Summary: He’d heard that all Americans were insane, but he’d always thought that Jack was immune to that particular trait. Apparently not.
Word Count: 965 words
Important Note: Alex is about eleven or twelve in this one.
Alex let himself into the house and deposited his ridiculously heavy school bag on the floor, out of the way.
He made his way to the stairs, more than ready to get rid of his school uniform and put on some comfortable clothes. He was on the third step when he stopped and frowned.
There were strange sounds coming from the kitchen. Quiet shrieks, a smattering of muffled whimpers, and a repetitive banging noise.
Alex was running before he even realized he was moving. He hurtled through the den and was about to slam through the door when he suddenly threw on the brakes. It didn’t really sound like anyone was attacking Jack.
Come to think of it… From the noises, it could be very embarrassing for Alex if he were to walk in there now and Jack’s current boyfriend was visiting.
There was another bang, and Alex flinched, a slight flush rising on his cheeks. But then he heard somebody running around the kitchen. Surely that wasn’t normal in an… uh, sexual situation? Damned if he knew. He hadn’t exactly ever done anything like… that.
“Oh, what the hell,” he muttered finally, and opened the door a tiny bit. Just enough to see if he wanted to close it again, very quietly and very quickly.
To his great relief, Jack was alone.
But what exactly she was doing, Alex couldn’t quite figure out.
She was dashing around the kitchen like a maniac, hitting the linoleum floor with a saucepan as she went.
A much better source for the sound for the banging sound than the one that Alex had been half-expecting.
Alex tentatively opened the door further. Jack didn’t even notice him standing there. She was too busy running, hitting, and alternating whimpers and shrieks.
Alex decided that there was only one explanation.
“Jack, this is England. Rain dances are completely unnecessary.”
She whirled around at the sound of his voice. “Alex!” she shrieked, throwing herself at him. “They’re trying to take over the kitchen!”
Alex cast a wary eye - hell, two wary eyes - around the kitchen again.
There was no one there.
He looked back down at Jack, who was clinging to him. Her red hair was frizzing out in all directions, and her gray eyes were frantic. Panicked, even.
“I never labeled you for a conspiracy theorist,” he said slowly.
The panicked look in Jack’s eyes faded to confusion, then flashed to reproach. “What are you on about?” she demanded. “We have a serious situation here!”
“All right,” said Alex, deciding to humor her. “Where are the little green men?”
“Actually, they’re gray,” Jack corrected, pulling away from Alex and looking suspiciously around the room again. “They’re here somewhere,” she muttered
Alex swallowed nervously. He’d heard that all Americans were insane, but he’d always thought that Jack was immune to that particular trait. Apparently not.
Where was Ian? Didn’t he realize that he’d left Alex home alone with an American?! Alex was going to have to discuss this with him when he returned from his business trip.
“Jack,” he said as gently as he could while keeping his voice from cracking. He grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her toward the door. “C’mon. You go lie down for a bit, and I’ll get you some tea, all right?”
“You English and your bloody tea!” Jack snarled and impatiently pulled out of Alex’s grasp. She resumed her dashing around the kitchen, even more frantic now than she had been earlier.
Alex’s legs were frozen. He couldn’t do anything but stare at the madwoman that Jack had morphed into while he was at school. His mind was moving along at a brisk speed, though, trying to figure out the best course of action.
Would it be best to leave her alone and call Ian?
Or maybe he should knock her out and then call Ian?
Or maybe he should call 999?
No, he decided. He would call Ian and ask him what he should do.
He was creeping slowly back to the door, planning to rush to the telephone in the den. He was almost out of the door when Jack slammed down the saucepan again and let out a shout of triumph.
That cry would have set Alex sprinting for the telephone except for one thing: there was a gray, wiggling, tail-like thing sticking out from under the pan.
Alex stared at Jack’s exhausted but exhilarated face. She was grinning in a very cat-that ate-the-canary way. Or, really, in a Jack-that-caught-the-mouse way he supposed, because that was obviously what was going on here.
Alex felt his knees go weak with relief. So Jack really was immune to the American trait!
“Grab a piece of paper,” she barked out, drill sergeant style.
Alex dashed off to his school bag and ripped a few sheets out of a notebook. He gave them to Jack, and watched, fascinated, as she used the paper to keep the mouse in the pan while she flipped it over.
Then she marched the mouse out of the house and to their neighbors’ yard. “There,” she said in a very satisfied tone. “They have a cat.”
Once they were back in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess that Jack had made, she spoke again. “Alex,” she said slowly. “Why did you take so long to get in here? You were standing outside the door for forever!”
“You knew I was there?” Alex asked, desperately trying to avoid answering the question.
“Obviously,” Jack rolled her eyes. “I heard the door open before. And then you didn’t go up the stairs.”
“Oh, um… I was… er…. I really don’t like mice!” Alex got out finally. Then he fled the room, hoping fervently that Jack hadn’t noticed how red his face was.
A/N: Y'know, I really enjoy writing these pygmy ficlets. They're fun! Anyway, this one has a few dedications.
Dedication Number One: The mouse that I found gnawing away inside my piano. Without said cretin, this particular plot mouse would have never been thought of. :D
Dedication Number Two: I have to say, the bashing of myself and all other Americans is for Mad Mogg. ^_^
One last thing: The little green/gray men bit is actually a quote from an episode of Stargate: SG1.
Now how about some reviews, people?