Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
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[ secrets like stones to weigh you down ]
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Mary won't look Raph in the face, can't meet his eyes for the life of her. She can only see her own guilt staring back, accusing, throwing barbed remarks in the form of concerned brown eyes. It hurts him---the not looking---and that only makes Mary feel worse.
You've been a bad, bad girl, Mary.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He's trying, at least. Reaching out with hands she's too ashamed to take. Too afraid to touch. She's far too used to playing fast and loose with people to make any sort of worthwhile commitment.
Sure, Mary can give and give and give, have them take and take and take until she's dried up and hollow inside---she's used to that, known that since Dad left all those years ago---but she's not ready for what Raph expects of her. Mary isn't ready for the equalness, for the checks and balances and the give and take that Raph demands. She is used to being in control---the one in charge---and she feels this tightness around her skin every time her fiancé pushes for a compromise she knows he has every right to ask of her, but she can't help but fight tooth and nail every inch of the way.
Maybe that's why... she begins, but she tramples the thought before it can finish itself. Wasn't it enough to betray Raphael in private? Did she have to do it in front of him as well?
"No, I don't want to talk about it." Mary can't stop the venom from creeping in, not even after she told herself enough, just stop, be honest with him for one goddamned second.
But haven't I done enough? I told him, didn't I? Told him what I did---what Marshall and I do. I opened up. Isn't that enough?
It isn't and she knows it. Raph knows it too, which is why he had been more and more insistent in dragging her out of the shell she'd constructed for herself. Which is why Mary is surprised when he backs down with only a defeated sigh. She hazards a glance at Raphael and sees him sitting at the edge of their bed---she's sitting on the toilet adjusting the ties on her shoes, though for the life of her she can't recall why---his face covered by his large hands, rubbing his eyes and temples as if he can't quite get his mind around the walking headache that is Mary Shannon.
Well, excuse me. It's unfair, she knows, to feel irritated with him, but it's much more palatable than the disgust she feels towards herself when she's around him. It's a bit strange for someone so used to lying, but then lies don't stay hidden forever. It doesn't take someone from WitSec to figure that much out.
"I'm sorry for---" Mary begins, at the same time Raph says, "Forget about it," shakes his head, and leaves.
"Being such a bitch," she finishes lamely. She isn't surprised by the hurt---at the end of the day, she still loves Raph, she's still attached to him in all sorts of ways that were more his doing than hers she thinks, and maybe therein lies the problem---but there's something in the inevitability that clings to his non-farewell that makes something ache inside.
You've been a bad, bad girl, Mary. So, what are you gonna do 'bout it now?
"I don't know."
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A/N: "The Hollow Men" by T.S. Eliot is love. I've joined the bandwagon only during the second season and wrote only after the season finale. Personally, I find Raph to be adorable, but Mary's actions towards him are less than romantic. Closer to abusive, actually, which is one of the reasons I kind of cringe when I see them on screen during those times. But enough of that.
Soundtrack went form Portishead, flirted briefly with Placebo, and settled on Nine Inch Nails. I'm counting down the hours for the inspiration to head towards PJ Harvey and VAST. looks away
By the way, most of my work is ala "hot off the press" fashion. Please let me know of any problems that might arise because of it. [/end transmission]
