Ok, next chapter, rather short. I really have to sit down and think about where to go with this. I'd be happy if you'd leave me something, critics, ideas, anything. This is the toughest story I've started so far. Really, help, anyone?
While Bobby, Angel and Jerry started to plan their revenge on Victor Sweet, the paramedic examining the fatalities of this shot-out made a shocking surprise. A pulse on one of the victims, barely existing, erratic, but still there. Immediately he began first-aid procedures, his collague helping him out. And before anyone knew what was going on, the ambulance drove away, possibly breaking every speed-record known to mankind.
Five hours later, Jack Mercer lay in a hospital bed, the blazing white of the room only enhanced by the dazzling brightness of the lights. Bobby couldn't believe his eyes. He saw him die, he saw Jack die. He just stood there, staring, not able to move; every muscle in his body so tense that he was afraid that, if he actually moved, the fibers would just rip to pieces. This was one of the few moments in his life he he didn't know what to say or do. He, Bobby Mercer, literally had lost his voice. Maybe even his brain. His baby brother was still alive, barely, but alive. Angel, Jerry, Sofi and Camille had encircled the bed, talking at the same time, causing a cacophony, almost made him go deaf. But not just him, there was another person in the room, wishing he was able to talk. But he couldn't, his body wouldn't react to his commands. Cursing internally, Jack thought to himself: "Fuck, why can't the just shut the fuck up!" The only one he couldn't hear was Bobby, even though he was pretty sure his brother was around. He'd never leave him alone, he knew that. Even with all the shit he gave him, calling him a fairy and worse, Jack knew he always could count on Bobby. And Jack knew that, when he was really back around, he'd never hear the end of it. How fucking stupid can you possible be? Running out on the street, chasing after a guy throwing fucking snowballs at him. A very smart thing to do when living in Detroit, hell yeah.
Finally Bobby found his voice again: "Leave the little fairy alone, I wouldn't want to wake up either with all of ya touching and talking insistently to me", he demanded, waving his hands, shooing the others off. Stepping closer to the bed, he saw that Jack was even more pale then usual. He grabbed the chair next to the bed and sat down. Silence fell over the room, taking the warmth away like a cold breeze on a spring-day. After Evelyn had died, the world had seemed a little more empty but he never understood why. Later on, when he tought that Jack was gone, something he almost never had experienced in his life before had come over him: lonleyness. And now, sitting here next to the little baby brother he thought was gone, he finally understood why: the life he had lifed until today was useless, empty, meaningless without them. Without Jack, Angel, Jerry, Evelyn, hell, even Sofi. So they all just stood or sat there, waiting for Jack to join them.
And so the time flew by. Jack wasn't waking up, even though the doc's said he should have by now, the damage to the house caused by the damned shout-out was almost gone and they plan for taking Victor Sweet out was executed by now. All there was let to do was waiting. And that was something Bobby just wasn't good with. Nor his brothers, for that matter. While Jerry was trying to cover up his impatient with being busy with his family, Angel wasted his time with Sofi, and that in a very loud way. Sitting around and doing nothing was a killer so Bobby decided to find something to do. Hell, he'd even work if that'd be what it took.