Author's notes: I own nothing from the IPS universe, especially not these wonderful characters. The idea for a story based around these two characters came to mind almost immediately after the season finale. It's just taken me this long to come to terms with the finale and get these two talking. Thanks to bujyo without whom I wouldn't publish a word and also to sfchemist for giving it a read through.
*A special thanks to bujyo for her encouragement and on a side note; she and I came up with our story ideas separately, but spent many, many a night discussing them and reading each other's drafts. I wouldn't call this a companion piece to Here Stands a Fool, since she deals with Marshall in her own way, but I guess you could say the stories sort of complement each other. If for some reason you have read hers, I recommend it. Not because you need to, but because it's good.
**Spoilers and assumed timeline: Season 3 through the finale. In my world, Gabe arrives mid-season after No Clemency for Old Men and before Love's Faber Lost. Assuming the season covered about an 8-9 month period of life in ABQ, it fits with their reference to Gabe having been there for 4 months.
***For those that may have missed it, the place Gabe bartended was called the Two Fools' Tavern.
Conversations of the Two Fools'
It was 8 days after Gabe's arrival in Albuquerque when Marshall Mann first sat down at the bar of the Two Fools' Tavern. Even though the former priest turned barkeep was Mary's witness, Marshall could not help but be concerned about the man. One did not walk away from a calling like the priesthood lightly and the alacrity with which Gabe had removed his collar after signing the MOU had been distressing.
"Marshall!" Gabe called out in surprise as the Inspector sat down on a stool at the bar, away from the small group that had gathered at the other end. "Are you here in need of refreshment or is this official business?" His eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Checking up on me for Mary?"
"As much as she likes to think it true, I am not Mary's errand boy," Marshall stated in a way more telling than he realized and the older man regarded him as he continued. "I… just thought I'd come by…see how things were going."
"I see. Well, something to drink while you work up to the real reason for your visit?" Gabe asked with a rather amused expression.
Marshall found that he felt more relaxed, rather than flustered, by Gabe calling him out and he smiled. "Just a club soda, bartender. Lots of ice."
As Gabe set about his task, Marshall continued to speak. "It seems you have chosen a similar line of work…gone from serving your flock bread and wine on an altar to serving the masses drink from behind a bar…gone from one confessional to another, so to speak."
"Concerned I'll tip my hand, Inspector?" Gabe set the glass in front of Marshall and leaned on the bar with his left hand, towel grasped loosely in his right.
"No, not at all," Marshall responded, looking the man in the eyes as he spoke. "I know how difficult it is to walk away from everything and have to start over again." A breath. "But to have to give up a calling, your purpose in this life, the one thing that has defined you, body and soul…"
"You're worried I'm having a crisis of faith," Gabe interjected.
Marshall nodded, freed from his struggle to find the words. It was a rare moment for him, not to have the eloquence to express his thoughts, but he realized the problem was that he really wasn't sure what he thought about this witness. It was a feeling in his gut, a nagging in his head that had brought him to the bar. A priest is priest. How does one walk away so indubitably?
"For the Lord will not reject forever. Although he causes grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love; for he does not willingly afflict or grieve anyone."
"Lamentations 3:31-32," Marshall uttered upon hearing the passage.
"Impressive," Gabe praised, "religion or education?"
"I have my faith, my beliefs," he admitted, "but I don't believe I'd be considered a religious man; an avid reader, yes, but religious?"
"As a well read man of the world, would you agree that not all knowledge comes from the classroom?" Marshall inclined his head in agreement. "There are many religions, Inspector, and they are not all found in a church." Gabe left the younger man to ponder his words as he turned his attention to the other end of the bar.
Marshall sat in silence for several minutes, swirling the ice in his glass as he watched the man work. Gabe was comfortable and confident, a natural. No one would ever guess that the man pouring their whiskey and mixing their drinks hadn't spent his life behind the bar.
XXX
When Marshall strolled in at the same time the following week, Gabe was not at all surprised. In fact, he had been expecting the man. The sadness, possibly regret, hidden behind the kind blue eyes had not escaped his notice and he'd known in that moment that God did have a plan for him in Albuquerque.
Marshall was taking off his coat and returning the bartender's nod of greeting when he realized that he had no recollection of his decision to head to the Two Fools' after work, but he had ended up there all the same. Choosing not to sit, he rested his forearms on the bar and observed Gabe's exchange with a woman sitting alone ten stools away. It was clear the woman felt at ease as she prattled on about an upcoming faculty meeting at the University.
'Professor by day, barfly by night,' he thought, shaking his head as he grabbed a handful of pretzels from the bowl on the bar. Studying her more carefully, there was nothing to suggest that she was on the prowl and a wave of sympathy washed over him. He knew all too well what going home every night to an empty house can do to you if you let it. Isn't that why you fill your evenings with classes, lectures and art shows, Mann?
"Fortitudine vincimus."
The Latin phrase caught Marshall's attention, previous thoughts retreating back into his subconscious as he huffed in response to what Gabe had said to the woman. By endurance we conquer. It was a phrase he had always believed in, but lately he was starting to doubt whether or not it was true. Maybe the optimist was truly just a fool?
A glass was set on the bar in front of him drawing his attention to the man that had placed it there. Beyond the bartender, the door swung slowly shut and a half empty wine glass was left abandoned in front of a now vacant stool.
"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." Gabe had no doubt that Marshall would recognize Emerson. It seemed as if the marshal had drifted off to a more somber place since his arrival and Gabe hoped to draw him out of his reverie by engaging his mind elsewhere. And who knows, maybe he'll open up some in the process?
