Author's Notes:

Thank you to everyone who has left feedback! It's immensely encouraging! I sometimes have to remind myself of some of the details from the first story I wrote and then again remember some of the stories I had ideas for in terms of continuation. So I really appreciate those of you that enjoyed the first story and are here for more after these years. Any suggestions or ideas are also welcome. I'm trying to write in advance and hope to update about once a week since I have a lot of plans for the story. But please let me know your honest thoughts!

Chapter 2

Bobby felt far from well-rested the next morning. Evelyn's time-tested recommendation to not go to bed angry was ringing true to him as he pulled himself out of bed, feeling lethargic and cloudy. Not sleeping well took a toll on him, and that night he had tossed and turned for well over an hour, feeling a mix of frustration and anger building over what Angel had said.

He was struggling to understand Angel's intentions. Was it simply teasing? It couldn't be. This was more than teasing. Not only were Angel's words simply lies, but they were also a complete contradiction of the reassurance that Bobby had tried to give Jack. At the root of his anger was exactly that - he was being made out as a liar as well.

Bobby now thought about the uneasy look he'd noticed in Jack's eyes and wondered if the kid trusted anybody.

Earning Jack's trust was a difficult enough task. To have unnecessary situations like this made it increasingly daunting.

Why did they have to take steps backwards?

Teasing was a well practiced routine in the Mercer household. But not like this. Bobby himself was the king of teasing, but never to instill fear or mistrust. The point of this family was the opposite. Being part of this family meant that you were protected.

Bobby yawned deeply and tried to rid himself of feelings for a little while longer until he fully woke up. He headed to the kitchen, not bothering to change from his sweatpants and undershirt, deciding food or at least a change of scenery would help.

Jerry was the first person he saw as he entered the kitchen. The tall teenager was sitting at the table, leaning over a bowl of cereal with a spoon dangling in his hand.

"Good morning," Bobby managed as he walked into the kitchen tiredly.

"Hey," Jerry responded back with a mouthful of cereal. "You kinda look like shit."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Well, good fucking morning to you too. I thought you were at Camille's."

"I was. She had to go to work."

Bobby glanced at the clock. Nine-thirty. Evelyn would definitely be at work already as well. He looked back at Jerry. "And did your dickhead of a brother come home yet?"

Jerry's expression grew amused. "Angel? I thought he was your dickhead brother," he responded sarcastically. "Why? What'd he do now?"

"What didn't he do?" Bobby immediately felt his temper begin to rise again. Why did Angel have to drive him crazy? It was like he went out of his way recently to cause problems. Deciding coffee could help him relax, Bobby walked across the kitchen.

Jerry sensed the edge in Bobby's tone and frowned skeptically. Was this wrong side of the bed Bobby or something else? He watched the rather rough way that Bobby pulled the container of coffee from the cabinets and decided something had happened. "Why're you pissed at him?" he asked cautiously.

Bobby glanced at Jerry briefly, wondering if he should share the details. Bobby knew the moment he started to talk about it, the anger would come back to him like floodgates opening. At the same time, Jerry could be pretty rational... Despite being younger, and still in his teens, Jerry sometimes had the soundest sense out of all of them. Maybe he could even say something to calm him down.

Probably not this time, Bobby thought wryly as he poured spooned grinds into the filter of the machine.

"Did he get in a fight again?" Jerry asked.

"No." Bobby shook his head.

"Then what?"

"He's being difficult."

"Difficult?"

"With Jack." Bobby took the glass coffee carafe to the sink to fill it with water. "And it's pissing me off."

"Difficult how?"

"It's like he's going out of his way to try to scare the hell out of the kid."

Jerry smirked. "Bobby, come on. It doesn't seem like it would take that much."

"This is different," Bobby responded stiffly.

Different how? Jerry wanted to ask. Bobby was different with Jack. He was strangely protective of this little stranger that had entered their lives. He was almost... caring. Almost gentle. Jerry was initially surprised when Evelyn had wanted Bobby home when introducing the kid to their lives. Having Bobby in the house could add another level of chaoticness and attitude to the house. Bobby was rough, he was loud, and while he respected every word that came out of Evelyn's mouth, he also did what he wanted. But this time, Bobby was different. The tone in Bobby's voice now was exactly the difference.

