Disclaimer: Don't own EW, much less this scene. :)
Author's Notes: Gen fic! Yay! Takes place during the sixth book, I think, when they first meet Ganymede. David, Christopher, and April all huddle together in the back and talk while they're talking to the camp, but I've always wondered what the hell Jalil and Ganymede were talking about. It probably isn't this, of course, but it amused me, sooo...
Thank you so much for reading. You're all fantastic. :)
When April faded back behind them, Jalil felt the subtle shift in atmosphere. It wasn't an abrupt thing; not even surprising. Rather, just a gossamer curtain brushed gently aside to reveal what the audience already had realized lay behind it, and even though Jalil had also known, he still stiffened when it came.
"You don't want me here," Ganymede said, very quiet.
Jalil was increasingly aware of space behind them. He carefully measured it out in his mind, steps upon steps and mortal feet, inches and yards, between where their shoes padded on the grass and David, Christopher, and Aprils' footsteps echoed somewhere farther back. When he could hear their voices drop from a dull murmur to near breaths, he turned and frowned.
Ganymede was not smiling, either. In fact, in the looming shadows that encroached upon his immortal glow, he seemed almost washed out and palely drawn. For a moment, Jalil wondered if it was because he was as tired as they were- teenagers lost in the dark, soles worn through from days of walking, stomachs gurgling in the kind of hunger that made them feel their insides had been carved out and dumped on the side of the road- or if immortals even became tired, being immortal in the first place.
"No, I don't," Jalil finally said.
Ganymede accepted it; he nodded. "I could see it in your eyes. The others don't want me here, either. Their gazes are too close- they either rest on the ground or at my presence," and Jalil thought, hell, so you call it a presence, "but you are distant. You see something else."
Jalil thought for a moment, dark eyes narrowing at the sky. "I see problems," he replied after a second of contemplation, the grim line of his mouth thinning even further. He glanced at Ganymede without turning his head. "Whether we die tomorrow or not, we'll be spending the immediate future with you. But we won't function right if you're around. You'll make them fight. You'll confuse them."
Sorrow flitted briefly over Ganymede's lovely features. "It would not be the first time my presence has caused disruption in a group."
"Presence," Jalil snorted. And then laughed.
"I am afraid it is too late to impede what will follow," Ganymede said after a moment, when the quiet softened the space between them again. Jalil was taking two steps for each time the immortal lifted his leg. "But if there is, perhaps, a way to-"
"I wouldn't worry about it," Jalil interrupted, heaving a sigh and rubbing a scattering of dirt embedded into his cheek from the earlier fight. His stomach hurt, the rapid punches where Christopher's knuckles slammed into the empty space cradled in his muscles leaving marks that would probably bruise. Stupid moron. Sometimes he wanted to kill Christopher. "We've had a lot of things try to break us up before. Witches. Fairies. Magicians. But we're still together, nevertheless. I guess it won't matter."
Ganymede made a surprised sort of sound that was so utterly grateful that Jalil felt his ears go brightly red. "You are certain?"
Rubbing his face and looking away, Jalil shrugged uncomfortably. "Why not?"
There was low, happy laughter that made Jalil's head turn, so beautiful was the ring to it, and when Ganymede smiled at him, he couldn't help but smile back. "You know, if you find a way to pat Christopher on the shoulder or something," Jalil couldn't help saying, his stomach still smarting, "I think we can certainly come to an agreement."