It had been ten days since Mary had awoken from a coma, twelve days since they'd caught the guy who'd shot her, and two weeks since she'd taken a bullet in the gut. The pain still nagged like a proverbial mother-in-law, but she didn't see why they wouldn't allow her to go home and wallow in peace. Her doctor had overruled her, however, and she was stuck with another five days of bed rest before they let her out.
Marshall had jokingly looked under her bed to see if she was marking the days off on the wall with the edge of a spoon. "It isn't prison, Mare," he said, amused, "Which is probably a good thing, because no judge in their right mind would grant you parole."
"Prison?" Mary snorted. "This isn't a prison; this is Guantánamo bay. they've even got torture sessions."
Marshall fell into the chair beside the bed. "I think you may find that they actually call those visiting hours," he drawled
"Well, will somebody please explain to me the difference? Because, either way, I'm thinking I'd rather get all of my teeth extracted, without anaesthesia, than go through another three hours with my mother. She doesn't even have the decency to bring candy, just fruit. If I eat another grape I might start to ferment."
"Oh, c'mon, Jinx ain't that… bad." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Oh, yes she is, and you know it. You can't even look me in the eye, right now," Mary said, exasperated. "Do you know what she spent her entire visit doing, last night? She explained to me why it was all her fault that I grew up so self involved, and that I didn't realise how much of a strain it was on her to have a daughter in law enforcement - and, to top that off, Brandi and Raph kept chipping in, like some god damned trippy Greek chorus." She didn't mention the fact that Raph had also kept throwing her meaningful looks throughout the whole debacle; she didn't think Marshall would thank her for reminding him that Raph knew what she really did for a living. "And the staff won't give me a wheelchair, anymore," she added. "What's up with that?"
"That may have something to do with the wheelies you were pulling in the corridor, the other day…" Marshall said, with a sly grin
"Oh, come on, that old geezer should 'a seen me coming."
"Look on the bright side, there's jello."
"But not the good jello," Mary grumbled. "Hospital jello should never come in a natural colour. It should be blue, or green, not orange; somebody might think there's actual fruit in it, or something."
"Oh, you're a regular Pollyanna, aren't you?"
Mary pouted. "Now you're being mean."
"I brought chocolate."
Mary snatched the bar out of his hands, and grinned when she saw the brand; her favourite. "You're forgiven – now give me the run down." She bit down on a chunk.
Marshall sighed. "You know that if Stan caught me doing this, I'd end up doing desk duty for a month?"
"Oh good, you can keep me company until I pass my eval."
"Now who's being mean?"
"But you love me anyway – now, give!"
Rolling his eyes, Marshall pulled a notepad out of his breast pocket. "First up, the Currys…"
Mary's nodded, remembering them. The wife had been a lawyer who had found herself working for the wrong kind of law firm; the husband hadn't been too happy with her giving evidence. "Has Pete been giving you trouble, again?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle," Marshall admitted. "Lucy is pregnant, and he wanted to be able to tell the grandparents. I talked him out of it."
Mary's face brightened. "Lucy's pregnant? She's been trying for a while – next?"
"Richard Briggs," Marshall drawled. "Same old, same old."
"Kerb crawling for hookers, again," Mary said. "I wish that guy would get it into his thick skull that being in witness protection doesn't give him immunity to local prostitution laws."
"The local PD wrote him up, this time," Marshall said.
Mary frowned, as her mind turned over the situation. "We can't let that get to court. Crabtree still has connections, even if he is doing life in Leavenworth."
Marshall nodded. "I've already got the judge to settle out of court. He'll be doing community service for the next two months."
"Let's hope it'll wean him off the misdemeanours," Mary said, as Marshall flipped his notepad closed. "That's it?"
"Yup."
Mary gave him a long look. "Haven't you figured out, by now, that you really, really can't lie to me?
"I'm not...lying."
Mary rolled her eyes. At least he had the grace to look embarrassed. "I hate to break it to you, but your left eye does this little twitchy thing when you fib." She reached out, slapping at air as he ducked his head away. "No fair! I'm incapacitated; you have to stay within punching and pinching range."
"And I'm so glad that nobody else gets to hear these conversations," he grumbled, but he sat up straight, away, and she clipped his ear. "I am so whipped," he said, with a wince.
Mary took another bit out of her chocolate bar and grinned. "You'd better believe it - now tell me about the one you've been holding back on."
Marshall gave her a rueful look. "They're not one of yours."
Mary waved magnanimously. "Hey, what are partners for?"
"Uh huh," Marshall said.
"Oh, just tell me, already," Mary said, impatiently. "We both know you're going to cave. This whole being injured thing is so making you weak against my will." She fluttered her eyelashes, just for good measure. He drew back.
"Just so we're clear," he said. "I'd rather you'd not do that. It's…creepy."
Mary smirked. "I'm not making any promises," she said. "Now spill! I need something other than linen and china patterns to think about."
He gave her wary look. "Do I want to know?"
"Let's just say Vegas is looking real good, right now," Mary grumbled. "Well, what are you waiting for? I want all the gory details – there's gore, right? There's nothing fluffy with a tasteful flower pattern involved, is there?"
"You're going stir crazy. You know that, don't you?"
"Marshall, so help me, if you don't tell me now—"
"John Butler, married to Kim Butler, with one daughter, named Sally, aged six. Witnessed a professional hit, and the assassin is still at large. No name, just a physical description, probably ex-ops. The threat assessment is nearly as thick as War and Peace."
"Yes!" Mary crowed. "Thank you, God. What's the game plan?"
"Well, I'm hoping for more than an artist's impression of the hitman, before I make any firm decisions, so I'm running them through the hotel circuit, and not letting them stay any place for more than one night in a row."
"Stressful with a kid," Mary observed.
"They'll manage."
"Still, if you got me a cell phone—"
"And potentially fry all the electronics on the ward – I don't think so," Marshall said dryly.
"But what if something important comes up?"
"Like the wrong shade of jello?"
"Marshall, please, I need a get out of jail card."
Marshall leaned back as understanding showed in his eyes. "It's that bad?"
"There's tulle involved," she said flatly. "And lace."
He shuddered. "A compromise," he said. "No phone, but I'll get you a pager – for emergencies, not for ice cream runs."
"Now, when have I ever done something like that?"
He gave her a look.
"Other than that time, of course," she amended, "Swing by in the morning?"
"Before my rounds," he promised. "I'll even bring—"
"Marshall, honey! Here you are, again," The door swung open, as Jinx waltzed into the room. "You really don't have to do this, you know. It isn't as if you're family."
Mary felt something inside her cringe. Sorry, she mouthed at him.
A crooked smile flitted across his face before he turned to Jinx. "You know me, Jinx, I'm a glutton for punishment." He offered her his seat, and she sat down.
"Where's Brandi, Mom?" she said, changing the subject.
"She and Peter are getting us coffees at the vending machine. Raph is parking the car." Mary heard the reproval in her voice, but let it go. She didn't really want another lecture on how to treat Raph. It was none of her business, anymore than her relationship with Marshall was.
Marshall coughed uncomfortably as he backed out of the room. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said. "And we'll talk about that…thing."
"Yeah," Mary said, and wondered at the sense of sadness she felt when the door closed behind him.
"That man really cares for you," Jinx observed. "It'd be trouble, if you felt the same way."
"Mom," Mary said. "Please, please shut up."
Jinx gave her a sharp look, but didn't say anything more until Brandi and Peter came through the door.
TBC