Author's Note: Wow, just a month in between updates. This has got to be a record! My apologies this took a while, but other fic ideas sidetracked me. **shameless plug** Go read Threads of Fate! Please?
I apologize if this chapter is confusing. It wasn't deliberate, I'm just a bad writer. Feel free to ask about anything in your review. This is probably a good time to mention that the next two chapters, unless a natural disaster strikes, will be the last -- and more than likely, the longest. Don't kill me for ending it! (And another series of mine "might" turn out slash, hint hint.)
Um, what else was I going to mention? Oh yeah -- about the shirt in the room. No, Ax didn't sleep in the nude. At least, not as far as I know. It's just kinda "there". (I am revealing no plot elements!) There's a reference to The Breakfast Club in this chapter and an unintentional one to Spiderman. Props to anyone who finds them!
Why is there no rendition of Jake's visit to Marco's place in 54? Because I couldn't borrow my friend's copy. Sorry, guys.
Okay, I'm done now. My elbows are hurting after the six minutes in push-up position, anyway. Enjoy this confusing M/A-less chapter.
Be Stupid Chapter Twelve: When Marco Wonders
Marco had decided he hated tuxedos.
They were the spawn of the devil. Stiff uncomfortable things invented by polite society just to irritate him.
Under normal circumstances he never would have worn one. But was this a normal circumstance? No.
Unnatural circumstances had this uncanny ability to force him into situations that were strange and bizarre.
Sometime during this long journey called life Marco had decided that ability had something to do with him and him alone. Only he could have had the luck to wander into a construction alone at night and end up meeting with a near-death alien. Only he could end up rich beyond his wildest dreams because of it. It was all part of some cosmic joke.
Not that he didn't enjoy the money. If he'd hated it, why would he have gone on getting more of it? Marco loved the money. It was his key to his happiness, as he would have said. If anyone bothered to ask, that is. They didn't.
All they wanted from him was to show up at their parties, soirees, and premiers. Tell a funny joke or two or maybe a story about the war. All anyone seemed to want from him these days was to be The Marco for them. The funny guy who had been drug into a war against his will. The guy with a sad past whom could still laugh. The guy who would amuse them at his own expense in his stiff-as-an-iron-board tuxedo. It was all right, though. He was happy.
"I heard you broke up with that model." Marco looked over at a middle-aged lady in a turquoise dress.
He said nothing to her. Then he decided to walk away.
"But didn't you?" The lady asked behind him. Marco gave her no answer. He didn't need to. He was happy.
The model the lady had been referring to was a girl named Candice Reese. She was a smart cookie, a relief from the bevy of body-and-no-brain girls he'd been dating as of late. Even though he didn't want to admit it, he had liked Candice. They'd been together for maybe three months, though due to conflicting schedules, the amount of time they had really spent together was close to five days, so they weren't that close.
Which was why he was so perplexed. He'd felt down in the dumps ever since Candice had broken up with him (over the phone no less!). The timing couldn't have been any worse, either. It was maybe five minutes after Marco had found himself in one of the upstairs bedrooms of his mansion with no recollection of why he needed to be there. The whole incident had bothered him. Then Candice had decided to call in with her wonderful news.
Marco could still remember her words now. "I really do like you, and I want us to stay friends." Candice had said.
"But this relationship just isn't what I need. I need a guy who can be my friend, and this relationship isn't providing me that. I'm not all that happy with us as a couple, it isn't working. You're not what I need, and I don't think that I'm...I'm what you need, either. Call me back sometime, maybe we can talk about this over a cup of joe?"
She hung up after that. Marco hadn't even been able to get a word in. What was worse, though, was that he couldn't deny that she was right. He and Candice hadn't seemed slated for coupledom. She was a nice, smart and amazing-looking woman that he'd let become another one of his bevy of dames, and he felt horrible about it.
Candice had deserved more than him. Hell, everyone deserved more than him, Marco thought in a wave of self-pity.
