Part Ten of the Switch AU
A JSE Fanfic
[This is part of an ongoing fic series I started in April 2019. While Jackie is still missing, JJ takes it upon himself to make sure everyone is doing alright. Though perhaps he's taken on more than he can handle...]
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The alarm went off at eight o’clock am. The beeping had been ramped up in volume, something that Jameson suddenly very much regretted. He also regretted that he’d set his alarm clock on his bookshelf across the room, instead of the nightstand right next to him. He groaned and rolled over, briefly considering throwing a magic bolt at the clock to shut it up, but instead stood up and walked over to turn it off. He sighed. Well, he was awake now.
Normally, JJ was more of a morning person than a late waker. But he hadn’t been sleeping well lately. Last night, the last he’d glanced at the glowing digital numbers of the clock, it was 3:45 am. And he remembered waking up a couple times, too. He was probably nervous about what he had planned today.
Which reminded him. He needed to get ready. He went through the drawers and found a set of clothes for the day, then went downstairs. While heating up a cinnamon roll for breakfast, he jotted a note down for Marvin, explaining where he would be all day:
"Sorry, I won’t be around all day. I have that meeting with another magician at nine, that one I told you about a few days ago. Then I’m going to go visit a few people and study at the library. I have rehearsal starting at 4:30, you can come watch if you want. See you later! -JJ"
He hoped that would help. Marvin hated being out of the loop.
After that, it was a half hour to get ready, and another half hour to take the car and drive to the park, where he’d be meeting…someone. He wasn’t sure what they would look like. About two weeks ago, he’d reached out to the ABIM—the organization that functioned as a loose government for magicians. He didn’t know much about them, having only interacted with them maybe once or twice. But…well, things were starting to look bad. Jackie had been missing for six months. He hadn’t had any luck scrying for Jackie’s location, and there were no signs of Distorter to go off of, either. He hadn’t seen Anti in person in a few weeks, Schneep was being evasive as well, and Marvin…well, he wasn’t exactly talking about what was going on with him, but Jameson could hear him and his nightmares through the floorboards.
So of course, Jameson had to do something about this. He couldn’t just let everything fall apart. He had to make sure the others were alright, had to find some way to help fix everything. But at this point, he couldn’t do it on his own. Which is why he reached out to the ABIM, hoping other magicians would have some sort of advice. A week ago, they’d gotten back to him, saying they would send a representative out to talk.
Which was why he was in the park right now, walking around the perimeter of the small pond, looking for someone. The park was pretty empty at nine in the morning, on a cloudy weekday, so it was easy to see the only other person around. She spotted him at the same moment, waving him over to a bench sitting by the pond’s shore.
“So. You’re Mr. Jameson Jackson, then?” She asked, eyes scanning him as he approached.
“Yes. And who are you?” He scanned her in turn. She wasn’t too unusual, he supposed. Well, she stood out a bit because of her red hair and green eyes, a rare combination. But her jeans, T-shirt, and zip-up hoodie didn’t seem too magical to him.
“My name’s Aoife Kelley,” she said. “I’m part of the Magi, which is a subdivision of ABIM. How’re you doing?”
“I’m fine, I suppose. You?”
“Good. Here, let’s sit.” Aoife gestured to the wrought-iron bench. Once JJ sat down, she did as well. “Now, then. To business.” She muttered a few words, and reached forward. Her eyes flared golden yellow, and her hand disappeared, like she’d slid it into a pocket in the air. JJ jumped in alarm, then stared in fascination. He’d never seen a spell like this before. Aoife’s hand pulled back, suddenly holding a blue binder. She flipped it open. “I’m going to just ask you a few questions, see if we have your information right.”
JJ nodded. “Alright.”
“Your name’s Jameson Daniel Jackson. Male. British nationality, Caucasian race. Twenty-seven years old, birthday October 31st, 1990.”
“Yes, that’s all correct.”
“Elemental magic with an ice/water focus, as well as a lesser healing ability. You work as a stage magician?” Aoife raised an eyebrow at that last part.
“Yes.” JJ tried not to squirm. Ironically, he didn’t like being the center of attention. At least, not on such an… INDIVIDUAL level. “If you’re going to lecture me about the dangers of using magic on stage, I’ve already heard it from one of you. I’m being cautious.”
Aoife grinned. “Well, alright, if you’re sure.” She looked back at the file. “There’s no history of magic in your family, nor is there a history of mental illness in you or your bloodline.”
