[fic] The Boy Who Was Too Young, Part 8
Title: The Boy Who Was Too Young, Part 8
Rating: mild NC-17
Characters: Jim, Frank and Winona, Bones/Jim, OMC/Jim
Warning: mpreg, teenagers who are really too young, talk of abortion
Thanks: To both lifebehindadesk and hebrewhammer42 for the awesome beta jobs.
Notes: I am an idiot. I made a few stupid geographical errors in the beginning of the story, and when I'm a little less tired, I will to go back and revise the story a bit. For now, just know that Riverside is right next to Sioux City. And there are no canyons nearby, but I'll keep that in for the sake of movie canon (not that it appears in this story anyway). And Iowa isn't as dry as the movie shows, but I digress. Also, Riverside is right in the corner of the state where Iowa meets South Dakota and Nebraska. This may only matter to the geeks in Nebraska or South Dakota, like me. ^^V
Summary: Life is just a little bit easier for Jim. He's got friends and family to be with, he's taking better care of himself, and the weather has even let up. But it's a false sense of safety.
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven
.
Riverside, May 2249
Jacob’s Bar and Grill was half restaurant, half bar. Jim offered to bus tables and wash dishes but he was instead given the cash register, and kindly forced to sit on a stool, with little walking around. He was on strict orders to not work the bar, and to stay out of the now locked backroom, but he still chatted up with the bartender, playfully trying to learn new mixed drinks.
"What about spiced rum? What can you do with that?"
The handsome young bartender, who had graduated Riverside High School the same time Jim was starting Junior High, knew he shouldn't encourage the boy, but still gave in to Kirk's irresistible charm.
"From what I've heard about you, you've probably have already tried it with coke. You can also mix in some lime and tea, and get a mojito." He winked at the kid. But of course, he only shared tips if old man Carter was out of hearing range.
Three hours every day after school were spent at the restaurant, with extra time on the weekends. Around seven o’clock, the atmosphere changed from relaxed dining to intent drinking among the older crowd, and Jim was always ushered home by this time. But for three hours Jim was surrounded by friendly neighbors. No one bluntly mentioned the condition he was in, but they would pat him on the back, tell him to "hang in there" and if he "needed help" to just ask.
Physically, he tried to take care of himself. Didn't drink, despite the playful talk. He ate more appropriately, took the vitamins and medications, and went easy on the exercise...though he didn't stop either. Still stretched in the morning, and went for short walks when he could slip away. Every other day he went to the doctor, where Angela Carter would measure his stats, blood pressure, inflammation, and warn him his health still wasn't looking good.
“Your liver is inflamed. So are your blood vessels. Now let me see your feet.”
She poked and prodded at his tender feet, tightly pursing her lips in a frown. Awkwardly holding up his left ankle with both hands he asked, "What do I need to do?"
Her gaze was quietly reproving. "There’s no way to undo the damage at this point. Just don't stress your body any further than you have already."
---------------------------
Jim was at home working on homework when Robert's sister rolled up, her outdated four-door covered in mud. Robert was in the passenger seat, Michael and Zack in the back. The humans were all smiling and Zack looked slightly less long faced than normal for a Renzite.
“What’s up?” Jim asked.
“We’ve got something for you!” Michael announced.
The boys opened the dirty trunk and pulled out three big boxes, which they carried inside.
In the boxes was a rocking chair, with an ottoman. It was heavily cushioned, and made of a nice dark wood.
Robert explained. "My parents suggested you might need a chair like this. Something to prop your feet up, and Mom said that rockers are really good for, you know." Good for babies, Jim understood.
"So we saved up some money and got this for you!" Michael explained with a big smile.
"I pitched in too,” Robert's sister added.
The three boys looked happy, bright and honest smiles on both Michael and Robert's faces, and a reluctantly hopeful look on Zack's.
"Thanks," James smiled back, encouraged by their enthusiasm. The guys carried the boxes upstairs, though Michael almost dropping one. After some deliberation and hesitance, they assembled it in Sam's old room.
---------------------------
After months of biting her fingers, his mother was able to tell him, "I’m coming home. I pressed the captain, and we’re finally going to detour to Deep Space Four, and I’ll be able to come home on the Valiant. It’ll be two more weeks before we reach the space station, and then a month and a half home, but I should be back in late July.” She looked hopeful and rueful, and Jim felt a twang of shame for making her feel guilty. This wasn’t her fault. But selfishly, he didn’t want her in space; he wanted her here at home. It would feel so good to be in her arms again.
