Who: Marion and Gus. When: 1st of February, evening. What: Gus bumps into Marion at the supermarket. Where: Supermarket. Rating: G. Status: Complete. Last week hadn’t been great, but this week was looking to be any better. His interaction with Lucy had gotten uncomfortably stilted fast, and then he’d had a fairly disastrous end to his ‘talk’ with Justice. She’d assured him it was fine, but he was pretty sure that sort of thing was never totally fine. Not with either person involved. He wasn’t fine.
And, as per usual, he was out of groceries and he couldn’t put it off anymore. More specifically, he was out of instant things that didn’t require a lot of effort for him to cook. Cooking just felt like way more effort than he was willing to put in right now. Gus couldn’t wait for spring, if only to get a change in scenery.
He had gone directly from the station to the supermarket, so he was walking around said establishment in his uniform, which meant he had to give everyone a nod and a smile. Not great when he wasn’t in the mood to do either. Gus found himself in the breakfast aisle, and looked unintentionally comedic: in one hand, Fruit Loops. In the other, Pop Tarts. Both were fast, and both were awful breakfasts for a forty one year old man, but he was going to pick one. There were already Eggo’s in the cart.
His cart, if what was in his hands didn’t already, screamed bachelor. Lots of cans and instant Cup-A-Noodles and all sorts of low effort items were in the cart. A cart that wasn’t very full, either, since he was only shopping for himself.
But he wasn’t alone.
“I like the cherry ones,” a vaguely familiar voice chimed from his side, where a young woman with curly hair and bright colored beads had slid up from the end of the aisle. With the rabbit pelt moccasin boots that were tied up to her knees, Marion didn’t tend to make a lot of noise. She also had never been particularly accustomed to formally announcing herself. She had always just ‘been there’. It worked for eons.
She sent a big blue-eyed smile up the lawman’s broad shoulder. Her eyebrows arched when a thought apparently popped into her head. “The Oreo ones, too. Those are brand new.”
“Jeeezus,” Gus said when Marion very suddenly spoke up. He laughed warily after his start, smiling down at her, “You’re sneaky for an art teacher, Marion.”
He glanced at the items he was holding and felt suddenly very sheepish. No getting out of it, either. At least she was entertained by it.
“I think I’ll stick with Strawberry Frosted,” Gus said, giving up and putting both items in the cart. Running into people he knew at the supermarket was a known quantity - it was a small town - so he was fairly used to it. Even if it was kind of a pain in the ass when he wasn’t in a good mood.
The Sheriff shifted his weight and shrugged his shoulders at her, falling back on his usual good-natured teasing, “So you don’t grow all your own produce, huh? I figured you for a greenhouse-type.”
Maybe even the extra-green type of produce.
Marion snorted, the sound melting into an easy laugh. Whether it was at his gentle ribbing or something else didn’t matter; the sound was genuine.
“Wouldn’t you know it, I have the opposite of a green thumb.” The woman looked down at the hand-knitted shoulder bag that contained the elements of her shopping trip so far. The contents included a snack sized box of raisins, elbow macaroni, a Caramello, and a bag of mini-marshmallows. “Besides, I don’t think I could grow these if I tried.”
She looked back at Gus, never once sweeping a glance over the items in his wheeled basket. It was the man she seemed wholly focused on. Slowly, her head took on a deep lilt, like a boat listing to one side in the water. Or a puppy who’d heard a curious noise.
“Are you implying something, Angus?”
“Ouch,” Gus laughed, “Cracking out the full name. I was only teasing, Marion. I just got off work, go easy.”
He wasn’t sure if he was in the mood to hear more goofy stuff about names or not. Actually? It was better than what he was thinking about.
“How’d class go for you today?” he asked. All they really had was small talk, but he’d had a lot of practise in two years.
The plea that followed his tight-sounding laugh didn’t seem to make much sense to her, by the way her eyes didn’t change in the slightest. Not for a moment anyway. The next, they glimmered, paler blue (almost silver?) in the fluorescent lights of the supermarket, crinkled at the corners with another smile.
