Beyond the Gateway (Cranksepticeye)

Nineteen

"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania!"
Gadzooks! Jack smiled to himself. Joe really does have a great set of pipes!
He composed his expression into one of ethereal displeasure. "What, jealous Oberon," he intoned with silky anger as he stepped from the upper platform down to where Gentlemen Joe awaited, elegantly arrayed in a velvet cloak. His thick hair was swept back from his regal brow, and he looked every inch king.
Jack hoped he could pull off "regal" even half as well. He stood tall and straight as he could and, as he reached the platform where Oberon stood, threw himself into the scene.

"Nice work, Jack. You looked born to fairy royalty out there today." Joe saluted him with his coffee cup. They were on a break and had retired to the greenroom after Quinten had finished running the scene a few times.
Jack leaned back in his chair and returned Joe's salute with the cup that he'd been poured out of Joe's treasured thermos. It was awesome coffee. And, Jack thought, what the heck: he actually deserved it. Despite another night of bad dreams - including the live-action ones - Jack had to admit he'd done a wicked job in that scene.
Even Quinten had been uncharacteristically generous in his praise.
"Hnng," he'd muttered. "You missed the hot spot for your light cue. Half a step downstage next time, please."
For the Mighty Q, that was positively effusive.
And it had been so easy. The entire scene was about Oberon and Titania and the fact that the Natural Order of Things was being turned inside out by the squabbles and quarreling of these two powerful beings, all over the matter of a changeling child. The scene was fraught with stubborn pride and miscommunication. Jack had drawn on personal experience and channeled all of his frustration and annoyance with Ethan Nestor into the scene and his relationship with Oberon. Talk about motivation.

