Thoroughly Modern Mary Margaret
This is my take on the "Thoroughly Modern Millie" story with my favorite OUAT characters. This will be a multiple chapter story. PLEASE BE AWARE THAT THE SNOWING SHIP WILL TAKE A LOT OF TIME TO DEVELOP! I'm writing David's character more like the character of Jimmy from the musical "Thoroughly Modern Millie" who starts off as a drinking womanizer but he will be redeemed just hang on!
Disclaimer: I don't own the plot or the characters
Mary Margaret Blanchard couldn't believe it. After five long days of travel she had finally arrived in New York City! And what a city! She'd been preparing for this new adventure since starting typing classes in school and reading all about the modern woman (known as "Moderns") in fashion magazines, and she had read them all. Well, she had read all the fashion magazines second hand from a friend; magazines that made it as far as her hometown in North Dakota which were too few for a woman of Mary Margret's aspiration. Looking up at all the buildings in the city she would now call home she felt like she had stepped into another world. She saw skyscrapers so high that the tops of them seemed to disappear into the sun, like giant beanstalks rising to the heavens. In her left hand she held her suitcase with all her worldly possessions, and in her right hand the maps of the city. She slipped the shoulder strap of her purse higher on her right shoulder, careful to slide her long ebony locks out from underneath. "Would you look at her dress? Why if it isn't Little Miss Muffet?" a woman's voice said with a chuckle. "Pardon?" Mary Margaret asked. Looking to her right a blonde with a short bobbed hair cut passed by, casting a critical eye on Mary Margaret's appearance. The blonde spoke with a certain condescending tone in her voice asking, "What's wrong dear? All out of curds and whey?" A brunette with an equally bobbed hairstyle passed to the left chuckling, clearly the voice of the first woman. "I, uh" Mary Margaret stammered, not sure how to respond to the stylish ladies now mocking her. Their skirts were several inches shorter than hers. "Better watch out for spiders!" the brunette cast a final disparaging remark over her shoulder as she and the blonde sauntered down the sidewalk, having a good laugh at Mary Margaret's expense. "Moderns!" she thought, furrowing her brow. Everything about the appearance of those two women, and frankly most of the women she observed on that street on that afternoon, had the same kind of stylish appearance of the clothing of models in the magazines she so loved. She turned toward the storefront window behind her and surveyed her own reflection. "Little Miss Muffet?" she questioned introspectively. Did she really look like a character from a nursery rhyme? Her skin was as fair as her hair was dark, with long soft flowing curls. Her eyes were a delicate shade of green which sparkled when she smiled. At the age of eighteen her figure turned the heads of several men, and her allure in that area had only improved in the following four years. In fact Mary Margaret's features were quite lovely, but, look as she might, she was wholly unsatisfied with the woman in the reflection. In her mind her lips were not as bright, her brows were thinner, and her eyes were not lined as she reasoned they ought to be. To her, the style of her dress was too old fashioned and her hair was too long. This is nineteen twenty two! No sir, this will not do. Not if you want to be a Modern! And just her luck, there was a beauty salon and a dress maker straight across the street. Eyes on the prize, no turning back, Mary Margaret was changing, and how! She marched across the street with all the determination of a heroine marching into battle. It was by some miracle that she didn't get run over by the swiftly passing traffic. "Little Miss Muffet?!" Mary Margaret thought as she flung open the door of the salon, "Not for the life of me!"
