Well, I managed to get this up in less than three months! That's an improvement, right? Let me know what you think!
As always, do not own, make no money.
Chapter 37: Too Easy?
Craig wished for the calm of blackness, a nice warm blanket, and a little bit of peace and quiet. Instead, his head exploded in bright sparkles, releasing a stabbing pain behind his eyes as Harris' fist made contact with the left side of his face. He tried to roll with the punch, towards his right, but Harris grabbed hold of him by both arms and held him down. The boy felt his body go limp as fear took hold of his gut. He thought he heard Bobby's voice somewhere in his head yelling at him to get his ass up out of the snow, followed by Angel's instruction to go for a sensitive area with his fist or a hard kick. Palm to the nose would work, gauge at the eyes; that had worked for him not so long ago. The problem was Harris was holding his arms down. The man's position didn't make it possible for him to knee him and crush the family jewels. The boy was at a loss as to what to do.
"Where is it?" The man's voice sounded weak. Craig barely heard the words and their meaning couldn't get past the sparkles in front of his vision. He felt a warm sensation on his shirt, and thought for a short second that he'd pissed himself. What the hell was Bobby gonna say about that? He'd never let him forget he'd pissed himself. Then reason took over and he realized the warmth was too far up, it was something else; at first he felt relief, but then his brain was stuck on trying to figure out what it was that felt wet and warm.
His vision started to clear about the same time Harris decided he wanted the boy back on his feet. "Where the hell is it?" He tugged at Craig's arms as if he were trying to pull him up. Craig's gaze fell on the blood dribbling down Harris' shirt and onto him, warming the front of his shirt. The realization that Harris was bleeding on him flipped a switch inside of him. He pulled back and was surprised by how easily he was able to break free, though he probably should have expected Harris to be fairly weak with all of the blood he was losing. How the hell had the man found enough strength to get to his feet to start with? He was supposed to be dead, that was the reason Craig had needed to get away from him; a dead body, and all of that blood had been too much for him. Now that blood was all over the front of his shirt. His first instinct was to start ripping at the material, to get it off of him. But the ice and snow under him bit at his skin before he could give into the panic in his gut, and Harris was reaching for him again.
Craig made another attempt to roll to his right and this time he was successful. He got onto his hands and knees and was trying to push himself to his feet when he felt Harris grabbing at him from behind. He kicked his left foot out behind him, more out of panic than a real attempt to fight back, and was surprised when he felt the heel of his shoe make contact with the man's knee. He didn't wait to see what kind of effect his kick had, he scrambled to his feet and tried to put distance between him and the danger Harris represented. He slid in the snow and fell on his knees after maybe five steps. He started to scramble to his feet again, but as he turned to see how close Harris was, his panic turned to surprise. The man hadn't made it any further than the spot where Craig had been lying just seconds before. Craig took the sight in, his brain clicking on every detail quickly, which felt odd since his thoughts had been so blurred just moments before Harris' assault. The man's face looked ashen, and grey. The blood was still dripping from his shirt, staining his coat and the snow under him.
Craig managed to plant his feet under him and stood slowly.
"I should have killed you a long time ago." Harris gasped and blood oozed from between his lips as the words spilled out. His head seemed to hang loosely from his shoulders; it was easy to see the blood loss was starting to effect more than his strength. He was trying to hold his head up, but gave up after several seconds, letting his chin fall to his chest as he struggled to get his footing under him and stand. The realization that Harris wasn't going to stand up, no matter how hard he tried draped around the boy like a blanket, but it sent chills down his back.
"So why didn't you?" Craig really didn't care about the answer, but he felt a need to keep the man talking. Part of him was afraid if Harris stopped talking he'd die right there in front of him; or worse yet find a way to actually carry out his threat.
