Fic: Phases of the Moon (4/7)
Title: Phases of the Moon
Summary, rating, etc. as before
Disclaimer: I still don't own this show or its characters.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
~
Chapter 4
For Mary, the weeks until the next full moon passed far too quickly. She and Marshall dealt with their caseloads without too many crises (although she was an alternately gleeful and annoyed spectator to Katy Gellar's first meltdown when she realized she would have to change manicurists to someone local, after she'd found the perfect salon in New York after so many months spent searching). Her family was free from drama for the moment - or at least they chose not to share it with Mary, who was more than all right with that. Always in the back of her mind, Mary tried to be optimistic about the silver remedy and its effectiveness, but optimism was not something that came easily to her, especially not in this situation.
All too soon, it was the day before her transformation was scheduled to occur. Mary woke up with the usual feeling of dread hanging over her, and choked down her breakfast of scrambled eggs laced with silver. She was distracted and irritable throughout the workday. One of her witnesses, a mild-mannered two year veteran of the program who had never caused her a moment of trouble, was seconds away from being on the receiving end of a dressing-down that could have scraped the paint off a wall before Marshall intervened. He shot her a very pointed look and took poor Alvin aside for a much more appropriate reminder of WITSEC policy where showing interest in one's previous vocation was concerned.
When quitting time arrived, Mary forced herself to pack up and leave in a relatively normal fashion. She knew Marshall wasn't fooled, but at least Stan would have no more reason that day to wonder what the latest catastrophe had been to strike her life.
“Hey.” Marshall's voice from behind her halted her progress toward her car.
With an effort, Mary managed to reply with some degree of civility. “What, Marshall?”
He looked unsure for a moment. “Do you, uh, have plans for dinner? Because I have a recipe in mind that might be able to mask the metallic taste pretty well.”
Mary smiled ruefully. Her partner had been witness to her gagging at lunch, when she'd just barely managed to eat her chicken salad with its silver powder sprinkled over top. “It'd probably be better than what I was planning,” she answered with a shrug. Even as she accepted his offer, she had to wonder why the hell Marshall was volunteering to spend time with her after work after the day's stellar performance - and knowing what was to come tonight, even.
Marshall followed her home. “Brandi and Jinx?” he asked succinctly, upon entering the silent house right behind her.
“Mom's settled in at her apartment,” Mary answered, “and Brandi's off somewhere with Peter.”
He nodded and then wandered into the kitchen. “I'll do an inventory, see what ingredients you have and what you don't have, and then go to the store if I need to.”
Mary, watching him from the doorway of the kitchen, didn't reply at first. However, when he pulled out a large saucepan and started to dig around in her cupboards, she finally blurted, “What are you doing, Marshall?”
He looked at her quizzically. “Making dinner. I thought that was pretty clear.”
“No-- I mean, yeah, that was pretty clear,” she said, frustrated. “I meant why are you cooking me dinner? You should be-- I don't know, somewhere else. I was a total bitch at work all day, and if things don't work tonight, that'll be even more true.”
Marshall gave a laugh at that, and told her, “And that's why I'm here, actually. It's self-preservation.”
Mary returned his smile, but it faded quickly. The best self-preservation for him would be to stay far away from her. But he was here now, and selfishly, she wanted him to stay. “All right then,” she said. “What are you going to make?”
“Coq au vin,” he replied. Then he pointed at her in mock reproach. “And don't even start - coq is French for 'rooster,' although I'll be using regular chicken.”
“Uh huh.” She had to smirk at that. “As long as it's good and covers up the taste of the silver, I guess I'll try not to care much what it's called.”
“Good,” Marshall said approvingly. “Very mature of you.”
She cleared her throat. “Is there something I can do to help?”
“You can cut up some vegetables.” He gestured toward the fridge. “Get out the onions, bell peppers, and carrots.”
Dinner, as it turned out, was delicious. The coq au vin totally covered the metallic taste of Mary's required addition to the food, and somehow she found herself having second helpings instead of picking at her meal as she usually did the evening before the full moon. She even had a little bit of the red wine left over from cooking, feeling more relaxed than she had thought possible earlier today as she and Marshall chatted about cases past and present.
