A/N: Whooooo, sorry about the delay. I was camping, I was! Anyway, thank you all for your reviews. I'm surprised at the number of them, considering how few people visit the 'Just Shoot Me' section of FF.net. We must gain more disciples! Spread the word! Although I must say, there's one story here that is worthy indeed of its sixty-something reviews, and that is 'Sneetches are Sneetches' by Sam I Am. I swear, anyone who has not read that yet MUST. It's written like an actual episode. The dialogue is so... REAL. Finch is written especially well. I could almost hear that bit about Nina being "three drinks away from *being* a carny" coming out of his mouth. And while you're at it, read 'Traffic Patterns' by Cloudburst2000. She's got a great sense of humor that lends to the story well. And she loves reviews! Heaven forbid I detract attention away from my *own* fanfic(just kidding, I'm not *that* conceited), but seriously, they're both fabulous stories.
But I digress. On we go!
Ciao
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction
by Wakizashi
Friday, 4:16 P.M.
"Dennis, there you are!" Jack Gallo waved his hand, beckoning Finch to enter. "Who is that guy again? The one who does the impression of Al Gore on Saturday Night Live?"
Finch wrinkled his brow in confusion and sighed as he walked into his office. "Darrell Hammond?"
"That's it!" Jack shook his head and chuckled with self-deprication. "He's always the one I forget."
Sitting down on the couch, Finch simply watched Jack for a while. Jack Gallo, the man he had looked up to like a father for over ten years. The man who had saved him from that dead-end job at the movie theater. The man who had so freely forgiven Elliott for proposing to Maya and then backing down; something Finch would have lynched him for, if it had been up to him. And the man who had miraculously let Finch keep his job after doing the unthinkable: allowing himself to be seduced by his wife. Despite his idiosyncrasies, a great man indeed. If there was one thing he would *not* forgive Finch for, however, it would be hurting his daughter.
*What am I getting myself into?* he thought to himself in astonishment.
"Sooo, Dennis," prompted Jack, interrupting his inner monologue. "Nina told me about your little offer to help Maya with her article."
Finch could almost hear the gunshots. "Uhh, yeah," he sniffed, shrugging nonchalantly. "My grandma seemed like a good choice for her interview. You've met her, Jack, her memory's sharp as a whip." *Nina's not going to make it out of the building alive,* he seethed, his fist closing around the couch's armrest.
"Oh, I know, I know." Jack pushed his chair back from his desk and stood up, lighting a cigar out of habit. "It's just, well, you said Maya wasn't feeling well, and I was wondering if she's even up to going with you tomorrow." There was a neutralness to his voice that Finch found absolutely terrifying.
Nevertheless, he remained calm. "It's true, she's a little under the weather at the moment." Under the weather, sick as a dog... Same diff. "But she's resting up now, and I'm sure she'll feel better in the morning. Ahah, besides, she can just sleep in the car on the way there." His apparent lack of concern for Maya's well-being usually worked on Jack, and he was hoping it would now.
But alas!
Taking a draw from his cigar, Jack expelled the smoke through his nostrils, looking to Finch like an irate dragon displeased by its prey's refusal to die. "Dennis," he said slowly, walking around his desk, "do you remember the first time Maya walked into the offices here at Blush?"
*Vividly,* he thought, resisting the urge to bite his lip. "Sure I do," he replied, taking this new tack in the conversation for some kind of malicious trap. "I uh, I thought she was here with a group of models, and I told her she didn't stand a chance. Too short," he added, smiling nervously.
"But you've thrown your share of casual flirts at her throughout the years, am I right?" Finch didn't the like way this was going. "And yet your interest in every model that walks through those elevator doors has the lifespan of a fruitfly, wouldn't you say?"
As true as it was, Finch protested. "Not exac--"
"Dennis, I know what you're trying to do here." Any notions of objecting dissolved at the sternness of Jack's voice. Finch willed himself to sink into the couch and disappear as Jack walked closer to him. "You show some kindness to Maya by helping her with her article. You have a nice weekend together, and then magically, she somehow ends up in your bed! Do you think I haven't seen the way you look at her? Do you think I'm stupid?"
Finch seriously wondered if he could fit under the cushions. "No, Jack, you don't underst--"
"First Allie, then my daughter?" Jack's voice was quiet, but fuelled with a rage Finch had seldom heard. "Who's next, Dennis? You want to have a go at Eve!?"
If a battering ram had been sent flying into Finch's stomach, it couldn't possibly have hurt as much as that. "Now come on, Jack, you didn't mean that."
"Didn't I?" He leaned forward, his cigar coming perilously close to scorching Finch's hair. "I'm letting you go on this trip with Maya, Dennis. And do you know why?"
He shook his head weakly.
