Lost & Found

AN: OH GOD, I'm SO sorry guys! I'd completely forgotten to upload this chapter here! I've had it up on my other site for like, WEEKS! My y!gallery account.

Enjoy!






Jack began having recurring nightmares just one day after leaving that freaky house behind, where he'd wake in a sweat, bolting up in bed with a half-strangled scream in his throat.

In the nightmares, he'd be returning to the house in the dead of night, just like how he'd first come upon it. Though, the difference in the dreams, was that where the house had merely been dirty and aging, it would now be riddled with cobwebs and strange oozing puddles of some black liquid Jack could never identify. He'd enter the house, in nothing but his boxers, and that was confusing enough, but then once he went inside, he'd magically be in his suit again, without really knowing how it appeared on him. Next he'd hear strange whispers, and being the idiot that he often was in his dreams, he followed them, going upstairs to where the door with the deadbolt was.

Sometimes he'd cross to it, and stare for what seemed like hours until it magically opened. Behind it would be Myrtle, sitting in a creaky rocking chair and staring out that window he'd last seen her from, though it was much larger this time. Large enough to see an impossibly huge full moon through the panes. Then Jack would cross to Myrtle and place his hand on her shoulder, feeling nothing but freezing cold skin under his palm. Then that sweet old lady would transform into a wrinkled geriatric werewolf, complete with cheesy Hollywood-inspired effects, and eat Jack's face off.

Those were the ones he woke screaming from.

But the others were a little more...alarming. In a different way.

They started the same, with Jack going into the house and upstairs to the deadbolt door, but before he could cross to it, arms would enfold his chest from behind, and Ben's sweet voice would whisper in his ear. Jack never understood the words, but he never cared, cause next they were back in the room he'd slept in, and Jack was nude at the waist, and Ben was nude all over, straddling his hips and rocking above him like a bitch in heat. They'd fuck like two crazed animals, bucking and panting and whimpering, but before Jack could ever finish, Ben would suddenly have fangs and be latched to his neck, drinking his blood.

Then Jack would still wake screaming, but this time accompanied by a raging erection.

Fucking subconscious. It was seriously fucking up his sleep cycle. And his sheets.

He understood that these dreams were just his confused and curious mind trying to make sense of strange circumstances, and he didn't think Myrtle was actually a werewolf, or that Ben was going to suck his blood like some sort of Dracula reject. But, common sense only took him so far, and it was with much nervous anticipation that he returned to the place that was keeping him from sleep.

It'd been a week since he'd left, and now he was on his way back. He'd booked a room at a Ramada Inn, the very same type of hotel he'd been avoiding that fateful night, and after getting himself settled, his next destination was the local grocery store. He'd stocked up, hefting several paper bags into the trunk of his car. It wasn't the same one as before, since he wasn't on a business trip, therefore the company wouldn't reimburse him for a rental. It was one he'd borrowed from a friend. And he'd taken the week off from work, not only so he could investigate this mystery further, but because he'd been having trouble focusing at the office. The world of sales and finance had never really appealed to him, but now he couldn't even make himself do the bare minimum without getting a headache that lasted until he went home for the day.

It was nearly noon, and Jack was taking his purchases to their destination, his stomach in knots. If his assumptions were right, then Ben and his family were rather poor, and Ben was too embarrassed to admit it to a stranger. His parents had most likely been out working, just as Ben had explained, though Jack couldn't understand the hours. And hell, they may even have been out of town just like he'd said, trying to get work to support Ben and Myrtle.

Jack admired that, he truly did. Two hardworking parents, just trying to scrape together enough money for living expenses, constantly away from home without any choice in the matter. Jack respected that. And he wanted to help.

So even if it made things awkward and uncomfortable, Jack was bringing them food. And he wanted to help out in any other way that he could too.

He was nearing the exit that he'd gotten on the highway just a week ago, and he flicked the turn signal to take it off, the lane veering off the interstate and sloping downward to a two-lane road surrounded by trees. It didn't look familiar, and Jack wasn't too worried, but the difference of a sunlit road and a moonlit road was enough to have him slowing the car to a crawl, debating going back to make sure he'd taken the right exit.

But then coming up on his right was a narrow, broken-up road and he grinned. He knew that rocky pavement and took the turn, keeping his eyes open for the dirt driveway of Ben's house.

There it was! Jack's heart sped up as he eased his car onto the bumpy path, his breath quickening. Yes, he was happy to be doing something helpful to a needy family, but he was also excited for...other reasons.

Though their parting hadn't been especially affectionate, Jack was all aflutter about seeing the green-eyed teen again. Green eyes and a gorgeous mouth. Jack had fantasies of kissing that full upper lip. It looked so thick and satiny. Not even in Jack's dreams had they kissed, but Jack daydreamed about what it would be like. Soft and moist? And warm, most likely. What kind of noise would the other make if Jack kissed him? Just gently brushed their mouths together...

A happy murmur bubbled past his lips, and he coughed quickly, shooing the thoughts away. It wouldn't do to get excited about such things now.

