Before Doubt: A Morning Scene
Title: Before Doubt: A Morning Scene
Author: halfsquat
Fandom: Doubt
Pairing: Sister Aloysius/ Sister James
Rating: R, sexual situations
Genre: fluff
Word Count: 2,750 approximately
Summary: This is a one shot that is set before the happenings of the movie Doubt. Sister James has been acclimating to the Church during the summer, which is ending very shortly. Having only been there two months, Sister James isn’t quite settled and Aloysius isn’t helping her get comfortable.
Disclaimer: All characters from Doubt belong to their creators. I claim no ownership and intend no copyright infringement. All nonsense unrelated to Doubt and all divergence from their scripts is my doing.
Author's Notes: I’d like to think I’ve kept both of them in character, but who knows. I’ve put them in a setting that isn’t nearly as tense as that of the movie; so, I’ve tried to adapt their demeanors to a more carefree environment- if a Church can ever really be truly carefree. I have likely taken liberties.
***
Before Doubt: A Morning Scene
***
A morning scene: the sun wrapped its hands around the light, but it slowly slipped over and onto the Church’s courtyard. Two robins voiced their greetings and fretted from branch to branch. The light grinned through the stained glass of Jesus and Joseph and Mary. As the warm-colored leaves rustled, all the nuns rose in unison. Somewhere far off, a cascading child’s giggle rose. A perfect- a snort? Sister Veronica’s snoring sounds through the wall.
No, a morning scene: Sister James sits on the end of her bed. The sheets loosely tangle at her waist. Bare feet dangle off the edge of her thin mattress. A small chill struggles into the bones of them. There is no lover’s pair of robins greeting her or the morning. The sun doesn’t slip beautiful light over today, and the light doesn’t grin. Her mind tumbles over the paragraph she’s made.
“Fret,” she says aloud. “Fret won’t do.” Her fingers toy with the sheet and her lips purse. “Perhaps slip is too…jarring,” she mutters to herself. Momentarily, she peers at her closed journal on her desk. She mentally scraps the paragraph and rises, walks to her open window. Another fall day. But, the clouds freckle the sun’s face and threaten to black it completely out. Their cloud-bellies are full and dark with moisture. Silence rests in the courtyard, frozen, as if caught misbehaving. No birds. No child’s laugh. As she pulls her white nightgown over her head and off, Sister James sighs. Another day. At least, the semester would soon begin.
***
As Sister James walks down the corridor, she peers out a window into the courtyard. Sister Aloysius is on her knees. Her formless habit finds some form in the slope of her back. It’s pulled taut at the curves of her hips; her knees sit on the fabric and force it to strain. Her hands are busily weeding the garden. A small pile of offending plant forms sit, uprooted, on the pathway. Sister James’s slowed steps stop. Sister Aloysius’s firm hands uproot another weed, toss it to the pile. Dirt darkens each fingertip. Sister James leans on the window frame, continues her observance. Garden work seems to be a ritual of Aloysius’s in the mornings- even now with rain plotting above. Every morning, the ritual commences, as does James’s observance of it. Aloysius leans forward, cradles one of the purple blossoms in her hand, and smells it. Afterward, she looks up and glances around, as if afraid to be caught. Her eyes meet Sister James’s and holds them stubbornly. Nervously, James ducks her head and walks away. The other nun rises, leaves the courtyard.
***
The unseen sun is dragging along its path. If it were visible, someone knowledgeable could tell that it’s past noon. A sprinkling of rain mists the courtyard. Just returning from outside, Sister James holds her raincoat midair, while trying to decide which hook to pick. All of them are empty. She finally decides on the middle one and sets it there, but she freezes when she feels a presence behind her. She can nearly feel breath on the back of her neck. A small water droplet lands on her habit, trails down to her neckline, and chills her neck.
“So, that’s what has happened to my raincoat.” The voice is disinterested, but mild anger creeps up it. James turns slowly around to find Sister Aloysius towering over her. Her habit and bonnet are spotted with wet. She stands an inch from the smaller nun. With one eyebrow arched, both eyes bore into her. One of the smaller nun’s hands grabs the raincoat. Aloysius leans in.
“B-but, this is my raincoat.” A strong arm snakes around and past her. It flips the raincoat over to bring the tag into view. Aloysius nods in the direction of the tag. Nervously, James looks over. ALOYSIUS is spelt out across the tag. “Oh. I-I’m sorry.” Aloysius sighs and backs away slightly.
“It’s okay.” The older nun rubs her own temples. “Just be mindful of the tags next time. All of our things look nearly identical, after all.” A blush is spread across James’s cheeks, but it’s been there a while now. Her eyes dart down to Aloysius’s lips, then up. A water droplet forms at the tip of the older nun’s nose. After hesitation, it plummets past the lips.
***
The day edges out, but the clouds seem reluctant to let their rain go. Only a spattering of showers falls. The nuns go about their chores like clockwork. Their individual chores, like gears, allow for the Church to function. James does her part, but her gaze stays steady on the clouds above. A thunderstorm would interrupt the monotony, if only slightly; yet the stubborn clouds won’t allow it.
