Magicless

Bright blue eyes popped open and sharpened focus of the bleary world before them. They had a hint of alarm in them, a frantic need to assess the situation with visuals. Mary had sat bolt upright in bed and her eyes had flashed open of their own accord. There was a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, not unlike having a hot coal sitting at the bottom. She assumed she had just suffered a nightmare, but now that she was wide awake and the feeling could not be shaken, she knew something else was wrong. The hot coal still sat sizzling in the pit of her stomach and the adrenaline coursing through her only made it burn hotter. Her hands were shaking, nervous at what possible thing could put her into such a state immediately upon waking.

Was she ill? She'd never been ill in her life, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen, could it? Something felt terribly wrong, and she thought horrifyingly that this was probably how lovers felt when they knew the other had died, or how a mother feels when she knows some poor fortune has fallen upon her child. It was a sixth sense. After throwing back the covers of the comfy four poster bed she occupied in an upstairs room of Uncle Albert's, Mary swung out of bed and put a robe on over her night gown and hugged herself tight. After taking a few calming breaths she hoped she would feel better, and she told herself to just focus on the act of taking in and releasing air. After a few minutes her head felt clearer, but that nervous tension hadn't left her body. No, something was still wrong.

After quietly padding down the hall in the dark early morning to the washroom, she let out a sigh as she examined herself in the mirror. She turned on the light to get a better look, though she didn't want to alert anyone in the house to her situation. Besides looking frightened and anxious, and perhaps a bit short on sleep, she determined that nothing was wrong or out of place. Her dark brown hair tumbled in waves past her shoulders, and she had managed to gain a few freckles from the sun the day before. No, nothing seemed wrong on the outside.

Ah, but the inside. Surely that was the case then. The coal in her stomach felt white hot and she realized she was getting closer to the truth. She switched off the light and rushed back to her room, closing the old door as quietly as she could. Well if she wasn't ill then it had to be something else, and while Mary dare not think what it could be, deep down she knew. Testing it was the only way to tell. She looked at her brush on her vanity on the other side of the room and decided it would do nicely. She concentrated on the object and snapped her fingers. Nothing happened. Well, it was early in the morning and she had woken in quite a state. Mary focused harder and made her fingers snap clearly and loudly at the hairbrush. Again, nothing happened. The nervous feeling rose within her and threatened to take over.

Something else then, something that she'd done a million times. Perhaps causing her hair to pin itself up perfectly on its own. She'd done it so many times she almost didn't need to think about it anymore. Mary focused her energy and closed her eyes, envisioning her perfect hair. She snapped her fingers crisply and opened her eyes. She saw that her wavy hair still hung past her shoulders and a small sob escaped from her throat. One last idea popped into her head before she let herself come to the truth. She rushed over to retrieve her carpetbag from beside her vanity. She placed it on her bed and opened it. Inside her tape measure sat neatly at the bottom. She sighed a breath of relief and felt the coal in her stomach disappear, but then Mary realized what she had just seen. The hot, burning, nervous feeling returned as she realized her tape measure sat at the bottom of her bag. The bottom. Mary had never seen the bottom of her carpetbag before.

Finally she succumbed to the nervous and horrifying feelings storming within her and she fell onto the bed, spent and in despair. Small sobs choked out of her throat and hot tears streamed down her cheeks. After crying for a few moments Mary sat up and looked around her room, as if it would somehow show her the answer and provide her with a solution to her problem. One more time, she thought, perhaps this was the moment and she had just not been doing it right before. Mary snapped her fingers at the handkerchief that sat beside her hairbrush on the vanity. Receiving no result, Mary lay back down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Another tear fell silently down her cheek and onto the covers.

"It's gone," she whispered.

After wallowing in her own misery, Mary finally got up from her bed as the sun had finally come up. She could hear Uncle Albert moving about downstairs and she decided that maybe after a cup of tea and some breakfast that everything would go back to normal. After getting dressed for the day and pinning up her hair, the difficult way, Mary was struck with an idea. If her magic had disappeared, maybe it was because of an illness. If she was truly ill, she needed to take some medicine straight away. In fact, she wasn't sure why she hadn't come up with this before. The special bottle that contained her medicine sat on the vanity, and Mary rushed over to it with hope in her eyes. After pouring out a spoonful of the liquid, Mary quickly threw her head back and swallowed the whole thing in one gulp.

Mary's eyes opened wide with surprise as she let out a little cough and smacked her lips. The medicine tasted incredibly awful, with a gross cherry flavor and a weird metallic taste. That's positively vile, she thought. A half empty glass of water sat on the table beside her bed and she quickly attempted to wash down the awful taste in her mouth. Mary was in shock. Now even her rum punch flavored medicine had lost its flavor and had become a disgusting cold medicine just like any other from a chemist. Every last touch of magic had disappeared. The carpet bag, the medicine, everything was positively normal. She was sort of ashamed to admit, it frightened her.

