We Are Bulletproof

It wasn't often that Rip had a chance to go out. Usually, he was locked up for whenever the Master needed him. But today, he was part of the stakeout, mostly because apparently some of their allies weren't available. Rip was madly curious about everything he saw at the winter festival but Keith kept grappling him by the back of the neck or the hair whenever he paused to look at a booth or stopped to check out a ride. In the fairy realm, these type of things didn't exist. Festivals. They had holidays, but not as such. They were more like... rituals.

Keith pointedly told Rip to stay put at a wooden table, arranged with others. He could smell food cooking nearby. He didn't need to eat but he could eat. And he kind of wanted to try the various things he was smelling. Keith threatened him that if he moved from his seat, he was going to make him pay for it later. Rip looked down at his own hand for a long moment, nodding.

Then Keith was gone, storming through a crowd of people like he owned the place. Rip watched him go, with a little hop-skip of the beat of his little stone heart, imbued with the spark of life of another.

Left to his own devices, Rip honestly didn't know what to do with himself. Without a long list of specific orders or his master there to advise him when something happened, it left him in a state of panic. He curled his fingers inward and looked around at the people around, catching pieces of conversation here and there. Since he'd been told to stay put in the chair, he couldn't get up. So he looked and watched instead.

Until somebody took a seat across from him, startling him. Rip looked up from where he'd been inspecting his chipped black nail polish.

@open

(Sshh shhh)

"You did something to your hair! I love it!"

Alejo grinned across the table at Jack, after throwing himself down into the seat opposite him. Really, he was exhausted! He hadn't even covered all of the attractions here but he was beat and his feet hurt and god, there were so many kids around the place! Normally Alejo loved children but it looked like the local school had taken all their students out on a field trip, and he was overdosing on them.

Sighing, he threw himself across the table, letting his fingers curl around Jack's. "I didn't know doing homework was so hard, Jack! God, I haven't worked this hard since... ever!"

Yeah he was scoping the place out before the Big Date. No big deal. You know, just... Not like he was anxious or anything, he just wanted to see everything because he knew that if he came with Seth, his eyes would only be on Seth. That was almost a given! And he'd miss all the rides, the food, the games--he wouldn't take any of it in, which was a shame since this was his first winter festival! So he just came to have a look around, eat some corn dogs--not get drunk or wasted somewhere. He was... trying to stay away from vices.

"Where's Bee?" Alejo lifted his head. "Did you come with Margie?"

What?

He did nothing to his hair. It just grew this way and Keith liked it long. Rip repressed the urge to touch his own hair, as if it had changed in just seconds, from after Keith left up to this point where a stranger suddenly sat down across from him. Rip eyed him with suspicion. His hands were taken, as familiarly as if this guy was Keith. Not that Keith was the hand holding type, but it was that sort of... intimate familiarity.

Rip narrowed his eyes and pulled his hands away. Homework? What was he talking about? Wasn't homework something children did? Jack. He called him Jack. Ah. Threading his own fingers together atop the table, he eyed this new person who apparently knew Jack.

"No," he said, because he hadn't come with any of these people named and they didn't sound familiar to him anyway. Except the Bee part, which had been an unfortunately strange memory that awakened just as Keith climaxed last night. He didn't like it at all when Rip uttered the nickname, either, strangling him until his throat turned purple. Luckily, he healed quickly or it might have been noticeable today.

Rip leaned in, too.

"Have you eaten the food here?"

Sheesh! What was with that Look? Alejo sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes back, half believing that Jack was playing with him. Or maybe he was tired; he had those kind of dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn't gotten enough sleep. And something was a little off about him. There was this kind of nervous energy to him that regular old self-assured, King of the World Jack Ripley never had—at least not in public!

"Ah? Some? Ooh—smell that? Barbecue!" It was nearby, wafting towards them—something vaguely, temptingly smokey and sweet and savory. "Do you want to split a half rack with me? Maybe we can get some wings, too!"

Hell, half the fun of a festival was the food, right? Alejo stood up grinning, rounding the table to tug on Jack's hand. "Come on handsome, I'll even treat you, for all the tender loving care you gave me when I was... ah... sick."

The smile turned into something a shade less playful and much more genuinely grateful. He swooped in to kiss Jack on the cheek, too. "I have so much to tell you, baby, you have no idea what's been going on since I flew the nest!" Marge sort of booted him out after he met Seth—as though she somehow knew that he was in good hands... Which he was!

Barbecue. It had a different meaning where he came from. A form of torture and death. But he assumed it meant something else here. Rip tilted his head slightly, though, in curiosity. Did he just say wings?

"You know how to get wings?"

That sounded promising, although strangely off topic. Humans, he had been learning, were very strange that way. They weren't at all like the fallen and fairies he was used to. Watching as the young man got to his feet, Rip's hand was taken and the man tried to tug him to his feet. Rip resisted. He had to; the one directive he'd been given was to sit here.

"I can't."

There was a lot going on that he made little sense of. Why was he being kissed on the cheek? All the hand holding, too. There was a lot of affection coming off this person, not directed at him, though. At Jack. How... predictable. Rip was aware that he was only a stand in for Jack when it came to Keith. No matter what he did to try and please his creator, there was no pleasing him. He didn't want Rip; he wanted Jack. Moving his hands under the table, he turned his gaze from the man.

"I have to stay here."

"Wings? Oh yeah, they're right over there! And they have craft beer from Portland. Oh god we're going to get so fat, Jack!" But worth it! Small towns like these were surprisingly good on the food front! It was probably because people were bored; they spent all their time either sitting around people-watching or developing kick-ass barbecue recipes, it seemed. Alejo wasn't complaining though!

And thennnn... What? Was going on? With Jack? He was really not acting like himself! Alejo looked at him a bit funny for a moment. Couldn't leave... Had to stay here... Why? Jack was almost acting like a whole different person, and that was concerning as hell. With his cop senses tingling, Alejo nodded slowly. Where was Brayden or Margie? Seriously, the three of them were practically inseparable the last time Alejo saw them! Now Jack was here all alone?

Maybe Jack was waiting for them to come back... That explained why he couldn't leave but it definitely didn't explain why he kept his hands all to himself like that, or why he pulled away when Alejo kissed his cheek. His goddamn cheek, it was a grandma peck practically! (Seth was rubbing off on him, what could he say?)

"Okay baby, well... I'll go get the food and you sit here and. Uh. You just sit here, yeah?" He moved off towards the stall, though not before throwing a look over his shoulder at Jack. Seriously... seriously weird. Maybe he was really sick. Maybe that was why Marge booted him, because Jack was ill... But damnit, they could have told him! He would have helped! Although... at the time he was kind of just getting off the crazy train so... maybe not.

It was a little while later that he returned with a tray of delicious barbecue and two bottles of cold craft beer. "Hope you're hungry, cause they gave us a ton of food! And look! Even dessert!" Which was candied bacon... meaty and fatty, and artery-clogging, but hey. Worth.

Huh? Right over where? Rip looked but he didn't see anything that resembled any wings that he knew of; he should have known better, anyway. Wings. They wouldn't just have them at a human holiday festival. It must be a different kind of wing. Bird wings? Rip liked birds. He caught one at the apartment that he had grown quite fond of. He thought Raphael liked it, too. But then the creator found out about it and crushed it in his hand right in front of him. Rip felt so... heavy, even thinking about it.

Jack. He tried not to express his distaste for the name. He hated it as much as his creator hated the name Bee.

Clasping his hands together between his knees, he eyed the young man from behind a dark curtain of wavy hair, watching as he left. His gaze was still on him when the man looked back at him, unwavering. Why did he look back? To make sure he stayed put? Maybe he's a test from the creator... Then it was a good thing he didn't break his code.

After a few minutes, Rip gave up on the man coming back. He looked around. Where was his master, anyway? He said he had work to do at the festival but he was nowhere within sight. A girl came by and said hi to him and he said hi back; she didn't stay long, just said he looked lonely sitting all alone. She asked if he was waiting for somebody and he said yes. That seemed to satisfy her.

After she left, Rip wondered why he hadn't kept her around longer. Sitting there alone was... becoming boring. He began to pick at his nail polish, then looked up when a tray was plunked down on the table before him and the man came back, sliding into the bench across from him again. Rip stared at what was on the tray. Fairies ate a lot of things like flowers and plants and foods made from them. But this was... much different looking.

"This is for two people?" he asked in some surprise, studying each thing with curiosity. Everything was so shiny and brown and it did smell... very delicious. It made his mouth water. Interesting!

"Yep! Small town hospitality, huh? Nothing like Boston or New York, am I right?"

