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Sounds in the Air
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Summary: Detroit may be a hard, violence-ridden place to live, but someone has to call the cops during a gunfight, right? Well, someone did, and the cops arrive in time to break up a fight that might still claim the life of Jack Mercer.
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Chapter Two: Waiting
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The Mercer family was in no way unfamiliar with hospital waiting rooms. Angel and Jerry's teen years had coincided with much of Bobby's run as the 'Michigan Mauler' which meant that there had been a span of years that Evelyn was on first name basis with many of the ER nurses. That time had passed, but it made waiting to hear how their brother was no less easy.
Angel had long since decided that having been in hospitals for his dumbass brothers many times before just meant that his ass had better sitting endurance. It gave his patience no advantages.
Bobby wouldn't even sit. He wasn't really pacing either, just moving around the room restlessly, no matter how many times Sofi or Jerry asked him to sit. Angel let him be. If Bobby wanted to, he could be punching the walls out and starting in on him and Sofi, so if he was just going to glare a little and move around a lot, it didn't bother Angel.
They'd been waiting for hours. When they'd first arrived, Green had used his badge to get them an update on Jack, which earned him grudging gratitude. Jack had been brought in with the gunshot to his chest, which had nicked his lung. He'd also been hit three times in his legs, one graze in his left hip and a through-and-through to his left thigh. It was the hit to his right shin that they were concerned about, after the chest wound, of course. They were asked to sign papers giving the hospital permission to take Jack to surgery and Bobby did it.
No one had come to get them since then.
Jerry had tried to be positive about it, saying that each second no one said anything was another second that they knew Jack was alive. Bobby hadn't appreciated the sentiment, but Angel had. So long as no grim, blood covered doctor came through the doors, his brother was alive.
When, two hours after Jerry said that, a grim, blood covered doctor did come through the doors and into the waiting room, Angel had felt his stomach sink to the ground. It was almost like the phone call he'd gotten from Bobby, who had been crying, saying that their mother was dead.
A nurse pointed them out, ending all possibilities that it was another unlucky bastard's family that this guy was coming to shatter. The doctor took a deep breath and worked his way over to them. All three of the brothers stood immediately and Sofi clutched his hand hard.
"You're Jack Mercer's family?" The man asked.
"We are." Bobby said and Angel nodded. They were used to the questions and the looks that they got when people heard the declaration and saw the skin colors. This guy just looked exhausted, he didn't even bother giving the token protest about 'real brothers' that they usually got.
"I'm Dr. Bowen," He introduced, "The surgeon for your brother."
"Is he dead?" Bobby asked, his face closed off. Beside Angel Sofi gasped.
Dr. Bowen looked mildly surprised at how blunt Bobby was. "No."
Jerry sank down in a chair, head in his hands, but Bobby didn't move. "But?" He asked.
"But we lost him twice on the operating table, though we got him back." The doctor admitted.
"And you might lose him again." Bobby finished, as though he refused to see any good in Jack surviving this long.
Somberly, Dr. Bowen nodded. "Precisely. The next twenty-four hours are critical. Jack is on a ventilator, to allow his lungs the chance to heal from the bullet and the surgery. He's being kept in a medically-induced coma for the next few days to cut down on the chance he could wake up and fight the vent."
They all took a moment to take the gravity of that in. The word coma kept repeating in Angel's head and he tried to push the words medically-induced in front of it. If they put Jack in a coma, then they had to be able to get him back out, he reasoned. Still, the fear that Jack would be as lost to them as their mother was breathing down his neck like he had some sort of reaper behind him.
After another second, Bobby spoke again, asking the questions that Jerry and Angel were too spent and too scared to put to words. Sofi might be staring at Bobby like he was a heartless bastard, but his brothers knew better. "His legs?"
"We stitched up the graze and the thigh wound. He'll need to stay off his feet, obviously, but I foresee no problems there. They were very clean wounds." Dr. Bowen explained. "The hit to his right shin, however, was a little more problematic. The bullet missed tibia, but did tear some of his muscle. He'll need physical therapy to regain full use."
"But you think he will regain full use?" asked Bobby.
The doctor tilted his head to the side in a way that said to Angel that he wanted to cover his ass in case Jack ended up with some awful limp. Still, all he said was, "Barring any complications, yes, I do think that."
"What are the chances he'll live?"
That was really what it all boiled down to. Physical therapy and coming out of his medically-induced coma were important, sure, but none of it meant a damn thing if Jack died before any of it became useful.
Dr. Bowen sighed and looked tired again. "You don't want percentages. Jack is young, strong and something tells me he's faced terrible situations and lived through them before."
