The Boys From Tennessee

The Boys From Tennessee
Pairing: Jack and Peter, Sawyer and Peter
Author: Chissy_Rose
Rating: R
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: I don't own them. Make no money from them. No infringement intended.

The Boys from Tennessee
Chapter 2
Don't Be So Sure Jack

Jack went and got what little ice there was in the hatch's refrigerator and a couple of towels. He had found an old ice bag that still looked like it was watertight and had put the ice in it. When he walked back by the computer room, he glanced Locke's direction and Locke looked him directly in the eyes and raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Are they okay in there? I kept hearing screaming - is Peter okay?"

"Yeah, they're alright, Sawyer was helping to keep him still and keep his mind off getting his nose reset and his eyelid sewn back together - it was painful." Jack looked away and kept walking. Locke just shook his head knowingly and went back to his book. Jack walked back down the hall into the dorm area and handed Peter the icebag and towel. Peter grimaced but didn't say anything. Sawyer was lying in the bottom bunk now where he had been for days, but had turned towards the wall, probably so he doesn't have to look me in the face Jack thought. "I need to look at the gashes on the back of your head and on your back to see if I need to suture them too."

Peter glanced at Jack and then just stared at the ceiling. "Look at my head first," he suggested. So Jack got a towel and soapy water and began to clean the scalp wound carefully trying to see the extent of the gash. Peter hissed and then sucked in air. Jack cleaned it up the best he could, took a small pair of scissors and carefully cut hair away from around the gash. "I'm going to stitch it up now, do you think you can stay still for this? It shouldn't hurt as much as your eye did."

"I'll try, I'll let you know if I need you stop again."

Jack began stitching Peter's scalp back together and Peter grimaced and made small noises but did real well about not moving. Jack worked quicker on his scalp, he just wanted to get it closed back up so it would stop bleeding and heal. He taped a gauze cover over the wound the best he could. "I'm finished with that, I'm going to go wash my hands and I'll be back in a moment," Jack said quietly. They could hear Sawyer softly snoring in the bottom bunk. Jack cleaned up and came back with some butterfly bandages, fresh towels, water and a clean shirt for Peter to put on since his was torn, dirty and bloody. "I really do need to get you out of that shirt so I can examine your back and shoulders, clean you up and bandage you."

Peter looked at Jack like he just wanted to die, so sad, so conflicted, so torn. "I'm okay," he tried to assert, but Jack wasn't buying it.

"No, with all your lacerations and gashes from that palm tree, I need to look. I doubt you've got anything I haven't seen before."

"Don't be so sure Jack," Peter whispered. Peter thought to himself quietly, Jack was a doctor, maybe he could trust him, and he could hear Sawyer snoring soundly in the bottom bunk. Finally he spoke, "OK, but I want you to agree to something first. You don't tell anybody, and I do mean anybody, what you see here, and no words of pity. You keep your thoughts to yourself. Agreed?"

Jack frowned, but said okay that he agreed. He laid the clean shirt down next to Peter along with items to clean and bandage him. "God, he's a good looking young man, it's a shame he's all torn up right now," Jack thought as he moved in front of Peter. Peter looked at Jack, and his eyes were pleading with him.

Jack said he would help him remove the shirt so they wouldn't hurt his face, scalp or back in the process. Peter nodded slowly. Jack was facing him and he reached down and slowly helped remove the polo shirt. At first Jack didn't notice anything, but then he began to notice what looked like old thin knife scars around the base of his neck, across his chest and on his sides. He felt his own chest tighten up. Jack grimaced but didn't say anything. Peter was staring at the floor like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. Jack walked around the bench to Peter's back and actually froze. "Oh God," he whispered. All of Peter's back was covered in old thin deep scars that stretched across his back and sides. Jack could tell he'd had some type of dermabrasion to try and minimize the deep scars that criss-crossed his back. "Who would do this to another human being? Who did this to you?"

Peter's face looked anguished now as he spoke quietly but bitterly, "Johnnie Lee Ford....my old man." He paused. "But the worst scars he gave me are the psychological ones no one can see."

"Where was your mom when this happened?" Jack asked. "Dead, she died in a car accident with my older sister when I was six years old. I didn't have anyone to protect me."

"What made these? Was it a whip?" Jack's voice cracked.

Peter had tears streaming down from his one un-bandaged eye and he reached up and wiped them away. "He thought I had turned him in to the law. He was bigger and stronger than me and used to hurting me. I was sixteen years old...We didn't have any close neighbors... The SOB stripped me, tied me to a tree in the yard, raped me and whipped me with a bull-whip...I screamed so loudly that I lost my voice for days. I bled so badly that I almost died... They locked him up in a Tennessee prison ... I think the Ford men must just be cursed. They're all messed up somehow. I'm messed up too." Jack felt tears welling up in his eyes. Peter was right, he had never seen anything like that in all his years as a physician. "Clean me up and do what you need to Jack. Don't ask me any more questions." Jack was glad he was behind Peter so he couldn't see the pity written all over his face. He picked up the towel and rung out the water and began cleaning up the gashes from the palm tree. He dried them carefully and then dabbed at his own eyes, he didn't want Peter to know how profoundly it had touched him.

He carefully put a small amount of ointment on the wounds, and applied some bandages. "I won't need to suture any of these, I can just keep at eye on them." Jack took the new clean shirt and helped Peter put it on.

Jack put his hand on Peter's shoulder and spoke quietly, "You know that one of the women that came here from the tail section of the plane is a licensed psychologist, Libby. I'm sure she would be glad to talk..."

Jack stopped as Peter shot him a glare. "Jack, I told you and Sawyer I was in therapy for four years. It didn't do me much good then and I doubt it would now. You agreed you wouldn't talk to anyone about this and I expect you to live up to that. I just want to go to bed now and sleep. I'm exhausted, my head hurts, and I just want to be left alone." Jack put his hand on the back of Peter's neck and slowly pulled him against him. He looked in his un-bandaged eye and very slowly kissed him tenderly on the lips while he held his face and stroked it gently with his finger tips. Peter saw his face this time and Jack's emotions. Jack kissed him once more and then just held him.

Peter looked anguished. "You have no idea what that does to me Jack... I...," he couldn't speak any more, he just cried into Jack's neck and shoulder as sobs wracked his body. Sawyer was awakened by the sounds of Peter sobbing, but he kept still and didn't move - just acted as though he was still asleep. Jack held him tighter and let him cry. When Peter finally stopped and recovered, Jack led him back over to the bunk bed and helped him up into the top bunk and pulled the covers up over him.

"I'm really sorry but I'll need to wake you up every hour the rest of the night to check on you. We don't have a MRI or X-ray machine here and with your head injury and loss of consciousness I have to make sure you don't slip into a coma."

Peter looked at Jack whispering, "It wouldn't be anyone's loss if I did Jack, I wouldn't be missed." Peter reached over picking up the towel and ice bag and placed them on his face. Jack walked out of the room slowly and dimmed the lights. He didn't even notice that Sawyer was quiet and not snoring now. Jack was totally exhausted too. All of this had taken everything out of him. Maybe he could get a little sleep on the couch and ask Locke to wake him up so he could check on Peter. After all, Locke had to be up the rest of his shift to input the numbers and keep the world safe.