Prom: Marie and Haller outside

[x-legion.livejournal.com]

After Marie's talk with Amanda, Haller finds her outside -- and can relate to missed experiences.




Marie hadn't been able to stop crying since she began. What had started as one tear gently trailing down her cheek had turned into a river of tears. There was no sobbing, no gasping for air, just a constant stream of liquid running down her face. Coming to this was a mistake. You aren't normal, Marie. You don't get to do these things.

Just as she decided that abandoning her chaperone duties would be the best solution, she heard the door open. Quickly wiping her face, she hoped her gloves would absorb most, if not all, of the moisture. She kept her back turned and hoped that whoever had opened the door would not notice her.

Jim stepped through the back door undoing the first button of his nehru jacket, closing his eyes as the cooler air hit his face. The event hall was large, but the press of bodies had warmed it. He'd felt the need for some fresh air, perhaps a smoke before going back inside.

The sound of soft, sob-labored breathing brought him back to himself. Jim opened his eyes to see a slim figure leaning against the wall a few yards away, hunched towards the parking lot. A moment's thought put a name to the silhouette.

"Marie?" Jim said, hands falling away from his jacket. The question was soft, just loud enough to carry across the distance between them. "Are you all right?"

"Ah'm fine," Marie said automatically. Turning around, she struggled to put a name with the face she was seeing. When she realized who had stumbled across her, she hesitated briefly before forcing a smile. The last thing she wanted was the school counselor to see her like this. "Really David, Ah'm fine."

He knew that smile. That was the smile of someone who didn't want to talk but desperately needed to, and the reddening of the eyes and nose did nothing to disguise it. Jim had heard a little of Marie's history -- largely concerning her powers, and all the problems that came with that. He felt a pang of sympathy. Oh, no. Of course a school dance would be hard for her.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Jim asked, pausing a few feet away to lean against the wall. "It's a little stressful. Being a chaperone, I mean. I've never been to a school dance before. I don't really know what I'm supposed to be doing." He extracted a pack from his pocket and held it up to her with a questioning look. "Would you like one?"

For the first time in her life, Marie was tempted to take one. "Go ahead, Ah got used to smoke after being around Logan," she said and then shook her head to decline the proffered cigarette. "And Ah think this dance has more chaperones than attendees, so no real worry on the job being covered." Falling silent, she returned to staring at the stars.

Jim smiled a little as he repocketed the pack and flicked his lighter open. "It's just . . . very weird, being here as a responsible adult when it's something I never went through myself. It's like watching life on another planet. It's so . . . normal. Like I always heard normal was supposed to be, anyway. I don't feel like I belong here."

That grabbed Marie's attention and evoked an immediate response. "Neither do I." Turning, she looked pensively at Haller. "But Ah'm not normal. It's not like looking at life on another planet, it is another planet to me. Or it may as well be," she said in a wavering voice.

Jim nodded slightly, mismatched eyes flicking from the cigarette in his hand to hers. "Yeah. Me too. Different reasons, but . . . yeah." He took a long drag and released it slowly, like a sigh. "It's frustrating, living with people who have what you don't. Who take it for granted because they can't even imagine it could be any other way. As if just being alive is a constant reminder of what you aren't. And you know it's not anyone's fault, nobody ever means to do it, but -- knowing that doesn't help. Not really." His eyes fell to the cigarette again, reflecting gold in the dark. "It's just the way things are."

"Some days Ah almost wish they knew what it was like to be me. Almost. Just so they would understand how wonderful what they have truly is." Slowly she pulled off one of her black silk gloves and stared at her hand. "It's not fair." Quickly slipping the glove back on, she continued almost defensively. "And Ah know life isn't fair, but that doesn't make it any easier for me."

"No. It really doesn't. Knowing life sucks doesn't really make it suck any less. Especially when you know there's almost no one else in the world who'll ever understand how much." Jim gave her a lopsided smile. "The people here, though -- they can come close. Everyone in their own ways. Up to and including the professor. It's just . . . different. And it's hard not to want what you can't have."

She tried to smile back but failed, thinking about everyone she knew who wanted something others took for granted but couldn't have. To touch. To walk. To remember the past. To be able to blend in on the outside. "Ah'd trade in an instant. Ah doubt they'd say the same." She sighed slowly. "Ah don't mean to sound all woe is me, things are hardest for poor pathetic Marie. You just caught me on a rough night." She gestured to the window where it was easy to make out people dancing and having a good time. "Ah thought Ah was strong enough that this wouldn't phase me."

Jim smiled again. "It's a great myth that it's humanly possible to cope all the time in the face of any circumstances. Especially in ones that stomp all over your issues. Even if you've got a pretty good on things in general . . . sometimes you just get tired. Life really does suck sometimes. I think everyone's entitled to be weak about it once in a while. Especially if you've had to spend most of your life being mature and responsible in dealing with it. You've earned it, if that makes sense." Something he truly believed Marie had. Monitoring a mutation like hers would have been incredibly draining for anyone, and Jim remembered she had only just turned twenty-one. She should be too young to have to deal with this kind of burden. In a perfect world, anyway.

"The things that you can't do," Jim said after a moment, "shouldn't get in the way of the things you can. It's just direct skin-to-skin contact, right? You could still touch otherwise?"

But what did Ah do to earn this mutation in the first place? Pushing that thought to the far recesses of her mind, she nodded in response to his question. "Enter the gloves," she kidded weakly while waving her fingers in the air. "But most people are pretty hesitant about contact with me, even with the protective layers. Not that Ah can blame them." Smoothing the fabric of her gloves, she forced herself to keep her eyes locked on Haller's, despite the desire to turn away and withdraw.

"I thought so. Um . . ." and he couldn't believe he was actually about to ask her this, "do you maybe want to try dancing? I, I'm supposed to owe Lorna one later except I only know swing and I'm kind of terrified to get out on the dance floor, only if I don't I know I'm going to regret it. And Lorna went to her prom and this is my first, so I thought maybe if it was your first and my first it'd be . . . easier. And we're both staff. And you only come up to my chin and I've got long sleeves, so there's not a lot of chance of direct contact." Jim smothered the urge to thump his head against the wall of the building. Oh dear god, my professional decorum just went MIA. Is it too obvious we've never asked a girl to dance before?

Marie blinked a few times, processing all he'd said before a small, but genuine, smile spread across her face. Every other offer for a dance that evening had come from someone with pity in their eyes. And that pity made her remember her differences. Haller's mismatched pair offered only anxiety, reminding her of their similarities. After all, this was her first prom as well.

"Shall we?" she asked, hesitating for an instant before holding out her hand.

Jim grinned in relief. He honestly wasn't sure what he'd have done if he'd gotten through a speech that mortifying and been refused. Possibly some variation of curling up in his closet with a stuffed animal again. His life hadn't exactly lent itself to successful social interaction. With a negligent flick of his fingers the cigarette was tossed to the pavement and crushed beneath the heel of his dress-shoe. Final distraction gone, Jim reached out to take Marie's gloved hand without a flicker of uncertainty.

"We'll do our best," he said.