It had been nearly six years since Bobby had last been to Detroit. At the age of eighteen he'd announced to his mother and brothers that he was moving to New York. Since then he'd moved twice more, once to a shitty burb in North Jersey and then again to Chicago. Money was always tight and he hadn't had a chance to get back to Detroit, even though Evelyn and his brothers – Jack especially – would often call him to see if he would be coming home for the holidays.

Bobby wasn't sure what made him decide to go home this year. It was possibly because Jackie hadn't called him to ask. In fact he hadn't called him in a long while.

It bothered him more than he'd like to admit.

So he decided he'd been gone long enough, fueled up his car and drove from Chicago to Detroit the day before Thanksgiving.

"Bobby Mercer, where the hell have you been?" was his mother's greeting when she opened the door. She was excited though, not angry, and she pulled him into a tight hug before ushering him into the house, immediately fussing over him. He had to decline several offers of food and drinks.

"Hope it's all right, dropping in like this," Bobby said from his seat at the kitchen table, watching his mother flit about the kitchen making dinner.

"Of course it's all right. In fact it would have been alright if you had done it sooner." She poured an entire box of spaghetti into a pot.

"Jesus, Ma, are you feeding an army?"

She laughed. "No, I'm feeding your brother, which is probably worse. Skinny as a post but can eat twice his weight."

Bobby smiled. The last time he'd seen Jackie he'd been an awkward, gangly ten year old.

"Jeremiah is coming tomorrow too," she said, clearly thrilled that she was going to have close to a full house. "I only wish Angel was home. I haven't had the four of you together in years."

The kitchen door opened and Jack walked in, head down as he toed off his boots. Evelyn was strict about tracking snow all over the house.

"Hey, Mom," he said, glancing up and stopping short as his eyes fell on his brother at the kitchen table.

"Jackie, look who came home for Thanksgiving."

Bobby knew Jackie would have grown since the last time he'd seen him, but he was fairly shocked to realize just how much he must have missed. The kid had to be closing on six feet, and his face had matured. His hair was longer and disheveled in a way that Bobby was sure was intentional.

Jackie stared at him for a moment, in the intense, off-putting way he sometimes had as a kid. "The prodigal son returns," he finally said, tearing his gaze away and approaching Evelyn to kiss her hello. "I'll be in my room. Call me when you need me to set the table."

Bobby, about to say hello, watched as his brother slid out of the room and disappeared up the steps without so much as a glance in his direction.

Once Jackie had finally gotten comfortable in the Mercer house, Bobby couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been excited to see him, even if he was just coming home from hockey practice.

"Don't let it bother you, Bobby. He's happy to see you," Evelyn said softly, clearly detecting her oldest son's surprise.

"Little punk has a funny way of showing it," Bobby muttered.

"He's really missed you," she said. "You broke his heart when you left. He just moped around here for months before Angel and Jeremiah managed to pull him out of it."

"Thanks for the guilt trip, Ma," Bobby said.

"It's not a guilt trip, baby, just the truth." Her gaze settled where Jackie had disappeared, and Bobby could see that she looked troubled.

"What's the matter?"

She sighed and stirred the spaghetti. "I just worry about him."

"You worry about everyone."

"I know," she said with a laugh. "But still. You know I get more calls from school about him than I did for you? He came home last month with a tattoo. God only knows where he got the money. He's smoking too – thinks I don't know, but please, do you how many kids I've had come through here who tried to hide that from me? I know you thought you were pretty clever."

Bobby frowned at this. Of all of them, Jack was the good boy. Angel, Jerry, and Bobby were all delinquents, Jackie was just a sweet kid who got dealt a bad deck.

"What kind of trouble is he getting into?" he asked.

"All kinds," Evelyn said with another sigh. "His grades have dropped, he's in detention nearly every day. I try to talk to him about it but he just says what he knows I want to hear then does whatever he wants anyway. Punishing doesn't seem to be having much of an effect on him either. He's fallen in with a bad crowd, Bobby. Jerry and I are trying to keep him straight but he's so damn stubborn. I keep hoping it's a phase."

Bobby stared at his mother, part of him unable to believe what she was saying could be true. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Why would I? There's not much you can do about it from Chicago."

