After the funeral, Bree stuck around the Mercer house for a few days. She finally decided that things were settled enough for her to head home
A few weeks passed and she received a couple calls from the brothers. Everything finally seemed to calm down, or so Bree thought. How could she have known what was to come?
Bree was far off in a land of dreams when she heard the vibration of her phone against her nightstand. Barely awake, she pulled the phone to her ear and said "Hello."
"Bree, it's Bobby," said the voice. Bree felt pure fear. The last call she received from Bobby at this hour revealed a horrible fate. She dreaded finding out why he was calling now, but she refused to go through the pain of any possibility she could imagine. "Jack's been shot. He's alive, but he's in critical condition. I just wanted to let you know. He's not doing to good right now."
"What hospital?" she asked, getting up and repeating her actions from the last time by frantically packing.
"They're not letting anyone in, Bree," he tried explaining.
"What hospital, Bobby?" she demanded impatiently. He told her the hospital and Bree quickly finished packing and made her way to it. She was too angry and too much in denial to cry. He'll make it through this. He'll make it through this, she kept assuring herself.
When she arrived, she got the right floor number and made her way up to the waiting room. She saw Jerry and Angel and rushed to hug them, but when Bobby came in, her reaction was less then welcoming. "What were you thinking?" she demanded, "I told you to consider what you were getting him into and this happens. God Bobby, what the hell is wrong with you?"
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Bobby yelled back.
"Explain it to me then. Explain it to me, Bobby." And he did. He told her what happened or at least what he thought happened. "I'm sorry, Bobby. You were right. I didn't know what I was talking about. It's just, I guess for me it's easier to get angry than sad. It's easier to blame someone than to deal with the real emotions. I just….I just…" she stammered, not knowing how to finish the sentence without it being awkward.
"Care about him," Bobby finished for her. "We all do. I just wish we could do more than just wait here." He punched the wall to better vent his frustration.
"Then why are you here?" she asked flatly. "There's nothing you can do here. Go kick Sweet's ass." She could see Bobby was about to argue and prevented it. "I'll be here when he can have visitors. Don't worry. Just be careful."
Grabbing her lightly by the shoulders, Bobby asked, "Are you sure?" She nodded a firm yes and Bobby gave the signal for Angel and Jerry to get in the car. Not knowing how to thank her, he held her in an embrace that carried the message clearly. He looked her in the eyes when the space between their bodies was reoccupied by air. Giving her a kiss on the forehead, he moved towards the door and declared "I'll call you when the job's done." And with those words, he disappeared into the elevator.
Bree stood there motionless. She couldn't think straight. A short, plump nurse walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright, dear?" she asked.
"I'm not sure." She turned to face the nurse and asked "Could you give me any information on Jack Mercer, the gunshot victim?"
"You can go see him now. That is, if you're family," she told Bree.
"We're family," she assured the nurse. After all this, the Mercers are more family than my own, she thought. The nurse directed her to Jack's room and said that he should be waking up soon.
As Bree opened the door and stepped inside, he heart stopped. Jack looked so pale, lying there motionless. She stood next to the hospital bed, holding his hand. She wasn't sure if he even knew she was there, but it made her feel better. Feeling as if all her energy had been drained, she sat in the chair against the wall, just staring at him in disbelief.
How could someone do this to such a kind, gentle person? She kept asking herself. She couldn't get over how helpless he looked. His life was in the hands of time now, she just hoped he had more.
There was a small shuffle of movement from the bed. It was so miniscule, she didn't know if she saw it or imagined it. She moved close to him, gently squeezing his hand. "Jack," she said in an almost inaudible whisper. He slowly and painfully turned his head to see her. She smiled tentatively at him. "You had us all pretty worried for a while."
He tried looking around the empty room and barely managed a weak "Where…?"
"They had to take care of something." She avoided making eye-contact with him. "I insisted that they go. Bobby said he'd call when everything's taken care of. They'll be back in a little bit, but you get to deal with me until they get back.
He smiled and weakly said "I think I can do that. There's room for you to sit on the bed, you know." Taking the hint, she carefully slid onto the bed, trying to make very little contact to prevent hurting him. It was silent for a while. Bree wasn't sure if he would want to keep talking or if he had the strength to. Jack finally broke the silence. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're here, but why? What made you want to come here?"
"You," she confessed. "Jack, I'm here because I feel like there's so much more to you than I know about. I'm not ready to let go and you should get anything you need. Your brothers are great, but they can't always give you what you need. I'm here to pick up on things they wouldn't. Is it alright that I'm here?"
"Of course it is. There's no other person I'd rather have here."
"I'm not sure I believe that, but I'm here if there's anything you need. What would you do without me?" she asked sarcastically.
"I'd be alone, which isn't a good feeling. I've figured that out the past couple weeks. It's weird not having you in the house. I know, I've lived there for years without you there and then you only stayed about a week. I guess I just got used to the fact that you were there, that I had someone to come to about anything in an instant. But then you left. I don't know." He sounded exhausted. "How long am I going to be graced with your presence this time?" he asked with no sarcasm in his tone.
"I'm not sure," she confessed. "I only found out I was coming out a few hours ago and too many other, more important things were on my mind. I'll stay at least a couple weeks, but I don't want to leave until you're back on your feet, unless you want me to leave sooner."
"So, if I cut off my feet, you'll stay forever," he said thoughtfully.
"I guess I'd have to." They laughed. "But please don't cut off your feet. There are easier way to get me to stick around."
"Oh yeah, like what?" he asked, intrigued.
"I don't know. Buy me a Calvin Klein model. I'd stick around if I had one of those. I mean, yummy," she teased.
"And if I were to just start walking around in a pair of Calvin Klein's?"
"That's even better. We should probably change the topic before I get my hopes up, though. Actually, you should rest."
"And leave you bored? That would be rude," he teased, reminding her of a 2-year-old not wanting to take a nap.
"When you go to sleep, I'll be in that chair asleep, too," she said, indicating the chair she had been sitting in before he awoke.
"Why? That's so far away and I know it can't be comfortable. This is better," he said, moving to one side of the bed. The bed would be more comfortable, she couldn't deny that. He could tell she was tempted and further justified, "This way, if I need anything, you're closer." She couldn't argue with the logic and it wasn't the first time she had fallen asleep next to him. Giving way, she laid down and together, they fell asleep.
I really want to dedicate this to one of my friends. He's kind of having a hard time right now, but I want him to know that he's my inspiration. I love him and he's the best friend anyone could ever ask for. I don't know what I'd do without him. He's what makes my world go round. Anyway, thank you for reading and reviews.