With her composure somewhat back in place, though her throat still sticky with cherry aftertaste, Mary sat down to breakfast with Uncle Albert. After pouring herself a cup of tea and taking a sip, Mary relaxed a little more. The warm Earl Grey washed away the taste of her failures and soothed the nerves that had only managed to get more and more bundled up as the morning wore on. Everything was still wrong of course, but a good cup of tea can certainly do a lot of things to make even the worst situation a bit brighter.

"Is everything alright?" Uncle Albert asked, eyeing his niece as she clung to her tea cup. She looked up at her uncle in alarm. He must have known something. She should have known that her own flesh and blood would be able to tell when something wasn't quite right with her. Her heart-rate began to climb higher and while several lies ran through her head she finally resolved to coming clean.

"Yes I'm afraid there is," she practically whispered.

"Well whatever is the matter dear?"

"My...it's gone. My magic. It's gone," Mary sighed. Her shoulders sagged and she placed her tea cup on its saucer on the table. She could feel a headache coming, well what she assumed was a headache, she'd never even had one before.

"What do you mean?" Uncle Albert asked, puzzled. It was as if he didn't believe her.

"Just what I said uncle," Mary moaned. She couldn't even keep her pleasant attitude up and her weary realization colored her tone. "It's gone. I don't have any magic."

"You can't be serious!"

"Quite," she sighed.

"Whatever will you do?"

"What can I do?"

"Are you ill?" Uncle Albert asked as he began to inspect Mary. She didn't look ill, though she didn't quite look herself. "Perhaps it's a cold."

"It's not a cold uncle, I'm not ill. I've never been ill in my life! Although I do think I'm getting a headache now. But that's only because all of my magic is gone! How could such a thing happen?"

"I'm quite sure I don't know dear," Uncle Albert replied worriedly. "But we'll get to the bottom of it. Do you have much to do today?"

"I had planned on running a few errands today. I had hoped to see Bert at some point. I'm positive that at any moment my new assignment will come my way," May paused and then frowned. "Or perhaps not, considering the circumstances."

Uncle Albert frowned but Mary suddenly felt better. She wasn't sure why, everything was currently going wrong this morning, but the idea of no longer being beckoned by the wind was a somewhat exhilarating one.

"Do you have time to see a doctor?" Uncle Albert asked.

"Oh what good would a doctor do? I can't get any help that way," Mary sighed.

"No, I suppose you're right," Uncle Albert sighed as well.

"I appreciate the support uncle, but I think I'll go for a walk and clear my head. It might do me a lot of good," Mary said, offering a weak smile.

"Well alright then," Uncle Albert said, still frowning, his eyebrows furrowing together in puzzlement and concern. Mary Poppins without her magic, it was hard to imagine.

Mary muddled her way through breakfast and went back upstairs to get her handbag ready for the day. She soon found that her hair was already messily coming out of its bun, and she had developed bags under her eyes from her restless night and frightening morning. She sighed as she attempted to fix her hair and pinch some color into her cheeks. Apparently I've been taking a few things for granted, Mary thought sadly. Going about her day without a hint of magic was going to be more difficult than she had originally thought.

Mary went to rummage around her carpetbag, but remembered that only her tape measure lay inside. She nearly let a frustrated sob out before she set her shoulders and summoned up her courage. If there was anything Mary Poppins was, it wasn't weak. If her magic had up and left her, so be it. She decided to throw her tape measure in with her handkerchief and coin purse inside of her handbag, scared that perhaps it too would disappear on her if she didn't keep an eye on it. She wasn't sure what her next move was, but she knew that she couldn't put everything on hold just because her magic had disappeared.

London was bustling with people in the early morning, and Mary found that her pace was not as quick as it once was. Running errands was tiresome, and now Mary had an inkling of what her charges felt when she surged on ahead of them day after day. Regardless, Mary would finish her shopping, even if her boots were uncomfortable and her hair still wouldn't behave and stay in place. She expected at any moment for a breeze to begin to signify her oncoming departure, but the London wind had no sway over her. She smiled as it played at her hair and her skirts. She was untouchable. It was an odd sensation, but one Mary found she enjoyed. She could do as she pleased, and although she was tired and felt a mess, she didn't have to answer to anyone.

After all of the necessary items were purchased, Mary began making her way back home to Uncle Albert's. She still felt odd without that electric current of possibility coursing through her, but she also didn't feel weighed down by duty. She was at odds with herself, but ultimately happy, unlike her initial panic that morning. Mary decided that despite her aching feet she'd take a the long way through the park. She took her time, enjoying the people and children in her view, and actually taking a moment to relax. Mary had nearly made it to the park gate, but before it stood a handsome, although dirty, man. He was admiring his work on the pavement, smiling to himself. Maybe you can walk past and he'll never notice, Mary thought. She didn't really want to see Bert now, not if there was explaining she had to do. The panic she'd initially felt that day was rising again.

In her new-found panic, Mary had been spotted by Bert. He smiled and readjusted his hat as he made his way over to her. She was thinking so hard that she didn't even notice his presence. Bert coughed politely to get her attention, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Goodness!" she exclaimed, flustered. She'd nearly dropped her bag of purchases. How had he snuck up on her like that? Bert had an extremely broad and slightly wicked grin on his face.

