[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]The Fight [Closed]

[Nathan Walker]

“Got it.”

And with that Nathan was out of the truck and closed the door behind him, but didn’t lock the car door. He had the sense that Jack was just a bit jumpy around him, and it wouldn't do to give the poor kid a reason to be suspicious. Besides, if something did come up Jack could lock the doors himself. And most of what was valuable to Nathan was always on his person anyway.

The convenience store was just like many of the other ones like it that dotted the rural areas of the country, with a man probably no more than five years older than Jack standing behind the counter. Nathan nodded to him as he made his way towards the glass doors in the back that kept the drinks cold while showing customers what was available. A quick glance at what was available brought a frown until his gaze stopped on one selection. He quickly opened the door and grabbed two glass bottles of Coca-Cola, nodding as he felt the cold glass in his hand. Satisfied he closed the door and went over to the check out.

“These and a six pound bag of ice.” He said as he reached into his wallet and pulled out a ten dollar bill. The clerk wordlessly punched everything up into the register and took the note from Nathan, then handed him back his change. Nathan took it without a word, shoving the coins into his jeans pocket and the bills into his wallet. He then grabbed the bottles and headed out the door, stopping only at the silver ice chest to grab the bag of ice. It was the smallest available, but Nathan didn’t mind too much.

When he arrived back at the truck, Nathan set the bag down and opened the door, setting one bottle in the cupholder then setting the other bottle’s lid against the door latch on the door of his truck then pressed down, popping off the lid then handing the open bottle to Jack.

“Give me a second to get an icepack made up.” Nathan said as he opened up the back door, reaching into the back pocket of the driver’s seat.

[Jack Darby]

Jack said nothing, taking the bottle listlessly. He took a sip, wincing as the cut on his lip stung from the drink. The time in the truck alone had given him a chance to think, to get his brain sorted out and process what had gone wrong. He knew that there was a chance the senior would finish what he started come next school day, and Jack was thinking of how he might avoid him or get around him. He nodded absentmindedly as Nathan talked about getting an ice pack made up.

After sitting in quiet for who knows how long, Jack finally said, "It was my fault." He took another sip of his drink, looking down with an expression of guilt. His swelling eyes closed.

"I threw the first punch. I should've walked away. He called my Mom a wh - something I didn't like."

Jack couldn't bring himself to speak that horrible word. The thought of someone calling his mom something so terrible stung like the wounds on his face, or even worse than that. After everything she had went through...everything she was doing to try and keep a brave face, despite the fact Jack could see the worry in her eyes.... She didn't deserve to be badmouthed like that. The senior should've just kept his fat ass shut and moved on, part of Jack wanted to argue, but the teen knew he was just as much at fault. He wasn't that athletic, was shorter than the guy he'd tried to punch, and had no fighting experience whatsoever.

[Nathan Walker]

Nathan didn’t make any reply to what Jack said as he pulled out a plastic sandwich baggie from the back pouch of the driver's seat. He kept them here as a utility measure, because one never knew when you needed a sealable plastic container. He wordlessly poured in a full measure of ice cubes from the bag, then sealed it up and passed it to Jack.

“Put this on your face where it hurts. It will help with the swelling.”

He then wordlessly replaced the container with the rest of the baggies in the pouch, then retied the bag of ice and placed it on the floor in the backseat, then opened his own bottle of Coca-Cola on the door latch before closing it back up and slipping into the driver’s seat and closing the driver’s door behind him.

“Did you manage to hit him before he turned your face into a Jackson Pollock painting?” he asked quietly, taking a long sip from his drink.

[Jack Darby]

Jack obliged, and took the ice pack in his hands. He placed it against the mosaic of yellow and purple that had become his cheek, hissing again as the cold bit into his sensitive skin. He knew it would help in the long run, but right now, it hurt like a son of a bitch. Turning away from Nathan, trying to hide his wince from the Sergeant, Jack looked out the window for several silent moments.

When Nathan spoke, Jack didn't answer right away. His swollen face twisted into a grimace, and she shrank down in his seat again. "Well..." he mumbled, fingers rubbing idly at the ice pack, "no. Sort of. I touched his nose with my knuckles. He didn't like that."

The jerk's reflexes were good, Jack would give him that. The senior had pulled back as soon as Jack swung, grazed only by the top of the skinnier boy's hand. The look in his eyes was one Jack wouldn't forget soon: a sudden, explosive anger that had been followed by shoving and shouting. Jack had barely been able to react before he was suddenly on the ground and being turned into a punching bag. He wondered how many fights the other kid had been in before, or if moving that fast that was just a perk of being a jock.

"It was stupid. I'm sorry."

[Nathan Walker]

If Nathan noticed Jack turning away from him he didn’t give any indication. Instead the sergeant merely kept staring out the windshield of the truck at the exterior wall of the gas station they were parked at and took another sip of cola, seeming content to merely listen. When Jack apologized only then did he turn his head to look over at the teenager and shook his head.

