Chapter Seven

Bobby looked at Jack as they helped paint Lock's room black, he got the feeling that the kid really liked Stray. The young boy kept stealing little glances at the younger girl, a shy smile on his face.

"Cracker Jack," he murmured, moving close. "Down boy."

"What the fuck?" Jack glanced at him, embarrassed. "I don't know what-."

"I'm not stupid, Jackie," he nudged the teen. "I see you lookin' at her."

"It's not like that, Bobby. . ."

"Bullshit," he grinned. "You suck at lying, Cracker Jack."

His baby brother refused to look at him, paying careful attention to the roller in his hand, and blushed. Bobby glanced to the girl, smirking when he saw her roll paint on Angel, who had gotten in her way. Angel gawked at her, shocked by her sudden carefree demeanor, and carefully moved out of her way.

She's getting comfortable with us, he thought. But we're far from being close with the girl. She's still jumpy. . .still distant, keeping us away from her. . .

"Bobby?" Jack whispered.

"Yeah?" he looked back to the hazel eyes.

"Don't tell anyone. . .please," he begged.

"You're secrets safe with me, Jackie boy," Bobby grinned. "Don't worry."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart, Cracker Jack," he drew an X over his heart with his free hand.

"Thanks. . ."

"Here you all are!" Ma cried, coming into the room.

Lock immediately shut down, losing the light she had been filled with, slowly running her roller up and down the wall. Bobby had totally spaced on the fact that Ma knew nothing about Kett, she didn't even know the man had abused Jackie.

"Black? Lock, why black?" she smiled, observing the room.

"I like it," she mumbled, throwing her defenses up. " 'My whole life is a dark room. . .One big, dark room. . .'"

"AFI. . .well, Beetlejuice had it first. . ." Jack murmured.

"Hey! Angel, Cracker Jack, why don't you guys go help Ma with dinner?" he said quickly. "I'll help Lock clean up down here. . ."

The two brothers nodded, somehow sensing what was up, and led their mother upstairs. Bobby sighed, putting his roller down, and sat on the edge of her bed. The stray didn't look at him, continuing her painting, but tensed up.

"Stray," he whispered, "quit paintin' an' come here. C'mon, you've been done with that wall for a while now."

"Leave me alone, Bobby," she mumbled, still painting.

"No," he held his ground. "We need to talk. Now, please put the damn roller down and come here."

The roller fell from her hand, landing on the floor, and Bobby realize his mistake. He sounded too harsh, as if he wanted something besides a talk with the young teen, and he felt stupid.

Smooth move, dumb ass!

Lock skulked over to the bed, staring at her shoes, and sat next to him. His heart sank when he looked at her, she looked defeated, and, like an idiot, he touched her knee. She flinched, whimpering, but stayed where she was. He quickly withdrew his hand, face burning, and wanted to slap himself. What the hell was he thinking?

Remember when Jackie first showed up here? He was only seven, I was seventeen. . .For the longest time, if I said I wanted to talk to him, he thought I wanted sex. . .he frowned at the memory.

On more than one occasion, the youngest Mercer had put his hands on Bobby's thigh when he sat him down for a talk, with the same defeated look. It had been ingrained in the young boy that "talk" meant "hand job or blow job" and it took Bobby a year and a half to break the thought habit in the boy. Bobby had no clue what Lock had been through abuse-wise and he didn't intend to find out. He scooted away, leaving a foot between them.

"Lock," he said gently, "I just wanna talk, nothin' else. . .I'm not like that."

Her clouded, silver-gray eyes looked at him with pure wonder, and she had tears on her face. Bobby resisted the urge to wipe them away, to hold the young girl close and comfort her, and went on.

"Stray, I know you're embarrassed, or ashamed about whatever Kett tried to do," he took a deep breath. "And I can only guess that you don't want Ma knowin', which is understandable. . .please believe me when I say that I won't tell her a damn thing if you don't want her to know."

"He didn't get anywhere. . ." she whispered, wiping her face. "I managed to get away. . .just like when I was little. . .for the most part. . ."

"I'm so sorry, kiddo," he murmured. "I shoulda been down here, I shoulda known. . ."

