AN: I have chapter five written (probably the longest and most pointless chapter ever!), which means that I get to post chapter two! I'm not sure if it's still allowed to answer reviews here, some rules have changed since the last time I wrote a chapter fic...however, I'll answer reviews until I'm told not to, because I've always believed in acknowledging those who took the time to leave a comment. If this is a problem, let me know. Reviews will be answered at the bottom of every chapter. Thanks!

The first thought Jack had as he regained consciousness was one of extreme discomfort. His back ached, his head throbbed, and his shoulder was starting to feel like someone had stuck him with a hot metal rod. He refrained from opening his eyes just yet, still feeling like he was underwater, the sounds around him muffled and his thoughts slow.

"...ack? Jack? Wake up, man."

He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he recognized the voice, and was reassured by that fact. He tried to shift into a more comfortable position, struggling to open his eyes. He moaned softly, feeling another bolt of pain shoot through his shoulder. He gasped, grasping mentally for familiarity.

"Jack? Come on, Jackie, I'm not gonna sit here all night. Get up."

Jack shifted again, trying and failing to find a comfortable position, away from the pain in his shoulder, away from the fog in his brain, towards that voice he recognized, that he knew so well...

Bobby...

Something cool dripped onto his forehead, running down across his face and into his hair. He shivered, chills running up and down his spine. He was so cold...

Another drop, this time on his cheek, sliding down and trickling into his ear. Another shiver...

Another drop onto his chin, dripping into the hollow of his neck, down...down across his shoulder, then dropping...dropping off into the snow...

...the snow was so cold. He shivered as moisture seeped into the material of his jeans, his t-shirt, soaking his body in the freezing temperature as he cried out in agony. He was so cold, and it hurt, it hurt so much...

"Bobby!" he cried, feeling tears and snot and spit streaming down his face, his chin, falling into the snow and freezing. It hurt...oh fuck, it hurt so much...

"Jack!" came the reply, far away, muffled, distant, almost unreal. But familiar. Beautiful and familiar. He gripped the post with renewed effort, struggling to hold on.

"Bobby!"

"Fuck!"

Jack shot up with a start as he suddenly found himself drenched from the waist up in freezing water. He shook his head, flinging droplets from his hair, and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them, he saw none other than Bobby Mercer looming above him, holding a bucket with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

"Mornin', sunshine," Bobby said, setting the bucket down on the bar and tossing a towel at Jack's head. Jack's reflexes were considerably slower, and the towel hit him square in the face. Bobby snorted in response. "Nice catch, fairy."

"Fairy?" Jack asked, disgusted, taking the towel and wiping off his face. He rubbed his eyes again, suddenly looking around, confused. His ears were ringing. "Wait, why am I on the floor? And why the hell did you throw water on me?"

"Because, Jackie-poo, you passed out cold," Bobby began, holding out a hand to help Jack up off the ground. Jack ignored him, grabbing the stool to steady himself as he climbed to his feet. He swayed there for a moment, closing his eyes as he regained his balance, flushing deep red when he opened them again. There was still a decent sized crowd in the bar, and every eye was on him.

"It's not every day they get to see me dump a bucket of water on someone," Bobby grinned, grabbing his towel back out of Jack's hand as the younger man sat down on the stool. "Didn't seem to be any other way to wake you up. I'll remember this for the next time I see you in here...Jack's only allowed to have one beer."

"Ha ha," Jack replied mirthlessly. He ran a hand through his wet hair, his damp hands still shaky. He was very hot again, but remembered feeling very cold just moments ago. Something about snow...and pain...and Bobby. "I'm not drunk. I just...don't feel good."

"Aww, poor baby," Bobby said, walking back around behind the bar. Jack noticed that there were a couple more people seated around the bar than before, when it had been just him and the guys with the big coats. "Want me to hold your hand, sweetheart? Call your mommy?"

Jack suddenly felt an unexpected swell of anger wash over him, and he clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms. Before, Bobby's teasing had been welcome, almost familiar, almost...brotherly. But something about that comment had struck a nerve with Jack, as if to say, hey, you're not his brother, you're just a pathetic homeless orphan with no family, no friends, no future...

"I don't have a fuckin' mom to call, but thanks anyway." Jack's voice was sharp, laced with venom. He stood up abruptly, pushing the stool away in disgust. "I need some air. Here's your fuckin' money. Have a nice night, asshole." He threw a wad of bills on the counter (all the money he'd made playing that night) and whirled around, pushing his way through the crowd and trying to ignore the way Bobby's look of surprise made him feel like turning back around and apologizing.

