life.lines
"Alright, listen, you motherfucker. We are going to try this again. I'm going to tell you what to do, and then I want you to do it." Steve's voice floated through the door where Brian stood. There was a pause. "Jesus-fucking-Christ! Can't you do anything right, you lousy piece of shit!?" There was an explosive clatter, followed by the rhythmic pummel of fists.
Brian flung open the door to see Steve beating his fists into the door of his car. He expelled a breath and leaned against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His friend was smeared in grease and his hair, longer than it had ever been, was tied back in a queue. Tools were scattered everywhere, and a socket wrench was balanced precariously on the window sill.
"What are you doing here?" Steven snarled as he slammed the hood down. Brian raised an eyebrow and snuggled further into his jacket.
"I could ask you the same thing. I didn't know that fixing one's car constituted the destruction of tools," Brian quipped.
Steve advanced on his friend and glared at him darkly from beneath his scowling eyebrows. "Fuck. Off. Now." Giving Brian a push, Steve headed towards the kitchen to clean up.
"Steve. We need to talk."
"No. We said everything yesterday. There's nothing more to discuss. You can't expect to have your cake and eat it too." He turned his back on Brian and started scrubbing his hands with soap. He was still pissed off. Everything this entire damn week had been wrong. The studio that they had been planning to use had been rented out to someone else; Stefan was still in Sweden with his current boyfriend Caleb; and his parents were complaining to him about abandoning Emily. The culmination came when Brian insisted that his girlfriend accompany them in the studio. Finally it had all boiled over in him, and he had to release it.
"Listen, love. I'm not saying that Emily can't come with us...."
"Of course not," Steve interrupted sarcastically. "You are just saying that you don't want her there. Fine. Now get the fuck out of my house."
"Steve...."
"Out." Steve heard Brian sigh and seconds later he heard the outter door shut. Closing his eyes against the pain he felt, Steve lowered his head to the counter and let it rest there. He hated being mad at Brian, especially Brian, but it had thoroughly upset him that his long-time friend would want to keep Emily away from the studio, when before there had never been a problem.
Shaking off the oppression he shouted for Emily to grab her jacket for they were going to go out for a minute.
She stood on the pavement and looked through the shop window. Man, it was more expensive than she thought it'd be; more than her pocketbook could afford. Shrugging philosophically, she turned from the window and almost tripped over a small girl. The pixie-ish child grinned up at her and motioned for her to bend over.
"I like your knapsack. It's pretty," the little girl said once she had the woman's attention. Immediately Emily liked the woman because she had such a nice smile.
"Why thank you. I made it myself," the woman responded, taking the liberty to push some of the curly light brown hair out of her eyes. Those eyes instantly lit up and pudgy hands grabbed her own and squeezed tightly.
"Really?!" she squealed. "That's brill. Can you show me?"
Belatedly the woman realized that the girl was alone. Glancing around she tried to pinpoint a parent-looking person, especially if they were running around frantically. "Sure. First, you have to tell me your name, sweetheart, and where I can find your mommy."
The little girl's face scrunched up, and she tugged on her bottom lip. "I don't want you to tell Mummy. But my name's Emily. Emily Elizabeth Hewitt," she expounded proudly. The woman felt a grin upturn her lips as she stuck out her hand, palm up.
"My name is Marie. Marie Theresa Farrell." Seriously they shook hands, though they immediately burst into bright smiles. "Now, goofy girl, we must find your parents." Emily pulled her hand from Marie's and put it to her mouth, giggling loudly behind it.
"My deddy and Uncle Stef and Uncle Bri-Bri call me 'goofy girl' too!" Marie paused and looked down at girl quizzically. Stef? Bri? Hewitt? Was it possible? No, she assured herself swiftly. No, this Emily could in no way be Steven Hewitt's daughter. No, he'd never allow her out of his sight, not with the row that the media was making about their up-coming thrid album.
Smiling to herself, Marie rose to her feet and took ahold of Emily's small hand. A sweet feeling flooded her, and there was a stinging of tears in her eyes. God, to be a mother. If only she could have a sweet little girl like Emily, but she couldn't. Not after that wreck that she was 8 months ago. The doctors had told her numerous times that they were not mistaken and that conception was impossible.
