Chase had just reached the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed, when Jack's cries rang through the house. The shrunken lord froze, one hand ready to push open the swinging door into the kitchen.
'Wuya's back!' Little Chase thought instantly.
For a moment Real Chase was inclined to agree, but a deep male voice rattled through the wood like the crack of doom.
"Why the hell are you wearing a dress?! There had better be a non-gay answer!"
"I have stitches!" Jack shrilled in answer. "I . . . fell of a ladder and landed on some metal! I didn't want to wear anything with a waistband!"
"I got a call." The tone of the voice implied that this was an insult not to be borne. "There was a vast amount of damage done to the Reich Room and Mum is hurt."
"It -uh – she-she asked me to hang a flag! But I fell off the ladder and landed on one of the display cases! And – uh – the ladder hit her when it fell!"
There was a long, heavy pause.
"D-didn't the JackBots fix it?" Jack quavered.
Chase would never know exactly what the answer was, because at that moment the kitchen door flew open and slammed into Chase with enough force to fling the dragon lord several feet. The movement mimicked Jack's, who had been flung through the door to sprawl on the hardwood several feet beyond, whimpering in pain from his strained stitches.
Little Chase took control long enough to start up a wail, but Real Chase quickly exerted himself and bit back the cry. Jack rolled over to stare at the warlord in amazement.
"What the hell?!"
Gasping a bit from the pain, the albino youth quickly crawled over to Chase and enveloped the child in a long-kimono-sleeved hug.
"Act like a kid!" Jack hissed.
"Who the hell is that, Jackie?!"
The raging speaker was finally revealed. A giant of a man stood in the doorway to the kitchen. He was impeccably dressed; as if someone had put a Viking in an Armani suit. Fair blond hair just starting to gray at the temples was swept back from his sharp-featured face. Age was just starting to show in his face; he might have been a very fit forty. But the eyes glittering as hard and sharp as diamonds sparked recognition.
"I'm babysitting!" Jack yelled. "Geez, chill out, Dad!"
Chase sat sullenly at one of the high stools around the island in the middle of the kitchen. Jack's father sat at the other end, watching the shrunken warlord like a scientist would watch a particularly interesting insect. Jack hobbled around the room, putting together breakfast.
Chase had wondered why the JackBots weren't doing the cooking, but RJ 13 had opened the door, taken one look at Jack's father and bolted back down the hallway. Evidentially, news like Mr. Spicer got around.
"Babysitting, huh?" Mr. Spicer blurted out bluntly. "That's surprisingly responsible of you, Jack."
"Y-Yeah; Chase's dad is . . . a friend of mine. He had to leave the country suddenly, so he asked if I could watch Little Chase for a little while."
"Mmm. It's good that he trusts you."
Jack limped back to the island with a coffee pot in his hand. He poured a cup for his father and one for himself. The albino youth started towards Chase, but stopped quickly, reminding himself of Chase's condition. Instead, he returned the coffee pot to it's burner and retrieved a glass of orange juice.
"How many waffles do you want?" Jack asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Three." Chase was going to give the rest of his order in his normal imperious manner, but something in the youth's broken tone stopped him.
"Bring me the sugar, Jack." Mr. Spicer ordered.
Jack did so without hesitation. The injured youth placed the sugar bowl in front of his father and waited. Mr. Spicer spooned two heaps of sweetener into his coffee with all the finality of a dictator signing a death warrant.
"Babysitting, huh?" He repeated. There was something in the tone that was eerily reminiscent of a loaded gun being cocked.
Chase could actually see the tension run through Jack's body.
"Y-Yeah, Dad." Spicer murmured quietly.
"Kind of feminine for an after-school job, isn't it?" The cutting remark whipped out like a serpent's tongue.
"It's not an after-school job!" Jack protested. "I'm doing a favor!"
"Mmm."
"Jack's nice," Little Chase piped up. "He has to shave his face 'cause he's a big boy. And he gave me JackBear. I like Jack."
Mr. Spicer shifted his focus to Chase as if he had forgotten the child was there.
"Your daddy's out of China?"
Little Chase hesitated, but Real Chase managed to give his alter ego enough of a kick to get the rotten urchin to nod.
