Skins fiction

Skins Rec List.

2008-09-08T00:06:09Z

Here at my journal.
Will be updated when I find more. =]
It only has Tony/Maxxie btw. I haven't got the time to post other kinds.

Fic: remember your postage

2008-08-28T02:29:33Z

Title: remember your postage
Author: fated_addiction
Characters/Pairing: Jal, Chris/Jal
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,000 words
Spoilers: General
Summary: “I reckon,” he says slowly, “if I could, all of this would stay.” These were the times of our lives.

Overboard

2008-08-25T13:23:47Z

Title: Overboard
Characters/Pairings: Mainly Jal, Chris/Jal, Maxxie/James, Michelle/Tony, Cassie/Sid, Anwar, Ronnie, Ace and Lynton
Summary: Continuation of Silent Tears and Knock Knock, i.e. pretending Jal has baby, etc.
Spoilers: Series 2!
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins, unfortunately
Author's note: It would be great to have some comments! Even bad ones, though obviously I'd prefer nice ones...:D oh, and these are my first fics, so i hope they're not too rubbishy

p.s. can't work out this cut thing, so apologise for odd links. Computer is being obstinate...

OVERBOARD

“What the fuck is going on here, Jalander?”

Jal glanced up quickly to see her dad in the doorway. Ace and Lynton were peering from behind him, craning their necks to see what was happening. Upon actually catching sight of the scene, Jal in all her glory, they recoiled, embarrassed, and quickly retreated to the kitchen on their father’s order.

“I come home to a dirty, messy house and find you with a fucking baby in my living room. This better not be what I think it is.”

“Dad...”

Jal tried to detatch herself from the baby but he wouldn’t let go.

“It’s pretty obvious what’s going on now, isn’t it Jal? You stupid, stupid girl.”

“Look, I should have told you. And Ace and Lynton, but-“

“Of course you should have fucking told me, you idiot. What else have you been hiding? Are you on pills too, like all your silly druggie mates? Given up your music, everything you’ve worked for?”

“No! I just, I couldn’t tell you about it, I don’t know why. But when I said that I’d had the abortion, I meant it. I thought I was gonna get rid of him, I wanted to!”

“So why the hell not? What stopped you?”

“Because...because I couldn’t.” Jal looked her at her dad directly for the first time since the night before Chris’s funeral. He was still the same, insensitive and angry, demanding to know what she had done to him this time. He honestly seemed to believe that everything that had happened was a punishment directed at him, and that she was the culprit of everything that had gone wrong. She stared straight into his eyes, willing him to understand how she felt: scared and anxious. “I went to the hospital, and everything just came flooding back. You came with me when I had to go and identify him. You remember how horrible it was. As if I could face going back.”

“So what, you kept this a secret from everyone? For five months?”

“Yeah.”

“I assumed you ended up in some alley somewhere, yeah? Having it?”

“Hospital. Maxxie was there.”

“Well at least you were fucking careful then. Considerate when it’s all about you, aren’t you? You always have been like that. Selfish and stubborn.”

“That’s because it is all about me, Dad! This has nothing to do with you. It’s only about me. No...it’s about me and Chris.”

Ronnie glared down at his daughter, shaking his head. He turned his attention to the baby in her arms and clenched his teeth as Jal tried to move him off of her.

“So you’re going to look after it at uni, are you? Feed him bottles in-between recitals? Put him to bed between lectures? You’ve got no fucking idea, have you?”

Jal sighed, and stood up clumsily, lifting the baby to her shoulder.

“I don’t know, alright? I don’t know how I’m going to afford this. I don’t even know if I can cope now.”

“So he’ll go up for adoption. I know a couple through business, they want a kid. They’ll be able to give him a home. A proper home.”

Jal closed her eyes as the baby grizzled against her, his warm head against the base of her neck.

“I don’t think I can give him away,” She opened her eyes and walked straight up to her father, looking down at his feet, too tired to continue trying to stare him out, “you know, I’ve ignored him completely for three days. Haven’t even looked at him. But I can’t let him go now.”

“Why? Are you expecting me to pay for him all his life?” Ronnie took hold of Jal’s chin violently and jerked it towards his face so she had to look at him. “Nanny, nursery, private schools, music lessons, food, baby equipment, bloody university? You are too young to be a mum. You’re not even fucking nineteen yet for four months.”

“I’m surprised you remember my birthday, to be honest.”

“Give me one good reason why I should pay for him. One.”

Jal blinked, tears prickling behind her eyes.

“Because he’s the only thing I’ve got left.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” He spat at her, Jal’s whispers drowned out by his shouting, “You’ve got a whole future, a better future without a kid. Keeping him, all your hopes and dreams vanish. They fly out the window. You can’t bugger off to Italy now or France for a concert. You can’t go clubbing or go out with your mates at the weekend. Is that the life you want? A life withou-”

“He’s the only thing I’ve got left of Chris.”

Ronnie shook his head, jabbing his finger in the air at Jal.

“Forget him,” Ronnie hissed violently, “This baby is not going to determine your life.”

Jal rubbed her chin with her free hand, feeling the sore red friction burns where Ronnie had grabbed her, “Too late, Dad. Perhaps you should hire some hit men to finish me off now that I’ve ruined the family reputation.”

“Don’t you fucking talk to me about family. I have raised three kids by myself for ten years. How dare you talk to me like that!”

“’Cause you did such a good job of it, didn’t you? Two ghetto wannabes and a fucking teenage mum,” Jal put the baby down back in the makeshift laundry basket cot, “you know what? That’s why you’re so angry. Because you’re jealous. I would have given my life for Chris, and he would have given his for me, but you? You’re alone. The mother of your own kids didn’t like you enough to stick around.”

“You don’t understand what you’re tal-”

“And then you lied to us. That’s the issue here, isn’t it? You’re so fucking bitter about your own failures that you can’t even help your own kids with theirs. And you wonder why I couldn’t tell you. You made me like this. No-one else. You.”

Jal stormed past her dad into the kitchen, shutting the door, her dad and the crying baby behind her. Ace and Lynton were sitting at the table, listening to the argument in the next room. When she entered, they got up quickly, scraping their chairs noisily against the floor.

“Good entertainment?”

Ace raised his eyebrows at her, smirking at Lynton who was smiling back at Jal.

“Fink she put on a sick show, Lynt?”

“Well good, bruv.”

Jal shook her head, sighing disdainfully at her brothers.

“Come here, sis.”

Jal clutched her brothers to her, her hands digging into their backs. “You’ll help me, won’t you?” she whispered into their ears, not caring whether they heard or not, but just needing to ask. Ace and Lynton looked at eachother, seemingly having a silent conversation which only they could understand. “Course we will, sis,” Lynton spoke back calmly, “it ain’t just about you anymore, is it? We got our nephew to think about.” Jal blinked, grateful tears running down her cheeks. “Hey,” they held her back, letting her wipe her face clean, “don’t look so happy yet. We gotta teach him about real music. Can’t have him listening to that prissy posh shit you like!”

Jal giggled, hitting Ace on the shoulder. Despite Jal’s distaste of their rap music and frankly incorrect speech, and their mocking of her love of classical music, they had always stuck together. When their mum left, they had become closer: Jal soon became the one who made their breakfast in the morning before school every day; she was the person who helped them with their homework and their failed attempts at music lessons. Only she knew, that although they hated it, and wouldn’t let anyone know, that Ace was actually very good at playing the piano and Lynton at playing classical guitar. And both of them could play a fucking good “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” duet on the recorder. Most importantly, Jal had only ever felt completely safe with them. Even with Chris, she had been scared that she would lose him at any moment after he first got ill.

Jal knew deep down, in the back of her mind that one of the reasons she couldn’t get rid of the baby was the looks on their faces when she told them that she had. She could cope with them thinking badly of her when she hadn’t done it, but the thought of them being justified in their reaction filled her with shame. She knew that she felt the worst about having not told them her secret because she knew all of theirs, even the ones that she really rather wouldn’t.

