Month of Mayhem, Day 6: Fanfic - When It All Falls Apart (Again)
Title: When It All Falls Apart (Again)
Author: likelike_love
Characters: Mary and Marshall
Rating: Let's go with Teen - Nothing dirty, just a little violence. A teensy bit of salty language.
Summary: This is the first time things really go sideways after the events in Trojan Horst. Angsty partnership fic, what else?
Spoilers: Lotsa Horst.
Author's Note: This has been kicking around since ... *looks* ... oh, God, October! Poor papillongirl has had to see thing in numerous incarnations since then. Lucky for her, this is my Mayhem day otherwise I'm sure that she'd be stuck seeing it a few more times. But, it's done (enough), so she's off the hook!
Marshall exited the elevator a little before 10:30 on a Tuesday morning with a tray of four coffees precariously balanced on a stack of file folders. Mary howled from her desk at the sight of him trying to juggle the folders and drinks while attempting to angle the swipe card out of his pocket. She made no move to help him until he wisely reminded her that should he drop one beverage, he would likely drop them all-- including hers. She crossed the distance from her desk to the gate and flung the door open. She took her coffee from the tray and abruptly turned, leaving him to wrestle with the folders and attempt to keep the tray she had unbalanced upright. Ultimately the folders fell to the floor, contents spilling at his feet as he held the tray out beyond the heap, comically thrusting out his butt to remain upright. Mary looked up from her computer and sniggered, "Way to stick the landing, Nadia."
After he delivered the coffees safely to his desk, he returned to the mess on the floor, sweeping it all up into a stack and carrying it back to his desk. The two worked in companionable silence for several minutes, Marshall whistling as he righted the mess of upended files, Mary's pen scratching along, filling out paperwork. After a few moments, Marshall cleared his throat. Mary didn't lift her eyes or her pen from the papers in front of her. He tried again, this time stretching the noise into three syllables.
"You should really take something for that cough," she murmured, taking a long pull from her coffee. She laced her fingers and stretched, cracking her knuckles loudly. She picked up her pen, returning her attention to the forms in front of her.
"Alright, alright, you don't have to beat it out of me..." Marshall was grinning like a lunatic. "I've been cleared to return to the field." He spun two full revolutions in his chair and tacked the doctor's note up on the file cabinet behind him with a magnet shaped like a piece of pie. "Future plans? Kicking ass and taking names."
A curtain of smooth blonde hair hid her eyes from him. She squeezed her eyes shut, but was unsuccessful in warding off the memories taking hold...
"You know, please don't act like you're the injured party here, okay? At least show me that much respect."
"Respect? When have you ever shown me respect? Or anyone else for that matter?" Marshall glanced back down at the paperwork to hide his eyes.
Sensing weakness, she sharpened her tone. "Maybe you'd get respect if you ever actually did something to earn it."
"And you wonder why I didn't share my future plans with you." His voice turned hard, a sure sign her words had truly hit their mark.
"No. What I wonder is why I put up with your insipid running commentary for the past three years. Come on. Let's go." She hauled Vanderhoff off the bench by his elbow, anger radiating from her posture, squeezing through her grip.
Mary did not look up, did not turn her head. A barely perceptible pause in her pen's movement across the paper was the only sign. Marshall noticed. When it came to Mary, Marshall always noticed. As quickly as it paused, her hand began moving again, pen forming her distinctively messy, childish print. "Thank God. You may be a skinny bastard, but it's still exhausting pulling your weight."
Her voice was even enough that he wondered briefly if he had imagined any hesitation at all.
He contemplated getting into it. Did a quick threat assessment in his head. This was Mary: combustible, volatile, all sharp edges and short fuse. Even those adrenaline junkies on the bomb squad wouldn't touch this one with a ten foot pole, and they treated C-4 like silly putty. Marshall found that it was often better to clear the scene and make sure Mary would do as little damage as possible to people and property when she detonated.
The rattle of the elevator doors roused Marshall from his contemplation. Stan entered the office, greeting them both with a booming, "Inspectors." Marshall held a coffee aloft, and Stan took it from him, asking, "And what's the good word?"
Marshall flashed a smile and gestured towards the file cabinet. "Look, Dad, straight A's!"
Stan shook his head, humored, and gestured with his thumb toward the conference room, "In that case, if the two of you would join me behind door number one..."
They were en route to the train station to pick up the new witness in less than an hour. Marshall thumbed through the case file while Mary navigated the GMC through an unexpected snarl of traffic downtown. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. "Tell me again."
Marshall glanced over at her, concerned, before flipping open the case file in his lap and reading aloud, "Elizabeth Kenney, age 23. An only child... Mom's Dutch... Dad's an American diplomat. Grew up in US consulates around Europe and came to New York for college. Got involved with Alex Spentzos, son of Greek shipping magnate Dimitrios Spentzos. Turns out Junior is interested in following in Daddy's footsteps, except he was importing some riskier cargo. Here's where it gets complicated."
When she rolled down the window to gesture rudely, the oppressive afternoon air overwhelmed her briefly...
It was hot, a dry overwhelming desert heat in the late afternoon. The steam from the engine was so thick that she could barely make out his frame as he approached the front of the SUV. "You see anything?"
"Hang on. It's complicated under here." His disembodied voice came from under the hood.
She scrubbed a hand across her face, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun from the sideview mirror. At the sound of wheels on the dirt turn off, she was on alert, calling to Marshall, "We've got company!" She turned in her seat to force Horst face down on the floor.
When her eyes reached Marshall again, he was making his way around the hood. The look of surprise arrived a split second before the bullet. The force of the impact rippled through his body, and he landed on the ground with an indelicate thud.
Mary leaned heavily on the horn for a moment before turning and regarding him blankly. "Wait. What?"
