I don't own the Four Brothers, but here's how things would have gone it I did
Author: Dimitri Aidan
Rating; R to NC-17, as with most things it's all about the site.
Warnings: Slash, Sex, Violence, Language, Alternate Ending, Incest but not in a biological sense, and …other stuff. I'm a man of few plans but many whims.
Pairings: Bobby/Jackie, Angel/Sophia, Jerry/…Jerry's wife.
Notes: This isn't a fantasy/sci-fi/anime fandom, so it's a bit of a first for me. Realism…it could be tough. Let us venture forward together and find out.
Summery: In which Jack doesn't die, but Bobby does let a few things slip. As they try to rebuild and understand what's growing between them, someone seeks to tear it all down
Bobby didn't think he'd ever be able to sleep and not see Jackie, black clothes stark against his skin which was pale as the snow he was lying in with red seeping around him and staining the snow, replaying over and over in his mind. Hearing those agonized pain filled screams.
Not wordless screams, but his name, over and over again as he cowered behind a brick wall. Cowering for what? To protect himself? He wasn't supposed to be protecting himself; he was supposed to be protecting his brothers, especially Jackie. He wasn't like the rest of them, with blood behind them and an eternity on penance ahead of them. He was young, still clinging to some innocence, but he was the one who'd been shot and left to die.
He had the most ahead of him and Bobby had failed him.
He couldn't pretend he hadn't seen how startled the younger man had looked after they'd put down Mom's killers. Eyes wide and mouth slack…not the best he's ever looked, to be sure. Part of him had wished, as he pushed his brother towards the car and told him to get moving, that Jerry had come along instead of Jackie.
All their threats to set people on fire aside, it wasn't like Jack had ever been there for it. But Jerry didn't even fucking smoke anymore, let alone seem sold on the idea of watching someone run around consumed in flame. Once upon a time he would have through it funny.
He'd failed so miserably. Sure, Mom's killers were dead and Sweet was floating under the ice somewhere and his bitch of a cop was dead and no one had heard from Councilman Douglas in a while but…was it worth it? They'd lost a brother, if not by law then in heart and one of the few decent cops all in one moment. The house was in shambles and the cops were watching them more than a little closely.
Bobby let his eyes drift over to the slight figure in the hospital bed. Everything around him was white, bleached, starched and sanitized white from end to end. Jackie, who was far from a big guy to begin with, looked even smaller and fragile than ever. Gauze crept out from under his hospital gown up to his neck and tubes were everywhere. The steady rise and fall of his chest along with the rattling sound of his breathing announced him as living far more than the beep beep of the machine connected to him.
He could have died. Maybe should have. If Sophia hadn't called the ambulance on her cell phone while she was hiding in the house, if they hadn't gotten there almost the moment the shooting stopped, if they hadn't managed to keep Jackie from thrashing around and making the blood flow faster…
He would never banish the sound of Jackie screaming his name from his mind. Never. Didn't really want to, to be honest. At least it was something, a memory of life. He could have lost him so easily and not been able to do anything. Crying and begging him to hold on wouldn't have done anything. He hadn't been able to do anything but watch.
There were so many things he had wanted to say and when Jackie had lost consciousness damn if he hadn't said them, desperate to let him know that he was so much more than just a little brother before he was gone.
Angel, Jerry, and Sophia were blessedly silent about it. He'd all but confessed his undying, overly dramatic, and utterly pathetic devotion and they hadn't said anything. He couldn't have possibly loved them more for that.
If Jackie ever woke up he was pretty sure they'd be a little less kind but at the moment it was touch and go. He was still unstable, locked deep in a coma with the potential for infection still lingering. As much blood as he'd lost one good infection would finish him off. Bobby wasn't sure he could take any questions or accusations at the moment.
He wasn't sure when the last time he'd managed to get in more than an hours worth of sleep at a time was. Angel and Sophia were staying with Jerry at the moment and Bobby only saw them here, in the hospital room where he practically lived. When they made him leave at the end of the night, and they never failed to let him know when it was time to go, though the nurses always had soft words and sympathetic smiles.
He went home, slept in one of the few rooms without the windows shot out with the door shut tight to keep at least some of the chill out. When visiting hours started again he was there, waiting for them to allow him to watch over his brother once again.
Two weeks. Two weeks and no change.
Bobby had failed him.
It was, in hindsight, as obvious set up. Everyone loved his mother, for someone to just pop up so soon after her death and insult her while flinging snow was…well, it was obvious. But things had been going to hell and he'd just wanted to get out of that damn house before things could get any worse. It had all gotten so fucked up so quickly. First mom, then having to actually watch that tape, hunting the killers and watching Angel and Bobby…
The snow had been coming down hard, whipping at him with icy claws so he'd barely seen it but he knew. The shadows of limbs moving and then the shots that rang out and shattered the silence of the deserted street. He'd never actually seen anyone die before, that tape from the convenience store aside. He'd been to his fair share of funerals but somehow when ever someone actually died he'd been absent, kept away by his brothers.
And then Jerry. Mixed up with Gangsters or…something. Fighting amongst each other, in her house, the only safe place Jack had ever known. It was too much like how things had been before coming to live with Mom, all too familiar to him. Home after home, one family that just kept him for the money, to a family that hated him, to a family that ignored him and back again, with periodic returns to his father's custody in between.
Not until Evelyn Mercer had anyone actually given a damn. He'd come there and she'd already had three boys in her home but when no one else wanted him she'd moved Bobby into the basement and made room for him there. She'd known his past, what his father had done to him and how bad things had been, how tainted he was and
"-Brain activity has increased considerably in the past thirty minutes. He still shows no sign of infection and has no problem breathing on his own. He could be coming out of it."