He still hadn't told Sam. That was going to be a really awkward conversation.
It was May, and the ground was muddy and messy. The snow had completely melted away, and it rained too often. Feet sunk into the mud, and walking was a dirty chore, but a little bit of greenery was coming to life in the trees and the grass. Franks was busy programming the harvest, grumbling about whether the soil was ready or not for planting, and the man was blessedly preoccupied with issues that were not his step-son.
The sky that morning before school had been clear of clouds, but faintly yellow. James awoke with a headache that persisted through classes. That afternoon at work, everyone was at the bar for Cinco de Mayo, despite extremely blustery weather.
"Hey Jimmy, do you need a ride home tonight?" Robert's sister asked Jim, as she handed him several menus.
“Nope,” Jim shook his head, and tucked the paper menus away next to the cash register. "The jackass is coming by to pick me up at six."
"Oh good, cuz I wanted to work late anyway. I'm so close to moving out, I just want to save up four hundred more."
"You going to move to that place on Edgewater?"
"It’s cheap…” she admitted, but didn’t look convinced, “But I’d have to drive from Riverside to Sioux City every day."
"That’s not far…” She gave him a deadpan look, and he held his hands up in surrender. “I know, you want to get away from your parents. Are you going to move on campus?"
"Maybe...just, there’s another place I like." She tilted her head like she was second guessing whether she had meant to bring this up, and wanted to drop the subject.
He suddenly realized which place she had in mind. "Oh."
"Yeah." She grimaced with guilt, and then looked immediately apologetic. "Look, it's a nice place, you know?"
"Yeah."
"And it's cheap. Close, decent, and cheap. I really like it."
"That's cool." He shrugged.
"Really? Cuz you look like you're bummed. I'm not forcing you to hang out there or anything. Besides, I heard Clay moved out and went to Chicago. I just really like his building, even if he's a creep."
"Whatever. That's cool."
"If you say so." She stood there awkwardly, and he looked at her with disappointment, then away in silence. "Sorry," she apologized again. One of the customers at the far table was waving at her, so she gratefully took the chance to slip away.
The bartender had been spying on them, and slipped over to Jim to ask, "Who is Clay?"
"No one.” Jim grouched, thinking about the embarrassing and stupid things he had done at Clay. “He’s fucking no one."
The bartender took the hint, leaving Jim alone.
The elderly McConahees walked in through the door, smiling and cheerful, so Jim put on his false grin, and pointed them to a table.
---------------------------
The sky was clear when Frank drove up, but the winds nearly barreled them both over as they left the restaurant. The gusts threatened to lift up the hovering truck, and Frank swore to himself for not taking a wheeled vehicle.
"This weather looks bad Jim," he told his captive passenger.
"I've got eyes, I can tell."
"These winds could tear up the crops real bad."
"I don't care." Playing bored, Jim ignored his step-dad and stared out the window. The trees along the river were bent over, flailing like streamers in a fan.
Frank ignored Jim's snideness and kept chatting. "Probably should have picked you up sooner. Wish I had. Hope nothing worse develops."
So they drove. Frank was driving as low to the ground as he could, but every now and then a gust would catch them by the underside and drag them up into the air. It felt like being on a boat in turbulent waters.
"Whoa, whoa there," Frank murmured to the truck as they lifted several feet up, then were pushed back down.
Jim gripped the seat arm tightly, his insides flipping. He felt like he might throw up.
"You okay there?" Frank asked, but didn't take his eyes off the road. They were only half a mile outside of Riverside, the buildings still in view. They had five more miles to reach home.
"Fine," the boy answered tightly.
"Should I head back? We might be safer back at the bar, waiting this out."
Jim swallowed bile, and nodded enthusiastically.
Frank cautiously turned the truck around, when suddenly the wind caught them again. They went sliding across the muddy road, banging once against the ground, then sliding into the crop land. Jim saw stars as he was jostled around in his harness, while his step-father swore, desperately trying to regain control.
Jim's heartbeat pounded like a drum against his temple as they came to rest on against the ground, about 100 feet from the road, in the middle of the wet and muddy fields.
"You okay?" Frank asked breathless.
Jim panted and nodded, but didn't open his eyes. His head hurt and he felt like vomiting.
"Okay. Shit, we’re stuck. We should have just stayed at the bar, damn it," the man swore. Then took a closer look at James. "Are you really okay?"
