Chapter Text
Dr. Malone's eyes were blue. Just like hers, she'd thought at first, but then — not quite so. The scholar's eyes were warm blue that reminded her of summer evenings near the ocean, and warm rain, and contentedness, something she hadn't really felt in a long, long time. Marisa's own eyes were, well, icebergs in that same damned, revolting ocean.
Dr. Malone's voice was sharp. She'd found this impertinent at first, but then, as Marisa was telling the scholar who she was, Mary's voice instantly became softer. There was still some sharpness to it, though, and Marisa couldn't stop herself from wincing noticeably. She was thinking about how she'd had to work on her voice since the day she remembered herself, a little young girl who had spoken too loudly, too harshly for her own parents' taste; and how she'd had to control herself any time she'd wanted to scream, or laugh, or be excited. It simply wasn't for her, her parents had told her, with her voice being too edgy, too annoying since the very first day she started speaking. And she'd made peace with that a long time ago as she'd never really known anything else.
Marisa was thinking about how all those men from the Magisterium had the most annoying voices she'd ever heard and still, she had been the one told to train hers. But that was quite all right, she supposed. All the women in her world were told that they were too loud, or too insistent, or too troublesome for anyone's liking. She guessed it was the norm and had never tried to fight it. Still, here was Dr. Malone, bright, and brilliant, and not ashamed of who she was and what she had been born with. Marisa winced once again.
Dr. Malone's red hair was untamed. In her world, women who had red hair were told to dye it or hide it but never, ever, show it in public. When Marisa's parents had seen a few red strands on her head for the first time, her mother had locked herself in her room and hadn't spoken to her for a week. It had been the most wonderful, unfettered, perfect week of her life. It'd ended with her dyeing her hair and never talking about it again. Dr. Malone's hair was tossed and curly, and she wore it like armour rather than a burden. Marisa felt a twinge of envy. She preferred not to acknowledge the enthrallment hiding behind it.
**
Over time, Dr. Malone insisted on being called Mary. "Why would I call you that?" Marisa asked her, flabbergasted.
Dr. Malone bit her lip and chuckled awkwardly. "Because it's my name?" It came out soft and surprised, and for a single moment, Marisa felt as if she couldn't get away from the urge to smile at this impertinent, intelligent, free woman. She didn't.
"I know that, obviously," she huffed instead. "But if I had been the one with Dr. in front of my name, I would never have wanted to be called anything but."
She looked her right in the eye, and the scholar's gaze was burning. "I understand," Dr. Malone smiled kindly. "However, sooner or later you get tired of being called that."
"I wouldn't," came the proud response. Mary couldn't but notice Marisa's eyes were glowing in the half-dark of her office. When did the sun go down? Mary's hands began trembling at the thought she was going to voice next.
"Well then," she began quietly but steadily, despite the fact her heart was racing. "Maybe I just like hearing you say my name," the woman almost whispered, fidgeting with the sleeves of her blazer.
She could swear Marisa's breath hitched for a second. Her look was intense, and she didn't seem to blink at all; her upper lip twitched. Mary started counting. When she reached ten, she cleared her throat to add, "Or maybe I just don't like being too official."
It was difficult to understand what exactly Marisa was thinking. She kept gazing at her, steady and in complete control over her body, though her fingers had instantly reached for her usual brown handbag, as if searching for the serenity of what she kept in there.
Suddenly — although Mary thought her reaction was actually quite belated, considering what she'd said — Marisa stoop up. "Yes," she spoke restrainedly. Mary mentally cursed herself. "You probably don't."
A few more moments passed as they were staring at each other; Marisa firm and adamant, Mary shaken and doubtful. Then, Marisa spoke once again, "I feel like I should go. Thank you for your time, Dr. Malone." The other woman sighed heavily at that but nodded, her frown more and more apparent.
"Marisa!" she exclaimed just as the woman was opening the door. "Why couldn't you possibly?" Marisa arched her eyebrow. "Get a doctorate?"
The door closed, leaving a deafening silence behind.