rusty_armour | Maurice Parody: Third and FINAL Part

I meant to stop after the second part. Hell, I fully intended to put an end to this madness after the first part. However, my parody muse wouldn't be satisfied until I had written this third and final installment.

For those of you who are interested, I've posted the entire parody here for easier access. You can also find it in my fic masterlist under "Post-Retirement Fic That Managed to Slip Through".

In the Boathouse - In Les Andelys - Five Months Later

Maurice is sitting with a glass of Chablis in his hand. Scudder enters the boathouse carrying a rather large basket, covered with a white cloth, which he places upon their only table.

JW: Ah. Been to the bakery, I see. Or, perhaps, it’s another gift from one of your many female admirers.

RG: (Scudder sits down in the chair across from Maurice, looking sulky) They’re not female admirers: they’re customers.

JW: (Maurice snorts) Alec, despite your declaration that you intend to learn French, it’s been the other way round. Instead of you learning French, all the women who show up at the butcher shop have been learning English.

RG: (Looking both sheepish and defensive) So they want to learn English. What’s wrong with that? You went to Cambridge, didn’t you? I woulda thought you’d approve of people gettin' an education.

JW: My dear boy, I was tossed out of Cambridge. Nevertheless, I think education is a grand thing – when it’s done for the right reasons.

RG: (Scudder rolls his eyes) I got it at the bakery, all right?

JW: And what, pray tell, is ‘it’? Did you buy us some more of those deliciously crunchy baguettes?

RG: (Shooting a nervous glance at the basket) Not exactly. It’s something different this time. A-a surprise.

JW: (Maurice smiles) Then I shall look forward to it. (Maurice rises from his chair with a predatory gleam in his eye then freezes when Scudder holds up a hand)

RG: No, not now, Maurice. There’s a particular subject I wish to discuss with you that’s most important.

JW: (Maurice raises an eyebrow) You sound frightfully serious, Alec. I hope nothing’s the matter. (Maurice glances down at Alec, focusing on the area below his waist)

RG: No, I didn’t hack off my winkle with a meat cleaver – not even accidentally. Maurice, I was born in my dad’s butcher shop. I was serving customers back when I was a nipper. I can promise you that I’m not going to lose any body parts while on the job.

JW: Well, it’s still a jolly dangerous profession. I wish you could go back to being an under-gamekeeper instead.

RG: Oh, because being in the company of a bunch of armed toffs that are too stupid to find their arses is much safer. One of them blokes almost shot me once.

JW: (Looking amused) Was that before or after you slept with his daughter?

RG: (Scudder stands up abruptly) Right. I’m off. It’s abundantly clear that you are unwilling to partake in a serious discussion, seeing as you’re making jokes at my expense.

JW: Oh, Alec, don’t be that way. (Maurice rises from his chair and pulls Scudder into his arms) I’m sorry, love. You know what Chablis does to me. Stay and we’ll have that serious discussion of yours.

RG: Well, all right, then, but you’d better behave. (Scudder returns to his chair. He waits until Maurice is also seated, and lifting his glass to his lips, before he speaks.) I think we should have a baby.

JW: (Maurice instantly spits out the Chablis and starts coughing violently) Excusez-moi?

RG: You heard me.

JW: (Still coughing) Alec, I realize that, given his profession, your father might have been too busy to explain the fundamentals to you –

RG: (Glaring at Maurice) He explained them just fine.

JW: Well, I think he may have left out one or two points on the subject of procreation. (Maurice gazes at Scudder sadly) Alec, two men can’t have a baby.

RG: Well, not without getting married, no. It wouldn’t be right. (Scudder smiles) Fortunately, we took care of that.

JW: Yes, I know. I hadn’t forgotten. It would be impossible for me to forget the wedding considering that gown you wore, Alexandra.

RG: Never you mind, Mr. Snooty. The pastor said I was the most beautiful bride he’d ever seen.

JW: Alec, the pastor was blind.

RG: That doesn’t mean he ain’t entitled to an opinion! Blind men have as much right to an opinion as the rest of us. Just as two married men, such as ourselves, have the right to adopt a baby.

JW: (Maurice sits up in surprise) Oh! You were referring to adoption!

