Long Way Home, 2/3

[topaz119]

Part Two

Even though it was hardly past seven o'clock, Jared fell into bed in his boxers and slept deep and dreamless until the sun came up right outside where he'd not drawn the curtains. He didn't think he'd ever voluntarily gotten up so early, but he felt good, and it was probably a good time to scout out the house. He put the pants to the suit back on, and the shirt, but left the jacket and tie in a heap and rolled the sleeves on the shirt halfway up his forearms. He looked like a moron, but at least he wasn't strangling on the tie.

The house was quiet as he found his way down the hall to the giant staircase. It was long and curved and had an equally giant handrail that was slick and polished when he touched it. Light from the sun spilled in through the windows that lined the hall, the shadows on the floor broken into little diamonds from all the panes, and when he walked through them, they threw the same bright light onto his legs.

He tried two doors before he found the library, but the little surge of excitement he felt on being in the right place died a disappointed death once he got a real look at the place, at how fucking huge it was. He'd gone to schools that didn't have libraries as big as the room he was standing in, and he couldn't help groaning at the thought of trying to find anything in it.

"For the sunrise student, there is treasure among books," he murmured, as much to convince himself that he was in the right place as anything. That pretty much meant a library as far as he knew. Maybe they had books about sunrises, or something. It sounded kind of lame to Jared, but whatever, at least it was a place to start. He started off looking at the shelves right next to the door and got distracted playing with the rolling ladder--seriously, who had a library in their house that needed a ladder to get to all the shelves?--but had a pile of books in front of him on the table when the door opened and the guy who'd let him and Rosy in the day before came in.

"Excuse me," the guy said, as Jared almost knocked the stack of books off the table. "I didn't mean to startle you, but we've been looking for you for breakfast."

"Oh." Jared took a deep breath and put the book down. It didn't have a thing to do with Captain Joshua or the lost treasure--it was a book about a country vet--so he wasn't sure why his heart was pounding, but the first rule of running a scam was to be as honest as possible to make it harder to tell where the truth ended and the other stuff began, so he didn't try to cover up his nervousness, just stood up, saying. "I--it's okay that I came in here, isn't it? I'm not doing anything that I shouldn't be?"

"It's fine--it's been a couple of years since anybody really dug in and spread out in there. Lady Frances will be happy you found something that interested you."

The words were polite--and the tone was, too--but Jared didn't relax, not entirely. Something about the guy's eyes said that he'd be watching Jared. It might have been Jared carrying around a little of the fear he'd picked up from Tommy, but that wasn't all of it, he was sure.

"Um, I'm Jared," he said, following the man down yet another hall, resigned to being lost for a while, even while he tried to pick out landmarks.

"Jeffrey." Again, there was an element of watchfulness in the otherwise polite tone, but he unbent enough to add, "I'm here for a while, helping out with whatever needs to be done."

Jared really wanted to know, but he couldn't figure out a way to ask Jeffrey if he was the one who'd scared the crap out of Tommy a dozen years ago without tipping off that he knew shit he wasn't supposed to, so he nodded and followed. They ended up in a room that was small for the house, one that looked lived-in and more than a little messy, with piles of papers on flat surfaces everywhere and even a big trash bag full of others. Lady Frances (Jared had decided that was what he was going to call her, at least until somebody said something) was sitting at a little round table with lots of plates and platters on it, and Jared's stomach woke up and announced that it wasn't only hungry, but might possibly be ready to gnaw off an arm or leg.

"Oh, excellent, Jeffrey," Lady Frances said. "You found him."

"I was in the library," Jared said, hoping that she wouldn't ask him why, but he needn't have worried.

"Wonderful." She beamed at him. "I'm so glad you're settling in. I thought we could have breakfast here, in my office. So much less formal than the dining room."

"Sure," Jared said, flushing when his stomach growled loud enough to be heard in the next room. It didn't help when old stone-face Jeffrey almost cracked a smile. "I, uh, sorry?"

"Goodness, let's feed that right away," Lady Frances said, going for the covers on the plates, and motioning Jared into the chair opposite her. "Get you acquainted with a proper English country breakfast."

Apparently all the food that had been around the day before with tea hadn't been there for show, and Jared kind of lost himself in the eggs and bacon and sausages and tomatoes and toast. He didn't even mind the tea, not once he got enough milk and sugar in his cup. He was on his third plate, when the big front door boomed shut and a new voice, low and a little husky, called, "Gran?"

"Oh!" Lady Frances said, smiling and surprised. "In my office." She put down her tea and got to her feet right as the best-looking guy Jared had ever seen walked into the room. He was wearing about the same thing as Jared--dark pants and a white shirt--but where Jared felt like an idiot, he looked like something out of the fashion magazines Barbara always read while she pretended to supervise homework. "Jen, darling, I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"You knew I was finished yesterday--"

"Well, of course, but I thought you might have other things you needed to take care of."

"I promised to come and help as soon as I was finished," he said, letting her hug and kiss him, even while his eyes--greengreengreen, Jared thought--flickered curiously over Jared.

"Jen, darling, this is Jared." Lady Frances turned and beckoned Jared forward. "Jared, this is Jensen. He's at Oxford now, most of the year. I've told him all about how you've come to stay."

Jared kept a polite smile on his face; he expected some kind of attitude, something like Jeffrey, but got nothing but a smile in return, and a quiet, "Oh, good, she's got somebody else to feed now."

"Hush, you," Lady Frances said. "But since you mentioned it--"

"No, of course I haven't had anything even half as good as Mrs. Priory's breakfasts, and yes, I'd love some."

"I'll just pop down to the kitchen and gather up some reinforcements, but do have a cup of tea to start." Lady Frances disappeared before Jared could blink, and he was left staring awkwardly.