“We made sand candles,” she started. It was fairly obvious she could tell something was a little off with him, perhaps by the way her gaze rarely left his face. Not that Marion meant to stare - it’s just what she was used to. Most humans found her presence inherently comforting, like toddlers covering their head with a security blanket. Those that didn’t usually weren’t entirely human, anyway. Or, not at all.
“Have you ever made sand candles?”
Gus did enjoy Marion, even if normally he thought women like her were a little much. She just had something about her that made him feel a little less out of sorts. Her students probably loved the hell out of her.
“Uh, nope, I didn’t even know those were a thing,” he laughed, “What is it, do you... melt sand or...?”
His laughter was a bit more relaxed and he shrugged again, scratching the nape of his neck. Hell if he knew from sand candles, but he was willing to find out.
“Noooo, no:” Marion’s smile suddenly flashed a bit of teeth, laughter running through her voice. “To melt sand, they’d need to let me have some equipment that I think is federally regulated, so that’s out.”
Marion adjusted the bag strap on her shoulder. It liked to slip off, and was quite fond of taking the fabric of her shirts with it. After that was settled, her hands moved out in front of her, pantomiming the things she went on to describe: “You take a box, about yay big... fill it with damp cigarette receptacle sand - clean, of course - which you can use to shape a mold. Then tape wick-string to sticks and settle them in the mold - add melted wax and scents. Voila: sand candles.”
Gus listened with a quizzical expression. Very, very... craft project-y. Not really his thing, but it was clever. He had always blown off art class, but he could imagine himself making something inappropriate. Which wasn’t too appropriate to even think about, just now. He cleared his throat and nodded.
“Neat,” Gus said. Christ, had he just said neat out loud? On purpose? “We don’t do too many crafts around the station. Little fingerpainting sometimes.”
He grinned after that one, not sure why he had his lame-button flicked on, but he was still proud of it.
It seemed to take Marion an extra second to get the joke, but once she did, she practically melted into a short bout of delighted hysterics. It really was the cleverest thing she’d heard all day, given she was surrounded by sleep deprived teenagers (and faculty) for the majority of it.
“Well, maybe some Saturday I’ll come by and teach you and your deputies how to make wind-chimes.” The tone she used was ambiguous as to whether she was being silly or not. That was usual for Marion.
“How have you been holding up, anyway?” The subject change was relatively out of left field, but again, her tone implied nothing besides a genuine interest in the Sheriff’s day to day life. Perhaps a little too much interest for someone who’d only met him once, under normal circumstances. Marion, however, was not exactly normal.
Gus was starting to notice.
“Oh, uh,” he was still recovering from the mental image of his deputies making wind chimes, “I’m gr-” even Gus couldn’t go that far, “I’m fine, thanks for asking. How’re things with you?”
While he appreciated being asked, he wasn’t going to tell the high school art teacher his problems in the middle of the supermarket. Even if there was something about her that sort of made him want to spill everything that had been bothering him for the last few years. It was a little disarming, in fact - he didn’t know where that was coming from.
Maybe screwing up two relationships in one week had something to do with it?
The same as when he’d verbally flinched after she used his full name, the young woman’s eyes remained steady, focused on his face, and unchanging. The moment lasted longer this time, only broken by the slow arch of her eyebrows. She looked expectant, but not pushy.
She did not answer his question.
“You know...” The words lingered in the air between them, stretched by the silence that followed. She was still searching his face, but the truth was, the gaze was reaching beyond that. But not too far beyond.
Then, out of nowhere, her brighter smile made another appearance.
“Do you trust me?”
The Sheriff was watching Marion with a bemused expression. He really had no idea what it was about her, but she was entertaining instead of annoying. Somehow. And when she asked him her question? His immediate reaction was sure. He hung onto it, though. That was kind a weird thing to ask someone you’d just met, wasn’t it? Kind of really weird.
“Uh,” Gus laughed, but it was more wary than anything else, “I... trust what I know of you, I suppose. Something up, Marion?”
You couldn’t really say no to that question without sounding like a dick, he realized.
Marion, however, didn’t seem to recognize the hesitation. In fact, she practically beamed like a pair of headlights, as if he’d enthusiastically answered with a ‘yes’.
