Four Brothers
Jan. 31st, 2010 12:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
veiledndarknessTitle: Strays 13/?
Author: veiledndarkness
Pairing: Bobby/Jack
Rating: R
Summary: What’s it all worth when you’re alone?
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.
Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
X
There was no one word for it. Not rage or fury. Not anger or grief. No, not one word could begin to describe his all encompassing swirl of emotions. Bobby stood in the blood stained snow, unable to speak or move, a horrible numbing sensation spreading through his veins.
Em stood at his side, weeping into a handkerchief, her sobs carrying on the wind. Angel swallowed, staring at the fence with blank eyes. He could see the footprints, the marks in the snow, the sprays of blood here and there, tire tracks on the road nearby and the pool of half frozen blood before them where Lucy had fallen.
He swallowed again and touched Bobby’s shoulder. “Bobby…c’mon, we can’t…we gotta get Em inside. Too damn cold out here.”
Bobby ignored him, his gaze fixed on the snow. “I’m gonna kill him,” he said in a ragged whisper, a harsh sob catching in his throat. He clamped down on the tears that tried to flow.
He clenched and unclenched his hands, flexing his fingers. There was no justice, none in what had happened. In his life, the only justice was what he could deal out to those who crossed him or those who deserved compassion. Bobby raised his head to stare at the sky, cursing the heavens above.
Em crossed herself and wiped at her face. “Please…g’ on inside, Bobby,” she touched his cheek, ignoring the flinch from him. “Don’t do ya no good freezin’ out here.”
Bobby closed his eyes, the ambulance sirens still echoing in his ears. “Yeah…” He turned and walked up the path, a wretched wail gathering in his chest. If he let it out, let the rage out…No, he forced the grief down, past the rage, past the animalistic fury and primal screams. Cold, unending, outright rage, he would bring unspeakable wrath upon Victor Sweet.
X
Jeremiah paced back and forth, his hands shaking. He fought the urge to vomit, wiping a hand over his clammy skin. He looked at the desk, his cell phone silent and still on the wood. “You don’t even understand how fucking bad this is…” he looked to the other side of the room, unnerved by the silent stare directed at him.
“Bobby…he’ll never believe that I didn’t have anythin’ to do with this. He won’t, I know it better than I know my name. I’m a dead man, walkin’ dead man. He’s gonna destroy everythin’ over….over this fuckin’ kid!”
Jerry uttered a short, humourless laugh. “Victor Sweet, what have you done, man?”
“Victor brought this on himself, Jeremiah. Let the cards fall as they will.”
X
“Bobby…” Angel sat in the chair, his elbows resting on his knees. “Green’s here to see you. Askin’ questions ‘bout what happened.”
Green, Bobby scowled at the shot glass and downed the amber whiskey, his throat burning. “Send him in.” He put the shot glass down and refilled it, the bottle clicking off the rim. His right hand shook as he gulped it, welcoming the flash of heat.
“Bobby,” Green stepped through the office door a moment later, his gloves in hand. “I know this is a bad time…”
Bobby snorted. “You got a fucking gift, Green, you really do. Stating the obvious is a fine, fine skill.” He gestured to the chairs. “Take a seat, man, you thirsty?”
Detective Green took his seat, sighing. “Nah, I’m on duty. Ask me again in a few hours. I talked to the hospital and with the officers on scene.”
“Uh huh,” Bobby poured a third shot, the whiskey slopping over the rim of the glass. “Is she dead yet?”
Green winced. “Bobby, man, you wanna slow up on those shots?”
Bobby’s fierce glare met his question. “I’m a big boy now, Green,” he hissed. “Tell me if she’s fucking dead.”
“She’s critical right now,” Green shifted in the chair. “About the boy…”
“The boy has a name.”
Green nodded quickly. “Of course,” he amended. “Jack, I have a team on his case.”
“How reassuring,” Bobby snarled at him. He swallowed the shot and dropped the glass with numb fingers, the glass cracking on his desk blotter. “Allow me to speed up the process. I already know who has him. Victor Sweet.”
“You can’t just accuse like that, Bobby. And let’s be clear right now? You got yourself a lot of enemies. There are more than a few lower levels who would pay dearly to have this fucking empire, Mercer.”