***
The evening sun is ducking its head under the horizon. The dim corridors have electric lighting, but they flicker and hum. With a towel draped over her arm, Sister James walks to the nun’s shared bathroom. The door is shut; she knocks, but there is no reply. She tries the handle, which gives. Slowly, she edges the door open and peers in. The open shower stall is occupied and the tiled walls are slick with moisture. The naked figure is toweling off. James knows she should quietly close the door and walk away, but continues peeking through the slight opening. The side-view of a large swell of a breast can been seen. A pale pink nipple tops it. The profile of Aloysius’s face comes into view, confirming what Sister James already knew. Her mind roves over the body, taking stock of every perfection and imperfection, and stowing it away. As Aloysius finishes toweling, she looks up towards the door and freezes.
“Yes?” she calls, but the only sound that replies is the scurry of feet down the hallway. The door still hangs slightly ajar, as does Sister Aloysius’s mouth.
***
Closing her own room’s door behind her, James wishes she could lock it. Her grip around the unused towel is white-knuckled. A big sigh of relief exits her blushing face. Tossing the towel aside, she sits on the end of her bed. Glassy-eyed, she stares at her wall, while her fingers absent-mindedly toy with the fabric of her nightgown.
With a frustrated huff, she rises and sits at her desk. She briskly opens her journal and searches for her last used page. Words blur by: “the slope of her back and the curve of her hip as she uprooted another-”, “her eyes met mine and she leaned in-”, “I’ve always wondered what color her hair was… under that bonnet. Her eyes are so-”. Finally, she came to a half empty page. She slashes three lines under the previous paragraph and begins:
The spray from the shower decorated the tiles. The dew-like drops still clung to her. As her breasts came into view, my breath caught in my throat. Their substantial swell was adorned with pale nipples. Her hips curved, and at the apex of her thighs, there was a thatch of blonde hair. As she toweled off, I think she was oblivious to-
***
Today, Sister James is afraid, though she is sure Aloysius could not know it was her. Sister Aloysius has always intimidated her, but today it feels like it’s crippling her. Granted, the woman is taller than her, which is an attribute that has always rattled her. But, it’s only height. Like right now, everyone is sitting around the breakfast table; she doesn’t seem so tall right now. James bites her lower lip in nervousness and gives a small fidget. She toys with her own oatmeal- no cinnamon or sugar like back at home. Just plain. The nuns eat in silence. Sister James lets out a tiny sigh, and right away she regrets it. She can already feel Sister Aloysius’s eyes on her. With her head still craned to her bowl, her eyes look up in Sister Aloysius’s direction. One sharp eyebrow is raised. Sister James gives a small smile and returns to eating.
“How’re you finding things here, Sister James? You’ve had two months to settle. I’m sure your lesson plans are nearly finalized. The school year is coming quickly.” Sister Aloysius says, after clearing her throat. The other nuns look up, look expectantly at the youngest nun.
“Everything is very nice,” James says with a nervous smile. “My lesson plans are completed.”
“Very well. Very good. Teaching 8th graders will be quite demanding, Sister James. I would like to look over your lesson plans today.” James visibly gulps.
“All right, Sister, when?”
“After evening mass. We will meet in your quarters.”
***
The congregations’ voices rise in a hymn. Sister James’s accompanies theirs. From the corner of her eye, she glances over at Aloysius. The reds and purples of nearby stained glass cast her in a strange light. Momentarily, James glances up at the burgundy of Jesus’s robe in the window. The source, she concludes. Her gaze returns to its previous place. Focused on Aloysius’s lips, she watches the older woman’s voice rise and fall with the hymn. Her own singing has been forgotten slightly and she struggles with the words. Suddenly, Aloysius looks over. Sister James looks quickly away, a blush at being caught creeps at the edges of her bonnet.
***
The end of evening mass nears. Sister James looks over, searching Sister Aloysius out. She’s not in her usual spot. Nervously, James glances around. The nun still remains absent. Furrowing, her brows knit together. When mass ends ten minutes later, Sister James hustles quickly out. Her fingers grip her habit so the hem won’t drag on the ground or get caught, in her haste.
***
Nearly out of breath, she reaches the door to her quarters. Without knocking, she opens the door in a flourish. Two upshot eyebrows greet her. Sister Aloysius leans idly against the edge of her desk. The older woman’s slim fingers seem so close to her journal.
“Hello.”
“H-hello,” Sister James sputters. Sister Aloysius nods in the direction of the door.
“Well, come in and close the door.” The younger nun does as she’s told, but her gaze is downcast and furtive. “As you know,” Aloysius continues. “I’ve come to talk about your lesson plan.” A deep pause. “But, I’ve noticed something in your room that interests me. It’s perhaps something about you that I’ve overlooked.” With her head tilted in confusion, Sister James looks expectantly at her. The older woman’s pointer finger taps the journal. “This.” James only stares blankly and pales a little. “I didn’t know you kept a journal.” Sister James looks stricken and Aloysius returns the expression with bewilderment. “Oh, oh. Don’t worry I did not open it. That would be an invasion of privacy.” James signs in relief, but her hands wring each other.
