A/N:
I wanted to write something else than Oldrival for a change - but when thinking about other shippings, nothing really appealed to me. Until I thought of Magmajewel. The relationship between Ruby and Marge has always fascinated me, because there's this tension between them that's so very different from the one between Ruby and Sapphire. I am a Franticshipper, and I think they're meant to be - but that doesn't stop me from loving Magmajewel as well. Just in another way. Plus, Marge is ace; it's as simple as that.
Another motivation to write this fic, is because I can't remember seeing a Magmajewel fic anywhere before. So that would mean I'm the first to write such a story... well, how can I say no to something like that? Haha. Well, I hope this will satisfy all the Magmajewel shippers around - or just all the Pokémon Special fans in general!
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon - if I did... well, the usual, haha.
Fire in your Eyes
Her eyes shone like rubies, aflame and wild. She always had had that look to her, he thought – as though she was living on the edge.
He remembered her words that life had to be 'exciting'. It had resulted in the participation in Hoenn's biggest natural catastrophe since mankind. The irony he felt when remembering last year's events almost made him smile; but in a very tart way. To think that the woman that had released Groudon from its slumber for the sole reason of personal entertainment, had later helped him fight those very same forces – it could be called the inimitable twists of fate.
Of course, she had paid for her wrongdoings and now lived a new life full of berries and ribbons and brushed Pokémon fur (like him, he thought with a sparkling in his eyes) – but that didn't stop him from receiving a blow in his stomach the moment he saw her again.
She stood with her full length in the centre of the room, her shoulders drawn backwards and her chin slightly lifted – looking around with an air of arrogance and pleasure, as though the place belonged to her. He couldn't see her eyes well enough, nor her lips – but he knew there was a small smile tugged around the corners of her mouth; a sparkling in her dark irises. A forebode of exciting things, of action, of triumph.
Triumph, he thought wryly. Only because I'm not there.
In a flash of light she sent out Ninetales, still her best and most-trusted companion. With a supple turn in mid-air it landed on its four legs, body stretched and muscles tightened; a model of rigidly controlled power. Hot flames spurted from its wide-opened mouth. They circled the Pokémon and the stage in a never ending string of fire: red, gold, orange, bronze – minuscule flammable dots burning and scorching the air. Even in the audience, safely distanced from the scene, he could feel the heat slam in his face. He had to suppress a smile, that was a little nostalgic and a little awestruck at the same time.
("What do you think… is the most beautiful thing of all?"
…the all-engulfing claws of fire: grabbing and burning its foe until all what remains is a pile of ash, for the wind to blow away and scatter itself above the vast land...
You.)
She was standing against the wall. Slowly, in a movement of deliberate calmness that was different in many ways from her usual passion, she stroked the purple ribbon: one calm finger; two. Her face betrayed a happiness that was more truth than lie, a small smile on her lips. No trace of scathe.
He walked over to her, self-assured and firm as if it was the right – the only – thing to do. It wasn't every day that you saw an old acquaintance (friend, ally) again, he told himself.
"That was a beautiful performance, Marge."
She turned to look at him; and if she was surprised, she didn't show. Her movement had been a bit too fast, perhaps, and her eyes twinkled a little more than usual – but then again, she had always been one for assertiveness.
"Ruby! I hadn't seen you sitting in the audience." (Lies, it flashed through his mind.)
"…you've trained your Ninetales and your Swellow well."
"They've always been trained well," she pointed out, a finger trailing her cheek. "They're wonderful Pokémon on their own account; I just gave them the extra push needed."
"Ah, you're right about that." He sighed in a contented way, remembering Mimi and Zuzu and all his other wonderful Pokémon – wonderful: not because of him, but because of themselves. He bowed down before the fox-like creature and reached out a hand, intended to touch the soft fur – before a hiss and a set of bared teeth made him swiftly retreat his arm.
"She doesn't like you," Marge observed.
"I saw that," he replied in an even tone, leaning back-wards on his arms. "I wonder why…?"
"Oh, she's never been that fond of strangers," she answered, lowering herself to pat the Pokémon's head. "It's part of her personality."
Ruby watched Marge stroke Ninetale's fur: slow, gentle; a light smile on her lips. "What kind of Poké blocks do you give her?"
Marge looked up from her Pokémon, regarding him with a scornful expression on her face. "Do you think I do something wrong?"
"I… was just wondering what flavour you fed her," he said in low tone, an automatic reflex of keeping his posture when confronted with gazes like hers.
"You think you know it better." She smiled a little compassionately and shook her head. "I may have done things wrong in the past, Ruby, but when it comes to my Pokémon I know I do the right thing. I don't need your advice."
"I wasn't lecturing you," he said in an indignant voice, coming to his feet. "I was just asking because you are a coordinator. Like me."
She was silent for a moment, regarding him with unreadable eyes. Then she chuckled. "I'm sorry; sometimes my old side gets the better of me. It's hard to accept criticism or help, how neatly wrapped it may be." She sighed and reached for her pocket, fishing a strip of bubble-gum out of it. He suddenly wondered why he hadn't noticed before that she hadn't been chewing on her always-present gum (they had been inseparable like charcoal and fire; causing him to never see a package without thinking of black, black eyes) but then thought that perhaps it was a habit she had sworn off – like a thrown-away costume, a means to bury a life that lay behind you. Maybe he had reawakened that desire in her.
(Or not.)
