Fic: Across the Desert (In Plain Sight, 1/2)
Title: Across The Desert
Spoilers: Set sometime in season 2, before “Let's Get It Ahn”.
Rating: PG
Summary: “Slow and steady... gets us out of the desert before we die?”
Disclaimer: I do not own this show or its associated characters.
Author's Note: Many thanks to kaffyr for her astute beta reading and comments!
~
Chapter 1
Mary shivered suddenly, which brought her to awareness. She opened her eyes. She was lying on the ground, in the cold shadow of a huge rock face - and she was in severe pain. When she tried to sit up, she had to bite back a gasp at the agony this produced in her left arm and side, not to mention the nausea and throbbing headache.
Pulling herself painfully into a sitting position and reaching her right hand up to her head, Mary felt with some relief that she didn't seem to be bleeding. The next question was where the hell she was.
She blinked to clear her slightly fuzzy vision and looked around. The late afternoon sun revealed a New Mexico ravine, nothing too distinctive. Except... yes, that was a body lying on the rocks further down in the ravine - a very familiar tall, stick-thin, floppy-haired figure sprawled motionless, his face turned away from her.
“Marshall!” Ignoring the shooting pain in her side and the nearly blinding increase in her headache's magnitude caused by standing up, Mary made her way as quickly as she could down to where her partner was lying. “Marshall, can you hear me?”
He didn't respond. Heart in her throat, Mary bent over and felt for his pulse below his jaw. She exhaled in relief - her left side complaining again as she did so - as she felt a strong heartbeat. Then as she started to take her hand away, he grimaced and opened his eyes. “God, your fingers are freezing.”
Mary resisted the urge to hit him, since she didn't know the extent of his injuries yet. “Yeah, well, forgive me for not warming them up before I checked to see if you were alive.”
At that, Marshall's expression sharpened, and he tried to sit up.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mary said, catching his head as his face went pale. “Don't try anything too strenuous just yet, cowboy.”
Marshall took a few deep breaths, and then accepted her help to reach a sitting position.
“Killer headache?” she asked. At his faint nod, she sighed and said, “Yeah, me too. Although I didn't almost pass out when I sat up, so maybe not as bad as yours.”
His gaze traveled over her. “Maybe. Something wrong with your arm?”
She had been holding her left arm close to herself this whole time. “I think it might be broken.”
Marshall winced in sympathy. “Any other damage?”
“Bruised ribs on the same side,” Mary told him. “Minor bruising elsewhere. That's it, I think. How about you?”
He pondered for a moment. “It feels like I might have about the same, except in my case it's on the right side - and my wrist just feels like it might be sprained.”
“Lucky you.” She sat back on her heels, thinking. “Marshall, what's the last thing you remember from today?”
“Uh...” Marshall blinked. “Eating lunch and talking to you about our newest case, at the diner.”
“Same here. So what happened to us since then - and where the hell are we?”
“Those are both very good questions,” he said slowly. “Also a good question: do we have our weapons, ID, or cell phones?”
They both checked, and came up empty on all counts. “Damn,” Mary muttered. “So, what - someone drugged us, got rid of our stuff, and dumped us out of their car?”
“Could be. I do kind of feel dizzy,” Marshall said. He squinted at the rocks around them and then back at her. “Call me crazy, but this happened on our way to meet Angela for the first time. That seems like a little too much of a coincidence to ignore. Perhaps we're being treated to a very special, 'You got my ex-wife to turn traitor on me, so now you get Death By Desert' delivery from Howard.”
Mary frowned. They hadn't even met Angela officially yet. “You think Angela's lowlife jackass of an ex could've tracked her from Boise to Albuquerque this fast?”
“I said 'perhaps.' He may be a lowlife jackass, but he's well-connected.”
She sighed again. “The worst ones usually are.” Of course, that didn't explain how whoever it was had known enough to target the two of them. “Well, at least Stan will know something is wrong when we don't show up for the initial meeting.”
“Yep.” Oddly enough, Marshall looked about as reassured by this fact as Mary felt.
Silence fell for a moment, and then her partner said, “I don't know about you, but I'm a little tired of this scenery. I think I'm about ready to try standing up.”
Smiling wryly, she got to her feet and held out her uninjured hand for him. “All right. Just take it slow.”
He managed the task without too much trouble, for which Mary was grateful. She had no idea how she would've been able to drag all six-feet-plus of him even a few yards without injuring him - and herself - further in the process. Still, there was a sheen of sweat on his face by the time he was upright.
“Any thoughts on which way we should go?” Mary asked, watching him carefully for signs he was about to collapse.
Marshall took another look around. “Well, first of all I don't see any tracks from whoever left us out here. Normally I'd say we should stay in the ravine to avoid too much direct sun exposure, but since the sun's about to set, let's take advantage of what little light we have to see if we can pick out any landmarks.”
“Sounds good,” Mary said. “Up it is.”
They made their way with care over the rocky terrain and toward higher ground. Despite being in pretty good shape if she did say so herself (which she did), Mary was breathing hard by the time they were halfway out of the ravine. It might have more to do with her splitting headache and the stabbing pain in her ribs than any lack of conditioning, she thought. Come to think of it, Marshall was no slouch about fitness either, and he sounded just as bad as she did.
By unspoken consent, the two of them stopped for a break next to a convenient boulder, where they each leaned as best as they could against it. “I sure hope... we aren't too far... out in the middle of nowhere,” Mary gasped out between breaths.
Marshall raised an eyebrow. “Yes... I'm sure our kidnappers... made sure to aim for... the least possible amount of inconvenience... in their choice of dump site.” He was holding his arm to his ribs at an awkward angle.
“I don't know,” Mary said thoughtfully. “They could've killed us... but they didn't.”
“Maybe they just figured exposure... would do the job for them,” Marshall replied.
Mary took a shallow breath and shot him a glare. “Thanks for that, buzzkill.”
After another minute, they started their trek again. It seemed to take even longer to make it the rest of the way out, but finally they reached the higher ground, leaning on each other as best they could without aggravating each other's injuries. By this time, the sun was much nearer to the horizon, and the air was already getting colder.
“See anything recognizable?” Mary asked, scanning the horizon after she had caught her breath.
Next to her, Marshall wiped his brow with his left hand. “Not really,” he said. His breathing sounded slightly less labored now. Then he paused. “Wait - do you hear something?”
She listened. “Yeah, I do. That sounds like-- is that the dragway?”
“I think it is.”
