new due south story
29/5/05 21:22![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
schmericaApparently, the secret to getting over writer's block? Large amounts of junk food. Seriously.
Title: Right Through Me
Fandom: due South
Pairing: none; Frannie-centric gen backstory
Rating: PG-ish
Summary: "Just because she's friendly and nice and likes to look pretty--"
About 10k. Thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lynnmonster and lyra_sena for beta.
Read at my site or below.
*****
When school lets out, Frannie runs most of the way home. When she gets home, she hurries up the stairs before Ma can call her into the kitchen to join her. She locks herself in the second floor bathroom and looks in the mirror.
Her face is a mess. It couldn't be more obvious that she's spent half the day crying -- her makeup is awful. Frannie washes her face, scrubbing hard until her skin tingles all over.
Back in her room, she changes out of her school uniform, into the old ratty clothes in the back of her closet, and takes her old teddy bear off of her dresser. She climbs on top of her bed and clutches the bear close to her chest until Ma calls her down to supper.
Maria's sitting at the table already; she gives Frannie a sympathetic look but doesn't say anything, and Frannie knows she didn't say anything to Ma. It's just her and Maria and Ma tonight -- Pop hasn't been home for dinner more than once or twice a week lately. Ray isn't home yet, even though the food's cold enough when they start eating that Ma must have been waiting a while for him to show up. Ma's worried about him, too, Frannie can tell. None of them say much all through the meal. It's the quietest dinner Frannie can remember in years.
Maria is washing dishes and Frannie is drying when they both hear their mother's high-pitched shrieks coming from the foyer.
Maria looks at her with wide eyes. "Frannie, do you think he--"
Frannie shakes her head back and forth silently, and leans back over the dish rack, scrubbing furiously at a spot on the water glass.
Ma calls out from the dining room. "Francesca! Maria! Ice! Bring the plate from the oven!"
Ray is seated at the head of the table. He looks like crap. There are already bruises forming on his face, and when he brings his hand up to rub his face, Frannie can see where his knuckles are all scraped up. He's still in his school uniform, but his tie's missing and the rest of it is muddy and stained.
When she brings in the lasagna Ma set aside for him, Ray looks up at her for a long second, but he doesn't say a word to her.
Ma is cooing over him and stroking his hair. What happened to him, she was so worried, he's too old to get in fights like this, her poor poor baby. Ray barely responds, short soft answers while he eats.
Frannie tells Ma she has a lot of homework to do and goes up to her room.
She's sitting at her desk, staring down at her weird symbols in her math book, when Ray bursts in, about an hour later.
"Hey!" Frannie says, turning in her chair to look at him. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking? I could have been, been naked in here!"
Ray scowls at her and slams her door shut. He leans back against it, folding his arms across his chest.
Frannie swallows slowly, and scoots her chair out so she can face him. "So are you, uh, okay?"
"Better than Eddie Marinelli, if that's what you wanna know," Ray says.
"I was asking about you," Frannie shoots back, but Ray just half shrugs.
"He's not going to be shooting his mouth off about you anymore, okay? I took care of it." He shifts, standing up straight. There's this weird look on his face. He's trying to look like a tough guy, Frannie thinks. Like he looks like anything but her big brother. "He ever comes near you again, you tell me."
If he ever comes near Frannie again, Frannie's going to be prepared this time, now that she knows better, now that she's cried out. She's got a knee and she knows how to use it. "Yeah, okay," she says. She smiles weakly. "Thanks, Ray."
She's waiting for him to leave, but Ray's still standing there, frowning at her.
"What?" Frannie says, finally. "What else do you want?"
"What do I want," Ray repeats. His voice is raising with each word. "What do I want -- how about I want you to grow up, Frannie? You think we're all going to be here to take care of you forever? Do you even -- do you think anything through?"
"Hey!" Frannie snaps. She stands up, half crosses the room. "I think plenty of things through. I don't know who you think you are--"
"I think I'm the guy who has to go take care of your boyfriends to keep your dirty laundry from getting all over the neighborhood!" Ray hisses. He's keeping his voice low, so Ma won't hear and come up and check up on them. Otherwise he'd be screaming at her.
Frannie would be screaming back, but instead she hisses, "He wasn't my boyfriend, and I didn't ask you to do anything!"
"No, none of them are your boyfriends, are they? Jesus, Frannie, I'm about to graduate, what are you gonna do then? Maybe you don't care if you're the class slut, but some of us care about the family--"
Frannie slaps him, hard.
She steps back, folding her arms tight around herself. Ray looks a little stunned.