"Mare, what's going on in there? This is the third time I've told you this. Have you sustained a recent head injury that I don't know about?"
"Some of us just don't have your head for trivia, doofus." She scowled and hit the horn again.
They met Elizabeth at the train station, falling into step beside her as she exited the train. Elizabeth glanced nervously from side to side. Mary never once acknowledged her, but Marshall shot her a brief, but reassuring smile. The wound their way through the crowd to the parking lot. Mary levered herself into the driver's seat from the running board, while Marshall opened the rear passenger door for Elizabeth. She took the hand he offered to assist her into the truck. Ensuring that she was settled into the seat, he shut the door and climbed into the front.
"Well, good afternoon, or should I say, goeiemiddag, Elisabeth." Marshall turned around in his seat and smiled kindly. She giggled at his pronunciation. "I'm Inspector Marshall Miller and this is my partner Inspector Mary Sheppard."
Mary glanced briefly in the rearview and grunted her hello. Marshall rolled his eyes and continued, "We're headed back to our office to review the ins and outs of this program with you, then we'll get you settled in. I'm sure you're exhausted."
Elizabeth nodded vigorously as she did not trust her voice.
"Why don't you close your eyes for a few minutes? Just sit tight, we're nearly there."
Mary had taken a circuitous route around the city before tearing into the parking garage behind the Sunshine Building. Elizabeth's knuckles were white on the door handle. Marshall extended a hand to help her out of the truck and the trio made their way through the side entrance to the lobby. When the ancient elevator shuddered making its way to the sixth floor, Elizabeth visibly flinched. Marshall laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's nothing. This tin can groans and protests, but it's never given us a second's trouble."
Mary snorted and stepped through the doors as they yawned open. She rattled the gate to annoy Stan while swiping into the office as was her custom. Stan poked his head out from his office door, phone receiver still pressed to his ear. He gestured towards the conference room before shutting the door behind him.
Mary made a beeline to the coffee pot. Her hand drifted to her forehead and she rubber her temple roughly, closing her eyes with her first sip.
Marshall walked Elizabeth to the door of the conference room. "Elizabeth, why don't you head right in and take a seat? Can I get you something to drink? Maybe a bottle of water?" he asked kindly. She nodded mutely and worried her lower lip with her teeth.
Mary stood leaning against the side of the mini-fridge when Marshall reached to wrench it open. "Jesus, is she dumb?"
"She has a degree in biochemistry-"
"No, numbnuts, dumb, as in cannot speak."
"Oh... we don't say dumb anymore. People are mute, or without speech."
"Oh, for Christ's sake..." she grumbled. Mary turned her eyes skyward. "Seriously, she hasn't spoken a word."
"Mare, she's scared, and exhausted. And it's not as if you were falling all over yourself trying to engage her in conversation." He imitated her grunted greeting from the truck.
"C'mon, funny man. Let's get this over with so we can stash Harpo at the hotel." She hauled herself up off the wall and headed into the conference room.
They spent close to two hours slogging through the Memorandum of Understanding line by line. When Mary landed a partiularly cutting remark about Marshall's appreciation of puns, Elizabeth let out a giggle. Marshall groaned. "Please, Elizabeth, don't encourage her."
Mary shivered slightly, hugged her arms across her chest. When she closed her eyes, the sudden chill dragged her thoughts to another afternoon a few months earlier...
"Okay. Come on. We've got to try to get you up. We've got to get you to the hospital." She was out of sorts, distracted by goosebumps on her bare arms despite stifling heat and no breeze.
"You're mad, aren't you?" He was applying gentle pressure with her button-down, leaning heavily against her leg.
"Not as mad as I'd be if I was the one who got shot." She groaned as she hoisted him to his feet.
"I respect your honesty."
"Are we done here?" Mary's tone was brusque, her eyes dull.
Marshall regarded her curiously. Her mood seemed to have shifted on a dime. "Yeah, I think we're done. Elizabeth, if you'll just sign and date here."
She took the pen he passed to her and signed slowly as her hand tripped awkwardly over her new last name.
"Welcome to Albuquerque, Elizabeth Kaplan."
Mary was out the door before he finished the sentence.
Two known associates of the Spentzos family had popped up in Santa Fe the next day and Marshall was pretty sure they weren't combing the galleries of Canyon Road for something to hang over the mantle. Sixteen hours and one less than reassuring threat assessment later, the trio were in the GMC again, on their way to rendezvous outside of Oklahoma City with a pair of inspectors from Nashville.
Mary's eyes never moved from the road as she said, "You put your hand on my radio one more time, I'll snap it off at the wrist."
Marshall turned to face her, grinning. He formed his hand into a claw, growling at her.
She flicked her gaze to the rear view mirror, regarding her witness critically. "Jeez, Lizzie, it's gonna be fine. We'll head inside, meet up with Alex and Jason, and you'll be on your way to a new life. Again." They pulled into a nearly deserted office park in Edmonton, Oklahoma. Mary yanked the wheel roughly, maneuvering the GMC up against the curb.
"You ever stop to think she's a little green in the gills from your driving? Jeez, Mare, we all prefer to arrive alive over here." He avoided her withering gaze by looking back at Elizabeth and giving her an encouraging smile. "Hey, it really is going to be okay."
The trio shuffled in through the front entrance of the building. Mary placed her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder, guiding her towards towards the restrooms at the back of the building. Marshall loitered outside the door of the ladies room, leaning on the wall, trying to stretch his legs a bit after the long drive. He caught a glimpse of some movement behind the door to an empty storefront further down the hall.
A discreet three raps on the bathroom door made Mary raise her head at the sink. "Oh, honey?" Marshall called sweetly through the door.
Within seconds, Mary had Elizabeth out of the stall and out the bathroom door with a firm grip on her biceps. "Company?"