That last part was a bit odd. “Yes, that’s right.” JJ coughed awkwardly. “Are…can we get to the purpose of this meeting? I’d planned to meet up with someone else after this.”
“Oh. Yes, right.” Aoife flipped the binder close. “Sorry to keep you.”
“No, it’s fine, it’s not too pressing.” JJ shrugged. “I just…this is a…rather pressing situation I’m in, and I would really appreciate any advice you have on the matter.”
Aoife’s brows scrunched together. “Well, y’see. That’s the problem.”
Jameson felt his heart stop. “What do you mean?”
“This…creature, that you say is following you. That took one of your friends…” Aoife bit her lip. “We…don’t have any records of something like it.”
Jameson could only stare at her. “I’m sorry?”
“We don’t have any records of it.” She opened the binder again, pulling out a piece of paper. Jameson recognized it. It was a printed-out copy of the letter he’d sent to the ABIM online. Because surprisingly enough, the magical organization had an official website. Aoife scanned through the typed words. “It’s something that appears to be human, but with that head injury, it can’t be a living human. And its array of powers…being able to confuse people, sometimes directly control them, and otherwise make it so the mind doesn’t register it as existing…” She tucked the letter back in the binder. “…we don’t have anything like that in our files.”
“Tha—that’s impossible,” Jameson said softly. “You must have something in there. Maybe something buried deep—”
“Yeah, I checked all our records,” Aoife said firmly. “My permissions are pretty high-up, I have access to everything. And I couldn’t find anything like this. Oh sure, there are records of undead that fit the physical description, and some creatures with similar powers, but nothing that fits.” Aoife paused. “I have to ask…are you sure this thing is really out there?”
“Am I sure?” Jameson asked, incredulous. “Am I SURE?! He kidnapped one of my friends and poisoned another! Convinced one of them to walk out into moving traffic! My housemate has nightmares about him that wake him up screa—” Jameson took a deep breath, clenching his fists in an effort to calm down. “We’ve all seen it. Of course we’re sure.”
“Alright. Alright.” Aoife raised her hands, as if in surrender. “I believe you. But, well…some of the others don’t.”
“Some of the others?” Jameson repeated, eyes narrowing.
“Yes,” Aoife confirmed. “It’s a big group, and your request for aid got passed around a lot, looking for someone to help. Some of them think you’re making it up, some of them think you’re mistaken…a few of them think you’ve lost your marbles.” Suddenly the question about history of mental illness made more sense. “But the fact of the matter is, we just…we’ve never heard of anything like this before.”
“Why would I make it up?” Jameson asked quietly.
Aoife shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think you are. But not everyone does. If you could show some sort of proof, it would be helpful.”
“Oh, do you want me to take a picture of him, next time I see it?” JJ drawled. “In between the moments of me fighting for my friends’ lives and free wills?”
“I don’t know,” Aoife said quietly. She stood up, tucking the binder under her arm. “Look, I’m sorry, but until there’s some sort of evidence…we really can’t help you.”
Jameson shot to his feet as well. “Then why did you even agree to meet with me in the first place?”
“Well, it would be rude to just dismiss you in an email,” Aoife said calmly. “Impersonal, you know?” Her voice softened a bit. “Look, I want to help, but I can’t as long as we don’t know what this is. We just need something to show that this…what you’re saying it is. And if it is, then…well…” She pauses. “Then we’ve never seen anything like this before. And we’ll need time. And information.” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small, rectangular piece of wood. She held it out to JJ, who took it silently. Looking down at it, he saw a phone number burned into the wood surface. “This is my personal cell, call me when you’ve…got something. Okay?” She waited for him to nod, then smiled. “Be seeing you.” And without another word, she left.
Jameson stared down at the wooden card, then tucked it into his pocket. He watched Aoife walk away, until she was out of the park and out of the sight. Then he turned, let out a cry of frustration, and kicked a rock out onto the surface of the pond. Where it landed, ripples turned the water a bright, glowing blue that slowly faded away.
He shook his head, making an effort to breathe slowly and deeply. If they’ve never heard of anything like Distorter before, it made sense that they needed proof. Just to make sure he wasn’t pranking them or anything. But god, was it frustrating. What was he supposed to do?! When and how was he supposed to get evidence that Distorter existed?! The gray man hadn’t been seen in months! Not to mention, part of him wondered how much help the other magicians could really be, if they’ve never seen anything like Distorter before. All that meant…all that meant was that they were dealing with a threat unlike anything before. Jameson shivered.