The feeling of contentment vanished abruptly as she glanced outside and saw the light in the sky fading rapidly. “Shit,” she muttered, almost knocking over her wineglass in her haste to stand up. “Marshall, you have to get out of here - now!”
Marshall's gaze followed her, and he stood as well. “Oh. Yeah. You need anything before I--”
“No,” she said, moving over to him and hustling him toward the door. “I'll be fine. I just gotta turn off some lights for the night, and make sure all the doors between me and the outside world are locked, just in case.”
Marshall allowed himself to be ushered out the door, but he stopped her before she shut it. “You sure you'll be all right?”
Mary shut her eyes for a second, trying to hold back her anxiety-fueled irritation. “Yeah. Go home, Marshall. I'll see you tomorrow, and I'll let you know whether the silver worked or not.”
As soon as the door was shut and locked behind him, Mary made a quick circuit of the rest of the house. The back door was locked, as were all the windows. She pulled the curtains and then, after a moment's thought, retreated to her sister's room, locking the door behind her. It didn't have a key, unfortunately, so it was possible that she would be able to unlock and open the door in her wolf form if she did transform (she had learned this the hard way) - but at least no one was living here at the moment, it was fairly enclosed, and Brandi had moved most of her breakable possessions out in the past several weeks. It would have to do. Her room was far too cluttered to be a good choice at the moment.
There were only minutes until the moon rose, Mary could tell. She paced around the small room, wondering if the fact that she still felt so attuned to the position of the moon wasn't a bad sign. Surely if the silver had totally cured her, she'd just know it was nightfall, and not that she had about a minute left before she'd know the results of the experiment...
It was time. Mary felt the familiar heat begin to spread under her skin - but nothing else happened. Then she doubled over with a gasp of pain as searing agony struck her in the stomach. The pain spread outward, and she fell the rest of the way to the floor.
Mary closed her eyes and waited, jaw clenched, for the pain to fade. It seemed to take forever, but finally, it lessened - and when she opened her eyes, she saw in despair that the world around her was leached of most color, as it always was when she transformed. She was covered in the clothes that no longer fit her, and without enthusiasm, she struggled free and landed on all fours, tail nearly dragging on the floor in her disappointment and discouragement.
Well, I guess it's on to Plan B then, she thought gloomily. Then she stopped, raising her head to look around the room in astonishment. Yes, she was a wolf - but she was still thinking like herself, with no intrusion from the wolf's instincts at all. Huh.
Taking a breath - and immediately smelling Brandi's favorite perfume at a much more intense level than she preferred - Mary stretched, yawned, and walked over to the door. It was not too hard to open, as she had predicted, although she still felt some residual soreness from the pain of her transformation.
After a moment's thought, she headed down the hall to her own room. She wondered if she could actually convince herself to sleep tonight, now that she didn't have a wolf's nocturnal tendencies to contend with. Although the various scents she could distinguish in her room were more than a little distracting...
Before Mary could jump onto her bed and try to relax, she heard a sound from the living room, where she'd left her cell phone - a text message. The screen was still illuminated when she arrived, and she managed to read it with some difficulty.
It was from Marshall, of course, and it read, Call or text if it worked.
Mary sighed (which felt strange in this body). Only sort of, Marshall, she thought. There was no way she could communicate that to him now, though; he'd just have to make his own conclusions when she didn't contact him until tomorrow.
With that thought, Mary turned and headed back to her room. It was only seconds after she had jumped onto it and curled up that she fell asleep.
~
Marshall waited with a heavy heart for Mary's arrival at work the next day. She hadn't answered his text. Most likely, this meant the silver hadn't been effective, unless it was just that she hadn't checked her phone before going to bed. But he was fully aware that the latter scenario was unlikely.
He was more than a little surprised to see his partner walk into the office looking not exactly cheerful, but well-rested at least. She greeted Stan and sat down across from Marshall. “Hi.”
“Morning,” Marshall replied, trying to gauge her mood and not really succeeding. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Stan had moved into his office. “How was your night?”
She shrugged. “Interesting, I guess - before I went to bed.”
