Eureka FF: And I Know Too Much (To Go Back and Pretend) [Zoe gen, PG]
Title: And I Know Too Much (To Go Back and Pretend)
Fandom: Eureka
Characters: Zoe gen (very background Zoe/Lucas)
Rating: PG
Length: 1,600
Disclaimer: All belongs to the Sci-Fi channel and people not me.
Spoilers: Set sometime post S2, but no big spoilers.
Summary: Sticking out as the Sheriff's daughter in Eureka, sticking out back home in LA, Zoe tries to figure out where she fits.
AN: Written for smallfandomfest for: Zoe, fitting in isn't everything. Title from ‘I Am Woman’ - Helen Reddy and Ray Burton.
She was going to visit her mother. She was going to visit her mother because, when she was in LA, things like this didn’t happen. In LA, her Dad wasn’t the Town Sheriff, and her sort-of-boyfriend didn’t get all squirrelly and bail on her. Most of all, when she was in LA, three separate guys wouldn’t have backed away from her on the dance floor.
“Zoe,” her Dad said.
“I’m not talking to you.”
“Great. What did I do this time?”
“There were boys, Dad. Boys.”
“I noticed.”
“I know! They noticed you too. If you’re going to chaperone, can you at least try to be inconspicuous?”
“What about last week? I let you go to that party on your-”
“You sent Jo!”
“I thought you liked Jo?”
“I do like Jo. Jo’s great. Except when she’s working for my Dad, to make sure I never get a freaking slow dance, never mind to first base. Then I pretty much hate her.” Mentally, Zoe apologised to Jo, who couldn’t really be blamed for having a psychotic boss. Someone was clearly to blame for that appointment, but it probably went up beyond even Allison to D.O.D level. That was another thing: there weren’t many teenagers in the world who could blame the Defence Department for their lack of social life.
“Zoe…” her Dad said again.
“I’m going to see Mom this weekend. She already said yes.”
“Zoe.”
“Don’t even start.”
Zoe was unlucky enough to be the only teenage girl in the world with a father who pouted. He got this hurt-offended-mad expression and it was hardwired right to the guilty part of her brain. Zoe stormed up the stairs in a hurry, rather than turn around and have to face him.
S.A.R.A.H had left her phone messages: Doctor Stark, about lab space this spring break; Fargo, checking security protocols; Lucas, apologising; her physics teacher wanting to know if her Dad would come demonstrate some of the more interesting guns next week.
Zoe was going to visit her mother.
* * * *
God, Zoe loved LA. Loved that her mom would take her shopping for high heels and short skirts, no questions asked. Loved that when she called up her old friends and asked if she could meet up with them this weekend, they had a party she could crash. An honest-to-God party with multi-coloured drinks, and loud music, and teenagers in various states of undress. When she approached a group of them, they were talking about American Idol, and the Lost finale. It was all light and sound and warm sensation. No one here was going to ambush her for her thoughts on non-standard units of measurement, or the ethics of honouring good scientists with bad morals.
Zoe was one of twenty pretty girls, and even the bright pink she had dyed her hair barely made an impact. She slipped into the crowd.
She was pretty sure they were wrong about the Lost finale actually, and she knew at least three or four guys who could do what these kids were saying was impossible. She reprimanded herself: not the time.
The music vibrated up from the soles of her feet, and she found the rhythm easily. She drew attention, but not too much. Zoe found herself dancing with a guy in a band t-shirt and rosary beads. He was cute, in a post-ironic kind of way. When he offered to bring her a drink she said yes. Something in a bottle (she wasn’t an idiot) but yeah, a drink would be nice.
When he left, Zoe kept dancing. A hand brushed the bare skin of her back; she shrugged it off. Crowded room, lots of hands. It crept up higher, up the back of her shirt. There was a moment - just a split second - where the whole thing hung in the air. She was waiting for her Dad to break the guy’s arm off. The hand crept higher still, stroking at the hook of her bra. Zoe reached back, and twisted.
The moron yelped, and backed away as far as the crowd would let him. He called her everything his limited arsenal could muster, starting with crazy bitch and working down. Cute guy arrived with her drink, looking at her like maybe she was all those things she was being called.
