Disclaimer: same ol', same ol'

Chapter 12:

Jack punched the man one last time. His eyes rolled up into his head and he teetered for a second before collapsing sideways.

"That's all," announced a breathless Mush. He stood next to Jack, a trail of blood streaming down his face from somewhere above his hair line. "There ain't no more."

Jack heard a few victorious shouts ring out from somewhere in the crowd and he smiled. "Where's Spot?"

Mush shrugged and motioned to the bodies conscious and unconscious scattered about the street. "Somewhere out there."

Jack put a hand on Mush's shoulder. "Why don't you see who needs help, huh?"

Mush rushed off, shouting for Kid Blink who was helping Crutchy, covered with blood, to his feet.

The sun was starting to rise behind them, and the damage was becoming quite clear. All over the ground, people were moaning, grasping at open wounds, talking in soothing voices to their fallen comrades.

When Jack found Spot, he was punching like a wild man at a man's face already broken and contorted beyond recognition, swearing up a storm.

Jack grabbed Spot from behind, startling the young leader of Brooklyn. Spot almost went after Jack until he realized whom it was. Jack noticed a fury in Spot's eyes that he had never seen before. "It's over," Spot said, turning to spit at the man he had been beating up but who was now lying lifeless. "Its over."

He put an arm around Jack's shoulders and together they began making their rounds.

…

"It's a shame our reunion had to end like this," Jacob said, brandishing his own knife. "We could have been such a happy family."

"You ain't my family."

"You aren't, James. Didn't all of those lessons at school teach you anything? Oh! You didn't go. How silly of me to have forgotten."

Skittery lunged at Jacob, but Jacob was ready and sidestepped the attack. Skittery spun around and stuck out his hand toward Jacob's chest, but found himself stabbing at the air.

"Maybe I should have sent you to a fighting school, James. You really should learn how to do it properly."

"I don't want to fight you, Jacob. I want you dead."

"Pity we don't always get what we want." Jacob flung out his own hand and the tip of his knife grazed Skittery's shoulder. "Oops. Dear me." Jacob laughed sinisterly.

Skittery ignored the pain in his shoulder, pushed it aside like he did the pain running the course of his body; his aching bones, his swollen face, his exhausted muscles.

He charged at Jacob again, and again missed.

Jacob seemed to be amused by the fight. His laughter echoed off of the walls as Skittery felt hot tears of frustration form at the corners of his eyes. More than frustration, he thought. Fear. Hatred. Sadness. He closed his eyes, willing the tears away, and when he opened them again, Jacob was already coming at him.

This time, Skittery felt the knife pierce his side. Shocked, he stumbled backward, staring down at the red stain growing on his shirt.

"Three family members down," Jacob said. "One to go."

As bad as the pain was, Skittery didn't think Jacob had stabbed anything too important. He put his right hand over the wound, and gripped his small knife with his left.

"Stubborn as your father, I see. Yes, I recall he put up quite a good fight himself." Skittery stabbed at Jacob but hit nothing. He could feel the anger radiating off of him, and he wanted Jacob to feel it also.

"It was only too bad your mother was already dead. She could have watched the heroic battle your father failed to fight…Oh yes, James. I killed her first. And then your father once he discovered her body. He knew it was I all along. Your poor mother loved her father too much to believe his warnings."

Skittery felt the tears escape, but he did nothing to stop them this time. "Why didn't you kill me too?" he asked through clenched teeth, the wound in his side, throbbing.

"I had no idea where you were. Perhaps you'll enlighten me."

Skittery remained silent. He couldn't answer the question even if he wanted to. Why was it so difficult for him to remember? Unless…

"How do you know I'm the guy you're lookin' for?"

Jacob smiled. "James, you are almost an exact copy of your father. Same eyes, same face, same unruly hair." Jacob reached into his jacket pocket and Skittery stepped backward, expecting him to pull out a second knife.

It was a piece of paper.

A photograph.

