A/N: I know it's been a while, but this part was reaaally hard to write. Even harder than the last one… although I'm more satisfied with this chapter than I was with the last. Anyway, with these two hurdles out of the way, the next one should be a lot easier to write and hopefully it'll be out sooner than usual. Hopefully.
Part 8
That day in the Shadow Park—when she had freed him from the wooden puppet form—Jenny had gotten more than she had ever dared to ask for, to hope for, from her grandfather. She had gotten a chance to thank him, to say she was sorry. To say goodbye.
Well, she'd thought it was goodbye. It turned out she might have been wrong.
Not the kind of wrong you could simply shrug off without concern, because everyone makes mistakes once in a while and you're only human. Not the kind of wrong you could just accept without a word, because someone told you so, or even because you saw it with your own eyes. She felt like she'd been punched in the gut; she felt winded. Seeing him, standing there, just the way she remembered him from her childhood, was so painful it was almost physical.
"Grandpa…" she choked out, her eyes widening. She could feel Julian standing behind her—they were still stuck in their half-embrace, and shock froze Jenny to the spot. If her legs gave out, the way they felt like they would any moment now, at least he would catch her. At least she had that.
"Jenny." Her grandfather smiled. The warm expression, the kind face, weathered face, the thinning white hair, slightly stooped build—she was almost taken in by it all. Almost.
She shook her head slowly, no…
"No."
It couldn't be him, it simply couldn't. She had freed him; she knew she had. And for freeing him, she had given the Shadow Men a new claim, incurred a debt that Julian had paid off in her place. "You're not really him," she informed the apparition.
The man with her grandfather's face frowned and glanced between her and Julian. "Jenny, it is me. I know it's hard for you to believe that, but—"
"No, you're lying," she cut him off.
It wasn't that it was hard for her to believe—it was impossible. Because her mind couldn't accept the possibility, the defeat that it implied. The one little thing she had gained from the whole experience, they couldn't take that away from her.
Besides, he didn't smell like anything. The man she remembered had always been accompanied by that familiar smell of peppermint. Except before, when he'd been trapped inside the form of the mechanical wizard in the Shadow Park
"It's just not possible. I set you—him—I set him free." Turning to Julian, she repeated, almost pleaded, "I set him free."
Looking at his face, closed again, it was hard to keep in mind what had happened before. It was hard to remember that the past eight years had passed at all. She remembered how he had looked when he was trying to shut himself off from her last time. After he'd returned Summer and Jenny had tried to convince him that he could change—that he could be better. His expression was the same now. His features could have been cut from marble. He was gazing at the other man, but he looked at Jenny as she directed her words at him.
Oh please, tell me it isn't true, she demanded silently, looking into his eyes. For once, she wasn't astounded by his beauty, not mesmerized by his exotic flair. She could stare into the depths of the sapphire and not feel like she was drowning, or flying, or both at once.
He would know, wouldn't he? He would know and he would tell her that everything was fine—that this wasn't her grandfather, wasn't anyone at all, just a trick of the Shadow Men. Just a part of the game. But when he spoke, in a quiet, serious voice, he shattered her hopes.
"It is. It's really him."
It took a moment for the words to sink in. But when they did, her reaction was almost immediate.
As if burned, Jenny snatched back her hands. They had been clutching at his shirt—she hadn't even realized it until now. In the same moment, she stumbled back two steps, away from him. Vaguely, she realized how very much she must have resembled a cornered alley cat, eyes wide and flitting between the two figures. From the concerned-looking man who was supposed to be her dead grandfather, to Julian's indecipherable features.
She stared at Julian accusingly.
That wasn't what she wanted—needed—to hear. She needed to hear that she was right, that he wasn't really her grandfather. Her real grandfather was safe, where the Shadow Men could never get him.
Her voice came out mildly frantic as she spoke. "You said they had no claim, that their debt was cancelled when they carved out your name. That's what you said!" She took another step backward. "He was supposed to be free!"
"Jenny, just calm down." He tried to grab her hand, to pull her back to him, but she slipped out of his grasp immediately.
"Don't," she hissed in a low, deceptively even voice. "Don't you tell me to calm down. Just tell me the truth." He didn't answer right away, instead sharing a look with the other man, and that made her angry. "Tell me the truth!"
