Watching the Watchers – Chapter 3
Standard Disclaimer applies
A/N – once again, thank you so much to those of you who took the time to review the last chapter. I've tried to reply to everyone but I need to say thanks to Lyn and Lucy, too – I'm glad I can share the Luke/Jess dynamic with the rest of you! :-)
Okay, well I really hope you guys enjoy the next part.
Sinking back wearily on to the battered couch, Luke took his cap off and brushed his hands through his hair before replacing his cap in its customary backwards position. Staring at the newly decorated Christmas tree, Luke was suddenly struck with a ridiculous sense of pride over it. Sure, the Gilmores would claim it was pathetically decorated and by their standards, it probably was.
But for Luke, not only was he proud of its general colourfulness but also that he had achieved something for his nephew that he was reasonably sure he hadn't had before. At least, not for some time, he'd wager. And it felt good – like he was giving the kid just a little something of what he'd been missing. Wings sticking out of the box in the corner, Luke spotted the angel and was suddenly very tempted to stick it on the top of the tree, to see what Jess made of it in the morning. No doubt angels were one step too far in Christmas traditions for the boy to handle.
He cast his gaze down to his watch. It was coming up to midnight. Luke stood and stretched, working the kinks out of his back with several audible and worrying pops. Jeez – he wasn't getting old, was he? He thought for a moment. No. Maybe it was having a much younger person constantly around him that was causing him to make comparisons all the time? Yes that had to be it.
He stood from the couch and casually wandered past his nephew's bed. Pausing by the foot of it, the older man took a moment to observe the sleeping form, spread out languidly on the mattress, seemingly without a care in the world. His face was smooth and carefree, void of the lines of sarcasm and defence that usually marred it.
In one hand, Luke spotted the book, earlier discarded. It was tucked under the boy's right hand, partially covered by his body as Jess had rolled to his side. Shaking his head, fondly, his uncle smiled. With careful, soft treads, Luke moved to kneel by the teenager's bedside and gently pried the folded back book out of his hand, lifting the inert figure ever so slightly to ease it out the rest of the way. He took a look at the title: The Woman in White. Flicking through the hundreds of pages gave him no better idea of the story's plot but he immediately knew it wouldn't be his kind of book.
He placed it neatly by the head of the bed then turned back to his nephew. Instinctively his hand went out to the slumbering young man's head but he stilled his action just in time, leaving it hovering uncertainly in mid air. The last thing he wanted to do was wake him, knowing how outraged Jess would be at the gesture of sentimentality. However, that said, the kid tended to sleep like the dead. A brass band could probably march through the apartment and he wouldn't wake up.
Mind made up, Luke quickly took the opportunity to run his fingers through the tousled, un-moussed bangs, smoothing it away from his forehead and lightly brushing the side of his face with one thumb. Instantly, he could feel the muscles in Jess' face twitch and Luke froze. But he didn't stir and when Jess remained sleeping, his uncle relaxed a little. The boy obviously didn't like being touched while he slept. After a moment, Luke saw his face relax once more in to its peaceful, lax expression. Smiling, he decided to push his luck even further and retraced his thumb across his nephew's sleeping face in a feather-light touch. This time, Jess did not move or flinch. It seemed to Luke as though he recognised his uncle's presence and somehow, the older man knew he had just been classed as un-threatening – someone safe, to be trusted.
And as he withdrew his hand and sat back on his haunches, Luke was suddenly transported back to those few times when he had gone camping with his family, as a child. One morning, very early, when the forest was still in dappled half-light, he had crept out of the tent he shared with his sister. He had left her sleeping and wandered alone down the forest path, the tall fir trees towering above him. Now Luke would be the last one to claim that he was a nature person. Sure, he could appreciate its beauty, like everyone else, but there was no connection for him: nothing that really caught his imagination. The trees were grand and majestic, the flowers smelt beautiful, the animals were…cute, he supposed – most of them. But that's where his associations ended.
But on this morning, while walking through the forest, Luke had suddenly looked up from where he had been staring at the fern-covered path and stopped. There, standing mere feet away from him was a deer, crossing from one shaded part of the forest to another. Luke didn't move, he just stayed perfectly still. And as the animal stared at him, poised and ready to run, Luke was struck by the notion that he was being evaluated, assessed by a creature used to running from strangers.
They stood there, on that path, neither one moving for what seemed like a lifetime. Luke had silently willed no one to come trampling along at that point, blundering in and ruining his moment. And it was his moment. He was being trusted, he was being granted a privilege not shared by everyone and though it made him sad to think that Liz and his parents would never experience it, Luke didn't want anyone else to have this, too. Luke didn't have many connections with the wider world of nature, but this had been one of them. And now, looking down at his nephew, he felt he was being granted the same experience again. He had forgotten how good a connection of trust could feel.
