"Sit down, Tim," complained Tony when they were left alone, "Makes my neck ache to look up that far."
Tim obeyed a little awkwardly and then wondered what a suitable topic of conversation with a recuperating Junior Master would be.
"I had scrambled eggs," he declared after a pause.
"Great. Did you like them?"
"No, not really."
"Huh."
Silence fell again. Tony was not used to silence and resolved to break this one which felt awkward but, before he could speak, Tim blurted out,
"Why don't you get called Master?"
"Excuse me?"
"I thought most people who were a Master would want to be called one."
"Huh," said Tony again, "Well, I guess if I did magical work, I might use it. And when I get older, people tend to call people Master anyway."
"Why don't you do magical work? Master Jethro says you're a sort of policeman."
"That's right."
"Why?"
"Why? I guess I like puzzles … and anyone who's been taught by Master Jethro is probably going to end up doing some sort of public service."
"Are they?"
"Sure?"
"How long have you been a policeman?"
"Since I left Ohio State, give or take a few months."
"You went to Ohio State?"
"Yes."
"The real Ohio State?"
"Yes," Tony paused, "Is there a fake one?"
"But Ohio State is a university, isn't it?"
"Looked like one to me when I was there. But I guess I didn't have anything to judge it by so I could have been mistaken."
"But it's for …"
"For what?"
"Well, normal people go there."
"Excuse me? You saying I'm not normal?"
Tim gazed at Tony and privately thought that even without magic, it was unlikely that Tony would ever have been described as normal. "You know what I mean. It's a place that people without magic go to."
"So?"
"So, how does it work?"
"We're all people, Tim. We just get along."
"Hmm. What did you do there?"
Tony sighed reminiscently, "Oh, Pupil Tim, I had the time of my life!"
"But what did you study?"
"Oh. Studying. Well, I guess I did do some of that. I was a phys-ed major."
"You were a jock?" Tim remembered back to an early impression of Tony being like the sport mad boys at his school.
"You say that as if it's a bad thing," said Tony with mock hurt.
Tim wanted to deny the inference, but his innate truthfulness prevented him.
"I'll have you know that there's a lot of science-y thingies in phys-ed," said Tony. Tim's face softened a little in approval of this. "And a lot of playing sport," grinned Tony, "Football and basketball. Running in the summer. Bit of baseball – not my favourite but it's OK. Swimming, squash, tennis, softball. Do you like sports, Tim?"
"I'm not good at them. I had asthma when I was younger. I don't have it now … but I get allergies. Being outside on all that grass brings them on."
"That's rough," said Tony sympathetically, "But you could do gym – that's indoors."
Tim nodded with insincere interest, "What was your minor?"
"Or swimming," said Tony who was now apparently engrossed in finding a suitable sporting interest for Tim, "Or does the chlorine irritate you?" Tim nodded. "You could try skiing – that's in winter so there can't be any pollen around. Or sailing?"
"I get seasick," said Tim.
"Oh, that's tough. I enjoyed my sports – made some good friends in the teams I was in."
"How did that work?"
"I don't know. I usually find I make friends with people I play sport with," said a puzzled Tony.
"No, not the friends bit – I understand the principle. No, I mean, how were you able to play team sports?"
"'Cos I was good at them," said Tony in continued bewilderment.
"But it can't have been fair."
"I know it's not really fair that some people are good at sports and some aren't – but that doesn't mean nobody can play them."
"That's not what I meant. If you've got magic and you're playing against people who don't, isn't that an unfair advantage?"
"Oh, I see. Yeah, that makes sense. Well, it works partly because we promise not to use our magic and partly because the places we play have something that suppresses the magic …"
"Like what they had where you were being held prisoner?"
Tony shuddered, "No, fortunately not like that. The sports device is more sophisticated and lighter touch … doesn't make you feel sick afterwards. And besides, they have people there monitoring that nobody is using magic to get an edge."
"Huh," said Tim. He thought for a moment or two and then returned to a previous question, "And what was your minor?"
"Oh, it was magical studies. I'm doing a masters in emergence of magic in children and adolescents – it's something I'm interested in."
"You're doing a masters?"