“I really am sorry, you know,” she said softly, the words barely escaping her lips, “I should have trusted you; I just didn’t want to have to.”

Ace shook his head at her, elbowing Lynton to do the same, “Nah, Jal. Don’t think about that. ‘Cos right now I think we got someone to meet!” Ace sang the last words, rubbing his hands together.

“Lead the way bruv!” Lynton replied, “Time to meet the family...” He winked at Jal, daring her to hit him, but she just let them go. Guiltily, she thought that they loved the baby already more than she did. Or could. Jal was confused about whether she was stopping herself from loving her son or whether there was something wrong with her and she couldn’t. Whatever reason it was, she felt terrible that the only thing she could feel for him was pity and bitterness, pity that he would never see his father or have a decent mother and bitterness because so far, he had ruined her life.

xxx

Jal ran up the stairs to her room, picking up everyone else’s shoes on the way. She flung open the door and saw all of her friends sitting on her bed gazing back at her. Michelle and Tony, Cassie and Sid and James and Maxxie had obviously just broken away from eachother, a surly Anwar sitting in the middle of all of them munching crisps grumpily.

“Nice...glad to see you’re, erm, acquainting yourself to eachother. On my bed.”

“Well, we’re sure your bed has seen worse, Jal.”

Tony grinned at her, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Shut up, wanker.”

“Well, what else are we meant to do whilst you practise your amateur dramatics? You know, Freud would have said-“

“I don’t care what Freud the professional fuckwit would have said, Tony. And believe it or not, I’m not overly bothered about what you think anyway. This time last year, your cock wouldn’t work, remember?”

Tony frowned whilst the rest of the group sniggered, grinning at Jal for thankfully shutting him up.

“Thank you Anthony. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to the club.”

She dropped their shoes on the floor for them and went to her wardrobe, finding her sexiest outfit that would hide the remains of her belly. Ignoring Maxxie’s protests, she flounced into her bathroom, locking the door behind her before any of them could get in. She pulled off her crumpled t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, slipping the dark green dress on. It revealed a fairly large amount of cleavage, making Jal frown as she realised that her bra was now far too tight. Looking at herself in the mirror, she noted that although her stomach wasn’t exactly flat anymore, she had generally kept the rest of her figure. Finally, having applied rather a lot of make-up and having managed (after a lot of effort) to make her hair presentable, she glanced down at herself, remembering sadly that the last time she’d worn this dress was on a date with Chris. She had bought it especially as they’d been going out for a month and were celebrating his success at work at a proper restaurant with his first bonus. The pair of them had eventually gotten so drunk on expensive French wine that they were ‘politely asked to leave’, which made them collapse into hysterics all over again. Soon they had ended up back in McDonald’s for the usual shared Big Mac and extra fries because Chris hadn’t enough money left to actually buy any food at the restaurant. It was then that she fell for him completely. Until that evening, there had always been a sneaking suspicion at the back of her mind that if Angie returned, he would immediately dump her. But that night her mind changed.

“You’ve saved me, mon petit French fry,” Chris had said in a truly terrible fake French accent, drunk as a donkey on absinthe, “I think I really fucking love you. Yeah. I do! My boooootiful Jal-Gal!”

And then, he had planted a huge ketchup-smothered kiss on her cheek, his face alight with awe as if he’d just discovered a leprechaun and a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

“I think I love you too, Chris.”

He blinked at her shocked, a wide smile crossing his lips. He took the burger away from Jal and kissed her properly, his messy hands smearing more ketchup on her face.

“Hey, did you know you’ve got ketchup on your face?”

xxx

Jal stood by the bar, downing her fourth tequila shot. She could feel the beat of the music vibrating in her ears, even though it was so loud she could barely hear what it actually sounded like. Jal closed her eyes, letting the remains of the alcohol drain down her throat. She frowned as she thought of how different it tasted now; before it relieved her, let her forget her problems and have fun, but not anymore. Now, its taste was nauseatingly metallic and the aftertaste even worse. Still, she forced herself to drink more, trying to convince herself it was only a matter of time before it went back to normal. Or until she got so drunk she couldn’t taste it anyway.

The bar staff knew who she was, that her dad employed them, so they were letting her have everything for free. Jal imagined how high Chris would have gotten if his drug dealer let him have whatever he wanted for nothing. In fact, when they had gone to the club once when it was empty, he was like a little kid in a sweet shop looking at all the drinks, Jal with the bar key. It was the first time they had gotten staggeringly drunk, still racked with a killer hangover when they went back to school on Monday morning. And Jal’s dad was furious, because they had drank half of the club’s vodka supplies, right before a stag do was booked. So Jal and Chris were forced to stay at home grounded instead of going on the Year Nine overnight school trip to Thorpe Park. Everyone else had teased them for weeks because they’d been on all the best rollercoasters whilst Jal and Chris had only mopped up their own sick off her bedroom floor.

Jal smiled as she recalled memories of past house parties, drunken kisses and falling over in the street, so smashed that she couldn’t even feel the cold rain pouring down her back and over her head. Knocking the contents of another glass down her throat, she made her way to the dance floor, determined to enjoy herself.

“Where’s your moves Jal?”

Chris’s voice echoed in her head. It had felt so good, for once being the centre of attention, feeling their eyes gawking at her. She had shown them. She could be just as sexy as Michelle, just as crazy as the rest of them. And since that night, she and Chris had begun to hang out more. They’d always been good friends before, but they saw eachother more often without the others, holding hands whilst he told her more about Peter and she told him about her fuck-up of a family. No one had ever listened to him before and no one had listened to her. So for both of them, it was about finding someone to trust. And, of course, to get completely shit-faced with.

Her mind flickered back to the present, and Jal found herself standing still in the middle of the crowded room with her eyes closed.

“You have really got to stop doing that, Jal,” she whispered to herself, trying to regain her composure, “you look like a bloody lemon, standing there with your mouth open.”

Jal shook her head, trying to shake thoughts of Chris and how fucked up her life was out of her mind. It wasn’t long before she had gotten into the music, moving to the beat with some guy up against her, the pair of them drinking more and more until her mind had clouded over. She let herself forget that she wasn’t meant to be here, that she never would have done this before, and allowed the boy to put his arms around her, his lips moving over her neck. But she wouldn’t let him kiss her on the lips. Oh no. That was for when Chris came back. Because he was coming back, wasn’t he?

xxx

It was ten o’ clock in the morning, and Jal still wasn’t back. Maxxie glanced up at Michelle again, Jal’s dad sitting on the sofa between them, his knuckles cracking angrily in the silence. Anwar, Sid and Cassie were wandering round Bristol, having realised that Jal left the club before they had gone down to get her at midnight. The bar staff said that she was drunk and had left with a student, who had been claiming that he was going to give her, “the time of her life.” Ronnie knew about the types of students who came to his bar, and he was not happy. Not happy at all.

Jal had missed out on her kid crying through the night as well. Crying loudly. No-one else had gotten any sleep, between looking for her and trying to shut him up. Ronnie sighed, frustrated, and stood up as the baby started to whimper again. He had found an old cot in the attic, and a car seat, reminders of a life when he thought that everything was going to turn out how he wanted it to. When he thought naively that he’d be with his wife forever, that they were happy and that the tiny little girl in his arms would be absolutely perfect, never getting into drugs or crime like he had, or fighting in the streets because she was too skint to do anything else. But that was when Ronnie was stupid. That was when he was so allured by the money and the perfect life, that when everyone else saw greed, jealousy and misery, he saw riches, opportunity and eventually, happiness.