"We can go up or we can go out." The appearance of a large, sinister looking man in the front entryway made the decision for them. "Go."
Mary took the stairs two at a time, dragging Elizabeth behind her, screaming. She paused briefly in the hall, waiting for Marshall before the ping of the elevator doors galvanized instinct and years of training. She threw open a door, shoving Elizabeth through ahead of her, hard enough that she stumbled. Mary reflexively reached an arm out to catch her by the back of her jacket to right her again. She upended a bookshelf, slamming it roughly against the door.
Elizabeth was whimpering quietly now, but Mary continued to shove her ungently across what appeared to be an artist's sunny loft space. The noise of the bookcase scraping along with the wood floor had Mary increasing her speed, heading toward the door on the opposite side of the room. They made it to the center of the loft space before the bookcase slammed against the wall behind them. Mary spun around to see a man level his gun at Elizabeth. In an instant, Mary flew forward and knocked her down, shielding her witness with her own body as best she could.
A shot rang out, then another. In the commotion, Marshall slipped into the room and crept behind the shooter, wrestling for control of the gun aimed at Elizabeth, eventually wrenching it up in the air where it shattered the skylight above them, raining shards of glass down upon the two women below.
In the chaos swirling around them, Mary was up and running, again dragging Elizabeth behind her. They half stumbled down a set of stairs, spilling out into the bright light of the morning. They reached the waiting SUV with Jason at the wheel. She threw open the rear passenger side door, she heard Rick shout, "What the fuck?" as she tossed her witness bodily inside. She slammed to door shut and pounded the side of the vehicle with the side of her fist, shouting to the marshals inside, “Go! Go!” The vehicle was slammed into gear, kicking up a cloud of sand in its wake.
She turned and started jogging back towards the building. The sight of the three local police cruisers and an ambulance didn't register. Mary didn’t notice when he fell into step beside her, until he laid an open hand on the small of her back. Instinctively, she jerked away from his touch, scattering glass shards from the deep creases in the sleeves of her jacket. She backed up against the concrete facade of the building, and he followed her, leaving a single step between them. Her eyes never met his, instead ran a continuous circuit, his face, his chest, his abdomen, his hands, his feet, never stopping to truly take the picture in. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. Her eyes were wide, and roaming, but it was clear she wasn't with him in this moment...
Her lips brushed softly against his skin, just in front of his right ear. Words, as they always did when it really mattered, had failed her. She depended on her action to convey the message. Depended on Marshall to understand it, understand her. He always had. She pulled away.
"Okay." He coughed again, the water in the bottle bubbled pink, then crimson. She was instantly alarmed.
"It's just a little blood. Nothing to worry about."
“Inspector Sheppard, we should have someone take a look at those lacerations. Why don’t you come with me to the bus?” said a voice just over his shoulder which neither of them turned to view. She shook her head once and looked down.
“Come on, Mare, let them take a look…” he said gently. Marshall turned and took a step, one step before Mary’s hand was on his forearm. He turned quickly to regard her critically, eyes searching, questioning.
When she spoke, it was to utter one word. She sounded lost, broken. “Please.”
He didn’t turn away, not even for a second, as he called after the medics, “You know what, fellas, thanks for your help. I’ll bring her in myself.”
They slowly wound their way, hip to hip, through the bustling scene to the GMC. Marshall’s arm was stretched around her back, index finger threaded through the belt loop on her right side. She shook him off as they reached the truck, and hauled herself up into the passenger seat.
When he had made his way into the driver’s seat, she passed him the keys. He turned to regard her but was only able to take in her profile as she stared blankly out the window.
“Can we just find a hotel?” She did not turn to face him.
He started to ask her, but then thought better of it. He could wait her out. If he pushed too hard now, she would shut down completely. But in the meantime-“Right after we swing by the emergency room.” He yanked the gearshift into drive and pulled away from the curb.
“No.” Empty, toneless.
“Mare-“
She finally turned her face to his. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Can we please just find a hotel?”
Marshall sighed. She turned her head to stare out the window. After they drove past the entrance to the hospital, she allowed her eyes to close for a moment. When she opened them, he had pulled into the front entrance of a hotel, more upscale than the ones where they usually stayed, and made his way out of the truck.
He tossed the keys to the valet, grabbed the identical black duffels from the cargo area in the back, and made his way around to stand beside her door. He jerked his head towards the double doors, simultaneously waving off the bellhop. She tumbled out of the truck and followed him into the lobby, leaned heavily against the counter as he made arrangements for a room.
They rode the elevator up eight floors in silence. As the doors opened he handed her the keycard and picked up the bags again. They made their way to the room, Marshall following behind her, watching, waiting. She jammed the keycard into the reader, once, then again. And again. The red light never flickered. She rested her forehead against the door. Marshall reached around her, slipping the key card from her grip. He eased it into the lock, slowly, and the light flashed green.
He swung the door open revealing two double beds, and steered her in with strong, gentle hands on her shoulders. He pulled his left hand away reflexively, saw a trickle of red in his palm, and tensed. “Mare, let me look at you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?” He turned her gently to face him, used his index finger to lift her chin and look into her eyes.
“Are you?” She parroted the question back at him, eyes blank.
He gently slipped her coat off her shoulders, looking her over critically. A few scratches across her left cheek, some nasty looking tears across the back of both hands, but overall no worse for wear considering. He took a step closer, the change in vantage point revealing rosettes of blood blooming around several shards of glass embedded in the top of her head. He made tsk-tsking noise and guided her gently to sit at the end of the bed. He retrieved a tumbler from the bathroom counter, the utility knife from his belt.
Marshall pulled her to her feet again and guided her over to the side of the bed, closer to the lamp over the bedside table. He sat first, pulling her sit between his legs. He set the tumbler down beside him, and pulled the tweezers from the knife and started gently removing small slivers of glass from her scalp. He was slow, silent, and methodical, and a small pile of glass accumulated inside the tumbler. His fingers were cool then they brushed briefly against her forearm...
