'Sup folks! This is my first fic for this Marcanne week. The concept was 'Rain'.
I'm pretty happy with how this turned out. I hope you guys liked it too.
The girls rushed down the stairs, taking care not to slip with their own soaked feet. Marcy burst into the room, with Anne cautiously following. It was a workshop, brimming with creaking machinery, spinning around a generator.
Marcy made a beeline for the generator, seemingly unaffected by being soaked head to toe. Anne stood at the doorstep, teeth clacking so strong she feared they would crack.
Marcy inspected the display screen on top of the control panel and flapped her hands.
"It worked! Yesyesyes!" Marcy fist-pumped the air and clapped. It would be cute if Anne weren't freezing to death. "Anne, did you hear? We did it!"
Anne gave her a thumb up with shaking hands. "T-that's g-great, dude. H-how about some h-hot chocolate for the t-t-trouble."
Marcy kept her eyes glued to the screen. "There's a bathroom there, and some towels and warm clothes on that wardrobe," she said.
Anne found the wardrobe behind a pile of books as tall as the ceiling. It was full of tunics. Typical Newtopian fashion. She picked the biggest one and a towel and went into the bathroom. Well, 'bathroom' was a stretch. It had a miniature toilet and an even tinier sink with a mirror. No shower. For a workshop, it was good enough; Anne couldn't imagine the nerd newts who usually work here are too big into hygiene.
Anne dried herself quickly. She was soaked; socks included, so she'll have to go barefoot. The tunic fit her like a glove, and it was warmer than it looked. As she sat on the toilet and dried her hair, however, she found herself trembling. It wasn't for the cold, but because of what'd happened.
It was terrifying. Anne nearly lost Marcy today.
One of the towers that provide power for Newtopia had gone down, and it had to be fixed ASAP. The King appointed Marcy on the job, and Anne asked to tag along. She didn't care much for the tower, she just wanted to hang with her ever-so-busy friend. And helping Marcy ought to be fun. It was a simple enough job.
They hadn't even reached the tower when the deluge began, all fierce wind and roaring thunder. But they couldn't back out. Newtopia needed the energy from those bolts! Marcy guided Anne to the control room at the top of the tower. A wide reinforced window let them see outside. It was raining spears; only the 35 feet tall lightning rod was visible. All the lights were out, showing the rod wasn't working.
Marcy declared her intentions of going out. She took her metal Newtopian Ranger armor off and put on a protective leather vest, gloves, and boots. She instructed Anne about what to do once the rod was functional, and stepped into the storm.
Everything went well at first. Marcy climbed the structure that supported the rod; keeping her head down from the gusting rain. Once she reached the top, she tinkered with something Anne couldn't see —probably the lightning dish. After endless seconds, the lights went back on. Anne followed Marcy's instructions to the tee, and soon enough the machinery creaked with life. It worked!
The real problem was the descent. Marcy's first step was a misstep. She felt half the height of the tower before she got a hold of the structure.
Anne didn't even think about it; her legs took her out of the control room and into the storm. The wind cut like glass and she couldn't see a damn thing, except for the tower; and the Marcy-shaped dot haphazardly holding to it. Anne positioned herself under it and began to climb.
As Anne was ascending, Marcy began her descent. They found each other in the middle and climbed down together. Thunder boomed, blinding their senses and minds. That's when it happened. She lost her foothold, lost her hold. She screamed as the world turned upside down, her stomach twisting while gravity's inescapable arm pulled her down.
And then it was over. Anne looked up to see Marcy, gripping her hand, holding her above the abyss; her eyes glimmering green in the dark.
Electricity zapped her as Anne rustled the towel on her hair. She screamed quietly. It was so embarrassing. Anne went guns a-blazing, ready to play the hero and save Marcy, only to trip like a fool and have to be saved in return. And this is no more than a week after Marcy chewed Anne off for being a nagging Nancy about Marcy's safety. How can Anne face her now? How does Marcy even feel about her? Disappointed; mad even? Anne whined weakly into the towel. There was no point in hiding in the bathroom like there was a math test waiting. She tied her towel around her head —no point in fixing her hairdo now— and went out.
Marcy was just where Anne left her; deep into the control panels, muttering data to herself. Her shoulders were shaking, and Anne feared she might be furious until she noticed Marcy was wearing the same soaked leather clothing. Anne rolled her eyes. Same old Marcy.
Anne searched the wardrobe for a clean towel, then crept behind Marcy and threw the towel over her head.
Marcy shrieked. "Woah, lights out! Lights out! Who's there?"
"It's me, Marcy. It's just a towel." Anne put her hands over Marcy's head and scrubbed her hair. "You're going to freeze to death if you stay in these clothes."
Marcy wrestled Anne for her freedom. "I know, but there's just so much work to do!" she whined.
