Title: Strays 21/22

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: R

Summary: What's it all worth when you're alone?

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.

Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.

Please be advised that this story does contain language which may offend some readers.

X

Fowler stared at the inferno that raged a few hundred feet away from them, mouth agape. "Jesus, fuckin' A," he blinked, watching the flames shoot up into the sky. "When he makes a point, he sure makes a point."

"You could say that," Green leaned back against his cruiser. He held a cell phone in one hand, his shoulders slumped. "Victor Sweet's legacy is gone."

"If there's anythin' left in that inferno to identify him with that is," Fowler muttered. The screeching sirens of firetrucks filled the air. The men stood at the side of the road, watching solemnly as the firefighters fought back at the thick black smoke and raging flames. "Only question is where the kid is."

"No way would Bobby burn that place down if Jack was in it. Even if the kid was dead. Man cares way too much t' do that." Green spit on the snow crusted pavement and got into the car, suddenly wearied by the frantic chase they'd given to get to Victor's home before Bobby, only to find the building engulfed in a fireball. He only wished he could say he was surprised. He shook his head. "C'mon, rookie. We still got ends t' tie up here."

Fowler opened the car down and sat down as well, rubbing a gloved hand over his head. "So where does this leave us? We got the proof that Jack..."

"We don't got nothin'," Green stuffed his phone into his pocket.

"The hell we don't...At the very least Jack's blood is sprayed across that warehouse..."

Green spared him a glance, his mouth a tight grimace. "No, we don't. All that blood jus' says yeah Jack was there an' injured at some point. No prints other than Jack's, no prints in the house but Victor an' his men, no proof, no evidence. Bobby never leaves prints behind. He's got Jack with him, bet m' life on it. This was revenge," he jerked a thumb at the fire. "Victor had this comin'. Not many people on the street gonna mourn his ass."

"Ain't that the fucking truth," Fowler let out a sigh. "So, now what? We pretend we don't know shit 'bout Bobby blazin' a path of revenge through Sweet's life?"

Green stared out the window of the car, silent. Fowler heaved another disgusted sigh and started the car.

"Unreal."

"Street justice," Green murmured. "S' all it ever was."

X

Bobby sat by the bed, his back stiff and straight in the uncomfortable hospital chair. A machine beeped beside him, monitoring each heartbeat of Jack's. Bobby rubbed his thumb along his palm, his face a mask of calm. He breathed out, listening to the steady beeps, a horrible urge to scream clawing at the back of his throat.

A faint whimper came from Jack as he shifted on the bed, heavily dosed with painkillers. He made soft sounds in his sleep, his injured hands clenched in loose fists. Bobby watched the flickers of pain crease Jack's face, feeling sick each time he laid eyes on the bruises that covered much of Jack's skin. He cracked his knuckles, fresh rage simmering. Killing Victor hadn't rid him of his anger completely.

Jack let out a soft sound and shifted once more, seemingly unable to find a comfortable sleeping position. There was hardly a spot on him that wasn't covered with bruises, scraps and cuts. Even now, with all the blood cleared from his skin, the horrible colors were truly sickening. Jack had been beaten within a inch of his life, many times over.

"Bobby, y' still be awake?" Em's voice floated over to Bobby as she entered the private room.

"There's not a chance I'll leave him here by himself," Bobby lifted his head to look at her, his face weary. "Angel's waitin' t' take you on home."

She shook her head and clucked her tongue as she approached him. "Boss man, y' need t' sleep, boy. Jackie, he be safe here. Lucy girl, she's safe too."

"No," he said flatly. "Not leavin' till he's discharged."

Em touched a hand to Jack's hair, a small grimace to her lips at the gritty, dirty feel. "Coulda washed the blood outta him hair betta, they coulda," she sniffed. "Get 'im home, clean him up real good." She sighed. "Ahh, Jackie boy, faced the devil, y' did. S' a miracle y' got 'im out, Bobby."

Bobby snorted. "Miracle..." He rested his head to his hand, his elbow wobbling from exhaustion on the arm of the chair. "He was half dead, they fractured his ribs, beat the fuck outta him...y' see a miracle in all this?"

"He breathin', Bobby," Em stroked Jack's bruised cheek with the gentlest touch of her fingers. Jack pressed against her touch in his sleep, the whisper quiet whimpers of pain fading away. "He breathin' an' your mama, she stepped in, she helped this boy, yes she did. Protected 'im till you found your boy. Y' say your blessin's many times over, be grateful, thankful that y' found 'im."

