{FANFIC} Clandestine (Mary/Marshall)
Title: Clandestine
Author: fatherleary
Fandom: In Plain Sight- Mary/Marshall, Marshall/OC mentions
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Obstacles to overcome, now I don't trust anyone. So, here's to all our vice and our secret double life.(All Our Vice - The New Amsterdams)
Author's Note: First off I need to thank a few people: ams87, kingzgurl(but i will thank you extra for Marshall in SHORTS and our odd night), Lex, and my beta Merelan. You've all helped me out so much already and ily.
"He's sick?"
"That's what he said." Stan replied, hands on his hips.
"Marshall doesn't get sick. He's like a freak of nature, and even if he did he'd probably have some amazing medical cure."
Stan held up his hands. "I'm just relaying the message."
Mary rolled her eyes and turned away from the shorter man. "I'm calling him."
"He won't answer." Stan taunted under his breath as she walked away.
Mary only rolled her eyes again and sighed when Marshall's voicemail picked up.
"Unless you're on your death bed I’d suggest you get your ass here, now."
She sat at her desk for ten minutes; checking the clock every other second and trying to look busy. After that she gave up on him and left, she had witnesses to check up on. Driving, she the found the silence odd. Even when Marshall wasn't sharing his vast trivia knowledge with her, there was a connection between the two that made her aware he was beside her. Now, nothing.
Mary slammed her palm against the steering wheel. ‘Why did he have to be sick?’ Mary felt like a selfish little kid, pouting as she took a corner, but it didn't matter. Marshall was supposed to be there with her!
She mentally smacked herself as she parked across the street from one of her witness' apartment buildings, and turned to look at the crowd of people occupying the fenced-in playground of the adjacent park. She went to turn then stopped in her tracks.
"Sick my ass!" Mary muttered to herself.
Marshall ran across the small patch of grass, chased by three little kids. He was dressed in a normal t-shirt, khaki shorts, and sneakers with white socks peaking out of the rim. The thing that took Mary by the most surprise was that he actually looked happy as the kids jumped on him, knocking him to the ground. Mary felt a twinge in her heart as Marshall stood up, picked of two of the children under his arms and spun them around, setting them down and stumbling around a few second later.
She stood there watching him, almost amazed. He had called in sick... for this? Marshall wasn't the lying type, hell she never pegged him for the t-shirt wearing jolly green giant of the playground either. But now, goofy and smiley, letting kids overtake him like he was a six-foot-tall jungle gym, she didn’t know what to think.
A light tug on her jacket broke her from her thoughts and made her look down. A little girl, brown hair pulled into pigtails and a familiar inquisitive look on her face, stared at Mary through the fence that was just barely shorter than her. Mary opened her mouth to speak but stopped. The girl gave Mary a look that made her second guess being a smart ass, blocking her normal reaction to kids.
"Hi." The little girl said, smiling.
"Hi." Mary bent down so she was level with the girl.
"My name's Emily, what's yours?"
"Mary."
She stood there for another minute, studying Mary, and then blurted out, "Do you know why the sky is blue?"
"Um…" Mary stammered. What the hell do you say to kids? "To match your pretty eyes?"
She laughed, giggling in a little girl sound but a condescending adult manner. "You're funny Mary! It's wave...lengths. My daddy taught me that."
Oh my god.
"Your daddy must be very smart."
Her face hurt from trying to smile, eventually she just gave up. Emily started rambling, going almost seamlessly from Dora the Explorer to random facts no one would need to know in their life.
Oh my fucking god.
Mary tried to reason with herself, all the while staring intently at the little girl for all the wrong reasons. The eyes weren't that similar, and a lot kids can be tall for their age, it didn't mean anything. Really, it didn't.
"Sweetie, I'm sure your mommy is worried about you."
"Oh, my daddy is right over there!" She extended a bony finger in the direction of a man, squished between two children, facing the rest of the circle they made around him, with a book in his hands. His face changed like putty at a moment's notice and the kids howled with excitement.
It didn't mean anything.
"Stay here, Mary."
She obeyed, only because she was curious, and watched the little girl sprint in his direction. She jumped onto his back and he pulled her over his shoulder until she lay on his lap. Mary's body stiffened as she saw her laugh and point, but he was far into the yard and could only make out her outline.
Emily pulled him by the finger until he stood, then ran ahead of him, he jogged to catch up. Mary thought of running, of lying and saying Mary Shannon was her doppelganger, her name was Ginger Westwood and she was in town on business, but they stopped in front of her and the resemblance was uncanny.
The girl looked up at her shocked father, proud of her new friend. "Daddy, this is Mary. Can she come to dinner?"
Marshall's mouth was so dry his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He literally could not speak; even to tell Emily yes or no. His eyes locked with Mary's and the familiar tingle in his spine when he looked at her was dulled by the absolute fear in what she might do to him because she had to find this out on her own. Mary, on the other hand, was less stunned, and less angry then she had been prepared for. She understood, their situation called for anonymity, and Marshall would do anything to protect his daughter, but...Marshall had a daughter and, U.S Marshal or not, didn't tell his best friend. She understood, but it hurt.
