vocab_drabbles | 55: Peregrinate - Mary Poppins - Bert/Mary

Title: Cathartic Spring
Fandom: Mary Poppins
Author: Apache Firecat
Rating: G/K
Word Count: 400
Characters/Pairings: Bert/Mary
Warnings: A bit AUish, or at least so some fans will think ;)
Summary: Bert longs for Mary's return.

He has danced so many places. He has danced through the night sky and across stars themselves. He has high-kicked from the tallest of mountains and glided along snowy slopes. He has winked almost into the sun itself and sang in the very cosmos. He has done so much, and yet still, there is one thing he longs to do more than any other.

The rooftops of London have been his favorite for many centuries now. There is something truly magical about London, especially when the city is not yet awake, but even with its mysterious beauty and all the other places Bert has peregrinated through, there is one place that even more dominates his dreams and heart. She is lovelier than the brightest star, kinder than the gentler heart, and makes him feel like he's flying higher than the tallest peak with the slightest of smiles.

There's something even more magical about Mary Poppins than London. There's something about her that turns every male head, but also which sets every beast and child at ease. She can sing to anyone, lighten any heart, entice any chimney sweep or even lowlier guy to aim to achieve better. She certainly changed his whole world the first time she waltzed into it. He knows he's lucky to be a part of her adventures, but he wants more. Oh, how he yearns for more!

How he yearns for that sweet smile to never stop shining on him! How he yearns to be the only hand for which she reaches! How he longs to high step with her not just over the mountains and through the valleys, across the stars themselves, but into the church and down the aisle! Like each child she visits, he never wants that grand lady to leave his life.

Yet she does. Just as, with time, she leaves every child, every heart she touches, she leaves him. She always returns, but she always leaves him again. She is, in a way, like the Spring time, Bert thinks, lifting his head, inhaling deeply of sweet and fragrant aromas of the flowers beginning to bloom, and closing his eyes. He never wants her to leave, she always does, but she always returns, and when she does return, her stay, however long or short, is always cathartic for all those around her. "Ah, Mary," he whispers, aching, "please hurry back to me."

The End