"She's always been like that," Jensen said, still in that quiet tone. "I come for a stay and it's a miracle if I ever get up from the table."

"It's my first morning, but it doesn't seem like a bad problem to have," Jared said, shrugging.

"No, I don't suppose it is," Jensen said, pouring himself the last of the tea and wrinkling his nose at the bitterness. It didn't stop him from drinking, though, and Jared added freckles to the odd catalog he was keeping in his head. "She and I have spoken a few times about you; I hope that's not too odd. It's just that, well, it's been quite the shock for her."

"I--it's not for sure yet," Jared said. He shouldn't care about the awkwardness; he wasn't here to make friends, but his mouth was running anyway. "There are tests and stuff--"

"Right," Jensen said easily, snagging a piece of toast and reaching for the orange marmalade that Jared hadn't been too sure about. He layered on a thick blob. "You're here, though, and you wouldn't be if she had any serious doubts."

Jared shrugged, but kept his eyes on his food and made himself keep eating, like there was nothing going on, like there weren't guys feeding him information on how to be somebody he wasn't. "I don't remember much of anything from when I was a kid," he said, finally, because the silence was stretching on and on.

"Because you're such an old man now," Jensen said. Jared jerked his head up at the teasing note in Jensen's voice, ready to push back, set the line, because if you didn't do that right from the beginning you were setting yourself up to be the punching bag… but then he got a good look at Jensen and his brain kicked in with how Jensen's eyes were clear and open, smiling, maybe a little hesitant, but not a shred of meanness in them.

This wasn't Jensen telling Jared exactly how low he was in the pecking order; it was really only a little tease. Jared managed to smooth out the glare he'd been working up and find some answer that wasn't calculated to start a fight, something about being older than he looked. It sounded pretty lame to his own ears, and Jensen looked at him kind of funny, but it was better than nothing.

They sat in silence after that, at least until Jeffrey stuck his head in. "Bags?" he asked Jensen.

"Only the one I dropped in the hall," Jensen answered. "No sense having more to pack up."

Jeffrey nodded and left again, and Jared asked, "Is he, like, the butler?"

"God, no." Jensen cracked up, almost choking on his tea. "His father used to take care of all the outdoor stuff, until he retired. Jeffrey's came down to help out for a bit. It's been a madhouse, even before Gran got the news about you."

Before Jared could ask what was going on, Lady Frances came back, along with another woman, who was pushing a little trolley-like cart, with even more food on it. In the general confusion of Jensen jumping up to greet her and plates and bowls getting transferred to the table, Jared figured out that she was the housekeeper and cook, and that she was happy he was there, because it gave her someone with a healthy appetite to cook for. The last bit was said with a stern look toward Lady Frances, who waved her off with an airy gesture.

"She fusses over anyone who doesn't eat their own body weight," Lady Frances said, when Jensen frowned at her, too. "I'm perfectly fine, dear, but I need to take a call from the solicitors, so I'll leave you two to finish off the rest of this feast."

She slipped out of the room before Jensen could put down his fork, and he sighed and shook his head. "She's impossible when she doesn't want to talk to you."

Jared didn't mean to say anything, because he had a job to do, and he didn't need to get involved here, but he heard himself say, "I--earlier, you said you'd come to help--"

"Right," Jensen sighed. "Look, it's not my thing to tell, and honestly, maybe she'll change her mind now that you're here, so it probably wouldn't hurt for you to ask her."

"Okay," Jared said. "I guess I can ask, if you want."

"This has got to be really odd for you, all of this, so don't worry about it, all right?" Jensen crammed the last of the toast into his mouth and drained his mug. "If she's ducking me, I might as well play along." He eyed Jared speculatively. "Has anyone shown you round? I love Gran to death, but she forgets how big this place is. I was lost for months before I sorted it all out. I could give you the tour, if you'd like."

Jared was supposed to be focused on finding whatever it was that was waiting around to be found in the library, but he didn't think he could turn down doing anything with Jensen. Plus, he told himself, he needed to know his way around the place and it'd look weird to say no, so he nodded, and didn't bother about whether he sounded cool or not. "Yeah, sure, that'd be great."

***

Even with Jensen, Jared gave up trying to remember all the rooms. There was the library, of course, and the drawing room where they'd had tea the day before. The Great Hall was hard to miss, what with the arches and the wall of glassed-in doors and the balcony that ran around the room with statues and stuff on it--Jensen rattled off who everybody was in the statues, and Jared couldn't help but get a little thrill when the dude who looked like he was going to step out onto an island turned out to be Captain Joshua St. Edmund himself. Jared tried not to let on that he knew who the old guy was, but Jensen noticed him staring.

"You have to ask Gran to tell you about him," Jensen said, laughing quietly. "He built this place, and he's in all the local history books, but she just calls him the old pirate and goes on about his less-than-honorable career on the high seas."

Jared nodded and they moved on. He was good with finding his bedroom, but other than that, he got a little lost among the morning room and the blue room and the rose room and the Captain's study and Lady Frances's office and way too many other rooms that he had no idea about. Ending up in the kitchen was a relief; at least he knew what the room was for, even if it was ten times bigger than any kitchen he'd ever seen, big enough that it had two fireplaces and a stove the size of a small bedroom, and a wooden table that could have seated everybody in the last two group homes he'd lived in at the same time.

Jensen could have made fun of his confusion, but he only smiled--and not in a mean way. "It'll get easier, even if you do get lost a couple of times."

"I hope so," Jared said, meaning every word, because there were a couple of hallways on the third floor that looked exactly the same but took you to totally different parts of the house, and he could already tell he was going to try for the kitchen and end up wandering around aimlessly at least once or twice.

"C'mon," Jensen said, grabbing a handful of dark red raspberries out of a colander and passing them over to Jared. "You might as well get lost outside as well."