Though he didn't want to break the connection, Luke knew he couldn't stay there all night. Trying hard not to make too much noise, he clambered to his feet, stepped over the mattress and made his way over to his closet. There he pulled out the bag of gifts, neatly wrapped. Feeling absurdly excited, Luke went to the tree and, one by one, started laying the gifts out underneath its branches. He wasn't sure if Jess would find the notion lame but he also didn't care. He'd never had a kid to give Christmas to so Jess was just going to have to put up with getting his presents under the darned tree. He should count himself lucky that he wasn't made to hang a stocking on the end of his…mattress. Well, maybe not.
Though Jess hadn't been living with him for very long, Luke liked to think that his nephew had not been a stranger to him when he arrived in Stars Hollow and that he had a reasonable idea of what the kid would like for Christmas. Liz always told him that Jess appreciated the gifts he sent on Christmas and birthdays. Occasionally – very occasionally, Jess had even informed him of that, too, in very brief phone calls or a note scrawled at the bottom of a birthday card. Well, scrawled was hardly a word that could be used to describe his nephew's handwriting, which was usually a neat and cursive script even if the word content took brevity to new depths.
Of course, picking out the latest Power Ranger toy had been easy for Luke – it was difficult to go wrong when kids were that young. As Jess had hit pre-teens though and developed more individuality, Luke had found the present buying harder. For several years he simply sent Liz the money and asked her to either buy something the kid would like or just give it straight to him and let Jess decide. However, conversations with less gullible people in Stars Hollow led Luke to the realisation that his nephew more than likely never got to see a penny of it. He'd then started sending gift vouchers and Liz's flow of enthusiastic, gushing thank you cards surprisingly dried up.
This year, Luke had relied partly on his own ideas and partly on Rory's. He knew she didn't know him that well but out of all the people in Stars Hollow, Jess had probably talked to her the most. She had given him the title of a new book by one of Jess' favourite authors: Luke couldn't remember which one (she'd ordered it for him from Amazon and wrapped it, too) but he assumed it wasn't one of the dead ones. Luke had topped up the book supply with book tokens. It seemed a bit of an easy option but he knew Jess would probably prefer to choose his own.
Then there was a CD of classic rock that he hoped Jess didn't own. Hell, he probably just downloaded all the music he wanted but if Luke was going to be subjected to music every time Jess went to sleep, he may as well start playing something that both of them enjoyed. It wasn't expensive but Luke had wanted a few more bulky things for Jess to open – the book aside, envelopes didn't look that exciting.
Luke took the carefully wrapped CD and, not for the first time, toyed with the blank label in his hands. As yet, nothing had arrived in the mail from New York and Luke's confidence that the next delivery would bring a package, a padded envelope, heck, just a regular envelope had gradually disappeared with each passing day. There'd be no delivery tomorrow, regardless but the chances of something arriving after that? He wasn't holding his breath. Once more, he felt a surge of anger course through him. Damn it! This wasn't fair – it wasn't fair to Jess and it wasn't fair to him. How dare his sister put him in this position? How dare she force him to lie like this? When he agreed to take his nephew, he didn't realise he was letting her wash her hands of the whole situation – he just thought he was helping out.
He picked up a pen and laid the label flat against the book, nib resting uncertainly on the blank space. Jess would know he was lying. Lorelai had already pointed out that the kid knew more than he was letting on. He'd see right through it. If he had any sense, Luke would just sign the damned CD from himself. He wasn't fooling anyone. But the thought of him getting nothing from his mother was too much for Luke. Hastily, he scribbled down his sister's name and placed it, also, under the tree. If Jess questioned the handwriting, Luke would just explain that Liz had sent him the money to buy something for him. Yeah, that would work, the older man told himself.
The last item was a reasonably large, rectangular box. He'd not been sure about it and had constantly changed his mind back and forth, right up to the last minute. It was more than he was intending to spend but in the end, Luke justified it by reasoning that this gift was more for his own peace of mind than his nephew's enjoyment. The man in the cell-phone shop had assured him that this model would fulfil all of his particular needs. And probably a lot that he had no use for whatsoever. All he wanted was simple – a way to get in touch with his nephew instantly while he was out and about. Now, if Jess was going to be late back, he could call. If he got in to trouble, Luke would know about it. If he knocked off a liquor store, he could at least give Luke a head's up to find a lawyer.
With the last gift laid down, Luke stood back and surveyed his handiwork with approval. The clock on the wall told him he should be getting some sleep of his own if he wanted to be of any use the next day. However, the first ring of the phone startled him into action. Thankfully, he was standing near it and leapt to answer it before the noise woke Jess. Holding the handset against his chest, he shot a quick look at his nephew, relieved to see him sleeping soundly. Yup, an entire brass band, he thought to himself.
