Disclaimer: I don't own "Four Brothers".
A/N: Warning: SPOILERS! For this story, Bobby is twenty five, so I guess Jack is like fourteen or fifteen, I'm not entirely sure and I don't know about the others.
"Hockey!" Bobby yelled, and watched, amused as Angel and Jerry all but fell over each other running down the stairs. It was really the only way to get them downstairs.
They bumped into each other and Angel, being smaller, fell into the banister.
"Ouch! That hurt, Jerry," he yelled, standing and shoving his brother. But Jerry grabbed him and they fell down onto the floor together, wrestling. Bobby looked down on them, grinning.
"Much as I like watching, you guys should really save it for the ice," he commented dryly, cracking up when Angel, who was pinned with no hope of getting up yelled "But the SOB is on my team!"
Fifteen minutes later, they were idling in the driveway, all the stuff packed, waiting for Jack to fix his hair, or whatever took him so long. Finally, the youngest bounded out of the house and hopped into the backseat next to Angel. Normally, none of them would have let this fly without teasing, but they were too jazzed about hockey to care, and they didn't want Jackie to sulk. Bobby pulled out of the driveway, screeching on the ice and spinning out wildly before he got his car in control.
The ice was great, hard and thick from the cold. They laced up their skates on the bench and then gliding out gracefully. Admittedly, Angel was still a little clumsy and unused to his height, but it would pass. Jerry looked better than ever-he'd been practicing. And Jack was fast like always.
It was Jack and Bobby against Angel and Jerry, because that was the only fair way since Bobby was the best by far. It was a tight game, because Jack was small but fast, and the opposing two were strong as bulls. Bobby grinned, taking off with the puck across the ice.
They played a hard game for more than an hour before they noticed that Jack was getting blue in the lips. Why couldn't he just wear a coat, Bobby wondered, leading his brother over to a bench. And why couldn't he say when he was cold, instead of freezing his butt off until they noticed? Of course, Bobby knew why, but that didn't mean he was going to stop teasing.
Just then, a truck pulled in and some men jumped out. Jerry went over to greet them. "Yo hoods," he called, clapping one on the back. Bobby surveyed them-tough as nails, strong, probably pretty good at hockey. He didn't recognize them from the time he'd lived in Detroit, but it had been awhile, after all. Standing up, he looked over at Jack. "Up for another game, Fairy boy?"
What a game it was, fast and vicious. They were good alright, and there were five hard guys. But the brothers were holding their own. Bobby hadn't felt this good since he'd played pro, now this was the life. He checked a guy hard, flicking the puck from behind his heel.
"Get it Jack," he hollered, wrestling the guy in front of him. Suddenly, he froze as his youngest brother's high pitched yell broke through the grunts. He turned in time to see Jack fly through the air and land hard on his hip.
The next moments were slow motion, skating towards his brother and kneeling beside the curled up figure.
"Shoot, Jackie," he groaned, seeing his brother grimace in pain. "What hurts?" Jack just gasped and cried out in pain, panting hard. "Bobby!" he called out in agony.
"Jerry, call an ambulance," yelled Bobby. He fell to his knees and gently touched Jack's shoulder, afraid to hurt him more. "Hold in there Jack," he whispered, "Help's coming." The other guys crowded around them, until Angel came over and started chewing them out.
"What was that man? You know, I don't even think that's legal! What do you think your doing bashing into my little brother? You want a fight; you get a fight, jerks. Back here tomorrow, two-fifty, we want a rematch." The voices faded as Angel got in their faces, making them back up. Just then one guy came over and crouched on the other side of Jack. He ignored Bobby's glare and focused on the hurt boy below him.
"Hey, Jack right? Stay with me here, buddy. I'm going to touch your back okay, tell me if it's hurts." The man moved over to Bobby's side. "Could you move, mister?" Bobby did, seeing that his brother was in good hands with this stranger, and watched as the man carefully pressed along Jack's spine. The boy was crying, but he didn't seem to be hurt more by the tender touch. Then suddenly he cried out and writhed away from the man's probing hands. "It's his left hip, I think. Hang in there, Jack…"
Presently there were sirens, and an ambulance. It pulled up to the field and several people jumped out, taking a stretcher from the back and rushing onto the ice. The paramedics crouched beside the fallen boy, pushing the men away. Bobby answered their questions and stood helplessly watching their backs as they delicately loaded his brother onto the stretcher, strapping him in and carefully picking it up to move it. He followed them to the parking lot where loading Jack into the ambulance.
"Can I come?" he asked, boring holes into them. The driver turned and cast him a sympathetic look, then nodded.
Bobby turned then to face Angel and Jerry, who were standing motionless a few feet away, obviously concerned and not knowing what to do. He spoke grimly, telling them to call Evelyn and that he would meet them there, and for God's sake, not to get in a car accident. Then he turned and crawled into the ambulance, sitting on one bench beside the gurney. One of the medics was inserting a thick needle into Jack's skinny arm, making him flinch away.
"Bobby," he whispered, his other hand grasping out and finding hold on the older man's wrist. His eyes, bright with pain, searched out his brother's face and he had only eyes for it as they rode to the hospital.
"I'm here Jack," he breathed, tenderly brushing a lock of hair from the teen's face. "I'll never let them hurt you again, I promise."
I promise.
I promise…
Bobby gasped and buried his face in his hands, sobbing and staring at Jack. What he would give for this to be just a bruised hip, like it was that day. What he would give for a game of hockey with all his brothers, for Evelyn at home, for just one more chance. He reached for his gun and stood, brushing the snow off his pants and stalking towards the grey van.
