Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.
A/N: The reset button has been pushed. Mary has no knowledge of events from previous Miraculous Mary stories.
Miraculous Mary: Do Me a Faber
MARY POV
Charlie and I are loaned out to FTF for a sweep of local fugitives. Marshall understands the necessity but doesn't like sending his green Inspector into danger without me to keep an eye on him. Personally, hunting thugs, clapping on the handcuffs makes my day. Although now that I have Norah I'm careful to wear my vest and even a helmet. Charlie, a couple of the FTF guys and I have rounded up four fugitives and are taking them to the local lockup when the van blows a tire.
All the marshals on the bus scan the area. We know those tires were fine when we left this morning. At the first sound of the tire going I looked through the window between the cab and the prisoner benches to see which of our guests expected this. Aha, Martinez. That means the 7th Street Gang. I tell Charlie who calls the local marshals. Unless it gets hairy we're going to sit, sweating in this armored van, waiting for a new set of wheels. And a few more marshals.
Carl says there's a turret we can extend from the cab and he does it so we get a look at the surroundings. We're off the main drag in a relatively nice neighborhood although I know from checking the police reports there's plenty of drug action. Maybe some druggie shot at us by accident?
Looking out the window I see a black SUV pull up. That's Marshall's rig. What in the hell is he doing here? He must have heard our call for backup. He gets out, stands behind the door, looks around then starts walking to the van. A shot rings out and Marshall goes down. No, no.
The guys lay down covering fire as I run to Marshall. I put my hands in his armpits. Another marshal helps me drag him across the street and into the cab. They clear a space on the floor and I look him over. Shit! The bullet entered his chest right near his heart. He's not breathing so I start rescue breathing, my lips on his. Our first kiss will be the kiss of life.
Crap! Where is that ambulance? "Dammit Marshall. You aren't supposed to be here." I try to stop the bleeding between breaths. Another pair of hands put gauze on the hole and put pressure on it. "Marshall!" I yell. His eyes are closed. "C'mon partner, open those baby blues. Come on. Tell me what to do."
I'm bunching up the napkins the guys hand me to sop up the blood when his eyes open. "There you are. You've got to hang on Marshall. Help is on the way." His eyes flicker shut and his head lolls to the side. I grab his face, painting his cheeks red. Staring into his eyes I force him to look at me. "You promised. You can't leave. Not now." Not ever if I had my way.
"Mare," he bleats. Then his eyes stare straight ahead unseeing.
"No," I wail and pound his broken chest. "No. You can't." I keep breathing for him wondering if I should do compressions. The FTF guys have broken out the first aid kit and packed gauze around the wound, but he needs more than that. "I need you Marshall. I need you. Dammit you don't leave your partner!" The miraculous medal I wear swings over his face. God, I could use a miracle about now, I can't feel his breath. His pulse is slowing. I bow my head as the tears come. "Nooooo!"
I haven't prayed since I was a child, but I do now. "He's a good man." I beg. "He doesn't deserve this. Please God don't let him die! He's got so much more good to do!" I can hear the driver on the walkie talkie relaying Marshall's condition.
I gave up praying when my prayers went unanswered. Jinx was drunk most of the time. It was up to me to get food, get dressed and take Brandi to school. Every morning for a month after Daddy left we stopped at church and Brandi and I prayed. Sister Cecelia said God always answers our prayers but sometimes the answer is no. I can't accept that. Not this time. Not for Marshall. He deserves to live. Please God, please holy mother. Let him live.
I'm pushing my breath into his lungs. I close my eyes trying to contain my tears but a bright light penetrates my eyelids. WTF? Then my eyes are open but I can't see a thing. There are no sirens. The light softens and the image a woman emerges. She's wearing a white robe with a blue cloak covering her hair and fluttering in the wind. Except there's no breeze. This is what I saw every morning when Sister Cecelia took us to mass the year Jinx sent us to Catholic school.
My miraculous medal swings in front of his nose. I'm desperate enough to try anything and everything to keep him alive. I hold the medal between my fingers. "Blessed Mother, please let my friend live. Marshall is a good man. Please, save him."
The wind blows her robe and silence enfolds us. "Daughter named for me." Her words reverberate through my body. "You can change his fate if you follow your heart."
Follow my heart? What the heck does that mean? Has hypoxia settled in? I check on Marshall's breathing.
When I look up she is gone and so is Marshall. WTF? I'm sitting at my desk in the WitSec office and Stan is haranguing me about taking vacation. Isn't this craptastic? I do my job and they want me to stop and take time off. Criminals don't do vacations. Jeeze. Oh no. Does this mean I'm about to go to Mexico with Faber? No, no, no.
Wait! If I haven't gone yet that means this is a do over. I don't have to go. Didn't she say I have to follow my heart and that sure doesn't mean going with Faber. Jeezus! If I do this there's no Norah. Or, Norah could be Marshall's. Dear Holy Mother, help me pull this off.
"Mary," Stan says sternly. "I don't want to see you in this office for three weeks. Take some time, go somewhere fun. You remember what fun is?"
"You mean something other than shooting the crap out of things? Should I take time off like you do Stan? When was the last time you took a vacation?" He squirms his shoulders but stays on message.
"That's not the point Mary. Headquarters pulled your attendance records and mandated vacation time for you. Use it or lose it Inspector."