Angel almost snorted. Clearly the Michigan state social workers' famed story of Evelyn Mercer and her four fucked up sons hadn't reached this dude yet.
"If Jack lives the night," The doctor said, "Then I think he'll make it. But you need to prepare yourselves for the fact that he might not."
They had been. They'd been preparing themselves for that all the hours they'd waited for this man to come out and tell them to wait and prepare some more. It was impossible, Angel decided, to just sit around and make peace with a world that didn't include Jack.
"Can we see him?" Jerry asked, speaking up finally.
"He's being moved to ICU soon. It's family-only up there, but yes, you can stay with him."
That was all they needed.
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"How long does it take to put a kid in a bed?" Angel griped, staring down the door to Jack's ICU room, willing the doctors and nurses to finish so they could go in.
"If he's on a ventilator and Lord knows what else?" Jerry asked, "A lot of time."
"They've had a lot of time." Angel countered.
"You better get used to a lot of sitting and waiting for Cracker Jack, Angel." Bobby said quietly.
Jerry grinned, though Angel could hardly figure out why. "When we get in there Bobby, maybe try to cut back on the homo jokes?"
A ghost of a grin appeared on Bobby's haggard face. "I wouldn't want to scare him." He said simply.
Angel laughed and it felt good. The three bantered back and forth for a few minutes, but when the door opened and all of them snapped to attention, it was clear that not even ripping on each other could take their minds far from Jack.
A few nurses and some too-young looking doctor filed out of Jack's room. One of the nurses, a king-faced woman who somehow reminded Angel of Evelyn, smiled at them. "He's resting now. There are a lot of wires, but you can touch him and talk to him so long as you're careful. Let him know you're here. It does more good than you might believe."
That sounded like permission to go in, and if it wasn't they were going to hang around and let her tell them different. All three rushed to the door, but Bobby got in first.
While Angel and Jerry were floored at the sight of Jack, Bobby wasn't. Or at least, he didn't act the way that they did. The two middle brothers stopped dead in the door, but Bobby moved forward until he was at Jack's side, his hand hovering over Jack's pale one.
There were more wires hooked into Jack than Angel had thought possible. He was hooked up to countless machines, each beeping or printing something out or whatever the hell they did that made sure that Jack was alive. He wasn't wearing a hospital gown, but the bandage on his chest made it look like he was. Jack had always been a white boy, but Angel had never seen him paler.
Slowly, Jerry walked forward until he was on the other side of Jack's bed. "Hey, little brother," He greeted quietly.
Angel still didn't move. "I didn't think he'd look like that."
"Like what?" Bobby asked, "Hurt? Young? Half-dead? Or is it this fucking rat's nest laying flat that's got you shocked?" He said as he ran his hand through Jack's hair.
Angel laughed, but it sounded wrong. "Yeah." He said, agreeing to all of it. Where the sight of Jack stopped Angel dead, it did the opposite to Jerry. He didn't look at Bobby, but Angel knew just from the way he shifted his weight and tensed his shoulders that things were about to get dicey.
"I said it before and I'll say it now." Jeremiah said, voice tight. "Ma would be the first to forgive. She wouldn't want vengeance, especially not if it cost us Jack."
Bobby didn't look up from Jack's still face. "Stop it, Jerry."
"No, you stop it Bobby." Jerry countered immediately. "You're the only one who can."
Bobby looked up then, rage clearly stirring inside of him. Angel stepped forward. "Don't do this now. Neither of you." He said, making sure he looked at both of them so they couldn't turn his words on the other - important brother strategy.
"Angel's right." Bobby said. "Jack doesn't need this."
Jerry and Angel traded glances. Bobby hadn't said anything about Jerry being right. It was still too soon to push it. No matter what happened with them and Sweet, it wasn't important. Not when Jack was laying in a hospital bed maybe-dying.
Bobby paid them no attention. "Jack," He whispered, leaning in. "Jack, you're going to be okay. I'm here, Jerry's here, Angel's here. I think I saw a male nurse walkin' around. I'll snag him for ya Jackie, you know I will. We can even get you La Vida Loca if you want."
Jerry snorted, but Angel was too tired to rise to the bait. He was just lucky that he'd sent Sofi home once they headed up to the ICU.
"I love you, Jack." Bobby continued. "That's all that matters right now. We're here and we're going to make sure you stay here too."
Angel turned away from Bobby's little pep talk to Jack. He could imagine that there were quite a few gangbangers and cops who'd be shocked to see Bobby Mercer talking so softly to anything he didn't want to fuck, but Jack didn't need any macho bullshit, he just needed them.
Bobby kept talking and Jack kept breathing. That was all that mattered.
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