Safety
Author: Sweet Defense
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Fried Green Tomatoes (Movie): It's been 4 years, do they still feel the same about each other? Set just after Ruth leaves Frank.
Category: Romance (mild f/f slash), Angst, Friendship
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, they belong to Fannie Flagg, John Avnet, the brilliant Mary Stuart Masterson and Mary-Louise Parker, Universal Pictures, Act III Communications, and a lot of other people, none of whom are me. No copyright infringement is meant and absolutely no money has changed hands.
Archive: Yes, but please let me know first so that I can come visit.
Feedback: Yes, please. Kindness is much appreciated.
After driving all day, Idgie pulled up outside the Threadgoode home. Ruth had fallen asleep shortly after leaving her Valdosta, her head starting out on Idgie's shoulder and finally ending up in Idgie's lap. Idgie stroked her finger lightly down Ruth's bare arm to wake her, and Ruth sat up, stretching after the long drive. The entire Threadgoode household streamed out of the house, grabbing trunks and boxes out of the car.
In the general confusion, Momma and Sipsy grabbed the still half-asleep Ruth, leaving Idgie standing in front of the house, wondering when she lost control of the situation and where all these people had come from. Inside, everyone was asking Ruth questions all at once, Sipsy was trying to get dinner finished, and Momma was hovering over Ruth, alternating her own questions with admonitions for everyone to leave Ruth alone. Leona was home with her children, and Leona was chasing the children, screaming at them to sit down for pity's sake and behave themselves. Momma and Sipsy made sympathetic noises over the bruises on Ruth's arms and neck, while Julian was telling Poppa about what had happened with Frank, waving his arms to illustrate the story. Big George just kept quietly unloading the car. Idgie made her way through what seemed to be masses of people, nearly tripping over Leona's son as he made yet another circuit of the living room, and briefly touched Ruth's shoulder, then disappeared out the backdoor with a slam of the screen door. Ruth tried to get up from her chair to follow her, but Momma pushed her back, insisting that she needed to rest and eat; she had to take care of the baby after all. Ruth was too tired to argue and let Idgie leave. Chaos continued to reign through dinner, but all Ruth wanted to do was find Idgie and spend some time with her.
Ruth excused herself as soon as she could and went up to her room, where Sipsy had unpacked some of her clothes and laid her Bible on the night stand. Ruth walked over the window in hopes of seeing Idgie, but there was no sign of her friend, just the moon shining over the garden. The slight breeze brought the scent of jasmine through her window from the vines below her window. Her thoughts were on Idgie - she had often thought that loving Idgie was a bit like having a tiger by the tail: exhilarating, exhausting, and often dangerous. She loved her, though, and she had finally allowed herself to realize that, sin though it may be.
Ruth leaned her head against the window frame and ran her hand over the slight rounding of her stomach. What was she going to do? Rationally, she knew she had had to leave Frank, for the baby if not for her, and now that her mother was no longer alive, he had been more violent than ever. She had hoped that he would have been gentler with her now that she was pregnant, but, if anything, he had become more vicious. The night of her mother's funeral, he had beaten her and then raped her viciously as she lay half-conscious. Ruth had feared for the baby's life as he thrust into her, leaving bloody streaks on the rough white sheets, but much to her relief, the baby seemed to be fine. Then there was Idgie. Ruth loved her, she could admit that to herself now, but would Idgie still love her or had Idgie just had a teenage crush on her? Their last meeting had been awkward, both unsure of the other. Ruth sighed, rubbing her abdomen, trying to send reassuring thoughts to the baby within. She had always done the right thing; Idgie had been right about that, except now. It was a sin to leave her husband, even worse to leave him for a woman. Now what if that woman turned out not to love her after all? Ruth turned away from the window after one last look at the moonlit darkness beyond, the jasmine scent suddenly too thick and cloying.
She stripped out of her dress and into a soft cotton nightgown, lying down on the bed to read her Bible. She could not focus on the words, though; her thoughts were whirling, with Idgie at the center. She shook her head, willing herself to focus on the old lines, without any success. Finally she gave up. Closing the Bible, Ruth lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, listening for Idgie's footsteps on the stairs.
Idgie roamed along the river for hours, following the fireflies. Heat lightning flickered over the dam, and the air was heavy and damp with the coming rain. She felt like she had been handed the world but wasn't quite sure what to do with it. She had had so many imaginary conversations with Ruth over the past few years, but now she found herself without any words and a little shy around Ruth. Idgie could not recall the last time she had been tongue-tied like this, she wasn't sure she had ever felt that way before. She was a little afraid of going back and having to face Ruth, now that Ruth was actually there. Their last encounter, when she had driven to Valdosta to drop off her mother's pie, had been uncomfortable at first, both trying to figure out the other's feelings. Ruth had probed her about any possible boyfriends, and Idgie had stammered, blushed and made some stupid comment about Grady Kilgore. Grady would have been surprised to have been elevated to one of her "fellows;" they had never been anything but friends, much as she liked to played poker with him. Pleased, but surprised.
