Sidestory:
Opening Doors
by Angie, Lori and Tami
I hope Jacks is home, otherwise I drove downtown for a big, fat load of nothing, thought the ever-eloquent Wilma Verbana. Making her way down the familiar hallway to his door, she stopped just before knocking. She missed coming here every week for her Spanish tutorials. It had been a great alibi that she'd gotten back into the habit of using when she went out to patrol but she missed the companionship of Jack and his quiet...guidance, almost. Sighing, she straightened out her volleyball t-shirt and knocked, hoping Jack would be in. Her mom had been hounding her to get him to come to dinner, and she'd really wanted to see him. She was just busy, what with patrolling during the week and senior year. But she'd finally had enough of her mother's nagging and made her way downtown to the familiar apartment of the quiet artist.
No one answered for so long that she almost turned and left. Almost but not quite because, if she listened closely, she could just make out a few hissed curses and some shuffling from on the other side of the thin door. Finally, the door cracked, chain left on, and a tired green eye presented itself. "Wilma?" Surprised, Jack opened the door slightly more, blinking. "What are you doing around here?"
"Oh, y'know, just working my corner outside, thought I'd stop by for a visit." Wilma grinned, trying to make it seem like she wasn't actually embarrassed for just showing up on his doorstep. Clearing her throat nervously, she turned her gaze to her shoes. "Mom wanted to know if you wanna come to dinner tonight or tomorrow and I didn't think to call ahead. Sorry..." Her voice fell into a mumble as a thought came into her head, for once. What if he had a girl in there? He was twenty after all, it wasn't as if she expected him to be celibate or anything. She blushed at the thought and looked back up at him. "Um, is it a bad time or something?"
"No, it's just..." He tilted his head forward to lean on the edge of the door and smiled, lopsided and world-weary. "Wil, darlin'? D'ya trust me? Can I trust you?"
She frowned, peering at him. What on earth was going on? "I certainly trust you." She bit her lip. This was definitely kind of weird. "I hope you trust me."
"I do." There was a strange firmness underlying the resignation in Jack's slow drawl. "Wait a mo, huh?" Closing the door, he undid the chain. Then he opened it again, just a crack. "Okay, then. I'm trusting you." With that, he opened it all the way and stepped back, allowing her to enter.
Wilma stepped in slowly, wondering what on it was that Jack was trusting her with. Glancing around, she didn't see anything different - same clothes strewn around the place, same "lived-in" look... She was beginning to think he was playing a rare joke on her but then, her eyes caught a human form on the couch. A familiar... "Jack? Is that...Jace?"
"No, it's the fuckin' Goodyear Blimp." With difficulty, the dark-haired girl rolled over on one side; she was heavily pregnant, paler than normal, big dark circles underneath her eyes. "And Jesus Christ, what have you done to your face, Punky Brewster? Talk about silverware. Are you going metalhead on me, Hippie? 'Least you're not going emo, I'd have to beat your goddamn head in. Welcome to the den of kidnapping. Jack, close the door, wouldya?"
"I...uh..." Wilma stepped back, almost physically bowled over by this sudden barrage of Jaceness. Blinking, she had to change gears to adjust after being devoid of Jace and her lovely comments. "What's it to you what I do with my mouth, Jace? Just as long as I'm not smokin' pot or kissin' Jack, right?"
"Smoke pot all you want. And, hell, I wouldn't kiss Jack right now, he tastes like Pizza Shapes." Jace flopped back down again, looking exhausted, badly-dyed hair falling in her face. "Are you going to go squeal to the cops that I'm here?"
"Not if you pay me hush money." Wilma grinned, folding her arms across her chest. She glanced over her shoulder at Jack, her grin fading. Sighing, she looked back at Jace. "Nah. Secret's safe with me. Swear."
Suddenly, thin arms were around her shoulders and she was caught in a split-second hug. Cheeks flushed as he released her, Jack still seemed far more relaxed and his shoulders slumped in relief. "Thanks," he murmured. "So much. I mean... Yeah."