Harris finally lifted his head so that he could look at the boy, and he managed to hold it up, though it reminded the fourteen year old of the bobble head dolls Bobby used to stick to his dashboard. "I thought I'd be nice." The man sneered, trying to look dangerous, trying to scare the teen, but it had the opposite effect. Craig had never seen anyone look that weak, and the glower appeared more comical to him than threatening.
Craig felt a weak laugh rise in his chest, but it stuck in his throat and sounded more like he was choking when it did escape. "Nice. Yeah, right. You were being nice. You're an ass." He was still trying to keep the man talking, but he didn't know what to say. Where was Bobby? Why hadn't any of his brothers come looking for him? They should have missed him by now.
Harris grunted as he pushed himself to his feet. "Yeah, I'm an ass. It's what I do. I'm good at it, but I don't call the shots, I just carry out orders." Harris's voice sounded strained and shaky as he reached under his coat and pulled out his gun, but his attempt to aim it at Craig was almost laughable to the boy. The man's arm looked almost like a piece of rubber, wavering to and fro as he tried to raise it out in front of him.
The buzzing that had been torturing the boy's ears moments before seemed to get louder, but it morphed as it increased in volume, turning into a siren. He took a step back from Harris, waiting to see what the man would do now that he was swaying on his feet with his gun swinging aimlessly in front of him. "You're dying." Craig spoke the words as the realization hit him. Harris wasn't going to walk away from that spot. He was going to be dead in minutes, maybe less.
Harris laughed; at least Craig assumed it was a laugh, he really couldn't be sure if it was a laugh or a groan as the man spoke. "Maybe I am dying, but I'll be damned if I'm dying alone." His words slurred as he attempted again to raise his arm to aim the gun in Craig's direction.
Craig wasn't afraid. Maybe he should have been, but he didn't have enough energy to spare to be afraid of what was happening at that moment. His body felt numb, so if Harris lucked out and managed to shoot him he might not feel it; but he honestly didn't see any reason to expect Harris to be able to shoot his own foot the way the man was swaying, his arm still swinging unsteadily only half raised.
"Why are you so pissed at us? We never did anything to you. I'd never even met you before yesterday." Craig could barely believe that it had been less than twenty four hours since he'd met Harris at the police station where he was supposed to give him a statement. "If you'd just left us alone, you could have done anything you wanted to and we could have cared less." Craig's own voice shivered under the icy air. "No one would have known anything about Winston, and who he really is. You could have done whatever you wanted to do. My brothers didn't know about any of this, you screwed around with them for no reason."
"You stupid little punk," Harris's words came out broken. "You had the fucking key to everything. We needed the key."
"So why not just ask for it? You were following me. You were following me before my mother died, weren't you? You could have gotten the key anytime." Craig wasn't sure where the words were coming from. His brain was trying to calculate what might be a safe distance to keep between him and the man as he circled around him to try to get back to the house. He stepped carefully, keeping his gaze focused on the unsteady gun.
Harris didn't answer the question; in fact Craig wasn't sure he even heard the question. The man's head was bobbing forwards slightly, but his eyes were locked on the teen, the expression behind them was on that Craig recognized; a combination of hate, and determination. Agent Harris was hell-bent to make someone suffer, for no other reason than it would make him feel good. If it was the last thing he did in this life, he was going to hurt someone, somehow, and Craig was the only person close enough. He had seen the same look in Adam Macks' eyes every day for the first half of his life, and he could identify it anywhere, on anyone.
He still wasn't afraid though, he could see that Harris didn't have enough strength in him to raise his arm up past his own hip. Of course he hadn't expected him to get back on his feet either, so if Harris was strong-minded enough, he might actually manage to cause some kind of damage. Craig still tried to inch his way around Harris, keeping a good ten feet between his self and the death that hovered around the man.
"Craig!" Bobby's voice filled the freeze surrounded them, and it sounded close.