Swallowing against the lump in her throat, Marie pasted on a bright smile and turned to ask Emily which store her parents were in when a voice on the other side of the street shouted.
"EMILY!"
Marie looked up and found herself staring into a pair of desperately angry brown eyes so much like Emily's. She found herself being stared down by Steven Hewitt, and she thought she'd die from sheer delight.
Steve felt his heart jump to his throat when he looked down to see Emily missing. All sorts of horrible thoughts ran through his head. He vividly remembered the day Emily was born and how tiny and sick she had been. The intensity of the pain was not nearly as potent as it was at that moment. He had had years to get to know his daughter, and the thought of never hearing her musical laughter was enough to send him to his knees.
Shoving people out of his way, Steve raced out onto the pavement, not worrying about the shirt clutched in his fist. He couldn't be bothered with such trivial things as shoplifting. His baby could be lost, hurt, or even worse. His voice ragged with fear, Steven shouted for his daughter. Brown eyes scanned the Saturday crowd. Dammit! Why were there so many people? Didn't they have anything else better to do?! Growling impatiently he rushed in the direction of the crystal shop. Emily loved Waterford crystal, and they had passed a shop on the way to the clothing store perhaps she was there.
Dear God, PLEASE let her be there.
A flash of colour in the neutral flood of the crowd caught his attention. A crystal blue, handwoven bag hung from the back of girl with long blonde hair. It had a black Celtic knot wrapped around the bag and the straps were braided. Knowing almost instinctively that Emily would see and thrive on that object, Steve launched himself across the street, heedless of the cars. The only thing that mattered was finding his baby.
"EMILY!" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the woman turned around, and Steven stopped dead in the middle of the road, not caring that tears were streaking down his face. Emily was in that woman's grasp, and he didn't have a clue as to who she was.
"Deddy!" His daughter squirmed out of the woman's arms and started to run to him. Rage clouded Steven's eyes as the woman jerked Emily backward.
"Fuckin' let go of my girl!" he roared, charging towards the other side of the street. His hands itched with the urge to strangle the woman. The woman stared at him impassively, and he could see her tighten her grip on Emily's hand. That was the final straw.
He threw himself at the woman and would have ripped her arm apart if Emily hadn't stepped between them. He could feel his daughter wrap her little arms around his thigh and nestle her face in his hip. The woman had let go. Warily he eyed her as he bent to pick Emily up into his arms. She stood stiffly and looked at him almost as cautiously as he was her. She would have been cute if she wasn't so pale.
Emily destracted him by yanking on his hair repeatedly. "Deddy, her name is...oh, yeah! Marie Theresa Farrell. I remembered it! See, Marie! I remembered it." Marie watched as Emily happily snuggled her face into her father's neck.
Steven Hewitt.
Jesus, how great he looked up close.
How intimidating he was when he was angry.
A smile turned the corner of her lips as she realized he was a lot like her father.
"Yes, sweetling," Marie answered, the smile still on her face. "You most certainly did get it right." Marie turned to look at Steven who was even angrier than before.
"Mary-fucking God, you're a damned Yank!"
Was that ALL he was going to say? Marie stared at Steve, the man she had long admired for his musical abilities. She had just saved his daughter from running out into the street to get hit by a car, and he was going to degrade her place of birth?! The nerve of that man!
"Look here, Mr. Hewitt, I just saved your daughter twice today, so don't you dare belittle my country."
"How did you know my name?" Steve interrupted, his visage tense as he awaited the usual, hysterical outburst of fan adoration. When it didn't come, he got confused.
"Your daughter told me," she all but hissed. She was angry, that much was clear. Suddenly Steven had no idea as to how to handle the situation. What was this woman going to do? Bite him? Kidnap his daughter? Jesus, where was a bloody police when you needed one?
"Deddy! Be nice. Marie is going to teach me how to make a bag like hers. Aren't you, Marie?" Emily asked, swinging her big, bright brown eyes to her new-found friend. Simultaneously both adults answered at once.
"Well, I--"
"NO!"
The harshness and abruptness of her father's voice caused Emily to burst into tears. Crying loudly, she began to throw herself in the direction of Marie. Stunned and acting on pure instinct, Marie captured the girl to her chest and rocked slightly back and forth, crooning to her softly. Steve was shocked and stood there staring, his jaw agape and his hands hanging at his sides. As quickly as her tears started, Emily's tears transformed into an occasional hiccup and a glare at her father.