The house was in view now, and Jack pulled up to it, parking out of the way and off to the side of the structure. He noted that the run-down pick-up truck wasn't anywhere in sight. Before, he'd thought it to be dead, but perhaps it wasn't? Regardless, he hoped someone was home.

Ben should be in school at this time of day, possibly about to get out, but Myrtle and maybe one of the parents should be home. It'd been week, after all, and what kind of business trip lasted that long?

He turned his car off and put the keys in his pocket, climbing out and going around to the trunk, where the bags were. He grabbed them all, hefting them up with a grunt. Except for some birds in the surrounding sparse trees, all was quiet, and Jack didn't hear anything from inside the house either. His heart started pounding, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

Why was he so nervous all of a sudden?

Heaving a sigh, Jack started walking up to the house, trying to see past the sun's glare into the dark windows for any signs of life. None were apparent, and he stepped up onto the porch still hesitant. What was he really doing here? To bring food to a needy family?

Or...something else?

Balancing the bags in both arms, he maneuvered one hand to hover in front of the doorbell. Was he here for Ben? Just because he'd gotten a sexual favor from the perplexing teen? How easy was Jack if that was all it took for him to go galloping off into the sunset to play hero.

But...He didn't want to believe it was just because Ben's mouth had been hot and those intense eyes had been sultry. He genuinely liked Myrtle, and he wanted to help her too. Jack tried to imagine if for some reason Ben wasn't around anymore, if he would still want to return here.

And he would. He'd have no problem coming back. He'd do the same thing he was doing now. But...he wouldn't have that little nervous flutter in his chest.

His finger landed on the bell button, almost without meaning to, and the chime echoed inside the house. No answer. He rang it again, frown forming. No one was home then?

Nope, still no answer after the second ring.

He shifted on his feet, alternating his weight as his arms started to burn. Maybe he'd bought too much? Now he was basically screwed, because he'd not believed Ben's claim about the power going out, and he'd purchased a bunch of perishable items. Milk, eggs, frozen foods. There was nothing wrong with the wires leading to the house from what Jack could see here on the porch, so he was pretty certain that had been another lie from the youth to hide their poverty.

Jack couldn't go back to his hotel room. The cold foods wouldn't all fit in his mini fridge. If he left now, it'd all go to waste.

Maybe...he could...just drop it off?

Sliding his hand from the doorbell to the doorknob, Jack only paused a mere moment before giving it an experimental twist.

It spun easily. Unlocked.

...Was this breaking and entering if he didn't actually break in? There wasn't a law against just entering, was there?

Oh, wait. Trespassing. Right.

But...he didn't mean any harm. And he wasn't taking anything out. He was bringing stuff in. What judge would convict him of forcibly giving food? If he didn't get this stuff in a cold place soon, he'd have spoiled milk on his hands.

The door opened silently for him, and he risked a slow step inside. “Hello?” He called nervously, hoping that maybe someone was just taking a nap.

Still no answer.

He sighed and hung his head. Alright, he was going to do this. And if someone came home and found him here, he'd just hope they didn't carry a baseball bat with them.

“Hello? If there's anyone here, I'm just bringing some food!” His voice was shaking and he cursed his insecurity. The hall was empty, as was the dark and dusty living room he passed on the way to the deserted kitchen. “My name is Jack Isaacson! I helped out Mrs. Montgomery the other night, when she was outside! Don't be alarmed!” He felt a little silly shouting out to an empty house, but it was better than listening to the silence.

He lowered the paper bags to the table and then started to put them away. A glance inside the cupboards only cemented Jack's assumptions about this family. They were bare. No cans of non-perishable food, no preserves, nothing to last in the case of a blackout. Ben had lied. Shaking his head, he spent the next 15 minutes putting away the groceries, announcing every now and then who he was and what he was doing.

It wasn't until he was folding up the paper bags in one pile that he heard the footsteps. Upstairs, right over his head. Oh god. Someone was upstairs.

“Hello? I'm Jack Isaacson? Is someone there?”

Why hadn't they answered? Why hadn't they moved around before? He'd been overly noisy and here for a while, yet this was the first sound he'd heard of another person. Maybe...It couldn't be Myrtle, because why was she here alone, and it couldn't be Ben, because it wasn't after school yet. Maybe one of the parents worked overnight shifts and slept during the day?

Oh no. That meant Jack had woken them up. Oh jeez, he felt horrible. And he couldn't just leave now. Whichever parent was upstairs, they'd be very alarmed to have heard someone downstairs and then discover no one there. So, Jack had to make sure they knew why he was in there house.

The kitchen was left behind and Jack made his way to the stairs in the hall. “Hello?” He tried again, striving to sound non-threatening. “I'm sorry for intruding on you like this, and I'm sorry for waking you! As I said before, I'm Jack Isaacson!”

But no one came downstairs. And now Jack was getting freaked out again. Then he realized something that made him gasp. What if he'd interrupted a burglar? There were no cars out front, and nobody was answering him, and whoever had been upstairs was being very quiet. Almost...too quiet. Secretive and sneaky, almost.

Why was shit like this always happening to him? Why was he always coming upon stuff like this at the worst times?

There was a heavy brass candlestick on the long table running the length of the hall by the stairs, and Jack knocked the dried, waxy candle of the middle peg, palming the heavy holder in his hands. If it was a burglar, then he wasn't going to go upstairs unarmed.

