Another pre-Four Brothers story. Takes place maybe a year after my first story "A Tale of Four Brothers" but again is completely a standalone.

Random, it really has no beginning, no real end…. I'm sure that'll be a complaint. Enjoy anyway!

Broken Hand

Jack stared at Bobby's hand for a few minutes across the table, making up scenarios in his head as to why it looked like it did. It was swollen, purplish, and looked like it had to hurt. Bobby was acting like it was nothing though, scarfing down meatloaf with a fork like he didn't even notice.

It was Evelyn who mentioned it. Jack was glad she did because he wasn't sure how to, but was really curious.

"Bobby," she started, putting down her fork. "What happened to your hand?"

He held his hand out, turning it over and back again. He shrugged. "Nothing. Looks worse than it is."

She didn't buy it. "Doesn't look like nothing."

"Is that just from last night?" Jerry asked from the other end of the table. "Looks like shit."

Bobby picked up his fork again and shoveled another mouthful of meatloaf into his mouth. "Nah," he said while chewing.

"What'd you do?"

"It's a flesh eating bacteria, I think." He looked across at Jack and saw his eyes locked on his hand, and he rolled his eyes, glancing down at it himself. It did look pretty terrible.

"What did you do, Bobby?" Evelyn persisted, ignoring his facetious response to Jerry. "I thought you went to Danny's."

"Did," Bobby replied. "Then we went out."

"Did you hit somebody?" Angel asked, leaning back in his chair with an interested look. He looked at Bobby expectantly, like he was anticipating a cool story to come next.

"Not a somebody," Bobby replied. "A what."

"A what?" Angel echoed, confused.

"A wall."

Jerry laughed, almost spitting out the soda he had just sipped. He swallowed it quickly. "You're kidding."

"No," Bobby replied.

"What'd the wall do?" Angel replied. "I was expecting something a little cooler than that."

"Bobby…" Evelyn sighed, shaking her head. "I don't know what to do with you."

"It looks much worse," Bobby repeated. "Really. It just got worse looking during the course of the day, I dunno. It's probably 'cause I didn't ice it or anything." He sighed, realizing that he should have expected them to notice and make a big deal.

"Flesh eating bacteria would've been cooler," Angel persisted.

"Whatever. It probably also would've been contagious," Bobby answered. "So not so cool." He looked across the table again. Jack's plate was untouched. "Jackie, eat your dinner."

Jack picked up his fork but just held it.

"Why'd you punch the wall?" Angel persisted with a frown. "Seems like a stupid idea."

"Lots of things are stupid in retrospect," Bobby answered. "Somehow it usually boils down to tequila though."

Angel laughed. "So true."

Bobby caught Evelyn's disapproving look and frowned. "Ma, it was just a stupid little thing. I got mad, hit the wall, and that's it. Wall's are good 'cause they don't hit back." He smirked.

"You know how I feel when you drink like that," she replied. "And fight."

"I didn't fight. It was a wall."
"Bobby…"

"It's not like it's something I do every night."

"It looks terrible," she persisted. "I think you should go get it x-rayed after dinner."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. It's just a little bruised is all."

"It would just make me feel better knowing for sure you didn't break something," she answered. "There's a lot of little bones in your hand, Bobby."

"Yeah, but that's the thing. They're little," he answered. "They'll heal."

"What's the worst scenario?" she persisted. "They wrap it and you come home. Not a big deal, Bobby. I want you to go."

"Worst case scenario is nothing's wrong and they think I'm crazy for coming in and wasting my time."

"Your hand is purple, Bobby," she said stiffly. "I really don't think they'll call you crazy."

"Crazy is pretty much right on though," Jerry objected. "Punching a wall and all."

"Better a wall than a person," Angel pointed out.

Evelyn shook her head. "Bobby, you gotta keep your anger in check, you understand me?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Bobby nodded, stretching out his hand.

"I'm serious, Bobby. I don't like it."

He pressed his lips together, staring down at his plate.

"I bet you don't even remember what you were mad about," Evelyn continued. "It's a problem, Bobby. You need patience…"

"I have plenty of patience."

She shook her head. "Don't bullshit me, Bobby. Just tell me you'll work on it."

"Sure."