For the first time since she'd awakened, Mary felt like grinning. At least they had a possible signpost pointing toward civilization. If you could really call drag racing civilized.
She was about to start heading in the general direction of the noise of the racetrack, but Marshall stopped her with a hand on her elbow. “Wait.”
Turning toward him, she asked in irritation, “What? We don't have a lot of time to chat before the sun goes down, you know.”
“I know, that's exactly it,” he said, meeting her eyes calmly. “So, especially since neither of us are at our best physically right now, we should find a good place to spend the night instead of ending up in the middle of the desert without any shelter.”
Mary considered for a moment, frowning. As usual, he was right. She knew it could get cold out here at night, and if she was honest with herself, she also knew they couldn't make it out of the desert before the sun set. “All right, fine. Back into the ravine, Boy Scout?”
“In a manner of speaking. I saw a sort of cave near the top.” Marshall glanced at the sky for a second. “We shouldn't be in too much danger of flash flooding at this time of the year.”
The two began the descent. Even taking care not to lose her footing, any time she was jolted at all it made her ribs and arm hurt like hell. Mary was sure Marshall couldn't have missed her winces every time this occurred, since they were still supporting each other. He said nothing, though she felt his arm around her back tighten a little.
When she stumbled and nearly fell a yard later, Mary had to bite her lip to keep from crying out at the shooting pain from instinctively throwing her broken arm out to protect herself. Marshall had caught her immediately and somewhat clumsily with his left arm.
“Jesus,” she muttered, as the pain subsided back to bearable levels.
“You okay?” He relaxed his grip fractionally.
Mary took a breath and glanced at him. “I could really go for a bottle of water and some painkillers, but other than that, yeah. You?”
“Water sounds really good right now,” he said. He cleared his throat. “But I'll be fine.”
“Good.”
He let go of her and pointed to their left. “There's the cave.”
It wasn't much of a cave - more like an indentation between two huge rock formations. But it was far better than nothing, and so the two of them sank down to the ground with their backs against the rock.
“I don't suppose our abductors forgot to take your pocket knife, or any of your more useful trinkets?” Mary asked, after sighing in relief at the chance to rest.
Marshall was quiet for a few seconds as he checked again inside his coat and pants pockets. “No such luck,” he reported grimly. “Damn, I liked that knife - it was a gift. We'd better be able to find where they dumped our stuff.”
“Yeah, and I'd miss my Glock, too,” Mary said, wistfulness creeping into her tone.
“Oh, hey - they did leave something useful!” Marshall announced, interrupting her musing as he pulled out a sandwich bag with a few crumbs in it from his jacket pocket.
Mary stared at him. “Those crumbs are going to keep us from starving? God, Marshall, I didn't think heatstroke took effect this soon - and with the sun mostly set, too.”
“You're a riot,” Marshall said, pulling himself to his feet with a groan. “Not the crumbs, the bag. If there's a large enough plant nearby - which there is, I saw some sagebrush on the way up here - we can make a transpiration still to get us some water.”
“A what?” She stood as well, following him both to see what he was doing and to keep him from accidentally sliding off into the ravine.
“A transpiration still,” he repeated. “You put the bag over a branch or leaf, fasten it shut, and over a few hours, about a cup of pure water will accumulate due to water loss from the plant's stoma, or-”
“All right, all right, I get it,” Mary interrupted, “we'll have some water in the morning. I don't really need the plant biology lesson.”
“Botany is the more correct term,” Marshall said mildly, ducking away from her as she threatened to hit him in response. He had found the sagebrush plant and now put the bag over one branch. “Do you happen to have a hair tie?”
“Yeah, I do, actually.” She took it off her wrist and handed it to him, watching as he used it to secure the bag in place.
Marshall stood back and looked at the still in the rapidly fading light. “I think that should do it.”
“Okay then, let's try to get some sleep,” Mary said, fighting off a yawn as she walked the short distance back to their 'cave.' The wind caught her for a moment before she got into the shelter of the rock, and she shivered before sitting down stiffly.
Marshall sat down next to her and put his uninjured arm around her. “C'mere. We need to conserve body heat.”
She leaned into him readily enough. It was in fact getting chilly, and her partner often seemed warmer than she was. At the same time, she mused, if Marshall thought she was going to let that remark slip by without a reaction...
“Now you sound like you're trying to be Mulder in that episode of X-Files you made me watch with you last Thursday,” she grumbled, “when he was trying to get cozy with Scully out in the woods.”
She could hear his smile as he said, “'Detour'? I didn't make you watch that, you were the one who turned it on. And more importantly, I thought you liked The X-Files! It's a classic show, one of the--”
“I never said I didn't like the show,” Mary told him, cutting off his diatribe. Of all the things Marshall had ever made her watch, it certainly was one of the best - not that she was going to praise it in front of him, of course.
Marshall sighed and settled back further against the rock. “Well, good. And you're right, our current situation is somewhat similar to our heroes in 'Detour' - except for our location in the New Mexico desert rather than the wilds of the Florida forest. And we're both injured, instead of just the male member of the partnership.”
“Good thing, too,” Mary put in, “because I'm not cuddling you on my lap, or singing Three Dog Night.”
“Aww, even if I ask nicely? Or it rains sleeping bags?”
She chuckled, wincing a little at the resulting pain. “You'll have to check with me again if that happens.”
The sun had set completely while they talked, and only the stars now illumined their surroundings. Mary looked up at the constellations, thinking briefly of Ed and his telescope. She yawned again.
“Comfortable?” Marshall asked, as she shifted against his shoulder and side.
“Sort of. You're a little too skinny to be a great pillow, but--”
He scoffed. “That's never stopped you before, on the plane or my couch.”
“Yeah, but even airplane seats or your couch are a little more comfortable for my back than this slab of rock,” she pointed out.
“So it's not me that's making you uncomfortable, then,” he said, sounding satisfied.
“Sure, whatever.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “Don't get all huffy.”
Marshall dutifully began to reply in a tone of mock-outrage, but Mary didn't catch the details, which wasn't too surprising considering she had fallen asleep.
~
Thirst woke Mary early the next morning - and an intense crick in her neck from hours leaning against Marshall's shoulder. Holding back a groan out of courtesy to her partner (who seemed to still be asleep), she swallowed and tried to sit up. This caused a renewed jolt of pain in her ribs and she swore under her breath. Maybe this was more than just bruising.
Marshall's arm - which was still draped across her shoulders - moved, and then he rubbed her arm for a second. “Sore?”
