AN: I meant this story as a one shot. I like the concept of the three remaining brothers suffering together through the pointless deaths of two members of their family. However, as a writer I thought it was absolutely pointless to kill off Jack and for Hollywood it was insanely redundant. Killing off the little brother figure in action movies has become routine, but at least in movies such as American Outlaws and The Fast and the Furious the death of that particular character served to move the plot along. In Four Brothers, killing Jack served zero purpose because the brothers were already hell bent on seeking revenge at that point in the movie. If Bobby had learned something important (that they hadn't known already) from the killers, it might've worked. As it was, Jack's death became something of a side note; it mattered, but it didn't.

This chapter works as a continuation of the previous chapter, but it's really more of an alternate ending. In some other story in the future I might continue off in another direction with Bobby still dealing with Jack's death.

From the streets of Detroit and through all my wanderings, including the time I spent in prison, I figured I'd seen just about everything. Nothing surprised me anymore.

I was floored, fucking floored when Jerry half-carried a very alive Jack through the front door of ma's house a number of weeks after the water burial of Victor Sweet.

I'd never been speechless in my life until that moment. Not a Goddamn thought came to mind. I had not a word to say. My jaw hung open and I stared at them dumbly. Sitting in a nearby chair, Angel mimicked me to a T .

Jack grinned in my general direction, his blue eyes dull and glassy. He was obviously doped on something. His face was thin and had paled to the color of ash. "You've got a big fucking mouth, Bobby. You'd better shut it before someone walks up and pops you."

Angel moved to help Jer sit the kid down, but there wasn't much he could do. The arm Jack didn't have around Jerry was bound up in a sling. Angel had to sort of grab the kid around the waist. Together, they helped him make a controlled collapse on the couch beside me.

Them big teeth of Jerry's were on full display in a knowing grin. "Told you guys I had a late Christmas present for you," he said, chuckling.

To say I felt off kilter was an understatement, but that couldn't keep me silent forever. "I told you I wanted a hooker," I said. "Why'd you dig up this fossil? We buried him, remember?"

"You buried sandbags," Jack commented, breathing hard like he'd just run a half mile. He smiled a little. "Not like you idiots would know the difference."

Jerry took a seat in his regular armchair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He rubbed his palms together to warm them, still chuckling. "I knew you'd like it. Little brother, back in action. Before ya know it, it'll be like he never left."

"Like he never died? Yeah, sure. Thing is, he did die, I saw it myself. What the fuck were you guys playing at?" Angel asked, still towering over all of us, standing in the middle of the living room. He looked back and forth between our brothers, waiting for an answer.

"I did die," Jack said, suddenly sobering. He shook his head a little, looking thoughtful. "I stopped breathing and my heart stopped. It seemed like a whole lifetime to me, but later they told me it was probably only four to six minutes. I can't even begin to describe what I saw. I glimpsed heaven, just for a minute, and it felt so peaceful." He paused, letting that sink in. Every one of us had turned somber, listening to him. "I didn't ever want to leave that place. I didn't want to come back. I could've stayed forever and that would've been all right..." he trailed off.

"So why'd you come back, Jackie? I mean, we love ya, but this ain't no heaven we've got here," Angel asked, motioning to the world extending out from where we sat with both hands.

"Well," Jack said, biting his lip a little and letting his left eye fall half way shut. "At first that's what I thought too. I decided just to stay there. Then there was this voice calling to me, and at first I couldn't make it out, but then when I finally heard it clearly I decided I had to come back."

We all leaned forward slightly, waiting in earnest. After a moment I prodded him gently. He looked like he'd traveled a million miles away from us. "And? What'd the voice say, Jackie? What made you wanna come back to this pit of a life?"

"Oh, that," he said, like it was nothing. "Yeah, it was Bobby yelling, 'stay away from that Goddamn white light, you fucking fairy!'"

They all started laughing. I wasn't amused. "I didn't say that," I deadpanned stupidly.

They laughed harder.