“How so?” So she had in fact gotten some sleep. “Did it--”
Shaking her head, Mary looked a little disappointed for the first time. “No, it didn't really work. I mean--” She glanced at Stan in his office, and then continued in a low voice, “It didn't keep me from changing, but I still was able to think clearly as myself. So I just went to my room, got on the bed, and went to sleep for the rest of the night.”
Marshall blinked. That hadn't been among the possible outcomes he'd considered. “That is interesting,” he agreed, “and... an improvement, I guess?”
“That sort of depends,” Mary answered. “Do you think the effects will be permanent? Because I'm not sure it's worth it, otherwise.” Her voice dropped to nearly inaudible toward the end of the sentence.
“I'm sure it can't be all that pleasant to ingest significant quantities of metal,” Marshall said, looking at her curiously, “and perhaps it would have long-term adverse effects on your health if you had to consume more of it. But I'm sensing that wasn't the problem to which you were referring.”
She shook her head again, reluctantly. After once again glancing around to make sure they were out of hearing range of anyone else in the office, she told him, “The transformation doesn't usually hurt, but it did this time. A lot. Like, wishing I could pass out levels of pain, and it had to have lasted for at least a full minute.”
In his distress and guilt at this revelation, Marshall must have been staring at her longer than she deemed acceptable, because she gave him a halfhearted glare. “But I'm fine now. So stop staring at me and do something useful. We'll move on to Plan B next month.”
“But--” He ignored her more annoyed glare and went ahead with the question. “Don't you have one more night to go through for this month?”
“So I'll go through it. No big deal.” She rummaged around through some papers on her desk. “At least I'll know whether the silver still works on the second day or not.”
Marshall didn't press the issue, but he found it hard not to blame himself for the pain she'd gone through. It wasn't that he didn't think she could handle pain - of course she could. But the silver had been his idea, after all. What if the wolfsbane was even worse? What if he did his best to be sure it was prepared safely, but it killed her anyway?
These thoughts continued to haunt him, so much so that when Mary asked him what he wanted her to bring back for lunch, he barely heard the question.
“Hello?” She waved her hand in front of his face.
“What?” He looked up from his computer screen, which he had been staring at for a good ten minutes. The rarity of his partner volunteering to go get them lunch failed to register.
“I said, what do you want for lunch?” Hands on her hips, she added, “Unless you just want one of your girlie coffee drinks, since you don't seem to be awake.”
Marshall quickly gave her his order and even threw in a shocked comment on her willingness to be the one who went to get the food - to which, predictably, she told him to shut up unless he wanted to do it. Still, though he tried to be more engaged with his duties after that, he also resolved to do further research on the wolfsbane option as soon as he got home. Part of him doubted he would be able to concentrate on it while he was worrying over the agony his partner would be experiencing, but he would try his hardest.
He said goodbye to Mary at the end of the day and didn't ask her if she needed anything this time. He had the feeling she was reaching her limit for asking for help.
At home, after a stereotypical bachelor dinner of pizza and beer, Marshall logged on to the discussion group he'd been frequenting and entered the forum on the use and preparation of aconitum, the scientific name for wolfsbane. Not surprisingly, most of the discussion centered on its ability to counteract fevers and colds, relieve chronic pain and asthma symptoms, and suchlike - though Marshall noted with a mixture of amusement and something that might almost be termed horrified fascination that the thread relating to its effects on male sexual dysfunction had quite a number of replies.
Moving on quickly, Marshall scrolled until he found the thread that dealt specifically with safe preparation for medicinal use, as well as links and details on studies that had been undertaken to prove its safety after detoxification. He was glad that he'd limited his alcohol intake; some of this was complex stuff, and he wanted to be able to read and understand it well.
Marshall was so absorbed in his reading and note-taking that he didn't notice the passage of time until moonlight spilled in through the windows. He looked up, heart clenching as he wondered how Mary was faring. There was always the chance that the transformation would not be as painful the second time - but of course it was equally likely that it would be just as bad. With a heavy sigh, Marshall stood up and pulled the curtains. At least tonight would be her last night of this, assuming the aconitum did the job.
