The brothers were at it again.

Jane sat at the breakfast bar trying to remain inconspicuous for the third time in less than a week.

Danny had moped around the place for days, and Prett had gotten increasingly irritated with everyone and everything.

Jane suspected she had provoked the latter's disposition.

Because of the photos.

They must represent a painful past he would rather forget.

So much death at such a young age.

Whatever the reason, Prett's foul mood had infected Danny. The two now clashed whenever they spent more than a few minutes' time in the same room.

"Damn it, Vel!" Prett shouted now, standing with the cupboard doors open. "I've told you—put the mugs on the left. Don't mix them with the glasses!"

Danny rolled his eyes. He did the double-knock, double thumb-to-the-forehead sign.

Jane had learned that one. Yes, Dad.

"You're the one like Daddy," Prett muttered as he rearranged the glassware. "Impulsive. Rebellious."

Danny shook his head. He slapped Prett's arm to get his attention. Jane understood a few of the signs; you, Dad, he, and not—followed by the fingerspelling of an unknown word.

"I'm not OCD," Prett answered. "You're just ADD."

I kill me.

Jane wasn't sure her interpretation was correct.

Prett seemed unconcerned. He turned back to the cupboard. "I'm not playing that."

Danny stepped closer. You're not—followed by an unknown sign.

"Someone's got to be the adult around here. Get out of my face."

Danny's lips twisted with derision. Jane picked out you, stick, up and you. He ended by pointing to his own derriere.

Prett scowled and he half-turned to his brother. "At least I'm capable of organized thought. I don't know how you survived army life without being able to follow simple directions. Mugs. On. The. Left."

Jane had learned the last few days that any comment disparaging Danny's military service shut him down. Prett often brought an end to arguments by making such remarks. This was no exception. Danny extended his middle finger before shoving Prett and stomping out of the kitchen.

"And volatile!" Prett called after him. "Can't forget that characteristic!" He slammed shut the cupboard doors before reopening one to retrieve a mug. He poured himself coffee before thrusting the glass carafe back into place.

Val touched Jane's hand. When she looked at him, he jerked his head towards the front door. Jane had a moment's hesitation as she weighed finishing her cereal versus staying in the same room as an angry Prett.

Hunger won out.

She shook her head at Val. He twitched his eyebrows upwards as if to wish her well, then carried his dirty dishes to the sink before exiting the apartment.

By that time, Prett had poured himself cereal. He now sat adjacent from Jane. Dark circles under his eyes added to his surly appearance.

"Want me to help you with baseboards?" Jane asked. She had returned to painting, but Prett continued working on the boards, staining and polishing them.

His head moved in a slight twitch.

"Want to help me paint?" she asked.

Another head twitch.

"Are you not sleeping well? You look tired."

He glanced at her but the only sound he made was chomping cereal.

"Are you worried George and Lindy will want to move in right away? Holly thinks they'll stay at Genevieve's. They weren't expecting their house to sell so fast, either. They'll understand the hotel isn't ready yet."

Prett kept his eyes averted. "I don't—" He clammed up when Danny reentered the kitchen.

The latter sat across from Jane and signed something to Prett.

Prett shook his head and focused on his cereal.

 Danny signed again but his brother refused to look at him. With an exasperated breath, Danny said in his slow speech, "What ish wong with 'oo?"

"There's nothing wrong with me."

"Ya ina bad mood." He wiped his mouth. "All the time."

"Because you can't remember to put things where they belong."

"Nah. Ya jus being an assh."

"There it is. The biting wit."

Danny tossed back his hand and slid off the barstool. "I kint talk to 'oo." He stalked to the fridge.

Jane stared at her soggy flakes. "Are you mad because of me?" She looked at Prett.

He raised his eyes, his usual enigmatic air shaded by a fierce glower. He remained silent a long moment. "Why would you think that?"

"Because Genevieve showed me photos of your family."

He returned his gaze to his cereal. "There's no reason to go digging in my past. But not everything is about you, Miss Jane."

Danny tossed a bag of bagels on the bar followed by a tub of cream cheese and a butter knife. The knife clattered and spun on the countertop, coming to a stop in front of Prett. Danny signed as he spoke. "'Ya wude to Janie."

Prett scowled. He stood and carried his half-full dish to the sink. Danny crossed his arms and watched him. When Prett passed by on his way to the front door, Danny grabbed his arm. "Why ya so pisshed?"

Prett shook him off and continued to the door. Danny followed.

"Talk," Danny said.

"Oh! The man who spent seven years not talking now wants me to talk." Prett snatched his coat from the rack. "Ever think it's my turn to give the silent treatment?"

Danny shook his head and signed. Jane could only pick out talk and you. Prett signed back, but Jane couldn't see what he said.

Danny grabbed his own coat and shoved Prett away from the door.