"I could have come home, Ma, if I'd known he was having problems."

"Why don't you go visit with him?" Evelyn suggested. "I'll call you when dinner's ready."

"Fine. But if he acts like a brat I'll…" he paused to think of a suitable threat, since he would never, even in jest, threaten to hit him. "Mess up his hair."

Evelyn laughed. "Have you seen his hair? How can you mess that up?"

Bobby grinned and stood, making his way upstairs and stopping in front of Jack's closed door. He could hear the muffled sounds of a guitar and was struck with the memory of a phone call a few years earlier, when Jackie had excitedly told him that Evelyn had given him her old acoustic for Christmas.

He knocked, but there was no answer and the music didn't stop. Never one to let a closed door stop him, he simply walked in. Jackie was sitting on his bed, guitar resting in his lap, playing what looked to be a fairly complicated song and humming whatever the words were supposed to be. He didn't look up.

"Hey you little fairy," Bobby said crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe.

Jack looked up and the music stopped abruptly. The surprise on his face indicated that his brother hadn't been ignoring him, he just was caught up in what he was playing.

"Don't even have a hello for your big brother?"

Jack leaned the guitar against the side of his bed and scooted so he was sitting fully on the mattress, stretching out his long legs and leaning back against the headboard. He closed his eyes. "Older, maybe. Big? Not so much."

"Shut up, brat. Just because you're Jack the Beanstalk, now."

"It don't make you any less of a man because you're short, Bobby." He paused, as if thinking. "Well, actually I guess it does. Mathematically speaking." He smirked.

Jack Mercer had actually just made fun of him. Punk.

"Speaking of mathematics," Bobby said, taking a seat on the floor so he was leaning against Jack's bed. "I hear you've been getting some shitty grades lately."

"Says the scholar of the family," Jackie retorted. Bobby went to swat his leg, but Jack's reflexes were fast and he pulled away. He shrugged. "So what if I have?"

"So what if you have?" Bobby repeated. "You've got Ma worried sick, you know that?"

Jack rolled his eyes, which took Bobby right from irritated to pissed off. "Mom and Jerry have this talk with me like once a week, Bobby, and I'm getting real tired of it."

"Well they clearly ain't saying the right fucking things. You need to get your head on straight before you fuck your life up, Jack." He'd seen this attitude before, known enough foster kids who just seemed not to give a damn and wound up in jail or dead because of it. He wasn't going to sit back and watch his brother become a world class fuck-up like he was.

"Oh fuck you," Jack said. "You're back for what, five minutes, and you're going to sit there pretending to know something about my life?"

"Watch your mouth," Bobby said.

"You are the biggest hypocrite," Jack said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from him the same way he used to pout when he was little and the brothers would tease him. "Jesus."

They sat in uncomfortable silence until Bobby let out a soft curse under his breath. "I'm just worried about you, Jackie. You were always such a good kid. Now I hear you're getting into trouble—"

"Skipping classes ain't the end of the world." Jack still wasn't looking at him.

"Oh, yeah, wise guy? What do you do when you skip classes?"

There was a pause. "Nothing."

"Sit around by yourself twiddling your thumbs, right?" Bobby said sarcastically. "I know what kind of shit people get up to when they skip classes. I swear to Christ, Jackie, if I find out you're smoking anything but cigarettes there's going to be a real problem."

Jack's head snapped toward him and his grey eyes flashed angrily. "Fuck off."

"Who are the fuck-ups you're hanging out with, Jack?"

"What so you can go pay my friends a 'kindly' Bobby Mercer visit? Forget it."

"Kids who get you into trouble ain't friends."

"At least they're around when I ask them to be," Jack spat, sliding off his bed and stalking out of the room.

Bobby sat there a few moments before cursing and getting up to follow him. He didn't see any sign of him upstairs, so he headed down and back into the kitchen.

"Care to explain to me why my youngest son just stormed out of here muttering an excuse about forgetting a promise to meet some friends?" Evelyn said, tilting her head, looking quite displeased.

"What the hell happened to him, Ma? He's a little punk."

"No, he's a teenage boy. You, Jerry, and Angel had your moments too, if you'll recall. Did you go up there and pick a fight?"

"I didn't pick anything. I just gave him a piece of my mind about his current taste in friends."

