A/N: Alright, so I've redone both chapter 1 and chapter 2. Mostly small changes, but you might want to reread through them both anyways. Mostly some personality type things, some small typos, etc. I also tried tweaking the beginning of the second chapter; I know it was a little stiff. Don't know if I really improved it at all, but I made an attempt. : /

Also, I want to have two special shout-outs. The first is to Al Harris, my inspiration, and sometimes beta. He's the greatest, and you should all go check out his stuff. There's been a lot of times I've wanted to give up, and he hasn't let me. There are times when I'm not going to post something (this story included) because I don't think it's any good, and he changes my mind. So major shout-out to you! : )

Also, second shout out is to treesaresnazzy: Due to my... lack of plot, or knowing whether or not I was going to post this, I just threw some ages in, without really thinking. After going back and re-reading, I realized that a three year age gap between Jack and Bobby was completely unrealistic. Granted, I didn't change it much, just made it a seven year ago difference, but it's a little more believable. So thank you for pointing that out to me.

Also, some more definite warnings now: Physical abuse, mentions of sexual abuse, language, drug use, mentions of underage prostitution, underage drinking, and self-harm.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I make no money off this.

Please read carefully: THIS IS NOT SLASH. I don't write slash. This focuses on Bobby and Jack as brothers, and that's it. I respect your right to write slash, please respect my right not to write it. : )

Conor Britton sighed as he stepped into the small interrogation room, the thick file in his hand belying the age and size of the teenage boy in front of him.

"Jackson James Wilcox," Conor read slowly, although he'd already familiarized himself with the case before entering the room. He slowly walked around behind the boy, before leaning against the wall directly behind him.

"Says here you're fourteen, Jackie. Fourteen years old, and this is your ninth arrest. We've got… four counts of possession of cocaine… three counts of theft… one charge of prostitution… and now an assault charge, Jackie boy. That's pretty impressive for somebody your age."

The small blond boy didn't respond. He sat, hands in his lap, head hung with his shoulder length hair covering most of his face, unmoving as a rock. Conor smiled grimly, and walked around to the other side of the table, plopping himself down in the chair.

"What, nothing to say to that, Jackie?" Conor asked, tilting his head a bit to try and get a good look at the kid. "You know, this is usually the part where you say you didn't do it, you were framed… Any number of those things would work."

A slight twitch was the only response he received from the still boy across the desk.

Conor sighed. "Look, Jack… This isn't gonna end well for you if you don't help me out here, alright? You did a lot of damage to that clerk. He's in the hospital right now. You just gotta give me somethin' to work with, kid. Did he come on to you, he try to force you to do somethin', try forcin' ya into the john with him? He say somethin' that just sent you over the edge?"

"I just… I just needed the money."

Conor leaned back in the chair, a little surprised. For such a small kid, the boy had a deeper voice than Conor himself did.

"For what, Jack? What'd you need the money for? Drugs? Booze?" He almost felt bad when the poor kid started trembling a bit, obviously afraid, as he shook his head. "Alright, so what was it, Jack?"

Conor could feel the blood drain from his face as the kid finally looked up at him, the hair in his face falling to the side, to give Connor a clear view of the bruises that littered the kid's face. Bruises that were too old to be from that night.

Only one of the kid's bright blue eyes was visible, the other one being completely swollen shut. Probably from the same blow that'd broken his nose. His lip had been busted open, with dried blood still caking around the edges. And Conor was pretty sure the large red marks on the kid's neck were from a hand print.

"Kid… what happened, huh?" Conor asked softly, while internally cursing the uniforms who'd brought the boy in like this, and not told him. "Why'd you need that money?"

Jack finally looked up at him, glaring daggers with his good eye

"Nobody wants me when I look like this. And he needs the money, or..." The young boy cut off sharply, knowing he'd said too much. He turned his glare towards the table, letting his hair cover his face again, tapping his foot against the floor in agitation.

"Or he'll what, Jackson?" Conor asked softly. He waited a few minutes for a response, but all that he got was the boy shaking his head.

"Please… can I go home now?"

Conor sighed as he stood. "Not yet, kid. I'll be back in a few minutes, alright?"

Not waiting for a response, Conor hustled out the door, and down to one of the payphones usually reserved for those making their 'one phone call', inserted a quarter, and dialed a number he knew by heart.

"Ms. Evelyn? It's me. I've got a boy down here I think you should come see."

Evelyn had barely hung up the phone, when she seen the shadow in her doorway.

"You know, at one time, I used to handle these things all by myself," She said softly, smiling at her oldest son. "No help at all."

Twenty-one year old Bobby Mercer grunted. "Yeah. And you see how well that worked out with me an' Angel," He said, a dark look on his face as he came in, and sat down next to Evelyn on her bed. "Who was it?"

"Detective Britton."

"All I gotta do is throw shoes on."

Evelyn sighed, as Bobby stalked back out of the room, quickly and quietly, his movements completely at odds with his stocky frame.

Ever since Angel, the latest addition to the Mercer family, had arrived, and broken Evelyn's wrist, and nose when he had a panic attack the first time he met her, Bobby no longer let her go to any of her calls alone.

As she quickly changed from her pajamas to her clothes, grabbing her purse, she thought to herself that Bobby had a point. There were a few times when having him with her had saved her from a lot of pain. That boy a few months ago, coming down of crack, for example. If Bobby hadn't grabbed it, the chair that the boy had thrown probably would have caught Evelyn right in the head.

