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“I don’t want to.”
His nephew was still at an age where “wanna” and “gonna” were still expected, even in formal situations, but he already pronounced every single consonant with slightly alarming diction. Although, Jupiter considered, looking at his sister and sister-in-law, with the way they pronounced things, and had never babytalked to Jack, as far as he had seen, it wasn’t so surprising.
“Just a little bit,” he tried to coax. “It’s good practice. It’ll make it easier on you in the future. Do you remember learning to walk.”
His bottom lip jutted out and he folded his arms, “No.”
Jupiter had to stop himself from sighing, “If we do this for… half an hour, then we can go to the park? Would you like that? It’s a very nice day outside, isn’t it?”
Jack looked out the window of his study wistfully.
Jupiter didn’t need to be a Witness to see that he had won this. But it helped. His nephew’s resolve was crumbling with every second.
“I promise it’ll be fun,” he said., pulling out the hooks and yarn. “We’re going to make-”
“FEN!” he shouted. “I want to make a Fen.”
He blinked, “Certainly. Inside voices though, Jack. Yes?”
“… yes. But we’re making a Fen?”
Jupiter hesitated. He had no pattern for any kind of cat, crocheted or not. But he hadn’t come this far in life without learning how to improvise. The end product was not the purpose of the exercise. “We’re going to try to make a Fen, yes. Provided you meant Fenestra.”
“She’s fluffy,” Jack explained. “And big.”
“Indeed,” he said. “Those two things are certainly true about our Fenestra. Very well. Look at my hands now, patch off, Jackie.” He paused to let him struggle to remove the patch, ruffling up his previously immaculate hair in the process. “Very good. Now this is called a slip-knot. I want you to look at what I’m doing here, and telling me what you see in the Gossamer as I do it. And then you’re going to have a shot. Alright?”
It would have been generous to call either end result a likeness of his housekeeper, but Jupiter thought that he had managed to make some progress with him. It was an old exercise, one he had learned at a much older age than Jack, since he had never really learned how to apply his knack until he started attending Wunsoc. He had been good enough to share his skill at the Show Trial, but his ability to filter had been abysmal.
Jack’s mums were not yet sure if they would approve of Jupiter taking Jack on as his candidate when the day came, but if they did, Jupiter would surely set him up with a far greater understanding of how his skill worked, and how to use it than he had had.
It was the least he could do for him.
“What do you think?” he asked, leaning down to fix his eyepatch back in place.
“It was confusing,” he frowned.
“But you made a Fen,” he said, booping him on the nose. “You can take her home with you, isn’t that exciting?”
Jack cradled the tangled yarn to his chest, showing off the teeth missing on his bottom row, “Can we show Fen?”
Jupiter mentally prepared to receive fish skeletons in his laundry return for the next week for this before looking back down at him. “Of course we can.”
“And he’s got his snacks,” Jupiter’s sister fussed over her son, flattening his hair where it was sticking up behind his head and adjusting his patch so that it didn’t cut into his ear. “And you know whom to call-”
He could see the anxiety floating around her the same ways she could see his calmness, “It’s good. I assure you, I have the snacks. Your boy will not starve.”
She smiled weakly, pushing back her own hair, the same colour as Jupiter’s but cut to be short in the front and the back brushing the top of her collar. Her titanium studs glinted in her ears, all up and down her lobes.
“He’ll be fine,” he tucked down the side of her collar that had been brushed up at some point and pressed his hands to her shoulders. “We’re going to have a lovely time at the Bazaar, aren’t we, Jackie? And your mums are going to have a lovely date night, and not be worried at all,” he winked and she punched him in the arm. “I thought you were promoting non-violence,” he fake-whined, holding his arm.
“I’m making exceptions,” she said. “It’s important that wee John here understands nuance. And that one can be non-violent except when it comes to their siblings.”
“Of course,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her. “And you’ll be picking him up in the morning?”
“Eight thirty sharp,” she said.
“Well,” he said. “If you wanted to sleep in, that’s fine too. My schedule is clear.”
She kissed him on the cheek, and Jack on the forehead, and she was gone.
Jack stared after her stoically, sucking on his lower lip. Jupiter knelt down beside him and ruffled up his hair, “We’ll have a grand old time at the Bazaar, won’t we, Jackie?”
“Yes!”
“With lots of sweets.”
“Yes!”
“And toys,” he nodded in an exaggerated manner. “Lots of fun toys for you to bring home. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes!”
The Bazaar had already opened by the time they had arrived, but he had planned for that. He knew well enough how chaotic the opening was, especially this early in the summer, and he had no wish to inform his sister and sister in law that their son had been trampled to death by adults too anxious to get to sweet street and the cheesemarket to care about looking where they were going.
Jack, who normally was fiercely independent, clutched his hand as they wove through the crowds, his skin still soft and baby-like. It wouldn’t be for much longer, now that he had started cello lessons, but growing and changing was a part of life. He just needed to accept that.