"Very slowly – I don't have much spare time. But Fornell says it will be useful in helping me get promotion. Who'd have thought you need a masters to get ahead?"
Tim didn't like to say that he thought most people would think a masters would come in handy.
"Ducky says I'll have to take some time off to get back to strength. I might be able to catch up a bit on the academic work," said Tony. He didn't get a reply and, looking at Tim, he saw that he seemed to be lost in thought, "So, Tim … why lunar modules?"
"Excuse me?"
"Nora's babies. What made you think of calling them after lunar modules?"
"I don't know. I like reading about the moon landings. I made models of all of them. They're in my bedroom back home. How come you know about them? Nobody else worked it out."
Tony shrugged, "Don't know … I had a book about the space programme when I was … before I came here. I used to read my books a lot."
Tim felt there was something Tony wasn't saying about before he came here but Ducky and Gibbs came in that moment bearing lunch.
"Just something light and nourishing for you, my lad," said Ducky to Tony.
"Calves foot jelly?" asked Tim mischievously.
Tony momentarily lost what little colour he had.
"I will have you know," said Ducky sternly, "That it is a very tasty dish and used to be considered as a delicacy but, I fear, Tony will have to await another occasion to test the veracity of what I have said."
"I will?" asked Tony hopefully.
"Yes. Peaseblossom Patricia sent some of her special chicken soup for you.
Tony reached out eager hands for the bowl of soup and managed not to feel disgruntled that his fellow diners were eating hotdog rolls. In the event, he flagged halfway through the bowl and Gibbs had to rescue it before he dropped it. Gibbs gently removed a pillow and Tony burrowed his way under the covers already nearly asleep. The others tiptoed out although Nora slid in with a kitten in her mouth before the door closed.
XXXXXX
Tony's recovery continued apace, and he was soon joining Gibbs and Tim as they welcomed the day's clients. Gibbs produced a comfy recliner for Tony and, for a few days, he had a tendency to doze off after lunch.
Fortunately for meals in the basement, the visitors finally stopped bringing food suitable for invalids and, after a week of rice puddings and strengthening broth, Gibbs and his companions were able once more to enjoy a more robust diet.
Tony was content either to watch Gibbs deal with the clients or, when he was feeling better, to sit at the worktable working on his masters with eager books clustering around him. He was curious, however, how Tim refused magically to clear the table at the end of each day's work, and he was equally curious as to why Gibbs had, so far, failed to push him into doing so.
One day, Gibbs decided to take a rare afternoon off and, even more unusually, to go out. He gave Tony a knowing look as he left, and Tony understood that there was a hidden purpose behind the departure.
"Thanks, guys," he said to the books, "Reckon I'm done for the day. You can go back now."
The books hovered around Tony's head for a while and then floated back to their places.
"Why do the books do that?" asked Tim.
Tony shrugged, "They just do. We've always got on. Hey Tim, can I ask you a question?"
"OK," said Tim cautiously.
"Why won't you clear the table like Master Jethro wants?"
"I told you before. I can't do magic."
"Yeah, yeah, I remember. And you're staying here to prove that you don't have magic?"
"Yes. 100 days and then everyone will believe me."
"Doesn't make sense to me."
"Excuse me?"
"If you don't have magic, why not try – and fail – to cast the spell? Then Master Jethro will know, and he'll tell everyone you don't have magic. And you won't have to stay the whole 100 days."
"I guess," said Tim reluctantly.
"We could try later," suggested Tony, "If you don't want to try it with Master Jethro."
Tim didn't reply directly, "Do you like having magic?"
"Huh … well, I guess so. I can't imagine not having it. It's part of who I am."
"It's easy for you," said Tim bitterly.
"Excuse me?"
"Well, you're good at everything …"
"Don't think I'm so good at science …"
"But you're good at everything you want to be. At everything you think is important. You're like the jocks at school, looking down on people who don't want to do the same as you."
"Tim! When I have looked down on you?"
Tim regretted his moment of temper, "You haven't. I'm sorry … it's just that …"
"You're worried?"
Tim nodded.
"Tim, what are you worried about?" Tim shook his head and looked down at the table. "Tim, are you frightened that you might have magic? Are you ashamed of it?"
