I do not own Ratched.
I do not own Huck. But I miss him and it's summer for me so I brought him back.
Huck Finnigan: Dreams and Nightmares; The Best Life Lived
Finnigan vs Bucket
And then, days later, after everything has begun to cool down, Supreme Leader Director Betsy Bucket does something Huck supposes he should have seen coming . . .
"You did what?"
. . . but never even considered.
Betsy Bucket squints her eyes at him, there in her extravagant office, red clown lips drawing into a overly large frown.
"I said, we're sending Peter to a boy's home down the coast-"
"But this is his home!"
His tone is harsh, harsher than he's ever taken with an employer, he has no right-
"He hardly functions here, how do you expect him to function out there-"
"Huck, do you hear yourself? Home? This is not his home! This is a treatment care facility! He is meant to get better and leave, not languish and disappear into the wallpaper, as he has seemed to have been doing under your care here!"
They are shouting at each other, shouting, and Huck knows this is getting out of hand but-
"He has been getting better, reaching out to others!"
And Betsy Bucket's face pulls into a disbelieving, mocking bark of a laugh.
"Oh, yeah, he's been reaching out alright! To Jillian Terrence!"
The healthy side of Huck's face colors, his jaw clenches and he is speechless.
But Betsy Bucket is not.
"It was only a matter of time before that girl got into trouble! Under our care! That would have been one hell of a lawsuit waiting to happen! A mentally ill alderman's daughter and a mentally ill orphan redskin and their half-breed baby! The state would have shut this facility down and thrown you and me in jail! Tell me, Huck Finnigan, just how thick do you insist on being?!"
Huck's rarely come so close to slapping a woman in all his life.
He turns away.
"Come back here, Huck Finnigan, come back here, I have not released you! I am your superior!"
Walks down the hall.
"Hey, Huck, everything alright?"
Out of the building.
"William Holden, you look like you could skin an elephant-"
And doesn't look back.
He sits in his car in the cool of the little detached garage next to the house he and his sweetheart bought less than a year ago.
He sits in the dim light and tries to think of how he will summon up the courage to go into that house, that comfy, cozy abode and tell his pregnant wife that he may have just gotten himself fired from his job for yelling at his boss over a teenage dalliance between a mute indian male patient and a semi-mute white female patient under his care.
He sits and he tries to think of where he and his Halloween mask of a face can get another job that pays as well as this and in short order.
Before they lose their house, are turned out on the street to wander and starve.
Which is irrational, Grace's parents would take her in a second, perhaps his useless scarred hide as well and if not, Mrs. Graham then.
But the shame and humiliation and failure.
All because Huck Finnigan lost his temper over his work.
Over human beings.
That were finally making some progress, at least from a certain point of view.
He sits and he thinks and he worries and he -
There is a knock next to his head, muffled because it's that side of his head.
But he flinches anyway, jerks his head even though he knows even before he hears the sound that it's-
"Hello, Grace."
"Hello, Huck."
She looks at him carefully.
"You're sitting in the car in the garage."
He nods.
"Yes."
She nods.
Straightens up.
Leaves his diminished view as she walks around behind the car, coming back into momentary reflected view her rounded form as she skirts the trunk.
And then she's opening the passenger side door, eases herself down and in.
Grace.
And closes the door.
She turns to him then, his beautiful bride he does not deserve, who does not deserve to suffer him and his temper and his failings.
She turns, Grace does, turns to face him.
"So . . ."
Curled, soft strawberry blond hair, red lips.
Slightly concerned expression.
". . . what happened?"
He's all run out of words.
Is just sitting there feeling low and disappointed in himself and his most recent choices.
Even though . . .
"I still believe in what I said and did. I still believe I'm right on this. On the things I could control anyway."
Grace doesn't speak. Not yet.
"But nothing is worth failing you, Grace. Putting our future in danger."
Until she does.
"You haven't failed me because you and your boss had a disagreement, Huck. And I don't believe our future is in danger."
And she asks a question.
"Do you still want to work there?"
And he has to think for a moment . . .
"Yes. Maybe not forever. But for now. Yes."
. . . about his answer.
Grace . . .
"That's fine then."
. . . doesn't.
"Now turn on the car on."
Huck doesn't really feel like he should have to ask.
"Where are we going?"
But he does.
"Back to St. Lucia. You're going to talk to Supreme Leader (yes, he has told her. In a devilishly mischievous moment and she had laughed and laughed so prettily) Betsy Bucket."
Because he already knew the answer.
"What will I say to her?"
But he doesn't know this one.
"That's for you to decide, Huck. I'm not asking you to beg for forgiveness or grovel at her feet. But you two do need to talk."
And Huck Finnigan . . .
"Alright."
. . . turns the car on.
And puts it into reverse.
The stone facade of St. Lucia Rehabilitation Facility feels even taller and more forbidding than it usually has as of late.
Huck parks facing the ocean bluff and turns off the ignition.
Grace beside him, beautiful and sweet, turns to him.
"You're a good man, Huck. And I'm not going to tell you you're wrong in this. But you have to go in and talk to her."
He clenches his jaw. Unclenches it.
"I know."
"I'll be here when you get back."
"Okay."
He puts his scarred left hand on the door handle.
"I love you, Huck."
"I love you, Grace."
And opens the door.
Thanks for reading!