Prett stumbled back a couple steps. "That's it. Always resort to violence when you don't get your way."

Danny flipped him the bird before opening the door and stomping out. His work boots pounded down the stairs.

"Your brain injury didn't change a thing!" Prett shouted as he stepped out the door, yanking on the handle as he went. "Volatile then. Volatile now!"

The door slammed shut, making Jane jump. She took a deep breath, the sound a punctuation to the newfound quiet.

As she gathered the remnants of breakfast, her phone announced a text from Danny.

     Not volatile. Passionate.

He followed it with:

     P's an ass.

*****

Jane spent the morning painting alone. She now felt relief instead of disappointment she hadn't had the opportunity to view more photos since that afternoon with Genevieve. Prett might have disputed the notion his mood was Jane's fault, but she didn't believe him. By lunchtime her mood matched what Danny's had been after his ill-fated apology.

She dragged herself to lunch, dreading another argument. But Prett had opted to eat at Dona's. Lunch proved to be a pleasant affair without him.

His brothers had exhausted their own tasks, and not wanting to bother Prett with supplying them with more baseboards to install, they offered to help Jane. Prett's foul mood was a mystery to them. They concluded he needed time by himself, which they were glad to provide.

They moved Jane back into the now-painted honeymoon suite before starting on one of the other bedrooms. After an afternoon of listening to music, Danny's mood improved so much he offered to help Val cook dinner. The two quit early, leaving Jane to find a stopping point. At the six o'clock whistle, she cleaned up, anticipating another of Danny's delicious meals.

She took the hotel's back stairs and crossed the yard to the mercantile's side door, her path illuminated by the street lamp. The game room was hushed and chilly as usual. Jane held the outside door open while she got her bearings. The theater door was only three steps away. By moving fast, she would have it open before the outer door closed and the room plunged back into darkness.

She made the familiar mad dash, but this time as she pressed open the theater door, a gut-wrenching howl assailed her ears.

She froze, looking straight ahead.

The projector screen was blank.

Before she could process this, another angry roar directed her focus to the first row of seats. Prett sat under the dim overhead lights, gripping his head. With another howl, he dropped his hands. A moment later he flung his right arm forward. His phone flew towards the wall, smacking against the screen before landing with a soft thud on the carpet. He let out another rage-filled scream, slamming his head against the recliner.

"Why–why–why?!" he yelled, now beating his head with his fists. Stopping the assault, he gripped his long hair again, rocking his body. "Why?" he choked out one last time before dissolving into excruciating sobs, his body bent forward, his hands covering his face.

Jane stood stock-still, her hand gripping the door. Her breath had stopped but her heart pounded, hard and fast.

Has someone died?

Prett's anguish dwarfed any distress she'd ever witnessed. His guttural despair went beyond the shock of a new grief. It seemed to represent years of pain, rage, and sorrow released in one torrent.

Jane backed out and let the door shut without a sound.

She needed to tell his brothers.

With shaking fingers, she felt along the wall in the darkness that enveloped her. She found the light switch. Once they flicked on, she ran to the front of the building and up the front stairs.

She burst into the apartment to find Danny and Val setting out dinner to an upbeat Bee Gees tune blaring from the iPad.

Danny be-bopped around Val, prodding him to join in. The latter laughed, shaking his head as he placed silverware beside the plates. With a grin, Danny spotted Jane. He danced over and grabbed her hand, pulling her into his arms for a twirl across the floor. She felt too much in shock to respond and stumbled over his feet. With a laugh, Danny helped her upright before boogieing alone to the kitchen.

A commercial brought the song to an end, and Danny opened the oven to pull out a roast chicken.

As if nothing was amiss.

As if dinner still mattered.

As if his older brother wasn't just at this moment downstairs, wracked in emotional agony.

They didn't know.

They had no clue.

Val gave Jane a questioning look, and she remembered his prior assessment.

Prett is dynamite inside a concrete bunker. Lots of explosions you never see or hear.

Yet Jane had seen and heard.

But that had been a mistake.

A fluke.

A wrong place at the wrong time.

Prett had unleashed his torment away from his brothers in a soundproof room. He wanted, and expected, nothing from them. Or her. Except the one thing he valued above all else: Privacy.

Jane put on a wavering smile for Val. "Need help setting the table?"

*****

"You're already eating?" Prett said as he entered the dining room.

I texted you. Twice, Danny signed as Prett pulled out the chair next to him.

"Yeah, well, my phone broke. Screen's cracked. Unusable. Have to get a new one."

How? Val signed.

Prett shrugged and reached for the mashed potatoes. "Dropped it."

Jane stared at him. His expression remained impassive. No indication of his outburst just thirty minutes prior, except for slight redness around his eyes.

