disclaimer: i own nothing.
please review!
(for splendeur. sorry that this is really bad. prompts: "gossip girl", "spy girls", "tyrone wells", "can i keep you?" (or any other quote from casper) and relationship pairing of tassie. )
time of our lives
the hardest part is when you know
all of these years - When we were here
are ending, but I'll always remember
-tyrone wells
(ღ)
Massie has always had the bad habit of believing that things will get better.
(There's no hope in this world where people die, and presidents cry, and little girls believing in fairy-tales)
Massie is six years old, and twirls a dark brown ringlet of hair as she watches one of her classic favorites, an old-fashioned, black-and-white James Bond movie, squealing in delight when certain maneuvers that are illegal for her age group are used.
Her mother sighs. "Massie, you're only six years old. No spy academy, in their right mind, will take you in yet. Why don't you watch another movie? How about Snow White and the Seven Dwarves? Cinderella?"
Massie doesn't believe in fairytales; she's not a normal little girl. Partly because her father died when she was five years old, and her mother sometimes went on "business" trips to "Tokyo" and "Spain" and never came back, not for days and weeks, and she was forced to lie to her teachers about who was taking care of her (nobody). And, most of all, there aren't spies in fairytales. Nada. Zilch. None. And there's nothing that Massie wants to be more than a spy, one of those awesome spies like James Bond, except even better; she wants to be the best in the world, and nothing's stopping her.
Her mother comes from the kitchen, carefully carrying a basket of "Disney" movies over her belly that expands every-day (her mother tells her that she's going to have a little sister or little brother soon), and sets them down, turning off the James Bond Movie, and inserting a CD for Beauty and the Beast into the DVD player. If there was a fairytale, that Massie would have to tolerate, it would have been the Beauty and the Beast, partly because it was a lot more realistic, though she didn't understand the whole "magic" component.
"I'm not going to let you be a spy, Massie. It's too dangerous, and it's better that you get all of those dreams out of your head, right now. Do you understand me?" Her mother fixes her a sharp glare, and Massie nods her head slowly.
-but, no. she just can't she can't she can't believe that being a spy won't be part of her life, and she can't admit that she wants to lead a "normal" lifestyle, but somehow, whatever she does isn't good enough for her mum-
"I know, mum," Massie says, with a roll of her chocolate-brown eyes. "I'm don't want to be a spy," she lies.
::
Massie is eleven years old now, and lives in the Block mansion by herself, along with a few servants that still served the family -not for the money, but for the honor-. Gone are her dreams of becoming the best spy in the whole-wide world, replaced with just wanting to live a normal life.
But, what is normal?
Nothing about Massie's life is normal.
Not with the new step-father who constantly brings over his secretaries and business partners to "seal deals" and it's kind of sad, because with the pungent odor and the looks on his face when he sees that you know, because daddy's been doing something bad and you can't tell mum because then daddy will hurt you like he hurts the other women. Especially not with the fact that her mother leaving all the time, finding a way to make money off the streets, singing, dancing, performing -all because she can't admit that being a spy was just such a important part of her life-.
Especially not when her mother dies.
(Reason: unknown)
Her mother's never been around for her -in fact, her friend's parents are probably better parents-, yet eleven-year-old Massie can't help but break into angry sobs when she learns that her mother was killed on a "business" trip in Chicago.
That's also the moment when she realizes that her mother never really quit the spy business. Maybe that meant, just maybe, just maybe, just maybe, that she would be okay with Massie becoming a spy too.
After all, shouldn't she avenge her mother's death? It was obvious that a terrorist group had killed her mother. Wouldn't it be the right thing to take revenge?
Massie doesn't know what's right from what's wrong anymore.
.
.
.
(Is lying to herself wrong?)
::
The only Block child has changed over the years -it could have been because of the fact that her mother and father had died, and she had been left alone, forced to create a new exterior to protect herself from the big, bad world-.
She sits down on a swirly-chair, adjusting in her seat until it's comfortable (Massie's never satisfied), and mindlessly clicks her way into hacking into the firewall of some random website. Massie realizes that she's grown numb and she stares blankly at the screen, clicking and typing and clicking and typing, more like a robot that an actual human being.
"Mass. What's the matter?" For the past few days, Massie knows that her roommates (Kristen, Claire, & Dylan) have been watching her closely, examining her, as if she was a specimen to be studied in a lab -to Kristen, perhaps-.
