It took near an hour to get back. Jack had been out in a completely different part of the city last night (hence why he'd been sleeping in the alley) and his stomach was protesting way too much for the tube. Lukas didn't give him any questioning looks about the walk … or mime any questions or something – fuck knew how he talked besides nodding or shaking his head. In fact, Lukas walked about ten paces behind him for the whole journey, pretending he wasn't with Jack and doing a damn sound job of it. Not a soul noticed Lukas. He wove between the crowds with a grace many lifelong Londoners hadn't picked up yet and dipped his head just enough to avoid any chance eye contact. He was invisible, which was probably why he was dissociating himself from Jack.
Jack stood out.
On the best of days, his presence was obnoxious, but now he slouched and glowered and shouldered his way past the civilians who didn't already give him a wide berth and suspicious eyes. He'd already traded insults with one skinhead prick who'd thought he had the right of way. So fair enough that Lukas trailed behind. Not that it stopped him tossing glances over his shoulder every damn minute to check the kid was still following him.
By the time they got to his building, he was checking over his shoulder at least three times a minute, doubts bulging into an oppressive certainty that next time he looked, the kid would be gone. Poof, vanished into the crowds, and Jack would have fucked up again. So seeing Lukas follow him up the staircase brought a wide grin to his face.
Took a little edge off his arch-nemesis stairs. He'd rather crawl all the way back to that alley than climb them right now, but the lift was broken. As always. Best not to catch it even when it did work because there was about a 50/50 chance that it'd break down with him in it, and that meant a long, boring wait at best and a plummeting drop to his death at worst.
He passed Kev on the way up, a bruiser Jack worked with sometimes who lived two floors down. Jack hardly managed to nod a greeting, but Kev gave a grin that said he understood and clapped Jack on the shoulder with one meaty hand as he walked past. Jack had to stop to steady himself before he could continue.
Fucker didn't understand shit if he was near knocking Jack flying like that when his stomach was flip-flopping like this.
Finally, they reached floor nine. Jack used the wall to hold himself upright as he trudged down the corridor, fingers trailing over the flaking, dirty paint. When he got to his door, he stopped and sighed. Hanging upright by a splintering piece of wood attached to the lock – the only sturdy part of the door. That'd be the TV gone.
Well at least he didn't have to break in himself.
"This is it, kid," Jack said as Lukas stopped just outside the door, one eyebrow raised in something that looked a damn lot like condescension, and Jack's heart gave a squeeze. Jesus fuck, he looked so much like Mik with that look on. "Come in. Sit down somewhere. I need to…" Jack grimaced at the door, fingers pushing back through the side of his hair. "I'll just … tape it closed or something. Fucking hell."
Lukas chose one of the seats at the kitchenette table. Given a choice between that and the sofa – the only choices – it was hundred percent the better option. Jack didn't like to think about what all the stains on there were, but he was desensitised enough to all this griminess that it didn't bother him. If the kid had been living on the streets, he'd get used to it – to the whole place – within the week.
Jack rinsed out three glasses, the cold water splashing over his icicle fingers and making him cringe, and filled them to the brim with water before he joined Lukas at the table. One down in front of the kid, and once he'd swallowed two painkillers, Jack dumped himself the opposite side of the table with his own two glasses. With his arm outstretched like this, the Dark Mark on his forearm stuck out like a brand, and the sickly pink it'd faded to since the Fall only made it look more violent.
Scratching at it, Jack tore his eyes away.
"How d'you like it?"
With those eerie, mismatched eyes, Lukas stared at him. The heating whirred in the silence and Jack reckoned his whole damn face was crimson by the time Lukas, slowly and deliberately, shrugged.
Couldn't talk. Right. Actually…
Jack got up and rifled through one of the drawers. Came up a bit sticky – whole damn drawer was sticky – but it'd do.