"Bobby," she moved and held his blue eyes with her silver ghost ones, "it's not your fault, or mine, of Jack's, or Angel's, or Evelyn's! Kett is a fucking creep! He would have tried something another time, if he hadn't today. . .his kind are predators--they stalk their victims. . .I'm just happy you guys were home, I don't know what I woulda done- - -," her tears stole her words from her.

Against his better judgement, Bobby leaned over and held the crying girl. Jack was right when he said Bobby sucked at comforting people, but what Jack didn't know was that is was only with Jackie that he was bad at it. The young teen didn't remember most of what Bobby still did about his first few years in the Mercer house, and Bobby never knew if some simple gesture would unlock that old mindset in the boy- - -more importantly, he didn't want to risk it. It had ripped him up when Jack had first been here and it was something he never wanted to experience again. He had felt dirty and disgusting when the youngest had taken simple gestures as ones of sex, he wasn't like that! The kid was his baby brother, and he wasn't like the other men in the boy's life- -he just wanted to be a big brother.

"Shhhh, Stray," he soothed, rubbing her back. "It's all right. . .I'll always be here for you, kiddo."

The young teen put her arms around him, cautiously allowing him to hold he, and seemed to calm down. She wiped her face with both hands, then slowly curled on her side against him, her breathing slowed and returned to normal.

"Bobby?" she murmured.

"Hmmm?" he kept rubbing her back.

"You're not as bad as I thought you were gonna be," she snickered.

"Trust me," he smirked, "I'm a real hard ass."

She laughed quietly, shaking her head, and Bobby's heart swelled. He had gotten through to her, even if only a little.

"No, really. I am!" he laughed.

"I know, I've heard the tales," she giggled. "A real bad ass."

"Don't you forget it," he patted her back. "C'mon, we gotta get this shit cleaned up."

"Yep, there's the asshole in you," she teased, getting up.

'Nother one you might be able to save, Bobby. . .he thought. If you're careful. . .she's a hell of a lot different than Jackie. . .

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It had been a week since they had painted her room black, yet Lock still had no idea of where she wanted to go with it. She was alone in the house: Evelyn was at work, Angel with La Vida Loca, Jack went somewhere, and Bobby was at the store, but she felt safe.

Little by little, the guys were starting to grow on her, but she kept herself as distant as possible. She still planned on bailing and she wanted to cause as little pain as possible.

That'll be really hard for Jackie. . .he's so- - -sensitive, emotional. . .polar opposite of his brothers. . .

She growled and shook her head. Hard as she tried, she was developing a hefty crush on the youngest Mercer, and she was falling pretty hard. The shy teen was everything she wanted in a person: gentle, quiet, musical, cute (adorable), smart. . .strong. She had seen the guys rough house a couple of times, the only times when she saw the other side to Jackie. He had been like a very watered-down version of Bobby, but still as rough.

Stop it, Lock, she scolded gently. You're not making it any easier for yourself. . .so just stop.

She opened the blood-red paint, using a stir-stick to mix it, and twirled a design on the paper beneath her. An idea was forming of what she could do with her room: splatter paint! She changed into an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt, stuffing everything she wanted "clean" under her bed. She grabbed her (Jack's) jacket and fished her knife from the pocket and put it in her jeans, then carefully slipped the coat under her bed. She pulled her hair back, some of the bangs falling free due to the way it was cut, and went to the radio.

Blaqk Audio is totally the band to listen to while splattering! she smiled as she switched CDs.

She hit the power button, cranked up the volume, and just as she was about to hit "Play", she heard someone upstairs. Panic rose in her, but she fought it down. She figured it was just one of the guys getting home, but her hand went to her pocket anyway. She moved to the door and opened it a couple of inches.

"Lock?" Jack's voice called, sounding worried. "Lock, are you home?!"

"My room, Jackie," she called. "What's-?"

Jack came flying down the stairs, slamming and locking her door. The boy leaned against it, heaving and trembling. Lock could feel the terror radiate off of him, but didn't know what to do.

"Has anyone else shown up here, Stray?" he panted.

"No. Jack, what the hell is going on?" she was starting to freak out.

"Kett. . .he called me. . .said he thought it was sweet how we left you home all alone. . ." he said between pants.

