A/N:
I'm still bitter. I don't know if the rest of you IPS fans feel the same way, but it still sticks in my craw.
I can never fix the train wreck of a final season, but, as always, the future is full of potential.
My final IPS story. I'll love them always and wish them all the fictional happiness they can find :)
It should've rained.
Mary reached up to drag a tendril of hair away from her eyes. Again. The breeze off the lake wreaked havoc with a perfectly messy bun and the dazzling glare of sunlight off the chop made her squint. Not a damn cloud in the sky. It was a day the tourism bureau would be proud of, and for the tenth time she wished she had remembered her sunglasses from the car. And had worn a lighter coat. It was most definitely not her A-game day…not even close. Any game that she mustered up today would be way down in the alphabet. Somewhere between distracted and weary.
She sighed.
It should be gloomy and rainy. And colder. Sunshine and warmth seemed somehow…wrong. Even with the chill bite of the lake breeze and the clumps of snow still skulking along the base of the taller cliffs, the Michigan spring seemed to have sprung too early for her liking. Grief needed physical discomfort for the full effect and the warmth of the sun on her back was not appreciated. She wasn't yet ready to warm her soul.
She had walked over to the edge of the cliffs to get away from the crowd of mourners for a while; catch her breath and try to un-rattle her nerves. There were too many people here that she knew. Too many memories; good, bad and ugly, and her jaw hurt from gritting her teeth while trying to make conversation. More than once she caught herself looking around for a buffer only to remember she was on her own. Reverted to behavior so far past that she was surprised the reflex still existed. Phantom pains from a long-gone piece of her.
He wasn't here.
He should be here.
None of this was right.
None of it had been right for a long time.
Anger welled up unexpectedly and she quickly blinked back tears. She needed to shake it off. Neither the time nor place. Too many buried emotions were being poked and prodded as her grief went about recruiting company. Projecting Mary Shannon wrath onto unsuspecting mourners never ended well. Scowling, she projected it onto the weather instead.
Fucking sunshine.
She snorted as she recalled Stan chastising her for a nearly identical thought her first month in Albuquerque. Jersey girls weren't used to days upon days of sunshine...he could hardly blame her for woefully underestimating her need for sunscreen, right?
Another sigh.
Dammit, Stan.
Even knowing it was coming; months of preparation and hearing about a few last ditch medical efforts, she wasn't ready to say goodbye. Old Death should have his nutsack twisted off for this one. It just wasn't fair. The man had finally been cruising down the Good Life Highway when he got t-boned by a rogue semi. An incurable one…rapidly progressing.
Mary shook her head sadly. She had planned to come out and visit before the end, but work was insane, and really, who knew it was going to be that quick? Even Stan's family wasn't quite as prepared as they thought; this final get-together three weeks after the man was buried.
It would've been colder three weeks ago.
The grief would've been sharper.
It wouldn't have been any easier.
Footsteps neared on the path behind her and Mary's scowl deepened. She didn't want consolation or chit-chat or reminiscence...just wanted to be alone right now.
"Lake Michigan is the third largest Great Lake and the sixth largest freshwater lake in the world. If you were wondering."
If there had been a way to immediately flee from her perch at the sound of his voice, Mary would've done so. Fight or flight, and flight would've won in that first moment. Her spine stiffened. Fists clenched. The moment stretched out. An emotional deluge, and it was all she could do to remain still. The other option: whirling to punch him straight in the face.
"You never could keep the Great Lakes straight," he continued. "And if I remember correctly, resorting to violence at a wake didn't work for you the last time either."
Marshall moved up into her peripheral view and Mary sucked in some air. Swallowed. Cursed herself for feeling…what? Joy, fear, relief, rage…everything.
"I thought you were supposed to be out of the country until May," she said. Surprised herself. Not at all what she expected to come out of her mouth, but it would do. Until her nervous system kicked back in.
"Itineraries change," he replied.
She could just about hear him grin as he turned his head to look at her. "It's nice to know you're keeping track of me though."
