An End Has A Start by Another Illusion

Summary: It was just another day to Jack, but they wouldn't let it be, and now he was trying to escape from celebrating something that had always meant very little to him: his birthday.

Author’s Note: I am English, and as such use British spelling. Thanks as ever to my wonderful beta.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Four Brothers' or anything associated with it and I am making no profit from this. I also do not own 'An End Has A Start’ by 'The Editors'.

"You came on your own/That’s how you’ll leave … "

Lighting a cigarette, Jack O’Malley glared at the date on his calendar wishing that somehow the day would mysteriously change to tomorrow.

After a couple of minutes, his head was beginning to hurt and it was still his birthday. He exhaled carefully before taking a drag of his cigarette and looking at his floor for some reasonably clean clothes. That in itself was a task, Evelyn was always nagging about how he didn’t clean up after himself.

"Better get this over with," he said to himself, opening a window and discarding his cigarette. The cold, Detroit air was biting and he shuddered, deciding to wear a jacket over the t-shirt, even though he had wanted to display his latest tattoo. He carried on looking out of the window for a while, hoping that something would happen to distract him from what day it was.

“Jack,” someone called from behind him -- Bobby, probably, the damn guy was always in his business.

“What?”

“You gonna come down or what?” Bobby asked, walking into the room and leaning sitting on the end of Jack’s bed.

“Or what?” he questioned sardonically.

“You don’t wanna know. Now, come on Jackie, be a good kid, you’ve got a cake waiting for you.”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“Damn straight,” Bobby said, grinning widely. "You're only sixteen once. Hell, Ma even got me to come down and see you, I coulda been playin' hockey, but no ... I'm here, and have I had any sign you appreciate that? No siree -"

"Fine, I'll gone downstairs," Jack said, throwing his cigarette out of the window and massaging his temples. Boy, his head hurt. Whoever told him going straight would make him feel better was clearly full of shit.

He didn't know why Evelyn made such a big deal of his birthday, it had never been a big thing before he came to her, even before he was in the system. After his Dad left, there was very little celebration in his house; in fact, he dreaded his birthday because his Dad would never send him a card, which made his Mom cry. He didn't know why it bugged her so much. He always expected nothing, at least that way he was never disappointed.

At least he had a new guitar to look forward to. He'd overheard Angel talking to Evelyn about it. That would be one good thing to come out of the day;he'd been playing around on an old acoustic guitar that had been in Evelyn's attic for a while. He wouldn't mind doing something with music, someday, but the future seemed irrelevant to him. All he knew was in two years he would be out of here, and then he wouldn't have to bother with all this birthday celebration nonsense. If he was honest, he suspected he would be dead in a few years anyway, and he didn’t really care.

Oh, but he knew Evelyn, she’d still call him and send a card and gift. And if Bobby knew just how much it annoyed him, he would make a huge deal of his birthday, too.

"You don't like your birthday, do you?" Bobby suddenly asked, sitting on his bed. He picked up a CD on his nightstand and frowned. “You don’t listen to this shit, do you?” Bobby opened up a notebook by Jack’s bed, either unaware or uncaring that it was getting to Jack. “What is this? Poetry? And you wonder why we call you a fairy, huh?”

Jack shrugged, choosing to ignore Bobby’s observations about his music and writing,it wasn’t that he necessarily didn’t like his birthday. No, today would only remind him how he didn’t belong. He would sit in the kitchen with a cake in front of him and three brothers by him, with him the outsider, without a place.

"Fuck you," Jack said coolly. "It ain't none o' your business whether or not I 'like' my birthday." He paused. “And they’re lyrics, not fucking poetry, okay?”

"Hey, we're nearly brothers now, so it is my business if I wanna make it my business," he said, grinning once again. Bobby was unfathomable to Jack; he had this vague feeling that the guy had his back, but he still felt unsure around him. Bobby was like some animal Jack always half expected to turn on him.

Angel walked up the stairs and looked at Jack and Bobby. “Hey kiddo, happy birthday. You ever gonna get your ass downstairs?”

"C'mon, let's get this over with" Jack said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. Maybe if he went along with it for the morning, he could sneak away in the afternoon and go shoot some hoops with Eddie Williams. Eddie always had a large supply of dope on him, and Jack was craving it like crazy.

They were all waiting for him in the dining-room; Jerry, Angel and Evelyn. Jack felt sick, but covered it up with an arrogant swagger.

“Happy birthday, Jackie,” Evelyn said, smiling at him widely.

“Yeah, happy birthday,” Jerry said. “Man, do I miss being sixteen.”

“Hey,” Jack said, sitting at the table where juice and toast was already waiting for him.

