Post by Jack Trove on Jul 30, 2008 21:09:48 GMT
ooc: Believe it or not, this is set directly after 'Where Have all the Good Genes Gone? I feel terrible for not having posted it before now, but... well, here it is!
Jack hadn't slept much throughout the night. When you had an iPod constantly blaring in your ear, it was hard to let yourself relax and drift off into a dream, especially when the music consisted of more than one drum solo. Unfortunately, his restless night had taken an unexpected toll on his appearance- his bedhead defied the laws of gravity; his eyes were rimmed with red, and swimming in purple; he stank and so did his breath- but hell, Jack couldn't have felt better for it!
His feet barely touched the steps as he skipped- yes, skipped, how bloody gay does that sound?- downstairs at 7.00 a.m. that morning, and the sizzling smell of frying bacon had his stomach skipping too. Jack threw open the kitchen doors and exhaled; following a dizzy nose to his plate.
Miranda appeared beside him with the frying pan, her hair scraped back into a long, loose bun, and her eyes crinkling merrily. She looked fantastic, of course; fresh-faced and fully dressed, humming in a low, tuneless voice.
"He-ey, Sleepyhead!" she chuckled, ladling the first few rashers of bacon onto his plate. "My gosh... Jack, ain't you had a shower yet?"
"Is it that obvious?" he muttered weakly, reaching for his fork.
"Why, yes," she informed him, moving back towards the stove. "I love the hair."
His hand ran through it self-consiously. "Mm... thanks. How's Kelly?"
"Conked out on my bed," Miranda laughed. "Hell, she's a snorer. I hardly slept at all."
"Hmmph," Jack tore into his first slice of bacon. "Ditto."
"Oh, Jack," the laughter was overwhelmed by her concern. "I'm sorry- we shoulda moved the kids and given you back your bed."
His face darkened. "It wasn't the bed. It was Mal."
There was a hiss as she set down two more rashers to sizzle.
"What d'you mean, 'Mal'?"
"He'd company," Jack spoke through a hefty wall of half-chewed bacon. "Him... and one of his very *friendly* persons."
There was another hiss as Miranda slapped down a third slice. She looked back at Jack, an unfamiliar frown creasing her forehead.
"Don't use that word, Jack."
"What?" He swallowed awkwardly. "Th- that's what she was. Some stupid, old sl-"
"Please, Jack. Whatever you might think she is, she's still a person." Miranda sighed, wiping her greasy hands down her apron. "I s'pose that must've been... hard for y'all to hear, huh?"
"Nah," he shrugged. "I know what he's like."
Miranda pressed her lips together. "Still... I can't imagine how that'd make it any easier."
"Easier?" He rolled his eyes. "Nah, you've got it wrong, Miranda. I don't care what he gets up to and who he fu-"
"Jack!"
"Sorry."
"Look," Miranda dropped the first batch of soda bread into a fresh pan. "Jack... that's what I used to say when Kelly was with Izzy's daddy. We weren't... well, we weren't all that close back then, but I could see they weren't right for each other. I told her so and... she wasn't happy. Then she got pregnant." Miranda pulled a funny sort of face. "He lives in Texas, and Izzy still sees him during the holidays. He's a decent guy, but... I just knew."
Unwillingly, Jack found his mind moving backwards, and re-examining Izzy and her brothers with this new information. Izzy's skin was a much lighter colour than theirs'...
"After their relationship broke down, I came out of... a pretty rough patch myself. I guess y'all could say we both realised we needed each other. We'd always been close as kids... even now, we're not really sure what went wrong..." She stopped, and took a few seconds to work herself up into a sigh. "Well, s'all good now. Aaron's Lil' Jack and Carl's dad, and he proposed after she found out she was pregnant with Carl. As for me- well, I'm here, and I'm... really happy. But the thing is, Jack..." There was no mistaking the significance in her stare. "I couldn't of done it without her."
Jack's fork dropped against the now empty plate with a metallic clang. The way she was looking at him... it made him uneasy. He wasn't thick. He knew where and why this story had just been offered to him. And it annoyed him.
A lot.
He looked at her, forcing his countanence to remain as cordial as possible. After all, it was difficult to explain her mistake to her. After all, she didn't understand. After all, she didn't know them.
She didn't know Mal.
