Chapter Text
That One Time Ethan Wate Fell In Love With His Kidnapper's Cousin
A Caster Chronicles fanfiction
Chapter Seven:
For less than an hour, everything was perfect.
It was as though the tension in the Duchannes/Ravenwood family had magically evaporated.
Macon actually smiled – Link swore, afterwards, it was a wince, but I don't think it was – at Ridley across the table, as she sat gingerly pouring half a pitcher's worth of maple syrup onto her plate before her mother even brought the large tray of pancakes out.
Link (and this is why I don't think he even saw the expression on Macon's face, much less could accurately call it a wince) was gazing at her, watching her pour, like the sticky brown mess on her plate was The Mirror of Galadriel
Larkin was humming the theme to A Summer Place again, spearing sausages with his butterknife in rhythm with the tune as he hummed it.
For once, Reece didn't seem on the verge of a breakdown if somebody so much as sneezed at the wrong time – her hair was parted into two neat blonde braids and her facial expression was the most relaxed I'd ever seen it.
She didn't even glare at Ridley when she handed her the syrup and the entire handle was sticky.
Liv and John looked as happy as Lena and I felt – for the first time since I'd met her, I really noticed Liv's engagement ring, a black onyx in the shape of an oval.
Her happiness seemed to direct the eye right to it, something in the way she lifted her hand and the way she reached across the table for the pancake tray.
That happy, gooey, sickly sweet, outright Hallmark moment when we were all having breakfast – eating pancakes – on my – well, all of ours, I guess – last morning at the cabin, was absolutely perfect.
The most perfect moment of my life, possibly.
And then that moment ended.
With a bang.
The glass door in the living room was smashed in and the police burst into the dining room. "Everybody freeze!" bellowed the cops, charging at the table with their guns drawn.
Silverware rang against plates as everybody's hands simultaneously shot up toward the ceiling in compliance.
Except, that is, for Larkin, whose gesture of compliance was two full seconds behind the rest of them; he'd decided to finish the bite of sausage he'd been eating before they burst in and interrupted his meal.
"Ethan Wate?" bellowed one of the police, who Ethan immediately recognised as the former truant officer in Gatlin he and his friends had always referred to as 'Fatty'.
Apparently, Fatty had gotten himself a promotion. A really big one. Good for him.
"You know it's me," he sighed. Fatty had known him since he was still in diapers. His girlfriend, Amanda, sent an overcooked casserole that tasted like ass and rubber when his mom died.
Apparently, Fatty really needed to watch less Law & Order reruns on his days off – it was turning him into a total weirdo.
Macon cleared his throat delicately. "Is there a problem, officers? You realise, of course, you could simply have knocked at the front door."
"Sir" – this came from a woman officer towards the back of the group – "we have reason to believe someone in this household is guilty of kidnapping."
"Kidnapping?" Delphine sounded small and fragile, truly mystified. "Goodness! But... Kidnapping who?"
"Ethan Wate," said Fatty, again.
Ridley bit her lower lip.
Link turned tomato red – he knew there was something he'd forgotten, namely how he'd told the police where he was going, in case his best friend's kidnappers turned out to be dangerous.
Somehow, he hadn't expected them to do this.
He didn't know, he realised now, what he'd expected.
Reece looked as if she might throw up, and Lena turned ghostly pale.
"No, no, that can't be right," said Delphine; "There's some mistake, I'm sure. Ethan Wate is my daughter Ridley's boyfriend."
"No, Mama," sighed Ridley, shaking her head, finally ready to come clean. "He's not."
Ryan blurted, "He's Lena's boyfriend!"
John coughed like he was choking, and Liv had to lower one hand to pound him on the back.
"Ryan!" cried Lena, faintly dismayed.
"Oops," muttered Ryan.
"I beg your pardon?" demanded Macon, his eyes darting away from the cops to Lena, who grimaced guiltily.
"Actually," said Link, "they're engaged."
