I'd been walking home from detention, sore and furious. Chad and his stupid friends had started talking shit about my clothes or something dumb like that, and I had lost my head and swung on Jerry, Chad's best friend. They'd all jumped me then, but had only gotten a few punches in before a teacher broke it up. We'd all been given detention while we were sitting in the nurse's office getting patched up.

Jerry, Chad, Matt, and Derick had spent the entire hour of detention glaring at me and muttering threats. I ignored them for the most part, only dropping a few whispered hints that they couldn't take me one-on-one. As it turned out, no, they couldn't take me one-on-one. But as a team, though...

The four of them had ambushed me as I passed the park, chasing me into an alley and pinning me down. They'd already broken my nose when Jason walked by.

******

"Hey kiddies, what're we doin' down here? Havin' a little fun?"

Hanging by my arms now between Matt and Derick while Chad and Jerry take turns hitting me, the new voice means only one thing to me: A brief respite from pain.

"Who the hell are you?" Jerry sneers, and I hear the gravel crunch as he takes a few steps toward the mouth of the alley.

"Oh, just a guy." New-Voice answers, "So what're we doing, kids?"

"None of your business, man." Chad's response is a little winded; he's the one who's been doing most of the hitting.

Silence for a moment, and then I hear footsteps coming closer to me. I don't have the strength to tense up, not even when I feel a slim hand on my chin, tilting my head up.

"What's your name, kiddo?" New-Voice asks, smooth and calm.

"Duncan," I croak out. I can't really open my eyes.

"Duncan, will you be my friend?"

My heart skips a beat. The question is too close to the kinds of crap Bruce spews when he's spun.

"I-I..." I don't know what New-Voice is really asking; with Bruce, there's a kind of pattern, but I don't know New-Voice. Since I can't see him, I can't begin to guess what kind of a person he is.

"Just say yes, buddy," New-Voice tells me. I gasp out the word, and the hand gently lets my head drop and moves away.

"Well, see now, it is my business; Duncan is my friend. So how about your boys just run along, and I'll take my new friend home?"

I can almost envision Chad's dumb-struck stare for a minute before he answers.

"Fuck off, man! This doesn't have anything to do with you, it's between us and this pussy."

I hear the smack of flesh-on-flesh, and Chad cries out in pain.

"You got fucking slapped like a bitch!" Derick howls, loosening his hold on my arm in his laughter.

"Shut the hell up, asshole! You're gonna pay for that, man." Chad yells, and I hear him launch himself. Both Derick and Matt let go of my arms to help, and I drop where I am, smacking my head on the pavement. It doesn't knock me out, but I'm dazed for a bit.

By the time I can make sense of the world again, I'm being propped up against the wall, and the alley is quiet. I dart a glance around through narrowed slits. Chad and the others are nowhere in sight.

I'm too wore-down to lift my head, and my chin rests on my chest. My nose is bleeding bad, but I can't lift my arms to stem the flow, so it just drips down my front, soaking the front of my shirt. My breathing is steady, though; Chad and Jerry had only gotten in a couple punches each on my ribs before New-Voice had shown up.

I have to really try to move my head in the direction of the only sound, the gritty crunch of someone sliding down a wall to sit on dingy pavement. The boy next to me was at least four years years older than I am, and I feel a fleeting feeling of amazement that Chad had attacked him.

New-Voice has settled himself to my right and is watching me as I stare at him from the corner of my eye. He holds his head tilted to the left, a look of quizzical interest on his face.

I'm starting to feel the strain of holding my head up, so I relax my neck and let my eyes fall to the growing stain on my chest. I'm too tired to even wonder why this guy would stop Chad and Jerry from beating me up.

"You, my newest pal, look like shit." The way he says it holds no contempt or pity. "What say we get that shirt off and stop that bleeding."

I groan at the thought of moving. "'M fine," I slur out, my words dampened by the swelling of my nose.

"Liar." Again, his tone implies a statement of fact and nothing more. "Here we go, buddy." I feel a strong arm encircle my shoulders, "Up, and-" He lifts me slightly from the wall, gripping the front of my shirt with his other hand- "Off."

With a quick yank, New-Voice whips my shirt over my head and away from my face before it can touch my nose. Then, lifting the back of my shirt, he lets me sit back. I hiss as my back makes contact with the cold concrete, and New-Voice chuckles.

"Yeah, that's always annoying." he tells me, wadding up my shirt and holding lightly against the bottom half of my face. My hand twitches on my leg, and New-Voice chuckles again.

"Nah, I got it, little brother. You just sit there and thinking strong blood-clotting thoughts." I can hear the smile in his voice as he continues. "I suppose you'll need to know my name, if we're going to be pals. Jason Matthews."

He lapses into silence then, and we sit that way for a long time, waiting for my nose to quit bleeding. I drift off a few times, only to be woken by a shake to my shoulder.