The berries stained Jared's hands and mouth, but they were sweet-tart and so juicy he didn't care if he had to sandblast his skin to get it clean again. He forgot and wiped his hands off on his pants, but he hated them anyway. Jensen, of course, managed to eat as many of the berries without a single incriminating stain anywhere.

Outside it was quiet and still, at least at first. Jared had lived all his life in LA; he was used to city noise but after a while, he started hearing things like chickens and geese--"Nasty things," Jensen said, with a scowl. "Bite you just as soon as look at you."--and then the quieter sounds of birds and even the wind slipping through the leaves on all the shrubbery. As they headed around a corner, three dogs came running up, all but dancing for Jensen's attention, but more than happy to transfer some of their energy to Jared.

Jared was on the ground, wrestling with two of them when Lady Frances found them to tell him that his clothes had arrived, and he snapped back to reality. The dogs were awesome and Jensen was cool, but Jared had work to do.

***

Jared waited and listened that night, staying in his room until it was quiet, and when he ventured down the hallway to the stairs, he couldn't see any lights on anywhere. He had the built-in excuse that he couldn't sleep so he thought he'd see if he could find a book to read, but he didn't want to call any unnecessary attention to the him or the library.

There were still as many books as he remembered on the shelves--so much for hoping that it had only been his brain trying to make things worse--but there was nothing to do but start going through them all. He worked as quickly as he could, going shelf by shelf and shaking each book over the table to see if anything fell out. It was cold in the room, and the heavy wooden chairs weren't especially comfortable, but at least it helped keep him awake. The clock in the Great Hall chimed every fifteen minutes, playing a little bit more of its song each time and then starting over after it bonged out the new hour. Every time, he reminded himself he had a long way to go, but at five o'clock, he finally gave up and grabbed an armload of books from the next shelf and settled on the cushioned window seat, promising himself that it was only for a minute or two before almost immediately falling asleep.

The clock striking six jolted him awake right as the sun was rising. He rubbed at his eyes, furious at himself for falling asleep, while the light from the sun streamed through the tall, narrow window at his back and threw shadows on the opposite wall. He almost missed it--would have missed it if he hadn't been looking up at the top shelf, where his next set of books were to come from--but there above the shelves was the next clue. They'd all thought it would be in a book, but in letters picked out by the sun blazing through the stained glass that topped the window at his back, the shadows spelled out The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Jared had no idea what it meant, but it was there and he'd found it and that was all he cared about.

***

The adrenaline rush from finding the clue--plus another super-hot, super-fast bath--carried Jared through breakfast. Lady Frances knocked on his door right as he pulled on one of the three shirts he had that he didn't hate, saying that she'd come to fetch him because her office was too much of a mess to eat there again and she didn't want him wondering around starving while he tried to find the food. Jared hoped he didn't look like a complete idiot, but he couldn't help thinking that it was probably the first time in his life that somebody actually cared whether he ate or not. Most of his foster parents hadn't been evil or anything, but if he wasn't there for a meal, he wasn't there and there was more for everyone else, end of story.

Jensen appeared as they went down some back staircase that Jared didn't remember seeing before, stumbling and bleary-eyed, and every inch not a morning person. Jared didn't think that he'd ever been one himself, but he'd woken up at dawn two mornings in a row and he didn't feel all that bad about it.

Jared got his bearings again as they headed toward the front of the house, and even figured out they were going to the morning room right before they got there. It was sunny and bright, which made Jensen squinch up his eyes and mumble something about forgetting his sunglasses.

"Pay no attention to him, Jared," Lady Frances said. "He's unfit for human companionship until well into the morning." Jensen glowered, but flopped down into a chair and filled his plate with relative speed.

They ate on a table laid out with plates and cups and saucers that Jared could tell were old enough to be antiques. He managed not to break anything, but it was close a couple of times. Lady Frances waved off his apologies after he set his cup down a little too hard in its saucer, and Jensen woke up enough to agree with her. Jared still tried to move more carefully.

After they were through, Jensen, who'd woken up enough to communicate in full sentences rather than the occasional mumbled word, said, "We did the house yesterday; I thought we could go out on the grounds today. Maybe walk to the village."

Jared was about to agree when Lady Frances said, "Perhaps not the village today--Jared and I have an appointment later this morning."

"We do?" Jared asked, hoping like hell it wasn't Rosenbaum, even though he'd found the next clue. He just didn't want to see the guy.

"The company that processes DNA samples is sending someone to collect ours," Lady Frances said quietly. "I've contacted my daughter's husband's family, and his brother is going to also provide a sample."

"Oh." Jared hoped he sounded more interested rather than guilty, but all he could think was that the clock was really ticking now and he'd better get on with finding the treasure before Lady Frances threw him out on his ass. "Um, okay? What time should I be back?"

"Half-past eleven, and they've assured me that it's quite painless. Not a needle in sight, merely a swab."

"I'll have him back in plenty of time, Gran," Jensen said, and they went out the glass door onto the stone patio that ran across the back of the house on that side. "It's a legal thing," he said to Jared. "She'll need it for custody and all."

"Yeah," Jared said, a little light-headed at the thought of custody. "Of course."

Jensen looked at him a little strangely but didn't say anything else. He took Jared around by the vegetable garden and where there were chickens and ducks, and then out to where the manicured lawns gave way to trees and showed him where the blackberry bushes grew wild.

"They won't be ripe for a bit," Jensen said, holding up a long brambled branch that was heavy with still-green fruit. "But nothing's better than coming down and eating them straight off the bush, even if you do end up getting scratched all over."

Jared nodded, but the dogs found them before he could answer, and he lost the rest of the morning to playing with them. He didn't have a ball to throw, but they were happy enough with the sticks he and Jensen found. After a bit, Jensen stood off to the side and watched him play, finally saying, "We need to be back, sorry."

