Close Your Eyes, Come With Me

V

"I got it, I got it," Jack grumbled with irritation. He shoved Crutchie aside a bit too roughly, ignoring the pang of guilt when he almost fell.

Truth was he didn't have it. Not at all. But like hell he was going to admit it. His pride hurt more this his ribs as he struggled to stand up once he'd retrieved his dropped bag. Normally he could take any beating and brush off every injury, but he supposed this one was a little worse than most. Some angry, possibly drunk shop owner had noticed him cutting through an alley behind his store and decided that was a justifiable reason to run him down and strike him hard in the ribs with some stick. Jack had felt it in his bones. His head had hit the wall hard enough for him to see stars. Sure it was a hard hit, and sure he'd been too dizzy to even understand the words the man was yelling at him, and sure he'd jabbed Jack again in the bruise for good measure, but it had been one hit. Jack could not believe he was on the verge of being out of service over one hit. He could feel Crutchie's sympathetic stare on the back of his head, and he did his best to ignore it. The shame of the pain throbbing in his skull was enough on it's own. He didn't need some dumb crippled kid treating him like--

"Do ya think they's broken?" Crutchie interrupted Jack's thoughts, appearing beside him.

Jack quickened his pace, forcing Crutchie to either fall back or struggle to keep up. "No way. One hit ain't gonna break my bones."

But even as he said it, Jack wasn't sure if he believed himself. He'd felt the pain of many broken bones in his lifetime, and this was definitely around that level. But he just couldn't accept that. No way one, stupid, thoughtless hit somehow managed to land perfectly enough with the right amount of pressure. That couldn't happen. Not to him. His head throbbed so hard that he slowed down a moment, a hand going to the ugly bump that had formed where his temple had collided with the wall. The pain pulsed again when he tried to force himself to starting walking fast immeadiately.

"What if ya hurtcha brain or somethin'?" Crutchie put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Maybe ya should rest. I'll bring ya back somethin' to eat. Take a day. It'll help--"

Jack shoved Crutchie's hand away, turning to face him. He opened his mouth to say something, but it never came out. As soon as the bright sun shone in his eyes, a wave a pain flashed through Jack's head so hard that he doubled over and vomited on the ground. He stayed bent over a moment with his hands on his knees, his whole body shaking. Crutchie stepped around the mess and gently took Jack's bag off of his shoulder.

Once Jack had seemed to catch his breath, Crutchie spoke. "Sick, too?"

Jack shook his head, making himself wince. "No. Just... hurts that bad," he admitted quietly. He felt so damn defeated.

"That's no good. Could mean some serious stuff," Crutchie spoke softly, too softly. He spoke to Jack like he was fragile and breakable.

As the pain subsided and the embarrassment came back, Jack's angry defenses rose back up. He grunted as he stood up straight again, swiping his bag back from Crutchie's hands.

"Gimme that," he snapped.

"Are ya goin' back t'get some rest?" Crutchie called after him as Jack walked back the way they'd come from.

"No! I'm gonna sell somewhere else," Jack shot back.

"Alright," Crutchie said- no, laughed.

"Ya better drop that smug voice 'fore I come back there and knock it outta ya mouth," Jack shouted.

Crutchie said something else, but the distance and grown too much for Jack to hear him anymore. He didn't care. He wasn't in the mood for conversation. The selling somewhere else had definitely been a lie; the sound of Jack's footsteps alone was enough to make him feel like he was going to be sick again. But there was also no way he was going back to the lodge. There was one place he could go, but he risked being coddled there, too. Though maybe, deep down, he wouldn't mind a little coddling. At least, not if it was from the right person.