Author's note: I do not own TrollHunters. Thank you to my beta reader, Tunafishprincess. You give me motivation and courage to publish.
Toby still had an appointment to tune his braces on day two. Jim took the long way to school, looking around as if with brand new eyes. The cars that drove past him seemed different. Maybe it was because he was aware that the people in them were people, human beings living their normal lives. He was not like them. Maybe this was the "something more" he had craved so badly, something that separated him from ordinary life. He couldn't imagine that it was his mom that was the otherworldly creature impersonating a human. Did he finally know something about his father? Would Mr. Strickler know more? He bubbled inside with this new knowledge and debated telling Toby the next day. Or…
Claire wasn't in class today. Perhaps this was for the best, as his best friend wasn't there to nudge him from his stupor before their teacher noticed. Not that he felt anything would go past him at this point. Though Mr. Strickler carried on like nothing happened, Jim had the feeling he was constantly being watched. The bell rang, and he leapt from his seat, taken completely off guard.
"Jim, a word please." The class poured out to disperse in the halls, and the classroom had a different feeling to it, like it was a pocket dimension that didn't belong in this world as they exchanged words creature- to- creature. "I haven't heard anything from your mother. Did you give her my number?"
"I haven't seen much of her lately, she's been taking double shifts at the hospital-"
"You're running out of time," he warned. "You will keep developing, and it won't go unnoticed. Do you know what will happen when it is eventually addressed by those lacking the proper knowledge? Have you seen E.T.? It's about a creature that finds himself in the wrong world, far from home and aid from his fellow comrades and at the mercy of the humans that didn't understand." Jim remembered when he was younger, seeing the plastic tunnels and the dying alien, sickly and white, undergoing all those experiments. "Phone home." Mr. Strickler handed Jim another sticky note like the first, with his number scrawled in black ink.
•••
"This is Gun Robot. Pick up your phone."
Jim smiled softly at the reassurance of an ally in this confusing time when his phone went off. He reclined on the couch as he answered. "Hey Tobes."
"Did I miss anything?"
"Not much. I got your homework for you."
"... did the teachers know you got my homework?"
"They made sure I did." Toby groaned at the responsibility and his sore gums.
"I'll come over in a bit."
After disconnecting Jim stared at the dark screen of his mobile device. Phone home. What was he to tell his best friend? Hey Toby, remember when I hit my head? Well since then I found out I'm related to a literal troll and I'm growing horns, and I hope that's all because our history teacher is pretty creepy when he's not in his human form. Toby would probably make him go to the hospital, and from there he speculated it wouldn't take much for some scientists with government level clearing to kidnap him.
His friend's voice carried over to the living room from out front. "Hi, Dr. Lake!" His mom was home. "I just came over to pick up my homework, I had a dentists appointment," he heard his friend explain.
The door opened and Jim leapt from his seat to pounce on the opportunity. "Hey Jim, I forgot my phone," his mom called out.
"Hey," he went to greet her, holding out the sticky note.
"What's this?" She took the note from him, adjusting her purse strap on her shoulder as she read it. Her son was so well behaved, she couldn't imagine that he would have gotten in trouble.
"My AP history teacher wanted to talk to you. Something about a bright future and potential, he wanted to explain more in person." He borrowed the words Mr. Strickler used in front of Claire for a smoother delivery.
"Mister Strickler?" Toby puzzled.
"I know right?"
His mother was elated. "Is that so? I knew it was a matter of time before someone saw what a brilliant child you are." He instinctively flinched as she reached to ruffle his hair affectionately.
Nervously he chuckled away the sudden tension. "Dandruff," he simply stated.
"I've got to go, kiddo. I'll call him on the way back. Oh right, my phone-" she departed up the stairs.
Toby repeated, "mister Strickler?"
"I know! Who would have thought?"
"What did he tell you about this bright future thing?"
"Let's sit down." He waited until a few seconds after his mom had driven off the driveway before diving into parts of the story. He couldn't bring himself to tell his friend about their teacher being a monster, or that he himself wasn't the human they grew up believing he was, but he knew that whatever Mr. Strickler intended included getting Jim "home" to whatever world he belonged.
"You're moving?!"
"Maybe. At least he seemed to imply as much. You know how when he says something, it's like he's saying a lot of somethings?"
"Yeah. It's almost like thieves cant, if that were a thing."
"Thieves can't what?"