"Because I want to see if you can ignore your sick desire to claim every Gallo woman you meet for two whole days." Suddenly he bonked Finch on the nose. "If you want to keep your job, my friend, you'll keep your busy little hands to yourself." He stepped back, letting a bewildered, broken Finch rise to his feet, and opened the office door for him. "Now get back to work."
Avoiding his boss's gaze, Finch shuffled out the door, plowing heedlessly into one of the interns. Not even thinking to apologize, he continued past his co-worker's desks, around the kitchenette, and straight for the first empty office he could find.
"Finch, what are you doing in here?"
He felt a thin, manicured finger poke his shoulder, but he shifted onto his side, burying his face in the couch. The finger jabbed him more insistently. "Go away, Nina," he muttered, his voice muffled by the cushions.
"Go away?" He heard the ex-model snort with laughter. "What are you talking about? This is my office! Now get off my couch."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Finch replied with only a trace of his normal sarcasm as he huddled further against the sofa. "I wasn't aware it was coin-operated. Is my time up?"
"Hey, shut up! You didn't answer my question. What are you doing in here?"
Finally he sat up straight in annoyance and faced Nina, who was holding a mug in her hand filled with something most definitely not coffee. He waited for her to stumble back in surprise to see his flushed cheeks and his bloodshot eyes. To his further irritation, she didn't.
"Oh, great, you've been crying again?" She shook her head, her short brown hair defying gravity. "What is it this time? One of your ceramic cats broke? That female racquetball player at your health club finally got a restraining order? You know, Finch, if it's about what I said to Jennifer in shipping about you, you sure are being immature about it. For God's sake, everyone knows you don't have a tail!"
"I hate you," he said simply.
Her mouth dropped open. "I'm sorry, it was just a joke!"
"It's not that," he snapped, getting to his feet-- and looking up-- to met her gaze. "Which, by the way, I didn't know about, thank you. Why did you have to tell Jack about my trip with Maya this weekend?"
"Wha, I- he-- I, I don't know!" she spluttered, matching his angry tone. "It just came up in our conversation! Excuse *me* if it has nothing to do with cacti."
*Which, incidentally, is exactly what I'd like to impale you with,* he thought, then wondered why he hadn't just said it out loud. "Well," he said, nodding in defeat as he slumped back into her couch, "thank you very much, Nina." He felt her eyes on him as he curled up on his side and stared blankly out the window.
"Finch, what's the big deal?" she protested, sitting down on the arm of the sofa and crossing her legs. "When I told him, he didn't seem like he cared. In fact, he didn't say anything at all."
His blue eyes still gazed, unfocussed, in the general direction of a pigeon on the windowsill. "That's because he was basking in the idea of barbecuing me and feeding me to the hobos that live outside my apartment building," he said blandly.
Nina's brow wrinkled; something she rarely risked, lest her forehead be subjected to any permanent damage. "What does that mean?"
"Jack knows," he wailed, stretching out his hands plaintively. "He knows *everything*! The man doesn't know how a set the time on a VCR, but he figures *this* out!"
"Slow down, little one." Nina petted his flaxen head as he tried to stop hyperventilating. "Maybe you should just explain to me what exactly Jack... 'knows'," she said, sweeping quotation marks in the air with her fingers.
Finch took a deep breath. He supposed it didn't matter that Nina knew, seeing as how he was going to die anyway. "He knows that I l-- that I have a thing for Maya," he said, cursing himself for that near-derailment. Studying Nina's dumbfounded expression, he took it that it was news to her. "And now he thinks that it's just some bizarre infatuation with Gallo women that I have, and that I have this sick *need* to have her."
Nina nodded slowly, taking this all in. "Don't you?"
"No!" He sat up in frustration, nearly knocking the woman off her perch on the armrest. "I really do have feelings for Maya, and I just wanted to spend some time with her, away from the office, so she could finally see that I'm not the jerkoff I act like in front of everybody, and boy am I talking loud!"
The door swung slowly open, and Elliott stood in the doorway, not looking happy in the least.
Finch stood up numbly, moving past Nina and wondering if he could make a break for the elevators. Instead, he opted for a smooth way out. "Invoices?" he heard himself say. "Yes, I forgot about the invoices. They need to be taken care of. Excuse me, Elliott. Elliott DiMauro. Goodbye, Nina." He walked calmly around the photographer, whose face was livid, and made his way down the hall and into the copy room. Once inside, he shut the door and leaned against it, sinking to the floor. As he drew his knees up to his chest, he wondered if it would be easier just to turn in his resignation and get it over with.
