Title:  Not Hard To Understand After All

Author: Shimmerwings

Rating:  PG-13

Pairing: Jack/David

Status: Work in progress.

Feedback:  I’d say “It doesn’t matter”, but I’m not that strong.  I need feedback.

Archive: Seize the Night, any others just ask.

Summary:  When the Delancey brothers take out their anger on David after the strike, Jack has to come to terms with his feelings. 

Disclaimer:  Disney would never do with their characters what I am.  Their loss.

Warnings:  Some violence, a bit of strong language. 

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Jack scanned the courtyard of distribution center.

“Hey Jack. What’cha lookin’ for?” Racetrack asked, coming to stand next to him.

“Dave,” he answered.  He pushed himself away from the wall and straightened up.  “He isn’t here yet.”

“Huh,” said Race.  He glanced around.  “You’re right.  I figured he was prob’ly with you, that’s why I hadn’t seen him yet.”

Jack glanced sharply at his friend.  What did he mean by that? Race was searching his pockets for cigar stubs, though, and didn’t seem to be giving the comment any more thought.  Jack frowned.  He’d been getting really sensitive about comments like that lately and he wasn’t sure why.

“It’s not like him to be late like this,” he continued, pushing those thoughts aside.

Race shrugged.  “Give the guy a break.  Everybody’s allowed to be late once in a while.”  He laughed.  “Even Dave.  ‘Sides, his kid brother’s been sick.  Maybe he stayed home to help him or something.”

“Yeah, sure.”  Jack nodded slowly. 

Maybe Race was right.  Les had been sick for the last few days and Mrs. Jacobs hadn’t let him go out to sell.  So maybe David was staying home to make his brother feel better.  That didn’t seem right, though; Jack had been visiting Les, and the last time he’d seen him he had been a lot better.  Not his usual bouncy self, but able to jump out of bed when Jack came by.  Plus, David needed the money because his father was still out of work.  Jack knew he wouldn’t stay home unless he had to.

“So how’s it goin’ with your girl?” Race asked.

Jack sighed and let Race change the subject.  He was probably worrying about nothing.  “Fine, I guess,” he said.

Sarah was another sensitive subject recently.  Jack had started feeling uncomfortable with their relationship and he thought Sarah realized this. 

The change wasn’t in her, really.  She was the same sweet and caring girl she had been when he met her.  But something was different.  When he looked at her, he didn’t see someone who could understand him and keep him from getting into trouble, like he used to see in her.  He definitely didn’t see someone who he could picture being happy with for the rest of his life.  More often than not, he was stopping by the Jacobs’ to see David instead of to visit Sarah.

“Not goin’ so good anymore, is it?” Race asked sympathetically.  “Boy, do I understand that.”

Jack suddenly remembered the last time he’d been alone with Sarah.  She had been talking quietly about something--he couldn’t even remember what--and he’d jerked away when she touched his shoulder.  They had continued to talk awkwardly for another few minutes, but eventually Sarah had stood up hastily and said she had to finish supper.  Jack had let her go without a protest.

“No, not so good,” Jack admitted.  “I guess she’s just not what I thought she was.”  Or I’m not who I thought I was.

Race patted his shoulder.  “Don’t worry about it.  Everything’ll work out.”  Jack nodded and Race grinned.  “Now, how ‘bout we go get some papes before they’re all gone?”

“Sounds good to me.”  Jack smiled and followed his friend, determined to put aside his confusing thoughts, at least for a bit.  It wouldn’t be too hard to do that with all the guys surrounding him, joking around.

Jack stepped up to the counter, grinning.  Behind him, Skittery and Bumlets finished serenading a laughing Blink with a high-pitched love song.

“The usual,” he said distractedly, placing his change on the counter.  He grabbed the papes Wiesel shoved at him, turning to go.

“Cowboy,” said someone behind him, voice dripping with sarcasm.  Jack looked and saw Morris Delancey sneering at him from behind the desk.  His brother stood slightly behind him, smirking stupidly, a large bruise over one eye.

“What, Morris?  You finally figure out how to count without using your fingers?”