Bobby swallowed and looked away. "Em...You don't know the whole story. Jack...He, he was, do you remember some of the gangs b'fore?"

Em crossed herself and nodded. "My son, t' bullet in 'im came from Ninth street, those devils in the night, they burn for what they did t' my boy. He was a good boy," she wiped at her eyes with one hand. "I miss him so..."

"Jack, his last name is Donnelly, Em."

A flash of recognition gleamed in her eyes. "No."

Bobby nodded. "Yeah. I killed his family, Em. I burned them all, every last one. I took his men an' destroyed the family. 'Cept for Jack. Because of me...because of me, Jack has no family," he trailed off, choking on the words. "He ain't comin' home with us, y' bet on that, Em."

"If he got no home, no family, he stay wit' us," she whispered, making no effort to wipe the tears that fell. "Y' make it right with 'im. He been through hell again, y' make things right, Bobby, y' hear me, boy? Him needs a family."

"Em..."

She leaned over and touched Bobby's cheek as well, touching the stubbled skin. He could feel the strength in her fingers. He lowered his head to her palm, silent misery pouring from him. "No 'Em's' outta y', boy. Y' listen t' God, listen t' y' Mama's words in y' heart, an' do what's right."

He nodded, breathing slow to keep his emotions under control. She pressed a motherly kiss to his forehead, then one to Jack's cheek. "Y' sleep, boy. Sleep an' pray."

"I will..."

X

Jack sat in the hospital bed a few days later, playing with the bendy straw that came with his water. He seemed to tense as Bobby walked into the room. He glanced at him and then away, his face carefully blank. "Em was jus' here, you missed her."

"She's with Lucy right now." Bobby walked over to the bed side, his hands in the pockets of his long wool coat. "The doctor says Lucy might be discharged not long after you. She's doin' better, much better now."

"Great."

Bobby hid a wince. Jack's voice was pure ice. "She was askin' 'bout you, wantin' t' be sure you were still alive."

"I'll see her soon," Jack mumbled. He looked at the straw in his lap and hunched his shoulders up. "Look...Bobby..."

"Don't...let's...let's get you home, ok? We can talk or whatever back there. Not here though. Walls have ears here."

Jack huffed out a empty chuckle. "Home..." He flicked his finger over the edge of the straw. "Uh huh."

Bobby sat down in the chair beside the bed. "We got a lot t' talk about, I think."

"Betcha y' were the brightest in school, weren't you?"

Bobby caught his look, understanding the raging mix of emotions that were clear in Jack's eyes. "Dropped out when I was twelve or so, actually. Mom didn't try puttin' me back in. She taught me herself."

Jack nodded, breaking the eye contact. "Em fussed over me, pretty much forced me t' eat until I thought I was gonna barf."

"She was worried sick about you. We all were."

Jack stared down at the straw and shrugged. They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither wanting to speak, both wanting to say something...anything. "The doctor said I could go today, they're dischargin' me this afternoon."

"Yeah....yeah, I know," Bobby murmured. "Jack...please, come back with us t' the house."

"Why?"

Bobby leaned forward. "Because I care, cause I want y' safe in case anyone gets any ideas of retaliatin'."

Jack sniffed a little, his voice uneven. "That's all?"

"What else...I don't understand," Bobby frowned.

"Never mind," Jack rubbed at his face tiredly. "Fine. I'll come back...for now. Maybe I'll stay, maybe not."

Bobby's frown deepened. "Alright. I'll arrange for my driver t' pick us up. We'll have you outta here in no time."

"Ok..." Jack curled up on the bed, his back to Bobby. He let out a breath and glanced back at him. Bobby held the look, a thousand desperate words on his lips, but he couldn't bring them forward. Jack shifted, closing his eyes.

Bobby sat for some time, just watching him pretend to sleep.

X

"Good God almighty, Em, will you relax," Jack huffed as he climbed the stairs, each step slow and measured. "I swear, I'm fine."

"Don't y' be takin' that tone wit' me, boy. Hurt or no, I'll smack y' head till it spins." Em glared at him. "Y' slow down or so help ya."

Jack sighed and nodded, waiting for Em to join him on the stairs. "I'm not made of porcelain," he grumbled. "Between you an' Bobby..."

"Hush boy, Boss man as worried as me, he don't show it, but he ain't been well a day since they took ya," Em put one arm around Jack's waist, steadying him up each stair. "Not sleepin', him head pains, barely eatin', he ain't no good w'out you."

