A/N: It *was* rather cruel of me to leave you hanging like that. Don't beat me! To make it up to you, here's the next chapter, in all its glory! But first, some responses to your reviews. Cloudburst2000, yes, it is ironic that Maya heard Finch confess his love to her in his sleep, and he didn't even know she heard it. I did that on purpose... Mwahahah! And that idea of yours for Maya to stand up for Finch... well, that's kind of what I had in mind, but shhh! *wink* To Ryan, thank you *very* much! I don't know if the JSM writers would even care what I thought, but it was a nice compliment. And Yvette: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!! Don't freak out, here's the next chapter!!
Disclaimer: Oh, I'm too lazy, go back and look at a previous chapter.
Ciao
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction
by Wakizashi
Sunday, 4:50 A.M.
*If thy tongue offends thee, cut it out,* thought Finch, slightly altering a bible verse that suddenly occurred to him. Though he was trying his best to keep his cool, it was admittedly a very difficult thing to do; especially considering the fact that he had just confessed to his feelings for Maya-- not to anyone, mind you!-- but to Maya herself. And now she was staring at him expectantly, a look of sheer astonishment and, he thought, abhorrence, on her face. And they were alone. In a motel room. In the middle of the night. Great circumstances make it so much easier.
"Dennis," Maya breathed, her brown eyes as wide as dinner plates. "What did you just say?"
"I, uh, heh," he stammered, wishing he had brought some poison along with him for just such an occasion, "I said, 'Because ah-choo!' I sneezed, you know. Ah-choo. I was *gonna* say, 'Because it's none of your business, lay off me, Maya, before I push you off the bed!'" He bore his eyes into her, hoping to get his point across.
Of course she wasn't buying it. "Oh, don't give me that, Finch, I know what you said!"
"Then why'd you even ask me?" he muttered, folding his arms over his chest.
Pushing her long, dark hair out of her face, she leaned forward and looked up at him. "I had no idea, Dennis. Why didn't you ever tell me?" she asked quietly, her eyes pleading for the truth. He hated it when she made him feel bad like that.
"Why?" he repeated, casting his gaze at anything besides her eyes. "Your father, that's why. Do you remember how long it took for Jack to forgive Elliott for what he did to you? And he was just a one-time offender. Jack knows me, Maya. I don't even want to think about the many ways he could put me to death for even *thinking* of you like that. He has a lot of potentially lethal gadgets at his disposal." Maya opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to silence her. "I wanted to tell you, Maya," he said softly. "And I hated keeping it from you. But your dad told me to."
And there it was. He said it. He supposed dying would be better than being in love with someone who didn't share his feelings anyway.
Maya shook her head angrily. "Let me get this straight. My dad *forbade* you from telling me? He can't do that! He doesn't control my life. It's my business who I want to be with, no matter who it is. There's nothing my dad can do about that."
"Oh, I can think of a few things," Finch started to say. Or rather, would have said, if the full meaning of what she had just told him hadn't finally sunken in. "Who... who you want to be with?" he echoed.
But Maya was too busy venting to hear him. "I can't believe he thinks he can just choose who I date, like I'm fifteen years old again! You'd think he would be *happy* knowing that I was dating someone he's known for so long. I mean, my dad loves you! Why would he have any problem with it?"
Evidently she finally realized who she had been ranting to, because she clamped a hand over her mouth. For a distressingly long time she made no sound or movement whatsoever. Finch, who was still reeling from her more-or-less admission of affection for him, reached forward to touch her arm in an effort to bring her out of her stunned trance.
"Don't touch me!" she blurted immediately his fingers grazed her bare arm. She clambered off his bed and backed away from him in mortification, crumpling into the scuffed armchair in the corner as soon as her calves collided with it. With her legs drawn up to her chest and her hands clasped around her knees, she looked achingly vulnerable to Finch in her grey heather tanktop and flannel pants.
Swinging his legs off the bed and standing up, he pulled his white T-shirt over his head and made his way slowly across the scratchy carpet to where Maya was sitting, her head buried in her arms in embarrassment and shame. He knelt down in front of her, clearing his throat softly. She raised her head reluctantly, and he took a deep breath.
