The Thing About Bad Pennies
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: Language, homosexuality, (eventual) sexual situations, etc.
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When Jack woke up, he was awake. Like, the kind of awake it typically took him three hours and as many cups of coffee to achieve, which was pretty weird.
Also weird was the fact that he was face-down in the dirt which, in spite of popular opinion, was really not his default state.
Then he remembered what he'd been doing before he passed out.
Jack sprung upright, head whipping around in a momentary panic because he'd managed to get himself caught up in a blood-spell and now he was decidedly not where he was; and probably not when he was, either.
Finding no immediate dangers to his well-being, and in fact, no one and nothing at all but this rocky hill he was sitting on, Jack sighed deeply and got to his feet.
Aside from that, though, he had no clue what his next move was here.
Jack didn't know anything about his location and he didn't even bother with the GPS in his phone because he didn't know the date either, but he was reasonably sure he would be some-when before satellites. Even worse, he hadn't been the one to cast the spell that must've brought him here, so he wasn't exactly privy to the fine print, information like—what was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to go to do it? Would he get back home when he was finished doing…whatever, or did he have to figure out the Go Home ritual for that?
"Suppose it'd be too much to ask to have some kind of step-by-step guide here, right?" he asked of nobody.
Predictably, nobody answered.
Jack sighed again. "Fucking magic."
He spared a moment to look at his hand, still stinging a bit, but not too badly. Where the blade had sliced into his palm, there was a smear of blood caked onto the calloused skin. The wound itself, though, was small and narrow and had long since stopped bleeding.
How long had he been knocked out, anyway?
"…probably stupid to worry about losing time when you're a goddamn time-traveler," Jack muttered to himself and decided to put it out of his mind.
It was probably more important that he do something about his cut because if he was going to die somehow in the distant past, it would be because of dinosaurs or some ancient, fearsome army, not Ye Olde Bacterial Infection.
Luckily, Jack happened to be a goddamn expert at getting himself in and out of these situations, so he always carried some basic first aid stuff in one of the dozens of pockets of his trench coat.
Badass and practical, he thought proudly. 'Fashion disaster.' Pfft. Kimiko would eat her words if she were here!
Jack unzipped his coat and began gingerly flaking off the dried blood when his efforts to remember exactly which pocket he kept the antiseptic in started taking a little longer than he thought it would (and fine, maybe it was better that Kimiko wasn't here for this).
His thinking slowly ground to a halt, though, when he realized he was hearing something besides the distant chirping of birds.
Sniffling. Another person.
Well, that's probably a start.
Jack began making his way down the hill, slowly when his attempt at doing it quickly almost landed him on his face in the dirt again.
This was quite possibly the rockiest damn hill he'd ever seen. It would probably be cordoned off as a serious safety hazard if…whatever time this was…had public safety committees and such. A kid could get seriously hurt screwing around on this thing!
…which, as Jack came upon a little boy at the base of a hill, clutching his knee and (by the look of his shaking shoulders) holding back tears, was exactly what had happened.
Jack's first thought was to be impressed. He knew all too well that skinned knees hurt like a bitch, but this kid wasn't even crying. Sniffling a little, sure, but for that to be all, he was a tough little jerk. He was even refraining from that horrific wailing sound unique to toddlers everywhere, the one that made Jack recoil in terror from the thought of ever reproducing, yet he couldn't have been any older than three.
Jack's second thought came a moment later when the weight of his boot dislodged a pebble from the hill and the clatter it made drew the kid's attention right to him, and that thought was, …oh. Shit.
He knew that face.
It was considerably more cherubic than the last time he'd seen it, with wider eyes and more baby-fat and a pointed lack of the expression that haughtily proclaimed, 'I am a totally impassive enigma of a warlord and you have no hope of discovering what I am thinking right at this moment,' but it was too similar for it to be mere coincidence.
Jack was looking right at a three-year-old Chase Young, wasn't he?
Shelving the question of why the hell Guan would've wanted to come back to when Chase was a toddler (which only got more disturbing the more he thought about it), Jack figured he should deal with the more pressing issue of said toddler staring at him looking startled and upset and confused.
"Hey," he said gently, awkwardly as he moved a little closer. "Are you okay?"
The miniature Chase—the Chaseling, Jack decided to call him for now— didn't answer him, but he did tense up pretty fiercely. Apparently, his parents hadn't taught him not to play around hazardous hills, but they had managed to impart Stranger Danger.
Great.
"I'm not…I won't hurt you," Jack tried lamely, "just…you're hurt already, aren't you?"
