Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jack's Perspective:

“No. No way. I am not getting involved with whatever this is,” said Jack, waving his hands at the individual who had spontaneously appeared in his shop, while backing away in the direction of the other room. “I am sick of you showing up, and dragging me into whatever game you’re playing, whatever week you’re playing it. I do not want to be sicced on other supervillains, or dropped into black holes, or freaking blown up and cloned. I am quite sure you can deal with whatever it is this time on your lonesome. Get out of my shop. I have a guy coming in here to negotiate an order in ten minutes, and I… need to sell these socks.”

Jack, glancing around, snatched a bundle of argyle socks off a side table, pointing them at the Shade. “Goodbye. Door’s over there.” He retreated into his office (which was extremely cluttered, due to its dual purpose as overflow storage space, and was absolutely chock full of all manner of things old and spectacular) and closed the door behind him, leaning against it on the other side.

 It should be said that Jack did not have a meeting in ten minutes, nor did he have any need to sell the socks, which were his own, that he had brought back from the laundromat not ten minutes ago, and been called to answer the phone before he could put them away.

It occurred to him that he had essentially abandoned his own shop in favor of hiding in a closet.

“Not exactly winning this round, Jack,” he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. The Shade, he was certain, viewed their every interaction as a sort of game, and Jack often couldn’t quite help himself from perceiving them in the same way. Probably thinks we’re playing cosmic chess, or a nice gentlemanly game of whist, mused Jack. Well, I say we’re playing ping-pong. That ought to piss him off.

He pushed himself off of the door, tossing the socks atop a closed cardboard box, and then went and started the process of making a pot of coffee in the hopes that the Shade would get bored and go away. There was a soft whooshing noise. 

 “You haven’t even asked me what I’m doing here,” came a voice directly behind his head. Jack closed his eyes in irritation. Jack, upon choosing to ignore the Shade, had fully expected him to make further attempts at drawing his attention. However, that doesn’t mean that he hadn’t hoped the Shade would simply disappear and leave him to his coffee.

Jack set down the coffeepot and turned around. This resulted in his face being about two inches away from the Shade’s. Sweet son of a- “Have I not been of great help to you, upon each one of my appearances?”

Jack leaned backward, and pointedly pushed the Shade in the other direction, via two fingers in the center of his chest. The Shade ignored him, and continued his speech from a marginally more normal distance.

“Have we not, in the past, taken matters of life and death in our hands, and together tipped the balance towards life? And besides that, hasn’t it always been interesting? Don’t you want to know what I have to say?” There was an anticipatory pause.

 “I forgot how much you liked to talk.” Jack shouldered his way past the Shade, who was standing in the way of the door, and marched back into the main shop.

The Shade followed—or rather, he disappeared from where he was, and reappeared leaning against the till, causing Jack to walk into him. “Jeezus!” Jack took a step backward, and glared at the Shade with his hands on his hips. The Shade regarded him, not having moved an inch, even after being walked into. His head was tilted birdlike to the side, as if he couldn’t fathom why Jack would have any reason to mistrust him.

 “Oh, honestly. I assure you, Jack, I have no intention of exploiting your heroic obligations.” The Shade picked up his cane, and stepped away from the counter to look at Jack directly “I come bearing a warning of truly great importance… and to offer you my assistance in warding off a grave danger.” The Shade paused, allowing the needlessly theatrical words to trail off into silence. 

 “…Uh huh. See, maybe you should take the hint for once, that I don’t want to know. I have enough to do without having to run around cleaning up your mess! I’m a junk dealer. Part-time superhero. Not a janitor.”

 “Jack—“

 “Nope.”

Jack grabbed the Shade by the back of the collar, and half-dragged him across the shop. The Shade’s cane clattered to the floor, while the Shade, rather caught off guard (and he must have been caught off guard, thought Jack, otherwise I imagine he would have disappeared again, or hucked me across the room with shadow demons or whatever else he calls those) scrambled slightly for balance, and then went quietly—for what reason Jack was not sure—and allowed himself to be situated in front of the door.

There, Jack let go of his collar and stared at him with arms crossed, clearly conveying the message that the Shade was expected to depart promptly. The Shade reached up to straighten the mussed collar, (cravat? Ascot? What do they call those again?) giving Jack an odd, indecipherable look.

There was a long pause.

 “Well, ah…” The Shade glanced down briefly, almost sheepish, before raising his head again to meet Jack’s eyes. “I suppose I’ll be leaving, then, if you’re quite sure—“

 “Oh for—vamoose already, sheesh!” Jack, reaching around the Shade, grasped the handle of the door; opening it, and shoving the Shade outside with his other hand in the same motion. He quickly shut it again behind him, and locked it for good measure.

Well, he thought, standing there for a moment. I’ve gotta say, I don’t know what the heck that was. He shook his head, and walked back to the counter. “Jeezus.”

The Shade's Perspective:

  On the front step, the Shade stared absently through the door glazing, regarding the purple curtains of the shop. His mouth was still slightly open; the perfect image of an individual who had lost his train of thought mid-sentence, (which was exactly what he was.)

He straightened his collar again, rather uselessly, feeling somewhat nonplussed. A passerby noticed the slam of the door, and the slightly disheveled, eccentrically dressed man on the step.

 “Missus kick you out, eh?”