No, he’d…he’d figure it out. He had to. Maybe he could modify some of the mind protection spells he found, so they could ward a specific place? Maybe work them into some sort of offensive spell? Or he could put a little more effort into the tracking spells, if he just tried a little more he was sure he could find Jackie.
JJ headed out of the park and back towards his car. He’d planned to do the studying after he got all his visits for the day done, but his mind was already brewing. He could adjust the schedule a bit. Time to head to the library.
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The clock read 9:34am, a fact which surprised Schneep when he looked at it.
Didn’t it say 12 just a few minutes ago? No, there had been a 3:40 in that interim somewhere. Or was it 6?
"You really should go to sleep."
Schneep shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Shut up.”
There was a figure hovering in the corner of his eyes. "You’re going to kill yourself before you get anything done."
You weren’t supposed to acknowledge it. Schneep knew this. But it was a little hard to ignore it when it looked like one of your friends. Still, he didn’t answer this time, instead backing up to get a full view of the map he’d taped up on the wall. He used to have this entirely digital, but he’d tried printing in all out on paper, see if that helped. The map was littered with push pins, strings tying together locations to newspaper articles he’d found and taped to the wall. He was aware this looked like a crazy conspiracy board, but it was sort of helping.
The figure hovered closer. It looked close enough to reach out and touch, peering over his shoulder. "Is it going to help? You look terrible. Is it really worth it?"
“Yes,” Schneep breathed, leaning on the back of the couch. “Yes, if I can find you. It’s worth it.”
There was a knock at the apartment’s door. Schneep jumped, trying to back up but somehow managing to fall over the back of the sofa instead. Who was at the door? Who came to see him? Was it him, the gray man, coming to finish the job?
Another knock. “Dude, I can and I will pick your lock, let me in.”
He knew that voice, he realized, standing up. But was that proof? What if it was someone pretending to be him?
Oh, too late, the handle was rattling. The door opened to reveal Anti, who entered and closed the door behind him. He looked around the apartment, whistling. “This place is bigger mess than the room of a nine-year-old who refuses to clean. What’s up, Volt?” He paused. “You look terrible.”
"I told you."
“Thank you,” Schneep muttered. “What are you doing here?”
“Um, I just…” Anti looked around the area again. “I was in the neighborhood. Why do you have a serial killer board up on your wall?”
“Shut up,” Schneep snapped. He put his hands on his hips and looked over the wall. “I am trying to figure things out. It is a new approach.”
“Uh-huh.” Anti’s eyes darted over the wall. “Figure what kind of things out?”
“You know what I mean! Anything, everything!” Schneep began pacing the length of his living area. On the edges of his vision, there was a shadow of a red hoodie, of big round glasses and brown hair. "Is it worth it? Is it going to work?" “It will work,” Schneep insisted. “I-I can find you.”
“Um…” Anti glanced around the apartment. “Who’re you talking to?”
Shit, no. Anti couldn’t know. Not now. Schneep really didn’t feel like being analyzed by Mr. Psychology-Is-My-Hobby. He whirled around, pointing at the wall. “I am keeping track of everything, everything odd in the last few years. Is very strange, you see? There are a high number of disappearances, and of accidents in the city. More so than in other cities.” He felt his eye twitching, a tiny pulse in his lid. He ignored it. “It is no wonder the police have been no help in finding him, they are useless at this!”
“Really?” Anti looked over the newspaper articles, taking in all the headlines. “You think maybe it’s…you know, all been him?”
“Possibly, possibly.”
"This isn’t going to work." The shadow was whispering in his ear. "You’re slowly dying over this, and it’s not worth it. Can you really find me? You haven’t had success so far."
Schneep waved in the direction of the shadow, as if trying to clear it. “Shut up.”
“I wasn’t saying anything,” Anti said, looking at him skeptically. “You…did you go to sleep last night?”
Apparently not. Or maybe the clocks were lying to him. Schneep almost sat down on the sofa, but he knew if he did that, he wouldn’t want to stand up and keep working. And that was the most important thing. Keep working. He had to succeed eventually. “Anti,” he said. “Can you do something?”
“Uh, depends on what it is.”
“Where have you been?” Schneep asked. “I have not seen you in, mmm, a couple of months now. Not outside of text.”
Anti shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his neck. “Well. Y’know. Been busy. Is…is that what you wanted me to do? Answer the question?”
