A/N: Here we go again, readers, the start of another IPS tale. A couple items of note before we get into the story: 1) if Mary and Marshall seem a bit OOC in this tale, they are - and it will become obvious why very quickly. 2) I own nothing but the story line and the few original characters that appear within the story. 3) Yes, I know that Jinx is still in Albuquerque at this point and she will appear but only once in a while because I don't enjoy writing her that much. Besides, this story isn't about her.
OK, on with the story-
His eyes fluttered open and stared at the ceiling above him, listening to the beep of monitors, silently wondering how he ended up in the hospital again.
Again? Have I been in the hospital recently?
He moved his right hand towards his face and saw that there was an IV attached to that arm, pumping fluids into his body. Bringing the hand all the way up, he tried to touch his face but was prevented from doing so by a mask over his mouth and nose.
I'm on a ventilator? What the hell happened to me?
He heard a gasp outside of his line of sight and suddenly a blonde woman with green eyes was leaning over him, smiling. "Doofus, thank God! Let me go get the doctor and I'll be right back, ok?" She vanished as quickly as she had appeared.
Doofus? Is that my name? If it is, I have a bone to pick with my parents.
The blonde woman was back again, leaning over so close that he could see that she had been crying, her eyes red and swollen. She reached up and brushed some hair back and he felt her hand shaking.
"Don't ever scare me like this again, Marshall. I can't take it."
He blinked. Marshall – is that my name? It's much better than Doofus.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Mann. It's great to see you awake." A gray haired male doctor moved into his line of sight. "I'm Dr. Fledgling. How are you feeling?"
He managed to shrug one shoulder and pointed to the ventilator tube.
Dr. Fledgling nodded. "Yes, I understand that the tube is probably uncomfortable but until I'm sure you are able to breathe on your own I'd like to leave it in-"
He made a scribbling motion with his hand and a white board and marker suddenly appeared in his right hand. He started slightly and glanced at the blonde haired woman who smiled at him. Nodding a silent thanks, he turned back to the doctor and wrote the words: How long?
Dr. Fledgling frowned. "If you're still doing well, I can take the tube out in twenty-four hours, all right?"
He grunted but with the tube in, it sounded more like a gurgling sound, so he simply wrote: Yes.
"Good, good. Now, let's move on. How are you feeling? Are you in pain?"
He thought about that question for a moment. He did have a headache, but it wasn't too bad. And his body felt stiff and achy, like he had been sick or in a car crash but nothing he couldn't handle so he shook his head.
"That's good to hear," Dr. Fledgling made a note in the chart. "Now, can you tell me what you remember about what happened?"
He bit down the rising sense of panic inside but the heart monitor gave him away. His pulse went up and Dr. Fledgling's gaze went to the machine. "What's the matter?"
He wrote the words on the board: I don't remember.
"That's quite common, Mr. Mann. Please try to stay calm – it's natural to forget the events surrounding-"
He shook his head and wiped the board clean and wrote in big letters: I don't remember who I am.
The blonde haired woman gasped. "Marshall-"
He wrote: Is that my name?
Dr. Fledgling and the woman exchanged a long look. "Perhaps we should step outside for a minute, Mary-"
He threw the board on the bed and ripped the tape off one side of the ventilator mask.
"Mr. Mann!"
"Marshall, stop!" The blonde haired woman grabbed his arms, her fingers wrapping around the muscles like talons.
The instant the two of them made physical contact, it was as if his body remembered her touch even though his brain didn't. He stilled under her fingers, looked up into her eyes, seeing an emotion in them that he couldn't yet define.
"I know you're frustrated and want answers and I'll help you get them, all right? But you have to be a little patient. You can't get them all at once and you're only going to set back your recovery if you rip out your ventilator tubing and force the doctor to put you in restraints."
He nodded and she dropped her hold on his arms as he noticed for the first time that the doctor had left them alone. He picked up the board and wrote: Who are you?
She flinched but answered his question in a hoarse whisper. "My name's Mary Shannon."
He shook his head stubbornly and added the words: Who are you to me?