Marshall was sprawled in the backseat as she sped through the night in the now twice-stolen vehicle. He had stopped answering her a few moments ago, but she still heard his breaths coming shallow and ragged. They were interrupted by coughs that were no longer strong enough to rattle through his frame.
"Marshall, Marshall, just hang on." Dammit, where was that roadblock? She snaked hand behind her, grasping blindly. Her fingers closed tightly around his wrist. Marshall's skin was cool, too cool under her fingers. "Marshall!"
He felt her start to slump as he pulled the last piece slowly from the crown of her head. Instinctively he squeezed his thighs tighter around her hips and threaded an arm under her armpit, wrapped it high across her chest. “Okay then, I guess we’re done with sitting up.”
Before she realized what was happening, he swung her easily up onto the bed, swept three pillows beneath her legs. Kneeling beside her, he brushed two fingers against her neck, taking her pulse. She let her head loll to the left to face him, “Well… I never fancied myself a swooner.”
His shoulders shook with laughter and relief. “She speaks!" He sat back on his heels, ran a hand roughly through his hair, leaving it rakishly disarrayed. "Nah, not a swooner. I think that last piece was in there pretty good. It may have taken some grey matter with it.”
“Very funny.” She huffed a sigh and turned her head back to study the ceiling. He leaned heavily against the bedside table, watching her intently for several minutes. He rested his hand on the edge of the bed, his right pinkie nearly touching her left.
Eventually, Marshall heaved himself up from the floor, to cross the room in five long paces. He retrieved an 8 dollar orange juice from the mini bar, and snagged some pillows off the other bed on his way back to her side. “Can you sit up a little?”
He snaked an arm around her shoulders and eased her up, sliding two pillows behind her back. He twisted the top off the juice and handed it to her. “Take it easy there, killer. Little sips.”
She took a sip, and another and stretched her arm blindly to place it on the bedside table. Mary closed her eyes again until she felt the bed dip under his weight. She looked up and met his gaze. "What?" Her tone was defensive.
Marshall, drew one leg under him, settling into his position facing her from the foot of the bed. "Wanna talk about it?"
"Talk about what?" Mary ran her fingernail beneath one of the scabs forming on the back of her hand. Marshall leaned forward, stretching across the wall of pillows to pull her hand away.
"About what's got you so nerved up." He tugged her hand again to get her to look at him.
"No," she sighed, letting her head fall back against the headboard. She sunk a little further down until her head was nestled in the pillows.
"Okay." Marshall crawled up the bed to stretch out on his back beside her and waited. And waited. And waited. He had questions, nebulous and unformed, fluttering about in his head, but he knew not to push Mary now. Instead he regarded the ceiling and listened carefully to the pattern of Mary's breathing.
When he was sure that she had fallen asleep, he crept from the bed and made his way across the room. He pulled the blanket from the other bed to cover Mary. He toted his duffel to the bathroom and readied for bed. He was surprised when he glanced at his watch to find that it was only three o'clock. When he emerged from the bathroom, teeth brushed and pajamas on, he made his way to Mary's side of the bed and took in her sleeping frame. He clicked the light over the bedside table off and crawled beneath the top sheet of the other bed. He folded an arm beneath his head in place of a pillow. The adrenaline gave way to exhaustion and he followed his partner into sleep.
He startled awake when Mary leaned across him to settle a blanket across his sleeping frame. She gave a yelp when his hand captured her wrist, and stumbled into the edge of the bed.
"What the?"
"What part of sneaking up on me while I'm asleep felt like a good idea to you?" Marshall scooted further towards the center of the bed to leave her some room to sit. When she didn't reply, he eased himself to a sitting position, squinting to pull her face into focus in the dim light from behind the bathroom door. "Mare? Hey, talk to me." A beat. "Tell me what you need."
She barked out a laugh. "What I ... Jesus ... How can you even ask me that?"
"I don't understand. I want to. Help me understand." He rested his hand on her forearm, but she shook him off.
"I almost lost you, and it was my fault. I can't. I can't let that happen again." She twisted her right index finger in her left hand.
"What? Mare, I'm fine. Today was-"
"I'm not talking about today."
Oh. "Mare-" He reached forward to snag her wrist again and pulled her to him.
"Marshall."
"No, Mare, listen to me. What happened was not your fault. If it was anyone's fault, it was mine. I saw them tamper with the truck and didn't even realize-"
"Marshall-"
"No, listen. It was a horrible thing that happened back then. But you were ferocious. You saved my life. And I'm not going anywhere. Not if I can help it. But if you haven't noticed, you and me? We don't do so well when you're worried about me leaving." He tilted her chin up so she could see his eyes. "Count on me to be in this with you for the long haul. I want to see how this ends. And I don't think I could ever trust anyone else the way I trust you."
His declaration was punctuated by a loud, prolonged growl from Mary's stomach. Marshall laughed hard enough to bounce her off the bed. She reached her arm up to swat at him from her position on the ground.
"Jesus. Is anything going to be open in this po-dunk town?"
"Mare, it's..." Marshall checked his watch. "6:30. I assume we can still find a pizza. Might even be able to convince them to bring it to us. There's this new thing called de-li-ver-y."
"Alright, wiseass. Just for that, you can order while I hop in the shower." She heaved herself indelicately from the carpet. "And if you tip them, so help me..."
Marshall rolled his eyes as he reached for the phone book from the top drawer of the bedside table. "Your threats take some of the shine off that moment we shared back there, you know."
"Pepperoni, doofus. And extra cheese."
"Is there any other kind?"
Mary leaned a moment longer against the doorway. Marshall had his phone to his ear as he turned and flashed her a wide smile. She grinned back before disappearing into the bathroom.