“Have you been smoking?” Evelyn suddenly asked with a suspicious look.

Rolling his eyes, Jack sighed. “It’s my birthday, Mom.”

“Birthday, or not, you know the rules.”

“No smoking in the house,” Jerry and Angel said in unison with wry grins.

“Sorry,” he said, not meaning it. She gave him a look, one of those looks that instantly made him feel awful, that turned his stomach inside out more than a belt ever could. Guilt, he had learned, hurt a hell of a lot more than pain. He never used to give a damn about rules, whether or not he abided by them was often irrelevant.

“Did I get any mail?” he asked casually.

“No, were you-” Evelyn stopped, and Jack wondered if she had realised what he was really asking. “Jack, I-“

“It doesn’t matter,” he quickly said, hoping that Jerry and Angel hadn’t picked up on what he meant. He assumed Bobby had worked it out by the way he was now staring at him.

It was strange, despite constantly telling himself that his father would let him down, he always secretly hoped for something. He knew where Jack was --Jack had written to him a year or so ago after his Aunt Gloria’s funeral, a few months before he came to the Mercers.

He cast the thought aside as he took a slice of toast and began his breakfast.

“We always do any cards or presents after dinner,” Evelyn explained. "You won't mind waiting until then though, will you?"

“That’s fine, Mom.” There was a tradition and he felt like he was being included in it involuntarily -- three of them were adopted and he was just the foster kid, he stood out from them like a sore thumb.

“Jack,” she said in a low voice so the others couldn’t hear her, “are you okay? I mean –were you expecting anything?” She knew, he knew that she knew, and he was sure that she could tell he was disappointed. He wouldn’t have minded, but people made generally such a big deal about turning sixteen.

“No, no I wasn’t,” he said slowly before clearing his throat as he looked at a tattoo on his arm. He’d been illegally getting tattoos since he was fifteen, it was a mark of respect in his previous homes, and he had worked out the right type of place that didn’t give a damn if he was the appropriate age or not.

“You got another one?” Jerry asked, pointing at the new tattoo saying ‘spared’. Jack had got that one about two weeks ago, but hadn’t had much of a chance to show it off until now.

“Yeah.”

“Did it have to be so morbid?” Angel asked, frowning slightly.

“My body, my tattoos, my choice,” Jack said. “And it’s not morbid, it’s just a little-”

“Morbid,” Bobby interrupted, grinning at his brother. “I’m with you there, Angel.”

“Yeah, y’know it’s good to see you, man,” Angel said. “Killed anybody in a game yet?”

Bobby smirked. “Ah, hell, I know you all missed me. And no, I haven’t. Though I’d watch it, Angel, if I were you,” he said, grinning.

“So, you got any plans today?” Jerry asked. Jack had the feeling he was trying to include him.

“I was going to go shoot some hoops with Eddie later,” he said casually. Most of the Mercers didn’t know about Eddie’s side-job, though he knew Bobby did. Bobby thought he was on the straight and narrow though -- they all did, they deluded themselves that being in a house where things didn’t happen would somehow erase all the problems of the past, in Jack’s opinion anyway.

Evelyn nodded and Jack pretended he didn’t notice the glare from Bobby, who he suspected knew exactly what Eddie would be getting him for his birthday.

“Right, I’m going to Sofi’s,” Angel said. “Have a good day, kid. And don’t worry Ma, I’ll be back for dinner and everything.” He winked at Evelyn, which annoyed Jack because clearly something was happening that he was not privy too. God, he hoped that they weren’t planning a party, not that there would be many people to invite. Jack kept to himself, and everybody knew it.

“La Vida Loca? Damn, ain’t you done with her yet?” Bobby scornfully commented.

“Bobby,” Evelyn warned, giving Bobby a look.

Jack exhaled, if he played the happy, grateful kid for an hour or so, he could get away and score something that would definitely make the day go by much more quickly.

--

Eddie had definitely come through for Jack. Using his birthday to his advantage for once, Jack had ended up able to get twice as much as he usually could. However, it bought disadvantages, Jack had to work out how to sneak his contraband past Evelyn, and more importantly, past Bobby.

As soon as he saw Bobby walking up the basketball courts, he felt sick.

“I better go, see ya around,” Eddie said walking off. Eddie had never got on with Bobby, not after Bobby had found out that Eddie was selling Jack his supply of whatever drug he desired, they had hardly seen eye-to-eye.

Jack ignored Bobby for a moment, concentrating on making the hoop instead.

“You gonna tell me what that was about, or do I have to guess?” Bobby asked coldly.

“I was hanging out with a friend.”