That was what was perplexing him underneath it all. In the beginning he wasn't bothered by his breakup with her. They weren't right for each other and he had known that. He was glad she'd had the balls to say it. Now, though?
Now he felt like getting himself a good, stiff drink and he was not the drinking kind of man. Marco didn't place much stock in getting piss drunk. The thing that was really pissing off the short man, though, was the fact that he couldn't explain why he felt that way. If he and Candice had been going somewhere, it would make sense.
But it didn't feel like that. It felt like he had lost a relationship -- lost someone -- which had meant much more to him.
Not that it mattered. He was happy.
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He'd taken his limo home. After his not-so-graceful departure from whatever Hollywood debacle he'd been attending, Marco found he didn't have anywhere else to go. So he opted for staying at home for the night. Maybe he could his mind there. He hoped to the powers that be that he could clear up the questions abounding in his head.
It wasn't as if his love life were doomed, Marco tried to encourage himself. He could get another girlfriend easy enough. There were tons of ladies willing to be with him, it was no secret. Maybe he'd have better luck with them than he had with Candice.
But is that what I want? Marco asked himself. He was shocked to find that he wasn't sure. His relationships hadn't been working out so great as of late. Would rushing headfirst into another one help? Maybe he should wait. Wait until he found someone who he could sympathize more than the random models that had been clinging to him. It seemed like a good idea, Marco thought. Except one problem. For some reason, the thought frightened him.
The thought of being close enough to anyone to maintain a long relationship scared him. For reasons he couldn't explain, the thought of that kind of intimacy scared him shitless. That was okay, though, Marco told himself.
He still had his books and the TV Show to work on. He didn't need a relationship. He was still in youth, damn it!
He had all the time in the world for romance. He also had all the time in the world to digest and figure out what was bothering him so much about his and Candice's split.
Even if he didn't want to figure those answers out.
"Sir, we've reached your stop." Marco looked up at his chauffeur from all the way in the back of the long vehicle.
"Oh." Was all that the former Animorph had to say. "Thanks, Jenkins." Marco decided to open the door himself and then walked up to the front of the automobile and handed the old man in front a two hundred-dollar bill.
Jenkins took the money with a great smile and drove off. Marco headed inside his home.
He fought a shiver as he walked in. It was his home and he knew the place was as safe as he could make it, but there was something that would always be creepy about being in a house this large all by himself. He didn't like it.
I'll have to get used to it. He told himself. If I won't be dating for a while.
Not like that stopped the shivers down Marco's back, but it was a help. With a long intake of breath, the young man began heading upstairs to his bedroom. Maybe he could chat up Jake for a while to take his mind off things, he thought. So with that purpose in mind the short-haired youth headed towards his bedchamber undistracted.
Until he passed the other room. The room where he'd been in moments before Candice had broken up with him.
Marco couldn't explain it, but he felt a strange feeling as he got close to that room. It was almost as if something, or someone, was guiding him to it. It was if there was something important about that room that he had forgotten.
But what? What could there be? He'd checked every bit of the mansion for anything suspicious before he'd bought it, and the last time someone had stayed in there was close to two years ago. There was nothing.
With that assessment Marco headed into his room, got out of that godforsaken tuxedo, and called Jake.
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Marco woke up to searing pain in his eyes. God, kill the sunlight! He wasn't sure how it had happened, but he was on the left side of the bed right in front of the large window outlooking his yard. Right in front of the sunlight.
Curse his body. It had betrayed him during the night to the side of the bed where he knew he would awaken to pain. It just was not fair in the slightest, Marco concluded. Other people's bodies didn't betray them like this, he was certain of it. Other people's bodies liked them. Covering his poor hurting eyes with an arm, Marco managed to throw the sheets off himself. He fumbled around his room half-blind, trying to protect his still-stinging eyes with his not-so-muscular arm as he attempted to find the clothing he'd picked out for the Time interview he had this morning.