Three hours later Mary Margaret burst out of the dress maker's shop like a firecracker. Freshly bobbed hair meant no more tangles with the shoulder strap of her purse, and her skirt is so short that if she twists quickly her knees are visible. Quite shocking! She would be a scandal on sight if walking down the Main Street back home, but here in Manhattan she was the height of fashion and throughly modern. She smiled now at her reflection in the storefront windows as she strolled down the street. If she were any happier she'd be dancing! Sure her purse was a few dollars lighter, but that's no matter for a Modern like her. Given her amazing skills in typing, dictation, and other clerical areas of expertise she will land a lucrative career in no time. All of her employable attributes were in a resumé she'd prepared and packed in a folder in her suitcase, with several copies she made , just in case. Getting a job was just one part of Mary Margaret's fool-proof modern-woman plan. She not only dreamed of being successful in finding employment , but also in finding a mate. Mary Margaret was not looking for True Love, which to her was just something in Fairytales, and she was a Modern. No sir, she wanted much more than a silly romance with some fella she met on the street. She dreamed of marrying a confident, intelligent, wealthy (and hopefully attractive) business man; a man who could afford a comfortable modern lifestyle. She wanted something more for herself than the type of relationship her mother had with her father. She wanted a better life and she'd concluded that money was the key ingredient to a happy life. After all she didn't want to have to pace the hallways of her home late at night worrying about having enough money to pay the mortgage. She didn't want to have to work eighteen hours a day, six days a week to feed and clothe five children in an over-crowded house. She definitely didn't want to fall in love with someone who, after eleven years of marriage no longer cared for her or for any of their five children. She didn't want to become old and gray at age twenty-nine. Mary Margaret had watched her parents' relationship crumble when they lost their farm and with it, lost their main source of income. Her father abandoned the family and her mother became a shell of her former beautiful lively self. At one time her parents had truly loved each other, but it hadn't been enough to keep them together when times got really hard. The poverty was tough, but the emotional toll had been devastating. Mary Margaret and mother and her brothers and sisters all moved in with her widowed grandmother. Her parents never divorced, but they never reunited either. In her plan to marry a wealthy man Mary Margaret figured that if later her spouse turned out to be indifferent or uncaring to her, she believed she could handle it, as long as she knew that she was secure financially. So she was determined not to end up broke and broken-hearted.
David Nolan was a man who lived in the moment. He whistled a happy tune while quickly walking down the street on his way to meet a certain little lady. With his sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, handsome face, and athletic build, David attracted a lot of female attention. But it was his wit, his smile, and his, well, his charm that really made the ladies melt. Yes ma'am , David Nolan was a heart breaker for sure, at least that's what some of his previous lady friends would have attested to, not that he could have told you their names. He doesn't remember names as well as he remembers faces, or as well as he remembers other physical features of the women he meets. There was the blonde he dated for several weeks, and before her there was a different blonde, and before her there was, uh, um, no wait, come to think of it they were all blondes. Huh. The particular blonde cutie he was anxious to meet for an early dinner this evening (and hopefully later other activities) was one he had his eye on for quite some time, a certain Miss Marilyn. Wait, is her name Marilyn? Or was it Madelyn? Carolyn? No. Kathryn. Her name is KATHRYN! Wow. He is REALLY BAD at names. Maybe he should write her name on his hand so that during dinner he doesn't forget. David reaches for his trusty pen in the inner pocket of his jacket when he is suddenly accosted by a sheet of paper to his handsome face. "What the-"
After passing several blocks Mary Margaret encountered a older man with a bald head and scraggly beard who stopped her quite suddenly and asked,
"Excuse me Miss, but do you have the time?"
"Oh, no." She replied and smiled weakly. "I'm sorry, I don't."
The man chuckled, stepped into her personal space, and said loudly, "I guess it's time for me to buy a watch."
Mary Margaret cocked her head slightly, unsure about why he was speaking louder and she stepped backwards, towards an alleyway behind her. The man grinned and held out his hand as if he was requesting something from her "Want to help me out?" Before she could respond she received a sudden shove from an unseen person to her right, causing her to stumble over a trash can turned on its side and she dropped her suitcase. Using her confused state as his opportunity, the older man snatched Mary Margaret's purse and he and the person who pushed the poor woman down, ran past her down the alley. The suitcase, upon hitting the ground burst open, and a passing breeze blew her resume copies everywhere, one of which landed directly on the face of a hurried young handsome gentleman walking past the alleyway. The paper hit his face with an unexpected slap. He stopped with a shout, "What the-"
"Oh no!" Mary Margaret cried out. "My purse! He's got my purse!" She scrambled to stand, and turned to run after her muggers. She accidentally pushed the trash can out of the alleyway and it rolled into the path of the gentleman whose vision was impaired by the resume that the breeze blew in his face.
David is suddenly falling forward and hears a woman's voice yelling something about a purse and a loud banging noise that sounds remarkably like a body falling against a metal trash can and unsurprisingly his body feels like it fell hard against a trash can, and he can smell an odor of refuse, so even though he still can't see said trash can due to the mysterious paper plastered to his face he's pretty sure he can trust his other senses that he has, in fact, fallen face-first over a trash can. Fantastic. "Owwww!" David shouts.
