Mary Margaret Blanchard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_fairest) wrote2012-05-20 06:49 pm
the_fairest) wrote2012-05-20 06:49 pm
1.06, The Shepherd
"Rough day?"
Dr. Whale's voice invaded her careful study of the Peridot ring on her finger. Not that she was actually looking at it. She rarely did. She was looking at it and turning it, because it helped her feel less like she was going to break into pieces that couldn't hold steady on the bar stool.
She'd been such a fool. To hope. To believe. That David, of all people.
And then to have him show up here, while she was like this?
"Don’t feel like talking," Mary Margaret said roughly, to her ring, without looking at him. She'd gotten good at avoiding looking at any of them since she'd managed to avoid Ruby when she walked in. She was grateful it was too late for Granny to be here, too.
"Come on," His voice cajoled from her side. As though somehow this was funny. "Sometimes, it’s easier to talk to someone when you don’t give a crap what they think."
She looked over at him, blank and unapologetic, not even attempting to wipe away the tracks of her tears now. The fact he'd been clear she didn't care what he thought. The fact that, especially right now, it felt more right than wrong. When this morning he'd been trying to own her resignation being all up to him and their terrible date not so long ago.
What he'd said was ludicrous, was what it was. But the further she walked into it, that idea, the less insane it sounded. Ruby would have maligned David on the spot for her, even if Ruby probably though it was pointless and her taste was terrible already. She was so angry and hurt, but hearing his name, hearing him disparaged.
She didn't even know if she could take that, too.
It wasn't his fault. At least it wasn't all his fault.
"You ever walk into a situation," Mary Margaret started slowly, talking to her hands and her ring, and maybe, maybe to the lousy date, and not always so terrible doctor, beside her. "where you know exactly what’s going to happen and then you go into it anyway?"
"And then," She couldn't even pause for him. "When what you’re afraid of happens, you kick yourself. Because you should’ve known better. But that’s just who you are. It’s like you’re punishing yourself."
It was like she given him a hand written invitation to stomp on her heart.
She'd known better. She'd known better the whole time. She'd even asked Emma this morning how to stop him, how to let him down. She'd been trying to say no. Saying no, because she'd known where this would always end from the moment Regina brought Kathryn in.
"No." It was so small, and simple, which such a broad bravado as he laughed, tapping his hands on the counter.
It was the last thing she thought he'd say, enough that she'd look over at him. It seemed impossible to even think of how he didn't look remotely empathetic or concerned. Even Ruby's hand had exuded it, across the bar from it. "How do you do that?"
"By never doing what’s expected – keeps life interesting." He'd smiled through all of those words, and then as if to make the proof of his own words, he leaned in toward her. "Can I buy you a drink?
She stared at him as though it were the most outlandish thing to say next. But she saw it, clear, even though the haze of pain. The point. It was the least expected thing. He shouldn't have asked, and of course, she would say no. She was supposed to say no. It was her MO.
She'd even said no to having a drink on their dinner.
She'd been lonely that night, too. And this one.
She'd done everything expected of her then.
Her hands dropped, "You can buy me two."
He smiled, snorting in appreciative amusement by the answer, and raised a hand for Ruby.
~*~
Mary Margaret couldn't say she was glad for Dr. Whale's presence even two hours later, but, when the front of her ballet flat caught on the lip of the door headed outward, sending her almost spilling forward until he suddenly caught her, she was grateful.
"Careful," his voice, was a concerned snort with that same breeze of a hollow laugh that was just in his tone, running concurrent to the edge of the doctor coming out in what he said next. "Are you sure you're good to drive?"
"I'm good," she caught to him herself, the hand that had grasped over his on her arm, skirting away a second later. Smoothing her skirt, relieved as she said quickly. "I walked." A little absently, as she almost took one step away, brushing the spot on her arm right an inch below where his hand still was.
Her thank you got stuck in her throat, but she swallowed through the cloying feeling. It was another of those expected things, and tonight was not about expected things. The numbers of drinks making her stomach warmed through and her vision, not blurred, but lit up around the edges like the flare around a light bulb.
"You want a ride home?" He even looked amused at her confused, surprised expression.
That could be filed under least expected things, too. She'd walked home from their first date, after watching him ogle Ruby. Not that if he'd asked she would have said, "Yes -- "
She hadn't looked away from his face yet, and she wasn't smiling.
But she thought of the jacket and envelope on Emma's pillow, and how doing everything expected, everything safe, that had brought her to the bridge earlier. How everything right, led to the boulder inside her half-numbed center and the man looking at her with the raised eyebrows of a question.
And last, least, from the beginning of the list, the ghost there -- David in his perfect little house with his perfect remembered wife, who left her with the words It's the right thing to do. how she'd done 'right' and what was 'expected' and both of those, with her heart and her hope, were shattered on the Toll Bridge, with all her dignity, too.
Mary Margaret leaned up on her toes, being rewarded with that new sharp surprised, impressed, mocking expression of his he'd had off and on all night. His eyebrows going higher than they had yet. Her last word before she kissed him was "-- Later."