Had he expected too much of Jal? He didn’t know why she aggravated him, why he felt so annoyed when he saw her. Most people would kill to be able to say that their kid was a musical prodigy, that their kid went to the best music school in the country, that their kid was practically fucking Mozart. But not him. All he saw was what could be better. Jal could be quicker, cleverer, darker, skinnier, crazier, prettier, and more obedient; the list could go on forever! But she was never right. Not like she used to be. She wasn’t the hyper toddler anymore, running round the lounge because she’d just seen the final of the Olympics eight hundred metres. She wasn’t the laughing seven year old, chasing her brothers, threatening them with their mum’s red lipstick. She wasn’t even the kid who had made him so proud when she won her first music competition. All he saw now was a mess, a problem, a fuck-up. Not a scared teenager, his daughter, who needed help.

Then the crying of his grandson brought him out of his daydream. Shit. Grandson. People his age weren’t meant to be grandparents. That was it. He couldn’t let her keep him. How could they live with a baby anyway? There’d be no more partying, checking out new kids who wanted him to help them succeed in the music business. Fuck, there’d be no more women anymore! Ronnie could cope without a lot of things, he’d had to in the past, but one thing he could never handle was being alone.

xxx

Now it was past noon, and everyone was sitting awkwardly with Jal’s dad and Ace and Lynton in the living room. They had resigned themselves to waiting for her now; they had spent too long looking. Maxxie hoped she would be back soon. They couldn’t keep feeding the baby constantly, hoping he’d finally had enough. Surely Jal could tell that he needed her? Maxxie didn’t want to believe she was doing this to them on purpose, leaving them all in the lurch, begging inwardly that she would come home. None of them had ever felt so useless or stupid. And they also felt guilty. Chris wouldn’t have let Jal go out in her state, would he? Or maybe they should have hung around for longer after his funeral to check on her. But they had all gone away quickly, leaving Jal to go by herself to London, letting her hire her brothers’ friends to get her stuff for her from her dad’s house, because she wouldn’t go back and she had no friends of her own around to do it for her. They hadn’t even had a clue what was really going on with her. And Michelle felt even worse because she hadn’t questioned Jal. She knew that Jal could never have an abortion like she’d said alone. Michelle had no doubt that she would have done it, especially with Chris gone and Jal having to become a single mum, but she never could believe that Jal wouldn’t have been scared, wouldn’t have needed someone to hold her hand.

Yet it was Cassie who felt terrible, more so than anyone else. Because Cassie knew that Jal thought it was her fault Chris died. She’d known that for three weeks now, and had tried to forget, but she couldn’t. Her memory kept coming back to haunt her every time she saw Jal, or the kid or even the golden coin that she had kept for months. Now, Cassie had convinced herself that Chris’s death really was completely down to her. She felt like how she imagined guilty murderers did, her only relief being when she was in Sid’s arms. Sid was right, wasn’t he? Sid could save her; Sid could stop her from hurting inside. Sid could even buy her ice creams and take her to Scotland to see Reuben and to dance jigs. But Sid couldn’t bring Chris back. And now he couldn’t even find Jal.

Cassie bit down on her lip, shivering in her flimsy nightdress. She fiddled with the plastic necklace she had laced round her neck, picking at the nylon string. She wanted Jal to come home, to hug Cassie and say that it was okay, that it wasn’t her fault and that Chris was happy in the sky, like her grandma had done when Grandpa Harry died. It wasn’t enough when Sid said it. Sid didn’t understand. He didn’t know what it was like to hate yourself, to even wonder why people wanted to be in the same room as you. It was how she felt before she tried to end everything last year. Even then, it was Jal who came to the rescue, who found her on the bench and rang the ambulance and lovely Sidney. And it was Jal who used to give her water when she fainted because Cassie hadn’t eaten anything for days. And Jal always helped Cassie to revise for exams, even when it was a completely different subject to what Jal needed to learn. So Cassie hated herself completely for the first time because she had hurt Jal. Lovely Jal, who was so nice in lots of ways. Lovely Jal, who told Sidney off for not liking Cassie, and deep down Cassie thought that maybe Jal had shown Sidney how to love her and how much Michelle was not so lovely for him. Lovely Jal was so wonderful that she convinced Chris to let her stay with him in his flat, even though it was so obvious that all Jal wanted was for her and Chris to be alone. And Cassie had tried. She had been out dancing with lots of people to try and let Jal and Chris be lovely together. But now there was no Chris for lovely Jal and Jal was left with a tiny baby, who was as wonderful and cute as Reuben. But Jal couldn’t see how lovely the little baby was. So Cassie blamed all of this on herself.

xxx

Jal was still missing by three thirty. The room was silent apart from the baby’s grizzling. Nobody was brave enough to say anything; they just watched Ronnie pace up and down, his face twisted into a thoroughly unpleasant scowl. Ace and Lynton were suspicious. They knew that this person who had gone missing wasn’t Jal. Their Jal wouldn’t leave everyone in this situation, would she? She was normally sensible, wouldn’t even miss a clarinet lesson unless it was completely unavoidable. They knew that something wasn’t quite right about her when she hadn’t followed them into the lounge to see the baby. They had always imagined that if Jal had ever had kids (although Ace and Lynton didn’t think she would quite as early as she had), she’d be fiercely protective of them. They decided that something else must have happened when she was in that room with their dad.

Ace was holding the baby, Lynton sitting on the floor next to him, whose finger was tightly bound in his nephew’s tiny fist. They’d dressed the baby in a “Do You!” baby-grow, having made one for a joke when they were sure that Jal wouldn’t have an abortion. They were about to give it to Jal to try and cheer her up before Chris’s funeral when they’d heard her yell at their dad that she had gotten rid of it. Since then, their dad had kind of forgotten their business ideas, especially since Jal had announced her pregnancy halfway through their pitch.

xxx

Five o’ clock. The lounge was no longer quiet. At one side of the room, Michelle and Tony were unsuccessfully trying to calm the now screaming baby; opposite, Ace and Lynton were arguing with their dad, shouting at him because they supposed Jal’s disappearance was due to him; Maxxie and James were repeatedly phoning Jal’s mobile, but it was turned off; Cassie was dancing by herself to some Prokofiev which she had found in Jal’s bedroom, oblivious to all of the chaos around her and the fact that people don’t normally dance to ‘Peter And The Wolf’; Sid was ringing hospitals to check Jal hadn’t been brought in, shouting over the noise around him. In the kitchen, Anwar was attempting to make milk for the baby, having discovered that cow’s milk only made him throw up. Eventually, he joined everyone else, and as Tony tried to force the bottle into the kid’s mouth, the sound of someone’s key turning in the lock could not be heard.

xxx

Jal staggered into the house, stifling her yawns as she sat down on the sofa between Tony (holding the crying baby) and Sid, who was now resigned to calling round people’s houses to find out if they’d seen Jal in town. Her black mascara was smudged all over her face, and her hair had fashioned itself into clumps, sticking up in odd directions. She curled her legs under her, and began to fall asleep on Tony’s shoulder, his arm in the perfect position for Jal’s head to rest on.

“Oi, Jal. Your heels are digging into my arse!”

Sid shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, the room immediately silent. No-one had noticed her arrival until now.

“Shit. Jal!”

Jal moaned, not realising the chaos she had caused, just wanting to go to sleep.

“Puck off Sid. I’m trying to sleep.”

Suddenly, Jal felt herself being hauled upwards, her dad gripping her dirty coat and forcing her to wake up.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“Out.”

“Don’t start that fucking charade again,” Ronnie hissed at Jal violently, so close she could feel his hot breath on her face, “last time you were out, you got knocked up. Where have you been?”

Jal ignored Ronnie, pulling away herself away from him and jabbing her finger into his chest, hard, wanting to cause pain. Lots of pain.

“You don’t get to fucking know.”

“Oh yes I do. I want to know exactly where you’ve been, and who with.”

“Won’t.”

“Don’t behave like a fucking toddler now.”

“Why not? You liked me when I was toddler, when I was easy to handle. Before I was a fucking ‘big fat disappointment’.”