But he was going upstairs. And he did, taking one step at a time to hush the incessant creaking wood as best he could. Little clouds of dust puffed up with each step he took, and he suddenly had to sneeze more than he ever did in his entire life.

But he held it in, cresting the top of the steps and peering into the dark hallway. There was only one window on the end of the narrow corridor, and it was both dirty and blocked by a heavy drape. Only the shadowed corners of the doors were visible, and oddly enough, they were all closed. Even the bathroom.

Jack didn't need this right now. He didn't need it, he didn't want it, he didn't even like it. Once again was he scared enough to be on the verge of hyperventilating, the adrenaline coursing through his body and making him want to hit something. Someone. Specifically, the person who was sneaking around the house.

The room that was over the kitchen was to his left, and he crept over to the first door, his back to the wall. He lifted the candlestick over his head and slid his other hand down to the knob, taking one last breath to steady himself. Then he twisted it quickly, throwing all his weight at the heavy door.

Only to stumble back with a grunt after his shoulder collided with the immobile wood painfully. He hissed as his shoulder throbbed. “What the hell...?” He wondered aloud, knuckling the sore joint with his hand. It hadn't budged.

Then he realized why. The door he was standing in front of, was the door with the deadbolt. And the person who'd been moving around was behind it.

Then Jack noticed something he hadn't noticed before. By the side of the door, hanging on a little hook down by the doorknob, was a small silver key.

Taking it, he inserted it into the deadbolt, holding the sturdy lock with his other hand after he let the candlestick rest on the floor. There was no way it was going to be this easy. The key wouldn't work. It couldn't.

The lock clicked open as he turned the key.

Jack was stunned. And nervous. He had no right to be doing this. None at all.

But that didn't stop him from swiftly removing the deadbolt from it's hook and taking hold of the doorknob again. Nothing stopped him from opening the door this time and he let it creak open. The heavy brass of of his makeshift weapon lay forgotten at his feet.

The room was bright, sunlight streaming in through gauzy yellow curtains flanking the large window Jack had seen from the outside. In front of the window was a worn rocking chair, with a frail woman seated in it.

“...Mrs. Montgomery?”

In a pale pink housecoat, the elderly woman turned to him, a smile on her lips as she met his eyes. “Hello! Is my grandson with you?”

At a loss for words couldn't even accurately describe Jack's sate of mind right now. Myrtle had been locked in a room. Locked from the outside. Who in their right mind would take an old woman and shut her away like some sort of prisoner?

He gasped, thinking the worst things. What if she was a prisoner? And maybe Ben wasn't at school at all, but locked downstairs in some dark recess of a dank basement, chained naked to the wall and covered in whip marks?

Okay, imagination overload. And not in the good way.

But the horrific images only fueled more questions. What was going on here? Where were Ben's parents and why did they allow a senior citizen to be locked up? Why?

Why why why?

Jack approached her, wary of scaring her or alarming her. Though, he'd just been shouting and banging against the door not more than a moment ago, and she didn't look shaken by that. Still, better to be cautious. “Mrs. Montgomery, are you...okay?”

She smiled at him again, lowering the knitting in her lap and turning her head like she was surprised. “Do I know you, young man? Are you a friend of my grandson's?”

Jack's brow tightened, and he shook his head, coming up to kneel in front of her rocking chair. “Sort of. And yes, we've met before. My name is Jack Isaacson. I helped you out about a week ago? Do you remember?”

But her hauntingly empty eyes only gave him a blank stare, then a simple shake of her head, wispy hair waving. “No, I think you're mistaken, son. My name is Myrtle. How do you do?”

Jack shook her hand, saddened by her problematic memory. The ravages of old age, of the mind slowly wasting away, was one of his greatest fears in life. To see it so here so starkly, unhidden or dulled, was enough to bring him close to tears. “I'm fine, Mrs. Montgomery, thank you. How are you?”

“Call me Myrtle.” Was all she said, before resuming the knitting in her lap, the needles clicking rhythmically.

Jack couldn't bare watching her distanced expression anymore, and he stood, glancing around the room. Aside from the hall door, there was another, and he crossed to it, opening it to find a bathroom. With one window that overlooked the lawn, but no other exits. So, this must be the master bath, which meant Myrtle's room was the master bedroom.

A slanted look over to where she was still seated showed Myrtle having ceased her needlework, now gazing complacently out of the window. The yarn item in her lap didn't really make sense to Jack, having no discernible shape, but maybe it wasn't finished yet. The pattern was wild and messy in places, with bits of yarn sticking out at odd points. The more he looked at it, the more Jack doubted it was supposed to be anything. And that only served to make him more melancholy.

Instead of focusing on that, Jack wandered back out into the hall, going over to the two doors he hadn't seen open a week ago. Down at the end with Myrtle's room was the bathroom and the guest room he'd stayed in, but on this side of the stairs, must be Ben's room and the parent's bedroom.