"She promisssed to tttteach me how to mmmake one, Ddddeddy," Emily pouted. "An' I wan' her tttto." Marie's heart ached as she felt the little girl twine her arms about her neck, felt her tuck her small little head beneath her jaw. Oh, God, so this was what she was missing out on. This blind devotion is what it was like to have children. And she'd never know it, not after Steve took his daughter away.
Good Lord, to see his daughter curled up in the arms of a woman reminded Steven of how it felt to be a couple with someone. Brian had Gwendolyn, his beautiful Irish-born girlfriend whom he'd met in Paris. Stefan had Caleb. And who did he have? No one. Even Katherine, Emily's mum, had a boyfriend. Oh, God, so this was what he was missing out on. This feeling of compatibleness, this feeling of unification, joined by a single but oh-so-powerful bond. And he wanted that. For the first time since the band got started, since Emily was born, he wanted that bond for himself. He was tired of taking care of everyone and making sure everyone else was happy. He wanted someone to look out after him, he wanted someone to make him happy.
Nodding unconsciously, he reached to pull Emily from the woman's arms, but he stopped short when the woman..what was her name, again? Mary? Maria? No, Marie..stepped out of his way. He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. Just look at her! Look how she cupped Emily's head with her hand as if to protect her. The thought was sobering. Did he look capable of hurting his own daughter?
"Deddy, I want Marie to come with us."
Steve shook his head. "No, Emily. She can't. We don't know her, so come here and let's go home. Uncle Bri-Bri is supposed to pick us up in a few hours so we can go get your Uncle Stef from the airport."
"But Deddy," she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks again. "She promised to show me how to make a bag!" Steve saw the pain etched in Marie's eyes and briefly wondered at it. Surely Emily's tears weren't affecting her to such a degree as that.
"Oh, sweetling, I'll send you the directions, ok? You'll know how to do it before you know it."
"No, you can't," Steve responded, as he zipped his coat up against the suddenly chilly wind. "We are going to be leaving town in a couple of days."
Emily's head shot up, smacking Marie's jaw with a sharp thud, but Emily didn't seem to notice, though the woman's eyes laced with tears. "Deddy! Uncle Bri-Bri said that I needed someone to watch me while you played, and since Gwen can't"--she wrinkled her nose--"then Marie can do it! Marie can babysit me!"
Over the little girl's head two pairs of eyes met: one brown and one green; one filled with outrage and the other with surprise.
"So, looks as if she's got you wrapped, my friend," Brian taunted. Settling back with his drink, Brian looked at his friend. Steve seemed to be more drawn than before, and there had been a permanent scowl on his face for the past month.
"Shut it, Molks. I don't need your comments," Steve snarled as he smashed out another drum sequence. He'd been taking his frustration out on his drums for the past 2 hours, and the grey shirt he normally wore for practice was drenched in sweat. Pain seared up his arms, curling in his shoulders, his muscles begged for him to stop, but Steven played on. It was either that or become a homicide suspect. He would have dearly loved to wrap his hands around Brian's and Marie's throats.
"Face it," Brian started again, setting his glass down on the end table with a clink. "You are so torn up over what to do about Emily that you are spoiling her rotten. She knows she can get away with anything just because she knows you are feeling guilty. Indulging her by letting Marie stay is only going to make things worse." Climbing to his feet in a stretch, Brian started to walk to his friend but stopped when he saw the livid aggression in Steven's eyes.
"Whoa! Wait a minute. What did I do?" Brian asked, raising his hands in a defensive gesture.
"What did you do? What did you do?!" Steven threw his sticks to the floor and rose menacingly to his feet. "Let me just enlighten you, mate. If you hadn't been so damned loud when you said Gwendolyn doesn't feel comfortable around kids, maybe, just maybe Emily wouldn't have heard you. Ever cross your mind? It's YOUR fault that Emily thought it necessary to have a sitter. I was going to bring her along REGARDLESS of what you said, but my dear, sweet daughter thought her Uncle Bri-Bri didn't want her along without a sitter. So guess what? When she found Marie so obliging, the girl latched onto that. And why not? It's not like she gets any true affection from Katherine, not that blind love that Marie gives her. My mum loves her, yes, but not the way Marie can, so of course, she's going to want that woman to come along. And as I distinctly remember, you did absolutely nothing to stop Marie from coming! So don't bitch at me about indulging my daughter, mate," Steven finished maliciously.
