with a knife in the middle of the night. I guess nobody's life's perfect.

Twilight was falling, and Jess still sat, reading, squinting without noticing the fact that he was starting to have to squint. The screen door on the other side of the house opened and shut, and Luke's voice came through the fading light.

"Jess, are you out here? Oh, there you are. Dinner's ready. I thought you were up in your room, reading when you were done with your phone call, but when I went up there-" He stopped cold.

"Jess!" he shouted, suddenly, making Jess jump, and cough at the smoke this jolt caused him to inhale too quickly. Until that point, he'd still been caught up with the story and hardly heard his uncle speaking. But his name uttered in that tone, and the no-nonsense clomping stride straight at him, left no doubt that he was in trouble…deep trouble. But, why? His mind started racing. What did I do? I didn't do anything! I can't remember anything…no, I haven't done anything but read since I got here! Why is he mad? What could he be mad about? I mean, I heard him and his girlfriend arguing over the phone last night - even if he still won't admit it's his girlfriend. He could be mad about that. But, Luke wouldn't take that out on me. Not Luke. That he was sure of. With Luke, if he was in trouble, there was a reason. There was a good reason. There was always a reason. But right now, there wasn't any reason.

Time for thinking had just run out.

Luke took the book from his hand, setting it on the step beside him, and pulled Jess to his feet. Taking him by the elbow, he forcibly dragged Jess across the yard and through the kitchen doorway. He snatched the cigarette from his other hand and crushed it on the floor beneath his foot. Jess just stared at him, too stunned to speak. Without a word, Luke sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, hauling Jess over his knee before he hardly knew what was happening.

"Luke, no!" he shouted, indignantly. He hadn't done anything wrong! Why! What the heck was this about?

And Luke didn't! usually! spank! this! stinkin'! hard! There were only a few things in Jess' life that he could count on. Scratch that. There was one. Only one. And that was Luke. When you called, he came. When something broke, he fixed it. He woke up at the same blasted time every morning, and went to bed at the same blasted time every night. He even set the table in the same stinkin' order for every stinkin' meal! And when Jess was there and he got into real trouble, the exact same thing happened every single time. Luke called him to come and sit down, then he told Jess what he'd done wrong, then he told some story that usually didn't make sense, but that Jess knew was supposed to help him understand why exactly he was in trouble. Then came the spanking. It hurt, but not much. It was four or five whacks, maybe, six or seven. But this was just ridiculous! He winced again, and bit down on his lip, wondering ruefully if spontaneous combustion was actually possible. Jeez, Luke! ENOUGH!

At that moment, Luke stopped as abruptly as he'd begun and lifted Jess to his feet. The searing heat of his backside found vent in Jess' eyes, and his small jaw clenched in anger, breathing heavily through his nostrils.

That was COMPLETELY UNFAIR! It REALLY HURT! And I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! He'd learned a long time ago not to scream the words in his head. But, this was Luke, so they almost came out anyway. Luke bent down and snatched up the cigarette from the floor, holding it up in front of Jess' face.

THAT'S what this is about! You never told me NOT TO!

"This," Luke said distinctly and vehemently, "is a cancer stick!" Jess rolled his eyes.

Oh, come on, Luke. I'm sure you can come up with something more original than that!

"This," he continued, "is what killed your grandpa!"

Oh.

"It killed him!" Luke's voice cracked. Jess dropped his eyes to the ground in deference to the tears he heard in Luke's voice, and the pained look in the eyes he'd just lost enough of his own anger to notice were red-rimmed. "And, there's no way in hell that I'm gonna stand around and watch it KILL YOU TOO!" His voice was shaking now, and Jess' head dropped even further before Luke caught hold of his chin, abruptly forcing eye contact. "Is that clear?"

It was clear. It was clear that he'd have to make sure he didn't smoke around Luke anymore. It was clear that there was no way he could explain to his uncle that back in his world, his music, his smokes, and his books were the only way he could survive. They were his only comfort, his only sanity, his only friends. It was clear that there was no way to express that without making things worse.

"Yes, Uncle Luke," he said meekly. Luke's hand dropped, and he nodded.

"Good." It was all he said. Jess turned to walk away…upstairs. 'Cause, this was over, right? He could go up to his room and try to pretend it didn't happen. He wasn't angry anymore. He wasn't. He still resented it, but he wasn't angry. This was what he told himself. He mentally kept muttering as he reached the handrail and started to mount the stairs.

Okay, there was a reason. You didn't tell me there was a reason, but there was a reason. I understand the reason, but you still didn't tell me. He wallowed in this for a few more steps. Luke's words, his tone, and the look on his face passed through Jess' memory, and he breathed deeply, not wanting to feel the stab that came with them.

Most kids wouldn't be insightful enough to draw the connection - to realize that the warmth radiating off the skin beneath the seat of his pants, along with the sharp punishment that had preceded it, was due to the intensity of the fear his uncle felt. They wouldn't know that fear was prompted by even more intense pain, or the fact that both the fear and the pain came from how hard it had been to lose his dad. But Jess had never been much like most kids. He knew things. He figured things out. He might not be able to get along with people, but for the most part, he usually understood them. Luke Danes loved his father more than anyone else on earth. Jess could barely remember his grandfather, but he knew how Luke talked about him. If it terrified Luke that much to lose his nephew the same way he lost his father . . . Jess stopped dead in his tracks as the full force of the thought hit him. For the first time in his life, he knew someone loved him.

He turned halfway up the stairs, to see Luke standing there by the kitchen table, next to the dinner he'd laid out for them to eat, looking up at him with worry etched all over his tired face. In some strange way, he felt like he was looking at his uncle for the first time. He stood there, just blinking for several long moments before the reality of the present came back to him.

Luke was looking back, clearly wondering why Jess was staring all of a sudden. He had to say something.

"Next time, tell me, okay?" Jess choked out, softly. Luke shifted from one foot to the other.

"What?" He was genuinely puzzled. Jess hunched his little shoulders together, and his head dipped eloquently forward, with a wounded look in his child-eyes.

"If there's something…you don't want me to do," he shrugged, "tell me." He watched the guilt gnaw itself into Luke's stance and expression. Luke tugged absently on his baseball cap, and crossed the distance between himself and his small nephew, keeping his eyes pinned to the floor. His lips were clamped tightly together, as if he was physically unable to open them, but he looked Jess full in the face, and gulped as his woeful blue eyes plead for forgiveness. Jess tipped one shoulder, and nodded, granting it. Luke's big, rough hand rumpled through the boy's curly hair, and he nodded in return, heaving a heavy, ragged sigh.

"I'll tell you," Luke finally agreed aloud, and slung his arm across the boy's shoulders, leading him back down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Come eat," he urged. He had no desire to eat, but that was another thing you could never tell Luke. He always fed the people he cared about…made sure they had plenty to eat. Funny, he never stopped to think about it before. When I call, he comes. When something breaks, he fixes it. He wakes me up at the same time every morning, and makes sure I go to bed at the same time every night. And cooks and sets the table just the same way for every single meal. When I'm in real trouble, he always takes the time to talk to me, and set me straight. I just never stopped to think about what that means. Jess said nothing. In fact, he didn't utter another word all evening, but as he sat down at the table, he looked up at his uncle, with one thought in his mind.

I love you too, Uncle Luke.