Then Luke turned his attention to his mystery midnight caller, irritation warring with curiosity. "Hello?" he asked. Then he frowned and wearily pinched the bridge of his nose as if staying off a migraine.
"Lorelai, do you have any idea what time it is?" he whispered, moving as far away from the teenager as he could. "Wait," he started, abruptly, concern washing over his face for a moment. "Is everything okay? Are you and Rory okay?" He listened to her frenetic, babbling answer and breathed a sigh of relief. Then the irritation came back.
"It's Christmas Eve, Lorelai. Heck, it's probably Christmas Day by this point. What could you possibly need now?" He listened and groaned. "Well have you checked the fuses?" Her sharp response made him hold the phone away from his ear for a moment. Frowning heavily, he brought it back to his ear. "Well there's no need to yell at me," he snapped, still making an effort to keep his voice in hushed tones, constantly casting assessing glances at his nephew.
"You're the one calling me at this un-godly hour and I had to make sure it wasn't the blindingly obvious at fault. Besides, do you really need all those lights tomorrow? I mean, small aircraft are going to start landing in your front yard the way your house is lit up!" And as he listened to her apologise and plead and cajole and beg and even offer to give up coffee for a month, then amend it to a week, Luke just knew he was going to end up agreeing to go over. And why? He sighed. Because he was a sucker, that's why. And because it was those Gilmore girls.
Cutting her off, mid-spiel, Luke raised a placating hand, even though she couldn't see it. "Okay!" he agreed, listening to her squeal in delight, albeit quietly as she was also trying not to wake her own child. "Give me ten minutes and I'll be over there." He paused and grimaced. "If I'm not there in ten, send out a search party. I'll probably be buried under a snow drift somewhere or mugged by a big, fat guy in a red suit."
Leaving her thanking him profusely over the phone, Luke hung up and went to grab his coat and scarf, followed quickly by his toolkit. He briefly considered leaving a note to tell Jess where he was going but then thought better of it. Chances were very slim that he would wake up, anyway. There was only one light left on in the apartment and Luke now switched it off, confident in the street lighting outside to give him enough illumination to make it outside.
So, slipping out of the apartment, he closed the door quietly behind him before descending the stairs. The diner always looked strange to him at night time, deserted and in darkness. Carefully, being wary of knocking in to any of the tables with their stacked chairs, Luke wove his way to the door. As he closed it behind him, he suddenly remembered that his keys were upstairs. Well, he decided, there was no point in locking the diner – he wouldn't be gone long and the day's takings were already safely banked.
So, treading a fresh set of prints into the newly fallen snow, Luke set off for the Gilmore's woefully unlit house.
He never did notice the car parked by the side of the building and when the retreating form was far enough away, Clyde opened his door and stepped out. He had enough sense left to remember to close it quietly behind him but looking around at the deserted town, he supposed it didn't really matter.
He'd been watching the apartment window for some time now, waiting for the right moment. A man had been in there, presumably the uncle Liz had talked about. Clyde had waited impatiently for the man to go to bed and kept his eyes trained on the one remaining light that he could see shining through the window and on to the snow below.
When it had finally gone off, he had breathed out a sigh of relief. Finally! He would have to wait a little longer, he knew, to make sure the guy was asleep. Somewhere between the drink and drugs, he understood it wasn't going to be easy but just what the problems were going to be, the bulky man hadn't quite figured out yet.
Jess, he knew, wasn't going to be an issue. He remembered the kid from before Liz sent him away and, though he liked to talk hard, the boy was a tiny bit of nothing. He wasn't a match for Clyde and he never had been. Eventually, the kid had learned not to try and provoke him but rather to stay out of his way. And now, some alcohol-induced rush of Christmas soppiness had Liz gushing like a mad woman and pleading with him, through slurred words and over very old photographs of her son, to bring her baby home.
Luke had taken him, she insisted angrily, through her torrents of sobbing. Her bastard brother had taken him and now he wouldn't let her see him – he wouldn't give him back. And okay, he didn't put much stock in that: Liz was a little messed up, after all. But in some, screwed up way, he cared about Liz and he gave a damn when she was this upset. And hell, it was Christmas, the one time of the year when you're supposed to do nice things for the people you care about.
The grizzled man sat back in his leather seat and waited. He'd give the guy another half hour, he decided. But as it turned out, that wouldn't be necessary. When the door to the diner opened, Clyde immediately hunched down in his seat, his first thought that his car had been spotted and deemed suspicious. However, he watched in growing excitement as the uncle not only left the building and headed off down the street but left the door to the diner, handily unlocked. Clyde grinned. This was a sure sign – a sign he was doing a good thing.