"So he's teasing him or something?" Jerry asked. "I want to remind you that you've been torturing us over the last ten years, so..." Bobby's 'big brother' mentality was the definition of mean at times.

Bobby brought the water back to the coffee machine and poured slowly. "Teasing is one thing," he said. "But this kid's been here for just a couple weeks. And considering what happened to him with that fucking pathetic excuse for a human being, Angel could cut him some slack."

Jerry watched Bobby critically, sensing his brother's increasing sense of agitation and frustration. There was something about this new kid Jack that had brought out a whole different side of Bobby. Sure, Bobby was protective of all of his brothers. But this was different. For whatever reason, whether it was Jack's age, or his background, or maybe something Bobby felt a sympathy with, the man had begun to act differently. More defensively. Suddenly Jerry realized that his usually spontaneous early twenty-something brother almost seemed... adult.

"I get it," Jerry began. "I'm sure Angel didn't mean it like that." Jerry suddenly felt bad for Angel, observing the look on Bobby's face. Dealing with Bobby's wrath was never fun. Angel was only a little younger than Jerry, but often seemed to be involved in much more trouble.

"Yeah, whatever," Bobby mumbled as he turned on the coffee machine. "Some of you better grow the fuck up."

Jerry watched Bobby carefully. "So what are you going to say to him?"

"Say?" Bobby echoed. "I almost hope for Angel's sake that I don't see him today. If that gives you any indication."

Jack sat on his bed, holding a guitar in his lap. He strummed the strings carefully, glancing up at the door to the bedroom cautiously when the instrument's sound filled the air. The house was pretty silent that morning, and he almost expected someone to come tell him to be quiet.

It wasn't a new guitar; in fact, it looked like it had been around awhile, with some scratches here and there and some chipped paint. But to Jack it was new and it was his. It was the only present he could remember getting in a long time.

He wasn't sure why he had gotten a present. It almost felt like a trick. After all, the events that led to the guitar in the first place would normally have rewarded him with nothing more than some well-placed slaps in another home. The only way Bobby had even learned about his interest in guitars was because he had secretly left the house that day and wandered off. That day he remembered Bobby being very angry. And yet, for some reason, eventually after that and everything else that had happened, he still asked his friend Danny for this old, discarded guitar for him.

He strummed the strings of the guitar gently again, a jumble of thoughts passing through his mind. He hadn't been part of the Mercer household for very long, but he already felt like there had been only trouble. What if they changed their minds?

He wasn't sure how it worked exactly, but he did know that at any minute there could be the phone call from Anthony, his social worker, telling him that it was time to move on somewhere else. After over a year of moving around, it was pretty clear that none of these homes ever actually wanted him there. What would be the exception here? Someone had already broken into this house because of him. That had never happened before.

He could already hear Anthony's annoyed, frustrated voice, asking him why he couldn't have just worked things out, made his job easy. He would threaten to send him back to one of the previous homes, claiming to have no choice. Then most likely he would end up back at the group home until they could figure something out.

And if Kevin might come back... Maybe they would have to do that. Maybe he couldn't stay here if Kevin knew where he was.

He eyes trailed over to the window cautiously. This home was better than the others he had spent the last year being shuffled through. He had his own room. They had been nice so far. Though other families had also seemed nice in the beginning, only for him to later learn that it had been a facade. A facade that would eventually, usually rapidly, fade.

Sometimes he would think of the other places that he lived, but then he found his thoughts beginning to spiral out of control. Sometimes he was afraid that he was mixing up events, mixing up truth.

Suddenly he thought about his mother. Or tried to. The memories he had were scrambled. Disorganized. He struggled now sometimes to remember her face. He tried to but he saw other faces. He remembered what she had done. How she... died. As he tried to get a clearer picture in his head, he started to feel worried. Maybe he didn't remember her anymore.

"Jack."

Startled at the interruption to his thoughts, he looked up sharply and saw that Bobby stood in front of him now, eyes questioning. Jack's fingers tightened around the edge of the guitar protectively, as though it would be taken from him if he let it loose.