“Yeah.” She didn't waste her breath on any sarcastic comments, nor did she bother trying to conceal the problem from him. “I think at least one of my ribs is cracked.”
He was still. “But you're able to draw a breath into both lungs, right?”
She experimented. “Yeah. Hurts like hell to take a deep breath, but I can do it just fine.”
“Good, that means your rib probably hasn't punctured your lung.”
Mary grimaced, remembering a makeshift chest tube and watching in terror as her best and only friend struggled to hold on. “I'm tired of chest wounds already,” she muttered.
“They do suck,” Marshall agreed wryly.
Mary turned to look at him. “Really? Puns? When I'm already in pain?”
“Sorry.”
Another few seconds passed. “Well, I'm as ready as I'm likely to be. Shall we?”
“I don't know, standing up sounds pretty risky to me,” he said with a half-smile.
She patted him on the shoulder. “Don't worry, Marshall, I'm here for you,” she told him in a syrupy sweet voice.
“Uh... please don't ever do that again,” he said, staring at her.
“All right,” she agreed with a satisfied grin, “but I'm thirsty, so let's get off the ground already.”
It was as painful as Mary had thought it would be, but they did manage to get to their feet without either of them falling over. Great, she thought as she took in a few agonizing breaths, this bodes well for a walk across the desert. I sure hope Stan has Search And Rescue mobilized already.
Taking it slow, they made it to the sagebrush plant where Marshall's still was waiting. The plastic bag did, in fact, appear to have at least two cups of water in it.
“Oh, thank God,” Mary murmured. It wasn't going to be enough water to quench even one person's thirst, but it might at least stave off serious dehydration for a few more hours.
“Did you doubt its effectiveness?” Marshall sounded faintly offended. “I told you how it works, but you didn't seem interested in hearing the details of the process.”
Mary reached for the bag with her good arm. “Just shut up and help me with this thing.”
“Fine.”
Between the two of them, they drained the still of water in no time. Mary sighed as she swallowed down her last mouthful. “I don't suppose we can afford to wait around for a second bagful?”
“Not unless you want to start the trek back to civilization at high noon,” Marshall said, with a glance at the clear morning sky.
Awkwardly, Mary did her best to pull her hair back into a ponytail with one hand. Her ribs were killing her. “I don't know how we're going to make it even if we start now.”
“Hey.” Marshall touched her arm. “Don't give up on me now, Mary. We'll make it. Besides,” he added, “don't you want to stick it to the bastards who dumped us out here? You can't do that very well if you're dead.”
She had to smile at that. “Good point. I knew I kept you around for something.”
“That's me, your personal cheerleader.”
“Ow!” Mary winced again as her laughter made the pain in her ribs increase. “Stop making me laugh, you jerk.”
“Right.” Marshall looked contrite. “Sorry.”
~
By the time the sun was nearing its highest point - its zenith, Mary thought she recalled Marshall terming it at some point - neither Mary nor Marshall felt like making any jokes. They were hot, thirsty, covered in dust, and most importantly, in ever-increasing pain. Mary was half-afraid to look behind them to see the distance they had managed to cover since they started; she had this feeling it would be so pathetic that it would make her want to give up.
Just keep walking, Mary told herself. Besides, if she stopped, she would take Marshall down with her, since they were leaning on each other again - and then neither of them would be any use in the hunt for the sadistic creeps who had left them to die in the desert.
After an unfathomable length of time, Marshall cleared his throat beside her. “You mind... if we take a break?”
Over the sound of her own rasping breaths, Mary could tell his were just about as labored. “Guess not,” she replied. “I just wish there was... some shade.”
“Uh huh.”
They stopped. “So, how do you wanna do this? Sit... back to back?” Mary asked.
“Good idea,” Marshall said. “Otherwise, might just... collapse, which would hurt even more.”
Slowly, Mary lowered herself to the ground, Marshall doing his best to support her as he followed. She couldn't keep from groaning a little as she leaned against his back. Now that she wasn't walking, she was no longer able to ignore the ache in her feet and spine, in addition to her other earlier aches and pains.
The sun continued to beat down on them. Mary reached up to shade her eyes, wondering how sunburnt she was already. “What time do you think it is?”
“Judging by the sun, I'd say it's getting close to noon.” Marshall sounded calm. “And judging by what I can see from the direction we came, we're making reasonably good progress.”
“Really?” Mary debated twisting around to look, but thought better of it when her ribs complained at the very thought. “'Cause it seems like we're going about as fast as-- well, I guess as fast as two half-crippled, dehydrated marshals can move.”
Marshall chuckled. “Yes, exactly. Between the two of us, we've been managing to keep a fairly steady pace. And you know what they say about slow and steady, right?”
“'Gets out of the desert before dying'?”
“Not quite the answer I was looking for, but it'll work.”
After a moment, Mary's gaze traveled over the ground ahead of them. She sat up straighter and squinted. “Hey, Marshall, I think I see something - unless it's just some kind of mirage.”
“What is it?” She felt him start to turn, carefully.
“The ground looks like it gets a little less rocky a few yards ahead, and I could swear I see tire tracks.”
“Really?” Marshall finished turning around, now looking in the direction she pointed. “By George, Miss Shannon, I think you're right!”
“Of course I'm right,” Mary replied. She cocked her head and stared at him. “Let me guess: you've been reading Sherlock Holmes again.”
He grinned. “Elementary, my dear woman.”
“Ugh,” she groaned. “I should've known that was coming.” Taking as deep a breath as she could manage comfortably, Mary started to push herself to her feet. Marshall joined her as quickly as he could.
Upon walking a few more steps toward the marks, it became obvious that they were, in fact, tire tracks - from a large vehicle, maybe a truck or an SUV. Mary wiped the sweat off her face. It was a little hard to feel too triumphant at her find at this point.
“Well, I guess we follow the trail,” she said.
Marshall nodded. “Onward.”
~
She guessed it had to be at least noon when Mary finally realized the distant flashes of light she was seeing on the horizon might mean something - around the same time as the tire tracks were getting harder and harder to distinguish. She had been doggedly putting one foot in front of the other for so long that she had almost stopped thinking beyond scanning for tracks. But this, this could mean...
“Marshall.”
“What?” The man's voice sounded as exhausted and parched as she felt.
“Do you see those flashes of light out there, in the distance?”
He raised his eyes and shaded his face. “No. Wait... yes, I think so.”
“A car, maybe?”
