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fandomdancer · 2 years ago

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Patching Wounds

Fandom: Baa Baa Black Sheep

Pairing: Jim Gutterman/OC

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,468

Summary: While patching up a newcomer to Vella la Cava, Nurse Laura Tate discovers the man he was fighting is a face from her past.

A/N: Comments appreciated.

September, 1943

Laura smiled playfully at the blond-haired lieutenant in front of her, watching his eyes light up at the attention. He wasn’t the first young pilot she had seen who was doll dizzy, but she had to admit he was one of the cuter ones. He had sky-blue eyes and a curved, interesting mouth that lent him a sweet, innocent look. She had a feeling he was anything but.

“TJ Wiley, ma’am,” he said. “I’d shake your hand, but I wouldn’t want to get blood on you.” He indicated his hand, which had a split knuckle and definitely some drying blood.

“I’m a nurse, Lieutenant,” she replied, keeping an easy smile. “A little blood doesn’t scare me. What worries me is you not being able to walk straight in here.”

“It’s nothin’ serious,” he said. “I just got a bit of a headache.”

Laura grabbed a small flashlight and aimed it at his eye. His pupil didn’t contract as quickly as it should have, and she gave him a sympathetic look. “On your feet, Lieutenant.” She took a few steps away. “Walk over here.”

Wiley set his jaw and glared at her, then stood and started walking, He instantly began to weave slightly, and she saw the determined look on his face shift to concern before another flinch of pain furrowed his brow. “Am I doing all right?”

“You’re just fine, TJ,” she said, reaching out to catch his elbow and lead him back to the bed. “It just looks like you got your bell rung a little bit. We’ll have to keep you overnight.”

Wiley’s face fell, and the other pilot across the room laughed. “That’s what you get for puttin’ a burst in me, Wiley.”

Laura’s heart skipped a beat as it always did when she heard a Texas drawl, but this time she couldn’t help but look in the direction of the speaker. He looked nondescript from the back, a typical Marine pilot with short hair and dirt and blood on his uniform. But for a moment, he’d almost sounded like…

It’s not possible.

“I said I was sorry!” Wiley burst out next to her. “It was an accident! I don’t know why you don’t believe me!”

“It ain’t that I don’t believe you’re sorry!” The other pilot twisted around. “It’s that I don’t think you should be flyin’ if you don’t know how to keep your thumb off the damn button!”

Laura saw him before he saw her, but it was only a second’s difference or so. In glaring at Wiley, the other pilot’s eyes flicked to her. A stony mask of confusion furrowed his brow, and he turned away, but in those brief moments where she had a full look at his face, she had an intimate and terrible understanding of just how cruel and ironic the war…and the world…could be.

It's Jim.

It took her far too long to realize that both Heather and Wiley were staring at her, no doubt wondering why she’d frozen in place. Even worse, she realized she had to cross over by Heather and Jim to get a bowl of saline water for Wiley’s split knuckle. She forced herself to head for the sink beside Heather, doing all she could not to look at the man the other nurse was treating.

As she walked back over, however, her peripheral vision caught a hold of him. He was looking at her, and he still had a curious, confused look on her face. Her stomach twisted. Did he not remember her? Was she wrong? Was it possible that wasn’t Jim Gutterman sitting there? It had been a long time since she’d last seen him. He’d only been a teenager then, skinnier and more floppy-haired. Maybe she was wrong.

She reached Wiley and set down the water bowl. Wiley had a slightly sad, pouty turn to his mouth now, and he barely looked up at her when she gently took his hand and began to clean the split knuckle. He flinched as the salt water entered the wound.

“Sorry, Lieutenant," she murmured.

“It’s not your fault,” he murmured softly.

Laura ducked her head until she got in his field of vision. It was obvious the comment from the other pilot had really cut deep. She could have sworn Wiley looked like he was trying not to cry. Once she managed to get his eyes on her, she offered him a warmer, more inviting smile. He instantly smiled back, though she could still see pain in his eyes. Empathy warmed her heart and she gave his fingers a tiny squeeze. “Your name’s TJ?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am.”

“All right.” She set down the towel and picked up a bandage, carefully curving his fingers so she could affix it firmly to his wound. “TJ, since I’m about to ask you to take your shirt off, how about you drop the ma’am? My name’s Laura.”