Alejo rubbed his hands gleefully. Although he kept a covert, watchful eye on Jack, he didn't want to be obvious about it. Knowing that Jack was... Jack meant that he understood a lot of what weighed on Jack's mind. Sometimes that other, darker side had a bad habit of taking over—didn't Alejo know the half of it! And when that side took over, it wasn't unusual to act out of sorts. Alejo knew that the crazed idiot he was at that club was nothing like the real him, and maybe this was a symptom of that same madness manifesting in Jack.

In that case, he needed to keep an eye on Jack until Margie or Brayden could come back to claim him. He sent a text to Marge asking about Jack, but she didn't get back to him, so he figured she must be busy. Either way, luckily Alejo came across Jack!

"Ooh these burnt ends look so good! Try one. The guy said this beer goes perfectly with the barbecue sauce." He lifted the bottle and clinked it with the other one on the table. "Cheers baby!" He popped one of the pieces of meat into his mouth and then let out a soft groan. "Oh my god, that melts in your mouth! Jack. I've died and gone to barbecue heaven."

...right. He didn't know what that meant but he half shrugged. Yeah. He was right, probably.

Was he meant to do that, too? With his hands? Was it a human custom? Rip lifted his hands together, rubbing them a couple times to echo the action. Look at him, a proper human! His attention was brought back down to the tray of food and he was invited to try something called a 'burnt end', whatever that was. He tried it; the man was correct. It melted in his mouth, oddly. It didn't look like something that melted. But it did.

"Mm..." And the drink, a beer. Rip knew about beer. He had them often with the creator. He picked up the other bottle and drank some. It was... much better than the kind he typically was given.

Curious words. Rip reached over and slid his hand over the man's wrist, two fingers moving over his pulse. It was definitely still there.

"You're still alive. Don't worry."

Soon, he was trying the various foods and drinking in between. Everything was delightful, though different. There were different flavors to each item on the tray. And the man was right; they did go well with the sauce and the drink. Everything seemed to be made to be consumed together, surprisingly.

Hm? Jack slipped fingers over his wrist like he was feeling Alejo's pulse—which he was. Or seemed to. Alejo gave him a puzzled look, but smiled in that "not sure if joking or serious" way at him. "You're silly today!" He laughed. "That was a terrible joke and you ought to be ashamed of yourself, sir. I'm not going to tell Bee you just did that, because I don't want to destroy your image with him."

Really, it was such a corny joke! But Alejo DID set him up for it... Kind of. Shaking his head, he moved on to one of the ribs—practically falling off the bone!—and had a sip of the beer to go with the next bite. Mmmm... This was to die for! And look at Jack, sampling a little of everything, not even afraid to get messy. Barbecue was messy, no getting around that, and they didn't have forks or anything so it was nature's cutlery only—fingers. Alejo was sort of surprised Jack seemed surprised at the food, but... maybe there wasn't good barbecue in Boston?

Something was off. Yeah. Way off. He didn't know what, because that was definitely Jack Ripley sitting opposite him, speaking with his voice and his tone, looking at him with those familiar hazel eyes. But the mannerism. Hm. As Jack would say. Hm.

"So what's been going on lately? We haven't had much of a chance to talk!"

There was Bee again. Rip turned his head slightly but his gaze remained on him. Destroy his image? What image did he have of Jack? Maybe he should destroy his image. This man thought he was him. He might go back and tell him things.

After satisfying his curiosity and trying a little of everything on the tray, Rip wiped his dirty hands with some of the napkins stacked nearby. It didn't rid him of the dirty feeling, though. He looked around for water but there didn't appear to be any close enough to use. So he licked his fingers and then dried them off. Better.

He picked up the bottle of beer and drank deeply, until the rest of the bottle was gone. Then he set it down and lifted the back of a hand to his mouth to quietly burp. Too much at once tended to do that. Lowering his hand, he considered the question put forth to him, although he had no idea how to approach it.

"Nothing," he said. He didn't know what was expected from this conversation. They never spoke before but the man still thought he was Jack. What did they possibly talk about?

"What's going on with you?"

"Nooothing?" He drew out the word skeptically, eyeing Jack with his brows raised. Right. Nothing happened, and that was why Jack was sitting here alone, looking like he'd lost about half of his soul, studying chipped painted nails. Jack Ripley would never let his nails get into that condition! And he wouldn't lick his fingers—he would have insisted on getting forks, even if they had to whittle them out of sticks themselves!

"Oh my god." Alejo stared. "You and Bee broke up!" That was the only explanation he could think of for this... this... For all of this! This was Jack at a new low! His clothes! His hair! It looked good but it definitely lacked that distinctive Jack Ripley flair and panache. Alejo lifted a hand to his mouth. "You guys—no way. No freaking WAY you fucked that up!"

How could that happen when Brayden was head over heels for him, and Jack was more than obsessed with him? They were like the ultimate relationship goal! What the hell happened while he was gone? Alejo seriously could find no other explanation for what was going on and he refused to believe that Jack and Brayden were done. Not unless something so terrible happened that it drove a permanent wedge between them!

"No," he said, because they never dated in order to break up. He crossed his arms over the table and looked over at the man, who seemed shocked by the idea of Jack fucking up. Fucking up his relationship? The creator hated that relationship. He liked it at first. But after his golem was blown away, he was furious and unhappy with Bee. Brayden Smith. The name was practically a curse word whenever the creator used it.

"I asked you what happened with you. Why are you bringing it back to me? I said nothing. Nothing happened."

Nothing was uninteresting. It was meant to be boring, so they wouldn't talk about it. Besides which, not much really happened in Rip's life. He was stuck in the apartment pretty much on a permanent basis. All he did was pace around when he got bored, read whatever was in the apartment, and he had sex when the master came home, good mood or bad.

"Oh okay, we're just going to pretend all this is normal? All right." Alejo spoke with attitude but goddamn it, he was worried. If Jack and Brayden really broke up... Shit. What the fuck! What chance did the rest of the world have if a perfect couple like Jack and Brayden couldn't even cut it?! And Brayden was so patient, so accepting, that it was hard to imagine what Jack could do to him to hurt him that badly!

He sat there for a moment in utter disbelief, and then threw up his hands. "Well fuck Jack!" Now he really couldn't leave Jack alone! What if Jack tried to do something stupid—the kind of stupid Alejo attempted? Yeah, he was sticking to Jack like glue from now on! Alejo swept the tray aside just to do something to express his shock and dismay.

"I-I met someone. He helped me out of that dark place I was in." Alejo tried but his mind kept circling back to Jack and Brayden. He leaned closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Come on, Jack. Baby talk to me! I'm worried about you. Something's not right and it—it's scaring me. If you and Bee are having problems... You have to work them out! When was the last time you saw him?"

His lip curled slightly. Jack. He kept calling him that. And for a moment, he thought that the man was going to drop the thing about Jack and Brayden but no. He claimed he met someone and Rip waited for more but it was a short description and then the man was leaning toward him, speaking quietly, as if he thought whatever Rip was hiding was a delicate manner.

Again. Jack. This was getting to be too much. Rip wasn't good at playing pretend. He had never been good at it; he didn't have that kind of scope of imagination. He was made that way, probably. Meant to remain within the scope of his creators wants. Why did he bring me here and leave me here? Rip didn't understand.

"Never," he said finally after a long moment of silence. He lowered his head but looked at the man through his dark hair, with those dark rings of kohl around his eyes. "Because I'm not Jack."

He.

Uh huh.

He wasn't Jack. Typical man, dissociating from the situation to compartmentalize the pain, distancing himself from an unpleasant break-up and creating an alter-ego that was the polar opposite of the real, vulnerable, hurt inner him. That was what Jack told Alejo! He literally told Alejo that and now he was doing the thing he lectured Alejo about!

Well if anyone needed to listen to his own advice, it was Jack-Not-Jack Ripley!

"All right, I'll play along." Alejo crossed his arms. "Who are you then, if you're not Jack Ripley? Shirley Temple?"

"No," he said slowly, as if he thought the man was an idiot for even saying that. "I'm Ripper Nightshade."

It was--to most human ears--a ridiculous sounding name. But to Ripper, it was just his name. Nothing ridiculous about it. It was the name he'd been given and it was his. One of the few things that were his. His master had chosen to give him a name that wasn't the same as that he had been molded from and for that, he was quite grateful. It gave him a feeling of being somebody else. He was not Jack Ripley, the boy whose mother didn't love him. He was Ripper Nightshade.

"Ripper. Nightshade."

HOOOOO BOY

Jack lost his fucking marbles. Not one marble, not a handful, he lost the whole goddamn bag of marbles! To give himself an alter-ego like Ripper Nightshade... The break-up must have fucked him up something pretty awful, Alejo thought. He knew it was tough breaking up with Judah but shit, all he did was try to kill himself. He didn't put on eyeliner, paint his nails and go around with a name like Ripper Nightshade!