"I just remember Stan mentioning it the last time…" she trailed off, cleared her throat. "The last time I talked to him." God, she wished she had her sunglasses. And that her hands would stop shaking.
Marshall was silent for a minute. Scratched his nose and rubbed his cheek. "Yeah. I didn't expect…Yeah."
The seagulls called to each other as they discovered an unfortunate crab down in the sand.
The Marshals stood there watching…stiff and wary.
Marshall finally angled himself towards Mary and his shadow fell over her.
"Mary."
After all these years he could still do it. Could still say her name in a way that demanded her singular attention. Compelled her to look at him. And after all these years, she still could not resist. She dragged her gaze from the water to stare over into another color of blue.
"I've missed you, Mary," he said. "It's good to see you."
The phrases were simple. The emotions behind his eyes were anything but, and something in her shifted. Settled. Sighed.
"Jesus, Marshall."
She made to move towards him, hesitated, but Marshall had seen and covered the distance himself. Her head hit his chest as desperately as it had so many years prior in a hot, stuffy basement in Albuquerque and Mary could only squeeze her eyes shut and hang on as he returned the embrace.
Marshall.
I've missed you too. Every day. Every fucking day.
A car horn in the parking lot blared her back into reality and Mary self-consciously pulled away. Always tuned to her cues, Marshall released her and rocked back on his heels. He shoved his hands into his pockets, flexed his shoulders and smiled. Tried to dispel some of the emotional tension.
"I'm glad I didn't get punched." He said.
Mary grinned back. "It was a close call, idiot. And it's only noon. Lots of daylight left."
He gestured with his chin towards the tents and picnic tables behind her in the park. "I'm assuming the masses were a bit too…sentimental for your tastes?"
She grimaced. "They're huggers, Marshall. All of them. And they keep passing around the babies. You know I'd do just about anything for Stan, but…"
"Hugs and babies," he shuddered and rolled his eyes and she glared. "Next thing you know they'll haul out kittens and love songs. They truly have no shame."
Mary snorted and Marshall smiled. God, she had missed that smile.
She stared at him as he studied the scene behind her. He was older, but the age looked good on him. Hair more gray than not now, deeper furrows in his brow and around his eyes. She was reminded of his father, both in looks and in the way he held himself. Older but wiser she guessed. But there was something….
"How long has it been?" she asked, knowing he knew what she meant. Knowing the answer herself but not wanting to admit it.
His gaze snapped back down to hers and he worked his jaw for a few moments.
"Fifteen years, Mare," he finally replied. "Fifteen years since we've laid eyes on each other."
Accusing.
Mary bristled. "I guess we've both been busy. Lost track, I suppose."
Marshall looked irritated with her flippant response. "Pretty lame, Mary. Especially for someone who kept track of people for a living." He turned back to look over the lake before he spoke again.
"I admit I lapsed some on my part. After you left Albuquerque things got a little dicey on my end and I wasn't always…diligent…with correspondence. I didn't realize you had moved again and left WITSEC until about a year after it happened. I tried to get a hold of you once I found out you were at FLETC, but…" He looked at her expectantly.
She sighed. "I got your emails, Marshall. I was going to email you back and I just…didn't. I had to keep my focus at the time. Stan had told me you had taken the ICE liaison position, I knew you were doing well and that was enough at the time. He said you were on the road more than not." She glanced over at him. "'In high demand and highly demanding' were his exact words."
Marshall grunted, then stood in silence again. Mary just waited for the next question. He wasn't satisfied with her answer. She could live with his.
"You could've called," he said.
Are you kidding? Mary whirled on him.
"No. No I couldn't." She nearly shouted it, Marshall flinched, and they both quickly glanced at the crowd to see anyone noticed. No one did.
She inhaled deeply to regroup and tone it down. "I couldn't call, Marshall. You made that very clear and it was the one thing I wasn't going to do."
Marshall's gaze dropped to the ground and he reached up to scratch the back of his head. Uncomfortable.
