A Jim In The Slammer
Author Note: I do not own Yugioh or any of the characters from the show. I hope you enjoy this story and I look forward to seeing what people think of it. If you like it please R&R. I don't expect this to be a long story like my other two Yugioh fics, but I think it will be a fun ride as it moves along. Just a warning; this story will contain spoilers for Battle City and possibly the Noah's Virtual World saga. This fic has been beta read by Minor Arcana; a big thank you to her for all her help and advice on the story.
Dog Days Chapter Seventeen: A Jim In The Slammer
"This way, sir," said the officer who was escorting Jim.
Jim was still cuffed and grunted as he got out of the squad car. He'd been in jail once before over being drunk and disorderly, but this time around he had a feeling he'd really screwed up and would be spending more time here then was worth it for having beat the snot out of Dan.
The officer held open the door, his partner silently following behind Jim as if afraid he might suddenly take off.
That wasn't about to happen. Jim's back was hurting pretty badly and he felt like throwing up.
"I'm gonna be sick. I need the bathroom now or a trashcan. Your choice, guys."
Jim burped and then grunted in pain. The officers both made faces of disgust and then took him to the bathroom. They went inside with him while Jim vomited up everything that had dwelled within his stomach.
One of the officers unlocked Jim's cuffs so he could wipe his mouth, and they re-cuffed him with his hands in front of him in case he got sick again.
After five more minutes, Jim washed his hands up and they took him back out to get booked. He had his picture taken, his fingerprints taken and was compelled to answer all sorts of questions.
It took two hours, but finally Jim discovered that he was being transferred to the county jail. He was taken into their custody and then made to go to a holding cell while they went about getting a cell ready for him. The officers who'd handled his booking told the staff at the jail that this one was not a troublemaker; he'd just lost his cool and assaulted a co-worker. They also told them that this wasn't his first offense for a crime involving alcohol. He most likely would have to get into rehab because he'd drank for so long he'd definitely suffer withdrawal symptoms from it.
It would be up to the public defender and the judge as to whether or not alcohol treatment would be beneficial if undertaken voluntarily maybe shave a little off his sentence. But the staff tended to talk and Jim heard some of it from his vantage point behind the full metal door. The only opening was a window with two inch thick glass and an opening the inmates got their trays through for meals. Jim noticed there was another guy, but he was snoring so basically he was alone.
I shouldn't have gone after Joey again. I don't know why I want to hurt him so badly. I don't, really. Why do I do these things?
Jim wondered to himself why he had thrown a punch at his son. It had been wrong, he'd known it, but he had been so angry with his son for leaving. He'd always been there and as Jim sat there now he felt like crying; he did love Joey and he wished he could take back all the ugly things he'd put him through and said to him. It was a tangible pain he felt; it was in his chest near his heart, a pain similar to the one ripping through his back.
There was a fuzzy memory of that weird kid Jim had accused Joey of being involved with, and how he had gotten angry when that kid told him off.
But was he being truthful? Could a crazy whacked out kid like that really see anything about someone's future? Or was he just trying to freak me out? He was so fast it was almost inhuman. Must have been on drugs, I bet that is what it was. His eyes did change and look all weird after he started telling me off.
Jim grunted as he shifted his weight on the hard stone seat he'd gravitated towards. If he had a blanket and a pillow then he'd be able to rest, but even the poor guy next to him on the other bench had no pillow and looked cold. It wouldn't be too much longer before they would be coming for him to make him shower and shampoo his hair with that anti-lice garbage that stunk to high hell.
He felt so stupid. He should have just gone home instead of going to the bar. Well, now he would have nothing but time to reflect on that, along with a lot of other shit he didn't want to be thinking about but inevitably would.
Joey was getting another bag full of clothes to get him through the weekend at Mai's. She'd bought him some things that he kept there, like some sexy boxers and some silk pajamas, along with some other casual clothes she'd seen when she was shopping. He really loved the generous heart she had, the way she would smile or smirk a challenge at him made him so happy. She was everything he could have wanted in a woman. That was what Mai was; a beautiful woman who wanted him.
He knew when she'd pushed his buttons in a friendly challenge that it was all in fun. As he gathered his things he thought about how nice it was to be here with Duke living on his own with him and being free from the abuse his father had dished out on him. His cell phone rang and it was Mai. She told him she was on the way and would be there in less then five minutes.
"I'll be waiting for you, Mai," Joey said, as he hung up his phone, sticking it back in his back pocket.
