September Writing Challenge: Best Memories

[Sean *]

It's writing challenge time again. To enter, just post a ficlet (300-4000 words suggested) in this thread. When the voting for this month's OTM winners comes around, a voting poll will go up for this as well.

The Challenge: In light of our Time Warp event that is drawing to a close, our theme for this month is your character's favorite memories. Write a scene depicting one of your character's best memories. It should be something that does not occur within a thread itself (insofar as being rehashed from something already written on Hammel) but it can come from such an event. It cannot be something that has not happened yet in terms of your character's timeline.


The rules:

• Characters must be in Hammel canon, but the ficlets are not site canon unless expressly stately, and should match canon to the best of your ability.
  
• Entries must be more than 300 words.
  
• You can enter no more than three ficlets. Any ficlets posted after the original 3 will not be considered for voting. If you want to post more, however, have fun.
  
• Ficlets must be titled.

[Jesse Adams]

Big Brother

“Jess, relax!” Keith shot his seven year old brother a look as he continued to bounce in his seat. “Quit it.” He reached over to give him a small shove, but all it did was pause Jesse’s bouncing before it started up again. “Seriously, kid. There’s nothing fun about babies, okay?” Which was easy for Keith to say. He was already a big brother. He’d been a big brother for seven years.

Now, Jesse got to see what it was like. The waiting was killing him. He hadn’t seen his mother in two days, and he missed her. Keith was far from a fun babysitter, but at least the boys had also had their grandparents over to watch them too. If nothing else, it kept Keith from being a total bully.

He just wanted to meet his baby sister. Was that so much to ask? He could handle Keith’s constant nagging to be quiet or stay still. He could handle the periodic check ins from their father to ensure they weren’t running rampant around the hospital. What was taking so long, anyway? How long did babies take to get here?

Beside him, Keith got to his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets before producing a few thoroughly beat up bills. “I’m gonna go and get a drink. You stay right here. ... You want anything?” Jesse tilted his head for a moment before shaking his head.

“No. I just wanna see Mom. And the baby.” Keith rolled his eyes, but to his credit didn’t make any snide remarks. He just sauntered down the hall to where they’d passed the machines earlier. Jesse stayed rooted to the spot, because they’d been told not to move. He didn’t like seeing Dad angry. Or annoyed. Or... no, those were pretty much his two big emotions. Unless he was pretending. But Jesse didn’t like that either. Dad was almost scarier when he was pretending.

Barely a minute after Keith left, Michael Adams reappeared from the hall he’d disappeared down what felt like (and probably was) hours ago. “Jesse. Where is your brother?” The young blond boy immediately pointed down the hallway.

“To get a drink.” Peeking almost shyly up at his father, he ventured to ask the question he’d been dying to. “Is Mom okay? Is the baby here?” Michael raised one hand to brush through his short, dark hair.

“Yes. They’re both fine. Your mother is asking to see you both.” He gave a sharp glance down the hall where Keith had gone before looking back down at Jesse. “I’ll take you to see them, and wait for Keith here.” He turned to go back down to Sarah’s room. Jesse didn’t pause or ask questions. He knew his Dad wasn’t much for talking, so he leapt to his feet and trotted down the hall behind him. Finally, he stopped at a door and opened it, ushering Jesse inside before closing it again and going back to the waiting area.

A sudden wave of shyness came over him as he stared at his mother. She looked pretty, like she always did, but really, really tired. Like she’d stayed up way too late like he and Keith did sometimes. She was holding a pink blanket, gently stroking it as it made soft noises. For a moment, he wondered how much of what Keith had told him about babies was true, but the moment his mother looked at him, that worry vanished. It was the same warm, loving look she always had. The one that made him feel like he was the only one in the room, even if Dad and Keith were around.

“Jesse, come here sweetie. I want you to meet your sister.” He didn’t need to be told twice. Scrambling across the floor, he came to his mother’s side and hugged her tight before peeking at the baby. His sister. She was so... tiny. “Jess, this is Sasha.” Green eyes widened as the baby yawned.

“Sasha,” he repeated softly, reaching out to touch her. She was so soft. “Hi Sasha. I’m Jesse. I’m your big brother.” The words were spoken with an immense amount of pride behind them. “Keith is your biggest brother, but I’m the best big brother.” Sarah watched her son lovingly. For a while she’d been worried he’d be jealous, but if this was any indication, it looked like things would be fine. “I love you Sasha. I’ll teach you stuff and protect you and not tease you like Keith does.” Carefully, he crawled up onto the bed so he could look at her better and be closer to his mother. Twisting, he hugged his Mom again. “I love you too, Mom.” Sarah smiled, holding two of her three babies close.

“And I you, Jess.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

Pride

---

He had thought that the ceremony would never end. The air conditioning had been broken, and although it wasn't quite summer the heat and humidity had already come upon them in full force. He could feel patches of sweat form on his back and under his arms, black robes sticking to tense body.