"He called you? And you fuckin' answered!? Jackie, where the hell did you go?" she felt anger creeping in with the terror, not a good mix.

"I didn't check who was callin' me!" he snapped. "I was out takin' a walk. . .to think. . .I never woulda answered if I knew it was Kett!"

"All right, Jackie. . .I'm sorry I snapped at you. . .I'm just-."

"Freakin'?" he turned and looked at her.

"Yeah, a little-lot. Tell me what all that dumb ass said."

Jack was trying to slow himself down and having a tough time of it. Every time Lock saw his breathing even out, he started to get really shaky, she was starting to think he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Jackie," she looked into the scared, hazel eyes, "come here."

She pulled the older boy close, feeling him cling to her, and inhaled his sweet scent. She rubbed his back, closing her eyes, offering the man the comfort she could, and felt him calm down. He hid his face in her shoulder and slowed his breathing, he hugged her hard, and his shakes started to let up. Lock's mind was spinning, she had never let anyone besides Bobby really touch her, and now she was pressed against Jackie boy--her crush.

God, he smells good! His cologne. . .it's so relaxing, so comforting-STOP! You are not getting close here, remember?! her mind battled with itself and with her heart.

"Jack, you gonna be all right?" she murmured, still rubbing his strong back.

"Yeah, I think so," he snickered. "Sorry to go all. . ."

"Don't worry about it," she smiled.

"Thanks, Lock," he hugged her, then slowly let go. "I sorta needed that. . ."

Me too. . .you hazel-eyed rock star. . .

"We all do sometimes," she grinned. "Think you can explain now? In your own time of curse. . ."

She saw the older teen take a deep breath, gathering his thoughts, and she went and jumped on her bed. Jack smiled and shook his head at her odd antics, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed. Lock resisted the urge to move close to him, run her fingers in the sandy hair, biting her lip in order to do so.

Where is all this coming from?! The wanting to touch him, be close to him. . .WHERE?! It's so unlike me. . .she thought, staring at the boy.

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Jack finished explaining what had happened, staring at his hands the whole time. He couldn't look at her, not after he found that his crush on her was getting really bad, and she hugged him. His whole body had tingled insanely, more so when he felt her breathing in his cologne, and he desperately wanted to kiss her. Not a passionate kiss, but just press their lips together, maybe move to her neck. . .

STOP IT, Jack! What's gotten into you lately? This isn't like you at all! All these damn urges! he yelled at himself.

"Jack, I think he was just messin' with you head," Lock muttered. "There is no one else here besides us. . ."

"But the way he said alone, he knew that you were home alone. How could he know that?" he mumbled.

"He most likely just made it up. . .or he's a real creep and watched you all leave. . .I think he just wants to get you to crawl back to. . ."

"Yeah, well good fuckin' luck with that!" he growled.

Lock smirked and gently brushed his hand, making his body warm all over. He hoped she didn't notice the effect she was having on him, he didn't need that sort of embarrassment right now.

"Hey, Jackie," she looked into his eyes. "You know how to splatter paint?"

"Yeah, why?" he smirked. Where was she goin' with this?

"You got clothes you can wreck? 'Cuz I was gonna splatter my room. . .but it's always more fun if other people help. . ." she smiled shyly.

"Give me two minutes to change," he was already at the door. "Then I'll be glad to help!"

"Cool! I'll get the paints opened and stirred, the music rockin' and I may just be starting without you, Cracker Jack," she shot him another gorgeous smile.

"Hey, it's your room!" he laughed, running up the steps.

Music started, some electronic-dance band, and he felt light. The techno beat was perfect for splatter paint. He was still smiling as he yanked on a pair of light colored blue jeans, the knees were blown out of them and they had holes everywhere. He couldn't find a T-shirt he was willing to trash, so he just stripped off the one he had on, leaving the black tank top on underneath. He looked at the rings and bracelets he wore all the time and decided that paint wouldn't kill them.

He went to her room, barefoot, and noticed she was already splattering with a brush in each hand. Blood-red and neon green were all over the wall, floor and her. He smirked, picking up a brush, and went to dip it in the purple. All the paint cans were close to Lock, and when she turned (not seeing Jack), he felt a wet brush on his collar bone.