He knocked on the first door, and when there was no answer, he cautiously pushed it open. It was definitely Ben's. A twin-size bed with unmade covers, clothes littering the floor, posters of bands famous years ago on the walls, and a dusty television set on a wide set of drawers. Jack backed out and closed the door again. A quick look was all he needed, and anything else would be prying. Since all he did was pry so far, Jack tried to keep some boundaries.

The other door he also knocked on, and at the expected silence following, he opened it, not prepared at all for what he found.

It was a closet. A dusty, near-empty closet.

Looking back down the hall, he checked his count. Guest bedroom, master bedroom, bathroom, Ben's room, and now, a closet.

No room for parents.

But...

The sound of a vehicle pulling up the driveway made Jack's heart pound, and he raced back to Myrtle's room, panged at how she didn't even look up at him, and braced both hands on the windowsill. Outside, the red truck that'd been missing before was clunking up to park where it'd been last week. The shadowy interior kept the person inside from view, and Jack held his breath, desperate to see who it was.

Then the rattling engine shut off, and the driver's side door opened, and there was Ben. In dark, dirty pants, and a old gray jacket. His movements were slow, and there was a bag of some sort in his hand.

Jack turned and raced out to the hallway, taking the stairs two at a time as he panted anxiously. At the bottom, not quite sure what to do, he froze, and the sound of the front door opening made his throat seize up.

“Gram?” Ben's voice was exhausted and worn, calling out through the front foyer. Jack stayed frozen, and seemingly unnoticed. Ben was taking off his jacket, revealing a bright yellow shirt underneath. “I'm home! I brought lunch! It's just-” Then green eyes rose finally, landing on Jack and those words cut off.

Jack didn't know what he expected, but the blind rage that overtook the docile teen's face was shocking.

“You.” He hissed, jaw clenching. “What are you doing here?”

Jack felt very small. “I...”

“Get out.”

Jack paused, brows lifting. “What?” He wasn't doing any harm.

“Get the fuck out!” Ben screamed, flinging the bag he'd been holding to the floor, and leaping forward.

Jack grunted as he was thrown backwards, his arms flying up in front of him in dazed defense as his back slammed down to the floor. That was twice today he'd been thrown into things. Though, the first time, he'd done it to himself with the door. His body sang out in pain, and he looked up to see Ben hovering over him, eyes enraged and his cheeks red with distress.

“You get out or I'll call the police!”

Jack tried to diffuse the situation. “Hey, look, calm down!” He breathed, not understanding why the other was so upset. “I only dropped by to-”

“Benji?”

They both paused and looked up to see Myrtle on the stairs, the ever present smile somewhat dampened as she looked down to them, mildly concerned.

“Gram!” Ben shouted, shoving himself off of Jack to race up the stairs. Once at her side, he hugged her. “Gram, you're not hurt?! He didn't do anything?!” Then he threw a poisonous look back down to Jack, who was still laying on the floor, stupefied. “Why did you let her out?”

And that was enough to get Jack back to his feet, fully outraged. “What?!” So, Ben knew she'd been trapped. “Why wouldn't I let her out?! Who the hell locks up an old woman?! Why the hell was she locked up in the first place?!”

Ben's expression was icy as he glared back down at him. “If you don't get out right now, I'll have you arrested for rape.”

Jack did a double-take. What the hell?! “Are you crazy?! Who the hell are you accusing me of raping?!”

A very crazy laugh escaped the other's mouth. “You idiot. I'm only 17! You get out and never come back, or I'll call the police and tell them you raped me!”

Jack choked on his disbelief, staggering back. “What?”

“That's right!” Ben snarled, face taking on that same victorious expression he had that night. “I'll have you sent to jail for statutory rape!”

“But I didn't touch you!” Jack cried, everything in his head spinning in confusion. He'd known Ben was most likely under 18, but that didn't really mean anything. The accusation was ludicrous. “You came on to me!” He corrected, stepping forward and getting angry. “I can't get arrested for that. And all you did was-” At the realization Myrtle was still standing on the stairs, Jack stepped closer still, grabbed Ben's hand and yanked him down off the steps, dropping his voice. “You pushed me down and blew me. I can't get arrested for that.”

Ben's mouth, which had been so violent a moment ago, now sagged. “...What?”

“Regardless of your age, it was you who initiated the physical contact, so don't you dare start flinging accusations around. And if you're trying to frame me, then I hope you saved some of my sperm or else you've got no case.” He didn't mean to be so rough-sounding to the person he'd wanted to embrace not only minutes before, but this was bullshit. Absolute, unwarranted bullshit. And he wasn't going to take it.

The anger on Ben's face melted away, replaced with depression. “Damn it...”

Jack scowled, whispering harshly. “What is wrong with you? If you didn't want me to touch you, I wouldn't have. You're the one who followed me to my room, and yeah, I shouldn't have let you, but don't accuse me of something I'd never do. I didn't realize you hated me so much, for whatever reason, but if you didn't want me to come back, you just shouldn't have touched me at all.”

Ben's eyelids slipped shut. “...I touched you so you wouldn't come back...”

Oh yes, that made perfect sense. But Jack couldn't question further, because Myrtle's soft voice came lilting from the kitchen. She must have moved to that room past them while they wrapped up in their fighting.