Bobby leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes, his face tight and pinched, his forehead creased and lined. Green thought absently that it looked like Bobby’s head hurt. He blinked, pushing the thought to the side. Bobby tented his fingers and rubbed at his temples. “Bring him back,” he whispered. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll pay off whoever needs to be paid off, but I want him back.”
“Bobby…”
He opened his eyes. There was a frightening blankness, a fury bone deep, his pupils blown way out. “Find him.”
“What makes you think it was Sweet?”
“No one else would have the fucking nerve!” he roared. “No one, no one would dare!” He grabbed his shot glass and whipped it across the room. The shot glass smashed into the nearest wall, shards dropping to the carpet, amber droplets staining the fabric. “He’s fucking dead, Green. He took him!”
Green breathed out, forcing himself to stay still and not flinch back. He’d never seen Bobby so unhinged in the ten years he’d known him. Bobby, in this state of complete and total fury was overwhelming. He took in a deep breath, giving Bobby a moment to settle.
“We’ll find him,” he said, his words cutting through the thick silence. “Swear it, Bobby.”
Bobby let out a harsh sound, a not quite sob. The very sound of it cut deeply into Green’s defences. He scrubbed at his face with one hand, nodding. “What’re ya waiting for then? Get out.”
Green rose off the chair, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, ok.” He slipped his gloves back on and left the office, harsh breathing filling the air behind him.
Angel stood in the hallway, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You really got somethin’ to work on?”
He eyed Angel, frowning. “Your boss know that you listen on his conversations?”
“Do you or don’t ya? Cause I don’t want you givin’ Bobby something to hope on if you don’t really got nothin’.”
Green bit the inside of his cheek and nodded once. “I got some ideas.”
“Then I got a name for you,” Angel leaned in. “Jeremiah Williams.”
“Jerry?” Green raised both his eyebrows, “As in Jerry’s, Bobby’s…associate?”
Angel smiled a thoroughly unpleasant smile. “The one an’ only…”
“What would Jerry have to do with this?”
Angel stepped away from him and walked down the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting. “Good question, ain’t it?”
X
The kitchen echoed with noise, the stereo playing the best of the Beatles' mournful songs, Em’s hands flying over knives, plates and trays. She moved from counter to counter, to the oven, the cupboards, her fingers steady despite the slow tears that dripped down her cheeks.
Angel leaned on the doorway, watching her. He licked his lower lip, gauging what, if anything, he could say. “Em…”
“Don’t be standin’ like there ain’t nothin’ t’ be done, boy,” she said, her voice cracking. “Ya put them hands t’ use an’ stir the pot o’ soup.”
"Em, maybe you oughta sit an'...an'..."
She hunched her wide shoulders up, a small sob passing her lips. "Angel boy, no 'mount o' cryin's gon' bring Lucy girl or Jackie back t' us," she gritted her teeth and wiped at her eyes with her handkerchief. "But preppin' food's, Lord knows, s' a band-aid on what hurts ya. Now, scrub up, boy."
He shook his head and walked over to her. "What's all the food for? No way can we eat all this an' Bobby, well ya know he won't be eatin' much of nothin', now."
"Then we take t' them who needs it," she rested a hand over her chest and her face crumbled for a moment. "Lucy girl," she whispered, crossing herself once more. "Sweet Lucy girl, she tried t' stop them devils...went wild after them."
"Did her a whole fucking lot of good, huh?" Angel scowled out the window. "Where's the goddamned justice, Em? What in the hell did Lucy ever do to deserve this? Or...or even him, huh?"
Em stepped away from Angel. "I'ma let that slide, boy, but no more cursin' in this here kitchen. We don't ask God t' tell us why them bad things happen! We ain't the only's t' suffer, Angel. Lotsa people in this world ain't never seen no compassion or care!" she gripped the counter, her back stiff. "Lucy girl, she done what's right, can't say the same, can ya, boy?"
"I don't care 'bout the kid so much as I care 'bout Lucy! I care 'bout Bobby!" Angel shouted, gesturing to the doorway. "Not some skinny white boy that managed t' get Victor fucking Sweet sniffin' this way! And for what? She gets shot up protectin’ him!”