“Maybe.” Marshall glanced at her, his face grim. “If it is, whoever it is has us at a bit of a disadvantage.”
Mary nodded. They had no weapons, and no defensible location. “It could be Stan, though. And Search and Rescue, or whoever he's recruited.”
“Let's hope so.”
As one, they oriented their steps toward the vehicle in the distance and restarted the journey. She strongly doubted she and Marshall were visible to whoever it was yet. Unless whoever it was was looking for them, with binoculars maybe - or the scope of a high-powered rifle.
Some time later, it was beginning to be very difficult to keep walking in a straight line, even with the goal of the car to shoot for. Dizziness and a massive headache probably didn't help matters, Mary thought.
As if to prove her point, Mary found herself stumbling into Marshall, nearly knocking him over. “Jesus. Sorry, Marshall - I'm having a little trouble staying on course here.”
He managed to right himself, though she had clearly caused him significant pain. “Apology accepted,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just... try not to do that again, okay?”
Mary almost nodded, but realized in time that it would be a bad idea. “Shouldn't be too much of a problem,” she mumbled, “since I don't think I'll be upright for much longer.” She blinked. Everything was starting to swim around her, including Marshall. At least the pain of her injuries felt sort of distant.
“Mary? Mary, please don't pass out on me. I can't carry you with only one good arm and a few bad ribs.”
She felt his arm steadying her around her back. The blackness receded most of the way, and she discovered that she was staring up into his worried face as he almost completely supported her weight with one arm, in a way that had to be hurting him. “Did you just say something about ribs?” she asked him, blinking again and trying to regain her footing.
He smiled, easing his grip on her. “I would've thought you'd be craving water more than ribs at the moment.”
“Maybe both.” Then the full reality of what had almost happened hit her. “Oh, damn it, Marshall - you cannot tell Eleanor that I almost fainted, like some damsel in distress.”
“I might be persuaded to forget it happened,” Marshall replied, “if you promise to stay standing.” There was concern in his eyes behind the amusement.
Mary narrowed her eyes. “How about if I promise that, and promise to shoot you if you tell Eleanor?”
“Fair enough.” Marshall's hand lingered on her back for a moment. Then he froze. “Do you hear that?”
She listened. “Yeah.” A small glimmer of hope began to grow, and she squinted at the sky. “I'm guessing whoever kidnapped us wouldn't have hired a helicopter to look for us. But it's too bad we don't have a mirror or anything to signal with.”
“Not even a marshal's badge,” he agreed ruefully.
She sighed. “Well, we'd better keep going then.” After all, the chopper wasn't even visible yet.
“Yes. And no fainting, you delicate flower, or I will be forced to describe your swoon in great detail to everyone who knows you.”
Shooting him a glare, Mary muttered, “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”
Within minutes, the helicopter came into view in the distance. Mary and Marshall kept walking, although they did wave their uninjured arms to try to catch its attention. Mary was glad now to be wearing the dark-colored shirt that she had been regretting earlier for its heat-absorbing qualities; she would stand out against the desert rock in this color.
“I think they saw us,” Marshall called, over the increasingly loud sound of the helicopter. He shaded his eyes as he looked at it.
Mary was focused on it as well. “I think you're right.”
They stopped moving and stood to wait. As the chopper got closer, Mary saw the words “Search And Rescue” on the side, and a figure who looked very much like Stan looking out the window at them. She couldn't keep a grin of pure relief from spreading across her face - and she wasn't surprised to turn and see a similar expression on her partner's face.
It began to lower toward the desert floor several yards from them. As it touched down, Marshall gave her a look, wordlessly asking if she wanted to go first. She gestured with her good arm for him to precede her.
Wincing as she ducked to avoid the helicopter blades, Mary followed Marshall inside, accepting Stan's offered hand to pull herself up into it. Stan looked simultaneously worried, relieved, and like he was fairly bursting to speak to his marshals, but he just smiled. Over the noise he yelled, “You two just relax - we're taking you directly to the hospital.”
Mary returned the smile and sat down heavily in the seat next to Marshall. The Search and Rescue volunteer handed them each a water bottle and bent down next to them to instruct that they drink the entire bottle, but slowly.
She opened the bottle and took a gulp, allowing the water to linger in her parched mouth for a second. Now that she had stopped moving, she had the feeling it was going to be difficult to start again. Glancing over at her partner, Mary saw that he was slumped as far as he could be in the seat, taking slow sips of his water. She wondered if the hospital would have stretchers or wheelchairs waiting for them - and if she would let herself use one. But even through the continuing pain from her injuries, she was just completely exhausted.
~
Mary came awake reluctantly when the chopper set down on the roof of the hospital. As soon as she returned to awareness, the pain that seemed to permeate her entire body came rushing back, as well.
Her mood was not improved by the fact that they only brought one wheelchair out for some reason. Marshall, of course, insisted that she take it, though it was obvious that his pain levels were high. She glared at him and called him a few less than polite names - not that anyone could hear her over the thunder of the helicopter. It was obvious that he wasn't going to budge until she got into it, however, so she did so.
Stan followed them inside, and as soon as the door closed behind them and muffled the noise from outside, he walked up between Mary's wheelchair and Marshall. He opened his mouth, but Mary interrupted him.
“Hey, can we get another damn chair over here?” she yelled, and then started to cough, each spasm jolting her ribs with fresh agony.
Giving her a dirty look, Stan turned to the nearest passing hospital worker. “Excuse me.”
“Yeah, I heard her,” the man replied, a harried expression on his face.
Within seconds, an annoyed Marshall was ensconced in his own wheelchair. Before Stan could do more than try again to speak to his inspectors, though, nurses and doctors started to swarm around them. Mary and her partner took turns relating the extent of their injuries. She decided to wait until she was in a more private environment to tell them that she had nearly passed out, and Marshall wisely held his tongue on that subject.
As she was being wheeled down the hallway, Stan came up beside Mary again. “I'll talk to you both after you're all bandaged up,” he said. “But meanwhile, do you want me to contact your family?”
Mary sighed. “Yeah, I've been gone long enough that they're probably starting to worry.” She gave Stan another tired smile. “Thanks, Chief. And I'm sorry - we don't have anything but theories about who did this to us, nothing concrete.”
“Don't you worry about that, Inspector,” Stan said, looking serious. “That's not your job right now. You and Marshall just need to concentrate on getting better. We're gonna find them and bring them down, sooner or later.”