A room full of police and a family probably in need of some serious therapy all gaped open-mouthed at them both for a full minute.
"That was not helping, man," groaned Ethan.
"Next year," declared Emmaline Duchannes (Gramma), her old voice full of disgust, "I'm going to Barbados by myself. I just am. It's always something – every year it's something. Last year Ryan had the flu and we all got sick. This year, Ridley decides to kidnap her date instead of picking one up at a bar like a normal person."
"I'm sorry, Gramma, okay?" sighed Ridley. "I'm sorry for everything.
"So," asked Larkin, grinning from ear to ear, "do we get to ride in one of those cars with the sirens on or what?"
Delphine promptly struck him on the back of the head.
"Ow, Mama – I was just askin' the nice police-people a question." He looked at the police, lips pursed sulkily. "She always hits me."
"I do not!" cried Delphine, waggling her fingers frantically, because she was too nervous to lower her hands and fully gesture with them. "I've never hit him before in my life."
"Ma'am, we just saw you hit him," said the lady cop.
"You do, Mama," Ridley cut in. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "She has a real problem with that."
"Not another word from you, child," snapped her grandmother.
"Thanks, sis," Larkin mouthed, although it wasn't clear whether it was for vaguely defending him or because this was the most entertaining morning of his life.
"I still don't understand why I'm in here," said Link, glancing around the dour Charleston Detention Center holding cell. "I didn't kidnap anybody." And he wasn't part of the family, either.
He'd thought he was only sharing a ride with Larkin, when the police divided them up outside of the cabin.
The entire Duchannes/Ravenwood family was wedged in like sardines, even little Ryan (despite her being the only one of them too young to be tried as an adult), none of them looking remotely thrilled to be there.
Well, none of them apart from Larkin, whose expression was perfectly tranquil, and who was eating from an open pizza box on his lap.
"My dear Mr. Lincoln, if you could please be quiet," sighed Macon. "This is a family matter – you're fortunate to even be included."
"With all due respect, Sir, I don't happen to see it that way – my mama's gonna skin me alive when she hears I'm in trouble with the law, so excuse me if I'm a tad nervous."
"I still can't believe," Macon went on, side-eyeing his nephew, "you used your one phone call to order from Pizzeria Di Giovanni."
"And I still can't believe they deliver to jail," added Liv.
John reached across her towards Larkin, trying to snag a slice for himself.
"Hey, you said you were too stressed to eat when I asked if you wanted anything – ergo, this is my pizza." Larkin smacked his hand away, accidentally elbowing Reece, who threatened to dunk his head in the toilet a few feet away if he touched her again. "Damn, big sis, you're a mean prude, aren't you? I think someone just needs to get laid."
Delphine got up from her seat and clipped her son on the right temple. "Don't you talk that way in front of Ryan, you know she's at an impressionable age!"
"Uncle Macon," Ridley tried, weakly, all too aware he'd used his one phone call to contact his lawyer and double check this particular niece was no longer in his will.
"I think we've heard enough from you this holiday, Ridley, my dear." He turned his head so he didn't have to look at her.
"I was only trying to get some attention." She pointed over to Lena, whose fingertips fiddled with the air in front of her neck, the place where the charm necklace they'd confiscated before locking them up in here normally would have been. "And it's not like I'm the only screw up in the family – she agreed to marry some guy I found in front of the Stop & Shop. And you're still talking to her."
"Ethan's not just some guy," Lena snapped, her hands falling heavily into her lap. "And I'm not the one who took him at gunpoint and dragged him into an isolated cabin."
Larkin suddenly jumped in, his eyes narrowed, the pizza box shut to show he meant business. "No, you're the one who encouraged him to steal my car – that's right, Cuz, I know all about his little joy ride in the fastback."
"You know what?" Reece said, throwing up her hands and nearly knocking Larkin in the eye in the process. "I think we should all stop talking, we're only making it worse."
"Can it, you anal control freak," hissed Ridley.
