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“Food! Food! Food!” Jake and Charles chanted with grins on their faces, their arms linked as they sat at the table next to each other. “Food! Foo-”
“Oh my God, shut up,” Rosa groaned.
“Yeah, no one wants to hear you two whine like little kids,” Amy said from where she sat in between Rosa and Holt.
“Agreed,” Holt said. “I thought this was meant to be relaxing.”
“Yeah, Terry feels like he’s back home with his kids,” Terry muttered. “Why can’t you guys act like adults?”
“Izzat a serious question?” Gina slurred- she wasn’t drunk, she just constantly sounded like she was. (Jake remembered the times when they were kids where the rumours around school were that Gina was an alcoholic.) “Did you just ask Jake and Charles why they can’t act like adults?”
“Adults need to eat, too,” Jake said as Charles stuck his tongue out at the skepticism of their friends/family.
“Dinnertime!” Scully called out, Hitchcock right behind him carrying plates of food.
“I still don’t know why we’re letting Hitchcock and Scully cook our dinner,” Rosa muttered.
“I’ve tried their food before!” Charles defended. “They do know their stuff.”
“I should think so, seeing as they constantly waste their paid hours stuffing their faces,” Holt deadpanned.
“Oh! Burn, Captain!” Jake laughed at Amy’s attempt to seem cool in front of Holt.
“I’m sorry, Santiago? I didn’t realize anything was burning-”
“Oh- no, captain, u-um… Nevermind.” Amy blushed in embarrassment and looked down at her third glass of water in the past hour; she hadn’t been drinking any alcohol since she’d gotten very drunk the day before as part of Gina’s plot.
Jake was pretty sure she was super embarrassed.
He smirked and elbowed Amy (who glared at him), feeling happy she was at least able to get drunk at all with the Captain here- he had been worried he wouldn’t have been able to see Drunk Amy if her boss was here as well, but Gina was pretty much able to do anything she set her mind to- including meeting 8-drink Amy.
Jake looked around the table as Hitchcock and Scully began to place down the food (chicken with herbs and a side of rice) with a goofy smile on his face- he was glad that his whole family could be here this year, seeing as he’d never really had his own family vacation as a kid- they were expensive, and it would have just been him and his mom anyways.
He let the warm feeling in his heart grow as he watched Amy try to strike up a conversation with Holt (key word: try) while Gina tried to convince her to have another drink, as Charles (being the great friend and people-pleaser that he was) ask the so-called “Vacation Terry” questions about his kids (Terry was always in the mood to talk about Cagney and Lacey, even if he denied that he was a dad while at the beach house), and as Rosa and Hitchcock had a staring contest to see who got the last piece of garlic bread while Scully cheered them on- Rosa could keep her eyes open surprisingly long, and Jake was pretty sure Hitchcock was a lizard.
Jake turned to look through the window facing the beach, taking in the pink-purple-blue sunset reflecting over the ocean, remembering the freezing yet enjoyable walk along the beach they had done the day before- Jake wouldn’t lie, even though it had been cold, it was fun to pretend he was going on a big hike with his family, being forced to get exercise so that he could be healthy even if he didn’t love it.
His mom had never cared about that when he was a kid.
His dad had just made fun of him for being scrawny.
But now he was here, having an actual family vacation, and sure, it was with his colleagues he certainly didn’t have enough daddy issues to see him like family as well, but he could always pretend it was the same for them. And who knew? Maybe it was.
Jake grinned and turned back to catch the end of Rosa and Hitchcock's staring contest (Rosa had won due to Hitchcock falling asleep) and reached out to cut off a drumstick from the chicken, seeing as Charles had already done so, and damn, it looked good. Maybe Hitchcock and Scully were good chefs after all.
Jake was just in the middle of tearing it off when his elbow stuck out and knocked his cup of cranberry vodka to the floor with a crash.
Jake Peralta was five years old when his father beat him for the first time.
Well, not exactly.
There had been times before- a light slap here and there with a threat that it would be “worse next time”- but nothing that left a mark, nothing that really hurt.
Nothing that Karen could notice.
Nothing that Roger ever apologized for.
It was ten thirty in the evening. Jake and his dad were sitting in the living room, Karen away at an art show where her work was being displayed to (hopefully) earn a profit. She didn’t usually sell her paintings, but Roger had lost his job recently, and money was tight.
(Jake hadn’t eaten a meal since the day before. He had complained about it once only to be told to “suck it up and be a man.”)