He barged out the door in a huff, shoving his way angrily past a group of girls ("your biggest fans!" they squealed to him) and out into the cold. He slammed the door, making sure that if Bobby was still paying attention, he would know that Jack was good and angry. But once Jack was outside, away from the heavy air and the crowded room, he couldn't help but feel extremely foolish. His anger seemed to have come from nowhere, and in Bobby's defense, Jack had allowed the teasing all night with little complaint. He couldn't explain it, he'd just suddenly felt...furious...

Way to be a drama queen, Jack, he thought to himself, leaning up against the side wall of the bar and pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He flipped out his lighter and lit one up, taking a long drag, allowing the nicotine to settle his nerves and calm his mind.

He leaned his head back against the brick wall, taking a deep breath of the cold night air. He shivered, the dampness of his t-shirt making it seem colder than it actually was. As his anger subsided, confusion set in, replacing the fury with an equally frustrating emotion. The night had become one big mental rollercoaster for Jack, beginning from the moment he sat down at the bar and met Bobby Mercer.

Something about Bobby had set off some kind of alarm in Jack's mind, although Jack couldn't place a finger on what kind of alarm it was. He didn't feel threatened by Bobby; quite the contrary, he felt like Bobby was some kind of protective force, like a shield that kept Jack relatively out of harm's way...

And speaking of harm's way, why did he have such a strange feeling about the guys at the end of the bar? He'd never seen any of them in his life, and definitely didn't have a single legitimate reason to be afraid of them. Nevertheless, the man in the big white coat made his stomach clench and gave him the chills. And the name that had suddenly popped into his head...Victor Sweet...

And speaking of names, why did the names of complete strangers keep invading his thoughts? Why did he suddenly pass out? Why? Why? Why?

"Hey."

A low voice next to him made him jump, and his eyes shot across to meet Bobby's, who was leaning up against the wall to his left. He ignored Bobby's greeting, taking another drag of his cigarette and wrapping his other arm around his stomach, beginning to shiver. Better to still look mad, he thought. Makes me look like less of a spaz.

"Mind if I join you?" Bobby continued, pulling out his own pack of cigarettes. Jack shrugged.

"Are you following me?"

"It's my fuckin' smoke break," Bobby said, lighting one up and taking a drag. "Lighten the fuck up, already."

Jack ignored him, bending his knee and propping his foot casually against the wall. He inhaled cold air again, trying to clear his head. He couldn't stay mad forever...although he was still so confused...

"Look," Bobby began awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck as he fiddled with the cigarette in his other hand, "I'm sorry I threw water on you. I didn't know it would piss you off so much. It's really not that big a deal. It's not like that crowd's never seen a drunk make an ass out of himself before."

Jack remained silent for a moment, smoking quietly before answering. "I'm not drunk," he said slowly. "And it wasn't about that."

"Okay, then, I'm sorry for makin' fun of you for passing out," Bobby tried again, shrugging as if he didn't know quite what to do. It was obvious that he wasn't used to apologies. "I'm sorry for calling you names. I'm sorry for...for bringin' up your mom. Is that what you wanna hear? Is that what you want me to say?"

"What I wanna know," Jack was still speaking slowly, deliberately, and he took one last drag of his cigarette, crushing it under his shoe, "is why you're out here apologizing to me."

Bobby raised an eyebrow, confused. "What?"

"I mean, I'm just some random fuckin' kid you met in a bar an hour ago." Jack was speaking a little faster now, as if he had to say everything at once or he'd lose the thought. "Why do you feel like you have to apologize to me because I got pissed and left? You don't even know me."

"Fuck, you don't even know me, and you just threw a hissy fit over something I did," Bobby said, voice rising a little. He sounded angry, but Jack knew he wasn't. He was just frustrated. "I don't even know what I did, exactly, but I'm just a stranger in a bar, right? Why the hell should it matter?"

"I don't know," Jack mumbled, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes again. "That's what I've been trying to figure out."

Both Jack and Bobby fell silent then, letting what they had just said sink in. Bobby finished his cigarette, crushing it under his foot much like Jack had just done, and turned around, leaning against his right arm to face Jack. Jack refused to look at him, instead staring up at the sky, trying to count the number of stars he could see. Fuckin' city lights, I can't see shit...

"So, your mom die, or what?" Bobby asked, hands shoved in his pockets. Jack tried hard not to flinch at Bobby's tone...he had a feeling empathy wasn't Bobby's forte.

"Dunno," Jack said after a moment, shrugging. "I've never met her."

"Your dad?"

"Nope."

"Foster home?"

"Yep."

"Yeah," Bobby said with a long sigh. "Me too."

Jack looked down at him, realizing that his anger was long gone and had been replaced by a sharp pang of loneliness. "You lived in a foster home?"

"Mmmhmm," Bobby continued, nodding, his voice rough. "Evelyn Mercer was the best thing that ever happened to me. She adopted me...she's my mother, I don't care what any fuckin' birth certificate says."