“Follow me,” she said, giving him a little wrinkle of her nose before turning on her moccasins, the skirt she wore today bouncing at her knees. It was made of lace over fabric; several layers of different colors, mostly blue and green. “I have a few shopping suggestions for you.”
There was no room for argument; either he would follow her or he wouldn’t; the choice was entirely up to him. Marion meandered more than walked, her gait had more of an abstract feel to it, as if she wasn’t used to travelling by foot, and her feet kept wanting to visit different destinations than was actually in her head.
They stopped at an end cap that was decorated with baking ingredients, most of them geared toward Valentine’s Day. Cake mixes and sprinkles, flour, oil, candy hearts, all the staples. Marion paused, and crouched low toward the bottom shelf. The wake of air twitched in the colored spears of feathers that peeked out from her hair, which she tucked back with one hand. The other grabbed a baker’s sized box of sea salt.
“This is the good stuff,” she said, casual as ever, and put it in Gus’s cart. Then continued on down the aisle.
Gus followed her in a bit of a daze, unable to wipe the bemused smile off his face. She was something else. He could honestly say he hadn’t ever met someone like her, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Mostly good, so far. She didn’t have any goddamn secrets to not tell him, so far. That was kind of new.
Not fair, he chided himself. But he still thought it.
“Oh, Marion,” he laughed, waving a hand in (useless) protest as she put things in his cart, “I don’t really bake. And I’m... uh. I’m sort of recently divorced, so Valentine’s isn’t really a thing for me these days.”
Well, he’d just come right out with it for once.
“Saint Valentino was a Roman who performed marriage ceremonies for legionnaires and their wives...” Marion went on without looking at him, as if she hadn’t particularly gotten the gist of his protest. Her attention seemed to be fixed on a shelf nearby, scanning it for something in particular. “The emperor had made it illegal for his armies to marry. He wasn’t even Christian - and he lost his head for it.”
Her thin fingers curled around a small glass bottle from the spice rack, concealing its contents for the moment. “He was a soldier himself.” Taking a few steps back to him and his cart, Marion’s unassuming smile remained, and she toyed with the jar in her fingers. “You were a soldier, weren’t you?”
Without waiting, she displayed the spice, comically gesturing to it like a spokes model.
“Chili powder.” No explanation. She just dropped it in his cart.
Gus was trying to figure out the salt, but the chili powder along with the... very educational facts about a holiday he was dreading? Hoo, boy. He had a live one.
The Sheriff kind of wanted her to rattle on for hours, if he was honest with himself. She was just so... unfettered. Like she was halfway in the clouds and tugging him up a few rungs by talking to him.
“Uh, yeah. Desert Storm. I was a Corporal in the marine corps,” he said. He’d run for Sheriff with that information, so it made sense that she’d know. Even if she’d only been in town a few months, it wasn’t exactly a secret, “What’s the chili powder for?”
Gus didn’t think even he would eat a cake with chili powder in it.
No, that wasn’t true. He’d at least try a bite.
“Oh, you never know when you’ll need some chili powder,” she said in complete honesty, flippant as well, because she was already heading for the next aisle, and moving on with the conversation.
“My father used to say the strangest thing about humanity,” she began, sauntering with her usual flimsy purpose down the frozen food section, though her eyes were on the paper goods that lined it. “He’d say: ‘two things have always been a constant. No matter what changes, there will always be love and war.’” Marion paused, her skirt fluttered a bit with the momentum. She reached onto the shelf and moved something aside, stretching to the back.
“He said that’s why soldiers were always given their own special ranks - you know... Celestially speaking.” Another smile was shot his way as she pulled out a particular box of Kleen-ex tissues. The box had a bright picture of Spongebob Squarepants on it. Marion made her way back to his cart, finishing her thought. “Because, when you think about it, soldiers who know love are what keep the world going.”
The tissues joined the chili powder and salt, and the rest of the items he’d picked.
Dryly, Gus was pretty sure he’d heard it was Death and Taxes, not Love and War, but the idea of dripping cynicism on Marion was a repellent one. He wasn’t even sure she was capable of it. Very weird, but still refreshing.
All right, the salt and the chili pepper he could halfway understand, but the Spongebob Squarepants Kleenex had him thrown completely.
