A/N: Oh man. That Halloween episode on Tuesday was sure... frightening. And not in a Halloween-ish way. In an "Oh my God, she thinks Finch is a girl" way. Sure, he was wearing a cute little green outfit, and his legs were... well, like two sticks of uncooked spaghetti, but who could seriously mistake him for a girl? Listen to his voice, for heaven's sake. Oh well, it was still a pretty funny episode. Except for the end. Thaaaat was just disturbing.
Disclaimer: I do not own any elements of 'Just Shoot Me' whatsoever. The only thing remotely resembling ownership would be the little group photo of the gang I have on my bulletin board. That doesn't count.
Ciao
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction
by Wakizashi
Sunday, 4:09 A.M.
Rolling over onto her side for the thousandth time that night, Maya Gallo lay on her motel bed, watching the curtains rustle slightly in the draft of the air conditioner. The storm had cleared sometime earlier(she had been awake when it had occurred), and now the light from the moon cast a silvery light through the window. She forced her eyes shut, hoping that would help her sleep, then gave up, expelling a breath of frustration as she flopped onto her back. Staring up at the ceiling, she tried to keep her mind off the man who lay asleep in a heap of bedclothes less than six feet away from her.
She could not stop thinking about they kiss they shared. Well, not so much "shared" as Maya had inflicted it on him. Honestly, she was not entirely sure what had possessed her to do something that audacious. Of course, she had seen Finch get rejected by the woman at the bar, and she supposed he was already not in the greatest of moods-- he had *her* to thank for that. So she had lent him a hand.
Nothing wrong with that, right?
*Of course there was,* she thought, suppressing a groan. She hadn't just lent Finch a hand; she had thrown in her lips as well. Friends didn't make out with each other unless at least *one* of them was of a mind to become more than just friends. And Maya could clearly see which of the two that person was. For God's sake, she had nearly kissed him senseless. In her head, she could still clearly see the thunderstruck expression on his face when she had pulled away from him. He had almost lost his balance.
But as taken aback as he had been, had he really been that disinclined to the idea of kissing her? After all, when he had gotten past the initial shock, he had countered her kiss eagerly, trailing his fingers down her cheek. He had been acting kinder than usual to her as well. There was the offer to help her with her article, and the spontaneous idea to spend the afternoon playing video games. And then, above all, was the book. He had gone out of his way-- *miles* out of his way-- to get a gift for her.
Could it be possible that Dennis Finch was attracted to her, too?
After a few minutes she sighed softly and tilted her head to look at Finch. Sometime during the middle of the night, he had kicked the cheery pink bedspread onto the floor. This had obviously made him cold, for he was now curled up in a cocoon inside the bed sheets, looking for all the world like a giant hibernating insect. The only parts of him that were exposed were the top of his flaxen head and one exposed foot.
Maya smiled, despite her lack of sleep and the gravity of her dilemma. She swung her legs out of bed and stood up, making her nearly-blind way to the end of Finch's bed. Picking his bedspread up off the floor, she tucked it under her arm and set about disentangling the bundle of sheets from Finch's legs.
Suddenly he murmured in his sleep, startling Maya into dropping the bedspread on the floor. As she reached down to gather it up again, she watched in the weak light from the moon as his features clouded in distress.
"Urhmm... No..."
Frowning, she dropped onto her knees at the side of his bed and rested a tentative hand on his arm. He made another anxious noise and rolled over abruptly, trapping Maya's hand under his bare chest. Blushing furiously, she tugged on it gently, she whispered, "Finch? Finch, wake up."
His pale eyebrows drew together. "No... No, please, Jack..."
She stopped trying to free her arm. *Jack?* she thought, confused. *Why's Finch having a nightmare about my dad?* Readjusting her position until it wasn't quite so uncomfortable, she shook his shoulder slightly. Unfortunately, this seemed only to *add* to his terror.
"No, Jack, I do!" he said loudly, grabbing Maya's imprisoned hand in a death grip and digging his fingernails into it. She bit back a yelp as he continued raving in fear. "You gotta believe me, Jack! I swear to God I do!" Beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead, and Maya was genuinely worried now.
"Finch, you have to wake up--"
"Jack, no, put it down! Oh God! Jack, please, I love her!" This last sentence tore from his throat as he sat up straight in bed, his blue eyes wide with alarm. For a moment he did not seem to recognize his surroundings. Then, slowly, the events of the weekend came flooding back to him, and his gaze landed on her, then traveled down to her hand, where it was being held captive by his against his chest. "Oh, damn, I'm still alive," he muttered.
