Disclaimer: I don't own IPS or the characters, and I have no money, so don't sue me, okay?
Author's Note: After a horrible month of writer's block brought on by heat waves and the show being in hiatus, Fish Out of Water is back! Sorry for the long wait, you guys. The creative process just wasn't happening. The good news is that the dam has finally broken, and I now have three chapters in addition to this one written, so there will be regular updates after this! Also, the following chapters are much more interesting than this mostly introspective/transitional one, but I hope you find this one entertaining nonetheless!
Dedication: I don't usually do this, but seeing as it's been so long since my last update, this chapter is dedicated to everyone who's still reading this! Thanks, y'all! =D
Fish Out of Water
Chapter 17
April brought with it the start of the rainy season, which was now manifesting itself in a thick, chilly drizzle. The air had begun to warm with the coming of spring, but there was still the occasional cold snap and the mornings retained the wintry chill that continued to prevail at night.
The moisture beaded on Marshall's hair and on the surface of his heavy coat, not yet retired to the closet to await winter's return. His umbrella sat in the stand in the foyer back at his house, forgotten in his haste to leave; his alarm clock had been hit or miss since he'd knocked it to the floor, and this morning it had finally quit working altogether. He'd woken up barely in time to throw on clothes and rush out the door. He'd be too late to meet up with Mary and Brandi, but it couldn't be helped.
He and Mary still hadn't talked about a relationship. He had no idea where he stood with her on that front. No, that wasn't quite true; she'd been perfectly clear that she couldn't be his girlfriend… but did that mean she didn't want him as a boyfriend? It was a narrow distinction, but one that plagued him. Did she truly not want a relationship with him, or was she only refusing to want that which she believed she couldn't have?
On the other hand, he couldn't honestly tell her she could have him, even if she wanted him. He wanted to be with her, but it was complicated. There was college to be considered; if he stayed for her, his parents would undoubtedly go ballistic. A more appealing solution would be for Mary to leave with him, but that was a decision she would have to make for herself, and there was Brandi to be considered. Mary would never leave her sister, and Marshall had begun to find the idea of leaving the girl in her mother's questionable care unpalatable as well.
He'd been turning the problem over in his mind for some time, and he'd concluded that where Mary went, Brandi had to follow. That raised a whole new set of issues regarding legal custody. Marshall was reasonably certain Jinx wouldn't give up her daughter unless she had to, and there were quite a few things he could report her for that would fulfill that circumstance, but the problem with any such plan was that it would just as likely get Brandi taken from Mary as well, and Mary would not sell her mother out so readily in any case. He liked that about her; for as jaded as she was, for as emotionally distant as she needed to pretend to be, Mary could be extremely loyal when she really cared about someone.
Marshall sighed. It was certainly a dilemma, and one with no easy or obvious solutions. The truth was, he wasn't certain he could leave without Mary, even if he chose to do so. He had no doubt now that he loved her; he'd known for some time that he cared for her, but from the moment they'd made love, his heart had been hers. The pregnancy scare had served to confirm his feelings, for although he'd been terrified, he'd also realized that had she been pregnant, he would have wanted to have a family with her. Part of him regretted that she hadn't been. Though he was in no way prepared for fatherhood, and the very idea of starting a family at this point in his life was somewhat senseless and reckless in the extreme, it would at least have made his current dilemma that much easier to sort out. Leaving simply wouldn't be an option.
He wanted to be with her. He wanted her in other ways, too; he'd always considered himself somewhat average for a teenage male as his desires went, but after he'd been with her on a physical level, he'd concluded that he simply hadn't known what he was talking about. He had once thought that he didn't see what all the fuss was about, but since their night together, his need for her had increased by a margin he had failed to anticipate. Outwardly, he tried to maintain the same passive front, but inwardly, he was in turmoil over her.
He hadn't been prepared in the slightest for what the act of physical love would do to him, and he had no idea what do about it. Certainly, it was risky to approach Mary on that subject. She was still Mary, shy of commitment and ready to bolt, and that wouldn't change just because they'd had sex. If anything, it would only make her more reluctant to allow herself to be vulnerable around him. A delicate balance of proximity and distance had to be constantly maintained. As it was, she had been hitting him with a confusing blend of affection and deflection that made it difficult to gauge what she wanted from him. He felt as though he was hanging in limbo, unable either to move forward or go back, and always fearful of losing her.
And suddenly, there she was, waiting for him at the corner of the street that led to Brandi's school. Marshall stopped short for a moment.
"You're going to be late," he called to her.
"Yeah, I am, if a certain beanpole I know doesn't get it in gear," she replied with a grin.
"You didn't have to wait for me," he said as she fell into step beside him.
"I know," she said quietly as she linked her arm though his.
A thick, gray drizzle fell around Mary as she waited. Marshall was late; unlike him, but she wasn't worried, yet. She was too preoccupied with other matters.
She was falling in love with him.
She had already fallen in love with him.
She had tried to write it off, at first, as some kind of silly hero-worship sort of thing after he'd saved her, or an aftereffect of having sex, but she couldn't wholly justify dismissing it as that, for one simple reason: she had been feeling this for much longer than that, but had been unable, or perhaps unwilling, to give it a name.
She remembered a moment, vague and intangible as she'd hovered on the borders of sleep, when she'd heard a voice, his, low and soft and secret, murmuring his love for her. She was not entirely sure it had actually happened, was not certain he had really spoken those words, but she could no longer deny the fact that she might have liked it if he had. On the other hand, that would mean acknowledging more than she could afford to lose. Maybe some things were better left uncertain.