"Right," Jared said, throwing the sticks one last time. "They're really friendly."

"You're good with them," Jensen said. "If they don't like someone, you really know it."

"I had this friend, back in LA, and he always had this mutt trailing around after him even when he--even when he went to work." Jared managed to change direction before he said anything about what Chad did for a living; he was a little breathless from playing with the dogs, so he hoped Jensen put his hiccup down to that. "I used to play with him--the dog, I mean--when I wasn't at school."

They were coming up to the door that led into the kitchen and pantry, so Jensen only had time to nod before Mrs. Priory came to wave them in and tell Jared everyone was waiting for him up in the drawing room.

Jensen took him up there, but then said something about giving everyone some privacy and disappeared as soon as Jared opened the door. Lady Frances was already there, of course, along with three or four others. Jared took a deep breath and went in. It turned out to be not a big deal at all--just one of the ladies there taking a swab of the inside of his cheek--except for how it made Jared conscious of every second ticking away and how he had to figure things out, fast.

As soon as they were finished with him, Jared went back to the library, slipping inside the door as quietly as he could and staring up at the wall where the shadows had cast the next clue.

"The paths of glory lead but to the grave," he muttered. "Yeah, and what's that supposed to mean."

"Well, if you take it the way they always want you to in class, probably that Gray had the sudden realization that it didn't matter who you were, you still died," Jensen said from the corner where he'd been stretched out across a couple of the big wooden chairs, a stack of books at his elbow.

"Gray?" Jared repeated, wincing at how fucking stupid he sounded.

"Thomas Gray," Jensen said. "You know, Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard … The poem you were quoting?"

"Oh." Jared nodded, like he knew what Jensen was talking about. "Yeah, right. I'm really bad with poetry."

Jensen closed his eyes for a second, then murmured,

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike th' inevitable hour.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

"Right, right," Jared said. "I remember now." He clamped down on the excitement that bubbled up inside him. "It was, you know, we were studying it, back home, right before I left. Must have gotten stuck in my head. Thanks."

He backed out of the door and ran up the steps to his room, muttering over and over again, "Thomas Gray, Thomas Gray, Thomas Gray, elegy written in a country courtyard, elegy, elegy, elegy," and when he got to his room his hands were shaking as he pulled out a paper and pencil and wrote it all down. Later that night, he would go back to the library and see if he could find any books by the guy, but first, he really, really needed a nap.

***

Jared slept, but restlessly. He jolted awake every fifteen minutes, one bad dream chasing after another, everything from Chad looking at him in betrayal, his t-shirt bloody and ripped, to Lady Frances sitting at her desk crying, to Jensen walking away no matter how loud Jared called to him. Jeffrey knocking on the door and telling him there was a call for him was almost a relief, even though Jared knew it had to be Rosy.

Jeffrey showed him where the phone was in one of the drawing rooms, and left him alone. Jared still felt like the guy was keeping an eye on him, but it wasn't like he shouldn't have been. He took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

"Well, now, aren't we the little lord of the manor. You know how hard it was to get through to you?" Rosy's voice came blasting out at Jared like they were in the same room. "I sure as hell hope you haven't forgotten why you're really there, kid."

"Hey," Jared said. "I've only been here two days; give it a rest already. Anyway, I got the next clue. If you'd shut up, I could tell you that." He waited while Rosy bitched and moaned about his attitude, and then told him about how the rising sun had outlined the words. "It's from a poem, a famous one," Jared added.

"Yeah? Glad to hear my educational tax dollars aren't going to waste," Rosy said. "But I ain't seen any gold yet, so the rest of my money, the stuff I spent on you still isn't showing me anything yet."

"Like I said, give it a rest. I'm going back to the library tonight," Jared said. "You got anything else you need to yell at me about?"

"Watch the smart mouth," Rosy said, and hung up.

"Watch the smart mouth," Jared mimicked, putting the phone back down in the cradle. "Jerk."

"Jared?" Lady Frances stood in the doorway, looking at him quizzically. "Did you say something?"

"No, ma'am." Jared put on his best innocent face. "I was just talking to Mr. Rosenbaum. He called to make sure I got all my clothes and things."

"Yes, Jeffrey said he'd rung." Lady Frances had the coolest way of completely dismissing something, even while she was being polite; Jared wanted to know how she did it. It would come in handy, he was sure. "I came to see if you'd like to come for a walk with me, see some of the countryside."

Jared was still pretty tired, but he figured he could keep up with someone who was a foot shorter and at least 60 years older than he was, so he agreed, and followed Lady Frances down to the kitchen to collect some stale bread before going outside.

They cut across the lawn and walked down to the pond, and she shared out some of the bread so he could throw it to the ducks and geese. It only took a few seconds for them to clean him out.

"Greedy things," Lady Frances said. "You'd think we starved them." She shooed them away and led Jared around the pond. "Jensen's never liked them much."

"Yeah," Jared answered. "I noticed." He took a deep breath and tried to sound casual. "So, um, about Jensen… He's been really nice, but I don't--Is he related to you?"

"Oh, distantly," Lady Frances said. "His mother is the daughter of a cousin of a cousin, married to an engineer of some sort. They've been out of the country for decades now. Saudi Arabia, Sri Lanka--I can't even begin to keep up with it all. Jensen wrote to me years ago, the most charming letter for a little boy. It was his first year at school, and he had nowhere to go for Christmas. I could hardly turn him away and then we got along tolerably well--he wasn't bored out of his mind with the old lady and I wasn't driven to distraction--and I invited him again for Easter holidays and before I knew it Mrs. Priory was making plans on how to best feed him up and it was quite nice to have a young person around the house."