Em reached up lightning fast and slapped him, the sound obscene against the mournful lyrics coming from the stereo. "You best find ya rosary," she whispered, her eyes flashing dark and furious. "Go repent, boy an' stay outta my kitchen till ya done."
Angel touched one hand to his swollen cheek, stunned. "Em..."
"Go." She turned away from him and picked up her stirring spoon. She moved to the stove, stirring the contents on the pot on the largest burner.
He hesitated a moment longer before leaving the kitchen, his cheek burning.
X
Bobby rested his head in his hands, his elbows propped on his desk. He took a great, shuddering breath, his head racked with pangs that made his stomach clench. He closed his eyes tightly in the darkness of his office, the only light coming from the gleam of the snow outside his window. A lance of pain ricocheted around his skull, forcing a small moan of pain from him.
The three painkillers he'd swallowed with the last of his bottle of whiskey had merely dulled the edges. He wet his dry lips, shuddering hard. "Jack..."
Taken...stolen from him. Bobby let black fury lap at his restraints, the urge unabated to rip Victor limb from limb and make an example of him. He shoved at his anger, rocking a little as his head pounded in time to his heart beat.
Lucy...Bobby snarled under his breath. Shot like a...like a stray, left to die in the freezing cold snow, drowning in her own blood. Bobby's arm swung out, knocking the empty bottle to the carpet. A tear slipped out of his tightly shut eyes. It ran down his cheek and dripped to his desk, staining the piece of paper below. The paper he'd taken from Lucy's side, hidden from the police that had crawled over his yard, searching for clues.
He felt nausea roll through him. Victor Sweet and his fucking audacity. Bobby fisted one hand and pounded it on his desktop, crumbling the note that bore only one line, typed ever so neatly in the middle of it. His fingers cold, Bobby reached for the bottle of painkillers, shaking two more out. He dry swallowed them, shaking hard.
The note mocked him, such simple words.
Saint Evelyn. They ever find her killer?
Bobby pushed away from his desk and stood up, wobbling dangerously. "Jack," he rasped. He laughed, his stomach twisting at the motion. "I'm comin'."
X
Author: veiledndarkness
Pairing: Bobby/Jack
Rating: R
Summary: What’s it all worth when you’re alone?
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.
Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
X
There was no one word for it. Not rage or fury. Not anger or grief. No, not one word could begin to describe his all encompassing swirl of emotions. Bobby stood in the blood stained snow, unable to speak or move, a horrible numbing sensation spreading through his veins.
Em stood at his side, weeping into a handkerchief, her sobs carrying on the wind. Angel swallowed, staring at the fence with blank eyes. He could see the footprints, the marks in the snow, the sprays of blood here and there, tire tracks on the road nearby and the pool of half frozen blood before them where Lucy had fallen.
He swallowed again and touched Bobby’s shoulder. “Bobby…c’mon, we can’t…we gotta get Em inside. Too damn cold out here.”
Bobby ignored him, his gaze fixed on the snow. “I’m gonna kill him,” he said in a ragged whisper, a harsh sob catching in his throat. He clamped down on the tears that tried to flow.
He clenched and unclenched his hands, flexing his fingers. There was no justice, none in what had happened. In his life, the only justice was what he could deal out to those who crossed him or those who deserved compassion. Bobby raised his head to stare at the sky, cursing the heavens above.
Em crossed herself and wiped at her face. “Please…g’ on inside, Bobby,” she touched his cheek, ignoring the flinch from him. “Don’t do ya no good freezin’ out here.”
Bobby closed his eyes, the ambulance sirens still echoing in his ears. “Yeah…” He turned and walked up the path, a wretched wail gathering in his chest. If he let it out, let the rage out…No, he forced the grief down, past the rage, past the animalistic fury and primal screams. Cold, unending, outright rage, he would bring unspeakable wrath upon Victor Sweet.
X
Jeremiah paced back and forth, his hands shaking. He fought the urge to vomit, wiping a hand over his clammy skin. He looked at the desk, his cell phone silent and still on the wood. “You don’t even understand how fucking bad this is…” he looked to the other side of the room, unnerved by the silent stare directed at him.