Sweet Street was a bit of a bust. Jack didn’t have an overly sweet tooth, and Jupiter didn’t want to be kept up to three by a sugar crashed child, and despite his fun, easy-going laid back, Captain Relaxington, et cetera attitude, he wasn’t keen to give him too much sugar at this age.
Nevertheless, he left the Bazaar with too many knickknacks to put anywhere, and more toys than Jack’s parents would like to have to deal with, and an already sleeping toddler.
“Good night, sir?” Kedgeree let him in the back entrance.
Jack was dreaming of fighting a dragon with a sword, but there was also a cello involved, if Jupiter could parse out the bits that had leaked into the Gossamer. “Very good, Kedge. Can you take these, please?” He passed him the bag of tchotchkes and toys, his shoulder screaming at him. “I’m just going to put him to bed.”
“Big night for the lad, aye?”
“Indeed,” he couldn’t help smiling as he wiped the drool from Jack’s face. “Goodnight, Kedge.”
“And you, sir.”
He fiddled with the wrapping before handing it to Jack.
The shape was unmistakable. Jupiter had briefly played with the idea of wrapping it to look like something else, for the laugh of it, but he had thought Jack would want to see what it was, and what it meant, before he opened it.
“It is really?” his eyebrows raised a little as he took it into his hands, testing the weight, measuring the length with his fingers. “Uncle Jove, you didn’t?”
He rocked back on his heels, grinning at him, “I very much did. You mums helped me pick it out. We thought… well it was- you’re almost a young man now, Jackie. It’s time you learned how to use the brolly rail.
His nephew, a youth of seven years, two weeks, and three days grinned up at him toothily, “Mum said you broke your legs on it.”
“Twice,” he said, lifting him up. “But we’re going to teach you how to use it properly, yeah? No accidents your way if I can help it.”
He put him down on the sofa and Jack ripped open the packaging. “Green!”
“Your favourite colour,” he said. “I hope?”
“Yes!” There were bright fireworks going off around his head. Joy. Delight.
“Do you want to go test it out?” he asked. “Now, it can take a few times to get right but-”
Jack had already run out the door, brolly aloft. Jupiter gave him a few seconds to get a head start before he chased after him.
Jack hadn’t come out of his room all day.
Jupiter couldn’t blame it. He didn’t want to either. Unfortunately he couldn’t. Even with Kedgeree and Fen taking over the primary running of the Hotel for now, and taking bereavement leave from the League, there was more and more to do.
He knocked on his door again, trying to keep the breakfast tray balanced. It was full of Jack’s favourites: hot tea, steaming smoked sausage, black pudding, poached egg oozing over buttered toast.
But he didn’t answer.
“Jack,” he called. “Are you awake?”
His nephew, now his ward, still didn’t respond. Jupiter’s pocket watch said it was eight thirty, long past when he had normally woken, in his experience at least.
“Jack,” he raised his voice. “Please answer the door.”
He heard a shuffling, the sound of stockinged feet hitting the ground and padding over before the door was thrown open.
Jack glared up at him, his hair ruffled, his shirt half-buttoned. Jupiter could see that he had tried to get dressed a few hours ago, and that he had slept badly. And that he had been crying. He was haloed deep blue, the same colour he could see on himself if he looked in the mirror. “What?”
“I brought you breakfast,” he said. “May I come in?”
“Not hungry,” he stuck his chin out.
“I know you might not be, Jackie, but you need to eat,” he showed him the tray. “Chef Honeycutt made your favourites.”
He frowned, “If I eat breakfast, will you go away?”
“For a time,” he said, deliberately not promising anything.
He sniffed and opened the door farther, “Fine.”
He put the tray down on the table in front of Jack’s fireplace. All his things were sitting in boxes, still needing to be unpacked. Some clothes and mementos were sitting out. He focused in on a crocheted doll before realising from where he recognised it. From whom.
His throat tightened, but he didn’t try to hide his grief too far. Enough to focus. Too much and Jack would assume he didn’t care. And he did. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t know how to and he didn’t want to.
“You’ve got egg on your sleeve,” he pointed out.
Jupiter looked down to see he had managed to drape his sleeve in the food while putting the tray down. Served him right for wearing white, probably. “It’ll wash out.”
They ate in silence. Jack reluctantly picked at the food while Jupiter stole a sausage and a bit of toast off his plate.
“I need to unpack,” he said, looking at the boxes. “I need to get it over with.”
“Do you want my help?” Jupiter asked. There was something reluctant in Jack, but determined too. He understood. Getting it over with would mean that he lived here now. And he only lived here because he had to. But he needed to do it because it was the way things were now, and there was no point in drawing them out forever. Jack couldn’t live out of boxes forever.
He nodded silently and put down his fork, wiping the side of his mouth with his sleeve
“Do you want to start with your clothes?” he asked. “Or your books?”
Jack pointed aimlessly. Jupiter could see that he didn’t know what was in the box at the top of the pile, “That one.”
“Aright,” he said, getting up and lifting it down. It was labelled in thick marker photographs. “Let’s start there.”