“Benji? Dear, I'm hungry.”

Guilt washed over Ben's face, replacing the sadness, and he turned, picking up the bag from before. From this close, Jack could see it was a paper food bag from some generic fast food joint. And looking closer, Jack also saw how Ben's yellow shirt had the same name as on the bag on his breast pocket.

“Coming Gram. I've got food.”

Jack stood in a stupor, his body unwilling to move as he heard the sounds of plates and glasses from the kitchen. What the hell had all that been? Rape?

No, no he wasn't going to stand for that at all. And he had questions. Temporarily derailed because of the chaos as soon as Ben had stepped through that front door, but still waiting to be answered. But before he could get join the others, Ben was coming back out into the hall, slanting Jack a disinterested look and motioning for him to follow outside to the porch.

Outside, the youth sat on the worn wooden planks, and Jack clumsily joined him, feeling out of place.

“Where's your car?” Ben asked, devoid of emotion.

Jack gestured to the side of the house. He hadn't realized it wasn't visible from the driveway way over there. “I didn't want to block anyone.”

“Oh.” Was all the other said, his hands crossed limply on his knees and his face showing a lack of emotion.

Jack cut right to the chase. “Why would you accuse me of rape? You and I both know what happened that night wasn't rape. And I had thought it was a mutual thing at the very least, but it seems like you've got some secret agenda now, and I don't know what to think.”

But Ben stayed quiet, expression reflective.

Jack grew restless, his fingers fidgeting. Just as he was about to ask again, Ben spoke up.

“When you brought my grandma home that night, I'd never been so scared in all my life.” Jack didn't get to ask why, Ben just kept talking. “It's finally almost over, and you show up, and I think you're going to ruin it all. I couldn't just let you leave, and then you wanted a place to stay, and I let you. Because I had to figure out what to do.” The tone of Ben's voice was bleak, belying a complete hopelessness Jack couldn't understand. “And then you walked in on me in the bathroom and I saw my chance. I thought you knew I was only 17, and I took advantage. Because maybe after I was done, you'd regret what happened, and run. Maybe you'd be afraid of sleeping with a teenager. A minor.”

“But we didn't have sex!” Jack protested, very bewildered at this point and getting frustrated.

Ben blushed, averting his gaze and making a tortured sound in his throat. “I lost my nerve. I was just going to get you hard and then let you...do it. But...I got scared, so I just finished...what I was doing. Until you were done. I hoped maybe that was enough to keep you away. But then you were there the next morning and so fucking nosy!” Ben growled, burying his face in his hands and groaning in frustration. “I was so goddamn happy when you left, so fucking relieved and I thought you'd stay away. But now you're here again!”

So...Ben hadn't even liked him. Probably didn't even feel attracted to him. Hell, he probably wasn't even gay! Jack felt a faint tang of nausea in the back of his throat, and he swallowed past it. The memories of Ben in his room, seductive and tangible, turned sour. Everything he'd thought about the teen had been wrong. Though, he still had no idea why. “Look, I'm sorry I interfered in your life, but I don't understand why...I don't understand anything! Does this keeping me away have to do with your grandmother? Or your parents?”

“My parents are dead.” Ben muttered, lifting his head to glare at Jack.

“...Dead?” Jack echoed.

“Yeah. My Mom died in childbirth, and then my Dad was a firefighter. He died in a rescue effort. I came to live with my Gram after that and I've been here ever since.”

Horrified, Jack's eyebrows receded into his hair. “By yourself? But she's...” Incapable of taking care of you, Jack thought silently.

“She wasn't always like this. About 2 years ago, her memory started slipping. It wasn't so bad at first. Just little things. Like which room she'd left something in, or how to cook certain things.” Ben suddenly slumped. “I'll never forget when I came home from school and she couldn't remember who I was.”

Jack shivered. How heartbreaking. “But...she knows who you are now...?”

“Yeah, thankfully that only happened once. But, everything else is gone. She can't go more than a few minutes without becoming a blank slate again. I mean, she still knows who she is and basic stuff, like the alphabet and numbers, but...it's like things that happened five minutes ago are incapable of staying.” He shook his head, the dark hair swishing back and forth. “I don't know why.”

“But why were you so scared when I showed up?”

“Because I don't want to be put in a foster home.”

Jack wasn't quite sure what to make of that. “I don't...”

“And I don't want my grandmother taken away to be put in a home.”

“Who would put your grandmother in a home?” Jack asked, not sure where these fears were coming from.

Then green eyes turned to him, intense as always. “You.” He said simply, the word cold.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Jack protested, holding his hands up. “I'm not going to take your grandmother away!”

“But you could.” Ben accused. “I'm not legally an adult yet, and my guardian is unfit to care for me. One call to...whoever, and people would come and take me away, put me in foster care, and put my Gram in an old folk's home.”

Though the whole thing was paranoid and conspiratorial, there was some truth to it. Ben wasn't old enough to be without a legal guardian, and his grandmother, also without a legal guardian, would be institutionalized.

And yes, if Jack were so inclined, he could contact the local authorities and get the ball rolling on the whole thing. Not that he felt inclined in any way, but he also didn't know the entire story yet. “I'm assuming you came from a job.” The words 'Sandwich Haven' were stitched in bold white lettering on that yellow shirt, and the same title had adorned the paper food bag.

