ext_191008 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
go-hifreann-lea.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2005-09-21 11:14 pm
go-hifreann-lea.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-09-21 11:14 pm
[Sept 21st] [To Kill A Mockingbird] Secret
Title: SECRET
Day/Theme: Sept 21st / a secret unlit room
Series: to kill a mockingbird
Pairing: miss maudie/jack finch
Rating: PG
Maudie peaks into the room from being Jack’s larger form. “What is this?” she whispers in a voice that isn’t meant to be heard.
Then again, Jack’s ear is a mere inch away from hers lips and he hears her anyway. “It’s our secret,” he replies smoothly, a sly grin spreading across his face. Maudie pretends to not notice it, instead pushing past him into the dark chamber.
“Well, that much is obvious enough, Jack Finch. Why you brought me, here is the better question.” She’s quite a sight, her hands placed firmly on her now-developed hips and her expression faux angry, the teasing glint in her eyes giving it all away. Jack, who hasn’t seen her in close to a year, is amazed at the difference.
Or is it he who has changed, and his thoughts of her?
“I just felt like it, is all. It’s like me asking you why you’ve baked me a cake. Just plain ‘causeexactly do you propose we do in a secret unlit room?” Jack almost swallows his tongue at her words and is exceedingly glad that Maudie probably can’t see how his cheeks flared. He can think of one or two things that they could do. . .
“Jack, if you have any foul suggestions to make, I suggest you keep them to yourself. Those and your hands, thank you very much.” He doesn’t answer, but he can feel his cheeks get warmer. Vaguely, Jack makes out a figure coming over and sitting next to him. Despite her warning, she doesn’t seem to be resisting any advances.
Could he . . . ?
“So, how was it? Boston, I mean. Is it like everyone says it is?” Although he can’t see her face clearly for himself, his imagination provides enough. Her eyes are probably shining with curiosity, her lips slightly pursed with impatience and her fingers held together expectantly.
“Bah, not a bit like it at all. It’s a lot dirtier than everyone seems to think it is, y’know? They’re really kinda snobby. Just ‘cause I’m from Alabama they think they can look down on me like I’m a darky—”
“Jack Finch, you know I don’t like those kind of comparisons,” she warns, her tone suddenly grave.
“Sorry, sorry, forgot.” Jack apologizes quickly, not wanting to face her wrath of justice. At least not yet. “Anyway . . . ” Jack keeps rattling on about Boston, and with Maudie’s expression intent on his face, the time just seems to pass until they can’t see much more than an inch ahead of their noses.
“Jack, I think we should be going now. You can tell me more on our way--” As she says this, she stands, and manages to slam her forehead into Jack's making her jump backwards, a cry of pain spilling from her lips just as a groan does from his.
"Jack Finch! You want where you're heading!" she scolds, her hands placed tightly over her throbbbing forehead.
"You, too, Miss Maudie. You're not the only victim here." There's several seconds of silence when the two of them realize they're rather lost inside the dark room.
"Jack?" Maudie whispers, her voice softer now, with a layer of fear hidden underneath it all. "Where are you?"
"C'mon, Maudie. Just head towards my voice, I won't move an inch."
"Well, then don't stop talking, idiot!" Jack sticks his tongue out at her, glad she can't see him do so.
"Fine. My name Jack Finch, I'm nineteen year old. You're Miss Maudie, and you're eighteen years old. We've grown up together, but now I think you've grown far more than I have in just a year," he chuckles faintly, and opens his mouth to continue when he feels a rough hand on his chest.
Before he realizes what's happening, his mouth seems arid and his heart is jumping out of its ribcage. "Okay, now, Jack, where's the-" Now that Maudie doesn't sound afraid anymore, her natural bossiness is coming out again.
So, just to close her mouth for a little while longer, Jack feels his way up to her face and kisses her. Immediately, she stiffens and then launches a kick at his shin, which causes him to let her go and back away.
"Jack Finch! What did I tell you about keeping your hands to yourself?" Her voice sounds higher pitched than usual, and Jack wishes he could see through the darkness at the pretty blush that's probably spreading on her cheeks.
"Sorry, ma'am. I just . . . " Jack had some sort of witty comment to shoot back at her, but it dies in his throat. "Maudie? Why did you grow up into a woman without me?"
She takes her sweet ole time to answer his question, and when she does, she sounds confused and off, so different from her usual confident tones. "What other choice did I have? You left for Boston without a glance back . . . did you think I would dwindle in my loneliness?"
"I didn't expect you so changed."
"Neither did I. You're a man now, traveled and well-versed in the ways of the world beyond Alabama. How can I compare to something like that, newly-formed woman or not? And why does being a woman matter so when far beyond here things are . . . Remember when the Titanic sank? It was only in the Atlantic Ocean and yet, I can't imagine it."
"Please, Maudie, you think I can? Boston is nothing. I mean, there are people who go to England, India, China, places that are really foreign. Not me. So you shut your trap, Miss Maudie, before I shut it for you."
Maudie crosses her arms over her chest in her usual form of showing irritation. "You try that again and I'll aim a little higher."
Jack wants to laugh. If she really had been insulted, she wouldn't be talking to him at all. Still, he knows better than to think she won't make true on her warning.
Even so, morning find the two of the sprawled on the ground, Maudie on her back and Jack on his stomach, completely seperated but for Jack's arm laid over her waist. When they awaken, it's agreed that everything should and will be forgotten. Jack returns to Boston, and Maudie leaves for Maycomb. They age, and Maudie watches dreadful events play out before her very eyes, and finds herself smack in the middle of the Great Depression.
Jack knows she'll make it, though. They rarely speak but for the usual exchange of proposal and wittisicms, but even so, that room, that secret unlit room remains at the back of thier minds, a lingering memoir to what their stubbornness never allowed.
