Taking a breather from the sturm und drang of "A Stitch in Time" to write this "Missing Moment" fic. Our heroes' confrontation at Kitty Hawk beach during the pilot episode was always one of my favorite scenes, probably because the emotions involved were so raw and both actors delivered the goods with a thoroughness that still impresses me, even in retrospect. In the aftermath of the crisis, however, there is time for both characters to reflect upon where they will go from here. Contains minor spoilers from the pilot.
Disclaimer: Phineas Bogg and Jeffrey Jones belong to Scholastic Productions, James D. Parriott Productions, and Universal-MCA Entertainment.
THE CALM AFTER THE STORM
From whining wind and colder
Grey sea I wrap him warm
And touch his trembling fineboned shoulder
And boyish arm.
--James Joyce, "On the Beach at Fontana"
Kitty Hawk, 1903
BOGG
He's not as tough as he wants people to think. Under the bravado, he's as fragile as any kid who's lost his whole world. I didn't know -- I never guessed -- and I don't much like myself right now because I should have guessed. The signs were there, in all the things he didn't mention when we were yelling at each other. The things you'd expect a kid uprooted from a loving home to mention.
No parents, no home. He could've played the guilt card with me a long time ago. Another kid might have. But he didn't give anything away and he didn't break until I pushed him too far. Nice going, Bogg. What kind of jerk makes a little kid cry? Maybe it's time I started thinking before I open my big fat mouth.
So I can't dump him off in time now, like I threatened. He's not some stray dog or cat I can just abandon without a backward glance. And to tell the truth, I never thought much of people who did that, to their pets or their kids. If you can't handle the responsibility, don't have either! That's why I worked alone. Worked, past tense. Now it looks like I'm gonna to have to shoulder responsibility, whether I wanted to or not.
But I'm through blaming the kid. This isn't his fault, or mine. Yeah, the mutt overpowered me, but accidents happen. Just like an accident sent me to 1982 instead of 1492. Thrown together--we're just gonna have to make the best of it. He's smart and he knows history--it's a start.
I told him things were gonna be okay. Don't know where that came from, but I'm not about to let him down. It won't always be smooth sailing, but maybe, with a wind and a prayer, we can make this work out, after all.
Maybe . . .
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JEFFREY
He's not as tough as he wants me to think. Sure, he acts all hard-nosed and rough around the edges. But I saw his face when he looked at Baby Moses. No one who likes babies can be that bad. Maybe I can get him to like me too, just a little. It can't be any harder than winning over my aunt, who always treated me like I had some disease she didn't want to catch.
I know he's not too crazy about having a kid tagging along. But I can help, I know I can. I'll work hard and pull my own weight, and I won't even eat much if it's a problem. It's not like I'm that hungry these days, anyway.
I don't think he meant to make me cry. He was just frustrated and mad because we didn't find the Wright brothers and he had to leave Mary behind in that other time zone. I probably overreacted, but all I could think about then was getting away from him -- and everything else that reminded me of the accident. He didn't have to follow me, either, but he did and he wasn't even mean about it when I cried all over his uniform. And he covered me with his coat, afterwards.
So maybe he does care, kind of. It's more than I've had since losing my folks. Maybe enough to grab onto, like a lifeline. But I'll try not to let us both go under.
And maybe, if we both try real hard, this can work out, after all.
Maybe . . .
END