-1Bobby hung up the phone and looked at in disbelief, he hadn't got a phone call like that since his mother, and that phone call hadn't been quite the same then either. One word, a single name, had reached deeply inside and stirred him to action like nothing else had. But he couldn't remember the last time she had called him, let alone in that state. The last time they had spoken had been four years ago, probably longer, and it hadn't been that sort of sadness. She had sounded broken, hurt in unfathomable ways, and he hadn't asked or needed details. The way she had sounded had been enough, and Bobby was already devising a plan to leave unnoticed. He didn't need his brother's to come with him, he didn't want them too, she didn't know them like she did him despite having been around them for years.

Standing from his mother's bed where he had been laying and thinking, a routine he went through almost daily since he had arrived three weeks prior, Bobby headed for the stairs walking both quickly and at a normal speed. There was no reason to draw attention to himself, and no reason to make them want to come either. This part of his life he dealt with by himself, or at least as by himself as he could. He had always been very adamant about that, even with his mother, but he was never sure as to why. He just knew that it was a part that he was keeping for himself, one of the only aspects of life that he could and didn't involve the rest of his family.

The coats belonging to all the Mercer boys were kept in the same little closet just offset from the living room and this, Bobby knew, was going to be the real obstacle. Though the lack of door made things easier it also slowed him up, and Bobby considered walking out the door and just going. But that would be suicide and he knew that, he might have been a lot of things, but stupid was never one of them. He knew that despite the fact that he was wearing a thermal shirt, the bitter cold would seep through the stitching and freeze him in less than a minute. He needed his jacket and the sweatshirt he had been wearing everywhere since arriving. And when he had thrown his outdoor clothing on, Bobby stuffed a stocking hat over his head, making for the door and figuring he hadn't been caught.

"Where ya going, Bobby?" It was just like his brothers to speak up when he thought that he had escaped their notice. It was one of few things he envied about Jack, his utter ability to become unnoticed. And, not shocking to Bobby, it was Jack who had spoken up from the couch. Though he hadn't been around while the youngest was growing up, Bobby still considered himself to be very close to his youngest brother, but he still couldn't tell him the truth. That, and the eager look written all over his face, said that he thought there was going to be action. Ever since the incident with the kids and gasoline, he had talked about nothing else. As if he was trying to prove his worth in the eyes of his elder brothers.

"Out," Bobby replied simply, adjusting the hat on his head to best keep the cold air out, and knowing that it was an answer anyone would have anticipated. He was Bobby Mercer and he didn't explain his actions. But he let out a sigh at the unappeased look on his brothers face. Getting out of the Mercer house had never been easy. If it wasn't one of his brother's, it was his mother questioning where he was going though she always seemed to know. Even if he lied to her. "I'm going to the store, ya little fairy. Go help Angel in the kitchen, he could use it." Though Bobby knew that his brother hated the nickname it had just stuck one day. It was his little term of endearment for his baby brother, and the look on Jack's face when he said it caused him to give a light laugh and shake his head, until he left the room. If Bobby wasn't mistaken he'd looked a bit put out that he wasn't invited, but the eldest Mercer wasn't so concerned, there were just some things in life better done alone. Some parts of his life that he felt he didn't have to share with anyone else. It was selfish, but he wanted them for himself, he needed them for himself.

Outside of the house, he was less careful and the door clicked into place behind him he set out at a sort of jog toward the parked car. The driveway was a sheet of ice covered in snow, and Bobby slipped a little as he came to it. He barely bothered to unsettle the snow that was pelting down on his windshield, and settling in a smooth heap that would test and terrorize his windshield wipers. Bobby pulled his hands out of his pockets just long enough to clear a small hole to see out of, that was all he would need doubting that he would run into other cars at this time of night anyway, not until the streets were plowed once more. Barely giving his car five seconds in which to warm up, Bobby pulled from the drive way leaving nothing behind but the echo of screaming tires of pavement behind.