"You can't fall asleep," Jason tells me each time, and I grunt in response. I've never wanted to let go of my consciousness so bad in my short life. I'm nauseous from the pain of my nose, and I've lost so much blood that I'm feeling light-headed. I can barely see, and my eyelids are heavier than I can ever remember them being.

Finally, Jason shakes me awake a final time. "C'mon. The bleeding's stopped." It takes me a moment to comprehend what's happening, and I realize that the shirt has been taken away. My entire head throbs, but there's no blood dripping onto my chest.

"Up. We gotta go, buddy." Jason stands and pulls me to my feet, steadying me as I stumble a bit. He makes sure I'm solidly planted before releasing me, and a second later, I feel something being lowered over my head. Jason stuffs my arms into sleeves and pulls the sweatshirt down over my torso, laughing when he's done. "It's, like, a million sizes too big!"

I feel him place a hand on my shoulder, and I try to focus my eyes on the blurry shape in front of me. The smear in my vision resolves itself into a face, and it grins as it comes into sharper focus.

"How's a trip to the hospital sound, buddy? They've got really good drugs there."

The thought of what Bruce would do to me if he had to pick me up at the hospital froze my voice, but Jason apparently doesn't need that to tell that I don't want to go.

"Whoa, whoa... No hospital. Got it. Untangle your undies; you're gonna faint." Jason tells me. "How about I take you to my home, then? Mmmm? Wanna go home?"

His tone is similar to the one I've heard people talk to babies with, but I'm too done to care. Bruce would be pissed if I got brought home by a stranger, but hopefully the state I was in would keep him from doing anything more than yelling.

"Okay, I'm not seeing that horrible, oh-my-god-it's-a-demon terror, so I'm going to take that as 'yes'. You're gonna have to piggy-back it; just tell me what street."

I still can't quite manage words, but I give him a croaking-grunt, and he squats down in front me. I lean forward carefully, draping my arms over his shoulders, and he grabs my legs and stands, lifting me effortlessly. Settling me more comfortably on his back, he makes sure my face is turned safely away from his head and takes a few testing steps before setting off.

He reminds me a few minutes later to try and stay awake, and asks me where he's taking me. I tell him the name of the street and do my best to stay conscious. I fail miserably, and Jason has to bounce me a few times before I awake with a start.

"Okay, we're on Colorado. What house?"

"Th' one wit' th' dead grass," I mutter, all the pain that I had forgotten in sleep surging through my brain. Jason sets off once more, and I'm able to stay awake until he gets me to the front door. He knocks, and I think about warning him about Bruce, but before the thought is fully formed, the door bangs open.

"Where the fuck- Who the hell are you?"

Bruce's rough growl sends chills through me, even though it's not me it's directed at. Yet.

"Hey there, my name's Jason. Jason Matthews. I found your son, Duncan-" I feel Jason turn slightly, and assume he's showing me to Bruce- "Being beaten up by four other boys. They broke his nose before I got there, but I chased them away before they could do anything more. I was gonna take him to the hospital, but he wanted to come home, so, here we are."

I'm amazed that this guy can stand here and so calmly speak to Bruce. There's not a hint of fear in his voice. Bruce isn't fazed, however.

"Trust me, the little shit started it," Bruce snarls. "Well, give him here." Jason lowers me to the ground, turning to face me while still in a crouch. Something is slipped into my pants pocket, and Jason mutters, "Eat this before you go to sleep, little brother. It'll help."

Jason stands, and Bruce grabs my arms and yanks me into the house, slamming the door without a word more to Jason.

"What the hell is wrong with you, you idiot? Why the fuck are you going around picking fights again? I told you, any more trouble from you and I'll make you wish you were never born!"

Bruce keeps up a steady tirade the entire way as he pulls me down the hall to my room, but I don't hear much since it takes almost all of my brain power to keep on my feet. When Bruce drops me onto the bed I just lay still, too tired to move.

Bruce yanks off my shoes, tells me I'm going to school tomorrow, and slams my bedroom door when he leaves. I close my eyes and am almost asleep when I remember the thing Jason had slipped in my pocket.

I roll painfully onto my back and dig in my pocket, pulling out a small object wrapped in cellophane. After a few attempts, I manage to unwrap it and get it close enough to my eyes to see. It's a small bit of brownie, hardly more than a bite.

******

I'm not sure what made me eat it, but I had, and when I woke up the next morning, even though I felt as if I'd been hit by a truck, I also felt like I had actually slept, which made the pain easier to deal with.

The next time Bruce had gotten spun, I'd managed to get out of the house with no more than a sore jaw. Jason had appeared from nowhere as I sat on the swings in the park at dusk, and offered me a way to relax. I'd been wary, but had said yes, and Jason had shown me how to smoke, laughingly calling me 'baby-lungs' when I coughed so hard I nearly puked.