The Mists Among Us |Jackson Whittemore Fanfic|

1: Genesis Conception

"Mase?" Bobby Finstock ran his hands through his unruly hair, his eyes were closed and his forehead supported his body weight against his daughter's bedroom door. His stomach growled and he groaned, knocking on the door again. He knew she was up, he could hear her singing. "Mase I will give you 5 extra credit points on today's test if you make me some waffles."

The music stopped and it went silent for a brief moment before he stood up straight, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Make it 10 and we have a deal." He opened his eyes, greeting his daughter with a smile.

"10 it is then!" He clapped his hands together and sharply turned around, going back into his room, taking the knob in one hand before swinging, it back ,hoping to successfully close to the door but it just tapped against the frame and slowly creaked itself ajar. "And Maeson?" Finstock poked his head out of his bedroom.

"Yes Pops?" Maeson called back, her fingers carefully traced the beltline lines of her eyes, trying to perfect the perfect casual cat eye. She leaned into the mirror, waiting for her dad to continue.

"BOO!" Finstock burst into her room, making her jump and make a dark thick black line from her eye to her ear. She cursed and slammed her hand down on the table while the other rested on her chest. Chuckling Finstock pointed at her, slapping his knee. "Gotcha."

She glared at him but couldn't stop the smile developing. She looked back at the mirror and burst into giggles. "You're such a retard." She waved him off, grabbing her face cloth to wipe the eyeliner off her face. He stood slightly behind her, watching before she stopped what she was doing and staring back at him.

Finally noticing he cracked another smile, "What?" She shook her head and went back to wiping the make-up off her face. "Eh, you look better with it off. Plus, don't you have a track meet today? You wanna look like a raccoon?" He joked.

"That," She smiled at her now clean face before pointing to him. "Was one frickin time, and I forgot I had a meet. So you, sir, can go get dressed and wait for your waffles." And that was the end of it, he kissed her forehead before going to his room, tossing clothes around, putting on a grey track suit.

Maeson put an ear bud in and made her way downstairs. Foo Fighters, There Goes My Hero slipping from her lips as she pulled out the things needed for making her (in) famous cinnamon and brown sugar waffles. The smell became intoxicating as she poured the batter into the waffle pan and closed it, waiting till she could flip it. Finstock shuffled his way down the stairs and she threw a finished one at him, which he caught before putting it in his mouth, eating it as he searched the refrigerator for the perfect breakfast refreshment. "Soy Milk, left corner, bottom shelf." Maeson said, finishing another delicious waffle and putting it on a plate.

"I was thinking maybe orange juice." Finstock said, he reached for the large container of orange juice as Maeson threw an oven glove at the back of his head, making him groan loudly and grab the soy milk. "You're just like your mother." He muttered.

Maeson's hands fell down onto the counter, she tapped her fingers, thinking of what to say and while she was going to say one thing, another came out. "I'll never be like her." She glowered, her eyes flickered to her dad who fell silent as he sat at the table. The room was full of the tension she was used to when her mother was the topic of any conversation. Heavy, thick and not warm.

"Well you're a way better cook." He stated, finishing the waffle she had thrown at him. She cracked a smile, a small giggle lingered in the room, but it once again fell silent. "You're going to have to talk to her some time."

"And that some time." Maeson started off strong, her voice was laced with venom and anger. She took a deep breath and flipped the waffle once more. "Is not today." She finished her sentence, maintaining her cool. Knowing her father, she knew at the moment he was opening his mouth to say something back, still on the topic of Maeson's failed effort to connect with her mother. "Dad do we really want to the start the day like this?"