"Bobby!" Craig tried to yell, but it didn't have much force behind it. Maybe he was more scared than he thought, or maybe the look on Harris' face may have had something to do with it. Hell, he didn't want to be around Harris dead or alive, he just wanted to go home. He wanted to wash the blood off of his self before it soaked completely into him. He was starting to freeze on the front of his shirt now, turning stiff and making the air feel colder than it had minutes earlier; and now Harris didn't look so weak. He still looked mean, but the limitations his loss of blood had caused for him seemed to have been warmed over by the sound of Bobby Mercer's voice. Color filled his cheeks, his eyes flicked towards the peak of the small hill he had followed Craig up, knowing that at any moment Bobby Mercer would be coming over it, into view. His seemed to find strength in his legs and his arms as he raised the gun in Craig's direction and managed to stand straight.
"Craig!" Bobby again, closer, his head into view as he made his way up the hill.
"Bobby!" Craig called out a second time, but again, he couldn't seem to get much behind it. His body was turning numb and he couldn't get enough air into his lungs to really yell.
Bobby's face emerged at the crest of the hill, then his shoulders and chest rose out of the white as he made his way up the slope on the opposite side. A wicked grin stretched across Harris' face just moments before he shifted his stance, turning his whole body towards Bobby Mercer, the motion swinging his outstretched arm with the gun to bear down on his new target.
"Bobby!" Craig managed to call out with more force this time, but it was too late. It happened fast, Craig didn't have a chance to react before it was over, and his whole world spun out of control.
Bobby hit the snow and slid around the first three steps he took, his arms outstretched on either side of him, flapping around in an effort to keep his balance. The trail he was following gave him almost unnoticeable signs that Harris hadn't been forcing Craig to go with him he was trailing the kid. He could see the tracks, and the blood trail. His little brother had been steady on his feet, the spacing of his steps was regular and he'd moved in a straight line. Harris on the other hand had been stumbling, in fact, it looked as if he had fallen and landed in the snow at the bottom of the base of a steep but short incline in the landscape. Bobby's instincts told him Craig had no idea he was being followed.
The sirens were close, maybe coming through the gate in the lane. Bobby couldn't wait for police back up; he had to get to the kid before Harris got his hands on him.
"Why the hell did he leave the fuckin' house to start with?" Angel's voice from right behind him echoed Bobby's thoughts.
Bobby hadn't expected the voice, he thought he was alone. He didn't try to turn back to look at his brother. "He's a kid, he's been through hell and some brilliant fucking geniuses left him alone in a room with a bloody body. Why the hell do you think he left the fucking house?" He couldn't keep the anger and frustration out of his voice. No, it really wasn't his brothers' fault. No, he really didn't blame them; but it was easier than trying to get into any kind of deep, psychoanalytical bullshit concerning the kid. "Don't you think you should be sticking around here to watch Winston?" He moved towards the hill, following the trail.
"Green's here, I think Jack and Johnny G. can deal with one man until Green gets the car parked." Jeremiah answered the question that time.
Okay, Bobby felt a little relieved that he wasn't completely alone at the moment, and the fact that his brothers had left Craig alone in a room with a man they thought was dead didn't bother him as much as it had seconds before. His brain reminded him that he hadn't missed Craig at first either, he had left the kid in there too, and he probably should take part of that accountability on himself, Craig was, after all, his kid.
Maybe he was maturing a little bit, he was actually considering taking on part of the responsibility. He was sure that later, when the excitement had died down, once the danger had passed, he'd manage to not be so fucking mature about the whole thing and he'd blame his brothers again, but for now, he was just happy to have them with him.
Angel and Jeremiah used their long legged strides to catch up to him and flank his sides with Jerry on his left and Angel on his right. None of them spoke as they switched into survival mode. They didn't know what to expect to see when they reached the top of the hill and instincts were kicking in.