"Here y'go, kid." Jack dropped a notepad and a biro in front of Lukas, who regarded it with mild surprise. "Write on there if you wanna say something. Don't worry about how much paper you use, I've got more lying around somewhere and we'll buy more to—" Jack clenched his teeth against his babbling. "I'll buy more if … well, y'know."
Lukas raised both his eyebrows this time and pulled the notepad towards him. He wrote quickly and surprisingly neatly and turned the pad to Jack.
'How do you know my name?' it read.
Weird first question. "Don't happen often?"
Lukas scowled and shook his head.
"Fair enough. I knew you when you were a baby." Jack tapped the side of his eye socket. "I recognised you earlier by your eyes."
Lukas wrote the next note so hastily that his tidy handwriting turned to a scrawl. 'You knew me before? When? For how long? Did you know the boy—' He tugged the pad back before Jack finished and added something else. 'Did you know the boy who was shouting after me? Who are you?' The last question was printed and underlined twice.
Jack scratched his fingers through the side of his hair. How much did he tell the kid? Obviously everything. If there was one thing Jack weren't ever gonna be, it was a parent. Sure, he'd look after the kid – he was a fucking kid after all – but damn if Jack was going to be a father to him. He weren't cut out for that at all. The more he distanced himself, the less his clusterfuck of a skull would rub off. Best case, he dug up Anthea within the week and palmed the kid back off to her.
So if he wasn't parenting Lukas, he wasn't coddling him, so no reason not to tell him everything, but right now, they just needed to get things straightened out. A more elaborate explanation could wait.
"Well…" Jack rubbed deeper at the back of his neck, digging his fingers into the aches. "Um…"
Lukas sat back in his chair and twirled one finger in a 'hurry up' gesture. A wash of familiarity, full of warmth and a toxic itch right at the back of Jack's mind. The multitude of tiny scars on the palms of his hands caught the light that swirled through the water glass. Snorting, Jack slumped in his chair and shook his head. Just like Mik.
Shit, he needed to find Anthea and get rid of this kid.
"Well, like I said, I knew you when you were a baby. You went missing just after you turned one." Jack trapped the paper beneath one finger as Lukas went to pull it back. "Promise I'll tell you the whole story later, but let's just skim over everything right now. That alright?"
Lukas nodded, a measured dip of his chin. He pulled the paper again and Jack let him take it. 'If you don't, the moment I realise you don't plan to, I'm leaving.'
Jack bit down on his tongue to supress a smile. Hey, maybe Lukas planned to stay at least for a little while. That'd be nice. Jack would hold up his end of the bargain and he'd get a little warm glow to keep him company as he drilled past rock bottom.
"Hey, I might be a total shitbag, but I keep my promises," Jack said. "But yeah, you disappeared – kidnapped, we all reckoned. Then when we couldn't find you, we reckoned dead and that was the last anyone heard of you 'til now."
Another nod, and Lukas prodded one of the notes he'd written earlier. Did you know the boy who was shouting after me?
"Oh, uh … nah, I've never seen that kid before in my life. Looked younger than you, even. Probably weren't even born when you disappeared."
'How old am I?'
"Oh, fuck. Uh…" Jack ran over the dates in his head and weren't that a monumental effort wading through this mush inside his skull. "You're six." Jack wasn't surprised when Lukas's mouth dropped open. If he didn't know his age, he'd be judging by his looks and by them, Jack would put him at nearly ten. "Halloween birthday, if you fancy that. Seventy-eight."
Lukas nodded and tapped the underlined question. Who are you?
"I'm Jack."
The kid shrugged. It seemed to say 'that'll do', which was good because it was all Jack was gonna share. He'd left the rest behind long ago.
The first glass of water sat empty, a ray of sunlight streaking up the side, and now Jack sipped the second. The silence between them dragged out.
How did he even tell the kid his story? Total loss on that one. There was way too much to put into one coherent tale, for Jack at least. His old friends – Lukas's parents and the others who'd known the kid – they'd been way better with words; they'd have managed it. Jack was just a shitbag junkie with a tongue that stumbled over telling the time.