“Bobby…he’ll never believe that I didn’t have anythin’ to do with this. He won’t, I know it better than I know my name. I’m a dead man, walkin’ dead man. He’s gonna destroy everythin’ over….over this fuckin’ kid!”
Jerry uttered a short, humourless laugh. “Victor Sweet, what have you done, man?”
“Victor brought this on himself, Jeremiah. Let the cards fall as they will.”
X
“Bobby…” Angel sat in the chair, his elbows resting on his knees. “Green’s here to see you. Askin’ questions ‘bout what happened.”
Green, Bobby scowled at the shot glass and downed the amber whiskey, his throat burning. “Send him in.” He put the shot glass down and refilled it, the bottle clicking off the rim. His right hand shook as he gulped it, welcoming the flash of heat.
“Bobby,” Green stepped through the office door a moment later, his gloves in hand. “I know this is a bad time…”
Bobby snorted. “You got a fucking gift, Green, you really do. Stating the obvious is a fine, fine skill.” He gestured to the chairs. “Take a seat, man, you thirsty?”
Detective Green took his seat, sighing. “Nah, I’m on duty. Ask me again in a few hours. I talked to the hospital and with the officers on scene.”
“Uh huh,” Bobby poured a third shot, the whiskey slopping over the rim of the glass. “Is she dead yet?”
Green winced. “Bobby, man, you wanna slow up on those shots?”
Bobby’s fierce glare met his question. “I’m a big boy now, Green,” he hissed. “Tell me if she’s fucking dead.”
“She’s critical right now,” Green shifted in the chair. “About the boy…”
“The boy has a name.”
Green nodded quickly. “Of course,” he amended. “Jack, I have a team on his case.”
“How reassuring,” Bobby snarled at him. He swallowed the shot and dropped the glass with numb fingers, the glass cracking on his desk blotter. “Allow me to speed up the process. I already know who has him. Victor Sweet.”
“You can’t just accuse like that, Bobby. And let’s be clear right now? You got yourself a lot of enemies. There are more than a few lower levels who would pay dearly to have this fucking empire, Mercer.”
Bobby leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes, his face tight and pinched, his forehead creased and lined. Green thought absently that it looked like Bobby’s head hurt. He blinked, pushing the thought to the side. Bobby tented his fingers and rubbed at his temples. “Bring him back,” he whispered. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll pay off whoever needs to be paid off, but I want him back.”
“Bobby…”
He opened his eyes. There was a frightening blankness, a fury bone deep, his pupils blown way out. “Find him.”
“What makes you think it was Sweet?”
“No one else would have the fucking nerve!” he roared. “No one, no one would dare!” He grabbed his shot glass and whipped it across the room. The shot glass smashed into the nearest wall, shards dropping to the carpet, amber droplets staining the fabric. “He’s fucking dead, Green. He took him!”
Green breathed out, forcing himself to stay still and not flinch back. He’d never seen Bobby so unhinged in the ten years he’d known him. Bobby, in this state of complete and total fury was overwhelming. He took in a deep breath, giving Bobby a moment to settle.
“We’ll find him,” he said, his words cutting through the thick silence. “Swear it, Bobby.”
Bobby let out a harsh sound, a not quite sob. The very sound of it cut deeply into Green’s defences. He scrubbed at his face with one hand, nodding. “What’re ya waiting for then? Get out.”
Green rose off the chair, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, ok.” He slipped his gloves back on and left the office, harsh breathing filling the air behind him.
Angel stood in the hallway, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You really got somethin’ to work on?”
He eyed Angel, frowning. “Your boss know that you listen on his conversations?”
“Do you or don’t ya? Cause I don’t want you givin’ Bobby something to hope on if you don’t really got nothin’.”
Green bit the inside of his cheek and nodded once. “I got some ideas.”
“Then I got a name for you,” Angel leaned in. “Jeremiah Williams.”
“Jerry?” Green raised both his eyebrows, “As in Jerry’s, Bobby’s…associate?”
Angel smiled a thoroughly unpleasant smile. “The one an’ only…”
“What would Jerry have to do with this?”
Angel stepped away from him and walked down the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting. “Good question, ain’t it?”
