Never Again (& Other Lies We Tell Ourselves), Chapter 3
Title: Never Again (& Other Lies We Tell Ourselves), Chapter 3
Author: mm_thibault
Rating: PG
Summary/Author's note: I apologize for the delay. Day job and weekend plans. However some things cannot be helped. This is a bit of exposition for the marshals' current predicament.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2
Two days earlier-
The early flight out had been hastily arranged and Marshall was glad to know it was a private plane. He hated having to fold up like a sheet of origami paper on short notice. It was normally a two day drive out and two days back, taking him and Mary through some of the more gorgeous scenery that the continent had to offer, but alas, he did as he was told and was thus on an airplane with a nonplussed partner.
"Why the hell couldn't we have driven? It's not a long drive and we would have had a little more time to prepare." Mary's question, and irritated tone, mirrored his thoughts almost exactly.
Marshall gave her a fond smile that she couldn't see since she was digging through her bag for gum. "I know, but we are merely cogs in the larger goverment machine. Thus, we go where we're told and by the mode provided."
Mary pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair. "What exactly did Stan tell you?" She was watching the clouds out the window, like she did on most flights. It kept her calm in lieu of alcohol, which was, at the moment verboten due to the nature of their travels.
"He said it was a quick extraction. We land in Tuscon, drive to the house about five minutes away, pick him up from the Inspectors with him now, and get back to ABQ a little after lunch." It wasn't a bad little jaunt overall, he just wished it didn't have to be the start of his day. At this rate, they were going to be working on this all day and everything he'd had scheduled would just have to be pushed back, two visits and a dentist appointment. The last one wasn't a hardship, he hadn't wanted to go anyway.
"Do you have anything you need to reschedule today? I'm texting Charlie to clear my schedule for the day and I can have him do yours, too."
Mary gave a noncommittal shrug. "Nothing that can't wait til we're on the ground." When she didn't offer more than that, Marshall studied her profile. She was quieter than normal, which was odd, but not enough to merit comment. They'd talk about it later, since the pilot announced they were making their descent into Tuscon.
***
Driving through the low desert basin of Tuscon was a visceral joy for Marshall, even if it was just across Valencia and up Campbell to a neighborhood quaintly named Desert Shadows. The winding streets were lined with one story ranch houses that were well loved by the families there.
"Cozy little corner of the barrio," Mary remarked as she watched kids in khaki pants and blue button-up shirts over white undershirts chased after a soccer ball that had bounced into the street.
"I'm sure it has its charms," Marshall murmured as he stopped for them to retrieve their toy and then proceeded on to the house. White house with a large upright freezer in the corner of the carport, it had a gravel yard and a moving homage to the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum's flora in the front yard.
They parked in front and Marshall stopped to admire the catcus in the middle of the yard. "You know the barrel cactus only flowers after several years of growth. This one has to have been here for a long time."
Mary rolled her eyes as she knocked on the door. "Not now, Doofus."
The house was blessedly cool compared to the blistering heat outside. It was late September but it was every bit of 95 degrees and it was only 10AM.
There were two marshals at the front door and two at the side door off the dining room, and a couple of FBI agents filtered in and out of the backyard through the family room. Whoever this witness was, they had apparently seen the bordertown version of the Kennedy assasination and could ID the shooter on the Grassy Knoll.
They flashed their badges as they walked through the house, effortlessly in unison. The marshal by the back door nodded towards the back of the house and the garishly painted family room.
"It's...pink," she whispered out of the side of her mouth. Marshall shared in her horror at the ghastly bubblegum pink walls and furniture in varying shades of Pepto Bismol, but fought to keep his expression neutral.
"Mr. Olivera, I'm Marshal Miller and this is Marshal Shepherd, we're here to escort you to your new life in Albuquerque."
"Call me Xavier." The young man on the couch was barely out of his teens but had shadows under his eyes that spoke of a much longer struggle than just this latest personal calamity. He looked around the room, to his suitcase, and then back to Marshall. "This was my parents' house. They died last year in a car crash. This is all I have left of them and now I won't even have that."
This was the part of the job that Marshall hated. Wresting someone away from the life they knew and thrusting them into the shadowy world of WITSEC was hard without the added trauma of a recent unrelated death.
Mary walked over and put her hand on his arm. "Your belongings will be shipped as soon as we get you settled. I'm sorry for your loss, but we need to get you out of here as soon as possible for your safety. Are you ready?"
Many people who thought Mary was abrasive and uncaring never saw this side of her, taking care of the witness and giving them the answers in the more forthright manner she could without hurting them. This is why he never dignified the remarks with a response. They didn't understand her and he didn't have to justify.
The flight back to ABQ was almost as quiet as the one out three hours earlier. Xavier had put on his iPod and was feigning reading a magazine. Mary was writing notes on the notebook in her purse and Marshall poured over the file he'd been handed upon taking custody of their charge.
No parents, no siblings, no extended family to speak of, on paper he was an ideal witness. Up until a couple days ago, he'd been a substitute teacher at the elementary school down the block from his house, Esperanza, that was, until he drove up to his nightly jogging spot of Reid Park and witness a triple murder performed by none other than Guillermo 'Papi Chulo' Jalisciense of the notorious Sinaloa cartel. Xavier could put the gun in his hand, ID his vehicle and the number of tattoos on his forearms.
His car had been shot up while he was out buying groceries and he'd had several threats on his voicemail. In all, Xavier's sad life of quiet desperation had suddenly become a lot more exciting, and not in a good way.
Mary was texting immediately upon the wheels touching down, looking more and more vexed as they taxied down the runway to the way waiting GMC. She ran her fingers through her hair and tucked it behind her ear more than once, indicating her level of agitation. Something was really wrong, but he couldn't ask about it with their witness in tow.
He left her in the truck with the understanding she'd be up in a moment with the keys. She met his concerned look with a distracted nod as she spoke quietly into the phone.
Marshall escorted Xavier and his single piece of luggage inside and through the minimal security that barred their way to the elevators. Since they kept such a low profile within the law enforcement community, having the full security measures of the federal building downtown would be kind of like a neon sign.
"This way please," he walked them past his and his partner's desks, meeting Stan's eye as he stepped out of his office. He got him seated in the conference room and told him he'd return momentarily.
Stan was waiting outside as he closed the door. "I just got off the phone with the Chief, Marshall. This is a big fish in an even bigger pond. Jalisciense has more than ten bodies to his name and counting. The chief said to make him as comfortable as possible." He looked around Marshall to the young man in the striped polo shirt who was fingering the medal around his neck. "Where's your partner?"
Marshall shrugged and looked towards the elevator, willing her to come through it. "She was downstairs on a call, she said she'd be up in a minute."
His answer seemed to satisfy their boss. "Ok. You and her on the outs again?"
Stan was damn perceptive. "I honestly have no idea," Marshall answered.
The elevator dinged and Mary came though, her dark expression preceding her by a good five seconds. "I think you might want to figure it out, and quickly." Stan patted him on the shoulder and gave him the look of a warden to a man condemned.
"Good to see you. Thought you might have gotten lost." Marshall's attempt at levity fell flat in the face of a glare that could etch glass. "Ok, I'll be in here. I assume you'll be joining me?"
Right when he opened the door there was a flash of heat, searing heat and a whoosh of air. And that's all he could remember.
Papillongirl, it's all you!