Roger was watching a sports game on TV. Jake couldn’t remember what sport. Football, maybe? Hockey? He was drinking Miller’s Pale Ale in a bottle on the coffee table, with Jake on the couch next to him playing with a piece of lint he had found in between the couch cushions.
Jake's stomach growled.
Roger turned up the TV without so much as a glance at his son.
Jake opened his mouth to let his dad know he was hungry, but closed it quickly as his dad grunted, took a sip of his Miller’s, and left for what was presumably the bathroom.
Five-year-old-Jake took this as an invitation to try a beer for the first time.
He only meant to take a sip- he was curious, and hungry. Maybe alcohol was like food?
Jake placed the lint ball back into the couch crack and moved towards the edge of the couch, reaching out to grab his dad’s bottle.
He never meant for it to slip and drop to the floor, never meant to panic and step into it, causing a shard to dig deep into his foot, never meant to start crying.
He wasn’t supposed to cry when his dad was around.
“Jake?”
Speaking of his dad.
“Oh, you little bitch, what did you- ow! Fuck!”
Roger growled as a small piece of glass cut his foot, making him turn to put his shoes on.
Jake continued to cry. His foot hurt.
At least it was distracting him from his hunger, but he really didn’t like how it felt. He preferred his stomach feeling like a black hole to this stinging, sharp feeling in his foot. It felt like his skin was on fire (which had happened before, actually- an incident with Jake and a distracted Karen).
Roger did not seem to care.
“Oh, get over it, you whiny little brat! You fucking spilled my drink!”
Jake did not get over it. If anything, his crying got louder.
“Do you know how expensive that shit is!? And you just- God, shut up!”
Jake felt a sting across his face.
That certainly made him go quiet. He was not expecting that.
He looked up, his eyes shining with tears at his father, who was currently kicking the glass under the couch with his shoes, grumbling about his son 'being an idiot'. Jake blinked once or twice before beginning to cry again, not quite understanding why his foot still hurt. Usually by now his mom made it stop, or at least did something.
Jake then remembered, as his dad got up to walk towards him, that his dad was not Karen.
Karen certainly wouldn’t have proceeded to yell at Jake and hit him again. And again. Jake lost count- he had only learned how to get up to seven in school.
His dad only stopped when he forced himself to stop crying.
His foot still stung, but at least the new bruises forming on his face and arms were distracting him a little bit, and he was pretty sure the blood had clotted and it wasn’t getting everywhere anymore.
(Roger would go to the fridge to get another beer, and by the time he would come back, Jake would have limped up to his room and cried himself to sleep. He would tell the nurse at school the next day that he’d gotten the cut from a piece of glass in the schoolyard. Karen would never mention the blood on the carpet in the living room or the glass under the couch, but she and Roger would start arguing more after that.)
“Jake! Oh my God, Jake!”
What? Why was- why was Amy here? How could he hear her voice from where he sat in the living room?
“Jake, man, you good?”
“Jakey, talk to me!”
“You need to breathe, Jake.”
“Hey, Jakey, listen to Rosa.”
“Is he okay?”
Terry? Charles? Rosa? Gina? Scully?
“Everyone, give him space!” Holt’s commanding voice called out. “Jacob, I advise you to take a deep breath. I believe you’re on the verge of passing out from lack of oxygen.”
No. No, why were they here, they couldn’t see him crying, they couldn’t see him like this. What if Roger hurt them, too?
“G-go away,” Jake finally choked out, eyes still squeezed shut as he tried to figure out why the wooden floor in his home felt like the tiled floor of the beach house.
And when did his foot stop stinging? He could barely feel anything anymore. The sound of his dad in the kitchen was gone.
He’s going to come back, I need to move. We need to leave.
“Jake…” Amy’s soft voice spoke from somewhere on Jake’s left. “We can’t go away. You need some help right now.”
“Do you know where you are, dude?” Rosa asked, sounding a little further away than Amy.
Why were they asking him if he knew where he was? Of course he did. Jake moved his foot again. Still no pain. Funny. His face didn’t feel like it was bruised at all, either.
“Why are you guys here?” he asked, ignoring Rosa’s question.
“We’re having a vacation at the beach house, girl! Remember?" Gina exclaimed. Jake could almost picture her confused face.
“No, no, what? We’re- we’re at my- why are you guys in my living room?” This didn’t make sense. Jake hadn’t even become a cop yet, let alone met the 99. Why were they in his childhood home?
“Jakey, open your eyes,” Charles coaxed, worry laced into his voice.
“Terry, can you go grab an ice pack?” Amy asked.