"Where's your mother?"
"I don't have one."
"I see." Again, the man's tone suggested that not having a mother ranked as a cardinal sin.
Little Chase seemed oblivious to this, taking a sip of his juice in the clumsy, two-handed way that small children did. Jack took the opportunity to run back to the waffle maker and tip out the contents onto two plates.
"I want strawberries on mine!" Little Chase demanded. "And whipped cream!"
Jack blinked at in him in surprise, but looked around the kitchen like he'd never been in it before.
"Um . . . okay."
The albino youth began rooting through the cabinets, finally coming up with a can of strawberry pie filling and a canister of whipped cream. He quickly doctored a plate of waffles for Chase, who was doing a great job of acting his age.
"Um . . do you want strawberries, too, Dad?"
"No, I do not want strawberries." Venom dripped from the man's voice.
Jack shuddered to hear it. Mr. Spicer was just lifting his head, sure to deliver another verbal attack for something he had no doubt praised Jack on before when the door swung open again. This time, Nana Spicer entered the kitchen. Jack actually sagged slightly in relief.
There was something in his aura that said: 'Ah . . . backup.'
"Everything all right in here, lads?" She asked, obviously already knowing the answer.
"Just fine, Mum," Mr. Spicer lied. "Do you know Jackie is babysitting? Isn't that responsible of him?"
Jack sighed gustily, setting Chase's plate in front of him. Chase felt like doing the same. How was the youth supposed to learn anything from his father if he was going to be praised, insulted, praised, and no doubt insulted again for the same act? All he was doing was reinforcing Jack's fear and uncertainty. It was no wonder the boy changed sides as often as he changed his clothes. With his father as a role model, there was no way Jack could choose the right action.
Little Chase dug into the waffles, sawing at the sweet treats with knife and fork. After wondering for a moment if Chase was trying for an Academy Award, Jack took the utensils away from him.
"Here, let me."
Jack cut the waffles into manageable pieces as Nana Spicer joined the group at the island.
"Babysitting, hmm? I don't know; don't you think Our Chase looks a bit like Our Jackie?"
"Nana . . ." Jack sighed.
"Jack conceiving an heir would be way too much to hope for." Mr. Spicer growled. "I think Chase's single father is probably trying Jack out to be Chase's new mommy."
Jack's cheeks burned as he set a plate down in front of his father.
"Yeah, god forbid fathers know how to take care of their children." Jack snarked, confident enough to talk back with Nana nearby.
Mr. Spicer slapped his son across the face.
Nana Spicer slapped her son across the face.
"Don't slap Our Jackie in front of his child!" Nana yelled.
"That little chink isn't Jackie's kid! That would require he be straight!" Mr. Spicer yelled.
"Don't call Chase a chink!" Jack yelled.
All three opened their mouths to continue yelling, but a piercing cry drowned them out.
Chase was crying.
The shrunken dragon lord had his hands pressed against his eyes, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. The shrill cry of of a child echoed off the tiles of the kitchen. Jack, Mr. Spicer, and Nana Spicer stared. Finally, Jack shook himself and went to Chase's side, wrapping his arms around the ancient warrior.
"Um . . . there, there. Don't cry, Chase."
"He's mean!!" Chase sobbed, pointing to Mr. Spicer.
"Yeah, I know. It's okay; don't cry."
Little Chase buried his face in Jack's chest, smearing strawberry syrup and whipped cream across the black silk. Chubby hands clutched at the billowing sleeves as Little Chase slithered off the stool. Jack found himself holding one very upset dragon lord.
"You know what? Come on; let's get out of here." Jack walked stiffly out of the kitchen.
"I want JackBear!"
"You left him in the bedroom?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"RJ 13!"
The robot appeared by magic. He must have been lurking nearby.
"Yes, Master?"
"Go upstairs and get JackBear for Chase. We'll be in my evil lair. Oh, and RJ 13?"
"Yes, Master?"
"Chase saw you molesting the television last night."
"Oh." If it was possible for a machine to blush, RJ 13 would have done so.
"So that means you're short a fuse."
"A fuse. Yes. I'm short one."