He'd decided that he wouldn't be wearing another tuxedo until next New Year's Day. So before he'd dropped from utter exhaustion, Marco was sure to pick out a shirt and some nice slacks. The only problem was that he had no recollection of where the hell he had put the nice shirt and slacks. The sun-induced blindness wasn't helping, either. Taking little baby steps, Marco headed towards what he thought was his closet. With his free arm the short man felt around him. He was certain he could feel a wall, which meant he was either near his closet or right next to the door out. Marco frowned as he took another baby step forward. Then, without any warning, he crashed into the ground.
"What the!" He managed to screech out before his butt hit floor with a hard thud. Wait a moment, he thought. Something was underneath him. Underneath his butt now, but one can't be particular. Marco scowled and retrieved the object from under his buttocks. It was a toy sword made out of wood. On the hilt the word "Pirateland" was scrawled in gaudy old-fashioned letters. Nothing spectacular about it, the poor thing wouldn't have even cost five bucks outside wherever the heck this "Pirateland" was. His early morning blindness gone, Marco swung the sword out in front of him. It looked a little worn, though more from sitting around and not being used than from anyone having ever played with it. How had it gotten into his house? Marco hadn't bought it himself, and he was sure he would've noticed and remembered if any of the ladies who visited La Casa de Marco had brought in a kid's sword. Marco threw the sword onto his bed and decided to put it off until later. He had somewhere to go.
Besides, it was only a toy. Nothing significant there.
Marco snatched up a light navy shirt and black slacks from the floor of his bedroom and set to changing and making himself look decent in public. It wasn't like he had time to fart around, anyway. He had three fun-filled hours of waiting through traffic as it was. All right, so Jenkins was the one who'd be driving, but Marco had never been a good backseat driver. Not to mention all of humanity had seemed to decide he should never be behind the wheel.
Poor Jenkins.
Even he knew it was immature. Even before it flew out of his mouth, the poor part of his psyche that attempted to seem mature was berating him for saying it. But Marco had said it, and there was nothing anyone could do to change that. Poor Jenkins.
"Are we there yet?" The rich ex-Animorph asked. He couldn't see Jenkins's reaction, but the old man's tone of voice spoke volumes. "No, sir." He said in a tight voice just at the tip of control. "We are not there yet."
Marco sighed and leaned back in the black, cushy seat of his limo and took another sip of his ginger ale.
After an agonizing three hours, Marco heard Jenkins's voice again. The old geezer was yelling at him.
"We've arrived at your stop, sir!" Jenkins's voice, loud, rasping, and irritated, awoke Marco from the trance traffic jam had placed over him. With a grogginess not unlike the kind a kid had from waking up at three in the morning, Marco pulled himself out of the car and closed the door behind him. He went up to the front of the vehicle and gave Jenkins a wave goodbye before the old man sped off, fed up with his young charge, no doubt.
With a load groan Marco threw his head back and got ready to traverse the labyrinth of the Time building.
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"And that concludes our interview."
The blue-haired Nothlit looked at Marco in pure amusement. "Off the record, you were out of it the whole two hours."
Marco glared back at the journalist, who had been trouble for him ever since the two of them had met. It was about five months ago after an interview with Time. The two of them hadn't been able to finish up their interview in the allotted time slot, so they went out for coffee. Marco had for better or worse made a friend out of the journalist.
There wasn't any relationship to speculate about, though. The girl was an outspoken lesbian.
A few months ago Marco had found out that on top of that, she was a human Nothlit. Her parents had gone to Earth not long after her birth, and they had decided to make the planet their permanent home. It'd struck them as much more of a liberated and open place than the homeworld had been.
"If I were to guess, I'd say you're still moping over that Candice chick, right?" Tilopid-Eridks-Tusdne asked.
Marco shrugged. "It's not any of your business." Tilopid looked at him. "So that's a yes?"
"No!" Marco protested. Seeing the skeptical look on Tilopid's face, he sighed. "Okay, maybe I am moping."
Tilopid raised an eyebrow. "You guys weren't together very long, though." She said in a thoughtful tone.
"I mean, sure she was cute and all, but it's not like you can't have any woman you want!" Tilopid shouted.
