AN: This starts off in the flashback and then returns to the present time after the page break. If anyone gets confused, let me know.

I worked nights back then too, at a local factory. It didn't seem so bad at nineteen as it does now. It was the off-season for my minor league team, so during the day I stayed home and slept—babysitting Jack and Angel after school.

One day Ma was late getting home from work, Angel had football practice, and Jerry—probably told me some lie about homework he needed to meet up with friends to work on.

Anyway, it was me, myself, and Jackie for dinner—except, we had no dinner. I ordered a pizza and when the delivery guy came Jack caught a glimpse of him while creeping down the stairs and totally flipped out. I'm serious, the kid ran up to his room, screaming his lungs out, and slammed the door behind him. To this day I have no idea why. Stupid things always used to set him off—so it didn't surprise me at the time.

I paid the guy, grabbed the box, shut the door, dropped the box, and ran upstairs after him, kicking in the door of the room Jack and I shared. The kid had found my pocketknife and frantically slashed at his own arm. It was by far the worst action he'd ever taken during a fit. I wrestled him down, took the knife away, and then held him face down on the floor for over an hour.

I ain't kidding—for over an hour the kid squirmed, screaming bloody murder. Back then I only served as a temporary restrainer. No matter how long I held him down, Jack never calmed until Ma got there and I left the room.

Finally, after an hour and a whole lot of restraint on my part to keep from cussing him out or worse, he finally quit struggling and laid still.

"You ready to get up?" I asked after a several minutes of peaceful silence.

He nodded, the silver lines of tear trails standing out against his red cheeks. His eyes were completely unfocused, but at least he seemed able to hear me, and willing to respond.

I let him up, slowly gathering his undersized body in my arms and sitting down on my bed with him on my lap. See, restraint is only half the formula for behavior reprogramming. The other half is the quiet time afterward when you hold the kid tight, let them know they're safe, and talk about how they fucked up. If it hadn't worked on me when I was a kid, I would've thought it was total bullshit.

What can I say? Ma was a genius. If she'd written a book we'd all be millionaires now.

I squeezed the kid tight to my chest and his body relaxed. For the first time since he'd become my brother he started acting like he trusted me. He wouldn't look me directly in the eye, but he let his cheek rest against my shoulder and picked at a loose string from the collar of my t-shirt.

"Jackie, you know you're safe here, don't you?"

He nodded, studying the string intently.

"So you don't have to get so upset when you're scared. You can come to us and tell us you're afraid and we'll deal with it, okay?"

He nodded again, a silent tear running down his cheek. I used my thumb to wipe it away, wondering what the hell happened to him that made him so—broken...

I mean, I saw some nasty shit before I became a Mercer. I got kicked around by my mother's boyfriend, got neglected and all that good stuff. Maybe it's because my will is so strong, but no matter how bad it got, no amount of abuse could ever break my spirit.

Then again, maybe I hadn't seen the right kind of shit. Jack did get adopted as a baby by people who truly cared for him. Maybe his problem was he started out in life feeling safe and secure only to watch that security get ripped away.

When Jack was five-and-a-half an armed burglar broke into his house and shot his adoptive parents right in front of him after a chase through the house that ended in the back yard. He was alone with their corpses for days before anyone came around looking for them. By the time they found him, he'd shut himself off from the world and nearly starved to death. A lot of his PTSD comes from that experience, but not all of it. Some of it came later, on the streets and in group homes. He might've been abused in foster care, but no one knows for sure.

He stayed in my arms for a long time that night. So long that I fireman carried him down to the living room and sat on the couch with him, watching a football game on TV while he dozed, exhausted from his fight with me. He drooled on me a little, but I was too tired to care. Besides, the thought had entered my mind that if I tried to make him sit by himself it might set him off again.

Tonia was the first person home that night. My house wasn't even her home then—she'd just come over because her mom baked too many pies and figured we could use one. She put the dessert down in the kitchen and sat down beside me on the couch, lifting Jack's legs so they rested across her lap. She watched his face, her chin resting lightly on my free shoulder.

"You know, it really makes me hot to see you play daddy," she whispered in my ear, her soft touch stroking my hair.

I shot her a look even though I knew she was teasing.

"Do I look like I need a boner right now?" I asked, referring to the fact that the majority of Jack's weight rested on my lap.

She smirked in reply, settling against my side and resolving to gaze lovingly at Jack—as opposed to me...

"It's hard to imagine that no one would want something so beautiful, isn't it? Maybe it's your mom's influence, but I'd take him in a second."

I would've shrugged, but with both shoulders serving as pillows, I didn't have the ability.

"Ma's made progress with him. Hell, even I've made progress with him, I guess. It's just weird, because until tonight he never really did anything that made me think he was un-adoptable. He still pitches fits a lot, but Ma always calms him down quick enough—even the first day he came here. The thing that sets him off is teenagers; most adults can handle him just fine. I asked Ma why no one wanted him but she couldn't tell me. She said he had baggage in the past and we should worry about his future now.

"Besides, cuteness doesn't count when it comes to kids. I'm cute as hell and no one wanted me."

She giggled, pulling my face closer so she could kiss my cheek. "No one wants you, huh? So who am I? Nobody? Is Sheila Norton nobody?"

"Sheila?" I said, turning my head to look at her. "Who said anything about that whore?"

"She told my friend's little sister, Jan, that you're going to prom with her. Apparently the action's going to be hot and steamy late into the night."

I quirked an eyebrow at her. "You gonna stand for some seventeen-year-old high school slut going after your man?" I asked, honestly wanting to know.

