Fic: Always Thinks Twice (PG)
Desperately needed a break from archiving. It's taking me longer now because I keep stopping to read the fics. *sighs* Bad Mouse. Wait until they're all up on the website and then read them.
Title: Always Thinks Twice
Author: DangerMouse
Summary: Maggie is not an idiot.
Spoilers: Not really. A few for "A League of Their Own".
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own them. If I did, the whole series would be released on DVD by now.
Distribution: Here, my website (if I ever get around to updating it), the archive (if I ever get around to finishing it).
A/N: I finally wrote something. Yay! The title comes from this quote from Sophia Loren: "When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child."
Even though her own mother used to tell her differently, Maggie Foley knew she was not an idiot. She'd made mistakes in her life, no question about that, but she recognized those mistakes, even if she could do nothing about them, and she realized good things could come from those mistakes, if she looked at it in just the right way. Her husband Sean, to name one example, probably counted up there among her greatest mistakes. The fact that her mother liked him should have been a warning sign, given the man her mother chose to marry.
Mistake or not, she did get something good out of the deal, something she was pretty proud and happy about, and it wasn't the house or the car in the garage. No, she might have a bastard of a husband, but she got a winner of a son. She had no idea how that happened and the niggling thoughts that it might be due to the outside influence of the father of her son's best friend instead of herself didn't sit well with her all the time. But, aside from not being an idiot, Maggie considered herself a practical woman, so whatever it took.
So, when her son started to come in at strange hours, if he came it at all, she noticed. When he disappeared for days at a time, she noticed that too, even if she couldn't quite dredge up the courage to call his best friend's father and ask him if he knew what was going on. The blood stained clothing, the bruises, the scratches, the sometimes tired and frustrated looks on her son's face - none of it escaped her notice, not a bit.
It also did not escape her notice that most of this started happening when a new superhero appeared on the scene, Static's partner in fighting crime, a trim-looking, blonde-haired, gadget-throwing young man who called himself Gear. She didn't miss how odd her son was acting for several weeks awhile back, how monotone his voice became, how he forgot to bathe and eat. Lord knew it was impossible to miss the giant floating head over the city the very day before her son turned back into himself.
His report cards came in the mail and, even though she didn't have time to join the PTA, what with her two jobs and all, she always made a point of looking at them, saving them. It was hard not to spot a low-'B', sometimes 'C' average slowly rising over time until it stabilized neatly in the low-'A' range. It was also hard to not to notice how her son, who could barely be bothered to even look at a book that didn't have pictures, suddenly started getting scientific journals mailed to the house. There was no way she couldn't see how, on the rarer and rarer occasions when he stayed in, he passed the time buried in those magazines, as well as books with titles she couldn't pronounce. She didn't turn a blind eye to the way he became so engrossed in typing away at some laptop she knew she didn't buy him.
Sitting on the couch in the living room, she watched the midnight replay of the 9 o'clock news, killing time before she had to leave for the second job, a sandwich in her hand. The sound was down, not only to prevent an untimely awakening of her husband, but also because she couldn't bear it with the commentary. She could have turned on something else, but her eyes stayed trained to the news, watching as Static and Gear fought some psychotic young man that threw fireballs from his hand. She couldn't tear her eyes away, couldn't help but wince as Gear was thrown into a sturdy brick wall, her breath caught in her throat until she saw him stand up and brush himself off. Her breath caught again as he jumped straight back into the fray.
No, she couldn't miss this, not unless her mother was right, but she'd come to the conclusion a handful of years ago that her mother wasn't right about many things.
The backdoor opened and closed. Maggie heard a familiar sigh, the kicking off of a pair of shoes in the mudroom, followed by yet another sigh. She reached for the controller to change the station, but the newscast saved her the trouble by going to a segment on some stray dog they wanted to adopt out. She held her sandwich, waiting, and sure enough, her son entered the room a few seconds later. The scent in the air that followed him, one of smoke and melted rubber, was unmistakable.
He looked surprised to see her.
"Mom!" His hands immediately went into his pockets, a nervous habit he picked up years and years ago. She watched his eyes dart to the clock. "I thought you'd already be at work."
"I'm working a half-shift," she told him, giving him a smile she wasn't sure actually reached her eyes. "You're getting in late. Where have you been?"
"Oh, you know." His eyes darted down to the left, another tale-tell sign Maggie never failed to notice, not since he was six and she caught him with crumbs on his shirt and a half-empty cookie jar. "Virgil got this new DVD and we got caught up in the extras. Sorry it went so late. I was there the whole night, though. You can check with Virgil's dad if you want."
That was something else Maggie had picked up on - Richie's recent addition of Virgil's father with his excuses. She'd called to check, once, more out of curiosity than anything else. When Mr. Hawkins parroted back exactly what her son had said, she considered it very strong of her not to start screaming into the phone at him, simply ending the call politely and hanging up.
"You sure you two didn't go out?" she asked him, giving him a second chance. "You know how I feel about you hanging around on the streets after dark. It's not safe, Richie."
He smiled at her, as if absolutely nothing was wrong. "I know, Mom," he said, as easily as he said 'good morning'. "Trust me, me and V? Safe and sound."
Maggie nodded slowly, deciding she had enough for one night. "Well, go on to bed, mister. It may be the weekend, but I have a list of chores for you to do tomorrow, got it?"
"Yes, ma'am." He gave her a little mock-salute and rushed up the stairs, taking them two at time.
She watched up the stairs until she heard his door close. Turning back to the television, she noticed an infomercial had come on. A buff man on the television was holding up a bottle of magic pills that could melt away fat in five days. A phone number flashed on the screen, but Maggie didn't even contemplate reaching for the phone. She wasn't an idiot.