"Don't roll your eyes at me."

"I didn't."

"You thought it."

He laughed. "Okay, that's true."

"I meant it, Bobby," Evelyn said as Bobby put dishes into the sink. "I'll do the dishes. You get going."

"Meant what?" He frowned.

"Doctor," she answered. "For your hand. The clinic is still open, you can go there. It won't be as crowded as the ER."

He sighed. "It's really fine…"

"I'm not arguing you. Just do it for me."

Reluctantly, he agreed. "Fine…" He realized with Ma that there really was no getting out of this.

"Why don't you take Jack with you? He's been cooped up all day."

Bobby made a face. "Ma… He hates hospitals. He'll be miserable."

"Well, it's not for him this time so he'll be fine. Just take him with you. Maybe he'll remind you to be patient."

With a laugh, Bobby replied. "Or give me another reason not to be."

Evelyn just gave him a look. She knew that Bobby was always on best behavior with Jack, trying to get the boy to trust and like him, and would indeed try to be patient when he was around. They had gotten close over the past year that Jack had been with them, and although it was still a short period of time, they were fairly comfortable together. It made Evelyn happy, both that Jack had adjusted well in the past year, even considering his intermittent uncertainty, and that Jack brought out a more responsible side of Bobby.

"I also want you to stop at the store on the way back," she asked. "He likes to do that."

"What kinda boy likes to go to the grocery store? So gay."

"Bobby…"

"I'm just saying. Cruising the frozen food aisle was not my idea of fun at twelve."

"I never said it was his favorite thing."

"Still…" Bobby sighed. "My whole plan to put my feet up and have a beer is quickly fading…" He caught her look. "Fine. Just write down what you need."

Evelyn quickly scribbled down a quick list, consisting of things like eggs and milk, and Bobby left the kitchen to find Jack in the family room in front of the TV.

Bobby turned off the TV and gestured Jack to get off the couch. "C'mon, squirt, let's go."

Jack frowned at him. "Go?"

"Yeah, come on."

"Where?"

"Hospital," Bobby answered, and almost laughed at the look that crossed the boy's face.

"I didn't do anything," Jack objected slowly, as if going to the hospital was punishment for something.

"Nah, it's me. My hand." Bobby sighed. "I told Ma you wouldn't want to go." He didn't blame him, and wasn't sure why anybody would want to go to the hospital when they didn't need to. "I don't want to go either. But you can entertain me."

Jack looked uncertain.

"Come on, come on…" Bobby gave him a stern look. "Get off your ass, Jack." He located his keys on the coffee table and took them.

Jack got up hesitantly and followed Bobby towards the front door. "Bobby," he persisted. "I don't want to go…"

"Me neither. Grab your coat."

Jack reluctantly took his coat down from one of the hooks on the wall, watching Bobby put on his and zip it up. Jack put his own slowly on as they walked out the door.

"You know what we could do," Bobby began, shutting the door behind them and walking towards his car.

"What?"

"We could do something completely different instead, come back in an hour or so, and just say that the doctor said it was fine."

"It's very purple."

Bobby nodded and opened the car door, sliding into his seat. Jack slowly got in the passenger's side.

"Yeah, it is."

"So you want to lie?" Jack asked as Bobby turned on the car. He immediately started changing the radio station.

"Stop changing my pre-sets," Bobby said, watching him disapprovingly. "Listen to what you want but stop changing my fucking pre-sets, or I'll kick your ass, you hear?"

Jack didn't answer, he just settled on an Aerosmith song and sat back as they drove down the road.

"And I wouldn't call it lying," Bobby continued. Then he paused. "Well, yeah, it's lying…"

"So where are we going?"

"Neither of us want to go to the hospital."

"But Evelyn will ask."

"Don't call her Evelyn," Bobby reflexively rebuked. It bothered him that Jack wouldn't call her "Ma" like the rest of them did. He really didn't call her anything, except when referring to her to someone else, in which case he would typically just call her Evelyn. Bobby realized he took for granted being used to calling her "Ma", and personally considered her to actually be his mother, so didn't know where the hesitation would be.

Jack was hesitant about everything however.

He knew one day it would come. He'd wait for it.

"She'll ask. Then you have to lie."