~
Beyond a succinct statement that the silver seemed to have worked the same way for the second night, Mary said nothing about her experience the next morning at work. She did promise him that she wanted to hear more about the wolfsbane at some point, but as she said, “I'd like to take a break from all things wolf-related for a while. I think it's necessary for my sanity.”
Though Marshall was prepared to abide by her wishes, apparently the universe had other ideas.
After an average day at work, the two marshals were heading back to the car from checking in on the Davidson household when Mary froze ahead of him. Instantly alert, Marshall put a hand to his holster and asked in an undertone, “What is it?”
She was taking short, shallow breaths. “I-- I'm not sure,” she answered just as quietly, a somewhat bewildered and definitely tense expression on her face. “I just feel like someone is watching us.”
Marshall scanned the area but saw nothing. None of the Davidsons' neighbors were out taking advantage of the beautiful summer evening, as far as he could tell. Then he caught a glimpse of a figure ducking behind a fence at the corner half a block away, across the street. He pulled out his sidearm. Whoever it was, they had just officially landed on his radar as 'suspicious', too.
Mary had drawn her own weapon, having caught the same movement, and they moved swiftly to cross the street in pursuit. Rounding the corner, they were just in time to see the suspect - looked to be female, based on the quick glimpse Marshall got - turn another corner into one of the nicely kept yards on this street. Marshall put on an extra burst of speed, knowing that Mary was right behind him.
They were within a few yards of catching up when the woman stopped for an instant, looked behind her with sheer terror visible on her face, and dove through a thick hedge that separated them from the neighboring house. By the time the two of them found a less thorn-infested path around to the next yard, the woman had vanished.
“Well,” Marshall panted, holstering his gun, wiping a hand across his forehead, and trying to recover his breath, “she didn't ... look familiar ... to me. Did you ... recognize her?”
Mary was staring in the direction that the woman had presumably gone. When she turned to face him, Marshall was startled by the fear and distress in her eyes. “Yeah ... I did.” She took a few more seconds to catch her own breath. “I still don't remember ... what happened exactly, but I'm almost positive I've seen her before. More specifically, I think I last saw her around the same time I got this mark.” She knelt down and rolled up the cuff of her left pant leg, and then swore under her breath at the blood that was beginning to soak through the bandage on her calf.
Marshall tried to find his voice. “You mean ... Are you saying she's the one who--”
“I don't know,” she snapped, standing up with a faint wince. “All I know is that I recognize her from around that time. But I guess she could be.” She started back toward the car without another word.
Mind whirling, Marshall allowed Mary to get into the driver's seat and start them on their way back to the office without interrupting her no doubt even more turbulent thoughts. It was only when they had left the Davidsons' area of town behind that he brought up what was foremost on his mind. “Mer, have you had a doctor look at that wound?”
“It's just a little cut, Marshall,” she scoffed.
“If it's a bite,” Marshall persisted, “and especially if it hasn't healed, you should have it examined. Infections are serious.”
Mary turned toward him. “I think I know the signs of infection pretty well after getting shot,” she said bluntly, “and other than not really healing, this does not look or feel like it's infected.” Then she gave an unhappy shrug and added, “Other than with werewolf germs, of course.”
Frowning, Marshall conceded her point. “All right. So what now?”
“Now?” Mary's fingers clenched around the steering wheel, and Marshall wondered fleetingly who she wished she could be strangling right at this moment. “Now, I'm going to go back to the office, get my stuff, and go home for dinner - and maybe an entire bottle of wine. Then I'm going to go to sleep.” She took a left turn at such a high velocity that a precariously-balanced - and thankfully empty - coffee cup fell out of the cupholder into his lap. “Any more questions?”
“No,” Marshall drawled, setting the cup back in the holder, “you're right. That's clearly the best way of dealing with this new discovery: denial.”
She rolled her eyes. “I never said it was the best plan, just that it's the one I'm going to implement.”
“Okay. As long as you're not in denial about your denial.” He grinned at her annoyed expression.
“Shut up."
~
More chapters will probably be posted sometime next week, as I'm busy this week helping to teach a linguistics class. Yay phonology!