“I hope it's sooner,” she muttered, mostly to herself.
~
Spoilers: Set sometime in season 2, before “Let's Get It Ahn”.
Rating: PG
Summary: “Slow and steady... gets us out of the desert before we die?”
Disclaimer: I do not own this show or its associated characters.
Author's Note: Many thanks to kaffyr for her astute beta reading and comments!
~
Chapter 1
Mary shivered suddenly, which brought her to awareness. She opened her eyes. She was lying on the ground, in the cold shadow of a huge rock face - and she was in severe pain. When she tried to sit up, she had to bite back a gasp at the agony this produced in her left arm and side, not to mention the nausea and throbbing headache.
Pulling herself painfully into a sitting position and reaching her right hand up to her head, Mary felt with some relief that she didn't seem to be bleeding. The next question was where the hell she was.
She blinked to clear her slightly fuzzy vision and looked around. The late afternoon sun revealed a New Mexico ravine, nothing too distinctive. Except... yes, that was a body lying on the rocks further down in the ravine - a very familiar tall, stick-thin, floppy-haired figure sprawled motionless, his face turned away from her.
“Marshall!” Ignoring the shooting pain in her side and the nearly blinding increase in her headache's magnitude caused by standing up, Mary made her way as quickly as she could down to where her partner was lying. “Marshall, can you hear me?”
He didn't respond. Heart in her throat, Mary bent over and felt for his pulse below his jaw. She exhaled in relief - her left side complaining again as she did so - as she felt a strong heartbeat. Then as she started to take her hand away, he grimaced and opened his eyes. “God, your fingers are freezing.”
Mary resisted the urge to hit him, since she didn't know the extent of his injuries yet. “Yeah, well, forgive me for not warming them up before I checked to see if you were alive.”
At that, Marshall's expression sharpened, and he tried to sit up.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mary said, catching his head as his face went pale. “Don't try anything too strenuous just yet, cowboy.”
Marshall took a few deep breaths, and then accepted her help to reach a sitting position.
“Killer headache?” she asked. At his faint nod, she sighed and said, “Yeah, me too. Although I didn't almost pass out when I sat up, so maybe not as bad as yours.”
His gaze traveled over her. “Maybe. Something wrong with your arm?”
She had been holding her left arm close to herself this whole time. “I think it might be broken.”
Marshall winced in sympathy. “Any other damage?”
“Bruised ribs on the same side,” Mary told him. “Minor bruising elsewhere. That's it, I think. How about you?”
He pondered for a moment. “It feels like I might have about the same, except in my case it's on the right side - and my wrist just feels like it might be sprained.”
“Lucky you.” She sat back on her heels, thinking. “Marshall, what's the last thing you remember from today?”
“Uh...” Marshall blinked. “Eating lunch and talking to you about our newest case, at the diner.”
“Same here. So what happened to us since then - and where the hell are we?”
“Those are both very good questions,” he said slowly. “Also a good question: do we have our weapons, ID, or cell phones?”
They both checked, and came up empty on all counts. “Damn,” Mary muttered. “So, what - someone drugged us, got rid of our stuff, and dumped us out of their car?”
“Could be. I do kind of feel dizzy,” Marshall said. He squinted at the rocks around them and then back at her. “Call me crazy, but this happened on our way to meet Angela for the first time. That seems like a little too much of a coincidence to ignore. Perhaps we're being treated to a very special, 'You got my ex-wife to turn traitor on me, so now you get Death By Desert' delivery from Howard.”
Mary frowned. They hadn't even met Angela officially yet. “You think Angela's lowlife jackass of an ex could've tracked her from Boise to Albuquerque this fast?”
“I said 'perhaps.' He may be a lowlife jackass, but he's well-connected.”
She sighed again. “The worst ones usually are.” Of course, that didn't explain how whoever it was had known enough to target the two of them. “Well, at least Stan will know something is wrong when we don't show up for the initial meeting.”
“Yep.” Oddly enough, Marshall looked about as reassured by this fact as Mary felt.
Silence fell for a moment, and then her partner said, “I don't know about you, but I'm a little tired of this scenery. I think I'm about ready to try standing up.”
Smiling wryly, she got to her feet and held out her uninjured hand for him. “All right. Just take it slow.”
He managed the task without too much trouble, for which Mary was grateful. She had no idea how she would've been able to drag all six-feet-plus of him even a few yards without injuring him - and herself - further in the process. Still, there was a sheen of sweat on his face by the time he was upright.
“Any thoughts on which way we should go?” Mary asked, watching him carefully for signs he was about to collapse.
Marshall took another look around. “Well, first of all I don't see any tracks from whoever left us out here. Normally I'd say we should stay in the ravine to avoid too much direct sun exposure, but since the sun's about to set, let's take advantage of what little light we have to see if we can pick out any landmarks.”
“Sounds good,” Mary said. “Up it is.”
They made their way with care over the rocky terrain and toward higher ground. Despite being in pretty good shape if she did say so herself (which she did), Mary was breathing hard by the time they were halfway out of the ravine. It might have more to do with her splitting headache and the stabbing pain in her ribs than any lack of conditioning, she thought. Come to think of it, Marshall was no slouch about fitness either, and he sounded just as bad as she did.
By unspoken consent, the two of them stopped for a break next to a convenient boulder, where they each leaned as best as they could against it. “I sure hope... we aren't too far... out in the middle of nowhere,” Mary gasped out between breaths.
Marshall raised an eyebrow. “Yes... I'm sure our kidnappers... made sure to aim for... the least possible amount of inconvenience... in their choice of dump site.” He was holding his arm to his ribs at an awkward angle.
“I don't know,” Mary said thoughtfully. “They could've killed us... but they didn't.”
“Maybe they just figured exposure... would do the job for them,” Marshall replied.
Mary took a shallow breath and shot him a glare. “Thanks for that, buzzkill.”
After another minute, they started their trek again. It seemed to take even longer to make it the rest of the way out, but finally they reached the higher ground, leaning on each other as best they could without aggravating each other's injuries. By this time, the sun was much nearer to the horizon, and the air was already getting colder.
“See anything recognizable?” Mary asked, scanning the horizon after she had caught her breath.
Next to her, Marshall wiped his brow with his left hand. “Not really,” he said. His breathing sounded slightly less labored now. Then he paused. “Wait - do you hear something?”
She listened. “Yeah, I do. That sounds like-- is that the dragway?”
“I think it is.”