Don't eat me, I know the ending sucks.
Day/Theme: Sept 21st / a secret unlit room
Series: to kill a mockingbird
Pairing: miss maudie/jack finch
Rating: PG
Maudie peaks into the room from being Jack’s larger form. “What is this?” she whispers in a voice that isn’t meant to be heard.
Then again, Jack’s ear is a mere inch away from hers lips and he hears her anyway. “It’s our secret,” he replies smoothly, a sly grin spreading across his face. Maudie pretends to not notice it, instead pushing past him into the dark chamber.
“Well, that much is obvious enough, Jack Finch. Why you brought me, here is the better question.” She’s quite a sight, her hands placed firmly on her now-developed hips and her expression faux angry, the teasing glint in her eyes giving it all away. Jack, who hasn’t seen her in close to a year, is amazed at the difference.
Or is it he who has changed, and his thoughts of her?
“I just felt like it, is all. It’s like me asking you why you’ve baked me a cake. Just plain ‘causeexactly do you propose we do in a secret unlit room?” Jack almost swallows his tongue at her words and is exceedingly glad that Maudie probably can’t see how his cheeks flared. He can think of one or two things that they could do. . .
“Jack, if you have any foul suggestions to make, I suggest you keep them to yourself. Those and your hands, thank you very much.” He doesn’t answer, but he can feel his cheeks get warmer. Vaguely, Jack makes out a figure coming over and sitting next to him. Despite her warning, she doesn’t seem to be resisting any advances.
Could he . . . ?
“So, how was it? Boston, I mean. Is it like everyone says it is?” Although he can’t see her face clearly for himself, his imagination provides enough. Her eyes are probably shining with curiosity, her lips slightly pursed with impatience and her fingers held together expectantly.
“Bah, not a bit like it at all. It’s a lot dirtier than everyone seems to think it is, y’know? They’re really kinda snobby. Just ‘cause I’m from Alabama they think they can look down on me like I’m a darky—”
“Jack Finch, you know I don’t like those kind of comparisons,” she warns, her tone suddenly grave.
“Sorry, sorry, forgot.” Jack apologizes quickly, not wanting to face her wrath of justice. At least not yet. “Anyway . . . ” Jack keeps rattling on about Boston, and with Maudie’s expression intent on his face, the time just seems to pass until they can’t see much more than an inch ahead of their noses.
“Jack, I think we should be going now. You can tell me more on our way--” As she says this, she stands, and manages to slam her forehead into Jack's making her jump backwards, a cry of pain spilling from her lips just as a groan does from his.
"Jack Finch! You want where you're heading!" she scolds, her hands placed tightly over her throbbbing forehead.
"You, too, Miss Maudie. You're not the only victim here." There's several seconds of silence when the two of them realize they're rather lost inside the dark room.
"Jack?" Maudie whispers, her voice softer now, with a layer of fear hidden underneath it all. "Where are you?"
"C'mon, Maudie. Just head towards my voice, I won't move an inch."
"Well, then don't stop talking, idiot!" Jack sticks his tongue out at her, glad she can't see him do so.
"Fine. My name Jack Finch, I'm nineteen year old. You're Miss Maudie, and you're eighteen years old. We've grown up together, but now I think you've grown far more than I have in just a year," he chuckles faintly, and opens his mouth to continue when he feels a rough hand on his chest.
Before he realizes what's happening, his mouth seems arid and his heart is jumping out of its ribcage. "Okay, now, Jack, where's the-" Now that Maudie doesn't sound afraid anymore, her natural bossiness is coming out again.
So, just to close her mouth for a little while longer, Jack feels his way up to her face and kisses her. Immediately, she stiffens and then launches a kick at his shin, which causes him to let her go and back away.
"Jack Finch! What did I tell you about keeping your hands to yourself?" Her voice sounds higher pitched than usual, and Jack wishes he could see through the darkness at the pretty blush that's probably spreading on her cheeks.
"Sorry, ma'am. I just . . . " Jack had some sort of witty comment to shoot back at her, but it dies in his throat. "Maudie? Why did you grow up into a woman without me?"
She takes her sweet ole time to answer his question, and when she does, she sounds confused and off, so different from her usual confident tones. "What other choice did I have? You left for Boston without a glance back . . . did you think I would dwindle in my loneliness?"
"I didn't expect you so changed."
"Neither did I. You're a man now, traveled and well-versed in the ways of the world beyond Alabama. How can I compare to something like that, newly-formed woman or not? And why does being a woman matter so when far beyond here things are . . . Remember when the Titanic sank? It was only in the Atlantic Ocean and yet, I can't imagine it."
"Please, Maudie, you think I can? Boston is nothing. I mean, there are people who go to England, India, China, places that are really foreign. Not me. So you shut your trap, Miss Maudie, before I shut it for you."
Maudie crosses her arms over her chest in her usual form of showing irritation. "You try that again and I'll aim a little higher."
Jack wants to laugh. If she really had been insulted, she wouldn't be talking to him at all. Still, he knows better than to think she won't make true on her warning.
Even so, morning find the two of the sprawled on the ground, Maudie on her back and Jack on his stomach, completely seperated but for Jack's arm laid over her waist. When they awaken, it's agreed that everything should and will be forgotten. Jack returns to Boston, and Maudie leaves for Maycomb. They age, and Maudie watches dreadful events play out before her very eyes, and finds herself smack in the middle of the Great Depression.
Jack knows she'll make it, though. They rarely speak but for the usual exchange of proposal and wittisicms, but even so, that room, that secret unlit room remains at the back of thier minds, a lingering memoir to what their stubbornness never allowed.
Don't eat me, I know the ending sucks.