No-one in the room knew where to look. They all stood there awkwardly, barely even breathing.

“Just tell me where you’ve been. This is ridiculous! Everyone has been looking for you all day and night. So for once, stop being so obstinate and spill it.” He looked her up and down, sneering at the state of his daughter, “You’re a fucking mess, just like your mother.”

Ace and Lynton began to protest, but their words were drowned out by Jal’s shouting.

“I went to the fucking registry office, okay?”

“For nineteen hours?”

“I needed to clear my head. Last time I checked, babies were meant to have names.”

“You named him. In your state? You’re fucking drunk!”

Jal wiped her dad’s spit off her face, grimacing as he grabbed her arm, tightening his grip on her painfully.

“So then? What’s the lovely bundle of joy called?” he demanded sarcastically, “I expect he’s called Tchaikovsky or something ridiculous like that, hmm?”

“Jonah,” Jal whispered, avoiding Ronnie’s glare, “Jonah Christopher Miles.”

“Jonah? You named him after my dad? My dad is fucking bastard.”

“I didn’t. Chris liked fish.”

“Then why didn’t you call him Nemo?”

Ronnie looked his daughter up and down as if he were disgusted, and pushed her out the way as he left the room; he gritted his teeth whilst hissing, “Get out of my fucking sight.” Jal hit the wall loudly, her bones cracking against it. Immediately, she burst into tears, sinking to the floor with her back straight against the wall. No-one moved. Everyone knew that Jal had not gotten on with her dad since her mum had left, but not even Michelle had imagined that their fights were this bad, even if they had never ended with any violence before. Jal sat with her arms limp at her sides, her knees against her chest and her shoulders shaking as she cried. It was the first time they had seen her sob so openly in front of them without trying to hide it or walk away. Still, no-one could bring themselves to go over to her, not even Ace and Lynton. They could hear Ronnie in the kitchen, banging the cupboard doors and speaking angrily down the phone, his loud voice being the only sound above Jal’s cries.

xxx

That evening, Jal, Michelle, Tony, Maxxie, James, Anwar, Cassie and Sid slept in Jal’s bedroom. They’d never slept together before without it being at a party. Another first was Jal sleeping next to the cot. Before, she had refused to even sleep in the same room, let alone next to the baby. In the darkness, Michelle rolled over on her side so she faced Jal’s back, just able to make out her silhouette. They were the only two in the room still awake, thankfully including the baby.

“I think Jonah’s perfect, Jal.”

Michelle listened to Jal breathing in and out, knowing that she probably wouldn’t get a response.

“I’m glad you didn’t call him Chris.”

“I thought that everyone would expect me to. But I did, sort of. Middle name.”

“Well, I think Jonah Christopher is just right.”

“Do you think Chris would have liked it?”

“Yes. Although I think Chris would have been happy with Nemo too, so I don’t know if it means anything to be honest.”

Jal giggled, and Michelle hoped that maybe she was starting to get better. She waited for Jal to say something back, but after waiting for what seemed like ages, she gave up.

“I didn’t want to call him Chris because then I would just keep waiting for him to turn into my Chris,” Jal whispered into Michelle’s ear, surprising her as she took her hand, “which is fucking stupid. Dad still expects me to turn into my aunt.”

Michelle didn’t understand what Jal was talking about, and expected she was confused, still suffering from a hangover and bewildered from the whole baby experience. So she asked the question that had been playing on everyone’s minds since the evening.

“Why is he a Miles?”

“Because he’s Chris’s.”

“He’s yours too.”

Jal rolled over, turning her back to Michelle and breaking her hand away. Sighing, Michelle rolled over too, and soon fell asleep on Tony’s shoulder. Jal, however, stayed up, replaying Michelle’s words over and over again in her head.

xxx

It was eight o’ clock, and Jal was still trying to settle Jonah. Gradually, everyone else had left the room to sleep downstairs due to lack of sleep, although Michelle refused to leave and wouldn’t let Tony go either. Jonah had been crying continuously since one in the morning, refusing to feed and without needing a nappy change. As sunlight began to creep into the room, Jonah suddenly went limp, his head falling back against Jal’s hand. Surprised, Jal put Jonah back in his cot, but as she began to walk out her room, she caught herself in the mirror. On her shoulder, there wasn’t drool as she had thought from Jonah, but a bright red smear of blood. Jal rushed back to the cot, and picked the baby up, noticing a small trail of blood dropping down his neck from his ear. She checked his nostrils, and seeing a slight crust of blood around his nose, began to panic.

“’Chelle!”

“Wha? Jal, he’s just shut up. Come back to sleep...”

“He’s bleeding! It’s happening again - I’m going to lose him like Chris.”

Michelle sat up straight away, hitting Tony on the head to get him up.

“Nips?”

“Don’t call me Nips, Tone. And get Jal’s dad. Now!”

Tony gazed confusedly at Michelle, moving slowly to a terrified Jal and then the motionless baby.

“Oh, shit.”

Knock Knock

2008-08-25T13:07:24Z

Title: Knock Knock
Characters/Pairings: Mainly Jal, Chris/Jal, Maxxie/James, Michelle/Tony, Cassie/Sid, Anwar, Ronnie, Ace and Lynton
Summary: Continuation of Silent Tears, i.e. pretending Jal has baby, etc.
Spoilers: Series 2!
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins, unfortunately
Author's note: It would be great to have some comments! Even bad ones, though obviously I'd prefer nice ones...:D oh, and these are my first fics, so i hope they're not too rubbishy

KNOCK KNOCK

Jal huddled in her bed, pulling the covers up around her. She was scared to death of what was happening to her.

“What’s up my little Jalapeno?”

Startled, she shrieked at the bright blue eyes grinning at her.

“Chris? What’s going on? Why are you...”

“Sick of me already?”

Jal did feel sick. She had tried so hard to forget. She wanted more than anything in the world for it to go back to what it used to be like. University was meant to be the best time of her life. Instead, it was the worst.

She shook her head, holding back her tears, “Help me Chris. I don’t know what to do.”

“Just go with the flow, babe! Shit works itself out in the end. Like it always does! Noah, Moses, fucking Superman – it ALWAYS works out for ‘em.”

Jal sighed, focussing on Chris’s hopeful face.

“You’re not real, are you Chris? You can’t come back for me can you, for–“

Jal glanced at her stomach guiltily, something she had taken to doing often.

“For us?”

But he was gone. He always went then. Every day, Jal tried to stop dwelling on her bitterness, stop imagining him, stop asking a dream person, her dream boy, questions that could never be answered or were pointless. Frustrated, she bit back her tears. Jal was scared to cry now, because she knew that once she started, she could never stop.

She dragged herself out of bed and into the shower in the cramped en-suite. She didn’t turn the light on because then she would have to look at her stomach, and she’d gotten so used to it by now that she knew where all the right bottles were without being able to see them. Jal wrapped her towel around her body, struggling to stretch it over her bump. Angry and frustrated, she grabbed her toothbrush and smothered it in toothpaste, grimacing as she brushed her teeth. She kept brushing harder and faster until her gums started to bleed. But Jal was so immersed in her bitter thoughts that she didn’t notice until the blood started running down her hand from her toothbrush.

“Fuck! You’re so stupid, you fucking stupid...stupid shit-head!”

Jal threw her toothbrush in the sink and picked up her hairbrush in her bedroom. She tried pulling it through her hair but it was so tangled and thick that the brush got stuck. Cross, Jal screamed irritably as she tugged the brush out. She chucked the brush angrily across the room and it ricocheted off her music stand, knocking her papers off so they floated around the room.

“Shit. I can’t do anything pucking right.”