For the first time since she'd awakened, Mary felt like grinning. At least they had a possible signpost pointing toward civilization. If you could really call drag racing civilized.
She was about to start heading in the general direction of the noise of the racetrack, but Marshall stopped her with a hand on her elbow. “Wait.”
Turning toward him, she asked in irritation, “What? We don't have a lot of time to chat before the sun goes down, you know.”
“I know, that's exactly it,” he said, meeting her eyes calmly. “So, especially since neither of us are at our best physically right now, we should find a good place to spend the night instead of ending up in the middle of the desert without any shelter.”
Mary considered for a moment, frowning. As usual, he was right. She knew it could get cold out here at night, and if she was honest with herself, she also knew they couldn't make it out of the desert before the sun set. “All right, fine. Back into the ravine, Boy Scout?”
“In a manner of speaking. I saw a sort of cave near the top.” Marshall glanced at the sky for a second. “We shouldn't be in too much danger of flash flooding at this time of the year.”
The two began the descent. Even taking care not to lose her footing, any time she was jolted at all it made her ribs and arm hurt like hell. Mary was sure Marshall couldn't have missed her winces every time this occurred, since they were still supporting each other. He said nothing, though she felt his arm around her back tighten a little.
When she stumbled and nearly fell a yard later, Mary had to bite her lip to keep from crying out at the shooting pain from instinctively throwing her broken arm out to protect herself. Marshall had caught her immediately and somewhat clumsily with his left arm.
“Jesus,” she muttered, as the pain subsided back to bearable levels.
“You okay?” He relaxed his grip fractionally.
Mary took a breath and glanced at him. “I could really go for a bottle of water and some painkillers, but other than that, yeah. You?”
“Water sounds really good right now,” he said. He cleared his throat. “But I'll be fine.”
“Good.”
He let go of her and pointed to their left. “There's the cave.”
It wasn't much of a cave - more like an indentation between two huge rock formations. But it was far better than nothing, and so the two of them sank down to the ground with their backs against the rock.
“I don't suppose our abductors forgot to take your pocket knife, or any of your more useful trinkets?” Mary asked, after sighing in relief at the chance to rest.
Marshall was quiet for a few seconds as he checked again inside his coat and pants pockets. “No such luck,” he reported grimly. “Damn, I liked that knife - it was a gift. We'd better be able to find where they dumped our stuff.”
“Yeah, and I'd miss my Glock, too,” Mary said, wistfulness creeping into her tone.
“Oh, hey - they did leave something useful!” Marshall announced, interrupting her musing as he pulled out a sandwich bag with a few crumbs in it from his jacket pocket.
Mary stared at him. “Those crumbs are going to keep us from starving? God, Marshall, I didn't think heatstroke took effect this soon - and with the sun mostly set, too.”
“You're a riot,” Marshall said, pulling himself to his feet with a groan. “Not the crumbs, the bag. If there's a large enough plant nearby - which there is, I saw some sagebrush on the way up here - we can make a transpiration still to get us some water.”
“A what?” She stood as well, following him both to see what he was doing and to keep him from accidentally sliding off into the ravine.
“A transpiration still,” he repeated. “You put the bag over a branch or leaf, fasten it shut, and over a few hours, about a cup of pure water will accumulate due to water loss from the plant's stoma, or-”
“All right, all right, I get it,” Mary interrupted, “we'll have some water in the morning. I don't really need the plant biology lesson.”
“Botany is the more correct term,” Marshall said mildly, ducking away from her as she threatened to hit him in response. He had found the sagebrush plant and now put the bag over one branch. “Do you happen to have a hair tie?”
“Yeah, I do, actually.” She took it off her wrist and handed it to him, watching as he used it to secure the bag in place.
Marshall stood back and looked at the still in the rapidly fading light. “I think that should do it.”
“Okay then, let's try to get some sleep,” Mary said, fighting off a yawn as she walked the short distance back to their 'cave.' The wind caught her for a moment before she got into the shelter of the rock, and she shivered before sitting down stiffly.
Marshall sat down next to her and put his uninjured arm around her. “C'mere. We need to conserve body heat.”
She leaned into him readily enough. It was in fact getting chilly, and her partner often seemed warmer than she was. At the same time, she mused, if Marshall thought she was going to let that remark slip by without a reaction...
“Now you sound like you're trying to be Mulder in that episode of X-Files you made me watch with you last Thursday,” she grumbled, “when he was trying to get cozy with Scully out in the woods.”
She could hear his smile as he said, “'Detour'? I didn't make you watch that, you were the one who turned it on. And more importantly, I thought you liked The X-Files! It's a classic show, one of the--”
“I never said I didn't like the show,” Mary told him, cutting off his diatribe. Of all the things Marshall had ever made her watch, it certainly was one of the best - not that she was going to praise it in front of him, of course.
Marshall sighed and settled back further against the rock. “Well, good. And you're right, our current situation is somewhat similar to our heroes in 'Detour' - except for our location in the New Mexico desert rather than the wilds of the Florida forest. And we're both injured, instead of just the male member of the partnership.”
“Good thing, too,” Mary put in, “because I'm not cuddling you on my lap, or singing Three Dog Night.”
“Aww, even if I ask nicely? Or it rains sleeping bags?”
She chuckled, wincing a little at the resulting pain. “You'll have to check with me again if that happens.”
The sun had set completely while they talked, and only the stars now illumined their surroundings. Mary looked up at the constellations, thinking briefly of Ed and his telescope. She yawned again.
“Comfortable?” Marshall asked, as she shifted against his shoulder and side.
“Sort of. You're a little too skinny to be a great pillow, but--”
He scoffed. “That's never stopped you before, on the plane or my couch.”
“Yeah, but even airplane seats or your couch are a little more comfortable for my back than this slab of rock,” she pointed out.
“So it's not me that's making you uncomfortable, then,” he said, sounding satisfied.
“Sure, whatever.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “Don't get all huffy.”
Marshall dutifully began to reply in a tone of mock-outrage, but Mary didn't catch the details, which wasn't too surprising considering she had fallen asleep.
~
Thirst woke Mary early the next morning - and an intense crick in her neck from hours leaning against Marshall's shoulder. Holding back a groan out of courtesy to her partner (who seemed to still be asleep), she swallowed and tried to sit up. This caused a renewed jolt of pain in her ribs and she swore under her breath. Maybe this was more than just bruising.
Marshall's arm - which was still draped across her shoulders - moved, and then he rubbed her arm for a second. “Sore?”
