A/N: The muses are a b$&%, that's all I can say….. Sorry to all my other readers, I'm not even sure if I have other stories that are demanding updates anymore, but this is my latest craze. Sigh. Hopefully I actually finish this story, and hopefully this one turns out as planned. I'm hoping to make this a decent-length M/M fic with a fair amount of Anti-Raph involved… I'm completely ignoring all of season four and most of season three by the way. In fact, I doubt there's going to be much tie in with any specific episodes at all…but it'll be interesitng. I also have another fic on the back burner for you all to look forward to Oh yeah, and this chapter might be total crap. Stay with me, I wrote it at 1:30 AM.
Disclaimer: Frankly, I hate these. If I owned IPS, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction would I? Don't sue me, I don't have anything worth suing over anyway. If you're that interested in my stories, hire me instead!
ON WITH THE SHOW!
Mary Shannon turned into her driveway after another long day of coddling scumbags who didn't deserve a second chance at life but got one anyway with one thought on her mind- Raph. She knew she was in for yet another round of verbal sparring with the man, since she hadn't called him back all day, and was going to have to deal with his ridiculous barnacle act again, which she was again in absolutely no mood for.
Which is why when she walked in the door, she did so looking for a fight. And she wasn't disappointed.
She had barely shut the front door behind her when a torpedo with a Spanish accent came flying at her, moving too fast to be distinguishable as her ugh… fiance. "Mary! Querida! Where have you been? I've been calling you all day! I was worried about you!"
He pulled her into a too-tight embrace, and Mary could instantly smell the alcohol on his breath, a skill well honed from years of practice with her mother. "Raph, calm down. I was working, and I couldn't take calls. I'm fine. See?" she gestured at her body in a sweeping motion, "No bullet holes."
The expression on Raph's face changed instantly from one of concern to one of anger. "Oh," he said shortly, "I see. So once again, one of your 'witnesses' is more important than me? Is that it?"
"First of all," Mary's tone grew quiet now, but dark with barely supressed rage, "for the millionth time Raph, you cannot talk about my job like that. There are other people in this house, people who cannot know what I do for a living without compromising my, and by association, yours, theirs, and my partner's safety. Do you understand that? Second, yes, my job is sometimes going to be more important to me than taking every single phone call from you. In case you hadn't realized it, my job was in my life long before you were, and it isn't going away."
"Your 'partner' huh? I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you dragged him into this, seeing as how you care about him more than me anyway. Honestly Mary, half the time I wonder whether you actually care about your job, or if you're just using that to cover up the fact that you're fucking him on the side. " The alcohol was fueling Raph's words by now, though the slurring of his speech wasn't quite enough to cover up thehonest feelings behind his words.
Mary, without thinking, slapped him across the face. "Don't you ever insinuate things about Marshall and I again fuckwit, no matter how much you've had to drink, and don't you dare pretend that you're the one justified in questioning the faithfulness of the other when throughout this entire relationship you've been the only one who's cheated."
Raph stumbled from the blow, and the intoxication, but kept his footing, and managed to have the sense to look hurt. "Mary, you know that was a one time thing, and that I'd never have an affair. I thought you'd forgiven me?"
Mary, however, didn't buy the act for one moment. "No, Raph, you don't get to be the injured party here, and you really don't get to try to manipulate me like that and expect it to work. Besides, you know damn well I forgave you, or else your ass would be out on the street, and I wouldn't be wearing this goddamn ring. Now, enough with this bullshit. I'm going to bed. You are going to sleep this off on the couch, because honestly I don't think I can be in the same bed as you right now. We'll talk in the morning when you're conscious enough to remember a word I say."
The spanish man wasn't done yet though. He grabbed her arm and she had to bite down a gasp of pain so she wouldn't show the drunken man what he was doing to her. "Do not delude yourself into thinking you can control what I do Mary. This conversation will be over when I say it is." He clamped down even harder on her arm, and she knew that come morning she would have a horrible bruise.
"I have a gun, and the authority to arrest you right now for assault on a US Marshal," Mary stated, forcing her voice to stay calm and level so as not to betray the twinge of fear she felt from the crazy look in Raph's eye "I suggest you back off before you end up in jail for twenty to life."
Raph said nothing more, and having apparently given up, slouched over to the couch where he collapsed, snoring instantly. Mary sighed, and pulled a blanket over him once she was sure he was out and going to stay that way for a good long time. He's gonna feel like shit in the morning, she thought to herself with a small smile, serves him right.
Mary then climbed into bed as well, and willed herself not to think about the strange tone in her fiance's voice during their exchange, or the throbbing in her arm from his grip on her. He had never been physically violent before, so she tried to pass it off as nothing. If he tries it again though, I'll cut off his balls and feed them to him for breakfast. Hopefully there is no "again." Mary wouldn't admit it to anyone, but in those hours between her argument with Raph and when her alarm went off to wake her for work, and unnecesary task considering she was already wide awake, she couldn't help but feel a deep, intense fear of the man who in several months would be her husband.
*** The next Morning***
Mary stumbled into the Sunshine building twenty minutes late, exhausted from a night of stress-induced insomnia and the argument that had taken more out of her than she had anticipated. She had barely crossed the threshold of the WITSEC office when Marshall remarked "Jesus, you look like someone tied you up and dragged you through hell three or four times before running you over with an eighteen wheeler."
