November 16th, 2005
|10:26 pm - NaNo note, and Numb3rs ficlet!|
Okay, I just had the most fun writing a scene for my NaNo project that I've had all month. It was my first time writing Blair in a teaching role, and oh boy, no wonder people like this. He's so much fun to write when he's trying to get the students to see what he sees, to go where his brain has already gone... Whee!
Still a few thousand (ha) words behind. Who cares! I'm still having fun! :-)
Okay, all you Numb3rs people. I've been tweaking this thing far too much, and I think it's as good as it's going to get, right now. Plus, I need it out somewhere so I'll quit working on it when I should be doing NaNo.
Just a fluffy little future-snippet.
I got off work early today (thank God), after wrapping up the loose ends from a kidnapping case. As I walk towards the house, the setting sun touches its eaves with gold. It’s still hard to think of it as Charlie’s house instead of the family home. I roll my shoulders, trying to lose the edgy burden of the day, and remember that Charlie still hasn’t gotten around to explaining to me how he and Amita can stand to have Dad underfoot all the time.
I tap at the door. When there isn’t an answer, I let myself in. At least Charlie remembered to lock it, this time. Voices in the kitchen tell me I made the right choice, and I take my time shrugging out of my jacket and finding a place to hang it on the coat rack.
Wandering toward the kitchen, I pause as my brother’s voice rises, excited.
“Think of the sheer variation that’s possible. I mean, it’s a relief to know that the more lethal combinations have been ruled out, and knowing it’s a boy narrows it down to fifty percent of the remaining values, but it still makes me wonder what kind of person he’ll be.” Charlie sits with his back to me, straddling a chair dragged in from the dining room, talking non-stop with his mouth and his hands while Dad makes noises of agreement and continues cooking dinner. That’s per usual.
What isn’t, is that Charlie’s talking about something besides math. Sort of. I stop just outside the entrance to the kitchen and lean against the doorframe. Watching these two interact—without letting them know that big brother Don is around—is an education in itself.
Dad stirs something orange, warming in a pot on the stove. It's familiar, sweet-smelling: oh yeah, carmelized carrots. Reflected sunlight bounces through the window, throwing his face sharply into shadow. “You’re starting to sound like Larry.”
“He’s about as excited as I am. He’s already offered to be our babysitter whenever we need one.” I can’t see Charlie’s face from this angle, but his tone probably means a slightly sheepish grin.
Dad adopts a mock frown. “Oh really. Well, he can get in line behind Granddaddy here.” He gives the carrots one last, ferocious stir.
Charlie lets out a half-hearted chuckle. Before I can figure out what’s getting to him, Dad speaks up again, his tone softening.
“I know you, Charlie.” Dad pulls the pan off the stove and scrapes the carrots into a serving bowl. “You’ll love that kid no matter who he turns out to be. I wouldn’t worry, anyway.“ Finally he looks at my brother, a wry smile warming his face. “Between you and Amita, I imagine you’ll have a fine time raising another math genius.”
My brother goes absolutely still.
It’s a minute or so before Dad notices. “What, Charlie?”
Charlie rests his arms on the back of the chair and links his hands together in front of his face. “What if he isn’t?”
“Isn’t what? A math kid?” Dad’s eyebrows shoot up, but the grin is huge this time. “Well, son, then you’ll just have to raise him the way I raised you.” He opens the oven to reach for the herb-roasted chicken. Somehow, all the talk of the coming grandchild hasn’t distracted him.
Charlie still doesn’t move. I imagine his brow creased, eyes unfocused as he parses that statement out. “Oh,” he finally says.
It takes Charlie a surprisingly long time to catch onto some things. From the sound of it, the idea of what it cost Dad emotionally to raise a son miles smarter than himself has only just hit him.
I’m considering stepping in and breaking the silence, when I realize that Dad has put the chicken down and stripped off his oven mitts. He turns and half-crouches, stiffly, in front of my brother. “Charlie.” The warmth and confidence in his voice is unshakeable, and I remember again why we always loved him so much. He reaches out and touches Charlie’s curly hair. “You’ll do fine. And if you need some advice, well, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
Charlie sits up straighter. “Good, because I'm planning on having you around.”
“Have you picked out a name yet?” Dad heads back for the chicken, a satisfied smirk spread over his face. “Or maybe I should ask, has Amita picked out a name?”
“Oh, not yet, that’s going to be tough.” Charlie shakes his head in morbid anticipation of the task.