It was Marco's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Well, any straight woman, anyway." Tilopid amended.
Marco shrugged. "I know that." He said and sighed in exasperation at himself.
A worried look crossed Tilopid's face and her eyebrows knitted together. "Wanna talk about it?"
Marco shook his head. "I don't feel I know you well enough, nothing personal." Tilopid laughed at him.
"So? People don't know their therapists, do they? Come on, it's better than keeping it inside and I want an excuse to get out of this cramped building." Tilopid told Marco point-blank. The short man threw up his hands in resignation.
"Fine. But you're buying the coffee." He said. Tilopid faked a gasp. "But you're a rich movie star!" She cried.
"Correction. I'm a cheap movie star." Marco said.
"You suck." Tilopid groaned, and Marco just laughed.
The Blue-Haired Nothlit and the Short-Haired Man crossed the street entered the Breaking Grounds Cafe.
The cafe was a relaxed place, cool as a cucumber. Except without the taste of a cucumber, of course.
The walls were painted dark green and the majority of the establishment was covered in dark green vinyl. Only the legs of the tables and chairs were spared, being as they were made of a polished wood.
"Hey, I know that kid!" Tilopid whispered as she and Marco walked into the cafe. Marco followed her finger and looked up at a zit-faced blonde boy who was watching the customers in his exhaustion. "Johnson! Brian Johnson!"
The zit-faced boy looked up and waved. Tilopid dragged poor Marco behind her as she went up to the counter to catch up, er, order something. "It's been forever since I've seen you!" The Andalite Nothlit squealed at the boy.
The teenager shrugged. "Yeah, well, I don't need to go to the meetings if my dads aren't going, you know?"
In silence, Marco began to freak out. However, neither the boy or Tilopid noticed this, so they went on with their conversation.
"But I thought you were hitting off with that girl!"
"Which girl?"
"The one with the two moms who liked to sing during sex!"
"Oh yeah..."
Marco decided to interrupt before his fragile hold on sanity was destroyed. "I'll have a Cheese Danish and a latte, please."
"Coming right up." Brian Johnson said, and true to his word, produced food and drink from the coffee machine and display case beside him a moment later. Marco then ran off to an empty table while Tilopid continued chatting with her teenage friend.
He noticed a lady with long, curly dark locks and a body concealed in a sundress smirking at him but he paid no heed.
A strained moment or two later Tilopid sat down across from Marco with an Italian soda and a Strawberry Danish.
"Sorry," The Nothlit said as she sunk into her seat. "It's been a while since I've seen Brian, and I had to catch up. Poor boy, he was having some trouble at school. With his love life, too, but I think I convinced him to fix that."
Marco noticed the satisfied smirk on his not-quite-a-friend's lips as she added that last part.
"I head something about a girl." The ex-Animorph commented, trying to fuel a conversation. Tilopid nodded.
"Brian's so shy, and the kids at his school don't help. They all assume he's gay just because of his parents." Tilopid said.
"That sucks." Marco muttered as he took a bite of his Danish. Tilopid gave him an evil look. "Speaking of love..."
"You're not really a lesbian and have been harboring feelings for me since we met?" Marco replied.
Tilopid gave him a death glare. "No." Marco had to hide a smile at his success at pissing the Nothlit off.
"I want to talk about you and that Candice girl." Tilopid stated with no tact whatsoever.
"You think?" Marco said. Tilopid frowned at him. "Oh stop joking and be serious for a moment, you asshole!"
"Why are you so worked up?" Tilopid asked. "I mean, it's no secret you date around. So what's so important about this girl?"
"Nothing much, really." Marco said. Tilopid raised an eyebrow. "Meaning what?" Marco shrugged at her.
"Just what I said. We weren't close, we never slept together, and it was just a fling. Simple as that." Marco said.
At Tilopid's look, he sighed and spilled out a little of the truth. "She was too good for me."
Tilopid looked ready to disagree but her mouth stayed shut for once. "She needs something more than I can give."