Morris scowled.  “Yeah, you’re laughing now,” he snapped.

“You got something to say, say it,” Jack said impatiently.  “Or spare us all an’ keep your yaps shut.”  He wasn’t in the mood for their shit this morning.

Both Oscar and Morris smiled at him, making his skin crawl.  “Just wanted to know if you’d seen your pal Dave today,” Morris said slowly.  Jack shot him a hard look.  How’d they know-- “We wanted to know how he was doin’.”

Jack turned angrily to leave, but something caught his attention.  Oscar’s arms were folded across his chest, but Morris’ were hanging at his side, leaving his knuckles bare.  And his knuckles were swollen and scraped like they’d been hitting something.

The sullen roaring in his ears drowned out whatever Skittery was trying to say to him.  He was locked, frozen in place, the world stalled.  Only “frozen” wasn’t the right word because he was raging, burning…

Blood and the cruel, steel glint of metal on bare knuckles.  Mocking laughter mixed with Sarah’s cries.

“Stop it!  Don’t hurt him!”

With an almost audible crack, awareness rushed back in on Jack.  And somehow Morris was pressed hard against the bars of the circulation desk and it was his fist bunched in Morris’ shirt, pulling tight and twisting fiercely.  Dimly, he was aware of Oscar staggering back in shock and urgent hands on his shoulders, but he shrugged them off, totally focused on the sneering face in front of him.

“Talk,” he said coolly, letting the icy tone in the word chill some of the fire burning in his mind.  He felt dangerous, close to exploding.

Apparently, Morris sensed this.  He swallowed convulsively, once, before snatching back his sneer.  “What’s to tell, Kelly?”

Jack laughed, more of a growl.

“That’s what you’re gonna tell me.  Let’s start with why your brother there has that nice shiner.”

Morris smirked.  “Would you believe it, he ran into a door this morning.”

“No.  I wouldn’t believe it.”  He punctuated the statement by tightening his grip on the grimy shirt in his fist.  “Now tell me what you did to David.”

“What makes you--“  Nervous laughter.  “What makes you think we did anything?  We were just expressing a bit of honest concern for a friend.”  From the tense set to his shoulders, he was realizing that ‘Uncle Wiesel’ wasn’t coming to his rescue any time soon.

“Bullshit,” Jack spat out.  Some distant part of him kept hearing the sound of Sarah’s screams and, over that, the solidly painful thud of punches connecting.

Morris’ face twisted.  His hand came up to clutch angrily at Jack’s wrist.  “And what if me an’ Oscar did happen to run across your pal this morning?  What’re you gonna do?  Go running off to rescue him like some cowboy, huh?”  Jack felt fury clawing at his chest, threatening to explode out of him, but Morris was ignoring the way Jack’s hand was trembling under his fingers.

“We had some unfinished business with him.”

“Stop!  Let him go!”

“Kid’s mouth is too big, so we fixed that some”

Papes thrown in the mud, dash across the street to see a figure struggling with arms pulled back. Wild surge of anger and sense of satisfaction as his forehead connected with the attacker’s face.

“Don’t know why you care so much anyway.  He deserved what he got.”

That was too much for Jack.  Teeth clenched, he pushed his face close, ignoring the bars pressing white, bloodless strips against Morris’ face.  “I’ll make sure you get what you deserve later,” he ground out, voice low and harsh even to his ears.

He stepped back.  With a final jerk, he slammed Morris forward against the bars then dropped his hand.  Morris fell into his brother with a groan, clutching a bloody nose and glaring.

Ignoring the way angry tremors still ran through his body, Jack turned his back on the Delancey brothers and looked at his friends.  They were watching him with mixtures of surprise and impressed approval.

“I’m goin’--“ he said, gesturing with chin to indicate the way to David’s place.  He didn’t trust himself to say much right now.

“Yeah, Jack,” Race reassured him.  “You want us to--“ he pointed to the Delancey’s.

“No,” Jack said sharply.  Let me, Race.  Race seemed to understand and nodded.  Jack threw Race a quick, tight smile of thanks and whirled away to find David.

TBC…