TITLE: Flashes

CHAPTER/TITLE: Three/The Prodigal, the Boy and the Christmas Tree

RATING: T (language and mature content)

SUMMARY: Pre-Movie. "I ain't Ma. I ain't gonna hold your little hand. I'm gonna kick you in the - until what I want to hear comes out your mouth. It's called tough love… Deal with it or see what happens…" Jack's hiding something, from everyone. Time for a little intervention, Bobby Mercer style.

A/N: Here's Bobby…Oh and FYI "Jack Flash" is a mixture of Jack Daniels whiskey and Red Bull if you are confused later. Does that give you a hint to what's going to happen for the eldest Mercer's homecoming?

DISCLAIMER: The only thing I own is my love for Four Brothers.

Please read and REVIEW! Reviews make Jerry type up the next chapter for me so I can upload it faster.

Chapter Two: The Prodigal, the Boy and the Christmas Tree

At first Bobby thought there was an intruder in his mother's house, which struck him as ironic considering by all rights he was too breaking and entering. He wasn't surprised to find Evelyn had removed the hidden key to the front door considering their neighborhood.

The illumination from the Christmas tree provided Bobby with just enough vision to maneuver undetected. Years earlier, he would have been able to move about the entire house blindfolded without making so much as a peep. It had been awhile and Evelyn did have a tendency to have to invest in new furniture quite often with her sons around. He wondered if the happily glowing tree was a sign of how this little intervention would end, or if coming home to a burglar was an omen to turn back now.

As he padded slowly through his mother's home towards the disturbance, Bobby let his hand hover over the metallic object in his waistband. He stealthily slipped into the kitchen and nearly pulled it out before realizing who the hunched over form was. Bobby was going with omen.

His youngest brother was kneeling on the floor, rummaging around behind the microwave cart. There was a small crawlspace for storage in the wall, concealed by a panel that matched the wallpaper. The contents of that crawlspace had been hidden in there by Bobby for years while Evelyn dutifully feigned ignorance.

"Well, well," Bobby chuckled deep and menacingly. "If it isn't Little Jack Riding Hood. I think someone's been drinking my beer."

Jack was on his feet in an ungraceful start before Bobby even finished his joke. The youngest Mercer's eyes lit up momentarily at the sight of his big brother but then darkened. Bobby frowned as Jack seemed to be having a problem steadying himself on his own feet.

"You know Ma knows 'bout that, right?" Bobby cocked an eyebrow.

Jack didn't offer a verbal response. He merely turned around and began sliding the panel back into place clumsily, but not before pulling something else out.

"You know Angel will just pick you up a case if you give him money."

Again, Jack was silent. Bobby's face drew downward. His worries, along with those of the rest of his family, were quickly becoming validated. He didn't want to see Jack like this again. He couldn't let him fall back into the black hole Evelyn had found him drowning in.

"What," Bobby fronted, "no 'hi', 'missed you', none of that chick shit you like so much?"

"What are you doing here, Bobby?" Jack finally spoke, leaning unsteadily against the counter with crossed arms.

His voice was deeper than Bobby remembered. The phone didn't do the kid justice. Bobby bit back emotions as he slowly realized he was missing much more than this current Jack problem; he was missing him grow up.

"I was in here ready to pop a burglar in my Ma's house that turned out to be my idiot brother."

"What are you doing here, Bobby?" Jack repeated coldly.

"If you haven't noticed, Jackie, Christmas is this week. I come to claim all my presents."

"You don't do Christmas, Bobby," Jack hissed and slightly wavered in speech and stance.

"So I missed my family?" Bobby shrugged. "Can't a guy come home to see his mom and brothers for Christmas? As much fun as rum eggnog drinking contests are with the team, I thought I'd grace all of you with my presence this year."

"Aren't we so lucky?" Jack rolled his eyes.

"Okay, Cracker Jack, bedtime. I need some damn sleep and by the smell of your breath and the looks of it, you've already put away half a case in the last hour or so. And I'm guessing something a little harder before that? And fruity shit too, you fairy. That means no more for you, Jack Flash. Come on, up to bed before I drag your underage, smashed, ass up there myself."

"You're not – you left." Jack said defiantly, but disjointedly. "You're not in charge."

"Well, I'm back and I am."

As if to prove his point, Jack quickly swung back the bottle in his hand, drinking a fair amount, as well as spilling just as much, before Bobby ripped it away. The eldest brother looked at the bottle and sighed. Bobby mentally cursed at himself for his stash of whiskey that had been behind the beer. The eldest Mercer found himself disconcerted at how easily his little brother downed the potent liquid. Swallowing a sigh and his emotions, Bobby turned back to Jack, who was nearly falling over now.

"Alright," Bobby sighed, "Come on, Jackie."

Bobby pulled his inebriated brother under his arm, but Jack pushed away. His feet tangled and again he almost met the floor. Bobby caught him and held tighter this time.

A wave of laughter suddenly broke through Jack's throat as they neared the stairs.

"Jack, I swear, if you wake up Ma," Bobby warned as Jack slipped on the first step. "Alright, that's enough. I can't carry your stupid, jolly green giant ass anymore. What the hell happened? You used to be so damn little. Come on."

Bobby led Jack to the couch where the youngest Mercer collapsed haphazardly into the cushions. He squirmed like a disobedient child as Bobby draped a blanket over his thin frame.

"It's never gonna stop," Jack groaned sleepily.

"What's never gonna stop?" Bobby prompted curiously; hopeful that dealing with drunken Jack might be worth it if he got answers.

"They're always there. It's always there. I'm not good, Bobby." Jack's face was so serious it broke Bobby's heart.

"Shut up, Cracker Jack. 'Course you are."

"Not better," Jack mumbled. "It's all the same. Nothing changes."

Bobby waited for more but Jack merely closed his eyes and wormed his way farther underneath the blanket he had earlier been protesting. Bobby was about to turn away when a small voice stopped him.

"I'm tired, Bobby."

"I know," Bobby ruffled his brother's hair, knowing all too well that Jack wasn't talking about lack of rest. "Sleep tight, Jackie."

Bobby sighed and shuffled his way over to the chair in the corner of the living room. He could go upstairs and take his old bed seeing how its current owner had taken up residence on the couch. Still, the eldest Mercer knew he wouldn't be granted rest tonight, nor did he desire to leave his brother's side. So he sat in the now dim and somber light of the Christmas tree, staring intently at the slumbering sixteen year old, wondering exactly what was going on behind those closed eyes.