“Your dad’s got some uh, interesting ideas,” Gus said, unable to force a very warm smile on that one, “Too bad he couldn’t have said something to my ex-wife.”
Right, too far. That was going to bring down her whole hippy-dippy vibe.
“Sorry,” he apologized quickly, “This time of year is just... sorry, Marion. Keep uh, doing what you’re doing.”
Though the damp blanket that seemed to dull his eyes did dim her own, it was a purely compassionate reaction, one she meant to remedy as best she could, and quickly as she could.
“If I might point something out,” she said, leaning on the end of his cart with one foot on the runner, like a five year old might, waiting for a ride. Though it might’ve seemed like the completely spontaneous action of a free spirit, it was actually quite intentional. “--you keep focusing on the wrong details. This is big-picture stuff, Lovie.” And there it was, Marion’s bright, toothy smile. It even came with a tilt to her head toward one shoulder.
“You know love much deeper than that of a fallen woman.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, but turned warm and sage again the next moment. “And you’re right about my father - not many people get him.”
Gus couldn’t help but be charmed by that lean on his cart. He caught himself leaning forward a little himself, straightening when he noticed. Lovie? He’d been given some interesting nicknames in his time, but that one was... probably one of the most embarrassing sounding. And he was one of those people big enough to be called ‘Tiny’ in jest.
Fallen woman? Christ, she was weird. He didn’t know if he wanted to slowly back away or ask her out, truth be told. Maybe better if he just picked something in the middle.
“I do love my kids,” he said, glancing around. This was easily the weirdest conversation he’d ever had, “It’s just hard to focus on that sometimes when I’m so far away from them. But they might visit in the summer.”
Why didn’t he just recite his life story for her? Most women weren’t too thrilled to be given this sort of information on a second, casual chance meeting, but Marion was just...
Marion was very strange.
She gave him a truly commiserative, somewhat sad smile regarding the distance between himself and his children, but didn’t say anything immediately. The pause stretched on a little, as if she were considering her next words, rather than just let them spill.
“Some distances are greater than others.” A bit of philosophy put out there in her still-gentle voice, but it had sombered a bit. Marion looked down at the cart and it’s contents, then over her shoulder, like she’d heard someone call her name.
Then, she hopped down off the cart and started to walk back toward the dairy section, but paused at his side, though they were facing opposite directions. Marion gave his forearm a happy squeeze, and wrinkled her nose at him with her parting smile.
“Big-picture stuff, Gus. Daisy needs some high-beams, if you know what I mean.”
Gus laughed. Yeah, he knew. God, she smelled good. Or maybe it was just all the Valentine’s Day endcaps. That made more sense.
...how the hell did she know about Daisy? Sure, it was his off-duty car, but... well, he supposed she could’ve noticed it, or heard it (she wasn’t a quiet old girl, his Daisy) and someone had told her. It was a small town. Word got around, right?
He felt like asking for her number, but that impulse alone was sort of terrifying after two years of self-imposed exile. Really? The loopy art teacher? There was a match made in Heaven. Sheesh.
“Uh, see you around,” he called after her, watching her with a muddled expression. Gus forced himself not to follow her. Besides, she’d already put enough weird stuff in his cart. That was enough for one day, probably.
Marion didn’t make another appearance anywhere in the store for the rest of the time he was there. She wasn’t in the lines to check out, but there was no shortage of people anyway. Gus was waved down by a cashier who’d just come on after his break, and made it through pretty quickly, regardless of the occasional odd look centering around his peculiar grocery list.
The parking lot was packed with end-of-the-workday shoppers; nothing out of the ordinary, especially considering the fact that the Superbowl was the following Sunday. The one thing that did stand out was the shrill, chest-piercing bawl of a very young child, coupled with the distressed attempts of soothing by his mother - the closer Gus got to the cruiser, the louder the sounds got.
Next to the squad car, a massive SUV was parked where one had not been before. The squawling was coming from the other side of it, where a woman was desperately trying to fish her keys out of the front seat with a rusty coat hanger. The little boy in the shopping cart beside her was pink-faced from the wind and cold, and absolutely covered with layers of tears and mucus.
Gus had his arms full with his whopping two grocery bags, and he was frowning when he came around the SUV and found the source of the problem.
