A Jaguar's Musings
By: CrystallicSky
Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces. Warnings: Attempted suicide, mention of blood, slight violence, homosexuality, etc.
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I can't say I was surprised when it happened. To be honest, I'm more thrown off by the fact that Master was surprised.
I'm not sure for how long I knew it was coming, but I had known, and so I didn't even blink when Master appeared with Jack Spicer in his arms.
I also wasn't surprised that Master looked anxious and angry and that Spicer was entirely unconscious with blood dripping down his arms and onto the floor.
Really…one had to have seen it coming miles away.
Still, at the time, I kept my mouth shut and followed the orders Master barked at me and a couple of the others. Spicer had fainted from blood-loss and he was still leaking it copiously: it was no time to say 'I told you so' (especially considering I actually hadn't told anyone so).
It was after the poor kid had been taken care of; the cuts on his arms bandaged and treated so as not to become infected that I took that opportunity.
Master was positively furious about the whole ordeal. I've been with him the longest of all his warriors, so a lot of the time, he confides things in me that he doesn't in anyone else. It was only a few hours after he'd brought Spicer home with him and gotten him in stable enough condition to be left alone that he began ranting at me.
He just couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the concept that Jack would try to kill himself! Was the boy flat-out retarded? Was he drunk or high or just plain stupid? Why else would he have attempted such a thing?
Master stopped dead in his tracks when I pointed out that Spicer might not have had a reason to live.
He scowled at me and informed me that there was always a reason to live, but of course, while that's true, there are exceptions. You know, like if one didn't think they had a reason to live.
He argued with me, of course; pointed out that Spicer had plenty of reasons to live. The boy was supposedly a genius, to start, the brightest mind alive if one went by the sort of things he could create. He was filthy rich and he was young, with his whole life ahead of him. To say he thought he had no reason to live was foolish.
I altered my argument a bit. Yes, Spicer had reasons to live, but it was doubtful he saw them and recognized them for what they were.
I didn't expect Master to get it right away: he and Jack are…two different people with different goals in life.
Master has goals related to conquest and triumph and is keen at being the best in everything he does and having the best in everything he has. Genius and money and potential to him count as success, so it's hard for him to see how Spicer could possibly interpret what he had as failure of such an extent as to attempt suicide.
The problem is that Jack is not the type of person to think that way. It wasn't what he had that he felt made him a failure, it was what he didn't have. He's had money and potential and genius basically since birth, so he's unlikely to think much of them. What he does place importance on are the things he's hardly ever had; things like affection and attention.
I guess it's always seemed obvious to me: his father's never home, his mother is barely there, his intellect alone makes friendship next to impossible, he consistently throws his lot in with those that don't even like him and throws himself into conflict with people that grossly outmatch him…
Either Spicer was a complete moron or he was possessed of the philosophy that all attention is good attention, and I knew Master didn't really think the former for all his bravado to the contrary.
I don't think Master knew how to respond when I pointed out all that, and I didn't really find out because he left after that; probably to think over what I'd said.
Then again, I would want to be alone for a little while if I'd just realized I had been needlessly cruel to a somewhat annoying attention-starved teenager with no friends or loving family; particularly one who'd just attempted and nearly succeeded in ending his life.
It was a near thing with Spicer, actually. He may not be very knowledgeable about things relating to human beings as opposed to robots, but he knew enough not to cut himself horizontally. Fortunately, though I suppose from his point of view, it would be unfortunately (he's always had bad luck; poor kid), Master managed to startle him right as he was making his first cut and his hand slipped. He ended up slicing himself deeper than he meant to, but the cut itself turned out diagonal; much more horizontal than vertical.
It was because of that combined with the fact that he didn't have time to make a second incision that he survived.
In the next day or so, Jack woke up again. I knew because Master gave me a death-glare sometime afterwards. I've had several centuries to get familiar with his facial expressions, and the one he shot me was the one he reserves for a, 'you were right, I was wrong, and I blame you for it' mood. The only explanation for that was that he'd spoken at least briefly with Spicer, long enough to determine the reason why he attempted suicide.
I can only assume it was a brief conversation and that Jack fainted again in short order, because I didn't hear any yelling, unlike the next time he must've regained consciousness.
Master was still furious about the whole thing and tore Spicer to pieces with insults and logic. Jack didn't take it lying down, of course: he's a genius and bears a tongue in his mouth as sharp as broken glass. He countered with his snarky attitude and his emotions long enough to at least make a somewhat acceptable case for himself.