Now Brian had seen Steve mad before, but this hostility was something new. Never before had the anger literally radiated off of him. He raised his hands again and took a couple of steps back, knowing instinctively not to say anything more or to attempt physical contact.
"Look, go back to your drums and work off the aggression. We don't want to say anything we will regret."
"Well, you should have thought about that before you made Emily the victim. Dammit, she loves you! Why did you have to make her feel insignificant?" Steve demanded, the anger momentarily shifting to frustration.
"I didn't know, Steve. I didn't even think--"
"Damn right you didn't think," a voice from the doorway sounded. Both men turned to stare at Marie as she stood glaring at them. Her features were taut and her hands were curled at her sides.
"I've been listening to you. I've been listening to BOTH of you, and it seems to me both of you are thicker than the day is long! Can't you see that the only thing Emily wants is the love of the 3 men that make up her life? I realize you've done everything you can for her, Steve, so don't even say it!"--Steve's jaw clamped shut with an audible smack--"All she wants is to be noticed by someone. Appreciated. Needed. ACKNOWLEDGED! And while she sits and waits for that, you two idiots blabber over the top of her head, forgetting that she can hear every fucking word that is coming out of your mouths. Get a clue! She's a human being, not some object that disappears when you can't see her. She has ears and eyes and knows when she's being talked about. And, dammit!, if she hears what I'm saying now, I'll never forgive EITHER of you." With that, Marie turned and stalked from the room, slamming the door behind her. Fascinated, both men watched as a framed picture fell to the floor, shattering as a result of the blow.
Brian cleared his throat.
Steve swallowed loudly.
"I, uh...hmmmm," Brian attempted.
"Exactly what I was thinking, mate," responded Steve.
Marie stormed into her room and almost slammed her door before she remembered that Emily was sleeping in her bed. Sighing, she pulled the door shut, but inside she fumed. Who did they think they were? If this was the way that Mr. Steven Hewitt was, then she was better off not ever having met him. Damn him, he was ruining the image he'd always protrayed. And if it wasn't for Emily, she'd walk out now.
Going to the bedside, Marie leaned over the edge and tucked her errant arm beneath the covers. She was so suppressed with her thoughts that she didn't hear the door open.
She sat on the edge of the bed and ran the tip of her finger down Emily's plump cheek. Emily was asleep and they were alone, and so Marie let down the tight rein she held on her emotions. Her eyes filled with tears as she bent over to kiss Emily's forehead.
"I only wanted a daughter. Or a son. I wasn't greedy. As long as the child was healthy. I wanted to be able to hold her and be a mother. But now it won't happen. Everyone always thought that I'd be coming back to the high school reunion with a whole parcel of children. No. I'm going to be an old maid." She tried to stop it. She tried to hold it all inside, but there was absolutely no way she could do it. The sobs tore at her throat and her chest ached with the effort of holding it all in. It was too much. She couldn't help it anymore.
"Oh, Emily, please, baby, be careful. Don't let things overwhelm you. Don't let people push you. Live for yourself. People will take control of your life if you don't, and you won't be happy with the results." By now Marie was sobbing raggedly, and she was trying to keep quiet so as not to wake Emily.
"If you can ever ride a train, do it. Don't get into cars. They are so dangerous. And if you do get into a car, don't get into one with an angry man." Marie bit her lip against the cry that she could feel building inside of her. Quietly she eased off of the bed and stumbled to the corner of the room. As she eased herself onto the floor, she didn't hear the door quietly closing.
There's absolutely no way you can have a baby.
There's no way a girlfriend of mine is going to be pregnant.
There was a echoing of the voices in her mind, each vying for supremacy, but they were all voided by the shrieking of tires and the memory of metal crunching. She buried the heels of her palms into her mouth to stifle the sounds as she rocked back and forth until her turmoil was soothed.