She threw him a questioning look, as if to ask if he wanted some too; but he declined politely. (He'd never liked the rubber taste of it in his mouth, like something was trying to plaster his palate with a substance too tight to be pleasurable.) She put the sweet in her mouth, closing her eyes momentarily and wordlessly relishing the taste. Then she said, "It likes bitter Poké blocks."
Ruby smiled. "For a beautiful Pokémon."
"Indeed," she repeated, smiling back at him in an almost warm way. "For a beautiful Pokémon."
They both regarded the Ninetales in front of them, admiring its fur and its dark eyes with the eyes of connoisseurs.
"Do you brush her fur with a long comb, to let come out the natural gloss?"
"Yes, with this one." She bowed down and rummaged in her bag, extracting a black brush. He took it and examined it, his eyes alight; talking about Pokémon, about contests, about all the things that went with it – it caused an uncontrollable joy within him. "How are your Pokémon?"
He looked up at her and smiled brightly. "Perfect! They're beautiful; cool; smart; tough and cute – with their dazzling charms and moves, they win every contest they enter."
She chuckled, eyeing him with amused eyes. "I should be glad you didn't enter today then, shouldn't I?"
He made a modest gesture, contradicting the pleased look on his face.
"Oh, but I already knew all of that, of course. I would be a fool if I didn't. You did very well this year in contests." He looked at her with wide eyes, not getting anything out his mouth. She laughed some more, amused by his ignorance. "I followed you around, Ruby. Not literally, since I had to focus on my own training – on my new life. I just kept track of your accomplishes in the papers. "
She let out a sigh that was a bit bitter and a bit envious at the same time. "Adjusting to a quiet way of living isn't that easy, Ruby. Not as easy as it looks."
"But you've done it, right?" Ruby said, holding her gaze. She didn't answer right away. She just stared in the distance, lost in long-gone memories.
"…yes, I've done it," she murmured after a while, chewing slowly on her gum. "But sometimes I can't help but ask myself if it all was the right thing to do."
"Huh?" He stared at her with an incredulous expression. "What do you mean? How can a life with contests not be better than your previous life? A life consisting of… crime," he spat in a more forceful tone that he had intended to.
She regarded him with an expression bordering on boredom, blowing a bubble with her chewing gum. "That is not all to it," she stated in a matter-of-factly way. "You mustn't think I don't regret some of my past actions."
When she saw his unbelieving expression, she let the pink bubble burst with a pop. A small chuckle escaped her mouth, the corners slightly going upwards. "You're still as distrustful as then, I see. Can't say I'm surprised. But really – joining Team Magma turned out differently than I had thought. Not in every way," she added, in answer to his incredulous expression. "But the ending was something I had not foreseen – and something I wouldn't want to let have happened."
Ruby was silent for a while, and then gave her a warm smile. "But I know that, Marge. You offered your help to me, after all, on Mirage Island."
"…you remember." A light smile appeared on Marge's face, too, and it was as different from the mocking one she had had moments before as water and fire.
"Of course I do," he replied with a broad grin, looking at her as if she was on old friend that needed reassurance. His shoulders were drawn-back and his hands rested in his side; as though a firm posture should give him more safe ground under his feet. He looked at her with a bright expression, the same one he wore when he had perfected a move or when he saw his Pokémon in full ornate. A happy; a proud one.
"I had heard you suffered from amnesia."
His bright expression transformed into a stunned one within seconds, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. Again, she laughed.
"A very selected one, hm? Has that anything to do with that girl you like?"
When he blushed, looking more uncomfortable than ever, she mused, "So it has. I envy her..."
Ruby didn't know what to reply to this. She had said the same thing back on Mirage Island – but how much of it was the truth? He stared at his shoes, embarrassed and not being able to think of the right thing to answer. Marge didn''t seem to mind. She just regarded him with dull-glowing eyes, blowing another bubble with her gum. The silence ensued till she clacked her tongue, making the bubble burst.
"You are still young, Ruby. You have a future lying before you."
He looked up, unsure and questioning. "You are young too – "
"No." She smiled in a bitter way, shaking her head. "I've had my youth. Be careful not to make the same mistakes as I did."
He looked her in the eye, deep – and he understood what she meant. "I will," he said, smiling.
"Good." She stepped forward and touched his shoulder. He felt a chill going down his spine. "You're still just a boy..."
"I'm – "
She shook her head. "You should be with her. That's how it is."
He closed his mouth again and did not speak. He just looked at her, feeling a sentiment of loss and remorse that he couldn't quite place – something nagging in his stomach, a dull throb in his heart.
"Good-bye, Ruby. I hope we meet again." She smiled at him, turning to leave; but bowing in the last second, kissing him softly on the cheek. Her breath warmed his face, heating his body. Then, she turned on her heels and walked away. Ninetales switched its tail and trotted behind her, both in fallen silence.
Ruby was rooted on the spot, watching her leave. The print of her lips was still burning on his cheeks, and it was as though her mouth had paralysed him instead of giving him new fervour – before a sudden thought made him speak up.
"Hey Marge – if we'll ever face each other in a contest, don't think you'll stand a chance!"
She turned, a laugh etched on her face. "Who knows. Life has its unexpected ways."
And with that, she walked on – out of his vision, out of his life.
(Every time he did go on stage, he hoped he'd see her again. But he didn't. She stayed an illusion in his memory, like an ever increasing and quenching flame.)
A/N:
How did you think I portrayed Marge and Ruby? And their interaction, was it right? I do hope so. All the metaphores and comparisons were done on purpose, of course. I love writing like this, and this shipping gave me the chance to write less dialogue and more of... well, this ;) Let me know your opinion!
~Snoaz