Welcome to Gaia! ::

Jack looked down at the little bundle in his arms as crossed the yard, absently avoiding the holes and dips until he reached the concrete path up to his own front door. After that, it was only a matter of moments before he had the door open and was through. He instinctively looked around for his roommate then. "Shade? Uh, Shade, man? Where are you?" he called. "I've got some news."

He looked down at the serene little face peeping between the blankets. Purple eyes blinked back up at him. Jack grimaced, trying to smile. Then he lifted his head once more and called, "Shaaaade!"

"Coming!" Shade called from the kitchen. "Almost got it--alright--nope, it's burnt."

"I told you it was burnt twenty minutes ago, Father," Antony said as the fire detector alarms went off.

"Gimme a few more minutes, Jack!" Shade yelled.

Ah, home sweet home. What was he thinking bringing another kid into this house? Sighing, Jack beelined to the kitchen to see the damage done. Even as he crested the door, he was already muttering the countercharms to shut off the fire alarm so they could think once more. Then he looked around to see if a fire extinguisher would be necessary.

"It's just a little black," Shade said, waving a hand over the chicken enchiladas they had tried to make. "Just scrape off the black parts, it'll be fine."

"Of course it will," Antony said, rolling his eyes. "Hell, Uncle Jack," he added to the other man. "We made dinner."

"Hey, you babysitting?" Shade asked curiously as he started extracting the edible parts from the pan.

"Uh... Not really." Jack looked at the baby in his arms again. Then he stepped further into the kitchen. Clearing a space with dextrous use of his elbow and forearm, he balanced the baby on the counter. "This is... Well, I guess he's mine now. I think." Jack looked at the other two to judge their reaction.

Antony blinked. "You realize, Uncle, that I'm almost positive that none of us know how to change a diaper, don't you?"

Shade snickered. "I tried once! But Antony potty trained himself to keep it from happening again."

"Oh, I know. I learned from Trin an' Maddy." Jack relaxed a bit and laughed. "It's not that, anyway." He shifted the blankets a bit and the baby extended an arm towards Antony as if greeting him. The antenna atop his head wiggled a bit. "So his name's Adam, I reckon, an' he's from Margaret next door. I don't quite follow how she got him but she can't take care o' him an' somehow that made her think o' me." He looked at Shade with sorrowful brown eyes. "Why do people keep givin' me sprogs?"

"I have no honest idea," Shade said. "But hey, the more the merrier, I'd say."

"Well," Antony said, moving a little closer to see the baby better. "He's very... um... cute, I suppose. Will I be sharing my room with him?"

"Nah," came the immediate (and undoubtedly hoped-for) answer. "He's just a baby. He'd keep you up, Antony. I'll keep him in my room an' hope he doesn't grow like you did."

Adam offered a coo as his agreement.

"So he'll be a baby forever?" Antony asked.

"I doubt that," Shade said. "But hey, um... what does he eat, anyway? I doubt slightly charred enchiladas are going to work for the little guy."

Obviously neither of them were having too big of a problem accepting yet another household member.

"I dunno. I hope not." Jack looked at Adam who looked back at him solemnly. "I'm just hopin' he doesn't grow as fast as you did or the magic's gonna get strained." Then he looked vaguely around the kitchen. "We have any oatmeal left?"

"Yeah, we should," Shade said, looking for the oatmeal. "But you should probably make it. I'm still not so good at this cooking thing."

Antony already had a plate made for himself of the non-burnt parts and was eating at the table.

"Yeah, I can do that." Jack hesitated, though, and gave Shade a look. "You'll have t' hold him for a bit while I do," he announced. He picked up the child and offered him to his roomie. "Don't worry. He hasn't cried once."

"Yeah, alright," Shade said, taking the baby boy and holding him gently. He had at least learned this much from Antony. "How's it goin', kiddo?" he asked, grinning slightly.

Looking at him now one would have never thought he had once been a professional assassin.