But also he understood that pain so well. The feeling of losing someone so integral to his being that he no longer wanted to be himself, that was Jack right now. God, it was really hard seeing him like this—especially since Alejo now recognized bits and pieces of himself in Jack. He knew Jack was vulnerable and exposed right now, that he was fragile. One wrong word might flick a tripwire and then Jack might be the one on the dance floor with some guy's hands around his throat!

"Okay honey. I'm sorry." His smile was gentler as he tamped down on the shock and disbelief. Jack needed a friend, not another critic. "Well tell you what, Ripper? Rip? Can I call you Rip? How about we take a little walk around? It's sorta crowded here, isn't it?" It was hard to talk with so many strangers around eavesdropping, really. He gently reached over the table to touch Jack's—Ripper's—forearm. "How about it? Just a little two minute walk, to work off all this barbecue. Hm?"

Rip moved his arm away from the man's hand. There he was, trying to get him to leave again. There was no leaving. Even if he wanted to (and he did want to, even if not for the reason this man was giving him), he wasn't allowed to. He had been given only one direct order and that was to stay here. Although, he supposed he could stretch the term "here" to mean the festival and not this exact bench but he was pretty sure that the intention was for Rip to stay here. Right here.

"I can't," he said. He slid a finger over the smooth, cool glass of the beer bottle nearby. "Whatever you have to say, you can say it here."

"Why can't you leave? Are you waiting for someone?" Marge maybe? She still wasn't getting back to him, which was concerning. He would have thought that with Jack in such a fragile state that Mama Bear Marge would be hovering around constantly, making sure he was all right. Hell, she barely knew Alejo and she took him hostage!

He checked his phone again; nothing. Alejo worried his lower lip as he studied Jack one more time. Still Jack, despite the makeup and that strange foreign aura about him. Did Jack have a twin? A twin called Ripper Nightshade? Alejo doubted it; Jack said he was an only child. He would have mentioned a twin for sure, if he had one!

"Yes."

And where did he go? Rip scanned the crowd around them. Would he leave him on his own this long? Not usually. Maybe something happened to him. But if that was the case, he could have called for him. They had a telepathic link as long as Keith opened it first. There was nothing, though. How long had it been? Not that long. Rip had a meal, a drink, and a stilted conversation with this man and then with that woman who worried over him. Not that long.

"He'll be back for me and if I'm not here..."

Then he didn't know, actually. But the longer he was away, the more antsy he felt. Just like when he left him at home for hours and hours on end. He was coming back... wasn't he? Rip idly chipped at the nail polish.

"I want a phone," he said wistfully when he noticed the man checking his. This one way telepathy wasn't cutting it for him. Keith--the creator--he could just cut him out any time he felt like it. Which was most of the time. Oh. Hold on. He tapped his lips and then his lips curved into a smile.

"You can call him!" Why hadn't he thought of that sooner? "He has a phone." He pulled up the sleeve of his snakeskin coat and there it was, written in haphazard black ink. "This is his number. I memorized it." He said this in a proudly sly tone with a sly smile to go with it.

"He?" Brayden? No. Jack would never speak of Brayden in that tone, as if he was half afraid of what might happen if Brayden didn't find him sitting here if and when he returned. Jack only ever spoke of Brayden in rapturous tones, practically sickening in the adoration that shone out of every orifice of his being. (And vice versa, too!) To go from that to this dour kind of resigned voice... It didn't add up.

"Oh—okay. Yeah you wrote his number down..." That was not Brayden's number. Okay... And what was with that smile? That was not a Jack smile at all. "What should I say to him? What's his name?" He input the foreign number but he didn't press the call button yet. Alejo glanced around, then back at Jack—Ripper. "Should I tell him I'm taking you for a walk...?"

"Keith."

He did sort of need his name if he was going to call him, didn't he? But... Rip raised his brows. Tell him they were going for a walk? Why would he do that?

"No... tell him I'm still here." Maybe he needed the reminder. Or maybe not... Rip half frowned now. "You could ask if we could go for a walk. Then I wouldn't have to wait here. My bum is starting to get sore."

Not that it was anything in comparison to other ways to have a sore bum but... He didn't want to sit forever. And... he did kinda want to see the rest of the festival, rather than being stuck glued here in this same spot while everybody else had fun. There were other things to look at and he wanted to see them. The food had been discovered but what about the games people were playing? And what about the rides? Although... he might be too tall for those. A lot of them looked very small.

"Keith." Interesting name... given that Marge was railing about some fucker named Keith who tried to fuck things up. She didn't go into details but Alejo got the feeling Keith was public enemy number one. Same Keith as this one? This one who was keeping Jack here and making him talk in that tone? It seemed likely, in which case... what Alejo was about to do, he didn't feel the slightest bit sorry about.

"All right. I'll ask him." He smiled as he put the phone up to his ear and juuust grazed the call button—but didn't actually activate it. Like HELL Alejo was asking some jack-off for permission to take his friend around the festival. Whatever fucker Jack took up with wasn't going to control his life like a puppet master. Not on his watch! And he could just imagine Brayden's face if he knew that someone was keeping Jack under their thumb like this! Or Marge for that matter!

Jack didn't even look happy! That was the kicker; if he was happy, Alejo might have supported him but he wasn't. So he held a pretend conversation over the phone, and quickly 'hung up' afterwards. "He said it's fine! Come on, let's go check out some of those games, huh?" Alejo stood quickly, reaching out once again to take Jack's hand. "You want me to win you a giant octopus toy? I have great aim, you know! I can win one easy!"

Color him surprised. Rip watched the man on the phone. His exchange seemed oddly positive for somebody speaking to Keith. Nobody ever sounded that chipper talking to him. Maybe nothing could get this man down. Interesting. Rip tilted his head. And even more surprising... he said it was fine. Fine to leave? To take a walk? Rip didn't know how he felt about it; was he being brushed off or was something else going on? Keith wasn't usually so... generous.

"...okay."

Rip was still hesitant as he took the man's offered hand. There was a feeling in his head--it rippled oddly against his forehead. Magic. But it was brief and once he stepped away from the table, it went away. Using his free hand, he reached up and gently rubbed his own forehead.

"What would I do with it?" he asked, confused by the idea of having ownership of a giant octopus toy.

"Oh you know, you could play with it. Sleep on it. Give it to... someone you care about, maybe, as a way to smooth things over..."

Brayden would like a giant octopus toy right? As long as it came from Jack... Whatever the hell happened to split them, Alejo still had hope that they weren't broken up for good! That maybe there was still good in the world, and fairness and justice, and true love did prevail. Hell, he had to believe that—his own love life was on the line, too! If he couldn't believe in love, how the hell could he believe in what he had with Seth?!

As he led Jack away, he checked again to make sure no asshole-looking... asshole was running up to try and tell Jack what to do. It almost defied belief to think that Jack, strong-minded and proud, could let anyone do this to him. But then again if he was really, really low and if his heart was shaky and vulnerable, any creep might come and take advantage of him.

Alejo squeezed his hand gently as they melted into the crowd. He smiled up at Jack in what he hoped was a supportive way. "We can do anything you want, so don't hold back. Today's your day, let's forget everything and have a good time, okay?"

Was he suggesting he give it to Keith? Rip nearly choked on a laugh, it came so suddenly. The idea of presenting Keith with anything ever was--never going to happen. He would burn the thing before he would accept it. That or he'd use it to suffocate Rip. ...maybe it would be best not to get any giant stuffed toys. Keith and toys... never a nice combination. Never.

Who else could he mean? Raphael? ...There was nothing to smooth over there but... Raphael would definitely take to something like that. Rhys? ...no.

"I don't know what I want," he said vaguely because he didn't. Nobody ever gave Rip choices. Saying he could do anything was overwhelming. Where did he even begin? It felt good, though. Just walking through the crowds. Looking at the different people. Smelling the different smells. Hearing people talk in different voices. Somewhere, somebody was playing some kind of instrument. There was a lot here. A lot that his senses were normally deprived of.

Rip stopped when they grew closer to the person playing the musical instrument. Rip knew from Jack's young memories that it was a violin. It sounded lovely. There were others standing around the musician in a little half circle and Rip stood, transfixed as he listened to the music. Young Jack loved music, too. It soothed something inside him when he was upset and sad. For some reason, although the song was a happy, jaunty tune, Rip felt something warm slide down his face. Surprised, he reached up and felt it. A tear. Out of emotion and not pain. He blinked and the feeling subsided.

The people around them applauded the musician and Rip hesitated before following suit. The musician bowed and people stepped forward to put money into a hat.