Bobby gave the signal at the base of the hill, pointing to his left first. Jerry moved away from him and Bobby counted silently to ten before pointing to his right. Angel hunkered down and moved along the hill. Another ten counts, and then Bobby yelled Craig's name. He moved up the hill awkwardly, trying to stay in Craig's tracks to make it easier to maneuver in the snow. He didn't look to see if Angel or Jerry were climbing the hill, he didn't have to. He knew they would be moving right along with him. He knew them well enough, he'd been through enough shit with them; they knew how to read each other, they'd done it before, more so recently than any of them liked to admit.
Bobby neared the top of the hill, "Craig!" He called out again. He thought he heard a response, but with the wind hissing through the treetops visible on the other side of the hill it was hard to be sure if it was Craig calling back to him, or his wishful thinking making up shit that wasn't there. He needed to hear something; they all needed to have a reference point, to get their bearings. They had no idea what lie on the other side of the hill. Once they cleared the rise, they were going in blind, and they needed to have an idea of what direction to go. If they were focused on one direction and Harris was in another, then they would be shit out of luck.
Bobby glanced to his right, at Angel. Angel gave a slight nod. He thought he heard an answer from the kid. Bobby glanced back to his left, to Jeremiah, who mirrored Angel's move. Yes, they'd heard the kid. He motioned with his fingers to try to see if either of them had an idea how close, or if the kid was to the right or left of dead center. He glanced back and forth between the two, but they both shook their heads.
They were gonna have to go in blind. Bobby gave them both a quick nod and moved on up the hill. "Craig!" He called out again as he reached the top. He could see the trees of the orchard, the pathway that cut down the center of the rows. His gaze stuck on the blood trail, following it as he cleared the top of the hill. Harris was standing there, on the path; Craig was nearby, looking past the gun aimed at him towards his older brother. Harris' body turned quickly, swinging his focus away from the kid, but bringing it to rest on Bobby.
Bobby Mercer watched the muzzle flash, seen the smoke wafting up from the barrel. He could see the hot bullet throwing off a vapor trail as it cut a path across the vastness between the gun and the hill, distorting the air around it. Time seemed to slow down and Bobby felt a sick laugh erupting from his throat. At some point, someone should have just let him have his gas can; he'd wanted to use it a few times over the past couple of months and his brothers had reasoned away the need for it. If he had followed his instincts this wouldn't be happening now, he was sure of that.
If Bobby Mercer died who was going to keep his brothers straight? Someone had to make sure Jeremiah followed through on his project. Without someone to kick him in the ass every so often he'd just give up. There had been too many people using Jeremiah's business ventures as a means to hurt the Mercers, and Jerry would let it beat him.
Angel couldn't get married without his older brother. Someone had to be around to make sure that Loco Ono didn't destroy what little bit of dignity Angel Mercer had left. She'd already stolen his heart, and if she had it her way he would end up all domesticated. Something resembling Jerry, and that was a creepy thought.
What about Jack? Jack was gonna go back to New York and wallow in his heartache if Bobby didn't find a way to stop it from happening. Either that or he would rot in prison for killing a fucking pervert out to ruin them all. Neither possible outcome was good. In prison Jack would turn into a heartless version of Bobby Mercer, and he was better than that. Jack had potential. Who the hell was gonna get Jack out of the mess he was in with the law? The mess Harris had put him in, the mess that never would have ended up at their feet if his brothers had let him soak Winston in gasoline when he wanted to. Yeah, he couldn't let go of the fact that he had been right and no one had believed him.
Then there was Craig. Craig was his kid; he was beginning to understand how the he thought, and why. He needed special treatment. He needed help that his other brothers just couldn't give him. Sure, they would try. He knew Jerry would take over the responsibility of raising the teen, but he had his own family, he had a wife and daughters and that would be his focus, as it should be. Craig would be lost in the cracks of Jerry's life. The kid would pretend, and he'd go through the motions, but he'd never recover and learn how to live a normal life. He was Bobby's, and Bobby needed to be there for him. No matter what, nothing was going to stop Bobby Mercer from living through what was about to happen.
