Author's Notes (Part Deux): Well dear readers, here is the second chapter. I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed (in addition to the review replies, since FFnet is a review nazi and won't let anyone do it individually in-story anymore). Although I wasn't able to reply to my French reviewer, but I wanted to say "Mon français est comme ci comme ça, mais est ici la deuxième partie pour vous." Hopefully I didn't mangle that too bad. It's been a while since I had to compose anything in French. But all of your reviews warmed my cold little Jack-whumping heart. This chapter was brought to you by great conviction and battling flaky network connections here in vacation-land. I hope you enjoy.

Oh, and I realized that I never stated in either the summary or chapter one author's notes, this story is non-slash, and all OC's plan to keep everything in their pants (and not be spontaneously adopted by Evelyn). Hopefully that doesn't disappoint anyone, that's just the way I roll. Oh, and might I mention my ever-present hate for the way FFnet strips out my scene breaks? Yes, may an angry Mercer show up on your door.

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Chapter Two:

All Jack wanted was to get a toothbrush.

He didn't want to watch a robbery unfold before his eyes. He also did not want guns, bullets, or any gun-related activities going on anywhere near him. Most of all, he didn't want to attract attention to himself right now.

Jack's throat went dry as the toothbrush clattered to the floor. The sound of the plastic casing hitting the tile was almost deafening to his ears. If this were a movie, such an insignificant action would alert the robbers to his presence. Either this was reality, or perhaps someone above was looking out for him, and they didn't seem to hear it. Swallowing past the lump in his throat he quietly took a step back, slowly, so as to not draw attention to himself. He continued to retreat backwards cautiously as the voices at the register rose in volume.

"Just give me everything in the register!"

The second man, the lookout for the moment, looked around. Jack quickly ducked back into the toothbrush aisle. His heart hammered wildly in his chest, and he was sure that they would be able to hear it over the distance between them. Eyes wide, chest heaving in deep, ragged breaths, he waited to be discovered. After what seemed like forever, but in reality were only a few moments, the voice of the first man spoke up again.

"That's it?! That's all you have?!"

He couldn't make out what the cashier's stuttered reply was, the only thing clear was a fear that Jack could identify with all too well at the moment. The other man rumbled something, also too indistinct over the distance and Jack's pounding heart. He tried to will it to be still, or the very least, be quieter. Once these guys got what they wanted they would be out the front door, and Jack's world would be fine again.

Over the frantic pounding he was able to make out a few words: "night manager", "cameras" and "vault".

His eyes widened. They were going for the vault? He needed to find better cover. Briefly he wished Bobby had taken him to a department store that was being robbed. At the very least he could hide in the racks of clothes like he did when he was a little kid. Speaking of invincible older brothers, where was his?

If he had stayed with Bobby instead of acting like an angry angst-ridden teenager perhaps he wouldn't feel so alone. Or if they had gone to the convenience store, instead of a huge grocery store, he would at least be able to find him easier. Or, if they had gone to the corner store, Jack wouldn't be hiding from robbers right now.

Yes, this was all Bobby's fault. Strange how everything going on tonight traced back to that.

Jack retreated down the aisle, trying to be as quiet as possible. Maybe he could hide in the foreign food aisle. They would never check there right? No wait, what if they decided they needed a scone before they shot up the place? Better to head to the health food section. No armed robber would be caught dead in the health food aisle.

Jack ducked out of the aisle just as the second hooded man turned away from his partner, barking off one last order.

oOoOoOo

The cash in the till was disappointing to say the least. With Thanksgiving only two days off there should have been plenty of transactions, at least, according to his source. Then again, Isaac had only hoped there would have been enough up front for them to make an easy getaway. He did not like complications, even if it meant leaving behind a bigger score. However the measly amount of cash in the tills of the two open registers was not enough to justify leaving. Had there been more people in the store, they might have cut their losses and ran. As it was, they had a chance to make a far bigger score, as long as they could keep the police out of it as long as possible.

There were only two cashiers on duty tonight, one of which they had encountered outside, trying to sneak in a quick smoke break. They forced the cashier they had confronted to man his register, at least until they could be assured that the manager wouldn't notice anything amiss until it was too late. The remaining cashier, the assistant manager, one customer that had blithely walked up to the register, and another who had been found trembling in an aisle were huddled together. They had put them in a corner that was not covered by the surveillance cameras, another helpful tip from their source.

He glanced around again. He thought he had seen something out of the corner of his eye when they first pulled their guns, but he hadn't seen anything. No one else was in sight, as the store was practically deserted, a combination of the neighborhood and the late hour. Something was amiss though. He swept the area again, spying something on the floor. Curious, he bent down, finding a discarded toothbrush, still in its packaging.

Isaac's head snapped up, eyes roving the store, looking for someone. The aisles were empty. He grabbed the offending item and stalked down the aisle. If someone had seen them, they could have a cell phone and be on the phone with the police right now. He strode down the aisle like a man possessed, emerging on the long aisle that bisected the store into its front and back halves.

He eyed the empty hallway suspiciously. Perhaps he was just being paranoid. Some stupid kid could have just thrown the toothbrush to the floor in a temper tantrum, and their careless parent simply refused to pick it up. It was a skeleton crew working that night anyway. Isaac told himself to calm down and focus. He was in charge of handling the night manager. Any stragglers would be handled accordingly.

oOoOoOo

Bobby tossed the tube of toothpaste between his hands as he stood in the aisle, trying to make a decision. He was glad he'd left Jack to his indecision instead of harping him about it too much, because he would never be able to make up his mind with the kid ragging him over his shoulder. Now, he narrowed his gaze to the two choices he had left. He needed to decide. If he made the wrong decision, he knew it meant his head.