Something about the stress on the singular had Jack raising an eyebrow.
"Open up your chest cabinet."
Still wearing the 'I wish I had facial capillaries so I could be beet red' look, RJ 13 unzipped his coat, lifted up his T-shirt and opened up his chest. Jack took quick count of the empty spaces. There was only one fuse that burned out when the robot achieved climax, but the perverted mechanoid had quickly cottoned on to the fact that there were some of his operating systems that he didn't need all the time.
RJ 13 cannibalized his fuses so that he could orgasm more often.
"Five?"
"The DVD player wanted in on the action."
"The DVD player?"
"A-and the stereo system was hot to party."
"You know what? I don't wanna know. Just go get JackBear."
"Yes, Master!"
Jack walked down the stairs to his evil lair, setting up the security system. Only the JackBots, RoboJacks, and Jack himself could come and go now.
Chase had quieted down. Jack had thought he was just a fantabulous actor, but tears still ran down the dragon lord's cheeks and by Asimov, he was sucking his thumb.
"It's okay." Jack repeated, bouncing the child slightly. "We're safe down here. RJ 13's getting JackBear."
Jack reached the bottom step and sat down stiffly, Chase perched on his lap. He continued to croon and pat the shrunken warlord until the tears stopped falling. The little boy stiffened when the door opened, but it was only RJ 13. The robot came down the steps and handed the weaponized toy to Chase.
Little Chase buried his face in the dark fabric of the bear's shoulder. As the child side slowly became placated, Real Chase resumed control.
"Spicer?"
"Yeah?"
For a moment, Chase seriously considered tearing himself from the genius's grip and heaping some verbal abuse on the teen, but the events at breakfast made him reconsider.
"How long has your father been insane?"
"He's bipolar, not insane. He just won't get help."
"He has no control over his behavior. Whatever you call that, it equals insanity."
Jack was quiet for a few minutes. Chase was still in his lap, but his control was firmly back in place.
"I'm sure lots of people grow up with one insane parent." He sighed.
"As much as it pains me to bring this up, dressing your son as a girl because you wished for a daughter isn't a great sign of mental stability."
Jack snorted, the sound barely muffling a sob.
"You know the worst part?"
"Mmm?"
"I want a family someday. How am I going to be a good father if this is what I have to learn from?"
"We all have obstacles to over-oh blast it!"
Jack looked down in surprise at the cry, but was cut off as Little Chase threw his arms around the albino youth's chest and hugged tight.
"You're a good daddy, Jack!" Little Chase cried. "You keep me safe and made me JackBear and fixed me waffles and showed me what big boys do! You're a good daddy!"
Quite against his better judgement, Jack gave a dopey grin and hugged the boy in his lap.
"Thanks, buddy. I really needed to hear that."
They remained in that pose. RJ 13 stood by the workbench, his systems on standby. The only sound was of a fly buzzing through the lair. Then the airborne pest disappeared through a ventilation duct and even that sound was gone.
Three of the Xiaolin Dragons waited in the courtyard of the Temple, looking up at the sky. After a little while, a fly buzzed around their heads.
"Kimiko?" Raimundo asked.
"Manchurian Musca!"
The fly quickly changed shape and size, resuming it's normal form as the Dragon of Fire.
"Oh my God, it's all true!" Kimiko yelled. "I saw the kid! He's half Chinese and he even looks a little like Chase Young! Jack's dad was screaming at him and even smacked him one! I saw it through the kitchen window! Then I went down into the basement and the kid was telling Jack he was a good daddy!"
"Well, I'll be a son of a gun," Clay drawled. "If that don't beat all."
"No way. That's just wrong." Rai breathed.
"How can Jack Spicer have a child?! He has no wife!" Omi asked.
"It's true, Omi. Jack Spicer has a son!" Kimiko declared.
Author's note:
Sorry for the delay, folks, but the disc I had my 'Eternal Youth' chapters housed on suffered a meltdown and I lost two 99.5 completed chapters that I hadn't gotten around to uploading yet. I also lost a chapter of 'Ghost Story' that was one paragraph away from completion and I honestly just couldn't face it for a few days.
Anyways, back in the saddle. Have some angst!