"This does *not* mean we're screwed, you understand me?" he said, stubborn determination creeping into his voice. "This doesn't change a thing between us. I'm sorry, but your friendship means too damn much to me to lose it over something so idiotic as your dad's disapproving wrath. When you and Elliott broke up, it nearly ended up destroying you both, and I am *not* going to let that happen with us. Okay?" He held out his hand.
Staring at him for a long while, Maya finally gave him a shaky smile and placed her hand in his. He returned the smile and shook her hand formally, as if cementing a mutual agreement. But as much as he had intended to let go of it, he found he was unable to do so. On the contrary; his other hand came up, stroking the back of hers soothingly with its fingertips. Mentally berating himself, he winced and prepared for a punch in the arm or a slap in the face; an instinct brought on by experience.
Instead, he was pleasantly surprised when she bent forward and practically fell into his arms. He resisted the unexpected urge to laugh and pulled her against him, brushing her long hair to one side to rub her back. As he looked down at his splayed white fingers resting on her skin, that distinctive tightness in his chest returned, a thousand times more intense than any previous moment. *Why does simple happiness have to be so impossible to attain?* he thought painfully as he felt Maya's cool touch on the back of his neck.
After a few moments of blissful silence, Maya pulled away from Finch enough to smile at him. "Thanks, Dennis," she whispered. Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek that was hazardously close to the corner of his mouth. He suppressed a shiver, and as her gaze met his, he was taken aback to see a barely restrained longing in those big brown eyes. Mesmerised by her gaze, he sat powerless and unresisting as she pushed a stray piece of blond hair out of his face. She leaned forward and closed her eyes, and then abruptly his logic returned to him in a flood, and he jerked away from her.
"No," he said decisively, shaking his head. "No, Maya, I'm not gonna do this."
She blinked at him, hurt and confused. "Why? Because my dad would kill you if he knew? Dennis, why are you so afraid of what he'll do to you? Who I want to be with is my choice and *only* mine." Taking a deep breath, she added, "And I want to be with you."
Finch's eyes slid shut, and he wished to God she hadn't said that. "It's not that I'm afraid of Jack." He paused. "Well, it's not *just* that. You, more than anyone else, know that he's like a father to me. Whenever I let him down, I feel like... I'm letting myself down. And if I ever did anything to hurt you--"
"Would you?" she pried.
"No, but that's not the point!" He passed a hand over his face. "Jack loves you so much that it's frightening, Maya. And if I ever *did* hurt you, it would kill him. And that would kill me, too."
Maya said nothing, but he could tell from her silence that she had absorbed what he had just told her. It was true; Maya did understand him more than anyone else. She knew, underneath all the sarcastic comments and disrespect, how much Finch admired her father. She knew how hard he tried to please Jack, and how horrible it felt to let him down. And she knew that he let him down this time, it would equally destructive to them both.
Swallowing a lump in his throat, Finch somewhow managed to admit to the woman he loved what he had already admitted to himself long ago. "That's why we can never be together," he said softly.
The expression on her face was painful to look at, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. On her face was a combination of frustration, anger, and the most profound misery, mingled with a grim acceptance. She acknowledged that there was no dissuading him. She nodded wordlessly, looking down at her lap.
Feeling like the worst person on the planet - worse than Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini at a political tyrants' banquet - Finch gave her hand what he hoped, but what was clearly not, a comforting squeeze. "Try and get some sleep," he murmured, and recorded that moment as officially the most traumatic of his life as Maya slowly stood up and turned her back on him, literally and figuratively. He watched her lower herself dismally onto the mattress, watched her draw the sheets up over her head. As he pulled himself onto the chair and wrapped his arms around his knees, he looked out the window between the curtains to see the sky already beginning to lighten. Curling into a ball and resting his head on the lumpy armrest, he closed his eyes, wondering if things would ever be like they used to.
*God in heaven, this is worse than when I woke up with my cat sleeping on my face,* thought Finch grouchily as he looked down at his wristwatch and groaned to see that he had only slept for little over two hours. As he peeled himself from the armchair and stretched in an attempt to realign his crooked back, he frowned at Maya's empty bed. Finding the bathroom unoccupied, he shoved his feet into a pair of fuzzy purple slippers and grabbed the key off the lampstand, becoming increasingly worried. The cold autumn air hit him like a cannonball as soon as he stepped outside, but he closed the door behind him and strode briskly down the second-story walkway, his rubber soles slapping loudly.