"Then we'll walk around and see what catches your eye."

They wended their way through the crowd, sometimes getting run over by kids, sometimes being trodden on by older folks. There were a lot of couples too, walking around hand-in-hand, and some groups of friends out to have a good time. Everyone was here to enjoy themselves; no one came to look for trouble. The cop in him was wary of a couple of hooligans, but to his surprise they let himself and Jack pass by quite politely, stepping aside to make way for them. Huh. Appearances could really be deceiving, couldn't they?

Jack seemed drawn to the busker playing the violin nearby, so Alejo let him lead the way over. As they stood listening to it, his eyes were on Jack and so he caught the tear and his heart wrenched in his chest for poor Jack. Alejo slid a hand behind his back to rub it soothingly; he stepped closer, too, offering some measure of physical comfort. Just because they weren't dating or sleeping together didn't mean that he lost all feelings for Jack. Part of him still felt connected to him, and to the man he had tracked all these years. That wouldn't go away anytime soon because—yes, he was genuinely fond of Jack Ripley, or Ripper Nightshade, or whoever he was on any given day.

"You okay?" The crowd dispersed. Alejo slid an arm around Jack's waist to guide him past the violinist, though he did toss a bill into the hat in passing.

"Yes."

He was okay. He just felt a little emotional when he really listened to the music. There wasn't music at the apartment, not unless Raphael was home. Rhys didn't listen to music and Keith... his taste in music was as violent as he was. Nothing beautiful about it.

"I've never heard somebody play live music before."

It was different when it was live in front of him. The artist was right there, pouring their heart into their craft. It was beautiful. He liked it. That gave him pause; he liked it. He liked something. Well, he liked beer, too. And those foods they ate. Burnt ends and whatever else they ate. He felt... more like a person now and less like a tool for somebody's amusement.

"Oh..." He stopped at a booth covered in photographs of cats. Delighted, Rip covered his mouth and moved closer. An older woman smiled at him.

"Are you interested in adopting a cat? We're having a winter special at our shelter for the weekend of the festival!" She handed him a pamphlet and he looked down at it. There was a picture of a cartoon cat on the front. When he opened it, there was a list of bolded questions with answers beneath. Things like how much it cost to adopt a cat and how to get them used to eating new foods by introducing them to it slowly.

"I am," he said, "but I can't."

He handed the pamphlet back.

"Ah? Really?" Jack never heard live music? That sounded oddly jarring to what he knew of Jack. If anything he could easily see Jack in a concert hall decked out in his finest, ready to slay with the musicians on stage, or sitting in a lounge with a snifter of brandy, swirling it while an elegant pianist played in the background. It didn't seem like the sort of thing Jack would shy away from, live music and performances and bands...

While he thought about that and puzzled over it, Jack was drawn to the booth put up by the local shelter. "Shelby, hi!" Alejo knew the lady behind the makeshift stall! She was one of the people who had gone around canvassing the neighborhood asking for donations to the shelter, and she and Alejo got to talking very randomly. But she was a nice lady and occasionally Alejo went around to the shelter to pet the dogs and chat with her, looking for activities that didn't involve drugs or booze.

"Hello Allie!" She leaned over to give him a brief, quick hug, but then turned back to Jack with a sympathetic smile. "That's all right, dear. If you're ever interested, you can come to the shelter later.  Oh—but here. Here, take this." She handed him a small tote and a t-shirt with a picture of a fuzzy kitten on it, smiling up at him the way someone's aunt might smile at her favorite nephew. "And you enjoy yourself, you hear? It was so nice seeing you again, Allie. Here, you have one too."

"Thanks Shelby!" Alejo laughed as she handed him a similar tote and t-shirt and he modeled the shirt over his chest. "Hey, looks pretty good huh? We could match Rip!"

Allie. He finally had a name to the man! Whomever he was, he wasn't in the memories of Jack that he had currently. It was like he had an old version of Jack installed.

A cloth bag and a t-shirt were handed over and Rip didn't know what to make of it. He looked at the bag, then the shirt. Was he meant to put it on right now? He was currently shirtless, wearing a snakeskin coat over his bare chest. Now that he looked around and observed the people around him, he realized he was the only person he saw that wasn't wearing a shirt. Hm.

He looked at Allie as he placed the shirt over himself. The fuzzy kitten on the shirt was cute. Also... garish, some part of him said but he ignored it because that was the Jack inside him. Pulling his jacket off, he tucked it between his legs while he pulled the t-shirt over his head. It was a little small on him, a little snug in certain places.

"...it looks terrible," he said as he pulled the coat back on over the shirt. Even the Ripper in him knew it was terrible.

The jacket was Very Jack but the lack of shirt... yeah. Alejo had been trying not to mention that because hey—fashion. Don't gotta explain nothing to nobody. Although in the context of Jack's horrid break-up with Brayden, maybe he should have sensed that something was up. Well, at least he was putting on a shirt now... And it looked all sorts of wrong on him, with that jacket and makeup and hair and bangles and beads. But also... there was something weirdly cute about it?

"It looks cute!" He laughed as he, too, pulled off his jacket and slid the t-shirt over his head. There, now they matched! A proper couple of weirdos in their cute kitten t-shirts and otherwise stylish jackets, coats and pants. Alejo reached over to help Jack adjust the shirt so it didn't sit so snug on him. Well, these things were one-size-fit-all but they didn't take Jack into account, apparently.

Just as he finished, somebody came running up all out of breath, light brown hair wind-swept into bright eyes. "Aunt Shel!" He came to a stop with a hand to his throat, trying to catch his breath. "Sorry I'm late Aunt Shel. Band practice went on way too long!" A bright, white smile was turned onto them but Alejo thought... maybe more so onto Jack. "Hey Allie! Didn't know you'd be here! ...Who's your friend?"

"Hey Mik." He smiled back, noting the way Mik was trying hard not to laugh at the pair of them. "This is Ja—Rip. Rip, this is Mik. He works at the shelter."

"Hi Rip." Mik's eyes were still on him, the smile still directed at him as he held out a hand to shake. "Did Aunt Shel talk you into adopting one of our cats? I see you're wearing the t-shirt I designed. Pretty cute, right?"

Well, if he was going to look terrible, at least he wasn't in it alone. Rip looked down as Allie adjusted the shirt so that it wasn't quite as ill fitting. It was definitely a... look. Rip toyed with one of the various necklaces around his neck. At least he wasn't standing out quite as much. That... was what he wanted, right? He couldn't tell. Some part of him liked attention but some part of him wanted to shrink away from it.

A newcomer approached and apparently he knew Allie, too. It seemed like he was quite the popular person. His gaze darted toward Allie when he started to say Jack but he corrected himself before Rip had to do it for him. He wasn't Jack. Allie, it seemed, still didn't believe him. He wondered how alike they were. He'd never met the real Jack face to face.

Oh. A hand. Rip took it.

"Yes, but I can't." As much as he would love to adopt a cat--and he really would like to--he already knew it would be a death sentence for the poor animal. If what happened to the bird meant anything, it certainly showed Rip that animals couldn't be seen around Keith or they would suffer for it.

He glanced down at the shirt as he finished the handshake and took his hand back. Pulling at the bottom of the shirt, Rip tilted his head.

"It's cute," he said. "But I think it's clashing with the jacket." Not to mention the skintight pants. But what did somebody wear with a kitten t-shirt...? He glanced over at Allie, whose outfit also clashed with the shirt. It was definitely the kind of thing that didn't really seem to fit anything appropriately.

"That's too bad! Some of them could really use a good home. But hey—you can still come visit them at the shelter, and play with them! We need to get a bunch of them accustomed to being around people." Mik's smile grew. "I'd be more than happy to show you around, too, Rip."

Oh boy. Oh boy. Abort! Abort!

Alejo knew that look and that tone—and he saw how Mik wasn't letting go of Jack's hand, too!

Just as Mik said something about the shirt looking good on Jack, Alejo gently began to ease away. "Well Rip and I still have lots of festival to check out, so... we'll just get going now! Good to see you Shelby, and you too Mik! Thanks for the merch!" He tugged on Jack's arm and tried to give him a meaningful Look. One, that boy was too young for him and two, Brayden!

Oh. He hadn't even thought about that as an option. He could go to the shelter and play with the cats and never bring one home. If he wasn't told specifically to stay put at the apartment...

"I don't see why not."

There was no reason not to go. It was the best of all the worlds. He could play with the cats and leave the apartment and be less lonely... And he wouldn't be putting any animals in harm's way. What could be better? He looked back down at the shirt and placed a hand on his own chest. Did it look good on him? Hard to tell. It did fit in a strangely nice way, proportioned to his body as if it were meant for him. And just the slightest peek of skin between the shirt hem and his pants. Maybe it was a look he could work with.