“Yeah.” She didn't waste her breath on any sarcastic comments, nor did she bother trying to conceal the problem from him. “I think at least one of my ribs is cracked.”
He was still. “But you're able to draw a breath into both lungs, right?”
She experimented. “Yeah. Hurts like hell to take a deep breath, but I can do it just fine.”
“Good, that means your rib probably hasn't punctured your lung.”
Mary grimaced, remembering a makeshift chest tube and watching in terror as her best and only friend struggled to hold on. “I'm tired of chest wounds already,” she muttered.
“They do suck,” Marshall agreed wryly.
Mary turned to look at him. “Really? Puns? When I'm already in pain?”
“Sorry.”
Another few seconds passed. “Well, I'm as ready as I'm likely to be. Shall we?”
“I don't know, standing up sounds pretty risky to me,” he said with a half-smile.
She patted him on the shoulder. “Don't worry, Marshall, I'm here for you,” she told him in a syrupy sweet voice.
“Uh... please don't ever do that again,” he said, staring at her.
“All right,” she agreed with a satisfied grin, “but I'm thirsty, so let's get off the ground already.”
It was as painful as Mary had thought it would be, but they did manage to get to their feet without either of them falling over. Great, she thought as she took in a few agonizing breaths, this bodes well for a walk across the desert. I sure hope Stan has Search And Rescue mobilized already.
Taking it slow, they made it to the sagebrush plant where Marshall's still was waiting. The plastic bag did, in fact, appear to have at least two cups of water in it.
“Oh, thank God,” Mary murmured. It wasn't going to be enough water to quench even one person's thirst, but it might at least stave off serious dehydration for a few more hours.
“Did you doubt its effectiveness?” Marshall sounded faintly offended. “I told you how it works, but you didn't seem interested in hearing the details of the process.”
Mary reached for the bag with her good arm. “Just shut up and help me with this thing.”
“Fine.”
Between the two of them, they drained the still of water in no time. Mary sighed as she swallowed down her last mouthful. “I don't suppose we can afford to wait around for a second bagful?”
“Not unless you want to start the trek back to civilization at high noon,” Marshall said, with a glance at the clear morning sky.
Awkwardly, Mary did her best to pull her hair back into a ponytail with one hand. Her ribs were killing her. “I don't know how we're going to make it even if we start now.”
“Hey.” Marshall touched her arm. “Don't give up on me now, Mary. We'll make it. Besides,” he added, “don't you want to stick it to the bastards who dumped us out here? You can't do that very well if you're dead.”
She had to smile at that. “Good point. I knew I kept you around for something.”
“That's me, your personal cheerleader.”
“Ow!” Mary winced again as her laughter made the pain in her ribs increase. “Stop making me laugh, you jerk.”
“Right.” Marshall looked contrite. “Sorry.”
~
By the time the sun was nearing its highest point - its zenith, Mary thought she recalled Marshall terming it at some point - neither Mary nor Marshall felt like making any jokes. They were hot, thirsty, covered in dust, and most importantly, in ever-increasing pain. Mary was half-afraid to look behind them to see the distance they had managed to cover since they started; she had this feeling it would be so pathetic that it would make her want to give up.
Just keep walking, Mary told herself. Besides, if she stopped, she would take Marshall down with her, since they were leaning on each other again - and then neither of them would be any use in the hunt for the sadistic creeps who had left them to die in the desert.
After an unfathomable length of time, Marshall cleared his throat beside her. “You mind... if we take a break?”
Over the sound of her own rasping breaths, Mary could tell his were just about as labored. “Guess not,” she replied. “I just wish there was... some shade.”
“Uh huh.”
They stopped. “So, how do you wanna do this? Sit... back to back?” Mary asked.
“Good idea,” Marshall said. “Otherwise, might just... collapse, which would hurt even more.”
Slowly, Mary lowered herself to the ground, Marshall doing his best to support her as he followed. She couldn't keep from groaning a little as she leaned against his back. Now that she wasn't walking, she was no longer able to ignore the ache in her feet and spine, in addition to her other earlier aches and pains.
The sun continued to beat down on them. Mary reached up to shade her eyes, wondering how sunburnt she was already. “What time do you think it is?”
“Judging by the sun, I'd say it's getting close to noon.” Marshall sounded calm. “And judging by what I can see from the direction we came, we're making reasonably good progress.”
“Really?” Mary debated twisting around to look, but thought better of it when her ribs complained at the very thought. “'Cause it seems like we're going about as fast as-- well, I guess as fast as two half-crippled, dehydrated marshals can move.”
Marshall chuckled. “Yes, exactly. Between the two of us, we've been managing to keep a fairly steady pace. And you know what they say about slow and steady, right?”
“'Gets out of the desert before dying'?”
“Not quite the answer I was looking for, but it'll work.”
After a moment, Mary's gaze traveled over the ground ahead of them. She sat up straighter and squinted. “Hey, Marshall, I think I see something - unless it's just some kind of mirage.”
“What is it?” She felt him start to turn, carefully.
“The ground looks like it gets a little less rocky a few yards ahead, and I could swear I see tire tracks.”
“Really?” Marshall finished turning around, now looking in the direction she pointed. “By George, Miss Shannon, I think you're right!”
“Of course I'm right,” Mary replied. She cocked her head and stared at him. “Let me guess: you've been reading Sherlock Holmes again.”
He grinned. “Elementary, my dear woman.”
“Ugh,” she groaned. “I should've known that was coming.” Taking as deep a breath as she could manage comfortably, Mary started to push herself to her feet. Marshall joined her as quickly as he could.
Upon walking a few more steps toward the marks, it became obvious that they were, in fact, tire tracks - from a large vehicle, maybe a truck or an SUV. Mary wiped the sweat off her face. It was a little hard to feel too triumphant at her find at this point.
“Well, I guess we follow the trail,” she said.
Marshall nodded. “Onward.”
~
She guessed it had to be at least noon when Mary finally realized the distant flashes of light she was seeing on the horizon might mean something - around the same time as the tire tracks were getting harder and harder to distinguish. She had been doggedly putting one foot in front of the other for so long that she had almost stopped thinking beyond scanning for tracks. But this, this could mean...
“Marshall.”
“What?” The man's voice sounded as exhausted and parched as she felt.
“Do you see those flashes of light out there, in the distance?”
He raised his eyes and shaded his face. “No. Wait... yes, I think so.”
“A car, maybe?”