Outside the door, Steve rested his back against the wall and wondered at reason behind the muffled sobs coming from Marie's room.
"Sit."
Both Brian and Stefan turned to look at Steve.
"Excuse me?" Brian asked.
"Sit. Now." Exchanging worried glances, Brian and Stefan seated themselves on a loveseat situated against the back wall of the rehearsal room. "I've got something to say," Steve continued as he began to pace. "And I want you both to listen to it."
He paused midstride, realizing he didn't know what he was about to say. He couldn't very well come right out and say, 'Gee, I was eavesdropping on Marie talking to my sleeping daughter, and I heard something that terrified me.' No, that wasn't an option. So what could he do? How could he make the guys understand when he himself had only a slight grasping of what Marie had been through.
"From now on we have to be especially nice to Marie. She has this fear of cars, so whenever we can ride in something else, we will. None of us can get angry around her. That scares her." Pausing, he wondered if there was anything he left out. The pause was just what Stefan needed.
"Man, what the hell are you babbling about? We've always treated Marie nicely. We haven't ridden in a car for at least a week, and we've never been angry around her, well, except for you. So what is all this about?"
"Yeah," chimmed in Brian. "What is all this 'be-nice-to-Marie' stuff?" Thoroughly exhausted, Steven sat down and again thought about what he was trying to do. He liked Marie. How could he not? She was a wonderful addition to the tour/recording scene. Laughter followed with her wherever she went. She made people relaxed and happy, but the most important thing was that she made Emily act like a child. No longer did she seem like a girl too old for her age. She acted just like a five-year-old ought.
"Look," he amended. "I overheard Marie talking to herself." At their horrified looks, Steven hastily added. "I couldn't help it; she was crying so I was going to see if something was wrong when I heard her talking." A slight lie, but no one would know the difference.
"She's scared of angry men. I don't know why, but she is. I mean, she mentioned a fear of a lot of things."
"Like what?" asked Stefan as he leaned forward, resting his elbows over his knees. Quickly, Steve recounted the entire monologue to his two bandmates, making sure to include the part about children. When he finished he stood with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched as he looked from one man to the other. Brian was tapping his fingers against his thigh, dropping ashes from his fag onto the couch, but not really paying attention to it. Stefan's brows were knitted in thought, then with a lusty, satisfied sigh, he settled himself against the back of the sofa and smile softly up at Steve.
"It's quite easy if you think about it."
"Then tell me, motherfucker!" Steven roared, not worried anymore if he woke up Emily. She could always fall back asleep, but he might never get another moment to understand Marie.
"She was in an accident. Probably not long ago, but it must have been a bad one, and she must have loved the person...the MAN...driving it, otherwise she wouldn't be so torn up over it. But the most traumatic part about it all is that she can't have kids, either because of the wreck or because of something else. But it makes sense. I mean, look at the way she is around Emily. How protective, how loving, how patient, almost as if Em is her own daughter."
A sharp inhalation came from the doorway, and all three men turned, Steve groaning as he did so because he knew what he would find there. Sure enough.
Marie.
She was pale and her eyes were puffy and red. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that she had been crying, and crying fiercely. She looked drawn, he noted, as if she carried the world on her shoulders.
"How did you know that?" she whispered wide-eyed. When all they did was pass glances, she asked again, louder this time. "How the hell did you know that?"
Silence.
"Dammit, how the fuck did you know that!?"
Marie tried to be quiet. She honestly did, because the turmoil she was in now didn't need to be added onto, especially in the form of Em's sweet, innocent questions. How on earth could she tell the baby that she was leaving, and wouldn't be able to stay around for her birthday? Pausing for a minute, she looked down at the still-sleeping Em. God, she would be 5 years old in 2 weeks. She was growing so much; had done so during the short month that Marie had been with her. And now, because they had found out her secret, she was going to have to miss out on her growing even more.
Face it, a voice muttered at her. You are only leaving because your pride has been shattered. What does it matter to you whether or not they know you can't have kids, bad taste in men, and a stupid fear of cars? Do you think that them knowing would change anything? Steve still won't look at you the way you want him to. Tears streamed down her face again as she accepted what the voice told her. There was no way that Steve would look at her as a potential girlfriend. No, she was Em's sitter and always would be. No mixing the two. And even if he did look at her differently, it would be with pity in his brown eyes, and she sure as hell couldn't tolerate that.