Maya stared back at him awkwardly. "You were having a nightmare," she explained, quite unnecessarily.
Nodding silently, Finch released her hand and wiped his brow, letting out a shuddering breath. As he collected himself, Maya sat down on the edge of the bed, concern eating away at her. He looked like hell.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.
"Hmmm. How about no?" he retorted, rolling off the other side of the bed and standing up. Seeing that he was meagerly clad in a pair of Dexter's Laboratory boxers, Maya looked pointedly away as he hastily pulled on his khakis and stomped heatedly into the bathroom and shut the door. A few seconds passed before she heard the faucet running; no doubt he was splashing cold water onto his face.
Remaining stubbornly at her post on the edge of her friend's bed, Maya ran the entire incident over again in her mind. Finch had been talking-- no, *pleading* with her father in his dream. Apparently, they were in a disagreement about something; something that had gotten Jack so angry that he was willing to hurt Finch. What was it? 'I do!' Finch had said. 'You gotta believe me, Jack! I swear to God I do!' Maya frowned in thought. *'Do' what?* she asked herself.
There was something else. Upon waking up, Finch had shouted the utterly baffling words 'Jack, please, I love her!' Who was this "her" that Finch "loved"? And why would having such feelings for... whoever she was make Jack furious?
The bathroom door opened, the harsh light flicked off, and as Maya's eyes became readjusted to the darkness, Finch walked over to his bed, his feet scraping heavily on the carpet. He looked steadily at her for several seconds and exhaled, his bare shoulders drooping. "Can I help you?"
She sat there resolutely. "It was bad, wasn't it?"
"Go to sleep, Maya."
"Why won't you tell me about it?" she asked, her voice bordering on desperation. Finch purposely ignored her and stretched out on the mattress, forcing her to twist around and fold her legs beneath her to face him better. As he started to pull the sheets over his head, she quickly grabbed a handful of white fabric and jerked them out of his grasp. He gave her a sour look, but she continued, unfazed. "What was it about the stupid nightmare that makes it so freaking impossible to talk to me?" she demanded.
In response he merely glared up at her, his blue eyes gleaming silver in the moonlight. *All right, I didn't want to do this,* Maya thought. She took a deep breath, steeling herself.
"You were talking in your sleep," she said quietly.
One blond eyebrow shot up instantly, a reaction she had expected. His other reaction, to her surprise, was to sit forward slightly, propped up against the pillows, and sigh in defeat. "Dare I ask what you heard?" he said, looking down at his hands.
Maya shifted her weight until she was sitting cross-legged, suddenly ill at ease. "I-it sounded like you were having an argument with my father," she told him hesitantly, folding her hands in her lap because she wasn't sure what else to do with them. "But it was almost like... Dad was threatening you. You kept saying, 'I do, Jack, I swear to God I do', whatever that means, and then you said, 'put it down', so I guess he was getting ready to hurt you. And then you woke up." She had a feeling she should refrain from mentioning his last sentence, at least for the moment.
Finally he raised his eyes to meet hers. "And that was it?"
She nodded slowly. "Yeah," she said softly. Finch brought one hand up and rubbed wearily at his eyes, and Maya leaned forward, gentle but persistent. "What was it that made my dad so angry?"
"Guh," he replied eloquently as he gave in at last, sitting up straight in bed. Maya kept her gaze focussed on his face to avoid allowing her attention to drift downward. "If you must know," he said, resting his arms on his knees, "it was about... a girl."
Pretending she had not been aware of this fact, she simply said, "Oh."
"We were in his office. Jack was-- I guess 'revolted' would be a good word for it-- by the thought of me being in... well, having feelings for her," he continued, sounding as if the dream was not the only cause of his distress. "He was extremely protective of her, you know? So I told him that I really *did* care about her, but he wouldn't believe me. He thought I was just attracted to her because of who she was." Finch shook his head. "He didn't know how right he was," he murmured.
Maya frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Jack was right; I won't deny it. But about the wrong things."
For a while she sat in thought. Finally she blinked at him. "Okay, I'm lost."
