Authors note: I don't own Four Borthers or it's characters. What is written is by a fan (me) for other fans. No profit will be made from this story.

Big thanks go out to two special people, Lysambre and Fraggle, for helping me with this, and putting up with me.

I need to put this down on paper and the amount I have to write would cramp my hand so bad it would end up looking like it had frozen into a claw. I thank the guy who invented the type writer, because without that we wouldn't have Bill Gates' wonderful Windows Word program. Yes I know Windows is flawed but, hey, so am I.

I've done good things and bad things in my life and good things and bad things have happened to me. If I dwell on the bad things in either category it would eat me up. Maybe that's why I need to write this. I need to get my side of the story across and try and ease the ache that seems to have taken up permanent residence in my heart.

I know my path through life will never be smooth, hell, whose is? But I try to be a good person. My temper just gets in the way. My fists fly before my brain engages sometimes.

That's what happened three weeks ago. My temper took over and I wanted to take on every man in Detroit. Problem is I took my brothers along for the ride.

People may have read the headlines about prominent social worker Evelyn Mercer being gunned down in a convenience store robbery, well, she was my mother. The only woman to care for me just I was me, if you see what I'm trying to say. She had a heart of gold and opened her doors to anyone that needed a roof over their head and a warm meal in their belly. She tried to get everyone that came through her door, or whose file came across her desk, a permanent home. Out of the hundreds that she managed to place only my three brothers and me were lost causes in some peoples eyes, don't get me wrong she tried her hardest but in the end we always came back to her, so she did the only thing that seemed right and took us in.

My phone had rung at four that particular morning. Having not long crawled into my bed after a hard night at the local club I bounced at, the last thing I had wanted to do was get back up to answer it. Problem was few people had my home number, so I knew if they were calling it at that time of the morning they either had a death wish or something was too important to wait.

I crawled out of my just warmed bed and answered the phone. My brother, Jack, was on the other end. Even from the simple hey he offered by way of greeting, I knew something major had happened. Before I could ask what he was doing calling me at this hour he stated simply that Ma was dead, shot in a robbery gone wrong, and the funeral was to be held in two days. The words forever etched in my memory.

I remember grabbing the phone pad and taking down the details before uttering an "I'll try to get there." Lame sounding, I know. But it was all I could think of before I hung up. I wouldn't have missed the funeral for anything. I gathered a few clothes throwing them into my bag, made a few calls to explain my quick exit, grabbed my best shirt then threw everything into my car. I drove through that day and the next, pulling off the road to sleep when my eyes refused to stay open a moment longer. The morning of the funeral I was still a hundred miles out so I stopped briefly at a gas station to wash up before continuing the last leg of my journey to say goodbye to Ma.

The turnout stunned me. I knew Ma was highly thought of both at work and in the general community but I hadn't expected so many people to brave the bitter cold that was sweeping Detroit, just for a funeral.

Jeremiah looked the upstanding citizen Ma always said that boy would be, as he stood reading the words he had no doubt spent hours agonising over. Jack broke down giving his eulogy but at least he had made it to the funeral.

Angel, on the other hand, had missed it completely and the wake, too. It wasn't till we opened Ma's front door, long after the sun had set, that we found out why. The Jarhead had missed his flight. Marine's, they can sure as hell follow orders and carry out things no human should be asked to do, but ask them to try and get home on short notice and you might as well ask for the moon.

Jerry said it right that night; it was good to have all four of us under the same roof again. Shame Angel had to ruin it by going out to chase La Vida Loca.