Naturally, that only angered Master further. An acceptable case for suicide? Ha!
The fight ended abruptly and I was ordered to take care of Spicer while Master went to go clear his head.
I wasn't surprised to walk into the guest room and find Jack sitting on the bed in complete shock, a handprint emblazoned in red on his cheek.
Master had expressed distaste towards the boy many times verbally, but never physically. He must've been quite upset by the fact that Jack considered his own life worthless in order to actually strike him.
Spicer was stunned by it; he didn't understand it at all. I can't blame him, really. I barely understand Master sometimes, and I've had a long time to learn him.
Still, I knew enough to assure Spicer that the slap was not indicative of an increase in hatred, as he'd suspected. For one, it was a slap: had Master truly intended to cause pain out of sheer spite, he'd have used a closed fist as opposed to an open palm. Furthermore, it wasn't even a backhanded slap, the type of open-handed strike that would've held the most power behind it. It was just a simple, straightforward smack across the face, one that, as I explained to Spicer, was given out of frustration.
Master was angry that he had been wrong about something and had resorted to physical force because he was unable to win with words.
Spicer had nothing to say to me after that. He didn't have much to say period, but he was particularly quiet then.
I suspect he was confused. He had long been under the impression that Master hated him, would want to see him dead and gone. Then, to be pulled back from the brink and yelled at for even attempting the suicide in the first place…
Well. It's not exactly an easily rationalized situation, now, is it?
Spicer stayed at the palace for many more days after that and spoke very little. He hadn't much to say and as Master spent most of his hours in meditation, attempting to make sense of the whole ordeal himself, he had no one to say anything to.
I kept him company for most of that period without even being ordered to. I knew complete loneliness was not at all what Spicer needed at the moment and as Master was too preoccupied to make himself adequate company, the role fell to me.
Spicer was…is a very intriguing young man. When he is not projecting false confidence and boasting over his nonexistent triumphs, there is something about him that is magnetic. It is not at all overt, but the subtlety of the quality is just as effective as anything else.
I often found myself drawn to him as he sat alone somewhere, looking as if every burden of the world was his to bear.
Of course, soon enough, it was Master that was drawn to him in such a way.
The first time they sat together, saying, doing, and staring at nothing, their silence was…tense, almost awkward. Neither had any words for the other nor had they prepared for such a circumstance in the slightest.
It was strange to see the long stretches of time they began spending with one another in complete quiet; it happened almost seamlessly. That one day, they sat beside each other and the next, the distance between them closed bit by bit by bit as the days continued to pass.
Eventually, they sat together side by side, the gloved instrument of Destruction that was Master's hand draping warmly over the lily-white instrument of Creation that was Spicer's.
The others were so shocked by the sight that they gossiped over it for days. Their master, their master, doing something as saccharine as hand-holding? And with Jack Spicer, no less?!
I recall quite clearly the murmuring of senility and insanity and any other possible explanation for this phenomenon.
I knew better, of course. Master had been meditating deeply for days after rescuing Spicer from himself. He had clearly come to the realization that Jack meant more to him than he had thought before faced with the possibility of his death.
Besides, what wrong was there in a lonely, old man finding company and affection in a lonely, depressed youth?
The hand-holding soon developed into something closer without a word spoken between the two. Spicer followed Master around everywhere, like a newborn duckling that'd mistaken a dragon for his mother.
This, of course, was not altogether new for Jack, but what was new was the fact that Master now allowed it. Rather, he encouraged it, and when so much as the hint of separation was implied, Master grew angry; latched onto Spicer bodily as if to keep him from going anywhere.
However, for Spicer to have gone anywhere, he would have to want to leave Master's side and that was not at all feasible. If anyone drew more comfort than Master from the gesture of locking a hand around Jack's wrist like a manacle, it was Spicer himself.
They both drew something vital from that sense of possession, I suppose. In having Jack under metaphorical lock and key, it provided Master the comfort that the brilliant idiot of a boy that'd somehow become important to him was not about to be taken away again. To Jack, as well, feeling as if he belonged to Master eased the burden of his solitude and assured him that, for the moment, at least, he was not about to be left alone to rot within himself again.
Eventually, they began speaking with each other. It was little things at first; small-talk in every sense of the word. "It's kinda cold outside," "What would you like to have for dinner?," "What're you reading?," "Did you sleep well?," and so on.
Soon, though, it progressed into actual conversations. As one would expect, they were awkward conversations at first; peppered with long pauses of uncertainty and centered around familiar topics so as to not explore foreign territory when neither of them were ready for it.