"I *was* attracted to her because of who she was," he explained, becoming more animated; even passionate. "But not because of her position, or who she was related to. It sure as hell wasn't because she was rich or famous. I... I cared about her because she was herself. And who she was was caring, and intelligent, and funny." The corner of his mouth twitched in a slight smile. "She was everything that I've never had it in me to be. But Jack thought I was just B.S.-ing. He looked like demons were going to come flying out of his mouth at any moment."
She cringed at the mental picture. "So he tried to hurt you?"
"Yeeeaahh, he picked up one of his fashion awards off his shelves and tried to bludgeon me with it. And that's when I woke up." He lowered his head until it rested on his folded arms, his hair falling into his eyes.
Tucking her feet under her again, Maya leaned closer and lifted one trembling hand, scarcely knowing what she was doing. Wanting to offer comfort to Finch but unsure of what to do, she reached out her hand to the side of his face. Her fingers traced his hairline, then sank slowly into the mass of blond hair. At first he stiffened, surprised by such contact, but slowly he relaxed as she continued to smooth the tresses. He extended his arm to her, and though she felt slightly awkward about hugging an extremely shirtless Finch, she gladly accepted his embrace, pressing his head to her shoulder.
For several perfect seconds neither of them spoke. At last Maya could no longer hold back the question she was aching to ask.
"Who was she, Dennis?" she whispered.
Finch shook his head almost imperceptibly against her. "I can't tell you," he murmured sleepily, his lips grazing her neck and causing her heart to leap into her throat.
Barely able to keep her thoughts together, she took a deep breath. "Why not?"
"Because it's you," he replied, then became rigid in her arms. He jerked away from her and sat up, straight as a board. Looking at her with an expression of total self-loathing, his mouth worked silently. His eyes squeezed shut, and he muttered, "Oh shoot."
A/N: Cliffhangers are fun, aren't they? *dodges flying vegetables* Yes, I thought that would catch everyone's attention. Don't be alarmed, everyone; as crucial as this chapter was, this story is *far* from over. Yes, I expect several more chapters to follow this one before the end finally gets here. Sorry this chapter was a tad shorter than the others, but I felt that was a very good place to stop. But that's just me. If you're sitting in front of your computer positively fuming, well... Ha ha! No, just kidding. Seriously, though, if the ending got you all in an uproar, I apologize. Be content with the knowledge that I'm already working on the next installment. So yay! Leave a review (hopefully leaving out the death threats) and tell me what you thought! Ta!
Wakizashi
tricksparrow@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: I do not own any elements of 'Just Shoot Me' whatsoever. The only thing remotely resembling ownership would be the little group photo of the gang I have on my bulletin board. That doesn't count.
Ciao
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction
by Wakizashi
Sunday, 4:09 A.M.
Rolling over onto her side for the thousandth time that night, Maya Gallo lay on her motel bed, watching the curtains rustle slightly in the draft of the air conditioner. The storm had cleared sometime earlier(she had been awake when it had occurred), and now the light from the moon cast a silvery light through the window. She forced her eyes shut, hoping that would help her sleep, then gave up, expelling a breath of frustration as she flopped onto her back. Staring up at the ceiling, she tried to keep her mind off the man who lay asleep in a heap of bedclothes less than six feet away from her.
She could not stop thinking about they kiss they shared. Well, not so much "shared" as Maya had inflicted it on him. Honestly, she was not entirely sure what had possessed her to do something that audacious. Of course, she had seen Finch get rejected by the woman at the bar, and she supposed he was already not in the greatest of moods-- he had *her* to thank for that. So she had lent him a hand.
Nothing wrong with that, right?
*Of course there was,* she thought, suppressing a groan. She hadn't just lent Finch a hand; she had thrown in her lips as well. Friends didn't make out with each other unless at least *one* of them was of a mind to become more than just friends. And Maya could clearly see which of the two that person was. For God's sake, she had nearly kissed him senseless. In her head, she could still clearly see the thunderstruck expression on his face when she had pulled away from him. He had almost lost his balance.
But as taken aback as he had been, had he really been that disinclined to the idea of kissing her? After all, when he had gotten past the initial shock, he had countered her kiss eagerly, trailing his fingers down her cheek. He had been acting kinder than usual to her as well. There was the offer to help her with her article, and the spontaneous idea to spend the afternoon playing video games. And then, above all, was the book. He had gone out of his way-- *miles* out of his way-- to get a gift for her.
