Fic: RFJ 2: Higher, part 7/7

[beccaelizabeth]

Ripper
Fools Journey
2
Higher

Part: 7/7

Rating: I'm aiming for a tone much like Buffy or Angel, which are 15 to 18 rated in the UK.
Pairing(s): Giles and Ethan are in the same story, therefore it is vaguely G/E
Spoilers: Post Chosen, post Not Fade Away. Refers to earlier series canon.
Third in my Fool's Journey series, the rest in memories here or my fic tag. This one should basically make sense as a stand alone.

Summary: Rupert Giles and Ethan Rayne. Best mates, worst enemies, sometimes both at once. They've got a lot of history. So even when the Initative took Ethan away, Giles was sure he'd see him again, sooner or later...
Now the late Ethan Rayne is turning out to be twice the trouble, and Giles must be the one to deal with it.


38000 words total, 1400 words this part, complete

Disclaimer: Joss told us to "Write fan fic."
So they're still his toys, but he seems to not mind us playing with them.
No money, no harm.

Thanks to pinkdormouse for beta.

Author's notes and warnings:
Once upon a time, there was to be a series called Ripper.
It would star Giles, and it would be about ghosts.
Well, I'm still waiting.
In the meantime, I figured I'd write it myself.
Since ghosts are a central feature, character death is going to happen throughout the series. But that doesn't always remove them from the story. So sometimes the warning is character death, and sometimes it is more character transformation.

I used Tarot cards as inspiration for the 22 episodes, hence 'Fools Journey'. The Fool is card 0, The Magician 1. Card 2 of the Major Arcana is The High Priestess.

Part 1/7 here
Part 2/7 here
Part 3/7 here
Part 4/7 here
Part 5/7 here
Part 6/7 here

*** *** ***



It took a few days to sort out the aftermath. Luckily Giles was unconscious for long enough that other Watchers had taken over by the time he woke up. They mostly left him to himself, to recover. With a teenage Slayer as a guard.

He heard bits and pieces as gossip. Her partner had returned from Los Angeles with a broken arm, and heaps of glory. She'd worked closely with the head Slayer herself, or at least got within thirty feet. She'd seen the grand reunion, as Wesley Wyndam-Pryce masterminded the return of both the legendary loves of Buffy's life, the two vampires with souls. Back from the presumed dead yet again, then. Giles ground his teeth and tried to ignore her over caffeinated over enthusiasm, but despite all his practice with teenage babble, he found himself snappish whenever her conversation circled back that way.

All he could think about were a certain vampire's ashes, gone past all recall.

He asked instead about business, how the local clean up was doing. Apparently relations with the hotels were strained, and somewhat contradictory. The Stratosphere had cleared out Giles' room, packed everything into a hotel branded suitcase, and even added some vouchers should he wish to return. But there was also talk of a law suit. Something about reckless endangerment. Giles sighed, and tried not to be embarrassed, or too annoyed.

He had assumed the 'Bite' show would be history. Far from it, as it turned out. They were getting bookings even though the theater would not be ready for weeks, and the cast possibly longer. They'd have to replace most of them. Rumour had it that the new Vampire Lord would be a rather different sort – something about fire magic, this time. Giles vaguely approved.

Mostly he ignored as much as he could get away with, and pushed to be allowed to recover at home.

His Slayer escort saw him to the airport, and stuck with him until a woman from the airline came to see him the rest of the way.

Giles would have complained about being mollycoddled, but he had not yet replaced his glasses, and there was very little of the world he could actually bring into focus. Besides, he fell asleep so quickly after take off he had his seatbelt on all the way back to England.

He got to the train home mostly on autopilot, through long practice. He'd done that journey after late nights at work so many times he woke up automatically the station before Bath to call and have a taxi waiting.

It dropped him off neatly on his own doorstep, and drove off again.

Rupert paused then. He looked back across the road, at the oak tree. This time there was no hint of movement underneath it. He didn't see a figure there, familiar or otherwise. And he had been calling Ethan, in every private moment, to no effect. But...

He sighed, crossed the road, and went into the park again.