So now he approached the diner and silently tried the door. It opened, invitingly. He winced as he registered the sound of the bell above the door but then realised there was very little chance it would be heard by anyone. Shining his flashlight into the blackness, Clyde made his was cautiously across the diner's floor until he reached the heavy curtain at the side of the counter. The adrenaline pumping through him, he pushed the thick material aside and shone the light up the staircase. At the top of the narrow landing, Clyde could see a glass door. If he was in luck, the uncle hadn't locked that one, either. Not that a locked door would have held him back but it certainly made things easier.
Taking the stairs one at a time, Clyde climbed to the top. He paused outside the door and shone his light on the handle, gripping it firmly in his meaty hand. The man held his breath and twisted his wrist. With a gentle click, the handle pushed down and the door swung open.
Clyde crossed the threshold in one step, stopping once inside, to get his bearings. The apartment was orderly but small – pretty much all one room. It was a very good job this brother of Liz's had gone out, he realised. She had neglected to tell him that Jess wouldn't have his own room. Like that wouldn't have made a difference! Damn stupid woman! Still, things had all worked out in the end.
He spotted him. On first glance he almost missed the mattress, lying on the floor, next to the bed. Shining the flashlight on the sleeping boy's form, Clyde grinned. Nothing to it. In no time at all, he was standing over the kid's bed. He had to admit though, even in the short time that he'd been away from Liz there was something about the kid that seemed…different, even in sleep. He couldn't put his finger on it.
He moved the beam to shine on Jess' face and, with the intense light bearing down on his eyes, Jess began to squirm, tossing his head from side to side as disorientation overcame him. He began to mumble as his brain fought to find an explanation. "What the hell?" His voice was confused and sluggish as his hands came up to his face to shield his eyes.
"Hello, Jess."
Instantly, Jess' attention snapped from the light to the voice. He was dimly aware of recognising it but still too mired in the confounded grasp of sleep to respond. He responded soon enough, however when he felt the heavy, sharp kick to his stomach. He couldn't help the cry of pain that escaped his lips as the bile rose in his throat. Instinctively, he curled himself into a ball in an effort to protect himself from further blows. But it made no difference. With another sickening crack, Clyde's boot connected with his side sending him tumbling off the mattress. But this time, Jess was prepared for it and, though he gritted his teeth and bit down hard on his tongue, he didn't cry out. Instead he fought with all his might to get his bearings, to figure out what was going on and to work out how to defend himself.
Where was Luke? He asked himself as he struggled to overcome the sensation of panic. His side felt as though it were on fire and each rasping breath he took wracked sharp, stabbing bouts of pain through his upper body. Was Luke injured? Had he already got to his uncle first? And despite his fear for himself, Jess' mind would only race with these thoughts. If Luke were there, he would be defending him, surely? But he didn't need Luke. He never had before.
As quickly as he could, Jess rolled on to his knees and pushed himself up. His hand reached out in the semi-darkness for the large, hopefully heavy object he could make out nearby. Clyde, however, saw this easily and stamped his heavy foot down on Jess' hand causing the boy to, once more, cry out.
"God damn!" he gasped, clutching his hand to his chest.
Leaning down, Clyde grabbed a handful of Jess' dark hair and yanked him to his feet as Jess cradled his right hand in his left. He was breathing hard. He knew his attacker now and his brain was starting to catch up. Anger, hatred and fear: all of them shone through his dark eyes and cold sneer. "What the hell do you want, Clyde?" he spat, willing the tremble in his voice to stay down. His legs felt weak and his stomach churned. Any moment now he was sure he was going to vomit. But for all that, he held his head high and fixed the man right in the eye.
Still gripping his hair in one fist and twisting Jess' left arm roughly behind his back, Clyde leaned in close to his face so that the stink of cigarettes and alcohol made Jess' lip curl up in disgust. He tried to reflexively move his head away from the stench but he was still held fast by his hair. Don't show him you're afraid, don't show him: he repeated the mantra silently to himself as he continued to stare.
"It's time to come home, Jess," Clyde informed him in a deceptively calm voice.
And for the first time in a long time, Jess felt the kind of panic and dread that he had hoped to God he had left behind him for good. He should have figured it: nothing good lasts forever and his time, it seemed, was up.
Okay – I know I said one more chapter last time but it seemed easier to post this bit now while I soldier on with the rest of it. It seemed like a logical place to pause before posting. I hope you guys liked it. I'm afraid action sequences aren't really my thing so I'm sorry if it didn't ring true. I'll try and improve for the next chapter.
Please, please, please let me know what you think. It doesn't take much time to write but it makes a huge difference to my day for a lot longer afterwards :-)