“Maybe.” Marshall glanced at her, his face grim. “If it is, whoever it is has us at a bit of a disadvantage.”
Mary nodded. They had no weapons, and no defensible location. “It could be Stan, though. And Search and Rescue, or whoever he's recruited.”
“Let's hope so.”
As one, they oriented their steps toward the vehicle in the distance and restarted the journey. She strongly doubted she and Marshall were visible to whoever it was yet. Unless whoever it was was looking for them, with binoculars maybe - or the scope of a high-powered rifle.
Some time later, it was beginning to be very difficult to keep walking in a straight line, even with the goal of the car to shoot for. Dizziness and a massive headache probably didn't help matters, Mary thought.
As if to prove her point, Mary found herself stumbling into Marshall, nearly knocking him over. “Jesus. Sorry, Marshall - I'm having a little trouble staying on course here.”
He managed to right himself, though she had clearly caused him significant pain. “Apology accepted,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just... try not to do that again, okay?”
Mary almost nodded, but realized in time that it would be a bad idea. “Shouldn't be too much of a problem,” she mumbled, “since I don't think I'll be upright for much longer.” She blinked. Everything was starting to swim around her, including Marshall. At least the pain of her injuries felt sort of distant.
“Mary? Mary, please don't pass out on me. I can't carry you with only one good arm and a few bad ribs.”
She felt his arm steadying her around her back. The blackness receded most of the way, and she discovered that she was staring up into his worried face as he almost completely supported her weight with one arm, in a way that had to be hurting him. “Did you just say something about ribs?” she asked him, blinking again and trying to regain her footing.
He smiled, easing his grip on her. “I would've thought you'd be craving water more than ribs at the moment.”
“Maybe both.” Then the full reality of what had almost happened hit her. “Oh, damn it, Marshall - you cannot tell Eleanor that I almost fainted, like some damsel in distress.”
“I might be persuaded to forget it happened,” Marshall replied, “if you promise to stay standing.” There was concern in his eyes behind the amusement.
Mary narrowed her eyes. “How about if I promise that, and promise to shoot you if you tell Eleanor?”
“Fair enough.” Marshall's hand lingered on her back for a moment. Then he froze. “Do you hear that?”
She listened. “Yeah.” A small glimmer of hope began to grow, and she squinted at the sky. “I'm guessing whoever kidnapped us wouldn't have hired a helicopter to look for us. But it's too bad we don't have a mirror or anything to signal with.”
“Not even a marshal's badge,” he agreed ruefully.
She sighed. “Well, we'd better keep going then.” After all, the chopper wasn't even visible yet.
“Yes. And no fainting, you delicate flower, or I will be forced to describe your swoon in great detail to everyone who knows you.”
Shooting him a glare, Mary muttered, “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”
Within minutes, the helicopter came into view in the distance. Mary and Marshall kept walking, although they did wave their uninjured arms to try to catch its attention. Mary was glad now to be wearing the dark-colored shirt that she had been regretting earlier for its heat-absorbing qualities; she would stand out against the desert rock in this color.
“I think they saw us,” Marshall called, over the increasingly loud sound of the helicopter. He shaded his eyes as he looked at it.
Mary was focused on it as well. “I think you're right.”
They stopped moving and stood to wait. As the chopper got closer, Mary saw the words “Search And Rescue” on the side, and a figure who looked very much like Stan looking out the window at them. She couldn't keep a grin of pure relief from spreading across her face - and she wasn't surprised to turn and see a similar expression on her partner's face.
It began to lower toward the desert floor several yards from them. As it touched down, Marshall gave her a look, wordlessly asking if she wanted to go first. She gestured with her good arm for him to precede her.
Wincing as she ducked to avoid the helicopter blades, Mary followed Marshall inside, accepting Stan's offered hand to pull herself up into it. Stan looked simultaneously worried, relieved, and like he was fairly bursting to speak to his marshals, but he just smiled. Over the noise he yelled, “You two just relax - we're taking you directly to the hospital.”
Mary returned the smile and sat down heavily in the seat next to Marshall. The Search and Rescue volunteer handed them each a water bottle and bent down next to them to instruct that they drink the entire bottle, but slowly.
She opened the bottle and took a gulp, allowing the water to linger in her parched mouth for a second. Now that she had stopped moving, she had the feeling it was going to be difficult to start again. Glancing over at her partner, Mary saw that he was slumped as far as he could be in the seat, taking slow sips of his water. She wondered if the hospital would have stretchers or wheelchairs waiting for them - and if she would let herself use one. But even through the continuing pain from her injuries, she was just completely exhausted.
~
Mary came awake reluctantly when the chopper set down on the roof of the hospital. As soon as she returned to awareness, the pain that seemed to permeate her entire body came rushing back, as well.
Her mood was not improved by the fact that they only brought one wheelchair out for some reason. Marshall, of course, insisted that she take it, though it was obvious that his pain levels were high. She glared at him and called him a few less than polite names - not that anyone could hear her over the thunder of the helicopter. It was obvious that he wasn't going to budge until she got into it, however, so she did so.
Stan followed them inside, and as soon as the door closed behind them and muffled the noise from outside, he walked up between Mary's wheelchair and Marshall. He opened his mouth, but Mary interrupted him.
“Hey, can we get another damn chair over here?” she yelled, and then started to cough, each spasm jolting her ribs with fresh agony.
Giving her a dirty look, Stan turned to the nearest passing hospital worker. “Excuse me.”
“Yeah, I heard her,” the man replied, a harried expression on his face.
Within seconds, an annoyed Marshall was ensconced in his own wheelchair. Before Stan could do more than try again to speak to his inspectors, though, nurses and doctors started to swarm around them. Mary and her partner took turns relating the extent of their injuries. She decided to wait until she was in a more private environment to tell them that she had nearly passed out, and Marshall wisely held his tongue on that subject.
As she was being wheeled down the hallway, Stan came up beside Mary again. “I'll talk to you both after you're all bandaged up,” he said. “But meanwhile, do you want me to contact your family?”
Mary sighed. “Yeah, I've been gone long enough that they're probably starting to worry.” She gave Stan another tired smile. “Thanks, Chief. And I'm sorry - we don't have anything but theories about who did this to us, nothing concrete.”
“Don't you worry about that, Inspector,” Stan said, looking serious. “That's not your job right now. You and Marshall just need to concentrate on getting better. We're gonna find them and bring them down, sooner or later.”
“I hope it's sooner,” she muttered, mostly to herself.
~