The shade under the oak was cold, and all the leaves had turned since he'd gone. The ground around the tree was crisp with fallen gold. The setting sun threw shifting shadow branches across almost the whole park.

Giles headed for the trunk. There was something inscribed there, usually hidden amongst the rough bark, but just now made visible as it caught the light, edged in fading gilt.

ER, RG. The two sets of initials intertwined in the middle, like the Rolls Royce sign. Ripper had carved them, years ago, back when they'd sit for hours out here, smoking and talking together. Ethan had carved the shape that surrounded them. Oak bark was deeply furrowed, and knives had never been Ethan's forte. The result had been a rather wide sort of heart, only spread out more by intervening years. The point hadn't quite joined, either. Rupert had laughed, but Ethan had tried again, added a sort of long hook underneath. Then declared it an elephant.

Giles grinned, remembering. He ran his fingers over the cut edges, then placed his hand there a long moment, and bowed his head. When he moved again, the rough bark snagged his bandages, making the cut underneath sting.

Giles smiled at that, and nodded.

Then he turned and went back in the house.

He paused outside the door of his flat, looked up at the frowning face of Janus. For a brief moment he had a very strong urge to swear at it. Then he hesitated, keys in hand, as he considered what the wards might do to him, now.

He sighed, and unlocked. He slipped inside without noticeable problem. The door closed behind him, and the wards with it. Home again, and safe.

He kept his jacket on, and his shoes. They'd been half way around the world and back, and would probably carry most of it all over his carpets, but the floor was still a mess from his earlier reaction. He tried to avoid it.

He dropped the suitcase on the bench, crossed to his desk and turned on the little space heater. Then he turned and went to the kitchen, picked up the kettle by habit and took it to the sink. Some tea would take the chill off.

He stopped, kettle half full, and turned the water off. He leaned on the sink a moment, then turned around and went back to the kitchen door.

There were a thousand things he should be doing next. He could see many of them from here. Cleaning, of course, for a start. And after that... The light on the answerphone was blinking, the papers on his desk stacked up, and he hadn't checked his mail. The notebooks were safely in the new suitcase, and he had a dozen things he should add to them, before writing up his report. And then there was changing dressings, and prescriptions to take.

He turned, instead, to the drinks cabinet, and got down the really good scotch. Took two glasses, and poured measures into both of them. Then doubled them.

A glass in each hand, he returned to the living room. He looked around, then chose the window seat. He placed one glass on the left of it, at a seated man's right hand. Then he went back to the wing chair and sat down.

He looked out the window. The sun had fully set now, and the tree outside was all shadows. Above it the sky still held a hint of blue, but the brightest stars were coming out. It felt like the end of a very long day.

They'd shared a lot of evenings, looking out at just exactly this.

He raised the glass formally.

“Ethan Rayne.”

He closed his eyes, and tipped his head back, savouring the taste like bottled smoke.

“Present.”

Giles sputtered, started to cough, and spilled scotch down his shirt as he sat up and stared.

“Surprise,” Ethan added, voice matching the self satisfied smirk. He sat framed in the window, glowing like stained glass, and crystal clear to Rupert's eyes.

Giles gasped, then looked down and patted at his shirt, blinking water out of his eyes. “You're just going to delight in doing that, aren't you?” he accused.

Ethan laughed happily.

“Really, I can forgive it when it's just airline booze, but you could at least respect the thirty year old.”

“You got out the good stuff, because of me? I'm touched. But drinking alone?” He shook his head.

Rupert looked at him and grinned, full of fondness and pure relief. He raised his glass again. “But I'm not alone.”

“No,” Ethan agreed. “You won't be.”

He smiled then, the most genuine smile, that most rarely saw the light.

Rupert smiled right back at him. He raised the glass again. “Ethan,” he said, and this time he made the word a welcome and a blessing.

“Rupert,” Ethan replied, reverent in his turn.

Rupert drank, swallowed what was left of the good spirits and let it warm him.

Then he put the glass down, and pulled at his shirt again. “I'd better take this off now. I won't be a minute.” He got up and headed for the bedroom, hanging up his coat along the way.

Ethan, of course, got up, and followed him.



*** END ***
*** (BEGINNING) ***

All my fic here


Rate fic, poll