Fire and Ice – Chapter 21

Standard disclaimer applies.

Not too long a wait this time and the next chapter is half way there! It's got an end in sight now – woo hoo! I realise how dreadful I've been lately but I really hope people are still enjoying this.

The clock in his room read three o'clock so Jess wasn't surprised when he heard the knock on his door and a maid inform him that his grandfather wanted him to get dressed. With a deep sigh, Jess pulled himself off the bed and opened the wardrobe door, tugging his newly bought suit off the hanger and tossing it behind him onto the rumpled covers of the bed.

He spun slowly on his heel, turning to face the sharply tailored charcoal suit. If he had ever imagined himself wearing a suit, it would be one like this: smooth, sophisticated, modern. He glared at the expensive material lying there as though it represented the sum of all his troubles. In less than two hours it would be a done deal, signed and sealed. For the next year he would be cemented into this new life with the old man. The curtains moved slightly from the breeze through his open window and Jess turned to the movement.

Strictly speaking it was still too cold for open windows but God, Jess needed the movement of air, particularly given his recent confinement. He moved to the window and slid it all the way up, gazing out at the expanse of world outside. The urge to flee was swift and passing: where would he go? How far would he get and more importantly, what would happen to Luke if he failed to go through with his end of the bargain?

Determination set in – the kind of determination that came over people when they realise it's do or die, sink or swim. You grit your teeth and get it over with. What's one year out of the rest of his life? He could learn to live with this – make the best out of it. After all, he could have been back with Liz and her drunken, drugged up boyfriends in New York. There were worse places to be in. He carded his fingers roughly through his tousled hair and, for a moment, his fingers gripped and tugged at the roots as his eyes filled up with unshed tears. He stayed there like that, frozen, as still as a statue just staring out at the world and the precious few held within it that he actually gave a damn about.

Then Jess closed the window and put on the suit.

The ride to the court house took a little under forty minutes. Jess sat in the backseat SUV next to Franklin, playing with a loose thread on the corner of his jacket cuff. He twirled the thread through his fingers, tapping his foot rapidly on the floor. Beside him, Franklin merely watched the scenery passing by. He too was dressed in a classic suit, his mane of white hair neatly set back into a pony tail. He had spent the last few hours going over details with his legal team and then briefing Jess on what he was to say – which it turns out, was to be very little. Now it seemed there was nothing left to do but play it out. Confidence was oozing from every pore in the man's body.

Franklin reached over and caught Jess' hand. A question in the boy's eyes met with no verbal response. Instead, Franklin took a firm hold of the thread and snapped it off. He rolled the thread into a ball, wound the window down and tossed it outside. "Just remember what you've been told, Jess," he remarked, "and you'll do fine."

The teenager's throat was tight and his mouth was dry: he couldn't speak so he settled for nodding once. Hoping to distract himself from his nerves, Jess glanced out of his own window but instead of the scenery, all he caught was his own reflection. A stranger stared back at him – a cultured, tamed boy he didn't recognise. Well that was okay, Jess suddenly decided. No, it was more than okay: it was good. The old him, the real him – he'd leave him with Luke, in a cramped, ramshackle apartment, sitting on a mattress with a folded paperback in his hands. This new Jess, the hollow one, the pretend one – he belonged with Franklin.

Franklin grinned and took advantage of the open window to light up another cigar, its little red and yellow design band now very familiar to Jess as his grandfather seemed to smoke them like a chimney: specially imported – like that was meant to impress him? Jess pointedly turned his head away from the plumes of smoke and edged further towards his side of the car, opening the window a crack.

"Did you get that school thing sorted out?" Jess asked, hoping he wasn't sounding too interested.

The old man nodded. "All taken care of." He patted the leather document folder by his feet. "Got all the documents I need here."

Jess eyed the bag warily but simply offered an, "Okay." At least that was one hurdle overcome.

The old man chuckled then inhaled deeply.

It's amazing how quickly and effortlessly the most significant events in your life can transpire. There should be a series of interruptions, moments of consternation and triple-checking, of summations and objections. Someone was meant to come skidding in to the middle of proceedings, slow everything down from the tick of the clock to the scribble of the pens and force the players to see what was transpiring step by step – make them take notice of how everything was about to change.

But of course, no-one does that; not in real life.

Family Court was unassuming both in its neutral tones and décor and in the formality of its procedures. It was everything it ought to be: legal, efficient, simple. The furniture was arranged more like a conference room than a court room. The questions were plain and mostly directed at Franklin and his lawyers. Paperwork was exchanged, boxes ticked: Could he be financially provided for? Did he have his mother's consent? What about health care? Living arrangements? Education?