What question? Wait, what? What was happening? Schneep shook his head. “No. I am sorry, I got distracted. I wanted to know if you could…I do not know, do something to keep me thinking.”
Anti took a step back. “Um, what?”
“Like one of those stories you like,” Schneep said. “Those spooky ones you tell. Tell one of those, I want to think about something else for a while.” The shadow stood beside him. “But I do not want to think of nothing.”
“Uh. Sure, I guess.” Anti flung himself down on the nearest armchair. “I can think of one you haven’t heard yet. You gonna sit down?”
“No.”
“Well, uh. Alright, then.” Anti bit his lip, thinking. “I could tell you the story about the house on Aspen Street.”
Schneep blinked. “I think you have mentioned that before. But I do not remember it.”
“Yeah, I think I’ve talked about it.” Anti flashed a grin. “But I always got stopped from talking about it, by Jackson and Jac—” He cut himself off. “Well, I can do it now.”
“Why would they stop you from talking about it?”
“I guess it could be kind of freaky. I mean, it starts with a true story.” Anti sat up straight. “Five years ago, we all turned on the evening news to a shocking story. A family of four had been found dead. Tragic enough in itself, but things start to become even bleaker once you heard the rest.”
Schneep sat down on the sofa. He gestured for Anti to continue.
Anti’s eyes lit up. “The house was 68 Aspen Street. For years, it had been home to a mother, a father, a son, and a daughter. It had been a happy place, a haven. But things started to crack and fall apart. The parents began arguing. About what, we don’t know. Maybe it was money, or bad habits, or the kids, or anything else that could drive two people apart. But drive them apart it did. And eventually the mother couldn’t handle it anymore. She took the kids and left, filing for divorce. It went through, of course, and the father was left alone in the house that had once been full of loved ones.”
“Now, the details of what happened next are hard to fudge out. We know that the kids visited their father on the weekends, and that they were the only people he saw regularly. The father was fired from his job, and had no luck finding anything new. The neighbors stopped seeing him, as he stayed in the house almost every day. He became a recluse who only really lived for his family. A family that was seeing him less and less.”
“One spring day, the kids and their mother disappeared. The police investigated the father, of course, but they found no evidence that he was involved in any way. Until a week later. A neighbor called the authorities, saying she heard gunshots. Four of them, to be precise. Three close together, and one a little bit after. It came from the house on Aspen Street. When the police arrived, they found the whole family. Dead. The father was still holding a handgun.”
Anti paused. “And from there? Well, stories like that tend to linger. Sad spirits refuse to leave. They say the house on Aspen Street is haunted by the family. People who live there tend to get in accidents. And those who get out before the accidents kill them, they always report hearing voices, having things move when they aren’t there…and seeing the figures of the family. Watching. Waiting.”
The apartment was silent. Then Schneep suddenly took a deep breath. “That is a…that is a very sad story,” he whispered.
“Yeah. It is.” Anti said nothing else. The events spoke for themselves.
“You are very good at scaring people, Anti, your voice can be quite…eerie,” Schneep said.
“Thanks.” Anti grinned. “Now. You should go to sleep.”
“Maybe I will. But not if you are here.” Schneep stood up, and pointed at the door. “So, out.”
“Okay, fine.” Anti started to leave, but paused just before reaching the door. He turned around. “Are…are you doing…?” He seemed to have trouble asking the question he really wanted to.
“I am fine,” Schneep insisted.
“You’re going to go to sleep now, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re…you feel…you’re…?”
“Yes, I am fine. Now leave.”
Anti seemed to hesitate, but he opened the door and left, closing it behind him.
Once he was gone, Schneep sighed. He turned to look back at the wall. Something about that story…something was niggling at his mind. He walked up to the map, grabbed a spare push pin, and pushed it into the paper, right at 68 Aspen Street.
"You really think this’ll help? It won’t."
“Shut up,” Schneep muttered. “You are not here now, Jackie. You are somewhere else. And I will find you, and bring you back. I…” He leaned his head against the wall. “I promise.”
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JJ lost track of time in the library. He meant to only stay there until twelve, but when he next checked the time on his phone, it was 1:30. He immediately cleaned up, reshelving the books. He had to be sure to do it himself. After all, these weren’t normal books. They were spell books, hidden in part of the library’s reference section for any magician to use if they wished. Well, as long as the magician was registered with the ABIM, since they were the people who allowed someone to see through the concealing ward around the books.