I was present for their first free-flowing exchange. It began as a tense conversation, but only a few sentences in, Spicer visibly relaxed, freeing up his tongue considerably. Surprisingly, he took the lead in their banter and Master followed it gratefully. He has never been the best with socializing, but once he had an idea where the talk was going, he flowed with it readily and the two of them conversed almost as if they knew each other well as they knew themselves.
That was when things changed for the better, I suppose.
Jack is not a 'people person' and doubtlessly never was, but he responds well to positive attention. To receive that sort of engaged attention from one he liked quite well almost made him forget his past misery; the morose isolation that'd nearly caused him to end his own life.
Spicer began smiling again once the talking started up between Master and he, and it no longer seemed as if he bore the world's burden on his shoulders. He was happy.
Naturally, having Spicer happy pleased Master immensely. He had grown to like the youth in the past few months they'd spent together and to have him happy made Master happy, though he would not realize why that was until many more months later.
I liked to watch them together; their interactions with one another.
Contrary to popular belief, not all of Master's warriors are held prisoner in his keeping: in fact, most of us have grown to like him, impossible as the Xiaolin would have you believe it.
That liking of him made it nice to see the manner in which he treated Jack following everything that'd happened. Their interactions spoke of a far deeper connection than either of them realized at the time, and I was glad to see my master with that sort of connection.
It is one that two people in perhaps a hundred lifetimes will ever experience, and even with Master's cheating of death, the odds that he would find Spicer and at precisely the time he did… Well, I don't believe in miracles, but if I did, I would consider that one of them.
No one said a word when Jack left the palace one day only to return mere hours later with his robots in tow and with the robots, some of his most important belongings. It wasn't a surprise to anyone and neither was it out of the ordinary when Spicer's bedroom was magicked back into a guest room and he began sharing a room with Master.
We all knew at that point. We had all put the clues together and figured it out. Really, it was only Master and Jack that were utterly clueless.
It was a mind-bogglingly hot day in the midst of summer in China when they realized. The palace was cool in comparison to outside, but it was still hot enough to have us cats lying around in whatever shady areas we could find simply for the impression of a colder temperature than in sunlight.
Master was with me as I lounged around, too lazy from the heat to be up and about. He was speaking, naturally, of Spicer; of his recent technological accomplishments and the things the two of them had not long ago done together. He told me of how pleased he was with the youth's company and that he very much liked having him around.
I likely should've been less blunt, but it was hot and I was tired of watching Master be so…oblivious.
I outright said, "You must really love him, then."
Master said nothing for a long time, likely stunned by the very notion that he could be in love with Spicer. Externally, his appearance was calm and collected, but I have lived with him for too long to be fooled by his forced expressions. He was floundering internally with no idea how to respond to what I'd said. He likely hadn't even begun to wrap his mind around the full extent of it, right then.
He said not a word to me and stood up, walking away and leaving me alone where I lay.
I was not too worried. Master is not a rash person and I was certain he would think on the issue thoroughly before acting.
I was right in that assumption. Spicer came to me midway through the day, telling me he had not seen Master in hours and asking if I knew where he was. I had been about to give him my assumptions as to his location, but then Master himself appeared and dragged Jack off under the pretense of needing to speak privately with him.
When next I saw the two of them, they were cuddled up together in such a manner that it was almost sickening, both of them obviously uncomfortable from the close touching in the sweltering summer heat but just as uncomfortable with the idea of not touching.
Jack had a broad grin on his face as he nestled up against Master like a knight's freshly-won maiden and Master…Master was smiling, too, as he held Jack close and radiated contentment with both his love and his life.
And now, today, I am the most happy for them, even happier than I was for them when they first acknowledged their bond.
Two-hundred years later, they are still together: Master aged 1,753 years and Jack his trophy 'wife' at 217.
It sounds less than pleasant, but I am glad Spicer nearly killed himself that day. If he hadn't, he and Master would not be together now, and that would be quite the shame.
They really are a lovely couple.
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A/N: A little present for all my readers three days after my birthday (jeez, I've got it backwards, haven't I? XD). No, really, though, you guys are awesome and I appreciate all the story feedback I've been getting from you guys throughout the year as well as the birthday wishes/presents of recently, so I think you deserve a little something to let you know it's appreciated. ^^ Also, in case it wasn't obvious, this premise of this fic is that Diol is narrating how Chase and Jack got together. ;P Thanks for reading and I hope you liked the fic! :D