Before he knew what had happened, Jess' own signature was on the dotted line, the date already filled in beside it and Franklin Mariano was leading him out of the court, this time with papers granting him permanent physical custody.

"Well done, sir!" Their lawyer, a man called Stapleson, clapped Franklin on the shoulder as the men shook hands outside the courthouse. There were other members of Franklin's legal team present but they, having a lesser role in proceedings, simple hung back allowing their top dog to reap the rewards of a case well done.

"Thank you for all your help," Franklin replied, another cigar already between his grinning lips. "It all went smoothly." He offered one to Stapleson who politely refused. The atmosphere was celebratory but Jess couldn't help standing aside from the whole thing, watching like a distant spectator. For that matter, he might as well have been, being all but ignored by the self-congratulatory party in-front of him.

It was done. Jess looked around him – the trees, sidewalks, citizens and buildings: this was his life then? He noticed the High School across the street – average sized, white-washed, no football field evident but a large building to the rear seemed to proudly display a sign boasting of the school's prowess in basketball. Of course, Jess realised, there were many schools and he had no idea which one his grandfather had enrolled him in. He made a mental note to check that.

Jess glanced up when he noticed a shadow fall across his path. One of his grandfather's legal team – Mannings, the man who had guided him through the proceedings – was standing in front of him, actually acknowledging his presence. Jess returned at least the courtesy of eye-contact. As far as lawyers went, Mannings wasn't too bad, he supposed. Maybe that's what came from still being the 'little fish' in a big ocean?

"Congratulations," he offered. Jess was starting to feel like someone had won the lottery or had a baby. What exactly did anyone have to be thankful for?

"Huh," he replied, tugging at his tie and undoing the top buttons on his shirt. Mannings began to reach in to the bag he was carrying.

"Now that the guardianship is official," he started to say, "we should really meet up as soon as possible to discuss the other matter." Even as Jess narrowed his eyes in confusion, he could see Mannings withdraw from the bag a fairly large yellow envelope.

"What other matter?" Jess questioned. Was it something to do with the papers Franklin had promised for Luke? And if so, why were they being given to him? But before he could even reach for the envelope, a large, talon-like hand snatched it out of Manning's hold.

"Thank you, Mr. Mannings," Franklin all but hissed. "I'll take that."

"But Sir," he started to protest. However, Franklin cut him off, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and guiding him back towards the shoal of his legal group.

"It's alright," Frank insisted firmly. "As his legal guardian, I'll deal with that." Then he hastily folded the letter and slid it securely into the inside of his jacket pocket. Mannings looked unconvinced, glancing back over to where Jess still stood, staring after them suspiciously. He was quickly carried away by his own employers, however, once they saw Franklin leading him towards them. They moved the young lawyer aside, speaking to him in hushed yet firm tones.

Immediately, Franklin walked back over to Jess and grabbed a hold of his elbow, tugging him along after him. Jess stumbled in his effort to catch up. "Car's here," Franklin announced, just as the vehicle pulled up in-front of them. Before he could utter more than an annoyed exclamation, he was bundled in to the car, Franklin moving in to sit beside him.

"What was that?" Jess questioned, as soon as his grandfather was next to him.

"Nothing," he replied. The car pulled away and Franklin began to relax again, leaning forward to the driver to exchange a brief instruction. The driver nodded in response to whatever had been said.

But Jess wasn't satisfied. "Was that letter for me?" Franklin looked at him, hard:

"It's legal business, Jess. I deal with that. Now you just forget about it. You did good in there. Now you can relax." He patted the teenager on the knee.

Jess narrowed his eyes, shifting in his seat as he undid his tie the rest of the way and pulled it off. "And Luke?"

His grandfather sighed. "You're persistent, aren't you?" Jess gave no answer. "The papers are at home," Franklin acquiesced. "I'll have them dispatched when we get back." He turned away from his grandson, content to let the matter rest.

"I want to see them."

"You'll see whatever I damned well say you can!"

The outburst was so sudden and intense that Jess actually flinched, drawing back, his eyes wide. The teenager hated to be reminded of how small he actually was but it was times like these where years of conditioning kicked in.

To his left, Franklin was silent for a moment. He took a deep breath and then turned back to his grandson. "We'll have us a nice dinner tonight," he reminded Jess. "Maybe break out the wine? It is a special occasion, after all."

Jess' eyes were fixed on his lap, willing his cheeks not to burn. Mutely, he nodded.

"Then I'll drop you off in town. Got anywhere you'd like to go?" Jess shook his head. Then a thought occurred to him. His voice still came out smaller than he liked it:

"That school across from the courthouse?" he asked. "Bloomfield High? Is that the one I'm down for?" Jess watched as Franklin leaned back in his seat making his presence bigger.