Author: likelike_love
Characters: Mary and Marshall
Rating: Let's go with Teen - Nothing dirty, just a little violence. A teensy bit of salty language.
Summary: This is the first time things really go sideways after the events in Trojan Horst. Angsty partnership fic, what else?
Spoilers: Lotsa Horst.
Author's Note: This has been kicking around since ... *looks* ... oh, God, October! Poor papillongirl has had to see thing in numerous incarnations since then. Lucky for her, this is my Mayhem day otherwise I'm sure that she'd be stuck seeing it a few more times. But, it's done (enough), so she's off the hook!
Marshall exited the elevator a little before 10:30 on a Tuesday morning with a tray of four coffees precariously balanced on a stack of file folders. Mary howled from her desk at the sight of him trying to juggle the folders and drinks while attempting to angle the swipe card out of his pocket. She made no move to help him until he wisely reminded her that should he drop one beverage, he would likely drop them all-- including hers. She crossed the distance from her desk to the gate and flung the door open. She took her coffee from the tray and abruptly turned, leaving him to wrestle with the folders and attempt to keep the tray she had unbalanced upright. Ultimately the folders fell to the floor, contents spilling at his feet as he held the tray out beyond the heap, comically thrusting out his butt to remain upright. Mary looked up from her computer and sniggered, "Way to stick the landing, Nadia."
After he delivered the coffees safely to his desk, he returned to the mess on the floor, sweeping it all up into a stack and carrying it back to his desk. The two worked in companionable silence for several minutes, Marshall whistling as he righted the mess of upended files, Mary's pen scratching along, filling out paperwork. After a few moments, Marshall cleared his throat. Mary didn't lift her eyes or her pen from the papers in front of her. He tried again, this time stretching the noise into three syllables.
"You should really take something for that cough," she murmured, taking a long pull from her coffee. She laced her fingers and stretched, cracking her knuckles loudly. She picked up her pen, returning her attention to the forms in front of her.
"Alright, alright, you don't have to beat it out of me..." Marshall was grinning like a lunatic. "I've been cleared to return to the field." He spun two full revolutions in his chair and tacked the doctor's note up on the file cabinet behind him with a magnet shaped like a piece of pie. "Future plans? Kicking ass and taking names."
A curtain of smooth blonde hair hid her eyes from him. She squeezed her eyes shut, but was unsuccessful in warding off the memories taking hold...
"You know, please don't act like you're the injured party here, okay? At least show me that much respect."
"Respect? When have you ever shown me respect? Or anyone else for that matter?" Marshall glanced back down at the paperwork to hide his eyes.
Sensing weakness, she sharpened her tone. "Maybe you'd get respect if you ever actually did something to earn it."
"And you wonder why I didn't share my future plans with you." His voice turned hard, a sure sign her words had truly hit their mark.
"No. What I wonder is why I put up with your insipid running commentary for the past three years. Come on. Let's go." She hauled Vanderhoff off the bench by his elbow, anger radiating from her posture, squeezing through her grip.
Mary did not look up, did not turn her head. A barely perceptible pause in her pen's movement across the paper was the only sign. Marshall noticed. When it came to Mary, Marshall always noticed. As quickly as it paused, her hand began moving again, pen forming her distinctively messy, childish print. "Thank God. You may be a skinny bastard, but it's still exhausting pulling your weight."
Her voice was even enough that he wondered briefly if he had imagined any hesitation at all.
He contemplated getting into it. Did a quick threat assessment in his head. This was Mary: combustible, volatile, all sharp edges and short fuse. Even those adrenaline junkies on the bomb squad wouldn't touch this one with a ten foot pole, and they treated C-4 like silly putty. Marshall found that it was often better to clear the scene and make sure Mary would do as little damage as possible to people and property when she detonated.
The rattle of the elevator doors roused Marshall from his contemplation. Stan entered the office, greeting them both with a booming, "Inspectors." Marshall held a coffee aloft, and Stan took it from him, asking, "And what's the good word?"
Marshall flashed a smile and gestured towards the file cabinet. "Look, Dad, straight A's!"
Stan shook his head, humored, and gestured with his thumb toward the conference room, "In that case, if the two of you would join me behind door number one..."
They were en route to the train station to pick up the new witness in less than an hour. Marshall thumbed through the case file while Mary navigated the GMC through an unexpected snarl of traffic downtown. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. "Tell me again."
Marshall glanced over at her, concerned, before flipping open the case file in his lap and reading aloud, "Elizabeth Kenney, age 23. An only child... Mom's Dutch... Dad's an American diplomat. Grew up in US consulates around Europe and came to New York for college. Got involved with Alex Spentzos, son of Greek shipping magnate Dimitrios Spentzos. Turns out Junior is interested in following in Daddy's footsteps, except he was importing some riskier cargo. Here's where it gets complicated."
When she rolled down the window to gesture rudely, the oppressive afternoon air overwhelmed her briefly...
It was hot, a dry overwhelming desert heat in the late afternoon. The steam from the engine was so thick that she could barely make out his frame as he approached the front of the SUV. "You see anything?"
"Hang on. It's complicated under here." His disembodied voice came from under the hood.
She scrubbed a hand across her face, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun from the sideview mirror. At the sound of wheels on the dirt turn off, she was on alert, calling to Marshall, "We've got company!" She turned in her seat to force Horst face down on the floor.
When her eyes reached Marshall again, he was making his way around the hood. The look of surprise arrived a split second before the bullet. The force of the impact rippled through his body, and he landed on the ground with an indelicate thud.
Mary leaned heavily on the horn for a moment before turning and regarding him blankly. "Wait. What?"
"Mare, what's going on in there? This is the third time I've told you this. Have you sustained a recent head injury that I don't know about?"