A large hand landed on her shoulder at the same time as Stefan said her name. She didn't even turn around.
"Listen, Marie-"
"No," she hissed back, turning suddenly. "You listen. I'm tired of being ridiculed. I'm tired of having people stare at me. I'm tired of pity, and I'm damn tired of listening to everyone else. From now on, what I say goes. I'm the one calling the shots for me. Not you, not Brian, and certainly not Steven Hewitt. Now get out of my way; I've got packing to do." Trying to return to her packing took more strength than she had at the moment. Stefan looked down at her and his heart melted. God, she was miserable and hurting, and it hurt him to see that. Without a word he gathered her into his thin arms and held her close to him, sharing his warmth and his strength.
For several quiet moments, Marie relished being held so closely. It had been almost a year now that anyone had held her so closely, had made her feel so loved. Of course, nothing sexual could come of it, and that was probably the reason for most of the comfort she took from the embrace. She nuzzled her face against his chest and felt Stefan's voice rumble across her cheeks.
"Alright, quit wiping your bloody tears on me, girl. The salt is going to ruin my shirt." Laughing slightly, Marie pulled away and searched Stefan's face. He gently ran his thumbs over her cheeks, smearing the wetness there, before smoothing her hair behind her ears. "Now that you've calmed down, I don't want to hear anymore about you leaving. Understand?" Immediately he wished the words back. Away went her laughter with bleakness coming in hard at its heels.
"You're the one who doesn't understand. I can't stay here anymore. I thought I could, but now that you know, I can't stay. There is no reason for me to stay, Stefan."
"There's no reason for you to leave."
"Oh, isn't there?" erupted the question. "I'll not have pity from you, any of you. The only thing I've ever wanted was acceptance, and I honestly believed I could get it here. But I realize that now I'm wrong. I'll not get acceptance here, or anywhere for that matter."
Marie could see Stefan struggling to respond, but she didn't give him the chance.
"People don't want someone like me around. I'm bad for karma," she sneered, cramming the last of her clothes into the only duffel she had brought with her. "Don't want the bad vibes to wipe off onto unsoiled goodness."
Anger and impatience surged through him as she started to walk away. Grabbing her upper arm, he spun her back to face him, and he was shocked at the incredible depth of self-loathing in her green eyes. "What are you talking about, Marie?" was all he could whisper.
Calmly she answered, "People don't like a baby killer."
"I mean, it just didn't make any sense to me, either," Stefan admitted several hours later. They were all gathered, once again in the music room, mindlessly playing with their instruments. For the past twenty minutes they had been discussing what Marie had told Stefan. None of it made sense. She was continually contradicting herself. She didn't want pity or anyone to pay attention to her or feel sorry for her, but she swore that people didn't like her or want her around. Her entire revelation was a massive contradiction.
"Why don't you just ask her what happened," Brian suggested blithely as he tossed his guitar onto the loveseat he had just vacated. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I am bloody sick of looking at these fucking walls, so I'm going to go arse off. Cheers, mates."
Snarling with disgust, Steven threw his sticks against the far wall, effectively shattering the one remaining picture. "Why is it that he always bails when things get thick? Can he never stick around to see if maybe, by some small and remarkable chance, we might need him?"
"It's pretty useless, love. You know that he's never done that, and since Gregori died, he's been even worse. He hates tangling himself with other people's problems and emotions. Hell, he hates dealing with his own, so how do you expect him to deal with someone else's?"
"But, Stefan," Steve answered. "It's me, his best friend. His bloody fucking husband for all damn appearances. Why can't he find it in his heart to do this for me?"
Softly Steve was enveloped in thin arms. "Because, love, he just doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how, and we've never taught him. It's not that he doesn't love you. In fact, it's because he loves you so much that he leaves. If he knew that this didn't matter to you, he'd stick around because he knows that if he lead you wrong, you wouldn't be upset. But since this is something that is important to you, he's left. He believes that everything he touches is bound to go wrong. He loves you and doesn't want what is important to go wrong. Are you understanding now?"
Steven barely nodded his head while he wrapped his arms around Stefan's waist. "How is it that you got to be so smart, mate?"