"Car's warmin' up, coffee's gonna take another two or three minutes," Bobby said, interrupting her thoughts as he stepped into her room again. "We goin' to the precinct, or they moved the kid yet?"

Evelyn shook her head. "The precinct. The way Conor talked, I don't think he'd even informed Social Services yet."

Bobby shook his head. "Awesome. That's just great, Ma."

"Detective Britton?"

Conor stood up, and forced himself to smile at the elderly woman coming towards him.

"Ms. Evelyn," He said, reaching out to shake her hand. "It's good to see you." He turned a disparaging eye at the stocky young man shadowing her. "Bobby."

"Conor."

"Bobby!" Evelyn admonished. "Be polite."

Conor could feel the hair rising on the back of his neck as Bobby gave him a cold smile.

"I am, ma. Where's the kid, and why are we here?"

"This way, Ms. Evelyn," Conor said, casting a dark look at Bobby, and directing his attention to Ms. Evelyn. "They brought him in a few hours ago. I only spent a few minutes with him before I called you."

"What was he popped for?"

Conor glared at Bobby, before turning his attention back to Ms. Evelyn. "He assaulted a clerk at a convenience store. Tried grabbing a handful of cash from the register, the clerk stopped him, so the kid beat the hell out of him."

"And you dragged my ma down here at one in the morning because…?"

"You know what, Mercer? When I start addressing you, you can start asking the questions. Otherwise, shut up, and do your thug thing, alright?" Conor snapped, stopping and going toe to toe with the younger man.

Ms. Evelyn sighed. "Boys, please. Have your pissing test tomorrow? To be fair, Detective Britton, I'm wondering the same thing as my son. While most kids with good home lives don't go around robbing banks, it's not exactly unheard of."

Conor smiled grimly as he stopped in front of the viewing room, opening the door, and ushering her inside. "Take a look at the kid, then I'll tell you what he said."

Bobby barely restrained himself from pounding the shit out of the back of Conor's head as the man shoulder checked him to get in the room in front of him. But a backward glance from Evelyn kept him in check, and he took a deep breath to calm himself, before glancing through the viewing window.

Bobby sighed when he seen the kid. Couldn't have been much more than fourteen, maybe fifteen. He paced the room restlessly, his light-wash jeans hugging his hips tightly, riding low enough that Bobby wondered how they even stayed on. His white wife-beater clung tightly to his thin, emaciated frame.

And it looked like somebody had taken a two-by-four to his face. The long hair hid a lot of it, but what Bobby could see looked bruised, and beaten raw.

"Those doesn't look like fresh bruises," Evelyn said softly.

"They're not. When I asked him why, he said because 'nobody wants him when he looks like this'. And then he added, 'and he needs the money'. I terminated the interview, and called you. Figure he's either hustling on the streets, and his pimp beat the hell out of him, or step-daddy or maybe just daddy is pushing him out there, and beating the hell out of him. Either way, figure you could act as his advocate."

"You haven't located any next of kin?" Bobby asked, his gaze almost as sad as Evelyn's.

"Can't contact anyone at either one of his listed addresses. We've got a mother down on Brooks, and a father on Mulrauny. Can't contact either one. Both of 'em have some serious rap sheets. And little Jackie here is well on his way to a nice, long sheet of his own. This is arrest number nine."

"Priors?" Bobby asked, his rivalry with the older man forgotten.

"One for hustling, four for coke possession, three for theft."

"When was he picked up for prostitution?" Evelyn asked with a sigh.

"Year and a half ago. Before you ask, he would have been about twelve."

"Shit, ma. Why wasn't he removed back then?"

Conor shrugged again. "Couldn't contact the parents then either. Both him and the john claimed nothing was gonna happen, that the john was just a good Samaritan, trying to give him a ride, so the detectives at the time didn't try too hard to contact them."

"Our lovely tax dollars at work again," Bobby said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Well, if all your money wasn't dirty, Mercer, I might actually care what you think," Conor retorted, but both men could tell that neither of them really had their heart in it.

"So he's about what? Fourteen? Fifteen?"

Conor nodded, as he started to usher them out of the room. "Fourteen. Birthday two months ago. I don't know how you wanna play this, Ms. Evelyn. I called you because I thought you'd be able to help this kid, and I know… The department already failed this kid once, so I kind of feel responsible. I know I should have went through the channels, and jumped through the hoops, but it would have taken all night. We would have had to take him down to holding, and we've had a busy night; probably would have had to put him in with somebody. Figured if he's an abused hooker, probably wouldn't have worked out real well putting him in with some of the perverts we got down there. So if you want to act as his advocate, we can skip all that, and you can let your bosses know, and we can get this all taken care of tonight."

"Aren't you going to have to put him in holding anyways?" Evelyn asked, stopping in front of the interview room door. "I mean, he is under arrest, correct?"

Conor hesitated. "If you can tell me that the kid was under duress, that he wasn't fully in control of his actions, based on his fear, then we can probably release him into your custody."

Evelyn gave him a firm look. "I'll do my best. But you need to get in touch with Social Services, let them know I'm here. Also, let your people know what I'm doing, that way there's nothing that can be used to send this boy back to his parents. Alright?"

Conor nodded, and Evelyn came him a smile, as she patted his cheek, before entering the room, Bobby two steps behind her.