She of the Bright Blue Hair took a sip of her soda before she said it. "Like a man who's not afraid to love her."
Marco looked up at his personal interviewer, stunned. "What the hell do you mean?"
"You're a Grade-A exhibit of a man with relationship phobia." Tilopid stated, twirling her straw. "Not that I can blame you, what you've gone through would scare anyone from the possibility of a deep loving relationship."
"Since when did you become such an expert?" Marco remarked, not without a sense of bitter sarcasm.
"Hey," Tilopid protested. "That was uncalled for." Marco shrugged, feigning indifference.
"So was saying that I'm afraid to love." He commented. "You sure that isn't the truth?" Tilopid asked.
"Hear me out for a minute." The Journalist pleaded. "You hop from girl to girl, most of whom are looking for a quick boink and a little fame. Your relationships with them dissolve quicker than fat in a frying pan. You never get to trust them, never get to feeling anything more than an attraction towards them. Were any of the women you've been dating 'that important' to you? Could you have sacrificed your money, your show, to stay with them?"
Marco did not reply. He wasn't sure he wanted to. "You're scared to have that kind of relationship. It's okay, it's normal, and considering your past, not surprising at all." Tilopid then smiled. "But if you want to get past it, that's all going to be up to you."
"Up to me?" Marco repeated, smiling a weak smile. "Now why does that sound familiar?"
Tilopid stuck out her tongue at him. The short man let out a feeble laugh, rocked by what he had been told.
"Well, since you're so intelligent, wanna tell me how I can 'get past this'?" Marco asked with no joking in his voice.
Tilopid took a moment to answer as her eyes scanned the cafe. "You could try dating guys."
"Ha ha. Very funny." Marco deadpanned. "Oh, but think about it!" Tilopid enthused. "It would be a fresh new start."
"I don't think so." Marco said in a light tone. Tilopid laughed. "Oh, but why not?"
Marco pretended to mull over the matter. "It'd be weird." He said. Tilopid gaped at him, her jaw almost unhooked.
"Don't you dare tell me that's the only reason you're with girls!" She screamed, earning many strange looks.
"Um, no." Marco stated after the people had stopped staring. "I never thought about going out with a guy."
"You mean the thought has, honest to God, has never occurred to you?" Tilopid inquired. "Well," Marco started.
Tilopid cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe I should leave before you uncover my hidden bisexuality." He finished.
Marco did try his hardest not to laugh as the Nothlit-Now-Journalist lurched over the table to strange him before he left, but the urge to bust out laughing was too much. It was right after that when his instinct to run took over.
Marco stepped out of the cafe and pulled out his cell phone to call Jenkins to go home. Heck, maybe he could even offer the crazy-shrink-in-training a ride. Marco sighed and leaned up against the wall of the building.
She'd had a point.
Not about the gay thing so much, but the girls. Tilopid had been right about the girls. Even Candice. Damn, maybe Candice foremost. She had been too good for him, a woman who could stay with someone who would love her.
He hadn't even given her six days. Damn it all to hell. Yet, and even though he had no way to explain it, the ex-Animorph felt that the way he had been feeling about his breakup with Candice wasn't all that much over Candice.
It was nonsense of course. It wasn't like he'd gotten involved with anyone after their breakup and it wasn't like he'd been thinking about another woman while they were together. Still, that odd feeling persisted. Something had been off for the past few days. Being in one of his guestrooms with no explanation and feeling drawn to the place. A toy sword showing up from out of nowhere in his room. What the hell was it, the Ellimist?
Toys don't seem like the Ellimist's thing. Marco thought to himself. The only one who'd use a sword as some kind of message would be Ax.
God, that was too easy to picture. Only his Andalite friend, king of All Things Beyond Weird, would use a kiddy sword as some kind of message-beacon thing. Even the Ellimist wasn't that messed up.
As Marco was musing over this, the curly-haired vixen smirking at him inside the cafe also stepped out.