Across the room, the other pilot jerked and twisted around again. Although Laura tried to put all of her concentration on looking at Wiley, her peripheral vision again caught the expression on the other man's face. Moreso, she saw him reach up and touch his mouth, rubbing his fingers over his lips and jaw, and her heart rate tripled at the familiar motion. It was Jim. She felt herself grow dizzy as her mind struggled to process the implications of his presence, and she briefly wondered if this was all a strange, amazing dream. Jim was here. In an instant, she remembered so much about him. So much she’d never really forgotten but hadn’t chosen to think about because…

Because of what had happened the last time they’d seen each other.

Reality crashed through her shock, and on its heels came Wiley’s voice, firmly grounding her. “That’s a nice name, Laura. Where are you from?”

“Take off your shirt and I’ll tell you.”

Oh…that had been the wrong thing to say. Laura cringed as Heather shot her a reproachful look across the room. She'd been too focused on improving Wiley's mood after Jim had snapped at him. She remembered all too well how the right words from Jim Gutterman could cut someone open. For goodness's sake, Laura, she thought, be professional!

Wiley hopped a little too eagerly off of the bed and unbuttoned his uniform shirt, tossing it behind him. Across the room, Heather was back to fixing whatever was wrong with Jim’s face, but she could see his hands clenching the bed. Did it hurt, what Heather was doing? Or did he want that badly to turn around and look at her?

She refocused on Wiley. He was a tall, thin man with muscles in the right places, but nevertheless a little more fragile-looking than a typical Marine. Laura supposed she might have found him attractive if he’d been less eager to strip down. Young pilots always had one thing on their minds when it came to women and Laura had never really been one to play around with a new one each night. Still, Wiley’s bouncy, puppy-dog attitude was a little endearing, and she rewarded him with a warm smile before starting to look over his figure for bruises.

“I grew up in the military,” she said. “Pa and I moved to a lot of different places.”

“Ever been to New York?”

She shook her head. “No. I always wanted to go, though. I wanted to go everywhere when I was younger. I loved seeing new places every few years. But…well, then high school happened."

“Well, what happened in high school?”

She found a forming bruise on Wiley’s lower chest and began to inspect it. “My mother died. Pa left the military, and we stayed in one place.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. It was a long time ago.” A slight heaviness weighed on her chest and her words. She had felt it before, always when she turned her thoughts from Amarillo and everything that had happened there. Everyone and everything that had died there. She felt around the bruise and Wiley cringed. “Does that hurt?”

“Not a lot. I don’t think anything’s broken. It sure doesn’t feel good though.”

She continued probing, gauging his reactions, and then nodded. “You’re right. I think you have a bruised rib. I'll have the doctor look at it. In the meantime, you're staying here."

“Are you sure I can’t fly? I feel fine. Maybe a nap or something?”

Laura shook her head. “I wouldn't advise sleep, Lieutenant. Concussions can get dangerous if you sleep. Now hold on while I go get Doctor Reese.”

“Before you go,” Heather called, “can you help?”

Laura blinked, looking confusedly at Heather. “What do you need?”

“Just come here.”

With a smile at Wiley, Laura walked quickly over to Heather, realizing belatedly that Jim had his shirt off as well. Her eyes briefly lingered on the spread of freckles across his back and noted that he had developed broad shoulders and muscle as he’d grown. By the time she got in front of him, however, she was doing her best to avoid looking at him at all. Staring at his chest would have been inappropriate, but looking him in the face was still worse. “What’s wrong?”

Heather looked at Jim. “You said you’ve got a headache?”

Professional concern instantly overrode personal discomfort. Laura looked and saw that he was holding his stomach with a bandaged hand. He had a split lip, and his brown eyes were carefully looking everywhere but at her.

“You see how he came in here?” Heather asked. “Just the same as the other pilot. Can you check his eyes? I think he has a concussion too.”

Laura felt a blaze of anger sizzle through her as she realized what Heather was doing. Putting her temper in check, she answered. “What’s wrong with your flashlight?” The words were short…she wasn’t able to hide her annoyance completely.

Heather held up her flashlight, clicking it on and off. No light appeared. “It’s not working," she said innocently.