Jack started when the notepad appeared in front of his face. Damn, he'd zoned out completely there. Needed to get some fucking sleep before he tried to explain anything, and that was what's what.
'What are you thinking about?' the note read. Jack frowned and Lukas pulled the pad back and wrote again. 'You looked very thoughtful for a while. I was curious.'
Kid would learn better than thinking Jack actually had a single coherent thought rolling 'round his head when he stared at walls like that.
"Nothing really, kid." Lukas scowled at him. "How to tell you about all the disappearance shit, I guess. It's a helluva long story if you want all the ins and outs."
Jack stood up and went to fill another glass of water. Beside the sink was the pouch of baccy he'd stopped to buy after borrowing a tenner off Turner when he passed him on the way home. Lukas had disappeared somewhere while Jack went in the shop but popped back up trailing Jack almost as soon as the shop door knocked shut behind him. Jack fished in his drawer for skins and filters, then brought them back to the table and rolled a cigarette.
"You mind?"
Lukas shook his head and Jack pulled his lighter out, grimacing at the tiny puddle of lighter fluid at the bottom. Fuck sake, he'd never get it lit. He flicked it, flicked it, flicked it again. Tiny sparks flew but a flame didn't pop up. Jack tilted it over and held down the gas, rolling the flint awkwardly with his other hand. Still nothing. He squeezed his eyes shut, tugging his fingers through his hair, and hissed between his teeth.
When he opened them, Lukas had his hand stretched out with a little smirk on his lips, and when Jack went to pass him the lighter, he pulled his hand away and pointed at the rollie pinched between Jack's lips. Weird thing to ask for but Jack handed it over anyway.
"Good luck getting that thing lit without—" Lukas, with a cute little frown, stared at the tip of the cigarette and snapped his fingers at the end. Jack's mouth dropped open— "… a goddamn fucking lighter."
The tip had flared and now it glowed red hot, wisps of smoke swirling from the end.
Well, that definitely solved some problems.
The kid wasn't quite looking at him. Eyes like a shutter had banged shut behind them. Jack grinned and, mostly for show, made a small beckoning gesture with his fingers. The rollie slipped from Lukas's loose grip and floated over to Jack. He caught it, took a drag with all the dry smoke flooding his tongue, and sighed. That was what he'd wanted all fucking day.
Lukas's pad appeared in front of Jack's face again. 'How did you do that?' underlined with a thick scribble.
Jack grinned at him. "How'd you get it lit?"
Lukas took his time over his explanation, and much of it was crossed out when he showed it to Jack. And that was cute and also kinda sad. Jack'd never had that problem – at least not with magic – but at least the kid wouldn't have to worry about Jack freaking on him with it.
'It's something I can do. I taught myself. I have some sort of power. I can make it do whatever I like. How can you do it too? I thought I was the only one.'
Jack supposed he should be impressed by Lukas's control. It was pretty nuts good. Only one other person Jack had known had anywhere near that control, but that one other went beyond control. Lukas wouldn't have that level for a long time, no matter what he said about being able to do anything he wanted. To be fair, seeing Mik in his eyes like that – in his face and the way he stood – Jack wouldn't be half-surprised if he got there sooner rather than later.
A stab of some wet, aching feeling got him right in the gut, and gritting his teeth, Jack closed it off.
Focus on the kid, not the past.
"It ain't just you," Jack said, "and it ain't just us. Well, actually, what you just did with your hands and your head to control it – that's pretty damn special. Most people use these—" Jack wiggled his fingers and his kitchen drawer slid open. A slim stick of wood drifted over, tumbling head over tail through the air, and settled into his palm. A small smile pulled at his lips at the familiar pulse his wand sent up his arm. Like a cat rubbing its face against his knuckles after he'd been away. He could almost hear the purr. "It's a wand."
Lukas raised an eyebrow and Jack laughed. Jeez, it was uncanny. But it was kinda better.
