A/N: Hello fellow fan-fiction mates! Yes, yes, it's me again! I seemed to be re-obsessed with Four Brothers at the moment and my creative juices seem to be flowing. I've had this idea for a long while and only now I'm deciding to finally write it. So, please tell me what you think, a review is greatly appreciated. If you like it, that's awesome. If you don't, yeah sure it'd bug me, but at least tell me why. Anyway, here it is.
Disclaimer: Shit. I haven't done one of these in a while. Well, I don't own Four Brothers or its characters. Yes, I often do wish I owned Jack. Oh well. :P
…
Let Me Go:
It's a strange thing how life can suddenly go back to normal after mass quantities of tragedy and grief. After a while, you go back into your normal routine like World War III never even happened outside your front door. The people that were killed, the people you yourself had killed, the fights that you had been in; all of it forgotten in a heartbeat. The terror, the fear, the grief and the intense anger that left a bitter taste in your mouth could barely be remembered. And that thirst for revenge, that need for retribution was nothing more than a puff of smoke; there one moment and gone the next. In the end, Bobby Mercer kept wondering how it was possible to forget the bad and move on.
Angel and Jeremiah had done so in what seemed to be like such an easy manner. After the death of Victor Sweet, and the end of what seemed like a war, they had returned to their lives almost as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened in the first place. Angel proposed to Sofi and both had immediately immersed themselves into the extensive planning that went with such an event. Jerry and Camille were busy with their lives and their two small children.
But both of Bobby's brothers always made a point of hanging around the house more often than they used to. Bobby knew they were both worried about him and saw right through their excuses. They were checking up on him, making sure he was okay and that he didn't fall into depression. It was another thing Bobby also found strange. He was used to being the protector; always on his brother's cases and making sure they were okay. He felt odd and out of place as the one being protected.
No matter how long had passed by since everything happened, Bobby still couldn't understand how quickly his brothers fell back in the normalcy of life.
Didn't they remember that their mother was killed and that their very own baby brother was shot to death in front of their house? Bobby couldn't even stand walking near that spot and he always averted his gaze when going in or out of the house. He was even more adamant that no one touched Jack's room. It was slowly starting to turn into a museum of sorts. Anything to avoid the reality that Jack was really gone and that he wasn't coming back. No one had been in there since Jack died.
No one but Bobby.
Sighing, Bobby turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He had memorized the surface well; all the cracks and the chips and even the dark stain near the light fixture. He nearly smiled at the memory that the stain had brought to mind. It was a few years ago when Bobby had still been living at home. Jack had gotten on his nerves that day and for some reason, Bobby had thrown the contents of his beer can on Jack, drenching him. Jack threw the can back at Bobby, catching him in the face. Bobby had chased Jack throughout the house then and Jack had run into their mother's room. Bobby was only a few steps behind him and to protect himself, Jack shook the bottle of Coke he had in his hand and opened it to spray it at Bobby. At the same time, Bobby caught him around the waist and tackled him on the bed. The Coke had sprayed everywhere and had managed to hit the ceiling. The stain had been there ever since.
Bobby began to smile as he thought of Jack's reaction but he immediately stopped himself. No, he wasn't going to let himself be happy. How could he possibly be happy when his brother was dead? When he was the one who let his brother die. If only he had been watching Jack, he would have grabbed him before he answered the door. If only he had paid more attention.
If only…. if only….if only.
The words echoed through his brain as he slowly began to drift into unconsciousness.
If only….if only….if only….
…
The day was a particularly cold one. The wind blew and the snow was tight-packed on the ground. In the Mercer house, however, tensions were running high. Bobby and Angel were confronting Jerry on his shady business deals and the insurance money he had received. Sofi stood in the doorway, watching with a scared look on her face. And there was Jack, sitting on the couch, looking scared as well. He never did well with confrontation and watching his brothers go at it was making him highly uncomfortable.
RING! RING!
Jack stood and made his way to the door. A few seconds later, Bobby heard shots ring loudly outside and he immediately feared the worse.
"Jack!"
"BOBBY!"
"JACK!"
"BOBBY!"
And then he was outside with Angel, Jerry and Sofi. They were all kneeling in front of Jack whose dark red blood was staining the snow beneath him.
"Jack! Jack! Don't you die on me you little fairy!"