Jane still felt shaky inside. Jittery. She wanted to scream as he had done. But she kept up appearances, contributing to the conversations that followed. As dinner proceeded, though, she noticed a stark difference in Prett.

He was cordial. Respectful. But the affectionate flirtations had vanished. He treated her much as he had the first day they met. No, even then he'd used humor to engage her. Now he was seriousness personified. Whatever walls Jane had broken down in the past weeks had been renewed, entrenched, and fortified.

Does he know I saw him?

His interaction with his brothers had also changed. Not only was the humor gone, so was his anger. He missed several opportunities for clever comebacks and shrugged when Danny called him on it. Danny followed up with several verbal jabs, but Prett didn't show even a flicker of the irritation he'd displayed the past few days.

Genevieve's words came to mind.

Some days I'd poke him to see if he was still alive.

Jane now understood, for the man she knew had been replaced by an automaton.

Prett retreated to the office after dinner. Danny's depressed mood had returned, and he shuffled off to his own bedroom, leaving Jane to help Val with the dishes.

Once they were alone, Val spoke for the first time since Lee's attack. "What h-h-happened to P-Prett?" he asked in a lowered tone.

Jane's eyes widened. "I—I don't know."

Val set down the chicken platter and signed as he spoke. "Something's been going on, but he won't talk to us."

Jane shook her head. "He won't talk to me, either."

Val frowned and looked away. He let out a deep breath as he stared at the chicken carcass.

A ball of guilt bubbled up in Jane's throat. "Genevieve showed me some old photos of when you were kids. I think that has something to do with it. Even though he says it doesn't."

Val smiled. Again he signed as he spoke. "He didn't like it, but the photos were good. We have to learn to tell our story sometime. But this is something else. Something he won't tell me."

Jane scrunched her forehead. "A little while ago...just before I came up here, I saw him." She glanced down the hallway to make sure they were still alone. "In the theater. He was..." She struggled to find the right words. "Remember those explosions you said Prett had? Ones that no one sees? That's what I saw. An explosion."

Val's brows furrowed. "Describe."

Jane shifted her feet. "Screaming. Crying. He threw his phone against the wall. That's how it broke." She rubbed her thumb with her other hand. Val stared at her, and she broke his gaze by looking at the floor. "I don't know if he saw me. I don't think he...wanted anyone to know."

Val flicked his finger under her chin so she would look up at him. "Don't w-w-worry." He signed as he added, "I'll fix this."

*****

A week later things hadn't improved. Prett's emotions remained shuttered. He treated his brothers with polite indifference, which irritated Danny no end and perplexed Val, who couldn't seem to find an inroad through the new fortified barriers.

And then things took a turn for the worse.

It began when Val offered to help Jane paint. They spent the time speculating what caused Prett's regression, with Jane telling Val all they'd discussed. In return she discovered the brothers had given her a couple sign names. She found it amusing they alternated calling her Little Janie and Little Sis. She retaliated by calling Val "Tommy." He countered by calling her "Elly," her own childhood name.

Val continued to teach her sign language. He brought snacks for her fridge. He redecorated her room. When he asked her out to dinner, she considered it another strategy meeting, not a date.

But the next day he brought her flowers for Valentine's Day. Pink roses; her favorite. She still thought nothing of it. The morning after that he arrived at breakfast bearing a caramel pecan roll from Country Skillet. Jane's pleasured surprise at opening the box dissipated at Prett's immediate glare at his youngest brother.

He signed to Val, What hell you doing?

You give up. Why—an unknown word—me? Val replied.

Prett shoved away from the counter and stormed out of the apartment. Danny gave them a perplexed scowl before following Prett out the door.

Jane's face burned. Their alliance had backfired. Prett thought Val was romancing her. She now suspected Val's attentiveness was designed to anger his brother, not help him.

She scraped her fingernails against the caramel roll's thin plastic container. "Are you...trying to make him jealous or something?"

Val gave a nod with a smirk, but Jane had seen a flash of something else in his eyes just prior to that. An uncomfortable uncertainty.

He stopped helping her paint. For a couple days he avoided being alone with her. Then he renewed his attentions fourfold. Prett bristled with fury every time he saw them together.

Jane tried to get Val to end his scheme, but when an awkward shyness replaced his confidant persona, she realized his own ploy had tripped him up.

He'd gone and fallen in love with her.

She had no method of dissuading him. She'd rebuffed plenty of would-be suitors in the past, but those had been strangers in bars and at parties. Not someone she liked. Not a friend.

One evening as they sat on the sofa, Val took Jane's hand to help her form the letter "I." This was the last straw for Prett. He launched out of his chair and planted himself in front of Val.

I told you quit. Prett's gestures were sharp and angry. Leave her. She not your girlfriend. She never your girlfriend.

Why not? Val asked, his expression steely. Why you care?