"At least let me dry up your hair. Is the least I can do," Anne retorted.
Marcy mumbled something but stood still. 'Marcy still', mind you, which means she hissed and fidgeted while Anne rubbed her hair. It was like trying to dry out Domino after a bath —except Domino was better behaved.
Anne tried to apologize, but her voice came out meek. "Marcy I... I wanted to say I'm sorry."
Marcy stopped her squirming. "What're you apologizing for? Everything was a success."
"Thanks to you," said Anne, softly scrubbing nearly petting, Marcy's head. "I should've stayed behind like you asked, not going out into the storm. I got in the way of something you had full control of. I was just trying to help and… I'm sorry."
Marcy moved out of Anne's grasp and turned around. Anne stifled a laugh. The towel had fallen over Marcy's shoulders. Her hair was fuzzy and shapeless, just like Domino, after a bath —except Marcy was prettier.
Marcy brought her hands to her face and breathed out. "O-KEY, you're gonna have to walk me through this, because there's obviously something going on I'm missing." She put her hands together, like a professor listening to a dumb student —and that's how Anne felt. "Why do you think you didn't help? You rebooted the control room once I realigned the dish of the lightning rod, just like I asked. You did help!"
"But you didn't ask me to run outside like an idiot to help you." Anne stiffed her shoulders. "I guess old habits die hard. Look at you, being so independent! I'm so proud and so happy for you. Sometimes it makes me forget you don't need me anymore-"
In a flash move, Marcy cupped Anne's face in her freezing hands, forcing her to look into her green eyes. "Anne, that doesn't make sense at all. Just because I can take care of myself now doesn't mean I don't need help. I'm not mad you climbed that tower, I'm happy! That you were there, I mean, not that you slipped down, pleasedontdothatagain."
Anne agreed effusively.
"What I mean is… everyone here trusts me to do everything. Fix this, repair that, build these, jury-rig those, and whatever. It's awesome to be trusted with so much responsibility, but sometimes it's too much. It felt nice to know there was some there having my back.
"I think…" Marcy hesitated, face scrunched as she thought. "I think it's not about who-saves-who as long as we're there for each other. That should be what's important."
Anne found herself dropping her gaze again. Marcy's words humbled her; not to mention warmed her heart and turned her legs into noodles.
"Y'know, I think you were wrong. About what you said when we made the King's puzzles, I mean" Anne cleared. "You're actually very good with people."
"Nah. I'm just an Anne Expert," Marcy shot back.
Anne bowed even further. God, she is, isn't she? The Anne Expert. Oh, Frog… they are too close now. One breath apart —not even that. Marcy was playing with her messed-up hairdo. Anne couldn't keep her eyes away from her bare feet. Being close was never a problem before.
But again, things are not the same as before, nor were they the same girls.
They'd nearly forgotten about the storm when thunder boomed. The sound of rain came to them muffled, like a constant ticking. Then the building trembled and the lights flickered. Marcy beamed.
"It's happening! It hit the rod. Come on, Anne. Look what you helped create."
Marcy grabbed Anne's hand and dragged her around the generator, to a large chamber with a window and two light bulbs; a red one and a green one. The machinery above the generator whistled like steam-filled pipes. The red bulb went on and a black panel descended over the windowpane. Something felt into the chamber as a blinding light filled the room, visible even through the black panel.
A few seconds went by and the green light went up. The panel ascended and the room was bathed in light.
Anne gasped at the sight. She'd only seen stuff like this in photos; usually, ones with charming captions like 'thunder strike splits tree in half'. The tiny thunder inside the chamber seemed to be stuck in time; didn't move nor banished, it only shined.
Marcy tapped the window. "Eeeh? Eeeeh? Frozen lightning! Isn't it amazing? This is what powers Newtopia! These babes are put into canisters and distributed to multiple districts. Of course, not every zone uses electricity, as it requires the appropriate refrigeration equipment to prevent-"
That's as far as Anne heard. As cool as it was, and even if it felt nice to have helped with such an important task, all Anne could focus on was Marcy. The way her eyes glistened into the light. How high pitched her voice turned while she rambled. The way she fidgeted and waved her fingers and smiled as she explained something Anne had no hope of learning. Stuff that other people couldn't begin to understand, but which was basic to her.
Everything about Marcy was light, like this thunder here: warm and peacefully noisy.
Everything but her hair, which looked like an angry bird's nest.
"Marcy, do you have a brush?"
Marcy stopped her explanation and fished a brush from her belt. Anne went behind Marcy and began to fix her messy mane. She knew how Marcy liked to wear it. She worked as Marcy explained until eventually Anne's ministrations got her tired and she simply went back to working on the control panels, barely acknowledging Anne's brushes with an occasional hum.
The storm raged outside, but everything was quiet inside the room. And inside the girls' hearts.
There it is!
I hope you guys enjoyed it.
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