“Yup.” Ben muttered humorlessly. “I've been working since Gram couldn't work anymore. And no, I don't go to school. I had to drop out to make more money for food and bills. I support us.”

The sorrow Jack felt for Ben, for having to cut his schooling short, for having to live this life, for having to lose his grandmother mentally, all cut straight to his heart, and he had to hold himself back from giving Ben a comforting touch. Things were starting to make sense. The rundown house, for there was only one young teen to take care of it. The shady behavior, because Ben was terrified of being separated from his only living relative. And even the deadbolt, which Jack didn't necessarily agree with, he understood.

“So...I'm assuming that you lied about your grandma wandering outside on her own.” Or else you wouldn't lock her up, Jack meant. Though he didn't say that last bit.

Ben only nodded. Then he stood, brushing the dirt off his pants. “I lock her up to keep her safe. To keep her from going outside and getting hurt. I am not abusing her, so don't you accuse me of that.”

“I'm not!” Jack scoffed, staring up in surprise. “It's not exactly the best method, but I understand why you're doing it. And I don't agree with it, but...” He didn't have anything to say after that though. He couldn't exactly condone the keeping of an elderly woman under lock and key. But...He knew behind every word that left Ben's lips, there was the silent plea for Jack not to report him. Not to mess up everything the other had been working so hard to preserve for almost two years, according to Ben.

He couldn't do that. Couldn't break up what Ben had been fighting for. So, with a weary sigh, he turned up to the withered youth standing close. “I won't tell anyone.” He murmured, touched by Ben's suddenly grateful and disbelieving gaze.

“You...you won't?”

“No. I know you're just trying your best. I won't let anyone take her away from you.” But, he wasn't going to just get in his car and drive away either. He was going to help them. Though, judging from Ben's posture, the boy must have thought Jack meant to do just that. Drive away. Wrong. Shaking his head, he stretched. “You know...” He began, not quite sure why he was saying this. “If you hadn't let me stay that night, I probably wouldn't have ever come back. You didn't have to do any of the stuff you did. It would have been the end of it.”

Ben laughed, the sound dark and heavy. “Yeah, I realize that. I panicked and didn't know what to do. But I've never regretted something so much in all my life as letting you stay.” Then he turned and went back in the house, letting the door slam behind him.

Ouch...

Jack had to remain sitting for a bit to recover from the sting of those words. Jeez, he'd like to get a hug after being hit by that.

After letting his lung unlock, he stood and followed, entering the house and seeing Ben in the hall, a burger in hand and halfway to his mouth. His brows lifted and he paused. “Shouldn't you be going?”

Jack shook his head. “No.”

Ben's eyes became slits. “Why not?”

“Because I want to help.”

“We don't need your help.”

“My help? Just mine? You'd let someone else help you?”

Ben sneered. “...No. We don't need anyone's help. We're doing fine on your own.”

Jack scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Right, you only had to drop out of school and lock your grandmother up all day.”

Nearly snarling now, Ben whipped away from him. “You don't know anything! We're managing just fine! I keep us fed, and she's fine in her room! She has water and a bathroom and her knitting and her radio! And I bring home food!” One more cutting glance back over Ben's shoulder. “No one wants you here, so just go!” Then he stalked out of sight.

Jack just shook his head. This wasn't going to be easy, then, but he wouldn't give up. After all this, hearing what Ben had been going through, Jack was too involved. Steeling himself for more verbal abuse, Jack made his way back to the kitchen.

“Christ, will you just go!” The teen whined as soon as Jack entered the room, eyes blazing. “When will you realize you're not wanted!”

Ouch again. “I may not be wanted, but I sure as hell am needed.”

Ben growled, slamming his hand into the wall. “No one needs you! Get out!”

Jack wasn't going to play anymore. The time for nice words and kind persuasion was gone. “Just shut up and listen!” He snapped right back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I don't care if you don't want me here, or if you think I'm not needed, because I'm staying whether you like it or not.” The other began to interject, but Jack plowed on. “Your grandmother is sick, in mind for now, and maybe soon in body. You're away from home a lot and can't watch her, and you two are nearly starving! How do you expect to go on?!”

All at once, Ben's anger switched again, like it had several times already, and he slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, dropping his head into his hands, fingers gripping his messy bangs. Myrtle was sitting and eating, unaware of the fighting right in front of her.

“Look!” Ben muttered, voice taking on that pleading tone Jack was getting used to. “Just...Please. I'll be 18 in less than three months. I just need to make it til then, and everything will be fine. I'll be able to apply for government help, and I won't have to work so much, and...it'll be fine. Everything will be fine, just give me time.”

The words sounded hollow to Jack's ears, and he wondered in Ben really believed what he was saying. There was such a thing as false hope, and then there was delusion. The government wouldn't do much for Myrtle, and Ben wouldn't get the help he needed. It only cemented his decision further. Approaching the table, he took the chair by Ben.

“I'm not taking over your life, alright? But I will be helping you. Whether you willingly accept it or not.”