"Maya?"
His friend stood near the stairs to the ground floor looking down at the swimming pool, which was covered with a big blue tarp, her white hands gripping the railing. She was already dressed in a pair of simple blue jeans and a soft grey sweater, but her hair remained free of clasp or tie. Finch had always meant to tell her how beautiful her hair looked when she left it down, but now he supposed he had missed his chance. Walking slowly up to her, he laid a hand on her elbow. "Hey, it's not the right season for swimming. I promise once it warms up I'll take you to ride Splash Mountain or something."
There was no sign from Maya that she acknowledged his presence; unless that blink counted, but she probably would've blinked anyway. Finch tugged lightly on her arm. "Come on back inside, Maya. You're gonna get sick again out here."
She merely shrugged. Suppressing an exasperated sigh, he leaned his hip against the railing. "You know, as much as I enjoy these one-sided conversations we have," he said casually, "I can't help but notice that you seem to be avoiding me."
Her head shook minutely. "No I'm not."
"Mm-hmm, right. Y'know, there are always signs. Purposeful avoidment, limiting one's sentences to two- or three-word responses, that kind of thing. I've seen you ticked off before, Maya, like when Nina borrowed your boots and broke one of the heels off in a stormdrain while she was outrunning the cops." He looked at her face closely. "But when you're *really* mad, you don't say a word about it. And you're really mad."
Maya said nothing in response, so Finch took it as a confirmation and continued. "You have every right to be mad, Maya, but you can't hate me for this; God, you just *can't*. Do you think you're the only one who's hurting, who feels like your heart's been ripped out and stomped on? This isn't exactly a luau for me, either, Maya. But I don't know about you, but I, for one, am not ready to become sworn enemies over this, okay?"
Still she said nothing. All she did was look at him with those heartrending eyes. *Dear God, I broke my Maya!* he thought, swallowing a sudden lump in his throat.
"Come on," he said softly, tugging her arm more persistently. "Let's go back inside. We'll call the repair shop to see if the car's fixed, and then we'll go see my grandmother."
And in fact, the mechanics had inexplicably taken pity on them along with their predicament and had miraculously finished repairing the station wagon that morning. After checking out of the motel and returning the mountain of video games, they walked to the repair shop and paid for the damage fixed. Making absolutely certain that all of Finch's cds were present and accounted for, they completed the last leg of the trip to his grandmother's house in more or less utter silence.
"Hey, Nana!"
"Oh, Denny, I was beginning to think you weren't coming!" Finch embraced his grandmother, ignoring Maya's raised eyebrow at the mention of his nickname. As they were pulled inside and forced to sit down on a floral patterned sofa laden with about four thousand doilies, Gloria Finch[1] bustled out of the living room and returned with a tea tray overflowing with little triangular sandwiches. She was a small, diminutive woman, which Finch knew had been hereditary on his part, but also like him, she had a quick wit about her that was surprising.
Mrs. Finch sat down on a large, padded armchair, and at that moment Finch heard the jingling of metal tags. He winced as his grandmother's reddish-brown pomeranian scampered into the room and jumped onto the couch between him and Maya. It placed its front paws firmly in his lap and commenced its 'Lick Denny's Face' ritual. *I hate dogs, I hate dogs, I hate dogs,* he repeated in a mantra over and over in his head.
"Mitzi, leave him alone!" scolded Mrs. Finch, waving a bony finger at the little dog. "Don't you have any manners?"
The dog held her ears flat against her head sheepishly, then buried her furry face in Maya's lap. She laughed and scratched her behind her ears, which caused the dog to wiggle in hyperactive delight. "Aww, aren't you just so cute?" said Maya, petting the ball of fluff happily. Finch was glad to see that she was in a better mood, but because of a dog!? What an insult!
"So, Maya, here you are, finally in person," his grandmother said. "Denny said you were very pretty, but he hadn't prepared me for this!"
"Denny" turned a humiliating shade of red as he reached for a sandwich, but Maya just laughed nervously. "Oh well, you're very kind, Mrs. Finch. It's a pleasure to meet you. Fin-- uhh, Dennis has told me nothing but good about you."