She smiled slightly at the bittersweet memory of Chris using all of his silly non-swearwords. Jal glanced at the mirror and looked herself up and down. She had covered all of the full length mirrors with her old clothes, the ones which didn’t fit her anymore. Jal strode across the room angrily to retrieve her hairbrush, knocking off the clothes covering one of the mirrors; for the first time in months she saw herself clearly. Jal gasped as she observed her stomach peeking out from behind her towel, her skin stretching out taut and her belly button sticking out. Stroking her stomach gently, Jal felt movement inside her, as if it, the baby, knew who she was. Jal sobbed bitterly, sitting down on her bed, her head in her hands. She knew now that there was no going back. Jal had always known what was going to happen, what she hadn’t prevented, but it wasn’t until now that she really thought herself properly pregnant. As in becoming someone’s mum.

Wiping her eyes, she stood up and started to drape the fallen clothes back over the mirror, avoiding her own gaze in the mirror’s reflection. Sighing sadly, Jal put on a baggy navy hoodie, grey tracksuit bottoms and a white scarf to try and hide her swollen stomach. It was weird, but somehow Jal irrationally thought that if no-one else could see it and she couldn’t, then maybe her problem didn’t exist at all. She reached over her bed for her clarinet. It was getting harder and harder to play easily now. Jal was paranoid the whole time that she would get found out. She never went out clubbing or to the pub like she used to. She hated herself for drinking, even though she knew that it didn’t matter, or at least she was trying to convince herself it didn’t matter.

Slowly, Jal collected up the sheet music strewn across the dark red carpet. She had begun to open her music books when someone started to knock on her door.

“Go away. I’m practising my music.”

Jal started to play her clarinet loudly, her fingers dancing across the metal keys. It was the only thing she ever did these days apart from eat, sleep and go to lectures.

The knocking persisted. “I need to talk to you!”

Jal froze at the sound of the visitor’s voice. She couldn’t see Jal. Nobody from home could see her, they’d guess. Especially her. It freaked Jal out how she always knew everything.

Jal stayed silent, willing the unwanted visitor to go away. It wasn’t that long ago that she had abandoned them and Jal had wished her dead, pinning all her suffering on the idiotic blonde stick.

The knocking stopped abruptly. “Please don’t come back,” Jal muttered under her breath over and over again.

Jal stared stonily at the door, terrified. She hated how reclusive she’d become, but every time she spoke to someone with blue eyes (although not quite as wide and sparkling) or anyone who cracked a joke (although not quite as insane and random) it made her remember everything. Jal found it too difficult to handle – she always ended up crying in her room, wishing that it had all turned out differently. Michelle used to phone every day, but gradually, it decreased down to once a week or fortnight. Her dad called every other week to make sure she hadn’t “messed her life up” again, in some different shape or form. Jal always had to sound peppy and couldn’t be argumentative on the phone so that they wouldn’t guess how miserable she was, because then they’d make her come home. And then, she’d get found out.

“Please Jal!”

“Fuck!” Jal cursed under her breath. It seemed that the knocker had not gone. And she wouldn’t go anytime soon.

Angrily, Jal got to her feet groaning and yanked the painted wooden door open, careful to hold her sheet music in front of her stomach.

“Hi Jal!”

Jal glared at the skinny blonde girl with her childlike face and mis-matched clothes. Jal hated Cassie, for giving Chris the spliff, for not looking after him, but most of all she hated Cassie for leaving Chris when he died.

“What do you mean, fucking ‘hi’? You’ve completely ruined my bloody life.”

Cassie stared back at Jal vacantly.

“You think it’s alright to give someone who just came out of hospital a fucking spliff?”

“Jal-“

Cassie looked scared; she was beginning to tremble.

“No! Do you know how horrible it is, getting a call from a stranger at two o’ clock in the morning telling you that the only person you ever loved had died? I had to go and identify his fucking body to check. Cos you couldn’t even stick around for a few bloody hours. No-one knew where you fucking went!”

Cassie started to fidget with her fingers, scared of Jal’s anger. She’d never seen her so cross and was shocked by her behaviour. She hadn’t thought that Jal would be upset to see her. She only thought about Sid and herself.

“I didn’t mean to...I didn’t want it to happen like this.”

“You think I did?”

“Oh, erm...wow.”

Jal sighed and sat down on her bed. Cassie stood awkwardly by her door, suddenly looking very fragile.

“How did you find me anyway? I haven’t told anyone which building I’m in, let alone which room.”

“I’ve got contacts!”

Jal shook her head grinning. Cassie smirked, glad that she’d managed to do something right, finally.

“I couldn’t find you either you know. No-one could. Michelle wouldn’t tell me anything and your dad said you hadn’t been home since...”

“Chris’s funeral.”

Cassie tried to look into Jal’s eyes but Jal was avoiding her gaze, staring at her sheet music.

“I’m sorry Jal. I was too scared. I couldn’t control anything. I hate it when it doesn’t happen the way it’s meant to!”

Jal glanced at Cassie, drinking in not only her vulnerability but also her irrational and stubborn traits.

“You can’t control everyone, Cass. I wish we could, that way he’d still be here. But it’s not up to us, is it? You can’t keep running away from stuff when you can’t-”

Cassie launched herself onto Jal for a hug before she could get out of the way. Shocked, Jal tried to get Cassie off her, but it was too late: she could feel Cassie stiffening and pulling off to look at her properly. Jal stared at the wall quickly, feeling tears pool behind her eyes.

“Jal?”

Cassie waited for a reply but found that Jal was ignoring her.

“Sid said that you got rid of it.”

“How did Sid know?” asked Jal, avoiding the real issue.

“Tony told him.”

“Tony knew?”

“Michelle told him before the funeral.”

“I can’t believe she fucking told him.”

Cassie cocked her head and focussed on Jal’s face. It was screwed up and it seemed like Jal had done too much worrying in too short a space of time.

“You were right you know, Cass.”

“What?”

“Back in March, before I got...like this,” Jal looked right into Cassie’s eyes, “you said it was my turn to get hurt.”

xxx

Jal stroked the side of the wooden cross; she hadn’t plucked up the courage (or nerve) to ask Graham about a gravestone yet. He’d been buried next to his brother, and Jal was leaning against Peter’s gravestone like Chris did a year ago. But there wasn’t anyone there to hold her hand like she had held his. Oddly, Jal felt calmer when she came to the cemetery. That was the only reason why she bothered travelling back to Bristol. She was paranoid when she returned in case someone who knew her appeared and sussed her out, but so far Jal had been lucky.

She was so absorbed in her grief that Jal could often feel Chris’s breath on the back of her neck, making her skin tingle. Jal imagined his arms around her, hugging her tightly like when they hid inside his duvet covers. She thought how pleased he would have been if he knew she had kept the baby, but then she thought of how upset he was when she told him that she wanted to abort and how he must of thought of her when he died. Jal had convinced herself that it was literally the final nail in the coffin, that he believed that she didn’t think he was good enough to be a dad.

“I couldn’t do it, Chris. I tried to get rid of it, but every time I went near that hospital I just kind of froze. All I could think about was the last time I was there, when, well, you know...”

She saw his bright eyes staring back at her, drinking in her saddened face.

“I felt so bad, lying to everyone. I told them I got rid of it. I don’t know why. I still feel bad now, actually.”

“Fuck it, babe. What have you got to feel bad about? No-one’s hurt, it’s not fucking raining for once AND it’s nearly Christmas. Now how can something with Chris in it be shit?”

“Nothing with Chris in it could be shit, Chris,” Jal giggled, rolling her eyes, “but it might be pretty shit without Chris.”

Chris glanced at her tummy and poked it gently, “I’ll be there, don’t worry.”

Jal grinned back at him, and Chris stroked her cheek, studying her face.

“Nothing with Jal in it could be shit anyway, Jalapeno.”

“Even clarinet recitals?”

Chris bobbed his head from side to side, as if weighing up his options, “Errr, yeah. Even clarinet recitals.”

Grinning, Jal traced the pockmarks on Chris’s wrists with her finger, where they had stuck in the IV needles.