Summary, rating, etc. as before
Disclaimer: I still don't own this show or its characters.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
~
Chapter 4
For Mary, the weeks until the next full moon passed far too quickly. She and Marshall dealt with their caseloads without too many crises (although she was an alternately gleeful and annoyed spectator to Katy Gellar's first meltdown when she realized she would have to change manicurists to someone local, after she'd found the perfect salon in New York after so many months spent searching). Her family was free from drama for the moment - or at least they chose not to share it with Mary, who was more than all right with that. Always in the back of her mind, Mary tried to be optimistic about the silver remedy and its effectiveness, but optimism was not something that came easily to her, especially not in this situation.
All too soon, it was the day before her transformation was scheduled to occur. Mary woke up with the usual feeling of dread hanging over her, and choked down her breakfast of scrambled eggs laced with silver. She was distracted and irritable throughout the workday. One of her witnesses, a mild-mannered two year veteran of the program who had never caused her a moment of trouble, was seconds away from being on the receiving end of a dressing-down that could have scraped the paint off a wall before Marshall intervened. He shot her a very pointed look and took poor Alvin aside for a much more appropriate reminder of WITSEC policy where showing interest in one's previous vocation was concerned.
When quitting time arrived, Mary forced herself to pack up and leave in a relatively normal fashion. She knew Marshall wasn't fooled, but at least Stan would have no more reason that day to wonder what the latest catastrophe had been to strike her life.
“Hey.” Marshall's voice from behind her halted her progress toward her car.
With an effort, Mary managed to reply with some degree of civility. “What, Marshall?”
He looked unsure for a moment. “Do you, uh, have plans for dinner? Because I have a recipe in mind that might be able to mask the metallic taste pretty well.”
Mary smiled ruefully. Her partner had been witness to her gagging at lunch, when she'd just barely managed to eat her chicken salad with its silver powder sprinkled over top. “It'd probably be better than what I was planning,” she answered with a shrug. Even as she accepted his offer, she had to wonder why the hell Marshall was volunteering to spend time with her after work after the day's stellar performance - and knowing what was to come tonight, even.
Marshall followed her home. “Brandi and Jinx?” he asked succinctly, upon entering the silent house right behind her.
“Mom's settled in at her apartment,” Mary answered, “and Brandi's off somewhere with Peter.”
He nodded and then wandered into the kitchen. “I'll do an inventory, see what ingredients you have and what you don't have, and then go to the store if I need to.”
Mary, watching him from the doorway of the kitchen, didn't reply at first. However, when he pulled out a large saucepan and started to dig around in her cupboards, she finally blurted, “What are you doing, Marshall?”
He looked at her quizzically. “Making dinner. I thought that was pretty clear.”
“No-- I mean, yeah, that was pretty clear,” she said, frustrated. “I meant why are you cooking me dinner? You should be-- I don't know, somewhere else. I was a total bitch at work all day, and if things don't work tonight, that'll be even more true.”
Marshall gave a laugh at that, and told her, “And that's why I'm here, actually. It's self-preservation.”
Mary returned his smile, but it faded quickly. The best self-preservation for him would be to stay far away from her. But he was here now, and selfishly, she wanted him to stay. “All right then,” she said. “What are you going to make?”
“Coq au vin,” he replied. Then he pointed at her in mock reproach. “And don't even start - coq is French for 'rooster,' although I'll be using regular chicken.”
“Uh huh.” She had to smirk at that. “As long as it's good and covers up the taste of the silver, I guess I'll try not to care much what it's called.”
“Good,” Marshall said approvingly. “Very mature of you.”
She cleared her throat. “Is there something I can do to help?”
“You can cut up some vegetables.” He gestured toward the fridge. “Get out the onions, bell peppers, and carrots.”
Dinner, as it turned out, was delicious. The coq au vin totally covered the metallic taste of Mary's required addition to the food, and somehow she found herself having second helpings instead of picking at her meal as she usually did the evening before the full moon. She even had a little bit of the red wine left over from cooking, feeling more relaxed than she had thought possible earlier today as she and Marshall chatted about cases past and present.