She had had a brief relationship that was mostly physical with Eva after Ruth left, but both had known that they were substitutes at most. Eva knew how much Idgie missed Ruth, and had known, probably before Idgie knew it, that Ruth would be the only person for her. She had gone to Eva after returning from Valdosta, the only time she had seen Ruth in the last four years. Their conversation had been awkward and stilted until Idgie noticed Ruth's bruises. Then her awkwardness had been replaced by anger, and she had been ready to burst into the house to go after Frank. Only Ruth's insistence and gentle hands had stopped her, and even then, she had been hurt that Ruth didn't seem to want her to protect her. She had left, though, unable to refuse Ruth anything, even when it meant letting Ruth stay with Frank to be beaten. All she had wanted was to bring Ruth home with her, home where she would be safe, and she could not understand why Ruth didn't leave Frank for her that day. Eva had taken her in and tried to comfort her. Now that Ruth had really left her husband, Idgie's feelings were tumbling about each other, hope and insecurity at the forefront.
Her feet splashed through puddles alongside the familiar, rushing, murky water, and a catfish jumped in the river. The river's scent of silt and algae filled her nostrils as she walked on, turning over the events of the last two days in her head. She hadn't had any contact with Ruth since that day two years ago, after deciding yet again that relationships just weren't for her. Everyone she loved seemed to leave her, so this time she chose not to pursue Ruth, since she would only end up hurting her in the end. There were times
she had desperately wanted to drive back to Valdosta, but she ruthlessly turned away from those feelings, telling herself she was better off forgetting Ruth.
Then she had gotten the letter yesterday, and Momma had read it to her. It seemed clear to her that the answer was to go get Ruth, and she still thought so. Idgie just wasn't sure what she was going to do now that Ruth was here. Did Ruth really care for her? Did Ruth want her as more than a friend, or did Ruth just want her help so that she could leave Frank? How was she going to protect Ruth and the baby? She worried that Frank could come after Ruth, and she wasn't sure she would be able to protect her from Frank. She flexed her back experimentally, feeling the aching bruises and stiffness from when he slammed her into the wall. Idgie had no illusions that she would have been successful in rescuing Ruth without the help of Big George and Julian. The evening before, she had stopped by the River Club the evening before and let Grady know that she was going to pick up Ruth. Grady had promised he would keep his eyes open and let some of the boys know to keep an eye on the Threadgoode house for the next week or so. In the end, though, Idgie felt that it was her responsibility, that she alone had to make sure Ruth was safe. She sighed softly, hoping Frank wouldn't come after Ruth, or that he'd at least wait long enough for Idgie to come up with a plan and for her back and neck to stop hurting.
Idgie finally found her way home, leg-weary and exhausted. The house was dark, except for a faint light in Ruth's room. Idgie walked into the house and up the stairs, seeing the light under Ruth's door. She stopped for several seconds, then shook her head and walked to her room.
Ruth heard the footsteps and her pulse started racing as Idgie's steps came closer. She wondered and hoped when Idgie stopped outside her door, and then she heard Idgie walk down the hallway. Ruth sighed with despair. Was she back at the beginning again with Idgie? Back when Idgie refused to let her near her and fought every attempt at friendship, meeting Ruth's gentle advances with sarcasm and bitterness. Slowly tears began to fall from Ruth's eyes. She was so tired, her whole body ached, and all she wanted was to talk to Idgie, to be reassured that there was a place for her here. Maybe she should just have stayed with Frank, maybe he was right and she deserved the beatings after all. Maybe she was as unlovable and cold as he insisted.
Idgie sat on her bed, unlacing her muddy boots, letting them hit the floor with solid thuds, scattering sand and mud on the clean wooden floor. Idgie unbuttoned the men's shirt she was wearing over the white tank top, pulled the tails out of her shorts, and laid back on the bed in the dark. The moonshine through the chinaberry tree made web-like patterns on the ceiling. Idgie tried to fight her way to sleep, tired after the long drive and her roaming along the river, but sleep would not come. Her thoughts swirled around Ruth, the way her head had felt earlier, heavy on her thigh, and the despair she had seen in Ruth's eyes when she came up the stairs when she came to get her. Ruth had trembled under her hand as she came up behind her, and her arms and throat were covered with bruises. She had leaned back briefly into Idgie, and then they had started packing. With a frustrated sigh, Idgie got out of bed. Maybe she just needed to get a glass of water or something, or maybe she'd sit out on the porch, keeping watch.