That's what he was thinking when the white hot explosion hit his brain. He fell backwards, down the hill, and felt his body sink down into the icy snow at the bottom as he came to a stop. He waited for the white to clear from his vision, for the deafening ringing that filled the air around him to subside, for feeling to return to his body. He had to get back up and climb the hill again so he could beat the shit out of Harris. He tried to move his arms but he realized he couldn't feel them. He tried to pull his feet under him, again, no feet. His throat constricted as it ached to yell out something, anything, but he couldn't feel the vibrations in his throat or hear the sound of his own voice. Bobby couldn't help but think he was fucked.
Angel was matching Bobby, moving up the hill, cresting the top at the same moment Bobby did. He glanced over to Bobby, then flicked his gaze to Jerry, they had all timed it even, all three at the top of the hill at the same time. As he returned his attention to the path ahead of him, Harris turned away from Craig in a swift motion took a quick aim on Bobby. Apparently Jerry had seen it coming and was running full speed through the snow, yelling something as he moved. Angel felt his heart racing as he followed Jeremiah's lead, moving his legs as fast as he could towards Harris, but Jerry reached him first, he dove from five feet away, his head barreled into Harris' gut just as the FBI agent's finger pulled the trigger. Angel followed the trajectory of the bullet all the way back to the top of the hill, to Bobby; and he watched as his brother's head snapped to the left and then he slid down the hill out of sight.
Angel felt his legs stop moving. The sound of the gun blast echoed through the trees, reverberating over and over, each wave less intense than the last, until all that was left was silence so heavy a quiet ringing took over. He waited for Bobby to come back up over the hill. He didn't. He turned back towards the path to find Jeremiah sitting on top of Harris, his fists pounding the man. It wasn't until then that Angel heard the sounds of Jeremiah's fist making contact with Harris. He managed to get his feet moving again. "Jerry!" He yelled when he reached Jeremiah. He grabbed hold of him and pulled him off Harris, who wasn't moving.
"You son of a bitch," Jeremiah gasped the words in Harris' direction, but Harris didn't move. Jerry spotted the gun lying next to Harris and gave it a kick, sending it spinning across the ice crust coating the snow a distance that put it out of reach just in case the man came back from the dead a second time.
Angel didn't take the time to check Harris closely, but he did glance down at the blank eyes, staring straight up at the sky, which at some point had brightened up pink and orange. The man didn't deserve to have such a beautiful view as his last. Instead of worrying too much about Harris who was obviously dead this time, he turned towards Craig who was staring towards the hill, his eyes wide, his mouth partially opened, as if he were in the middle of saying something.
"Hey, hey, he's okay. He's okay." Angle lied, but he didn't know what else to say right then. "We need to go check on him, but he's okay." He shrugged out of his coat and slid it around the boy in a swift motion. "Come on."
Craig didn't seem to hear Angel but he let the man pull an arm around him and guide him away from Harris. Jeremiah ran ahead of them as they moved towards the hill. "Bobby!" He yelled out as he slid over the edge of the hill and out of sight.
Angel waited to hear Bobby's response; expected a long string of curses to be pouring out of Bobby Mercer's mouth. Instead there was only wind, and Jerry's voice saying things that were too quiet to made out. As he managed to move Craig closer to the hill he could see red and blue lights flashing against the barn, the house and the white of winter spread out around them, clashing against the beauty of the sunrise that had graced them. That should have been Harris' last sight, police and ugly lights. There were more cars than Angel had expected. More uniforms and suits than there should have been. What the hell? Did Green bring the entire police force?
Maybe it was easier to concentrate on the police, the men going into the house and the figures running towards them. If Angel looked down at that moment, he could see Bobby lying in the snow, and he didn't want to look. He didn't want to look down and see a dead brother. After all the hell they'd been through, none of them were supposed to die. They'd nearly lost Jack, and even though Angel would never have admitted it to anyone, ever, Bobby was the one who got them through everything; he was the oldest; he wasn't supposed to be capable of dying.
