Title: When She Cries
Book: II
Chapter: Three
Chapter Title: The Notes She Wrote
Rating: R.
Coupling: Ultimately: Dallie/Lola, Aggie/Fin, Devon/Ashley,
Thalia/Ethan, Paris/Jess, Meggie/Zander, Aurora/Tolly. Now aren’t you glad you’ve
spoiled yourself in that way?
Disclaimer: Aye, captain. I hold no deeds to Gilmore
Girls. And I don’t own matchbox twenty’s Long Day.
Author’s Note: Well, there’s Ashley, though I still refuse to write
Ashley’s plan until she starts on a certain sequel. Then there’s Jamie, oh so
recently turned into my partner in crime. ;). Gracie, who is a great supporter
of the fic (refusing to use the term ‘cheerleader’). Priya, another great
supporter of this fic. And Jess, being the third, and who wrote an awesome fic
called Empty Space that you should go read. Finally, Meggie, even though
she doesn’t read the fic.
*
I'm sorry 'bout
the attitude/I need to give when I'm with you/
But no one else would take this shit from me/And I'm so/
Terrified of no one else but me/I'm here all the time/
I won't go away.
Rationalization. One of Freud’s major ego defense mechanisms. An attempt to prove that one’s behavior is “rational” and justifiable and thus worthy of the approval of self and others. Source: Dr. Zimbardo’s textbook, released 1999. Example: like, she wasn’t standing in the lobby of the Edison with intentions of seeing Fin; she had a friend, actually an acquaintance there that she was going to see. Denial of reality. Another one of Freud’s major ego defense mechanisms. Protecting oneself from unpleasant reality by refusing to perceive it. Source: Dr. Zimbardo’s 1999 textbook. Example: It didn’t matter whether or not she saw Fin; things were so over between them. Projection. A third major ego defense mechanism. Placing blame for one’s difficulties on others or attributing ones “forbidden” desires to others. Source: Zimbardo, 1999. Example: Blowing up at ones roommate after meeting with Fin leaves one very frustrated. Fantasy. Major ego defense mechanism. Gratifying frustrated desires in imaginary achievements (“daydreaming” is a common form). Zimbardo, 1999. Example: Almost getting hit by several angry taxi drivers on the way to hotel due to rather lurid thoughts of Fin.
Augusta sighed; she was becoming as
incurable as a pedophile with this…obsession. Next thing you’d know she’d
become Dallie-like, thinking she was in love with the damned Irish fool, and before
long she’d be…she shuddered just thinking about…Devon-like. All romance, candle
lights and forever talks of love. Oh no, Augusta Evelyn Gellar-Mariano (it was
a mouthful, for sure. She use to curse her mother back when she was learning
how to write her name) was a practical woman, if nothing else. Of course,
apparently not as practical as she always thought she was, but practical
still the same. And practically speaking she should forget her acquaintance and
turn around, walk back out into Times Square and march her ass back to her
apartment.
“Well hey there, Aggie-lass,” came
the familiar Irish brogue from beside her.
All right, so she was completely out
of her mind irrational. Maybe she could work with that, help her become a
better psychology student or something. “Finvarra.”
“I love the way you say my name,”
Fin mentioned casually, “It’s so very American. Are you here to see me?”
“No,” was her automatic reply. It
was just like him to make her sound petulant. She resisted another sigh; projecting
more than once a day was bad for your soul.
“I don’t think it’s good for someone
aiming to enter into the field of psychology to use denial of reality,” He told
her, “and yes, I know what it is. It was in one of your books in your room.”
Augusta could only gape at him, “I
can’t believe you would do that, it’s such a invasion of privacy.”
“Sweet,” no, she did not get a
melting sensation at that endearment, it rather left her feministly offended.
“It was just a psychology textbook.”
“I write in my books,” damn him, she
sounded as if she pouted. She didn’t pout, Lola pouted, Aurora pouted, but not
her. Never her.
“I noticed,” Fin said, nodding his
head in agreement. “Picked up the habit from anyone?”
Actually her father, in fact 95% of
her early childhood memories consisted of him coming home and giving her a book
filled with notes on parts he found interesting, funny, etc. Sometimes it was
almost as if he were reading it to her, alas that never happened in reality.
But it wasn’t something she wanted to share with a man she was trying to
unattract herself from, so she merely shrugged. “It runs in the family.” That
wasn’t a lie either; besides her father Dallie also did it.
“I’d hate to see a first edition to
get into the hands of the Mariano’s then.”
“My mother wouldn’t allow us near it
then,” which was true, Paris was known to sigh whenever she read a book that
Jess, Augusta or Dallie had written in. Augusta looked outside; it was starting
to get dark. She should head back to her apartment.
“You’re looking outside,” Fin
commented. Aggie focused her attention back on him and shrugged. “Well you do
that when it starts getting late.”
“I don’t like walking around New
York City at night,” Aggie shrugged again, it was an awful habit. She should
break it.
“I always thought you refused to
leave the apartment after dusk because you hadn’t had enough of me and was too
embarrassed to admit it,” Fin teased with a wink. “Now I come to find that you
just don’t want to get raped or mugged. Do you know what that does to m’ ego?”
“Obviously nothing to the id part of
it.”
Fin laughed, and put his hand upon
the side of her face, and nudged her forward. “I love it when you get all
Freudian on me, Aggie-lass. Come up stairs with me.”
“There’s some Irish charm. All the
subtlety of a wrecking ball.” Aggie retorted, but still made no move to shove
his hand away. She stole a quick look at the outside, really it would be
easier... no, she refused to the opposite of sublimation.
“You’re thinking in psychological
terms again, I can see it in those brown eyes of yours.”