Jack watched his eyes flicker to his scraped knee. Clutching it closer to himself, the Chaseling bit his lip and silently pouted up at him.
…Jack thought he might've given himself diabetes just thinking that sentence.
Trying for a smile that he hoped in no way looked violent or otherwise pedophilic, he knelt down to be more on the kid's level. "Hey, it's fine. That stuff happens. See?" He held his hand out palm up, showing off the small wound. "I hurt myself a little, too."
The Chaseling craned his neck to see, but pointedly did not scoot any closer. That was fine. Kids were entitled to a bit of wariness around strange men two decades their senior and Jack saw no reason to get offended by it.
"I was just about to take care of it," he tried, sitting all the way down and reaching into his jacket. "Maybe you can watch me fix mine and then I can fix yours?"
Jack may have smirked a little as the Chaseling chose to maintain his silence, but his face was already starting to ease out of its pout, looking more curious than wary.
Now that he actually had need of it, Jack had no trouble remembering where the antiseptic wipes were and he fished out a packet on the first try. He keenly felt the kid's eyes on him as he tore it open with his teeth and used the damp sheet to clean the dried blood from the cut.
It stung, of course, but Jack very purposefully did not wince. The last thing he needed was to make the kid gun-shy and then have that little scrape of his get infected or something.
Balling up the wipe and stowing it in a different pocket, Jack brought out the spray-on bandaid next.
There was a story behind that—one that Jack planned on telling to absolutely no one in any detail, but it involved an unreasonable number of adhesive bandaids at once and the fact that his skin was already way too sensitive for his own good without bits of latex-y fabric trying to peel it off in strips.
Ultimately, the whimpering alone had been so deeply humiliating that Jack had made a solemn vow to never fuck around with adhesive bandaids again. He lived in the 2000s, anyway, so he was well within his rights (and probably even a little obligated!) to make use of advances in medical technology and what could be more futuristic and convenient than painless, spray-on bandaids?
The spray-on kind of bandaid was obviously better at impressing Chaselings, too, because the wide-eyed look on the kid's face as the mist sprayed out onto Jack's palm could really only be called wonder.
Jack blew on the wet spot a moment or two before touching it lightly with his thumb to be sure it had dried. Then he offered it back out to the Chaseling.
"It's all better now," he said. "Didn't even hurt."
Jack almost felt like he was trying to make friends with a shy woodland creature as he held his hand perfectly still for the kid's inspection. The Chaseling actually leaned forward this time and reached out to touch, his tiny fingertips brushing against the unfamiliar texture on Jack's palm.
"Awesome, right?" Jack had to physically hold back a snicker at the small Chase's reverent nod, reminding himself that if Chase was this young, it would be more than a millennium before that word gained its modern connotation—for now, it literally just meant 'inspiring awe.' "Do you want me to help you with yours now?"
The boy hesitated a moment, probably remembering whatever he'd been told about strangers, but he eventually nodded again, looking resolved.
Jack wondered if it were possible to get double-diabetes, because a resolved-looking three-year-old, Jesus Christ.
Now that he had permission, though, Jack wrapped his hand around one bony little shin to hold Chase's leg. Finding another antiseptic wipe, he went about cleaning the dirt and gravel from the scrape.
Chase hissed at the sting and automatically jerked back, but Jack's grip held steady. He would willingly admit that he wasn't stronger than a lot of things, but he was stronger than a freaking toddler, thank you very much.
"Yeah, it stings a little," he said out loud. "Don't worry, it doesn't last long."
The Chaseling had the audacity to look vaguely betrayed that Jack hadn't warned him, but he nonetheless proved himself to be the kid that grew up into one of the toughest fuckers Jack had ever met by then just stoically enduring the disinfecting.
Jack experienced a confusing moment of pride in him for that, confusing because, He's not even my kid! What the hell?
Jack shook it off and sprayed on the liquid bandaid (which Jack knew for a fact didn't hurt!) before leaning in to blow it dry a couple seconds quicker.
Satisfied, Jack sat back on his heels and stowed his medical supplies back in his coat. "There," he proclaimed. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
The kid blinked at his knee, running his fingers over the protective coating. His expression wavered between amazement and relief for awhile before settling on pure glee and the thrilled grin he gave Jack was almost blinding in its intensity.
Hard to believe that the Heylin prince of darkness had ever been capable of such an innocent smile, but Jack supposed everyone had to start somewhere.