Craig was pulling away from him, tugging his way down the hill, leaving Angel standing at the top. Angel sucked in a deep breath and dared to let his eyes shift downward. Bobby's body was lying face down in the snow, blood staining the snow under his head.
"Bobby, come on man, talk to me." Jeremiah yelled. He grabbed Bobby's shoulders and rolled him over. "Talk to me Bobby!"
"Bobby! Bobby, get up! Get up!" Craig was still sliding down the snowy hill. He wasn't yelling, but it sounded desperate and panicked. "Please get up!"
Angel couldn't let the kid see Bobby's dead eyes when Jeremiah flipped him over, out of the snow. He focused on Craig, followed him down the hill and reached for him just as Jerry managed to get Bobby turned. "Craig…" He started to tell the boy not to look, tried to turn him away, to hug onto him so he couldn't see.
"Bobby?" Jack's voice broke the air. Angel looked up in time to see Jack, Green and Johnson approaching them.
They all seemed to gather around the still form lying at their feet. No one said anything. Jeremiah was on his knees, next to Bobby. Angel was sure he could hear Jerry sniffling. Jack looked shell shocked, the same as Craig. Angel cringed as he realized he forgot about protecting Craig from the sight, it was too late to worry about that, the boy was already looking down at his older brother. Thank God Bobby's eyes were closed, it was bad enough looking as it was, it would have been worse if his eyes had been open. Blood had soaked the right side of the man's shirt and coat; it was still running from a crease just above Bobby's ear. The snow under him was stained red as well.
"What happened?" Jack's voice trembled.
No one answered, no one could. Angel felt tears sting at his eyes, he looked up at the sky. It was wrong. Harris had got to see that view in his last moments, the sunrise colors of a new morning. It was just wrong on so many levels that a man so evil could have such a beautiful sight in front of him when he died while Bobby had been face down in the ice and snow. What the hell were they going to do now? They had been fighting to keep themselves alive, and together as a family. No matter what anyone said, they all knew that without Bobby, their family would probably fall apart. He had always been the glue to hold them together. He was the one who made them stick together even when they wanted to give up. It had been that way from the beginning.
Sure Evelyn Mercer had brought each of them home, but Bobby had bound them all together, made them know what it was like to have a big brother to look out for them, to protect them when they needed it and to beat the shit out of them if they crossed that fine line between being a smart ass and simply being an ass.
Green started talking, and at first his voice was nothing but babbling to Angel's ears. After a few seconds he looked away from the clouds and let the tears fall down his face. Green was talking into a radio, ordering someone to send paramedics. Activity around them was picking up, more uniforms moving past them, up the hill, to check on Harris' body.
"He's still bleeding." Jack's voice sounded choked.
Angel looked at the younger man, "Jack…" He didn't know what to say. "Come on, let's get Craig somewhere warm." He reached for the teen. He knew he needed to get both of his little brothers away from Bobby.
Craig was no longer looking down at Bobby, he was looking at Jack. "Why isn't there a bullet hole?" His voice sounded small, and he looked confused.
Everyone around them seemed to stop moving. Jerry looked at Angel, Angel looked at Craig, and Craig was still looking at Jack. Jack looked at Angel. "He's still bleeding." He repeated the words over hacking sob. "He can't die." He shook his head quickly.
Angel shifted his gaze to Jack and opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say, but praying something worthy of his mother came out. He couldn't let Jack lose it in front of Craig. They had to stay strong for each other. "Jack, what the hell would he say to you right now?"
"What the fuck? Jack, you fairy, are you cryin'?" A voice drifted around on the wind, faint, barely audible.
Angel nodded his head, amazed at how real it sounded to him. Bobby's voice, giving Jack hell just like he always did. He dared another look down at his big brother just as Jeremiah stood quickly, looking as if he'd been jolted by good bolt of electricity. When Jerry turned his tear streaked face towards Angel, his eyes were wide as saucers and his mouth was working as if he were trying to say something. Jerry finally turned to Green, "Get them paramedics over here!"