"School would be no use with you, Jess," the man remarked, casually. Instantly, Jess sat up straighter, staring accusingly at his grandfather.

"But you told the judge I was registered!" he shot back. Franklin merely raised one eyebrow, both at Jess' assumption and as a silent warning to check his tone.

With great effort, Jess saw the gesture for what it was and fought hard to reign his anger back in.

"I never said you would be in school," the old man clarified. "I think you've more than proven you don't get on in a place like that. And besides," he added, "someone with a brain as sharp as yours would be wasted in there."

Jess had a bad feeling about this. "So what's happening then?"

Franklin smiled. "I've hired you a private tutor," he explained, much to Jess' horror.

"You what!" Jess was almost speechless.

"A tutor," he repeated. "He'll come to the house five days a week. He's been a family friend for many years and happens to be extremely well qualified. We were lucky to get him," Franklin added. "Friend or not, he doesn't come cheap so don't you go wasting time and slacking off."

Jess folded his arms tightly across his torso and glowered across at his grandfather. "What the hell?" he demanded, angrily

"Hey!" his grandfather cautioned him, sharply, a finger pointed in his direction. Jess ignored it.

"Do you know how hard it is to stay focused even with a room full of students? How am I supposed to get through every lesson with just me and the damned teacher? He's going to be watching everything I do like a damned hawk!" He kicked the empty seat in-front of him. "Thanks a lot!" Jess spat. He surprised himself by actually not being surprised when Franklin quickly reached across the car and slapped him.

"Check your tone and your language, boy!" his grandfather admonished in a low voice. Jess said nothing but his gaze lowered to his lap even as his arms continued to be wrapped tightly across his chest. Franklin took his silence for an acknowledgement and seemed finished with the correction.

The matter dropped, they continued the journey back to the house in silence. It was only later that evening that Jess realised: with all the anger he'd felt at being placed in a position where it would be nearly impossible to slack off from his lessons, even for a minute he had completely ignored the other outcome of his private tutoring: once again he would not be leaving the house.

Dinner was a long, drawn out affair – at least it seemed that way to Jess. His aunt and cousins, having apparently been informed of Franklin's intentions to bring Jess home from his travels had not been surprised when they came back from their trip to find a strange, taciturn teenage boy in the house only a few short days ago. Nor however, were they particularly thrilled.

Jess glanced up from his untouched plate of lemon chicken to his Aunt Miranda, across the table. She was a tall woman, stocky, broad shoulders and a sweeping mass of ginger hair, pulled back into a barrette. She had a pair of piggy, close-set eyes and nose slightly too small for her face. Whenever she looked at her new nephew it was with a mixture of disinterest and disgust: it had been the expression she wore when she first met him and the expression she habitually brought out whenever they happened to cross paths, since.

Not that it happened often. Either she or Jess usually engineered that.

Diana and Melissa were his cousins: smaller build, fair hair, mousy expressions. Jess could only assume they took after their absent father though the image that conjured up of the man made Jess shudder when he considered the pairing with their mother. He couldn't quite figure the girls out. They were older than him, ever so slightly. Diana was at her third year in an out-of-state college though somehow found the time to visit with alarming frequency. Jess couldn't decide which college would have accepted her on academic status so decided she must have bought her way in.

Melissa was a freshman at a local college and spent most days looking as though she were about to burst into tears at any given moment. Jess instinctively pitied her roommate. He glanced across to where Melissa now sat to his right, staring at him with a slightly vacant, slightly dreamy expression.

He fixed her with a hard glare, designed to ward her off. Instead she placed her chin on her hand and continued to stare at him:

"Are we really related?" The girl gave a wistful smile and edged her chair inches closer to her cousin. Jess rolled his eyes.

"Don't take it personally," he advised her. "I know I try not to." Having sufficiently confused Melissa, Jess turned back to his untouched meal and silently willed it to be over.

The evening crowd at the diner was in full swing. Luke's pencil never rested behind his ear for longer than a minute before he was using it to take another order. It didn't help that the Stars Hollow annual Spring Festival was just drawing to a close in the park opposite, the crowds deciding to prolong their day out and pile into the diner before heading back to their houses. Bags of shopping and over-sized stuffed animals forced chairs to be spaced further apart and Luke had to almost hold his breath to weave his way between the narrow gaps between tables.

'I really need to hire some extra help around here', Luke thought grimly. So far the need hadn't arisen but Luke couldn't kid himself for ever. He slapped a burger and fries down in front of another eager customer with less pleasantries than normal and then fought his way back towards the kitchen for the next table's order. Sighing heavily, Luke eyed the front window of the store already envisaging the sign he was going to have to make that night and display the next day.