Idgie silently padded barefoot down the hallway. As before, she paused at Ruth's door, and then, taking a deep breath, walked into the room without knocking.
"Hey." Ruth sat up in bed, wincing at the pull on her bruised body and swiping at her eyes.
"Hey." Idgie walked over the window without meeting Ruth's eyes, leaning against the jamb the same way Ruth had done earlier. She looked out through the screen.
"Where'd you go earlier?" Ruth said softly.
"Just walking."
"To the River Club?"
"Just along the river. Starting to rain."
Idgie stood in silence for several minutes, refusing to look at Ruth, just staring out the window. She still wasn't sure what to say to Ruth. So, she looked out the window, it was easier than looking at Ruth's face and seeing the tear tracks on her cheeks. The cicadas hummed outside, the noise deafening in the silence of the room. Rain drops were falling, rustling the leaves of the trees. She leaned her forehead against the window frame, closing her eyes briefly.
"Looks like it's going to be hot tomorrow." Oh, great, now I'm talking about the weather. Idgie looked sideways through her bangs at Ruth.
"Looks like it," Ruth replied. "Think we'll have a hot summer."
"There's lighting over by the river."
"Some rain will be nice, maybe it'll be cooler tonight."
With that scintillating topic exhausted, Idgie fell silent again. This shouldn't be so hard, she thought, this is Ruth. This is the woman you told everything four years ago, the one you spent an entire summer with. The one you fell in love with. The one you still love. Moths were hitting the screens in the windows, flailing against the barrier, trying to get to the light inside the room.
Idgie suddenly straightened and made to turn away from the window. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
"Idgie, come here," Ruth commanded gently, flipping back the bedcovers next to her. Idgie looked up, fear and hope in her brown eyes. She hesitated, leaning a little toward Ruth.
"Come here, Bee Charmer," Ruth insisted, holding out her hand in invitation.
Idgie slouched over, head down, and sank down onto the bed, next to Ruth, slipping her long legs under the covers. She flinched a bit as her bruised and sore back hit the headboard and leaned back more cautiously.
Turning off the light, Ruth leaned her head against Idgie's shoulder, bringing up one hand to toy with the toggle of the younger woman's necklace. A rain-cooled breeze came in through the open window.
"You still wear it?" The wonder in her voice was clear.
"I never take it off."
Both of them thought back to the day Ruth had given Idgie the gold chain. It was the day before Ruth was set to leave to go back to Valdosta, and Idgie had been unusually moody as the day of her departure neared. When Ruth got up that morning, Idgie had been missing, and Momma had suggested she go into town with her rather than wait around for Idgie. Wandering the few streets of Whistle Stop, Ruth had found a small store with a selection of jewelry, and she had spent most of what she had been paid that summer for teaching Sunday school on a necklace for Idgie as a farewell present. When she and Momma came back to the house, Idgie had been sitting up in the chinaberry tree, chin on her fists, looking down the road. Calling her down, Ruth had convinced her to go for a walk, and they had gone off, shoulders
bumping companionably as they ambled down the wooded paths. Ruth tried to stay on safe topics, like the events of the summer, at some point Idgie's hand slipping into Ruth's, fingers lacing. They climbed up a small hill to a large oak tree, sitting down in its shade. Ruth leaned back into the rough bark of the old tree, Idgie's head in her lap, looking up at her, adoration on her face. Ruth wanted nothing more than to stay with Idgie, especially at that moment, and had it just been her, she might have done that. But her mother depended on her, and the only way for her to take care of her mother was to marry a man with some money. She wasn't particularly attracted to Frank, she certainly didn't love him, but she knew he would take care of her and her mother. She couldn't afford to have love enter into it.
Ruth had reached into her pocket and pulled out the small package, her other hand covering Idgie's eyes, feeling the long lashes tickling her palm, and dropped it onto it onto Idgie's stomach. Sitting up in a hurry, Idgie had torn the paper off, grinning at Ruth, thinking it was some small trinket. When she found the chain, her mouth dropping open and eyes filling with tears, she had looked at Ruth with awestruck wonder. Ruth leaned over and touched her lips to Idgie's, then pulled away immediately.
"To remember this summer."
Idgie continued to look at her, stunned into silence, tears falling down her face. Ruth slipped behind Idgie, so that Idgie could not see her eyes and flushing cheeks.