“I always think in
psychological terms,” she pointed out.
“I know, it’s adorable.”
Augusta glared at him, or would have
at least, had her cell phone not ringed at that moment. She glanced at the ID,
Lola. Damn, and her without her notebook.
She had barely got her greeting out
when Lola asked, “Do you think I’m narcissistic?”
Oh, they were back on to that.
She could imagine Lola sitting there, at her vanity, holding Venus against her
will through some sheer magnificent thigh muscles, because her hands would be
occupied with tugging her blonde hair into two overly tight braids as her
shoulder and side of her face balanced the phone. Really, Lola could be
entirely too predictable in some situations.
“I think you have narcissistic
tendencies,” everybody did, after all, “but nothing resembling the full blown
disorder. Why do you think you are narcissistic?”
There was a pause before Lola answered,
which was probably more from keeping Venus from jumping down onto the floor
than her hesitancy in answering the question. “I was giving your brother a ride
home from the mall…”
“Dallie?” Augusta had to interrupt.
Really the one time she didn’t bring her notebook with her.
“Yeah,” there was the sound of gum
snapping. Ah, either cotton candy or strawberry flavored.
“I didn’t know that he knew where
the mall was.”
“It’s where the bookstore is, well
one of them at least,” Lola pointed out. “And on the way back, he called me
narcissistic.”
“What’d you do to provoke him?”
This time she heard the sound of gum
popping, “Why is whenever Dallie and I fight, I’m the one that started it?”
Augusta sighed, “Lorelai…”
“Fine, I’ll concede that I usually
goad the Cowboy into fighting, but not ev-er-ree time,” she dragged out the
word ‘every’, gum snapping and all. “But just tendencies?”
“That and histrionic, you like
attention on yourself,” Aggie listed off, looking at the clock. What the
hell…oh wait, that was the Tokyo clock. “Would you like a personality profile
right now? Or will you call back your self-awareness?”
Lola just grunted in reply,
obviously pulling the plait too tight.
“You’ll go bald if you keep tugging
your hair that tight,” Augusta warned her…damn it, it was too dark now.
“I
will not,” Lola argued. “And yes I will. Don’t know why my parents pay for a
therapist when I have you.”
“Thank you,” there was her ego boost
for the day. “Remember that for your children.”
Augusta said goodbye to Lorelai and
hung up the cell phone. “Fine I’ll come up with you, Fin-lad.”
“What was that about?” He didn’t
comment on her sudden acquiesce but did start to lead her to the elevator.
“Can’t tell you, almost
doctor-almost client privileges.”
“There’s no such thing.”
“But there is the friendship
agreement,” Augusta replied. “And I am friends with Lola.”
“Fine, I’ll figure it out m’self,”
Fin told her as he pressed the up button. “Asked if she was a narcissist,
lyssophobia*?”
Augusta could only gape at him, so he gave her a slight push into
the small elevator. “How…how did…?”
“It was written in your book, as a
list of unlisted phobias and next to it, it said ‘Lola’,” Fin replied with a
grin. “I’m no’ a rocket scientist, y’know?”
“Shut up.” Aggie crossed her arms.
“I also happen to know she’s
practically philophobic* and gamophobic*.”
“First of all, your memory is
scary,” Augusta told him, as they got off the elevator. “And number two you are
never going near a book I own again.”
“I like the implication there that
I’ll be seeing more of you.”
She looked over her shoulder at him,
“Not that much more, Finvarra.”
He didn’t doubt that with the will
that she had. Well, at least speaking for tonight. “I don’t get what the big
deal is. Everyone has phobias. I have arachibutyrophobia.”
“I honestly don’t think you care if
you get peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth,” she challenged him,
stopping in front of his hotel room.
“Well, have you ever seen me eat
peanut butter?” Fin asked, reaching over to unlock his door.
“Uh, no, but we didn’t exactly have
picnics together,” Aggie reminded him as she waited for him to turn on the
light before following him in.
“I’m sorry, did you want them?” She
was quick to shake her head ‘no’. “Good, then. What phobia do you have? Other
than your obvious Finphobia.”
She grated her teeth, “I do not
have…there is no such thing as Finphobia.”
“Well you’re a very special case.”
“I’m a nonexistent case,” Augusta
gritted out. “If I had it, and this is beyond hypothetical since none of this
exists, I wouldn’t be here.”
“You’re very literal,” Fin pointed out.
“Makes one wonder how you ended up with a male roommate.”
She refused to glare, it was too
clichéd in this type of situation. “What’s that suppose to mean? Never mind.”
She sighed. “I’m going to leave.” Yeah, right.
He didn’t mean to be smug, truly he
didn’t. Still that didn’t stop his smile from appearing smug as he said,
“No you won’t.”
Bastard. “Why not?”
“Same reason I won’t turn out those
lights there,” his hand gestured towards the light switch.
Oh, hell.
“Well how long have you known?”
Augusta sighed; when it came to it she was almost as guarded as Lola was.
“Oh, quite awhile,” Fin replied, “you’re
very subtle about it, but still it’s a little odd when the lights never go out
around you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s stupid,” she tightened the hold of her arms. “Childish, even. Very rarely does nyctophobia* last into adulthood.”
“It’s not childish,” Fin uncrossed her arms, “look, so you can’t be in the dark, it’s what they created night lights for, or even candles.”
“Oh no,” Augusta told him, even as she allowed him to draw her closer. “I’m not allowing you to seduce me.”
Fin nodded, “Very well, then.” And then he kissed her.
He always had issues with doing what he was told, anyway.
*
Fear of going insane, Fear of falling in love or being in love, Fear of
marriage, Fear of darkness and/or night.