“Smart,” Rosa said. “That’ll help snap him out of this.”
“On it.” There was the sound of someone getting up and jogging away towards the staircase leading up to Jake’s room. That wasn't where the kitchen was- plus, Roger was in the kitchen right now; Jake couldn’t let him hurt one of his friends., no, no, he couldn’t.
He felt his breath start going even faster than it previously was (wait, when had he started hyperventilating?) and his eyes shot open, startling at what he saw.
This… wasn’t his living room.
“Wha- Huh?” Jake scrambled up from where he had been curled up in a ball, purposefully not looking anyone in the eye.
So he hadn’t been at his old house. It felt like he was in the beach house because he was in the beach house. He’d dropped his dad’s bottle years ago. Roger was never here.
But Holt was. Amy was. Rosa, Charles, Terry, Gina, and Hitchcock and Scully were all there (actually, Hitchcock wasn’t there anymore. Maybe Jake’s freak out had caused him to have a heart attack?).
And now they were staring at him like he was a bomb due to explode at any second.
“I’m just gonna…” Jake pointed vaguely at the door with his thumb just as Terry came rushing back in, ice pack in hand.
“Here- oh, Jake! You scared me, man!”
“S-sorry, Sarge. Um, I’m gonna go. I-”
“No you’re not!” Amy exclaimed, seeming to finally process what Jake was saying. “You just- you- no!”
“Okay, okay, chillax, Santiago,” Jake said, immediately falling back into his jokey personality that he usually showed around the 99. “I’m fine, though.”
“You are?” Scully asked, seeming genuinely confused.
“Uh-huh. I’ve heard that before,” Gina muttered.
“Yo, man, you were just full-on panicking,” Rosa said. “I don’t think you’re ‘fine.’”
“You don’t? Ouch, Rosa, I think I’m pretty attractive-”
“Peralta, I would prefer if you treated this matter with the seriousness it deserves,” Holt said as Jake pushed himself up and ignored Charles’ outstretched hand for help.
“It’s not serious. I- I’m jumpy. The- I got... scared. When I dropped the glass,” Jake gestured towards the area on the floor covered in glass and the contents of his drink.
“You’re not jumpy, Jake. Remember that one time we were on that stakeout and you didn’t even flinch when the perp shot-”
“Okay, Boyle, that’s enough. I think Jake gets it.” Rosa turned back to her friend from the academy. “Jake, it’s chill. We don’t have to talk about it.”
“Wha- Yes we do!” Amy practically screeched.
“No, we don’t! Exactly!”
“Shut up, Jake. Boyle, you agree, right? We should talk about it?”
“Actually, I’m with Rosa,” Charles broke in. “If Jakey doesn’t want to talk about it…” He shrugged.
“Talk about what? I mean, I don’t even know what you guys are-”
“Okay, there’s a difference between ‘not talking about something’ and ignoring it,” Terry said, his arms crossed over his chest. “Jake, don’t try to lie. You had a panic attack and were fully convinced you were a kid again, or something like that.” Jake’s jaw clenched and he took a deep breath.
Okay, so maybe they weren’t letting this go.
“But- it would also be unfair of any of us to invade your privacy or your personal life,” Holt said. “So, we don’t need to talk about it. Now let’s clean this up.”
“I got it!” Charles exclaimed, running towards the kitchen to get a dustpan and broom.
“Thanks, Charles," Jake said to his friend as he left. “Um… so… hey, where did Hitchcock go?”
“Oh, he left when you dropped the cup,” Scully explained. “The food was getting cold and it made him really sad.”
“That… makes sense, actually. Hey, so… can I get some of that cold chicken? I didn’t really get a chance to eat.”
Jake ignored the concerned looks from his friends as he sat back down in his seat, making sure he wouldn’t step in the glass so as to not get another scar on his foot.
He could get through this. One awkward meal and then he could get back to work on Monday and everyone would have forgotten by then.
Well, that was the plan.
Until Gina, Rosa, Amy, and Holt cornered him as he was getting ready for bed that night. Jake had just walked out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth for his nightly ten seconds when the four of them seemed to appear out of nowhere, making him leap back in surprise.
“Jeesus!”
“Hello, Jacob,” Holt said simply. “We would like to speak to you about today’s… incident at dinner.”
“Y’know, like when you had a panic attack,” Rosa deadpanned.
“Rosa!” Amy hissed.
“And a flashback, I’m pretty sure.”
“Gina!”
Jake laughed awkwardly. “I told you guys, I dropped a glass and…” Shit, what was the story again? “...Thought I saw a spider?”