"It's a thing in one of the games, like a code- language that only other members of this secret society understand. If there were a code language, he would be the kind of weirdo to know it."
"Right…" boy, were he and Toby mistaken about their professor. And yet they were kind of close, weren't they? He remembered the warning about E.T. Having no more to say, Toby left with his documents, leaving Jim to play with his phone before switching on the TV to drown out the nagging feeling this world caused him.
•••
His body was sore. There were men in white with their faces covered, surrounding him on a bed. Was this a memory to the time his mother took him to the ER? No, this was different, they were chiseling his skin, flesh crumbling away like the K-spar in the canal. He looked up from his body back to the scientists. Their eyes were glowing red and yellow. One of them held up a chainsaw and cranked it.
He didn't recall ever being so grateful to wake up to his alarm. He smacked it and groaned. His body ached. Troll puberty. Maybe his muscles were just growing according to his troll genes now? He looked at his skin and squeezed his arm. Still flesh.
He was grateful to have company on the way to school again. Toby complained about the city engineering project in his mouth, and Jim tried to forget about the scientists. "So how do you intend to survive Steve?"
"What?"
"He's going to beat you up today, remember? That tic, toc thing he does in PE?"
"Is that why he's doing that? I thought he knew something."
"What?"
"Nevermind." He tried to drown out the metronome in his head with the hissing of the bike tires.
He got lost in his mind a lot lately. Toby might have been saying something about his Argyll socks but Jim was soaking in what Mr. Strickler told him after class. He was coming over for dinner Saturday to discuss relocating Jim to an institution something something. What all did he say?
"Hey, James Loser junior. Did you forget?"
Jim looked up from his mind and took a moment trying to recall why Steve would be talking to him. "It's pummeling time!"
"Oh, I did forget. Had a few things on my mind." Toby was visibly growing concerned, shifting his body as he looked around for an excuse or a story to delay or prevent Jim's untimely death.
Insulted Jim was not as concerned about the fight as he intended, Steve tried to instill fear in his victim. "What's on your mind? Wondering how deep I can drive my fist into it?"
"Go for it." The slowly building crowd gasped.
"You're seriously asking for a beating?" Steve's will was breaking, but he was fighting to not let it show.
"Yeah. Listen, I don't have much time. Neither do you, if you really think about it. We won't live long enough to see a century, so why put anything off for later? Or why even bother with me?"
"Steve, don't do this!" Jim's eyes darted to the girl with a shock of blue in her raven locks. Could he take back that speech? Because he didn't want Claire to see him turned into pulp.
"Stay out of this." Steve pushed her, and in slow motion she fell back and was caught by someone in the crowd.
The world turned black.
When the light returned, he was standing in front of Steve, who was crumpled against the lockers. Jim turned back to Claire and heard his voice like it was coming from somewhere else. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
He looked back at Steve, whose dignity was just as crumpled as his form. Eventually he realized that coach was behind him.
"Explain yourself, Palchuck!"
"It's my fault, coach," Jim piped.
"This isn't about you, Lake. Palchuck, you're disqualified from the team!"
"What?" Steve whimpered.
"No, coach, it was a misunderstanding!" Jim held out a hand to Steve, who started at it in confusion. "I was being too rough and knocked him down. Don't know my own strength." Steve eventually accepted the hand and pat Jim on the shoulder when he was on his feet.
"Yeah. Caught me off guard." The students knew what was up. Jim and Steve were playing buddy- buddy because to be caught fighting would take Steve out of sports.
Coach Lawrence eyed them both warily.
"This is why we don't have PDA! Keep your hands to yourself, Palchuck!" Steve obeyed immediately, withdrawing his hand from Jim's shoulder, relieved to not have to touch his enemy.
"Jimbo, what happened back there? You head butt him in the chest! Threw him to the ground! You were amazing!"
"I did? I wasn't really myself. Maybe it was adrenaline."
"It was like you had super strength or something! Try to pick me up! Let's see if you have super powers!"
"I'm sure it was just adrenaline, Tobes." And genetics.
"But why did you help Steve get out of trouble? Coach would have brought swift justice on him!"
"I don't want my mom to know I was in a fight," he reasoned. Honestly though, Steve looked pitiful. Jim didn't want to be responsible for ruining his life when he couldn't even keep his own from falling apart.