Improving the whole situation was a tickle in the back of his throat. He couldn't concentrate on any of the speeches; instead he tried to sit absolutely still and silent, and when that failed and a cough came out despite his best efforts he was sure that every eye in the auditorium turned to look at him.

But when he looked out into the audience he saw Sean, taller than almost everyone else there, seated beside his parents and his siblings. That made the whole thing slightly bearable.

Still, he was glad when the ceremony was over. The cool night air felt refreshing after the muggy auditorium, and his shoulders sagged as all the tension from the evening washed away.

All around him his fellow graduates found family and friends; the night was filled with the sounds of celebration and relief.

"Oh, boopkie, I'm so proud of you!"

Josh turned on his heel at the sound of his mother's voice, smile wide. "Now I only have to pass the bar."

That was easier said than done, but he didn't want to think on that now. Instead he turned his smile to his best friend. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Did you think I wouldn't come?"

"You have come to all of them so far, although I can't imagine why! It's boring to me," He laughed as he held out his diploma. "But this was worth it."

"Oh, let's hurry," Talia placed a hand on their mother's shoulder impatiently. "We don't want to miss our reservations!"

The group laughed as they made their way for the restaurant they had all agreed to celebrate Josh's final graduation from. A night with family and friends around him was the perfect way to end this day.

When they reached the restaurant his father held him back, waiting until everyone else was inside. "Josh..."

There was a silence between the two men. Josh noted tears in the corners of his father's eyes.

"Josh...if only your grandfather could see you now. He would be so proud."

[Tsukiko Aoki]

Team

---

Spring was in full bloom. Yellow dandelions and white Queen Anne's Lace dotted the front lawn, not yet mowed down by her father. Tsukiko sat on the front porch, idly flipping through a Sweet Valley High book. Occasionally she glanced up as a robin alighted on a nearby branch-- there were several of them, flitting about in clouds of red and brown.

"Kiko. Kiko!!!"

Tsukiko jerked her head up at the sound of her name. Bouncing across the street to see her was a tiny girl with a mass of dark curls, a bright smile across he face.

"Leah! What is it?"

Leah raced across the yard and up the Aoki's porch steps, flinging herself onto the porch swing beside her friend. She nearly knocked off the throw pillow, stitched all over with butterflies, but she managed to grab it before it hit the porch and hugged it close. "Did you see?"

"See...?" Tsukiko furrowed her brow, and then her eyes widened. "Did they post them?!"

Leah nodded frantically, unable to form a coherent thought.

Kiko squealed and dropped her book onto the seat between them, careless of her place in the story. "Did you get to see them?"

Leah nodded again, pressing both hands against her mouth. Tsukiko held her breath in hushed anticipation, waiting for the other girl's revelation. They had both been waiting for this day with no small amount of anxiety, and she wasn't sure that she could handle any more waiting.

But Leah was too overcome to speak; she squeezed her eyes shut and let out a high pitched whine, whether of despair or enthusiasm Kiko couldn't tell.

"Well...?" She prompted at last.

Leah shuddered, then lowered her fists into her lap. Her next words came out in a nearly inaudible whisper, and Kiko had to lean forward to hear.

"We....we...." And then Leah threw her arms about her friend's shoulders and shrieked, "We made the team!"

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Between
Words: 700

Classes weren't something Lucy had ever actively participated in. At least, not in the traditional sense. Though she was the daughter of a high school teacher, such a past provided no comfort for the ones she had now. She had no ill feelings and absolutely no compassion for those determined enough to take up such a job. It was their choice, and subsequently, it was their fault.

History class was something the Australian could argue was pointless until she was blue in the face, but it never got her out of it. She barely understood the passing of time for her own people, let alone those of a country she didn't belong to, or the rest of the world, and didn't plan to stick around in for much longer. Not if she could help it; she hadn't really found anything to stay for. Stuck in the back row as per choice, she caught the familiar eyes of the aerokinetic who had been moved a few paces upwards to keep the two apart. But Rowan still worked wonders to keep her attention and coax her attitude forward.

As did Sawyer, who waved a quick hand as close as she could to the path of her eyes.

But those eyes were glued to the back of someone's head. She was familiar enough - but still not quite connected - with the British girl who always had to sit in the very front, at the very center. A few choice encounters and somehow - Lucy still didn't really know why - she'd ended up in bed with her. Twice. But they weren't in love, and they definitely weren't girlfriends. So she had to stop staring.

So the voice mimic stole her tone amidst a class reading to force her into action; "'Scuse me. I got a question."

The accent was perfect. Lucy spared a glance to the grinning brunette who raised her eyebrows, as if to indicate that the floor was completely hers. It snapped her out of her daze. She felt forms turn in their seats, half eager, half confused.

One annoyed.

"Right, so-" Lucy started, wheels turning and a defined enough thought cracking its way into her skull, "I get that the Boston Tea Party is like, a big deal, but like, when're we gonna get to Connor's part?"

A tilt of a teacher's head, and a short shot of controlled frustration; "Connor?"