Mrs. Finch laughed good-naturedly. "I'm sure he has, Maya," she replied, rolling her eyes at Finch sardonically. "Well, I guess we should get started with your interview, shouldn't we?"
As Maya pulled a tape recorder and a notepad out of her purse, Finch stood up abruptly, barely allowing enough time for the dog to turn around and yap at him. "Ieee think I'm gonna go out on the back porch for a while and get some fresh air." Maya and his grandmother looked at him uncertainly, and he continued, "It's just, I've been driving a lot, and I need to stretch my legs."
Maya frowned. "You're not staying to listen?"
"N-nah, I... I've heard Nana's stories before - not that they're not totally rockin'... and besides, you know me. I'd be interrupting with jokes every thirty seconds. I'll be out back if you need me. Not that you *will*," he added under his breath as he left the room, sighing as he heard the sound of tiny claws clicking on the floor behind him.
Walking out onto the covered porch overlooking the back yard, Finch closed the door behind him and sat down on the steps, pulling his leather coat tighter around himself. On any day of the year, even a cold autumn day like this one, the scenery surrounding his grandmother's house was breathtaking. The lawn extended for about forty feet until it connected with an encompassing forest of evergreens. On many occasions, Finch had seen a variety of wildlife enter the yard, not afraid in the least of the humans that shared their habitat. He could distinctly remember one night, as a boy, when he had sat on those same steps and thrown crackers to a family of raccoons. *To better days,* he thought dismally.
A furious scratching at the back door interrupted his musings. He turned around irritably to see Mitzi the irrepressible pomeranian shredding the wood with her claws. "You little freak," he muttered as he stood up to open the door for her. He sat back down on the steps, running a hand through his hair, and the dog scurried down to the bottom stair and looked up at him with her vacuous black eyes.
Finch stared back at her for a while. Her little empty-headed gaze never left his, which he thought was pretty weird. "What!?" he finally shouted, causing her ears to fold down for an instant. Then she shoved her nose against his leg and whined. He sighed. "You want me to hold you? Or did that little moron Timmy fall down the well again?"
She raised her front paws in response and placed them on his sneakers. Muttering unintelligibly to himself, he hooked his hands under the furry animal's front legs and hoisted her into his lap. "You poor simpleton," he said, amused when she laid her head on his knees. "How did your kind survive this long without us humans to take care of you?"
The dog yawned.
"Huh, interesting," he said, stroking her fur. It felt nice; kind of like those fluffy dusters. "They say dogs are more intuitive than we give them credit for. Whoever 'they' are," he added, raising an eyebrow. "So what, did you come out here because you sensed I was depressed, or was it just because you're obsessed with me?" A sneeze was all he got from her in reply. "Thanks, I feel so much better," he said dryly.
He paused. "Okay, you found me out, you crafty canine[2]. But let's take this apart first. Why am I depressed? Well, that's an easy one. I finally figure out, no thanks to my brainpower, that the woman I love returns my feelings; you'll have to ask *her* why. But ours is a forbidden love, my fuzzy friend." The little dog nuzzled his knee, and if Finch wasn't averse to anthropomorphizing animals, he could have sworn she was comforting him. "That's right. Her father would never go for the idea of us dating. And I couldn't just go behind his back. Normally, that would seem like something the Finch would do, yes. But I couldn't do that to Jack. You wouldn't take Milk Bones from someone who wasn't Nana, would you?"
At the mention of the two sacred words, Mitzi jerked her head up and looked at him, wagging her tail frantically.
"Don't answer that," he said.
A/N: I'm soooooooooooooooooo sorry this took so long to write. I got stuck like, eight million times, and I went to my dad's house, and I had lots of schoolwork to do, and it was just a sad deal. But yay, it's done, and I apologize again for the wait. I promise the next one won't take so long. ...But did you like it? Didja didja didja!?! Just kidding. I know, it was kinda sad... Okay, REALLY sad, but it'll get happier in a couple chapters. I personally liked Finch's little "conversation" with the dog. We all know Finch despises dogs - ALL of us can quote how he feels about them: "Cats rule, and dogs can go to hell." - but I thought it'd be fun to have him talk about his problems to a member of the loathed species. It was kinda cute. ANYWAY, leave a review, blah blah blah, look for the next chapter soon!