Walking further into the apartment, she stood beside the couch, looking down at Jace, tactfully keeping her eyes off of her very pregnant tummy. "So... Jace, how've ya been?"
"Pregnant." She wiggled back, giving more room for Wilma to sit down. "C'mon, sit. I totally took all of the mice out of the furniture. I... I haven't been able to fight for a while." For a moment, she looked nigh-on pathetic. "So how've you been? Smoking pot, protesting war?"
"Sounds about right," Wilma said, sitting down carefully so she wouldn't perch upon Jace. "Y'know, sit out under trees, strumming guitars..." She went to pull out her cigarette pack but stopped herself. You don't smoke around pregnant women, dummy, she thought. "So...um..." she glanced at Jace uncomfortably, then back up at Jack. “Anything been happening? It's been quiet when I've gone out."
Blanching, Jack swallowed hard and turned away. "I'll get us all drinks," he muttered. Then, quickly, he loped over to rattle glasses in his little kitchen.
"Darlin'? Make me a cup of just plain hot water, would you?" Jace looked over her shoulder at him; then she sat up, grey eyes dark, face unreadable. There. That would keep him away for a few moments. "Few nights ago, there was a Romanus and a Graikos knock-up," she muttered to Wilma, quick and soft. "Tyche killed them all."
Brown eyes widening, Wilma glanced at Jack before whispering to Jace, "On his own? I didn't think..." She broke off, not wanting Jack to hear her. She shook her head. This was getting nuts. "How many were there?"
The other girl leant back against the cushions, casual, as if neither were talking. Then she raised up her hand, shielded so Jack couldn't see it; three fingers extended.
"Iapetus was with him," Jace murmured. "Don't know if you've met her. She's a real fuckin' retarded bitch. I goddamn hate her. And there was Leta and Rhiannon, and they're creampuffs. Why weren't you with him?"
"I..." Wilma frowned, looking once more at Jack, then back to Jace. Why hadn't she been with him? If he'd called her, she would have been there to help him, maybe even stop him, but was that what he would've wanted? She bit her lip. "I didn't know they were going... I've been patrolling solo... He didn't tell me..."
"Oh, Jesus, you're stupid!" The months rolled away. They were Persephone and Hephaestus again, patrolbuddies. "You don't -ever- patrol alone or you'll end up in a morgue. Fuckin' hell, Verbana. You think I let him go out without me because I want to? This isn't normal pregnancy swell on me; I can't hardly move. You know you're one of the only ones who Jack won't go creepy Tyche with."
"I just... I'm sorry, Jace..." Taking on a look favored by a child being scolded by her teacher, Wilma shrugged. "I just, y'know, lost touch with you and Jack, and you know how much I hate Sailor Giggles...wasn't thinkin'...sorry..." Her stream of fumbled excuses fizzling to a mumbled apology, she fell silent, wondering how long it took to heat up some water.
"Sorry, Wil? 'Bout what?" Jack reappeared at their side, steps so quiet they had missed his approach. He held out a glass of water to Wilma and a mug of hot water to Jace.
"I...er...for..." Accepting her glass of water, she cast about for a suitable thing to be apologizing for. Then she realized that she hadn't seen Jace in months...Sighing, she accepted her lack of tact and mentally kicked the shyte out of herself. "For patrolling by myself."
He immediately looked pained and sank to the hard wooden floor, long legs folding under him. "You kept doing that? Wil, no, I told you not to."
Despite the fact that both Jace and Jack were yelling at her because they cared, Wilma was being driven nuts. Standing up, she shot them both looks of annoyance. "God you guys, I'm sorry, okay? It's not like I've had much of a choice." She bit her lip, then continued. "You're not my parents, so lay off."
Before Jace could even cut in with a classic, scathing comment, the lanky artist was on his feet again, speed lent by panic. Actual fear lurked behind his green gaze as he grabbed at her hand, long fingers firm and strong. "I... Wilma, darlin', I..." Tongue-tied, he merely clutched at her hand and begged with his eyes.
