Work Text:
Sometimes Tony woke up panting hard, memories of cruel smiles and taunting words filling his head.
Sometimes Nicky would wake up too, and Tony would have to put on a brave smile.
Sometimes Nicky would stay asleep, and Tony could slip away and into the night.
This time, Jack caught him.
He had slipped out the front door of Miss Medda’s home, freezing when he saw a figure curled up on the banister of the porch. As quietly as he could, he opened the door again, settling one foot back inside the house.
“’S okay, Tony, you can stay out here. I don’t mind the company.”
Cautiously, Tony stepped outside again, padding softly to the banister to settle a few feet away from Jack, arms thrown over the rail.
They were quiet for a moment, the silence both an uncomfortable weight in the pit of Race’s stomach and a breath of fresh air compared to the endless questions of his little brother.
“You okay?”
Tony looked up at that, hesitantly meeting Jack’s eyes. He found silent words there, like Jack knew how loaded the question was.
“I’ve been better,” Tony admitted quietly, almost hoping Jack wouldn’t hear him.
Jack huffed a laugh, looking back out at the quiet street in front of them, “Ain’t we all, kid?”
Tony cocked his head, mind racing. What did that mean?
Jack seemed to sense his confusion and looked back at Tony, gaze heavy with pain and brokenness that Tony knew he would never really understand.
“Did- were you-” he started.
“Yeah,” Jack sighed, leaning his head against the pillar, “Yeah, I was.”
“Oh,” Tony whispered, suddenly seeing Jack in a very different light than he had before. “Has Crutchie been there too?”
“Nah,” Jack replied, swinging his legs around and hopping off the railing, “He came to Medda’s right after his parents died. Never seen the inside of a bad foster home, and he won’t ever have to.”
Tony nodded, pulling his arms back from the banister.
“You were havin’ nightmares, weren’tcha?”
Tony’s head shot up, eyes wide and mine racing. Did he tell him? Did he pretend he was okay? Could he pretend he was okay?
“Uhm-”
“If you were, don’t say you weren’t. I went through ‘em too, I know what they’re like,” Jack warned, watching Tony.
Tony closed his mouth, silent for a moment. Finally, almost against his will, he let everything out.
“Yeah, I was havin’ nightmares. Real- uh- real bad ones too. Suddenly he was smilin’ in my face ‘n I couldn’t do anythin’ cause I had to protect Nicky ‘n it- it- it scared me Jack, it really did. ‘N I can’t- I don’t- it- it’s- hard, to deal with it with Nicky there cause I don’t- can’t really do anythin’ without scarin’ him cause he’s three, Jack, ‘n if I do any- anything to scare him-”
“Can I touch you, Tony? Would it be okay if I hugged you?” Jack interrupted softly, hesitantly reaching towards Tony.
Tony nodded frantically, relaxing immediately when Jack’s gentle hands touched his arms, pulling him in for a tight hug. He didn’t have the strength to move his arms from where they were folded on his chest, instead curling in on himself and letting Jack hold him closer.
***
Jack listened to Tony ramble, having trouble keeping up with the words flying out of his mouth. It was like Tony was running a race against his nightmares, trying to get out what had happened before the horror caught up with him again. Running a race… Racetrack. Tony’s name, as long as he liked it, would be Racetrack.
“Can I touch you, Tony? Would it be okay if I hugged you?” Jack asked, cutting the boy off. He needed to get him out of his head before he fell deeper in the hole he’d been digging himself, and something told him that Tony would be one for physical touch.
At Race’s enthusiastic nod, he pulled him in, wrapping his arms around him tightly, as if he could keep the nightmares and horrible memories at bay if he just held him tight enough. Then Race curled in on himself and Jack’s heart broke, so he did his best to pull him closer, hoping that maybe if he could keep Race close enough he could hold them both together, keep them both from tearing at the seams and cracking farther along the faults left in their hearts. He knew it wouldn’t work, knew they’d break anyway, but he would try, and he would keep trying until it worked or the bones in his body were as cracked and broken as the rest of him, whichever came first, because he had gone through the same thing without someone that understood there to hold him like this and he refused to let Race have to do that too.
Race whimpered, and Jack paused before saying anything, choosing his next words carefully. “It’ll be okay, Racetrack. I’m not gonna say it’s okay right now, or even that it’ll be okay anytime soon, but it will be. I’ll getcha there, no matter how long it takes. I swear.”
Race looked up at him, his face a mix of relief and confusion. “Racetrack?”
Jack grinned, ruffling Race’s hair. “Yeah. ‘S your nickname, like Crutchie. You run your mouth, like you’re racin’ your thoughts, so I went with somethin’ similar. Race for short,” he explained, hoping Race liked it as much as he did.
“Okay,” Race whispered, offering Jack a small smile. “Will Nicky get one too?”
“Sure, when I come up with a good one,” Jack answered, continuing to run his hands through Race’s hair.
“Okay,” he whispered again, laying his head on Jack’s chest and closing his eyes.
“Think ya could go back to sleep, Racer?” Jack asked. Race hummed, as if thinking it over. “I can stay ‘n sleep in the same room as you ‘n Nicky, if ya want.”
Race nodded, beginning to pull away from Jack. Jack let him pull mostly away, keeping a firm arm around his shoulders, guiding him back inside and up the stairs to the room he shared with Nicky. Quietly, they slipped inside the room, Jack walking Race to their bed. Nicky was curled up against the wall, his arms wrapped tightly around his pillow. Jack pulled the covers back far enough that Race could slip under them, placing the blanket back over him when he had settled down.
“‘Night, kid. I’ll see ya when you wake up, ‘kay?” Race nodded sleepily, pulling Nicky close to him and snuggling under the covers a little farther. Jack leaned down, pressing a kiss to Race’s forehead, pulling back and ruffling his hair again. He headed to the bed that was technically Nicky’s, arranging the blanket and pillow comfortably. Nicky and Race had been given the same room, but the toddler often found himself overwhelmed, so after a few nights of crawling into Race’s bed, he had started sleeping with him from the beginning of the night.
Settling down, Jack thought over his conversation with Race earlier. He hadn’t been lying, he would get Race to recover from the horror of Snyder’s home, but he knew it wouldn't be easy.
That was okay. Jack wasn’t necessarily looking for easy, just possible. Race hadn’t deserved what had happened to him, no one in that house did, but somehow, Race was different. He was like… like Jack’s little brother, which was weird, because the two hadn’t really talked before tonight. But now, now they had done a lot more than just talk. Now, Race was as important to him as Crutchie, or Spot. Now, he refused to let anything else happen to Race, because now that kid was his, his brother, and he had to protect him.