Humble Gerbil (harmonyangel) wrote in 500_aday,
Humble Gerbil

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*waves to community* After a week of absolutely no writing due to embarrassment over my failed attempt at smut, I've finally decided to restart this 500 words a day thing. I have about 50 million unfinished stories and projects that I probably should have worked on, but instead, I've decided to torture Sarah. Because I enjoy doing that far too much.

So. 547 words, but it's the rooftop scene, so I guess I cheated a little in my word count by using dialogue from the movie. Parts of it don't make sense, it definitely needs fleshing out, and it's only about halfway done, if that, but it's something. It contains implied slash of the Javid variety, although as of yet it's only hinted at.

When Sarah looks at his face in her window, the face with the cocky smile and the eyes that keep darting, surreptitiously, farther into the room, she feels her stomach turn and realizes, for the first time, the gravity of what she has to do.

"Go up on the roof," she says, trying to keep her voice even and cheerful, and Jack turns obligingly, climbing the creaking fire escape to the top of the building. Inside the room, Sarah prolongs her dressing, pulling up bloomers and skirts with elaborate care. She needs the time to compose herself, to plan out each specific word and action, because she knows she'll slip up, somehow, if she doesn't, and disappointing Mama is simply not a possibility.

When she finishes brushing her hair, a hundred strokes on each side, she knows she can't postpone the conversation any longer. Breathing deeply, she climbs through the window as quickly as possible, clutching her basket and forcing herself to avoid a second glance at the room behind her, where her brothers are still asleep in their own bed. David looks angelic when he's sleeping, and Sarah knows she could never hurt an angel after looking at his face.

Jack is boxing with stockings when Sarah arrives, and she can tell that he's restless. It's obvious he doesn't want to be here; Sarah knows she isn't the one he wanted to see when he awoke on the fire escape. But here they are, and Sarah won't let his disappointment hinder her mission, however ill the thought of that mission makes her feel.

"Are you hungry?" she asks as she pushes through the hanging linens, forcing a smile.

"Yeah," he responds, his eyes perking up slightly at the mention of food.

"Good. 'Cause I made you breakfast." She giggles as she speaks, nervous laughter that she hopes can pass for flirtation. Grabbing a cloth from the clothesline, she moves almost mechanically to retrieve the food she packed, setting it on top of the cloth on the table by the roof's edge. As Jack moves to sit at the table, Sarah searches her mind for a way to start the conversation, wasting time arranging the food and silverware.

"Papa's so proud of you and David," she finally begins, smiling awkwardly, still fiddling with the forks. "You should hear him talking about Jack Kelly, the strike leader, who occasionally takes his meals with us."

Sarah isn't lying; Papa's praises of Jack have been an almost continuous fixture of Jacobs family conversations for the past week and a half. But she still feels dishonest when she thinks of what she isn't telling Jack. Because however proud Mr. Jacobs may be, Sarah knows that Mrs. Jacobs' thoughts on Jack Kelly aren't nearly as warm-hearted.

"Well, this is one strike leader who's gonna be very happy when it's all over, and I can get outta here and go to Santa Fe," Jack responds, and Sarah feels herself wishing with all her power that he's telling the truth, that he really will go to Santa Fe and she won't have to go through with this awful plan. But she knows he'll never do it, and his next words secure that fact. "I mean, there's nothing for me to stay for, is there?"

P.S. For the record, repeated viewings of the terribly awkward, chemistry-free rooftop scene can cause a person's eyes to bleed, as I've just learned.
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