Jacob held the image up for Skittery to see. Skittery heard his knife as it the floor. It was like looking in a mirror. And beside his father, a beautiful woman with dark hair and wide eyes, a pretty smile. His mother. And in the front, two boys, both dark haired, but the one on the left, Skittery realized, was himself. He reached out to touch the photo but Jacob jerked his hand back, snapping Skittery back into reality.

"You see?"

Skittery nodded.

Jacob tucked the picture back into his pocket and started toward Skittery. "Your very existence has tormented me all these many years. But now, I will be rid of you. The memory of you. All of it."

Skittery grabbed the nearest thing to him for protection. Holding it in front of him, he realized he was going to be fighting for his life with a dull table leg.

Jacob laughed again, and this time Skittery joined him.

Jacob stopped laughing and looked curiously at Skittery, armed with his table leg, a fire in his dark eyes.

"Foolish boy."

"That might be, Jacob. I ain't been to school, and I don't got a family. But unlike you, I grew up on the streets and one thing I learned was to never pick a fight you can't win."

"You should have paid more attention to that lesson, boy."

"And another thing."

"Whats that?"

"This."

Skittery swung the stick as hard as he could at Jacob's face. Jacob stumbled and landed on the floor, his knife flew out of his hand. Skittery lunged for it and then, a sense of triumph washing over him, he hovered above Jacob, the knife raised over his head.

"This is for my family," he said. The he plunged the knife into the old man's chest, just as the early morning sunlight started to stream through the window.

…

"Dom ain't doin' so well, Spot." Spot looked down at Dominik, gasping for air, a knife protruding from his heaving chest. He knelt down beside him as Jack continued on.

"Jack. Snitch is hurt real bad," Itey said, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him toward the wounded boy. Jack stared down at Snitch whose wounds weren't readily visible to his eyes.

"What happened to him?" Jack asked, putting a hand on Snitch's sweaty brow.

"I dunno," Itey said. His eyes were wide, panicked, and suddenly Jack felt a wave of dread wash over him. There had been a battle. People were going to die if they hadn't already and there was good chance, some of those deaths would be his own boys. Jack knelt beside Snitch and took the younger boy's hand in his own.

"You're gonna be awright, Snitch," he said. Snitch nodded, his eyes unfocused and his breathing shallow. "Itey, stay with him." Itey nodded and put his hand in the place of Jack's.

"You'll get me some more o' Race's licorice tomorrow, right pal?" he heard Itey say. Glancing back over his shoulder, he noticed a smile on Snitch's face.

When he heard whistles a few minutes later, he realized that the police had finally shown up. Spot was still busy with Dominick, so Jack approached the officers who looked horrified at the scene before them.

"What happened here?" The tallest of the three asked when Jack reached them.

"A little fight broke out," Jack said.

"Little fight?" A pudgy officer said. "It looks like a war zone here."

"See all them fellas in the black robes? They're the guys you're after." The tall officer turned to the other two.

"Round 'em up boys." He turned his attention back to Jack. "You want to tell me what happened here?"

Jack nodded. "They were tryin' to kill us. They're the ones that set our house on fire. They attacked a couple of my guys. We were tired of it."

"So you came here to pick a fight?"

"Yeah! What would you do?"

"Ignore them."

"When they're soakin' your boys and burnin' your house? It weren't safe for us no more. We had to do somethin'."

"Well, the way I see it is—"

"Officer Kremke." Jack and the officer looked up at the same time to see another officer walking toward them.

"Sir." Officer Kremke nodded.

"Go get a couple of hospital wagons down here. Some of these boys need help."

"Yes sir."

The officer hurried away, and the new one, wearing a nametag that read "Officer Front" reached for Jack's hand. Jack shook it.

"I'm afraid this is partly my fault," he said.

"A bull causin' a fight? There's a headline for ya."

Front smiled. "When your boys get back tonight, there are some things we ought to talk about."

A/N: k…one more chappy ought to do it. So weird…this story totally came out different than I had planned. Oh well.