Adam happily blew a bubble in answer to Shade's question and reached up to grab at a bit of long hair. Meanwhile, Jack had already turned away to dig through the cabinets. In short order, he retrieved a little bowl and spoon and a packet of oatmeal. He looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Antony?" he asked, knowing the boy liked to be consulted. "Do you reckon it'd be better with milk or water for him?"

"Babies drink milk, right?" Antony asked. "So I would use the milk, if I were you. And then I would get some formula from the store after that."

"Grabby little kiddo, aren't you," Shade asked, gently moving his hair out of reach and offering his finger.

Adam laughed and clutched at the finger. He studied Shade's face for a moment and then, very solemnly, he tried to eat the finger.

Oblivious to the antics of his newest child, Jack nodded at Antony with a smile. "Good plan. Looks like it'll be our first outin'. Joy."

"It's a good thing you're not teething," was all Shade had to say to that.

Escape!

Jack looked up from the book he was reading at the sudden silence and felt cold suspicion flood through his veins. He was almost afraid to look down at the make-shift crib at his feet, dreading what he would find since, up to sixty seconds ago, there had been a soft litany of coos and gurgles. Slowly, he closed the book and leaned forward out of the depths of his chair. Immediately, he felt his heart jump into his throat.

The pile of blankets was empty. The small, brown-haired child who should have been there was noticeably AWOL.

"Oh, shite," Jack hissed under his breath, forgetting his own rule of not cursing in the house in his instant panic. He dropped the book and idiotically searched through the blankets. No child. Swallowing hard, he began searching behind furniture, opening doors...

*

Adam sighed happily as he flopped onto his stomach in the square of sunlight that spilled onto the kitchen floor. The tiles were warmed by it, sparing him any kind of temperature shock. His little fingers traced along the edges in an attempt to get at the grout between. Not able to extract it, he made a faint noise of discontent but then he gave over to the pleasure of the sunshine again. His antennae twitched a bit and he pulled the blanket he had brought with him - slow crawling inch by inch - up to ball up beneath his cheek. Crawling was tiring. It took too long. But the sun was nice and he liked this room. It was where the bottles came from and it smelled like clean things and burnt things. The combination soothed him. He murmured incoherently with contentment. It was time for another nap.

*

When Jack found the small boy in the kitchen fifteen minutes later, Adam was completely dead to the world, snoring faintly and sucking at his thumb. Sighing in relief, Jack crouched beside the child and studied him. He appeared alright. The fact that he had made it all the way to the kitchen, though...

Jack shook his head. He still wasn't used to the way kids grew so fast around this place. It was unnatural, it was. Gingerly, he scooped up Adam and cradled him against his chest. No matter how big he was getting, though, the kitchen floor was not a suitable nap space. It was time for bed.

((Journal Entry))

When Parents Have Parents - RP with Rosemilk - Adam gets to meet his grandparents for the first time. His antenna are commented on but he makes a good impression, nonetheless.

Head cocked to one side, Jack regarded the large metal crate which sat in the middle of his large library. To make room for the intruder, his favorite wing chair and two overstuffed chairs had been pushed to the edges, two end tables and his writing flip-table joining them. He paced a slow circle around the box. It seemed heavier just by virtue of existing. It also seemed to cast a slightly off-kilter shadow around it - even in the brightest light - but that might just have been his paranoid imagination. Absently, Jack twirled the stick of chalk between his fingers and shifted his gaze towards the esoteric lines on the floor around the crate. Once he had rolled away the rug, prior to dragging the crate in, the floor shone naked and dimly shining, the old wood waxed until the grain gleamed through dully and the pits and scratches all but disappeared. Now, with the mysterious box in place, a series of symbols spread out in stark whiteness against the wood.

Jack sighed and tucked the chalk behind his ear before pushing the hand back through his hair. A smear of white appeared at his temple. "I dunno," he murmured. "That's all I can do, I reckon." He glanced at the brown-haired baby nestled in a cantilevered bouncy chair. "What d'ya say, Adam?" he asked.