What he didn't understand was why they were suddenly in a rush to leave. Allie was tugging on him and talking about moving along... Reluctantly, Rip let himself be towed away, though he waved a goodbye to the others.

"Goodbye, Shelby, Mik~" Then he stopped. "Wait... where's the shelter...?"

Gogogo! Mission failure! He thought Shelby was nice enough and it was going well (Jack seemed to cheer up about the cats, even if he claimed he couldn't have one in that nice fancy apartment of his), but no way was he letting that little—nice little shelter volunteer boy get his hands on Jack! Although Jack seemed oddly oblivious to it all... which was also not the Jack he knew. Flirting was second nature to that man!

"Oh! Yeah hold on!" Mik scribbled something down onto a card—Shelby gave him a smack on the shoulder but he grinned rather impishly at her. Then he ran back to them and slipped the card into Jack's hand. "Address is on the card. Ask for Mik! See you soon, Rip~"

Alejo again gently but forcefully steered Jack away before any more flirting could be done. No. He was sure Jack didn't go in for babies and that nice young man was hardly older than eighteen or nineteen! He couldn't even get into a club, for fuck's sake! As they walked away, he turned to Jack so that he could ever so slyly peek at the card.

"I knew it! He gave you his number! That sneaky little—boy!"

"Thank you," he said, rather primly as he was handed a card. Looking down at it, he could see that there was a phone number written on a blank portion of the card as well. A number... but Rip had no phone. He turned back to say as much but by then, Allie had dragged him far enough away that he would have had to shout it across a crowd. As Allie mentioned the number, Rip looked down at it again.

"Sneaky?" What made it sneaky? But it didn't matter because... "I can't call him. I don't have a phone."

He had never asked for one--never thought he would need one. But he had a pretty good feeling that even if he did, Keith would say no. He wasn't a very... generous person. And honestly, the more Rip showed an interest in something, the more likely Keith was to deny him having anything to do with it. He learned that pretty early on.

Still, Rip tucked the card away into his pocket for safekeeping.

"Not right now you don't," Alejo muttered mostly to himself, giving Jack the side-eye when he pocketed the card carefully. He should have torn it up! Thrown it away! Mik was waaay too young for him to even think about and besides, what was a kid like that going to offer that someone like Bee couldn't? A couple of nights between the sheets? Sure Mik was cute and that youthful energy had a way of pulling people in, but there was no... longevity behind something like that!

"Well anyway," he said pointedly a moment later. "Should we try one of the games? How's your aim?" There was one where kids were shooting water guns at balloons, trying to see who filled theirs up to bursting the fastest. It looked like a nice diversion! Alejo pulled him over and handed over a couple of bills to the attendant.

"If you win, you can get one of those little toys there! How about the cat one?" Alejo pointed out a fuzzy, small kitty figurine sitting on top of a makeshift shelf.

Games! Rip completely forgot about the games, and he had been so curious about them! He looked around as they walked, trying to decide what game seemed most fun. Games to him weren't typically all that fun. At least, not in the way Keith used the term. But these games all seemed fairly harmless. There was some kind of ring toss game and another one where kids were throwing balls into little bowls of fish. For some reason, that hurt his little stone heart. The little fish seemed as trapped and lonely as he was.

"I'm not sure," he said distractedly, as he watched a kid win one of the fish. And--and! They scooped it out and put it inside of a bag! A bag! Imagine that! For some reason, it really hit home--it made him... angry. Furrowing his brow slightly, he turned away from the game Allie had already paid for, vaguely aware that he was saying something about winning him a cat toy.

"What about that one," he said, pointing to the fish bowl game. "I want to win all the fish... and set them free. Can we do that?"

"Oh—" Okay well. He grabbed the cat toy anyway since the bored-looking attendant didn't seem to give a fuck. Alejo didn't steal it—he paid for it! He would've won anyway, because look at the competition! Little ten year olds didn't have the coordination that a trained policeman had! All right? He didn't steal it!

Jack seemed more interested in fish, and... Well um. Alejo looked in his wallet. Did he have enough money? Maybe, if they sank all the shots... At this point he was just glad Jack wasn't going after eighteen year-old ass. "Okay! Yeah we can do that but—uh. I think if we set them all free now, they'd freeze, so... we can keep them until it gets warmer? And then we'll bring them to the lake?"

That was pretty terrible. Goldfish were invasive species; they would probably ruin the ecosystem of the lake. Then again, would Jack's malaise last until Spring? Probably not! He might decide he liked goldfish and keep them as pets, which was what they were meant to be anyway. Getting a tank and some fish food wasn't a big deal, he thought; Jack's apartment could accommodate that.

So he handed the new attendant a wad of bills and was given a basket of light ping pong balls. Alejo set the basket down between them and picked one out, eyeing the row of goldfish bowls. "All right buddy. Hope your aim's good, because—" He lobbed one into the nearest bowl. "Mine is perfect." 20-20 vision and he got top marks in gun training. A little game like this?

No big deal.

Rip didn't actually know anything about fish. Neither did Jack; he had never had pets so there were no memories of any pets. But he did have an affinity for stray cats, which apparently Rip couldn't shake. There was a fondness in him when he thought of cats. They were aloof but it was nice to sit in those weeds and feed them scraps of food from home ec--

No, that wasn't his memory. That was Jack's.

The fish, though. He thought he was saving them. They could take them to the park and put them in the manmade pond! ...Right? Again, he had no idea how goldfish survived outside people. All he knew was that they looked lonely and trapped in their tiny bowls, each one all alone in his bowl. All by himself.

"My aim?" He didn't know if he had very good aim. "Am I supposed to help?" he asked, picking up one of the balls and turning it over in his hand. It was a rather light ball, almost nothing but air. That made him feel a little better; they wouldn't hurt the poor fish if he hit one on accident. Furrowing his brow slightly, he targeted a nearby bowl and he gently tossed the ball towards the bowl. It bounced off the edge of the bowl.

"Aw..." he said, purely disappointed. "So close..."

"Of course! I'm not doing all the work!" Alejo laughed as he shoulder checked Jack playfully. "Come on, toss a few in! It's fun!" Another one went into another bowl, floating gently on top while the fish inside swam a lazy circle. It seemed not to care much of ping pong balls came flying at it—but then again goldfish were pretty dumb. If anything, it started nosing up to the surface to check out the bobbing round thing.

But—aww. Jack missed. "Close! Try again!" Alejo grinned as he lobbed another one carelessly, which also bounced just off the rim of another bowl. Hm. He'd better focus if he wanted to get those fish! Admittedly, the thought of little kids bringing them home and torturing them to death didn't seem very nice. It was good for kids to have pets but a lot of them probably didn't know what to do with fish.

Alejo had fish as pets when he was smaller, though. Or, well, his older sister did—he watched her changing the water in the tank, after scooping out the colorful tropical fish and placing them into temporary bowls. And he loved sitting in front of the tank and watching them swimming through the fake castles and floating sea plants she'd stuck in there to make a home for them.

"We'd better buy a big tank for these later, Rip," he mused as he scored another fish, and then moved in to scoop it into a bag filled with water to place alongside his other ones. He'd have a nice haul... Maybe he should keep one for himself. Something to show Seth later, too...

"Okay. I will do some of the work..."

His second attempt was close but it wasn't until his third attempt that he finally made a ball into a bowl. Despite himself, he grinned like a child. The game itself wasn't that complicated, once he realized how he needed to move his arm and time the throws. Before he knew it, they had bagged nearly all the fish and the game attendant was telling them to get lost and move along before they robbed him of a job.

They didn't save all the fish but they saved a lot of them. Rip honestly didn't know what to do with them afterward, though. Dump them into a pond? A lake? No, Allie said they needed a tank for them. Oh, but it would have to be a big tank, he thought, with the amount of fish they'd scored.

"Where do we get a tank?" he asked as he scooped up several bags into his arms, trying to be as gentle and careful with them as he could while juggling slippery bags of fish. "Can't we let them go somewhere big? The lake?"

Alejo juggled a bunch of bags in his arms, swimming with fish, and was aware that people were staring oddly at them the entire time. Smiling ruefully, he paused at a bench to rest his arms and to arrange the bags better. "We can hit up a pet store. There's one downtown, they should have everything we need..."

But honestly at this point he was willing to say fuck the environment and dump them in the lake! This many fish needed a huge tank! Plus who was looking after them? Alejo's vacation was almost over, which meant he needed to go back to New York and get his stuff, in preparation to move out here. Jack worked full time and Marge did too. Bray as well... Hm...

"The lake could work... If we do it out of sight..." Rangers patrolled the area often and if they were caught, that meant big trouble! "We can take the bus out there? If we leave now we can make it back before dinner."