"She's tough to lie to," Bobby agreed. "Mostly because she sees right through me every single time."

"So does that mean we're going to the hospital?" Jack had a slightly disappointed look on his face.

Bobby glanced at him. "Yeah. I don't like it any more than you do."

"Then we can go somewhere else."

Bobby shrugged. He figured that part of the reason Ma had sent him with the kid was not necessarily to get Jack out of the house, but to make sure Bobby actually went and did what she asked. Having Jack with him made him feel the need to be honest. "We have to go to the store too."

"They sell the tape there," Jack began, "that you can wrap your hand with."

Bobby laughed good-naturedly. "You're a little devil, huh?" he began. "Clever. Very clever. But Ma's gonna guess. You don't understand how perceptive she is. It's like she reads minds."

"And it'd be on the receipt."

"Good point."

"Will it take long?"

"The doctor? I dunno. It depends on how crowded it is. Hopefully not too long though. Luckily it's not far away."

Jack was silent. They rode like that for a while, the radio the only sound in the car. Meanwhile Bobby considered taking them somewhere else and just avoiding the hassle of it all. But eventually he found himself in the clinic parking garage before he could create a convincing enough argument in his head.

He turned off the car and started out. He slammed the door behind him and waited for Jack to get out, but there was no movement. After a moment he sighed and opened his door again.

"Jack, come on," he said, peering into the car. Jack was still wearing his seatbelt. "Don't do this."

Jack looked over at him. "I'll wait."

"You hate sitting in the car alone," Bobby pointed out. He should have known this was going to happen. He wondered if Ma had sent him with Jack to torture him. This was more than a test of patience, and she'd have known it. Jack hated to go anywhere near doctors and hospitals made him extremely nervous. Bringing him along when it wasn't for him seemed counterintuitive. "Don't you?"

"I changed my mind."

"Come on. We're not here for you, remember?"

"Yeah."

"Then, come on. I want to get in and out of here as fast as we can."

Jack looked indecisive. "But…"

"We're not here for you. There's nothing for you to be scared of."

"I want to wait in the car."

"You want to sit in an empty parking garage by yourself, Jackie? Don't be ridiculous."

"I don't know."

"Come on." Bobby gave him an insistent look. "Don't make me have to come over there, because I have no problem carrying you. I hate hospitals as much as you."

Jack made a face but slowly unbuckled his seatbelt.

"That's my boy," Bobby muttered, closing his door again. He started walking when he saw Jack get out of the car, glancing behind him just once to make sure that he followed him.

A moment later Jack was at his side and they were halfway across the parking garage towards the elevators. When they reached it, Bobby pressed the down button, and sighed.

"It just makes me nervous," Jack said quietly, shifting his weight back and forth.

"I know, kiddo," Bobby agreed. "But we're not here for you."

"It still does," Jack insisted. "It makes me not feel well."

"Well, you have to get over that, Jack," Bobby persisted. "It's not always bad to go to the doctor, you know. It doesn't always mean that something bad happened."

"We're here because something bad happened to your hand."

"True. But I did it to myself, so it was just a stupid mistake."

"Still."

Bobby sighed. "Agree to disagree."

"I don't feel well. Can't I stay in the car? I won't even notice it's an empty parking garage… I promise."

"We're not near the car anymore… Don't do this to me. Don't freak out on me. We're going to go in, get me an x-ray, and go home. Lickity split."

Jack made a face, kicking at an imaginary spot on the floor. "But, Bobby…"

"This is the slowest fucking thing ever." Bobby pushed at the elevator button again, despite the fact it was still obviously lit up. "What level are we on? Six?"

Jack shrugged.

Bobby sighed, realizing now that Jack was going to be in a mood the entire time that they were here. He wanted to tell him to snap out of it and quit being a baby over stupid things, but he refrained. He knew that Jack felt nervous around hospitals and doctors because nearly every time he'd been to a doctor it was because something was the matter or someone had hurt him in some way, whether it be physically or even sexually. Bobby knew that wasn't a very good feeling, but in the same way, Jack needed to learn to stop making that association.

Bobby punched at the button again, harder, like it would make a difference. He was using his left hand now.