Zoe looked at him. Maybe she was a bitch, but up until now she had thought she was smarter than this. She had been thinking about kissing the jerk. She really, really wanted to punch him (she’d always been her father’s daughter). She didn’t. She tossed her hair behind her, and turned her back on both of them.
* * * *
Zoe told her Mom she needed to get an earlier flight so she could finish an assignment. She didn’t call home first.
It was undeniably an ego-boost to be gone two nights and have quite this many messages. S.A.R.A.H replayed them cheerfully, after welcoming Zoe home and offering her a variety of baked goods. Lucas, had called a lot, trying to make plans for when she got back. Pilar, begging her to answer one of Lucas’s calls. Fargo, weirdly, checking she had got some package he’d delivered. Reassuring her that it wasn’t explosive, and was safe to open. Zoe laughed.
The box was sitting in the middle of her bed. Doctor Stark had approved her use of the Global Dynamics labs during the break, with the proviso that she proved she knew what she was doing with the maths. Naturally, he’d sent some books to make sure of that. Zoe picked up one of the books. This was looking like another one of those times she stayed up ‘til midnight five evenings in a row to impress one of GD’s underlings.
A disc slipped from the book, with a sticky note in Doctor Stark’s handwriting. Main points to cover, and the most important concepts to grasp. Good luck, underlined at the bottom, and even through the yellow paper she could picture his half-smile. She was never quite sure whether he was nice to her to mess with her Dad’s head, or in spite of all that. Ever since the science fair he had been taking a personal interest in her projects. Which meant she had to work twice as hard as anyone in her class to guarantee she’d get lab space, but she liked the feeling she got when she turned him around. He trusted few enough people (though it wasn’t a well-kept secret that her Dad was on that list) that his approval was worth getting.
She tucked one of the books in her bag, and hit Café Diem.
In theory the lunch rush should have been over, but it was Sunday, and the place was still full. Vince looked up when the door opened, and smiled at her. She pushed her way to the counter, this time only marginally weirded out when every second person said hey to her.
“Zoe,” Vince greeted her cheerfully. “What can I get you?”
“Is my Dad here?”
“He is, which means no coffee for you I’m afraid.”
“Um. A milkshake, and some fries? Strawberry. The milkshake, not the fries.” It’s best to be really clear with Vince. He’d be liable to wilfully misinterpret her just to make the meal more interesting. “And, um, could you tell me where my Dad is?”
He pointed in the direction of a booth in the corner, where her Dad was sitting with Allison and Kevin. Vince nodded at her. “Coming right up.”
Allison smiled hello at her before she reached the table. Her Dad turned around before she’d reached him, but held off on his comments until she did. He tugged an end of her hair. “This wasn’t pink when I left you to the airport.”
“Dad!”
He slung his arm around her back. “Welcome home, sweetheart. Now: hair? Also, did I get the times wrong? I thought you were coming back this evening.”
“I was.”
“And…?”
“Can you just…?”
“Not really, no. Do I need to worry?”
“Are you worried that I’m going to end up staying here forever because I’m incapable of functioning in the outside world?”
He blinked at her. “Not before now, no.”
“Then everything’s cool, Dad.”
Vince arrived at the table with her order, while her Dad kept looking at her. He only really looked away because Allison kicked him, and asked Zoe about her class’s big project this semester. Her father managed to keep up, mostly, which proved that he had been listening to her and Lucas the last time he was over for dinner.
Zoe turned her head when she heard her name being called. Pilar and Lucas and some of the girls from school were calling her. Pilar was waving something that looked like an electrical diagram. It looked kind of suspiciously like she was trying to reprogram the VR again, to something more interesting than disaster scenarios. Those guys really needed to get out of the town now and again.
She nodded back, and lifted her plate and glass.
Her Dad was frowning. “Leaving us already?”
“Pilar’s got…”
“I’ll get used to the hair, I suppose,” he said. “If that’s what you…”
Zoe leant down, and kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”
He laughed. “At least I’ll be able to find you in a crowd.”
Zoe glared at him. “You need no help with that.”
“Nope,” he answered, unrepentantly. “Now go see your friends. And tell your boy to stop calling the house when you’re not there!” He trailed off into muttering. “S.A.R.A.H.’s starting to take his side.”
Zoe grinned, and headed across the café. The path cleared before her.
