Title: A
Different Kind of Fire (1/1)
Author: Northlight
email: temporary_blue@yahoo.ca
Summary: Maria is hurting, and Isabel is there to offer
her support.
Type: An itsy, bitsy, almost unnoticeable Maria/Isabel.
Distribution: List archives if they want. If you already
have any of my other fics, go right ahead. If not, ask --
I always say yes.
Disclaimer: WB and 20thC Fox.
Date: Nov. 27, 1999
Despite Maria's best
efforts to muffle her sobs into her trembling hands, her
soft cries still reverberated through the woman's
restroom. Isabel hesitated at the door, seriously
considering leaving the other young woman to her own
misery. Any woman involved with Michael Guerin was a fool
if she didn't realize that she wouldn't come out of the
relationship unscorched.
But those _sobs_...
Isabel sighed and
resolutely kicked aside the doorstop to the bathroom. She
quickly pressed the door shut and bolted the door. Bad
enough that she was about to play the part of buddy to
Maria DeLuca... but perish the thought that any of her
other... friends, significantly higher up the social
ladder than Maria, should witness their interaction.
She walked further into
the bathroom, her eyes immediately narrowing in on the
last stall. Tucked away in the furthest corner of the
room, the light overhead having long blown out, the stall
had borne witness to the cries of numerous broken hearted
women who had sought refuge in it's narrow confines.
Maria's sobs had stopped
upon hearing the door shut, but Isabel could still hear
her ragged breathing -- uneven breaths of air drawn in as
she fought to hold back her tears until she was alone
once more. "Maria!" Isabel snapped. She heard
the other girl yelp as she jumped in surprise, her elbow
smashing into the stall's metal wall. "Get out here,
now. I'd rather not speak to the door," Isabel
continued, slightly more gentle in tone.
Maria's voice wavered
when she replied. "I'm not coming out just to see
you _smirk_ at me, Isabel Evans! I know what you thought
about me, and I know... I know that all of you are
probably out there laughing at me for... for--"
"Being suckered by
Michael?" Isabel answered calmly. "No one is
laughing, Maria. I admit, I wasn't very pleased to
discover that you and Michael were involved in... well,
whatever it was you two did. But I am far from ready to
laugh at your pain. For whatever reason, I know you cared
about him." Standing before the stall Maria was
hiding in, arms crossed beneath across her chest, Isabel
waited. She scowled slightly when she noted that rather
than calming Maria down, her words had served to ignite
another round of broken sobs.
Unfurling her arms, one
elegant hand passed across the latch to the door which
Maria had closed herself behind. Isabel nudged the door
open, careful not to catch the other young woman with it.
Her nose wrinkled slightly when she saw that Maria's back
was against the wall, her head resting against her drawn
up knees. Thankfully enough, she still had enough sense
not to be _sitting_ on the bathroom floor, Isabel
thought.
Maria's head rose only
when Isabel's hand landed on her trembling shoulder. Her
eyes were red rimmed, dark blurs mascara smudged around
her eyes where she had futilely scrubbed at tearing eyes
with hands and tissue. Her nose was runny, and her lips
were dry, the gloss that usually coated them worn free as
her teeth had clamped down upon her lower lip. "You
should really try to avoid crying in public, Maria,"
Isabel stated.
"I know," she
muttered wearily. "Why do you think I'm sitting in
here?" Isabel extended her hand, and Maria stared at
it blankly for a long moment before cautiously reaching
out to grasp it. Isabel tugged Maria up and out of the
stall, herding her towards the mirror.
Isabel motioned for
Maria to take a seat upon the ledge running across the
mirror-lined wall. As she wordlessly scrambled up, Isabel
fished a handkerchief out from her bag. She ran it
beneath cool water, wringing it out thoroughly before
approaching Maria. Isabel grasped Maria's chin, intent on
scrubbing away the smeared makeup with the cloth she had
just wet.
The cloth whispered
against Maria's flesh, a smooth, repetitive motion as
Isabel washed away the traces of the tears which had
driven Maria into hiding. "Why are you suddenly
being so nice to me?" Maria asked, and it was a
little girl's voice, vulnerable and hurting.
Isabel's hand stilled
and she lifted her eyes until they met Maria's. "I'm
not a monster, Maria. I do care that you're hurting. I
just don't see why you choose to do so over
Michael."
Maria's lower lip
trembled. "I thought he _liked_ me. Oh God, I
_wanted_ him to, so very badly." Tears stood out in
her eyes.
"Hey, no more
crying!" Isabel chided. "I just finished
getting you all cleaned up." She let her hands drop
from Maria's face, her head tilting to the side slightly
as she studied Maria's miserable expression.
"Michael does like you, Maria. It's just
that--"
"I'm not good
enough, am I? Mr. Alien Freak thinks I'm not good enough
for him, does he?" Maria's voice was angry and
bitter, her shaking hands unconsciously curling into
fists at her side.
Isabel blinked.
"Not good enough? Where in the world did you get an
idea like that, Maria?"
Maria tore her gaze away
from Isabel's, staring at her lap. "Seems pretty
self-evident. Condescending bastard treats me like I'm a
ditz without a brain cell in my head, ignores me, insults
me, strings me along and then ditches me because the only
thing that I'm good for is a few kisses!" Her voice
broke on the last words, and her clenched fist pounded
against the counter on which she was perched.
Isabel winced slightly
at the undisguised pain in Maria's words. "That
isn't you. Michael has problems with intimacy... that
whole no attachments rule of his. I think he cared so
much that he didn't know what to do--"
Maria cut her off.
"He wouldn't have left if it were you he was pawing
at," she said, watching for Isabel's reaction from
the corner of her eyes. "He _likes_ you, you know?
Me, I'm just a distraction... and I took it. He held me
and I pretended that I was something to him. I tried to
believe that I _mattered_."
She had always joked
about being beautiful, about being desired. There was no
way that Maria would believe her if she denied
recognizing that Michael probably did harbour at least
some attraction towards her. "You do matter,
Maria."
"Ri-i-ight. So much
so that he ditched me at the first possible
opportunity." Her arms were wound tightly around her
waist in a hunched, defensive posture. "And if he
came in here right this moment... I don't know that I'd
punch him instead of kiss him."
Isabel's hand was warm
and soft against Maria's knee. Her eyes were sympathetic
when she once again took hold of Maria's chin, forcing
her head up. "You deserve better than that."
Maria flushed. "I
haven't exactly had any better offers present themselves
to me."
Isabel's perfectly
formed eyebrows arched. "Maybe you just haven't been
looking hard enough." Her breath came out in a soft
hiss, and Isabel backed away, shaking her head slightly.
She mustered up a small smile for Maria's benefit when
she noted Maria's confusion at her sudden withdraw.
"Better now?"
"I -- I suppose
so," Maria answered uncertainly.
A brush and tube of lip
gloss found their way out of Isabel's bag and into
Maria's hands. "Good. Now freshen up and get back
out there."
She turned towards the
door, looking over her shoulder before she slid the bolt
free. "And Maria? Don't worry about me and Michael.
Out of the two of you, I think he's the one who should be
worried." And with that, she was gone.
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