He reflexively smiled back, but that totally guileless grin was a reminder to Jack—if just by sheer contrast—that the Chaseling actually was Chase Young, and would someday grow up to be him.
The very same Chase Young who was a totally gorgeous master of evil, who'd years ago triggered Jack's questioning of his own sexuality, and who even now, still regularly forced him to retreat to his bunk with his unfair displays of masculine grace and power.
And he was currently a toddler with a skinned knee and a happy-go-lucky smile.
Jesus, talk about awkward. Jack barely knew what to say to the sexy, cool, and confident Chase of his time and now that he was in the situation, he was pretty sure he had even less idea what to talk about with the fun-sized version.
So, yeah: awkward.
Thankfully, sheer lucky happenstance saved him from having to hold a conversation with the kid. A voice suddenly called out in the otherwise quiet of the still afternoon, making Chase's head swing around in what could only be recognition.
"Chenglei!"
Jack sprung back to his feet and the Chaseling— Chenglei?—followed suit with a confused look at him.
Jack didn't address it. Instead, he gave a clumsy pat to the boy's dark-haired head and an equally clumsy, "You did good, kid, very brave," before walking off in the opposite direction of the voice as quickly as his legs would carry him.
He had no idea what the punishment for suspected pedophiles was in this day and age, but he was willing to bet it was unpleasant. No matter who was coming, it probably wouldn't do to be caught alone with a kid that young and Jack wasn't about to sit around when there was the entirely likely possibility of getting busted for shit he didn't (would fucking never, he's evil, not sick) do.
Of course, when he'd made it a respectable distance away, Jack couldn't resist a backwards glance.
Another boy was scurrying up to meet Cha—Chenglei, with still no adults in sight, about the same size and probably the same age. His golden complexion and his bald head put Jack strongly in mind of Omi, but his expression, relief thickly covered by an easygoing grin reminded him a little more of…
Holy shit.
Grand Master Dashi. Chase Young had been childhood friends with Grand Master Dashi?!
Wow, Jack thought, you think you qualify as a guy's number one fan…
Nonetheless, he kept right on walking until he was sure he was out of sight as something foreboding began to dawn on him.
He was still here.
In spite of the fact that he'd now interacted with the younger Chase, presumably done something to alter the future—or maybe ensured that the future wasn't altered? Time travel was way too goddamn complicated, even for a literal genius like Jack.
Anyway, nothing was happening and Jack was still here, somewhere in…shit, probably about 4th century China, Chase was no spring chicken, and there was absolutely no magical tingly whatever happening to bring him back to his own time.
Jack slowed to a stop and breathed in silence for a few long moments before swearing loudly enough to startle a nearby, weird-looking bird.
Very quickly, though, he reined himself back in to a state of relative calm. Getting pissed off (however extremely fucking appropriate it was) wouldn't help anything. As much as he'd dearly love to go find Guan and beat the snot out of him for apparently stranding him here, Guan wouldn't even be Guan yet; he was probably barely out of diapers and maybe hitting kids wasn't as bad as touching them, but Jack was entirely sure that neither of those things were him.
Clearly, it was time for Jack to make another solemn vow to himself, instead.
Deciding very firmly to stay calm and refrain from totally losing his shit until tomorrow morning at the earliest, Jack devised himself a game plan.
A passing glance at the sky where the sun was beginning to set was enough to tell him that night was falling. The current time period being approximately forever before the advent of electricity, the whole day was basically over. In another hour or so, which would probably be how long it would take Jack to locate civilization, everybody who might conceivably offer food and shelter to a weird-looking stranger would be asleep.
So Jack would be roughing it tonight. Awesome.
He briefly spared a thought to building himself some kind of shelter, but even with a flashlight (which he had, his pockets were useful, okay?), it would be unnecessarily difficult trying to throw something together at night. The same held true for any attempts at foraging for food and water.
Jack sighed and found the nicest looking spot of the clearing he was standing in and sat down. Hungry and with a bit of trial and error, he found a granola bar inside his coat and munched on it awhile.
Naturally, he was hardly tired—he'd pretty much just woken up, after all—but boredom was a powerful motivator for drowsiness.
Upon finishing the granola bar, Jack laid back in the grass and watched the stars in the amazingly clear night sky until he eventually dozed off.
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A/N: The first chapter, in which Jack realizes his situation.
I say it's the first chapter out of twenty-four because based on what I have planned, there should be twenty-four chapters. However, being that much of this fic is not yet written, that number may be subject to change! XD
Thanks for reading, hope you liked it! :D