"Daddy, daddy, can she please? She's really nice!"
"Emily, I think your dad-“
Marshall's bodily functions were shocked to life and in a second he even got up the strength to smile, looking from Mary to his daughter. "We'd love to have you for dinner, Mary, if you'd come."
***
Author's Note: A Special thanks to Crys for the help with this chapter. It was such a fun night/morning, and I actually like how this turned out. SHOCK&AWE. Enjoy and feedback, good and bad, is great appreciated.
Mary pulled into Marshall's drive way and turned off the engine, but kept the key in the ignition. Mary knew this wasn't such a good idea, she only agreed to dinner because Emily practically begged and Marshall looked scared shitless when he first saw Mary leaning against the fence. He tried to look calm but she could see right through him, and he expected her to break his neck, playground full of kids or not. He wanted to avoid the inevitable conversation at all costs, but Emily asking for something in the simplest ways broke him down.
It was a quarter to six. Mary sighed. She made it a point to show up early just in case she changed her mind she could call and tell him that she was caught up at work. That, or she actually wanted to come and showed up early so she wouldn't have the time to change her mind. Either way, she was curious. And whether or not she showed for dinner he would have to give the story up at some point. Three years in a normal relationship people become close, close enough to share, oh I don't know, secret children, but in their job, their kind of friendship, it was almost wrong for him to keep something like that from her. She wasn't upset, at least not that she would admit, only mad...definitely a little mad.
Something dragged her out of her car and to the doorstep, made her pick up her hand and knock. Marshall opened the door with a wooden spoon in his hand, revealing Emily down the hall behind him absorbed into her coloring-book. He stepped to the side and placed a finger to his lips, motioning behind him. Mary smiled courteously and crossed into the house, following him down a short hallway to the right and the smells of the bright red kitchen over took her immediately. Who knew Marshall could cook? Or that his house was so nice? And did he always dress like this when he wasn't on the job?
Marshall's clothes hadn't changed, but seeing him in what most would consider everyday wear, in his own house, cooking, with no shoes on, took Mary awhile to absorb. He stirred the noodles and gave the crackling chicken in the pan a once over, then turned to Mary,
"Sorry, if she heard you come in she'd be going on and on about you again and I don't think I my head can take it."
She smiled, she just couldn't stop smiling, it was the only thing hiding back the venom she was afraid she'd spit all over his face. "I didn't know you cook."
"I'm a master of many arts. I hope chicken and mac ‘n cheese is good."
"S'better than anything I've had in a while."
"Understandable. It's almost done. Do you want something to drink?"
"A beer?"
"Ah...well, I don't drink when she's awake. I have-"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She couldn’t take anymore, she had to know why he never told her about Emily.
"Mary..." Marshall sighed.
"No, Marshall, not only am I your partner, I'm your best friend, hell, your only friend, and the fact that you have a child slips your mind every time you see me? What is it? Selective amnesia?"
"I-"
"God damn it, I trust you with my life on a daily basis and you don't even have the decency to tell me this? This is the first time I've even been to your house! What is it, huh? Is everything you've ever told me bullshit?" Mary was close to yelling.
"No, of course not, I wanted-"
Mary puts her hands up in defense. "You know, forget it. I've put up with all of your moronic ‘I'm better than you’ shit for too long. I thought you were someone I could trust, and you know how hard that is for me! Some woman and a kid from your past are more important? How could you do this to me?!" They were both yelling now.
"To you? Because it's all about Mary! Did you ever stop and think that maybe it's not something I like to grudge up?" He stopped and turned away from her before throwing the spoon, still in his hand, against the wall. "God damn it, Mary!"
Mary stood her ground, doing her best not to flinch. This was Marshall, who she had never seen genuinely mad in the three years they'd known each other, so she held her tongue.
"Carol Anne died in a car accident when Emily was nine-months-old. Happy?" His eyes could've been watery but that well had run dry a long time ago.
"Daddy, what's-Mary!"
The two stood awkwardly as Emily ran and hugged Mary's waist.
Her voice was oddly quiet but she smiled down at Emily. "Hey kiddo."
"Why don't you girls go set the table, dinner'll be ready in a few minutes."
Emily picked up her stool and got three plates from the cupboard, stepped down, opened the drawer, took out spoons and forks, three of each, shifted them all to one arm and grabbed Mary's hand, dragging her into the dining room. Mary watched carefully as she set the table with such ease, she was even careful not to bang the plates on the table top. When she was done she turned, placed her hands behind her back and smiled.
"That was ve-"
"I know." Her voice was about a dozen octaves higher than Marshall's but dripped with his personality. If Mary didn't know better she'd have thought that Marshall had cloned himself and put it's hair in pigtails.
