Thanks to everyone who read and to Scififan33 for reviewing.
Note: This chapter is the first that has some direct crossover with Meaning Makes It (ch. 8), but the two stories can be read separately.
"—insane?" Monroe demanded from somewhere inside as Roddy stepped up onto the porch, and he hesitated. Monroe was pretty easy to get along with so if he was being that loud, there was a reason.
"Roddy's a tough kid."
That was Nick, and Roddy blinked and then decided that he was staying right where he was. He didn't know why Nick and Monroe would be talking about him, and eavesdropping was a little risky since Monroe would absolutely know that he was here if he decided to pay attention, but on balance he figured that hanging out on the porch for a few minutes would probably be worth it. If he got caught he could always claim that he'd just arrived.
"I never said that he wasn't," Monroe said in response to Nick's comment. "But you're talking about someone so far out of his weight class that it isn't even funny."
"Well, I'm not planning to put them in a ring together." Nick sounded exasperated. "Come on, don't you think that he could use a friend his own age? I mean, if nothing else the last couple weeks have proven that we're not always around, and our lives aren't exactly the safest, either."
"Sure, I don't think another friend would hurt him, but I also think that he's old enough to pick his own friends if that's what he wants. Or if you're that worried, go find one of Bud's nieces or nephews to introduce him to. They should be reasonably nonthreatening."
"Roddy would probably terrify Bud, never mind anyone else in his family, and you know it."
"So your suggestion is a nineteen year old Jagerbar who's already tried to eviscerate a couple people?"
A squeak caught in Roddy's throat. He might have felt just a little hurt at the implication that Monroe didn't think that he could take care of himself, but a teenage Jagerbar was absolutely out of his league. And that was without the guy being apparently already murderous. Monroe's assessment of Nick's sanity or lack thereof sounded about right.
"He screwed up," Nick said. "And he paid for it. Beyond paid for it. It's not going to happen again."
"So your plan is to—" Monroe broke off abruptly. "Roddy, get in here."
Oops. Busted. He let himself in and gave them both his most innocent smile. Which, judging from their expressions, wasn't all that convincing. "What?"
Monroe shook his head, and Nick smiled.
"Tell him," Monroe said, looking at Nick.
Nick sighed and focused on Roddy. "I stopped by this afternoon hoping I'd catch you. There's a kid that I know. He's a Jagerbar, if you didn't already hear that part. He got into some trouble a little while ago—"
"Eviscerating people?" Roddy interrupted. And here he'd gotten a lecture just for scaring some assholes with some rats. Which, okay, that might have accidentally gone a little farther than he'd intended, but still.
Another sigh. "Attempted. It's a long story, but it was part of a very old ritual, and I guarantee that it would never have occurred to him without his mother's..." He shook his head. "Without his mother. Who died because of it, so believe me when I say that he's done with all of that."
"Attempted evisceration doesn't make it better," Monroe muttered. "He's still got a father, and two Jagerbars are getting towards the edge of my weight class."
Well, that was comforting.
"His father is not traditional in any way," Nick said firmly. He turned his attention back to Roddy. "Barry's pretty close to your age, maybe six or eight months older, and right now he could really use a friend. And I don't get the impression that he's the only one."
Roddy scowled. He managed just fine, thanks.
"Would you at least come meet him? If you don't get along, you never have to see each other again."
"I won't see anything again if he murders me."
"Oh, for—he is not going to murder you. I'll be right there."
It was a sad, sad world when the idea of a Grimm's presence was comforting.
Roddy had left the headphones hanging around his neck, but he could still hear the music perfectly clearly as he bounced easily in time with the beat. The rave last night had gone pretty well, and the turntables were his for the next three weeks per Sammy. With the stipulation that he'd better have some new material for the Halloween rave, granted, but Roddy was pretty cool with that. Especially since Sammy had apparently spent some time up in Seattle since they'd last seen each other and had left him with a bag of demo tapes too.
It felt a little odd to be spinning at home instead of tucked away in a drafty warehouse, but it was...of all the things that had changed that he really, desperately wished hadn't, he was pretty okay with this becoming part of the new normal. Nick wouldn't approve, but under the circumstances Roddy could live with that. After all, at the moment he was laying tracks to keep himself busy and non-panicking while he waited for Nick to show up and drag him off to a meet-and-greet with a fucking Jagerbar. A pair of fucking Jagerbars. He still had no idea how he'd let himself be talked into that one, and there was no way that he wasn't going to regret it.