 “Hmm? Oh yes, quite right,” said the Shade, who hadn’t actually been paying attention, and had absolutely no idea what the passerby had said.

 “That’s tough. Hope the rest of your day goes better, buddy.” The Shade nodded.

 “Thank you.” 

 As the entirely automatic responses demonstrated, the Shade was quite lost in thought.

Although he was often perceived by certain others as having a rather inflated sense of his own importance, and a vain streak to boot, the Shade was actually relatively self-aware. This was a quality developed as an inevitable byproduct of having lived quite a long time, and having spent all of that time in his own company.

 He was, therefore, quite aware of his feelings for Jack.

(Aware of, even if he didn’t understand why the object of his affections was, well, Jack. Jack, who wore strange loud shirts, and blared strange loud music, and used words like “funky,” and had all those tattoos, which were admittedly quite appealing, and loved Opal as he did, and all in all was such a good, kind, shining soul, even if it was concealed behind all that belligerent, sardonic discourse, and even that could be, admittedly, quite appealing… I’m getting distracted, aren’t I?) 

 The Shade shook himself, and noticed that he was still standing on the front step of Jack’s shop, and that a number of other passersby were giving him odd looks, and that remaining here on the step was likely to irritate Jack, so he set off down the street, feeling just slightly off without his cane, and continued to think.

  Where was I, exactly? Ah yes, right. Jack. The Shade hadn’t expected Jack to be quite so forceful about throwing him out, and was just a little bit put out at the fact that they hadn’t had more time to talk. He had been thrown out quite suddenly, and probably would have done more to prevent that had he not been focused on the fact that Jack’s hand was on his collar, and his fingernails were brushing the back of the Shade’s neck, and that he was being quite… well… forceful. The Shade firmly pushed that train of thought to the side, realizing that he had gotten distracted again.

  It seems, he thought to himself, that I have garnered myself a bit of a reputation, in his mind, for causing him trouble. That stung, a bit, causing his heart a painful twinge. A few of the darker corners on the street flared to life, distinctly displeased at his sudden air of melancholy. A scattering of passersby that was near to the darkest corner shrieked and ran in the opposite direction, having noticed a sudden appearance of blinking eyes. 

 The Shade, noticing, quieted the shadows, realizing that he really had best get ahold of himself. This was, after all, not about him and whether he felt sorry for himself. This was about Jack.

I really must make it up to him, he thought. Though I don’t quite know how to start, if he continues refusing to see me. It’s quite clear that he wants nothing to do with me at the moment. 

 If he were to simply show up again at the shop, Jack would likely see any apology as empty words, and throw him out once more. Something visible would be better, an honest and straightforward demonstration of his good intentions.

He had, after all, made a complete fool of himself in the shop earlier, and was quite set on having it go better this time around. The Shade did not enjoy feeling like a complete fool on any occasion, certainly not ones involving romance; in fact, centuries of life experience had made him quite suave, generally speaking, and the rare occasions on which he found himself caught off guard were not fun.

I believe people these days say that spontaneity is romantic, he thought, and nodded. A gesture, he realized, was the best thing for it. 

 He would, as if fate had ordained it, have an opportunity for such a gesture in the very near future. Jack had, after all, refused to listen to his warning, and was therefore due a bit of an unpleasant surprise with regards to the superhero aspect of his life; which perhaps, thought the Shade, he might appreciate some help with. That would be the perfect way to begin making it all up to Jack. The Shade set off at once down an Opal city side street, set on getting started as soon as possible. Soon, he stepped behind one of the many carved statues littering downtown, vanishing without a trace. (At least, for the moment.)

Chapter Text

Jack had little idea what he was doing here. The extent of his knowledge with regards to the current crisis was that the… things that had plummeted through the atmosphere that morning looked like a cross between moray eels with legs, and the guys from “Mars Attacks!” and that they kept flinging spines at him, and trying to eat the good citizens of Opal city. This on its own was quite enough for Jack to know that he should probably do something about the whole problem, but he would still really like to know a bit more about what they were, and why they were here.

  He was starting to suspect that these guys were exactly the thing the Shade had been trying to warn him about. 

He also suspected that they were pretty darn dangerous, if the damage they were doing to the street was anything to go by. Thankfully, they were fairly easy to avoid as long as he kept moving; Jack had inferred by their general demeanor that they seemed to navigate mainly based on smell, and possibly some kind of heat vision, so they didn’t seem to be able to sense motion very quickly.

Jack sidestepped behind a newspaper box as a spiny (poisonous?) projectile zipped by his head, and embedded itself in a nearby building. After waiting a few seconds, he ducked back around the side, and continued sniping at the aliens with blasts from the cosmic staff.

Unfortunately, this turned out to be a tactical error, as after about a minute or so, the invaders started to clue in to the fact that the blasts were now coming from only one location. A small group broke off from the rest, and started sniffing their way towards his location. Um… yikes. 

Jack crept cautiously to the side, away from the aliens. Hopefully I’ll have a few seconds to make myself scarce while they check out that box. 

Unfortunately, luck did not seem to be on his side today, as at that moment, another spine flew past him, knocking the cosmic staff far out of his reach. The clang of the metal seemed to alert more of the aliens to his location, and they began creeping towards him. He glanced over his shoulder for an escape route. Eee… yep, that is a concrete wall. Just peachy.