Out of sight... Rip was a little afraid, though, of dumping the fish and then what if they all got eaten? They might have better off with the kids... He looked down dubiously at the bags of fish. Then he remembered that the Mik person said he worked at the shelter, too, with his Aunt Shel... Shelby. Something like that. Maybe it was just a cat shelter...? Still, they had to know more about animals in general than Rip did.

"What if," he said, "we give them to the shelter people...?"

He was also saying this because he didn't know if he could leave the area... He needed to stay close, in case Keith came back. Just because he gave the okay to walking around the festival didn't mean he was going to let him take a bus out to the lake.

"Uhh... we... could try," said Alejo slowly, thinking of their reactions when he and Jack returned with armloads of fish. Nobody appreciated having animals foisted upon them, not even shelter people! They would probably prefer this to having fish dumped into any old lake, though. Alejo didn't know—he saved people, not fish! But it wasn't a bad idea, all things considered.

He was just wary of Mik trying to hit on Jack again... Although Jack playing dumb did seem to indicate that he wasn't into the whole thing. Maybe he kept the card to be polite. Sighing, Alejo turned around, back in the direction of the tent that Shelby and Mik had set up. "All right, let's go and talk to them again. It can't hurt! They'd probably take the fish and give them away to people who can actually raise them properly."

He smiled at Jack though, a little ruefully. "Then you can visit the cats and their snacks if you ever go around to the shelter." Which he hoped Jack wouldn't, but at the same time, Alejo had no control over what he did. He could only give unsolicited advice and express disapproval, and maybe ask Marge to keep Jack under lock and key until he came to his senses!

The look on Shelby's face, though, when they came up with all those bags of goldfish... Alejo winced inwardly.

Even Rip could tell that Shelby wasn't happy when she saw the many fish that Rip had so foolishly tried to save... without thinking about where they would go. Instead of asking if she could take them, though, he strode up. There had to be some way of doing this that would benefit everybody...

"We have to save the fish," he said to the woman. "How do we save them? If I take them home, they will die. And if we let them free, they will be eaten..."

Which made rescuing them pointless. So there had to be a way to rescue them that everybody could help with. All their heads together had to be able to form a plan.

"I saw a koi pond, when I was little," he said. He didn't really--it was one of his Jack memories--but it was there and he remembered how happy all the fish were in their pond. "Can we build a goldfish pond maybe?"

"You're back!" Mik looked positively delighted, while Shelby looked as if someone had dumped horse manure all over her front porch. It was... not unlike that, to be honest, with their eight hundred bags of novelty pets. Alejo smiled in what he hoped was a winning way at her, while Jack outlined a plan to build a pond for them. That would take a lot of money... and resources...

"Where did you guys even get all these fish? From the games tents?" Mik rounded the table to get a better look at the goldfish, prodding one of the bags and making it jiggle. The fish inside swam a nervous circle. "Wow, how much did you spend on them? A fortune I'd bet!"

That did NOT make Alejo feel better! He sighed as he set the goldfish onto the table just to let his arms have some rest. They were heavy bags of water! "Well I think a pond will take a couple of weeks, sadly. I can pay for a tank but I can't look after them. Is there a way we can keep them at the shelter, Shelby?"

"I think so," said Shelby slowly, shaking her head. "But I'm too busy to look after them."

"Rip and I can look after them!" Mik beamed at Jack. "Right Rip? All they need is to be fed, and we can change the water once every few days together!"

Following Allie's example, Rip slowly and carefully placed the bags he held onto the table along with Allie's fish. It was starting to dawn on him that he was... stupid and careless. His recklessness left them with all these fish that he foolishly thought they could free, as if they were wild animals. Bringing them home wasn't an option, although he wasn't really sure Keith would care one way or the other about fish. Still... better not to try and rile him up...

"Ah..." He hadn't meant to really keep them at the shelter; he was trying to come up with some way to fix his bungling mistake. But they would still be there, at the shelter. The card in his pocket practically burned a hole where it was tucked away. He knew where to go, though. To see the fish...

And he could see cats, too...

"What?" He lifted his head and stared at Mik uncomprehendingly. Well... He could hardly say no, since they had become his problem and Mik was only trying to help him. "Oh... right! How close is this shelter to Greenwood?"

"It's along the bus route! 210, I think, will take you right to us Rip! Ooh look at that one, isn't that the prettiest? Black and orange go so well together."

Mm. Mik. Mikky. Mikko. Such a bright, lovely young thing.

Who needed to get his mitts off of Jack now, before Alejo had to wrangle him off or cuff him to the back of the tent! Look, he knew Jack was, as they say, a hottie. He was more than eager to get into his pants and he had not been disappointed. But Jack was taken. Claimed. By Brayden. Alejo wasn't a fanboy, he wasn't trying to ruin Jack's life. He wanted what was best for his friend, someone he grew to love platonically, and he knew that Mik the shelter volunteer was not going to cut it.

Shit. He needed to get to Brayden and talk to him, and see what was up! Later, though—after he got this sorted.

"Well that settles it I suppose. I'll get the tank and bring it around to the shelter, Shelby," he said reluctantly, watching Mik pulling on Jack's arm to get him to look at the orange and black goldfish. Alejo exchanged a Look with Shelby, who seemed equally unhappy about her nephew's apparent interest in... an older man. Mik was a good kid, really, but this wasn't right. What if he decided he didn't want to date someone that much older? Would Jack be thrown for another loop? Alejo didn't want to see him hurt again!

"We'll load these up and take them with us while you get the tank, Allie," Shelby said, also trying to separate them by the looks of things. "Mik honey, could you bring the truck around?"

Rip knelt down to get a better look at the black and orange goldfish. It certainly was the best looking one of the group. The smallest of serene smiles formed on his face as he gently placed a finger to the bag. The fish came to it eagerly.

"It has pretty fins, too."

He looked over at Mik, the smile still on his face. So far, Mik was the only one that didn't seem angry with his decision to save the fish. That made him feel better. Hostility... didn't sit well with Rip. Not even perceived hostility. It bit bone deep, even though he was accustomed to it. That didn't stop it from having an effect on him.

"I'll help load the fish," he decided, because he wasn't clear on his role and he couldn't very well leave the fairgrounds with Allie, even if Allie wanted him to. "I can't leave the fair," he told Allie. "Keith will be waiting."

"That's the queen of the bunch," Mik said decisively as he knelt beside Rip and poked the bag too. The other fish came in various colors of gold and orange, white, red, even black, but this one was clearly the prettiest, especially with its fins like delicate fairy wings, and it made him feel rather happy that Rip agreed. He turned and Rip was smiling at him peacefully, and it made his heart skip a beat.

Sheesh! How was it fair for someone to be that handsome? And Rip was still wearing the cute kitten t-shirt—the one he designed—which pleased him to no end. It looked funny and silly but it was also endearing. Rip didn't seem to care what other people thought and his confidence was definitely something to be admired. Not that Mik was gushing! (He was gushing a little bit, okay, he'd admit that.)

"I'll be right back with the truck!" Mik straightened, bright as ever. Things were looking up! He loved spending time with Aunt Shel but a lot of people ignored them and their booth, which was kiiiind of dispiriting! Having someone take interest in their poor shelter and all of the little kittens and kitties was a nice change of pace. He grabbed the keys of the truck, grinned at Rip, and then set off.

Behind him, he heard Allie talking with Aunt Shel about the tank and the fish, and he shook his head. It was a pretty big shock when they came back with all of these fish but Mik was nothing if not optimistic, and they could find people to take them, he was sure! Honestly he was kind of glad Rip and Allie rescued them. He'd been eyeing those kids running around with bags of water and fish and it made him nervous to think of them not taking care of the little creatures properly!

The truck was parked a little ways off in the parking lot, but it didn't take long for him to pull up and reverse it so that it rested closer to their tent. Mik hopped out twirling the keys on his index. "Okay let's load 'em up!"

She was definitely the queen, Rip agreed. She was pretty and she knew it, the way she moved so gracefully in the water. It was too small for her, though. She needed more space to zoom and twirl. Even when he moved his finger around in a circle, she followed it. She's lonely, he thought. All she wanted was to get out of her tiny bag. No more tiny bowls and bags for her. She would soon have a tank where she could be a real queen.

Holding the bag steady, Rip also straightened up.

"Okay. I'll... be right here." There was nowhere else for him to go; he offered to help load the fish so he would stay with them and get the job done. As for getting to the shelter later... It shouldn't be that hard. With how often Keith left him at the apartment, he should have plenty of time to take that bus to the shelter and back again.