"Nothing," she says, shrugging her shoulders and returning to her history assignment (like she was one to do homework) -where on earth was the country Anisca? Did that country even exist-.
"Something's different. I don't know exactly what, but it's just that...you've changed," noted Dylan.
"Hmm...I don't know," Massie began, in a sarcastic manner. "It could just be the whole I'm-an-orphan-thing, because I've heard that it changes people," she said innocently. "Just let me work, okay?"
"There's something more." Dylan knew Massie the best out of all of them -after all, her stepfather and Dylan's father were old college friends, even though James seemed to be a much better father than William could ever be. Dylan Marvil who had boys running at her feet -even if they were eighth and ninth and tenth grade boys- with her pale white skin and a face that belonged on the cover of Vogue. Dylan who would have her own television show, and had met most of the celebrities every aspiring professional desired to meet in the snap of her fingertips (she had them all on her contacts, courtesy of famous TV host mother, Merri Lee-Marvil). Dylan who was always better than Massie could ever be.
The amount of pressure and not being good enough was enough to make any sane person snap (and Massie was anything but sane). "Look." Massie stood up. "Stop interrogating me- I'm fine. Just, leave me alone. Please."
And for the first time in her life, Massie leaves with a smirk on her face, and doesn't say sorry -even though she was really rude, doesn't think about the consequences -that her "friends" won't talk to her anymore, and just walks away, because there really is nothing else to say.
.
.
.
(Those unspoken words left on the tip of her tongue.)
::
Claire is gone -like, forever-. She's dissipated off the face of the earth, not in some lover's haze, but one day she was the epitome of perfection, and the ice queen at Octavian, and the next day she had left.
Massie can't wrap her mind around the fact, though she knows that it was bound to happen at some point in time.
Everybody leaves her.
She's seventeen now, and though all her friends -sans one- are all back, and alongside her, Massie's never felt more alone. Why did Massie have to run away? To find answers? Couldn't she have just been patient, and have the answers given to her? But, no. That's not what a Block did (didn't they have to face trouble? Not run away in fear and hide up in a little corner, like a scared toddler)?
Massie wonders that if she runs away, will anyone follow?
.
.
.
(But, they never have, so why should they start now?)
Nothing lasts forever -of all people, Massie knows that the best-. Perhaps a little too well, she thinks to herself sadly.
.
.
.
::
The first time that Massie wants a fairy-tale, is when Claire comes back and Cam welcomes her into his arms -she just wants to be happy, and have a knight in shining armor to rescue her-. Though she's more of the wild child rather than the "damsel in distress" type, Massie can't help but think that for once, it would be nice to pretend.
To act like somebody else. To just be good enough for somebody, because in this world, she knows that her so-called friends are secretly plotting behind her back to overthrow the Wicked Witch of Westchester, and replace themselves at the top of the social ladder of Octavian Country Day once more -like how it was back in fourth grade before she had left the Ahnna-bees.
"Danny?"
"Yeah?" Danny has been Massie's boyfriend for the past three months. Danny Robbins was her knight in shining armor, with the spot as captain of the Briarwood soccer team to prove it, with his shaggy blonde hair and those bright blue eyes that always seem to shine a little brighter (she convinces herself that it's not the latter) whenever he's around her.
She hesitates. "If I tell you something, would you promise not to laugh?"
"I won't." But she knows that he will.
"I-i love you," Massie says, looking up into his eyes, full of adoration. Then, something snaps and a look of confusion plasters over his usually kind-and-sweet face. She waits for a response, but like usual, she doesn't get one. "Is this because of Claire?"
"N-no. It's just that-"
"Forget it. We're over."
Massie walks away, all the time thinking why can't she be the one -the perfect kind of girl that every guy wants to date? Because it was always about Claire, who didn't even realize that every guy in the school wanted to be with her, and every girl wanted to be her.
Even her best friends.
.
.
.
::
It's been two years since her break-up with Danny, and Massie's nineteen years old now, nineteen and three months.
Gone are any traces of the girl who believes and fairy-tales and magic and "falling in love at first sight/flight", replaced by a professional spy.
The first time that Massie Block kills a person, an enemy agent, she feels numb. She doesn't even understand what's going on anymore -with her life, her love life and her social one (her friends seem to stand back from the girl who killed a person (do they not remember how Claire killed that guy years ago?). But, no. Because if Massie made one mistake, it was easily forgotten; one small mistake from Massie was enough to send her into exile, becoming a social pariah.