He looked back at the aliens, who were now advancing toward him in a slowly shrinking circle. Maybe there’s a manhole around here or something I can… nope. There’s a space eel standing on it. Jack, unable to go around them, backed quietly towards the wall behind him in the hopes that they might turn back if they found empty space where he had previously been standing; though he was quite aware that this was a long shot.

It was a long shot that didn’t work. Jack hit the wall behind him, and there were a whole lot of teeth about a meter in front of him.

 Jack found he had the urge to close his eyes. (As would anyone looking at a scene like this one, which was terrifying, and horrendously ugly, and in the case that this moment was the end for him, it was definitely not the sort of last image that Jack wanted in his head.)

He closed them, turning his head away and making an effort to think about good coffee, and Catalin radios, and the Opal city skyline, and… nothing had happened. 

Jack, confused, opened his eyes. The aliens, far from surging forward to eat him, were being dragged backward, hissing and biting at the ropes of shadow that were winding around their forms. In fact, no less than the entire street full of the things was being dragged rather rapidly towards a swirling black void that had cropped up in the middle of the street.

Huh, thought Jack, needing a minute to really wrap his head around this whole situation. He had, after all, had a near death experience, and was definitely still feeling the adrenaline that tended to come with the whole crime-fighting gig, and on top of that, was also more than a little bit giddy at the fact that he was alive. 

Jack stared open-mouthed at the scene before him, not completely taking it in, as the last of the space eels were dragged towards the swirling void, which disappeared as though it hadn’t been there. He blinked, hard. Here and now, Jack, focus on the here and now. 

That, he thought, was the Shade. 

That much was quite clear to him. The only question was… why exactly? After all, the Shade’s track record involved a whole lot of getting him in to trouble, not out of it. Though, mused Jack, I suppose all in all I can’t exactly complain. 

Fight seemingly over, he pulled off his goggles and stashed them in a jacket pocket. “Man, did they ever do a number on this town,” he muttered under his breath, surveying the massive cracks in… just about everything really, and the shards of shattered glass that lay everywhere, and the numerous things that were on fire, which were filling the air with a thick smell of smoke, and gasoline, and burned rubber; come to think of it, that was starting to give him a bit of a headache.

It seemed, however, that the damage to the city was all that remained of the earlier attack, and that the creatures themselves were well and truly gone. “Well,” said Jack “I suppose that’s my job done for the day. Sort of.” But it wasn’t all my job, was it? The only reason I’m even alive now… is because of the Shade. 

Jack had to admit that he was still at a bit of a loss for what exactly had just happened. But he didn’t seem to have any way to obtain an answer at the moment, so he settled for heading back to the shop, and hopefully continuing on with his day in some semblance of normalcy. Now, where the hell is my… staff. 

Jack glanced all about, both at the place where it had fallen, and everywhere besides that. There was no doubt about it; the staff was gone. No… I just saw it… Jack began systematically going over the scene. Could someone have taken it? Or was it absorbed into the shadows, somehow? Jack was pretty sure that the second one was the definition of impossible. No, it’s more likely that it was taken. That’s happened before, but who would have wanted to—
A hand tapped him on the shoulder.

“Looking for something?” Jack spun around to see the Shade, standing a few meters away and holding, in his gloved left hand, the cosmic staff. Jack froze. The Shade sauntered forward to stand in front of Jack, and nonchalantly held it out to him. Jack simply stared, with a mixture of suspicion, and surprise, because he couldn’t possibly just be giving it back. 

After a moment, the Shade seemingly felt the need to explain. “One of the creatures grabbed hold of it in an effort to escape being pulled into the void; quite uselessly, I might add, as they simply fell in together, and it lost its grip during the fall. I caught the staff on the way down, before it could reach the place that the shadows would have sent it.”

“…Why?”

The Shade tilted his head, uncertain of what Jack meant.

“Why go through the trouble? Well, speaking from personal experience, things that fall so deeply into the shadows are difficult to retrieve. I thought it would be easier to avoid that particular issue entirely.” Jack blinked.

“No, not that,” he said, shaking his head. “I meant why, why on Earth, did you just up and decide to help me back there? I thought you acted ‘merely as a herald,’ and all that jazz. Whatever happened to me needing to go though tests, and trials, and tribulations, as the defender of Opal?” Jack paused for a moment before sighing.

“Though I suppose if you’re here because you have something else for me, I am, at the moment, in your debt. One heroic quest, to be payed to the order of  ‘the Shade,’ in exchange for one life-saving, and the prompt removal of 200 space eels.” Jack gave him a wry smile. “I’m at your disposal, Mr. Herald.”

“Jack…” the Shade started to say, before trailing off, apparently at a loss for words. Finally, he stepped forward, taking one of Jack’s hands, and placing it on the staff. 

The Shade stared at him with an expression that if Jack didn’t know any better, he would have called sad.

“Did you really think,” he said slowly, “that I could possibly even consider leaving you to die like that, in cold blood?” The Shade’s tone was soft, and his hand still overlaid Jack’s. “You don’t owe me anything. In fact, it is I who should be repaying you, for all that you have done for Opal. And for me.”

The Shade hadn’t moved his hand, and there were tendrils of shadow drifting off of it now, brushing across Jack’s fingers. Goosebumps prickled on Jack’s arm.

