Disclaimer: I don't own xiaolin showdown. If I did, Chase would be groveling at Jack's feet.
Warning: Chase x Jack, Bad grammar since English is only my second language.
AN: Thank you for reading and sorry for the wait. Inspiration is a lot like my cat. It comes and goes. Mostly goes. Hopefully inspiration will come purring at my feet soon.
Summary: The real Jack Spicer wasn't what they expected.
Existential
III
Guan likes to visit Chase. He usually floats in from the afterlife to observes his old friend. As long as he is silent and stays out of the way, Chase tolerates him. Very rarely does Chase outright speaks to him. When he does, though, Guan is reminded on why a thousand years and death wasn't enough for him to break up their friendship. He still sense a little of the old Chase he had known inside the new, cruel version.
Like now, when Chase arrived back from the mourning rite for the one called Jack. Guan watched as Chase sat on the throne with a thoughtful, introspective look. There was a wine glass in his hand, but Chase doesn't bother to drink.
"I don't understand it," he said.
"Understand?" Guan questioned.
"The thing wasn't alive. Why the funeral?"
Guan hid a smile.
Even before he became Heylin, Chase had a thirst for understanding. He soaked up knowledge like it was a sponge. If there was something he didn't understand fully, he thought on it to the point of obsession. He wouldn't rest until he found the answer. It was both a strength and a weakness, both a help and a hindrance. Chase's ambitious, inquisitive nature was probably what made him susceptible to Wuya and Hannibal Bean's lure.
Guan paused for a bit before answering. "As humans, we mourn for a lot of things that aren't living. "
Chase raised an eyebrow. "Like?"
"Weapons," Guan replied. Long ago, Wuya had broken his favorite staff. He still misses it. "TV shows that has gone off air...hairbrushes." The last bit was a deliberate, gentle jab at Chase. The memory came to Guan and he reminisced wistfully. It had been a brush made from bamboo adorn with a single red bead. There were dozens of it sold in the market, but when Chase lost his he wouldn't come out of his room for three weeks, claiming the brush he had was the only one that could tame his hair correctly. Ah, they were so young back then...Guan fought the urge to sigh when he looked at Chase now. Every strand of hair was held perfectly in place thanks to Heylin Magic.
Chase drained his glass before he spoke again.
"He could have made another," his friend said rather cynically.
"He could," Guan agreed. He floated in the air and scratched at his chin. "But he won't." The firm conviction in his voice caught Chase's attention.
"And you know this how?" Chase asked.
"Being dead does bring about different perspectives," Guan said. He had known about the boy and the bots for a while now. It was hard to miss that unique coloring. Occasionally, when he wasn't visiting Chase, Guan went to see how the boy was.
The little boy hidden in the manor reminded Guan of Chase. It was hard to read the expression on either of their faces, but if one were to look deep enough, there was a little speck of loneliness and of being lost in their eyes.
Guan wondered if all orphans had that look.
"He's an orphan?" Chase asked.
Did he say that out loud? Guan didn't realize that he was voicing his thoughts. Caught, he answered, "In a way."
In the time that he had been watching the boy, he never saw a parental figure nearby even though from conversations he'd overheard he knew that the boy's parents were alive and well. They had outright abandon the child and left him to his own devices. The only credit they deserve was that they had made sure that the boy's needs were taken care of. The boy had a home and he was never starved. He was just starved for affection, perhaps. Other than the money, there was no difference really between Jack Spicer and the boy who lived in the orphanage a mile away.
Guan saw how tightly Chase held the glass.
Chase got that far off look in his eyes. There was bitter anger brewing as golden eyes narrowed. Guan wondered if Chase was thinking of his own mother, a callous woman who had left Chase in the woods when he was three.
A young Chase had spent weeks out there before Dashi stumbled upon him. By that time, Chase had been on the brink of death, stomach caved in from hunger and tears rolling down his face as he cried for his mother. As young as he was, Chase never forgot.
The part of xiaolin that was still buried deep somewhere in Chase allowed the Heylin to sympathized with Jack Spicer. It gave Guan hope that one day Chase might come back to the side of good.
"You should check on him," Guan suggested.
Chase scoffed.
"He had lost his only friend," Guan reminded. He had seen first hand the bond between the boy and the bot he had created. It didn't matter if one wasn't alive by human standards. The pure affection they had for each other was real. The loss must have been devastating, especially considering the boy had no one else.
Guan himself empathized with the boy. He knows what it feels like losing someone that was like a brother. He looked at Chase as a case point.
"He'll get over it." Chase said rather flippantly. He got up and headed towards the bedroom.
And Guan?
He just floated there in silent contemplation.