-Wakizashi
tricksparrow@hotmail.com
[1] - I have no idea what the name of Finch's grandmother is, s I made one up. I'm not sure it has even been mentioned on the show, but correct me if I'm wrong.
[2] - I'm sure most of us know what "You crafty canine" is from, but for those who don't, watch 'Lost and Found' starring David Spade and Sophie Marceau.
Disclaimer: Oh, I'm too lazy, go back and look at a previous chapter.
Ciao
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction
by Wakizashi
Sunday, 4:50 A.M.
*If thy tongue offends thee, cut it out,* thought Finch, slightly altering a bible verse that suddenly occurred to him. Though he was trying his best to keep his cool, it was admittedly a very difficult thing to do; especially considering the fact that he had just confessed to his feelings for Maya-- not to anyone, mind you!-- but to Maya herself. And now she was staring at him expectantly, a look of sheer astonishment and, he thought, abhorrence, on her face. And they were alone. In a motel room. In the middle of the night. Great circumstances make it so much easier.
"Dennis," Maya breathed, her brown eyes as wide as dinner plates. "What did you just say?"
"I, uh, heh," he stammered, wishing he had brought some poison along with him for just such an occasion, "I said, 'Because ah-choo!' I sneezed, you know. Ah-choo. I was *gonna* say, 'Because it's none of your business, lay off me, Maya, before I push you off the bed!'" He bore his eyes into her, hoping to get his point across.
Of course she wasn't buying it. "Oh, don't give me that, Finch, I know what you said!"
"Then why'd you even ask me?" he muttered, folding his arms over his chest.
Pushing her long, dark hair out of her face, she leaned forward and looked up at him. "I had no idea, Dennis. Why didn't you ever tell me?" she asked quietly, her eyes pleading for the truth. He hated it when she made him feel bad like that.
"Why?" he repeated, casting his gaze at anything besides her eyes. "Your father, that's why. Do you remember how long it took for Jack to forgive Elliott for what he did to you? And he was just a one-time offender. Jack knows me, Maya. I don't even want to think about the many ways he could put me to death for even *thinking* of you like that. He has a lot of potentially lethal gadgets at his disposal." Maya opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to silence her. "I wanted to tell you, Maya," he said softly. "And I hated keeping it from you. But your dad told me to."
And there it was. He said it. He supposed dying would be better than being in love with someone who didn't share his feelings anyway.
Maya shook her head angrily. "Let me get this straight. My dad *forbade* you from telling me? He can't do that! He doesn't control my life. It's my business who I want to be with, no matter who it is. There's nothing my dad can do about that."
"Oh, I can think of a few things," Finch started to say. Or rather, would have said, if the full meaning of what she had just told him hadn't finally sunken in. "Who... who you want to be with?" he echoed.
But Maya was too busy venting to hear him. "I can't believe he thinks he can just choose who I date, like I'm fifteen years old again! You'd think he would be *happy* knowing that I was dating someone he's known for so long. I mean, my dad loves you! Why would he have any problem with it?"
Evidently she finally realized who she had been ranting to, because she clamped a hand over her mouth. For a distressingly long time she made no sound or movement whatsoever. Finch, who was still reeling from her more-or-less admission of affection for him, reached forward to touch her arm in an effort to bring her out of her stunned trance.
"Don't touch me!" she blurted immediately his fingers grazed her bare arm. She clambered off his bed and backed away from him in mortification, crumpling into the scuffed armchair in the corner as soon as her calves collided with it. With her legs drawn up to her chest and her hands clasped around her knees, she looked achingly vulnerable to Finch in her grey heather tanktop and flannel pants.
Swinging his legs off the bed and standing up, he pulled his white T-shirt over his head and made his way slowly across the scratchy carpet to where Maya was sitting, her head buried in her arms in embarrassment and shame. He knelt down in front of her, clearing his throat softly. She raised her head reluctantly, and he took a deep breath.
"This does *not* mean we're screwed, you understand me?" he said, stubborn determination creeping into his voice. "This doesn't change a thing between us. I'm sorry, but your friendship means too damn much to me to lose it over something so idiotic as your dad's disapproving wrath. When you and Elliott broke up, it nearly ended up destroying you both, and I am *not* going to let that happen with us. Okay?" He held out his hand.