“And aside from that, marvelous as you have been in the role of Starman, I’d also rather like to continue seeing Jack Knight around our fair city. All things considered—and full time job though it may be—I’d say it’s in my own best interest for you to be alive and well.”

Jack, still not knowing what exactly the Shade was getting at, decided that the best way of getting more information would be to try and get him talking. 

“Oh, really?” 

The Shade, far from beginning to ramble on as he often did, and as Jack was attempting to get him to do, just looked rather aggrieved.

“Yes, really, for goodness sake.” Jack looked skeptical.

“So what you’re trying to tell me, is that right here and now, I can take this back,” he said, gesturing to the staff with his free hand, “and we can go about out lives, no strings attached? Because that seems shady all over.” He paused. “Ignore the pun, it was the first word I thought of.”

The Shade, whose face had developed an immediately delighted grin upon hearing it, made an effort to compose himself.

“Of course, Jack,” he said, almost sounding fond. “Although actually…” Jack tensed. “If you feel that you absolutely must do something, I would very much appreciate the return of my cane.”

That hadn't been what Jack was expecting at all, but then again, what about this encounter had been? 

Jack did remember the cane that had clattered to the floor in the middle of his shop; it had taken up residence in the umbrella stand by the door where Jack could keep an eye on it. He was pretty sure that it had some kind of magic in its own right, and was more than a little worried about what might happen if it were forgotten about.

“Um… well, sure. It is your cane after all. Honestly, I was surprised that you didn’t break in again to take it back.” The Shade gave him a wide-eyed, innocent expression.

“Why on Earth would I do that? It is your shop after all," he said, and then snapped his fingers, as though stricken by an idea.

This had the side effect of causing him to remove his hand from Jack’s, (which had been there for the entire conversation, and was very weird, and didn’t the Shade notice that it was weird, or was this just more of him being totally incapable of acting like a normal human being? Also, Jack still had goosebumps.)

“I know! Why don’t we both head back to your shop together, and get away from this ghastly scene?” He said, waving a hand at the badly damaged street around them. “You can return my cane, and I’ll make us both a cup of tea; I find that alien invasions aren’t exactly easy on the nerves.”

Jack blinked.

“Well sure, that sounds—“

“Lovely,” said the Shade, conjuring up a portal out of thin air, which Jack eyed warily. (The Shade’s portals tended to give off an extremely dubious air.)

He felt as though he had just landed himself in trouble—certainly that he had landed himself in something—and he wasn’t quite sure exactly how, or why, or in what way he had managed it.

(The Shade didn’t seem to notice, and merely flung an arm about Jack’s shoulders with a “let us away then!”)

Jack, with a thought of “well, what the heck,” allowed himself to be steered over the threshold.

Chapter Text

Jack’s perspective, a few days later: 

“And then what?”

Jack sighed. 

“Well I don’t know, Mik, a whole lot of stuff, honestly. After he gave the staff back, we went back to the shop; well no, not we, exactly. It was more like him inviting me back. To my own shop. And then the whole encounter after that was just… Well frankly, I was kind of hoping you could tell me what to make of it, because I got no idea.”

A coffee cup thunked as it was set atop the table. 

“You know, the fact that I’m a martian doesn’t mean I read minds,” said Mikaal, pointing a finger at Jack. 

Jack blinked.

“…Martians can read minds.”

“You know what I mean, genius. Besides, you were there. I wasn’t,” said Mikaal with a shrug. “What makes you think I have a better idea than you do?” He picked up a cookie from the plate in the centre of the table, and took a bite. Jack threw up his hands.

“I don’t know! I mean, you keep grinning at me, and hiding it behind your cup of coffee—don’t think I haven’t seen it, I know you’re doing it. Come on, honestly, do you know something I don’t? What am I missing, Mik?” Mikaal set the cookie down.

“Jack, I’m ‘grinning at you’ because you’re freaking out, and it’s funny, seriously, you need to take it—“

“I’m not—” Jack started, and then stopped abruptly as he noticed Mikaal’s raised eyebrow at being cut off. “Sorry, please continue.” Mikaal shook his head.

“I was going to say that you sir, need to take it down a notch. Not everybody has an ulterior motive for wanting to hang around with you.”

“Well, the Shade—“

“Isn’t a cartoon character, and as such you can’t just fit him and his motivations into the box of ‘untrustworthy comic book villain,’ every time he does something. He’s a person just like you and me, even if he isn’t entirely human.” Mikaal paused, considering. “I mean, I’m not human at all, and you and I get along just fine,” he said, gesturing between the two of them. “Anyway, the guy saved your life. You’d think that would be a point in his favour.”

Jack sighed. “You’re right, you’re right. I mean, look Mik, I’ve known the Shade for years. I like the Shade, even. I just wish he’d tell me what he’s thinking like a normal human being, instead of being all enigmatic and implying everything. It makes me leery, is all. Maybe I’m chasing shadows—no pun intended—but look, even if he wasn’t trying to rope me into another superhero misadventure… well like I told you, the whole encounter was just weird as hell.”

Mikaal laughed.

“Well okay, that’s fair. Tell you what,” he said, while standing and starting to gather up the coffee dishes, “I’ve got nowhere else to be, so you can go ahead and walk me through the rest of it; whatever happened after you got back to the shop and all the ways it was ‘weird as hell,’ but it’s a beautiful day outside, so how about you do it on the way to the park over there?” Jack glanced over his shoulder out the window. He had to admit that it was indeed a beautiful day outside.