But it was too late. Jack was gone.
Jack was gone.
He was gone.
Gone.
Gone.
Gone.
Gone.
"BOBBY!"
Bobby shot up in his bed, gasping and sputtering and trying so hard to breathe. He was still moving around under the covers; kicking and trying to get out. He was trying to get to…. Bobby stopped then, realizing that he was in bed and that it had only been another nightmare. Despite the cold temperatures and the fact that Bobby was clad only in boxers, he was sweating profusely. His heart hammered in his chest as the last images and sounds from the nightmare began to drift away. Swinging his legs over the bed, Bobby stood and pulled on the first t-shirt and pants his hands found. He slipped into the hallway that was lit with the early morning light and quietly headed towards the place he always ended up after having a nightmare.
Jack's room was still. Nothing inside of it had been touched or disturbed since Jack had last been in there. Bobby took the liberty to dust the room everyday so it would stay clean and never be neglected or forgotten. Bobby looked towards the guitar and felt a small twinge in his heart. He always ragged on Jack for making a racket with the guitar but in truth, he missed hearing the annoying angsty music in the house. It was like the house was too quiet now. Sighing as he usually did, Bobby sat on Jack's bed.
In his hand he held the guitar pick he had taken off of Jack when he died. Jack had a habit of collecting guitar picks and putting them everywhere, all over the house and in his pockets. Jack had this particular one in his pocket when he died. Bobby took it before his body was taken. He kept it close to him ever since. Now, he twirled it around in his fingers and felt a new layer of pain and grief was over him.
"Here again, Bobby?"
Bobby didn't jump or make any indication that he was startled. He was used to this by now. He turned his head slowly and felt a rush of joy at seeing his younger brother sitting there. It only lasted for a second, though. Bobby knew, deep down, that Jack wasn't really there. Bobby was seeing what he wanted to see; what he needed to see. Jack looked the same as he always did; white shirt over black and jeans. He never changed. His expression was one of amusement but Bobby could see the sadness behind his eyes.
"I always come here, Jack," Bobby said, his voice a complete monotone. Ever since Jack had died, Bobby seemed to have lost his edge. He rarely spoke with emotion or caring. The real Bobby Mercer had disappeared and was replaced by an empty emotionless shell that only looked like him.
"Jack? Really, Bobby?" Jack asked with a small smirk on his face. "What happened to Jackie, Cracker Jack, Fairy?"
Bobby looked at him sharply. "I'm not calling you anything Jack."
"Why? You afraid of hurting me not?"
Bobby lowered his gaze and shook his head. "Stop it, Jack," he said in a voice no louder than a whisper. He looked up again, this time his eyes shining. "What do you want from me?"
Jack shrugged his shoulders. "You're the one who keeps seeing me Bobby. What do you want?"
"I don't know. Nothing. I-" Bobby stopped, not knowing exactly what to say. What did he really want? He wanted Jack to come back. He wanted everything to not have happened. If only he had stayed away.
If only.
"You need to let me go," Jack said suddenly, his tone changing abruptly. He looked as if he was beginning to fade away. He was blending into the darkness of the room. Bobby looked frantic then, not wanting his brother to leave.
"No! Jack! Wait-"
"Let me go, Bobby," came Jack's voice from a distance. "I can't do this anymore, Bobby. I need to rest." And then Jack could barely be heard. One low whisper floated to Bobby as if it were wind brushing past his ear. "Let….me….go."
And with that, Jack was gone. Bobby looked around frantically for a moment before putting his head in his hands, his shoulders slumping in defeat. In what seemed like hours later, but in reality was only a few minutes, Bobby heard the door open quietly. He looked up to see Angel standing there, the look of concern Bobby was now used to on his face. Bobby could tell he had just woken up. They remained like that for a few more seconds having an awkward kind of starting contest. Finally, Angel stepped into the room further and sat next to Bobby. Bobby was about to yell at him to get off but decided against it. Instead, he just sat there with the blank expression he had adopted.
Angel groaned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Bobby—are you okay, man?" When Bobby didn't say anything, Angel put his hand on his older brother's shoulder. "Bobby? Did you hear me? Are you all right?"
"What? Oh-yeah, I guess so."
Another awkward silence passed between the two and they both sat there, looking around the room. Angel held back the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes as he looked around Jack's room. He inhaled slowly and exhaled even slower.