"Jack, you hear me?" Bobby asked.

What did he want?

"I don't remember her face," Jack said quickly. He looked down at the guitar strings and noticed a particularly deep scratch near the sound hole. He rubbed his finger at it nervously.

"Whose face?" Bobby asked.

Jack blinked. Had he really said that out loud? "No one," he mumbled.

Bobby paused but didn't then seem to think twice about it. "So you like this old guitar?" he asked, moving a step forward and reaching for it.

Jack pulled it closer to him, eyeing Bobby cautiously. "I thought it was mine."

"It is," Bobby laughed. He watched Jack with amusement for a moment. "Trust me. It's yours. No one else in this house would know the first thing about what to do with it." He stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Listen. I need to shower. But then we have some things to do today. Did you eat?"

"No."

"Jer will fix you something. You hungry?"

"No."

"Go downstairs and eat something. Then we'll-"

"Bobby!" came Jerry's voice from downstairs.

Bobby's eyes glanced towards the door almost in exasperation. He turned back to Jack. "Listen. Go eat something. I'm going to see what he wants and then shower. Got it?"

Jack looked up briefly and met Bobby's gaze before returning his eyes to the guitar. "Okay."

"Good." Bobby took one more look at Jack, wanting to say more, but not knowing how, and headed back towards downstairs. As he walked down each step, he thought about how once again Jack's room was immaculate. No sign of sleeping below the bed, on the bed, or anywhere.

And whose face couldn't he remember?

This kid added more layers to his mystery with ever conversation.

As he reached the first floor, he saw Jerry standing at the front door, which was slightly ajar. He frowned as he approached.

Jerry turned and met his eye. "Someone's looking for you, Bobby," he said.

Bobby frowned. He hadn't even heard the doorbell or a knock since going upstairs. "Who?" he whispered.

Jerry shrugged and stepped out of the way for Bobby to open the door.

Bobby stared at the man outside on their front doorstep, a stranger to him. The man appeared to be in his thirties, well dressed with a polo shirt and jeans. Bobby gave him a suspicious look. "Who the hell are you?" he asked.

"Are you Robert Mercer?" the man asked in response.

"So what if I am?" Bobby responded. "Who are you?"

The man smiled and held out a legal sized envelope. "This is for you, Mr. Mercer." He paused. "You've just been served."

"Served?" Bobby echoed incredulously. "What the fuck for?"

"You can read the details inside," the man responded. "You're being sued by a Mr. Kevin Harris. That's all the information that I have. Have a good day."

Before Bobby could respond, the man was already walking away, towards a car parked in front of the house.

Bobby stared at the envelope in his hands, stunned. "Hey!" Bobby called after the man.

There was no response from the man as he reached his car and Bobby knew it was pointless to follow him. He quickly ripped open the envelope in his hand. He pulled out a few pages from inside and started to read them, but the language blurred together.

He stepped back inside and slammed the door closed behind him. Looking up, he found Jerry in front of him. Without thinking, he reached out and gave him a quick shove.

"Who the hell taught you to open the door to pricks like that, Jer?" Bobby demanded.

Jerry stumbled back a couple steps and looked caught off guard. "Hey," he objected. "How the hell was I supposed to know?"

Of course he didn't know. He couldn't be mad at Jerry.

"Fuck," Bobby muttered, staring again at the letter in his hand. He would need Evelyn for this. He didn't understand a single word when it came to these legal documents, but he could only imagine. He started to think about his altercation with Kevin Harris back at the hotel when he found out Jack was there. When he found out it was Kevin who had taken him.

That fucking asshole, he thought. The scum piece of trash that Jack had finally been freed from. He's the lousy excuse for a human being, yet when I lose my temper because of what he did and push him around, now I'm the bad guy?

"What is this, anyway?" Jerry asked, taking the paper out of Bobby's hands.

"It's a mess," Bobby began. He suddenly looked up at the stairs behind them and saw Jack there, more than halfway to the first floor. However, the moment he met his eye, the kid turned and darted back up the stairs in a flash.

"A fucking mess," Bobby repeated.