So he smiled; a perfectly polite, 'I-appreciate-it-but-you-really-don't-have-to-worry' smile. "It's not the same, Miranda."
"Isn't it, though?" she removed the frying pan, which was now beginning to bubble, and tipped the bacon onto the next expectant plate. The rasher was that perfect shade of pink- that perfect balance between crisp and curl. Miranda fried bacon to the just right standard.
Then again, she rarely missed a beat.
"No," beneath the table, Jack's right fist clenched, "it's not."
"Want anymore?"
"No." His treacherous belly rumbled, and she passed him another slice. Grudgingly, he picked back up his fork.
"It is," she continued, moving onto the eggs. "Not exactly the same, but... it's close. Y'all shouldn't be like this."
"Like what? We're nothing."
It must've been the emphasis on the last word that gave him away.
"If, Jack, y'all didn't care like you say you don't," she swivelled to face him, each one of her syllables exaggerated to the point of ridiculous, "then why does the tension build in your shoulders when you see him? Why do you go all quiet?Why do you watch him like he's about to bite your bleedin' head off? Why do you dodge the topic? Why-?"
"For f*ck's sake, Miranda!" The sudden ferocity of his voice shocked them both. "You've made your f*cking point!"
She recovered quickly enough. "Don't swear, Jack Trove! Y'all know I ain't got the patience for it!"
"Then stop trying to fix me and Mal," the sudden violence had faded to the softest of growls. "We don't need your, or anyone elses' help."
What was it about Texans that made them want to fix people, anyway?
Jack's anger, he'd realised later, hadn't just come from nowhere. Somehow, it was always there. It was a wound, he supposed, left by his brother that just wouldn't heal. It never improved. It was always tender- the mere mention of his brother set him on edge, he knew that.
Somehow- perhaps subconsciously- he had felt it building, and let it build; a blood-red, boiling mixture that sent sparks flying down his spine. It felt good to yell about it. At least he was doing something about it.
But Miranda knew he got mad about it.
Miranda must know.
Yet her anger was just as fierce as his. It did come from nowhere- at least, so it seemed.
And every word she spat at him spat like the frying pan as it bubbled.
And it just kept bubbling.
"You're brothers!" she hissed, throwing her full weight into the attack. "I know all about it- your mother talks about it all the time! You were so close- inseparable- you followed Mal everywhere, and never shut up about him! And he always looked out for-"
"Shut up, Miranda!"
"- remember when your brother's best mate tried to bully you, Jack? Remember how Mal turned on him, and straightened him out? Remember how Mal used to-"
"Just shut up, okay?"
"What's the matter, Jack?"
That constant laughter that crinkled her eyes was gone. There was no smile- no love- no concern- just the impenetrable gaze of a tigress. Her dark eyes bore no comfort- they just watched him; taunting him coolly. How could she stay so f*cking calm while he slipped backwards into the heat and bubbled with it?
"Nothing."
"What are you afraid of, anyway?"
"Nothing!"
"Can't you even talk about it?"
"I can-"
"You can fix this!"
"He's-"
"Just talk to him, Jack!"
"I don't want-"
"You need him-"
"F*CK YOU!"
He was on his feet now; his eyes bloodshot and flashing crazily- yet her dark gaze was so sure... so steady. This calm, logical beast was sneering at him, and he had no way to stop her.
The worst part was, she was making sense.
Of course she was making sense.
Patch it up with Mal.
Talk to Mal.
They were brothers.
They loved each-
No.
No.
She was wrong.
She was ignorant; and she was WRONG.
So-
"F*ck you! You know nothing about me and Mal- you have no right to just-"
"Don't swear, sir," she cut him off.
And that was it.
She looked away, and that was it. She unloaded the pan, and tossed it into the sink. There was a faint hiss as the cold water of the tap hit its slick base.
Jack watched the steam as it rose and blew away; a new emotion beginning to colour his cheeks.
"More bacon, sir?"
"No thank you."
"Alright. Hey, Izzy."
"He-ey..." the little girl stepped uncertainly into the room, followed by a toddling Lil' Jack.
Though Lil' Jack seemed perfectly immune to the tension in the room, and immediately began demanding more bacon, Izzy hovered on her feet; her dark eyes wide and startled.
"C'mere, Izzy," Jack said, wrenching his eyes from Miranda's back. "I'll get you something to drink."