“Yeah, that’s what it is,” Bobby replied, shaking his head in disbelief. “So, fairy-”

“Quit calling me that, Bobby.”

“Look, I don’t hate you for-”

“Just quit it, Bobby,” Jack said, wishing that Jerry was around as he at least always tried to intervene when he saw Bobby was bothering him.

“Do you remember when you came here?” Bobby asked casually, taking the basketball and trying miserably to get it in the hoop. “This game is shit, Jack, why you wasting your time on it, huh? So do you remember?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Do you?”

“No.”

Bobby gave him a look that clearly said 'bullshit' and Jack knew he wasn't going to let him slide without answering. It looked like Bobby was prepared to stand out there all day if that's what it took and well, it was fucking cold.

“Okay, fine -- it was ten months ago, that’s a long time for me,” he admitted with a shrug.

“Ten months ago is a long time? Shit. I have food in my fridge older than that.”

“Remind me not to come visit you, yeah?” Jack said, stealing the ball and doing a perfect jump-shot.

“Do you remember?” Jack asked suddenly, leaning forward the ball as it bounced off the old, cracked blacktop.

“Yeah,” Bobby said simply. “And you looked just like you did this morning.”

“And how was that?” he challenged, dropping the ball and looking at Bobby coolly.

“Fucked up.”

“Haha, very funny,” he said, sweeping a stray hair from his eyes.

“Seriously, Jackie, you were this screwed up kid who wasn’t fooling no one if he thought we couldn’t tell you were out of your mind on drugs.” Bobby looked sceptically at Jack for a moment. “Doesn’t look like much has changed.”

That was the thing, Bobby had got it in a nutshell; nothing had changed. He was still the fucked up foster kid, shuffling from place to place after his mother went crazy.

“Were you really expecting a letter from him?” Bobby suddenly asked. Jack froze and swallowed, shutting his eyes for a moment.

“No, but I woulda liked one,” he said flatly, walking back to the house.

--

Jack spent on the evening on the roof, smoking his discounted birthday present from Eddie. Ever since Bobby had mentioned the day he came to the Mercers he had tried to remember more about that day. He remembered the social worker had made him brush his hair and wear his best clothes, clothes he had last worn at a funeral. It had been an unusually warm day and the shirt had itched. He felt like some animal --some type of puny lamb--made up ready for the slaughter.

He had spent enough time in the system to doubt anybody who wanted a teenage boy.

Jack exhaled, smirking as he remembered meeting Evelyn. She had insisted that when he felt comfortable he should call her Mom, as Ms. Mercer was too formal, and Jack had not wanted to call her Evelyn, since he had had an Auntie Evie and Evelyn was nothing like her.

He heard the window behind him open but didn’t look to see what was happening. Whatever their reason, he suspected, must have been important, because with the snow fall trying to get on the roof was dangerous, very dangerous.

“If you’re tryin’ to kill yourself then there are far better ways than sitting on this roof,” Bobby said as he joined Jack.

“Yeah?”

“Jack, I swear, I cannot tell what’s going on in that microscopic brain of yours. My dad never sent me a card, hell, he spent most of the time in prison, before I was even in the system, and it never bothered me.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” he said sharply.

“No, you just get all fucked up over the fact that you didn’t get your issue of whatever gay crap you read in time for your birthday, right?”

Shrugging, Jack made a snowball from the snow on the roof and aimed it at a tree. It missed by a good few metres and he sighed in exasperation as Bobby did the same thing and made the shot perfectly.

“So, what you brings you up here?” Jack asked silently wishing the guy would just disappear and leave him alone.

“Here’s your present from Mom, from all of us,” Bobby said taking a white envelope out of his jacket pocket. Jack looked at the envelope sceptically. It was probably a clothes voucher or something like that. Evelyn often complained about his clothes

“You going to open it, or am I going to have to sit here all evening waiting for you?” Bobby asked, lighting a cigarette. “Man, I used to sit out here when I was a kid.”

“Yeah?” Jack asked, disinterested as his opened the envelope.

It was some boring type of official document, and if it hadn’t been for the fact this was his supposed birthday present he wouldn’t have paid much attention. But these were adoption papers all filled out, all signed. So, he was a Mercer now, he supposed, wondering if that would make him feel any different.

“I thought I was getting a guitar,” he said slowly.

“Fooled you, huh?” Bobby said. “Hey, sweetheart you’re not going to cry now, are you? Do I need to call Mommy? Hold your hand? Is it all a bit too much for you?”

“Shut up. It’s just --” he began, but failed to finish his sentence.

“Yeah?” Bobby asked, urging him to continue.

He looked at Bobby and grinned. “I really wanted a guitar.”