“Thanks Mik. You’re a big help,” he said, and got up to get some plastic wrap for the cookies.

Shade’s perspective, the day before that:

“Well? Go on.”

The Shade ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m afraid I just can’t make sense of it. Of him! Granted, the entire encounter went significantly better than when I visited him in his shop the other day, but it still started out in this whole fog of mistrust, and confusion, and… Well truthfully, he still seems to believe that my intentions are always to draw him in to some perilous heroic venture.”

A spoon clinked against the sides of a teacup as it stirred.

“Right, your ‘intentions.’ Call it what it is, Dickie. You’re in love,” Hope said, and took a sip of tea.

“I assure you, that I know. The trouble is, he doesn’t.” Hope set the teacup down.

“Alright, fine, I’ll say the obvious thing. The age-old ‘just tell him.’ Why not just give it a go?”

“He doesn’t believe a word I say!” Hope rolled her eyes.

“…Well duh, I wonder why that is.” The Shade shot her a baleful look. (Or rather, tried to, but it just came out as a little despairing.)

“What do I do? I can’t even have tea with the man! I try to make pleasant conversation, and he spends the whole time picking it apart for clues to whatever dark plot he thinks I’ve conjured up.” He stared discontentedly into his teacup.

“Hmm,” said Hope, noncommittally, as she turned her head to watch a few pigeons that were hopping around in the trees by the balcony.

The Shade looked up from his tea.

“If you have something to say, please do go right ahead, I won’t be offended,” he said.

Hope turned back away from the railing and clasped her hands under her chin (planting her elbows on the table, because it was always funny to see the Shade’s pained expression.) 

“Alright, fine. Here’s what I think. Sure, Jack doesn’t believe a word you say. No kidding! Your track record sucks. Look, I know you like your fancy words, but honestly, words are probably the last thing you need right now. You’ve gotta demonstrate stuff. With actions. No being cryptic and expecting him to figure it out. Actually,” she said, pointing a finger at the Shade, “I’ve got a whole list of stuff you shouldn’t do. No kidnapping. No breaking into his house. No stalking.”

“I don’t…” he started to say, and then trailed off. Hope snickered.

“Yeah, see? Look, Dickie, I’m not saying you can’t be yourself, but… you’ve gotta learn how to flirt like a normal, not terrifying person, all right? Take some time. Show up in his life in a little more normal context.”

She turned her head back toward the city skyline, expression turning thoughtful. “Jack’s not all that unreasonable, you know? Just show him some decent proof, and he’ll probably believe it.”

The Shade followed her gaze, watching the sun-stained clouds drifting over the skyscrapers.

“Do you really think so?” he said, after a pause.

Hope thought for a moment, considered Jack, and the Shade, and all other relevant things.

“Yeah, Dickie, I really do. Also…”

“Yes?”

“Just… good luck, all right? I’d like to see this work out; I think you’d be good for each other.”

Chapter Text

The park was beautiful this time of year. Being mid-spring, the sunbeams had finally broken through the fog that ruled over Opal’s winter, and the trees responded to the newfound light by sprouting a flurry of white blooms. All in all, it was a shining example of a picturesque day in the park. 

The only problem was the paths. You see, the park, starting from the clearing he was in, was an absolute mess of cobblestone paths, all of them leading to who knows where.

Mikaal had moseyed off a few minutes ago to grab a wildlife brochure from the little visitor’s kiosk by the park gates; and hopefully also find a freaking map while he was at it because the park didn’t seem to have any signs.

It was starting to get a little windy, but you know, there was windy and then there was windy, and this day had only enough breeze to make his coat flap a bit—in just the right brand of dramatic no less—which he wasn’t all that upset about.

I wonder what’s taking Mik so long? It’s only a couple minute’s walk or—

“Ah, Jack! Good afternoon.” Jack inhaled sharply, and spun around to see the Shade standing in the middle of the path, looking for all the world as though he had merely been out for a leisurely jaunt around the park before just happening to see Jack there. He brought a picnic basket. Jeezus.

“Shade! What are you…” An unpleasant thought dawned on him. “Where’s Mik?” The Shade blinked innocently behind his dark glasses. 

“Oh, Mr. Tomas? Why, I happened upon him further up the path,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the park gates with his cane. “It seems there was a break-in of some sort at the bank; he told me to let you know not to worry about it, and that he would get this one. Rather nice of him; I imagine being the sole protector of Opal would get quite fatiguing after a while.”

“Sure,” said Jack, crossing his arms. “But I think the elephant in the room—the park—is… why are you here?” Jack was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to Mik. For one thing, the two of them were both formidable enough opponents that any confrontation between them would undoubtedly have lit up the entire park. Although, on the other hand, the Shade could feasibly have just jumped Mikaal from behind and stuffed him into a shadow dimension before he could react, so maybe he shouldn’t be too quick to count that out—

His phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket and flipped it open. “Yeah?”

“Hey Jack, this is Mikaal,” said a voice over the phone. “Sorry I disappeared there; I’m taking care of a break-in at the bank. It’s mostly cleared up now; the guys that did it are all being taken into custody, and they didn’t even get into the safe, so I wouldn’t be too worried about it.” 