She smiled sadly. "We've been partners for ten years – and best friends. Just recently, however you became the boss – so things are a bit complicated now."
He tipped his head to the side and studied her for a moment. She looked like a woman who knew how to take care of herself, but he sensed a vulnerability underneath her tough exterior. Perhaps it was only her worry over him – but he had a sense that it was always there, and perhaps he was only one of a few people to see it. There were dark shadows under her eyes in addition to the evidence that she had been recently crying and again, somehow he knew that she wasn't a woman that cried easily or often. His eyes swept down to her hands and noticed that her fingers were bare, no wedding or engagement ring on her left hand.
Suddenly there was a flash of memory in his head of a sparkling ring on a table top – and then someone's fingers slipping a ring onto a trembling hand as someone said: 'Will you marry me?"
He shook his head and held a hand to his forehead, rubbing his temple at the sudden pain that had flared up.
Mary moved closer, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "Marshall, what's wrong? Should I call Dr. Fledgling back in here?"
He shook his head and grabbed the board: No, I'm fine.
"The hell you are – are you remembering something?"
He glanced up at the fear he heard in her voice. What the hell had happened to him? What couldn't he remember? He had this strong feeling that the woman in front of him didn't scare easily and yet he would swear that was fear he saw in her eyes. He erased the board and wrote: Are we engaged?
Her reaction surprised him. He expected her to laugh at him or throw her arms around him in relief that he remembered, but she did neither. Instead she studied him for a long minute before whispering, "Why would you ask that?"
Cursing the tubing and not being able to communicate with her like a normal human being he wiped the board clean and scribbled: Because I just had this flash of a ring and asking someone?
She smiled sadly and shook her head. "Wasn't me – you were probably remembering the day you proposed to your Nancy Drew detective girlfriend."
He frowned at her and she winced.
"Sorry, that's what I call her – her name's Abigail Chaffee. She's a homicide detective with the APD – that's where we live, in Albuquerque, New Mexico."
He nodded absorbing the information. If he had a fiancée, why wasn't she here, by his side? Why was his partner the first face he saw when he woke up?
Mary seemed to read his mind as she spoke again, not waiting for him to write the words. "You broke off your engagement- before the accident that landed you in here."
He started and shifted in the bed, hearing the sound of clinking metal as his legs moved for the first time since waking. Looking down he saw that his left ankle was cuffed to the rail of his bed. He raised furious eyes to her and Mary's hands were already on his chest, trying in vain to stop him as he again pulled at the tape on the sides of the mask.
"Marshall, stop! I promise I will tell you what's going on but I don't want the staff to tie you down –"
He was deaf to her pleas and his hands were already wrapped around the tube, pulling and yanking it out. Mary backed up a step in horror as he gagged and retched, finally getting the ventilator tubing out and he lay panting on the bed, pale and exhausted.
"Marshall, what have you done? What if you've caused permanent damage to your vocal cords? Was it really worth it just so you-"
"Could talk? Hell yes," he rasped, pushing the button on his remote and the bed tilted him up to a sitting position just as the door flew open and two nurses ran in.
"Mr. Mann! That was very dangerous!"
"You could have seriously damaged your throat-"
Mary stepped aside and let the nurses check Marshall's breathing and listened to a severe reprimand before they left, saying that Dr. Fledgling was on his way back down.
He turned to Mary. "Answers, now."
She licked her lips and focused her gaze on a point just above his head. "You're cuffed to the bed because you're the prime suspect in a murder investigation."
The words hit him like a bucket of ice cold water and it took a moment for him to formulate a response. "The police think I killed someone?"
She nodded.
"Who?"
She continued to avoid his gaze, though she could feel it on her. "The murder victim's name is Kenny Evans, a man I was dating."
He frowned. "Why would I kill him?"
She cleared her throat. "Because he-"
"That's enough, Miss Shannon."
Both of them turned to see a female APD officer standing in the doorway, her facial expression unreadable.
"Abigail, what are you doing here? How did you even know he was awake?" Mary demanded.