"Here, let me put it on you." Still a little flustered, Idgie held her heavy hair out of the way as Ruth forced her trembling fingers to fasten the heavy chain around the blonde's neck
"I'll never forget it, Ruth. It's been the best summer of my life," Idgie's voice was gravelly with swallowed tears. She then threw herself into Ruth's arms, holding her as if she never wanted to let go. The next day Ruth had left, and Idgie had not been there.
"What is it, Idgie?" Ruth pushed Idgie's hair back behind her ears.
"Nothing." Idgie kept her eyes facing forward, away from Ruth's, even as she leaned into Ruth's warmth. The memory had brought back the tears, but she ruthlessly forced them back, blinking several times.
Ruth put her hand on Idgie's chin and turned her face toward her, forcing Idgie to meet her eyes.
"Nothing, I swear. I was just out walking. Too many people here," Idgie's eyes flicked away, but not before Ruth saw the suspicious sheen to them.
"You know, when Frank beat me, I thought of you, thought of that wonderful summer, and I wished I was back here – with you." Ruth whispered, her voice cracking with unshed tears. "I'd be hurting so much, but thinking of you got me through it, especially after my mother died."
"Really?" Idgie looked up at Ruth through her bangs, not quite sure what she was hearing, hoping her ears weren't deceiving her.
"Yes. Really." Ruth leaned over and touched her lips briefly to Idgie's cheek. "Thank you for coming to get me."
Idgie blushed in the darkness, her heart stutter-stepping at the touch of Ruth's lips on her cheek, much the same way it had done that summer four years ago.
"Oh, Idgie, what am I going to do? Where am I going to go?" Ruth whispered, her voice a bit shaky.
"What do you mean? I thought you were going to stay here?" Idgie said, a bit nonplussed, her voice rising at the end as she realized Ruth was talking about leaving again. Her pulse was hammering in her ears. Ruth couldn't leave again, not after she'd just come back.
"I can't impose on your parents, I can't expect them to take care of me and the baby. I can't get a job, even if I could find one, nobody would hire a pregnant woman, not one who left her husband. I don't have any family left, now that my parents are both dead."
"Aw, Ruth, you know you can stay here, it'll work out," Idgie tried to reassure her. She had to find some way to convince Ruth to stay. She just knew she couldn't lose Ruth again, this time she might not survive it.
"I can't take your parents' money, honey. I don't even think Reverend Scroggins will let me teach Sunday school again, not after leaving Frank. He won't hire me again, I know they won't."
Idgie turned around so she was facing Ruth, picking up both Ruth's hands, and looked deeply into her dark eyes:
"I'll think of something, Ruth, I promise you can stay here. With me. We'll come up with something. Maybe we can play poker or something." She gave a shaky laugh, and Ruth cuffed her gently on the shoulder.
"Idgie Threadgoode, what's your Momma going to say if we go around playing poker for money? Especially with the baby – is Grady going to babysit while we play?" Ruth grinned at her as they both giggled at the picture of Grady taking care of a baby, their worries temporarily forgotten. She somehow believed that Idgie would think of some way for them to survive without further imposing on the Threadgoode's.
"Well, maybe not Grady. Maybe we'll have to get Gladys to do it. She did fall on her head when she was just a small child, though, but she's alright most of the time," Idgie grinned at Ruth's shocked look.
" But we'll think of something, I promise." Idgie was suddenly serious again.
Ruth gently slid down into the bed, pulling up the covers. Suddenly she was exhausted and could barely keep her eyes open. She looked up at Idgie's soft smile.
"Honey, could you just hold me? Just for a little while. I just need your arms around me."
Idgie laid down under the covers, lying down next to Ruth, who snuggled as close to her as she could, their bare legs touching. Idgie slipped her arm beneath Ruth's head, and Ruth tucked her head into the crook of Idgie's neck, Idgie's still rain-damp hair soft against her face, the fine hairs tickling Ruth's forehead. Idgie tightened her arms around her, leaning her head into Ruth's, blonde and brunette hair blending and mixing, Ruth's slight floral scent mingling with Idgie's smell of the river and her own wildness. Although her bruises ached a bit at Idgie's tight hold, Ruth wished she could lie there forever, safe and held by her love.
Idgie lay for a long time holding Ruth, finally feeling the older woman's body relax and grow heavy in her arms as she fell asleep. Idgie stayed awake long after Ruth fell asleep, watching over her, watching over Ruth, one arm around her love, the other hand lying protectively over the slight rounding of Ruth's abdomen, keeping them both safe.
Early the next morning as dawn was breaking across the river, Momma Threadgoode eased open Ruth's door, wanting to check on the woman she considered another one of her daughters. She saw Ruth and Idgie sleeping deeply, tightly curled around each other.