"I miss him too, Bobby."
Bobby didn't answer. He looked down at the guitar pick in his hand and watched as he slowly turned it around and let it pass in and out of his fingers. Suddenly, he clasped it tight in the palm of his hand and stood, moving past Angel and heading out the door. Angel got up to follow but then quickly decided against it. Bobby needed to heal in his own time. Angel constantly following him and trying to get him to talk wouldn't help matters but only probably make them worse. With a sigh, he closed the door behind him and headed back to his own room and into the waiting arms of Sofi.
…
"Could you pass the mashed potatoes, please?"
Sofi smiled at Camille as she passed her the yellow bowl filled to the top with fluffy mashed potatoes. It was tense in the Mercer house that night at the dining room table. Sofi had the idea to invite Jerry and Camille over for dinner in hopes that having everyone together would lift Bobby's spirits or at the very least, cheer him up for a little while. But that idea went nowhere fast. Even Amelia and Daniela couldn't cheer Bobby up. Of course, he gave them the best smile he could muster but that was the extent of it. The company, the food; nothing helped Bobby. He barely registered any emotion at all while he sat at the head of the table. The other four ate and spoke in a tense manner.
"So Sofi," Camille said, desperate to get some sort of conversation flowing, "Did you find a wedding dress yet?"
Sofi smiled as she gripped Angel's hand. "Oh yes, I did. Es muy bonito!" She turned and beamed her perfect white smile up at Angel. "You bought the tuxedos didn't you, sweetie?"
Angel nodded. "Yeah, I bought 'em. You're gonna look pretty funny in a tux, Jerry."
Jerry shook his head and laughed. "Whatever, man. I'm sure you'll look even funnier!" Jerry stopped chuckling when his gaze landed on Bobby. Usually Bobby would chime right in and make fun of both of them. But now he just sat there, his fork in his hand but his food untouched.
"Bobby?" he said softly. All the conversation at the table stopped. Now all eyes were trained on Bobby. He didn't seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn't seem to care. Jerry snapped his fingers in front of his brother's face. "Bobby?"
Bobby finally focused and realized he was being talked to. He looked over at Jerry blankly. In reply, he rose his eye-brows as if to ask, 'what do you want?'
"Are-you okay?" was all that Jerry could manage. Between him and Angel, it must have been nearly 1000 times that they had asked Bobby that same question. And each time Bobby either didn't answer or mumbled an emotionless "yeah" or "fine" or "I guess."
This time though, something in Bobby's face change and anger contorted his features. He slammed both hands down on the table and stood with such force that the chair he was sitting on was knocked backwards. Everyone at the table jumped at the unexpected reaction and Jerry's little girls looked like they were about to cry. Bobby stood there for a few moments, seething silently as his chest heaved up and down. Sofi gulped and tentatively spoke.
"Bobby, are you-"
"Shut the fuck up!" Bobby snapped and Sofi recoiled. He looked around wildly for a few seconds before muttering, "Fuck this" and exiting the room. A heavy silence fell over the room as everyone listened to Bobby pound up the stairs and then angrily slam the door behind him.
"Well, uh, that was…." Camille began. Her sentence died in the air and was swallowed by the tension around them.
"I thought I'd never say this but-" Jerry began. He paused for a moment, marvelling at what he was going to say. "I miss the old Bobby. You know the one who'd insult you and tell you where to go and sometimes attack you." He chuckled and shook his head.
"Me too," Angel said with a sigh. "Me too."
…
It was cold.
Bobby walked out of the house and down the pathway to the street. He stopped and slowly looked over to the spot he normally avoided. Jack sat on the cold snow with his back against the tall pole in the ground. Bobby thought fleetingly that Jack might be cold, sitting there in the snow. But Jack hardly ever got cold. And even so, Jack was incapable of getting cold anymore. Wearily, Bobby walked over to where his brother sat. He stood directly above Jack and looked down on him as he waited.
"I told you what you have to do, Bobby."
Bobby shook his head but didn't say anything. After a while he sat down on the ground with his knees pressed up against his chest and his hands wrapped around them. He looked like a helpless child. Jack still wore the amused smile that always seemed to adorn his face. Jack stared at Bobby and didn't take his gaze off of him. Finally, Bobby turned to face him.
