Disclaimer: I don't own xiaolin showdown. There would be a lot more Chase and Jack moments, if I did.

Warning: Chase x Jack and probably grammatical errors since English isn't my first language. I also took a lot of liberty with the Xiaolin universe.

AN: Something to celebrate the holiday spirits with. Yay! Ugh...too much egg nog. The vodka probably doesn't help either...

Summary: Something had changed that week he spent with Spicer. What it was, he wasn't sure. It left him unbalanced and puzzled.

Free fall

Once, every few hundred years, the planets and the stars would aligned together in a cosmic pendulum. The backlash of magical force that would be create from the alignment would sent those on the Heylin side scrambling for cover. Wuya would cringe, Hannibal Bean would curse, and it gave Chase a headache. It was a small space in time in which they became vulnerable. Their powers came and went and were sporadic at best. It was suicidal to venture out of their homes until the alignment was over, so for those on the side of good, they got a respite from having to defend the earth. After all, no Heylin in their right mind would willingly come out and expose themselves to that kind of threat. Heylin members had, if not anything else, a healthy dose of self-preservation.

Now that time has come upon the side of evil again.

For this duration, Wuya sulked in an abandoned building and Hannibal Bean chose to hold out in his nest. Chase, in hindsight, should have followed suit. He should have allowed time to take its course, but his pride wouldn't allow him to let another Wu fall into the monks' hands. When his senses picked up on a Wu activating, he teleported out of his citadel and onto a frozen field.

The monks were already there and so was Spicer.

The snow drifted around them.

Everyone but Chase was layered down with coats and jackets and Spicer looked particularly miserable. It was four in the morning. The boy hadn't had time to put on his customary make up or dye his hair. Chase could see tufts of white peeking from underneath the boy's skull cap.

Six pairs of eyes warily stared at each other before they all lunged forward.

Spicer was the first to be knocked out of the battle. He was followed by the blond monk, then the female one. The loud mouth Brazilian was next. Suddenly finding himself all alone, his ex apprentice didn't stand a chance. One well timed kick and the little monk was sent careening to the ground as Chase held the Wu triumphantly in his grasp.

Chase was the one lone warrior left standing in the field.

He yanked the rod from out of his side (curtsy of the female monk) and tossed it away, ignoring the stings and burns of his other wounds. He held a certain amount of begrudging respect for the unconscious little monks who laid on the ground nearby. They had fought long and hard. The smell of their sweat still hung in the air from their efforts. Their valiance was admirable, but Chase had given them a strong dose of reality to go along with the strong blow to the head. They were clearly out of their depth. These monks were quite possibly, out of all the monks he had fought, the weakest.

They had no sense of discipline. Case point, the dragon of air who tended to shirk his duties. Or their minds were filled with other trivial matters, like the dragon of fire's need to look into a mirror every few minutes to make sure her hair was still in place. They were childishly naive (Omi) and quick to judge (the dragon of earth). They argued with one another and bickered constantly. It was a miracle they made it this far without murdering one another.

But they had potential.

So much of it in fact, that it was almost startling. Chase had caught glimpses of it in battle. Especially in Omi. If honed correctly, they might be the most powerful monks in generations.

'Cut the head off a dragon while he's sleeping.' It was advice that Hannibal had given him when he first turned to the Heylin side. 'Take care of threats before they become problematic.'

The monks wouldn't be waking for a while and Chase seriously considered deposing of them right then and there. He heard a whimper and with a sneer decided that Spicer, who was cowering behind a rock nearby, would be the first to go. It would be a nice change of pace not having someone underfoot all the time.

Unfortunately, his body picked that opportune moment to locked.

The strength seeped out of him and he fell backwards onto the snow-covered grass.

"Chase?" A voice squeaked. An unsure finger poked at his armor and Chase growled.

"Spicer, do not touch me."

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Spicer scrambled back hastily.

"Are you ok?" Spicer asked. He edged a little closer. He seem to grow a little braver when he realized that Chase couldn't move. His crimson eyes looked worried. "Aren't you, you know, suppose to heal by now?"

For once the fool actually had a point. His wound wasn't closing. Reaching deep into his magic, Chase felt a weak pulse. His powers were on the low spectrum thanks to the alignment.

Chase felt something warm blanket him. Spicer had shed his jacket and had cover Chase up. He called for two bots and Chase found himself being carried between them, flying overhead with Spicer's incessant nagging ringing all the way. Spicer followed slightly ahead in his helopack, directing the bots.

If he were in better shape, he would have told Spicer to shut the hell up. He would told Spicer in a don't argue with me, you cretin tone of voice, that he didn't need the help.

The blood pooling from his wounds disagreed.

They reached a large, rich looking manor, something that seem wholly unconnected with Spicer, considering how the boy dressed. They wasted no time ushering Chase in. They laid him in a living room on an elegant sofa.

Small hands dug into his wound and Chase hissed in warning.

Big eyes looked up briefly before they went back to their examination.

Chase had never been this close to Spicer before.

The boy was pale. So pale that Chase got the impression that if Spicer were to be thrown in the darkest room the boy would glow in the pitch blackness. Everything from the shade of his hair to the shade of his skin was white. It was as if someone had reached out a hand and single-mindfully leached the color from the boy until nothing was left. The only speck of color that could be found on him, other than clothing, was the brilliant red hue of his eyes.

Other than the coloring, there wasn't anything interesting about Spicer. The snide thought that anything relating to Spicer couldn't possibly be worth the wasted brain cells drifted through Chase's head. Spicer made a slight gesture and a bot disappeared out the door. The bot returned a moment later with a large white kit. When Spicer opened it, Chase caught sight of medical supplies. Spicer jabbed a syringe into a small bottle and filled it with a clear liquid.