"Just about everyone who uses, magic—" Lukas huffed out a breath through his nose, both eyebrows up and a sardonic smile on his lips. "Yeah, magic. Most people who use magic have to use a wand, plus you gotta use a wand for anything special anyway – and most people who can do magic without one, and that's like no one anyway – they do it after years of practice and then can hardly lift a pen.
"There's only one other guy I knew who could do it as easily as us, and he's … he died. A few years ago now. I mean, a decade, I guess. Shit…" Another stir went through his chest saying that, a much more familiar one that clogged his lungs up with water, so he moved on quick as quick. "So it still makes you special. Even if I can do it as well."
Lukas stared hard at Jack with measuring eyes, head tilted ever so slightly. It was starting to get a little uncomfortable by the time Lukas broke his gaze. Just like Mik.
Lukas wrote quickly. 'Do these magical people live elsewhere? Secretly?'
"Secretly, the whole society is hidden from the muggles – non-magic people – and there's way too many laws about it, but they live in amongst the muggles, just … separate." Jack paused as Lukas jotted something down on the pad, but he didn't lift the notepad, so Jack carried on. "Good thing this has come up really. Your parents, they were both magical and I'd have had to explain the whole magic thing to tell you your story, and fuck me, that would've been a nightmare if you didn't know shit about it. I mean there's still a load more to tell you but at least we've gotten the 'fuck off, you're crazy' bits sorted."
A little laugh escaped Lukas's lips at that. It came out weird – silent, not much more than huffing breaths – and Lukas blinked hard, pressing his lips shut as soon as the noise got past them. Jack frowned, a little ache nestling under his ribs. Was laughing that surprising for this kid?
This time Lukas showed Jack what he'd written, though he'd torn off the other page and set it to the side. 'I'd like you to tell me about how I went missing and explain briefly who my parents are and how you know me, but I don't want to know about this magic world unless I have to. I don't want to have anything to do with it.'
"How come?"
'I just don't.'
"Sure. When do you want to hear about your parents? Like, can it wait 'til I've had a nap? I'm wrecked and you don't look too hot yourself." Lukas narrowed his eyes for a moment then nodded. "I've only got one bed. Reckon you can sleep on the sofa? You'll fit way better than me." Lukas gave it a quick glance and scrunched up his nose. "I'll give you some sheets." Lukas nodded. "Great."
Jack stood up and went to the window, opening it a crack to flick his fag end outside. He grabbed sheets and a blanket from his room, and then on a second thought, grabbed two. It was damned cold in his flat. Heating didn't work for shit. Lukas stood idly before the small coffee table where there had been a TV sat on top. Whoever had broken into Jack's flat had stolen that and the video player, but it wasn't really a great loss. He'd stolen it off someone else in the first place.
Jack tossed the bedding over the back of the sofa. "So…" Lukas raised an eyebrow at him and twirled his fingers again. "Are you staying?"
Lukas nodded and then held up a finger (but…) and pointed at the notepad still sitting on the coffee table. Jack took a step in that direction but stopped as Lukas started waving his hands in choppy gestures (no!). When he had Jack's attention again, he pointed at the notepad then mimed writing and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
"I don't understand…"
Lips pressed tightly together, Lukas stalked over to the table and picked his notepad. He flicked back a page and pointed at something he'd already written – the note saying he'd leave if he thought Jack wasn't going to tell him everything. Ah, something he'd already written. He was staying unless Jack broke his promise.
"Yeah, I'll tell you. Don't worry. Now get some sleep and please don't wake me up. I'll be starved enough to be up for dinner, but lemme sleep 'til then." Lukas nodded and Jack smiled at him, already taking steady steps backwards towards his room. "Thanks. Night, kid." Lukas gave him a little wave. Jack paused in his doorway. "It's good to have you here."
Lukas's smile almost seemed to say the same.
•─────⋅ ⋅ ⋅─────•
Jack never found Anthea.