With a shake of his head he saved off his current selection of music and brought up the next set of tracks, these with a heavy drum intro guaranteed to get people moving, and even with the headphones hanging around his neck he nearly missed the knock at the door. Probably would have missed it, if it hadn't interfered with the beat.
He sighed and shut the tables down before going to open the door. "Hey, Nick."
"Hey," he returned. "What on earth were you just playing? The whole porch was vibrating."
The whole porch was a bunch of two by fours and Roddy figured that he'd be lucky if it lasted until next summer before collapsing under its own weight, but he shrugged anyway. "Sammy passed me a few demo tracks, and there's a new drummer up in Seattle who kills it with his bass."
"I'm sure that that made sense in some language that I don't speak."
Roddy rolled his eyes.
Nick crossed his arms over his chest and gave Roddy an expectant look. "Are you staying out of trouble? Sammy or no?"
"Yes."
From Nick's expression he didn't entirely believe that, but after a moment he relaxed his arms again and seemed to let it go. Much to Roddy's relief since BS'ing Nick didn't seem to work all that much better than BS'ing Monroe.
"All right," Nick said. "Are you about ready to go? I figured that we could stop on the way up and grab sandwiches for all four of us."
"Oh, great, then they can associate me with food."
"Now you're just being ridiculous."
"Fine," Roddy said with a sigh. He grabbed his jacket and stepped out, locking the door behind him. "At least I won't die hungry."
Nick bit off what sounded suspiciously like a groan. "Come on." He climbed into the driver's side of the jeep, reaching over to unlock the passenger side to let Roddy in. "How have you been, anyway? I know we haven't had much time to talk since..." He made a vague gesture towards his face, and Roddy had no trouble filling in the rest of the sentence since there was still some evidence of the fights that he'd been involved in.
"Okay."
"No trouble with your classmates?"
Roddy scoffed. "Just the usual assholes; nothing that I can't handle. They can't do much to me in school anyway." Something he'd already repeated a few times, mostly to Monroe which was probably where Nick had heard about it. "Is Juliette doing better after everything?" he asked as they left the lot. "And you?" Not that he wasn't assuming that Nick was fine given that his bruises were fading fast, but the last time that Roddy had talked to Monroe Juliette had still been having some weird memory issues.
Nick's expression darkened a little. "She's still having some trouble remembering things. It's a little...strained, at the moment."
Oops. "Sorry."
Nick shook his head and gave a less than convincing smile. "It's...we'll sort it out. It'll be all right."
Since it wasn't like Roddy could do anything about anything, he only nodded.
"So what about the kids at school besides the idiot bullies?" Nick asked after a few minutes of silence. "Getting along okay with them?"
"I continue to ignore them, they continue to ignore me, and everyone is perfectly happy with the situation." Except Nick, obviously, given Roddy's current predicament.
Nick shook his head and then turned onto one of the county roads heading north the along the border of the national park, and Roddy's apprehension grew as they left the part of the city that he had an even passing familiarity with. And given a choice he'd always take abandoned warehouses over thick forests; they made running and hiding much easier.
Sandwiches for lunch came from a little square with a deli and a gas station and a way-too-fancy supermarket, and shortly after that they made another turn onto a narrow road that led up into the forest itself. Said road ended at a ridiculously large cabin-type house because apparently it hadn't been a road, it had been a driveway—amazingly enough that didn't make Roddy feel any better—and Nick smiled as he pulled to a stop and shut the car off.
"Are you ready?"
"No."
"You'll be fine. I think you'll like Barry."
"Uh-huh." Nick's best friend was a Blutbad, and even if Roddy liked Monroe too that made his judgment automatically questionable. Roddy's fingers tightened on the bag of sandwiches, and he let Nick lead the way up to the door because he wasn't an idiot. And when it opened it took every bit of willpower that he had to not duck entirely behind Nick because the man who answered had to be at least a couple inches taller than even Monroe and was quite a bit heavier as well.
"Hello."
"Hey," Nick returned. "Thanks for inviting us." He reached back to draw Roddy forward, and Roddy didn't struggle only because genetics sucked and there was no point in completely humiliating himself. "This is Roddy Geiger. Roddy, Frank Rabe."
"Hello," Mr. Rabe—because Roddy was damn well not using his first name unless given direct permission—repeated, offering a hand.
Roddy swallowed and made himself meet it. "Hi."
The handshake was perfunctory at best, which was just fine by Roddy since he liked his fingers intact, and then Mr. Rabe stepped back and gestured for them to come in. "This is my son, Barry."
And fuck. The Jagerbar kid probably was pretty close to Roddy's age, but he was at least as big as his father, and he was staring at Roddy like he was some kind of vaguely interesting bug.