She didn't know how to react to kids in general, and now she had one with all the innocence of a little girl and the mouth of a Mann. She didn't know what Carol Anne was like, considering she was only a recent discovery, but if the little time she'd known Emily was any evidence, Marshall's genes were dominant in every sense of the word.
He served dinner with that old air about him, like the preceding fight hadn't happened at all, so Mary put on her game face and did the same. But if they started praying all bets were off. Lucky for her they started eating, letting in a little comments about the day and what they would do tomorrow. Emily put a napkin in her lap and for the first time Mary saw her as a normal six-year-old, shoveling the food into her mouth like a hurricane and only stopping to chug her milk.
The odd silence between them seemed out of place, and Mary accredited that to her knowing presence. She wanted to ask more, about Carol Anne, if they'd been dating or married, about Emily, why he took the job having to care for such a young child alone, about everything that filled her head in that damn silence, but she refrained. Emily looked too happy, and she was unsure of how she would react, unsure of how Marshall would react.
"Oh!" Emily screamed and nearly flung her fork at Marshall. "Do pig-man! Do pig-man!"
"No, hun, not tonight."
"Pig-man!" She shrieked.
"Emily!"
Mary felt a lump rise in her throat but swallowed it down with her chicken. She wondered if it was pig-man with two N's or one. "What's pig-man?"
"It's pig-man! Do it, do it, do it!"
Marshall sighed and put his arms behind his back. In the next second his face was buried in the food left on his plate and he was snorting like a pig. Emily squealed in joy, nearly falling off of her chair laughing, even though Mary guessed Marshall had done this a million times. She wanted to laugh, she found it funny, but for much different reasons than Emily.
Marshall was willing to make a mess and an ass of himself in front of the person who he was sure would make fun of him later for it, all for Emily.
After Marshall cleaned up himself and denied Mary's out of character offer to help clean up, Emily pulled her, a trait she was now noticing didn't come from Marshall, to her room. It was a rather big and pink room, yet still not one partial to a little girl. Books well beyond her comprehension filled the shelves beside her small desk, which itself was as neat and tidy as Marshall's back at their office. Her bed had only a large and quite ragged teddy bear on its pink down comforter.
Mary made a mental scoreboard: One side held MM, the other CA, and so far it was about a hundred to one.
She excused herself to the bathroom and let her eyes do the walking. The walls were lined with pictures of Emily, some Emily and Marshall, but no one Mary didn't recognize. She peaked into the first room, went to pass it, and then stopped. Marshall's office. Marshall had an office? She looked over her shoulder and made her way in silently.
Now this was how she'd imagined Marshall's house, full of books and papers and files, all neatly stacked and alphabetized, cold furniture, all hard, heavy, oak book cases and desks, and neutral, equally cold, colors. A blue ribbon that read 'First Place' stuck to the side of his computer, a ribbon given to Emily for winning a costume contest at her preschool Halloween party, the only personal thing Mary could find in the entire room. She sat in the chair, aware of how odd she looked with its current setting so close to the floor, and ran her fingers along the desk's carved edges until she reached the drawer and opened it.
Inside the drawer lay more files, some seemingly useless papers, and a thick black leather binder hidden under it all. She pulled it out, trying to keep everything from spilling out, unzipped it and laid it over her lap. Stacks of used drawing paper were stuffed into, some intricate and others lowly stick figures with names written overhead, some of a baby with Marshall's grin, others of an old couple, some scenery, a woman, who Mary could only assume was Carol, whose almond shaped eyes seemed look past her into forever. There were at least a dozen of Carol Anne, all different poses and angles and facial expressions, and a few of her and baby Emily.
All of them carried a date in fine pencil in the corner, all beside MMM. A few dated back at least ten years, but none after 2002. Six years before, the same age as Emily. Jesus. Mary pushed any thought out of her mind as she put the drawings back into the binder, almost certain she was putting them in wrong, but stopped cold when she realized she'd missed one.
This woman was in a car, she supposed, her hair was wind blown and being viewed from the side from the shoulders up, but that was it. This drawing, unlike the rest, had no face, barely an outline of one. She sighed, because something clicked on her head, unbeknown to her, and she felt wrong all of the sudden. Mary the snoop, who read Marshall's email and letters, who never let him take a piss without her knowing, felt almost...guilty.
"Do you think Aunt Mary's a snoop?"
Mary jumped as his voice boomed into the office, but she somehow managed to keep the drawings securely on her lap, just out of his view. She smiled as she looked up at him, standing in the door way and holding Emily on his hip with ease.
Emily nodded and nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck.
"You ready for bed?" He asked, his lips close to her ear.
She nodded again. Mary closed the binder and zipped it quickly.
Marshall turned and carried the exhausted Emily down the hall to her room to put her to bed. Mary tried to hide the binder where she'd found it, but instead of spilling the drawer's contents on the floor she threw it on the top and closed the drawer as Marshall reappeared in front of her.
