Charmed CW characters belong to Charmed CW. Denis and Tera, Darcy, Della, and Dora Valensi are my imagination at work. Light research was conducted for context.

17 Jimmy & Darcy: Cut from the Same Cloth

7:20-7:50 am, Oldham, Greater Manchester, Greenfield House Convent then Undetermined Countryside, August 1, 1941

Opening the gossamer cover, Fiona scooped a wriggling infant from the cradle.

"Jimmy, meet Matias."

Jimmy stared at them in shock. Darcy had been pregnant, and had birthed a child of her own without once telling him? A small part of him felt betrayed, that she did not trust him with this secret while she was alive. Brushing that thought aside, it was possible she had her reasons—maybe the parentage was scandalous, she was fleeing an unsavory oppressor from the Azores, or…his mind raced with theories, each more improbable than the next. And why would she have left her darling child here, in a dungeon, of all places?

For a moment, he stepped out of his psyche and objectively evaluated the situation. A jazz singer he had known all of mere weeks had perished from a fatal wartime injury. Fact. Said woman had to have been a single mother (again, fact). Subjectively, he knew, deep down, that there had been no other man in Darcy's life that could have matched what they had, and she had told him she legitimately feared for her life in the Azores.

Jimmy knew from having been raised near Greenfield, that being a single mother held an immense stigma in society; women were banished to institutions to have their babies, provide free scullery services, then forced to watch as their babies were adopted into the homes of wealthy childless couples. In contrast, Darcy was an independent woman, had the wits to work all on her own, and was talented enough to make her mark in the local music industry. A jazz club did have all sorts of patrons and alcoholic substances though, and thus did not seem like the proper place to safely raise a child.

Assuming Darcy came from magical means, perhaps she understood the risks of sending her baby to such a family. If Matias demonstrated any such leanings, the wrong intolerant sort of well-meaning family could forcibly put an end to what they would deem nonsense—which could lead him to being institutionalized for the rest of his earthly life.

Before this child could talk, he was already in danger.

"Would you like to hold him?" Fiona asked softly.

"I've never held a baby before," responded Jimmy, hesitating.

"There's a first time for everything," she replied. Jimmy swallowed hard as he nodded, receiving the bundle that held Matias. He uncovered a piece of the blanket, and examined the baby closely; Matias had a more sun-swept complexion than Darcy (both beautiful in their own ways), with her familiar curly hair, alongside emerging dimples and (he was startled at this finding) strikingly lovely large, grey eyes, that looked as if their sagacity could see the contents of your very soul. If it hadn't been for the fact he knew Darcy for less than a month's time, he would have sworn on his mother's grave that this child was biologically his.

"You are taking the child to his next of kin?" Fiona broke Jimmy's train of thought.

"Oh—yes! I plan to." Jimmy said.

"Well in that case—" Fiona looked around the room and poked her head through the dank corridor, looking to the left and right. "Take him. Now," she whispered, quickly ushering them out of the nursery, which Jimmy belatedly noticed had been completely devoid of children's toys or books. Jimmy soon found himself nearly shoved out of the front door, Matias in his arms (now asleep), as if Fiona were trying to help the baby escape unnoticed from the rest of the Sarcana.

Not that he blamed Fiona at all. In Jimmy's view, the Sarcana seemed altogether a shady lot. He looked past what they called a nursery and thought the surroundings worse than even the poorest state school in all of England. Handcuffs on the ceiling? Books on venom? This was not the right place for Darcy's flesh and blood, he knew with utmost certainty.

With Matias in his arms, Jimmy traversed the lush countryside once more, making his way through several blocks back to Darcy's flat, which felt like the whole of eternity to accomplish. Matias barely stirred.

8:30 am, Oldham, Greater Manchester, The Mauve Flat, August 1, 1941

Back at the Mauve Flat, Jimmy placed Matias down gently on the bed (surrounded by blooms of tapestry to avoid his wandering off) and proceeded to the bathroom to wash his own bedraggled and gloomy face. Checking that Matias was safely kept on the bed, Jimmy stepped into the kitchen and after some rummaging in a cupboard, found some powdered milk, and stirred the contents together to create something hopefully edible for Matias, should he become hungry. He placed the stirred milk into a metal thermos, which went into his canvas satchel. Jimmy pulled out Darcy's letter from his pocket, rereading the traveling-by-marble instructions.

Somehow, Jimmy surmised, the act of tossing the marble would give access to Darcy's sisters. The black marble "return" wording makes it sound as though Darcy wants us to make a physical journey. Truth be told, trying to wrap his mind around this made his brain hurt. He took the marbles out of his pocket, rolling them around in one hand; upon closer evaluation, he noticed that the blue marble's insides were swirling continuously, in a pattern mimicking cirrus clouds on a sunny day.

8:50 am, Oldham, Greater Manchester, The Mauve Flat, August 1, 1941

Suspending all disbelief, Jimmy wondered if tossing the marble would cause an entryway to form, leading to the Azores Islands. If that were the case, it would require rapid travel through time and space. Thinking of Matias, he wondered about just how safe such travel was for a tiny, not-yet-a-year-old baby. He knew from his grade school science courses that objects could be ripped apart from each other when high velocity became a known factor. Jimmy needed a way to keep Matias close to him, just in case. Cloth? Maybe. A shirt? Could rip apart. What then? And then his gaze fell to the flowing sitting room tapestries and curtains, now askew due to yesterday's bombing.

Jimmy used one of the plum-colored brocades to create a makeshift sling to carry Matias, folding and knotting as one of his cousins had taught him years earlier. Having done so, Jimmy gathered the tapestry containing Darcy's body, the sling containing Matias, the canvas satchel and—

Out of the corner of his eye, from where he stood next to the chaise sofa, he spotted a hooded figure step through the shattered glass window and into the sitting room.

It was none other than Elder Celeste.

"Give me the baby—he belongs with the Sarcana." snipped Celeste, without so much as a hello. She strode forward, but still remained a sensible six feet of distance apart. Jimmy found her greeting shockingly rude but was too polite to say so. Rather, he mentally cursed himself for neglecting to board the window up with plywood. There simply had not been any time.

Some seconds later, seeing no movement forward from Jimmy, Celeste gesticulated impatiently. "That is his destiny, he is to be trained in the ways and means of their art!" Something in Jimmy snapped. Perhaps it was a result of seeing the Sarcana's handcuffs on the ceiling. Or the unpleasant arguments he had years ago with his father about refusing to purloin an old lady's purse. Or, even further, the cousins who repeatedly jeered at his fledgling acting career. Enough was enough. Despite, or because of his own grim upbringing, Jimmy knew that it was morally wrong (not to mention, highly unethical) to use a child for indentured labor, and later down the line, weaponization.

"Like hell he is" Jimmy replied, his eyes blazing.

"What instructions did Darcy give?" asked Celeste, now looking at him, irritated yet intrigued at his gumption.

"None that concern you." And with that, Jimmy tossed the blue marble, holding Darcy's wrapped body, with Matias wrapped around him in a sling with the canvas bag, as he jumped through the emerging portal, which rapidly closed behind him with a quiet pop.