This is a 'what if' story. It's a part of LOI and WYSLMT, but at the same time not. I thought about taking that story in this direction but decided against it, but I liked the idea so I wrote it anyway. What if Jack had been arrested for the murder of Victor Sweet? What if somone ratted him out? What if someone said they saw him kill Sweet and then left town in fear of the Mercer's? So, it takes place in that universe, but it's not a part of those stories, it's like a branch.

The song is "Tonight" by Lykke Li, and I don't own the song or four brothers.

Watch my back so I make sure you're right behind me as before, yesterday the night before tomorrow,
dry my eyes so you won't know, dry my eyes so I won't show, I know you're right behind me.

Trust.

Some of us know the true meaning of that word. If you look it up you'll find this description; Trust, reliance on another person or entity. When I think of the word trust, which I do probably more than I should, I think about the fact that he walks behind me, and I let him. I don't feel the need to keep him in my sight, because I know he'll never hurt me. I can turn my back to him, expose myself to him, and trust that he won't hurt me, won't make me regret it.

I can tell him my secrets, everything I've seen, everything I've done, or been forced to do, everything I hate about myself and everything that hurts. I can tell him all this and trust that he won't use it against me, won't laugh or think I'm disgusting.

He's not one that follows, but he follows me, and it makes me feel safe to know that he's at my back, that he has my back. That he's always had my back. And now, right now I need him more than ever. He wants to storm in, yell and scream and curse at everyone, possibly slap some of them silly but he dosen't, cause he knows I need him right now. And so he stays at my back, but at the same time he's angling his body so that he's somehow in front of me, telling everyone that in order to get to me they'll have to go through him first, and that they won't get further than that.

We stand before the counter where we've both stood so many times before, but this time is different. This time I'm nervous. This time, it's murder, and I might be spending the rest of my life in jail.

He swore to me he would never let that happen. Told me not to worry, they didn't know shit, and even if they did he'd take care of it. I would just keep my mouth shut and he'd take care of everything. He asked me to trust him to know what was best, and I do. I trust that he knows what he's doing. I also know that I'm guilty of what they're accusing me off. When I told Bobby this he fixed me with a glare so cold that I froze in my seat, and then he told me that was the last time I said that.

It's fucking funny, that I can't stop thinking about what I did, and at the same time know that I would do it again. I can't even pretend to be sorry cause I'm not. The only thing I regret about that day is that it all went by so quickly. I wanted more time, more time to hurt him, to make him feel what I felt. I'd burned with the need to make him feel the same pain I felt. It hadn't mattered, because Sweet had never cared about anyone the way I did. He could never feel what I felt when my brothers warm blood colored my hands red.

Then they come, and I'm escorted to a room, Bobby yelling behind me, demanding to be let in. He isn't. They know as well as I do that Bobby runs this show, and they want to break me, something that would never happen if he were in the room. I want to laugh and tell them to go ahead and give it their best shot. I'm pretty certain I can take whatever they dish out. The only way I would get in trouble were if I opened my mouth, Bobby had said. They didn't have shit, and they should know better than to think that a Mercer would hand himself over on a platter to them. Still, I'm nervous.

They know, I'd told Bobby. He said it didn't matter what they know, what matters is what they can prove. And as soon as we'd gotten this sorted out we'd settle this with whoever had ratted me out. I know it had to be one of Victor's boys who'd been at the ice that day with us. Fuckers. Bobby had demanded we tell him everyone who was there, cause he would beat them until one cracked, simple as that. It was too Bobby.

They yell at me, try to trip me up with words and darkens the room until there's only light at my face. I wonder if this shit actually works on anyone. I stare at them silently, repeating the same words. What I'd been doing that day. I'd been at home, with my brothers. They don't believe me. I tell them I don't care.

When I walk out I see him sitting on a chair glaring a hole through the cop blocking the hallway. As soon as he sees me he stands, and checks me over quickly, satisfied with the lack of bruises and handcuffs. His smirk tells me I told you so... We ignore the cops glaring at us, telling us we'll be back there soon enough. Bobby chuckles.

The evening air is cold on my face when we step outside and I silently light one and inhale deeply. Despite everything I'd been nervous. I shouldn't have been. I knew he had my back. We walk in silence towards his car, side by side.

Walk the surface of this town, with high heels above the ground. and high horses that we know, keep us safe until the night, we know them all, I know it all, stay put and play along, cause I'm looking for my friend, now I got you, got you.

This story took a completely different turn after only a few words lol.