"You're just jealous," Reece muttered. "You've always been jealous of me."
"In your dreams, Reecie Piece." Ridley swallowed hard. "I've spent my whole life wishing someone would take me away from you."
Suddenly Link pulled himself up, almost throwing poor elderly Emmaline from her seat. "Sorry, Grams," he said from the corner of his mouth, despite the fact she wasn't his grandmother. "Rid, Babe, there's something I've been waiting to say, and I can't wait. Not a dang minute longer."
He got down on one knee.
"Oh, don't do that," protested Liv, "the floor here is positively disgusting."
"Ridley Duchannes, so beautiful you make the sun shine through the rain..." Link beamed up at her. He seemed proud of his little rhyme. "Will you marry me?"
Ridley sucked her teeth in obvious annoyance. "Well, thank you, Shrinky Dink, for making the remainder of my time in this jail cell unbelievably awkward."
"Like it wasn't already?" Lena put in, leaning forward.
Link waggled his eyebrows and gestured back at her with his thumb in agreement. "See, Rid?"
"Just go stand in the other corner." She flicked her wrist. "Just go."
"Can I still buy candy next Valentine's Day and tell everyone it's for you?" Link asked, trying to remain hopeful.
"Yeah, of course." She wasn't a monster.
Because Ethan Wate didn't press charges and was (according to Fatty) a "poor idiot," they were – after two agonizing hours – informed they were free to pick up their belongings and go.
Only Larkin, Lena, and Liv had had anything on them when they were taken in, so they broke apart from the others and made their way to the glass panel behind which a lady cop (not the same one from the cabin earlier) eyed them curiously.
She returned Liv's onyx engagement ring with little comment, although she was openly amazed at the sheer amount of things Larkin had had in his pocket – a spray can of black paint, a rubber snake, a penknife, an inexplicably autographed picture of Christina Aguilera, a bracelet that had once belonged to his aunt Sarafine, and a sparkly green Superball.
When it came to Lena, there was a longer pause as the cop untangled the chain and began to examine and list the things on it as was required by law – most of it was, to her eyes at least, just a lot of junk, but she was startled by the size and brilliance of the diamond engagement ring Ethan Wate had originally meant for Emily Asher.
"Girl," she whistled, handing the charm necklace under the glass to her. "You hold onto that man like grim death – whoever he is."
Lena nodded as she slipped the chain over her head.
"Ethan," Lena called, spotting him on the steps outside the jail, his head in his hands.
He stood up and began to smile when he heard her.
"Hey, not that I expected you to – though you totally could – but thanks for not pressing charges against my family." Lena gave him a lopsided grin. "Ridley really did it this time."
"This time, huh?" teased Ethan. "What did she do all the other times?"
Chuckling, she shook her head. "Trust me, you probably don't want to know. But seriously, thanks for the no charges thing."
His hand reached out and brushed back a lock of her dark hair, slightly frizzed in the growing humidity. "What kind of a gentleman would I be if I pressed charges against my own fiancée? Not to mention my best friend – I heard Link got caught up with the rest of you."
"Yeah, the poor guy was terrified his mama was going to tear him a new one – Mrs. Lincoln sounds like a bit of a hard-ass."
"Oh, you have no idea," Ethan assured her.
She leaned forward, and they likely would have kissed, if it were not for a shrill voice shrieking, "Sweet Jesus, is that her?"
Ethan swore under his breath. It was Emily Asher. Taking up the Lord's name in vain, which was something of a rarity for her, giving their small-town southern upbringing.
"Hi," said Lena, raising her hand at the wrist and waving. She didn't seem too stressed, at least initially, about meeting her rival.
Emily repeated the question, daggers in her eyes.
Link came up behind them. "Emily, chillax, girl."
"Are you the one who kidnapped my fiancé?" she demanded, ignoring Ethan mouthing that he wasn't her fiancé and folding her arms across her chest. "God will condemn you. You're so lucky Ethan isn't–"
"Relax, Barbie, I'm the one you're looking for – I took him." Ridley.
