"Bobby, go the fuck away!" Jack mumbled. He slammed the door and allowed himself to collapse on his bed, only for Bobby to force the door open and make his presence known with each threatening stomp of his feet. "I'm tired. Now fuck off, okay?"

"I bet you are fucking tired, ya' little fairy," Bobby returned quickly. The constant use of "little fairy" was really getting to Jack, and Bobby could see it perfectly in the form of blue flames, dancing lively in Jack's eyes. "Just tell me what you're on. What magical combination is it tonight? If you tell me now, I'll lessen your ass-kicking by a fragment of a degree."

Jack sat up quickly, rising to his feet, obviously agitated and rather afraid. Did Bobby just threaten him? Jack stifled a shudder and snarled softly; on any other given day, Bobby would've laughed at the facial gesture, but now wasn't the time. Jack was genuinely upset, but, even though he towered over Bobby by a few inches, his hard expression could not match that of the elder male before him. Bobby was not only pissed, but he was worried and scared, all wrapped up into one. One of those emotions was hard enough to manage for Bobby Mercer.

"What makes you fucking think I'm on anything?" Jack hissed, arms flying crossed clumsily. For a second there, Bobby thought Jack was going to strike him.

Good move that he didn't, Bobby thought impatiently.

"You slurred, damn near fell on your ass on the stairs—I know you're a clumsy bitch, princess, but you're not normally that clumsy—and your pupils are dilated." All of this arguing was really taking its toll on Bobby's heart and mind, making his head spin even faster than before and making his heart throb sadly. "Stop lyin' and just tell me what you're on, now. Stop wastin' my time. Y'know, you're lucky I love you, otherwise I'd 'of called the cops by now."

That was a bull-faced lie—at least the second half of it was.

At being called a "bitch", Jack's eyes lost a bit of their high-and-mighty, I'm-pissed-off appearance and grew softer. Not being the best at arguing or keeping a straight face (angry, sad or happy), Jack was known to crumble quite easily. All of the insults quickly produced by his brother were mounting on top of one another, like levels of water. The water was nearing his neck at the moment.

"Bobby, stop…fuck…stop yelling…" he grunted, clenching his jaw again, somewhat ashamed of how his eyes twinkled with unshed tears, wanting to fall down his face and join the body of water all around him. Not to mention the fact that he lost—again.

"I'd stop yellin' if you'd just answer my fucking question, Jack," Bobby said. Slowly but surely Bobby got himself to lower his voice, to suck down his anger, as it was all starting to get to Jack. For a moment there Bobby had forgotten how ease it was to…break Jack—more so now, because Jack had been broken before. Broken by several fast moving bullets. Bobby shuddered. He didn't want to break him anymore; he wanted to help him, to mend him. "C'mon, what're you on? Please tell me," Bobby spoke and let out a long, low breath. "I just want to know in case something happens."

Jack continued to clench his jaw until his face hurt like a mother; he also fought back tears until it was virtually impossible. With his breaking point drawing nearer and nearer and the water level around him rising, Jack sat down on the bed, unfolded his arms, and used them to prop up his head.

"Don't…don't cry, Jackie," Bobby huffed, biting his lip.

Fucking great. Now he's crying. Way to go, Bobby.

Needless to say, stopping someone who was crying wasn't Bobby's element—it was actually a really weakening thing, crying. Especially from Jack, for it made him melt, it made all of his previous worries just…float away and be replaced solely by worries of Jack's overall well-being.

Bobby swayed a little bit, munching on his lip until he found the guts to speak again. "Just tell me, please. I need to make sure everyone's okay. Just please, tell me." Bobby knelt down in front of Jack and rubbed at the sides of his knees. Jack choked on a sob before shaking his head, his breath ragged in his throat. "Please, Jackie. It's okay…I didn't mean to—please, just tell me."

"It hurts…" Jack whispered, his words surrounded by the pain in his voice.

"What hurts, Jackie? What hurts?" Bobby questioned, still rubbing circles on Jack's legs, but allowing them to go down almost to his ankle and then back up to his knees.

"They hurt." Jack removed his hands from his face and crossed his arms again. He rocked forward a little and sobbed again. "They ache like crazy…"

He said that they didn't hurt when he ran out of pills. The surgery closed them up nicely, and it's been almost two months since that day. But, now of all times, they ache a lot? Jackie, sweetheart…you lied when they said they didn't hurt anymore? Jackie…

Bobby sighed loudly and scampered from his post on the floor. He sat down next to Jack and slowly wrapped his left arm around the other's waist, drawing him near. Soft blond hair tickled at the underside of Bobby's chin as Jack rested his head on the other's shoulder, choking loudly on a sob. Bobby granted the other a few moments to cry, to get everything out, before he continued his interrogation—but this time around he made sure he was much gentler about going after the answer.

"Please, tell me what you've taken today. C'mon, Jack, you can tell Bobby…"

"But you're gonna be angry! You said…!"