Laura suppressed an urge to sigh deeply. Instead, she gave Heather a full on Glare, letting the other nurse know she was on to her. Then, steeling herself, she turned to Jim. “Can you look at me please, Captain?

He didn’t move and she wondered briefly if she was going to have to duck to get into his vision the way she had with Wiley. But then, he sighed deeply and lifted his eyes until they met hers, and if she had any remaining doubts about who he was, they were instantly washed away. She saw a multitude of expressions cross his face as the moment lingered, and she broke the gaze first, lifting her flashlight to inspect his eyes.

Heather was right. He had a concussion, too. Laura gave him a sympathetic look. “I’ll get the doctor in here to confirm, but it looks like you’ll both be here tonight.”

“I’ll get the doctor,” Heather said immediately, and headed for the door before Laura could argue. Jim quickly began putting his shirt back on, and Laura moved away from him back to Wiley, who smiled again at her presence.

“I guess if I’m stuck here, I’m in good company,” he said.

“Don’t bet on it," Laura felt her lips pulling up again. Wiley's smile was infectious, it was hard not to smile back. “My shift is over in an hour and another nurse who isn’t familiar with your flirtatious comments will be on duty. She might not be as nice as I am.”

“No, she might not. So, what do you do when you’re off duty?”

Laura tapped her lips. “Nothing you’d find interesting, I’m sure.”

“I find that hard to believe. Come on, give me something!”

“Give it a rest, TJ,” Jim grumped.

Wiley ignored Jim, keeping his eyes on Laura. Laura shrugged, still smiling. “I like to read. I like to dance. I like to swim.”

“You like the beach?”

“I love the beach. You’d think growing up in the Navy, you’d get tired of the water. I never have. Even living in Amarillo, I just found the closest river or lake and I’d spend as much time as I could there.”

“Well, when I’m out of here, maybe we can take a walk on the beach.”

Laura's eyebrows went up.

“TJ!” Jim said sharply.

Wiley ignored him, and Laura opened her mouth, genuinely wondering what she was about to say. But before she could reply, the door opened and Doctor Reese and Heather came back in. She focused on them as Heather gave a quick rundown on Jim and Doctor Reese looked him over.

"You can answer me later,” Wiley whispered. "I'll be here all night." He grinned.

Laura nodded, realizing she really didn't know what to say.

Doctor Reese came over and checked Wiley. “Yeah, we’ll keep him overnight too. Take him to a private room, I want to make sure that bruise isn’t anything worse than what we’re seeing.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Laura replied.

Heather leaped in as Doctor Reese left. “I can take him.”

Laura stared fiercely at her and shook her head. Heather stared right back and nodded so forcefully her hat almost fell off. Then, she offered support to Wiley. “Come on.”

“I’ll see you later!” Wiley called to Laura.

“Get some rest, Lieutenant!” she called back.

And then she was alone. With Jim.

She moved to the other side of the room and turned down a bed, then returned to where he was sitting. “Captain Gutterman, if you’ll come with me, please?”

He sighed deeply and stood up, wobbling. She instantly reached out to steady him and he pulled away quickly, then moaned and sat heavily on the bed. He muttered a curse, and whipped around, vomiting hard into the bin on the floor. Laura stayed next to him until the heaving stopped, then quietly got him a cup of water.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he took the cup from her.

“I’m a nurse. I’m used to it. At least you didn’t do it on me.”

He snorted but didn’t quite make it to a smile. “Wouldn’t that be just what I deserve? First time I seen you in eight years an' that’s my hello.”

Laura offered her arm. “Come on, Captain. There’s a quieter bed in the back where you can rest.”

He didn’t take her arm, instead fixing her with a Look. “What are you doin' here, Laura? This is a war.”

Laura lifted her eyebrows. “What are you doing here?” she shot back. “Alice’s last letter said you were going to a correctional institute.”

He blinked and reeled back, then narrowed his eyes at her. “Alice…wrote you?”

“Her last letter was Christmas of 1935. I wrote back but she didn’t answer. I believe your family had moved to Borger by then.”