That didn't explain why the epitome of popularity asked her to dance, though.
Massie stifles a very un-lady-like yawn as Madame Buckingham walks by, and ignores her etiquette teacher's admonishing statement to "go find a boy and dance". She has been standing idly around the refreshment table, stopping her attempts to obtain a five-calorie-white-and-green cookie in fear of not being able to fit into the next night's dress. Massie seems content, if not just a little bored (you're forgetting that she's a highly trained spy).
-but, no. Saying things like "I'm fine" and "Nothing's wrong" and other phrases that just meant that she's anything but fine.-
All that she wants is just a simplenicecaringnormal guy to come ask her to dance, to sweep her off her feet - to meet her knight in shining armor, a guy that completes her.
But that never will happen.
.
.
.
"Look, Harrington." Massie is walking away from the engagement ceremony of Massie's aunt and a man who was third-in-line to the throne a grand event in the middle of Britain coincidentally, it's within walking distance of the Block mansion (she can't even call it home). Maybe that's how her miserable problem of a life started: never having a home. "You don't know anything about me," she spat, turning around.
"Maybe I'd like to, darling," he drawls out, mimicking her British accent. Massie could barely make out his figure in the dark parking lot, yet she knew that it was him. Who else would follow her in the middle of the night?
"The name's Mass. Mass Block."
"Massie."
She ignores him and continues walking on. "I've heard that you've never turned down," he trails off, hands in his pockets. "A challenge."
"What kind of challenge is this? Because, believe me, I'm not falling for your game."
He doesn't comment.
"I'll give it a chance. Just one."
She doesn't notice the grin on her face, but as she turns away, Massie realizes that a similar facial expression is coming onto her own face -she hasn't smiled in a long time.
"Someday, darling, we'll make history," he whispers seductively, but his charm doesn't work on her.
Maybe, just maybe, he would be good for her, if she didn't fall into his game.
"Shut up, Harrington."
.
.
.
::
"Just get the hell away from me. I don't ever want to see you again."
He doesn't follow her, for once, and Massie falls down onto the floor of her apartment, crying, angry and sad tears, wracking her even tinier frame, that weakened daily with pressure. She knew that Grant would just be a waste of her time -after all, he was so out of her league, and she was just another part of his game-, but why did she have to fall in love with him? Couldn't she just be happy on her own?
It wasn't the case with Massie Block, a girl who needed someone: a very specific brown-eyed, brown-haired someone.
From the moment, the very second that they finally get together, she knew that it wasn't going to work out in the end. Spies can't have relationships; and this falling into love scenario she had put yourself into could be the death of her. There's too many problems with it, too many flaws, imperfections; they're not even meant for each other.
But maybe that's the best part of it all.
That your relationship is a challenge from the start. He's a challenge.
.
.
.
Leaves rustle, and the wind gently sways on this haunted street. It's the road not taken with its constant creaks, undependable pothole breaks, and the chilly winter air. The grass is parched, though the summer heats haven't struck Westchester County for a while -frost sticks like a disease. The sun sets in the far distance, an array of brilliant colors visible to the few who still watch it (there's no point in appreciating nature if there's the television). A tall shadow looms over a building in the far corner, its pink hues unsettling. It's nearly deserted now-past nine nobody stays.
Except her.
The rather frightening, subito tritone, repeated as if ostinato is the only "word" it knows, yet in rings out in a way so familiar, through the empty corridors. A single chord that wouldn't mean anything to anyone.
But her.
The dance begins (let the games commence) and her left foot automatically leaps into the air, as if she's controlled. Maybe she is. A slight turn, and she's in fortinbras position, ready for an endless series of pirouettes. Yet she stops. She doesn't want to begin.
Because what if she begins, and never stops? What if she keeps turning, and turning, 'round and 'round for the rest of time? (round & round like a carousel, on a horse). But this horse just fell down, and now she's falling. Quicker than ever. She's about to meet her decline.
"Massie, darling," he greets, striding into the dance studio, wondering all the while if he can still save her. "It's good to see you."
She drops from her mid-air split dance move onto the floor in shock. "And where the hell have you been?"
"It doesn't matter. I'm here now." Brown eyes look down at her, and Massie can't help but feel small.
.
.
.
He knew that was never going to work out anyway. He was too good for her, way out of her league, and she soon enough realized that fate kept them apart.
"It was fate. This isn't a fairytale."
"You can't say that." Massie felt as though she was going to cry, all the emotions bubbling in her stomach. So, this was what heartbreak felt like.