"Oops," she bit her lip. "I didn't see you there."

He laughed at the shock on her face. He didn't care about the tank, he expected to get dirty if they were splattering. He looked down and saw a neon green streak on his chest, bit his lip, shook his head, and pretended to be very annoyed.

"Oops," he painted a line on her neck, a big grin on his face. "Sorry."

"Just so you know," she smiled. "That shit is cold!"

"Good to know," he smirked. "Where do you want me to start?"

"Pick a wall!" she laughed, turning after she reloaded her brushes.

He moved to the part of the wall that she hadn't attacked yet, grabbing another brush and dipping it in the silver, then started to splatter everywhere. When he stole a glance at Lock, he grinned and felt tingly. She was dancing to the music, twisting this way and that, completely covered in paint, and singing to the music. His chest felt as if a giant butterfly had been released in it, and the butterfly was apparently a crack addict--with as fast as it fluttered.

They painted for half an hour, moving to the third wall, and he felt something cold on his face and neck. There was Lock, paint brush with hot pink dripping from it in hand, and a mischievous grin on her face. Before he could move to get her back, a second brush -loaded with purple- went down his chest, all the way to his stomach, and the hot pink one went to the bare skin above his tank.

"You know, Jackie," she laughed. "Pink is a good color on you!"

"Yeah?" he looked down.

"Oh, yeah!" she smirked.

"Well, I think," he put his brush to her nose and drug it down, missing her mouth, "orange is a fantastic color on you."

She giggled and stepped back, staring at him with shock and amusement. The butterfly in his chest went insane, beating against his rib cage so hard he thought it would burst through it. She turned her focus back to the wall, dipped her already multi-colored hands into the pink and orange paints, and pressed her hands to the wall. The room was so close to being done, Jack wished it wasn't, and he just watched her for a moment.

God, I wanna kiss her! he thought, watching her move to the final wall. She's so damn cute!

She turned to him and gave him a curious look, jerking her thumb to the wall behind her. He smiled and nodded, moving to help her finish. They went crazy, splattering with any and every color available, laughing as they did. Jack felt the urge to kiss her grow stronger and stronger, but he shoved it away.

Stop it, Jack! You can't do that to her! It'd be like those people who fucked you up as a kid. . .

Still, when she looked at him, orange paint on her nose, every other paint on her neck, he wanted to just die. This was a side he and his brothers had never seen: the real Lock--the one that she kept hidden from the world. She dipped her hands in silver and purple, but instead of pressing her hands to the bricks, she turned and pressed them to his stomach. He gave her a curious look, feeling his self-control slipping, and dipped his hands into neon green and orange.

"No, Jack!" she giggled, backing into the wall, hands upraised. "C'mon Jack, don't do-!"

"Oops," he breathed, pressing his green hand to her face.

She laughed, her head tipping back, and he drew lines down her pretty neck, using both colors. He moved closer, drawing on her skin, feeling her hands draw on his face and neck, and smirked. He put his orange hand to the other side of her face and wiped the paint on her. She giggled, pretending to be annoyed, and put purple on his face. Suddenly, there was a still silence in the air, her looking at him, she had a look in her eyes. . .curious and a little fear.

Jack! Don't! his mind screamed.

He tipped her face up, putting more green paint on her chin, and leaned in. Her silver eyes widened, but her hands on his chest moved to his face, she slowly let him move closer. Fireworks exploded in his mind as he pressed his lips to hers, she flinched back, but at the same time pulled him closer. Her eyes fluttered closed, a small smile on her lips, and he kissed again. It wasn't passionate, it was very innocent-- just their lips pressed together, but it blew his mind.

"Stray? Jack? You home?" Bobby yelled over the music.

OH SHIT!

Jack panicked, pulling back, and looked at her. She let out a nervous snicker, still looking stunned from what had just happened, and shook her head a little. She moved from the wall, placing a very light kiss on the corner of his mouth, and opened her door.

"Down here, Bobby!" she called up. "We're painting my room!"

Among other things. . .Jack's frazzled mind whispered. Did that really happen? Did I just kiss her? She kissed me back. . .his mind spun and he had to lean on the wall to prevent passing out.