"Didn't mean ta scare ya Mary Poppins!" he laughed.

"You didn't scare me you just...er, I was thinking," Mary finished muddily. She nearly rolled her eyes at herself.

"I'll say so! Thinking awful hard there. Wot for?"

"I was simply, pondering, the...ummm," Mary had no idea where she was going with anything she said. Excellent, now I wind up being entirely flustered around Bert. How could he possibly not notice now? she thought.

"Are you alright there Mary?" Bert asked, now concerned for her. Mary could have smacked herself.

"I'm...fine."

Bert raised a suspicious eyebrow and waited. She never could lie to him.

"Oh alright, I'm not fine," Mary huffed. She set down her bag and placed her handbag inside before turning to address Bert. "I woke up this morning and my magic was gone."

Bert wasn't sure if Mary was pulling a cruel prank on him of if she was serious. He looked her over and realized she was being quite serious.

"But Mary, how is that possible?"

"I honestly don't know Bert," Mary sighed. "But when I woke up it was gone and there was nothing I could do about it."

"I'm so sorry Mary!" Bert exclaimed. He knew how important it was to her, and how much a part of her her magic was. He had no idea what she was going through, but he hoped he could help in some way. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I appreciate it Bert but no, I'm afraid there's nothing to be done," Mary sighed. A curl escaped her bun and Bert smiled. She looked so pretty all flustered and dishevelled. He'd never seen her out of sorts, and he found it thoroughly endearing. A crooked grin spread across his face. "And what, may I ask, do you find so amusing?

"Nothing at all Mary," Bert chuckled. "Excuse me for being so forward Mary but you're very cute when you're a mess."

"I beg your pardon!" Mary stammered. How dare he!

"Oh come on now Mary I don't mean to insult ya, I'm serious. I've never seen you in such a state and I have to tell you that I find it very charming. It suits you somehow," Bert said.

"Oh really?" Mary huffed. "You think it's charming that I'm tired and my hair won't stay put and my feet hurt and I've been in a chaotic mess all day without my magic?"

"I think it's incredibly attractive," Bert replied honestly.

"Oh stop it," Mary sneered.

"I'm not joking Mary! You'd look attractive no matter what. Magic or no magic."

Mary kept the glare on her face, but inside she melted. He thought that even though her whole world was crumbling around her, she was charming and attractive and...had he called her cute?

"Well aren't you cheeky? What's gotten into you?" Mary asked. He'd never been this brave before.

"Nothing. You. I just can't help it, you're so lost and endearin' without your magic ta help you. And I know for a fact you're not storming off because your feet hurt and you can't just pick up your skirts and fly away," Bert smiled.

"I never do-"

"All the time ya do Mary Poppins, now don't lie," Bert chides.

It was true, whenever Bert got too close Mary found a way to disappear. Some way to distract him or keep him at arm's length. Without her magic, she had run out of options. It made Bert brave, and it made her even more confused.

"Practically perfect people never permit sentiment to muddle their thinking," she quoted her famous epithet at him, one he'd heard her cite on many occasions to keep her distance.

"But Mary," Bert began with a small smile, "you're not practically perfect anymore."

"Nonsense!"

"Think about it Mary," Bert said.

"It can't be true," Mary whispered, more to herself than Bert. "But then..." Mary paused before realizing she'd put her tape measure in her bag that morning. She rummaged through her things until she pulled it out. Bert looked at her in surprise. "Let's find out."

Bert obliged by taking one end and pulling it down to her toes. Mary pulled the rest out to achieve her height, keeping her thumb on the necessary spot. She pulled it back down and Bert let go to stand up and read it as well. Beside Mary's thumb it read, "Mary Poppins. Perfectly Normal."

"Impossible," Mary breathed.

"I'm sorry Mary, I shouldn't have teased you so, I never imagined..." Bert shrugged at the tape measure and put his hands in pockets, his head hanging in shame.

"Oh Bert it's not your fault. Don't feel bad. It's difficult yes, but not everything is so hard," Mary smiled. Bert looked at her for clarification. "I don't have to listen to the wind anymore you know. I'm free to do as I please. I may not be able to take you into a chalk painting, but I can go with you anywhere you like in London, whenever I want to."

"Really?" Bert asked, amazed at this new piece of information. There were so many possibilities now.

"Mmm hmm," Mary smiled. "And I'm not practically perfect anymore," Mary said, winding up the tape measure and putting it back in her bag.

"And wot does that mean?" Bert wondered, thinking this was a negative, not a positive like Mary was making it out to be.

"It means I can do this," Mary smiled, her eyes shining as she pulled Bert to her by his jacket lapels and placing her soft lips on his. After a moment she stepped back, and Bert let a goofy grin spread on his face.

"I think I rather like this new Mary," Bert smiled.

"Me too," Mary smiled, before kissing him again. Whether her magic returned or not, she at least had Bert in her life, and he loved her either way. "Me too."