He left the room after doubly checking that he had everything he needed. He then went downstairs. Duke was busy working in his room and Joey had already told him he was leaving so he just headed outside. He felt somewhat depressed after seeing his father last night and he tried to put it out of his mind, yet it was there, nagging at him.
How bad his dad had looked... the red eyes and five-o'clock shadow were bad enough, but something in his eyes looked like he'd snapped when Yugi had basically caught him trying to sucker punch him.
What's wrong/ with him? Is it just alcoholism or is it something more? /
Joey didn't know, but try as he might he just couldn't stop caring about the sick bastard. He was still his father after all.
Sighing, the blonde went to the elevator and waited for it to come up. After the doors opened he got inside and hit the button to take him to the lobby.
Shifting his weight from one foot to the other the image of his father's face haunted Joey. He couldn't shake it no matter what he did. He had a feeling what Yugi said might end up coming to pass if he didn't somehow find the strength to stop drinking.
He'd looked terrible last night, and only being with Mai had pushed the pain of seeing him like that from his troubled thoughts.
As he left the elevator and headed for the front doors, Joey could already see Mai outside waiting for him. True to her word, she was there smiling at him as she waited for him to reach the car. The doors shut behind him and he trotted over to the car where she had the door ajar for him to easily slip into the passenger seat.
"Hi, handsome," she greeted him warmly, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
This made the young man blush.
"Hi, Mai. How are you doing since this morning?" asked Joey.
"All right. I'm still worried about you though. How are you doing?"
He sighed, "I'm fine. Really. Thanks for being there for me last night. I can't help but to think about it, how crazy he looked. It really freaked me out."
Mai sighed and reached over to squeeze Joey's shoulder, "Joey, it's ok. He can't hurt you anymore."
"Yeah, I know. It's just I can't help but to feel bad for Dad, at least a little bit. He is a mess. God, I never want to be like that," Joey said, his voice trembling from the deep emotion he felt.
Mai put her hand back on the steering wheel as she sat in silent thought. If I say what I am thinking, that that bastard deserves a lot worse then just being stuck in that house alone, I will only upset Joey and I don't want to do that. He's been through enough as it is.
They sat in silence for the rest of the drive to Mai's apartment and only when they got there did they talk again. The conversation stayed far away from the events of the previous night, and Joey was grateful for it.
Putting on a movie, the two cuddled up on the couch so they could watch it. Thoughts of his father were still floating around Joey's troubled mind, but the fact he was with Mai helped to keep those thoughts at bay. He knew that if he needed to he could talk to her about it; he knew he could talk to Mai about anything and that she'd understand. Just as she'd understood he wasn't up to going out anywhere tonight.
"Come on Mr. Wheeler, it's time for your shower and to get assigned a cell," said the guard, who unlocked the holding cell that Jim had been waiting for hours in.
"It's about time," commented the annoyed blond.
The guard handed him a big gray tote bin and said, "Here is your canteen that has your blanket, pillow and other necessities. Take care of it, because this is the only thing you're getting until next week."
Jim nodded and followed the established protocol, letting the guard lock him up in handcuffs before leaving the cell behind the guard who then led the way down the hall to a large bathroom with a huge shower in it. Once there, he took the cuffs off the older man and gestured to the shower. Jim put the bulky tote down after getting the soap from it, got undressed and then sighed as he turned on the water, doing his best to adjust the heat. He knew that the cold anti-lice concoction was soon to be sprayed all over him. He got in and used the weak-looking slab of soap that was like the kind you got in hotels, washing himself up, trying to prepare himself for the ice cold shampoo that was going to be sprayed on his head any moment.
"All right, that's enough, Mr. Wheeler. Turn this way so I can spray you down," the young man commanded.
Jim obediently turned and closed his eyes as the soapy mess was sprayed on him from a barrel. Said barrel looked like a bug sprayer with one of those hand pumps to make it spray. Jim grimaced when his crotch got a blast, and then he quickly rubbed the stinking lather around before getting relief from the warm water as it rinsed it all off. Even with it gone, the stench of the stuff still clung to him and he groaned as he was handed a towel from his gray canteen that was just barely big enough to get around his hips.
Turning off the water, Jim began to dry off and was then handed some orange pants and a matching shirt.
Couldn't they have given me something in better condition then these pieces of scrap? he thought, as he put on the thin pants that were worn from so many launderings.
The guard waited until he had the shirt on before holding out the cuffs again and snapping them around Jim's wrists. Then he led Jim down the hallway to an area that the guard had to be buzzed entry into by another guard behind a glass window.