Tim looked up at Tony with large eyes, "You wouldn't understand … Dr Ducky told me about your examinations – how you got top marks. He said you were always naturally talented at controlling magic – ability beyond your years he said."
Tony gazed at Tim for a few moments before coming to a decision, "You want to know why the books like me?"
Tim nodded, sensing that Tony wasn't changing the subject.
"It's because, before I came here, I was lonely. My mom died when I was 8 … and after that I started having magic. But my family didn't approve of magic … and mine wasn't being controlled. Don't forget I was only 8."
"What did your folks do?"
"They shut me away. Oh, my dad made sure I was fed and clothed. I had a nice suite of rooms in his big house. But I didn't see anyone apart from servants who brought me my food. They were scared of what I might do, and they were frightened of my father."
"Oh."
"And 'cos I was lonely, I kinda made friends with what I had in the room. My books, my toys … well, you get the idea. And I didn't realise at the time that I was doing magic, but I was. And in other families, other places kids get training about how to control their powers early on. But I didn't get that, so my magic has always been a bit … I don't know free spirited, unusual. And there were times I used to hope that my magic would go away so that I could be a normal boy again – and that my dad would want to be with me."
"What happened?"
"One of the servants – Nora, got fired. And she contacted the Magical Council and they intervened. Seer Morrow came to the house and didn't give my dad any real choice. He either got charged with child cruelty and persecution of a magical minor or he let me go."
"And he let you go?" said Tim almost in a whisper.
"I can still hear his sigh of relief when he agreed."
"And what happened?"
"I came here. As Master Jethro's apprentice – for 1000 days. The best 1000 days of my life. And I got to understand that having magic wasn't a bad thing. Not something to be proud of – anymore than being proud of having blue eyes or being short. It's just part of who I am and there's no point trying to deny it."
"How old were you when you came here?"
"Just shy of 15."
"You were on your own for 7 years?" asked Tim in horror.
Tony shrugged, "It's in the past now. I don't think about it too much."
"Is that why you're doing your masters in magical development in children?"
"I guess. Master Jethro wonders whether the way I learned about my magic has some advantages. You know, should we allow kids more freedom to develop? It's interesting."
"My parents don't know what to think … about me having magic," said Tim.
"But they brought you here."
"I'm a disappointment to them," Tim burst out.
"Why do you think that?"
"I told you about the sports. Dad's a natural athlete. He finds it hard to have a son who can't catch a ball. And he's in the Navy …"
"Yeah?"
"It's a family tradition that McGees serve in the Navy …"
"But you get seasick …"
"Yes. And I like math and science …"
"The Navy uses math and science, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess. But what if … what if …"
"What if what?"
"What if I was only good at math because I've got magic?"
"I'm not real good at math and I've got magic – don't think the two have to go together, Tim."
"No, what if I was using magic somehow to do the math?"
"You're worried you're not really a genius?" asked Tony trying not to smile.
"I know that sounds silly …"
"Tim, if – and it's a big if – you've been using magic to do math … and if nobody's spotted that … well, it might mean you're not a math genius, but I figure it means you're some other sort of genius."
"You do?"
"I do," said Tony firmly.
"But, if I do have magic … and I'm not saying I do, 'cos I'm pretty sure I don't …"
"Go on …"
"Well, there are ways of stopping it, aren't there?"
"Stopping it? You mean stopping magic?"
"Yes!" Tim was suddenly excited, "You said they do it at sports matches … and that place you were held prisoner … they suppressed it …"
"You want your magic – if you have it – to be squashed in some way?"
"Yes! Why not? Then everything can go back to normal," said Tim wistfully.
"Tim," said Tony gently, "It doesn't work like that. For one thing, it can only be suppressed for a short period. If I'd ever taken to playing cricket it wouldn't work 'cos the games can last 5 days!"
"Oh."
"Not that cricket ever really appealed," said Tony thoughtfully, "Although the one-day game was better … I had some arguments with Uncle Clive about that. He's a real purist when it comes to cricket … Ducky agrees with him," Tony saw Tim's bewildered expression and hurried on, "Not that that matters now. No, what matters is that suppression of magical powers isn't feasible, Tim. You saw what it did to me after a few days … and nobody's found a pleasant way of making it work. It's dangerous, Tim. Believe me, if you've got magic … well, you're kinda stuck with it."