This time Jim shook his head with urgency, but gasped when the pressure in his head was too much for movement. "I really don't feel good," he said in a voice hoarse and wet. He twisted painfully to the side and retched against his window, but nothing came out. The pain wasn’t in his belly, but higher, right under his lungs. “It hurts. Here,” he panted, tenderly pointed right under his ribs.
"So it’s not the baby, right?”
“It still hurts!” Jim yelled, then clenched his teeth.
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit," Frank fumbled for Jim's seat, reclining it back as far as it would go. "What the hell’s wrong? What's your blood pressure?" Of course, he didn't have any way to tell, could only watch Jim hold his torso, face twisted in pain as the wild winds outside rocked the truck. He grabbed his phone, called the police.
A little voice on the comm answered, "Sir, do you need help?"
"Yeah, me and my boy, we're stuck right outside Riverside,” he yelled into the little phone, trying to speak over the rising roar. “This is Frank with the Kirk farms. I've got my step son here, and he's looking really bad. We got thrown by the winds, and now he's pale, vomiting, got a pain in his ribs. You've seen him lately, haven't you? This the local police I'm speaking to, right?"
"I’m speaking from the west side of Sioux City." The tiny voice answered. "I’ve got your location. How long do you think you boys can hang on?"
"I don't know. His doctor says he’s in bad shape, says his blood pressure is climbing, says his liver is overworked, she’s got him on all sorts of medication."
"We’re going to try and get to you quickly, but it’s hard to get through this wind. You and your son need to say inside your vehicle, alright? We’re going to get there in the next fifteen minutes.”
“Can you get his doctor?”
“Frank,” Jim gasped.
“Who is it?” the dispatcher asked about the doctor.
“Dr. Angela Carter! Can you get her?”
“Frank!” Jim tried again, reaching out one hand to grab his step father’s shirt.
“We’ll try sir. Hold tight.”
“What is it?” Frank finally asked, examining Jimmy’s face and body, seeing the young man’s attention was outside.
“Frank, look,” Jim pointed weakly and above them a large branch bounced off of the top of the truck. They were still stuck deep in the mud, and it was the only thing keeping the wind roaring wind from tossing them over, rolling across the fields. Jimmy’s finger pointed east, back to the town, at the towering black column bulldozing its way through the town, shreds of the buildings flying into the air.
---------------------------
End Chapter
Rating: mild NC-17
Characters: Jim, Frank and Winona, Bones/Jim, OMC/Jim
Warning: mpreg, teenagers who are really too young, talk of abortion
Thanks: To both lifebehindadesk and hebrewhammer42 for the awesome beta jobs.
Notes: I am an idiot. I made a few stupid geographical errors in the beginning of the story, and when I'm a little less tired, I will to go back and revise the story a bit. For now, just know that Riverside is right next to Sioux City. And there are no canyons nearby, but I'll keep that in for the sake of movie canon (not that it appears in this story anyway). And Iowa isn't as dry as the movie shows, but I digress. Also, Riverside is right in the corner of the state where Iowa meets South Dakota and Nebraska. This may only matter to the geeks in Nebraska or South Dakota, like me. ^^V
Summary: Life is just a little bit easier for Jim. He's got friends and family to be with, he's taking better care of himself, and the weather has even let up. But it's a false sense of safety.
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven
.
Riverside, May 2249
Jacob’s Bar and Grill was half restaurant, half bar. Jim offered to bus tables and wash dishes but he was instead given the cash register, and kindly forced to sit on a stool, with little walking around. He was on strict orders to not work the bar, and to stay out of the now locked backroom, but he still chatted up with the bartender, playfully trying to learn new mixed drinks.
"What about spiced rum? What can you do with that?"
The handsome young bartender, who had graduated Riverside High School the same time Jim was starting Junior High, knew he shouldn't encourage the boy, but still gave in to Kirk's irresistible charm.
"From what I've heard about you, you've probably have already tried it with coke. You can also mix in some lime and tea, and get a mojito." He winked at the kid. But of course, he only shared tips if old man Carter was out of hearing range.
Three hours every day after school were spent at the restaurant, with extra time on the weekends. Around seven o’clock, the atmosphere changed from relaxed dining to intent drinking among the older crowd, and Jim was always ushered home by this time. But for three hours Jim was surrounded by friendly neighbors. No one bluntly mentioned the condition he was in, but they would pat him on the back, tell him to "hang in there" and if he "needed help" to just ask.