She hoped someday that her son would stop treating her like one.
A/N 2: Well, that was cheerful.
Title: Always Thinks Twice
Author: DangerMouse
Summary: Maggie is not an idiot.
Spoilers: Not really. A few for "A League of Their Own".
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own them. If I did, the whole series would be released on DVD by now.
Distribution: Here, my website (if I ever get around to updating it), the archive (if I ever get around to finishing it).
A/N: I finally wrote something. Yay! The title comes from this quote from Sophia Loren: "When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child."
Even though her own mother used to tell her differently, Maggie Foley knew she was not an idiot. She'd made mistakes in her life, no question about that, but she recognized those mistakes, even if she could do nothing about them, and she realized good things could come from those mistakes, if she looked at it in just the right way. Her husband Sean, to name one example, probably counted up there among her greatest mistakes. The fact that her mother liked him should have been a warning sign, given the man her mother chose to marry.
Mistake or not, she did get something good out of the deal, something she was pretty proud and happy about, and it wasn't the house or the car in the garage. No, she might have a bastard of a husband, but she got a winner of a son. She had no idea how that happened and the niggling thoughts that it might be due to the outside influence of the father of her son's best friend instead of herself didn't sit well with her all the time. But, aside from not being an idiot, Maggie considered herself a practical woman, so whatever it took.
So, when her son started to come in at strange hours, if he came it at all, she noticed. When he disappeared for days at a time, she noticed that too, even if she couldn't quite dredge up the courage to call his best friend's father and ask him if he knew what was going on. The blood stained clothing, the bruises, the scratches, the sometimes tired and frustrated looks on her son's face - none of it escaped her notice, not a bit.
It also did not escape her notice that most of this started happening when a new superhero appeared on the scene, Static's partner in fighting crime, a trim-looking, blonde-haired, gadget-throwing young man who called himself Gear. She didn't miss how odd her son was acting for several weeks awhile back, how monotone his voice became, how he forgot to bathe and eat. Lord knew it was impossible to miss the giant floating head over the city the very day before her son turned back into himself.
His report cards came in the mail and, even though she didn't have time to join the PTA, what with her two jobs and all, she always made a point of looking at them, saving them. It was hard not to spot a low-'B', sometimes 'C' average slowly rising over time until it stabilized neatly in the low-'A' range. It was also hard to not to notice how her son, who could barely be bothered to even look at a book that didn't have pictures, suddenly started getting scientific journals mailed to the house. There was no way she couldn't see how, on the rarer and rarer occasions when he stayed in, he passed the time buried in those magazines, as well as books with titles she couldn't pronounce. She didn't turn a blind eye to the way he became so engrossed in typing away at some laptop she knew she didn't buy him.
Sitting on the couch in the living room, she watched the midnight replay of the 9 o'clock news, killing time before she had to leave for the second job, a sandwich in her hand. The sound was down, not only to prevent an untimely awakening of her husband, but also because she couldn't bear it with the commentary. She could have turned on something else, but her eyes stayed trained to the news, watching as Static and Gear fought some psychotic young man that threw fireballs from his hand. She couldn't tear her eyes away, couldn't help but wince as Gear was thrown into a sturdy brick wall, her breath caught in her throat until she saw him stand up and brush himself off. Her breath caught again as he jumped straight back into the fray.
No, she couldn't miss this, not unless her mother was right, but she'd come to the conclusion a handful of years ago that her mother wasn't right about many things.
The backdoor opened and closed. Maggie heard a familiar sigh, the kicking off of a pair of shoes in the mudroom, followed by yet another sigh. She reached for the controller to change the station, but the newscast saved her the trouble by going to a segment on some stray dog they wanted to adopt out. She held her sandwich, waiting, and sure enough, her son entered the room a few seconds later. The scent in the air that followed him, one of smoke and melted rubber, was unmistakable.
He looked surprised to see her.
"Mom!" His hands immediately went into his pockets, a nervous habit he picked up years and years ago. She watched his eyes dart to the clock. "I thought you'd already be at work."
"I'm working a half-shift," she told him, giving him a smile she wasn't sure actually reached her eyes. "You're getting in late. Where have you been?"
"Oh, you know." His eyes darted down to the left, another tale-tell sign Maggie never failed to notice, not since he was six and she caught him with crumbs on his shirt and a half-empty cookie jar. "Virgil got this new DVD and we got caught up in the extras. Sorry it went so late. I was there the whole night, though. You can check with Virgil's dad if you want."
That was something else Maggie had picked up on - Richie's recent addition of Virgil's father with his excuses. She'd called to check, once, more out of curiosity than anything else. When Mr. Hawkins parroted back exactly what her son had said, she considered it very strong of her not to start screaming into the phone at him, simply ending the call politely and hanging up.
"You sure you two didn't go out?" she asked him, giving him a second chance. "You know how I feel about you hanging around on the streets after dark. It's not safe, Richie."
He smiled at her, as if absolutely nothing was wrong. "I know, Mom," he said, as easily as he said 'good morning'. "Trust me, me and V? Safe and sound."
Maggie nodded slowly, deciding she had enough for one night. "Well, go on to bed, mister. It may be the weekend, but I have a list of chores for you to do tomorrow, got it?"
"Yes, ma'am." He gave her a little mock-salute and rushed up the stairs, taking them two at time.
She watched up the stairs until she heard his door close. Turning back to the television, she noticed an infomercial had come on. A buff man on the television was holding up a bottle of magic pills that could melt away fat in five days. A phone number flashed on the screen, but Maggie didn't even contemplate reaching for the phone. She wasn't an idiot.
She hoped someday that her son would stop treating her like one.
A/N 2: Well, that was cheerful.