He stared at her, then laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant laugh. He leaned forward and took her arm and suddenly he was closer to her than he’d ever been. Rattled and dizzy from the proximity, she shifted sideways, trying to put some distance between them and still keep him from falling over. Slowly, she moved him towards the bed in the back.

“West Texas Correctional Institute. It was either that or the Marine Corps,” he said.

It was killing her not to ask what he’d done. The most she knew was that he’d run away north. Alice’s letters had been full of erase marks, and she’d always suspected they’d been censored to keep her from really knowing what was going on.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “People are dyin' here.”

“Not if I can help it,” she replied. “It wasn’t ever a question for me. I turned eighteen and went to nursing school. I joined the Navy as soon as they let me. I grew up in the military, Captain, and I wanted to go back to it.”

“You would have been safer in Amarillo.”

Fury pricked at Laura’s eyes and she was grateful they had reached the bed because she unceremoniously let go of him, letting him slump down onto the sheets. He rolled to his back and threw an arm over his eyes.

“I wanted nothing more to do with Amarillo,” she snapped. “I left there as soon as I could.”

He slowly drew his arm off of his eyes to look at her. When she saw realization dawning, she nodded. “Yes. After you left, I did too.”

His face twisted. “Aw, now don’t put that on me!”

“I'm not! Not all of it. But you did have a hand in it and I'd be lying if I said otherwise!” she argued.

“You were always gonna leave and go be a nurse!”

“But maybe not a military nurse. Maybe I would have come back to Amarillo after school! I would have spoken to you about it.”

“You would have spoken to me about it?” he echoed, sitting up slowly.

“James Gutterman,” she said, her voice shaking, “were you or were you not courting me before everything happened?”

He stared at her for a long time, long enough that she began to feel a sense of panic in her chest. There was no way she could be wrong about this. His words that day had been so clear. But now, as time passed with no reply, she truly began to wonder if somehow she had dreamed the whole thing.

And then…

“I don’t believe we officially started courting, but it was my intention. Yes."

Laura poured strength into her legs as the fury in her eyes began to turn into something else. She would not cry. She would not cry. She had to get through this conversation without crying because she had no idea when or if the two of them would ever mention this again.

“Then I would eventually have spoken to you about my plans to become a nurse,” she replied evenly.

“So, I messed up your life, is that it? Ol’ Jimmy Gutterman lettin’ another one down?”

“Don’t you do that self-pity act!” Laura snapped. “It might have worked when you were seventeen but not now! You hurt me, and you hurt me good, Jim. You cut me out of your life. I knew you were in pain but I also knew you. I knew it wasn't just your father or the ranch that was hurting you. But when I tried to help you and to be there for you the way you’d always been there for me, you treated me like a complete stranger!”

“Well, I told you, didn’t I? That last time we saw each other, I told you I was different and you didn’t wanna hear it! You were hangin’ on to some dreamy notion of you an’ me an' thinkin’ everything would be roses…”

“No!” Laura shouted, and the two of them froze, staring at the door, waiting for someone to come barreling in. A few seconds passed…no sound of running feet…and so Laura continued. “I wasn’t dreaming that day, Jim. I was awake. I was scared. I was losing you and I was begging you not to go. But like you said, you were different. You didn’t trust me anymore and worse, you were acting like I meant nothing to you at all. Those things you said to me? They shouldn’t have ever come out of your mouth. Not to me.”

He stared at her again, silently.

“I’m not going to let you say you let me down,” she said. “I’m not going to let you add me to a list of failures. Because we’re here now, Jim. If you decide you want to trust me again, I’ll be here. And in the meantime, don’t go to sleep or the concussion might kill you. Then you would be letting me down.”

He didn’t answer, and Laura turned away. She was halfway across the room when he called out again. “Laura!”

She turned around.

“You’re right.” He struggled to his feet and fixed his eyes on her. “Those things I said. I shouldn’t have said them. Not to anyone. But especially not to you. I’m sorry, I…I really am. I won’t ask your forgiveness, but I want you to know that I’ve lived every day knowin’ what I said to you an' regrettin’ it.”

It was Laura’s turn to stare. He held the gaze, open and honest, and she could feel herself melting. She felt her insides tremble and the urge to throw herself into his arms actually twitched her fingers. But that was all that moved until she forced herself to nod. “Thank you, Jim.”

