Beyond the Gateway (Cranksepticeye)

Twenty-five

Jack didn't mind that he still had to help out backstage, even though he was now playing a lead. Hee was good with his hands and he hummed as he plugged in the glue gin and went to work peeling back the faux fur on the left ear on the left ear of Bottom's ass head. It kept drooping in front of his face in their scenes together.
The wave of arctic air hit him like a physical assault.
"Hello, Jack." The voice was sonorous with a faint crackling hiss. "I am Auberon, King of the Unseelie Court of the Realm of Faerie. I am also your father."
Jack felt a surge of fear tighten his stomach and willed his hands not to shake. He'd been half expecting this. He looked up from his work.
"My father was a doctor."
The Faerie king chuckled. "A healer of the sick. How noble. You do not get sick. You have no need of such creatures. And I am your father. None other."
"My father was a doctor," he said again. His hand went white-knuckled on the glue gun as he squeezed out a bead of melted adhesive along the base of the ear. "When I was four years old, he taught me how to properly bandage my knee when I skinned it. My mother showed me later how to take the dressing off without it hurting. What have you ever done for me? They were my parents and they loved me. How dare you tell me that they weren't!"
Auberon took a stem inside the room, over the threshold, and Jack felt the clover charm at his throat spark and grow warm.
He glared balefully at the king. "Now that I'm, what, almost an adult? You suddenly appear in a puff of smoke and you want to assert some sort of parental claim on me? The Deadbeat Dad from Faerie Land? Whatever." He rolled his eyes. "I don't know you. I don't need to. You might have been responsible for my creation, but you certainly had nothing to do with what I've become. I plan on keeping it that way."
To his surprise, Auberon smiled. "I think that's an excellent idea," he said. "And I'd like to help you with that - if you don't mind."
Jack put the glue gun down and stared at the Faerie king. "I beg your pardon?"
"Yes, you would," he said, a not quite subtle note of warning in his voice. "If you weren't my son."
Jack blinked and dropped his gaze back down to the furry head in his lap. The hollow eyes seemed to stare back at him, full of caution.
"Jack," the king said, softening his tone, "you know that you are in a great deal of danger because of the simple fact that you are my son, do you not?"
"In danger from whom, exactly?"
Auberon spread his hands before him. "There are those who would use you - hurt you - because of what you are. When you were stolen from me, I mourned. I . . . raged. But eventually, I came to see the theft as a blessing in disguise. I have always tried to govern my folk with a just hand, but the Courts of the realm are fractious and fraught with danger. As long as you remain hidden in the mortal world, you are safe."
"You found me."
"I found you quite by accident. And only because Ethan Nestor found you first. But you are right. There are others who might prove as clever. And that puts you in grave danger, my child. You must remain hidden. For your own sake, if not mine."
"And what if I decide to take my chances?" Jack asked. "Embrace my heritage - whatever that is?"
"Then you will most likely perish," the Faerie king said quietly. "I offer you a bargain. I can see to it that you keep your life - the life you have made for yourself. I can make you as good as mortal. If you let me."
Jack's tone was sharp. "You want to keep me from my birthright?" Almost everything he had learned about the Fair Folk over the last few days had served to scare the hell out of him - the Otherworld sounded like a place full of treachery and danger. But although he was loath to admit it, even among his fears there was a tiny part of him that remembered how truly awesome it been to ride with the Faerie in Herne's hunting party. To be clothed in silk and jewels, galloping through the skies with godlike beings so beautiful they seemed made of starlight, laughing . . . Jack closed his eyes and banished the seductive thoughts. No. He was pretty sure that he didn't ever want to become a prince of Faerie, but he wasn't about to let Auberon know that. "You want to make me 'normal'? How is that a good deal for me in any way? And exchange for what? There is nothing you have that I want. Nothing."
"Not even a certain member of my Jade guard?"
"You leave Ethan out of this! He's not yours to give."
"Perhaps not . . . " Auberon sank gracefully into a crouch in front of Jack's chair and looked up at him. "But tell me this. How does he look at you now?"
"What are you talking about?"
Jack swallowed to ease a sudden constricting of his throat.
"Oh, my dear boy," Auberon murmured, the chill in his voice suddenly thawing. He could imagine that he heard actual concern in Auberon's words. "I raised Ethan. I've watched him ever since he was a child. I know what he thinks of me and my people. He respects us - and indeed, there is a small, secret part of him that would sacrifice almost anything for the chance to become one of us. But he is not capable of loving us."
"Ethan is not afraid of you."
"No. He isn't," the king agreed. "In fact, he has spent most of his life learning to kill my kind. Our kind. He's very good at it."
"Well that's a marvelous legacy you've left him, isn't it?" Jack refused to look away. He stared straight into Auberon's eyes, the fierceness of his emotions making his hands shake. "Way to raise up the kid you stole."
Auberon stood, rich garments falling in regal folds all around him. "I do not wish to quarrel with you, Jack. I merely tell this to save you further hurt. It is not within Ethan Nestor to love a Faerie such as yourself. He cannot rise above his upbringing; and if you remain as you are, he will begin to resent that which you are. It is inevitable. If you retain your birthright, my dear boy, you will lose him. Maybe not at first and not all at once, but you will. But I can make it so that you need never see that coldness creep into his gaze."
"Get out."
"Consider my words." Auberon turned to go, but hesitated. "Yo u turned out well, you know. . . . "
"Get out," Jack said again through clenched teeth, closing his eyes a s he turned away from him. When he opened them again, he was alone in his dressing room - shaking, a sticky mess of hot glue pooling on the counter in front of him.

"Jack?" Ethan appeared at the door of the dressing room. "Are you alright? He didn't . . . hurt you, did he?"
Ethan . . .
He had seen how Ethan had reacted to him in the alleyway. In those brief moments when he'd felt . . . strange. He remembered the look in his eyes and he could not, in his imagination, convert that expression into one that could convey love. What if Auberon was right?
"Jack?"
Hee thought suddenly about the rest of the cast and crew. If Auberon had been in the theater . . . "Is everyone okay?" He stared at the door.
"They're fine. Bob is out there right now making sure."
"He's one of them, isn't he?" He felt for the charm around his neck, remembering Bob's words to him yesterday. "Bob . . ."
"He used to be called Robin. Among other things."
"Oh, God . . . ," Jack whispered.
"He's sort of the reason you're in this world in the first place. Actually. . . . we both are, it seems."
"I don't understand." he said.
"I didn't either, until he told me just now. My mother - your adopted - I suppose, stole you with his help, after I was taken."
"So . . . she took me because Auberon took you. And, my uncle, found her and helped afterwards."
"Like I said" - Ethan smiled gently - "the Fates have an odd sense of humor."
"You look like her," he said. " now that I know. I can see her in you. All that stubborn crazy . . . "
There was a sheen to Ethan's eyes. "I'd like to see her."
"You will."
Ethan cast a glance in the direction of the high window. "It's getting late."
"It keeps doing that . . . " Jack sighed. "You're going to leave soon."
Ethan nodded mutely and helped Jack to his feet. He stood looking at Jack and then took his face into his hands. Turning Jack's head slightly, he ran his fingers through his hair, lifting back a few loose dark brown curls that fell around his cheeks. "You have his ears," he said, running a fingertip over one subtle point.
Jack shivered and bowed his head.
Ethan lowered his hands and they stood there, inches apart, for an awkward moment. Suddenly, he lowered his hands and held Jack in a tentative embrace. Jack felt his heart swell. "I have to go now," he murmured to Jack. "But . . . please be careful tonight. While I can't be there to protect you. Be careful."