It felt good, actually, to have some kind of... plan. A goal. Something other than pacing around an apartment all day, looking at Raphael's collections, listening to music, dancing on his own. Now he could do something productive.

Once the truck arrived, Rip helped load the fish carefully into the back, inside cardboard boxes to keep them steady and not slamming around the truck bed. He stepped back to admire their handiwork when they were finished. Tilting his head, he smiled slightly at the sight of all the little fish packed up together. It was a little sad but they were going to a better place.

"I think," he said wistfully to Mik, "I would take them all if I could. Cats and fish and dogs and raccoons and birds and coyotes... Our neighbors hate the raccoons because they get into the garbage cans but if they didn't throw out so much food, I'm sure it wouldn't be such a problem."

That didn't take as long as he thought it would! Mik stepped back to make sure the boxes were secured, and then leaned in to adjust some of them to make them fit more snugly. Didn't want anybody flying out on the drive back! Since Allie was still conversing with Aunt Shel, he was more than happy to keep Rip company. Mik hopped up onto the bed of the pickup and sat there swinging his legs a little bit while he waited for his aunt to finish up. He patted the space beside him, to let Rip know there was plenty of space for two to take a perch!

"Aww, I know how you feel, Rip. I can't help myself when I see an animal in need. I just want to take them all in and keep them safe, you know? Aunt Shel gets really fed up with me bringing animals home but... well what am I supposed to do? Leave them to die?" The shelter was filled to capacity, though—hence their desperate bid to get people to adopt some of the cats and kittens. He glanced behind him at the boxes, with the fish settling into their new temporary home.

"They should really... not do things like this. People don't think about them as living creatures but I mean... they are. They're alive, even if they can't talk. Every life is a life, right? It's not fair to stick them into bowls and treat them like objects just so somebody could make a quick buck off a dumb kid." He turned back and poked Rip in the shoulder gently, playfully.

"Good thing you and Allie came along to save them all! You guys are like superheroes now!"

With the work of loading the fish done, Rip sat down where Mik patted. It seemed Mik agreed with him. Not surprising, since he worked with an animal shelter. It had to take a big heart and a lot of work to care for all the abandoned animals that needed help. Rip supposed if he was promising to help with the fish, he was helping in his own way, too, which satisfied something inside of him. He smiled to himself.

Shelby got fed up? Rip sidled a look over at her. But not Keith's brand of fed up, surely. She seemed more... of an exasperated person. Rip felt bad; she had been kind enough to give him a shirt and... a bag, that he still didn't know what to do with. Currently, it just sat nearby on his other side. But she had been nice and what did he do? Dump more animals on her while she was here trying to find homes for others.

He was going to apologize but Mik seemed to have a different view on things. See, that was how Rip felt when he saw the fish, too. Sliding his linked hands over one knee, he stared into the middle distance.

"I--" Oh! Poked? He turned his gaze on Mik and then poked him back, since it seemed to be a game. And a joke; Allie and Rip--superheroes. How at odds their views were. One moment, Rip was feeling guilty for preying on somebody's kindness and now he was half smiling at a joke about being a superhero--and both about the same exact situation.

"I wouldn't say that," he said, abashed. "Honestly, I wasn't thinking when I saw those fish trapped in those tiny bowls. I just wanted to save them all and set them free, but apparently that's not allowed." He leaned back slightly, hands back at his knee. "Admittedly, I don't know much about fish..."

Oh, aunt Shelby was definitely exasperated, all the time. All. The. Time. Mik wasn't a handful in any other part of life except with animals. He just couldn't take it—if he saw the slightest sign of abuse, he had to get in there. He had to save them! People called him a bleeding heart when it came to animals but how could anyone stand by idly and watch another living being suffer? And not want to do something?!

Smiling over at Rip, who seemed oddly embarrassed by his little joke (but not really because anyone who saved animals was a hero in their own right!), he reached over and patted Rip on the chest very lightly, over his heart. "That's because you have a big heart. Only somebody who has a genuinely good soul could think the way you did about those fish."

Buuut... dumping them into a lake was a big no-no! Mik laughed. "It's against the law to dump fish around here. They take over, you know! They eat all the food and that kills the native fish that live in our lakes. If they breed fast like goldfish do, then eventually all you have in the lake are goldfish and nothing else! It messes with the natural balance, so it's always just better to give it over to us! We can find them new homes, or find a place where they can live without disrupting the natural wildlife!"

A heart, he said. There was a beating heart inside of him, although it was supposedly made of a special stone. The spell cast to make him a living, breathing being turned that stone heart into a real heart, one that pumped both blood and magic through his system. He was a magical being in that way but his access to actual magic was limited--another spell cast by Keith.

A big heart, but a small soul. But a good, small soul. A small soul was still a soul. And now that it was inside of him, it was his and nobody else's. He didn't care how he got it; he was keeping it. But... He slid his gaze sidelong at Mik, then lifted his chin slightly as he was laughed at.

"I told you I didn't know anything about fish."

How was he supposed to know that it was that bad for the environment? He wondered what happened to the fish people flushed down toilets. But those were dead... he hoped. A live fish probably wouldn't do well. And toilet water didn't go into lakes. ...At least he hoped not. He didn't know a lot about sewage systems, either. Get off his back.

"I never had pets."

Mik laughed again, gently—not mockingly. "That's okay! You can't know everything, or else you'd be a computer and not a person!" It was okay to not know all the things—that was what friends were for! If everyone pooled their knowledge, then more of it could get spread around. Besides, learning new things was fun, Mik thought. Knowing everything took the joy out of life, definitely.

"Pets are a lot of work and commitment," Mik replied slowly, gazing back at the fish again. "And when they die, it... It's not very nice, at any age." Even now, when he was grown up (technically) he didn't feel good when they failed to save an animal. That happened more times than one would think—not every animal could be saved, not every one found a forever home. The heartbreak of that was horrible, but then there was so much joy in having pets, too. It was kind of a toss-up!

"You're always welcome to come to the shelter!" Tilting closer to Rip, he bumped their shoulders together and then whispered, "You can unofficially adopt one of the cats as your pet, if you want! But shhh, don't tell Aunt Shel. It can be our secret. I'll keep it just for you. Okay?"

Uncomfortably close, but not quite! Keith said he wasn't a person, though deep down, Rip felt like a person. He had a body like a person, a heart like a person, a soul like a person... He had feelings and thoughts, too, like a person. What made him so different then, say, Jack? What made Jack a person and Rip a non-person? The way they were created? But they were both crafted on purpose and they both had no choice in the matter.

"Yeah..." He was a person.

Rip glanced back at the fish, too, following Mik's gaze. Pets, he said. That was one of the terms Keith used for him, when he was in a rare good mood. The other terms were a lot less... nice but he had come to think of them as terms of affection coming from Keith. That was just how he was. Honestly, sometimes... Rip thought he--as a supposed non-person--was more person than Keith was. But... he wasn't going to share that thought with anybody else.

Death, though. Rip lowered his gaze as he remembered the bird being crushed to death and he closed his eyes against the memory, trying to slam his mind shut. Even as he opened his eyes again, he could hear it--the awful sound it made. It made his stomach churn uncomfortably.

Mik tilted toward him and Rip's gaze wandered over him, from the shining hair in the waning late afternoon sunlight down the length of his throat and his chest, to his legs, so casually swinging as he spoke in his conspiratorial whisper. Flicking his gaze back upward to meet Mik's, a sly little half smile formed.

"Our little secret?" Despite the decidedly sexual way he'd just looked Mik up and down, though, he lifted up a pinky finger. Pinky promise.

Ah... he was being checked out. Yup. That he was, and he knew it and it made him feel a little squirmy inside, like a wiggly worm. Mik was hard-pressed to stay still; he gripped the side of the truck a little tighter as he felt Rip's gaze rake down him, then up again. Hopefully he liked what he saw... because Mik liked what he was seeing and he was interested in getting to know Rip better. Even if nothing came of it, they could be friends, right?

There was an age gap, obviously, but Rip didn't look that old. And Mik was an old soul, he'd been told, so hey, it could happen! It didn't hurt to try, and Rip seemed interested in taking him up on his (repeated) offer to visit the shelter. He imagined that Rip probably lived in a place that didn't allow pets, as so many places in town did nowadays. It used to be that people were more lax with dogs and cats but lately, everyone said no. No pets, just a solitary existence. That was so sad, actually; everybody needed a bit of animal love in their lives!

That smile, though! Mik felt squirmy again, but he grinned back. His pinkie looped around Rip's, curled tightly around it. "Our secret. Pinkie swear."

Gosh Rip was cute! He didn't act like a grown-up, either, not like Allie or Aunt Shel or any of the adults that Mik knew. There was a kind of strange, childlike innocence to him that Mik found attractive. It helped him to see Rip not so much an adult as maybe... a friend or a peer, someone closer to his age. Mik winked. "But that means you have to come see your pet... and me... often!"