There was a clatter behind him in the background, and it sounded like somebody was yelling. “Woah. You guys okay over there? You got him?” The sound of scuffling filtered over the speakers, followed by an affirmative shout. “Okay good.” 
Jack heard a thunk followed by some cursing. “Man, that’s going to have to be confiscated. You still there, Jack?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Anyway, I just called to let you know I’ll probably be here a while; the police want to ask some questions, and one of these idiots had some kind of ray gun… the usual weird stuff. Also to let you know that I haven’t been murdered by the Shade.” Jack glanced up to see the Shade, who was—ostensibly—ambling around taking in the scenery. It was still pretty clear that he was listening to Jack’s conversation with interest.

“That’s great, Mik, uh… enjoy the bank. Call if you need me to come down there, Okay?”

“Will do. Enjoy the park.” There was another clatter in the background. “I’d better go give them a hand. See you.” He hung up the phone, leaving Jack standing in the clearing with the Shade, who had turned back to look at him as soon as he’d flipped the phone closed.

“I was, ah, just about to take a stroll down to the creek,” the Shade said. “There’s a gazebo a little ways downstream that’s always smothered in wisteria vines this time of year. It’s quite a sight. As well as making an exceptionally pleasant venue for a cup of tea.” He held up the picnic basket.

“Walk with me? Provided, of course, that Mr. Tomas doesn’t need any assistance.” Jack slid the phone back into his pocket.
“Um… no, doesn’t seem like it. He’s fine.” Jack paused for a moment. “And sure, why not?” He took the few steps over to where the Shade was standing. “I feel like I should apologize. For nearly misjudging you there.”

The Shade looked a bit taken aback.

“No apology is necessar—” he was interrupted by his hat blowing off of his head, and ended up having to run after it. He caught it, thankfully before it blew into the bushes, or anywhere else that might prove difficult to traverse. “What an absolute nuisance.” He absently tossed it through a shadow portal, recognizing that the current weather conditions had become somewhat hostile for hat-wearing.

Jack made an effort to refrain from laughing, for politeness’ sake. 

“Shade.”

“Yes?”

“Look, I’m sorry. There. Just accept it.” Jack held out his hand. “Someone told me recently that I needed to keep an open mind. I think he might have been right.” The Shade took it, a little bemusedly.

“…Alright then.” He released Jack’s hand and gestured to one of the many paths leaving the clearing. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way."

Sure, maybe getting friendly with the Shade was a bad idea. Definitely something all those big-time, well-respected, underwear-over-the-tights heroes would frown upon.

Maybe this would be considered a mistake for Starman, thought Jack, but Jack Knight thinks that you can’t go wrong with a clean slate.

Jack's Perspective, Later That Day:

Jack was freaking out. Jittery, he had found himself pacing madly around his shop, and had elected to force himself into mindless busywork in order to avoid wearing a track in his floor. He swept a feather duster behind a row of Kodak Retina cameras. As Jack stood on his toes to reach the back of the shelf, he thought on the events of earlier that day, which were clinging fast to his mind. 

Because today had been different from before. And isn’t that the understatement of the year. 

After that handshake, it had been awkward for the first few minutes or so of the walk—perhaps neither of them had really known how to behave. And then he’d noticed the Shade’s wristwatch and had asked about it without thinking. 

(“When’s that from?” Jack said. “I didn’t think a wristwatch would be in keeping with the rest of your look. Aren’t you allergic to anything modern?”

“1916,” answered the Shade. “As for the modern, I have been known to partake on rare occasions. Besides that, having to fumble around in one’s pocket for the time can be highly disadvantageous in certain situations—it’s certainly no wonder the wristwatch experienced such a surge in popularity during the first world war—as I’m sure you understand what with the things you have to deal with on a regular basis.” 

Here the Shade grinned before saying:

“And really, Jack, who are you to expatiate on the modern? I’ve seen your shop.”

“Point,” Jack replied.)

And then the awkwardness had dissipated, and they’d both found themselves falling into a discussion which started at world war one, and ended at “Tales of Hoffman,” and somewhere in the middle covered part of Jack’s record collection. Neither of them had really kept track of how they were getting from point to point, and yet the whole conversation had seemed to flow as easily as ink from the pen of Shakespeare.

And then they had gotten to the gazebo, and the discussion had continued over tea—Jack was sure that copious amounts of shadow powers had been used in transporting all that fragile china.

At one point, a bee, likely there in search of wisteria blossoms, had made the mistake of landing on their table, startling the two of them. A bird-shaped shadow had promptly snapped it up, and both had disappeared.

(“Shade!” Jack exclaimed, trying to be disapproving, and yet too amused to stop a grin from breaking through. 

“What?” Said the Shade innocently. “The dreadful thing deserved it.”

“No it didn’t! Am I going to get eaten by shadows next time I annoy you?”

“Hmm,” the Shade said looking thoughtfully up at the sky. “Well, you might want to be careful then.” He fixed his gaze on Jack. “You never know what might happen.” Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, right. You know, maybe I bought your spooky act once, but I just saw you get scared by a bumbleb—” 

It had been at this moment that a set of shadowy claws had clamped down on Jack’s shoulder from behind. “Ghaa! Shade!” The Shade hid a laugh behind his hand.