"I know I said that," he began, trailed off and tried again. "Yes. I see now how you interpreted that."
He held up a hand as he saw Mary glare and began to speak quickly. "I'm not insulting you, Mary. I just forgot…forget…that I have to be more literal and less metaphoric with you sometimes. I wasn't at my emotional best during that conversation and it slipped by me. But that was a long time ago, and I certainly don't want to argue about it now. Here. Do you?"
She didn't even want to try to think about unraveling his statement right now. Didn't want to imagine that there had been another choice. Not now. He was right.
"Fine," she replied.
They resumed their intent study of the lake as tempers abated.
"Why did you leave?" he finally asked after he deemed it safe.
Mary was confused. "What you mean, 'why did you leave?' You know why I went back to Jersey. You helped us pack. Getting a little forgetful in your old age, Mann?"
Marshall rolled his eyes. "Why did you leave WITSEC, Mare? Cognitive functions completely intact, thank you very much."
"Oh. I figured Stan would've told you?" she asked, but he shook his head and pantomimed zipping his lips. "Ah, yeah. He wouldn't. Good ole, Stan. Always good for a secret or a thousand."
She was going to miss him.
She owed him. She owed him to tell Marshall the truth.
Mary took a deep breath. "Long story long, Brandi took off for God knows where and abandoned Joshua with me and Jinx after we'd been back six months. No warning, no communication…nothing. Radio fucking silence. Jinx lasted another six months and then just couldn't handle the fact that her baby girl was in the wind, yet again, and decided to jump off the wagon at the closest liquor store. It was bad. Like she was trying to make up for all those years of sobriety."
Mary broke off with a grimace and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She could feel the stress build up as she remembered. The anxiety and anger and a smidge of residual grief. She continued after a few minutes, talking quickly to just get the story told.
"Within the next year, Mark took a job as a traveling consultant and was out of the country six to eight months at a time, his mom moved to Montana to take care of her sick sister, and then, the icing on top of the crap pile…Jinx had a massive stroke one day at the corner bar and was dead before she hit the ground. Checked the hell out.
"Me, Norah and Joshua were left standing at ground zero and I had to make a drastic change." Mary shrugged, cleared her throat, and tried not to notice that Marshall had moved closer.
"Those kids needed me, Marshall. I couldn't take the chance of ending up in another abandoned gas station in the middle of nowhere, you know? I was the only one left who seemed to give a damn."
And I couldn't do it without you anymore.
She chanced a glance at him and immediately wished she hadn't. He had that look. That look that made her think he knew all the things she hadn't said…or wouldn't say. He was trying to read her mind and she certainly didn't need him rummaging around in there. Nor did she 'want to talk about it.' Time to force a retreat.
"So what about you?" She asked. "What exactly got so dicey that you stopped sending Christmas cards? Or did Nancy Drew just cross me off the list once I was out of sight?"
She knew she had hit a sore spot by the way his neck stiffened and he blew air out his nose. Something had happened to hurt him and she had, in her usual way, managed to rub the raw wound.
Marshall cleared his throat twice before speaking. "Abigail left."
"I'm sorry," Mary said. And she was…mostly. "I'm sorry she hurt you."
Silence.
"That's all I get?" Mary asked, turning towards him. Irritated. "I spill my sorry tale of woe and all I get in return is 'Abigail left?' C'mon, Mann, that's not fair. Fill in some details or I'm going to start guessing. We both know that's not a good plan."
"Indeed," he replied, letting a small smile touch his lips. "Nor is it a good plan to let me lose my cool in front of witnesses," he gestured at the people down behind them, "so I'm trying to figure out how to give you the quick version. Less likely I'll have to stew about it for days then."
"Wow," she said, "that bad, huh?"
He looked haunted for a moment then shook it off as he continued. "About a year and a half after you moved back East Abigail decided she wanted to apply to the Marshals' Service. She was fairly determined and I had no problem with it. Figured it would be more convenient for us both to be in the same law enforcement branch. I thought she'd make a fine Marshal."