Evelyn shook her head. "Tomorrow let's try to get through the whole day without anyone leaving in a huff, shall we?"

"Yes, Ma."

Jack managed to use Evelyn as an excuse to keep all unwanted conversation away. He spent all of Thanksgiving day in the kitchen, helping her prepare, knowing full well Bobby wasn't going to try and continue their previous conversation with her in earshot.

Jerry showed up around one and after greeting his mother and baby brother he and Bobby camped out in the living room, turning on the football game.

"So what did you do?" Jerry asked, looking at his older brother with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Jack's radiating teen angst. I'm assuming it's your fault."

"What, you mean cause he's hiding in the kitchen with Ma?" Bobby said, shrugging.

"He always helps Mama cook Thanksgiving dinner," Jerry said. "His mashed potatoes are famous in the Mercer house. I was talking more about the one word answers and the obvious brooding."

"I've always known he was a fairy," Bobby said, digesting that he'd really been gone long enough to be unaware of a tradition. "I didn't do anything, he just got all huffy when I told him he needs to straighten himself the fuck out."

Jerry snorted, looking amused. "You're clueless."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bobby said, glaring at him.

"I hate to break it to you, big brother, but Jackie's made it a point not to give a damn about what you think. You could tell him the sky was blue and he'd call you a jackass."

"Fuck off. Why?"

"When he was younger, if he did something wrong, Mama could straighten him right out with a 'What would Bobby think if he knew?' And he'd spend the whole next day apologizing and worrying she'd tell you." Jerry shrugged. "That was back when he was sure you'd be coming home though. Ask him that now and his response is some variation of 'Who gives a shit?'"

"So what, he's throwing a hissy fit cause I moved out? Did he expect me to live at Ma's forever?"

"Nah," Jerry said. "I think he expected you to make it home now and then, though."

"It ain't that easy, Jerry," Bobby said. "I can't just pop home whenever I want, I have to work."

"I know that, man. He's just a kid, though, and he's always let his emotions get in the way of his logic." Jerry shrugged. "Jackie doesn't do well on his own – probably why he took up with the delinquents he calls friends. I try to be around as much as possible, especially since Angel left, but it's no secret that we aren't you."

"Is he just into stupid shit like cutting class, Jerry? Or should we be worried here? I don't want to get a call and find out something happened to my baby brother."

"I don't know. I did some poking around his school—"

"Bet he'd love to hear that."

"—and found out who a few of the kids are," Jerry continued, ignoring him. "One of them is an Anzovino."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Bobby remembered the Anzovino's. An entire family of losers and drug dealers. He lowered his voice. "Is he using, Jerry?"

"We don't think so," Jerry replied. "Mama's keeping a close eye on him, and she's pretty good at spotting that stuff."

Bobby wasn't too pleased to learn all this. He was even less pleased at the thought that somehow it was partially his fault.

And even though part of him knew he probably couldn't afford to be taking any more time off of work, later that night, after Jerry had left and Jackie had slunk off to his room, he asked Evelyn if it would be all right if he stayed for a while.

The look of relief on her face confirmed for him that it was the right decision.

Jack, however, was less pleased to learn Bobby would be sticking around. He disappeared early each morning, and stayed out until late, clearly attempting to avoid him completely. After two days of this Bobby had had it, and he was sitting on the couch of the living room waiting for his brother to finally wander home.

It hit midnight and he was already irritated, and he debated going to bed rather than confronting Jackie and likely starting a fight. Then one rolled around and he was far too pissed off to let it go. If he hadn't been waiting, Evelyn surely would have stayed up worrying about the brat until all hours of the night.

Finally, two o'clock hit and Bobby was switching from pissed to worried.

It was quarter of three before the phone rang and Bobby snatched it from the receiver, answering it with a clipped, "Yeah?"

"Bobby?" It was Jackie, and Bobby could tell immediately something wasn't right. "Is mom there?"

"She's asleep, Jack. It's three in the fucking morning. Where the hell are you?"

"Can you wake her up?" Jack said.

"No, I can't wake her up. Tell me where you are, Jack, I'm not fucking around."

So Jack told him.

"Jesus Christ, Jackie, what the fuck did I tell you?"