X
The kitchen echoed with noise, the stereo playing the best of the Beatles' mournful songs, Em’s hands flying over knives, plates and trays. She moved from counter to counter, to the oven, the cupboards, her fingers steady despite the slow tears that dripped down her cheeks.
Angel leaned on the doorway, watching her. He licked his lower lip, gauging what, if anything, he could say. “Em…”
“Don’t be standin’ like there ain’t nothin’ t’ be done, boy,” she said, her voice cracking. “Ya put them hands t’ use an’ stir the pot o’ soup.”
"Em, maybe you oughta sit an'...an'..."
She hunched her wide shoulders up, a small sob passing her lips. "Angel boy, no 'mount o' cryin's gon' bring Lucy girl or Jackie back t' us," she gritted her teeth and wiped at her eyes with her handkerchief. "But preppin' food's, Lord knows, s' a band-aid on what hurts ya. Now, scrub up, boy."
He shook his head and walked over to her. "What's all the food for? No way can we eat all this an' Bobby, well ya know he won't be eatin' much of nothin', now."
"Then we take t' them who needs it," she rested a hand over her chest and her face crumbled for a moment. "Lucy girl," she whispered, crossing herself once more. "Sweet Lucy girl, she tried t' stop them devils...went wild after them."
"Did her a whole fucking lot of good, huh?" Angel scowled out the window. "Where's the goddamned justice, Em? What in the hell did Lucy ever do to deserve this? Or...or even him, huh?"
Em stepped away from Angel. "I'ma let that slide, boy, but no more cursin' in this here kitchen. We don't ask God t' tell us why them bad things happen! We ain't the only's t' suffer, Angel. Lotsa people in this world ain't never seen no compassion or care!" she gripped the counter, her back stiff. "Lucy girl, she done what's right, can't say the same, can ya, boy?"
"I don't care 'bout the kid so much as I care 'bout Lucy! I care 'bout Bobby!" Angel shouted, gesturing to the doorway. "Not some skinny white boy that managed t' get Victor fucking Sweet sniffin' this way! And for what? She gets shot up protectin’ him!”
Em reached up lightning fast and slapped him, the sound obscene against the mournful lyrics coming from the stereo. "You best find ya rosary," she whispered, her eyes flashing dark and furious. "Go repent, boy an' stay outta my kitchen till ya done."
Angel touched one hand to his swollen cheek, stunned. "Em..."
"Go." She turned away from him and picked up her stirring spoon. She moved to the stove, stirring the contents on the pot on the largest burner.
He hesitated a moment longer before leaving the kitchen, his cheek burning.
X
Bobby rested his head in his hands, his elbows propped on his desk. He took a great, shuddering breath, his head racked with pangs that made his stomach clench. He closed his eyes tightly in the darkness of his office, the only light coming from the gleam of the snow outside his window. A lance of pain ricocheted around his skull, forcing a small moan of pain from him.
The three painkillers he'd swallowed with the last of his bottle of whiskey had merely dulled the edges. He wet his dry lips, shuddering hard. "Jack..."
Taken...stolen from him. Bobby let black fury lap at his restraints, the urge unabated to rip Victor limb from limb and make an example of him. He shoved at his anger, rocking a little as his head pounded in time to his heart beat.
Lucy...Bobby snarled under his breath. Shot like a...like a stray, left to die in the freezing cold snow, drowning in her own blood. Bobby's arm swung out, knocking the empty bottle to the carpet. A tear slipped out of his tightly shut eyes. It ran down his cheek and dripped to his desk, staining the piece of paper below. The paper he'd taken from Lucy's side, hidden from the police that had crawled over his yard, searching for clues.
He felt nausea roll through him. Victor Sweet and his fucking audacity. Bobby fisted one hand and pounded it on his desktop, crumbling the note that bore only one line, typed ever so neatly in the middle of it. His fingers cold, Bobby reached for the bottle of painkillers, shaking two more out. He dry swallowed them, shaking hard.
The note mocked him, such simple words.
Saint Evelyn. They ever find her killer?
Bobby pushed away from his desk and stood up, wobbling dangerously. "Jack," he rasped. He laughed, his stomach twisting at the motion. "I'm comin'."
X