They'd made their way out along the stream that fed the pond and Jared looked back at the house, hardly believing that he'd actually been living in some place that looked like that, even if he had scammed his way in. When he looked back, Lady Frances was smiling at him. "It's a really nice house," Jared said, feeling stupid, because, duh, no kidding. "It looks like it belongs there."

"On the tours that we give sometimes, they talk about the architectural significance of it all, and how the gardens and lawns were planned at the same time as the building--which is all very well and good, but I think they miss the part about how it's very homely." Lady Frances shielded her eyes with one hand and looked back at the house. "It's been in the family for generations; we've put our stamp on it, as families do."

"I don't know a whole lot about families," Jared said, without thinking. "I--it's just been me, you know?" Lady Frances looked upset, and she shouldn't be. It wasn't her fault; it was just the way it was. "It's okay; I'm pretty good at taking care of myself."

"I can see that you are," Lady Frances said. "But if there's anything I can do to help, you must feel free to ask."

Jared nodded, like he was thinking about it, which of course he wasn't, because as nice as she was, Jared knew how the world worked, and he was the only person he could count on. The way she offered, though, that made it easy to ask his next question.

"Does that go the other way, too?" Jared asked. "If there's anything I can do to help, you should ask me? Because I know there's something going on, but nobody's really said anything, and--"

"Oh," Lady Frances said. "Yes. Yes, there is something going on, as you put it…" They'd climbed to the top of a little hill--the land around the house was rolling, with lots of gentle hills and valleys--and she turned back and looked at the house in the distance. "It's a wonderful house, but I think it's time to let it go. It costs a fortune in upkeep and maintenance, and I'm not doing it justice." She turned back and smiled at Jared, but even only knowing her for a week, Jared could tell it wasn't a real smile. "The lovely people at the National Trust will take care of it, do all the fixes to the plumbing, and make it so there aren't gales in the upper hallways in the winter."

"So, you're selling it?" Jared couldn't keep the note of panic out of his voice. If the house was sold before he found the treasure, he was screwed, and so was Chad.

"Yes, but I don't want you to worry," Lady Frances said. "It's not for a bit; at least a month and we'll be quite all right. We won't be destitute, just not living on such a grand scale, perhaps."

Jared took a deep breath and let it trickle out slowly while he nodded. All this meant was that he had to find the next clue. Fast. That wasn't anything new. He knew what he needed to do: remember why he was at the house in the first place.

"I'm okay," he said. "But I guess you should probably show me everything you want me to see, now. Just in case."

"I think that's a splendid idea," she said, and started off across the fields again.


***

Jensen found him in the library a couple of hours later, flat out on his back on one of the long tables.

"Everything all right here?"

"I--yeah." Jared waved. It was a pretty pathetic wave. "It was supposed to be a nice walk with a--don't be offended--a little old lady."

Jensen laughed. "She does look harmless, doesn't she?"

"We walked like, miles and miles, and she never slowed down. How does she do that?"

"I haven't the foggiest." Jensen went over to where there were a bunch of framed pictures and brought one back to show Jared. "But she's always been like that, I think."

The picture was old, blurred and grainy and black-and-white, but it was easy enough to recognize a much younger Lady Frances, probably not any older than Jensen, standing in a muddy field with a bunch of men twice her size, everyone wearing uniforms.

"During the War," Jensen said. "I think it's somewhere near the coast; she was a searchlight operator for the big anti-aircraft guns."

"Okay," Jared said. "That's pretty cool. I mean, I didn't know women did that back then, but I guess it doesn't surprise me that she did it."

"No," Jensen agreed. "It really isn't surprising at all."

***

Jared asked Lady Frances about the poem, and she went into the library and got him an autographed copy of it. He told her the same story that he'd told Jensen, that he'd been studying it in school--which was such a joke, like he'd done anything other than sleep in school--but he guessed it sounded okay if you didn't really know him. He stayed up late into the night, going through the whole thing word by word, but didn't find anything that looked good. The next two nights he fell asleep early, worn out from helping Jensen move trunks and boxes and he didn't even know what else down from the attics.

He made himself stay up after that, waited again until the house settled into quiet not long before midnight. He snuck down to the library as quietly as he could and started going through the whole place again. He found a lot of books of poetry; most of them had the one he was looking for, so he dragged them all upstairs and settled in the chair to go through them, too.

He didn't know why he'd thought the countryside was quiet. Now that he'd lived there for a little while, there was always something making noise, and it wasn't like the city, a constant hum of traffic and horns and people. No, here it was birds and frogs and crickets and the stupid bell in the church on the other side of the stream. It was making him crazy--well, crazier, because re-reading the churchyard poem for the hundredth time was already doing a number on his brain.

He went to close his window, leaning out to pull the casement closed and maybe block out a little of the bells when it suddenly struck him that he was looking at a country churchyard, and maybe he'd been going about finding the next clue all wrong. Maybe it wasn't in a book after all, he thought, stuffing his feet into his sneakers and grabbing a flashlight. There was a shortcut that went across the fields, but he stuck to the road because the last thing he needed was to end up with a twisted ankle or something for trying to save a couple of minutes.

It was pitch dark out on the road, no light but what came from the quarter moon skimming in and out of the high, wispy clouds, but the flashlight he'd liberated from the kitchen was strong enough to pick out the road in front of him without much trouble. The church didn't have any lights, either, and the gate in the wrought-iron fence around the little graveyard squealed when he pushed it open. He barely got two steps inside the gate when an owl screeched from its perch on top of the mausoleum and almost gave him a heart attack.

"Jeez, Jared," he said out loud, just to hear something normal. "Jumpy much?"

He swept the flashlight around, picking out stone crosses and angels and lots of plain markers, and told himself it was no big deal, standing alone on a graveyard in the middle of the night, even if it probably would have been smarter to have waited until the morning. Seeing would have been a whole lot easier, for one thing. The light flashed across a big stone, the biggest one so far, and he started off, zigzagging through the markers to look at it. Right as he got close enough to confirm what he'd expected, Captain Joshua St. Edmund carved in bold letters on the stone, something grabbed him from behind.