She glanced at them both, not knowing what to believe, what to think. Her breath was coming out heavier than normal, her hands clenched at her sides. This time when he reached for her she didn't just avoid him, but knocked his hand away with her own. Something flashed in his eyes momentarily, something that should have stopped her, or at least caused her to pause—to reconsider—something that wasn't anger. She chose to ignore it.
"Jenny, please," the man she was trying to convince wasn't whom he claimed to be, pleaded. An ache in her heart as she looked at him told her just how close she was to losing the battle. He just seemed so much like her grandfather. Every feature, every mannerism, just so much like the man she remembered…
Suddenly, a hand grasped her chin, and fingers pushed her cheek until her head turned. She was looking into a pair of very blue, very stern eyes. "Listen to me," Julian said and she did, trapped not only by his hand, but also by the quiet intensity of his gaze. He nodded, seeing her compliance.
"He is your grandfather. You did set him free." Her lips parted, to speak, to protest that both could not be true. With a shake of his head, he cut her off. "The claim—the debt—was paid. This," he made a general indication of their present surroundings, though his eyes never left hers, "is not a trick, not something the Shadow Men made up. You set him free." He emphasized his words, speaking slowly, deliberately.
She shook her head again, not in denial but confusion this time. Releasing his firm hold, his hands slipped to her shoulders. "What are you saying… that the Underworld is real?" Turning her head, she looked at her grandfather, who stood watching the exchange silently. "This isn't just a part of the game?"
Julian sighed.
Gently, she removed his hands, letting them fall back to his sides. If that really was her grandfather, she felt strange acting so—familiar—with Julian. Former Shadow Man though he was, how could she forget all that his kind had forced her grandfather to endure during his twelve-year long imprisonment? His lack of reaction so far surprised her. Maybe he simply hadn't recognized him—after all, Julian was so unlike the rest. Physically perfect while the others had grown grotesque with age.
"You don't seem to believe me."
She didn't believe him? Was he surprised? Had he really expected her to?
It defied everything she knew… it went against the basic principles of…
It was crazy!
"Because it can't be true. The Underworld isn't a real place. It…" She shook her head. "It's not real."
And she had thought the same about runes, the Shadow Men, and doorways to other worlds.
Even before he spoke, she remembered her own words of long ago. "That's a story… A myth. There's no such person as Hades." And his reply then had been the same then—
"Are you sure?"
A sudden chill struck Jenny, defying the warmth that surrounded them. If this was real, as the runes had been, how much else of the things she had always assumed were fiction were actually true? What about vampires and witches… and Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy?
Her fingers massaged her temples, trying to fight off the building throbbing sensation.
"But, I don't get it. It's all Greek mythology, and everything else—the runes, the nine worlds—it's Norse. Which is true?"
He lowered his eyes, then looked back up at her, but his eyelids drooped as if they were heavy with some knowledge. And he didn't look like he wanted to share. In that instant, he reminded her more than ever of the boy from the games, the one who'd been playing on the other side. So secretive and mysterious—she wondered how she could ever have thought she knew him, understood him.
"Both, actually, and neither really. They're like pieces of a puzzle, fitting together to help form a bigger picture. Except sometimes the details are wrong—off. Human mythology. It isn't complete and not always accurate."
"Oh. Okay. So if this is the Underworld," she said calmly, slowly, "there really is such a person as Hades."
His hesitation to respond tipped her off on the answer. "Not exactly a person—but yes."
Jenny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could deal with this, really she could. And if not now then later, when she could afford herself the opportunity to dwell on it. Her gaze flickered open again.
"Grandpa," she breathed, for the first time, a sense of acknowledgement in the word.
His answering smile was small and gentle, as if he didn't want to scare her off with more. She felt her own lips curve up slightly in response, and she reached for him.
A hand enclosed around her upper arm, halting her progress. She turned, gave Julian a questioning glance. "You can't touch him."
She frowned. "What?" A quick peek at her grandfather, then she looked back at Julian.
"Try it," he suggested.
So she did. And when her hand reached his arm, it simply passed right through. Like with the wall earlier, except there was a slight shimmering as it happened. Then she could actually see her fingers beyond his now mildly transparent form.
She tried it again, and the same results were the same.
"What's going on?" Who the question was directed at—if anyone in particular—she didn't know. Pulling back her hand, she stared at like it was something alien, as if there might be something there to explain what had happened.
Julian answered. "It's how it is here. The spirits can't be grasped."