“Oh, alright then, if it’s so important to you.” With a wave, a little swirl of darkness appeared, and the bee flew dizzily out of it looking none the worse for wear.)

Jack stepped out from between the shelves and display cases, making his way around to the office at the back. He tossed the duster on a side table before falling into the chair behind his desk and placing his head in his hands. 

You see, the whole encounter would have been perfectly fine and normal enough, had it not been for a moment that came later. 

After what had seemed like hours of laughing and debating and reminiscing aplenty—during which whatever barrier had stood between them had wholly broken down—the Shade had said:

(“Jack, you have flower petals in your hair,” and he reached forward to brush them away, which was such a little thing, and yet Jack had just…paused. Only for a second, in real life. But in that second, he realized something. 

And it wasn’t that anything was different about that second to make him realize it.

It was still the same Shade, with the same conspiratorial little smile, and the same grey eyes—not so dark and cold as one might expect—and still wearing about four layers of clothing even though it was well over room temperature outside. It’s all exactly the same, he thought, having checked to make sure, and so am I, so why… why? 

Why had this feeling stricken him now?

Jack wasn’t in love with the Shade, that he was pretty sure about. The thing that had struck him was that… he could be. Meaning that he could see it happening, and it wouldn't be all that weird. It seemed possible, almost likely. Like one of those potential futures that Charity talked about. 

And then time sped up again, and there they were with the Shade’s hand still in Jack’s hair, because flower petals do tend to cling a bit, and Jack did his best to seem normal as the Shade removed the last of the petals with a “there we are,” and then Jack complained about the Shade messing his hair up because that was what he otherwise would have done.

He continued acting normal as their meeting drew to a natural end, and they both went their separate ways, Jack with a wave and a “see you around,” and the Shade with a nod and a flourish of shadows.)

And now Jack was back in his shop with his head in his hands, wondering what exactly to do about all this. 

He resolved, as he sat at the desk, to stop freaking out. It was a bit of a tall order. He sat, and breathed, and tried to think through everything logically. He tried that for a minute. 

It didn’t work. Because of course it hadn’t. Jack wasn’t his father, wasn’t the tactician or the scientist. He’d never been one to fight with his head. Ted Knight solved his problems with a chalkboard and a pros/cons list. 

Jack Knight solved problems with a gut feeling, and whatever random junk was around at the time.

Alright, so do that then, he said to himself. It’s like that bit in Fahrenheit 451. I’m trying to measure and equate something that just won’t be measured or equated, or whatever Bradbury said. So I shouldn’t. 

I should stop wondering about all the why’s and how’s, and… just do what feels right. So that was what Jack decided to do; what he normally would do with someone he was... interested in. Follow his heart and all that. And then see what happened.

Test the waters, he thought. Or in other words, poke it with a stick and see what jumps out at you. Well, if some people are crystal-clear ponds—I guess I’m sticking with this metaphor—The Shade’s more like the Mariana Trench.

And he thought for another minute.

He acknowledged that this sort of “poke it with a stick” strategy had led to severe consequences in the past, and had definitely gotten him seriously injured a few times, (Stupid Weather Wizard) but what the hell, it always seemed to work out in the end. 

So that, he decided, is what he would do.

Chapter Text

“Hey Dad, are you down here?” Jack called, after opening the door to the basement. “Sorry I didn’t call ahead,” he said, descending the stairs. “It’s just that the staff has been acting funny, and I thought I’d better bring it by before it gets any worse… I think it might be the beam collimator?” 

Jack paused upon seeing the lab empty. “Huh.” He walked back upstairs. “Dad?”

The sound of a sliding door opening came from the kitchen. 

“Jack, is that you I heard?” 

“Oh! Yeah,” replied Jack, making his way over. 

“You don’t normally visit on Thursdays! Come on outside; I’m entertaining.”

“Oh?” Said Jack, as he crossed the room to where his dad leaned through the door. One of the JSA-ers from the good old days? “Who’s…“ 

Jack trailed off as he saw who was seated at the table outside. “…visiting.” 

Because the person at the table was the Shade, sitting in front of a half-finished chess game—playing white of all things—and drinking a cup of coffee.

“After you, Jack,” said Ted Knight, seemingly oblivious to Jack’s state of surprise. “I’ll grab you some coffee.” He ushered Jack out the door, and stepped around behind him to head back into the kitchen. The door closed behind him, leaving Jack outside with the Shade.

Jack shrugged off the momentary confusion, and opted to just sit down across from the Shade.

“It’s a pity that chess is a two-player game,” remarked the Shade, tapping his fingers against the board. “Else I’d have offered to ‘deal you in,’ as one does.”

“I have a feeling that playing poker with you would go badly for me,” replied Jack.“Who’s winning?” 

It was a bit of a useless question, considering Jack knew well enough how chess worked, meaning he could see that the game on the board was a near-perfect caricature of a draw. But Jack wasn’t really sure what else to say, considering his ‘test the waters’ plan was definitely delayed; there was absolutely no way he was going to flirt with the Shade in front of his father. 

The Shade looked down at the board.

“Myself, hopefully. Your father has managed to win the last two games. You would think a couple centuries of chess-playing would have given me an edge, but it seems not. Though I feel I’ve put up a good fight this round,” he said, gesturing to the close game atop the table.