The was a long-suffering sigh, then Ben tilted his head up to scowl unhappily. “Why did you ever have to show up?”

Jack gave back just as good as he got. “Because if I hadn't, your grandmother would be lost or hurt out in the woods.”

Ben was silent. But his eyes twisted to the clock hanging up by the fridge. He jumped up, eyes wide. “Shit! I have to get back to work!” Scrambling, Ben stood and skittered to the hall, cursing quietly to himself.

He was leaving? “But you just got out of work.”

Snorting, Ben came back into the room, jacket in hand, and made a face. “So what? I have to go back in for my second shift. I only come home at 1 to bring Gram her lunch.” He crossed to Myrtle and tried to get her to stand. “Come on, Gram, time to go back upstairs.”

Jack gasped. “You can't be serious! I won't let you put her back there!”

Ben seemed to be losing patience, and he grunted in frustration. “Well, what else am I supposed to do?! I have to go back, and she can't be on her own or else-” He stopped, brows crinkling. “Crap. Don't even think about-”

“I'll stay.” Jack vowed. There was nothing else he had to do today, nowhere he had to be. He had no problem with staying with Myrtle. Ben looked about to protest again, but Jack gave one last punch. “Unless you want me to call the police right now, and have them come get your grandmother.”

“You wouldn't do that!” Ben screeched, more bravado than certainty in his words.

No, Jack wouldn't. But what he said was, “You want to take that chance?”

And then Be was scowling again, one last defiant scowl, then he was whipping his face away. “No.” He stomped out of the room, heading towards the front of the house. “Fine!” He shouted, slamming the front door behind him.

Jack was left with Myrtle, who was still slowly eating her lunch. She paused to swallow and then gave Jack a funny look.

He cut her off, offering out his hand and smiling. “Hi, I'm a friend of your grandson's. My name is Jack.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jack stood from the bathroom floor, groaning and stretching his muscles. Man, his body ached. He'd been cleaning the grimy tile floor, and before that, he'd scrubbed the toilet, and the tub before that! But, it'd been worth it, because now, surveying his hard work, he was proud to see it looked like a brand new bathroom. Spotless and smelling much better. Not that it had smelled bad before, but there'd been the definite stink of mildew.

Taking his make-shift bucket, which was really just a large bowl, and his numerous rags, now dirtied from use, he returned to where he'd left Myrtle. Down in the living room, in front of an old radio, with soft music playing. It was jazz or some kind of upbeat stuff, and she'd liked it, bopping her head in little dips along with the rhythm.

She'd been here all day, sitting in solitude and not minding. Jack checked on her periodically, and she'd been fine, but a handful of those occasions, he'd come in and seen her grimacing and holding her forehead. Upon being asked what was wrong, she'd mentioned haltingly a headache. It faded after a few moments, and Jack would continue cleaning. But then he'd find her like that an hour or so later. He'd have to ask Ben later if this was a common thing.

She was still in the same seat now, thankfully her face pain-free, more knitting in her lap Jack couldn't identify, and humming disjointedly along with the music. Her worry-free face grew brighter at the sight of her. “Hello, dear. Are you having fun?”

Jack smiled back, declining her offer. He wasn't sure what she thought he was doing, but at least now she could remember his face. Not his name, as it turned out, because she had yet to say it again, but she didn't ask who he was each time she saw him. Which was nice.

“I'm having loads of fun, Myrtle. Are you getting hungry?”

Turning to look out the window with wide eyes, she shook her head. “The sun hasn't gone down yet. Benji should be home soon with dinner.”

Jack had already cleaned the bathroom upstairs, the smaller half-bathroom downstairs and he'd dusted down the main hallway. While doing these things, he'd discovered the leaky faucet in the bathroom, the clogged tub, the broken railing in the staircase held together with duct tape, the squeaky hinges on nearly every door, and a veritable handful of other small issues with the house. Though, the tools needed to fix any of those problems, he didn't have, so he'd just did what he could, which was cleaning. And he'd gotten a lot done. Ben had left for his second shift close to 1 o'clock, and it was nearing 7. Ben had mentioned returning around now, but Jack didn't exactly know when that would be.

And not only was he sure Myrtle was getting hungry, but he was starving. The only thing he'd eaten today was breakfast, and then later a roast beef sandwich before going to the grocery store. His stomach had been protesting its emptiness.

He was hungry enough to tell a little white lie. “Oh, Ben had said he'd be a little late tonight, so he asked me to make us dinner.”

Myrtle frowned just a little bit, and put down her knitting. “Oh? Alright.” She made to stand up, and Jack rushed forward to give her assistance. He'd come to find she was a lot stronger than she looked, but he still felt like if a strong breeze blew, she'd topple over.

Together, they went to the kitchen, and Jack briefly wished he'd spent the day cleaning this room instead, but it was fleeting. Escorting Myrtle to the table, he had her sit in one of the chairs, the he opened the fridge and debated what he should make. He wasn't a horrible cook, but he didn't know how to make too much. So, it'd have to be something simple.

Soup and hamsteaks, then. An old favorite of his. Some hearty tomato soup, with some crackers in it, and a nice cut of ham with it.