After school was tryouts for the play. Despite the growing horns and with it the growing fear that his horns would be noticed and that he was running out of time, a part of him still thought about that play, so he couldn't help but wander over to the auditorium where auditions were being held. He was glad he did, even at Toby's protestations. He arrived in time to watch Claire's performance. Every word she recited rang with truth and integrity, and he longed to be framed alongside her by the curtains. But alas, there were no monsters in this story. He sighed when she disappeared behind the curtains.
"Don't do this to yourself, Jimbo." His friend pat his shoulder, making him realize how much he was sagging. "She's out of your reach. You're going to be moving."
Jim was about to agree when his ears betrayed him. "You came!" The music of her voice was enough to make his chest swell. She dashed over from backstage.
"Claire!"
"What position are you trying for?"
There was that sinking feeling again. "I can't, I'm going to be moving."
"Oh." He didn't expect her to be so downcast. Was it that hard to get guys to try out?
"But, Tobes here is your guy. He's great at acting!"
"I am?"
"Sure you are! You can always manage to get away easily with calling in sick!" He leaned in to Toby's ear and whispered. "And you've always wanted to be a duke."
Toby perked up, renewed. "Oh yeah, I'm a natural."
Claire smiled, pondering. "You should try out for Mercutio. He's Romeo's best friend. I'll get you a copy of the script!"
She sauntered over to Ms. Janet to acquire the papers and Toby turned back to Jim.
"I don't think this is a good idea."
"If they don't get enough guys, they won't be able to have the play at all. You're helping the whole school! And you know there's going to be plenty of ladies participating."
"You know me too well. And I guess it would be good to help the school make this play happen." He puffed out his chest, imagining himself a valiant duke, sacrificing the shelter of his comfort zone for the good of the school, and so that Jim's crush could have her play.
Claire returned with the script. "Knock 'em dead," he encouraged Toby. To his surprise, Claire didn't resume her seat with the drama arts teacher.
"When are you moving?"
Judging by the size of my horns, as soon as possible. "I'm not sure yet. Mr. Strickler says he has connections that can help me reach my full potential or something. He wants to meet with my mom so he can discuss the details in person."
"Wow, this sounds really serious. I mean, it has to be if you have to move." Suddenly she pat her purse with great severity. "Oh no. I gotta go, be back- soonish!" She dashed out the double doors and Jim heard Ms. Janet call the next actor. Toby! He found himself a seat in the fourth row, as far back in the audience he could casually go without risking someone sitting behind him. Tobes looked clueless on stage, but he compensated for it with his enthusiasm.
•••
It was Saturday. To Jim's building paranoia, he discovered his ears ached. Much like with the dandruff that preceded his horns, stony little shards of dandruff came off at the tops of his ears, reminding him that Mr. Strickler's monster form had pointed ears. Great, another mutation. Hopefully he could stay human enough until after dinner. Mr. Strickler would finally reveal his plans for saving Jim from discovery. But could he be trusted? He knew nothing about this vast world where trolls were real and shapeshifters hid among humanity. Who's to say his false history teacher didn't intend to dispose of him? Yet he was the only one he knew who knew. He had horns just like Jim, and he understood.
He busied himself with cooking. Twice baked potatoes and an elaborate sauce to go with marinated pork chops consumed his time and attention. "You're getting fancy," Barbara commented. "Maybe I should make apple pie when I get back?"
"No thanks, mom, I'll take care of it," he was quick to volunteer.
"But you already have yourself spread so thin."
"I can handle it." He pecked his mom on the cheek on her way out. He really hoped she'd make it back in time, that work wouldn't keep her past dinner. He was certain it was a matter of time before she accidentally felt a horn in his mop of hair, and he couldn't imagine what her reaction would be to discover her son wasn't human.
It was for the best, right?
That phrase echoed prominently in his mind, drowning out the conversation. Walt, as he referred to himself now, used the same skill that maintained the concentration of a class to captivate Barbara. Jim was relieved to see her smiling and enthused, lighting up at Walt's application of the words opportunity, potential, destiny, etc.
"When would he be leaving," she finally asked. Jim stretched his hand out towards hers in anticipation.
Walt was good with words, but the delivery on the next set was tricky. "The tickets are for a plane that departs tomorrow morning." Her jaw dropped, and she reached for Jim's hand. By her grip he feared they'd already lost. Mr. Strickler would not be able to pry Jim from her fingers.
"T- tomorrow?"