"Look, Jack, I just..." She tried to keep her eyes diverted, she really did. Look at the ceiling, the floor, Jace, anything but the shock she received when he grabbed her hand forced her to make eye contact. End teen "I'm and adult and I'll do what I want" spiel; cue reality kicking said teen in the rear. Trying to smile reassuringly at Jack, she squeezed his hand softly before sitting back down. "I'm sorry I went out on my own, guys. But I really didn't have any other choice..."
Jack winced at that and dropped his head. He still kept hold of her hand, though, as he perched on the worn arm of the couch. "I'm sorry I haven't been around for you to call," he muttered.
"You could've gone with Sophie," Jace snapped. "Or Leta or Giggles or anyone. Giggles packs a punch, even though she's thick as a fuckin' brick. It's only luck that says you haven't been killed yet. Wilma, we don't want to lose you, okay? And that's the soppiest damn thing I'm ever going to say to you so shut up."
"Sophie hates me, met Leta once and Giggles causes brain hemorrages," Wilma ticked off on her free hand, keeping her hold on Jack. She rolled her eyes, "I know you guys don't want to lose me but I haven't met anyone while I've been patrolling anyway." She paused. "And I'll be sure to cherish that comment always."
"I'll go with you from now on." Jack's voice was soft and halting but his grip on her hand was firm. "Just... Don't mind if I act funny, okay?"
"Don't just 'not mind' if he acts funny," the other girl grunted. "Smack his goddamn face in. I should be going with you two anyway. Two isn't enough these days. Especially with Demantoid running around."
Wilma frowned. Now she was confused; not something she wasn't used to but still. Glancing between the two of them, arched an eyebrow. "Okay, this is probably going to make me wish I'd kept my mouth shut, but funny? I'm not catchin' it... You always go kind of different when you turn into Tyche but what do you guys mean by funny?"
"If I... Wil, I gotta tell you. I mean, it's only fair, right? If you're going out with me." A look of complete shame and discomfort crept over his lean face. "Tyche is..."
"A snake that lives inside Jack's head," Jace said bluntly. "He's a Southern-talking bastard and he's... Cold. Oily. Murderous. He's dangerous, Verbana."
Smiling at Jack, she squeezed his hand once more, hoping to clear up that handsome face of his. "Hey, don't worry about it... We'll be okay."
"Thank God," Jace muttered. "Now if only you two would stop holding hands."
Wilma jerked her hand out of Jack's, her face turning a marvelous shade of magenta. Clearing her throat, she cast about for a nice change of subject. "So... Iapetus... She's a new senshi, yeah?"
Nodding slowly, his own cheeks a bit pink, Jack absently massaged his hand. "We found her during the summer."
"She's a fuckin' bitch," Jace said cheerily. "Rich little twit who thinks she's the cat's bloody pyjamas, as Ti - some people would say and thinks she's goddamn GI Jane. I'd beat the shit out of her if it wasn't for Junior. Bosses everybody around, Percy likes her."
"She's not that bad," Jack cut in mildly. "She's just... Well, she grew up different, huh?"
"She grew up eating a steady diet of Bitchflakes, Jackalope. Also," -and this was with canny relish, more for Wilma's benefit - "I think she so wants down our Reilly's pants."
Cheeks darkening more, Jack choked. "-Jace-!"
Eyebrows shooting up at lightening speed, Wilma stared at Jace. "Well then, she sounds...interesting. Almost like you on a bad day. I'm sure I'm really gonna want to patrol with her," she paused, casting a sly look over at Jack. "So another girl wants down your pants. Been keeping yourself busy, huh, Jack?"
"Well, I... Um... With work and patrol and Jace and all and..."
"Well, what with us sharing a bed, I'm pretty safely turning off all the chicks," the other girl said comfortably.
"Yeah, I'm sure it's kind of a turn off to come home with a guy and see a pregnant girl in his bed."
"Got me in the family way, didn't you, Jackster? I should force you into a shotgun wedding."
"Jace." Slipping from the arm of the couch, the lanky young man landed on the floor with a thump and grimaced. "Give a guy a break, huh? Wilma knows better."