“You always do, Shade,” called Ted, expertly juggling coffee, dishes, and a pastry as he made his way through the door.

“And yet you continue beating me. I suppose that is the lot of a supervillain such as myself.” The Shade gave an overdramatic sigh, (which made Jack hide a laugh behind his hand; which trailed off quite quickly as it sunk in that his father was about two meters away).

“That must be tough,” Ted said, as he set a mug of coffee and a pastry on a plate down on the table; putting it at an unoccupied chair instead of in front of Jack. Jack took the hint and moved over so that his father could sit at the board. This, of course, led to him being seated immediately beside the Shade. Which isn’t important. It’s just so Dad can see the game properly. “Is that why you’ve elected to play white?”

“Mm. Metaphorically or literally?”

“Whichever. Check.” The Shade regarded the new arrangement of the board with a displeased expression, and after a moment moved a bishop in front of his king. Ted moved his queen, to snap up one of the Shade’s knights. The Shade rolled his eves, and swept a rook across the board. 

“Check, for goodness sake, not that it will do me any good.” His hand brushed against Jack’s. Jack glanced over at his father. He was fairly sure he was imagining the raised eyebrow. He took a sip of coffee. When Jack glanced back up, his father was looking at the board again, reaching forward to move his king out of the rook’s path. He looked back up at Jack.

“So, Jack, I never asked—why come to visit your dear old dad? Are there no bargains to hunt for in Turk county?”

The Shade looked up with interest. 

“Oh, right,” said Jack, carefully (although it looked more awkward than careful) not looking at the Shade. He decided that the best thing to do would be to focus on his father. “Uh, the staff was acting up a bit; the beam hasn’t been focusing very well. Not that I wouldn’t come to visit anyway,” he said, sheepishly running a hand through his hair.

“How not well?” Ted probed, alarmed. “It hasn’t been sending out random energy bursts, has it?” Jack shook his head.

“Oh, no, nothing like that. It’s more like… you know the faucet in the kitchen, and how the hot water has the weird water pressure that changes all the time? It’s like that. Sometimes the beam is too weak, and other times it shoots up to max power without warning. I came pretty close to seriously injuring Crazy Quilt last week.”

“Close to?” 

“He jumped off the roof before it hit him. Not exactly the most stable guy.”

Jack was quite certain he could feel the Shade’s eyes on the back of his head. 

The Shade, in fact, was staring at the back of his head, and was frankly feeling a bit left out. He picked up his coffee cup to take a sip, deliberately brushing fingers with Jack again along the way—he had to amuse himself somehow after all. 

And then Jack moved his hand a few inches away. The Shade’s face fell.

“Sounds like the collimator” concluded Ted with a nod, standing up from his chair. “Tell you what, I’ll go take a look at it downstairs. Call it a draw, Shade?”

“Gladly” the Shade acquiesced, with a pleased smile. (Though a particularly astute observer would have noticed a rather disappointed element.) Ted pushed his chair in. 

“Why don’t you stay and entertain our guest, son?”

“Um… hey, dad, why don’t I tag along?” He said. Sure, I want to talk to the Shade. Eventually. But not in my Dad’s freaking backyard. “You’re always saying I should put some effort into learning how the staff actually works. It’s not like I can constantly keep bringing it to you every time something goes wrong with it.”

His father looked surprised. (Internally he was recalling the last time he had given Jack a lecture on what was and was not polite when one was entertaining, which had been at least thirty years ago, and had involved Jack’s finger paints—Jay had been extremely forgiving—and he wondered if Jack’s manners might benefit from a bit of a refresher course.)

“Why Jack, I can’t say I don’t appreciate you taking an interest in the staff…” He trailed off, glancing between Jack and the Shade. “Unless you’d like to come along, Shade?”

The Shade looked over at Jack, who was doing something between staring resolutely at his father and staring into space, and either way, was still determinedly not looking at the Shade.

“Oh, that’s alright,” the Shade said with a slightly strained smile. “I wouldn’t want to intrude. Somehow, it just doesn’t seem right for a supervillain to be present for an explanation of how the hero’s tools work. Almost like cheating.” 

“Former supervillain, right Shade?” Said Ted Knight with a raised eyebrow.

“Right! Former. In any case, I’d best be off anyway.” He stood up, gathering up his coat and his cane. “A fond farewell to you, Ted. And to you, Jack.” The Shade tried to catch Jack’s eye, and failed. By this point he was certain beyond all doubt that Jack was ignoring him, and was extremely put out about it. 

Thankfully, the Shade was quite good at getting attention. And in this case… he had a few ideas.

“Are you quite sure, Shade?” Ted asked. The Shade was quite sure, at least for now, that it was time to take his leave. Of course, that wasn’t to say he’d be leaving for long.

“Oh, yes. I couldn’t possibly preclude Jack from learning about the workings of the cosmic staff. In fact,” he said, a smile creeping slowly across his face. “Considering… the near future, I’d rather he have all the knowledge he can get. He may have need of it.”

Jack looked up with alarm, all attempts at ignoring the Shade forgotten. 

“Shade! Whatever this is you couldn’t have mentioned it earli—” The Shade disappeared right out of his chair.

Ted and Jack Knight stared at the spot where the Shade had been with furrowed brows.

“What,” said Ted “do you suppose that was, son?”