Angel was stunned, unable to pinpoint what was going on with Jerry. He fixed his gaze on Bobby for a long moment as his brain processed what he was looking at. Bobby Mercer was still bleeding from a crease just above his ear. He wasn't bleeding from a bullet hole. In fact, the damage to Bobby's head should have been much worse. "Bobby!" He pushed away from Craig, dropped to his knees next to his oldest brother, on the opposite side that Jeremiah had been kneeling. "You son of a bitch, you didn't get shot!" He felt a laugh rising from his chest. "The bullet grazed you!" He shook Bobby hard, grabbed hold of his brother's hand and reached out to feel his throat for a pulse.
Bobby's eyes flittered slightly before they cracked open. He looked up at Angel. "What the fuck are you laughing at?" His voice came out slurred and weak as he reached up with his free hand and swatted Angel's hand away. "I thought Jack was the fairy, what the hell are you doin' Angel, trying to feel me up while I'm out cold?"
"You, man, only you can deflect bullets with that hard head of yours!" Angel couldn't stop the unmanly giggle that erupted from deep inside. He looked up at Jack. "He ain't dead! He ain't dead!" He turned back to where he'd left Craig. "Come here, he ain't dead." He reached his hand out and grabbed the boy's hand, pulling him forward, to let him see that Bobby was okay. Well, maybe not okay, but he wasn't dead. He didn't expect Craig to pull back from him like he did. "Craig, he's okay, I told you he was okay, right?" He reached again, but Craig stepped quickly behind Jack, refusing to look or to get any closer.
Angel looked back down at Bobby, piecing it all together as he studied his brother's injury. The bullet had grazed his head. What Angel had thought was the bullet making an impact and slamming Bobby's head to the side, had actually been Bobby following his instincts and ducking his head to the left in an attempt to dodge the bullet. It had worked.
Jerry returned to his position on his knees on the other side of Bobby. "Man, we thought we'd lost you." He choked out the words.
"Harris?" Bobby moaned and tried to sit up.
"You just lie there and keep still." Jerry ordered, his voice holding a little authority in it. "Harris is dead, no reason to worry about him. You're down for the count, that makes me the senior brother and you will listen."
Bobby's face pulled a grimace, but Angel was sure it wasn't because of any pain he might be in. Bobby Mercer didn't like being told to stay down and to listen. Bobby looked over Angel's shoulder to Jack, and then to Craig who seemed to be hiding behind Jack. "Baby boy, you okay?"
Craig didn't answer, and the lines around Bobby's eyes deepened. "Get him the hell out of here. Get him home." He grunted as he tried once again to pull himself up out of the snow with no success. Jeremiah's hand planted hard on the elder Mercer's chest, holding him down and effectively preventing him from trying a third time to rise. "Someone get Craig and Jack both out of here. They need to be away from this shit." Bobby's voice was laced with frustration.
"Settle down Bobby, we'll deal with it, okay? You gotta trust us." Jeremiah looked at Angel. "You get them both out of here." He gave a nod in the direction of Craig and Jack. "Jack has a hearing soon, we need to get this shit taken care of here and get moving."
Angel looked closely at Jeremiah, taking in the tired lines around his eyes. "No, I'll stay here, you take them. You need to get home and try to get a little rest. You can take them with you, grab a short nap, and then get Jack to the court house on time. I'll meet you there." He reached out and rested a hand on Jeremiah's shoulder. "Go on, I've got this." He gave him a small smile.
Jeremiah looked up at Green, as if he were waiting for an okay from the detective to move.
Green nodded his head. "I need statements, but we can get Angel's and Bobby's now, and then yours and Jack's later, at the court house." He spoke quickly. "We have Winston too, and from what I could hear he was rambling on and on to some of the officers back there."