The feeling of contentment vanished abruptly as she glanced outside and saw the light in the sky fading rapidly. “Shit,” she muttered, almost knocking over her wineglass in her haste to stand up. “Marshall, you have to get out of here - now!”
Marshall's gaze followed her, and he stood as well. “Oh. Yeah. You need anything before I--”
“No,” she said, moving over to him and hustling him toward the door. “I'll be fine. I just gotta turn off some lights for the night, and make sure all the doors between me and the outside world are locked, just in case.”
Marshall allowed himself to be ushered out the door, but he stopped her before she shut it. “You sure you'll be all right?”
Mary shut her eyes for a second, trying to hold back her anxiety-fueled irritation. “Yeah. Go home, Marshall. I'll see you tomorrow, and I'll let you know whether the silver worked or not.”
As soon as the door was shut and locked behind him, Mary made a quick circuit of the rest of the house. The back door was locked, as were all the windows. She pulled the curtains and then, after a moment's thought, retreated to her sister's room, locking the door behind her. It didn't have a key, unfortunately, so it was possible that she would be able to unlock and open the door in her wolf form if she did transform (she had learned this the hard way) - but at least no one was living here at the moment, it was fairly enclosed, and Brandi had moved most of her breakable possessions out in the past several weeks. It would have to do. Her room was far too cluttered to be a good choice at the moment.
There were only minutes until the moon rose, Mary could tell. She paced around the small room, wondering if the fact that she still felt so attuned to the position of the moon wasn't a bad sign. Surely if the silver had totally cured her, she'd just know it was nightfall, and not that she had about a minute left before she'd know the results of the experiment...
It was time. Mary felt the familiar heat begin to spread under her skin - but nothing else happened. Then she doubled over with a gasp of pain as searing agony struck her in the stomach. The pain spread outward, and she fell the rest of the way to the floor.
Mary closed her eyes and waited, jaw clenched, for the pain to fade. It seemed to take forever, but finally, it lessened - and when she opened her eyes, she saw in despair that the world around her was leached of most color, as it always was when she transformed. She was covered in the clothes that no longer fit her, and without enthusiasm, she struggled free and landed on all fours, tail nearly dragging on the floor in her disappointment and discouragement.
Well, I guess it's on to Plan B then, she thought gloomily. Then she stopped, raising her head to look around the room in astonishment. Yes, she was a wolf - but she was still thinking like herself, with no intrusion from the wolf's instincts at all. Huh.
Taking a breath - and immediately smelling Brandi's favorite perfume at a much more intense level than she preferred - Mary stretched, yawned, and walked over to the door. It was not too hard to open, as she had predicted, although she still felt some residual soreness from the pain of her transformation.
After a moment's thought, she headed down the hall to her own room. She wondered if she could actually convince herself to sleep tonight, now that she didn't have a wolf's nocturnal tendencies to contend with. Although the various scents she could distinguish in her room were more than a little distracting...
Before Mary could jump onto her bed and try to relax, she heard a sound from the living room, where she'd left her cell phone - a text message. The screen was still illuminated when she arrived, and she managed to read it with some difficulty.
It was from Marshall, of course, and it read, Call or text if it worked.
Mary sighed (which felt strange in this body). Only sort of, Marshall, she thought. There was no way she could communicate that to him now, though; he'd just have to make his own conclusions when she didn't contact him until tomorrow.
With that thought, Mary turned and headed back to her room. It was only seconds after she had jumped onto it and curled up that she fell asleep.
~
Marshall waited with a heavy heart for Mary's arrival at work the next day. She hadn't answered his text. Most likely, this meant the silver hadn't been effective, unless it was just that she hadn't checked her phone before going to bed. But he was fully aware that the latter scenario was unlikely.
He was more than a little surprised to see his partner walk into the office looking not exactly cheerful, but well-rested at least. She greeted Stan and sat down across from Marshall. “Hi.”
“Morning,” Marshall replied, trying to gauge her mood and not really succeeding. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Stan had moved into his office. “How was your night?”
She shrugged. “Interesting, I guess - before I went to bed.”