Spicer moved faster than expected. Chase was unprepared when he was stabbed in the thigh. Pure instinct had Chase reaching out and grabbing Spicer by the neck. He lifted that slender figure off the ground with flashing gold eyes. That pale figure gurgled as he struggled to breathe and Chase relished in the sound.

With a show of backbone for once, Spicer slugged Chase.

Chase released the boy in surprise and fell back onto the sofa. He watched as a bot tenderly cared for Spicer, hovering over the boy with concern.

"I'm fine," Spicer rasped. Chase's hand print was an angry visible purple around his neck.

"What did you do?" Chase snarled. His vision was getting blurred. He was starting to lose all feeling in his limbs.

"Just some sedatives," Spicer croaked. He rubbed his neck before he reached into his kit and pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. "You don't have any magic to help with the pain. Human medicine is the next best option."

He had a bottle of iodine in hand.

"Jack bot, hold him down."

Chase had never felt more worthless or helpless as the machine easily held him down. The boy edged closer. He was nothing more than a white blob at this point. Spicer's voice was in his ears.

"It's going to be ok, Chase. You'll see."

With that Chase blacked out.

He had overestimated himself. The wound, which Spicer had worked hard to cleanse, became infected. His healing was slow. He drifted in and out of consciousness. In between his dreams, he saw Spicer's figure. The boy refused to leave his side. Spicer went as far as to sleep in the chair next to the bed. His hand held onto Chase's hand tightly as if he was afraid that if he let go, Chase might go to someplace unreachable.

Behind those carefree eyes, Chase could see how terrified Spicer was.

It's been almost a thousand years since someone had, with the exception of his cats, bothered to care this much for him.

'Stupid fool.'

It must have been the fever, because the usual acidic bite in his thoughts was gone as he watched Spicer's slumbering face. It was hard to believe that Spicer was an insurmountable ball of energy when he was napping so quietly with his head on the bedspread.

Unlike Chase, the boy hadn't gotten much rest. Word had gotten out that Chase was incapacitated and Hannibal Bean couldn't find a better opportunity to attack. Day after day, Spicer had gone out with the monkey staff to defend the manor. It was surprising that he had last as long as he did, but when Spicer was determine, it seems that he could hold out. In between caring for Chase, building new defensive Jack bots, and reinforcing the force field around the property, Jack looked worn.

Jack walked in the next day, limping. He checked on Chase, who feigned sleep. Satisfied that Chase was fine, he passed out in the chair, bruised and battered, while the bots began to take care of his wounds.

Chase opened his eyes and frown at the slumbering figure.

On the third day, Hannibal had given up. The drain on his power left him weak even against someone like Spicer.

'Next time, you lucky bastard.'

The message he sent Chase telepathically made Chase smirk.

He was sure that Spicer would be mortified if he knew that Chase was awake for those moments when the normally cowardly boy finally worked up enough courage to get what he wanted.

A gentle pair of lips touched his.

From the barest slit of his eyes, Chase watched as Spicer touched his own lips with a thrilled, but nervous smile.

Chase felt the energy surge forward to restore him to his former state one early morning. The magic in him pushed outward and it made the air crackle. He could feel the power thrumming hotly in his veins. After one long week, the alignment was finally over. He was pleased to be back at full strength.

While an unaware Spicer snored and drooled, he teleported out without a word.

Chase might be Heylin, but some of what made him Xiaolin still lingered deep inside. When Spicer slipped off the edge from a cliff a month later, Chase had been the one to save him.

He grabbed onto Spicer as they fell.

Spicer was back to his usual self. His hair was dye that bright red and the mark was penciled carefully under his eye. There was the look of surprise and a whinny yelp as he clung to Chase fearfully.

"My debt is paid, Spicer," Chase said.

And because he was Heylin, and therefore a bit of a sadist, he purposely made sure that Spicer could see how fast they were descending to the ground.

The boy paled.

Then he fainted.

Chase touched the ground gently.

With no one to witness it, he carefully studied Spicer's slack face.

Something had changed that week he spent with Spicer. What it was, he wasn't sure. It left him unbalanced and puzzled.

It took two years, through endless trials and sleepless nights, before Chase finally recognized what that feeling was.

Affection...

Like a fungus, Spicer had somehow wormed his way underneath Chase's skin. The albino was embedded so deeply that extraction was no longer a viable solution. Chase couldn't imagine life without the annoying, overly dramatic fool now. He wasn't happy about that thought, but he accepted it. Chase has never been one to lie to himself.

Spicer unknowingly became Chase's weakness. Every time the boy was attacked in battle Chase fought the urge to bare his teeth and lash out at the offender. He forced his anger down and only allowed himself to discreetly eye the boy to make sure he wasn't hurt too badly. Chase had planned on keeping his feelings for Spicer a quiet secret, buried deep in the recess of his mind.

Then Spicer died.

It was an accident. In a show of heroism, Spicer actually pushed one of the monks out of the way of a falling bolder. All Chase could remember was seeing that mangle, bloody body and hearing the monks' horrified gasp.

Chase rolled his eyes and used the Sands of Time.

He ended up saving both the monk and Spicer from the bolder the second time around.

Spicer never questioned why Chase grabbed him and took him away to the citadel. He was more perceptive and sharp then most people gave him credit for. He noticed the Sands of Time in Chase's hand and the agitated look on Chase's face.

Spicer yelped when he was thrown onto a bed. He was shocked when Chase's began ripping at his clothes. He got with the program a second later, promptly and eagerly. Boy-genius indeed. Chase didn't allow Jack leave the bed that night.

With his coloring one would have expected Jack to be cold. He was anything but that. Jack's warmth roared hotter than the most blazing fireplace.

Chase pulled a tired Jack into his arms.

While the snow swirled outside, Chase was strangely content to just stay in bed basking in the heat.