"Yeah, you know." She drawled, "The assassin dude? Practically turned up and ran the bloody thing, totally wrecking those Red Coats in the process. Cause tea's like gold to them, or some shit."

"That'll be enough, Miss Serrano-"

"And on the subject of great leaders who don't ever get mentioned in this class," Because she'd done it once before, the repeater she absolutely was, "I'm still wondering when we're gonna cover the colossal amount of history about Stormwind."

"Lucy." One annoyed teacher.

And one very annoyed set of perfectly familiar eyes.

"First War? The Alliance? King Varian?" Nope, nothing. "Come on, the guy does not have a permanent spot on the back of my thigh cause he's got a good looking face."

And there, those incredibly annoyed eyes went completely wide, dark as they were. Lucy only let them collide for a second before she caught the curve of her lips. A slight, second twitch and a subtle drag, but that was definitely the hint of a smile that cracked on Penelope Blaise's face. And for the first time in public, too. The ink manipulator dragged herself to her feet, then, determined to keep herself breathing. To find momentum for the way her own heart beat shot forward.

"Do you want me to- Here, I've got this." Lucy offered, stepping through the aisle with a defined smirk on her face. Intent to teach a class. And nails did so drag across the closest desk to the center, right at the front.

Because a stern and defined call from the teacher pointed her out the classroom door and towards the office of someone who could deal with her. And she had no choice but to leave.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Homeward Bound

Homeward bound.
Home, where my thought’s escaping.
Home, where my music’s playing.
Home, where my love lies waiting,
Silently for me.

He spent the first night in the house alone.

Sean didn’t mind that, didn’t mind being alone. He had plenty of years ahead of him in which he wouldn’t be alone that no single day of his bachelorhood filled him with despair or even particular longing.

Besides, he was too overjoyed in the moment, too filled with excitement, to have any existential fears about his future.

He had his own house.

Not the townhouse in Chelsea. Not the apartment in the Village. Not housing provided by NYU. Not a dormitory at Hammel.

His own house. He owned it.

Rather, he owned a percentage of it, proportionate to the down payment that he had provided in cash, and pursuant to the mortgage agreement with the bank. He would own all of it in fifteen years, after making his final mortgage payment (and the thought of paying 180 of them might be daunting to someone less pragmatically-minded than the telepath was). Still, for all intents and purposes, he owned it.

This was his house.

To the extent that someone could love a piece of property that contained no family memories, or which had no broader symbolic or cultural significance, he loved it.

He was exhausted. Moving had taken all day. Between unloading the moving vans and remainder of his possessions from New York and coordinating the furniture deliveries from the outlet where he had purchased the rest of his furniture, it had been a long, tiring day. Even with help from the twins whom he had bribed to help him in exchange for concert tickets, it had been a long, tiring day. He was only thirty-three – had only recently turned thirty-three – but he was no longer a man in his twenties, and he felt that difference acutely.

At least it was done.

At least most of it was done. The most important parts were done.

All of the rooms had furniture in them, so he wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag, or sit on his hands and knees, huddled in front of an empty fireplace.

He’d put clean linens on two of the beds, the one in his master bedroom and the closest of the spare bedrooms, so that he could have a guest sleep over in a pinch. On the seemingly unending list of items he had to buy to further settle into the house, he needed more sets of sheets, pillows and pillowcases, and comforters. One couldn’t fault him for not having enough; there were four adult-sized beds in this house, one in each of the four formal bedrooms. Plus the loft on the opposite side of the second floor.

The townhouse in Chelsea had only had two bedrooms total. The apartment in the Village had only had two bedrooms total. His NYU-assigned off-campus housing with Greg had only had two bedrooms total, and the walls had been paper-thin. And they’d had to share a bathroom.

His new house had four full bathrooms.

Four full bathrooms, one for each bedroom on the second floor. And the half-bathroom on the first floor. It was incredible to think about. Having so much space.

In the City, housing was mostly cramped. There was more luxury out in the outer boroughs, but most of the houses still weren’t huge. Not like this house. Not like his new house. Which had cost an absurdly small amount per square foot. By the standards of New York City realty, the final price had been criminal.

Although, to be fair, the standards of New York City realty should be criminal by all standards of common decency.

Despite knowing that intellectually, he still felt as though he was getting away with something. After all, his master bedroom was bigger than most studio apartments. Essentially, it was its own apartment, between the bedroom proper, and the sitting room, and the private bathroom, and the twoseparate walk-in closets. He didn’t have enough clothes to fill two walk-in closets.

But that was fine. The master bedroom had been constructed for two adults to share. Eventually, he would find someone who wanted to settle down with him, and he or she would move into the bedroom with him. Then his or her clothing would take up the second walk-in closet, and no space would get wasted.

The thought made him smile.

But tonight, he would be alone. He would spend the first night in his brand new house alone.

That was fine. His enthusiasm felt so completely overwhelming that it was like having someone else in the house with him.

Besides, he wanted to invite Josh up to see the place as soon as his friend could find the time.