There, they sealed it with the sacred pinky promise. Their secret. What was the secret again? Oh, right. A cat that he had dibs on, that nobody else would take away. Perhaps it wasn't fair to the cat but... maybe... just... maybe... one day he could bring it home. And home wouldn't be the crowded old apartment in Greenwood. It would be a nice, airy place with lots of big windows and teacups and music and a big octopus toy.

"I'll come as often as I can," he said. But he didn't know how often that actually would be. Things lately were strange. There was just a new sort of feeling in the air that hadn't been there before, between Rhys and Raf. And Keith had been watching on with interest. Keith... he had imposed himself on Rhys a few weeks ago. It didn't end well for him, which didn't end well for Rip, either. And Raf, he was oblivious.

But after that, that was when things started to take a turn. First a sour turn, between those two. And then an oddly comradely one between Rhys and Raf, where once Rhys had only treated Raf like a servant. He said harsh things but his tone wasn't as harsh. His gaze lingered on Raf, too, when he wasn't in the room. While Keith was observing, so was Rip.

Removing his pinky from around Mik's, Rip jumped off the back of the bed of the truck and turned to the other two.

"It's going to--"

Then his head grew tight and painful for a moment, ears ringing. Where the fuck are you? There was no mistaking that voice; the only other voice in his head besides his own. Rip ran a hand through his hair, trying to apply some pressure to the place where it hurt the most without seeming too obvious about it.

"I should get going," he said, after a moment. He moved past Allie and Shelby without saying anything else, then started to run toward the area he'd been left at. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

"Okay!" No pinkie promise on that one but the words were enough. Mik was sure that he would see Rip again because Rip said so, and his word was good enough. Besides, what was he going to do? Track the guy down and demand that he come to the shelter, just because Mik had a little crush on him? Pft. Rip had to have a job and his own life to live, too—no guarantee that he would be there all the time.

Before he could do or say anything, Rip was gone. Even Allie seemed taken aback, and he chased after Rip but by then Rip had already gotten lost in the crowd. Mik followed Allie, baffled. "Is he okay? He seemed to be in a real big hurry..."

"Fuck!" Allie raked a hand through his hair in agitation. "He—he's going through some shit. I don't want him to be alone, I don't know what he's going to do."

Then Allie was off and away too, leaving Mik confused and... and kind of scared. What did that mean? It sounded ominous—that Allie didn't know what Rip was going to do. Do what?

...hurt himself?

Which way? Which way was it? The voice in his head grew more ferocious until it almost blocked out Rip's own thoughts. He told him he was on his way. Did he not get that message? Had there been a time limit on their walk that he wasn't aware of? Fuck.

Oh! There it was! The makeshift foodcourt area! And there was the cluster of benches where he'd been seated and told to stay. Taking in a breath, he slowed to a brisk walk and headed over to the benches, somewhat... confused. Because this was where he had been left. He recognized the booths and the signs and the garbage cans. He'd spent a while over here; he had committed most of the area in great detail in his head. So... where was Keith?

A familiar presence soon stepped up behind him.

Ah. There he was. Swallowing hard, he schooled his features into something he hoped was inscrutable before slowly turning around to face him head on.

"Keith," he said, as he smiled at him and reached out to take his hands. A lot of people hated Keith. And for good reason; he wasn't very nice. But... Rip still cared about him. He was a handsome man. A gorgeous man. But he was a real control freak with a twisted sense of humor and a lot of interesting... kinks. He mostly spoke with an amused drawl and a curl of a smile, unless he was actually pissed. It seemed he might be actually pissed right now.

"I thought I told you..." he said, leaning in, "to stay put..."

His tone was low. It was dangerous. Rip's grip on Keith's hands tightened. From an outsider's point of view, they might have looked like they were just another couple whispering sweet nothings to each other. All Rip could think was that he was going to end up paying for staying away too long.

"You... you said it was fine."

"Did I...? What did I say was fine... Ripper?" Then he flicked his gaze down and caught sight of the kitten shirt. He raised a brow and tugged at it, pulling Rip in a step closer. There it was. The curl of amusement, the tone was back. "What the hell are you wearing? That's the ugliest thing I've ever seen on you..."

Rip laughed, embarrassed all over again as he lowered his head. "Well... there was this booth adopting out kittens and I said I couldn't take one... so they gave me this... and..." Oh. He'd forgotten the bag. Ah, well... He didn't know what he'd use it for anyway... And he'd lost Allie, too, who had won him a cat, which he only just now remembered. Ah...

The food court. The barbecue food tent, Alejo was sure that was where he'd find Jack, since Jack had been adamant that he stay put right there. And that was where Alejo 'called' Keith so that he could get Jack to walk around with him. Making a beeline for the area, he was held up slightly by the crowds but eventually he got there and sure enough, there was Jack with some superjock blond creep.

The whole thing felt wrong. Jack shouldn't be with a guy like that! He should've been laughing it up with Brayden, checking out the cutesy merchandise and eating warm funnel cake and being lovey-dovey. He shouldn't have some guy grab his shirt like he owned him and he definitely shouldn't be looking that way, like he was uncomfortable and trying not to show it.

Alejo strode up with a purpose. Good thing he wasn't a normal human; having the backing of his other animal forms and being able to tap into their strength and ferocity meant he wasn't afraid of big guys like these. "Hey! Get your hands off of Jack right now!"

The man's head snapped up at the word Jack and his eyes narrowed. They were cold as chips of ice. "Jack?" He asked, voice soft, dangerous.

"Yeah. Jack." Alejo reached out to grab onto Jack's wrist so that he could pull him back. "My friend. He's leaving with me."

"...he's not." Blondie's smile was nasty in ten different ways. "He wants to come home with me. Isn't that right, Jack? We came together, and we're leaving together."

They both looked up when Allie showed up. Keith looked... unhappy. And Rip... was just shocked. Why on earth was Allie coming over here, shouting and looking so indignant? And also... why was he calling him Jack again? A little air of exasperation left him; he'd told him he wasn't Jack more than once. Apparently, he was just calling him Rip to humor him.

But that wasn't the end of it, no. Allie grabbed onto Rip and tugged him toward him and away from Keith. Still calling him Jack. And friend. Rip blinked.

"Ah..."

Yeah. He could tell that Keith was Unhappy now with a capital U. He didn't like it when people entered his space and started acting like they owned the place. (Which was probably why he didn't care for Rhys much, either.) Rip shrugged off Allie's hand and tried to step away from him.

"Yes, we came together, we're leaving together..." he echoed dutifully, but he looked over at Keith with minor confusion. Why was he playing into this Jack game, too? Best not to ask. The tone he used made it sound like he was being sarcastic about it, anyway, so he didn't need... clarification. He hadn't forgotten who Ripper was. In fact, he placed a very territorial arm around Rip's shoulders to pull him in close.

"Goodbye, Allie." He wanted to say more but... he somehow doubted it would go over well with Keith standing... right there.

"No fucking way am I letting you leave with this creep, Jack." Alejo had had enough. Friends didn't let friends leave with guys like this Keith bastard. Look at him! He was like everything that was wrong with the world rolled up into one tall body. The way he exuded cockiness rubbed Alejo the wrong way and he just knew that Jack would regret this forever if he was allowed to leave with Keith now.

Far be it for Alejo to tell people who they should and shouldn't love, but he had a terrible feeling about Keith. Call it a sixth sense, call it animal senses, whatever—he didn't trust Keith as far as he could throw him. The fact that Jack only barely mustered up enough enthusiasm to agree with Keith was a huge red flag, too. Jack would happily tell Alejo to fuck right off if this was the man he actually wanted to go home with.

This was not the man he wanted to go home with.

Walking forward again, he grabbed Jack's wrist. "No. Jack, you're coming home with me. You're staying with me and Marge, and we're going to talk some sense into you before it's too late. Don't you goodbye Allie me, like I don't know what's going on, all right? Now either you come peacefully or I arrest you, or I get Marge down here and you really don't want her down here, because she'd be a hell of a lot madder than I am right now."

Keith's hand shot out too, gripping his arm tightly. He was still smiling but it was humorless. "Let go of him."

"No, and go fuck yourself, blondie. Jack's not going any—aagh!" Suddenly his arm, where Keith touched him, burned! Alejo recoiled and stared in horror at his arm, which was... it... there was some kind of darkness corroding his flesh! He let out another cry of pain as he doubled over clutching his arm, while Keith viciously grabbed Jack and forced him to leave with him.

"Jack!" Alejo was in too much pain to say more than that as he fell to his knees.