He has no right, Frannie thinks, no right at all -- like she doesn't know all about how he sneaks out, like she doesn't hear him heading for the Zukos' place every week, like Ray is any better than her. Frannie's hardly done anything at all with boys, really, less than most of her friends, but just because she's friendly and nice and she likes to look pretty -- people think, people say things, they think they're better than her, they think-- even Ray thinks--
"Aw, jeez, Frannie, don't cry," Ray says, and Frannie squeezes her eyes shut and tries not to let any tears out. After a minute she feels Ray's arms come around her, in an awkward hug. Ray's shot up six inches in the last year, there's no meat on his bones, Ma says, and all of his bony bits are poking at her uncomfortably. Frannie shakes a little; she can't help it.
Ray is talking quietly above her head. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean that. You just gotta be careful, all right? You know how people are."
Frannie takes a couple heaving breaths before she's absolutely sure she's not going to start crying. She opens her eyes, blinking a couple of times. "I can take care of myself," she says, half into Ray's shoulder. She tries to make her voice sound as strong as she can, but she can still hear it coming out all girly and weak and stupid.
Ray snorts and lets go of her. "Yeah, all right. Whatever you say, Frannie," and his voice is dripping with, with -- he's making fun of her, just like he always does, and Frannie is sick of it. It's a sin to hate your brother, but right now Frannie doesn't care. It's like he thinks she's just supposed to be grateful, like he knows what's best for her, like he knows everything, when really -- really Ray's just another stupid boy who doesn't know anything. He doesn't get it at all.
"Get out of my room," she says. "I got homework to do." She sits back down at her desk and turns her back to him, staring down at the algebra formulas like there's nothing more interesting in the entire world. She hears Ray sigh, all melodramatic, and then the click of her door as he shuts it behind him.
Frannie's still almost shaking, with anger and hurt and shame and all this different stuff. She picks up her pencil off the top of her desk, clutching it in her hands. "Goddammit," she whispers as quiet as she can, and an odd mixture of guilt and excitement bubbles up in her as soon as the blasphemy leaves her mouth. She shifts the pencil so she's holding it both her hands, so she can snap it in two. Only pencils are more solid than she thought, she guesses, or maybe she really is weak (weak, needy, immature).
She throws it against her wall, instead, as hard as she can, and watches it roll under her dresser.
Nobody gets it at all. Someday, Frannie swears to herself, she's gonna find someone who understands her.
Title: Right Through Me
Fandom: due South
Pairing: none; Frannie-centric gen backstory
Rating: PG-ish
Summary: "Just because she's friendly and nice and likes to look pretty--"
About 10k. Thank you to
lynnmonster and lyra_sena for beta.Read at my site or below.
*****
When school lets out, Frannie runs most of the way home. When she gets home, she hurries up the stairs before Ma can call her into the kitchen to join her. She locks herself in the second floor bathroom and looks in the mirror.
Her face is a mess. It couldn't be more obvious that she's spent half the day crying -- her makeup is awful. Frannie washes her face, scrubbing hard until her skin tingles all over.
Back in her room, she changes out of her school uniform, into the old ratty clothes in the back of her closet, and takes her old teddy bear off of her dresser. She climbs on top of her bed and clutches the bear close to her chest until Ma calls her down to supper.
Maria's sitting at the table already; she gives Frannie a sympathetic look but doesn't say anything, and Frannie knows she didn't say anything to Ma. It's just her and Maria and Ma tonight -- Pop hasn't been home for dinner more than once or twice a week lately. Ray isn't home yet, even though the food's cold enough when they start eating that Ma must have been waiting a while for him to show up. Ma's worried about him, too, Frannie can tell. None of them say much all through the meal. It's the quietest dinner Frannie can remember in years.
Maria is washing dishes and Frannie is drying when they both hear their mother's high-pitched shrieks coming from the foyer.
Maria looks at her with wide eyes. "Frannie, do you think he--"
Frannie shakes her head back and forth silently, and leans back over the dish rack, scrubbing furiously at a spot on the water glass.
Ma calls out from the dining room. "Francesca! Maria! Ice! Bring the plate from the oven!"
Ray is seated at the head of the table. He looks like crap. There are already bruises forming on his face, and when he brings his hand up to rub his face, Frannie can see where his knuckles are all scraped up. He's still in his school uniform, but his tie's missing and the rest of it is muddy and stained.
When she brings in the lasagna Ma set aside for him, Ray looks up at her for a long second, but he doesn't say a word to her.
Ma is cooing over him and stroking his hair. What happened to him, she was so worried, he's too old to get in fights like this, her poor poor baby. Ray barely responds, short soft answers while he eats.
