round robin: never again (& other lies we tell ourselves), chapter 6
Title: Never Again (& other lies we tell ourselves)
Author: roar526
Rating: Adult for bad language
Summary: Oh bloody hell, what's in the box?
Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5
Previously in the round robin:
"You expecting a package, Marshall?" she queried.
"Nope," he solemnly replied. "Especially not one that's bleeding all over my welcome mat."
Marshall noticed Mary’s brow furrow as she willed the words to be some sort of sick joke that could later be blamed on the meds. Gaze steady on the house, her eyes widened as she was forced to accept the truth.
It’s all starting to sink into that stubborn brain of hers.
“Jesus f’n Christ, Marshall.” Her face turned ashen, his arm reached for her instinctively, despite the pain that shot from the broken ribs. “First the bomb and…you…and I thought…It’s time to get gone, I’m calling Stan.”
“Wait. Just hold on…” But she was already on the move, fumbling to work the cracked phone with her left hand.
“No! You have your answer.” She stopped suddenly and faced him, most likely remembering his battered body’s inability to keep up. “There’s no bomb…not this time anyway.” The phone didn’t work and Mary cursed it six ways to Sunday.
“Mary,” Marshall stated softly. She’s afraid…lashing out to keep from falling apart.
“I humored you, just like you wanted,” she answered, not meeting his eyes. “And as soon as I talk to Stan you’re taking those damn painkillers. I’ll force feed them to you if…”
Marshall placed a hand on Mary’s good one, keeping her from being able to access the phone and forcing her to look at him.
“Give me the phone, Mary,” his voice as gentle as the fingers that steadied her hand.
Green eyes, tired and wet, conveyed the emotional storm behind them.
“You can do the talking. Just let me get him on the phone for you." Loosening her grip, the phone slid into Marshall's hand. That’s my girl. Then he added with a smirk, "Because ambidextrous, you are not."
"Jackass." Mary uttered, in an attempt to sound annoyed as she shoved him.
It felt as if he’d been sucker punched. Hand reaching for his chest, he took a step back and winced, air escaping in a ragged breath. Holy shit! Who stabbed me in the chest?
"Oh God, Marshall, I'm so sorry." Mary reached out to him, panic on her face. “Marshall?”
Controlled breaths to steady himself, he nodded. Then, recovering enough to speak he reassured her, but could see the uncertainty on her face. Smiling brightly, he looked her in the eye. "I'm fine, Mare. I’m gonna be just fine."
Dialing the phone, Marshall handed it to Mary. A smile accompanied her lingering hand, soothing his soul as he pondered how it was he could feel such contentment considering the circumstances. The playful banter, a smile or simple touch…these were the things that had been missing lately. Why? When? How? All excellent questions to which he’d found no good answers.
Lost in his own reflections, Marshall didn’t hear Mary calling until she’d moved on to more colorful variations of his name.
“Huh…um, yeah,” he stammered. “What’d Stan say?”
“Where’d ya go, numbnuts?” The concern in Mary’s eyes betrayed the casualness of her tone.
“Sorry.” Shake it off. Get your head back in the game. “What’s the plan?”
“Stan’s picking us up four blocks northeast in fifteen minutes and will stash us in a motel while he calls in the local boys to check out your package.”
“Great let’s grab…”
“Nothing! We are not stepping foot back in your house until this thing is over.” Face serious, tone even more so. Mary was not screwing around. And as if reading his thoughts, she reached out and placed her good hand on his arm. “Stan will come back and get whatever we need. But we’re not going to need anything if we’re dead, so let’s get this walking wounded freak show on the road.”
The partners made their way through the neighborhood in silence. Hobbling along next to Mary, Marshall’s attempt to mask his discomfort failed as his sweat soaked shirt clung uncomfortably to his body. The occasional sideways glance revealed that Mary was not faring much better. Her bad hand resting on her good arm and her pale skin glistened unnaturally.
Busted…Mary caught him watching her, but didn’t look away. Maintaining eye contact, she searched his eyes and was about to speak when the buzz of her phone startled her.
“Yeah, Stan.” Mary went rigid as she listened to the voice at the other end of the line.
Observing the change in her demeanor, Marshall grew increasing uneasy and knew it couldn’t be Stan. His mind immediately jumped to the worst case scenario when he realized her reaction was not unfamiliar. The recent phone calls…the secrecy. What the hell is going on, Mary?
“No,” Mary barked through clenched teeth. “I can’t do this now.”
Watching as she disconnected the call, he waited. Pushing would only make her push back and after the past few months, that was the last thing Marshall wanted. When Mary did finally look at him, a quick glimpse of her face was all he was allowed before she returned her gaze to the ground.
“Just the usual drama,” Mary said to the pavement as they continued walking.
Marshall didn’t believe her.
>
On the way to the motel, they told Stan everything that had happened and he assured them that ABQPD was already on the scene. The fact that it could be an inside job meant keeping as tight a lid on information as possible and the local boys seemed the best way to do that. Especially since Stan had no doubt the paperwork for this case could get lost in the bureaucratic shuffle of the police department if he needed it to.
Their boss checked them into one of the seedier motels in town, as far away from any witnesses as possible. Grabbing a list from Marshall of what was needed from the house and leaving a disposable cell, Stan promised to call as soon as there were any developments.
“I’ll be back later. I need at least one of you alert, so take turns resting and if anything seems off, move. Then call Eleanor on that number I gave you and we’ll find you.”
“Thanks, Stan,” his Inspectors responded in unison.
“Oh, and Stan, can you make sure Aldous is taken care of since we don’t how long…” Marshall’s voice trailed off.
“Don’t worry,” Stan said, placing a hand on Marshall’s shoulder. “I’ll take him to Eleanor’s.”
The three regarded each other and then Stan nodded before slipping out the door.
“Pain meds,” Mary said sternly, “now.”
“Stan said one of us needs to stay alert,” Marshall countered, knowing it was futile.
“That’s right, and that one is not going to be you.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “You are not seriously going to argue with me about this, are you? Jesus, Marshall, someone tried to char-broil you less than 48 hours ago.”
“I’m not the only one a little well done.” Marshall nodded at her hand.
“This conversation ends now before I’m forced to become a vegetarian.”
>
An hour later, Mary sat on the bed keeping vigil over a sleeping Marshall. His injuries being more serious, she’d ultimately been able to coax him into taking his meds and he was out shortly thereafter. As she reached up to push some hair from his face, the shrill tone of the disposable phone cause her to jump and she leapt off the bed toward the table, wanting nothing more than to stop the obnoxious noise.
“Stan?”
“Yeah, Mary. How ‘re you guys doing?”
“Marshall’s finally asleep,” she said, relieved to hear her boss’s voice. “What did you find out?”
“They opened the box and…” Stan hesitated.
“Tell me.”
“It was Randy Daniel’s head.”
So if Daniel’s head is in the box; is it an inside job or did someone just want to make it look like one? Do they still need to hideout? And what exactly do they know that has them in so much danger? What happened to Mary and Marshall’s relationship over the past months? And who the hell is calling Mary?
Take it away siapom