Physically, he tried to take care of himself. Didn't drink, despite the playful talk. He ate more appropriately, took the vitamins and medications, and went easy on the exercise...though he didn't stop either. Still stretched in the morning, and went for short walks when he could slip away. Every other day he went to the doctor, where Angela Carter would measure his stats, blood pressure, inflammation, and warn him his health still wasn't looking good.
“Your liver is inflamed. So are your blood vessels. Now let me see your feet.”
She poked and prodded at his tender feet, tightly pursing her lips in a frown. Awkwardly holding up his left ankle with both hands he asked, "What do I need to do?"
Her gaze was quietly reproving. "There’s no way to undo the damage at this point. Just don't stress your body any further than you have already."
---------------------------
Jim was at home working on homework when Robert's sister rolled up, her outdated four-door covered in mud. Robert was in the passenger seat, Michael and Zack in the back. The humans were all smiling and Zack looked slightly less long faced than normal for a Renzite.
“What’s up?” Jim asked.
“We’ve got something for you!” Michael announced.
The boys opened the dirty trunk and pulled out three big boxes, which they carried inside.
In the boxes was a rocking chair, with an ottoman. It was heavily cushioned, and made of a nice dark wood.
Robert explained. "My parents suggested you might need a chair like this. Something to prop your feet up, and Mom said that rockers are really good for, you know." Good for babies, Jim understood.
"So we saved up some money and got this for you!" Michael explained with a big smile.
"I pitched in too,” Robert's sister added.
The three boys looked happy, bright and honest smiles on both Michael and Robert's faces, and a reluctantly hopeful look on Zack's.
"Thanks," James smiled back, encouraged by their enthusiasm. The guys carried the boxes upstairs, though Michael almost dropping one. After some deliberation and hesitance, they assembled it in Sam's old room.
---------------------------
After months of biting her fingers, his mother was able to tell him, "I’m coming home. I pressed the captain, and we’re finally going to detour to Deep Space Four, and I’ll be able to come home on the Valiant. It’ll be two more weeks before we reach the space station, and then a month and a half home, but I should be back in late July.” She looked hopeful and rueful, and Jim felt a twang of shame for making her feel guilty. This wasn’t her fault. But selfishly, he didn’t want her in space; he wanted her here at home. It would feel so good to be in her arms again.
He still hadn't told Sam. That was going to be a really awkward conversation.
It was May, and the ground was muddy and messy. The snow had completely melted away, and it rained too often. Feet sunk into the mud, and walking was a dirty chore, but a little bit of greenery was coming to life in the trees and the grass. Franks was busy programming the harvest, grumbling about whether the soil was ready or not for planting, and the man was blessedly preoccupied with issues that were not his step-son.
The sky that morning before school had been clear of clouds, but faintly yellow. James awoke with a headache that persisted through classes. That afternoon at work, everyone was at the bar for Cinco de Mayo, despite extremely blustery weather.
"Hey Jimmy, do you need a ride home tonight?" Robert's sister asked Jim, as she handed him several menus.
“Nope,” Jim shook his head, and tucked the paper menus away next to the cash register. "The jackass is coming by to pick me up at six."
"Oh good, cuz I wanted to work late anyway. I'm so close to moving out, I just want to save up four hundred more."
"You going to move to that place on Edgewater?"
"It’s cheap…” she admitted, but didn’t look convinced, “But I’d have to drive from Riverside to Sioux City every day."
"That’s not far…” She gave him a deadpan look, and he held his hands up in surrender. “I know, you want to get away from your parents. Are you going to move on campus?"
"Maybe...just, there’s another place I like." She tilted her head like she was second guessing whether she had meant to bring this up, and wanted to drop the subject.
He suddenly realized which place she had in mind. "Oh."
"Yeah." She grimaced with guilt, and then looked immediately apologetic. "Look, it's a nice place, you know?"
"Yeah."
"And it's cheap. Close, decent, and cheap. I really like it."
"That's cool." He shrugged.
"Really? Cuz you look like you're bummed. I'm not forcing you to hang out there or anything. Besides, I heard Clay moved out and went to Chicago. I just really like his building, even if he's a creep."
"Whatever. That's cool."
"If you say so." She stood there awkwardly, and he looked at her with disappointment, then away in silence. "Sorry," she apologized again. One of the customers at the far table was waving at her, so she gratefully took the chance to slip away.
The bartender had been spying on them, and slipped over to Jim to ask, "Who is Clay?"
"No one.” Jim grouched, thinking about the embarrassing and stupid things he had done at Clay. “He’s fucking no one."