Frannie tells Ma she has a lot of homework to do and goes up to her room.
She's sitting at her desk, staring down at her weird symbols in her math book, when Ray bursts in, about an hour later.
"Hey!" Frannie says, turning in her chair to look at him. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking? I could have been, been naked in here!"
Ray scowls at her and slams her door shut. He leans back against it, folding his arms across his chest.
Frannie swallows slowly, and scoots her chair out so she can face him. "So are you, uh, okay?"
"Better than Eddie Marinelli, if that's what you wanna know," Ray says.
"I was asking about you," Frannie shoots back, but Ray just half shrugs.
"He's not going to be shooting his mouth off about you anymore, okay? I took care of it." He shifts, standing up straight. There's this weird look on his face. He's trying to look like a tough guy, Frannie thinks. Like he looks like anything but her big brother. "He ever comes near you again, you tell me."
If he ever comes near Frannie again, Frannie's going to be prepared this time, now that she knows better, now that she's cried out. She's got a knee and she knows how to use it. "Yeah, okay," she says. She smiles weakly. "Thanks, Ray."
She's waiting for him to leave, but Ray's still standing there, frowning at her.
"What?" Frannie says, finally. "What else do you want?"
"What do I want," Ray repeats. His voice is raising with each word. "What do I want -- how about I want you to grow up, Frannie? You think we're all going to be here to take care of you forever? Do you even -- do you think anything through?"
"Hey!" Frannie snaps. She stands up, half crosses the room. "I think plenty of things through. I don't know who you think you are--"
"I think I'm the guy who has to go take care of your boyfriends to keep your dirty laundry from getting all over the neighborhood!" Ray hisses. He's keeping his voice low, so Ma won't hear and come up and check up on them. Otherwise he'd be screaming at her.
Frannie would be screaming back, but instead she hisses, "He wasn't my boyfriend, and I didn't ask you to do anything!"
"No, none of them are your boyfriends, are they? Jesus, Frannie, I'm about to graduate, what are you gonna do then? Maybe you don't care if you're the class slut, but some of us care about the family--"
Frannie slaps him, hard.
She steps back, folding her arms tight around herself. Ray looks a little stunned.
He has no right, Frannie thinks, no right at all -- like she doesn't know all about how he sneaks out, like she doesn't hear him heading for the Zukos' place every week, like Ray is any better than her. Frannie's hardly done anything at all with boys, really, less than most of her friends, but just because she's friendly and nice and she likes to look pretty -- people think, people say things, they think they're better than her, they think-- even Ray thinks--
"Aw, jeez, Frannie, don't cry," Ray says, and Frannie squeezes her eyes shut and tries not to let any tears out. After a minute she feels Ray's arms come around her, in an awkward hug. Ray's shot up six inches in the last year, there's no meat on his bones, Ma says, and all of his bony bits are poking at her uncomfortably. Frannie shakes a little; she can't help it.
Ray is talking quietly above her head. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean that. You just gotta be careful, all right? You know how people are."
Frannie takes a couple heaving breaths before she's absolutely sure she's not going to start crying. She opens her eyes, blinking a couple of times. "I can take care of myself," she says, half into Ray's shoulder. She tries to make her voice sound as strong as she can, but she can still hear it coming out all girly and weak and stupid.
Ray snorts and lets go of her. "Yeah, all right. Whatever you say, Frannie," and his voice is dripping with, with -- he's making fun of her, just like he always does, and Frannie is sick of it. It's a sin to hate your brother, but right now Frannie doesn't care. It's like he thinks she's just supposed to be grateful, like he knows what's best for her, like he knows everything, when really -- really Ray's just another stupid boy who doesn't know anything. He doesn't get it at all.
"Get out of my room," she says. "I got homework to do." She sits back down at her desk and turns her back to him, staring down at the algebra formulas like there's nothing more interesting in the entire world. She hears Ray sigh, all melodramatic, and then the click of her door as he shuts it behind him.
Frannie's still almost shaking, with anger and hurt and shame and all this different stuff. She picks up her pencil off the top of her desk, clutching it in her hands. "Goddammit," she whispers as quiet as she can, and an odd mixture of guilt and excitement bubbles up in her as soon as the blasphemy leaves her mouth. She shifts the pencil so she's holding it both her hands, so she can snap it in two. Only pencils are more solid than she thought, she guesses, or maybe she really is weak (weak, needy, immature).
She throws it against her wall, instead, as hard as she can, and watches it roll under her dresser.
Nobody gets it at all. Someday, Frannie swears to herself, she's gonna find someone who understands her.
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1/6/05 13:46 (UTC)