"Hey," he yelled, and a hand clamped down over his mouth.

"Shut up," hissed a voice that Jared managed to recognize as Rosenbaum even over the wild pounding of his pulse in his ears. "Do you want the whole damn house coming down on us?"

"No, but give a guy a little warning next time," Jared said. "Grabbing people in graveyards isn't exactly a great way to guarantee quiet."

"You want a warning?" Rosenbaum snarled. "How about the one about double-crossing me, feeding me a line of shit about a poem when you're out nosing around in a real churchyard." His fingers tightened in Jared's hair, keeping him still. "You remember what happens if we don't find what we're here for."

"Yeah, yeah," Jared panted, proud that his voice was steady, because there was no way he was giving Rosy the satisfaction of knowing he'd scared Jared. "People end up in dumpsters; I got it." He twisted away, hissing as what felt like half his hair stayed wrapped around Rosy's fingers, and then slammed hard into Tommy. "I'm not double-crossing anybody. I went through all the poetry books in that library--and thanks for the heads-up about how big that place actually is--and wasn't finding anything."

Jared stepped back enough that he wasn't being quite so crowded. "The church bell was ringing and I thought, y'know, what if it wasn't in a book after all."

"Lucky for us, we got here right in time to see you sneak out," Rosenbaum said, and Jared shrugged.

"Yeah, well, I just found the old guy's grave," Jared said, pointing with the flashlight. Rosy and Tommy both put their lights on the stone, too, nice and bright and clear that there was nothing there either. "Shit," he muttered.

"Secretive old bastard," Rosy said.

"Maybe the clue's really in the churchyard, like buried in it," Jared said. "We could always dig him up."

"Dig him up?" Tommy said, in a high nervous voice. "Like, open the grave?"

"Yeah, sure--" Jared started to say, for no reason other than egging Tommy on, when the stupid owl screeched again. Jared jumped, and so did Rosy, but Tommy gave a little scream and tripped over his feet. He sprawled out, still squawking, and Jared helpfully added, "Hey, look, you're laying on top of some poor dude's grave."

Tommy shrieked again, and Rosy smacked the back of Jared's head and shoved him out of the way to go help Tommy stand up. "There's that attitude again, and I'm reaching the end of my patience, kid."

"Yeah?" Jared said, distracted by the headstone right where Tommy had fallen, the one right next to Captain Joshua's. It was one of the small, plain markers, a simple slab of granite for a seaman by the name of Thomas Gray. Jared gave a little whoop. "Check it out!" He pointed his flashlight to the marker and followed the arc of the name. "Thomas Gray. In a country churchyard!"

Rosy dropped Tommy right back down and whirled around to look. "I'll be goddamned. That sneaky old bastard had it all planned out. Thomas Gray," he read. " He followed the eclipse for riches and fame; and, if ye would prosper, do ye the same."

"Do you think that's the clue?" Tommy asked from where he was still on the ground and Jared couldn't help but roll his eyes. Tommy must be aces in bed, he thought, because why else would Rosy to be putting up with him.

"Yeah," Rosy said, picking Tommy back up again and then grabbing Jared. "I think it's the clue, and I think our little princeling here needs to get his ass in gear and go through that house, top to bottom, and find out anything about an eclipse that he can."

He gave Jared a little shake. "Once we get a hotel someplace, I'll be checking in on you, kid, so don't think you have any time to waste."

"A hotel? Aren't you going back to London?"

"Not with how much he owes the bookies," Tommy said, in a prim little voice. Rosy's hand dug into Jared's arm hard enough to leave bruises; Jared set his jaw so he wouldn't make any noise.

"Let's just say it's healthier for all of us if we stay down here," Rosy said, shoving Jared away from him. "You better get back before they find out you're gone. And don't forget, we'll be watching."

Jared turned around without saying anything and struck out across the fields. He didn't care if he did fall into the stream; anything was better than being out on the same road with the other two. He almost didn't mind running into Jeffrey and the dogs as he came out of the little bunch of trees near the back door. Almost. Because holy hell, but that guy could move quietly, and he somehow even had the dogs quiet, too.

"Oh," Jared panted. "Hey. I was--out looking at the stars. It's dark here. I can see stuff I never could back home." It didn't sound too lame, he thought. And it was almost true. If he had the time, he'd do stuff like go look at the stars and read and maybe even take Jensen up on teaching Jared how to fish.

"Careful," Jeffrey said, as the dogs tripped Jared up. He reached out a hand and caught him as he stumbled. "Use the light next time. You won't be waking anyone up with it."

"Right," Jared said, standing up as fast as he could. "Sure. I'm, I'm just going to go on to bed."


***

It took Jared a long time to fall asleep; his brain kept racing, cycling through the clue on the tombstone and Jeffrey being out waiting for him, with the occasional flash of uneasiness that Rosy and Tommy were staying in the area. London wasn't all that far away, only a couple of hours, but it had felt better to think about them there rather than wonder when they might show up again. He finally made himself listen to the night sounds of the country until everything blended together and he fell asleep.

It was gray and a little rainy when he woke up, a lot later than he'd done before, but that was probably a good thing. Nobody was around--Jensen was probably still asleep--but when Jared found his way down to the kitchen, Mrs. Priory had a huge plate of bacon and sausages in the oven for him, and she fried him eggs while he put bread in the toaster. She even had coffee from a fancy coffeemaker instead of tea, and she told him that Lady Frances had gone out for some kind of a meeting about the local church.

"A jumble sale, that's what they're working on," she said. "Lord knows we can send some things along for that."