She offered him her hand, and he pulled her up onto a high chair beside Lil' Jack.
"Don't worry about it, sir," Miranda told Jack directly, "you have to go get a shower."
"Why is she calling you, 'sir'?" Izzy asked suddenly. "I thought you said not to call you-?"
"Mr Trove's my boss," Miranda smiled at her niece. "I'm obliged to call him that. But you can call him whatever you like."
"Call me, 'Jack,' Miranda," he muttered.
"Very well." She paused. "Jack."
He smiled half-heartedly, and she returned the gesture to its fullest extent. The tension broke, and Izzy began to look much happier as she tucked into her breakfast. Lil' Jack couldn't quite eat his egg neatly, but he seemed to enjoy it anyway. A few casual minutes swept by, and suddenly, there was a hurried sound of footsteps as Kelly burst into the kitchen fully clothed and balancing Carl on her hip.
"Oh, God," she looked embarrassed when she saw Jack. "I feel bad now."
"Don't," he smiled as best he could, though somehow, he couldn't quite relax into it.
"Your room's really tidy," she told him apologetically, as she sat down with Carl balancing awkwardly on her knee. "I had to go in... I couldn't help but see. The girl in the photo's lovely, by the way." She paused. "The one with the ginger hair."
"She's very pretty, isn't she Mommy?" Izzy cried exuberantly. "I want to have red hair one day."
"I like your hair," Jack smiled, ruffling the flyaway frizzy mop.
"But I like it red," Izzy insisted. "It's much prettier. What's her name?"
"Olivia," Jack felt an odd surge of affection as he said it. "Her name's Olivia."
Miranda smiled at him from across the room; it was a vague, peaceable smile, but it bothered him, somehow. He still could see the steam rising from the pan, even though a cooling jet of water was running down it.
Soon, when Lil' Jack told him he smelt weird, Jack felt it best to get out of the kitchen and leave the happy family to it. He didn't have the heart to return until much later. It was nicer to listen from the hallway, and pretend that he belonged there, instead of with Mal.
He belonged with Mal.
No matter what that meant- be it that he joined the company, or that he was his best friend and brother- whatever that meant, he still belonged with him.
He belonged with Mal.
And he always would.
Jack hadn't slept much throughout the night. When you had an iPod constantly blaring in your ear, it was hard to let yourself relax and drift off into a dream, especially when the music consisted of more than one drum solo. Unfortunately, his restless night had taken an unexpected toll on his appearance- his bedhead defied the laws of gravity; his eyes were rimmed with red, and swimming in purple; he stank and so did his breath- but hell, Jack couldn't have felt better for it!
His feet barely touched the steps as he skipped- yes, skipped, how bloody gay does that sound?- downstairs at 7.00 a.m. that morning, and the sizzling smell of frying bacon had his stomach skipping too. Jack threw open the kitchen doors and exhaled; following a dizzy nose to his plate.
Miranda appeared beside him with the frying pan, her hair scraped back into a long, loose bun, and her eyes crinkling merrily. She looked fantastic, of course; fresh-faced and fully dressed, humming in a low, tuneless voice.
"He-ey, Sleepyhead!" she chuckled, ladling the first few rashers of bacon onto his plate. "My gosh... Jack, ain't you had a shower yet?"
"Is it that obvious?" he muttered weakly, reaching for his fork.
"Why, yes," she informed him, moving back towards the stove. "I love the hair."
His hand ran through it self-consiously. "Mm... thanks. How's Kelly?"
"Conked out on my bed," Miranda laughed. "Hell, she's a snorer. I hardly slept at all."
"Hmmph," Jack tore into his first slice of bacon. "Ditto."
"Oh, Jack," the laughter was overwhelmed by her concern. "I'm sorry- we shoulda moved the kids and given you back your bed."
His face darkened. "It wasn't the bed. It was Mal."
There was a hiss as she set down two more rashers to sizzle.
"What d'you mean, 'Mal'?"
"He'd company," Jack spoke through a hefty wall of half-chewed bacon. "Him... and one of his very *friendly* persons."
There was another hiss as Miranda slapped down a third slice. She looked back at Jack, an unfamiliar frown creasing her forehead.
"Don't use that word, Jack."
