Comfort Cookies
Jan. 31st, 2012 03:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intheheartTitle: Comfort Cookies
Rating: PG.
Summary: Gail takes care of her own.
Date: November 2007
Notes: This takes place in early November, and is the start of Jake's real adoption.
By the time Gail surfaced from the sea of year-end paperwork and reports, her entire staff had gone home, the sea of cubicles outside her windows silent and dark. She rubbed her forehead, glanced at the time, and winced-- Nathan was going to kill her. Time and past to go home.
She got up and stretched her aching back, glanced out the window as she did so, and swore. No wonder her staff was gone, it was snowing fit to stop the city. She grabbed her coat and walked out of her office, dialing her cell phone as she did so-- to hell with this mess, she was just going to call Jake and get him to cancel office hours for the next day. It was going to be hard enough getting home. She wasn't about to make her staff fight their way in through the drifts tomorrow.
She was halfway to the door when Jake's cell phone rang, off to the right.
Half a second later, someone let out a hoarse yelp, and something clattered off a desk in the corner.
Gail jumped back and stifled her own scream with a fist against her mouth. Heart pounding, she took two steps forward, peering into the darkness around the window. "Jake? Jake, is that you?"
"Mrs. Hirschfeld?" Jake's head appeared over the desk, silhouetted against the streetlight-lit snow outside. "Are you still here?"
"I could ask the same of you," she retorted, adrenalin making her a little sharper than she'd meant. Consciously, she softened her tone and added, "What are you doing, sitting in the dark?"
"Just thinking," he said, and winced away when she turned his desk light on. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
"I didn’t mean to scare you either." She leaned her hip against the table and looked down at Jake. Her chief of staff had squeezed himself between the desk and the wall, his long legs folded awkwardly against his chest. To all appearances, he'd just been staring out the window. "What were you thinking about?"
Jake turned his face away from her and stared back out the window again, eyes distant. "My mother," he said, at last. "Days like this, when my sisters and I would get home from school, she'd gather us all in the kitchen and we'd help her make gingerbread." He fell silent for a moment, then added, "It was good gingerbread. Warmed you inside and out."
Gail turned and looked out at the dancing snow, the swirls and whirlpools it formed as it funneled through the city's air drafts. "I know what you mean. My mother used to make sugar cookies for us, every year on Christmas." Her mouth twisted a bit, in bittersweet memory. "Ivy has the recipe now, but somehow it's always me who makes them."
Jake laughed. "Sounds like Ivy."
"Mm." A few silent moments drifted by with the snow. "Are you not going home for the holidays, then?"
"No," Jake said, absently. A moment later, he seemed to wake up. "That is... I could go to my foster family's, I guess, but my family's dead. They died when I was nine."
This time, the silence was stunned. "I'm so sorry," Gail said, at last.
He shrugged. "It was a long time ago. I'm... not over it, exactly, but it doesn't hurt all the time. Not anymore."
She thought of her mother, dead for three years, and thought she understood that, a little. All she said, though, was "Still. I'm sorry."
Jake tilted his head up and met her gaze for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you."
Gail looked down at him, all folded up in himself and so impossibly small despite his ridiculously lanky frame, and made an instant decision. "Do you have anywhere to be tonight?"
He frowned. "Uh... no, not exactly, but..."
"Good," she said, and got off the desk. "Go get your coat, you're coming home with me."
He jerked, smacked his elbow on the desk, and spent several seconds swearing under his breath before he got up enough momentum to say, "What?"
Gail folded her arms and gave him her best 'don't talk back' look. "You're coming home with me. You've got no business trying to make it to the Bronx in this weather, and my stepson isn't home. Besides," she added, "if you're along, my husband won't shout at me for being late."
"Um," Jake said. "Are you sure that isn't... that they'll..."
Gail, interpreting this as 'will I be interfering,' said, "Of course not. I'll tell you about Danny on the subway. Now get your coat, Jacob, it's cold in here and I'm late enough already."
Jake opened his mouth, evidently decided either that he didn't want to argue or that it was in his best interests not to, and said, only, "Yes, ma'am."