His mind raced as he navigated back streets and even the well traveled, trying to avoid traffic and figure out what the reason for her call might be. On some level he had an idea, but he kept imagining that maybe it was a break in, just maybe she had only locked herself out of the apartment complex and spun into a tailspin. Yet he couldn't get over the fact that when one thing went wrong in Detroit, it seemed like everything seemed to go wrong. That had been a driving force in his leaving all those years ago. Going just a bit North of Detroit but staying in Michigan. Even so, he couldn't stay away, this place was like a black hole, sucking him in every now and again. Regretfully, he thought of last year when he had declined his Mother's Christmas invitation, he wished now that he had gone. Had he known that it would be her last, he would have been there weeks in advance, but he hadn't and he wasn't.

Giving his head a slight shake he parked his car illegally in the delivery lane of the complex, reserved for trucks bringing in shipment, but he knew none would come tonight. Possibly not tomorrow if the storm didn't let up. Detroit was used to snow, but the weatherman predicted a grand scale storm, one unlike others the city had seen in years. He barely remembered to lock his car in his haste to get to the building, and he paid no mind to the ice beneath the snow as he jogged the whole way up the steps. He kept imagining what could have happened, especially in this neighborhood. It was safe by Detroit standards, maybe not exactly a five star sort of safe, but he hadn't know drive bys and murders to be regular. That was what had him perplexed and unnerved, what could have been so bad?

Out of courtesy Bobby pressed the button that would alert the neighbor to her apartment, he didn't bother to buzz Caroline, and he didn't need to. If Bobby had wanted in the door wouldn't have stopped him. He waited hands in pockets, antsy to get moving for thirty seconds, pressing buttons at random before somebody answered his call. Then he wondered how to get them to let him in, Bobby had always been the muscle, finesse and ways with words were beyond his capability no matter what he might tell his brother's.

"Hey I was supposed to let my friend's dogs out but I left the key at home," Bobby said making a face, and completely unsure of whether or not it would work. His money, if he was a betting man, would have been that it most certainly wouldn't. "Is there any chance you could let me in?"

A response never came, but by some miracle the door was opened. Whether or not she believed his lie, or if she had heard the worry in his voice, Bobby didn't know. He took the stairs two at a time in his rush and found himself on the fourth floor in seconds, the spilled contents from a purse not unnoticed, and hoping that he wasn't thinking the one word that could make him unhinged. Or at least, make him become unhinged more so than his mother's death had. Bobby found himself at her door and knocked once , taking a step back to wait impatiently.

"Caroline," He called through the door knocking again, and not particularly caring about the racket he might be making. "Carrie." His voice was more demanding now, and he wondered if he should jimmy the door to get it opened. He wondered if he even had a card on him with which to do that. Of course, if he wanted in he would have just kicked the door open, Bobby knew he could do that and had before.

He needn't worry though because the door swung open seconds later, slowly and lacking any sort of momentum. Bobby opened his mouth to speak expecting to come face to face with the blonde he knew all too well, but promptly closing it when she didn't appear. He stepped cautiously over the threshold and entered the apartment as quietly as he could. He called for her once again and did a scan of the room to see if anything was broken or over turned, if there was any sign of a struggle or break in, but he saw nothing. That is, he saw nothing until he heard a muffled sort of noise somewhere between a sob and a cough.

He had overlooked the floor in his haste to get in but as his eyes cast their gaze to the ground he saw the girl he was looking floor. A shadow of her former self, and sitting in a crumpled heap on the floor as if all the air had gone out of her. Her hair, so normally well kept, was a matted mess of loose curls caused by a drying liquid he could only assume was blood, bruises and scratches littered over the parts of her body he could see like a patchwork quilt of the worst kind. Her hand was pressed firmly to her mouth as a torrent of silent tears fell down her face, and when she finally looked up he felt his features harden. It was the no nonsense look he wore when he was blocking out emotion, the swollen and discolored half of her face causing the look.