"What?" He swallowed awkwardly. "Th- that's what she was. Some stupid, old sl-"
"Please, Jack. Whatever you might think she is, she's still a person." Miranda sighed, wiping her greasy hands down her apron. "I s'pose that must've been... hard for y'all to hear, huh?"
"Nah," he shrugged. "I know what he's like."
Miranda pressed her lips together. "Still... I can't imagine how that'd make it any easier."
"Easier?" He rolled his eyes. "Nah, you've got it wrong, Miranda. I don't care what he gets up to and who he fu-"
"Jack!"
"Sorry."
"Look," Miranda dropped the first batch of soda bread into a fresh pan. "Jack... that's what I used to say when Kelly was with Izzy's daddy. We weren't... well, we weren't all that close back then, but I could see they weren't right for each other. I told her so and... she wasn't happy. Then she got pregnant." Miranda pulled a funny sort of face. "He lives in Texas, and Izzy still sees him during the holidays. He's a decent guy, but... I just knew."
Unwillingly, Jack found his mind moving backwards, and re-examining Izzy and her brothers with this new information. Izzy's skin was a much lighter colour than theirs'...
"After their relationship broke down, I came out of... a pretty rough patch myself. I guess y'all could say we both realised we needed each other. We'd always been close as kids... even now, we're not really sure what went wrong..." She stopped, and took a few seconds to work herself up into a sigh. "Well, s'all good now. Aaron's Lil' Jack and Carl's dad, and he proposed after she found out she was pregnant with Carl. As for me- well, I'm here, and I'm... really happy. But the thing is, Jack..." There was no mistaking the significance in her stare. "I couldn't of done it without her."
Jack's fork dropped against the now empty plate with a metallic clang. The way she was looking at him... it made him uneasy. He wasn't thick. He knew where and why this story had just been offered to him. And it annoyed him.
A lot.
He looked at her, forcing his countanence to remain as cordial as possible. After all, it was difficult to explain her mistake to her. After all, she didn't understand. After all, she didn't know them.
She didn't know Mal.
So he smiled; a perfectly polite, 'I-appreciate-it-but-you-really-don't-have-to-worry' smile. "It's not the same, Miranda."
"Isn't it, though?" she removed the frying pan, which was now beginning to bubble, and tipped the bacon onto the next expectant plate. The rasher was that perfect shade of pink- that perfect balance between crisp and curl. Miranda fried bacon to the just right standard.
Then again, she rarely missed a beat.
"No," beneath the table, Jack's right fist clenched, "it's not."
"Want anymore?"
"No." His treacherous belly rumbled, and she passed him another slice. Grudgingly, he picked back up his fork.
"It is," she continued, moving onto the eggs. "Not exactly the same, but... it's close. Y'all shouldn't be like this."
"Like what? We're nothing."
It must've been the emphasis on the last word that gave him away.
"If, Jack, y'all didn't care like you say you don't," she swivelled to face him, each one of her syllables exaggerated to the point of ridiculous, "then why does the tension build in your shoulders when you see him? Why do you go all quiet?Why do you watch him like he's about to bite your bleedin' head off? Why do you dodge the topic? Why-?"
"For f*ck's sake, Miranda!" The sudden ferocity of his voice shocked them both. "You've made your f*cking point!"
She recovered quickly enough. "Don't swear, Jack Trove! Y'all know I ain't got the patience for it!"
"Then stop trying to fix me and Mal," the sudden violence had faded to the softest of growls. "We don't need your, or anyone elses' help."
What was it about Texans that made them want to fix people, anyway?
Jack's anger, he'd realised later, hadn't just come from nowhere. Somehow, it was always there. It was a wound, he supposed, left by his brother that just wouldn't heal. It never improved. It was always tender- the mere mention of his brother set him on edge, he knew that.
Somehow- perhaps subconsciously- he had felt it building, and let it build; a blood-red, boiling mixture that sent sparks flying down his spine. It felt good to yell about it. At least he was doing something about it.
But Miranda knew he got mad about it.
Miranda must know.
Yet her anger was just as fierce as his. It did come from nowhere- at least, so it seemed.
And every word she spat at him spat like the frying pan as it bubbled.
And it just kept bubbling.