"Some of us just don't have your head for trivia, doofus." She scowled and hit the horn again.
They met Elizabeth at the train station, falling into step beside her as she exited the train. Elizabeth glanced nervously from side to side. Mary never once acknowledged her, but Marshall shot her a brief, but reassuring smile. The wound their way through the crowd to the parking lot. Mary levered herself into the driver's seat from the running board, while Marshall opened the rear passenger door for Elizabeth. She took the hand he offered to assist her into the truck. Ensuring that she was settled into the seat, he shut the door and climbed into the front.
"Well, good afternoon, or should I say, goeiemiddag, Elisabeth." Marshall turned around in his seat and smiled kindly. She giggled at his pronunciation. "I'm Inspector Marshall Miller and this is my partner Inspector Mary Sheppard."
Mary glanced briefly in the rearview and grunted her hello. Marshall rolled his eyes and continued, "We're headed back to our office to review the ins and outs of this program with you, then we'll get you settled in. I'm sure you're exhausted."
Elizabeth nodded vigorously as she did not trust her voice.
"Why don't you close your eyes for a few minutes? Just sit tight, we're nearly there."
Mary had taken a circuitous route around the city before tearing into the parking garage behind the Sunshine Building. Elizabeth's knuckles were white on the door handle. Marshall extended a hand to help her out of the truck and the trio made their way through the side entrance to the lobby. When the ancient elevator shuddered making its way to the sixth floor, Elizabeth visibly flinched. Marshall laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's nothing. This tin can groans and protests, but it's never given us a second's trouble."
Mary snorted and stepped through the doors as they yawned open. She rattled the gate to annoy Stan while swiping into the office as was her custom. Stan poked his head out from his office door, phone receiver still pressed to his ear. He gestured towards the conference room before shutting the door behind him.
Mary made a beeline to the coffee pot. Her hand drifted to her forehead and she rubber her temple roughly, closing her eyes with her first sip.
Marshall walked Elizabeth to the door of the conference room. "Elizabeth, why don't you head right in and take a seat? Can I get you something to drink? Maybe a bottle of water?" he asked kindly. She nodded mutely and worried her lower lip with her teeth.
Mary stood leaning against the side of the mini-fridge when Marshall reached to wrench it open. "Jesus, is she dumb?"
"She has a degree in biochemistry-"
"No, numbnuts, dumb, as in cannot speak."
"Oh... we don't say dumb anymore. People are mute, or without speech."
"Oh, for Christ's sake..." she grumbled. Mary turned her eyes skyward. "Seriously, she hasn't spoken a word."
"Mare, she's scared, and exhausted. And it's not as if you were falling all over yourself trying to engage her in conversation." He imitated her grunted greeting from the truck.
"C'mon, funny man. Let's get this over with so we can stash Harpo at the hotel." She hauled herself up off the wall and headed into the conference room.
They spent close to two hours slogging through the Memorandum of Understanding line by line. When Mary landed a partiularly cutting remark about Marshall's appreciation of puns, Elizabeth let out a giggle. Marshall groaned. "Please, Elizabeth, don't encourage her."
Mary shivered slightly, hugged her arms across her chest. When she closed her eyes, the sudden chill dragged her thoughts to another afternoon a few months earlier...
"Okay. Come on. We've got to try to get you up. We've got to get you to the hospital." She was out of sorts, distracted by goosebumps on her bare arms despite stifling heat and no breeze.
"You're mad, aren't you?" He was applying gentle pressure with her button-down, leaning heavily against her leg.
"Not as mad as I'd be if I was the one who got shot." She groaned as she hoisted him to his feet.
"I respect your honesty."
"Are we done here?" Mary's tone was brusque, her eyes dull.
Marshall regarded her curiously. Her mood seemed to have shifted on a dime. "Yeah, I think we're done. Elizabeth, if you'll just sign and date here."
She took the pen he passed to her and signed slowly as her hand tripped awkwardly over her new last name.
"Welcome to Albuquerque, Elizabeth Kaplan."
Mary was out the door before he finished the sentence.
Two known associates of the Spentzos family had popped up in Santa Fe the next day and Marshall was pretty sure they weren't combing the galleries of Canyon Road for something to hang over the mantle. Sixteen hours and one less than reassuring threat assessment later, the trio were in the GMC again, on their way to rendezvous outside of Oklahoma City with a pair of inspectors from Nashville.
Mary's eyes never moved from the road as she said, "You put your hand on my radio one more time, I'll snap it off at the wrist."
Marshall turned to face her, grinning. He formed his hand into a claw, growling at her.
She flicked her gaze to the rear view mirror, regarding her witness critically. "Jeez, Lizzie, it's gonna be fine. We'll head inside, meet up with Alex and Jason, and you'll be on your way to a new life. Again." They pulled into a nearly deserted office park in Edmonton, Oklahoma. Mary yanked the wheel roughly, maneuvering the GMC up against the curb.
"You ever stop to think she's a little green in the gills from your driving? Jeez, Mare, we all prefer to arrive alive over here." He avoided her withering gaze by looking back at Elizabeth and giving her an encouraging smile. "Hey, it really is going to be okay."
The trio shuffled in through the front entrance of the building. Mary placed her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder, guiding her towards towards the restrooms at the back of the building. Marshall loitered outside the door of the ladies room, leaning on the wall, trying to stretch his legs a bit after the long drive. He caught a glimpse of some movement behind the door to an empty storefront further down the hall.
A discreet three raps on the bathroom door made Mary raise her head at the sink. "Oh, honey?" Marshall called sweetly through the door.
Within seconds, Mary had Elizabeth out of the stall and out the bathroom door with a firm grip on her biceps. "Company?"
"We can go up or we can go out." The appearance of a large, sinister looking man in the front entryway made the decision for them. "Go."