"What Jack? What do you want? Stop staring at me!"
Jack shrugged. He eventually looked away. "I wish I could smoke," he said wistfully. "I'd do anything for a cigarette."
Bobby shook his head. He was beginning to get angry. He couldn't take it anymore. He felt like everything that was boiling inside him was going to blow. His hands began to shake as he sat there, next to Jack in the snow.
"Just tell me what you want me to do," he said softly, despite the anger that was raging inside of him. "Please."
Jack sighed but nodded. He stood up and took something out of his pocket. He dropped it onto Bobby's lap. With a small smile he whispered,
"You know."
Jack turned and began to walk down the street. Bobby watched as he disappeared into the air. Looking down in his lap, he picked up the object Jack had given him. His heart jumped in his chest as he saw what it was. It was the small, slightly pointed, purple guitar pick. A flash of lightning cracked across the sky….
….and Bobby's eyes flew wide open. He sat up slowly, pushing the covers off of him. He groped his hand over the night table in the dark until he found what he was looking for. The bright moonlight caught the tiny purple object and it shone brightly. And then suddenly, right then and there, a realization struck Bobby with the force of a lightning bolt.
Bobby knew then what he had to do.
…
The morning was crisp and clear and beautiful. Birds chirped loudly in the sky and a soft breeze was in the air. The sun shone brightly and illuminated everything it its path. Bobby drove down the street in complete silence, his thoughts the only thing that he could hear. Turning onto the familiar road, he felt his heart start to pump harder. He parked the car against the curb and turned the key, turning off the car. It was even more silent now. For a brief moment, he felt fear grip him and he considered turning back. No, he couldn't leave now. He had to do this if he ever wanted to go back to his life. Closure was something he desperately needed. If anything, he need to this for Jack. Bobby shut his eyes and inhaled deeply. As he exhaled, he gripped the door handle, pushed the door open and got out of the car.
The cemetery was empty. Bobby hadn't been here since they buried Jack. He swore that he would never come back because it would simply hurt too much. Angel and Jerry came almost every week but Bobby made one excuse after another about why he couldn't go. But he was here now; he had to be here. Bobby walked down the familiar path and soon he saw his destination. Up ahead, a little ways apart from the ones around it, stood a shiny black headstone. He was still too far to read the letters but he remembered what it said.
Jack Mercer
1984-2005
Beloved son and brother
As he got closer, Bobby saw a black figure sitting atop the headstone. When he finally approached the headstone, he realized that it was Jack sitting there. He was dressed differently; this time all in black. His zipped up hoodie sweater had some sort of weird designs on it but Bobby couldn't really make them out. His legs dangled over the side and covered the letters on the headstone. He had a wide smile on his face like he was happy to see Bobby there.
"You finally made it."
Bobby nodded. He swallowed thickly. He was afraid that if he spoke, everything he was holding inside would come out. Jack looked at him expectantly.
"Come on, Bobby. It's time." He looked up at the sky as if studying the clouds. When he looked back down, the sadness that was in his eyes before was now replaced by happiness. "I've gotta go, man."
Bobby nodded again. "I know," he managed to choke out. He slowly took the purple guitar pick out of his pocket and crouched in front of the grave.
With a long, drawn out sigh, Bobby began to make a small hole at the base of the headstone. He looked up at Jack who smiled and nodded back at him. Carefully, he put the guitar pick in the small hole and then covered it with dirt. He stood and looked straight into Jack's eyes. Jack was smiling even wider now and he looked completely happy.
"I did it."
"Yeah. You did it, Bobby." Jack almost looked like he wanted to cry then. But they would be tears of joy. "What do you have to say to me, Bobby?"
A smile spread across Bobby's face; the first one in what seemed like forever. "I'm gonna miss you, you little fairy."
Jack closed his eyes and nodded. Bobby turned then and began to walk away. He felt like a weight had been lifted from his heart and he could finally be free again. Once he was far enough away, Bobby turned to look at the grave on more time. And when he turned and his eyes found the shiny black stone, a small gasp escaped his lips.
Jack was gone.
With a great smile on his face, Bobby kept on walking.
Peace was a wonderful thing.
…
A/N: Well, that's it. I hope you liked it. Please review and tell me what you thought. Thanks!
-Addie