"Oh, I dunno, Jack," Wilma peered at him, giving him her best evil eye, "You're acting awfully suspicious..."
"... Not listening. Nope."
"How am I supposed to know you didn't take advantage of this poor innocent girl here?" Keeping a straight face was becoming extremely difficult. Jace? Innocent? Maybe.
A sudden snort surprised the girls and Jack craned his neck back to look at them. A faint smile curved his mouth. "More like she took advantage of me. Orders me about and everything."
The ex-redhead laughed, laying a familiar and possessive hand on Jack's shoulder. "I say bend over, he bends over. I say put on the gag, he puts on the gag... Nah, Jack's didn't give me his special brand of Reilly lovin' for Jace Junior."
The question of "who did?" was on Wilma's lips, but a sudden attack of grace shoved it back down her throat. If she were pregnant right this very second, she probably wouldn't feel like divulging who the father was, so Jace certainly wouldn't. Leaning her head on her hand, she sighed. "I hope you're not gonna name that poor kid Jace Junior. It doesn't deserve that."
"Jacqueline Emily." The other female Graikos looked a trifle smug. "After Jack and after my mom. Jackemma. Horrible nickname, come to think of it, but her father won't mind, he's dead." She drained the mug of water with one long fluid gulp. "You never met any Astronomia, did you, Verbana?"
A slight wince crossed the lavendar locked girl's face at the sound of the nickname. Reminded her of enema but she wasn't about to say that. "Nope, only met Romanus," she glanced at Jack, then back to Jace, "Not trying to be rude... Her father was an Astronomia?"
"Bastards, all of them." She settled back into the cushions again, still keeping touch with Jack. There was a muscle twitching in one of her cheeks. "Haven't you been looking at the news, you TV-free hippie? The Fleming riot, that one kid dying, the ISAS boy in a coma? C'mon, I thought my 'bombing' of the hospital would've at least gotten people excited, too."
"Jace, the TV aspect is one of the only things in my life that -is- hippie-fied. I live under the proverbial rock." She sighed, not really knowing what to say next. Here was the girl she'd been bickering and patrolling with for about as long as she'd been in Roanoke, pregnant, and the baby's father dead. What was she supposed to say? Reaching over, she lay her hand over Jace's. "I'm sorry."
"I'm not." His condition will be cured soon, and then I can kill him stone dead myself. Jace's hand moved to squeeze Wilma's, lightning-quick, hard callouses over the purple-haired girl's. "Let's talk about something else, that's a boring subject. Jack, change the topic."
"Um... Um..." Shocked from wherever his mind had wandered, Jack blinked owlishly. He never could bear to feel the pain along their bond when Jace talked about Tibby.
She laid her hand on his shoulder again; her fingers traced gesture between them, long better than language for how close they were. It's all right. "Good one. Very articulate. You back at PH, Verbana?"
"Yup, last year, thank Jebus." She sighed, watching Jack and Jace for a couple of minutes. They were much closer than when she'd last seen them together. Her silence lasted just long enough to make her realize she was staring at them like a zoo exhibit. "What're you gonna do about school, Jace?"
"What with the being pregnant thing and the being on the run from the police thing and the hiding-out-thing? No."
Words almost overlapping, Jack answered in his quiet way, "She'll go back once this is all over. Get a GED or something."
"Yeah. When I'm twenty-nine and Jace Junior is starting middle school."
"You don't have to wait that long, Jace. Jack and I will be here. We'll watch the baby and you can get finished with school. Right, Jack?"
"Wilma." Jace's voice was suddenly all business. "Don't offer me the Happy Families solution, okay? I'm playing with stuff that doesn't care if I want to go back to school or not. As heartwarming as the image of you and Jack bringing up my weester is, you two have steadily crumbling lives to live. Okay, you, anyway."
Wilma's face went from hopeful to hurt in half a second. Trying to gather some of her cool, she leaned her head on her hand and sighed. "Okay, Jace, whatever you say." This little visit was going from awkward to depressing; she was almost missing the days when Jace just called her a pot-smoking hippie and left it at that.