Antenna wiggling a bit as he bounced, his infant son burbled a response around the fist he was busily trying to swallow. Drool began to trickle down his chin. Jack crossed to him, neatly skirting the chalk-line designs, and used the edge of his shirt sleeve to wipe away the dribble. "Adam, mate, that's not helping." Adam grabbed at his father's fingers with his free hand and Jack allowed him to have them as he turned back to eyeball the crate. When it had first arrived, less than three hours ago, he had tried everything to open it. After all, he figured his books were within it. When the crate had resisted crowbars and hammers and, finally, a sledgehammer, Jack had to admit that there could not possibly be any books inside it.

Jack loved his books but that kind of security bordered on manic.

So, with some help from his roommate, he had brought the crate into his library on the basis that no room in his sprawling house could possibly be safer to contain whatever was in the mystery box. Then, with the utmost care, he had created an elaborate ward around it, straight onto the wooden floor and incorporating every single trick he knew and some he created on the fly just for this occasion. He still felt a bit uneasy about the entire situation. What could be in a box that wouldn't open? His kids were in this house and Shade and Antony and Callisto. Sometimes even Iggy and Jace. Thoughts brought to mind by the flyer that had been stuck to the crate when he found it, maybe blown against it by the wind - something about the Liberty Center. That, at least, he knew about.

He hitched one hip onto the table already supporting Adam and his seat. Adam continued to happily gnaw at Jack's fingers. "I dunno, Adam," the British magician said again and ignored a particularly hard little nibble. His brown eyes stayed on the crate as if glued to its surface. A piece of tattered white paper caught his attention and he frowned. He hadn't noticed that before. How could he have missed it? Adam made a momentary shriek of distress as Jack abruptly pulled his hand away but then made do with his own fist once more.

Approaching the crate again, he crouched to better read the torn card. It was a label. Carefully, he reached out a hand to smooth it down. It was his address. Almost his address, anyway. The actual house number never existed on his street but would have been in the alley between his house and Mrs. Turnover's if it had. He rubbed a finger over the next few lines until the dust and grime came away to reveal more printing. A series of numbers beneath everything else drew his attention. He cocked his head to one side as he reached into his pocket for his cell phone. The numbers were either the order number or a phone number... Or both.

Jack double-checked the numbers and then punched them in slowly. Putting the phone to his ear, he waited through the ringtone. Finally, someone picked up. "Fly By Night," chirped a cheerful, feminine voice. "You send it by us and you send it right!"

"Um... I have a crate." Even as he said the words, Jack hit himself mentally for sounding so stupid.

"Oh, yes! Of course you do! Address, please?"

"... 632 Winding Elms Avenue in..."

There was the sound of tapping keys. "Oh, yes! I see here the package was delivered yesterday!" A noise of sad disappointment traveled down the airwaves. "Oh, but no one signed for it. This is bad. These things are never supposed to be left without signatures. It's against our regulations. In fact, it's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" He stared at the crate as if it were a snake ready to strike.

"Can you please confirm the shipping code?"

"... CALBAA18942X."

"Perfect! Alright, that matches our order, lifestyle 32BA. I'll mark this account closed and serviced and thank you for calling to confirm! Please enjoy your special delivery!"

"Wait! Hold on. I..." The phone went dead and Jack stared at it. "Lifestyle?" he repeated. "Lifestyle? Oh, bloody hell. That is not talkin' about a book." He looked at the crate. It seemed to glow slightly now, almost smug. He cursed again, long and low and varied. Maybe he should double up the seals.

Maybe he should lock the door and lose the key. He sighed and collapsed back against the table, reaching out a hand to Adam again. "This is gonna be... Interesting," he informed his adopted son. "No chewin' on whatever comes out." Then he settled in to think some more. He rather hoped that it wouldn't be long before something happened.