"Look, either wake up mom, come get me, or leave me here, but don't fucking bitch at me over the phone."

"I should leave you there," Bobby snapped. "Maybe you'll learn something." He hung up, knowing full well that not only would Evelyn kill him if he didn't go get him, Bobby simply wasn't able to leave his baby brother to fend for himself.

It had been quite a few years since Bobby had been in the police station. It was still the same. Bright, bland, and full of asshole cops who thought they were God's gift to this green earth.

On the bright side, he'd never been on this side of a visit before.

There was a lot of paperwork involved, followed by a parting with of a lot of his money. Finally, Jack was led out, pale faced and wearing an expression that took Bobby back nearly eight years, when he'd first been brought to Evelyn's, small and terrified, too afraid to speak.

They walked in silence, and Jack wrapped long arms around himself when they hit the cold night air. When they got to Bobby's car, they got in, but he didn't start it. He glared at his steering wheel. He was so angry with Jack, but it was hard to tell him so when he looked so vulnerable.

The sun was starting to rise, tinting the cars in the lot an ugly orange.

"I thought you weren't coming," Jack said softly, breath visible in the cold car.

Bobby turned on the car. "You think I would leave you there?"

"Sure as hell sounded like it." He was wearing fingerless gloves – the most useless invention ever in Bobby's opinion – and he began tracing slow shapes through the fog on the window.

"What happened, Jack?" He'd gotten the cops side of the story, now he wanted his brother's.

Jack shrugged and didn't respond for a while. "Somebody called the cops on the party I was at. I was on the second floor so I didn't have a chance to run."

"The second floor?" Bobby repeated. In the early morning light, he could see the blush creeping onto his brother's face. "You fucking player." He lightly punched the kid in the arm. "Please tell me it was a girl, you fairy."

"Shut up," Jack said, hitting him back.

"Jackie," Bobby said, growing serious. "What are you doing with these kids?"

"They're my friends," Jack replied, without much conviction behind the statement.

"Tell me something, Jackie, and don't even fucking think about lying to me."

Jack stared at him.

"Are you into any of that shit the Anzovino's deal?"

Jack either wasn't surprised, or had too many other things on his mind to wonder how Bobby knew specifically who he hung out with. "No." He reached into the pocket inside his jacket and produced a pack of cigarettes as if it were show and tell. "I only do nicotine."

That, at the very least, was a relief. "They're dragging you down, Jack. You stick with them long enough you're gonna sink and not me, Jerry, Angel, or Ma will be able to pull you back up."

Jack put the cigarettes back into his jacket and leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes. "I know."

"Then get out while you still can."

"I don't know how."

Bobby shifted in his seat so he could look at him better. He wasn't sure how deep into this shit Jack was, but with Anzovino's involved, he didn't doubt he might have dug himself into a hole.

"Do you need me and Jerry to make you an exit?"

Jack opened his eyes and shook his head. "No. It's probably better to not put people in the hospital. Besides, I've got to start learning how to take care of myself. You aren't always around to clean up my messes."

"Jackie." The teen lifted his head from where it was leaning on the window, blinking at him. Bobby reached an arm for him, wrapping it around his shoulders and pulling him over for a one armed hug. "I wasn't trying to leave you, little brother. I'm sorry it took me so long to come home. You know I love you, right?"

Jack didn't try to pull away from the affection, which Bobby was grateful for. If he had he would have been worried he'd really fucked things up between them, and that was the last thing he'd wanted.

"Yeah, I know," Jackie mumbled. "Sorry I've been acting like an asshole. I've just missed you, Bobby."

"You weren't acting like an asshole," Bobby said. He let go of him, ruffling his hair back into it's disheveled state. It was starting to deflate a little. "You were acting like a bitch."

"Oh, fuck off. I should have called Jerry."

"Jerry? He would have ratted on you to Ma so fast." Bobby put the car in gear, and pulled out of the parking lot.

"You're not going to tell her?"

"Are you kidding? Of course I am. And I'm gonna tell her you got arrested because you were too busy trying to figure out what to do with a girl. It's not all that different with than with boys Jackie. You just get to be on the top for once."

"Ha ha. You're hysterical."

When Bobby grinned at him, though, Jackie smiled back.