You not together her. I won't let you.

Val stared at him a moment. Then he dropped Jane's hand and stood. He towered over Prett, making it clear with sheer physicality he wouldn't back down. His lips turned up with scorn, signing with slow deliberation, You won't let me?

Jane pulled her feet onto the sofa in an attempt to withdraw from the brawl she feared would occur any second. Danny had no such cowardice. He pushed himself between his brothers, facing Prett. Their hands flew fast and furious.

What you doing? Danny signed with bewilderment.

Leave, Vel, Prett replied.

What wrong with you?

Not—an unknown word—you.

Why you attack Val?

Get out.

Why you mad?

Move.

No. Listen, Danny signed.

Back off!

No! Leave him alone!

Get out!

By now Danny's face was red. You make me! His hand slapped his own chest with that last word.

Prett's hands gripped into fists as he glared at Danny. Jane recognized this stance; she'd seen it in the photo Danny had shown her. She knew what would come next.

Jane launched herself to her feet. The added height of the sofa buoyed her bravery. "Stop it!" she shouted. "Stop fighting!" She was close enough to punch all of them. She was ready to start swinging but didn't know which deserved it first.

Prett released his hands. Get out!

Jane didn't know if he meant her, Val, or Danny, but she didn't care. "This is nuts! I'm not going to date any of you, so stop fighting about it!"

Her declaration seemed to startle Prett. He looked at her a moment, then signed, Don't stand on my sofa.

"I'll jump up and down on your sofa if that's what it takes!" She bounced on the cushion to prove her point.

He smirked with derision. Look what you did, he signed to his brothers. You've destroyed our—unknown word. She understands us. He glared at all three before turning and stomping towards the front door.

"Don't worry, Prett," Jane called after him as she walked across both the sofa and the end table before hopping down. "I don't understand any of you!"

She grabbed her coat from the rack and wrenched open the door he'd slammed shut, trailing him down the stairs and through the game room. Prett strode to the theater door, but Jane stopped next to the pool table. Part of her wanted to have it out with him, but her memory of the last time she'd encountered him in that room made her pause.

Prett also stopped. He turned and looked at her. Seeing she didn't plan to follow, he marched towards her. He came so fast she took an involuntary step back. He stretched his hands out as if to grab her upper arms, but when her lips parted in a small gasp, he stopped, his hands dropping to his sides.

His angry expression changed to pain, then resignation as he stared at her.

He lifted his hand as if to touch her cheek.

She recalled his tender caresses when she was ill.

He bent his head and slightly leaned in as if to kiss her.

She remembered his warm lips just a couple weeks prior.

But nothing came of either gesture. He opened his mouth as if to speak, forming words that didn't materialize.

His eyes lost their spark as he pulled away. He turned and strode back to the theater door, flinging it open and letting it close behind him, slow and silent.

Jane fled out the side door and across to the hotel. She ran inside, locking all the doors behind her. In the sanctuary of her room, she crawled into bed fully clothed with the lights on. Despite admonitions to herself not to, she cried herself to sleep.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please help me improve my writing by pointing out problems. And if you like what you read, please click the Vote button below. And comment! I love comments! 😊

Fun Fact: Below is the 1st floor layout of the Marvel brothers' building. I'm sure glad I made these. I've had to adjust some of my scenes because the layouts somehow end up different in my head. 😂 I originally had Jane turning on the light when she entered the building. But then I saw how close together the side door is to the theater and so made it into a game for her to beat the darkness.

Fun Fact 2: I was torn which video exemplified this chapter, but I had to go with Thin Lizzy's The Boys Are Back In Town just for the line "And if the boys want to fight, you better let 'em." 😂😂😂

The full lyrics:

Guess who just got back today
Them wild-eyed boys that had been away
Haven't changed had much to say
But man, I still think them cats are crazy

They were askin' if you were around
How you was, where you could be found
Told 'em you were livin' downtown
Drivin' all the old men crazy

The boys are back in town
(The boys are back in town)

The boys are back in town
(The boys are back in town again)

You know that chick that used to dance a lot
Every night she'd be on the floor, shakin' what she got
When I say she was cool she was red hot
I mean, she was steamin'

And that time over at Johnny's place,
Well, this chick got up and she slapped Johnny's face
Man, we just fell about the place
If that chick don't want to know, forget her

The boys are back in town
(The boys are back in town)

...

Spread the word around
Guess who's back in town
Just spread the word around

Friday night they'll be dressed to kill
Down at Dino's Bar 'n' Grill
The drink will flow and the blood will spill
And if the boys want to fight, you better let 'em

That jukebox in the corner blastin' out my favorite song
The nights are getting warmer, it won't be long
Won't be long till the summer comes
Now that the boys are here again

The boys are back in town
(The boys are back in town)

...

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