Staring at him for a long while, Maya finally gave him a shaky smile and placed her hand in his. He returned the smile and shook her hand formally, as if cementing a mutual agreement. But as much as he had intended to let go of it, he found he was unable to do so. On the contrary; his other hand came up, stroking the back of hers soothingly with its fingertips. Mentally berating himself, he winced and prepared for a punch in the arm or a slap in the face; an instinct brought on by experience.
Instead, he was pleasantly surprised when she bent forward and practically fell into his arms. He resisted the unexpected urge to laugh and pulled her against him, brushing her long hair to one side to rub her back. As he looked down at his splayed white fingers resting on her skin, that distinctive tightness in his chest returned, a thousand times more intense than any previous moment. *Why does simple happiness have to be so impossible to attain?* he thought painfully as he felt Maya's cool touch on the back of his neck.
After a few moments of blissful silence, Maya pulled away from Finch enough to smile at him. "Thanks, Dennis," she whispered. Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek that was hazardously close to the corner of his mouth. He suppressed a shiver, and as her gaze met his, he was taken aback to see a barely restrained longing in those big brown eyes. Mesmerised by her gaze, he sat powerless and unresisting as she pushed a stray piece of blond hair out of his face. She leaned forward and closed her eyes, and then abruptly his logic returned to him in a flood, and he jerked away from her.
"No," he said decisively, shaking his head. "No, Maya, I'm not gonna do this."
She blinked at him, hurt and confused. "Why? Because my dad would kill you if he knew? Dennis, why are you so afraid of what he'll do to you? Who I want to be with is my choice and *only* mine." Taking a deep breath, she added, "And I want to be with you."
Finch's eyes slid shut, and he wished to God she hadn't said that. "It's not that I'm afraid of Jack." He paused. "Well, it's not *just* that. You, more than anyone else, know that he's like a father to me. Whenever I let him down, I feel like... I'm letting myself down. And if I ever did anything to hurt you--"
"Would you?" she pried.
"No, but that's not the point!" He passed a hand over his face. "Jack loves you so much that it's frightening, Maya. And if I ever *did* hurt you, it would kill him. And that would kill me, too."
Maya said nothing, but he could tell from her silence that she had absorbed what he had just told her. It was true; Maya did understand him more than anyone else. She knew, underneath all the sarcastic comments and disrespect, how much Finch admired her father. She knew how hard he tried to please Jack, and how horrible it felt to let him down. And she knew that he let him down this time, it would equally destructive to them both.
Swallowing a lump in his throat, Finch somewhow managed to admit to the woman he loved what he had already admitted to himself long ago. "That's why we can never be together," he said softly.
The expression on her face was painful to look at, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. On her face was a combination of frustration, anger, and the most profound misery, mingled with a grim acceptance. She acknowledged that there was no dissuading him. She nodded wordlessly, looking down at her lap.
Feeling like the worst person on the planet - worse than Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini at a political tyrants' banquet - Finch gave her hand what he hoped, but what was clearly not, a comforting squeeze. "Try and get some sleep," he murmured, and recorded that moment as officially the most traumatic of his life as Maya slowly stood up and turned her back on him, literally and figuratively. He watched her lower herself dismally onto the mattress, watched her draw the sheets up over her head. As he pulled himself onto the chair and wrapped his arms around his knees, he looked out the window between the curtains to see the sky already beginning to lighten. Curling into a ball and resting his head on the lumpy armrest, he closed his eyes, wondering if things would ever be like they used to.
*God in heaven, this is worse than when I woke up with my cat sleeping on my face,* thought Finch grouchily as he looked down at his wristwatch and groaned to see that he had only slept for little over two hours. As he peeled himself from the armchair and stretched in an attempt to realign his crooked back, he frowned at Maya's empty bed. Finding the bathroom unoccupied, he shoved his feet into a pair of fuzzy purple slippers and grabbed the key off the lampstand, becoming increasingly worried. The cold autumn air hit him like a cannonball as soon as he stepped outside, but he closed the door behind him and strode briskly down the second-story walkway, his rubber soles slapping loudly.
"Maya?"
