I do not own Ratched.
I do not own my angel boy Huck. But I love him.
Huck Finnigan Lives Again: A Ratched Fairytale
What's In A Name (And Other Things)
"How did you get your name?"
Now that they've gotten past the divorce hurdle . . .
"Is it really Huck? I've never heard anyone with that name before."
. . . Grace is more full of questions than ever before.
And Huck Finnigan . . .
"Oh, uh, my mother."
. . . finds that he enjoys answering them.
"She's always loved The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn."
His mother.
"She read them over and over to me as a child."
Beulah Olive Thatcher.
Brown hair, brown eyes.
Everyone says he looks just like her.
Or did before the mortar explosion melted half his face.
Beulah Olive Thatcher.
Orphaned at age eight in the Great San Francisco Earthquake of '06.
"Said even though life wasn't perfect for Huck, he, uh, he always managed to come out okay."
Whirlwind pre-war marriage to a Navy man.
Pregnant at age 20.
"Said that was something she always hoped for me because life wasn't always going to be easy."
Only to be widowed by the Spanish Flu the same year.
Sent to live with in-laws.
"And I should remember to never give up when things get bad."
Father-in-law deciding the girl had been through quite enough, pressed her for her most beloved pasttime.
"Said for me to always remember to find a way to carry on and be okay."
And subsequently saw her made librarian of the Sacramento City College's bibliotheca.
Able to earn her living wages surrounded by the things she loved most.
"She named me 'Harold' after my father because it was proper and expected."
Her son.
"But, uh, said she called me Huck . . ."
And books.
". . . because she wanted me to remember what she said."
Huck learning to walk amid books, talk amid books.
And of course, learning to read at his mother's knee . . .
". . . is right, and wrong is wrong, and a body ain't got no business doing wrong when he ain't ignorant and knows better."
. . . amid books.
"Ruth said, . . ."
It feels weird to casually say her name in front of anyone.
". . . well, she wanted to be married to an intelligent, responsible man and not a vagrant troublemaker. Said she preferred a Harold over a Huck. I didn't really mind, you know. It seemed like it was time to grow up and be a man."
Much less Grace.
"After the war and the divorce when I moved up here, I couldn't stand being called Harold anymore. And I wanted Ma to be able to get hold of me if she needed. So I went back to Huck."
Grace who tilts her head just a little, as if she already knows what he will say in response to the question she now asks.
"What do you want to be called now?"
He finds a smile, gives it to her.
"I like Huck."
She gives him one in exchange.
"Huck it is then. And I think it's a wonderful name for an intelligent, responsible man. Who remembers how to smile and have fun as well."
And just because she is so gentle and kind and makes him happy . . .
"Thank you, Grace."
. . . he smiles for her . . .
"You're welcome. Huck."
. . . again.
He knows she was born in 1926.
That she was smart enough to graduate high school at age sixteen.
Choosing to do her part For The Cause, working in a munitions factory while he was getting his half his face flashburned off in Germany.
And stayed at it even after the war, enjoying the work, enjoying the sense of contribution.
Until she was forced to quit to "make way for the workin' man, honey, and you can get back in the kitchen where you belong".
And after that deciding to work toward becoming a nurse, thus landing a job at St. Lucia's.
What he doesn't know and guesses it doesn't really matter is . . .
"Why didn't you get married? If you don't mind me asking. I can't imagine you not having suitors."
. . . her attachment status.
And Grace smiles.
"I did. Some."
Shrugs prettily.
"During the war romance just didn't seem very important."
"And after . . ."
Another shrug.
"I'm not looking to get married just to have a husband, Huck."
And he . . .
"But I might. If the right man came along. A good man I could be proud and happy to love."
. . . makes a note of it.
Alright. Fair enough.
"I've been, uh, I've been meaning to ask you a question, Grace."
But he does know . . .
"What's that, Huck?"
. . . what he wants to say next.
"Could I, uh, . . .
It didn't go well the last time.
"Could I take you out sometime? If that sounds like something you thought would be nice."
And he can only hope . . .
"Well, we never did get that picnic; . . ."
. . . things go better . . .
". . . are you free Saturday?"
. . . this time.
"I am."
And she . . .
"Then it's a date, Huck Finnigan."
. . . does.
"Finally."
And right before he frowns, . . .
Did I wait too long?
. . . she gifts him the sweetest smile . . .
Oh. She was joking.
. . . he's ever seen.
Well, that's okay then.
And he feels good about it.
Thanks to DinahRay and Conbird for taking the time to graciously review before!
And I know I'm just about writing Grace as a Mary Sue, no family conflict, no character hangups, etc. But honestly, I just want Huck to have someone nice. I want Grace to be a healthy, intelligent young woman who could have any man she wants but she wants the scarred-up war vet because he's a good man and she can see that.
Plus he deserves it and Ryan Murphy freaking killed him off for no other reason than shock value and to get another man out of the way so women could triumph (which is cool, I like empowered women), etc.
And that's fine.
But he could have lived.
And since I chose for him to, I also want him to have a woman that's running to him, not away from something.
Opinions?