Beneath his cheek, he felt Stefan laugh and felt more than heard him say, "The Vulcan knows all."
For the hundredth time, Marie wondered why the hell she let herself be talked into going on this stupid excursion.
A date. She had a fucking date. Here she was 28-years-old and she felt as if she was 18 again.
What a God-awful feeling that was.
Across from her, Steven didn't look like he was having such a grand time either.
"Steven, I truly appreciate the pity date, but you didn't have to. I already told you that I wouldn't leave until you and the guys finished recording the new album, ok? So this little 'let's-hope-this-entices-Marie-to-stay' deal is not needed."
Sighing heavily, Steve looked at the woman across from him. He had been so uncomfortable all night. And why? Because he was actually aware of Marie as a woman. Not Emily's nanny. Not some Yank. No. He was as much aware of her as a woman as he was aware of his own heartbeat, which, by and by, was going at one helluvan accelerted rate.
"First off, Marie, is it such a strange idea that I should want to take you out simply because I want to?"
"Yes," she responded immediately. For a moment, Steve just stared at her with the most peculiar expression, almost as if he had swallowed something sideways. The expression was so pained that Marie couldn't help herself.
She laughed.
Several moments paused before Steven smiled and picked up the glass he had been nursing all night. "You're very pretty when you laugh, Marie." The laughter on her face died into a sickeningly white pallor. "What? What did I say?"
She fumbled with her glass as she swallowed hastily. "Nothing, it's just that I haven't heard that in awhile." Two years, 4 months, and 1 day, to be exact.
Steven slammed his glass on the table. "Dammit, don't lie to me. I hate it when you do that. I've known you only for a month, and I can already tell when you are lying to me. Your mouth gets this little twitch in the corner of it. I can see it now, so tell me what the hell I said that upset you." He was totally uncaring that all of the people in the crowded restaurant/bar had turned to stare at him as he continued to yell. "And I don't care what that bastard of a boyfriend did to you. Or said to you, for that matter. The pratt obviously didn't know a good thing when he had it, so the little shit deserved to lose you. And another thing! I AM here because I want to be. This is not a pity date, which is the most fucked up idea I have ever heard of in my life! Why the hell would I be here if I pitied you? I'd be at home watching 'Eastenders' if I really pitied you! Jesus, why would you think such a thing?"
By now Marie could feel her face flaming as all the people in the establishment stared at the spectacle that Steven was making. She urgently pulled on his sleeve, hissing for him to sit down and be quiet.
"I will not bloody be quiet! And I won't sit down. Now are you--"
A large, broad hand landed on Steven's shoulder, adequately making his yelling stop. Already boiling, Steven's temper just exploded as he turned to face the man that had interrupted him.
"Mate," the man said. "Ya do have to be quiet and sit down like the lady said, or you've got to be leaving."
"The bloody fuck you say!"
Marie knew what was going to happen even before it did. Then it happened. Steven swung his fist around, and it connected to the guy's nose. The crunching sound was audible just seconds before the blood started spurting.
"This is your own fault, you know," Marie chided as she cleaned up the blood on Steven's face. Blood tracked across his cheeks and down over his chin from the blow the security man had dealt Steven in return. Marie knew Steven's nose wasn't broken, but the other man was not so lucky.
"What do you mean, my fault? The bugger was going to throw me out, and then he tried to manhandle me!" came the shouted response from behind the rag Marie used to clean his nose.
"Yes, but that's only because you were shouting in an extremely nice restaurant. People don't like listening to yelling while they are trying to have a meal. It's bad for the digestion."
"Fuck digestion," he muttered and then continued to mumble even more. The words were incomprehensible, and something told Marie that she should hear them.
She pulled back and looked down at him. "What?"
"Nothing."
"Steven Michael Hewitt. Don't lie to me. I know you said something else. What was it?"
His head snapped up. "How'd you know my second name?"
Rolling her eyes, Marie walked to the sink at the other end of the room and started rinsing out the bloody rag. "Emily," she finally answered as she rung out the clothe.
"Figures. That girl doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut."