Could it be possible that Dennis Finch was attracted to her, too?
After a few minutes she sighed softly and tilted her head to look at Finch. Sometime during the middle of the night, he had kicked the cheery pink bedspread onto the floor. This had obviously made him cold, for he was now curled up in a cocoon inside the bed sheets, looking for all the world like a giant hibernating insect. The only parts of him that were exposed were the top of his flaxen head and one exposed foot.
Maya smiled, despite her lack of sleep and the gravity of her dilemma. She swung her legs out of bed and stood up, making her nearly-blind way to the end of Finch's bed. Picking his bedspread up off the floor, she tucked it under her arm and set about disentangling the bundle of sheets from Finch's legs.
Suddenly he murmured in his sleep, startling Maya into dropping the bedspread on the floor. As she reached down to gather it up again, she watched in the weak light from the moon as his features clouded in distress.
"Urhmm... No..."
Frowning, she dropped onto her knees at the side of his bed and rested a tentative hand on his arm. He made another anxious noise and rolled over abruptly, trapping Maya's hand under his bare chest. Blushing furiously, she tugged on it gently, she whispered, "Finch? Finch, wake up."
His pale eyebrows drew together. "No... No, please, Jack..."
She stopped trying to free her arm. *Jack?* she thought, confused. *Why's Finch having a nightmare about my dad?* Readjusting her position until it wasn't quite so uncomfortable, she shook his shoulder slightly. Unfortunately, this seemed only to *add* to his terror.
"No, Jack, I do!" he said loudly, grabbing Maya's imprisoned hand in a death grip and digging his fingernails into it. She bit back a yelp as he continued raving in fear. "You gotta believe me, Jack! I swear to God I do!" Beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead, and Maya was genuinely worried now.
"Finch, you have to wake up--"
"Jack, no, put it down! Oh God! Jack, please, I love her!" This last sentence tore from his throat as he sat up straight in bed, his blue eyes wide with alarm. For a moment he did not seem to recognize his surroundings. Then, slowly, the events of the weekend came flooding back to him, and his gaze landed on her, then traveled down to her hand, where it was being held captive by his against his chest. "Oh, damn, I'm still alive," he muttered.
Maya stared back at him awkwardly. "You were having a nightmare," she explained, quite unnecessarily.
Nodding silently, Finch released her hand and wiped his brow, letting out a shuddering breath. As he collected himself, Maya sat down on the edge of the bed, concern eating away at her. He looked like hell.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.
"Hmmm. How about no?" he retorted, rolling off the other side of the bed and standing up. Seeing that he was meagerly clad in a pair of Dexter's Laboratory boxers, Maya looked pointedly away as he hastily pulled on his khakis and stomped heatedly into the bathroom and shut the door. A few seconds passed before she heard the faucet running; no doubt he was splashing cold water onto his face.
Remaining stubbornly at her post on the edge of her friend's bed, Maya ran the entire incident over again in her mind. Finch had been talking-- no, *pleading* with her father in his dream. Apparently, they were in a disagreement about something; something that had gotten Jack so angry that he was willing to hurt Finch. What was it? 'I do!' Finch had said. 'You gotta believe me, Jack! I swear to God I do!' Maya frowned in thought. *'Do' what?* she asked herself.
There was something else. Upon waking up, Finch had shouted the utterly baffling words 'Jack, please, I love her!' Who was this "her" that Finch "loved"? And why would having such feelings for... whoever she was make Jack furious?
The bathroom door opened, the harsh light flicked off, and as Maya's eyes became readjusted to the darkness, Finch walked over to his bed, his feet scraping heavily on the carpet. He looked steadily at her for several seconds and exhaled, his bare shoulders drooping. "Can I help you?"
She sat there resolutely. "It was bad, wasn't it?"
"Go to sleep, Maya."
"Why won't you tell me about it?" she asked, her voice bordering on desperation. Finch purposely ignored her and stretched out on the mattress, forcing her to twist around and fold her legs beneath her to face him better. As he started to pull the sheets over his head, she quickly grabbed a handful of white fabric and jerked them out of his grasp. He gave her a sour look, but she continued, unfazed. "What was it about the stupid nightmare that makes it so freaking impossible to talk to me?" she demanded.
In response he merely glared up at her, his blue eyes gleaming silver in the moonlight. *All right, I didn't want to do this,* Maya thought. She took a deep breath, steeling herself.