*Maya Gallo,* he thought, resting his chin on his folded arms, *You better be worth all this.*
A/N: I am so mean to Finch, aren't I!? I don't intend to be, but it's the wa the story goes! I'm sorry! My poor Finch. Ahem, aaaanyway, I apologize again about the delay. Cloudburst, now you can sleep easy tonight. Yay! And to those of you who have been waiting for the story to pick up, namely all of you, Finch and Maya are finally leaving on their trip in the next chapter! Duh nuh nuh, ROAD TRIP! Trip, trip, trip... *voice echoes* So yeah, leave your reviews, for I will be ever so happy, and expect the next chapter sooner than this one came. Ciao!
Wakizashi
tricksparrow@hotmail.com
But I digress. On we go!
Ciao
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction
by Wakizashi
Friday, 4:16 P.M.
"Dennis, there you are!" Jack Gallo waved his hand, beckoning Finch to enter. "Who is that guy again? The one who does the impression of Al Gore on Saturday Night Live?"
Finch wrinkled his brow in confusion and sighed as he walked into his office. "Darrell Hammond?"
"That's it!" Jack shook his head and chuckled with self-deprication. "He's always the one I forget."
Sitting down on the couch, Finch simply watched Jack for a while. Jack Gallo, the man he had looked up to like a father for over ten years. The man who had saved him from that dead-end job at the movie theater. The man who had so freely forgiven Elliott for proposing to Maya and then backing down; something Finch would have lynched him for, if it had been up to him. And the man who had miraculously let Finch keep his job after doing the unthinkable: allowing himself to be seduced by his wife. Despite his idiosyncrasies, a great man indeed. If there was one thing he would *not* forgive Finch for, however, it would be hurting his daughter.
*What am I getting myself into?* he thought to himself in astonishment.
"Sooo, Dennis," prompted Jack, interrupting his inner monologue. "Nina told me about your little offer to help Maya with her article."
Finch could almost hear the gunshots. "Uhh, yeah," he sniffed, shrugging nonchalantly. "My grandma seemed like a good choice for her interview. You've met her, Jack, her memory's sharp as a whip." *Nina's not going to make it out of the building alive,* he seethed, his fist closing around the couch's armrest.
"Oh, I know, I know." Jack pushed his chair back from his desk and stood up, lighting a cigar out of habit. "It's just, well, you said Maya wasn't feeling well, and I was wondering if she's even up to going with you tomorrow." There was a neutralness to his voice that Finch found absolutely terrifying.
Nevertheless, he remained calm. "It's true, she's a little under the weather at the moment." Under the weather, sick as a dog... Same diff. "But she's resting up now, and I'm sure she'll feel better in the morning. Ahah, besides, she can just sleep in the car on the way there." His apparent lack of concern for Maya's well-being usually worked on Jack, and he was hoping it would now.
But alas!
Taking a draw from his cigar, Jack expelled the smoke through his nostrils, looking to Finch like an irate dragon displeased by its prey's refusal to die. "Dennis," he said slowly, walking around his desk, "do you remember the first time Maya walked into the offices here at Blush?"
*Vividly,* he thought, resisting the urge to bite his lip. "Sure I do," he replied, taking this new tack in the conversation for some kind of malicious trap. "I uh, I thought she was here with a group of models, and I told her she didn't stand a chance. Too short," he added, smiling nervously.
"But you've thrown your share of casual flirts at her throughout the years, am I right?" Finch didn't the like way this was going. "And yet your interest in every model that walks through those elevator doors has the lifespan of a fruitfly, wouldn't you say?"
As true as it was, Finch protested. "Not exac--"
"Dennis, I know what you're trying to do here." Any notions of objecting dissolved at the sternness of Jack's voice. Finch willed himself to sink into the couch and disappear as Jack walked closer to him. "You show some kindness to Maya by helping her with her article. You have a nice weekend together, and then magically, she somehow ends up in your bed! Do you think I haven't seen the way you look at her? Do you think I'm stupid?"
Finch seriously wondered if he could fit under the cushions. "No, Jack, you don't underst--"
"First Allie, then my daughter?" Jack's voice was quiet, but fuelled with a rage Finch had seldom heard. "Who's next, Dennis? You want to have a go at Eve!?"
If a battering ram had been sent flying into Finch's stomach, it couldn't possibly have hurt as much as that. "Now come on, Jack, you didn't mean that."
"Didn't I?" He leaned forward, his cigar coming perilously close to scorching Finch's hair. "I'm letting you go on this trip with Maya, Dennis. And do you know why?"
He shook his head weakly.
"Because I want to see if you can ignore your sick desire to claim every Gallo woman you meet for two whole days." Suddenly he bonked Finch on the nose. "If you want to keep your job, my friend, you'll keep your busy little hands to yourself." He stepped back, letting a bewildered, broken Finch rise to his feet, and opened the office door for him. "Now get back to work."
Avoiding his boss's gaze, Finch shuffled out the door, plowing heedlessly into one of the interns. Not even thinking to apologize, he continued past his co-worker's desks, around the kitchenette, and straight for the first empty office he could find.