His friend stood near the stairs to the ground floor looking down at the swimming pool, which was covered with a big blue tarp, her white hands gripping the railing. She was already dressed in a pair of simple blue jeans and a soft grey sweater, but her hair remained free of clasp or tie. Finch had always meant to tell her how beautiful her hair looked when she left it down, but now he supposed he had missed his chance. Walking slowly up to her, he laid a hand on her elbow. "Hey, it's not the right season for swimming. I promise once it warms up I'll take you to ride Splash Mountain or something."
There was no sign from Maya that she acknowledged his presence; unless that blink counted, but she probably would've blinked anyway. Finch tugged lightly on her arm. "Come on back inside, Maya. You're gonna get sick again out here."
She merely shrugged. Suppressing an exasperated sigh, he leaned his hip against the railing. "You know, as much as I enjoy these one-sided conversations we have," he said casually, "I can't help but notice that you seem to be avoiding me."
Her head shook minutely. "No I'm not."
"Mm-hmm, right. Y'know, there are always signs. Purposeful avoidment, limiting one's sentences to two- or three-word responses, that kind of thing. I've seen you ticked off before, Maya, like when Nina borrowed your boots and broke one of the heels off in a stormdrain while she was outrunning the cops." He looked at her face closely. "But when you're *really* mad, you don't say a word about it. And you're really mad."
Maya said nothing in response, so Finch took it as a confirmation and continued. "You have every right to be mad, Maya, but you can't hate me for this; God, you just *can't*. Do you think you're the only one who's hurting, who feels like your heart's been ripped out and stomped on? This isn't exactly a luau for me, either, Maya. But I don't know about you, but I, for one, am not ready to become sworn enemies over this, okay?"
Still she said nothing. All she did was look at him with those heartrending eyes. *Dear God, I broke my Maya!* he thought, swallowing a sudden lump in his throat.
"Come on," he said softly, tugging her arm more persistently. "Let's go back inside. We'll call the repair shop to see if the car's fixed, and then we'll go see my grandmother."
And in fact, the mechanics had inexplicably taken pity on them along with their predicament and had miraculously finished repairing the station wagon that morning. After checking out of the motel and returning the mountain of video games, they walked to the repair shop and paid for the damage fixed. Making absolutely certain that all of Finch's cds were present and accounted for, they completed the last leg of the trip to his grandmother's house in more or less utter silence.
"Hey, Nana!"
"Oh, Denny, I was beginning to think you weren't coming!" Finch embraced his grandmother, ignoring Maya's raised eyebrow at the mention of his nickname. As they were pulled inside and forced to sit down on a floral patterned sofa laden with about four thousand doilies, Gloria Finch[1] bustled out of the living room and returned with a tea tray overflowing with little triangular sandwiches. She was a small, diminutive woman, which Finch knew had been hereditary on his part, but also like him, she had a quick wit about her that was surprising.
Mrs. Finch sat down on a large, padded armchair, and at that moment Finch heard the jingling of metal tags. He winced as his grandmother's reddish-brown pomeranian scampered into the room and jumped onto the couch between him and Maya. It placed its front paws firmly in his lap and commenced its 'Lick Denny's Face' ritual. *I hate dogs, I hate dogs, I hate dogs,* he repeated in a mantra over and over in his head.
"Mitzi, leave him alone!" scolded Mrs. Finch, waving a bony finger at the little dog. "Don't you have any manners?"
The dog held her ears flat against her head sheepishly, then buried her furry face in Maya's lap. She laughed and scratched her behind her ears, which caused the dog to wiggle in hyperactive delight. "Aww, aren't you just so cute?" said Maya, petting the ball of fluff happily. Finch was glad to see that she was in a better mood, but because of a dog!? What an insult!
"So, Maya, here you are, finally in person," his grandmother said. "Denny said you were very pretty, but he hadn't prepared me for this!"
"Denny" turned a humiliating shade of red as he reached for a sandwich, but Maya just laughed nervously. "Oh well, you're very kind, Mrs. Finch. It's a pleasure to meet you. Fin-- uhh, Dennis has told me nothing but good about you."
Mrs. Finch laughed good-naturedly. "I'm sure he has, Maya," she replied, rolling her eyes at Finch sardonically. "Well, I guess we should get started with your interview, shouldn't we?"
As Maya pulled a tape recorder and a notepad out of her purse, Finch stood up abruptly, barely allowing enough time for the dog to turn around and yap at him. "Ieee think I'm gonna go out on the back porch for a while and get some fresh air." Maya and his grandmother looked at him uncertainly, and he continued, "It's just, I've been driving a lot, and I need to stretch my legs."