Jensen came in then, his hair still damp from the shower, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up over strong forearms. Mrs. Priory went off to assemble his plate, and Jared shared his coffee, even though Jensen made a face and muttered things about ruining perfectly good Kona with sugar and milk.

"It probably wouldn't take you too long to make your own," Jared said, managing to tear his eyes away from how Jensen hadn't shaved, the scruff on his jaw and chin adding the slightest hint of roughness to his face. He reached over like was going to take the mug away from Jensen, but he couldn't keep a straight face at the faint look of panic in Jensen's eyes.

Mrs. Priory came back over with Jensen's plate, tsking at him for stealing Jared's coffee and bringing him some of his own. She eyed Jared's mug and got him more, too, and then left them at the table to go fuss about with the dishes and whatever smelled amazing in the oven.

Jared waited patiently while Jensen worked his way through his breakfast, but before Jensen even got to his second mug of coffee, there was a muffled thud, and Mrs. Priory jumped back from where the taps on the deep clay sink were spraying water.

"Stupid thing," she said, holding up a pot lid to block the spray while she fumbled with the taps. Jared jumped up and grabbed a towel, which at least cut down on the mess. "Jensen," she called. "Run fetch Jeffrey and tell him to bring the tool box."

"Jeffrey?" Jensen said doubtfully. "Really?"

"Well, better him than the two of you," Mrs. Priory said, shaking her head. Jared couldn't argue with her there.

Apparently Jensen couldn't either, because he headed out the door toward the garage apartment while Jared found another tea towel and double-wrapped the spray and Mrs. Priory started mopping up the mess.

It turned out Mrs. Priory mostly needed Jeffrey to man the wrenches. Once he got the water turned off, he loosened and tightened things under her direction while Jensen was sent to fetch an old bicycle tire and Jared kept the kitchen from being hosed down. In the end, they cut up the inner tube from the tire and clamped it to the part that was leaking. They all held their breath while they turned the water back on, but the patch held and Mrs. Priory shooed them out of her kitchen with an enormous cake in a tin and some fizzy lemonade as their reward.

"Well, that was exciting," Jensen said, dropping down on the bench by the pond.

"You never know what's going to go wrong next," Jeffrey said. "All due respect to Mrs. Priory, but we're going to have to call a plumber in."

"Not that I disagree, but I nominate you to tell Gran." Jensen wrenched the top off the cake tin and shared it around. "She still thinks I'm eight, like the first time I came to visit."

"Right." Jeffrey snorted, and it was the most animated Jared had ever seen him. "By that reckoning--"

"Which is true and you know it," Jensen interrupted. Jeffrey shrugged.

"--I'm round about fifteen, so it's not as though I'm all that much ahead of you."

Jared took a cautious sip of the lemonade. It was sweet-sour, but the cake was lemony, too, and he decided they went pretty okay together.

"Has it always been like this?" Jared asked. "It's just, it doesn't look bad." To his surprise, it was Jeffrey who answered.

"It's an old house; things are always going to need a little work, but for a while there, it wasn't much of a priority."

"After the accident," Jensen added quietly, and Jared kept his eyes on the cake in his hand. Every day he was here, it got harder and harder to remember what he needed to do.

***

The next morning was odd and off-kilter. Lady Frances had meetings all day with the people from the National Trust; she came to breakfast but she was preoccupied and not at all her usual self. Mrs. Priory fussed and poked and prodded, but couldn't get her to eat more than some toast and tea, and she excused herself not long after to go start reading through the reams of paperwork that went along with turning a house over.

The rest of the day was more normal--they had one last section of the attic to haul things out of, and after that they ended up outside between the vegetable and herb gardens, kicking around a soccer ball.

If Jared was going to mess around with a ball, his first choice was going to be basketball, but as awesome as the house was, it didn't have a court, or even a hoop, and it wasn't like he hadn't spent years skipping school and booting a ball around if that was what was going on. It wasn't Jensen's first sport--apparently he spent a lot of time rowing--but he'd played off and on and was cool about teaching Jared some moves. If anyone had asked him before, Jared would have sworn he couldn't have cared whether he ever learned to pass properly, but every time Jensen stopped to show him something he found himself paying attention like it was going to be his meal ticket.

"I was thinking," Jensen said, dribbling the ball past Jared. "It's Mrs. Priory's afternoon off and Gran's not going to want to do much other than have a tray in her room after all this, so maybe you want to go down to the village with me? Have dinner at the pub?"

"Oh, uh, that sounds great, but, I'm--I only have a couple of bucks, American money--"

"No, no," Jensen said, firm and sure. "My treat."

"Then, yeah," Jared said, neatly intercepting the ball and spinning around so Jensen couldn't see the absolutely stupid expression he knew was on his face. "That'd be cool, thanks."

"Nothing fancy," Jensen warned. "Chicken curry, if we're lucky."

Jared barely kept from laughing--like he cared what he ate, even before you got around to the part where it'd just be him and Jensen--and tried a complicated crossover kick that took Jensen by surprise and focused attention on something that was normal and unremarkable, rather than how excited Jared was.

They hung out back by the gardens until they heard the cars leaving, and by the time they got back inside, Lady Frances was already on her way up the big sweeping staircase.

"Have I mentioned how little fondness I have for solicitors?" she asked.

"Once or twice," Jensen said, with a straight face. "Possibly."

"Well, it's done for now, and I don't intend to leave my room again today--

"Cold gin and a hot bath?"

"Oh, my dear." Lady Frances smiled at Jensen. "I've taught you well. You'll be all right on your own tonight?"

"Never better," Jensen assured her. "We're heading down to the pub. Emma will find something for us."

"I've no doubt," Lady Frances answered. "Do have a nice time, Jared, and I promise I shall be in a much less prickly mood when I see you again."

"Good night," Jared called, and she waved to him as she disappeared down the hall. "Will she be okay?" he asked Jensen.