Mary had just enough energy to raise an eyebrow and quip back "Thanks doofus, you know just what to say to a girl."
Marshall was somewhat comforted by that response, but not quite placated yet. Rather than airing what could possibly be a shitstorm's worth of dirty laundry knowing Mary, for the entire office to see, he sent her a text: "You Okay?"
Mary's phone vibrated a minute or two later, and with a semi-audible groan of annoyance, she picked her head up off her desk and read her text, and quickly replied before slumping back over. "No sleep. Long night."
Marshall looked at his partner with an extreme sense of unease. Her short text message reply conveyed more than anyone without the bond they shared would have picked up on. Something had her rattled, and he knew it wasn't just your average night of insomnia. He also knew that the most obvious answer is often right, so he went with the simplest question. "Raph?"
He honestly wasn't sure whether to be hopeful, or furious, at that idea. Hopeful that the engagement got broken off, because then maybe Mary could go back to being herself, instead of the person she was forcing herself to be around the Domincan man. Furious, because if he found out that Raph was hurting her, there would be nothing stopping him from killing the man slowly and painfully for hurting his…for hurting Mary.
She looked up at her phone groggily, and replied again. "Bit of a disagreement. No big deal. Don't worry."
He was worried though. A "disagreement" wouldn't be enough to keep Mary from sleeping, or make her this out of it. Something bigger was going on, and he knew he wasn't going to get it out of her through text messaging, so he stood up, walked over to her desk, and shook her arm slightly. To his complete shock, she yelped, apparently in pain, at the contact. "Okay, we're going to get some breakfast," he announced loud enough that Stan would hear him. "Come on Mare," he said more quietly. When she resisted, he mentioned the awaiting coffee and pancakes, which got her on her feet and stumbling down to their usual breakfast location.
Once they ordered, Marshall started up the conversation that Mary knew was coming, but really didn't want to have. And he went straight for the mark too. "Okay, why don't we start with the most obvious question and work our way backwards? What happened to your arm?"
She gave him her classic back-the-hell-off-or-I'll-shoot-you look, and when that didn't work she sighed in resignation. "Just a bruise…" she muttered.
He took her wrist lightly in her hand and said "Show me." When she made no move to resist him, and merely looked resigned, he became truly concerned, but didn't show it in his face. He rolled up her sleeve gently to reveal a clearly defined, hand shaped bruise snaking its way around her arm. "Jesus Mary… did Raph do this?"
Mary rolled her sleeve back down, hissing in pain as she brushed against the offending mark. Then, when she could put it off no longer, she replied. "Yeah, he did," she paused, noting the growing anger in his features and reminded herself to keep an eye on him for a few hours to make sure he didn't do anything that would land him in jail. "But he was drunk," she hurriedly added, "and he had no idea what he was doing. I had already bitch slapped him, and he was pissed. Besides, it's never happened before, and it won't happen again."
The fact that her last sentence had a condescending note to it that held all of her normal fire gave Marshall a fair amount of hope, but didn't ease his anxiety in the slightest. "Mary, that doesn't make it okay."
Mary was finally awake enough to deal with the conversation in full force. "Damnit Marshall, I know that. I'm not exactly planning on letting him push me around. Like I said, I'm sure it was a one time thing, and I'm going to rip him a new one for it later, although I'm sure he doesn't even remember it now. Don't worry, I'm okay."
"Are you trying to convince me, Mary, or both of us?" Marshall asked gently, knowing the answer but wanting to force Mary to look inside of herself and realize the truth as well.
Both of us, she thought to herself, before responding, "I'm trying to convince you not to shoot my fiance's balls off Marshall. Really, if I get the slightest hint of anything weird from him again, ever, he'll be sitting on the curb with all that's left of his possessions. And he's damn well gonna know that before tonight's over."
Marshall softened a bit. He didn't like the situation, but he also realized that he had a tendency to be overprotective towards his partner, and that his feelings for her could blind him. He knew that he didn't like Raph, but he also was smart enough to realize that there is such a thing as doing something stupid when you're drunk without it being a repeating thing. "You need backup?"
Mary put all of her will into smiling at her partner. "No, thanks Marshall. I'll be fine."
He nodded at her before looking her over again. "Look, you aren't gonna be much use to anyone at work today, why don't you go home? Sort things out with Raph, then go to sleep. I'll cover for you with Stan."
A surge of fear coursed through Mary at the thought of going home, but she fought it down before it could stop her from accepting her partner's offer. If she declined, it would raise more questions, and she really didn't want to deal with that. I can go home, she thought, he'll probably have sobered up by now anyway. We can talk, and things can go back to normal. "Okay, I guess I will. Thanks Marshall."
She paid her half of the check and started to walk away when Marshall caught up with her. "Call me. You know, if you need anything," he stated as he walked her to her car.
She nodded, and forced herself to smile again. "I will. Thanks again."
A/N: Okay, in case you didn't catch on, words in BOLD are sent via text, and words in ITALICS are thoughts. Please forgive me if this is short, or full of spelling errors, etc. I worked on it from 1:30 am to 2:45 am, and it's a Wednesday night. Not the ideal time for producing quality work, but the muse just would not leave me alone.