"You find anything interesting?"
"Just seeing what else you were hiding from me. Blood type, birthday, real name. Ya' know, just the basics people tell their best friends." She smiled.
Her words were meant in a Mary sort of way, but they hung in the room for a long time before they hit Marshall. And it stung.
***
Author's Note: Thanks to Crys, my beta, my bb Amy(many shirtless Marshall's to you), and everyone else who helped me on this chapter. Enjoy and feedback, good and bad, is greatly appreciated.
Mary sat, picking at a loose thread on the pillowed arm of the recliner. She had seen Marshall's face drop in his office, she tried not to let him know she'd seen, but she saw. The guilt was little and almost unnoticeable, though it stewed in the pit of her stomach. She should've just gone, but he told her to wait. Not in so many words, but he didn't protest when he came down the stairs and saw her sitting in his favorite chair.
Marshall handed her a beer and she took it without looking up at him. He sat on the couch diagonal to her, propping his feet up on the coffee table. They sat in silence for another minute, Marshall taking small sips and Mary keeping her eyes on her fingers as they traced the neck of her bottle. She thought about leaving then, maybe she wasn't ready to hear it, even though every cell in her brain was burning for an answer.
"I don't know where to start, for once..." He drifted off, only adding to the uneasiness both of them were feeling.
She physically could not move, but mumbled, "The beginning might be an idea." She didn't mean to sound like such an asshole but it was just the way it came out. Oh well, he'd get over it, she thought, he always does.
He cleared his throat and began, "I met Carol Anne at UNM, I majored in Criminal Justice, minored in Art. She was pre-law and kind of a ball buster. Acerbic. Like you except...sweet. My mom loved her, although there wasn't a person who didn't love Carrie. We dated for," Marshall took a drink, "six years before we got married. We wanted kids, but with our careers it was the old cliché."
Mary tried to imagine Marshall as a groom, tux and all, his young face full of excitement and happiness. Kisses and smiles filled her head but it resembled nothing of the scene set before her.
"She kicked ass in the courtroom, though. She made a gang member cry on the stand once. You would've liked her. But when we finally did decide to have Emily she took time off from her practice. She just…loved being pregnant. Wanted to totally immerse herself in being a mom."
She widened her eyes, still fixed on her bottle. "Sounds like a bucket of fun."
Marshall shrugged. "It was good for a long time. Work, family, Emily, it was all good. Anyway, Carrie said I coddled her too much, but that's what Dads are supposed to do, right?"
Mary felt a snag in her chest, of all the things he could've said, he chose those words.
"She was on her way to pick up Emily from daycare...when it happened. Afterwards, I-I had Em to raise."
"And you stopped drawing."
Marshall's eyes bore into her and for the first time she was uneasy. She lifted her eyes to catch his gaze confidently, feeling anything but.
"I did. Drawing was something... It's how I met Carrie," He found himself laughing. "I saw her studying on campus and had to draw her. Some primal urge from my fingers to my toes, like the cavemen when they first discovered fire, they had to capture it when they realized it could pass. She must've thought I was a stalker. I was afraid she was going to start swinging but when she saw what I was doing, thank god she found it endearing."
His face was upturned, dreamy eyes and a grin. And it finally set in. It wasn't about not trusting her. Marshall, at one point in his life, had been a whole person, not the sum of his quirks, Mary's best friend, her sidekick, or even a U.S. Marshal. He'd been a student, an artist, a husband, a father. Suddenly she didn't know him at all.
Mary sat in the unfamiliar living room, trying not to look at Marshall as he strolled down memory lane and smiled to himself. Her mind was a million miles away from her body, something she actually thanked later. She still wanted to scream at him. Pain wasn't a reason to keep your entire self from your best friend. But if she had, she didn't think she could take the hypocrisy of it all.
"You're not talking. It scares me."
Marshall set his eyes on her, concerned and tired, and she smiled weakly. "It's a lot to take in, Marshall."
He hadn't expected her to say anything, let alone act like she understood, but he still couldn't find a spot in his already pulverized heart to feel sorry for not telling her sooner. He had held it in long before he met Mary and somehow in a few selfish, snide remarks she had gotten him to, less than cautiously, give her the entire story. She, in her harsh exterior and rare soft moments, broke through everything he was and she had no idea.
"Mary, I'm..."
"No you're not, and don't be. Let’s just call it a night." She still couldn't look at him as she sat her beer down and got up.
"You don't have to, you know." Marshall protested, following her to the door.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
He nodded, closed the door, and she quickly walked to her car. The door jammed, of course, at the perfect moment, and she fought with the handle until she kicked it with her heel. She collected herself and it opened in one swift motion, she got in and put her key in the ignition. For a second she stopped and the wave that she had been holding at bay all night carried her out to sea. She sobbed against the steering wheel, oblivious to Marshall's shadow in the doorway, watching her.