Jack started to cough a number of seconds into his laughing fit, and before he finished he nearly hacked up his lungs. Jerry went to get him a glass of water, and until he got back I just had to sit there and listen to the kid cough and gag. A minute later Jack sucked down water while I turned an arched brow on Jeremiah.

"So, you knew he was alive. What, he called you this morning and asked for a ride home from the hospital?" I said sarcastically, tipping my head slightly to one side.

Jerry shook his head. "Na, man. Camille's got a couple nurse friends who work over at the hospital. They called me when he got there after the shootout. Laying in the snow saved him, brought down his temperature enough that they were able to revive him in the ambulance. I figured if anyone knew we had a brother in the hospital they'd use him to hurt us. I told Camille's friend to find a way to hide him, make it look like he died. They switched his name with a guy who bit it in a car wreck the night before. By the time the paperwork got sorted out, we'd already buried a coffin and Jackie had stabilized enough to get transferred out of the city."

"So why didn't you fucking tell us?" I asked, not sounding pleased in the least. Later I'd acknowledge to myself the brilliance of such a plan under desperate circumstances, but at the moment I felt out of the loop and that pissed me off.

Jerry smiled. "Figured you boys had enough on your minds. When Jack came around and the whole thing started to blow over, it just never seemed like the right time to drop the bomb. Besides, it was so worth it to see the look on your face, Bobby," he snickered, elbowing Angel who snickered his agreement.

Jack started to laugh again too, but I shot him a killer glare and he drowned it in his water, quickly turning his eyes in some other direction. "Let's not get you started again, Fairy. You abuse that half-healed lung it'll end up quitting on you, then I'll have you dying on me for good."

He stuck out his lower lip a little in a fake pout, puppy dog eyes looking up at me from where he'd slouched down on the couch. I just shook my head. "That cute, lost little boy look might work on your boyfriends, but it ain't never gonna work on me, Cracker Jack."

He shrugged, smirking a little. "Tonia Collins liked it," he said, referring to a girl I'd dated seriously in the years leading up to my absence from Detroit. That one got a round of conspiratorial laughter from Jerry and Angel, so for a second or two I wondered if there might be some truth to that statement.

Then I remembered who we were talking about. Jack, engaging in an intimate relationship? Yeah, right. Even if the boy knew he had a dick, he sure as hell wouldn't know what to do with it.

I ruffled his already messy hair, pulling the kid under my arm and putting my boots up on the coffee table. "All right, all right. Let's just settle down and watch the game. Angel, go cook us something to eat."

"Ah, man. Why do I gotta cook, Bobby? Why can't we order out like always?"

I rolled my eyes, grabbing Jack's face under his jaw, drawing attention to how weak and thin he'd become. "Does he look up to cooking, Ang? The fairy can hardly walk. We've gotta get some good home cooking in him. Since you're next on the line, little brother, you get to do the dirty work until Cracker heals up."

"Which could be never," Jack commented, his mouth slightly smashed by my grip until I released his face.

Angel put on his best agitated-marine façade, angrily shoving his hands into the pockets of his cargos. "Man, you know I can't cook."

I nodded. "You're right. Jerry, go help him."

"What!"

"Yeah, both of you, in the kitchen, right fucking now. Don't make me tell you again!"

They both grumbled, reluctantly obeying in spite of their protests. When they were most of the way out of earshot Jack adjusted his shoulders under my arm so the weight wouldn't rest on any tender spots. "That was awesome," he said, grinning. "I don't remember the last time I got to sit around while they worked."

I smiled, giving him a brotherly squeeze while my other arm came up to rest behind my head. "Shuddup, Cracker Jack. I'm watching the game."

It felt good to have part of that space inside me filled up again. The place that emptied out after losing Ma, and even more after losing Jack. I still had to make a man out of the kid, but I figured Ma would appreciate it if I babied him a little, like she used to.

I decided I would let him get away with playing the 'hurt little brother' card...

...at least until after dinner...