"That's how you hurt your hand," Jack said, watching him.

"No, how I hurt my hand was a little bit more dramatic…" Bobby answered. Finally the elevator came and he watched the doors slowly creep open, rolling his eyes. He stepped in and sighed, watching Jack very slowly walk in after him.

"I don't know who's slower," Bobby said as he pressed the button for Floor 1. "You, or the elevator."

"I just don't feel well…"

"Well, then it's a good thing we're at a hospital."

Jack gave him a look, like he was worried Bobby actually meant that. "No. I didn't mean it like that."

Bobby shrugged, almost wanting to laugh at him.

Jack then leaned over and pressed all of the buttons, from 1 to 5, just as the elevator doors closed. Bobby saw what he was doing a second too late, and shocked, he pulled him back by the arm, but not fast enough. All the buttons were lit up. Bobby didn't even know what to do.

"Jack," he began. He didn't even know whether or not to be mad. "Why did you just do that?" He kept his voice surprisingly calm, more confused than anything else.

Jack pulled away, twisting out of Bobby's grip, and backed himself into the corner of the elevator, looking frustrated. The elevator slowly crept down to the fifth floor.

"You realize the slower we get there, the more nervous you're gonna feel. It's all in the anticipation. The sooner we get in there, the sooner we get out. And for fuck's sake… We're not even here for you."

Jack didn't say anything.

"Jack, look at me," Bobby persisted. When Jack continued to just stare at the floor, he shook his head, frustrated. "God dammit, Jack. You need to get over this."

They reached the fifth floor and there was a man waiting there, looking equally impatient. He stepped in when the doors opened and moved to press the first floor button. Then his hand just hovered there. He noticed all the lit floors and cursed.

"God, who did that?" he muttered. He glanced at Jack and Bobby as the doors slowly shut, like they would have the answer. "You going to one?"

"Yeah," Bobby said, eyeing Jack. "There was some annoying kid in here. Pushed all the buttons. Got out at the top floor."

"God, I hate that," the man persisted.

Jack slowly slipped behind Bobby, hiding himself. Bobby reached around to pat his arm, internally laughing. Jack grabbed his hand, squeezing hard, and refusing to let go. Bobby began to almost feel bad for him. As the slow to begin with elevator stopped at every floor on its tedious journey to the first floor, Jack thought he was going to have a panic attack. Especially when at every floor, the other man pushed at the 'door close' button again and again, saying "come on, come on".

Finally they reached the bottom floor and the man rushed out. Bobby followed him slowly, pulling Jack with him, and they walked towards the entrance.

"See what you get?" Bobby said with a laugh. "That what you call karma."

Jack didn't respond. He let go of Bobby's hand.

"You know what's worse?" Bobby continued. "If that guy is a radiologist who's going on duty and will x-ray my hand. That would be so funny."

"Shut up, Bobby," Jack answered as they walked into the clinic.

Bobby rolled his eyes at him with a chuckle. "We need to go in another elevator. I broke my thumb once and came to this same place, so I know the floor. You aren't allowed to touch any of the buttons in the elevator, by the way."

"I don't want to."

"Good." Jack paused. "Do I have to go in with you?"

"Yeah, why not?" Bobby studied him as they approached the other elevator. "Jackie. Come on. What's the matter?"

"I just don't like it, being here…" Jack's eyes went to the white walls and the people walking by.

"For the hundredth time, we're not here for you. No one's even going to look at you."

"I know…" Jack admitted.

"So get over the feeling. I don't know what you're freaked out about."

"I don't know."

"It's like the simplest things get you seconds from a panic attack, Jack, and I don't know if you're going to grow out of it, or what, but it would be nice."

"I can't help it."

"Well, then try to. And stop. It's just a doctor's office."

Jack watched Bobby press the elevator button. "Are you mad now?"

"No. Unless you press all the buttons again. Slowing us down is just annoying, but it doesn't stop us. Like I said, let's just get this over with."

"Okay."

This elevator was much faster and within no time they were on the third floor and Bobby was filling out paperwork. Jack sat next to him, tapping his fingers on his leg and casually overlooking what Bobby was filling out. Name, address, date of birth.

Jack laughed when he read what Bobby had written for the line to describe the problem he had.