They'd make sugar cookies, Gail decided.
It was the least she could do.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Gail takes care of her own.
Date: November 2007
Notes: This takes place in early November, and is the start of Jake's real adoption.
By the time Gail surfaced from the sea of year-end paperwork and reports, her entire staff had gone home, the sea of cubicles outside her windows silent and dark. She rubbed her forehead, glanced at the time, and winced-- Nathan was going to kill her. Time and past to go home.
She got up and stretched her aching back, glanced out the window as she did so, and swore. No wonder her staff was gone, it was snowing fit to stop the city. She grabbed her coat and walked out of her office, dialing her cell phone as she did so-- to hell with this mess, she was just going to call Jake and get him to cancel office hours for the next day. It was going to be hard enough getting home. She wasn't about to make her staff fight their way in through the drifts tomorrow.
She was halfway to the door when Jake's cell phone rang, off to the right.
Half a second later, someone let out a hoarse yelp, and something clattered off a desk in the corner.
Gail jumped back and stifled her own scream with a fist against her mouth. Heart pounding, she took two steps forward, peering into the darkness around the window. "Jake? Jake, is that you?"
"Mrs. Hirschfeld?" Jake's head appeared over the desk, silhouetted against the streetlight-lit snow outside. "Are you still here?"
"I could ask the same of you," she retorted, adrenalin making her a little sharper than she'd meant. Consciously, she softened her tone and added, "What are you doing, sitting in the dark?"
"Just thinking," he said, and winced away when she turned his desk light on. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
"I didn’t mean to scare you either." She leaned her hip against the table and looked down at Jake. Her chief of staff had squeezed himself between the desk and the wall, his long legs folded awkwardly against his chest. To all appearances, he'd just been staring out the window. "What were you thinking about?"
Jake turned his face away from her and stared back out the window again, eyes distant. "My mother," he said, at last. "Days like this, when my sisters and I would get home from school, she'd gather us all in the kitchen and we'd help her make gingerbread." He fell silent for a moment, then added, "It was good gingerbread. Warmed you inside and out."
Gail turned and looked out at the dancing snow, the swirls and whirlpools it formed as it funneled through the city's air drafts. "I know what you mean. My mother used to make sugar cookies for us, every year on Christmas." Her mouth twisted a bit, in bittersweet memory. "Ivy has the recipe now, but somehow it's always me who makes them."
Jake laughed. "Sounds like Ivy."
"Mm." A few silent moments drifted by with the snow. "Are you not going home for the holidays, then?"
"No," Jake said, absently. A moment later, he seemed to wake up. "That is... I could go to my foster family's, I guess, but my family's dead. They died when I was nine."
This time, the silence was stunned. "I'm so sorry," Gail said, at last.
He shrugged. "It was a long time ago. I'm... not over it, exactly, but it doesn't hurt all the time. Not anymore."
She thought of her mother, dead for three years, and thought she understood that, a little. All she said, though, was "Still. I'm sorry."
Jake tilted his head up and met her gaze for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you."
Gail looked down at him, all folded up in himself and so impossibly small despite his ridiculously lanky frame, and made an instant decision. "Do you have anywhere to be tonight?"
He frowned. "Uh... no, not exactly, but..."
"Good," she said, and got off the desk. "Go get your coat, you're coming home with me."
He jerked, smacked his elbow on the desk, and spent several seconds swearing under his breath before he got up enough momentum to say, "What?"
Gail folded her arms and gave him her best 'don't talk back' look. "You're coming home with me. You've got no business trying to make it to the Bronx in this weather, and my stepson isn't home. Besides," she added, "if you're along, my husband won't shout at me for being late."
"Um," Jake said. "Are you sure that isn't... that they'll..."
Gail, interpreting this as 'will I be interfering,' said, "Of course not. I'll tell you about Danny on the subway. Now get your coat, Jacob, it's cold in here and I'm late enough already."
Jake opened his mouth, evidently decided either that he didn't want to argue or that it was in his best interests not to, and said, only, "Yes, ma'am."
They'd make sugar cookies, Gail decided.
It was the least she could do.