“How so?” So she had in fact gotten some sleep. “Did it--”
Shaking her head, Mary looked a little disappointed for the first time. “No, it didn't really work. I mean--” She glanced at Stan in his office, and then continued in a low voice, “It didn't keep me from changing, but I still was able to think clearly as myself. So I just went to my room, got on the bed, and went to sleep for the rest of the night.”
Marshall blinked. That hadn't been among the possible outcomes he'd considered. “That is interesting,” he agreed, “and... an improvement, I guess?”
“That sort of depends,” Mary answered. “Do you think the effects will be permanent? Because I'm not sure it's worth it, otherwise.” Her voice dropped to nearly inaudible toward the end of the sentence.
“I'm sure it can't be all that pleasant to ingest significant quantities of metal,” Marshall said, looking at her curiously, “and perhaps it would have long-term adverse effects on your health if you had to consume more of it. But I'm sensing that wasn't the problem to which you were referring.”
She shook her head again, reluctantly. After once again glancing around to make sure they were out of hearing range of anyone else in the office, she told him, “The transformation doesn't usually hurt, but it did this time. A lot. Like, wishing I could pass out levels of pain, and it had to have lasted for at least a full minute.”
In his distress and guilt at this revelation, Marshall must have been staring at her longer than she deemed acceptable, because she gave him a halfhearted glare. “But I'm fine now. So stop staring at me and do something useful. We'll move on to Plan B next month.”
“But--” He ignored her more annoyed glare and went ahead with the question. “Don't you have one more night to go through for this month?”
“So I'll go through it. No big deal.” She rummaged around through some papers on her desk. “At least I'll know whether the silver still works on the second day or not.”
Marshall didn't press the issue, but he found it hard not to blame himself for the pain she'd gone through. It wasn't that he didn't think she could handle pain - of course she could. But the silver had been his idea, after all. What if the wolfsbane was even worse? What if he did his best to be sure it was prepared safely, but it killed her anyway?
These thoughts continued to haunt him, so much so that when Mary asked him what he wanted her to bring back for lunch, he barely heard the question.
“Hello?” She waved her hand in front of his face.
“What?” He looked up from his computer screen, which he had been staring at for a good ten minutes. The rarity of his partner volunteering to go get them lunch failed to register.
“I said, what do you want for lunch?” Hands on her hips, she added, “Unless you just want one of your girlie coffee drinks, since you don't seem to be awake.”
Marshall quickly gave her his order and even threw in a shocked comment on her willingness to be the one who went to get the food - to which, predictably, she told him to shut up unless he wanted to do it. Still, though he tried to be more engaged with his duties after that, he also resolved to do further research on the wolfsbane option as soon as he got home. Part of him doubted he would be able to concentrate on it while he was worrying over the agony his partner would be experiencing, but he would try his hardest.
He said goodbye to Mary at the end of the day and didn't ask her if she needed anything this time. He had the feeling she was reaching her limit for asking for help.
At home, after a stereotypical bachelor dinner of pizza and beer, Marshall logged on to the discussion group he'd been frequenting and entered the forum on the use and preparation of aconitum, the scientific name for wolfsbane. Not surprisingly, most of the discussion centered on its ability to counteract fevers and colds, relieve chronic pain and asthma symptoms, and suchlike - though Marshall noted with a mixture of amusement and something that might almost be termed horrified fascination that the thread relating to its effects on male sexual dysfunction had quite a number of replies.
Moving on quickly, Marshall scrolled until he found the thread that dealt specifically with safe preparation for medicinal use, as well as links and details on studies that had been undertaken to prove its safety after detoxification. He was glad that he'd limited his alcohol intake; some of this was complex stuff, and he wanted to be able to read and understand it well.
Marshall was so absorbed in his reading and note-taking that he didn't notice the passage of time until moonlight spilled in through the windows. He looked up, heart clenching as he wondered how Mary was faring. There was always the chance that the transformation would not be as painful the second time - but of course it was equally likely that it would be just as bad. With a heavy sigh, Marshall stood up and pulled the curtains. At least tonight would be her last night of this, assuming the aconitum did the job.