“You never said why you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t want to make it real. I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“I never would have left you, Chris. But not telling anyone doesn’t stop it from happening, it couldn’t stop it from happening.”

Chris stared into Jal’s frustrated eyes, willing her to realise the importance and hypocrisy of what she’d just said.

“I think it’s time to use your own advice yourself, Jalapeno,” Chris smiled kindly at Jal, seeming more grown –up and wise than he had ever seemed before, “Not telling anyone about this little guy isn’t stopping him from coming either, no matter how much you hide it.”

Xxx

Jal sat with her knees up against her chest, the white itchy covers drawn around her. She stared straight ahead at the blank walls, drilling through them with her red, tired eyes.

“Jal?”

A straightened blonde head was peeking round the heavy safety door; tanned fingers gripping the metal handle.

“I’m coming in, okay? I’ve got someone else here too.”

Jal turned her head and gazed vacantly at Maxxie, and at the curly-haired girl who followed him. She watched as her friends approached her cautiously, as if she was some fragile kid who could collapse any moment.

Maxxie felt guilty every time he looked at Jal. He felt like he wasn’t around when he should have been, for months. He would have had no idea if she hadn’t called him the previous night, so scared and panicky that this time he couldn’t ignore her. When he had eventually found her, gasping with pain, he’d never heard Jal sound so scared and upset, even when Chris died. Still, Maxxie noted that when Jal got upset, she rarely let anyone see it. He knew that Jal probably felt much worse at the funeral than she let on, and he remembered guiltily how he didn’t even find her to say goodbye properly on the night of the funeral.

Jal focussed on Maxxie’s wrists. She couldn’t bring herself to look into her friends’ concerned faces. She could see sore red marks on his arms from her fingers digging into them earlier. Not wanting to remember the night before, Jal quickly turned her head towards her own hands, and began to pinch her own arms, seeing how much pain she could inflict on herself before her skin went numb.

Michelle was shocked to look at Jal. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and there was sweat glistening on her forehead. It seemed like Jal had grown up a lot too quickly but at the same time was behaving like a small temperamental child. Michelle stood at the foot of the bed, her hands jammed in her pockets.

Maxxie grabbed Jal’s hands quickly to stop her from cutting herself with her sharp nails. Tiny beads of blood were beginning to appear underneath the surface of her soft skin, which had become red and raw.

“You’ve got to stop doing that, okay Jal? We’re here now. For you.”

Suddenly, a piercing cry came from the other side of the bed. Michelle hadn’t even noticed the plastic cot next to Jal. She edged around the bed to peer into the cot, gasping at the tiny wriggling baby inside it. She looked at Jal, expecting her to react, to pick up the kid, but Jal was completely motionless. Desperate for attention, the baby kept on screaming loudly, getting more distressed as each second passed. Awkwardly, Michelle picked it up. As soon as she did, its whole body relaxed, its head flopping onto her elbow. The baby’s eyes flickered open, gazing at Michelle in bewilderment. She walked round to Jal, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her, willing her to look at her own child.

“Jal – look at him! His eyes are so blue, they’re just like Chr-“

“All babies have got blue eyes.”

“But they’re so bright, Jal. Just look.”

Michelle eased the baby into her friend’s arms, propping up Jal’s elbow for her because she was so scared Jal would actually allow her son to roll off the bed onto the cold, hard floor.

Jal blinked at the small red bundle in her arms. She stared as the baby gazed at her, his eyes shining bright blue despite his tanned skin and dark brown tufts of hair. Jal panicked as she realised just how right Michelle was about his eyes, and started to cry.

“You’ve got no idea what it’s like, do you?”

“What?”

Michelle and Maxxie looked confusedly at eachother, anxious as to what Jal was referring to, and if she could cope holding the baby.

Jal turned her head towards Maxxie, her golden brown eyes boring into his pale blue ones.

“Do you love James, Max?”

“Erm...yeah,” Maxxie grinned goofily at Jal, “I think I do actually.”

“Then you know how much it hurts, don’t you?”

“Hurts?”

“I love Chris so much it feels like my heart’s swelling up. It feels like it’s getting too big for my body, like it’s trying to break out. And it keeps getting worse, every day. Every day I don’t see him, or feel him next to me, I feel sick. When I breathe, it feels wrong. Like I shouldn’t be breathing. Like I should be up there, or wherever dead people go, with him.”

“Jal-”

“It’s why I could forgive Sketch for what she did to you two.”

“Sketch?”

Maxxie gripped Jal’s arm gently and stroked the baby’s long delicate fingers, which closed around his own tightly.

“Because I knew that she felt the same way about you.”

Jal started to cry again, and Michelle leaned over to put her arms around her. She felt Jal’s hot tears rolling down her arms, causing her to shiver and come out in goosebumps, and Jal’s wet eyelashes flickering against her shoulder. The baby started to whimper in Jal’s arms, sensing that there was something wrong.

“I’m so scared ‘Chelle,” Jal whispered into Michelle’s shivering ear, “I don’t know what to do. How am I meant to tell my dad? I don’t know what I’m meant to do with him anyway,” Jal lifted the baby towards her shoulder, feeling him curl into her blades, “I don’t know how to deal with all this.”

“You’ve just got to love him, I guess. My mum said that’s all babies really need apart from food, nappies and somewhere to sleep.”

“I don’t think I can love him.”

Jal felt Maxxie’s grip on her arm tighten, and she felt the bundle in her arms squirm, as if he could understand exactly what she’d just said.

“I’m too scared that I’ll love him more than Chris.”

xxx

Jal had been at home for three days. Maxxie and Michelle made her go back to Bristol on the train, and they’d come home with her because now it was the Christmas holidays. Anwar and Tony had come back for Christmas too; Sid and Cassie had been sloping around the area for weeks, going to all the places that the group used to hang out before their lives turned upside down. Sid had convinced Cassie to stay in Bristol and they had been living in his house with his mum.

Michelle, Maxxie, Anwar, Tony, Cassie, Sid and James sat squashed on the sofa in Jal’s living room. Jal sat opposite them on the floor, the baby in front of her, lying on a folded duvet in a laundry basket (they had only had enough money to get nappies and milk formula when Jal was in hospital). Jal stared at the baby, her face confused and distorted with thought. Everyone else stared at Jal, switching from watching her to watching the baby. James led Maxxie out of the lounge and into the kitchen. There were old milk bottles strewn all over the worktops, with banana skins and empty packets of crisps piled up in the open bin.

“Are you okay, Max?”

“Yeah, I’m more worried about Jal, to be honest.”

They leant their heads around the door frame and peeked into the lounge.

“I don’t remember her being like this, even at the funeral.”

“She’s never been like this James. She’s so...unresponsive. And then, when she does say anything, it’s just completely weird. She comes out with this stuff that’s been bottled up for months. It’s like she hasn’t moved on at all at uni. She hasn’t got any friends there. We had to go to her room to get her stuff because there was no-one she knew to bring it for her. She refused to come home without her fucking clarinet.”

James pulled Maxxie into a hug. He could feel his ribs through his t-shirt, moving quickly as he breathed.

“She’s gonna get through this, okay? You did as much as you could. We’ve just got to be there for her now, and the kid.”

A small grateful smile flickered across Maxxie’s lips as he squeezed James’ hand and followed him back into the lounge. Jal was still frozen on the floor, sat crossed-legged with her hands gripping her knees, her elbows drawn into her stomach. The baby was asleep but he was arching his back; Michelle could tell that soon he would wake up and demand attention from his mum, which of course he wouldn’t get.

Michelle tried to attract Jal’s attention by wiggling her eyebrows but she couldn’t break Jal out of her vegetative state. Sighing, Michelle eventually broke the awkward silence in the room by speaking up.

“Jal?”

Jal glanced up at Michelle, who was startled by her friend’s steely glare. Jal’s eyes locked onto hers fiercely, daring her to comment on her behaviour.

“Erm...is your dad coming home today? Ace and Lynton?”