"He has a strong will to live; they all do. I'm very familiar with the Mercer Brothers I assure-"
she'd wanted him anyway. He hadn't understood why someone as good as her would want to waste time on him but she had and…he'd been so grateful. He would have died for her. He shouldn't have left. She'd encouraged him to go with his band though, to try and make it in New York but it'd been shit, pure and simple. He really wasn't that good.
He should have been here, in Detroit, taking care of her like she took care of him. He owed her so much more than to die in her front lawn.
The bullet had hit hard, nearly knocking him from his feet as it tore through him like he was a paper doll. Oddly enough it hadn't hurt as much as he had expected it would. It was the cold that was the worst at first, cutting through him to the very core of his body. It started before the shot made him go crawling through the snow, spreading from his fingertips inward in a kind of tingling wave. The pain was there of course, but busy doing a fucking tango on the edge of the chill. Shots rang out over his head and all around though he managed to not get hit again.
He knew, after hearing Bobby shout for him but never appear, that he was going to die, out in the snow alone in front of the only safe place in the world.
He didn't want to be alone, god help him, not for this. He couldn't die alone 'ohgodpleaseno' not alone. Mom's words echoed in his ears, thrumming like the blood he could feel spilling out of him. He was supposed to be safe with his brothers.
Spots danced in front of his eyes as copper filled his mouth.
"Bobby!" He screamed as the numbness crept its way deeper into him, driving its claws deeper and driving him further from himself. For a second he thought of Angel and Jerry but only Bobby's name felt right. He wanted Bobby with him.
He dimly heard an answer, a command to hold on amid the gunfire and shattering glass.
Seconds bled into each other and the copper in his mouth grew thick, coating his tongue and teeth, as the world turned gray and fuzzy. He tried to breath but could only swallow more of his own blood then try uselessly to cough it back out.
"Should we contact his family? His older brother will be upset if he wakes up and he isn't here; he's been sitting with him every day."
"There's no point, he won't be able to see him until the doctor checks him out anyway. Best to wait so he doesn't worry in the waiting room or cause a scene. Bobby Mercer won't take being told to wait lightly."
He screamed his brother's name again and against a vague promise was returned. Pain broke down the numb barrier triumphantly and his entire body stiffened, twisting painfully. He burned all over, he couldn't breathe around the fluid in his throat, and his eyes spilled tears.
His father's voice was loud in his head. 'Men don't cry; only fags cry. You're a worthless queer Jackie, worthless. Crying because no one is coming to save your pretty ass. Don't you know they don't care? That old whore who took you from me doesn't care and neither do you're brothers. Nothing but two dirty niggers and that useless degenerate anyway. The only people who give a damn are the ones who pay.'
He was right. His father had always been right. There was no place for him, especially now that Mom was gone. Who could want him? He was so worthless; nothing like this had ever happened to Bobby or Jerry or Angel. It was such a stupid obvious set up.
They'd be better without him. The darkness called to him and he started towards it, reaching out for it.
"His hand moved. Call Doctor Thomas now, hurry! He'll need to monitor-"
He heard cursing, the squealing of tires and the scrape of metal on metal. Hands touched him, burning hot even through the burning coursing through his body.
"Jackie, look at me." He heard Bobby's voice but couldn't see him. There was only darkness. "Someone call a fucking ambulance!"
"I did!" Crying, a woman, it sounded like Sophia.
"Don't do this Jackie, stay with me you little fairy!" Somewhere he snickered. If only Bobby knew how close to the truth he was. "Please, don't. You can't; you're all I have left. Don't do this to me!"
Jack let go and the last thing he heard were sirens and the crunch of snow, somewhere far away. He let go, expecting the darkness to embrace him.
Only to be soundly smacked in the back of the head. He turned, only to find he didn't really turn because he didn't really have a body to turn with and was kind of just…there. So was Mom. He didn't see her, because she wasn't there, but he did…see her. Somehow. She wasn't saying anything, but something about her…presence, let him know she didn't approve and didn't think this was at all amusing. He shrank away and knew he had to go back.
A smile that wasn't a smile and he shut his eyes for a moment then opened them again to see bright sterile white all around him. There was a pang in his arm and his eyes darted down to see a tube stuck in it and held in place with white tape.
It was two in the morning and the phone was ringing. Bobby just blinked at it, an icy fear pooling in his gut. He'd been waiting for this call for two weeks; the one that told him that Jackie was gone for good. Every time a nurse came to the waiting room to let him in, every time he left the room to go to the vending machine and came back to find Doctor Thomas in the room checking over the machines, every time the phone rang.
He waiting with a mix of dread and anticipation, heart thudding madly in his chest as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Every time Jackie breathed he held his own breath, praying he'd keep doing it. When the phone rang and it was just Jerry he'd feel drained and stretched too thin…too damn old, but grateful none the less.
He wasn't ready to let him go just yet. It was selfish, Jackie could have been in terrible pain or something lie that but he…couldn't. Not yet.
He picked it up. "Hello?" His voice was a whisper, harsh to his own ears.
"Mr. Mercer, this is Nurse Collins from the hospital. Your brother woke up twenty minutes ago and-"
The rest faded, white noise under the rush of his blood in his brain and the thump of his heart, so loud she had to hear it over the phone.
Awake. Jackie was awake.
…man. That…was…yeah. You know…I have three essays I need written by Friday, but instead I'm letting my idiot boyfriend take me to the movies and then letting my idiot brain run away with its damn self, again.
But hey. I've written worse things. Lately, actually…