Jack gritted his teeth. "Uh huh." He rested against her. Just climbing the stairs winded him to be honest. Once in his room, he sank down to the bed, grateful to be on the soft mattress once more. Bobby hovered in the doorway, watching them both. Em patted Jack's head, smoothing his hair.

"Em, I wanna talk t' Jack."

She stilled and turned to the side. "Yessir," she said under her breath. "Y' rest up, Jackie. M' gonna make somethin' special for ya, y' wait an' see."

Jack offered her a small smile. "Thanks, Em."

She ruffled his hair and walked away. As she passed Bobby, she whispered under her breath. "Hurt 'im an' I'll hurt ya, boy."

Bobby's lips quirked in mild amusement. "I promise." She eyed him, nodded once and walked out of the room.

Jack picked at the blanket on his bed, alone once more with Bobby. He rubbed his fingers along the thick covers. He swallowed and stood up slowly. "M' gonna rest for a bit. Thinkin' of leavin' in a few days."

"Don't leave like this."

"I can leave however the fuck I want t'," Jack snapped. "Y' don't own me."

Bobby narrowed his eyes at him. "No, I don't own anyone. But what I would like is a little respect, a little courtesy."

Jack waved one hand a little, the other clasped to his chest, the movement stealing his breath. "You fuckin' hypocrite. I got nothin' t' say to you."

"Why didn't you tell me, Jack? Huh? Why hide y' name from me?" Bobby demanded suddenly, his eyes dark.

"Why?" Jack laughed. The sound was ugly and bitter. "Why? Cause all my life, every fuckin' time I turned around, there was someone waitin' t' say somethin' about my name! They'd say horrible shit t' me all the time, mockin' me and then...then they'd do what they wanted t' do. Whenever I wasn't treated like a fucking leper, that is!"

Bobby stared back at him. "You assume I'm like some snot nosed punks that don't know street respect?"

"No, but I learned a long time ago that my name meant nothin' good. Not that I can remember my family, t' even know if they were good. You made sure of that."

Bobby flinched. There was no denying what he had done all those years before.

Jack ran a hand through his messy hair, his fingers and wrists still splotched with ugly bruises. "I'm not a Donnelly," he said, his voice rough. "I'm a street rat. Pretty sure my father woulda been upset t' see his kid end up like me. I never woulda measured up, I'm not cut out for any of the shit y' do, this gang stuff makes me feel sick! I'm not a Donelly, I'm just..." his voice broke, a few tears running down his bruised cheeks. "I'm just...Jack."

"You're not just Jack," Bobby swallowed over the aching lump in his throat. He took a few steps closer to Jack, his anger receding with each passing moment. Jack looked broken, a fragile slip of the smart mouth boy he'd stumbled over only a few weeks before.

Jack took a step back from him, blue eyes wide and flashing with anger. "Don't you fuckin' touch me! I hate you! I hate you so goddamn much for takin' them away from me! I can't hardly remember them an' you took that from me! You made me a fuckin' stray."

"They would have turned you into somethin' not far offa Victor," Bobby snapped. "You woulda been a gang banger, like him, like me. Do you wanna know what your fuckin' father was really like? He was a sick bastard! He loved hurtin' people."

"You're lyin'!" Jack grabbed the glass of water off the bed stand and whipped it at him blindly. "Shut up, shut the fuck up!" he shouted, the glass grazing Bobby's shoulder and falling harmlessly to the thick carpeting beneath him.

"Jack, listen t' me," Bobby took another cautious step towards him. "He wasn't a good guy, I swear t' you, he wasn't. Everythin' good in you woulda been twisted t' be like him, they were all like that, the whole family."

Jack bared his teeth at him, his cheeks flushed. "Fuck you!" he hissed. "You're no better, you try an' act better, but you're no different, no, not even you with your fuckin' pity handouts and collectin' people off the streets like it'll make the fact that you're a murderer any better!" He balled his fists, his shoulders hitching. "You're no better, Bobby Mercer, you hear me? No goddamn better!"

Bobby looked to the side, the words cutting him deeply. "I'm so sorry, Jack...So sorry..."

"Sorry I found out?" Jack took a big step towards Bobby, unafraid of him in that moment. He wanted to hurt him, make him feel some of what he himself felt. "Sorry that now I know the truth?"

