Four Brothers

SPOILER

Well, as a dedicated fan to Garrett Hedlund/ Murtagh/ Jack Mercer etc, this is my version of a tribute for Jack Mercer. He didn't die- he's alive!

Chapter 1

Bobby Mercer turned over in his sleep, grunting. "Bobby…" a male voice whispered in his ear, the smell of cigarettes filling his nose. He opened his eyes sleepily, glancing around for Jerry or Angel.

"Damn guys, I'm trying to fucking sleep!" he growled, throwing a pillow at the door.

"Bobby, Bobby. It's me."

His eyes widened. "Cracker Jack?"

"Bobby, I told you, man, don't say that! I don't do that shit no more!"

Bobby was fully awake now. He looked around the dark room, his eyes falling on the wall. A picture of Jack, the youngest Mercer, hung there, his hair spiked up to rock perfection, blue eyes staring back. Just a picture, another memory.

"Oh Jack." he sighed, remembering his younger brother's funeral just weeks ago.

"Hey, Bobby, you going sentimental?"

Bobby shook the voice out of his head. "You're not real, man. You're dead."

"Do I look dead to you? Hey, Bobby! Look at me!" Jack shouted, and reluctantly, Bobby turned to Jack's old red chair in the corner. Jack himself sat there, his hair spiked up just like in the photo, his carefully muscled face setting off chiselled features. He wore a red t-shirt with the slogan 'rock my world' on it in white letters, a well-worn black leather jacket with studs on it, black skinny jeans and red Converse sneakers. A bottle of beer in his hand, a packet of cigarettes sticking out of his jeans. He lay back in the chair sideways, his feet up on the armrests. He grinned at Bobby.

"Jack? Jack!" he breathed, scrambling out of bed to embrace his dead brother. Jack laughed characteristically, clasping him in a hug. Bobby laughed joyfully, feeling not thin air but the hard body of a long lost friend and brother.

"We can be four brothers again, Bobby." Jack murmured.

Chapter 2

"Bobby! What're you doing?" Angel asked from far away. Bobby opened his eyes, blinking. He was surprised to find them wet.

Angel was in the doorway to his room, staring at him hard. He realised he was lying on Jack's chair and got up, wiping the tears away.

"Bobby, you okay?" Jerry called, running over to help. Bobby shoved him away.

"Get off me. I'm al' right. What the fuck are you doing in my room, anyways?"

Jerry lowered his head, looking at Angel for support. Angel sighed and stepped forward, his head cocked to one side.

"What happened last night, Bobby?"

"What- You hear something, Angel? 'Cos if you keeping something from me, I wanna hear it."

Jerry shook his head. "Look man, we jus' heard you talkin' to someone last night. It sounded like- like Jackie."

A very pregnant pause followed. Bobby remembered, remembered Jack talking to him.

"He was here! I swear! He sat on that chair, and he talked to me. Said that the four brothers were back again."

His other brothers shared a glance.

"Bobby, Jack's dead."

"Yeah, I know that. He hugged me. How you explain that?"

"Maybe we should get a doctor." Jerry muttered nervously.

Bobby threw back his head in anguish. He grabbed his jacket, gave them both a dirty look then left the room, slamming the door behind him. Jack's photo fell off the wall and smashed, shattering glass over the floor.