Oh, she looked at her grandfather with wide eyes, was that what he was? A spirit. But of course, she supposed she should have guessed it. Hadn't she released him knowing that the gift she gave him was death? Gebo—rune of sacrifice. That was the rune she had etched upon the machine, the one she had traced with her blood.
And the sacrifice hadn't been the fact that by releasing them, she had unknowingly given herself up in his place. It had been the part about letting him go.
Jenny glared unhappily. After her unexpected reunion with the man to whom she owed so much—her life—she couldn't even touch him, hug him, revel in the comfort of being wrapped up in his arms. And it wasn't a trick of the Shadow Men, so why was here? What had brought him across their path?
"Jenny, I can show you how to get out."
She stared at her grandfather uncertainly. "You know why we're here… you know about the game?" He nodded and she felt a heavy sinking sensation in her stomach.
"No," he said gently, shaking his head. He reached out as if to take her hand, but they both realized the futility of the gesture at the same time. Releasing a sigh, he continued. "You don't have to feel guilty. I understand."
Jenny wasn't so sure about that. But she didn't contradict him. She didn't know how much he knew of what was really going on—but maybe if he didn't know everything, it was better.
No, the truth was, she was afraid. Afraid that if he knew, he might be angry, that he might even hate her for what she had done. After barely escaping the last time, here she was again, and this time facing off against the Shadow Man in order to save one of them. One who may never have hurt him directly, but had nevertheless failed to lift a finger to help him.
Julian nodded onward. "Then lead us."
It was a silent trip. The conditions weren't very enticing for conversation. Being led by her dead grandfather, side-by-side with a former, almost-human Shadow Man, circumstances were a little—straining. She felt a sudden longing for her friends, the ones who had faced Julian's games by her side.
Dee would have been her first choice. Sane, calm and levelheaded no matter what the situation, she would have handled this so much better. Actually, no, with her kick-ass attitude—and no monsters yet, no cave-ins, no giant metal lions attacking anyone's arms—she probably would have been defeated by the lack of action.
Not that Jenny was complaining about that. A shortage of near-death experiences was nothing to take for granted, especially not when traipsing through the Underworld and the stakes were your life and soul. Except it was making her a little wary, putting her on an edge. She wondered if the anticipation was worse than whatever they might have thrown their way.
Probably not. Wishful thinking.
The warm sun was beginning to take its toll and she rolled up the sleeves of her sweater the same time Julian removed the leather duster. Underneath, he continued the black theme with a plain, tight t-shirt, but Jenny was glad he'd taken off the coat. Just looking at it had been making her hot.
Oh, not like that, she thought with a mental slap to the forehead. She had to stop thinking like that. It was distracting, and not to mention highly inappropriate for their current situation. Why couldn't she remember having the same problem last time? Because she was a sixteen-year-old virgin, that was why. Oh, she'd kissed him, been drawn to him almost magnetically, recognized the sex appeal and allure… but it was—different—now. Her imagination was beginning to take liberties with her wandering mind, and unfortunately it had a lot more to work with now than it did eight years earlier.
Stop it, stop it, stop it, she ordered herself. Focus on the task at hand. Focus on staying alive. And for god's sake, stop thinking like that—that's your grandfather just over there!
That helped, a little.
"Something wrong?" Julian said suddenly.
"No!" she snapped. She'd surprised him, a little, with her sharp tone. Even her grandfather gave the pair a backward glance, but said nothing.
"Here," he said, drawing to a stop.
Jenny eyed the patch of space. "Where?" she said. "I don't see anything. Except for the trees and the grass and"—she shrugged—"more trees."
"Well, that would make sense, wouldn't it," Julian said, brushing past her. "After all, that was how we got here." He lifted a hand and stuck it through, letting the air engulf it as it disappeared from view. Just like that. Not cautiously like Jenny—like anyone else—would have done. Then he brought it back, unblemished, unharmed, not covered in any strange goo or attached to some carnivorous little creature. Maybe she'd watched too many horror movies as a kid.
He raised one dark eyebrow at her. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah, just give me a minute." He nodded, just one small movement, a knowing look in his eyes.
Taking a couple of steps away, she indicated her grandfather to follow. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip, nibbling distractedly as she glanced at him. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest and began. "I wish…" she faltered.
There just weren't words to say all that she was feeling right now, to package everything into these brief minutes. She blinked rapidly as she found her vision blurring. "I wish I could just hug you this one last time."