Author: fatherleary
Fandom: In Plain Sight- Mary/Marshall, Marshall/OC mentions
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Obstacles to overcome, now I don't trust anyone. So, here's to all our vice and our secret double life.(All Our Vice - The New Amsterdams)
Author's Note: First off I need to thank a few people: ams87, kingzgurl(but i will thank you extra for Marshall in SHORTS and our odd night), Lex, and my beta Merelan. You've all helped me out so much already and ily.
"He's sick?"
"That's what he said." Stan replied, hands on his hips.
"Marshall doesn't get sick. He's like a freak of nature, and even if he did he'd probably have some amazing medical cure."
Stan held up his hands. "I'm just relaying the message."
Mary rolled her eyes and turned away from the shorter man. "I'm calling him."
"He won't answer." Stan taunted under his breath as she walked away.
Mary only rolled her eyes again and sighed when Marshall's voicemail picked up.
"Unless you're on your death bed I’d suggest you get your ass here, now."
She sat at her desk for ten minutes; checking the clock every other second and trying to look busy. After that she gave up on him and left, she had witnesses to check up on. Driving, she the found the silence odd. Even when Marshall wasn't sharing his vast trivia knowledge with her, there was a connection between the two that made her aware he was beside her. Now, nothing.
Mary slammed her palm against the steering wheel. ‘Why did he have to be sick?’ Mary felt like a selfish little kid, pouting as she took a corner, but it didn't matter. Marshall was supposed to be there with her!
She mentally smacked herself as she parked across the street from one of her witness' apartment buildings, and turned to look at the crowd of people occupying the fenced-in playground of the adjacent park. She went to turn then stopped in her tracks.
"Sick my ass!" Mary muttered to herself.
Marshall ran across the small patch of grass, chased by three little kids. He was dressed in a normal t-shirt, khaki shorts, and sneakers with white socks peaking out of the rim. The thing that took Mary by the most surprise was that he actually looked happy as the kids jumped on him, knocking him to the ground. Mary felt a twinge in her heart as Marshall stood up, picked of two of the children under his arms and spun them around, setting them down and stumbling around a few second later.
She stood there watching him, almost amazed. He had called in sick... for this? Marshall wasn't the lying type, hell she never pegged him for the t-shirt wearing jolly green giant of the playground either. But now, goofy and smiley, letting kids overtake him like he was a six-foot-tall jungle gym, she didn’t know what to think.
A light tug on her jacket broke her from her thoughts and made her look down. A little girl, brown hair pulled into pigtails and a familiar inquisitive look on her face, stared at Mary through the fence that was just barely shorter than her. Mary opened her mouth to speak but stopped. The girl gave Mary a look that made her second guess being a smart ass, blocking her normal reaction to kids.
"Hi." The little girl said, smiling.
"Hi." Mary bent down so she was level with the girl.
"My name's Emily, what's yours?"
"Mary."
She stood there for another minute, studying Mary, and then blurted out, "Do you know why the sky is blue?"
"Um…" Mary stammered. What the hell do you say to kids? "To match your pretty eyes?"
She laughed, giggling in a little girl sound but a condescending adult manner. "You're funny Mary! It's wave...lengths. My daddy taught me that."
Oh my god.
"Your daddy must be very smart."
Her face hurt from trying to smile, eventually she just gave up. Emily started rambling, going almost seamlessly from Dora the Explorer to random facts no one would need to know in their life.
Oh my fucking god.
Mary tried to reason with herself, all the while staring intently at the little girl for all the wrong reasons. The eyes weren't that similar, and a lot kids can be tall for their age, it didn't mean anything. Really, it didn't.
"Sweetie, I'm sure your mommy is worried about you."
"Oh, my daddy is right over there!" She extended a bony finger in the direction of a man, squished between two children, facing the rest of the circle they made around him, with a book in his hands. His face changed like putty at a moment's notice and the kids howled with excitement.
It didn't mean anything.
"Stay here, Mary."
She obeyed, only because she was curious, and watched the little girl sprint in his direction. She jumped onto his back and he pulled her over his shoulder until she lay on his lap. Mary's body stiffened as she saw her laugh and point, but he was far into the yard and could only make out her outline.
Emily pulled him by the finger until he stood, then ran ahead of him, he jogged to catch up. Mary thought of running, of lying and saying Mary Shannon was her doppelganger, her name was Ginger Westwood and she was in town on business, but they stopped in front of her and the resemblance was uncanny.
The girl looked up at her shocked father, proud of her new friend. "Daddy, this is Mary. Can she come to dinner?"
Marshall's mouth was so dry his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He literally could not speak; even to tell Emily yes or no. His eyes locked with Mary's and the familiar tingle in his spine when he looked at her was dulled by the absolute fear in what she might do to him because she had to find this out on her own. Mary, on the other hand, was less stunned, and less angry then she had been prepared for. She understood, their situation called for anonymity, and Marshall would do anything to protect his daughter, but...Marshall had a daughter and, U.S Marshal or not, didn't tell his best friend. She understood, but it hurt.