He was…tired. He’d spent about of of his time practicing the spells he read about, hidden in a nook on the second floor of the library. And four and a half hours of consistent magic use was…draining. But it didn’t matter. He had more to do.
A short drive later, JJ parked in the driveway of a familiar house. He grabbed the tupperware container he’d had sitting in the car since he left that morning, climbed out, walked up to the threshold, and rang the doorbell. A short while later, the door was opened…by seemingly nobody. JJ looked down. “Oh. Hello, Michelle.”
“Hi Uncle JJ,” Michelle said. “Are you looking for Dad? He’s not here.”
“No, I-I know.” JJ tried to smile. It came out smaller than he intended. Of course Jackie wasn’t here. “I’m looking for your ren.”
“Oh. Okay.” Michelle darted back into the room, leaving the door open. “Ren! Uncle JJ is here! He wants to see you!”
JJ walked inside. The living room looked the same as ever. Except for the coat rack by the door. The white coat hanging from one of its hooks had a bit more dust.
Rama appeared from down the hallway. “Thanks for getting the door, Michelle,” they said, ruffling their daughter’s hair. Then they looked up at JJ. “Good to see you again, Jameson.”
“Good to see you too,” Jameson nodded. He showed off the tupperware container he was holding. “I made cake. Thought you’d want some.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Rama brushed a strand of their hair behind their ear. They hadn’t been wearing the red beanie they used to lately. “C’mon, let’s go in the kitchen.”
Jameson nodded. He shut the door behind him and followed Rama to the house’s kitchen. He set the container on the counter while Rama pulled open the silverware drawer and took out a couple forks. “Here,” they handed one to JJ.
“Oh, no, I mean thank you, but I-I already have some at home,” Jameson stammered. “This is for you.”
Rama nodded, putting one of the forks back. They peeled the lid off the tupperware and took out one of the slices inside, putting it on a plate already sitting on the counter. “So. Is this the part of the visit where you ask me how we’re doing?”
Jameson paused. “It can be.”
“Well…I guess we’re as okay as possible.” Rama plunged the fork into the cake slice. “Nothing much has changed since you last visited. Which I appreciate, by the way, you checking in.”
“It’s no problem.” Jameson smiled sadly.
Rama chuckled. There were dark bags under their dark eyes. “Does Michelle still say the same thing when she opens the door?”
“Yes,” Jameson said softly. ‘Are you looking for Dad? He’s not here.’ “How is she?”
“I don’t know.” Rama shook their head. “I’m worried about her, you know. The effect this could have on her, especially if…” They stop. They’d been toying with a part of the cake slice, and they finally put it in their mouth. They swallowed visibly. “The police aren’t giving us updates anymore. The last time they showed up, the detective lady said that, statistically, the longer someone is missing, the more likely it is that they’re…” They trailed off. Then they shook their head, a determined set to their face. “Jackieboy is a fighter. He’s always been tougher than people give him credit for, including himself.”
“He really is.” Jameson nodded in agreement. “People often mistake kindness for weakness. But he’s not weak at all.”
Rama looked…reassured by that. They looked down at their cake slice. “Did you know…that his birthday was last week?”
Jameson was silent for a moment. “..yes,” he whispered. July 10th.
Rama nodded, as if that’s all they wanted. “Well, thank you for the cake.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m sure you have much else to do today.”
He did, but that didn’t matter. “I can stay longer, if you want.”
“No, no, you go ahead,” Rama waved. “This has been nice, and…and thank you.”
“Alright, if you’re sure.” Jameson headed for the door. “Anything else you need?”
Rama smiled. “No. That’s enough.”
Jameson nodded, and without anything else, he left.
Once outside, he leaned back against the closed door and let out a long, long breath. It felt like there was something pressing down on his spine, making his head want to dip forward. Or maybe it was on his head itself. Or somewhere inside it. But he couldn’t let it happen. He had more to do. It was 1:52, he only had three and a half hours left before rehearsal. Plenty of time for his last visit, but maybe once that was done he could squeeze in another bout of studying. Maybe he could find some sort of spell that would lighten someone’s mood, if only for a little. Or a potion, that would be better. He could learn how potions work, if it could help them. He could do it. He could do it.
Jameson bit back a yawn as he got back in the car. It wouldn’t be too far a drive.