FIN. Feedback always nice (it's been a while since I wrote female-centred gen!)
Fandom: Eureka
Characters: Zoe gen (very background Zoe/Lucas)
Rating: PG
Length: 1,600
Disclaimer: All belongs to the Sci-Fi channel and people not me.
Spoilers: Set sometime post S2, but no big spoilers.
Summary: Sticking out as the Sheriff's daughter in Eureka, sticking out back home in LA, Zoe tries to figure out where she fits.
AN: Written for smallfandomfest for: Zoe, fitting in isn't everything. Title from ‘I Am Woman’ - Helen Reddy and Ray Burton.
She was going to visit her mother. She was going to visit her mother because, when she was in LA, things like this didn’t happen. In LA, her Dad wasn’t the Town Sheriff, and her sort-of-boyfriend didn’t get all squirrelly and bail on her. Most of all, when she was in LA, three separate guys wouldn’t have backed away from her on the dance floor.
“Zoe,” her Dad said.
“I’m not talking to you.”
“Great. What did I do this time?”
“There were boys, Dad. Boys.”
“I noticed.”
“I know! They noticed you too. If you’re going to chaperone, can you at least try to be inconspicuous?”
“What about last week? I let you go to that party on your-”
“You sent Jo!”
“I thought you liked Jo?”
“I do like Jo. Jo’s great. Except when she’s working for my Dad, to make sure I never get a freaking slow dance, never mind to first base. Then I pretty much hate her.” Mentally, Zoe apologised to Jo, who couldn’t really be blamed for having a psychotic boss. Someone was clearly to blame for that appointment, but it probably went up beyond even Allison to D.O.D level. That was another thing: there weren’t many teenagers in the world who could blame the Defence Department for their lack of social life.
“Zoe…” her Dad said again.
“I’m going to see Mom this weekend. She already said yes.”
“Zoe.”
“Don’t even start.”
Zoe was unlucky enough to be the only teenage girl in the world with a father who pouted. He got this hurt-offended-mad expression and it was hardwired right to the guilty part of her brain. Zoe stormed up the stairs in a hurry, rather than turn around and have to face him.
S.A.R.A.H had left her phone messages: Doctor Stark, about lab space this spring break; Fargo, checking security protocols; Lucas, apologising; her physics teacher wanting to know if her Dad would come demonstrate some of the more interesting guns next week.
Zoe was going to visit her mother.
* * * *
God, Zoe loved LA. Loved that her mom would take her shopping for high heels and short skirts, no questions asked. Loved that when she called up her old friends and asked if she could meet up with them this weekend, they had a party she could crash. An honest-to-God party with multi-coloured drinks, and loud music, and teenagers in various states of undress. When she approached a group of them, they were talking about American Idol, and the Lost finale. It was all light and sound and warm sensation. No one here was going to ambush her for her thoughts on non-standard units of measurement, or the ethics of honouring good scientists with bad morals.
Zoe was one of twenty pretty girls, and even the bright pink she had dyed her hair barely made an impact. She slipped into the crowd.
She was pretty sure they were wrong about the Lost finale actually, and she knew at least three or four guys who could do what these kids were saying was impossible. She reprimanded herself: not the time.
The music vibrated up from the soles of her feet, and she found the rhythm easily. She drew attention, but not too much. Zoe found herself dancing with a guy in a band t-shirt and rosary beads. He was cute, in a post-ironic kind of way. When he offered to bring her a drink she said yes. Something in a bottle (she wasn’t an idiot) but yeah, a drink would be nice.
When he left, Zoe kept dancing. A hand brushed the bare skin of her back; she shrugged it off. Crowded room, lots of hands. It crept up higher, up the back of her shirt. There was a moment - just a split second - where the whole thing hung in the air. She was waiting for her Dad to break the guy’s arm off. The hand crept higher still, stroking at the hook of her bra. Zoe reached back, and twisted.
The moron yelped, and backed away as far as the crowd would let him. He called her everything his limited arsenal could muster, starting with crazy bitch and working down. Cute guy arrived with her drink, looking at her like maybe she was all those things she was being called.
Zoe looked at him. Maybe she was a bitch, but up until now she had thought she was smarter than this. She had been thinking about kissing the jerk. She really, really wanted to punch him (she’d always been her father’s daughter). She didn’t. She tossed her hair behind her, and turned her back on both of them.