"I was angry, Jackie. I was; I was. I'm calm now. I just want to make sure you're alright. I love you, Jackie. I just want you okay," Bobby assured him quickly. He pulled the other tighter into his body and kissed the top of his head. It felt…right to be holding Jack—but now wasn't the time. It was only time for Jack to tell Bobby what was coursing through his bloodstream. Bobby didn't have the slightest clue as to what he was on. There could haven been so much tainting his baby brother…his beautiful baby brother. Jack had been gone since noon (he said he was coming back, but he didn't, though he called at six to apologize for that); he could've been on anything then and could've been on anything at the current moment, though he was resting safely in Bobby's arms.

With a quiet howl Jack let his left arm fall limply before Bobby and himself. Bobby rose a brow at the motion, a sort of this-does-me-good-how kind of look—before he noticed several little red dots on the flesh around the top of his elbow, most of the dots bruising the boy in his arms. "Jackie…" Bobby whispered.

Jack pulled his arm back and howled again, this time a bit louder. Needle marks—from heroin. A few of them, three max., were still red and inflamed, but healing over; the others, two or three more as well, were just bruised or already healed, now there for the rest of his life, branding his skin.

"Jackie…" Bobby repeated, eyes closed, trying to find the strength to continue speaking. "Is…is that all?"

Jack reluctantly shook his head again to Bobby. This was breaking Bobby's heart. Earlier he intended on teaching Jack a lesson for all of his wrong doings of the day, but Jack had beaten him to the punch. Bobby hadn't meant for Jack to break down like this; it was probably a mixture of stress and the drugs that made his strong attitude crumble so easily.

"What else, Jackie? You gotta tell Bobby," insisted the elder.

Jack whined before sitting up, hanging his head in shame. "V…Vicodin…and s-some other pain killers…Bobby…I'm s-sorry…I'm so fucking…stupid…" he whimpered.

"When? When you have those things?" If Jack had mixed them all at once, Bobby didn't know what he would do. Sending his baby brother to rehab wouldn't do, nor would teaching him a lesson (or, now it wouldn't work). Bobby could always beat the shit out of each and every person that Jack had been around prior to coming home—but something to Bobby that tracking down everyone in the messy, bustling city of Detroit, Michigan would be hard.

"Pills were…at two and five…" Jack choked out. "H-Her—Heroin at eight and nine…"

Oh my God—that's a…that's a fucking lot of drugs for one day, Bobby thought, trying to keep his jaw from hitting the floor.

"Jack…"

"Alcohol here and there…" he rambled on. Finally he looked up, his eyes startlingly blue, catching Bobby off guard. "I-I…it takes away the p-pain…" he whispered, looking at his now trembling arms.

Bobby held him close again, shaking his head back and forth as he rubbed his arm up and down Jack's quivering shoulder. Did Jack know how easily it would've been for Jack to have O.D.'d? Did he know how easily he could've been taken advantaged of? Killed even? Did he know the risk of getting uncountable STDs from that heroin needle?

Fucking hell—heroin needles!

"Jackie, Jackie, Jackie!" Bobby cried, easing Jack out of his arms slowly. Jack lowered his head and Bobby did too, but Bobby was doing it so that he could maintain eye contact. "Who did you share needles with?" Jack caught onto what Bobby was meaning and sat up, shaking his head now.

"N-No one!" he replied, his pained face heart breaking. "I…made sure…they were…new." Every two words or so, he paused to sob, which just made the anger that used to dominate Bobby's face completely fade into the central nerve station in his head. A few simple tugs from Bobby and Jack was nestled in the elder again, both having their arms slewed around each other. "I'm sorry, Bobby…"

"You should've told me, Jackie," was all Bobby could say. They started to rock slowly in unison, clinging to one another for dear life.

- - - - -

"Jack…c'mon, it's almost five forty five. You need sleep," Bobby whispered, breaking the silence that had hovered around them for the forty or so minutes. He shifted his body, having aches in his back from behind hunched forward without moving for so long, and made Jack move a little as well. The other didn't want to, so he stayed against Bobby, clinging to him like a second skin. "Jackie. C'mon—you gotta get in bed."

Reluctantly, Jack pulled himself off of Bobby, dried his blotchy face and began undressing. After a few good seconds Jack was in nothing but his boxers and an undershirt, shivering gently, looking ever so pitiful.

Bobby sucked down an "awe". "C'mon. Lay down." Bobby stood up, groaned at the pleasant feeling of having his joints move, and pulled down the sheets of Jack's bed. He watched the younger male climb into the bed and get situated before he leaned forward, pecking him on the forehead. Then he began off.

"Bobby!" Jack spoke loudly, making Bobby turn to face him. "Stay…?"

Tired himself, Bobby thought about it momentarily and then nodded. He removed his shoes and his clothes like Jack had, stopping when only a white undershirt and his boxers were visible. He then climbed into Jack's bed and watched the other snuggle into him with a dry sob, his arms automatically wrapping around Jack. Eyelids closed down over each other as each of them said, "I love you."