After the break, Quinten wanted to go over the whole scene once more with the addition of the fairy attendants and Puck, so Jack remained in costume. But the heavy coat made him warm, so he went out into the courtyard for some air before they called him back onto the stage.
Sitting on one of the old stone benches was a slightly bedraggled-looking Ethan. Jack bit back a smile. But as he approached, he could also see that his expression was drawn. He stopped in front of Ethan, sipping the last of his coffee.
"You're a real glutton for punishment, aren't you?" he asked.
"You have no idea," Ethan muttered through clenched teeth, not meeting Jack's gaze.
"If you're here to apologize for last night, forget about it." Hee couldn't help the tone of his voice, he'd felt immediately defensive, remembering how Ethan had spoken to him the night before. "Your friend saw me safely home and, since I didn't hear about anyone getting bitten by a rabid dog on the news this morning, I assume that Animal Control took your call seriously, at least."
Jack leaned back on the bench and regarded him. Ethan sat with his elbows resting on his knees and his fingers laced. He seemed as though he was struggling to find something to say. Or, perhaps, to find a way to say it. Jack wished he would just talk. The silence stretched out between them.
"Jack . . . ," he said finally, "you're in great danger."
Hee straightened up and turned to go back inside.
"Jack, wait!" Ethan was in front of him, blocking his path. Fast, but maybe not as fast as Jack was used to with him. "Didn't you hear me?"
"I heard you. I'm just trying to be polite." He looked harshly at Ethan. "My parents taught me that it's not nice to laugh at people."
Ethan grimaced in frustration. His eyes, Jack noticed, were red-rimmed and gleamed with an almost feverish intensity. "Your parents didn't teach you that."
"Pardon?"
"They - whoever raised you - they were not your real parents."
Jack blinked at him.
"Did you hear me?" Ethan demanded. The vein at his temple pulsed, and Jack thought that Ethan might actually have some kind of meltdown right there in front of him. His breathing was ragged. "Did you?"
"Stop asking me that!" He took a step back. "What on earth are you talking about?"
Ethan pitched his voice low, as if he was afraid to be overheard. "Jack . . . look, I know this will come as a complete shock to you. But. . . . you are the son of a king."
He tried not to laugh. "I'm the son of a doctor."
Ethan shook his head. "I know that's what they told you, and I know that's what you want to believe, but - for your own safety - you must trust me."
"Because I'm the son of a king," Jack answered back, matter-of-factly, and crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the pull of the elastics holding on his fairy wings. He suddenly wished he'd taken them off before coming outside. "A real king?"
"Yes." He nodded.
"I understand." Jack smiled sweetly.
"You do?" He breathed deeply, a glimmer of relief shining in his eyes.
"I really do. You are a mental case."
Ethan's expression hardened again. "They lied to you. They did it to protect you, but it was a lie."
"Ethan-"
"Your father is a very, very old power and he is not from this realm."
"You are actually trying to tell me that my father - wait, sorry, my 'real' father is from another country?"
Hee nodded. "Another world entirely. Actually."
Jack was speechless, his patience reaching its absolute end.
Ethan took another deep breath and barreled tough is next words. "Your father - yes, your real father - is a king, and his name is Auberon-"
Jack laughed out loud.
"Yes, I know, but Shakespeare didn't make it all up, Faerie tales are sometimes true, and you are the heir to the Unseelie throne of the Faerie realms-"
"Stop it."
"Jack-"
"Stop. I said stop!" He held up a hand in front of Ethan's face before he opened his mouth again. Jack got it now. The gauze wings on his back suddenly felt like lead weights. " i don't want to hear any more. I don't want you to say my name. As a matter of fact, I don't want to hear you say anything. Look . . . I don't know if you're a weirdo or a liar or just crazy, but you have to stop talking to me. You habe to stop coming around here. I have a job to do and I can't do it with you near!"
"Funny, I feel exactly the same way about you every time I see you in the park," he muttered , turning away. But then he turned back, and his ocean-blue stare fastened on him like a vise. "Jack. Listen to me."
"No. This is insane. I mean, okay, I get it. You're very amusing, Ethan. A real practical joker." He struggled a bit frantically at the knotted laces that held his wings on. "What kind of an idiot do you think I am? Do you really think I'm naïve enough to fall for this particular line of BS? Did you and your buddy Maddox come up with this over beers or something?"
"What? No!"
"Ha-ha, very funny, let's ness with the guy who think he's a fairy king! I'm an actor. This is a role." He shrugged out of the costume piece with violent, jerking motions, and threw the wings at Ethan. They hit him in the chest and fell to the ground at his feet. "And you can go to hell!"
"You think I'm delusional? You think I'm crazy or something? That this is all a joke?" His hands shot out and he grabbed Jack roughly by the shoulders, shaking him. Then he removed his hands and his fingers moved down the front of his shirt, unbuttoning it with a lightning swiftness . He yanked the fabric aside, and Jack gasped despite himself. His chest was heavily bandaged. There were dark stains seeping through in parallel gashes over the right side of his ribs. He flung his arms wide so that Jack couldn't help but see the blood. "Was that creature in the park a delusion? A joke? Funny. Those claws felt awfully real to me."
"It was a dog," Jack protested weakly, his stomach heaving at the sight of Ethan's blood. The Black Shuck web entry he had dismissed as a fantasy suddenly flashed unbidden into his mind.
"Sure it was. A dog the size of a hay wagon with talons and glowing red eyes and - oh! I almost forgot, it ran without touching the ground."
"It was dark . . . "
"I saw it just fine. Of course, I got a nice, close-up view as it was trying to rip my throat out. It won't be trying that again." The tone of his voice made it pretty clear what he had meant by that.
"You killed it?"
Ethan held up his arm: His wrist was encircled by a band of coarse black dog hair, intricately braided and knotted. "I got lucky. But, by all means, if you really don't beleive me, and don't beleive that I was trying to protect you - that I'm trying to protect you now - just say so. And then, maybe next time some one from t the Otherworld - that's the place your father the Faerie king rules - tries to have you killed, I won't even bother coming to your rescue. I could probably save myself some pain and suffering that way!"
Jack was silent. Whatever Ethan saw in his eyes in that moment, Jack's expression made him shrink away, as though Ethan had just slapped him across the face and regretted it profoundly. Shame coloring his cheeks, Ethan dropped his gaze and buttoned his shirt back up. He reached out a hand to Jack in a gesture that might have been a silent apology, but Jack just turned and walked back toward the theater.
Joe was standing on the steps when he got there. Wordlessly, he held the stage door open for Jack.
Once inside, Jack stood with his head pressed against the wall, feeling a bit faint. From the other side of the door, he heard Joe's voice, not so mellow at the moment.
"I don't know what you said that upset him, young man," he said. "I don't need to. All I need to know is thar you aren't going to be coming around here again. Because if you do, there's a fairly good chance I will forget that most people call me Gentlemen Joe. Do you understand?"
Jack peered through a crack between the theaters old oak doors and watched Ethan wordlessly hand Jack's wings to Joe. Then he turned and walked out of the Avalon's courtyard without once looking back.