Author's Note: This is the edited version of my lil' ol' first fic Homework Dilemma. Enjoy!
Betas: Bekah See and my cousin Angel. Love you both!
Disclaimer: I'm only gonna say this once (in this fic): I. Do. Not. Own. Sanctuary.
Prompt: An improbable comedic scene that would NEVER take place in Sanctuary!
Setting: The Sanctuary, waaay before season one (Ashley is thirteen)
FYI: Tu-Ansicter is a play on the Norwegian To Ansikter, meaning "Two Faces." As in Two-Faced Guy.
ŠÃŊĈŦŨäŘŸ
". . . The peroxide seems to have an almost nitrogen-like effect. Next is pure chlorine." Helen picked up another test tube, tilting it so that three drops fell into the next puddle in her vast array of petri dishes. She shook it and let it sit for fifteen seconds. "Completely feckless. Now, where is my. . ." she trailed off, looking around at the various bottles and containers. "Bugger." She slid her hands out of the gloves and closed the doors to the mini-chamber, turning around to continue her search and jumped. "Ashley! Don't sneak up on me like that!"
Magnus looked closesly at her daughter and quirked an eyebrow at the girl's expression. "Oh my dear, I don't like that look on your face. The last time I saw it, poor Henry ended up with a concussion." She reached up and turned off the headset microphone that had been recording her findings.
"I. Hate. Middle school."
"Well then, you should be happy that this is your last year there. Now answer my question young lady, are you practicing your martial arts with young Henry?" Her eyes scanned Ashley's posture and facial expression, determining the matter was not something so serious and she could continue in her search for the lithium.
"Noooo. That was so elementary school. And speaking of school, I HATE IT." Ashley pouted, narrowing her eyes. Her mother chuckled at the sight.
"Well now, what would cause such an outburst? You haven't been feeding the class pets to each other again, have you?" Helen scanned the table Ashley was blocking. I know it's around here somewhere. . .
"Noooo, that was so sixth grade! God mother, I'm in eighth grade!" Ashley rolled her eyes.
Helen sighed, realizing it would be better for her Draco Volans saliva samples if she got this over with quickly. "Well, are you going to tell me or not?" There it is!
Ashley pouted again, and she shifted her weight to her right foot. "I was playing with the other kids, nicely, at lunch, when they started talking about their homework."
"Sounds perfectly normal, as far as I can tell. Please continue." Now if I could just slide a few inches to the right, I could casually rest my hand on the shelf and Ashley wouldn't think I was favouring my work to her callow problems. . .
"And excuses."
"For. . . ?" Another five centimetres. . .
"For not having their homework."
Helen paused. "And this led up to you sneaking up behind me in my lab, how?"
"They asked me what my best excuse was."
"And you said. . . ?" Have I missed something? She ran the conversation through her head.
"I said that my mom's geek werewolf ate it," Ashley mumbled quietly, cringing and dropping her gaze.
"You said what?" Helen leaned closer, partly to hear Ashley's response and partly so she could subtly sneak her hand around that darn beaker.
Ashley looked her mom right in the eye and straightened up with dignity. "I said that my mom's geek werewolf ate it."
Helen's eyes widened. "You said what?!" The beaker jerked and wobbled when she snatched her hand back.
"Well, that's my best excuse!"
Shaking her head, Helen said, "And they didn't believe you, right?"
"NO! They didn't! Then they started laughing at me, saying I made up the stupidest excuse ever. I hate middle schoolers!"
"I believe you said you hated middle school. Now you're telling me it's your peers you hate? There is a bit of a difference, you know." Though she'd never admit it, it still frightened Helen a bit when her teen-aged daughter used her mother's 'angry' voice.
Boldly, Ashley proclaimed, "I HATE BOTH."
Wishing she could roll her eyes and not get that horrid 'my-life-sucks-and-all-you-can-do-is-roll-your-eyes-at-me?' scoff teenagers seemed to have perfected over the decades, Helen said, "And why did you come to me? In my lab? You know better than to disturb me at this." She gestured towards the shelf, suddenly remembering the saliva.
"Because I'm MAD."
Helen reached for the beaker of lithium, inwardly shrugging. Why not? "At what? I see no dilemma in your story."
Ashley's mouth dropped open. "Did you even go to middle school? Do you know how embarrassing it is to have everyone laugh at you, thinking God-knows-what about how crazy you are?"
"Well actually, at your age, there was no middle school. I went to finishing school. And, to answer your second question, yes, I do know how unnerving it is. You can't honestly believe that living with my daughter in a huge mansion in the middle of the Old City, with no man around, gets me much respect. And my father was the same. So I've had at least three generations of peers looking at me that way." As Helen finished speaking, she turned around and opened a compartment on the top of the containment box, which she quickly slid the beaker into and shut. Behind her, she heard Ashley's mouth snap closed and her weight shift back to the other foot.
After a beat of silence, Ashley spoke. "So. . . we're losers then, aren't we?" Her voice sounded fairly small.
"Perhaps." Helen smiled a little, turning around just enough to peer at Ashley. "But I prefer the term 'eccentric.' Now, why don't you go do that homework so that you don't have to use any more of those excuses you have piled away, hmm?" Helen faced her saliva analysis again. Just a few drops. . .
"What? No ice cream to celebrate our wonderful eccentric-ness?" As Helen turned to look at her daughter, Ashley's eyes widened and she pasted her 'no-really,-I'm-just-an-innocent-teenager' look that she usually saved for the moment before she whipped out her pistol and shot the bad-guy to bloody hell, even adding the fifteen-degree-head-tilt. Hook, line, and sinker. What flavours do we have in the freezer? I hope Tu-Ansicter has kept away from it.
Helen made a mental note to come back to the analysis as soon as she finished her two scoops of double-fudge-brownie. "I suppose a frozen treat does sound delectable." Mm, quite.
Ashley grinned. "Mom?"
"Yes sweetheart?"
"Race you to the freezer." She took off.
Blinking in surprise, Helen's mind computed that last line. "Oh, no you don't!"
From down the hall, Ashley said, "Last one there has to scoop! And wash dishes!"
"You had better wash your hands, young lady! I don't like dirt in my ice cream!" Helen tossed over her shoulder, taking the steps of a staircase that just might have been hidden behind a conveniently placed tapestry.
ŠÃŊĈŦŨäŘŸ
Author's End Note: Feel free to review. . . ^_^