"Emerson, ever the romantic," Marshall responded sarcastically as he raised the glass of club soda to his lips. He'd had a hell of a week. Things with Mary were comfortable again, or so he thought, they'd moved on from the shooting and Raph was gone. He'd even felt that just maybe...no, he couldn't, wouldn't let his thoughts go there. Then, he'd gone and thrown himself headlong into the mess that was Lois.
He still had no idea what he'd been thinking. Had it been the chance to prove Mary wrong? The need to be someone's knight in shining armor? Or had I simply be drawn to the lost soul, the person that Lois used to be? The fact that Mary didn't even seem to notice how it had affected him had just been the nail in the proverbial coffin.
"You struck me as someone that would appreciate transcendentalism," Gabe said after it was clear that Marshall had no intention of elaborating.
"Recently, I have been contemplating that Poe may have had a point." Marshall saw the skepticism in Gabe's eyes and relented, just a bit. "Okay, I admit that may be a little extreme. But wisdom is not the only thing that comes with age, it also brings realism. I've seen too much to believe that there is some natural order of things that will restore balance. Sometimes…sometimes the road less travelled leads to nowhere, the good guys really do finish last and love…well, love definitely doesn't conquer all."
Ah, there it is; the root of the problem, love. How could I have missed it? Gabe regarded Marshall a moment before speaking. Love was definitely a tricky topic. One misspoken word and he may not get the chance to say another. Thankfully, his previous vocation had given him years of experience navigating difficult topics with even the most reluctant of confessors.
"And where has your path led you, Marshall?" Gabe asked, hoping to get to the heart of the matter by taking the indirect route. "Or do you find yourself once again faced with a crossroad in this life's journey?"
"It has brought me to the desert, a place as beautiful as it is fierce." Marshall smiled at the description that equally suited his partner, but it faded quickly. "And while I know my place is here, I find that I am thirsty for more than she can provide."
"O God, you are my God; I earnestly search for you. My soul thirsts for you; my whole body longs for you in this parched and weary land where there is no water." Gabe recited the passage, Psalm 63:1, with all the earnest of a true believer. He understood that Marshall's thirst was not for that of the Lord, but they were the only words of comfort he could readily provide. What the former priest was not yet willing to share was that he knew all too well the longing and despair of a man in love with someone he could not have.
XXX
The call came at 11pm, just as Gabe had been getting ready to turn in for the night and it had taken him completely off guard. Grabbing his keys, he was out the door in an instant. He lived close enough that he would normally walk to work, but under the present circumstances he decided the more quickly he arrived, the better.
As he made his way past the bar of the Two Fools', Gabe stopped briefly to thank John for calling him and asked him to put on a fresh pot of coffee while promising to take care of the situation. Then he continued to make his way toward a booth in the back corner.
"Marshall," he stated in greeting as he took a seat opposite the inebriated man.
"Gabe, you're here!" Marshall called out much louder than necessary, but his voice grew softer as he continued, words slurring together and eyes downcast. "I came, but you weren't here."
There was sadness in his tone that touched Gabe and he knew that Marshall's current state was a direct result of some yet unknown event. Reaching across the table, he placed his hand on the younger man's forearm.
"I'm here now, Son. I'm here now."
As they sat quietly, Gabe thought about the fact that Marshall had not actually shown up at his usual time this past week. It was during a routine visit from Mary two days ago that he had asked after her partner and she revealed that he was out of town. It was obvious from the man's current condition that something had happened during his trip or upon his arrival that had caused him to seek counsel, only to find that Gabe was not working.
It had been 10 days since Gabe had last seen the marshal and their conversation had been fairly lively. Marshall had seemed much more relaxed and arrived under the guise of still having concerns about Gabe's transition into his new life in Albuquerque. The pleasantries had quickly given way to an animated discussion of prophets and philosophers that lasted well into the evening and the younger man had bidden him farewell with a smile.
Sighing with the realization that he was not, in fact, Marshall's priest, Gabe questioned whether or not it was wise to be there with the WITSEC Inspector under the current circumstances. Marshall was not in control and Gabe knew there were certain lines that could not be crossed. He didn't want Marshall to unwittingly do anything to compromise his position within with the Marshal Service.
"Marshall... is there someone I can call to come get you?" he asked, pulling his phone from his pocket. "What about Mary?"
"No!" Marshall protested. "No. You can't call'er…not her. Promise me?" He reached out for the phone in agitation, only to end up knocking over the empty glass that had been sitting in front of him.
"Okay, okay," Gabe relented, catching the glass before it rolled off the table and onto the floor. "I won't call her."
"Then'll be just another drunk she'z gotta pick up off the floor," Marshall said, shaking his head bitterly. "No better than the rest a them. Can't do that…can't take 'er pity…won't." A beat. "How could she? 'N with that…that weeezel. Duzzint she see?" Marshall stifled a sob and looked around the table curiously. "Where'z my drink?"
"Coffee," Gabe stated. "Coffee is what you need, my friend." His heart ached for the man across the table as the pieces of the puzzle began to form a complete image in his mind. Mary was the reason Marshall was here.
Marshall wrinkled his nose and scowled in protest.
"Coffee or I call Mary. You're choice?"
"No," Marshall whispered, "there'z no choice." And with that, he relented, alternating between coffee and water as they sat cocooned in the silence of the booth.
Gabe stayed with Marshall until he was sober enough to put into a cab and send home without a chaperone.
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