"Shut up, Steven. She's a precious little girl starved for female attention, and now that I'm giving it to her, she is going to tell me anything and everything." She continued for a few minutes in that line of thought, and Steve sighed in relief. He didn't want to tell her what he had been saying. It was something that he himself barely accepted, as true as it was, and he didn't want to discuss it with anyone until he knew exactly what it all meant.
"But that isn't going to deter me from what I want to know. What were you saying?" He looked at her as she walked to the couch and started folding laundry. God, he thought, It's so nice to have a woman back in this place. Doing such trivial things that mean so much. Cooking, cleaning, smiling, laughing. He didn't realize that he had missed those things until Marie came into their lives. The studio wasn't a studio anymore. It was a home, and that was something that everyone needed, especially the guys.
And you, a voice niggled at the back of his mind. And Em.
"I said," he announced suddenly. "That the only reason I hit the pratt was because I didn't want him to throw us out."
A little laugh escaped Marie as she folded a pair of Stefan's leopard briefs. "You could have apologized and sat back down quietly. We wouldn't have been kicked out then."
Rage exploded inside of Steven, and he jumped to his feet, tipping the chair to the ground. Marie spun around and stared at him, her eyes wide, Brian's shirt clutched to her chest. The fear he saw in those green eyes depleted the anger Steven had felt.
"Marie," he said softly as he walked towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I didn't want us to leave because I wanted to make you happy for a little while."
Eyes still wide, she stared at him. "Why?" she whispered.
"I don't know why. I just couldn't stand seeing the self-recrimination in your eyes anymore. I wanted to bring you happiness for just a little while. You are becoming important to me and the rest of us as well, especially Em," Steven answered honestly, gently squeezing her shoulders and pulling her into his arms as tears filled her eyes. "Shhhh," he whispered, just as he had done when Em used to have nightmares. "I'm here. Shhhh..."
They stood like that for some time: Steven's arms around a crying Marie. It was a glorious feeling for them both. Marie no longer had to feel strong, and Steven could finally take care of someone and not feel cheated. He knew Marie cared for him, and it was a good feeling. One that he had missed for years.
A small body landed square on Marie's stomach, knocking the air from her lungs. God what a way to wake up, she thought as she struggled to tuck Emily beside her while she caught her breath.
"Deddy, Deddy, look! She's awake!" Emily pounced on her chest once more. Marie groaned, and then bolted upright when Emily's words registered. Jesus, Steven was in her room!
God what a way to wake up, she thought again as she took in Steven's tattered jeans and tight black shirt. Oh, he looked heavenly, she decided, as a small grin pulled at the corners of his mouth.
Damn, she looks hot first thing in the morning. Her hair was messed and her eyes bright and her skin looked warm, and holy shit! what on earth is that she's wearing?!
Marie followed Steven's eyes, and when they widened, she swiftly looked down. OOOOh, fuck! her negligee was all askew. The sheer portion was not in the right spot, holy crap! Hastily, Marie rearranged her nightgown, cursing herself for not locking the door, cursing herself for ever buying the damned gown, cursing the blush she knew covered every inch of her skin.
"Deddy! Give it to her!" Oh, bless you, Em, they both thought as she broke the awkward silence between them.
"Give me what?"
"This." Coming further into the room, Steven held out a cake with a single candle in it.
"What on earth-?" Marie began. She was cut off by three voices perfectly harmonized and a single, childish voice perfectly adorable.
"Happy birthday, dear Marie. Happy birthday to you." Tears welled in her eyes as Brian, Stefan, Steven, and Emily finished the song and began urging her to blow out the candle. Taking a deep breath, she made a wish that surprised her. She didn't wish for the child she could never have. No, she wished to continue life in the presence of her new family. Looking at each of them in turn, Marie closed her eyes and blew out the candle.
God, she's beautiful, Steven thought as he handed the cake over to Marie. He watched as she smiled and placed it on the bed-side table. She opened her arms and with a joyful smile on her face, and more importantly in her eyes, she said, "Give the birthday girl a hug."
Slyly, Steven looked at Brian and Stefan. If their looks of laughter were any indication, they knew exactly what he wanted. "One..two...three!" All at once they all three bounded onto the bed, smothering Marie and Emily beneath them as they reached out to hug and tickle anything they came into contact with.
The sound of laughter from 5 people filled the room for long moments.