"Daddy, daddy, can she please? She's really nice!"
"Emily, I think your dad-“
Marshall's bodily functions were shocked to life and in a second he even got up the strength to smile, looking from Mary to his daughter. "We'd love to have you for dinner, Mary, if you'd come."
***
Author's Note: A Special thanks to Crys for the help with this chapter. It was such a fun night/morning, and I actually like how this turned out. SHOCK&AWE. Enjoy and feedback, good and bad, is great appreciated.
Mary pulled into Marshall's drive way and turned off the engine, but kept the key in the ignition. Mary knew this wasn't such a good idea, she only agreed to dinner because Emily practically begged and Marshall looked scared shitless when he first saw Mary leaning against the fence. He tried to look calm but she could see right through him, and he expected her to break his neck, playground full of kids or not. He wanted to avoid the inevitable conversation at all costs, but Emily asking for something in the simplest ways broke him down.
It was a quarter to six. Mary sighed. She made it a point to show up early just in case she changed her mind she could call and tell him that she was caught up at work. That, or she actually wanted to come and showed up early so she wouldn't have the time to change her mind. Either way, she was curious. And whether or not she showed for dinner he would have to give the story up at some point. Three years in a normal relationship people become close, close enough to share, oh I don't know, secret children, but in their job, their kind of friendship, it was almost wrong for him to keep something like that from her. She wasn't upset, at least not that she would admit, only mad...definitely a little mad.
Something dragged her out of her car and to the doorstep, made her pick up her hand and knock. Marshall opened the door with a wooden spoon in his hand, revealing Emily down the hall behind him absorbed into her coloring-book. He stepped to the side and placed a finger to his lips, motioning behind him. Mary smiled courteously and crossed into the house, following him down a short hallway to the right and the smells of the bright red kitchen over took her immediately. Who knew Marshall could cook? Or that his house was so nice? And did he always dress like this when he wasn't on the job?
Marshall's clothes hadn't changed, but seeing him in what most would consider everyday wear, in his own house, cooking, with no shoes on, took Mary awhile to absorb. He stirred the noodles and gave the crackling chicken in the pan a once over, then turned to Mary,
"Sorry, if she heard you come in she'd be going on and on about you again and I don't think I my head can take it."
She smiled, she just couldn't stop smiling, it was the only thing hiding back the venom she was afraid she'd spit all over his face. "I didn't know you cook."
"I'm a master of many arts. I hope chicken and mac ‘n cheese is good."
"S'better than anything I've had in a while."
"Understandable. It's almost done. Do you want something to drink?"
"A beer?"
"Ah...well, I don't drink when she's awake. I have-"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She couldn’t take anymore, she had to know why he never told her about Emily.
"Mary..." Marshall sighed.
"No, Marshall, not only am I your partner, I'm your best friend, hell, your only friend, and the fact that you have a child slips your mind every time you see me? What is it? Selective amnesia?"
"I-"
"God damn it, I trust you with my life on a daily basis and you don't even have the decency to tell me this? This is the first time I've even been to your house! What is it, huh? Is everything you've ever told me bullshit?" Mary was close to yelling.
"No, of course not, I wanted-"
Mary puts her hands up in defense. "You know, forget it. I've put up with all of your moronic ‘I'm better than you’ shit for too long. I thought you were someone I could trust, and you know how hard that is for me! Some woman and a kid from your past are more important? How could you do this to me?!" They were both yelling now.
"To you? Because it's all about Mary! Did you ever stop and think that maybe it's not something I like to grudge up?" He stopped and turned away from her before throwing the spoon, still in his hand, against the wall. "God damn it, Mary!"
Mary stood her ground, doing her best not to flinch. This was Marshall, who she had never seen genuinely mad in the three years they'd known each other, so she held her tongue.
"Carol Anne died in a car accident when Emily was nine-months-old. Happy?" His eyes could've been watery but that well had run dry a long time ago.
"Daddy, what's-Mary!"
The two stood awkwardly as Emily ran and hugged Mary's waist.
Her voice was oddly quiet but she smiled down at Emily. "Hey kiddo."
"Why don't you girls go set the table, dinner'll be ready in a few minutes."
Emily picked up her stool and got three plates from the cupboard, stepped down, opened the drawer, took out spoons and forks, three of each, shifted them all to one arm and grabbed Mary's hand, dragging her into the dining room. Mary watched carefully as she set the table with such ease, she was even careful not to bang the plates on the table top. When she was done she turned, placed her hands behind her back and smiled.
"That was ve-"
"I know." Her voice was about a dozen octaves higher than Marshall's but dripped with his personality. If Mary didn't know better she'd have thought that Marshall had cloned himself and put it's hair in pigtails.