“… yes, I do write. It’s sort of half journal and half prose. Sometimes poetry.”
“I wish I had known this,” Aloysius says with a cold smile, but it only makes James more nervous. “I’d have assigned you to teaching the children writing.” A small silence spans out. Aloysius clears her throat. “What do you write about?”
“I don’t know…I just observe things, I guess, and write about them.”
“You like to… observe things?” Her voice is calculating.
“Well, yes.”
“What kinds of things?” James’s brows furrow.
“What do you mean?”
“What kinds of things do you observe?”
“Birds,” she says slowly. “Nature- those types of things.”
“People?” Aloysius broaches.
“Well, sometimes, yes.”
“Who?”
“Oh, just the children, and the nuns, and clergy,” Sister James says, nervously finding an imaginary itch at her neck.
“Any nuns in particular?”
“No…why?”
“Just curious,” Aloysius says dismissively as she runs a finger along the spine of the journal. Lips pursed, she looks down at the binding. “Would you mind, terribly, if I’d look?” Sister James blanches.
“Well, my writing isn’t any good.”
“That’s fine. I’d like to look. Perhaps instead of History, you should be teaching writing. I like to use my teachers in the best way I can.” The older woman’s hand picks the journal up from the desk. “Where shall I open to?” Hands open, Sister James walks over to her.
“Really, these aren’t any good. Please don’t read it.”
“Nonsense. Anyone with talent is most critical of herself. I’ll just open to your latest entry.” As the pages whir open under her thumb, Aloysius keeps eye contact with James. She glances down, stops at the latest entry, which is dog-eared. Her eyes glance down; her mouth opens to read aloud. Suddenly, fingers are sprawled over the paragraph and block her view.
“Sister Aloysius, please.” Sister James pleads. A faint blush spreads onto Aloysius’s neck at their close proximity. Aloysius frees one of her hands from holding the journal, and rests it on James’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Sister, I won’t be critical.” When Sister Aloysius looks down again to the book, James tries to tug it away, but Aloysius’s grip is firm. It doesn’t budge. Aloysius gives her a withering glare, but James doesn’t back down.
“Don’t.” James boldly says.
“Why? I’ve already read it.” James’s mouth lolls open and quivers in disbelief.
“You’ve, you’ve, you’ve-” Sister Aloysius leans in and kisses her soundly and only once.
“I’ve read it. It was left open. I was just going close it and leave- spare you the embarrassment of finding it open and me in your room- but I saw my name… and read.” A pause. “But, I already knew.” Doe-eyed, James just stares at her. Her mouth still hangs slightly open, but a deep blush sprawls across her cheeks. Sister Aloysius leans in, kisses her again. Their lips brush together like fainting and waking moths, but soon the kiss hardens. Aloysius’s tongue traces the edge of James’s lower lip, which causes the young nun to softly moan into the kiss. When the older nun’s tongue finds its way into her mouth and gently caresses her own, her eyes flutter open. Aloysius eyes are open, meet her own. The grey irises seem thin around the pupils. When the tongue moves against her again, she tentatively returns the caress.
Thud. The journal falls to the floor, which would jolt her, but Sister Aloysius’s hands are wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer. The older nun’s hands slide up and down the other’s sides and hips. Their kisses become more feverish, but soon the tongue exits. A quick succession of kisses land on James’s mouth and she can feel herself being pushed backward. The mattress presses against the backs of her calves, and soon, she is tumbling back onto the bed. Dazed but nervous, she looks up at Aloysius, who is standing over her. Slowly, Aloysius unties her bonnet and frees her hair.
In loose curls, pale blonde hair falls down to the older woman’s shoulders. After the bonnet falls to the floor, a pin that held up a bun tinks alongside it. Aloysius bends, presses her body lengthwise against James. Leaning on one elbow, she unties James’s bonnet with one hand and pulls it loose. Kissing her, she musses the young woman’s brown hair. Slowly, Aloysius’s hand reaches down, slips under the hem of Sister James’s habit. It ghosts along her calf, her thigh, but then rests on her fabric-covered sex. Firm fingers move the underwear aside, then firmly cup the same location. Sister James lets out a mewling moan, and looks questioningly up at Aloysius. Aloysius only smiles and begins to rub the slick flesh that she’s found between the nun’s thighs.
***
A morning scene: The sun wraps its hands around the light, but it slowly slips over and onto the Church’s courtyard. The slopes of Sister Aloysius’s back are lit by the rising sun. Sheets are tangled around her, but leave large patches of skin uncovered. Sister James’s bed is not big enough for two; naked breasts, stomaches, and hips press tightly together. Slowly, Sister James’s eyes open. Sister Aloysius is still sound asleep. Her soft breath exits next to James’s own. James gives her tentative kiss. Then very softly kisses both of her eyelids, which flutter open. Outside, two robins fret from branch to branch, but settle side by side. The light grins through the stained glass of Jesus and Joseph and Mary. The nuns don’t rise in unison, but nearly so.
***
End.
***