I don't own The Bodyguard

A/N: Well, this is my first fic in this category. I must say the movie was amazing along with the characters that were a part of it. I know that the death of Ricky's brother had been explained in the movie, but I wanted to explore the emotions that they go through before his younger brother's death.

Memories were a recollection of events that had happened. They could either be good or bad, depending on what the situation was. However, some memories were difficult to forget no matter how hard Ricky Linderman tried to push them away. It was all too memorable to the point where he could see the events happening right before his eyes, as if the ghosts of his younger self and his brother were standing right before him, reenacting of what had happened. He could remember where he was, what he was doing, what he was wearing, what his younger brother had said. There were nights when he jumped out of the bed, as if he had heard the bullet being fired in reality than in his nightmares that he constantly had.

Why did things had to end that way for his brother? Why did he have to lie to his father when he got home that day? Was it nervousness that he let that lie slip, in fear of getting punished?

He sat down on the grass beside the trunk of the tree as the plume from the smoke of the cigarette that he had lit, weaved around with one another. Smoking was something, and he had heard it plenty of times, that was not good for the health but it just calmed his nerves from the constant memories that haunted him. At this moment, one of his main concerns was going back to school again. He knew the rumors that others gossiped about him behind his back. Just because he didn't react to them, didn't mean that he couldn't hear them. Whether they were trying to ruin his reputation or just spread them because his classmates had nothing better to do, Ricky didn't care at all about their words. The only thing that he cared about was the fact that his little brother was gone and he couldn't bring him back. If only his classmates knew the actual story to what had happened, then perhaps they might have a different perspective of him...or maybe not. He was quite the tall classmate and that easily caused intimidation towards anyone who didn't know him.

Taking a drag from his cigarette, he tried to push away those memories again but this time not even the cigarette was strong enough to help him. It was as if a wave of memories took over his mind and he began to relieve it once more. He had never told anyone of this before...but only to his own mind who was becoming his greatest and threatening enemy.

Ricky and his brother were home alone and playing with one another. Being home alone had given their freedom to do whatever they wished, especially some things that their parents disapproved of. One of the things that had always caught Ricky's curiosity was the gun that his father kept in the house. He had never held it before and now, he felt that this was his opportunity just to see how it felt like to have a weapon in his hand. Without any hesitation, he took the weapon in his hand and held on it feeling the weight of it and the cold metal part of it. If he was being honest with himself he didn't feel any sort of empowerment whilst holding it, but he did understand the potential that the weapon had. What would happen if he were to pull the safety and the hammer? Would it go off and make a loud noise if he pulled the trigger? The same noise that they made in those Western films that he had seen plenty of times with Clint Eastwood?

"Hey," his little brother said when he noticed him holding that weapon in his hand, "why do you get to be the one to hold that? Let me hold it!" he exclaimed as he ran over to his brother.

"No you're too young," Ricky replied and tried to hold his brother at bay from even touching the weapon. Even Ricky wasn't allowed to hold such a thing in his hands but he thought that he was old enough to understand how it worked and to also make sure that his little nine year old brother didn't touch it. However, curiosity sometimes led to an unacceptable result.

"Come on," his little brother as he reached forward once more, "you always get to hold it."

"That's because I am older than you," Ricky reminded him in case his brother had forgotten, "dad said that you're not allowed to touch it."

"But dad is not even here," his little brother said, "and how is he going to find out that I held on it? Come on." His begging was starting to turn into whining. Ricky loved his brother, but he was still not going to give it to him.

"Go on," Ricky said, "this isn't a toy!"

However, his little brother had a different thought. If Ricky wasn't going to give it him, he might as well fight him for it. He leaped forward and grabbed a hold of the barrel of the gun. Ricky was caught off guard by that and he tried to pull it away from his brother, who had suddenly developed such a strong grip onto it.

"I'm serious let go!" Ricky yelled at his brother and pulled the weapon towards him only to have his younger brother pull it back.

As they continued this game of tug-of-war, a shot was heard into the room and both brothers stopped. Ricky felt the gun slipping out of his hands and falling onto the floor with a thud. "Oh my God," Ricky lightly chuckled at the sound that the gun had done. It did sound exactly like it did in those Clint Eastwood movies.

His younger brother looked down at the ground and then back at Ricky. "Oh no," he said as he looked at his brother, "dad's going to be so mad."

The words that his little brother said fell deaf upon Ricky's ears. He was still laughing at what had just happened. It had been quite the noise and a rush of elation went through Ricky's veins. However, his laughter died down when he noticed a crimson color sliding down his brother's temple. "Oh my God!" Ricky gasped as he ran over to his little brother and immediately took him in his arms before he fell to the floor.

His little brother lied in his arms, looking up to the ceiling before he looked over to his big brother. He didn't realize what had happened nor did he realize what was happening to him. "You're gonna have to take the blame for this one."

Those were the last words that his little brother had uttered before he closed his eyes. However could he live with himself for doing something like that? He still remembered that moment where he tried to stop the bleeding from his brother's temple, but the blood was just too much that it stained his hand as he applied as much pressure as he could. He had been there with his brother for God knows how long before he had gathered his senses and lied him on the floor, placing the gun in his hand. He had remembered his father's face when he had screamed, demanding to know what had happened. He remembered the lie that Ricky had said to him, that he had found him that way. Seeing his brother like that, was the worst punishment that he had to endure. His little brother had been his responsibility during that day when they were home alone and he had failed.

He had failed everybody.

Sniffling, Ricky got up from the tree trunk and threw his backpack over his shoulder before taking another drag of his cigarette. He threw it on the grass and put it out with the heel of his sneaker. If he continued to stay at this park, he might as well just skip the whole school year. Skip the whole school year and just start over again, or just disappear.

Disappearing was a cowardly act and he didn't want to be a coward. Even if he did do it, he couldn't forget those memories of his brother. They were just memories that he was going to have to live with forever and he didn't know if he could ever forgive himself.

The End