Um so yeah I had an idea for a polarship AU, thanks to tumblr, and here we are.

Due thanks goes to Gweniveve Skyes for gawking at this thing for me.

. : Right Place, Right Time : .

Chapter 1

"I told you I do not want to deal with you right now." She couldn't get the words out right. Loud enough. Fast enough. "Do not give me this shit about you being a better parent."

The voice buzzing into the speaker was just as loud.

Watery eyes and a reddened nose.

A little face staring up at her.

The memory.

It dragged her under, colour and sound, then thrust her back to the surface again.

She cut him off, the sound of her voice fading out halfway through but coming back, syllables grating harshly. "Yeah who was there for everything? Who was there when she was crying? Asking if her fuck-up of a father hated her?"

In her ear was a scratchy click.

The phone clattered.

Her own shaking arms wove around her, useless in holding in the sob that tore from her chest, the giving out of her knees.

Everything shivered.

Somewhere in the distance, a horn blared. The tracks outside clacked, loud and rhythmic under the weight of a rushing train.

With an audible push, she sat, grimacing when joints cracked in protest to her lean to collect pieces from the floor where she'd lay.

Yawning, she scratched at a numb spot on her head, tangles in blonde trying to trap her nails.

Past slow lashes, she stared in silence, piecing her phone back together slowly. When it lit up, she pressed it atop a shelf, heard the vibrations one after another. Texts. Like some child. Like it was still highschool.

She left the thing and rose, trudging to the kitchen.

On the counter, a little radio seemed to stare, wide speakers like eyes, and some far too cheerful melody pouring out.

It ended with a click of a button.

The faucet filled the silence with the soft plips of a slow leak.

Scowling at the curved silver set, she collected her phone and, ignoring messages, called the only contact labeled with profanity in place of a name.

She sighed loudly enough to drown out the crackling voice of the answering machine and did her best to drum up a pleasant tone. "It's Valentine calling from 301 again. There's still an issue with a leak… If there's a problem getting in contact with the building's repairman, I can contact them myself. Just let me know."

The screen dimmed.

Doubtful.

This was the third call in a week.

To her surprise, the phone soon lit up, profane placeholder there and a phone number. It was better than nothing. But it would have to wait.

Afternoon sunlight was warm on her face where knuckles weren't pressed into her cheek.

Sounds of a hundred little voices stirred her from drowsy leaning on the car door. All from the nearby building. Colour flooded the front pathway. A rainbow of backpacks and jackets wrapped around little balls of energy.

One familiar shade of red beelined to her and she'd pushed open the door and wound around the car to intercept.

She was rewarded with a wide smile, bright eyes like her own staring up at her from under a mess of curls.

"How was school?"

In response was an enthusiastic nod.

Laughing, she mimicked, carrying the little figure in her arms around to back of the car.

"Amanda says it means good."

"Well this Amanda is almost right. When you move your head like that it means yes," she said. "Got it?"

Her reply was yet another nod.

Leaning on a backseat, she buckled in the only passenger. "You know what? How about some ice cream?"

A cheer erupted.

"Oh but it's freezing outside!" the clerk declared as if shocked and leaned on the counter, smiling at the young face looking up at him. "You sure you want ice cream?"

"Yes!" came a bright chirp.

"Alright, then what'll be Miss Emma?"

With a lot of pointing, she stared and stopped, not sure what to decide from the case full of colour-filled tubs in front of her.

The bells around the door handle jingled and a customer came to wait nearby.

Emma soon trotted off, pink spoon sticking out of what appeared to be a cup full of sprinkles. Mai stood alone at the counter, fishing her credit card out of her wallet.

It was a moment later that the clerk stood, tapping the bit of plastic against the register. Then he frowned and swiped the card through a second time. "Denied… Sorry."

She bristled.

"Was there another card you wanted me to try?"

Mai mouthed while heat flooded her face. And pressing against the counter, she spoke quietly. "Can you try it again?"

"Mommy." A little hand tugged at her skirt.

"Go sit down, okay?"

Where her daughter left, another body pressed in, arm bumping into hers.

"I got it," he told the clerk, depositing crumpled bills on the counter. "And ah…"

Mai glanced aside to see a young man next to her, scanning the black menu posted behind the counter. He flashed her a grin, something of a crooked one, and turned attention back to the waiting clerk.

"And a couple bottles a' pop if you don't mind."

"Sure thing," the clerk said, already plugging numbers into the register and smoothing out bills before Mai could quite process what was happening.

"Wait!" But she'd called too late, the man had already drifted away from the counter to the fridge elsewhere in the shop.

Rounding on the stranger, she set her hands on her hips, swallowing quickly as if to digest her surprise. "What are you playing at?"

He took one look at her and raised his hands in defence, expression suddenly sobering.

"What goes around comes around," he told her and dropped one hand, the other sliding into his blond hair. "I didn't do it so ya'd owe me."

In spite of the words, she continued to fix a narrowed gaze on him. He didn't look like a con artist at least. He looked, well, average. Worn jeans. Shirt. Brown leather jacket with creases across the arms. Hints of a faded tattoo peeking out from under a sleeve pressed up one arm.

He raised a brow at her, still unsure what to make of her look. And her silence.

She let her hands fall from her hips. "I just don't expect things like that."

Ever.

"Thought ya' were gonna clock me for a second." He let out a nervous laugh and pressed his hands into his jeans' pockets.

As if considering, Mai glanced down at the hand wrapped around the end of her purse strap.

And purple a face like that..?

With a pair of quiet thuds, the clerk set down a couple of opened glass bottles. "Your change, Joe."

"Don't worry about it."

"Thanks." The man smiled and slid the bottles across the counter.

The stranger - apparently Joe? - took up one and started on his way out of the shop, weaving around a table or two.

"You forgot this other," Mai called.

Stopping, he shook his head. "Nah, it's yours."

The bells tied to the door handle jingled at his grasp.

But she had caught up before he walked out.

"At least give me your information so I can pay you back."

"It's a just few bucks."

"It's the principle."

If not a little pride.

He seemed to think it over, at one point fiddling with a bit of metal stuck through one ear.

"Ah'right," he finally decided. "You got a pen?"

Mai dug one out of her purse and offered it. She was about to search once more, for paper, when she found her hand taken into his warmer one.

He left a line of black digits across her skin and gestured with the pen.

"We'll call this collateral."

And that said, he went on his way.

. : End 1 : .

Yeah I borrowed a line from Symbiotic, I do what I want… And I don't know what this is but let's continue shall we?