"All right, all right." I really don't want to go anywhere but I don't want to spend my days with Jinx and Brandi. Hmm. I can send them on vacation and enjoy my own house, my own pool, my own backyard. I smile at Stan. "Okay Stan, I'm taking three weeks. You won't see me. I promise."
"Good. It's Friday. There aren't any pressing cases. Go home. Get a jump start on your vacation."
I nod my head and start shutting down my computer and locking up my files. Going home early will mean I miss Faber's call. Another reason to smile which makes Stan look at me strangely. Messenger bag on my shoulder I point at Marshall. "Stay out of my liquor! I know how much is in that bottle."
Marshall smirks. "Have a good time Mare. Relax. If you know how."
I shake my finger at him. "You'll see." And right on cue, as the elevator doors close, my desk phone starts ringing. Fuck you Faber! I've already blocked his number on my cell.
On my way home I stop by a travel agency and book Jinx and Brandi on a Caribbean cruise leaving out of Miami two days from now. Tickets and brochures in hand I'm smiling as I walk through the door. Jinx is leafing through a magazine and Brandi has her feet up and ear buds in. Perfect! They both regard me with questioning expressions. They're not used to seeing me home early let alone early and smiling.
"Hey," I greet them enthusiastically. "I've got some great news." Jinx perks up and Brandi pulls the buds out of her ears. "I entered you into a cruise giveaway contest and today," I pause for dramatic effect, "I found out that you won an all expense paid 12 night Caribbean Cruise on Celebrity Cruises leaving out of Miami!" I'm practically jumping up and down waving the tickets at them.
"Really Mare?" Brandi asks. She's smiling. She wants to believe. "Shouldn't you and Mom go? You entered the contest."
When did my little sister get a sense of fairness? "I'd love to, but I can't just now. Something's come up at work and I just can't. You two go and let me know what you think. Maybe I'll join you next time. And since you'll be in Miami you can visit Scott for a few days." It isn't difficult to force my lips into a huge smile, not when I'll be getting rid of them for 21 days minimum.
Mom stutters. "I don't have anything to wear. I mean not for a cruise."
The cruise tickets weren't cheap but I got a good last minute deal. The travel agent said the cruise line would rather fill the ship even if they cut prices. The air fares to Miami weren't too bad. 21 days family free are worth every penny. Of course I only got them tickets to Miami. They'll have to call me when they're ready to come home – or borrow from dear brother Scott.
Brandi's accepted my excuse. "Well Mom, if you don't have anything to wear that means we have to go SHOPPING!"
I stopped at the bank so I fish in my messenger bag and come up with some cash. No way I'm giving those two my credit cards. "Here," I thrust the currency toward them. "Here's a couple hundred bucks. Since those swimsuits only have an inch or two of fabric you should be able to buy a dozen of them."
"Really Mare?" Brandi squeals and grabs me around the neck.
"Ooof. Let go Brandi, you're choking me." I return her hug whole heartedly. Either Jinx had already consumed considerable alcohol or she's stunned by my generosity. Brandi grabs her hand and starts dragging her out of the house. Works for me.
Two days later I'm alone in my own house for the first time ever. When I bought the place Jinx showed up before I unpacked. I stretch and enjoy the quiet. I sleep late, order take out and get to eat it all myself. I lay out by my pool, then swim in it's sparkling water warmed by the sun. That's the first day. What in the hell am I going to do tomorrow?
I've been thinking about how to 'follow my heart' so Marshall doesn't die. What if he gets shot while I'm on vacation? Who's going to have his back? Charlie? Wait, Charlie isn't even in the Marshal Service. He's probably still popping pimples in high school. Stan can't go on all Marshall's witness visits. How am I going to keep Marshall safe if I'm not working?
Follow my heart. Follow my heart. What in the hell does that mean? Right now it seems like I should keep an eye on Marshall. I find my binoculars, a dark cap to cover my hair and a nondescript wind breaker I don't remember having. I'm certain Marshall hasn't seen me wear it. On top of all the other vacation 'expenses' I rent a car. Something Marshall and Stan won't recognize.
I cruise by Marshall's place. No car. He must be at work. I park in an alley across from the Sunshine building and set up for a stake out. It's kind of fun. Road trip snacks, not worrying about cleaning the car, keeping an eye out for Marshall. Hmm. Come on Marshall. Go somewhere already. After an hour or two I get antsy and decide to check the parking structure. I drive through the whole damn thing. No Marshall. Where in the hell is he?
I check my phone and find an email about some sort of federal/state/local law enforcement confab. Oh hell! That's where he meets Abigail! I scroll down and find out where it's being held. Normally you couldn't pay me enough to attend these things. Boring talks by experts who haven't a clue teaching strategies that never work in the real world. But this time I'm going to crash the party.
My stake out clothes aren't suited to a multi-agency training conference. It's tempting to just stay and enjoy the quiet of my home. But there's no way I'm letting that southern fried defective detective get her claws into my Marshall. Huh? My Marshall? When did I start thinking of Marshall as mine? Is that how I'm supposed to follow my heart?
THE END
A/N: The second half of this story reboots season 3 episode 13 A Priest Walks into a Bar, and season 4 episode 1 The Art of the Steal. This is the last of the Miraculous Mary one shots. Stay tuned for Miraculous Mary the Extended Play version, a multi chapter exploration of an alternate IPS universe. Thank you Meg for your reviews. You keep reading, I'll keep writing. Deal?