"The good doctor called me – which is something you were supposed to do."
"I was going to but I've been a little busy. It's no use your questioning him – he doesn't remember anything."
"We'll see about that."
"No, Abigail, I mean he doesn't remember anything – his name, his family, his job – nothing."
Abigail's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she left the doorway and crossed to the other side of Marshall's bedside. "Is that right?"
He nodded slowly. "So, I take it you're the same Abigail that works for APD and used to be my fiancée?"
Abigail's eyebrows shot up as she looked at Mary. "Memory seems fine to me."
Mary shook her head. "I told him about you ten minutes ago. Go on, ask him something else and see what happens."
"All right. Mr. Mann, can you verify your address and place of employment for me?"
"Nope."
She gritted her teeth. "How about your social security number?"
"Nada."
"Birthday, mother's maiden name?"
"Zilch, and I don't even know my mother's first name."
Abigail crossed her arms. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing here, Marshall-"
The smile slid from his face. "I'm not playing a game at all, Detective, and forgive me for trying to infuse this situation with some levity. You have no idea how terrifying it is to wake up in a hospital and have no memory of who you are and be surrounded by strangers. And that's not even the worst part! The worst part is finding out that I'm the prime suspect in a murder investigation when I have no recollection of my life!"
"Detective Chaffee, are you harassing my patient?" Dr. Fledgling asked as he reentered the room with an orderly in tow. "I called you because I didn't want to get in trouble with the police but I will not allow you to upset Mr. Mann who has just woken up from a coma. If you ladies will excuse us, I am here to take my patient up to MRI – I want a closer look at your brain, Mr. Mann. And you can take the handcuffs with you – my patient isn't going anywhere and the metal will only interfere with the scan."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Doc. Marshall still needs to be questioned-"
"Fuck, Abby – does he look like he's ready to run a marathon? Post an officer outside his door if you're that worried about getting in trouble with your boss," Mary snarled.
"Fine," Abigail removed the handcuffs and backed towards the door. "But this investigation has been on hold long enough. I'll be back tomorrow."
Mary rolled her eyes. "I don't know what you ever saw in her."
"Long enough?" he repeated. "How long was I out, Doc?"
"Long enough to have Mary and I worried-"
"How long?"
"Two months, Marshall. You've been in a coma for two months."
He swallowed. "What the hell happened to me?"
Dr. Fledgling spoke softly. "You were hit by a drunk driver in the early morning hours of June 2nd and sustained massive internal injuries. The mere fact that you are alive and talking to us today is nothing short of a miracle, Mr. Mann."
"And the other driver?"
Mary shook her head. "Died at the scene. The paramedics had to use the jaws of life to get you out of your truck-" she cleared her throat and dropped her gaze.
Something inside of him wanted to reach out and comfort her, this stranger that he didn't remember but clearly had strong emotions for him. In the end, all he could do was whisper, "Hey, I'm still here."
Mary gasped as her head shot up and her eyes met his, the tears threatening to fall.
He frowned. "Did I say something wrong?"
She shook her head. "No, you said something right."
Dr. Fledgling cleared his throat. "I hate to interrupt but I need to take Mr. Mann up to MRI, Mary."
She nodded and started to back away but he grabbed her hand, unwilling to break contact yet with her. "You'll be here when I get back? I – I know I have no right to ask it of you since you must be exhausted but you promised to help me get answers."
Mary squeezed his hand before letting go. "You have every right to ask, Marshall. I do need to make some phone calls now that you're awake – and check in at home. But I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Promise?"
He knew he sounded like a lost little boy, but that's how he felt right now. Her presence calmed him, made him feel less panicked and more focused. He also had a feeling that she held the key to the locked doors in his mind.
She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his brow. "I promise. And if you promise to be a good boy for Dr. Fledgling, I'll bring you a surprise."
He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You do realize that anything you bring will be a surprise to me at this point?"
She smiled. "Yes, but it might also help you remember."
A/N: Well, what do you think? Intrigued? Confused? Utterly Lost? Want More? Give me some Love in Reviews!