"Finch, what are you doing in here?"
He felt a thin, manicured finger poke his shoulder, but he shifted onto his side, burying his face in the couch. The finger jabbed him more insistently. "Go away, Nina," he muttered, his voice muffled by the cushions.
"Go away?" He heard the ex-model snort with laughter. "What are you talking about? This is my office! Now get off my couch."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Finch replied with only a trace of his normal sarcasm as he huddled further against the sofa. "I wasn't aware it was coin-operated. Is my time up?"
"Hey, shut up! You didn't answer my question. What are you doing in here?"
Finally he sat up straight in annoyance and faced Nina, who was holding a mug in her hand filled with something most definitely not coffee. He waited for her to stumble back in surprise to see his flushed cheeks and his bloodshot eyes. To his further irritation, she didn't.
"Oh, great, you've been crying again?" She shook her head, her short brown hair defying gravity. "What is it this time? One of your ceramic cats broke? That female racquetball player at your health club finally got a restraining order? You know, Finch, if it's about what I said to Jennifer in shipping about you, you sure are being immature about it. For God's sake, everyone knows you don't have a tail!"
"I hate you," he said simply.
Her mouth dropped open. "I'm sorry, it was just a joke!"
"It's not that," he snapped, getting to his feet-- and looking up-- to met her gaze. "Which, by the way, I didn't know about, thank you. Why did you have to tell Jack about my trip with Maya this weekend?"
"Wha, I- he-- I, I don't know!" she spluttered, matching his angry tone. "It just came up in our conversation! Excuse *me* if it has nothing to do with cacti."
*Which, incidentally, is exactly what I'd like to impale you with,* he thought, then wondered why he hadn't just said it out loud. "Well," he said, nodding in defeat as he slumped back into her couch, "thank you very much, Nina." He felt her eyes on him as he curled up on his side and stared blankly out the window.
"Finch, what's the big deal?" she protested, sitting down on the arm of the sofa and crossing her legs. "When I told him, he didn't seem like he cared. In fact, he didn't say anything at all."
His blue eyes still gazed, unfocussed, in the general direction of a pigeon on the windowsill. "That's because he was basking in the idea of barbecuing me and feeding me to the hobos that live outside my apartment building," he said blandly.
Nina's brow wrinkled; something she rarely risked, lest her forehead be subjected to any permanent damage. "What does that mean?"
"Jack knows," he wailed, stretching out his hands plaintively. "He knows *everything*! The man doesn't know how a set the time on a VCR, but he figures *this* out!"
"Slow down, little one." Nina petted his flaxen head as he tried to stop hyperventilating. "Maybe you should just explain to me what exactly Jack... 'knows'," she said, sweeping quotation marks in the air with her fingers.
Finch took a deep breath. He supposed it didn't matter that Nina knew, seeing as how he was going to die anyway. "He knows that I l-- that I have a thing for Maya," he said, cursing himself for that near-derailment. Studying Nina's dumbfounded expression, he took it that it was news to her. "And now he thinks that it's just some bizarre infatuation with Gallo women that I have, and that I have this sick *need* to have her."
Nina nodded slowly, taking this all in. "Don't you?"
"No!" He sat up in frustration, nearly knocking the woman off her perch on the armrest. "I really do have feelings for Maya, and I just wanted to spend some time with her, away from the office, so she could finally see that I'm not the jerkoff I act like in front of everybody, and boy am I talking loud!"
The door swung slowly open, and Elliott stood in the doorway, not looking happy in the least.
Finch stood up numbly, moving past Nina and wondering if he could make a break for the elevators. Instead, he opted for a smooth way out. "Invoices?" he heard himself say. "Yes, I forgot about the invoices. They need to be taken care of. Excuse me, Elliott. Elliott DiMauro. Goodbye, Nina." He walked calmly around the photographer, whose face was livid, and made his way down the hall and into the copy room. Once inside, he shut the door and leaned against it, sinking to the floor. As he drew his knees up to his chest, he wondered if it would be easier just to turn in his resignation and get it over with.
*Maya Gallo,* he thought, resting his chin on his folded arms, *You better be worth all this.*
A/N: I am so mean to Finch, aren't I!? I don't intend to be, but it's the wa the story goes! I'm sorry! My poor Finch. Ahem, aaaanyway, I apologize again about the delay. Cloudburst, now you can sleep easy tonight. Yay! And to those of you who have been waiting for the story to pick up, namely all of you, Finch and Maya are finally leaving on their trip in the next chapter! Duh nuh nuh, ROAD TRIP! Trip, trip, trip... *voice echoes* So yeah, leave your reviews, for I will be ever so happy, and expect the next chapter sooner than this one came. Ciao!
Wakizashi
tricksparrow@hotmail.com