He nodded once, and slowly sat down. On the other side of the room, the door opened, and Heather came back in. Without saying another word, Laura turned and continued cleaning up the aftermath of Wiley and Gutterman’s visit.

#baa baa black sheep #black sheep squadron #jim gutterman #jim gutterman/oc #oc #original female character #writer #writing #author #fanfiction #fanfic #james whitmore jr #lynne frederick #tj wiley #robert ginty

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fandomdancer · 2 years ago

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Calm in the Storm

Fandom: Baa Baa Black Sheep

Pairing: Jim Gutterman/OC

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,415

Summary: Jim Gutterman is laying awake during a thunderstorm worrying about the future of his family and their ranch. However, an unexpected phone call changes his priorities.

A/N: A BIG thank you to @sillybeagle for convincing me to post this.

March, 1935

Jim Gutterman couldn't sleep.

Alice and Paul had drifted off hours before, and he'd heard Thomas and Ma go to bed as well. He'd lay there in the dark with his eyes closed until Paul and Alice's breathing had evened out, and then he'd opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, watching the moonlight fade to the approach of storm clouds. He'd caught the flashes of lightning growing stronger and stronger, and listened to the low growls of thunder building to crashes that rattled the timbers of the family's ranch home. The wind had picked up, rattling the gates and spraying a fresh coat of dust over the house. No rain had come, just like the last storm.

He was worried. The dust storms were getting more frequent and more violent, while the rains were less and less. He knew drought, he'd lived through it. But there was something ominous in the air now, something wrong. There was danger coming and if he could figure out what it was he could start to protect his family from it. As much as Thomas would let him.

Jim sighed angrily. He was a few months from his eighteenth birthday and he would be done with school soon. Then, he’d be able to start putting all of his ideas for the ranch into practice, and Thomas would have to accept it because Jim would be a man, not just Thomas’s son. Thomas had spent Jim’s whole life hammering into him the importance of duty and how nothing else mattered, but whenever Jim tried to expound upon Thomas’s ideas or offer a different way of doing something, Thomas derailed the train of thought, crushed it into a pile of metal, and set it on fire. It didn’t make sense and it was a source of constant frustration that Jim couldn’t speak his own mind to his father. What was the point of being taught if he couldn’t think for himself?

He huffed again. Thomas just did not understand that the world was different than twenty years ago. Hell, it was different from ten or five years, even! And they were in trouble. Without the war needing beef, their cattle had been selling for less and less a head, and Jim knew the numbers. They were in danger of going under. They had to look at other options for their cattle or possibly side sources of income. It was a tangible knowing in Jim’s gut, as tangible as the strange wrongness in the world now.

But Thomas didn't have any faith in gut instinct. And so, Jim was stuck. Until he finished school. Another whole year.

Frustrated, he punched the bed beside him and heard Paul snort across the room. Cursing himself silently, he stayed still, hoping he hadn’t woken his little brother. He was not about to tell Paul his concerns. Paul would just tell him to shut up and listen to Thomas anyway.

He could feel his hands shaking and finally forced himself to get up. He couldn’t take a walk in the storm, but he could pace the house. He’d done it many times before when the anger and the stress kept him awake.

I don’t know that I can save this place, he fretted as he moved into the living room. Thomas won’t listen, an' after another year it might be too late. An' somehow, it’ll all be my fault.

The thunder crashed, and he glanced at Thomas and Ma’s room quickly to make sure they weren't awake. Another few seconds proved Paul and Alice were still out too, and he raised his eyebrows. Alice used to wake up every time someone breathed a little heavily. He could remember staying awake, reading her stories and singing her quietly to sleep over hours. Now the world outside was flashing white every few seconds, and she was out cold.

A small smile creased his lips at the thought. Leave it to Alice to make him smile. His baby sister always seemed to know what to say or do to lift his mood – even when she was asleep.

Thunder crashed again and with it, the telephone rang.

Shit! Jim lunged at it, barely grabbing the receiver before it had completed the first ring. He froze in the center of the room, waiting for Thomas or Ma to appear and ask what he thought he was doing with the receiver in his hand. It wasn't until several seconds had gone by that he realized there was a voice coming from the handset. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

He brought the handset up. "Who is this?" he hissed.