~
Beyond a succinct statement that the silver seemed to have worked the same way for the second night, Mary said nothing about her experience the next morning at work. She did promise him that she wanted to hear more about the wolfsbane at some point, but as she said, “I'd like to take a break from all things wolf-related for a while. I think it's necessary for my sanity.”
Though Marshall was prepared to abide by her wishes, apparently the universe had other ideas.
After an average day at work, the two marshals were heading back to the car from checking in on the Davidson household when Mary froze ahead of him. Instantly alert, Marshall put a hand to his holster and asked in an undertone, “What is it?”
She was taking short, shallow breaths. “I-- I'm not sure,” she answered just as quietly, a somewhat bewildered and definitely tense expression on her face. “I just feel like someone is watching us.”
Marshall scanned the area but saw nothing. None of the Davidsons' neighbors were out taking advantage of the beautiful summer evening, as far as he could tell. Then he caught a glimpse of a figure ducking behind a fence at the corner half a block away, across the street. He pulled out his sidearm. Whoever it was, they had just officially landed on his radar as 'suspicious', too.
Mary had drawn her own weapon, having caught the same movement, and they moved swiftly to cross the street in pursuit. Rounding the corner, they were just in time to see the suspect - looked to be female, based on the quick glimpse Marshall got - turn another corner into one of the nicely kept yards on this street. Marshall put on an extra burst of speed, knowing that Mary was right behind him.
They were within a few yards of catching up when the woman stopped for an instant, looked behind her with sheer terror visible on her face, and dove through a thick hedge that separated them from the neighboring house. By the time the two of them found a less thorn-infested path around to the next yard, the woman had vanished.
“Well,” Marshall panted, holstering his gun, wiping a hand across his forehead, and trying to recover his breath, “she didn't ... look familiar ... to me. Did you ... recognize her?”
Mary was staring in the direction that the woman had presumably gone. When she turned to face him, Marshall was startled by the fear and distress in her eyes. “Yeah ... I did.” She took a few more seconds to catch her own breath. “I still don't remember ... what happened exactly, but I'm almost positive I've seen her before. More specifically, I think I last saw her around the same time I got this mark.” She knelt down and rolled up the cuff of her left pant leg, and then swore under her breath at the blood that was beginning to soak through the bandage on her calf.
Marshall tried to find his voice. “You mean ... Are you saying she's the one who--”
“I don't know,” she snapped, standing up with a faint wince. “All I know is that I recognize her from around that time. But I guess she could be.” She started back toward the car without another word.
Mind whirling, Marshall allowed Mary to get into the driver's seat and start them on their way back to the office without interrupting her no doubt even more turbulent thoughts. It was only when they had left the Davidsons' area of town behind that he brought up what was foremost on his mind. “Mer, have you had a doctor look at that wound?”
“It's just a little cut, Marshall,” she scoffed.
“If it's a bite,” Marshall persisted, “and especially if it hasn't healed, you should have it examined. Infections are serious.”
Mary turned toward him. “I think I know the signs of infection pretty well after getting shot,” she said bluntly, “and other than not really healing, this does not look or feel like it's infected.” Then she gave an unhappy shrug and added, “Other than with werewolf germs, of course.”
Frowning, Marshall conceded her point. “All right. So what now?”
“Now?” Mary's fingers clenched around the steering wheel, and Marshall wondered fleetingly who she wished she could be strangling right at this moment. “Now, I'm going to go back to the office, get my stuff, and go home for dinner - and maybe an entire bottle of wine. Then I'm going to go to sleep.” She took a left turn at such a high velocity that a precariously-balanced - and thankfully empty - coffee cup fell out of the cupholder into his lap. “Any more questions?”
“No,” Marshall drawled, setting the cup back in the holder, “you're right. That's clearly the best way of dealing with this new discovery: denial.”
She rolled her eyes. “I never said it was the best plan, just that it's the one I'm going to implement.”
“Okay. As long as you're not in denial about your denial.” He grinned at her annoyed expression.
“Shut up."
~
More chapters will probably be posted sometime next week, as I'm busy this week helping to teach a linguistics class. Yay phonology!