“I don’t know why you’re apologizing to me, kid. I don’t blame you for taking offense at what he called your mom. Heck if I was in your shoes I probably would have done the same thing.” he shrugged and took another sip from his bottle. He most certainly would have done the same thing if he was in Jack’s place, but Nathan had the sense to not tell that just yet to the teenager. “But you gotta learn to pick your fights. Now some of that is going to come with age and maturity, but some of it you have to learn through experience.”

Usually by getting your face kicked in by someone stronger than you...

He paused again before taking another sip, his lips pursed together in thought for a moment before he decided to cut somewhat to the heart of the issue.

“Your dad isn’t really in your life all too much, is he?”

[Jack Darby]

The question made Jack sit up with a start. He eyed Nathan with a bit of an incredulous look. Sure, it was common knowledge the Darbys were a one-parent household. It didn't bother Jack - his father had left before any real memory of him had begun to develop. June never talked about Jack Sr., and Jack didn't ask. All he knew was that their breakup had been a difficult one, so who was Jack to pry?

"No," he said flatly. "And it's not because of him I got in a fight. I just...I'm just acting stupid. Like you said, I have to learn to pick my fights. This'll teach me." Again he went back to staring out the window, huddling up with a sullen expression. An awkward feeling settled around his shoulders and in his gut. Was he being too harsh with his words? Was the Sergeant just trying to help? Of course he's just trying to help.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. All of this was stupid. Jack took his drink and drank it slow, wincing a little as some cola dribbled out of the edge of his swollen lip. He wiped his face with his sleeve, and glanced out of the corner of his eye at Nathan again.

"You, uh...you have a dad?" he asked. He didn't know why he did, but Jack did.

[Nathan Walker]

Hmm...that probably wasn’t the best thing to say now that he thought about it.

As Nathan sat there trying to figure out what to say next, Jack ended up beating him to it with his question. The sergeant was silent for a long moment before taking another sip from his drink, seeming to mull the question over.

“Yeah. Problem is he and I are nearly nothing alike.”

Well...that wasn’t exactly the whole truth. There was a shared love of jazz music and baseball, and a similar attitude to certain things that Nathan’s mother liked to remind him about on occasion. Then of course there were the physical similarities, a similar facial structure and hair color along with a similar physical build. But beyond that, the two of them couldn’t have been more different than how they were. One’s idea of a good outside activity was eighteen holes of golf while the other would rather go on a three day hunting trip in the mountains with nothing but what he could carry on his back or a pack horse.

Nathan took another sip of cola as he buried his thoughts about the matter again, then looked over at Jack for a moment.

“Why do you ask?”

[Jack Darby]

"Well...you asked about mine," he said, giving the Sergeant a wary glance. Had Jack stepped into territory he shouldn't have trespassed in? Maybe, but so had the Sergeant, in a way. The teenager recognized he was trying to help, in that way of giving sage advice adults tried to do. "It's just...I thought maybe you didn't have one, either."

He sighed and looked ahead. He buried his face in one hand, wincing as he rubbed at the bruises.

"My mom's not going to be happy," he said. "I'm not supposed to get in fights." Like anyone was supposed to, unless they were a soldier like Sergeant Walker. Arcee would probably want to know what happened as well - it's not like he could cover them up somehow. He was not resorting to asking Miko if she happened to have any makeup he could use on his face (which she probably didn't, and was probably anathema to her). The boy looked out the window, drinking his cola again, and then looked back at the Sergeant.

"I know I won't do it again, that's for sure." As if he needed to say anything about that.

[Nathan Walker]

If he didn’t have one...

“All good kid.” Nathan shrugged, taking another sip of the cola and thankful that Jack had decided to change the subject.

“Well...I don’t have any children myself, but from what I’ve seen interacting with people who do have kids your age...I think she’s just going to be grateful that you aren’t getting yourself into other types of trouble,” he pointed out. Fowler’s file on Jack had shown that the kid didn’t really have any known history of disciplinary issues at school or any run-ins with the local police for the usual things that parents worried about their kids doing. June Darby was probably even more paranoid than most moms given the fact that she was a nurse and saw the aftermath of the bad choices.

There had been an interesting note about street racing, but it seemed Optimus had been able to nip that problem in the bud before it had gotten too out of control.

“And I think she’ll be glad to hear that you have sworn off future fights,” he chuckled. “Though I can’t say as to whether or not she’ll still ground you for it.” he shrugged. Wasn’t his circus, wasn’t his monkeys to deal with. Damn if this was what having teenagers was like he wasn’t sure that he wanted kids.

Well...deep down he knew the kids at Omega were good ones. Despite the trouble they seemed to get up to on a daily basis.

“So what do you do when you’re not getting your ass handed to you?”