I do not own Ratched.

I do not own my angel boy Huck. But I love him.

Huck Finnigan Lives Again: A Ratched Fairytale

Grace and the Walrus, Part 1


Betsy Bucket, Director Bucket's been in a meeting all morning.

High class business, the Governor of California himself.

And Huck doesn't know what they've been talking about.

But St. Lucia's all abuzz with interest and curiosity about it.

"Have I fallen through The Looking Glass, William Holden?"

"No, Mrs. Kee, why do you ask? And it's Huck, remember?"

"Yes, of course, dear. Well, because that man over there looks like the Walrus."

"That's the Governor of California, Mrs. Kee."

"The governor of California is The Walrus?"

"No, Mrs. Kee. He's George Wilburn."

"Well, he looks like the Walrus."


And so it is.

Governor Wilburn, not the Walrus.

He's come up on them, accidently in the sea-green, sea-sickening corridor leading to Nurse Bucket's office.

Huck, not Governor Walrus, er, Wilburn.

Huck Finnigan, making his rounds, doing his Head Nurse duties, has come up on them.

Grace.

And Governor George Wilburn.

That great whale, well, walrus, of a moustached man.

Standing close to Grace, too close for professional decorum.

". . . -r's office is a very important office, . . ."

And he's smiling, leering, at the beautiful, untouched Grace.

". . . takes alot of good hands to keep it runnin'."

And she seems fine, Grace seems fine, she has an unbelievable amount of poise, working here at St. Lucia has granted her the experience of that well enough.

"I'm always looking for fresh blood, so to speak. New help. Sure could use a new assistant to handle the, uh, workload."

Or perhaps some unfortunate incidences with some unsavory men . . .

"I'll tell you what repulses me, Huck Finnigan . . ."

. . . taught it to her.

"Especially one as pretty as you. Care for a job?"

And Huck tenses.

He's not worried she'll want to accept, not Grace.

He's worried . . .

"Oh, uh, thank you."

. . . she'll be pressured into it.

"That's very gracious, Governor."

And the indignity she may be forced to suffer then.

"But I already have a job."

And now.

"Here? Huh."

Casually dismissive, his rebuttal of the place that exists only to help others.

Mrs. Kee.

Ms. Dannon.

Peter.

And in doing so, for all their valiant efforts, has also helped this blustery leering walrus of a man get himself re-elected by the good people of the state of California who see him as a progressive mind, a kind and caring overseer of their better selves, their best intentions.

And Huck knows what his intentions are here and now, prevalent in every grinning, moustached fiber.

As he cajoles, eases right up once more closer to this woman Huck loves and worries . . .

"I could offer you better pay, a chance to travel, see the world outside of this little dump. Experience."

. . . he won't be able to protect from this lecher of a man.

"Come on, . . ."

Of any rich and powerful man.

". . . whaddya say?"

That doesn't know how to take 'no' . . .

"Care to . . . broaden your horizons?"

. . . for an answer.

He's stroking Grace's arm, the Governor is, upper arm just above the elbow, with one meaty five-fingered flipper.

Surreshing close to her ear.

All smooth, sauve, he thinks.

Self-assured sneer.

And Huck wants to punch him in the face.

Just like he did with Al.

He'd lose his job for certain, probably spend some time behind bars for his effort.

Grace's parents might even pull their blessings for their impending nuptials.

And while he's weighing all these things against his building rage . . .

"Oh well, Governor Wilburn, that's a very generous offer."

. . . Huck sees his sweetheart take another careful, pointed step back . . .

"But I feel my talents are best suited here. I'm afraid I'm not much of a secretary."

. . . and hold the most dignified poise he has ever seen from any person.

"Thank you anyway."

Including when she ran up against (and soundly defeated) his ex-wife, Ruthie . . .

"Oh. Well."

. . . on the mean, clean streets . . .

"Good day then."

. . . of Sacramento.

And then he's off, Governor George Wilburn is, beefy frame cutting a path out of St. Lucia.

Right past Huck, never a glance spared, who is refusing to clench his fists.

And out the door . . .

"We'll talk again, soon, Bucket. You keep a lid on this place, you hear?"

"Yes, sir."

. . . and into the afternoon California sunlight.

It is not until after the doors are shut that Huck, already on the move to Grace's side . . .

I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

. . . that he sees her exhale . . .

I'm so sorry, Grace.

. . . and take a deep breath.

"Grace," he murmurs as he reaches her side, daring to touch her wrist, feeling the thin gold watchband against her smooth skin. "Are you okay?"

He sees her take another deep breath, shaky it seems to him, as she raises her blue-green-green-blue eyes to him.

Light within them slightly diminished.

And nod.

"Yes, thank you. I just . . . I just . . . I just need to be alone for a few minutes."

"Okay."

And she's off, moving away from him.

Him, Huck.

Who feels his heart sinking as he watches her go.

I should have punched him.

It would have saved her from that humiliation.

And as he's mentally flaying himself . . .

"Was that the other fella, William Holden?"

. . . his slightly deranged fairy godmother of St. Lucia comes along.

"Who?"

To kick him in the pants.

"The other fella that wanted to court Nurse Miller. Was that him?"

And get him out of his own head.

"Oh. No."

He doesn't know whether to hug her.

"Good. I didn't like him one bit, William Holden."

Or tell her to mind his own business.

"Neither did I, Mrs. Kee."

But he knows he ought not to either.

"She's much better off with you."

She'd be better off with a melon.

And so he simply . . .

"Thank you, Mrs. Kee."

. . . thanks her.

"Well, I'm off for pinochle with Gladys. Would you like to join us?"

And doesn't bother to correct her misidentification of him.

"Thank you but I have some other things to attend to, Mrs. Kee."

"Suit yourself, William Holden. I'd just beat the pants off you anyway."

Even though he still has no idea where it comes from.

"I have no doubt, Mrs. Kee."


"What's wrong with Nurse Miller?"

Betsy Bucket's version of a conspiratorial whisper.

"She, uh, she had a run-in with Governor Wilburn."

Director Bucket.

"What kind of run-in?"

Not exactly the person he wanted to talk to.

"He, uh, he offered her a job."

But the one he's got.

"Well, that doesn't sound like a bad thing."

Huck doesn't want to tell Grace's tale out of school, so to speak.

"He, uh, he wasn't exactly professional about it."

Betsy Bucket frowns, bright red lips turning downward in a somewhat 'sad clown' way.

"Oh. That. Well, I haven't had any trouble with that."

No. You wouldn't.

She shrugs.

"What'd she say?"

Huck doesn't understand why she isn't more offended by this.

"She said 'no'."

Betsy Bucket nods in conclusion then.

"Alright then. What's the problem?"

What's the problem? He treated her like a piece of meat. He treated her like . . .

"He wasn't . . . he didn't . . . She . . ."

And Betsy Bucket smiles devilishly, ruffles invisible feathers at Huck.

"Oh, relax, Huck. Nurse Miller can handle that fat walrus, she's a tough girl!"

And winks a conspiratorial eye.

"And if she can't . . . well, maybe he just needs a little time in the hydrotherapy room to cool off."

Whilst raising a challenging eyebrow and pitching a sly tone.

"You wouldn't mind that, would you?"

Well . . . no.


Truthfully, I'm not really sure where this chapter came from. But here it is.

And it feels all too realistic to me.

Not personally but for many unwilling targets.

And then, of course, there's backup from Mrs. Kee and Betsy Bucket.

So Governor Wilburn might just want to watch his back.

Anyway, thanks to IHeartSPN and DinahRay for so graciously reviewing before.

Look out for part two tomorrow. :)