For a good month, he spent every waking hour looking high and low as his obnoxiously obvious fugitive head allowed, and considering most of the contacts Jack was after were of the no-good kind, it was a pretty thorough search. He turned out Wizarding Britain and Wizarding Denmark – the Valrssens, Anthea's family, were from up that way – but no cigar. Not even a goddamn cigarette. Astraea Valrssen, Anthea's sister – she was hard to miss, knocking at the door of the Danish Minister's Office with her silver-headed cane, but Jack came up just short of leaving Lukas with her instead.
Truth be told, Jack kind of liked the kid, and the thought of Astraea's black, regal gaze tied his stomach in knots. She'd seen too much of the bad side and the sad side of him, and his spine melted before he could get the guts.
So, with Sirius Black holed up in Azkaban and no living relatives that side either, Jack did the unthinkable – he adopted a kid.
And … it kinda went well. Miracle of the fucking century, 'cause Jack was a clusterfuck of issues so big they'd probably exert their own gravity well if someone could materialise them, and god knew in those first couple of years, some normal kid would've gotten messed up to shit by all the times Jack disappeared on benders and stumbled into the flat too drunk to stand.
Every fucking time he sobered up afterward, lying in bed – sometimes his own, sometimes not, sometimes just another fucking alley floor – the guilt consumed him. A black hole starting in his gut that bloomed and twisted through his whole self until all that was left was that pressure cracking his skull open and his hand pressed there while he gasped back the tears.
Except Lukas wasn't normal.
When Jack saw Lukas in those mornings, afternoons, evenings after, the kid just looked up from his book or a game or the meal he'd just cooked. A grin at once like a wolf and a serpent would bloom across his face, and he'd burst into laughter.
Kid didn't get bothered by Jack being a fuck-up. The kid just thought it was funny.
And Jack did try. A lot of the time, he was sober, more and more as the years went on. He tried to discipline Lukas – tell him to go to bed when the clock struck one and he found the kid still gaming on the sofa. Tell him to eat his greens, wash the dishes, do his schoolwork, that sorta thing. Every damn time, Lukas just got this look on his face – a look too old for a damn kid and drenched with such blatant indulgence that Jack's cheeks heated up – and flashed him the note that the little prick kept stored at the beginning of his notepad.
'I'm not here for you to baby me, Jack. I just like the company and somewhere to sleep, but I'm more than happy to give it up and go somewhere else.'
Like seriously, how did he argue with that? At least Lukas did the dishes, and the kid was too smart by half to get told to do his schoolwork.
The greens were more of a problem, but hey, he was working on it.
All in all, they were good. Lukas was good. Not normal by any means – he had a temper and the emotional range of a teaspoon and was manipulative as shit to boot, but he was, as far as Jack was concerned, incredibly well-adjusted all things considered.
Most of Jack's friends didn't question the random kid Jack showed up with to poker night one month and brought every night since, no matter that they looked like chalk and cheese next to each other. Jack told them Lukas was his cousin's kid, and all of them looked sceptical at having a kid crouch on a chair beside the wide table while they drank and smoked and snorted coke, right up until Lukas stacked the last of Turner's chips in his pile and spread a four-five off-suit bluff onto the table, winning the night.
Jack had ruffled his hair and called him lucky, but even though Lukas scowled and said there wasn't any luck about it, the name stuck anyway. Jack's lucky charm.
Eventually, Jack started taking him other places as well. So long as the event wouldn't have that big red EXPLICIT rating stamped over the attendance card, Jack took him along. The kid seemed to like it, skulking about and watching all Jack's gutterrat acquaintances with eyes like a serpent and a smile that came both as close and as far from innocence as Jack had seen on him.
It was probably good for Jack too. If Jack brought Lukas along, it kept him toeing the edge. Wasn't like he didn't keep a hawk-eye on the kid every minute they hung around those sleazebags, and he knew he couldn't do it if he got fucked up, so it kept him tipsy, kept him up out the gutter, and … it was actually doing him some good.