He smiled sadly, staring down the few short inches he had on her. No, so he wasn't anywhere near the pillar of strength she remembered from her childhood. He wasn't a giant. He wasn't invulnerable. Just a man, one who had tinkered in forbidden forces and paid the price. But something about the idea of throwing herself in his arms was comforting. There she could fool herself into believing, even if only momentarily, that she was safe and protected.
"I know," he said softly. "So do I."
She nodded again. "There's just something I have to tell you, something I never got the chance to say before." Swallowing thickly, she brushed at the sudden wetness that appeared on her face. "Thank you—for what you did that day. Thank you for not letting them take me."
"No, Jenny," he said, his voice just as quiet and earnest as her own. "What happened that day"—he shook his head—"was my fault. I should have known better. I should have been more—careful." He sighed and his gaze shifted away. It resettled, somewhere over her shoulder, and the dark eyes sharpened. "And I should thank you too, for everything you've done."
Jenny spun to stare at the spot where Julian stood several feet away, arms folded over his chest, leaning against a tree. Startled eyes shot up at the words; he stared back as if he hadn't comprehended what had been said. Then his expression shuttered once more and he shrugged dismissively and glanced away. "I did it for Jenny." His features were perfectly etched from marble, as stoic as he ever was, but he refused to look at either of them.
Well, he did seem to have trouble accepting gratitude, she remembered. But when she looked back at her grandfather, there was something in his eyes that made her wonder if she was missing something.
He nodded her forward. "Go on." Then his slight smile faltered and his eyes hardened fractionally. "You just make it through this thing. Don't let them win."
Jenny nodded obediently and walked toward Julian. "This time, I volunteer to go first," he offered generously. She didn't miss the way his eyes shifted over her shoulder once before he turned toward the "exit."
Then he stepped forward and disappeared. She cast one last longing look at her grandfather before taking a deep breath, and followed.
A scream tore from her lips almost immediately as she fell through empty space. Where's the floor? Where the hell's Julian?
Then she fell roughly into someone's awaiting arms.
"Watch your step," a musical voice intoned in her ear.
Jenny dropped her head back slightly and stared up at Julian accusingly. "You could have said something before I came through."
"I didn't know then." The unrepentant expression on his face made her wonder.
Her eyes narrowed. "Well you seem to have recovered quickly," she said, just a bit of suspicion leaking into her voice.
"Quick reflexes."
Somehow, her fingers had enclosed around his upper arms, resting on the bare flesh just below where the sleeves of his t-shirt ended. Warm breath tickled the left side of her face as he moved closer, and she tilted her head up slightly. Then she jerked away, her back coming up against solid wall. Julian looked at her questioningly.
"Don't think just because I let you kiss me earlier, that now you have free reign."
He laughed, sending a pleasant shiver up her spine. "Let me kiss you? As I remember it—it was the other way around."
Jenny sighed half-heartedly. After their earlier—breakthrough—now he didn't seem so frustrating as he did enticing, and he was playing the part a little too well for her own good. "Keep it up and don't expect any repeat performances." She managed to keep a solemn face.
Grinning suggestively, he leaned forward. "And if I behave?" his velvet voice tickled her ear.
She couldn't help it. The corners of her lips quirked in response. A flirty Julian was so much more—well, not easier to deal with—appealing. She surveyed his face appraisingly, from mouth up to his eyes. "Then we'll see. Although"—she tilted her head slightly to one side—"I don't honestly foresee that."
A hand came to rest on her shoulder then slid down her arm slowly. His eyes drooped to follow its progress. Down to the elbow, down her bared forearm, to her wrist—she held still beneath his hands, barely breathing, though her heart felt like if it beat any harder, it would burst right out of her chest.
"Oh, I can be good"—he smiled—"with the right motivation." His fingers flitted from her pulse point to her hip, and up to her waist. He locked her in place with his eyes. "What sort of motivation are you offering?"
Jenny exhaled, letting out a brief laugh to ease the sudden tension. At the same time her hands came up against his chest and she shoved him away, shaking her head. "How about staying alive?"
Okay, now I have a question for you all… I've been thinking about the rest of the story and I'm wondering, if it comes up (and I stress the word "if"), how graphic should I make anything that happens between Jenny & Julian? We're not talking NC-17 here—I'm not prepared to go that far. But I wanna know what people are comfortable reading. Or should I maybe write two versions, one R-rated, and another PG (or whatever) for those of you who don't want to see them gettin' busy?