* * * *
Zoe told her Mom she needed to get an earlier flight so she could finish an assignment. She didn’t call home first.
It was undeniably an ego-boost to be gone two nights and have quite this many messages. S.A.R.A.H replayed them cheerfully, after welcoming Zoe home and offering her a variety of baked goods. Lucas, had called a lot, trying to make plans for when she got back. Pilar, begging her to answer one of Lucas’s calls. Fargo, weirdly, checking she had got some package he’d delivered. Reassuring her that it wasn’t explosive, and was safe to open. Zoe laughed.
The box was sitting in the middle of her bed. Doctor Stark had approved her use of the Global Dynamics labs during the break, with the proviso that she proved she knew what she was doing with the maths. Naturally, he’d sent some books to make sure of that. Zoe picked up one of the books. This was looking like another one of those times she stayed up ‘til midnight five evenings in a row to impress one of GD’s underlings.
A disc slipped from the book, with a sticky note in Doctor Stark’s handwriting. Main points to cover, and the most important concepts to grasp. Good luck, underlined at the bottom, and even through the yellow paper she could picture his half-smile. She was never quite sure whether he was nice to her to mess with her Dad’s head, or in spite of all that. Ever since the science fair he had been taking a personal interest in her projects. Which meant she had to work twice as hard as anyone in her class to guarantee she’d get lab space, but she liked the feeling she got when she turned him around. He trusted few enough people (though it wasn’t a well-kept secret that her Dad was on that list) that his approval was worth getting.
She tucked one of the books in her bag, and hit Café Diem.
In theory the lunch rush should have been over, but it was Sunday, and the place was still full. Vince looked up when the door opened, and smiled at her. She pushed her way to the counter, this time only marginally weirded out when every second person said hey to her.
“Zoe,” Vince greeted her cheerfully. “What can I get you?”
“Is my Dad here?”
“He is, which means no coffee for you I’m afraid.”
“Um. A milkshake, and some fries? Strawberry. The milkshake, not the fries.” It’s best to be really clear with Vince. He’d be liable to wilfully misinterpret her just to make the meal more interesting. “And, um, could you tell me where my Dad is?”
He pointed in the direction of a booth in the corner, where her Dad was sitting with Allison and Kevin. Vince nodded at her. “Coming right up.”
Allison smiled hello at her before she reached the table. Her Dad turned around before she’d reached him, but held off on his comments until she did. He tugged an end of her hair. “This wasn’t pink when I left you to the airport.”
“Dad!”
He slung his arm around her back. “Welcome home, sweetheart. Now: hair? Also, did I get the times wrong? I thought you were coming back this evening.”
“I was.”
“And…?”
“Can you just…?”
“Not really, no. Do I need to worry?”
“Are you worried that I’m going to end up staying here forever because I’m incapable of functioning in the outside world?”
He blinked at her. “Not before now, no.”
“Then everything’s cool, Dad.”
Vince arrived at the table with her order, while her Dad kept looking at her. He only really looked away because Allison kicked him, and asked Zoe about her class’s big project this semester. Her father managed to keep up, mostly, which proved that he had been listening to her and Lucas the last time he was over for dinner.
Zoe turned her head when she heard her name being called. Pilar and Lucas and some of the girls from school were calling her. Pilar was waving something that looked like an electrical diagram. It looked kind of suspiciously like she was trying to reprogram the VR again, to something more interesting than disaster scenarios. Those guys really needed to get out of the town now and again.
She nodded back, and lifted her plate and glass.
Her Dad was frowning. “Leaving us already?”
“Pilar’s got…”
“I’ll get used to the hair, I suppose,” he said. “If that’s what you…”
Zoe leant down, and kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”
He laughed. “At least I’ll be able to find you in a crowd.”
Zoe glared at him. “You need no help with that.”
“Nope,” he answered, unrepentantly. “Now go see your friends. And tell your boy to stop calling the house when you’re not there!” He trailed off into muttering. “S.A.R.A.H.’s starting to take his side.”
Zoe grinned, and headed across the café. The path cleared before her.
FIN. Feedback always nice (it's been a while since I wrote female-centred gen!)