"Are you who I think you are?" She asked. Marco turned to look at the woman. Up close, he could see that she was quite a looker. Beautiful, even. There was a seductive and playful grin on her pink lips and the cut of her sundress showed off her body rather well. "You know what I mean. Are you the Marco?"
On reflex, Marco scowled. He hated it when people called him that. "Yes. Who are you?" He asked.
"Sarah Jameson. I'm one of your biggest fans." The woman said, plastering on a winning smile. Marco swore he could feel his stomach churn.
"You are?" He asked, faking interest like a pro. Come to think of it, he was a pro at this kind of thing by now. He just had to be. It wouldn't be fair if he wasn't, considering the tons of fanmail his show received each day.
"Yes. I was wondering if maybe..." But Marco cut her short by whipping out his cell phone. "Sorry," he said.
"I need to make a call." Sarah shrugged and thanking God for the distraction, Marco called Jenkins and asked for a ride from the cafe. He also warned Jenkins that he'd have a strange companion. Referring to Tilopid, though, not Sarah Jameson. After ending the call Marco prepared himself for the torture of conversing with Sarah until Jenkins came and picked him up.
"Anyway, I was wondering if maybe sometime you'd like to..." Marco groaned in his head. He had no idea who this girl even was!
Tilopid then rushed out all of a sudden. "You're an evil bastard." She told Marco, who just smirked.
Sarah Jameson stood alone in peeved silence. "Is she your girlfriend?" Sarah asked Marco.
The Short Man and the Blue-Haired Lady exchanged shocked and digusted looks. "No!" They both protested.
"Then I was wondering if you'd like to, maybe, go out with me on Saturday night?" Sarah Jameson asked.
Marco's throat closed up. It wasn't like fans hadn't him on him before, but not to so bold a measure! The bodyguards were able to fend off that kind of sort. Where, Marco wondered, were his bodyguards when he needed them?
"I don't know you at all." Marco said, trying to sound as nice as possible. Poor Sarah Jameson looked dejected.
"Sorry." Marco said, hating the sad look in the woman's eyes. God, he might even go out with her to stop it.
In his opinion, it was the worst and most despicable thing to use puppy dog eyes on someone! God, would she quit looking at him? Sarah took in a deep breath and started walking back inside the cafe when Jenkins pulled up, thank heavens. Marco wasn't sure how it had happened. One moment he'd been rushing to the car, eager as heck to get away from the beautiful woman with the sad, sad eyes, and in the next moment he found himself being pressed up against the limo as Sarah Jameson crushed him with a sudden hot, heavy, lingering kiss.
It came to him almost like something from a dream. Something that never happened in this lifetime but felt so real it sent shivers down his spine.
He was remembering a kiss. A kiss that was unplanned, unintended, and unexpected. He was remembering a kiss that has surprised, pleased, and scared him all in the same moment. It was a kiss that had opened a door, a door that he hadn't even known existed. Or, to be more honest, it was a door he hadn't wanted to acknowledge.
Then his fear left him shell-shocked. He ran. He ran from that kiss, from the feelings it had brought forth without his even wanting them, without his being sure that he could even face them. He ran away without a second thought.
Back to reality. Tilopid had shoved the sucking Sarah Jameson off of Marco seconds after her lips contacted with his. Looking down, Marco also assumed it was seconds after the crazed fan had shoved her phone number into his palm. Sarah Jameson looked up at Marco, from under Tilopid's deathgrip, in a lust-filled expression.
"Betcha can't stay away from me now." She purred. Marco took a step back and opened the door of the limo.
Whoever the person was in his dream that was too close to reality, it wasn't Sarah Jameson.
"I wouldn't bet on it." Marco said as he went inside the limo with Tilopid loosening her grip and following him.
Today had been a weird day. All he wanted was to go home and sleep.
During the drive, neither Marco nor the Nothlit spoke much. There were a few comments about Sarah Jameson thrown around, and Marco thanked his crazy blue-haired friend for saving his ass. Other than that, the two rode in tired but companionable silence for most of the trip.
"Thanks, again." Marco said.