"What?" Bobby asked.

"You wrote 'my hand hurts'."

"Well, it does. That's why I'm here."

"It just sounds random."

"Should I write 'my hand is purple' instead?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Bobby smirked and added to the line 'and it's purple', making Jack laugh again. "Oh, they're gonna love me. But they'll get it once they actually see it."

"It looks like a science fiction thing."

"Starting to, yeah. It didn't look this bad when I woke up today. It just got worse over the day. Shoulda known Ma would freak out about it."

Bobby continued down the form, turning the page. He hated these. The family history portions of the forms. Biggest annoyance. "I don't think my hand is a genetic problem. Don't know why I have to fucking fill this out…" he muttered. He sighed, and handed the clipboard to Jack. "Here."

"What?"

"Have fun."

Jack looked down at the form in his hands. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Check off the boxes that seem fun. Look. Like this one. Say your father had ovarian cancer. And your mother testicular. And this one's funny, too. Say your whole family has irritable bowel syndrome. They won't know what the hell I'm here for."

Jack made a face.

Bobby took the form back from him. "Fine, Jackie. Be pragmatic. Jesus." He started to fill it out, quickly, leaving most of the page blank. He continued turning through the forms and then signed the last page, getting up to turn it back into the receptionist.

"Thanks," the black woman at the desk said to him. "Someone will be with your shortly."

Bobby nodded and returned to Jack, who was sitting stiffly in his chair, hands on the armrest like he was ready to jump up and run at second's notice. Bobby plopped back down into the seat beside him. "Deep breath."

"Huh?" Jack said.

"Calm down. You look like you're gonna run outta here."

"I gotta go to the bathroom."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "We passed it on the way in. Go ahead."

"I know. But I'll just wait, I think." He eyed the door suspiciously. "Yeah, I'll wait."

"Okay. I'll never understand you." Bobby just shrugged, picking up a magazine beside him. It was a Sports Illustrated. He picked up the Rolling Stone next to it and dropped it on Jack's lap. "Here."

"I don't want it."

"Fine…" Bobby took it back and dropped it back on the seat beside them. Jack looked pale. He studied him for a minute. "Are you really that nervous?"

"I don't know why," Jack answered. "We're not even here for me." He said it just how Bobby had said it to him multiple times in the past half hour, as though by saying it to himself he would somehow convince himself of it.

"I told Ma I shouldn't bring you with me… You're like this every time."

"Sorry…"

"No, it's not that," Bobby answered. "Just try to get over it."

"Okay…"

Bobby just shook his head, flipping through the pages of the magazine. He wished that Jack wasn't so uptight. He wished he could calm him down somehow, but with the sterile looking room and the elevator music playing lightly from a small radio in the corner, there were really no stimulus to do so. Jack had calmed down quite a bit in the last year, but he was still prone to this mood shifts, and he was easily unnerved.

One good thing was the lack of crowd. There was only one other person sitting in this particular waiting room. Bobby was thrilled. That way they could at least get out of here quickly. He knew they both wanted that, at least.

And sure enough, within a few minutes, Bobby's name was called. He got up to go and noticed Jack remaining seated. The nurse waited in the doorway.

"Jack," Bobby said, putting down his magazine. "C'mon."

"I'll stay here," Jack whispered.

Bobby frowned at him. "We talked about this."

"I'll stay here," Jack insisted, giving Bobby an earnest look. He suddenly looked close to tears.

"Jack…" Bobby objected.

"I'll stay here."

Bobby didn't feel like arguing. Jack had such a miserable look on his face and he started to empathize with him. "Promise you won't move?"

Jack nodded insistently, still gripping the armrests. This time it looked like he was securing himself there instead of preparing himself for flight.

"Okay, just don't." Bobby ruffled his hair. "I don't know how long I'll be."

Jack nodded again.

Bobby shook his head and walked away.

About thirty minutes had passed. Jack sat still, exactly where Bobby had left him. He was unsure of what to do. No one else had come or gone, and he still felt nervous. Part of him was relieved because he hadn't had to go in to see the doctor or look at all the medical supplies or the sterile small examination rooms. But the other part of him was anxious for Bobby to return and worried about what Bobby thought.