Tonia often joked about me dating/screwing other girls. She acted nothing short of flippant about our relationship at times. We'd gone together long enough that I thought we were exclusive. It drove me up the wall when she'd let other guys flirt with her, even if she didn't appear to flirt back. I just couldn't understand why she never got angry or jealous. She couldn't understand why I did get angry, and jealous, and did I mention angry?

It never occurred to her that I feared losing her to another young buck with a better background and reputation. I was loyal to a fault, and I expected the same in return from those I trusted with my loyalty.

She shrugged. "You know the rules, Bobby. If you cheat, you were never mine in the first place. Besides, I know you won't cheat."

"Yeah, how's that?"

She smiled evilly. "You're afraid I'll go after Jack like Sofi went after Angel. I don't think your pride could handle two pieces of your leftovers hanging off the arms of your little brothers."

"Sofi isn't technically a leftover. I did turn her down, you know."

She smiled, kissing me, her arms wrapping around my neck. "Believe me, I know, Tough Guy."

Whenever we 'went' together I never did cheat on her. Sure, there were other girls. Tonni went away for a semester after high school before transferring back to a local community college. During that time I felt sort of like she'd abandoned me, so I went at it with any girl willing. I even went steady with someone else for a while, but it fell apart in no time, just like always.

Why was Tonia different? Was it because I loved her, because I felt she was the one for me? Not really. The thing that always stopped me was that if she found out it would mean I was never her boyfriend to start with, just like she said. She might get hurt, but she'd never let me know. She wouldn't get mad. She'd just cut me out of her life for good.

I didn't want that. I wanted to be her man. I'd let her in because I always got this vibe off her like she'd never do anything sudden or drastic that would turn my life upside down.

Not a whole hell of a lot of the people in the world could say they got as close to me as Tonia had by age nineteen. She'd become a huge part of my life, rivaled only by Ma and my brothers. They would always come first, but she made a close second.

Jackie opened his eyes, blinking sleepily and snuggling against my chest for warmth. Apparently he'd decided I was okay, and all of a sudden he's gotten clingy. I suspected that wouldn't last forever. By morning we'd probably be back on uncertain terms. Some days he'd trust me more than others, depending on his mood. I knew that much from personal experience.

"You're adorable, Jackie," Tonia commented, snickering.

I found her dry humor familiar, but Jack didn't. His fists tightened their grip on my t-shirt. I wondered just how much more 'safe' he needed before he'd relent to going up to sleep in his bed.

"Shh," Tonia whispered, running her hand comfortingly up and down his shin. "It's okay, honey, just go back to sleep. Your big brother's got you. He's not going anywhere. Just relax and we'll watch the game until your mama gets home. Close your eyes and go back to sleep."

To my astonishment he obeyed, relaxing and actually stretching out his thin limbs so his body lay across both our laps. I used a couch pillow to prop up his head, my arm having fallen asleep with him lying on it. I ruffled his hair, stretching out a little myself, my arm coming to rest around Tonia's shoulders after I reached for the ceiling and yawned.

She leaned against me, still holding Jackie's legs. "Sometimes I wonder about you, Bobby."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I'm just sure you're doomed for prison or an early grave, and sometimes, on the rarest of occasions, I think that maybe there's a chance you might actually turn out respectable."

"You plannin' on turning me respectable, Tonni?"

She grinned, propping her feet up next to mine on the coffee table. "Not any time soon."

-----

As I predicted, by the next morning Jack had reverted to tiptoeing around me. Jerry and I got into a shouting match in the afternoon over whether or not he could leave to go hang out with his friends, and the whole time Jackie sat on the couch with his knees pulled tight to his chest, rocking back and forth, a muscle in his cheek twitching.

I told Ma about how frustrating it was to have him trust me for a little while and then stop again. She told me to be patient, let him decide when he felt ready to have a big brother and everything that came with it. I hardly ever teased him back then; it just wasn't any fun. He got set off so easily it boggled my mind. After the first couple times I sent him into a total detachment meltdown I decided to lay off until he could handle it better.

"You know," I said, looking at my nineteen-year-old little brother, "If you wanted me to leave you alone, you could always lie down on the floor, cover your ears, and start screaming. Maybe inflict a few wounds on yourself for good measure. That worked pretty well when you were nine."

He made some unintelligible noise, flipping me off before reaching out in my general direction, signaling his readiness to get up. I slowly got out of my chair, feeling stiff after sitting in it for so long. I grabbed his hand and pulled him up into a sitting position. He did seem worse. It took him a long time to bring his legs around so I could help him stand.

"Where to?" I asked, getting under his arm.

"Bathroom," he said, his eyes still half closed.

"You just went."

"Did you see that monster we built last night? That took hours. It doesn't all come out of you at once." He noticed the look I gave him. "Plus Tonia brought me a half-gallon jug of water before she went to work and I drank the whole thing."

"All at once?"

"Yup."

My brow furrowed, just contemplating the idea of that. "Damn, little brother. Where the hell you put all that liquid away? You eat like a Goddamn bird."

"Don't burn any calories sitting around. Don't need to eat much."

"What, you trying to keep your figure nice so the boys'll notice you? Don't bother, sweetheart. I'm gonna make sure you can wear a pretty white dress to your wedding—if it's the last thing I do."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Like it isn't too late for that. But I'm sure I can count on you to carry the shotgun, daddy," he remarked sarcastically as we entered the bathroom and I kicked the door shut behind us.