"You're brothers!" she hissed, throwing her full weight into the attack. "I know all about it- your mother talks about it all the time! You were so close- inseparable- you followed Mal everywhere, and never shut up about him! And he always looked out for-"
"Shut up, Miranda!"
"- remember when your brother's best mate tried to bully you, Jack? Remember how Mal turned on him, and straightened him out? Remember how Mal used to-"
"Just shut up, okay?"
"What's the matter, Jack?"
That constant laughter that crinkled her eyes was gone. There was no smile- no love- no concern- just the impenetrable gaze of a tigress. Her dark eyes bore no comfort- they just watched him; taunting him coolly. How could she stay so f*cking calm while he slipped backwards into the heat and bubbled with it?
"Nothing."
"What are you afraid of, anyway?"
"Nothing!"
"Can't you even talk about it?"
"I can-"
"You can fix this!"
"He's-"
"Just talk to him, Jack!"
"I don't want-"
"You need him-"
"F*CK YOU!"
He was on his feet now; his eyes bloodshot and flashing crazily- yet her dark gaze was so sure... so steady. This calm, logical beast was sneering at him, and he had no way to stop her.
The worst part was, she was making sense.
Of course she was making sense.
Patch it up with Mal.
Talk to Mal.
They were brothers.
They loved each-
No.
No.
She was wrong.
She was ignorant; and she was WRONG.
So-
"F*ck you! You know nothing about me and Mal- you have no right to just-"
"Don't swear, sir," she cut him off.
And that was it.
She looked away, and that was it. She unloaded the pan, and tossed it into the sink. There was a faint hiss as the cold water of the tap hit its slick base.
Jack watched the steam as it rose and blew away; a new emotion beginning to colour his cheeks.
"More bacon, sir?"
"No thank you."
"Alright. Hey, Izzy."
"He-ey..." the little girl stepped uncertainly into the room, followed by a toddling Lil' Jack.
Though Lil' Jack seemed perfectly immune to the tension in the room, and immediately began demanding more bacon, Izzy hovered on her feet; her dark eyes wide and startled.
"C'mere, Izzy," Jack said, wrenching his eyes from Miranda's back. "I'll get you something to drink."
She offered him her hand, and he pulled her up onto a high chair beside Lil' Jack.
"Don't worry about it, sir," Miranda told Jack directly, "you have to go get a shower."
"Why is she calling you, 'sir'?" Izzy asked suddenly. "I thought you said not to call you-?"
"Mr Trove's my boss," Miranda smiled at her niece. "I'm obliged to call him that. But you can call him whatever you like."
"Call me, 'Jack,' Miranda," he muttered.
"Very well." She paused. "Jack."
He smiled half-heartedly, and she returned the gesture to its fullest extent. The tension broke, and Izzy began to look much happier as she tucked into her breakfast. Lil' Jack couldn't quite eat his egg neatly, but he seemed to enjoy it anyway. A few casual minutes swept by, and suddenly, there was a hurried sound of footsteps as Kelly burst into the kitchen fully clothed and balancing Carl on her hip.
"Oh, God," she looked embarrassed when she saw Jack. "I feel bad now."
"Don't," he smiled as best he could, though somehow, he couldn't quite relax into it.
"Your room's really tidy," she told him apologetically, as she sat down with Carl balancing awkwardly on her knee. "I had to go in... I couldn't help but see. The girl in the photo's lovely, by the way." She paused. "The one with the ginger hair."
"She's very pretty, isn't she Mommy?" Izzy cried exuberantly. "I want to have red hair one day."
"I like your hair," Jack smiled, ruffling the flyaway frizzy mop.
"But I like it red," Izzy insisted. "It's much prettier. What's her name?"
"Olivia," Jack felt an odd surge of affection as he said it. "Her name's Olivia."
Miranda smiled at him from across the room; it was a vague, peaceable smile, but it bothered him, somehow. He still could see the steam rising from the pan, even though a cooling jet of water was running down it.
Soon, when Lil' Jack told him he smelt weird, Jack felt it best to get out of the kitchen and leave the happy family to it. He didn't have the heart to return until much later. It was nicer to listen from the hallway, and pretend that he belonged there, instead of with Mal.
He belonged with Mal.
No matter what that meant- be it that he joined the company, or that he was his best friend and brother- whatever that meant, he still belonged with him.
He belonged with Mal.
And he always would.