“Uh huh,” Jal nodded slowly, her eyes drifting off Michelle’s and onto her own fidgeting hands, “they’re coming back tonight.”

“Oh. From America?”

“Yup. I guess the shit will hit the fan.”

The room fell awkwardly silent again and the only sound was of Anwar munching cheese and onion crisps loudly.

Jal felt tired and heavy but she kept staring straight at her friends. They began to blur until she could only see the outline of their heads against the wall. It unnerved them, sitting opposite her on the sofa. They couldn’t distract her or stop her from staring at them. Sid tried to clear his throat to wake her up, but he ended up choking on one of Anwar’s crisps and Tony had to whack him on the back, resulting in bits of crisp spraying everywhere. Still, Jal kept staring straight ahead, ignoring everyone around her. The baby started to squirm and whimper as he woke up. As he broke out into a cry, everyone in the room stared expectantly at Jal, but she didn’t acknowledge it.

“Erm...Jal?”

Anwar spoke up, but shivered as Jal moved her head, trancelike, to focus on him.

“It’s...well, it’s just that, you’re erm...”

“What, Anwar?”

“It’s your erm...tits. They’re sort of all-“

“My face is up here.”

“Right. Well, it’s just that you’re sort of, well, erm...”

Anwar mouthed a word, and Jal couldn’t tell what he was saying.

“Anwar, I haven’t got super-sonic hearing. Just spit it out!”

Anwar had gone very red; he was running a hand through his hair and fiddling with his sleeve.

“You’re erm...sort of-“

Jal glared at him, and turned to Tony.

“Tone, what the fuck is he on about?”

“You’re experiencing lactation.”

“What?”

“You’re leaking, I’m afraid. Baby wants milk.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, staring daringly right into Jal’s panicky eyes. It seemed like he had finally returned completely to his pre-accident state. He laughed under his breath and Michelle hit him over the head with magazine. Jal, horrified, looked down at her chest and saw that Tony was right.

“Fuck! This hasn’t happened before. ‘Chelle, can’t you feed it?”

“There’s no formula left, Jal. You’re going to have to feed him yourself, okay? Everyone else has fed him now anyway. You’re the only person who hasn’t.”

“I can’t!”

“You can’t ignore him forever. He’s your own son, for fuck’s sake.”

Jal stared at Michelle, but she wouldn’t flinch. Michelle just stayed where she was, her arms folded. Jal wasn’t used to her being like this. Normally she was all dipsy would start talking about an email Tony had sent her or some fit guy she pulled in a bar when she was drunk. Jal hated how the tables had turned. She was not about to accept life advice from Michelle.

“Get out! Get out now, all of you! I don’t want you to come back, okay? Just don’t fucking bother. Go and have a fricking party upstairs or mess around in the...whatever.”

They were all shocked at both Jal’s sudden outburst and what was happening to her. They sat motionless, bewildered at her behaviour.

“Go! Are you all fucking deaf or something?”

Slowly, they all filed out of the room, embarrassed. Maxxie waited at the end to see if Jal would calm down but she just focussed on the baby, scared as hell. He stood in the doorframe whilst everyone else traipsed upstairs to Jal’s bedroom.

“Close the door on your way out, Max.”

Jal was left by herself with the baby. She stared at him squirming. He kept reaching up to her, wanting her to pick him up. He was helpless. Just like her.

She stroked his fingers awkwardly, marvelling at how small they were. Immediately he stopped crying and clasped his little hand around her finger. Suddenly she was aware that she had ignored her own son ever since he was born. She hadn’t held him since Michelle had made her in the hospital. He opened his eyes and gazed at her, expecting to be cuddled and fed. Jal gasped at how blue his eyes were. She had expected them to gradually darken or change colour to become like hers, even though she had secretly hoped that he would inherit Chris’s eyes. His skin had become darker like hers, and for the first time Jal fully acknowledged him as not only her son, but Chris’s.

Cautiously, she picked him up, holding him at arm’s length. His head flopped backwards, causing him to shriek and Jal, shocked, quickly cradled him in her arms, not realising she was doing it. Gingerly, she stroked his nose, his tiny eyelashes fluttering against the back of her hand. Soon, he started whimpering again. Jal didn’t know what to do. She looked around the room, panicking because there wasn’t anything around to entertain him. She started to hyperventilate, and the baby, sensing her discomfort, began to cry.

“Chill out Jalapeno! You’re gonna give yourself a fucking heart-attack at this rate.”

“I can’t fucking cope with this. Shit, I wasn’t even like this before any of my clarinet exams or recitals!”

“Hey, deep breaths! Keep going like this and your blood will get boiling and then eventually your head will blow off like fucking Mount Krakatoa. Did you know Krakatoa has a Volcanic Explosivity Index of six? That’s the same as two-hundred tonnes of TMT. Fucking immense, eh?”

Jal gazed up at Chris confusedly, wondering where the hell he learnt that and why he was repeating it now.

“What the fuck are you on about? Do you know you come out with the most almighty shit sometimes?”

“Sure do Jalapeno,” Chris grinned straight at her, “but you pucking love me for it!”

“Hmmm...”

Jal raised an eyebrow, moving the baby’s hand away from her chest.

“Like father, like son, eh?”

Chris smiled, winking.

“What?”

“He’s only got one thing on his mind. Tits. Namely yours.”

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Go ahead then.”

“Huh?”

“Gotta feed him one day. Promise I won’t look!”

Jal sighed, realising that it was now or never. Uncomfortably, she slowly hoisted the baby up towards her, but before she realised, he was doing all the work. Jal sat on the floor for what seemed like hours, gazing down at the baby in her arms. She didn’t want to believe that she was responsible for him; she knew that she would probably pin all her regrets regarding the past year on the baby. She wished that she hadn’t freaked out on everyone, because she realised what she was most scared of was being alone with this kid. This time she couldn’t just hand the child back to its mum, like when she had babysat for extra cash; from now on, this baby was going to get handed back to her. It wasn’t until Jal heard a familiar voice behind her that she snapped back to reality.

“What the fuck is going on here, Jalander?”

fic: we are not lovers

2008-08-19T03:55:33Z

title: we are not lovers
author: bellelavie
pairing: tony/effy
rating: R
warnings: underage brother/sister incest
note: i'm very new at this, this is my first fic EVER. i know it's probably not that great, but i hope the idea gets across. i'd really like honest opinions/suggestions :)

( They reckon they've got about five minutes before he opens his door and discovers everything. )

Assorted drabbles

2008-08-11T16:03:48Z

Titles: tonight i'm like a paper doll, you're my favourite book, or so the story goes, caught me with my pants down, a sunday smile and we felt true
Characters/Pairings: Cassie, Maxxie/Michelle, Effy, Maxxie/Anwar, Chris/Jal
Word Count: All are under 1000 words (I think?).
Author's Note: Written for the Skins Drabblethong!

I'm learning to balance (Chris/Michelle)

2008-08-06T15:03:10Z

Title: I'm learning to balance
Pairing/Characters: Chris/Michelle
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 900
Spoilers: Takes place between Series 1 and Series 2
Summary: Her vision is hazy enough that she knows she's about two drinks past when she should stop, four drinks away from when she will.
Author's Notes: For the Skins Drabblethong '08. fiorie requested Chris/Michelle, and then...this came out.