"We're not meant to be. Get used to it. I'm sorry," he says in a voice that really means that he's not sorry at all.
.
.
.
::
(On to the next one, on to the next one. don't need love, don't need friends, don't need a relationship)
None of the people on her CIA field work team talk to Massie anymore, but either she doesn't notice or she doesn't care. It's probably the latter - a fact that is proven when a subtle buzz of truth ring confirms the belief-.
She knows, though, that Love is the most dangerous thing; it's almost as dangerous as being drafted into World War I, if she was on the side of Austria-Hungary, the Central Powers was doomed to loose. There's nothing more dangerous than being a spy; the risk of being sent on a S-ranked mission and never coming back: MIA or KIA. But she soon learns that there's nothing more dangerous than falling in love while you're a spy.
Because there are just too many risks to maintain a relationship, and most importantly, lies.
.
.
.
Beginnings are scary endings. It's the middle that counts the most; don't look too hard for happy endings because you might just miss the best part of the story.
::
[thirteen days later]
So, when she's thrown in an empty cellar in the middle of who-know's-where (which is Japan) after being forced to go out on multiple dates with her best friend's younger brother, Massie can't help but feel something. Looking at the boy who stole her first kiss, even though it was quite slimy; it was strange, now looking back at all of those memories where everything was so simple, but now? Todd Lyons had evolved into someone that Massie could like, would like, should like, did like, does like.
Something good. Then, something happened between them. Massie wasn't sure what happened between them, but perhaps it happened at the event of the year -or the month, because in Westchester, grand galas were held every-time one of the wealthy families wished to show off their wealth and brag-. There was something crisp in the air that night, and Massie was left alone, apart from a group of her friends that had kicked her out of the Pretty Committee at least two weeks back, when a nasty rumour was spread.
"So," a voice began. "What's a pretty girl like you doing, alone?" Massie flipped her straightened brown hair behind her back, and shot the boy a fierce gaze, suddenly pausing, as if she had made a mistake.
Then, Massie laughed. "Todd Lyons? Who would have thought?" The statement was more to herself than to the boy who was standing anxiously in front of her, but there was a point behind it. Nobody had actually expected Todd to become a person that Massie could actually like -but he did.-
It was true — they were no longer friends. judging by her personality, it would appear as though none of them cared in the slightest, though underneath it all the breakage of their bond had left quite the scar.
They'd pass by each other and not even so much as lend one another a sparing glance. They acted as strangers. Sleepovers and late night chats about life had turned into awkward texts then afterward, nothing. It was gone. The friendship, the partnership, the laughs they had cherished so much. Everything. No more.
Mourning? That wasn't her. She had to be tough. She had to shove that aching feeling of resentment to the very bottom of herself and keep on shoving until it were to disappear. Wishing back something that had left? That was out of character for Massie, wasn't it?
Though wishing it away? — that was exactly what had happened. After the days went by, the memory of him faded more and more, eventually into nothing but a recollection.
They were simply two strangers today.
It was all a waste. They should have spent every moment they still had together doing things that had to be lived, not saving the world or the Russian Confederation, or even going on small brush pass missions to relive the memories. But, no. They cracked bad jokes and quoted Casper. All a waste.
"Can I keep you?"
It's soft and whispered against his ear while Massie is half asleep in the cellar, but the gentle quality of Todd's voice is enough to keep her in the realm of consciousness There's a million things that she wants to say. She wants to tell Todd that he's always had her, that he always will.
Instead what comes out is a soft huff of breathy laughter that sounds too loud in the quiet of the room.
"Todd, did you just quote Casper?"
He holds her in his arms, and she just can't help but feel happy, that somebody took the time to know the sportyslimangrybritish girl, even if it wasn't who she had expected.
She just wants to stay here forever, even though she knows that "forever and always" doesn't exist. But with Todd, everything just feel so right, and laying in his arms underneath the moonlight of a Japanese cellar, wearing a pair of old clothes, her fingers interlaced in his, she just can't help but think that her reality is officially better than her dreams.
(if dreams could come alive, they couldn't be better than her reality).
.
.
.
[thirty-seven minutes and seventeen seconds later]
Above the cellar, three girls congratulate each other.
.
.
.
Then, because fairy-tales and happily-ever-after's don't exist, the roof comes crashing down of the old building, and those three girls land on top of the very confused Todd and a very annoyed Massie.
"Sorry?"