"You were talking in your sleep," she said quietly.
One blond eyebrow shot up instantly, a reaction she had expected. His other reaction, to her surprise, was to sit forward slightly, propped up against the pillows, and sigh in defeat. "Dare I ask what you heard?" he said, looking down at his hands.
Maya shifted her weight until she was sitting cross-legged, suddenly ill at ease. "I-it sounded like you were having an argument with my father," she told him hesitantly, folding her hands in her lap because she wasn't sure what else to do with them. "But it was almost like... Dad was threatening you. You kept saying, 'I do, Jack, I swear to God I do', whatever that means, and then you said, 'put it down', so I guess he was getting ready to hurt you. And then you woke up." She had a feeling she should refrain from mentioning his last sentence, at least for the moment.
Finally he raised his eyes to meet hers. "And that was it?"
She nodded slowly. "Yeah," she said softly. Finch brought one hand up and rubbed wearily at his eyes, and Maya leaned forward, gentle but persistent. "What was it that made my dad so angry?"
"Guh," he replied eloquently as he gave in at last, sitting up straight in bed. Maya kept her gaze focussed on his face to avoid allowing her attention to drift downward. "If you must know," he said, resting his arms on his knees, "it was about... a girl."
Pretending she had not been aware of this fact, she simply said, "Oh."
"We were in his office. Jack was-- I guess 'revolted' would be a good word for it-- by the thought of me being in... well, having feelings for her," he continued, sounding as if the dream was not the only cause of his distress. "He was extremely protective of her, you know? So I told him that I really *did* care about her, but he wouldn't believe me. He thought I was just attracted to her because of who she was." Finch shook his head. "He didn't know how right he was," he murmured.
Maya frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Jack was right; I won't deny it. But about the wrong things."
For a while she sat in thought. Finally she blinked at him. "Okay, I'm lost."
"I *was* attracted to her because of who she was," he explained, becoming more animated; even passionate. "But not because of her position, or who she was related to. It sure as hell wasn't because she was rich or famous. I... I cared about her because she was herself. And who she was was caring, and intelligent, and funny." The corner of his mouth twitched in a slight smile. "She was everything that I've never had it in me to be. But Jack thought I was just B.S.-ing. He looked like demons were going to come flying out of his mouth at any moment."
She cringed at the mental picture. "So he tried to hurt you?"
"Yeeeaahh, he picked up one of his fashion awards off his shelves and tried to bludgeon me with it. And that's when I woke up." He lowered his head until it rested on his folded arms, his hair falling into his eyes.
Tucking her feet under her again, Maya leaned closer and lifted one trembling hand, scarcely knowing what she was doing. Wanting to offer comfort to Finch but unsure of what to do, she reached out her hand to the side of his face. Her fingers traced his hairline, then sank slowly into the mass of blond hair. At first he stiffened, surprised by such contact, but slowly he relaxed as she continued to smooth the tresses. He extended his arm to her, and though she felt slightly awkward about hugging an extremely shirtless Finch, she gladly accepted his embrace, pressing his head to her shoulder.
For several perfect seconds neither of them spoke. At last Maya could no longer hold back the question she was aching to ask.
"Who was she, Dennis?" she whispered.
Finch shook his head almost imperceptibly against her. "I can't tell you," he murmured sleepily, his lips grazing her neck and causing her heart to leap into her throat.
Barely able to keep her thoughts together, she took a deep breath. "Why not?"
"Because it's you," he replied, then became rigid in her arms. He jerked away from her and sat up, straight as a board. Looking at her with an expression of total self-loathing, his mouth worked silently. His eyes squeezed shut, and he muttered, "Oh shoot."
A/N: Cliffhangers are fun, aren't they? *dodges flying vegetables* Yes, I thought that would catch everyone's attention. Don't be alarmed, everyone; as crucial as this chapter was, this story is *far* from over. Yes, I expect several more chapters to follow this one before the end finally gets here. Sorry this chapter was a tad shorter than the others, but I felt that was a very good place to stop. But that's just me. If you're sitting in front of your computer positively fuming, well... Ha ha! No, just kidding. Seriously, though, if the ending got you all in an uproar, I apologize. Be content with the knowledge that I'm already working on the next installment. So yay! Leave a review (hopefully leaving out the death threats) and tell me what you thought! Ta!
Wakizashi
tricksparrow@hotmail.com