"Excuse me, Sugar, but I didn't realise they took away your clothes when they put you in a holding cell. Or is that not underwear you're wearing?"
"Emily, shut your mouth." After everything he'd been through, Ethan sure as hell wasn't going to let her talk like this to his future family.
Her expression tightened, eyes narrowing. "What is wrong with you?"
"I know you're trying to defend me or whatever, but you don't know what happened, Emily – you don't know the Duchanneses like I do." He closed his eyes and inhaled. "This is all one big misunderstanding – I was with them because I wanted to be."
"You know, I'm sorry" – she dropped his gaze – "but I don't think Imma be able to marry you."
"I–" I didn't ask you.
"I think we need time apart, and I'm sorry to hurt you." She ran her hand backwards through her hair, fingers splayed, and began to turn away from him – accidentally crashing into Larkin, who was spying on the conversation from a couple feet away.
Uncle Macon had sent him to get Lena and tell her to stop making goo-goo eyes at 'that Wate boy' and get in the car – a black hearse he'd had AAA in conjunction with his lawyer send over – unless she wanted to be left behind, but he'd gotten sidetracked.
"Hello, pretty lady," he crooned.
"As if–" began Emily, before getting a proper glimpse of him – craning her neck at the last second to do so – and realising he was good-looking. "Oh, my." She gazed into his green eyes – she'd never seen such an intense green before. "Um, hello."
"Hello."
"You said that already."
"Okay, look, I think of myself as a reasonable guy, but if your cousin starts dating Emily Asher, we're moving to New York," Ethan muttered to Lena.
"On the first bus leaving town after the wedding," she agreed, making a face. "Larkin," she warned.
"Oh, right." Her cousin seemed to momentarily snap out of it, pulling back from Emily right before their outstretched hands made contact. "Uncle Macon says–"
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
Someone in the hearse – either Reece or Macon himself – was pressing down on the horn like there was no tomorrow.
"Yeah, he says that," Larkin finished, sticking his hands in his jacket pocket.
"I have to go," Lena sighed.
"I wish I could go back with you guys, but my dad and Amma are probably waiting to wring my neck." Regardless of his being a grown adult, regardless of the fact that he had tried to call them from John Breed's cell phone, and regardless of the fact Amma had never put a hand on him in his entire life – she was the kind of woman who could quiet a kid in the middle of cutting up with a mere look – Ethan was fairly certain he was about to be greeted with a hard slap across the face and a demand he never scare them like this again the minute he entered the house at Wate's Landing.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
"Give us a minute, Reece!" screamed Ridley, hollering over her shoulder.
Ethan glanced both ways. "You guys wait here one more second, okay?" He held up his index finger and walked over to the hearse himself, tapping on the black tinted glass of the driver's side window. "Macon."
It rolled down, slowly.
"Yes, Mr. Wate?"
"I just wanted to say, don't be too hard on Ridley, sir."
"And why, Mr. Wate, would you say that?"
"I think deep – deep, deep, deep – down she's all right," he told him. "She's a good person. She just doesn't have one a those little voices telling her when something's maybe not the best idea."
"I see." Macon regarded him coolly over a pair of oval-shaped sunglasses.
"She really loves you guys." That much was apparent.
His voice was softer. "I know, Mr. Wate – I know."
"Well – well, uh – good."
A couple of weeks later, during an early Halloween party, which Lena attended dressed as a green-and-gold butterfly – the look completed by colourful, faintly metallic make up reminiscent of a high-end performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream – she asked him what he'd said to her uncle to make him go easier on Ridley, as he apparently had, but Ethan didn't tell her.
He didn't see the need to, even if it wasn't a secret, even if she was his fiancée.
He was just glad it worked.
So, doing one crazy thing – or three, or even a hundred – probably does make you crazy after all.
But I've realised I don't care.
Not now.
So I'm crazy.
I'm also happy.
Finis