I know it's a bit early yet, but I kind of have plans for a sequal to this story. We're nowhere near finished, and for all I know you'll be so tired of me that you'll beg me stop lol. So I guess I'm wondering if anyone would be interested in that? Without giving too much away it would probably take place a few months after this one ends. The thing is I have an angle I'm itching to explore, and I think with LOI and this story as background it could be interesting. Anyway let me know, I aim to please. Well mostly. Oh, and this chapter contains selfharm, I know i've warned you all before about that but I'm doing it again. I also want to say that I'm not trying to glorify it in any way, I'm simply trying to explain how Jack feels about pain, according to me. I don't own four brothers.

He signaled the bartender for another round and he complied without fuss despite the fact that empty glasses were now littering the table around him. In a place like this no one cared, you could probably fall over dead and no one would bat an eye. It suited him just fine. He only cared about numbing the pain and trying to forget everything that happened. Forget that his mother was dead, forget that his brother had almost died, forget the anger in Bobby's voice and the resignation in Angel's.

Stop bullshitting and tell me what the fuck happpened!

Jack happened.

He shoved a knife in his leg and burned him with cigarettes.

He emptied the glass in one go, the alcohol burning his throat but he welcomed the bitter sting. He enjoyed the almost pain. His left hand touched the small pills hidden in his pocket. It was almost too easy for someone to find a little oblivion. Lucky for him he'd always known where to go. His lips pulled up in an almost smile. Yeah, lucky him.

In another part of town a car was racing down the streets, it's occupants tense and each one of them carrying a guilt of their own. Bobby was staring out the windshield silently, his lips pressed into a tight line while Jerry drove. After a short lived discussion Jerry had gotten behind the wheel, claiming he had the right since it was his car. Angel had agreed quickly. Bobby had only agreed cause they were wasting time. They couldn't exactly take his car since it was at the bottom of the Detroit river.

"We really shouldn't be doing this" Jack murmured as they prepared to dump the car.

Bobby looked over at him, a frown on his hard face. Jack had been quiet ever since they left their mothers murderers dead in the snow, choosing to sit silently and stare out the window as they drove and discussed where to dump the car. Bobby hadn't been happy about it but he knew it had to be done. It was too damaged for any mechanic not to ask any questions. He knew some who probably wouldn't if paid right, but he didn't want to leave any loose ends behind. Not this time, not with so much at risk with all his brothers involved. He'd looked at Jack's pale face in the mirror as he drove towards the river but Jack wouldn't meet his eyes or he didn't see Bobby staring at him, too lost in thoughts. "We have too" He finally answered Jack.

"I know that" Jack shot back.

Seemed like his moody little brother was back for now at least.

Jack continued "It's an american heritage river. They've been cleaning it up for years"

Angel snorted "Since when did you start hugging trees?"

Jack shot him a look and then shrugged. "Just saying. They might find it, they're trying to keep this place a bit cleaner now".

Bobby tore his eyes from the waterfront and regarded him silently for a few seconds before turning back to what he was doing. "My fucking luck. Dosen't matter anyway, we need to ditch this now before Green comes knocking. We're taking the plates anyway".

And so they did. As Bobby's car slowly disappeared from view they stood silently in a row watching, the citylights shining across the water.

"Should we check at Johnny's?"

Jerry's voice made Bobby snap back to reality. He mulled this over for a few seconds before shaking his head. Jack wouldn't be there. "He's not there".

"How do ya know?" Jerry took his eyes off the road to look at his brother sitting slightly hunched over next to him, obviously trying to hide how much pain he was really in. It hadn't mattered what he and Angel said, he wasn't staying home while they looked for Jack. His harsh words were still ringing in his ears. You think I'm going to let you two go off without me? No fucking way. For all I know you'd come back saying he was resting in some freaking convent in Tibet and how would I know, it's not like I can trust you to tell me the fucking truth. The sharp words had hurt even though he knew they deserved them.

"Because he know we'll look there. He dosen't want to be found" Bobby stated matter of factly without taking his eyes from the window.

"I'll give Johnny a call, tell him to let us know if he sees him or hears anything" Angel offered from the backseat, fishing out his phone when Bobby nodded.

"We'll never find him this way" Jerry mumbled "The city's too big to just search everywhere. I hope you have a plan". That last part was directed at his older brother, the words ironic in light of everything he had ever said about Bobby's plans.

"I do" Bobby nodded.

When he didn't say anything else Angel finished his call with Johnny and leaned forward a little. "Plan on sharing?" He knew he was pushing his luck. Bobby was pissed as all hell and he really should just shut the fuck up until he calmed down some time during the next century, but his worry for Jack overrode his own sense of self-preservation.

Bobby chuckled a little and met Angel's eyes through the mirror. "I don't know Angel, can I trust you to trust me?"

"Of course I trust you man" Angel spoke back, the only thing keeping him from flinching and turning his eyes away was his military training.

"You sure about that?" Bobby asked, eyes hard and dark.

Angel just nodded, knowing his brother could see the small gesture.

"So what's the plan? Where do we go?" Jerry asked, desperate to end the tension in the car, or at least make it somewhat bearable.

Bobby turned his eyes back to the window, his eyes searching everything they rushed past. "His past. We start at his past" He took a deep breath and when he spoke again his voice was gentle for the first time since his conversation with Angel back at the house. "I don't know where he is but I know what he wants".

The bar was closing and Jack was tired. He paid his bill and then got up to use the restroom. He splashed a little water on his face, his tired eyes staring back at him from the mirror when he lifted his head. Before he knew what he was doing his hand struck out and the mirror shattered into hundreds of pieces. He stared almost in trance down at them. Those sharp edges that took away the hurt and made him feel better. He knew they did, he'd walked this road long enough to know. He reached down and picked one of them up. He slowly rolled up his shirt and removed his leather bracelet, stuffing it into his pocket almost as an afterthought. The glass was cold against his skin and he shivered both in cold and anticipation. They say the first cut is always the deepest. In some cases it is, but not when it comes to this. Because after that first time you only want to go deeper, be more numb, your that much more desperate to find the relief you know exists within your reach.

When the glass opens the skin of his arm he lets out a sigh and closes his eyes and push a little deeper, always a little bit more. His blood is warm as it trails down his arm in silent rivers of heartache and despair. He lifts the glass edge to a new place and press again, a little more rushed this time sensing that time is running out and sure enough there's a knock on the door, someone demanding to know what is going on. He opens his eyes to glare at the door. Why is it so fucking impossible to find some kind of peace without anyone interrupting? He shoves the shards of glass down into the waste basket, pausing for a second before turning the water on and cleaning the one he'd used to cut himself. Bobby would have been proud. His chuckle turn into a sob halfway out and he slaps his hand against his head hard, the blood at his wrist staining the side of his face. Like Bobby would ever be proud of him anymore. Jack didn't blame him. He obviously wasn't who Bobby had thought. He tosses the last shard of glass and quickly wraps a few papertowels around his arm and pulls his shirt down before picking up his leather jacket and pulling it on. He opens the door to glare at the short man standing there before shouldering past him without a word, the smaller man deciding to keep his mouth shut despite the fact that Jack had all but pushed him against the wall.

When he leaves the bar he's too lost in his own thoughts to notice that he's being followed.

Sorry for the short chapter but I wanted to put a chapter up since I wont be able to write again until Wednesday due to me finishing up in school and moving all my stuff to my parents house for the summer, but the next update will be before the weekend for sure, probably sooner since I can't tear myself away he.