Author's Notes: Double update this week, both because there will not be one next week, and also because I felt these chapters worked better together than they did apart. Thank you for the reviews so far! I always appreciate them!

Chapter 3

"Did you see it? Did you see it Gramps?" Jack hollered as he burst through the front doors at home, racing down the hallway to the kitchen where Drake sat glued to the television set, throwing his bookbag in the corner by the stairs. "The explosion downtown? Did you see it?"

"No, but it damn near made me spill my beer, and that would have been a real tragedy," Drake remarked, not looking away from the screen.

"If only St. Canard U wasn't so far away from downtown," Jack lamented dreamily as he slumped down into a chair next to Drake.

Drake shot him a sardonic look. "The only reason a crazy old man in a station wagon wasn't part of the melee downtown is because St. Canard University isn't anywhere near there. Ambulances and fire trucks be damned, if I'd thought you were down there - "

"Oh, I wasn't!" Jack assured him with a grin as he slung an arm over the back of the chair, looking on beatifically. "Just would have liked to be there, that's all. In the fray. On the scene. Where all the excitement was."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear any of that."

"I can't even remember the last time anything remotely interesting happened in this town," Jack said

"You didn't miss anything, believe me," Drake said, turning back to the television. "One explosion is about the same as another. It's a miracle no one was killed."

"What was it?"

"An explosion at the Nikomedes Chemical Laboratory. An accident."

"Are you sure?" Jack said, drawing out the last word, raising an eyebrow. Drake gave him a flat look.

"Are we playing detective now? Do you remember our talk this morning?"

"Yes," Jack said, a bit defensively. "Just seems a little odd, that's all. I thought Nikomedes normally just does environmental testing. You know, checking water samples to make sure nothing's contaminated, stuff like that. We went on a field trip there in high school. Just doesn't seem like they'd be using any of the type of chemicals that could create such a powerful explosion like that." A moment passed with Jack considering this, and then it was as though a switch was flipped in his head and he made a motion as if he'd suddenly remembered something terribly important. "Oh! Newspaper!" he cried, standing and sorting through the piles on the kitchen counter frantically.

"Didn't know you were such a news hound, kid," Drake commented sardonically as he watched Jack rip through a stack of bills Drake had spent all morning organizing before visiting LP.

Jack let out a triumphant cry as he finally found the crumpled newspaper and opened it eagerly, scanning the headlines. "Ha! Here it is!" he boomed, his eyes having lit on a small paragraph in the 'incident/crime' section. His face fell almost immediately and he clasped the paper shut and threw it down on the kitchen table. "Smart asses," he muttered as he sank back down into his chair.

Curious, Drake grabbed the paper and opened it, finding the article Jack had been reading. He shook his head. "You wouldn't know anything about this one, would you Jack? Ms. Evaline Wagner reported a mugging to St. Canard police early this morning, describing how an attacker leaped from the shadows and grabbed her purse. Seconds later, 'some idiot in black' – her words, kiddo – attempted to subdue the mugger, only to end up being shoved backwards so hard by the mugger that he tripped Wagner, causing her to fall in the mud. The purse was not recovered. Well!" Drake said brightly, shutting the paper. "Good thing you were in studying for your test, eh?"

"People have no appreciation for good Samaritans," Jack muttered darkly.

"Never mind that, kid. Let's get some dinner."

Grandfather and grandson ate silently, doing more poking at their food than eating it. Jack cleared the table and set to work washing the dishes while Drake dried them and put them back in the cupboards. Drake could feel that there was something Jack wanted to talk about it, and hung around the living room browsing through a science magazine waiting for the kid to make the first move.

Jack stood in the middle of the living room and awkwardly cleared his throat. "Um, Gramps?"

"Hm?"

"I…I just happened to come across an old photo album today," Jack started, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at the floor as though something quite interesting lay down there. "You know, just doing a little closet cleaning…"

Drake put his magazine down. The kid never cleaned anything, and knew there was no 'just happened' about it. He shifted in his seat, trying to appear interested. "Really? Bring it down here, let's take a look."

"Well, I guess if you want to…" Jack drifted off, trying for all the world to appear apathetic to the idea. He was still a teenager, after all, and never wanted to look too eager to hear 'boring family stories.' Nevertheless, he took off at a trot up the stairs to get the album. Drake sighed and settled back into his comfortable chair. He never understood exactly why Jack wouldn't ever just come out and ask him about his parents, to tell him stories or share memories. Perhaps it was too painful to ask and doing it in a roundabout way such as this was the only way Jack could feel comfortable asking the questions he undoubtedly had. The kid had pride and ego on almost the same scale that Drake had once had, so perhaps Drake understood why Jack always had to create an excuse to reminisce about the past. Jack probably figured that's what old people liked to do in their free time anyway, Drake thought dryly.

Ten minutes later, they were both hunched over a photo album from early in Gosalyn and Thad's marriage. For the umpteenth time, Drake told Jack how his parents had met ("Gos was doing some freelance work for SHUSH, which is where your dad worked, of course"), how his father had asked his mother to marry him ("He thought fireworks would be romantic, and I'm sure it was, until one of the fireworks went rogue and set the bush next to them on fire"), how his father had first found out his mother was Quiverwing Quack ("Gos was so tired one night when we came back that she fell asleep in costume on the couch. Your dad came down the next morning and called the police because he didn't recognize her!"), about the time they found out they were to have a baby ("Your father was so happy that he ran down the street, telling every stranger he met; your mother, being your mother, set off rockets in the backyard while blasting Led Zepplin, leading to the police being called"), and told him about when he was born ("Your father had already passed out in the waiting room, which was a good thing, seeing as how Gos probably would have taken his head off if he'd been in the delivery room. She had a high tolerance for pain but a very low tolerance for people telling her things like 'It'll be all right!' while feeling like her lower half was going to break in two"). He'd told Jack all of these stories hundreds of times, but never tired of telling them, and Jack never tired of hearing them. Stories and memories of Gosalyn and Thad were all Drake and Jack had left, and they both knew it. Jack had accidentally "found" this photo album dozens of times, leading to long conversations with his grandfather like this one.

The clock struck eleven and Jack had begun to yawn. He hadn't gotten any sleep the previous night and desperately needed some now.

"I think you need some sleep, kid," Drake observed as he carefully shut the photo album.

Jack scratched his head and yawned. "That's all right. I have an early class tomorrow anyway."

Drake studied his grandson carefully for a moment then patted him on the back affectionately. "I love you a lot, kid," he said. "And I'm glad I've got you."

Jack became very still and silent for a moment before offering softly, "It's been ten years tonight, Gramps."

"They were both so proud of you, Jack," Drake said truthfully. "Their last thoughts were of how much they loved you. I know. They told me so."

Jack nodded, trying to will the tears not to come. He wasn't sure how his grandfather could be so strong, or how his grandfather could always seem to sense when Jack needed to talk about his parents and know exactly what he needed to hear. "I miss them," he said quietly.

Drake pulled his grandson into a hug on the couch. "I know, kiddo. I do too."

"Someday…someday I'm going to ask how it happened," Jack whispered. He shut his eyes, knowing that although it had been ten years, he still wasn't ready to hear the details yet. He could pursue petty criminals in the streets, spend cold nights on stake-outs, even fight if he had to – but not even he felt brave enough yet to hear the whole truth. "Not now. But someday."

Drake felt himself break out into a sweat. He hugged Jack tighter. "I promise I won't lie to you when you do, kid," he responded gently, and meant it.