(You're somewhere between a waste and the best place I've ever been, I am breathing underwater...)

skinsfic @ 2008-08-05T17:48:00

2008-08-06T00:48:53Z

Title: Month of Mist (1/3)
Fandom: Skins
Rating: NC-17 (for sex & language)
P/C: Effy/Sid, mentioins Tony/Michelle, Michelle/Sid & Sid/Cassie
Summary: As Tony handed Sid an old bottle of gin while he cried and bitched on, Effy decided that it was definitely time to start drinking.
Warnings: Underage stuff. The usual Skins warnings. :)

here @ sprnova_fixxx

drabbles : various characters

2008-08-03T06:02:00Z

Titles: we’re not fighting, we’re snogging; do you realize we’re surrounded by russians?; you have to get your crotch into it; boys are weird
Author: honey_wheeler
Pairings/Characters: Jal/Tony; Jal & Michelle; Jal & Maxxie; Anwar, Chris & Cassie
Rating: PG-13
Words: Varies from 160 to 300
Summary: A set of unrelated drabbles, no spoilers

( “Ooh, this is that one where that French girl gets her kit off!” Chris says excitedly. )

it's only a matter of time. skins ficmix.

2008-08-01T19:31:32Z

skins ficmix. pg-13. (sid/effy, cassie/tony, michelle/sid, cassie, michelle/maxxie, effy, chris/jal, sketch/anwar/maxxie) stories are not related.
excerpt: He tells her he knows how it feels to wish you were something different, to wish you could overcome the thing that holds you back. But he didn't choose his fate, it was brought upon him. He says he doesn't care, the metaphor still applies. Like us, he says when she starts to pull her clothes on. They were both hungry for something they couldn't satisfy.

it's only a matter of time

Fic: Say Switchblade (Skins)

2008-07-29T16:40:56Z

Say Switchblade
Skins. Cassie/Effy. Spoilers through 2.05 - Chris.

For the Skins Drabblethong '08. Thanks to miss_bennie for encouragement! And constant, dedicated Skins pimping in the first place.

Don't say love. Say switchblade.
- Peter Murphy, epigraph to On the Use of Concrete Language by Diane Lockward

( You come home and everything's different. )

how it never happened : various characters

2008-07-20T07:53:25Z

Title: how it never happened
Author: honey_wheeler
Pairings: Chris & Cassie, Anwar/Abigail, Sid/Effy, Michelle/Maxxie, Tony/Cassie, Sid/Jal, Michelle/Effy, Tony & Sketch
Rating: PG-13/R-ish
Words: Varies from 240 to 950
Summary: A series of vignettes of things that never happened, set throughout both seasons
Warnings: Spoilers through the end of season 2

( The worst of it is how everyone else went back to normal so fast after Tony died. Even Sid, who she’d always thought would be like that faithful dog that waited at the train station for his owner for years, even after the owner was long dead. )

you asked what's wrong with me (tony, ensemble)

2008-06-24T13:33:30Z

Title: you asked what's wrong with me
Pairing/Characters: Tony, Ensemble, slight Tony/Sid
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2610
Spoilers: Takes place between Series 1 and Series 2
Summary: Sid was there the first week, maybe, while everything was still a haze and he was still drowning underwater.
Author's Notes: For nothing_hip's "See You Again" by Miley Cyrus challenge. Because Skins and Miley Cyrus go great together, obviously.

(I st-st-stuttered when you asked me what I'm thinking 'bout)

how we fall : chris/jal

2008-06-16T17:46:51Z

Title: how we fall
Author: honey_wheeler
Fandom: Skins
Pairing: Jal/Chris
Rating: PG
Words: 2,100
Summary: Comfort comes to those with faith in mysterious ways. Set during season 2, episodes 8 (Jal) and 10 (Everyone)
Warnings: Spoilers through the end of season 2

( but in the morning I can smell you on my pillow / I need to know we won’t get wrung out in the wash )

octopus babies.

2008-06-02T10:59:15Z

Title: Octopus Babies.
Author: schnooglesquee
Characters: sid/cassie.
Rating: R for language and sexual innuendo.
Categories: AU
Spoilers: Season 1, slight season 2 spoilers.
Disclaimer: Dont own. Sadly.
Author’s Note: Slight randomness between Sid & Cassie. Slightly OC Sid to say the least. Honestly don't know where the title came from. o_o
Summary: He didn't need to wank himself. He had her to do that for him.

&;

He was fucked up.

It was such a straight-to-the-point statement, it amused him at some point. He hasn’t really taken anything that day to confuse his mind of what’s real and what’s not, so he was pretty sure that this fuckery was legitimate. He had definitely wished he had taken a few pills that morning. This wasn’t something he’d want to broadcast to the entire universe.

She looked at him with her usual protruding eyes, and that slightly crooked smile.

Oh yes, he was fucked.

“What are you smiling about?” He felt rather stupid at that point. Had he always been this much of an idiot around women? She smiled wider.

“Nothing. Your glasses are crooked again.” She didn’t bother fixing it. It made him wonder as to why, knowing her true nature of keeping things organized. Maybe she liked the way it looked, but he didn’t bet on it.

Her eyes widened.

“Well, aren’t you going to fix it?” She asked him. He had hoped she would. But then again, he was always wrong. He hoped too much. It was a bad trait of his.

“No?” He was unsure of what to answer her. Either way, he’d still look like a complete twat in front of her.

“You lazy prat.” She reached out for his spectacles and wriggled them slightly on his nose. He suddenly smelled a mixture of cinnamon and vanilla. He really didn’t want to ponder more on it.

Wank.

“Ugh, thanks Cass.” He mumbled.

“Sure. Yeah…totally.” She paced the floor of his bedroom in a relaxed manner. He didn’t really get how she didn’t feel the awkwardness of the situation they were in. She was in his fucking bedroom, damnit.

“I miss Chris.” She suddenly quipped. He didn’t bother looking back at her.

“We all do, Cass.” Damnit, he hated bringing Chris up. The man’s dead for bloody sake, he thought. The mere thought of his non-existence already drove him sad.

“I wonder where he is right now…” She wandered off. He didn’t really believe in the whole afterlife concept. Neither did she. He never really bothered to answer her question.

They fell silent.

It was then that he wondered how long her hair had grown for the past months. He glanced at her blonde mane, only to find it falling gracefully just below her waist. Surely enough, he suddenly felt the urge to wank himself.

“Idiot.” He didn’t think aloud much. He only did so in stressful situations, and this could be counted as one. She looked at him quickly.

“What did you call me?” She looked slightly offended as she mockingly smiled at him. He sat up straight in defense.

“Oh-sorry, I didn’t mean you. I meant me. I was thinking aloud.” She smirked.

“Thinking of what?” She asked him.

You see, it’s these kinds of situations that make him wish he were less of himself, and more like Tony. But then he found Tony to be a sodding twat, so he disregarded the idea.

“You know…stuff?” He didn’t sound so sure of himself. He really hated that she sensed those kinds of things. She was now looking directly back at him with her hazy eyes, and her wide smile.

Oh, fuck.

“I like you, Sid.” He thought he was merely hallucinating.

“Say it again?” Now he sounded boastful. Oh, he was a pillock. A bloody pillock.

“I fucking like you.” She said in between chuckles. She was now sitting by the edge of his bed, her hand safely on her lap. He looked like a sodding idiot staring back at her.

“You sure?” He asked. She sniggered.

“You don’t believe me?” Obviously not. He was so much of a twat to.

“Ugh…I’m kind of caught in the middle of disbelief and belief. I don’t know what you call it, but it’s a bloody awful place to be in.” He mused to himself. She smiled back at him.

Wank. Wank. Wank.

“Is Michelle in it?” She asked morosely. It was his turn to smile.

“If she were, what you just said wouldn’t be too legitimate.” She smiled brighter. Stupid as it may seem, Sid felt his stomach flutter. Maybe it was the beans he ate for breakfast. Was he constipated? Maybe it was gas. He wasn’t so sure.

“We should totally fuck.”

WANK. NOW.

“Cass, honestly. Are you sure you’re not wasted?” He asked. Inwardly, he wanted to grab her and push her up against the wall.

“I’m totally not!” She said defensively. It was a weird thing to decipher, because she was smiling every bloody time.

“Lovely then.” He grabbed her and did just as he had fantasized last night, and the night prior to that night. Inwardly, he as still wondering on what just happened.

He was still constipated. He hated it.