Jeremiah looked at Bobby, "We'll see you soon Bobby. Don't give no one a hard time now, let them check you out and go to the hospital to get that head of yours examined." He laughed quietly and then stood.
Angel waited until his brothers were trudging through the snow, back towards the house before he looked up at Green and asking, "So now what?"
"What do you mean?" Green looked confused.
"Harris, he's dead." Angel spoke quietly. "He was threatening Jack and Craig, talking about setting us all up, and we struggled, and my gun went off and…"
"Angel, shut the fuck up." Green sighed and shook his head. "We'll get your statement after we get Winston's. Right now, I'm looking at Harris as a dirty agent, and what happened was a result of his illegal dealings. We all know Winston is gonna confirm it. You even got the evidence to prove it, remember?"
"You don't have anything to worry about, so long as you all just tell the truth. You were working for the Detroit P. D. after all." Johnson made the comment casually.
"We were what?" Angel frowned.
"The Mercers have been doing some consulting work for Johnson here, don't you remember that? He needed some help breaking my case, being as how I'm not on active duty at the moment. After being shot and all." Green spoke sarcastically as he drew in a deep breath. "No offense boys, but I need to get back to the car, sit down for a while. My doctor would be having a hissy fit right now if he knew I was doing this. I'm supposed to be at home, in bed, convalescing." He turned and started walking back towards the house.
Bobby sat up, but he grabbed hold of Angel's arm to prevent himself from falling back into the snow. "Come on, let's go."
"You are waiting for the paramedics." Angel looked at Bobby. "Man, you scared the shit out of us, brother." He spoke quietly.
"You should know by now Angel, I'm a fucking super hero. I can dodge bullets." Bobby looked in the direction Green was walking. Angel followed Bobby's gaze. Three paramedics were headed their way, dragging a stretcher along with them.
"Looks like you get to ride out of here." Angel joked, "You lucky bastard."
Angel stayed with Bobby while the paramedics tended to him. He went back to the emergency squad with them when they carried him there. He felt sorry for the poor guys trying to deal with the wounded Bobby Mercer in one squad and Johnny G. in another, but he couldn't stop himself from chuckling every so often; especially when one of young men tried to wipe blood away from Johnny's ass and was rewarded by being shoved out the door of the other emergency vehicle.
Angel grinned while he listened to Bobby cursing the medics and watched him slap at their hands, trying to get them to leave him alone, even though the young men didn't deserve it. To him it meant that Bobby Mercer was gonna be just fine. Maybe it meant that the Mercer luck was changing, for the better.
Now, they had to concentrate on Jack, on getting him out of the trouble Harris managed to bury him in. Their lives could get back to normal after Jack's hearing. Well, as close to normal as any Mercer could expect that it. He could go home to his Sofi, lose himself in her and start a real life, make a real home and really live. Angel Mercer almost felt happy; except for that little nagging itch in the back of his brain. Something was telling him that they couldn't expect it to be this easy. Everything was ending too nice and neat for them. Not that it had been easy, but it felt as if there hadn't been enough gun fire, or speeding cars to really make this feel right. He couldn't help but think there was a piece of the puzzle they were missing, something important that they were forgetting. It couldn't be this easy. Another part of his brain was screaming at him to not jinx it by expecting something else to happen.
Angel waited until the medics were ready to close up the squad and transport Bobby to the hospital before he went to find Johnny's car. It wasn't until he found Jack's new favorite piece of junk parked amongst the police cruisers and sedans that he realized Johnny's car wasn't there. Of course it made sense; Jeremiah would leave Angel with the small, compact, piece of shit Gremlin, knowing that he could barely fit through the door. Angel looked up at the sky, which was considerably brighter now than it had been twenty minutes before. "Ma, next time I think something is looking too easy, kick me in my ass, please?" He opened the car door and started contorting his limbs so that he could manipulate himself into place behind the wheel. Yep, this was more like it, nothing easy about this.