Mary was very careful to not make a disparaging noise. Nancy Drew would not have made a 'fine Marshal.' She tuned back into Marshall's story.
"She applied for a position, passed the written tests and firearms proficiencies, even managed to scrape by and pass preliminary PT." Marshall paused and pulled a face.
"What?" Mary asked.
"She failed the psych eval." He said. "Twice."
Mary's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? They don't usually fail anyone unless they're really messed up. I mean, I thought Abigail was a little…manipulative at times, but nothing seemed too crazy."
"I missed it too," Marshall whispered. His shoulders slumped and Mary ached a little for him. "She was good at hiding it and I think I was too close to see it, but after we wouldn't take her things began to really unravel. Spiraled down from nearly normal to paranoid and obsessive within a few months. It was like a psychotic break of sorts, I suppose. I tried to get her help, of course, we all did. Her friends, her family. I even took a 6 month leave of absence to find her the right docs. Nothing helped. She started disappearing for weeks at time…coming back high and incoherent and violent. It was hell. She put us all through hell, Mare."
"I am so sorry, Marshall." And she truly was. She had lived with crazy for far too long to not understand the never-ending doubt and pain that came with them.
He worried an eye for a moment then continued. "She left for good right before Christmas that year. I got a rambling letter from her telling me to stay away, stop looking for her, and that if I tried to find her she would just run again. She said a lot of things that were…hurtful. Sent her wedding ring back in an envelope. I was tired. I was done, Mare. I did what she asked and left her alone. I got divorce papers in the mail about six months later. I signed them. And that was it. I've never heard from her since."
Mary's gaze bored into the side of his head. He had moved on, she knew, but the betrayal would always haunt him. She wanted to throttle Abigail.
She opened her mouth to offer some pithy comfort but Marshall beat her to it.
"Maybe Abigail and Brandi are shacked up under a bridge together somewhere. Blissfully unaware of the carnage they left behind." He was joking…maybe.
Mary snorted softly, not trusting herself to reply. He was digging himself back out. She looked over her shoulder at the park and noticed the crowd thinning a bit. Finally.
"So…" Marshall said.
"So." Mary replied.
They stood and gave each other small, sad smiles.
"Mom?"
The voice startled them both and they turned to see a young woman and teen boy standing midway up the path to the bluffs.
Mary smiled. "Norah. I'll just be a few more minutes. You and Josh head back down and let Stan's brother know we'll be back to say good-bye in a few."
"Yeah, alright," Norah replied, then smiled at Marshall. "Hi, Marshall. Good to see you."
"You look lovely, Norah," Marshall said.
The children retreated and Marshall blew out a long breath.
"Unbelievable," he said, "she looks just like -"
"Jinx," Mary finished. "Yeah, I know. A bit disturbing to know the spitting image of my mother sprung from my loins."
Marshal wrinkled his nose and groaned. "Please don't say 'loins,' Mary."
"What?" she replied with a smile, "It's a legitimate word, as you well know."
"But when you say it, it makes me feel…dirty." Marshall winked at her and turned to start down the path.
"You're such an idiot," she muttered as she followed.
They got to the bottom of the path and Mary noticed a few clouds piling up on the western horizon. The tourism bureau would be disappointed.
Marshall had stopped and Mary bumped into him gently.
"You know," he said, also looking at the clouds, "Stan would be very disappointed in us if we didn't act upon this serendipitous occasion."
"I didn't bring my dictionary, Webster." Mary growled.
He grinned. "Can I take you for a cup of coffee, Mare? Kids too, if you'd like."
A moment of uncertainty swept over her. She had been on her own for a long time. It was okay. She was okay. There had been enough change in her life to last…well…the rest of her life, she supposed. She didn't like change.
Change was messy.
The sun felt good on her face.
Mary smiled back. "So long as there's pie."
"Pie makes everything better," Marshall said, smiling bigger.
He held out his arm and Mary took it.
And now I can smile :)
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