She didn't know how to react to kids in general, and now she had one with all the innocence of a little girl and the mouth of a Mann. She didn't know what Carol Anne was like, considering she was only a recent discovery, but if the little time she'd known Emily was any evidence, Marshall's genes were dominant in every sense of the word.
He served dinner with that old air about him, like the preceding fight hadn't happened at all, so Mary put on her game face and did the same. But if they started praying all bets were off. Lucky for her they started eating, letting in a little comments about the day and what they would do tomorrow. Emily put a napkin in her lap and for the first time Mary saw her as a normal six-year-old, shoveling the food into her mouth like a hurricane and only stopping to chug her milk.
The odd silence between them seemed out of place, and Mary accredited that to her knowing presence. She wanted to ask more, about Carol Anne, if they'd been dating or married, about Emily, why he took the job having to care for such a young child alone, about everything that filled her head in that damn silence, but she refrained. Emily looked too happy, and she was unsure of how she would react, unsure of how Marshall would react.
"Oh!" Emily screamed and nearly flung her fork at Marshall. "Do pig-man! Do pig-man!"
"No, hun, not tonight."
"Pig-man!" She shrieked.
"Emily!"
Mary felt a lump rise in her throat but swallowed it down with her chicken. She wondered if it was pig-man with two N's or one. "What's pig-man?"
"It's pig-man! Do it, do it, do it!"
Marshall sighed and put his arms behind his back. In the next second his face was buried in the food left on his plate and he was snorting like a pig. Emily squealed in joy, nearly falling off of her chair laughing, even though Mary guessed Marshall had done this a million times. She wanted to laugh, she found it funny, but for much different reasons than Emily.
Marshall was willing to make a mess and an ass of himself in front of the person who he was sure would make fun of him later for it, all for Emily.
After Marshall cleaned up himself and denied Mary's out of character offer to help clean up, Emily pulled her, a trait she was now noticing didn't come from Marshall, to her room. It was a rather big and pink room, yet still not one partial to a little girl. Books well beyond her comprehension filled the shelves beside her small desk, which itself was as neat and tidy as Marshall's back at their office. Her bed had only a large and quite ragged teddy bear on its pink down comforter.
Mary made a mental scoreboard: One side held MM, the other CA, and so far it was about a hundred to one.
She excused herself to the bathroom and let her eyes do the walking. The walls were lined with pictures of Emily, some Emily and Marshall, but no one Mary didn't recognize. She peaked into the first room, went to pass it, and then stopped. Marshall's office. Marshall had an office? She looked over her shoulder and made her way in silently.
Now this was how she'd imagined Marshall's house, full of books and papers and files, all neatly stacked and alphabetized, cold furniture, all hard, heavy, oak book cases and desks, and neutral, equally cold, colors. A blue ribbon that read 'First Place' stuck to the side of his computer, a ribbon given to Emily for winning a costume contest at her preschool Halloween party, the only personal thing Mary could find in the entire room. She sat in the chair, aware of how odd she looked with its current setting so close to the floor, and ran her fingers along the desk's carved edges until she reached the drawer and opened it.
Inside the drawer lay more files, some seemingly useless papers, and a thick black leather binder hidden under it all. She pulled it out, trying to keep everything from spilling out, unzipped it and laid it over her lap. Stacks of used drawing paper were stuffed into, some intricate and others lowly stick figures with names written overhead, some of a baby with Marshall's grin, others of an old couple, some scenery, a woman, who Mary could only assume was Carol, whose almond shaped eyes seemed look past her into forever. There were at least a dozen of Carol Anne, all different poses and angles and facial expressions, and a few of her and baby Emily.
All of them carried a date in fine pencil in the corner, all beside MMM. A few dated back at least ten years, but none after 2002. Six years before, the same age as Emily. Jesus. Mary pushed any thought out of her mind as she put the drawings back into the binder, almost certain she was putting them in wrong, but stopped cold when she realized she'd missed one.
This woman was in a car, she supposed, her hair was wind blown and being viewed from the side from the shoulders up, but that was it. This drawing, unlike the rest, had no face, barely an outline of one. She sighed, because something clicked on her head, unbeknown to her, and she felt wrong all of the sudden. Mary the snoop, who read Marshall's email and letters, who never let him take a piss without her knowing, felt almost...guilty.
"Do you think Aunt Mary's a snoop?"
Mary jumped as his voice boomed into the office, but she somehow managed to keep the drawings securely on her lap, just out of his view. She smiled as she looked up at him, standing in the door way and holding Emily on his hip with ease.
Emily nodded and nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck.
"You ready for bed?" He asked, his lips close to her ear.
She nodded again. Mary closed the binder and zipped it quickly.
Marshall turned and carried the exhausted Emily down the hall to her room to put her to bed. Mary tried to hide the binder where she'd found it, but instead of spilling the drawer's contents on the floor she threw it on the top and closed the drawer as Marshall reappeared in front of her.