Mary took the stairs two at a time, dragging Elizabeth behind her, screaming. She paused briefly in the hall, waiting for Marshall before the ping of the elevator doors galvanized instinct and years of training. She threw open a door, shoving Elizabeth through ahead of her, hard enough that she stumbled. Mary reflexively reached an arm out to catch her by the back of her jacket to right her again. She upended a bookshelf, slamming it roughly against the door.
Elizabeth was whimpering quietly now, but Mary continued to shove her ungently across what appeared to be an artist's sunny loft space. The noise of the bookcase scraping along with the wood floor had Mary increasing her speed, heading toward the door on the opposite side of the room. They made it to the center of the loft space before the bookcase slammed against the wall behind them. Mary spun around to see a man level his gun at Elizabeth. In an instant, Mary flew forward and knocked her down, shielding her witness with her own body as best she could.
A shot rang out, then another. In the commotion, Marshall slipped into the room and crept behind the shooter, wrestling for control of the gun aimed at Elizabeth, eventually wrenching it up in the air where it shattered the skylight above them, raining shards of glass down upon the two women below.
In the chaos swirling around them, Mary was up and running, again dragging Elizabeth behind her. They half stumbled down a set of stairs, spilling out into the bright light of the morning. They reached the waiting SUV with Jason at the wheel. She threw open the rear passenger side door, she heard Rick shout, "What the fuck?" as she tossed her witness bodily inside. She slammed to door shut and pounded the side of the vehicle with the side of her fist, shouting to the marshals inside, “Go! Go!” The vehicle was slammed into gear, kicking up a cloud of sand in its wake.
She turned and started jogging back towards the building. The sight of the three local police cruisers and an ambulance didn't register. Mary didn’t notice when he fell into step beside her, until he laid an open hand on the small of her back. Instinctively, she jerked away from his touch, scattering glass shards from the deep creases in the sleeves of her jacket. She backed up against the concrete facade of the building, and he followed her, leaving a single step between them. Her eyes never met his, instead ran a continuous circuit, his face, his chest, his abdomen, his hands, his feet, never stopping to truly take the picture in. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. Her eyes were wide, and roaming, but it was clear she wasn't with him in this moment...
Her lips brushed softly against his skin, just in front of his right ear. Words, as they always did when it really mattered, had failed her. She depended on her action to convey the message. Depended on Marshall to understand it, understand her. He always had. She pulled away.
"Okay." He coughed again, the water in the bottle bubbled pink, then crimson. She was instantly alarmed.
"It's just a little blood. Nothing to worry about."
“Inspector Sheppard, we should have someone take a look at those lacerations. Why don’t you come with me to the bus?” said a voice just over his shoulder which neither of them turned to view. She shook her head once and looked down.
“Come on, Mare, let them take a look…” he said gently. Marshall turned and took a step, one step before Mary’s hand was on his forearm. He turned quickly to regard her critically, eyes searching, questioning.
When she spoke, it was to utter one word. She sounded lost, broken. “Please.”
He didn’t turn away, not even for a second, as he called after the medics, “You know what, fellas, thanks for your help. I’ll bring her in myself.”
They slowly wound their way, hip to hip, through the bustling scene to the GMC. Marshall’s arm was stretched around her back, index finger threaded through the belt loop on her right side. She shook him off as they reached the truck, and hauled herself up into the passenger seat.
When he had made his way into the driver’s seat, she passed him the keys. He turned to regard her but was only able to take in her profile as she stared blankly out the window.
“Can we just find a hotel?” She did not turn to face him.
He started to ask her, but then thought better of it. He could wait her out. If he pushed too hard now, she would shut down completely. But in the meantime-“Right after we swing by the emergency room.” He yanked the gearshift into drive and pulled away from the curb.
“No.” Empty, toneless.
“Mare-“
She finally turned her face to his. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Can we please just find a hotel?”
Marshall sighed. She turned her head to stare out the window. After they drove past the entrance to the hospital, she allowed her eyes to close for a moment. When she opened them, he had pulled into the front entrance of a hotel, more upscale than the ones where they usually stayed, and made his way out of the truck.
He tossed the keys to the valet, grabbed the identical black duffels from the cargo area in the back, and made his way around to stand beside her door. He jerked his head towards the double doors, simultaneously waving off the bellhop. She tumbled out of the truck and followed him into the lobby, leaned heavily against the counter as he made arrangements for a room.
They rode the elevator up eight floors in silence. As the doors opened he handed her the keycard and picked up the bags again. They made their way to the room, Marshall following behind her, watching, waiting. She jammed the keycard into the reader, once, then again. And again. The red light never flickered. She rested her forehead against the door. Marshall reached around her, slipping the key card from her grip. He eased it into the lock, slowly, and the light flashed green.
He swung the door open revealing two double beds, and steered her in with strong, gentle hands on her shoulders. He pulled his left hand away reflexively, saw a trickle of red in his palm, and tensed. “Mare, let me look at you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?” He turned her gently to face him, used his index finger to lift her chin and look into her eyes.
“Are you?” She parroted the question back at him, eyes blank.
He gently slipped her coat off her shoulders, looking her over critically. A few scratches across her left cheek, some nasty looking tears across the back of both hands, but overall no worse for wear considering. He took a step closer, the change in vantage point revealing rosettes of blood blooming around several shards of glass embedded in the top of her head. He made tsk-tsking noise and guided her gently to sit at the end of the bed. He retrieved a tumbler from the bathroom counter, the utility knife from his belt.
Marshall pulled her to her feet again and guided her over to the side of the bed, closer to the lamp over the bedside table. He sat first, pulling her sit between his legs. He set the tumbler down beside him, and pulled the tweezers from the knife and started gently removing small slivers of glass from her scalp. He was slow, silent, and methodical, and a small pile of glass accumulated inside the tumbler. His fingers were cool then they brushed briefly against her forearm...