"Carrie…." He said softly, kneeling beside her and using a tone few would think possible of the 'Michigan Mauler.' Bobby knew that he wouldn't have to press for information, she would tell him when she was ready. And if he did press her, Caroline would become reclusive and withdrawn, she would bury herself within and he would never know. Bobby had often described this phenomena in a simple little phrase - to know Caroline was to wait for Caroline, and you couldn't make her do what she didn't want to. He reached out and pushed some of the tangled mess that had once been her hair behind her ear, internally wincing as she flinched when his fingers brushed her skin.

"I let him in," Caroline said staring blankly at the square floor visible between Bobby's shoes. He noticed this, and wondered why she wouldn't meet his eyes. He had tried to catch them several times, but the most he got from her was her hand dropping from her mouth to her lap. "He said he was renting the new apartment, he didn't have a key. I held the door, and……he told me he had papers."

Her voice cracked as she relived the events in her mind, unwilling to share them with him. She opened her mouth several times in an attempt to tell him, but each time she closed it like a fish out of water, she couldn't bring herself to say what had happened. She couldn't describe to him how or for what reason, as if she even knew a reason. Instead, she was only able to mumble different things, broken and incoherent but if he pieced them together Bobby understood most of the story. He wasn't a read between the lines kind of person, but with Caroline he just knew, there were no surprises and he was accustomed with how she thought. At least he was accustomed to how she used to, and he was mostly banking on that. The state she was in, well that spoke for itself.

"Caroline did someone….were you…." Bobby looked at her, the unsaid word settling between them, and he knew that she was thinking the same by the way her blue eyes slowly met his. There was a sort of fear in them that he had never seen before, and she merely nodded her head confirming his worst thought of the night.

"God," She said more tears falling from her eyes as she banged her head back against the wall. "I was so stupid. I over looked everything."

Bobby had never been good in these situations, and a big teddy bear he was not. He much preferred solving things by action than comfort, and so he reached out and pulled her against him. Into a hug of sorts as his mother had done to him, when he felt her arms slide around his torso he knew it was the right move to make. And he held her there while she cried in silence, no words needing to be exchanged, or at least he hoped because he wouldn't have known which they were. To him, it seemed like an eternity passed while they sat there and his legs were starting to protest. They had long ago stiffened up from holding his big frame in a kneeled position, and were starting to tingle now, the tingle that comes before numbness sets in.

"I'm going to move you." Bobby told her, his voice back to normal. He would have asked, but he didn't want to risk having to deal with her stubborn streak. The way he saw things she was in no position to move herself anyway. She needed to be cleaned up, then the damage could be assessed. He easily picked her up and moved through the apartment to the bathroom, where he left her alone momentarily and went in search of a towel. Bobby came back wit h one from the kitchen and set it on the counter before he turned to address the girl behind him. "I'm right outside," He told her before he turned left the bathroom, only stopping to adjust the temperature of the water streaming from the faucet.

A heavy sigh of frustration leaving his body Bobby set himself on the couch and stretched his legs in front of him. He closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the cushion wondering where to go from where he was. He couldn't bring her home, his brother's would ask too many questions, but he couldn't just leave her alone either. Caroline had never been good at piecing her life back together. Besides, he didn't want her sitting there worrying about him when he went out. There were things he had to do, things that he needed to do for his mother, and Caroline was intoxicating, down right persuasive when she wanted to be. He didn't need the thoughts she could place there nagging at his mind.

The shower still going strong, Bobby acted on the one option he knew he had for the night. He dialed the familiar number home and left a brief message with Angel. He could tell Jacky and Jerry, though the latter would be at his own home, if they needed him all knew where to find him, of that he was sure. He wanted to be there if the punk came back, and part of him almost willed the guy too. Above all Bobby wanted to find the guy, but in a place like Detroit he knew that was trying to find a needle in a haystack, he knew that he would have to take them all on and beat every last one until his arm refused to move. That wasn't an option, because even then he knew he may never find the right guy. With another sign Bobby removed his jacket and lay it on the chair, his gun he sat on the coffee table in front of him. Bobby changed position now laying on the couch and wondering what to do as he stared at the ceiling.