Pre-baked or mix?

He stared between the two choices of pie crust, feeling a bead of sweat trace its way down his forehead. Ma had told him she wanted to make a homemade pie, and since he was insisting on tagging along with Jack, could he pick up a few things while he was out? The problem was, the term "home-made" varied from year to year. It's like his mother could not make up her mind whether she preferred the convenience of a pre-baked pie crust, or the taste and hassle of mixing and rolling the dough herself.

Oh no, she wouldn't physically harm him. But she would fix him with that stare, the one that said: "You're always leaving. You rarely call. The least you could do, just for one day, is to just pick up what I asked for. After all, this meal is for you."

There were variations on it of course, depending on the time of year, and what he had forgotten that time. He knew she mentioned her preference… he just sort of hadn't been paying close attention. He had been too busy keeping an eye on Jack, not trusting him to wait. All Bobby wanted was to shanghai—er, talk to the kid. He knew his family, and more specifically, Jack, did not like his drifting ways. He knew he missed out on a lot by not being there. Like Angel's graduation from basic training, the night Jerry announced his engagement to Camille, and Jack turning into the Jolly Teen Giant. How the hell did the kid manage to grow so much?

With a sigh, Bobby chose pre-baked. He would fight the Thanksgiving crowds tomorrow if he was wrong. Now, he shifted the contents of his hand so he could find the list he'd jotted down. Next was—

—pie filling.

He eyed the ten different fillings lining the shelf.

God damn it!

oOoOoOo

Jack swallowed hard as one of the robbers walked past where he had hidden behind the pyramid of stacked cans of cranberry sauce. He counted to ten, forcing himself to breathe. He watched as the man made a direct line towards the back corner. Obviously he knew where he was going.

Jack intended his direction to be far from the man with the gun. Climbing to shaky feet, he continued to hustle towards an area he hoped would be safe from scrutiny. He kept a sharp eye out, hoping to spot his brother on the way. If he could find Bobby, he knew he would be all right. His brother always knew what to do when shit hit the fan.

He scurried from one aisle to the next, peering around the corner, and then darting over, only to start again. He was almost to the other end of the store when he found someone. Unfortunately it was not Bobby. He forced himself to swallow as he peeked around the corner to get a better look at the other patron.

Tall, male, African-American… dressed in slacks and a leather jacket. While Jack hadn't been able to see the men at the register clearly, he knew this guy wasn't one of them. There was no way they could've changed that fast. The man had a cell phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear as he turned a can of soup over in one hand. A hand basket filled with various grocery items sat at his feet. The words were indistinct, as the store's music drowned out most of the conversation. Jack decided to duck out of the aisle, but the man looked at him, shrugged, and continued talking.

Jack pursed his lips. He had two options now. He could pretend to walk on by, not warn the other man of what was going on and find his brother, or at the very least hide until this was all over. It wasn't a very neighborly thing to do, but damn it was tempting, despite his mother's lecturing voice in his head on doing the right thing. However, if the man did run into robbers, then he might mention seeing Jack. Then he'd really be in trouble.

Jack breathed out the breath he'd been holding, and started towards the other man. He understood the criminal mentality behind leaving witnesses. It would be better to keep this guy with him, purely for selfish reasons. Besides, Jack's eyes landed on the phone, there might be another way out of this mess.

The man's attention drifted from the phone conversation and soup can to the nervous teenager approaching him. When it was clear that Jack was intent on him, and not the selection of Rice-a-Roni behind him, he flicked the kid an annoyed glance. "What do you want?"

"I need to borrow your phone," Jack stuttered nervously.

"What?" He eyed the teen, before turning his attention back to the phone. "Yeah, I'll call you back in a few minutes. Some scrawny white kid wants to make a call. Yeah? Of course I will. Now chill man, I've got it covered."

He let the phone drop into his free hand and pressed the end button. Finally he turned back to Jack. "You want to do what now?"

"I need to borrow your phone," Jack said quickly, glancing behind him nervously before turning back to the stranger in front of him. "The store is being robbed. We need to call the police."

As a Mercer, a statement such as his last one was painful, but unfortunately in this case it was true. If these guys weren't going to leave anytime soon, then he had almost little chance of waiting them out. The man in front of him, however, didn't seem too concerned.

"Robbed? You kidding me? I'm not lending you my phone so you can make some booty call!"

Jack shushed the man, and dropped his voice a notch. "I'm serious. I saw them pull a gun on one of the cashiers up front. I heard them say something about the night manager and a vault."

The other man's brow knit in concern, hand reaching behind to rest on his back. "You heard all that?"

"Yeah," Jack let out a shaky breath. "So come on, let's call the cops so we can all get out of here."

The man seemed to consider it for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I don't think so."

"What?" Jack almost shouted before he caught himself. "Why not? Do you think I'm lying?"

"Oh, no, that's not it."

Jack's breath caught in his throat as the man pulled out a gun that had been hidden in waistband of his pants, bringing it to bear on the teen.

"I know you're telling the truth."

Bum bum baaaaa! What will happen? Will Jack escape? Will Bobby ever find the correct flavor of pie? Stay tuned! Same bat time, same bat channel!