"You find anything interesting?"
"Just seeing what else you were hiding from me. Blood type, birthday, real name. Ya' know, just the basics people tell their best friends." She smiled.
Her words were meant in a Mary sort of way, but they hung in the room for a long time before they hit Marshall. And it stung.
***
Author's Note: Thanks to Crys, my beta, my bb Amy(many shirtless Marshall's to you), and everyone else who helped me on this chapter. Enjoy and feedback, good and bad, is greatly appreciated.
Mary sat, picking at a loose thread on the pillowed arm of the recliner. She had seen Marshall's face drop in his office, she tried not to let him know she'd seen, but she saw. The guilt was little and almost unnoticeable, though it stewed in the pit of her stomach. She should've just gone, but he told her to wait. Not in so many words, but he didn't protest when he came down the stairs and saw her sitting in his favorite chair.
Marshall handed her a beer and she took it without looking up at him. He sat on the couch diagonal to her, propping his feet up on the coffee table. They sat in silence for another minute, Marshall taking small sips and Mary keeping her eyes on her fingers as they traced the neck of her bottle. She thought about leaving then, maybe she wasn't ready to hear it, even though every cell in her brain was burning for an answer.
"I don't know where to start, for once..." He drifted off, only adding to the uneasiness both of them were feeling.
She physically could not move, but mumbled, "The beginning might be an idea." She didn't mean to sound like such an asshole but it was just the way it came out. Oh well, he'd get over it, she thought, he always does.
He cleared his throat and began, "I met Carol Anne at UNM, I majored in Criminal Justice, minored in Art. She was pre-law and kind of a ball buster. Acerbic. Like you except...sweet. My mom loved her, although there wasn't a person who didn't love Carrie. We dated for," Marshall took a drink, "six years before we got married. We wanted kids, but with our careers it was the old cliché."
Mary tried to imagine Marshall as a groom, tux and all, his young face full of excitement and happiness. Kisses and smiles filled her head but it resembled nothing of the scene set before her.
"She kicked ass in the courtroom, though. She made a gang member cry on the stand once. You would've liked her. But when we finally did decide to have Emily she took time off from her practice. She just…loved being pregnant. Wanted to totally immerse herself in being a mom."
She widened her eyes, still fixed on her bottle. "Sounds like a bucket of fun."
Marshall shrugged. "It was good for a long time. Work, family, Emily, it was all good. Anyway, Carrie said I coddled her too much, but that's what Dads are supposed to do, right?"
Mary felt a snag in her chest, of all the things he could've said, he chose those words.
"She was on her way to pick up Emily from daycare...when it happened. Afterwards, I-I had Em to raise."
"And you stopped drawing."
Marshall's eyes bore into her and for the first time she was uneasy. She lifted her eyes to catch his gaze confidently, feeling anything but.
"I did. Drawing was something... It's how I met Carrie," He found himself laughing. "I saw her studying on campus and had to draw her. Some primal urge from my fingers to my toes, like the cavemen when they first discovered fire, they had to capture it when they realized it could pass. She must've thought I was a stalker. I was afraid she was going to start swinging but when she saw what I was doing, thank god she found it endearing."
His face was upturned, dreamy eyes and a grin. And it finally set in. It wasn't about not trusting her. Marshall, at one point in his life, had been a whole person, not the sum of his quirks, Mary's best friend, her sidekick, or even a U.S. Marshal. He'd been a student, an artist, a husband, a father. Suddenly she didn't know him at all.
Mary sat in the unfamiliar living room, trying not to look at Marshall as he strolled down memory lane and smiled to himself. Her mind was a million miles away from her body, something she actually thanked later. She still wanted to scream at him. Pain wasn't a reason to keep your entire self from your best friend. But if she had, she didn't think she could take the hypocrisy of it all.
"You're not talking. It scares me."
Marshall set his eyes on her, concerned and tired, and she smiled weakly. "It's a lot to take in, Marshall."
He hadn't expected her to say anything, let alone act like she understood, but he still couldn't find a spot in his already pulverized heart to feel sorry for not telling her sooner. He had held it in long before he met Mary and somehow in a few selfish, snide remarks she had gotten him to, less than cautiously, give her the entire story. She, in her harsh exterior and rare soft moments, broke through everything he was and she had no idea.
"Mary, I'm..."
"No you're not, and don't be. Let’s just call it a night." She still couldn't look at him as she sat her beer down and got up.
"You don't have to, you know." Marshall protested, following her to the door.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
He nodded, closed the door, and she quickly walked to her car. The door jammed, of course, at the perfect moment, and she fought with the handle until she kicked it with her heel. She collected herself and it opened in one swift motion, she got in and put her key in the ignition. For a second she stopped and the wave that she had been holding at bay all night carried her out to sea. She sobbed against the steering wheel, oblivious to Marshall's shadow in the doorway, watching her.