Tilopid shrugged. "It was no problem. Besides, who'd have stopped that witch from raping you or something? You'd gone into shock!"
Marco laughed to hide the feeling of disquiet in his stomach as he recalled his 'memory'. "What'd you expect me to do?"
"Morph or something." Tilopid said. "It's not like you can't defend yourself, and I doubt she'd have kissed a gorilla."
"I don't know. She just might have." Marco said, and this time Tilopid laughed. "Yeah, I'd bet."
Then the conversation stopped as the limo hit a nice twelve-floor apartment complex. "Well, here's my stop."
Tilopid opened the right-side back door of the limo herself. "It was nice hanging out with you, we do it again."
"Oh, and I'd recommend you file a restraining order by tomorrow morning." Tilopid added before she went into her apartment.
Marco closed the door after her and instructed Jenkins to drive him home. It had been a long, long night.
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After he bid Jenkins farewell and a good night, Marco dropped to the floor of his living room. It was too exhausting to go to a bed. He lay there on the carpeted floor for about ten minutes. Not too bad, it was less time than the last time he'd done this. Only once or twice had he really been so crashed after a party to drop to the floor and sleep. This time wasn't one of them. Pulling himself up off the cushy carpet, Marco thought out which one of the bedrooms would be the easiest to get to. His was the farthest, for privacy and security reasons, so that was out. The closer right-hand room was miles away from a bathroom, and the near left-hand room was being repaired. That left him with the far left-hand guestroom. It wasn't a bad room, in fact it was a subject of debate that it might've been even better than his own room was. The room, however, gave Marco the creeps and he couldn't explain why. Still, he headed towards it for the sake of resting his poor tired and confused little body. After all, it was just a room, it wasn't like the place could hurt him.
Marco climbed up the stairs with the precision of one on a tightrope. He moved in a slow steady fashion, being careful not to trip over any single step. Why he was taking such precaution might have had something to do with the fact that if he fell backwards, he would break his head open. In his near-drugged state, the likelihood of such an accident was higher than Marco would like to think about. In time he managed to reach the end of the steps and headed down the hall. The guestroom did not exhibit the same strange kind of pull it had yesterday.
So Marco stepped in, assured of the room's lack of evil, and made a beeline for the bed. If he hadn't been so tired, Marco may have noticed the junk lying around. Amongst it was a Spiderman tee shirt hanging from the doorknob and a replica of the same toy sword Marco had sat on earlier lay beside the closet. Marco didn't even notice a single thing except a small tabloid lying alone on the nightstand. His curiosity arisen, Marco picked up the tabloid. He flipped through it without finding anything interesting. Bill Gates Divorce Scandal, Ronnie and Cassie...
A list of his ladies. The tabloid's count added up to twenty-three in all, counting the "speculative relationships". Tilopid's earlier words about his fear of relationships hit him hard.
God, how could he have not realized this? Sure, he rationalized, he liked to date. He liked women. He wasn't some kind of heartbreaking bachelor too afraid to open up his heart to anyone. Right?
The tabloid slipped out of the once Animal Morpher's hands as another memory hit him, this one much more clear.
"Candice dumped me. Girl number..." Marco had said. Ax had replied. Marco blinked in shock.
"Wow, you've been keeping track?" Marco had asked, gaping at the blue furry deer. Ax shrugged, and threw Marco a magazine. He flipped through the pages and found, smack in the middle, a list of his bevy of ladies.
Ax was right, it totaled twenty-three in all. How sad. "Geez. This is very pathetic, even for me." Marco stated.
The tabloid hit the floor as Marco passed out.
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Jake arrived the next day. The bird had come with him.
Ax had been captured. Maybe even dead, but everyone refused to believe that.
Marco had agreed, of course, to help. What kind of a person who he be to abandon a friend like that?
Besides, maybe finding Ax would help clear up some of the confusion Marco had been feeling the past few days.
Like the strange feeling that maybe he wasn't going to rescue someone who was just a friend.