"I'm sorry to have to tell you at such short notice. I understand, however, that Jim's reluctance to tell you himself was due in part because, well, he feels a certain responsibility to you." At the mention of his name she regarded her son, her eyes brimming with confusion and loss. "I deduce that he imagined that if he delayed to the last minute to tell you, he may console himself that the cost of this opportunity meant your contentedness."
"Oh, Jim." Great, Mr. S. Make my mom the bad guy for costing me my future. Real cheap. But at the same time, it was a means to a vital end, and despite Jim's fears it seemed to be working.
"I'm sorry mom."
"You have nothing to be sorry for! Except, well, not telling me sooner. You know I care about your future! And I'm responsible for you! I'm the parent!"
"I know, mom." He smiled sheepishly, but his eyes were filling with water. He knew what was really going on, but seeing the fear and love in her eyes over rode his selfish fears. "I really want to do this," he assured her and himself. "You're always helping people, and saving lives, and I look up to you because of that. This won't be the same, but I would have a responsibility as a leader, and that's almost as important, right?"
Oh dear he made her cry. She rose from her seat and descended on her knees beside him to hold him to her. "Oh, my son. You were always my hero."
•••
His obnoxious alarm woke him an hour earlier than usual. He was relieved to find he'd finally fallen asleep, but it felt like mere moments ago. Maybe it was. He had some changes of clothes, a hair brush, other hygiene essentials, his essential magazine, and a DVD of Gun Robot 3, Toby's and his favorite sleepover movie, packed in a small carry on. He found his mother downstairs making- were those supposed to be omelets?
"Wow, mom…"
"I made breakfast!"
"I, um, can't eat this early in the morning. Can't have an upset stomach on the flight." Her expression was down cast, and he rushed to recover. "Because of altitude!" He realized she missed the accidental insult, that the weight that dragged her down was her trying to come to terms with her only child and only immediate family moving across country at such short notice. It was a slap in the face to not have told her first thing! It would have only bought them a few days to prepare, days he wasn't sure he could actually endure, but she was suffering and it was because of him. Without verbal explanation he embraced her.
"I'm going to miss you, mom."
She was silent as she swallowed tears. She finally sniffed. "I want you to call and text me so much I'm sick of you!" The dam broke and a new flood of tears cascaded.
"I'll text you all the time," he assured her. He knew her responses would be few and far between, such were the habits of a doctor. But there would always be a text waiting for her whenever she got a break.
He waited by the door for her to finish grabbing her things before loading his single suitcase in the trunk.
"Jimbo!" His best friend huffed from across the street.
"Tobes," he sighed. Saying goodbye to his mom was hard enough. Toby approached, panting, holding out a small package. He must have been watching from the window in his room and run down the stairs and out of the house in a matter of moments. Jim accepted the gift from his sad friend and opened it. "No, this is your favorite rock!"
"Yeah, for my favorite person." He continued to swallow for air.
"I can't take this."
"I didn't ask you." He straightened himself up, giving Jim a look that dared him to turn down his precious gift. Jim smiled instead and embraced his friend.
Throughout the drive he looked at the box on his lap. It was such a humble gift, but such a generous sacrifice. His mother glimpsed at him at red lights, occasionally listing off motherly advice. Make sure you get plenty of sleep, don't be afraid to make new friends, etc. Advice he would argue she should follow, but now was not the time to mother his mother. Mr. Strickler awaited them at the front of the airport. He held Jim's box as Barbara hugged her only child one last time, holding him tightly to her, with one hand holding his head-
He yanked away quickly. "Ha hah, forgot to brush my hair. Good thing I packed some conditioner to comb that out when I get to the hotel!"
"Was that just a matt?"
"I know, I need to take better care of my hair. Love you, mom!" Her shoulders sank as she forced her lips to curl into a smile.
"Love you, son." Mr. Strickler swiftly offered her a travel pack of tissues with a reassuring smile.
After they watched her leave, Mr. Strickler returned Jim's box and they walked inside the terminal.
"Washington, huh?"
"As far as anyone is concerned, yes." He escorted Jim around the lines, up the escalator to baggage claim, and to the back where employees parked. A shuttle pulled up, and Mr. Strickler took Jim's luggage and loaded it on a rack above the seats. Jim cautiously took a seat, glancing around. Would anyone else take the shuttle with them? Did Mr. Strickler know the driver? If he wasn't flying to Washington, where was he going?