"Jim? Jim, is that you?"

The line was crackling in response to the storm, but he could still tell that it was a woman’s voice and it was shaking.

"Yeah, this is Jim," he replied. “Who is this?”

Thunder roared. "Jim." The voice broke. "Jim, it's Laura."

Jim’s head spun and his legs wobbled. Laura? Laura’s calling me here? Now? What is she...is she all right? "Laura? Are you hurt?" His mind raced. If I have to go over there...Gunpowder doesn’t spook at lightning, he’s my best shot.

"N-no. No, but..." Thunder again and she whimpered, the sound digging straight into his brain. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'll hang up..."

"No! Laura, don’t hang up," he ordered as firmly as he dared. He grabbed the phone base and headed for the opposite end of the room, trying to move as far from Thomas and Ma’s room as possible. The cord stretched to its limit, but he managed to sit in a chair by the window. "What's wrong?"

"I'm so silly...Jim, the storm..."

"What, did it blow your roof off?"

"No! No..." Lightning flashed, bright and close, and he heard her whine again, followed by a yelp when the thunder boomed. And then he realized.

"You're scared," he said quietly, his heart beginning to race. She called me. She's scared of the storm, an' she called me.

"I'm ridiculous!"

"No, no you're not." Jim looked out the window at the storm, and then focused in the direction of Amarillo. "Hey. Laura. I can see you."

"Wh-what?" Her voice was thick and he realized she was crying.

"Amarillo. I'm lookin' right at it. I'm lookin' at you. Can you see me?"

"I...I think so." The line fuzzed and crackled as it fought the storm, and after a few seconds he tried again.

"Are you there, Laura?"

"I can see you." Her voice was a little steadier.

"Good girl." He smiled out the window. "You look well this evenin', Miss Tate."

He heard a small laugh. "As do you, Mr. Gutterman."

"Well." He straightened up and fixed an invisible tie. "Good enough for the pictures at least."

"To be in them?"

"Aw don’t pull my leg, to go to 'em!"

"You could be in them."

The words were ridiculous but the warmth in her voice made him nervous. Unsure of how his voice would sound if he stayed on this topic, he changed the subject. "You always been afraid of storms?"

"They're loud." Her voice was stronger now, not quite as teary. "It's always felt like those silly stories you read, about the monster under your bed, but now you're under the bed and the monster doesn't like you being there and...I'm too old to be talking about this!"

Not with me, he thought. "Alice used to wake up the moment thunder even thought about rumblin'. I think she's growin’ out of it. She’s sound asleep right now.”

"I hope she does a better job than me."

Oops. That had been the wrong thing to say. "Uh, I mean...I just think she's gettin' over it. Some things people get over. Some people don't."

"Yes."

"I wish I could say the same. About storms, I mean." Jim looked back out the window. "I always loved 'em. Sorta nature's way of remindin' us who's boss every once in a while."

She chuckled. "I can see it that way, but I do wish it didn’t have to remind us so loudly." Another crash and she made a tiny whimper that cut him to the bone. He rubbed his face, wondering what he could possibly say to get her mind off of the weather.

"How did Alice stop being scared of storms?" she asked.

Well, the topic was still the weather, but she’d started the conversation so he was going to go with it. "I ain’t too sure. I like to think I helped. I'd read her stories, sing her songs, keep her mind off it..."

"You sing?"

Shit. He hadn't meant to say that part out loud. "Well…in the pews on Sundays."

"And to Alice when she’s scared of storms. Come on Jim, don’t tease me like that! Sing something!"

“I can’t…” Jim looked helplessly at the rooms where his family slept. “I ain’t gonna wake up my whole family, you know what they’ll do if they catch us talkin’?”

Thunder rumbled and the line hissed menacingly. “I know,” Laura replied softly. “My father would do the same thing. But I’m going to find a way to hear you sing, Jim Gutterman, I promise you that.”

“I’m sure you will, Miss Tate,” he replied, smiling.

“Can you tell me what you sing to Alice?”

Jim rubbed his face again. “Well, when she was younger it was nursery rhymes. But now, she really likes that dancin’ fella from the pictures. Thinks she’s gonna grow up an' dance with him.”

“Do you mean Astaire?”