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Yes, you in the back? (reviewer responses)
Avada Kedavra - Wow. Two conversions to this couple! =P **does the happy dance** And I'm on someone's favorite list? **does the hyper happy happy dance** Scary hyperness aside, I'm glad you've liked it!
Early - **jaw drops to the ground** Holy crap, sir, yes you do win the Longest Review Ever Award! I've never had a review that long for any of my fics, nevermind this one! Gah...I need a moment to recover.
You know, I think you picked up on more themes in this story than even I was aware of. Is that good or bad? Anyway, to dissect your monster of a review bit by bit -- to explain the lack of plot in the first chapter, this was at first going to be a single chapter story and I really just wanted to write out an angsty unrequited M/A thing, but then the story grew. So that's that. Looking back, I should've gotten more in-depth with the "fifty zillion girls" thing, but yes, I do believe that Marco is covering up or trying to repress his feelings about the war with material success. I'm glad someone caught on to that. About the beer, I don't have my own copy of 54 and I'd forgotten all about that line. The image of a drunken Marco had came to my head, so I wrote it in. My bad.
Yep, Marco showing up at Ax's door was odd, and heck, shouldn't even Marco realize that? Oh yeah, you gotta love that whole "I don't know why I'm doing this, but I'm gonna do it anyway." aspect about fanfics. It's what makes 'em fun. (Not that I'm saying you should run into OOC-land...)
To tell the truth, the first chapter was my not-so-polished second draft. I hadn't even considered where my characters should be. It just happened that way, and in fact, in a couple of VERY rough versions of the full story, I did have Ax running back to his home. It didn't happen, fortunately. I agree with your thoughts on Ax, too. Speaking for myself, I was surprised he went Andalite Homeworld. Not flabbergasted shocked, but I had the impression that Ax was starting to see some serious problems with his people. Not that our favorite deer-scorpion-thing would have admitted it, but still...and it would've been cool to see another Andalite/insert species here coupling in the books. **growls** Dang KAA.
I'm glad you liked the kissing scene. Oooh, and lookie, big neon letters! ...Never mind me.
Um, back to seriousness, I also agree with your thesis on what Marco needs in a relationship, and man, there was a lot of Marco/Cassie stuff in the books. It's almost scary. But I don't see them as a lasting couple, probably because like you said, Cassie is too much of a "goody-goody" for Marco. The two of them would end up driving each other crazy, I think. You know, you've got a good theory on Jake's apperance too, but I confess I threw him in the first chapter for laughs. Why Naked Jake makes me laugh I really don't want to know. Like I said, you sure as heck get an award for longest review! Hang it up in your living room! Maybe that can entice you to review the other chapters, hm? **gives the evil puppy dog eyes**
Until next time, and I'm hoping to more of Hear No Evil!
Forlay - I was afraid you were dead or something! Welcome back! Take another free plushie of your choosing! Wow, I didn't know I'd written a tense chapter...oh well. And I'm glad you liked Ax kissing Marco. That was probably my favorite part of that chapter. Yeah, I had Ax say those three scary words. I mean, come on, it's not like Marco ever will. =P Aaahh! I didn't mean to make anyone cry! Here, have some pastries! Christopher Ralph Tompson was really kind of an accident. I didn't figure out it's connections to evilness until after I wrote the chapter. Must be my subconcious reminding me that Ani-TV is the heart of all sin, even if there was a lot of M/A things in it. Er, pretend you didn't hear that last part. And again, welcome back! **hugs**
Doctor Strangelove - I think this is the first time I've rendered someone speechless. Go me! Now, get to writing more Adventures in Clubbing! You've got no idea how many hours I've spent wondering what's gonna happen next...
Lauren - Hiii! Um, I don't wanna ruin any of the story, so I can't tell what exactly is gonna happen to Ax and Marco, but I don't think they'll be hurt. My kittens are still doing good, but I can't say the same for my house. It's okay if you babble, I like your babbling! And it's not like I'm a fast writer anyway, so babble on! Bye-bye for now!