Jack nodded, blinking and looking away from Bobby again. "Good for you. Fuckin' running away was the best thing that ever happened to me."

Bobby made a humming noise in the back of his throat, but refrained from asking any more questions, looking down at the ground. Silence filled the air again, until it threatened to suffocate Jack. He had to ask...

"Does this feel...weird to you?"

"Huh?" Bobby asked, glancing up again.

"I don't know...this. You...and me...and...tonight."

Bobby blinked, startled. "If you're fuckin' comin' on to me, you're wasting your time, because I'm not..."

"No." Jack threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. He was too tired for this. "Fuck, no. Forget it. Forget I said anything."

Bobby just started at him, crossing his arms across his chest. "You're a weird fuckin' kid, you know that, Jackie? A weird fuckin' kid."

"So I've been told," Jack murmured, turning around a kicking at the wall. He now felt extremely uncomfortable under Bobby's gaze, and leaned against his own right arm with his back to the older man.

"I don't get you," Bobby continued unexpectedly. "And I don't get this."

Jack looked back over his shoulder. "Don't get what?"

Bobby paused. "I don't know." He was silent for another moment, then backed away from the wall abruptly. "Whatever. My shift's over soon, I'm cuttin' out early. Wait here, I'll give you a ride home."

"What?" Jack froze, suddenly tensing up again. "No, you don't have to..."

"Yeah, why not?" Bobby asked, making his way towards the door. "You're obviously sick or something..."

"I'm not sick."

"You passed out, remember?" Bobby pointed out, stopping right outside the door. "I can't leave a sick sixteen year old..."

"Nineteen."

"...to wander the streets after leaving my bar..."

"It's not your fuckin' bar."

"...and get himself killed. It just wouldn't be right."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Oh, right, and you're just the picture of morality."

Bobby grinned. "Of course. I'll be right back."

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but Bobby was already through the door and out of sight. He sighed, groaning in frustration. Not only had he figured absolutely nothing out about tonight, about Bobby, about everything else, but now Bobby was going to have to find out that he didn't actually have a place to live. For some reason, that made Jack uncomfortable. He didn't want Bobby to think he was weak, and he definitely didn't want Bobby to take pity on him.

"Alright," Bobby was back outside in no time, wearing a leather jacket and carrying a set of keys. He started walking towards the parking lot. "This way."

"You don't have to do this," Jack insisted, jogging after him, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "It's not far, I can walk."

"You're still wet," Bobby said without looking back, obviously referring to the water he'd thrown on Jack. "I'm not gonna be responsible for your death. I don't need that on my conscience."

"I'm just staying at a friend's," Jack continued, beginning to get nervous. If Bobby didn't give in, he was going to have to make up a location where Bobby could drop him off. He refused to let Bobby know he was homeless. "I'm serious. I'm just gonna walk."

By this point they'd reached Bobby's car, and Bobby was already unlocking the door. "Just get in the fuckin' car, ya fairy. I don't see why you're makin' a big deal out of this."

Bobby got in and slammed the door, and Jack made a noise of frustration, hesitating outside of the car. Great. Just fuckin' great.

"Get in the car," said Bobby's muffled voice from inside the vehicle. Jack opened the door, sinking down into the seat. He slammed the door harder than Bobby had, folding his arms across his chest.

Alright, Jack. What now?

Eva Deanna: I've always wanted to do an AU, and Four Brothers seems to have strong enough characters where I can keep their same personalities in the context of a completely different plot. I'm glad you like it!

Ebz: Suspense is my middle name! It's no problem that you're confused, I wrote the first chapter in the hopes that the readers might be a little confused as to what was going on with Jack and Bobby. However, a slight warning: there won't be any definite answer until later in the story! As for The Departed...don't even get me started! The best movie I've seen this year, hands down. My favorite Mark Wahlberg quotes: "Who am I? I'm the guy who does his fuckin' job! You must be the other guy." AND "Maybe, maybe not. Maybe fuck yourself." Love it! (PS: Have you seen the tralier for Eragon? Because Garrett Hedlund looks mighty fine with black hair and a sword.)

Ophelia Hyde: Don't worry, the "sweetie" doesn't bother me...my friends and I are pretty loose with our terms of endearment. I'm glad you like it so far, and I'm flattered by your compliments. My biggest goal with my writing is to keep everyone in character, and it's nice too see that I'm doing a decent job of it. As for perfection...I've still got a long way to go! Thanks again!

Rogue21493: Thanks, I'm glad you like it!

stefanie: There's your next chapter. Chapter 3 coming soon!

Sparks Diamond: I love a good cliff hanger, there's no better way to end a chapter!