Marshall was sprawled in the backseat as she sped through the night in the now twice-stolen vehicle. He had stopped answering her a few moments ago, but she still heard his breaths coming shallow and ragged. They were interrupted by coughs that were no longer strong enough to rattle through his frame.
"Marshall, Marshall, just hang on." Dammit, where was that roadblock? She snaked hand behind her, grasping blindly. Her fingers closed tightly around his wrist. Marshall's skin was cool, too cool under her fingers. "Marshall!"
He felt her start to slump as he pulled the last piece slowly from the crown of her head. Instinctively he squeezed his thighs tighter around her hips and threaded an arm under her armpit, wrapped it high across her chest. “Okay then, I guess we’re done with sitting up.”
Before she realized what was happening, he swung her easily up onto the bed, swept three pillows beneath her legs. Kneeling beside her, he brushed two fingers against her neck, taking her pulse. She let her head loll to the left to face him, “Well… I never fancied myself a swooner.”
His shoulders shook with laughter and relief. “She speaks!" He sat back on his heels, ran a hand roughly through his hair, leaving it rakishly disarrayed. "Nah, not a swooner. I think that last piece was in there pretty good. It may have taken some grey matter with it.”
“Very funny.” She huffed a sigh and turned her head back to study the ceiling. He leaned heavily against the bedside table, watching her intently for several minutes. He rested his hand on the edge of the bed, his right pinkie nearly touching her left.
Eventually, Marshall heaved himself up from the floor, to cross the room in five long paces. He retrieved an 8 dollar orange juice from the mini bar, and snagged some pillows off the other bed on his way back to her side. “Can you sit up a little?”
He snaked an arm around her shoulders and eased her up, sliding two pillows behind her back. He twisted the top off the juice and handed it to her. “Take it easy there, killer. Little sips.”
She took a sip, and another and stretched her arm blindly to place it on the bedside table. Mary closed her eyes again until she felt the bed dip under his weight. She looked up and met his gaze. "What?" Her tone was defensive.
Marshall, drew one leg under him, settling into his position facing her from the foot of the bed. "Wanna talk about it?"
"Talk about what?" Mary ran her fingernail beneath one of the scabs forming on the back of her hand. Marshall leaned forward, stretching across the wall of pillows to pull her hand away.
"About what's got you so nerved up." He tugged her hand again to get her to look at him.
"No," she sighed, letting her head fall back against the headboard. She sunk a little further down until her head was nestled in the pillows.
"Okay." Marshall crawled up the bed to stretch out on his back beside her and waited. And waited. And waited. He had questions, nebulous and unformed, fluttering about in his head, but he knew not to push Mary now. Instead he regarded the ceiling and listened carefully to the pattern of Mary's breathing.
When he was sure that she had fallen asleep, he crept from the bed and made his way across the room. He pulled the blanket from the other bed to cover Mary. He toted his duffel to the bathroom and readied for bed. He was surprised when he glanced at his watch to find that it was only three o'clock. When he emerged from the bathroom, teeth brushed and pajamas on, he made his way to Mary's side of the bed and took in her sleeping frame. He clicked the light over the bedside table off and crawled beneath the top sheet of the other bed. He folded an arm beneath his head in place of a pillow. The adrenaline gave way to exhaustion and he followed his partner into sleep.
He startled awake when Mary leaned across him to settle a blanket across his sleeping frame. She gave a yelp when his hand captured her wrist, and stumbled into the edge of the bed.
"What the?"
"What part of sneaking up on me while I'm asleep felt like a good idea to you?" Marshall scooted further towards the center of the bed to leave her some room to sit. When she didn't reply, he eased himself to a sitting position, squinting to pull her face into focus in the dim light from behind the bathroom door. "Mare? Hey, talk to me." A beat. "Tell me what you need."
She barked out a laugh. "What I ... Jesus ... How can you even ask me that?"
"I don't understand. I want to. Help me understand." He rested his hand on her forearm, but she shook him off.
"I almost lost you, and it was my fault. I can't. I can't let that happen again." She twisted her right index finger in her left hand.
"What? Mare, I'm fine. Today was-"
"I'm not talking about today."
Oh. "Mare-" He reached forward to snag her wrist again and pulled her to him.
"Marshall."
"No, Mare, listen to me. What happened was not your fault. If it was anyone's fault, it was mine. I saw them tamper with the truck and didn't even realize-"
"Marshall-"
"No, listen. It was a horrible thing that happened back then. But you were ferocious. You saved my life. And I'm not going anywhere. Not if I can help it. But if you haven't noticed, you and me? We don't do so well when you're worried about me leaving." He tilted her chin up so she could see his eyes. "Count on me to be in this with you for the long haul. I want to see how this ends. And I don't think I could ever trust anyone else the way I trust you."
His declaration was punctuated by a loud, prolonged growl from Mary's stomach. Marshall laughed hard enough to bounce her off the bed. She reached her arm up to swat at him from her position on the ground.
"Jesus. Is anything going to be open in this po-dunk town?"
"Mare, it's..." Marshall checked his watch. "6:30. I assume we can still find a pizza. Might even be able to convince them to bring it to us. There's this new thing called de-li-ver-y."
"Alright, wiseass. Just for that, you can order while I hop in the shower." She heaved herself indelicately from the carpet. "And if you tip them, so help me..."
Marshall rolled his eyes as he reached for the phone book from the top drawer of the bedside table. "Your threats take some of the shine off that moment we shared back there, you know."
"Pepperoni, doofus. And extra cheese."
"Is there any other kind?"
Mary leaned a moment longer against the doorway. Marshall had his phone to his ear as he turned and flashed her a wide smile. She grinned back before disappearing into the bathroom.