He'd looked through all the cabinets earlier while unloading the food, so he knew where everything was now, and he pulled out some pans, turning the stove on and grabbing his ingredients. It only took about 15 minutes to get everything cooked and then plated, and Jack was nearly drooling by the time he set the food on the table.

Just as he was sitting, he heard the front door opening, which was surprising since he hadn't heard any cars pull up, or more specifically, the clunking of that old truck.

“Gram?” Ben's familiar call came from the hall. “I've got din-” But the voice trailed off. Footsteps sounded, then Ben was standing in the kitchen doorway, sniffing the air suspiciously. “You made food? Where did you get food?”

Jack would have laughed at the sheer surprise in the other's voice, had he not suddenly felt sympathetic, and he offered a small grin. “I brought groceries when I came over this morning. I forgot to tell you.”

Before Jack could even bring his spoon to his soup, Ben stormed the table and knocked the bowl clear off the table, sending it smashing to pieces and splattering into the wall. For a moment, Jack sat stunned, not really even registering what happened, but then his eyes left the murdered meal and swiveled up to Ben, who's face was full of that rage Jack had seen so much of earlier today.

“I don't need your charity!” He screamed, grabbing the plate with the ham on it next, then hurling it across the room to shatter with the bowl. “We don't need your charity!”

Holy shit. Talk about anger issues. Jack didn't know whether it'd be safer to remain still, like you were suppose to do with wild animals, or if he should run for the door. But Myrtle broke the silence, not the least bit affected by the outburst.

“Why Jack, this is delicious!” She exclaimed, spooning more soup into her mouth. “You cook wonderfully, dear.”

Both males turned to her in shock. Jack was floored that she'd used his name, and he assumed Ben was surprised by the same.

“Gram...” He began, voice dying out. Then he groaned, gritting his teeth and swiping her plate from her.

“Hey!” Jack protested, moving to stand. “Don't do that! She likes it!”

But Ben only hissed at him, dumping the food in the sink. “She says that about everything! I could feed her a shoe and she'd like it!”

“What is your problem!” Jack shouted, coming right up behind Ben and grabbing his shoulder, pulling him around to face him. “It's just some food! Calm down!”

But Ben's eyes were bright and shiny. “I don't want your food! I can do just fine on my own.” His shoulder shook, dislodging Jack's grip. “I'm perfectly capable of taking care of her without you! You just come in our lives and think you know what's best?!” That angry voice wavered a little, the tears growing more noticeable. “I know what's best! I'm the one who's been killing himself to take care of her! To keep us with a roof over our heads! I've done my best and it's good enough!” Harsh hands shoved at Jack's chest. “God, you idiot! Go be the pathetic excuse for a white knight that you are for some other family! Who actually wants your help! Because I don't know how many times I have to keep saying this, but I don't want it!” He finished his tirade, panting and cheeks flushed.

Jack had had enough for tonight. So, instead of fighting anymore, he just turned and kissed Myrtle on the cheek. “Goodnight Myrtle, I'm sorry about your dinner. I'll make you something else next time.”

She beamed at him. “Goodnight, dear.”

Without looking to Ben, he addressed the teen one last time. “What time do you have to go into work tomorrow?”

There was a long pause, then Ben's cautious reply. “...I have to leave at 7. Why?”

“Because I'd like to know what time I should come back.” Jack answered softly. Then he left, going out to his car and bracing both hands on the driver's side door. Taking deep breaths, he fought to steady his breathing. Never before in his life had he ever met someone as volatile as Ben. The shrewish teen switched from calm to hostile so quick, that Jack wouldn't be surprised to find out he was bipolar or something. Excepting a mental disorder, he couldn't understand why.

The sudden sound of crashing brought Jack's attention to the rear of the house. Sharp, anguished groans met his ears and he carefully sprinted to the back wall, coming up to a window open just a few inches. The kitchen window. Taking a peek inside, he saw Ben.

Shouting and face twisted into something awful, eyes red and teeth flashing as he flipped the table upside down with a shout. Then he picked up a chair and smashed it to the floor, which resulted in one of the legs cracking off. Myrtle was not in sight, thank god, but Ben wasn't finished, and Jack held his breath as he watched, unable to tear his sight away. The teen ripped open the refrigerator door and made another tortured sound when he saw inside. He began tearing out the food Jack had filled it with, breaking jars and throwing bottles down to join the other jagged fragments.

Jack remained silent, skin in goosebumps.

Just as suddenly as Ben had begun this frantic commotion, he stopped, chest heaving and small unhappy whimpers coming from him. He collapsed against one of the walls, sliding down with his back to it, and crumpled in on himself. Jack could see him just barely, Ben's profile visible, and he saw the teen start sobbing into his hands.

A moment ago, he'd been a rage-filled beast, but now, to Jack, he looked like a lost little boy, full of fear and regret.

This made it no less simple for Jack to understand. Ben's cries grew louder, and Jack couldn't take the sound anymore. He returned to his car and got inside, starting the engine and backing up to drive out to the road.

The promised silence of his hotel room beckoned, and he tried to ignore his growing headache. No, none of this was going to be easy.

TO BE CONTINUED