That’s my cue, right there. “Hey, if it’s a boy, just name it Don.” I step into the kitchen, waving briefly to Dad.
Charlie twists around and favors me with a blinding smile. “Sorry, I think one Don in the family is quite enough.”
I snatch up the first thing that comes to hand–a wad of soiled paper towels on the counter–and fling them at my baby brother. He ducks, laughing a protest, and Dad raises his voice. “Not in my kitchen, Donnie!”
It's too late, though. The paper towels come flying back in my direction. I dodge and snatch them out of midair for another try.
And for a moment, as if nothing has ever changed, I'm home.
Current Mood: chipper
|Date:||November 17th, 2005 05:58 pm (UTC)|| |
Another story about a new baby? :-)
|Date:||November 17th, 2005 06:45 pm (UTC)|| |
No, actually, my roommate and I dissected this new trend of mine (I never used to write babyfic), and came up with something interesting. Since I officially left home two years ago, I hadn't had much contact with kids. Then we started babysitting the 3 children of a friend, one of which is barely 1, and about a week after the first time we babysat them, I had that Sentinel fic come creeping up in my mind.
Oddly, neither of these fics is about change, as one might expect babyfic to be. They're both, essentially, "the more things change the more they stay the same."
|Date:||November 17th, 2005 06:52 pm (UTC)|| |
So it is an actual ficgenre with an actual name. I was thinking it'd be another form of profic (procreation). ;-) I do think it's necessary that such things be explored, though, since for so many people the greatest test of character comes in being a parent. That must go for fictional characters as well.
And I'm interested to see how these turn out. :-)
|Date:||November 17th, 2005 09:12 pm (UTC)|| |
So it is an actual ficgenre with an actual name.
LOL, yes, insofar as it's a pretty undefined one. But giving the characters kids is a fairly common form of ficcing, depending on the fandom.
I was thinking it'd be another form of profic (procreation). ;-)
*is speechless with laughter*
Good lord, JD, that's funny.
|Date:||November 17th, 2005 09:20 pm (UTC)|| |
Aww, how sweet! Nice job. :-)
|Date:||November 18th, 2005 09:01 pm (UTC)|| |
Thanks! :-) Glad to serve the flist.
Oh, nice. Funny and very insightful, and all the voices are good--I might quibble voice-wise over Don thinking of Charlie's smile as 'blinding'. The point about raising children who are more intelligent than their parents is a good one, particularly as almost all children outdo their parents in at least some areas of life.
There is one thing I'm confused about, and that's the 'lethal combinations have been ruled out' remark--I thought that must be referring to names, but since Dad asked about names later, I must have been wrong; what was that about? The only other thing I can think of is genetic testing or engineering, but without more development, that seems out of place in this fandom...? I'm probably missing something obvious.
Anyway, I enjoyed this, and hope you get the urge to write more in this fandom in future.
|Date:||November 18th, 2005 09:10 pm (UTC)|| |
You're cool; I love it when people read closely enough to bother to give detailed comments.
Oh, nice. Funny and very insightful, and all the voices are good
Yay! I always stress about voices in a new fandom. I shall ponder your quibble about Don calling Charlie's smile "blinding;" there may indeed be a better way to put that moment.
The point about raising children who are more intelligent than their parents is a good one, particularly as almost all children outdo their parents in at least some areas of life.
That was the starting place for this fic; and then when I went to write, Charlie kinda surprised me by having his little quiet epiphany about right there.
There is one thing I'm confused about, and that's the 'lethal combinations have been ruled out' remark--I thought that must be referring to names, but since Dad asked about names later, I must have been wrong; what was that about? The only other thing I can think of is genetic testing...
Ooo, good catch. I should explain it or have Don be all "what the heck are they talking about?" I was, in fact, trying to refer to genetic testing...the idea in my head was that Charlie was so excited *right this second* because he and Amita got back the results of an amniocentesis test that day. Charlie being Mr. "Statistically, you're dead," I figured he'd want to know yea/nay if there was any genetic predisposition to anything in either family. And he'd be pretty excited when the results were all negative, no problems.
Anyway, I enjoyed this, and hope you get the urge to write more in this fandom in future.
Glad you enjoyed, and even more glad you commented! I adore constructive feedback.
Um. As to more...well, if I do, I'm going to need a beta who's into mathematics! Unfortunately, there is a bunny hopping around in my head (Charlie/Sara Sidle, "The Mechanics of Quantum Entanglement" being the cumbersome working title). But no time to write it yet. We shall see.