"Huh. Then what do you think I should do?"
"I think you need to talk to Master Jethro. And I think you need to find out for sure if you've got magic. 'Cos this isn't going to go away. And if you've got magic, you need to find out, so you know what your options are."
"I guess. Do you think, if I do have magic, that the books will go crazy for me too?"
"They might do. The first thing I did was try to make friends with them – I think that the magic came easier because of that. And Ducky reckons that all people with magic have particular areas of skill – mine is in animation."
"I thought that was cartoons," said Tim sceptically.
Tony stiffened slightly, "There's nothing wrong with cartoons," he said, "But animation in magical terms is something different. It means that objects engage with the animator – sometimes in unpredictable ways," he added as a book suddenly launched itself towards his head, "Huh! So you think it's playtime, do you?" he said as other books came to join in an impromptu game of tag.
XXXXXX
Gibbs came back later that day to find his current pupil and former apprentice sitting exhausted around the table with books strewn around.
"What happened here?" he demanded.
"Oops, sorry, Master," said Tony, "We were playing tag and things got a bit lively," he waved a hand, there was a popping sound and the basement was restored to order.
"That's better," said Gibbs, "Huh, see Nora's back to her old ways," he gestured towards Tony's neck where the cat lay draped.
Tony reached up a hand to smooth her, "The kittens were getting rambunctious, so she left Jasper in charge. Except for this little cutie," he drew a small, fluffy grey kitten from his shirt pocket, "You're a good little boy, aren't you, Smudge." Smudge ignored him and went back to sleep. "Huh," said Tony, "I think I'll go and lie down. Been a long day …"
"And you might as well do what Ducky tells you at least once," said Gibbs drily.
"Think Tim wants a word with you, Master Jethro," said Tony as he walked away slightly hunched from the weight of Nora around his neck. He turned when he reached the studio door, "Tim, I reckon your parents will still be proud of you so long as you just do everything the best you can … I think that's what a Navy man would want – for his son to be the best he can be. Yeah?"
Tim nodded uncertainly.
"Tim?" asked Gibbs.
"M-Master Jethro, I think it's time I found out if I have magic or not."
"Fair enough. No time like the present. Get the Immediate Inventory Illumination Spell book … we'll check whether Tony cleared up properly." He grinned as Tim went to retrieve the book: he was fairly sure that Tony would have made sure to spill something.
XXXXXX
"Wow," said Tony sometime later as he surveyed the chaos in the basement.
"Wow about sums it up," agreed Gibbs morosely.
"Tim in his room?"
"Yep. He's worn out."
"I'm not surprised. I'm guessing this means that he's got magic?"
"Did you doubt it?"
"No more than you did. I mean, sensing magic in other people isn't one of my particular skills but he was off the scale."
"Yep. Clue was in the scale of that car accident. Had to be something powerful to cause that much damage to the car. He could hear the books although he pretended not to … and he sensed when your fever broke, and they got excited."
"And I'm guessing he hasn't got any better at controlling the magic?" asked Tony as he looked at the soot and scorch marks on the table and ceiling, "And is that water I see?" he asked, pointing to the wall.
"Yep, he managed to burst a pipe."
"Want me to clear up?"
"Yes. But do it quietly – I've got a headache coming on."
"How many times did he run the spell?"
"Four. I tried to stop him after the first two but he's stubborn. Insisted he'd keep going."
"I'm guessing you didn't run the Revelatory Redaction?"
Gibbs winced, "Didn't want him to know how much he'd missed … and how much he'd spilled of his own!"
Tony grinned and waved his hands, considerately squashing the usual popping sound.
"And what's Pupil Tim doing now?"
"He wanted to write a letter to his folks."
"Telling them that he has got magic?"
"Yeah. And saying he wants to stop being my pupil …"
"Oh, didn't see that coming."
"'Cos he wants to become my apprentice."
Tony laughed at the rueful but proud look on Gibbs' face, "Congratulations, Jethro. Looks like you've got an apprentice."
AN: done at last! Thank you to everyone who has come along on this more than slightly crazy ride. The characters still don't belong to me and are back in their creators' box.