Fifteen minutes later, JJ was knocking on the door to Schneep’s apartment. There was no answer. He waited for another minute, then knocked again. He heard something fall over. “Um…Henrik? Are you doing okay in there?”
The door opened. Schneep was standing in the doorway, his hair wild, his shirt rumpled and with some sort of spill staining the blue material. He was wearing one of his electrical gloves, the ones that would shock someone upon contact, and judging by the wide-eyed look on his face, he was prepared to use it. But he relaxed a bit upon seeing Jameson. “Oh. Is you.”
“Yes, it’s me.” JJ tried to peer around Schneep into the apartment. “Can I come in?”
Schneep muttered something, but stood aside, letting Jameson enter.
JJ paused, taking in the map and pins on the wall. “That’s…new,” he said slowly.
“I am trying a new approach to finding things,” Schneep explained. “What are you doing here?”
Jameson spun to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“What are you doing here? Why are you here? What is your point?” Schneep pressed. “I am having many visitors today, first Anti, then you. What is it? Are you two having a plan?”
“Whoa, hang on, slow down.” JJ raised his hands. “I just wanted to check on you. I haven’t seen you in…in a while, now. I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Well. I am doing fine, so you can go now.” Schneep turned his back to Jameson, walking up to the map. “Shut it.”
“I…I don’t think I said anything?” Jameson said, confused.
Schneep shook his head. “I know. Anyway, you can go now.”
Jameson stayed where he was. “Henrik…” His voice was soft. “Did you sleep…at all, recently?”
“What is with you people asking me that?!” Schneep suddenly yelled, pounding his fist against the wall. “I am fine!”
“That wasn’t my question.” Jameson approached Schneep, stopping within arm’s length. “You…you don’t look good.”
Schneep blinked idly. Dark circles, pale skin, a bit thin…it wasn’t a pretty picture. “Wie spät ist es?” He asked.
“I…I don’t know what you just said,” JJ confessed. “What is spät?”
“What time is it?” Schneep clarified.
Jameson looked at the wall-mounted clock. “It’s ten past two.”
Schneep’s eyes widened briefly, but then he covered it up. “I see.”
“Did you wake up early?” Jameson pressed. “Or…did you not go to sleep at all?”
“You also look like you did not sleep well, what does it matter?” Schneep’s eyes flicked to the side for a moment. “Nein.”
“We’re not talking about me right now, that doesn’t matter,” Jameson said dismissively. “Schneep, are you okay?”
His eyes flicked to the side again. “I am fine, you do not need to keep asking. Perhaps I am tired, but that is all. I have been drinking coffee, it is fine.”
“Of course you have,” Jameson muttered under his breath. “Henrik, you should really go to sleep. Take a nap.”
“I can’t.” Schneep looked at the map. “I am working on things.”
“They’ll still be here when you wake up.”
“You do not know that.”
That was…an odd reaction. “Of course I do.” JJ tried for a laugh. “Things don’t just disappear.”
Schneep didn’t answer, his eyes scanning the map while occasionally flickering to the side, as if he was seeing something move in his peripheral vision.
Jameson stepped forward and placed his hand on Schneep’s shoulder. “Henrik—”
Schneep suddenly screamed. He grabbed Jameson by the wrist, still wearing his electric glove. The shock it sent through Jameson’s body was enough to stun him, so he couldn’t react when Schneep then flipped him over. He landed on the ground with an oof-inducing thump, his head solidly hitting the back of the sofa. He slumped, dazed.
“Mein Gott, Jameson, I-I am sorry!” Schneep was still standing, hand covering his mouth. He pulled off the electric glove and threw it over to the desk, where it landed. “I-I did not mean—! I thought—Jackie—”
“Jackie…?” Jameson sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “What about Jackie?”
“I-I-I—” Schneep was shaking. “I thought he touched me! I thought it was mehr als ein Schatten! I—!”
“Henrik.” Jameson climbed to his feet, using the sofa as support. “Jackie’s not here.”
And Schneep suddenly started crying. “I know that! I know he is not here, but he is! A-and I do not want—! I do not want to stop seeing him!”
Jameson shook his head, bewildered. “Henrik, what are you talking about?”
Schneep buried his face in his hands. “I have been forgetting medication recently, it is making everything confusing!”
“You’re on medication? Hey, it’s okay.” Schneep had fallen to the floor, landing hard on his knees. Jameson knelt beside him. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll help. What’s wrong?”