“Ma’am?” he asked, setting his groceries on the trunk of the cruiser, “Can I help you with that?”
He was already elbow deep in one of the bags, pulling out the Kleenex box and pulling the cardboard tab off, offering it to the screaming child before the woman could reply, “Hey, buddy. You mind holding onto this for me?”
Gus wouldn’t wipe the nose of someone elses child unless he had pretty direct permission, but mom was obviously flustered, and the kid looked old enough to at least know how to mash the tissues all over his face.
“Oh god, yes...please--!” The mother not only looked flustered, but the trails of half-frozen tears could be seen on her own cheeks, as well. Seemingly without thought, she tucked the hanger under her arm and went to help her son with the tissues. The boy was still snivelling, but seemed to be completely enthralled with the bright yellow and blue designs on the box. So much so that he didn’t seem to notice his mother trying to make him more comfortable, swiping tissues across his nose and eyes. “I didn’t realize I left the keys until we came back out... It’s freezing and I have absolutely no idea how to do this...”
She sniffed a little, using one tissue for herself before sending a sheepish, but very grateful smile to the officer. “We’re just passing through, there’s no way I could get the spare keys.”
“It’s not a problem,” Gus assured her, offering her a warm smile, “I’ll have it open for you in just a second, okay?”
Big cities had different sorts of problems, but here, he could actually make a big difference in someone’s day. Someone who wasn’t a criminal getting busted, but just a regular citizen. Gus pulled the ever-handy slim jim from his utility belt (he had been in such a daze, he’d left all his gear on and even left work in his cruiser, but it was working out well for this woman) and slid the strip of metal into the lock of her car. With some expert jimmying, there was a dull thunk. Gus removed the slim jim, opened the driver’s side door, and grabbed the keys from where they’d likely slid out of her purse.
Then he saw a relatively familiar sight - a camo-style balloon bouquet with ‘Welcome Home’ on it. A smile tugged onto the Sheriff’s face. Well, that explained the waterworks.
“Why don’t you get your son in his carseat and start the heater?” he offered her the keys, and a further kindness, “I’ll get your groceries loaded up for you,” Gus nodded towards the car, “So you can get going sooner.”
The young mother was definitely on the same wave length, beaming at him as she pulled her toddler out of the cart and set him on her hip. His little gloved hands still had a deathgrip on the Kleenex box. He was smiling, now.
“Thank you, really...” she said, her voice a bit muffled as she set the boy in his seat and buckled him in. “I can’t even imagine how long it would’ve taken Triple-A to get here this late. You’re a god-send, Officer.” She shut the door and headed back around, fiddling with her keys in order to start the engine. When she did, it accompanied a little, relieved and warm-hearted chuckle.
“What’re the odds, right?” She huffed a little laugh, and nodded at the boy in the back. “He loves Spongebob.”
“Yeah, uh, my son was a huge fan when he was little,” Gus said. What were the odds? Marion had put the tissue box in his cart - he wouldn’t have bought it otherwise.
“Anyway, you go on and get going,” the Sheriff moved on, and gave the young woman a cheeky (but proper) salute and a wink, “He’ll be glad to see you.”
He closed up the back of her SUV and thumped it. All clear. Except for the fact that he felt like something had just happened.
Something in the woman’s eyes glittered joyously, but she wasn’t able to say anything just yet. She just nodded, her cheeks fluffed and pink with her unbreakable smile. She agreed, obviously, but there was something more to it.
“It’s the first time he’ll get to meet his son.” Just a little, her voice broke, but the woman didn’t linger. She slipped into the front seat, sending the Sheriff off with another very, very grateful wave before pulling the door shut behind her.
Gus watched her pull away and wiped at his face, just once, waving to her as she pulled out of the parking lot. Well, he was pretty glad that had happened. He still missed the fuck out of his kids, but at least he’d been there when they’d been born. Perspective.
Big-picture stuff, Gus.
He shook his head and stashed his bags in the passenger’s seat. Well, he’d better get back to the station and pile into Daisy and then get home before things got any weirder. It had to be a coincidence though, right?
Damn it. He knew he should’ve asked for her number.