Holt and the others looked unconvinced.
“Uh-huh,” Amy said, an eyebrow raised, while Gina jumped in with a “Whatever you say, girl.”
“Okay! Okay, fine, maybe I was… hyperventilating. Or whatever." Jake looked down, feeling his face go hot as he admitted it.
“And crying,” Rosa recalled, making Amy smile at him condescendingly with her head titled as Holt nodded solemnly.
“And yapping a whole lot,” Gina said.
“Yeah, well, I must have been drunk. And I got scared. Because I dropped a glass.”
“So scared you were telling us to ‘get out because your dad would be there soon’?”
Jake froze at Amy’s words before turning on the charm and grinning. “I… didn’t realize I said that out loud…”
“Well. You did. And we heard everything,” Rosa said.
"Jacob, did your father ever... hurt you? Physically?" Jake flinched at Holt's words, looking down instead of giving them a clear answer.
(Jake knew by Rosa's growl and Amy's little whimper of sadness that they had figured out what wasn't said, anyways.)
“Jakester, you could have-”
“It’s fine, Gines- it was before I met you.”
“Oh, no, I wasn’t gonna blame myself, girl- you could have cut him out of your life years ago. Why do you still want to see him?”
“Gina!” Amy hissed again. “Not everyone is as great at severing relationships as you are!” She turned back to Jake with a trying-to-be-serious-look on her face that Jake definitely did not find cute at all. “Seriously, though, you’re not allowed to see him again.”
Jake laughed before realizing she was being serious. “Wha- You can’t! Captain! Santiago is invading my privacy!”
“I’ll allow it just this once,” Holt said bluntly. “Jacob, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re police. You should be glad we’re not arresting your father.”
“Or killing him,” Rosa said.
“Remind me why we’re not, again?” Gina asked.
“Because in the end, it is Jacob’s choice,” Holt reminded them.
“Wow, lots of free will. I get to choose between never seeing my dad again or having him go to prison,” Jake said sarcastically, secretly glad those were his options.
Although Roger hadn’t hurt him (physically) in years, Jake certainly wouldn’t say he enjoyed being around the man. I mean, the incident of what had happened at dinner was a great example of how he was not Over It, no matter how hard he tried to convince everyone- including himself- that he was.
“Yeah,” Rosa said, her jaw clenched. “Those are your options. I’m still pissed you didn’t tell me earlier. I wouldn’t have let you waste all that time on his case.”
“Well… I guess I choose never seeing him again. I mean, he’s not around all that often anyways, y’know!” No one laughed. “Okay, tough crowd.”
“Cool.” Rosa held out her hand. “Gimme your phone. I gotta delete his number.”
“You’re just gonna send him death threats, aren’t you?” Jake said, handing her his device anyways.
“Ooh, death threats, my favorite,” Gina said, walking away with Rosa as she angrily typed a message to Roger that Jake couldn’t see and didn’t want to (for fear of having violently graphic nightmares). “Gonna go get some beauty sleep, bitches! Love you, Jakester.”
“Love you too, Gines.”
“Yes, I believe it is time for me to get my ‘beauty sleep,’ as well,” Holt said.
“Say you need your beauty sleep again,” Jake said, grinning. “Wait! I need my phone to record it! Rosa!”
“Goodnight, Peralta,” Holt said, already walking away, leaving Amy and Jake alone in front of the bathroom.
“So.”
“So,” Jake replied.
“Sorry your dad sucks.”
Jake laughed at his friend’s awkward attempt to make him feel better. “Thanks. At least Holt can be my dad now. Pretty sure he wouldn’t hit me for accidentally spilling his beer.”
Amy grimaced. “He wouldn’t. Also, fucked up reason to hurt a kid. I hate your dad even more than I already did.”
“Woah, you’re using swears? This is getting violent.”
“Shut up, Peralta.” Amy punched him jokingly in the shoulder and yawned.
There was a moment of silence between her and Jake, but it didn't feel awkward.
It felt...safe.
“‘Kay, I should get to bed," Amy finally said. "Thanks for... talking to us.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Okay, don’t look so smug about it. You weren’t ever going to tell us if we hadn’t heard you say anything.” She yawned again and stretched as Jake laughed quietly, his whole body feeling that feeling again, the one that made him feel safe and familiar and like he had a family. One that wouldn’t hurt him, or at least not on purpose. “Goodnight, Jake.”
“‘Night, Amy,” Jake whispered as she turned away, a soft smile on his face.