"I was sixteen, Jack." Bobby lifted his head, catching his gaze. "Sixteen. Too young t' stop an' think about the consequences of what I was about t' do. I took Christopher Donnelly and most of his gang out. I wanted t' run the streets, I wanted control of everythin'."

Jack's hand flashed out, wicked fast, slapping him and rocking Bobby's head to the side. "Y' selfish prick!"

Bobby swallowed and looked at him, the red prints on his cheek a bright stain of color, marking him. "I don't deny that, Jack. I did what I did cause I wanted t'. Street justice ain't like regular justice. I saw what he was doin' an' knew I could do it better."

Jack wiped at a tear that spilled over his cheek. He turned away from Bobby, sniffling a little. "Did you...was Sweet lyin'? Did you put me outside?"

"You were outside already," Bobby whispered hoarsely. "Early evenin', 'fore he sent his guys out t' work the drug corners assigned. You were playin' down the street, had a ball with ya. You were little, nothin' but big eyes an' a mop of hair. I saw you, knew you were his cause of the eyes."

Jack cringed and covered his mouth with one shaking hand. Bobby licked his dry lips and sighed. "I set up what I needed t', and started the flames, keepin' a eye out for you, in case. You were half a street away. I waited not far away, watchin' the building go up in flames. Jerry made the call t' the cops, pre-arranged so they wouldn't show till it was too late."

"You knew...an' you still burnt it down," Jack mumbled.

"Yeah....yeah, I knew." Bobby touched the hand print of his cheek, tracing the marks that stung white hot with the force of Jack's slap. "You got his eyes, I saw them eyes flash at me before, years ago. Chris hated me almost as much as Victor did. I didn't think 'bout what would happen...I figured the cops would give ya a good home or somethin'."

Jack spun away from him and wiped at his face with the back of his hand. "You make me sick."

"...Jack, don't go like this."

"Like I got any reason t' stay?" Jack grabbed his jacket off the bed, the material lovingly sewn back up and washed by Em. "You think anythin' you say t' me will make me wanna stay now? I ain't your goddamn dog or...whore!" He turned around, his eyes red rimmed with tears. "Because of you, I got nowhere else t' be."

Bobby closed his eyes. He was silent for a long moment. He nodded once. "I'll get my guy t' drive you anywhere you wanna go. I'll set up an account for you, t' access for whatever you need, I don't wanna find out you froze in some gutter," he said, his words bone dry, emotionless.

"I don't want your money." Jack threw the coat to the ground. "I don't need y' fuckin' pity, ok? I can get by on my own, jus' like always, Bobby! Fuck you! Fuck your money! You think y' can throw money at a problem or put them under ice when things don't go your way? Y' can't buy me!"

A tear rolled down Bobby's cheek, stopping Jack's hateful rant. Bobby breathed in, nearly silent. "I never wanted t'. First time I ever found a guy who wanted me for me, an' not the money or power... first guy I ever felt love for..." he wiped at the tear. "I'd take it all back in a fucking second, if it meant not hurtin' you."

"Damn you," Jack whispered. He closed the distance between them, breathing hard. "Damn you for makin' me feel like this, for doin' this t' me, an' I can't even walk away, knowin' how y' feel..." he slid his hands up Bobby's cheeks, cupping his face. "I wanna hate ya so damned bad...but I can't, can't hate you when y' make me feel so good," he murmured, kissing him.

Bobby let out a rough sound and pressed into the kiss, giving in completely. He parted his lips, letting Jack control the moment and reveling in the feel of the mouth on his. He shivered, circling his arms around Jack gingerly, wary of hurting him.

"Say it again, say it like y' mean it," Jack nipped his lip, stealing another kiss.

Bobby closed his eyes, sighing with pleasure at the sweet touch of Jack's lips. "I do...I wanted t' tell you, fell so fuckin' hard, it scares me."

"You? Scared?" Jack murmured, rubbing his fingers into Bobby's hair, rubbing small circles on his scalp. "Don't believe you'd be scared of lovin' someone."

"People I love get hurt," Bobby leaned against him, nearly purring as the tension melted from his head. "If I love you...I might lose y'."

Jack smiled sadly, resting his forehead to Bobby's. "Stupid," he said affectionately.

Bobby held him as if he'd disappear. "Jack...about your family. I swear, I'll keep apologizin' till the end of the world."

"Not now...don't wanna talk about it right now." Jack pressed a kiss to his hair. "Just...hold me."

X