The bartender took the hint, leaving Jim alone.
The elderly McConahees walked in through the door, smiling and cheerful, so Jim put on his false grin, and pointed them to a table.
---------------------------
The sky was clear when Frank drove up, but the winds nearly barreled them both over as they left the restaurant. The gusts threatened to lift up the hovering truck, and Frank swore to himself for not taking a wheeled vehicle.
"This weather looks bad Jim," he told his captive passenger.
"I've got eyes, I can tell."
"These winds could tear up the crops real bad."
"I don't care." Playing bored, Jim ignored his step-dad and stared out the window. The trees along the river were bent over, flailing like streamers in a fan.
Frank ignored Jim's snideness and kept chatting. "Probably should have picked you up sooner. Wish I had. Hope nothing worse develops."
So they drove. Frank was driving as low to the ground as he could, but every now and then a gust would catch them by the underside and drag them up into the air. It felt like being on a boat in turbulent waters.
"Whoa, whoa there," Frank murmured to the truck as they lifted several feet up, then were pushed back down.
Jim gripped the seat arm tightly, his insides flipping. He felt like he might throw up.
"You okay there?" Frank asked, but didn't take his eyes off the road. They were only half a mile outside of Riverside, the buildings still in view. They had five more miles to reach home.
"Fine," the boy answered tightly.
"Should I head back? We might be safer back at the bar, waiting this out."
Jim swallowed bile, and nodded enthusiastically.
Frank cautiously turned the truck around, when suddenly the wind caught them again. They went sliding across the muddy road, banging once against the ground, then sliding into the crop land. Jim saw stars as he was jostled around in his harness, while his step-father swore, desperately trying to regain control.
Jim's heartbeat pounded like a drum against his temple as they came to rest on against the ground, about 100 feet from the road, in the middle of the wet and muddy fields.
"You okay?" Frank asked breathless.
Jim panted and nodded, but didn't open his eyes. His head hurt and he felt like vomiting.
"Okay. Shit, we’re stuck. We should have just stayed at the bar, damn it," the man swore. Then took a closer look at James. "Are you really okay?"
This time Jim shook his head with urgency, but gasped when the pressure in his head was too much for movement. "I really don't feel good," he said in a voice hoarse and wet. He twisted painfully to the side and retched against his window, but nothing came out. The pain wasn’t in his belly, but higher, right under his lungs. “It hurts. Here,” he panted, tenderly pointed right under his ribs.
"So it’s not the baby, right?”
“It still hurts!” Jim yelled, then clenched his teeth.
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit," Frank fumbled for Jim's seat, reclining it back as far as it would go. "What the hell’s wrong? What's your blood pressure?" Of course, he didn't have any way to tell, could only watch Jim hold his torso, face twisted in pain as the wild winds outside rocked the truck. He grabbed his phone, called the police.
A little voice on the comm answered, "Sir, do you need help?"
"Yeah, me and my boy, we're stuck right outside Riverside,” he yelled into the little phone, trying to speak over the rising roar. “This is Frank with the Kirk farms. I've got my step son here, and he's looking really bad. We got thrown by the winds, and now he's pale, vomiting, got a pain in his ribs. You've seen him lately, haven't you? This the local police I'm speaking to, right?"
"I’m speaking from the west side of Sioux City." The tiny voice answered. "I’ve got your location. How long do you think you boys can hang on?"
"I don't know. His doctor says he’s in bad shape, says his blood pressure is climbing, says his liver is overworked, she’s got him on all sorts of medication."
"We’re going to try and get to you quickly, but it’s hard to get through this wind. You and your son need to say inside your vehicle, alright? We’re going to get there in the next fifteen minutes.”
“Can you get his doctor?”
“Frank,” Jim gasped.
“Who is it?” the dispatcher asked about the doctor.
“Dr. Angela Carter! Can you get her?”
“Frank!” Jim tried again, reaching out one hand to grab his step father’s shirt.
“We’ll try sir. Hold tight.”
“What is it?” Frank finally asked, examining Jimmy’s face and body, seeing the young man’s attention was outside.
“Frank, look,” Jim pointed weakly and above them a large branch bounced off of the top of the truck. They were still stuck deep in the mud, and it was the only thing keeping the wind roaring wind from tossing them over, rolling across the fields. Jimmy’s finger pointed east, back to the town, at the towering black column bulldozing its way through the town, shreds of the buildings flying into the air.
---------------------------
End Chapter