Disclaimer: I do not own In Plain Sight or any of the characters. Probably a good thing, considering the story you're about to read…and I don't own the 3M company, either lol

So this is just a terribly disturbing idea I came up with while at the office today, silently fuming about how much I hate my job and blasting Within Temptation through my headphones to drown out the Jimmy Buffet CD that plays all day through the office speakers…

Rated M for language, violence, sex, the usual.

Warning! Multiple character deaths and general epic torturous-ness to follow in later chapters.

Chapter 1: Bad Dreams and Post-It Notes

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Her body moved so smoothly, so gently. He could see the muscles, taught under her skin. He could feel her breath on his neck, her soft skin against his chest, her hands exploring every inch of him. He was beyond all capacity for rational thought. He was acting solely on instinct now.

She raised her head from the mark she had just left on his neck, and leaned in to kiss him. He closed his hazy blue eyes, waiting for her soft lips to come crashing down on his. Suddenly he felt a rush of cold air, and she was gone. He opened his eyes to see her falling away into the darkness, her perfect body fading to nothing, the soft glimmer of a diamond on her left hand the last thing he saw before blackness enveloped him.

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Marshall Mann awoke with a start, panting as though he had just run a marathon, all 26 miles and 385 yards. He sat up in his bed and untangled himself from his blankets. This wasn't the first time he had had a dream like this. But this time, it just seemed so real…

He stood up slowly and got a head rush anyway for his effort. He stood there next to his bed for a moment to regain his balance, and he looked at the clock. 3:14 AM. He vaguely registered the significance of this number. Pi time. Jesus, man, you need sleep. Sleep is when the body and brain regenerate and heal. He headed to his bathroom and shielded his eyes before turning on the light, shining stark and bright against the mirror and the tile. His eyes burned anyway.

Leaning over the sink, Marshall looked into the mirror and was hardly surprised to see that once again, there was a face staring back at him that looked like a chilled, pallid ghost of a sleep-deprived WitSec inspector. His eyes were bloodshot due to the early hour, and his forehead was glistening with a thin layer of sweat. He turned on the tap and rinsed his face in cool, clean, refreshing Albuquerque public water. "Get a hold of yourself, Marshall," he whispered to the face in the mirror. "You can't let her see you like this. Calm down and get some sleep."

After this stimulating little pep talk, he headed back to his bed and fell quickly into a light, troubled sleep.

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"What, did you stay up all night reading the encyclopedia again, Doofus?" The abrasive sound of Mary's insult woke Marshall with a start for the second time today. Was he ever going to get some real sleep? He lifted his head up from the desk and removed the Post-It note that had fastened itself to his jaw and rubbed his forehead where it had been pressed against the "Ctrl" key on his keyboard. He looked groggily at the sticky note.

"Did you know Post-It notes were invented accidentally?" he said, trying to act as thought he hadn't just been snoring on top of his paperwork.

"Does anyone but you?" asked Mary, glaring at him from her desk.

"Really. Dr. Spencer Silver was trying to invent a super-strong adhesive for the 3M company, and somehow he accidentally came up with this barely sticky but oddly useful formula." God, she's even beautiful when she's annoyed, he thought.

"Really. I'm sure there's some sort of experimental treatment or something out there that could help you," she said, sassy as always.

"Thanks, but your concern really isn't necessary," he quipped back. Neither is your sarcasm, he thought. But he would never say it. Not to the woman he loved so much it hurt…

"Alright," said Stan, breaking Marshall's reverie. "The two of you have a new assignment coming in."

This was going to be a long day.

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They were heading back to the office after leaving the witness in the motel room for the night. Marshall was driving, and Mary was staring silently out the window. This witness had been a tough one. She threw the most spectacular hissy fit Marshall had ever seen when they told her she couldn't talk to any of her friends anymore, and she had to leave her boyfriend behind.

"But I love him!" she whined in a nasally, five-year-old-type voice, while stamping her feet on the ground.

"You've been on two dates. He's hot. You don't love him." This was Mary's response after listening to a solid half an hour of whining and crying about how she'll never make new friends and never be popular again. The girl was only 19, taken out of college to start fresh somewhere new after witnessing one of her "popular" friends get raped and murdered.

Marshall had always been, frankly, amazed by Mary's ability to be such a passionately caring woman and to still act like a cold-hearted bitch when someone really needed to hear that no one really cared. He had never quite managed to pull of the distancing that she worked so hard to project sometimes. Now, as he cast a surreptitious glance at the back of her head, he could almost see the walls collapsing. He always had a glimmer of hope in moments like these, that finally –

"What are you staring at, Doofus?" asked Mary, turning to him suddenly. "Keep your eyes on the road!" She was feeling very irritable. Clearly, that last wall was still up, the one that kept him at arm's length from the real Mary. His glimmer of hope faded. Still, he thought, it's better than most people. She keeps everyone else a football field away. Marshall set his eyes back on the road, clinging to whatever solace he could find in that thought, the last hope that kept him tied to sanity.

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Hope you liked it! Trust me, it's gonna get really dark really fast. Just a warning. Please review to let me know how you like it!