"Luke!" Caesar's voice barely carried across the general din from where he stood by the phone, receiver in his hand. Luke glanced over, momentarily annoyed that his cook was out of the kitchen on such a hectic night as this – the phone could wait.

"Luke!" he called again. Luke edged a little nearer as Caesar continued. "Some guy on the phone for you. I think he says his name is Conibear."

Conibear? Assuming he'd heard the name correctly, Luke quickly ran it through his memory. Nothing familiar came up and he didn't have time to start scouring through address books.

Another crowd of people pushed open the diner's door and Luke groaned: was common sense in short supply today, he wondered? Where on earth did these people assume they were going to sit?

"Don't know him," Luke called back, irritably. "Get a number will you? I'll call him back." Caesar nodded and Luke assumed relayed his message because by the time he'd grabbed the plates of food at the pass, Caesar was already back in the kitchen.

It had taken a lot of convincing but finally Franklin had relented and allowed Jess to walk into town, rather than dropping him off.

"I'll pick you up in two hours," he'd informed him. "At nine." Jess had glanced down at his watch and nodded. There wouldn't be much still open at this time but with any luck, he might find a theatre or a café. Franklin had given him a parting remark to keep his coat done up – the weather was looking stormy – and then strolled back inside the house, shutting the door. Jess then saw the man's bedroom light come on upstairs. Franklin often sat up there for hours, reading, watching television, enjoying the solitude.

Eagerly, Jess made his way over to the gates but then suddenly stopped short. Something had grabbed his attention. He turned to see what it was better. Around the side of the house, curtains were flapping through an open window on the ground floor. Jess took a couple of steps forward, trying to work out the room. Then it hit him: his grandfather's study.

Jess walked up to the window and peered in to the darkened room. The gates were quickly forgotten as Jess' mind turned back to the yellow envelope and the other matters that Mannings had talked about. On their return home that afternoon, Jess was sure he'd seen Franklin go directly to his study. It was where he stored all his private documents.

Just what was in that damned envelope? It had to have something to do with him – maybe even Luke? Didn't he have a right to know? Cautiously, looking around to check no one was watching, Jess pushed the window up, placed his hands on the sill and pushed himself into the room. He landed quietly, just behind his grandfather's polished mahogany desk.

It was very dimly lit inside from a distant hall light spilling under the closed door. A small desk lamp was nearby. Jess held his breath and glanced at the door, prepared to dart back through the open window if he heard anyone approach but for now, the coast seemed clear. He decided to risk turning on the desk lamp: it wasn't too bright and would illuminate little more than the desk before him.

The study was immaculate – nothing out of place, no piles of papers to sort through but Jess had a good instinct for hiding places. He tried the deep bottom draw of the desk: it was locked. Reaching over to the stationary tray on the desk top, he removed a slender metal letter opener and set to work on the lock. It opened far too easily. For such a private man, Franklin needed to seriously upgrade his security, Jess mused.

Fingers shaking just fractionally, Jess moved aside the top layer of papers from the drawer and found the yellow envelope staring invitingly back at him. He exhaled, sharply. Could it really have been that easy?

Carefully, Jess removed the envelope and slid it open. The seal had already been broken. Jess' heart began to beat a little faster. He pulled the letter out and saw it was several pages thick with another legal looking document attached. The boy's eyes narrowed and he moved closer to the light to see properly. Scanning the pages, Jess noticed his name, printed clearly in bold letters, somewhere near the top of the page in the body of the text.

He didn't immediately recognise what kind of a legal document this was and the legal jargon was still something his brain was getting used to deciphering. However, Jess was getting the impression that it didn't resemble the custody papers he was used to seeing.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Jess dropped the letter, his heart skipping a beat and his eyes shot up, scouring the darkened room for the source of the cold, hard voice.

Two shapes moved out of the shadows, the office door now opened but before Jess could respond, he felt himself wrenched savagely away from the desk and slammed up against the wall behind him. He cried out sharply as his back impacted on the hard plaster, feeling the wind knocked out of him and his lungs gasp desperately for air. In the next instant, not giving him time to catch his breath, Jess could feel large vice-like hands grip his arm and spin him round to face the wall.

This time, his face slammed against the glass of a framed certificate and Jess felt blood start to pour from his nose. There wasn't time to wonder if it was broken. He tried to speak but a hand now pushed him hard in the centre of his back, pinning him to the wall and making it impossible to breath. As one hand pushed at him, the other held his right arm out straight and yanked backwards.

Jess heard the awful wrenching, popping sound at just about the same moment that he heard himself scream.

Thanks for reading. Hope you're enjoying it and would love to hear your thoughts.