RG: (Scudder’s forehead creases) Well, of course I was referring to adoption. How else are we going to have a baby? Maurice, I know your father died when you was a kid, and you had a sheltered upbringing what with the fine table linen and everything, but didn’t you know that men can’t give birth to babies?

JW: (Clears throat) Well, yes, of course I knew that. I was just surprised by your announcement. I had no idea you were interested in raising a child. You seemed so focused on rebuilding the boathouse, dressing in drag, and becoming a butcher.

RG: Well, now I want a baby. Could we have one please?

JW: But why now, Alec? There’s plenty of time. And we’re still newlyweds after all. (Maurice hesitates for an instant before speaking again) Have you grown tired of me already? Am I no longer enough for you?

RG: (Scudder quickly reaches out to grasp Maurice’s hand) No, it’s not you, love. It’s the boathouse. It feels empty with just the two of us and no boats.

JW: (Maurice instantly perks up) We can get boats! We live by a river after all. It shouldn’t prove too difficult a task.

RG: (Shaking head) No, it has to be a baby, Maurice. The boathouse needs new life inside its walls. It needs a little boy running around inside of it.

JW: Or a little girl. It could be a little girl too, couldn’t it?

RG: (Not quite meeting Maurice’s eyes) No, a little boy would be better. Boys run more and grow bigger than girls. We need a little boy because he’d fill more space.

JW: (Studying Scudder skeptically) All right. Your argument makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, but if that’s really what you want –

RG: (Scudder’s face lights up) Do you really mean it? We can adopt a baby boy?

JW: If you feel that strongly about it then, yes. And if you can find someone who is willing to hand over their infant to two foreign homosexuals then I’m all for it.

RG: Oh, Maurice, you’ve made me so happy. I haven’t felt this happy since our wedding day. (Scudder springs out of his chair and rushes to the table. He pulls back the cloth from the basket and reaches inside, extracting a baby.)

JW: (Maurice falls out of his chair) What the bloody hell is that?

RG: Well, it ain’t a croissant. (Scudder looks down at the baby in his arms and his face softens) This is Gaston. Gaston, meet your new daddy, Maurice.

JW: (It’s a struggle but Maurice manages to stand on two shaky legs and approach the baby) My God, Alec, he looks just like you!

RG: Oh, I reckon that’s just the dark hair and eyes. There’s lots of folks with that.

JW: (Staring down at the baby fixedly) No, it’s more than that. He’s got your nose and that mischievous little smile of yours, even without the teeth.

RG: (Squirming uncomfortably) You’re imagining things. Any road, all babies look the same. You can barely tell them apart.

JW: (Maurice crosses his arms) That’s a blatant lie, Alec Scudder. All babies don’t look the same. In fact, this baby looks like only one other person I’ve seen before and that’s you.

RG: Maurice…

JW: Hush, Alec. I’m trying to think. (Maurice stands deep in thought for a moment then snaps his fingers) The French maid! The first time I visited the house after Clive got married, I asked about Gabrielle and was told that she had disappeared a couple of months previously under rather mysterious circumstances. Naturally, neither Clive nor Anne cared as Gabrielle was lower class and, worse still, a foreigner. However, I always wondered what happened to her. Now I know. She returned to France when she realized she was carrying your child.

RG: (Sounding desperate) Maurice, I swear I didn’t know! I would have done right by her if I had! I only found out about Gaston a few days ago when I paid Gabrielle a visit, to see how she was faring.

JW: (Smiling gently) I believe you, Alec. What’s more, I commend you for being the type of man who would make an honest woman out of a fallen French maid. However, I hope you won’t think it selfish of me to say that I’m glad you didn’t know. We might never have met, then, and the very thought fills me with more horror and dread than I could possibly express.

RG: You’re-you’re not angry with me, then?

JW: No, I’m not angry. (Maurice walks over to Scudder and kisses him on the lips) Let me hold your son. I’d like to see him better.

RG: It’s our son and you can hold him whenever you like.

JW: (Maurice takes the baby from Scudder and cradles him in his arms) What’s Gabrielle’s surname? Given his strong resemblance to you, I think it would be wise if we told people he was a French relative of yours that was recently orphaned. That being the case, it might seem strange if he didn’t keep his own name.

RG: It’s Lestrade. Gabrielle’s surname is Lestrade.

JW: Lestrade. Yes, I think that will do quite nicely.