Maya frowned. "You're not staying to listen?"
"N-nah, I... I've heard Nana's stories before - not that they're not totally rockin'... and besides, you know me. I'd be interrupting with jokes every thirty seconds. I'll be out back if you need me. Not that you *will*," he added under his breath as he left the room, sighing as he heard the sound of tiny claws clicking on the floor behind him.
Walking out onto the covered porch overlooking the back yard, Finch closed the door behind him and sat down on the steps, pulling his leather coat tighter around himself. On any day of the year, even a cold autumn day like this one, the scenery surrounding his grandmother's house was breathtaking. The lawn extended for about forty feet until it connected with an encompassing forest of evergreens. On many occasions, Finch had seen a variety of wildlife enter the yard, not afraid in the least of the humans that shared their habitat. He could distinctly remember one night, as a boy, when he had sat on those same steps and thrown crackers to a family of raccoons. *To better days,* he thought dismally.
A furious scratching at the back door interrupted his musings. He turned around irritably to see Mitzi the irrepressible pomeranian shredding the wood with her claws. "You little freak," he muttered as he stood up to open the door for her. He sat back down on the steps, running a hand through his hair, and the dog scurried down to the bottom stair and looked up at him with her vacuous black eyes.
Finch stared back at her for a while. Her little empty-headed gaze never left his, which he thought was pretty weird. "What!?" he finally shouted, causing her ears to fold down for an instant. Then she shoved her nose against his leg and whined. He sighed. "You want me to hold you? Or did that little moron Timmy fall down the well again?"
She raised her front paws in response and placed them on his sneakers. Muttering unintelligibly to himself, he hooked his hands under the furry animal's front legs and hoisted her into his lap. "You poor simpleton," he said, amused when she laid her head on his knees. "How did your kind survive this long without us humans to take care of you?"
The dog yawned.
"Huh, interesting," he said, stroking her fur. It felt nice; kind of like those fluffy dusters. "They say dogs are more intuitive than we give them credit for. Whoever 'they' are," he added, raising an eyebrow. "So what, did you come out here because you sensed I was depressed, or was it just because you're obsessed with me?" A sneeze was all he got from her in reply. "Thanks, I feel so much better," he said dryly.
He paused. "Okay, you found me out, you crafty canine[2]. But let's take this apart first. Why am I depressed? Well, that's an easy one. I finally figure out, no thanks to my brainpower, that the woman I love returns my feelings; you'll have to ask *her* why. But ours is a forbidden love, my fuzzy friend." The little dog nuzzled his knee, and if Finch wasn't averse to anthropomorphizing animals, he could have sworn she was comforting him. "That's right. Her father would never go for the idea of us dating. And I couldn't just go behind his back. Normally, that would seem like something the Finch would do, yes. But I couldn't do that to Jack. You wouldn't take Milk Bones from someone who wasn't Nana, would you?"
At the mention of the two sacred words, Mitzi jerked her head up and looked at him, wagging her tail frantically.
"Don't answer that," he said.
A/N: I'm soooooooooooooooooo sorry this took so long to write. I got stuck like, eight million times, and I went to my dad's house, and I had lots of schoolwork to do, and it was just a sad deal. But yay, it's done, and I apologize again for the wait. I promise the next one won't take so long. ...But did you like it? Didja didja didja!?! Just kidding. I know, it was kinda sad... Okay, REALLY sad, but it'll get happier in a couple chapters. I personally liked Finch's little "conversation" with the dog. We all know Finch despises dogs - ALL of us can quote how he feels about them: "Cats rule, and dogs can go to hell." - but I thought it'd be fun to have him talk about his problems to a member of the loathed species. It was kinda cute. ANYWAY, leave a review, blah blah blah, look for the next chapter soon!
-Wakizashi
tricksparrow@hotmail.com
[1] - I have no idea what the name of Finch's grandmother is, s I made one up. I'm not sure it has even been mentioned on the show, but correct me if I'm wrong.
[2] - I'm sure most of us know what "You crafty canine" is from, but for those who don't, watch 'Lost and Found' starring David Spade and Sophie Marceau.