Mary Margaret has attempted to chase her muggers to the end of the alley, but they have vanished without a trace. Suddenly standing at the end of the alleyway she realizes her right shoe is missing. She lets out a long, frustrated sigh. "They took my purse and my shoe?!" Suddenly she hears a shout of pain coming from the opposite side of the alleyway, the location where she was mugged. It could have been her imagination or maybe she had also heard what sounded like a body hitting a trash can. "Oh, no, now what?" Mary Margaret mutters as she makes her way toward the sound of a man in pain.
The banana peel on his head was lifted by a pretty little pixie of a woman and David wondered if he was dreaming. Then the little trickle of blood on the right side of his sore chin made it clear he was definitely awake.
"Are you ok?" The pixie asked.
David sat up and winced,
"Sure. Say, did you get the number of that truck that hit me?" A small smile cracked at the left corner of his mouth.
The pixie looked more confused than amused; definitely not having the same charming affect on women when you're wearing garbage, Nolan. He manages to get to his feet and cracks his neck a couple of times for good measure.
Mary Margaret took in the sight of the slightly soiled man before her. She took in a short, sharp gasp when her jade green eyes locked with his sapphire gaze and her soft white cheeks tinged a lovely shade of pink.
"Miss?" The handsome stranger's voice snapped her out of her reverie and brought her current unfortunate situation to the forefront of her mind.
"I was robbed!"
"Robbed?"
"Yes! Two men knocked me down, my suitcase went flying out of my hand then they stole my purse and my shoe!" She lifted her right leg slightly and pointed to her foot as proof.
"Who steals a shoe?" He mused.
"I know, right?!" She glanced down and saw her clothes and belongings scattered with the garbage on the sidewalk. She knelt down and began gathering her things.
This girl was unlucky for sure, David thought to himself. She looked up at him with a sorrowful expression and he tried to ignore the unexpected ache in his chest. Was it pity he was feeling for this pretty pixie's predicament or was it something more?
Whoa! Definitely not going to explore that particular thought. David Nolan didn't do romantic entanglements. But something in him told him it was the right thing to do to help this damsel in distress. He knelt down and assisted her in locating her suitcase and together they managed to salvage most of her belongings, including a few of her resumés.
Her even helped her up to her feet.
"There now, not so bad." He said, smiling softly. She lamely tried to smile in return.
"Yeah. Not so bad aside from having no money, no place to stay, and not knowing a soul in this city." She shrugged.
"Well I can help fix that last one." He offered his right hand.
"David Nolan, from Long Island New York. Very nice to meet you, Miss."
She smiled and shook his hand.
"Well aren't you charming? I'm Mary Margaret Blanchard, from Storybrooke, North Dakota."
"Storybrooke? Never heard of it."
"It's a small farming town, mostly known for having the most yearly snowfall in the state."
David glanced at his watch. Damn! He was late with his date with blonde what's-her-name. The beautiful beryl-eyed brunette before him was distracting him in more ways than one. He needed to get away as soon as possible before he started analyzing their interaction.
"Well Miss Snow-in-a-town-I-never-heard-of it's been a pleasure but I must be off. There's a certain little blonde miss who's missing my company at this very moment."
Mary Margaret's smile dropped a fraction. He's involved with someone. Of course he is. Why that seemed to bother her she wasn't sure; it definitely wasn't because of how attractive and kind he was. No, that's got nothing to do with it at all.
"Well, Mr. Charming-from-Long-Island, it was nice meeting you and thank you for your chivalry."
David shrugged. "It was the honorable thing to do, Snow. But let me do you one last favor." David took his pen out of his inner jacket pocket and took her hand in his.
Snow.
She chuckled at the nickname this handsome stranger just gave her. As he scrawled on her palm with his pen a bunch of butterflies fluttered in her stomach. When he finished writing she read aloud the words, "Misthaven Hotel"
"It's a boardinghouse for young aspiring actresses, so they're used to girls who can't pay. They should be able to help you out until you get back on your feet. Or at least until you have shoes on both of them."
She smiled.
He continued, "It's just a couple of blocks south of here. I think you can make it."
"Thanks, Charming."
He smiled warmly; he liked the nickname she bestowed on him.
"You're welcome, Snow. Good luck." He turned and hurried down the street
And with that Mary Margaret wobbled her way on one shoe to the hotel, all the way trying to tell herself that she certainly wasn't Cinderella and she hadn't just left her prince behind.