“Uh, yeah, I think that’s his name.”

“You sing songs from those movies to her?”

“Not as a regular thing. She’s been draggin’ me to those pictures whenever she gets enough pocket money. I think we’ve been three or four times.”

Laura laughed. “Oh! Oh dear. I think that was too loud. Hold on.”

Thunder boomed but Jim noticed it sounded a little quieter than it had been. He held his breath, watching the rooms across the house. There was no movement in them. And then, briefly, the wind died down, and a particularly large snore echoed through the house. He struggled not to laugh as the sound repeated. Somehow, he was getting away with this.

“Jim, are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here.”

“I got lucky. No one’s awake.”

“Yeah. But Laura, I think the storm’s dyin’ down, an' it’s gonna get hard to talk once it gets quiet.”

“I know.”

“Are you better? Can you go to sleep?”

“I wish…” Laura cut the sentence off suddenly, making him straighten up.

“Are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here.” Her voice tone had changed subtly. Whereas he’d heard an honest note of longing in her voice earlier, now she sounded distant, if still warm. “You think the storm will be over soon?”

What did you wish? he thought desperately. “I do. It’s already quieter here which means it’ll start calmin’ down over there soon.”

“Are you still looking at me?”

He immediately focused out the window again. “I am. An' you look just fine.”

“I trust you, Jim,” she said quietly, and oh the sensation that went through him at those words. He thought for a moment he might lift right off of the chair into the sky with the wind and the lightning.

“Go to sleep, Laura. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Jim.”

The line cracked and went dead, and Jim replaced the handset. Despite the adrenaline of hearing her say she trusted him, exhaustion began to creep over him as well, and he moved slowly back to his bedroom. To his utter relief, Thomas and Ma were still snoring, and when he climbed back into bed, he could hear Paul's deep breathing.

But Alice...

"Were you talking about Fred Astaire?"

Her tiny voice whispered at his head and he looked up to see her standing there, holding her stuffed bear. Her face looked matter of fact in the flashes of lightning. He pushed himself up onto an elbow and smiled at her.

"Now where would you get an idea like that?”

“I heard you.” She pointed to the door. “You were being really quiet, but I heard you. Were you talking to Miss Tate?”

Well...if he was going to be caught by anyone, Alice was the best-case scenario. "I was making sure Miss Tate wasn't bothered by the storm. Just like I do for you.”

“And you were talking about Fred Astaire.”

“I was a little bit. I was tellin' her how much you like him.”

She grinned. “Maybe she can come with us next time. I can save up some more money and buy her a ticket.”

“I’m sure she can pay for her own ticket.”

Alice’s face grew crafty. “Or you could buy it.”

Jim’s stomach twisted. “I could buy her ticket?”

Alice nodded and smiled wickedly. “Yes! You have my permission to buy her a ticket!”

He’d had plenty of warning to see this coming and he’d still missed it. Despite his heart actually thumping and his mouth going dry, Jim pretended to brush it off. “Oh do I?” He poked at Alice’s stomach and she squeaked and hurried back to her bed, diving under the covers and trying to stifle giggles. Paul snorted and rolled over, then began snoring again quietly. Jim rolled to his back, staring up at the ceiling again, watching as the lightning flashes slowly decreased in intensity.

“I mean it,” Alice whispered from her bed. “I think you should buy Miss Tate a ticket and take her to the pictures.”

“You’re bein' silly, Alice.”

“And you’re being stupid, Jimmy.”

Jim shot a glare at her and was a little surprised to see her glaring right back at him. She raised both of her eyebrows and then flipped over, putting her back to him. “Good night,” she whispered loudly.

“Good night,” he replied automatically, and slowly turned his gaze to the ceiling again. This time, his mind didn’t trouble over the future of the ranch or his inability to communicate with his father. In fact, all he could think about was sitting with Laura at the pictures, watching her as much as the film. He couldn’t get her smile out of his head.

She was scared and she called me. What did she wish for? What would I sing to her, if I ever did? If I ever could? If I asked her to the pictures…what would she say? What would she say?

It was a long time before he went to sleep.

#baa baa black sheep #jim gutterman #jim gutterman/oc #oc #pre-show #fanfiction #writing #writer #author

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