Dr. Whale's voice invaded her careful study of the Peridot ring on her finger. Not that she was actually looking at it. She rarely did. She was looking at it and turning it, because it helped her feel less like she was going to break into pieces that couldn't hold steady on the bar stool.
She'd been such a fool. To hope. To believe. That David, of all people.
And then to have him show up here, while she was like this?
"Don’t feel like talking," Mary Margaret said roughly, to her ring, without looking at him. She'd gotten good at avoiding looking at any of them since she'd managed to avoid Ruby when she walked in. She was grateful it was too late for Granny to be here, too.
"Come on," His voice cajoled from her side. As though somehow this was funny. "Sometimes, it’s easier to talk to someone when you don’t give a crap what they think."
She looked over at him, blank and unapologetic, not even attempting to wipe away the tracks of her tears now. The fact he'd been clear she didn't care what he thought. The fact that, especially right now, it felt more right than wrong. When this morning he'd been trying to own her resignation being all up to him and their terrible date not so long ago.
What he'd said was ludicrous, was what it was. But the further she walked into it, that idea, the less insane it sounded. Ruby would have maligned David on the spot for her, even if Ruby probably though it was pointless and her taste was terrible already. She was so angry and hurt, but hearing his name, hearing him disparaged.
She didn't even know if she could take that, too.
It wasn't his fault. At least it wasn't all his fault.
"You ever walk into a situation," Mary Margaret started slowly, talking to her hands and her ring, and maybe, maybe to the lousy date, and not always so terrible doctor, beside her. "where you know exactly what’s going to happen and then you go into it anyway?"
"And then," She couldn't even pause for him. "When what you’re afraid of happens, you kick yourself. Because you should’ve known better. But that’s just who you are. It’s like you’re punishing yourself."
It was like she given him a hand written invitation to stomp on her heart.
She'd known better. She'd known better the whole time. She'd even asked Emma this morning how to stop him, how to let him down. She'd been trying to say no. Saying no, because she'd known where this would always end from the moment Regina brought Kathryn in.
"No." It was so small, and simple, which such a broad bravado as he laughed, tapping his hands on the counter.
It was the last thing she thought he'd say, enough that she'd look over at him. It seemed impossible to even think of how he didn't look remotely empathetic or concerned. Even Ruby's hand had exuded it, across the bar from it. "How do you do that?"
"By never doing what’s expected – keeps life interesting." He'd smiled through all of those words, and then as if to make the proof of his own words, he leaned in toward her. "Can I buy you a drink?
She stared at him as though it were the most outlandish thing to say next. But she saw it, clear, even though the haze of pain. The point. It was the least expected thing. He shouldn't have asked, and of course, she would say no. She was supposed to say no. It was her MO.
She'd even said no to having a drink on their dinner.
She'd been lonely that night, too. And this one.
She'd done everything expected of her then.
Her hands dropped, "You can buy me two."
He smiled, snorting in appreciative amusement by the answer, and raised a hand for Ruby.
Mary Margaret couldn't say she was glad for Dr. Whale's presence even two hours later, but, when the front of her ballet flat caught on the lip of the door headed outward, sending her almost spilling forward until he suddenly caught her, she was grateful.
"Careful," his voice, was a concerned snort with that same breeze of a hollow laugh that was just in his tone, running concurrent to the edge of the doctor coming out in what he said next. "Are you sure you're good to drive?"
"I'm good," she caught to him herself, the hand that had grasped over his on her arm, skirting away a second later. Smoothing her skirt, relieved as she said quickly. "I walked." A little absently, as she almost took one step away, brushing the spot on her arm right an inch below where his hand still was.
Her thank you got stuck in her throat, but she swallowed through the cloying feeling. It was another of those expected things, and tonight was not about expected things. The numbers of drinks making her stomach warmed through and her vision, not blurred, but lit up around the edges like the flare around a light bulb.
"You want a ride home?" He even looked amused at her confused, surprised expression.
That could be filed under least expected things, too. She'd walked home from their first date, after watching him ogle Ruby. Not that if he'd asked she would have said, "Yes -- "
She hadn't looked away from his face yet, and she wasn't smiling.
But she thought of the jacket and envelope on Emma's pillow, and how doing everything expected, everything safe, that had brought her to the bridge earlier. How everything right, led to the boulder inside her half-numbed center and the man looking at her with the raised eyebrows of a question.
And last, least, from the beginning of the list, the ghost there -- David in his perfect little house with his perfect remembered wife, who left her with the words It's the right thing to do. how she'd done 'right' and what was 'expected' and both of those, with her heart and her hope, were shattered on the Toll Bridge, with all her dignity, too.
Mary Margaret leaned up on her toes, being rewarded with that new sharp surprised, impressed, mocking expression of his he'd had off and on all night. His eyebrows going higher than they had yet. Her last word before she kissed him was "-- Later."