"I think this is taking more of a toll on her than she expected," Jensen said, shaking his head. "Not that she wouldn't bite my head off for so much as suggesting that."

They split up after that, to get cleaned up and changed. Jared stood around for a while, trying to figure out what to wear--he hated most of the clothes Tommy had gotten for him, but the stuff he'd had in LA wasn't great either. He didn't want to look like he was trying too hard, but Jensen always looked good, even when they were hauling crap out of the attic. In the end, he got the one pair of pants he had that weren't jeans or part of the stupid suit, and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to hide where they were already getting too short for him.

Hoping he didn't look like too much of a dork, he stuffed his feet into his sneakers (not even for Jensen was he going to wear the shoes that went with the suit) and hurried down the stairs. Jensen was waiting for him outside, leaning on the front of Lady Frances's Range Rover. Jared was glad he'd taken the time with his clothes, because Jensen was as neatly dressed as ever.

"It's no more than a couple of minutes down to the pub, but I'm too lazy to walk down tonight," Jensen said, getting into the driver's seat.

"I'm not going to argue," Jared said. "I think we've moved every box in that house five times already."

It really wasn't more than two minutes before they were passing the War Memorial and pulling up in front of the white building that housed the lone pub in the village. Jared looked around curiously, because he still hadn't quite made it all the way down to the village yet, and he'd been distracted by nerves and Rosy's foul mood when they'd driven through on the way to the house that first day. For being so small, it looked like a nice place to live.

"We can walk down in the day, if you like," Jensen called, waiting at the door while Jared looked around. "See it when it's not going dark."

"Yeah, sure," Jared answered, and followed Jensen inside, where it was loud and friendly and the girl behind the bar came out front as soon as she got a look at them.

"Oh my God, it's about time you got yourself down here," she said, loud enough for the whole bar to here. She didn't look much older than Jensen, tall-ish and a little heavy, with dark hair and a diamond nose stud and snapping black eyes. She wasn't pretty, not exactly, but her smile was big and infectious.

"Emma," Jensen said, which wasn't a surprise. Jared wanted to hate her, but she was loud and funny and every other word seemed to be a curse word--he thought her mouth might even be worse than Chad's--and he couldn't help but like her.

She got Jensen a pint cider and found ice for Jared's Coke and pointed them to a table in the corner, promising them plates of chicken curry as soon as she could get a chance, gossiping nonstop the whole time. Jared was pretty sure she never once took a breath and her accent was strong enough that he could barely understand her, but he caught her looking at him with sharp, inquisitive eyes even after they'd gotten to the table. It was easy enough to guess that she knew why he was staying with Lady Frances.

"Everybody knows everybody else's business here," Jensen said quietly. "And everybody knows Gran."

"It's--I'm really not used to people being interested in me," Jared said after a bit. Even as tall as he was, he was good at fading into the background. It was a good skill to have; it meant fewer hassles with teachers and social workers and general do-gooders. He didn't really want to explain that to Jensen, though, so he was relieved when something happened in the game that was showing on the ancient TV over the bar and distracted everyone.

The curry was good--hot as hell and lots of it--and gradually everyone stopped looking at Jared and he could relax. People still came over to talk to Jensen, and he always introduced Jared, and everyone nodded politely, but they left it there and nobody so much as blinked when the two of them drifted back to watch the guys playing what Jared assumed was pool, but Jensen called snooker. When Jensen asked, Jared admitted he'd only heard of it once or twice, had never seen it, and had definitely never played it. He left out the part where he'd been playing nine-ball since he was old enough to hold a cue stick, though. He paid attention while Jensen ran down the rules, and fixed the scoring and colors firmly in his mind.

The table was a little bit smaller than a standard pool table, but the balls weighed about the same and it only took him a half a game to adjust. It was too late to really do anything but lose the first game, but after that, he cleaned up.

"Right," Jensen said at the end of the third game, when Jared had all but run the table. "So, we're not doing that again unless we're playing on the same team."

"Any time," Jared said, grinning. He shook hands with a couple of the guys who'd been standing around watching, while Jensen settled up their bill. Outside it was dark, and the main street of the village was quiet as they walked back to the car. Jared looked up at the night sky, a million stars shining down, more than he'd ever seen before. As much as he didn't want to ruin the vibe of the night, he probably wasn't going to get a better chance, so he swallowed hard and asked, as casually as he could, if Jensen had ever seen an eclipse when he'd been around the area.

"No," Jensen answered, following Jared's lead and looking up at the sky. "It'd be a good place to see one, though."

"Yeah, I was just thinking that," Jared said, still casual. "You don't see stars like this in LA."

"I don't expect you would," Jensen said, comfortably. They were already turning off onto the road that cut through Lady Frances's property.

"Thanks," Jared said. "That was--I had a good time."

"I did, too," Jensen said, smiling, and Jared gave up trying to pretend he wasn't totally fucking crushing on the guy. There was no use denying it. He'd fallen for one of the people he was trying to con, and wasn't that the stupidest thing ever? He trudged up the stairs behind Jensen, telling himself that over and over, but then Jensen smiled at him again, wishing him a good night, and nothing else mattered.

***

In the morning, Jensen asked Mrs. Priory about eclipses and if she'd ever seen one. Jared got a little jolt of guilt that he'd dragged Jensen into the whole lying mess, but covered it up well enough. He hoped. He jumped in and said he'd found a book about astronomy (which was true--the library had at least a half-dozen different ones) and he and Jensen had been talking about it the night before. It was all too much, he knew that as soon as the words left his mouth, but nobody else seemed to notice. Mrs. Priory thought for a bit, but finally came forth with never having seen such in the area. Jared even got brave and asked Jeffrey, but that was a bust, too, so Jared didn't see much else to do other than start going through the house.


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Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Epilogue