Because she would lose him, she knew that. It was inescapable. He had a life beyond her, so far beyond that reaching for him was like reaching for stars in the night sky; no matter how much yearning they inspired, an outstretched hand would never and could never reach them. Nothing could change that. That knowledge left her with a sick knot of sorrow which she could do nothing to ease. She had thought she'd accepted the limitations of her life a long time ago, but she had not anticipated encountering this new, foolish desire for more than she could ever hope to have.
Like water cupped in her hand which would escape if she did not drink, but to drink would leave her thirsting for more, and she had no desire to taste what she could not have.
Except that, too, was a lie; she wanted Marshall badly. She wanted to say words that would make him stay.
But such words could not be spoken, not by her. Those words would never come.
Suddenly, Marshall was there, stopping a scant distance from her. He called out something by way of greeting; she fired back a retort and smiled a smile she did not feel, hoping he wouldn't notice it was false.
The morning's drizzle had developed into a heavy, oppressive rain by lunchtime. After sheltering out of the rain in their bathroom, sharing Marshall's sandwich because someone at Mary's house had forgotten to shop for food and there had only been lunch for Brandi, they made their way to English class. It was long and boring, and Mr. Brunswick was apparently not a fan of rainy days, because he once again made it his mission to single them out for the class's collective amusement as well as his own.
Omnipresent, too, were reminders of prom, ranging from posters made by the prom committee to advertise the impending affair to Mr. Brunswick asking Marshall, for the entire class to hear, if he'd asked his Juliet to attend with him.
"God, he's such an asshole," Mary grumbled for only Marshall to hear.
"Yeah…" he hesitated. "You know, Mare…"
"What? Just spit it out already."
"Well, it's prom. We should go."
"What, you mean, together?" she asked, glaring at him dubiously.
"It's kind of pathetic to go alone," he replied. "And it isn't like there's anyone else I'd want to take."
"So I'm your date by default?"
"Not really. You'd be my date by choice."
Mary blushed and bit her fingernails, a habit that had become pervasive since she'd quit smoking.
"It could be fun. It's like a rite of passage, anyway," he added.
"If I agree to go, will you promise not to tell me about the cultural importance of rites of passage again?"
"Deal. So you'll go with me?" he asked hopefully.
She considered him for a moment. "Only because it's you, and you're pathetic enough to go stag otherwise," she huffed.
Marshall couldn't help the grin that spread across his face; however sarcastically she'd chosen to articulate the sentiment, she'd still said yes. It was a step in the right direction, and just maybe, a chance to see what was there between them, and to show her what he had to offer.
The bell rang, finally, and as they left class, Mary couldn't help but wonder what she'd just gotten herself into. No, that wasn't right either; she knew that whatever she'd gotten into had been set in motion months ago, from the first moment she'd allowed herself to open up to Marshall, to lean on him. She still didn't know what was different about him that had made it possible to lower her defenses, only that he was different, that she trusted him, and he had proven worthy so she had trusted him more. Yet, she knew that was a tactical error; he was going to leave, was destined for more than her sad little life could ever hope, and she could neither follow him nor hold him back.
Like her father, he would one day be gone, and like her almost-seven-year-old self, there would be nothing she could do to stop it.
Later that night, at home, Mary pawed through Jinx's closet for something that would fit her, that was prom-appropriate, and wasn't stained with spilled beverages or other things she didn't want to think about. Finally, in the back, she found something promising: a vibrant red dress in a cut that was not yet out of style. It appeared to be in good condition. Mary thought that Jinx might have bought it for a Valentine's Day party the year before; Mary remembered that her mother had been ill and unable to attend, and must not have remembered to return the dress after the fact. Chances were good it was completely unused, and as far back in the closet as it was, Jinx probably wouldn't care if she took it.
She might have considered asking permission, but Jinx was out. She hoped her mother was at her job, but chances were equally good she was out drinking somewhere. Mary just hoped her mother would call in the latter case, necessitating a bus ride in the rain to go get her, rather than attempt to drive home herself.
Mary tried the dress on, finding that it fit almost perfectly, and the cut and color flattered her. Brandi came in the room and sat on the bed, looking at her questioningly.
"Why're you dressing up?" she asked, obviously curious.
"Marshall asked me to prom. I was stupid enough to say yes."
"That's not stupid, Mary! That's awesome!" Brandi beamed. "I wish I could go to a prom…"
Mary rolled her eyes. "You will, Squish, when you're in high school."
"If I make it that far," Brandi replied, glancing at the floor.
"Why wouldn't you make it that far?" Mary turned, now totally focused on her sister. "Are you having problems at school?"
"No… I just feel like, the way things are with Mom… like maybe I won't make it," Brandi explained nervously, looking very much like she might start to cry.
Mary nodded slowly. "You know, Squish… I felt like that too, sometimes."
"Really?" Brandi looked at her sister with wide eyes.
"Yeah. After Daddy left, everything got so hard, and it's like Mom just decided it was okay to check out after that. She drank some before, but not as much. But I had you to take care of, and I couldn't give up, and now here I am."
"But I don't have anyone to take care of," Brandi remarked in confusion. Mary sat next to her sister on the bed and hugged her.
"No, but you still have me to take care of you. I won't leave you, Squish."
Brandi nodded, wiping away the stray tears that had managed to escape, careful not to get them on her sister's dress. Mary took a deep breath. As she stroked her sister's hair and looked out the window, into the night and the pouring rain, she knew it was a promise she would do anything to keep.
A/N: That's right, prom is gonna happen! I couldn't really write a high school fic without it! And what else might happen in the upcoming chapters? You won't know unless you stick around to find out!
As always, let me know what you thought of this chapter! Review, review, review - keep the muses well-fed so they won't abandon me again! =P