Schneep grabbed Jameson’s arm. “I did not tell you,” he gasped in between tears. “I d-do not tell anyone. I told Marvin one time, I-I thought he would understand. I do not want anyone to thi-think the worst of me. I would never hurt anyone! Th-these things I see are not dangerous! He knows, the Distorter knows, he pokes fun at me, likes to make his illusions because he knows reality is alrea—sometimes I cannot tell—!”
“Hey, calm down, take deep breaths. I’ll do it with you. In for four…hold for seven…out for eight…in…hold…out…in…hold…out…” It took a few minutes for Schneep to get calm. Once he was fine, Jameson asked, “So…you take some kind of medication?”
Schneep nodded.
“And without it, you see things?”
Another nod.
“And you’ve been forgetting it, so you’re seeing Jackie?”
And another.
“Alright. I understand now.” Jameson nodded. “Henrik…there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I know,” Schneep whispered. “But I am worried others do not know that. That they will think I am…” He trailed off.
“Well, I think you’re a good person. You’re smart, and stubborn, and sarcastic, and…other adjectives that begin with S.” Jameson smiled when that got a laugh out of Schneep. “And this doesn’t change any of that.”
Tears started to gather in Schneep’s eyes again. He buried his face in Jameson’s shirt.
“See? It’s okay. It’s all okay.” For a moment they were silent. Then Jameson said, “I think you should go to bed now. But not before taking that medication you’ve been missing.”
Schneep nodded. “Stay with me, a while?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay with you.”
He had time to.
.............................................................................................
Jameson arrived at the theatre for rehearsal. He had not been expecting to spend an extra two hours at Schneep’s apartment, but he wasn’t about to leave while his friend was upset. Even if that friend had fallen asleep within fifteen minutes and hadn’t shown any signs of waking up in all the two hours he was there.
Jameson paused before entering the theatre, leaning against the wall. A few deep breaths. He was tired. God, he was tired. The weight was pressing down, not on his spine or his head, but directly on his mind. But he had to go to rehearsal. Everyone was expecting him. He couldn’t skip one. He couldn’t let down all the crew members that needed to run through everything. And if they missed one, that could delay the show and disappoint the audience. He couldn’t do that. He had to show up. Run through the show. It was only another three hours. He could do it.
It was not encouraging when his stage manager Darla greeted him with a “Where have you been?! You’re ten minutes late!”
“Things came up,” Jameson said. “Now are we ready to start?”
“Yeah, of course.” Darla nodded. “You left your cape and mask here last time, we brought them out, check with Ryan.”
“Got it.” He…hadn’t actually realized he’d left his mask and cape at the theatre. Well it was a good thing the others had found it, and he hadn’t had to drive back home, look for it, not find it, only to drive back and find his stuff already here. He would hate to waste everyone’s time.
Things went smoothly for the first hour. But it was when they all reconvened after a ten-minute break that things started to turn for the worse. For whatever reason, the lights wouldn’t work, and the techies took twenty minutes to figure out the problem. Just when they thought it was fixed, the main spotlight flickered and died. “It’s fine, we’ll just run it without that one,” Jameson said, sighing. He blinked, lingering in the darkness for a while, before opening them and returning to the busy world.
Then he was having trouble remembering his planned lines. True, being a magician didn’t involve nearly as much memorization as being a stage actor, but it was still more than most people thought. Not to mention, it often involved more timing, as you had to get the line to match up perfectly with the trick or it loses all dramatic effect.
Oh yes, the tricks. Jameson’s tricks were a clever combination of real magic and stage magic, a fine balance between the two. Of course, the crew didn’t know about the REAL magic. They just thought it was some wonderful light tricks and digital effects. So when they magic came out strained, because Jameson had spent three hours trying out new spells earlier that day and was a little lower on energy, that meant the rehearsal was delayed for an entire half hour while the crew tried to fix technical devices that didn’t actually work. Guilt was curdling in Jameson’s stomach. He was making everyone stay late.
And indeed, the time was 8:23 pm and it didn’t look like the rehearsal was anywhere close to being finished. Jameson squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears start to well. No, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Sure, he was tired and his head felt heavy with the events of the day. It didn’t matter. These things weren’t important. What was important was everyone else’s thoughts and feelings. Not his.
“Alright, one more time!” Darla called out. “Start from the levitation trick!”
That trick was…well, tricky. Levitation magic didn’t come naturally to him. Jameson took a deep breath, adjusted his mask, and shouted, “Ready!”