Reaching back, Jack touched Wilma's hand and shrugged minutely. He didn't agree either but he wasn't going to argue about it. His eyes were clear, though; they would talk later.
Glancing down at Jack, she smiled slightly, then took it upon herself to attempt to change the subject. "So, besides Iapetus, have you guys heard from anyone else?" A pause as she raked for the names of her team members. "Zach or Leta or any of them?"
"Leta and Rhia were..." Jack bit his lower lip and nodded to himself. "They were there that night. Rhia brought a new girl, too. Um, Orpheus. Guess she's really her roomie."
"Dykes," Jace said cheerfully. "Well, no fucking wonder, none of them would know how to fight their way out a paper bag. Hecate's too flashy, Leta's a fuckin' wimp and her parrot's a warmonger."
"Jace." The artist's tone was pained.
"You know it's true, darlin'."
"Even if it is true, ya don't have to say it Jace." Wilma glanced at her watch to keep from having to see the death look Jace was giving her. Hmmm, it was later than she had thought. "Um, I don't mean to be a wet blanket, as my mom would say, but it's getting kind of late and all I set out to do was give Jack an invite to dinner."
"You did?" Jack blinked stupidly for an instant and then a slow, brilliant smile grew on his thin face. "Aw, man, Wil..." It was as if the entire conversation rolled back on itself and they were three friends, talking, weeks past, months ago; the dark-haired young man was amazingly charming when he relaxed.
Grinning, Wilma nodded, "Yeah, mom still thinks she can fatten you up, Jack." Looking over at Jace, she shrugged, "You're welcome to come, Jace, but if you can't, I can send any and all leftovers to you if you want."
"You're a doll." Something unrecognizable flickered over Jace's face; then it was gone, and she just looked tired and ill. "I'm on the run from the fuzz, Verbana, you just take my boy out and feed his bottomless pit stomach. M'not feelin' too good. Just gonna sleep."
"You sure, Jace?" Reaching out, Jack pushed some fallen hair from his friend's eyes. "I'll be right back and Wil's number is in my, um..." He looked around the slightly untidy apartment with a suddenly puzzled frown. Suddenly, he smiled, lop-sided and little-boy. "On the fridge."
The smile Jace gave him was enough to melt rock. "I know. Don't worry about me. Go on, shoo."
He hesitated another moment and then looked to Wilma. "You sure your mom won't mind?"
Wilma gave him the withering look that all teenagers master by the age of fifteen. Sometimes Jack was worse than a five year old kid. "No, my mom just sends me out to invite people to dinner so she can lure them to our house and turn them away. Of course my mom won't mind." She grinned, "Plus, there will be a mountain of leftovers for you to bring home so you and Jace won't have to live on Taco Bell and the like."
Big green eyes regarded her with mild reproach. "I feed her better than that," he murmured. Nonetheless, Jack rose to his feet and fetched both a glass of milk and his worn jacket. Handing the milk to Jace and impulsively ruffling her hair, he smiles faintly. "Take care and I'll see you when I get home, 'kay?" At her nod, his smile grew and he pulled on his jacket. "Ready, then, Wils?"
"Yup." Standing up and pulling on her coat, she turned to Jace. "Listen, Jace, it was good seeing you again and knowing you're alive and the like...I'll stop by every now and then and give you a report about patrolling and like." A shrug. "And, I dunno...give you a dosage of estrogen or somethin'." On impulse, she leaned down and gave Jace a quick hug, "Missed you, bitch."
"... I missed you too, you violet-haired hippie." Jace's arms were still strong around her as the hug was returned, quick and fierce. "Now both of you piss off. Jack, make sure she visits more."
There was one more instant of hesitation and then he waved, escorting Wilma to the door. Soon they were gone and the sound of their feet disappeared down the stairs.
Jace waited, cold and clammy.
Well, now Jack was gone. There were no more excuses. Wilma taking him away was serendipity or the final twitch upon the thread. She -did- feel bloody ill and sleepy, but there was nothing for it.
"Forgive me, Reilly," she muttered. "Please."
"Hephaestos Deus Power, Make-Up!"