Jim rolled his eyes as he was led into the noisy cell area. People were making all kinds of noise; empty threats at each other, hooting and hollering in the midst of other pointless vocalizations. It was enough to make the older blonde man sick to his stomach. Some of that nausea was probably due to the alcohol wearing off and Jim wished, not for the first time since being arrested, that he had a beer.
He was brought to a cell with two other guys, both of whom were looking at him. Jim was glad there were two open bunks because he didn't want to fight over who got which one.
Without saying a word, he went to sit on the one closest to the wall and the toilet. That was the worst part about jail, sharing a commode and having to relive yourself in front of everyone within eyeshot.
Jim sighed as he put the canteen on the floor and took out the sheets, pillow, blanket and toilet paper. He then stood and made the bed as good as he could with the crummy sheets, then he put the roll of toilet paper on the top of his canteen under the bed before he sat down, took the pillowcase and stuffed the pillow into it.
Jim hated these thin vinyl pillows and slender vinyl mattresses with a passion, but if things went well with his court appearance he'd get out of here in no time. Then again, if he got the same judge he'd gotten three years ago he'd be in here a lot longer this time around. This wasn't his first time in Domino's jail and, he hated to admit it to himself, but it might not be his last.
As he sat there looking up at the slightly stained white tile ceiling, Jim could have cared less if they'd had a leak and it had defaced the purity of the tiles in their ceilings. What he cared about now was what his son was up to.
I bet that bastard is out there having a great time with his weird little friends. I just hope he isn't into drugs. I hope I didn't raise a fool. Maybe seeing me so messed up last night will scare the little shit straight if he is doping it up. I sure hope he doesn't hurt himself.
"Hey, what are you in for, mister?" asked a young man that was barely older then Joey. "I stole a car; pretty stupid huh?
Jim turned on his side away from the kid, "Assault. Stealing a car is just as stupid as popping a smart ass in the mouth, breaking his jaw, so who am I to talk."
The third man grunted, sitting up on his bunk bed, "Heh, I was selling crack so I guess that makes us all dumb assholes."
That made the kid laugh, obviously agreeing with him, but Jim merely shrugged and stayed silent. One thing he had learnt before was the more you kept to yourself the better off you were. Suddenly he got that ill feeling in his gut again and he jumped up and ran to the toilet, just in time to vomit into it and not on the floor. He turned the water on the sink part of the commode as it was a one-piece fixture and cursed under his breath that he was shaking so badly. It was bad he'd puked in here, now the stench would get his bunk mates sick and possibly make them hurl too, but he had a feeling that by this time tomorrow he'd be in a real bad way from not having any booze.
The longest he'd gone without any alcohol was his eight hours of work or sleep since he'd been in jail the last time. He didn't want to think about how bad it would be by Monday, so he had to get out tomorrow if the judge granted him probation or perhaps let him pay restitution and a fine he could get out of this place. The two men in here with him didn't seem so bad, but the one crack dealer bothered him. He looked bad too, with dark circles under his eyes that looked oddly vacant. Again, the weird kid's glare came back to him from last night. He didn't want to think about it but as another wave of nausea overtook him he couldn't get the image out of his mind.
Freaking jerk. He's lucky he didn't take a swing at me, I would have beaten him to a pulp and/ made Joey watch it all. /
As he washed his mouth out and splashed water on his face, Jim realized how evil he sounded in his own head. How degenerate he truly had become that he could even consider beating up a teenager besides Joey, who deep in his heart he knew never deserved what he had laid upon him. But it was all the older man knew how to do. His own father had been an alcoholic, and, like Jim, he'd held a job, lost his wife and beaten his son. He'd died a few years ago, cancer having eaten away at his throat and stomach from drinking and smoking for so long. Jim hated that the same fate could be in store for him since he wasn't able to give up drinking on his own and smoked.
I shouldn't be vomiting like this. If I was home I'd be drinking dammit. This is all that worm Daniel's fault for talking shit.
But though Jim knew he could have ignored it, the truth was that he'd wanted to deck the guy for a long time for mouthing off at the bar in front of all the guys. Finally, the nausea was lifting and Jim washed his hands and then went back to the bed, if one could call it a bed. He sat down.
Reaching into his canteen, Jim pulled out the towel that was still damp from his mandatory shower and dried his hands before putting it back inside and pushing the gray box back under his bed. He lay down and tried to clear his mind, he knew that in reality he'd be in here for a lot longer then he cared to admit and so he waited for sleep to claim him. He only had to wait about half an hour because the lights were turned off and he was left in relative peace.