The objects he was levitating—just wooden cubes for now, probably to be replaced with something else in the actual show—were placed on the tables around the stage. Jameson blinked sweat out of his eyes, trying to focus. He chanted the words under his breath, feeling the strain of magic. Like trying to stretch a barely-used muscle after you’d already been working out for half an hour. Focus. Concentrate. Watch the blue magic float around the target, watch them wobble, then lift, slowly, trembling in the air—
“It snapped!”
“Backdrop’s coming down!”
“Watch out!”
The shouts snapped him out of concentration, sending the cubes crashing to the ground. Jameson whirled around to see the painted backdrop crashing down as well, landing just a few feet from him. He stared at it where it landed. The shouts of the crew members faded into buzzing background noise.
He could fix this.
He could fix it, he could help.
It was alright.
It was fine, he could help.
He could—
He felt his heart burning cold.
Tears slipped from his eyes, from under his mask, only to freeze the moment they left his face, shattering on the floor.
The buzzing background noise was growing louder, louder, it was a storm inside his head, thoughts whirling in a whiteout of feelings he couldn’t name, he was tired, he was so so tired, tired of this, tired of everything—
A blizzard exploded on the stage.
Wind howled, blue chips of cold magic swirling around him in a storm, a storm, a storm. Beneath his feet the wood of the stage groaned as the temperature dropped, glowing icicles of freezing magic jabbing from the ground. He’d fallen to his hands and knees. All he could see was blue and white and blue and white and blue and white—
Someone was shouting. He was vaguely aware of the sound through the screaming gales in his mind. The magic storm swirled taller, reaching the lights above and freezing their bulbs until they burst.
Someone was in front of him. He could see their shape in the fog of the magic flakes. They grabbed him by the arms, started shaking. He didn’t respond. Just stared. Tears were still slipping down, freezing his mask to his face.
Slowly, a voice started to pierce the winds. “—Jems! You can’ keep t’is up, you’ll hurt someone! Yourself, too! Jems! Look at me!”
Jameson’s eyes focused on the someone in front of him. A familiar face. Marvin. “Are you alrigh’, Jems?” he asked.
And Jameson shook his head.
“What’s wrong? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
He shook his head again. How was he supposed to say so much? How was he supposed to explain about how he was being crushed? Crushed first by Jackie going missing, by Distorter being out there and ready to fuck with them at any time, and the other magicians wouldn’t or couldn’t help, so he had to do it on his own, he had to make sure his friends were safe from this creature, he had to learn some way to keep him at bay, and he had to be there for everyone else, had to listen to all their problems, had to make breakfast in the morning after Marvin had another nightmare, had to bring food and anything that could help to Rama and Michelle who’d just lost a husband and a father who might not come back, had to figure out what was wrong with Anti, had to check on Schneep because he was in danger of working himself to death while being attacked by his own mind, he had to do all this and it was crushing him, it was killing him, he couldn’t handle everyone’s problems as well as his own, couldn’t hold their grief and his too, but it didn’t matter didn’t matter shouldn’t matter should it matter? couldn’t matter in the face of all—
Oh. Oh, Marvin was hugging him. He was shivering, in the face of this cold storm coming from Jameson, but he was still hugging him. There was frost forming on his jacket, but he wasn’t leaving.
Jameson leaned his head on Marvin’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around his friend. His shoulders started to shake. But the storm died down, ice covering the stage melted into nothing. Things were warm again.
“We’re goin’ to go home,” Marvin said in a voice that left no room for argument. “We’re goin’ to go home. And we’ll relax tonight, and tomorrow, too.”
Jameson started to shake his head. He couldn’t let Marvin worry about him—
“Yes, we are.” Marvin stood up, still holding Jameson close. “You do a lot for others, Jems. Let someone else do somet’ing for you.”
That…that sounded really nice. Jameson grabbed the fabric of Marvin’s jacket, clinging to it. He nodded.
“Alrigh’. Let’s go. C’mon, one step at a time.”
One step at a time.
They took the bus back, since Marvin wouldn’t let JJ drive. Once home, Marvin tried to cook. He did better than expected. They turned on the television in the living room, with Marvin in his usual chair and JJ lying on the sofa, underneath a blanket. The cat took the opportunity to fall asleep on him. And eventually, JJ found he was drifting off as well.
Maybe…maybe it did matter.
Maybe he should let it matter.
JJ fell asleep, feeling warmer now knowing that there would be others still there when he woke up.