It had been a last minute decision to stay where he was, and really impulsive, but he didn't regret it. He couldn't explain why he felt the way he did, he just… did. And he preferred to just trust his instincts. And he was just happy Bobby hadn't forced him.

He was getting tired of sitting though. And bored. Being bored meant he thought too much, and after a few minutes of that, he just really wanted Bobby to come back.

In a few more minutes he got his wish, and Bobby came back, his hand tightly wrapped in a white bandage, laughing as the doctor behind him made some comment about punching walls. There was just a couple more minutes checking out at the desk and Bobby was back, gesturing Jack off his seat.

"C'mon, kid. You bored?" Bobby asked him as Jack quietly followed him towards the exit.

"A little."

"Figured you'd be. I'd be off the walls. You okay?"

"Yeah."

"It wasn't bad. Not broken." Bobby held up his bandaged hand. "Really badly bruised and swollen, but hey, I coulda told anybody that. I should be a doctor." Bobby sighed as he headed towards the elevators. "What a waste of time. You enjoy the waiting room?"

"Yeah."

"Wasn't too bad, I guess." Bobby glanced at the watch on his wrist. "I mean, could've taken a lot longer. We still gotta go to the store."

"Okay."

"You're quiet." Bobby gave him a curious look.

"No."

"Okay. Well let's get outta here and go to the supermarket and home. You'll go into the supermarket, right?" Bobby teased, throwing his arm around Jack's shoulders. "Huh, you baby?"

"Yeah," Jack replied, pushing Bobby's arm off of him.

"Good. I'm not leaving you in the car. Like an old lady. Or a dog..." They reached the elevator and Bobby pressed the down button. "Same rules apply going down. No more buttons for you."

"I won't," Jack persisted in exasperation.

Bobby laughed as the elevator arrived and they stepped in. Bobby thought things over in his mind for a minute and then began the conversation he wanted. "Why didn't you come in, Jack?"

Jack's brow furrowed. "You didn't need me to."

"I know," Bobby admitted. "But that's not the point. What's the difference between the waiting room and actually seeing the doctor?"

"I just didn't feel like it."

"You shouldn't be scared of things like that. It's a room. It's all in your head."

Jack just stared at the floor and shrugged.

"I'm not getting mad at you or anything, I'm just saying…" Bobby persisted. "You make it hard on yourself. And I know you think you can't help how you feel, but you can. Power of persuasion. You mind is just trying to trick you. You can trick it back."

Jack shrugged again and the elevator doors opened in front of them. They walked out, back towards the parking garage, and Bobby decided to give up on the whole conversation. He figured it would come in time. Jack went through random phases.

In the elevator in the parking garage, they headed back to the sixth level. Bobby dangled the car keys in Jack's face. "You wanna drive?"

Jack just stared at him.

Bobby grinned. "C'mon, Jack. Lighten up." He shoved the keys back in his pocket. "And you'll never hear me ask you that again, so you lost your moment."

"I'm twelve."

"I know how old you are. I won't even let you drive my baby when you're fifty either."

"Your car's old," Jack answered.

"No disrespecting the car, Jack."

"Angel said that your car could run into anything and it would probably be an improvement."

"Angel's a dick."

"And he said that every time he's in it, he swears he hears pieces falling out of it."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "This is precisely why Angel gets his ass kicked as much as he does. Don't listen to him. Ever, about anything. If he says the sky is blue you should question it."

Jack smiled.

They reached the sixth floor and made their way towards the car. The parking garage was a big creepy, even Bobby thought, and he couldn't help but look behind him a few times as they approached the car. He realized how stupid it would have been to leave Jack there alone in the car, and was suddenly really glad that he hadn't.

"I might tell Angel that I actually do have a flesh eating bacteria," Bobby said. "What do you think he'll say?"

"That he doesn't believe you."

"Well, obviously. But it could be funny." Bobby unlocked the car and they both climbed in. As soon as the car was on, Jack started with the radio stations again. Bobby sighed. "Seatbelt, Jack."

Jack pulled on his seatbelt absentmindedly, hand going right back for the tune button on the car stereo immediately after.

Bobby started to pull out of the parking lot.

At least some things were routine with Jack.