Disclaimer: I don't own a thing...please don't sue...all you will get out of me are some demonic furballs, dogs, ducks, and horses.
Note: Picks up where Stan By Me left off. Mary just broke my heart with this episode, and further shattered it in A Fine Meth. Give that woman an award already! This turned out quiet a bit longer than anticipated but it is what it is! OOC? Most likely.
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The car ride has been uncomfortably silent on the way to Mary's house, and Mary is never silent. Ever. Cautiously, I glance over at her as I roll to stop at a red light. What I see shocks me. Tears are streaming silently down her cheeks, and if there is one thing I know about my partner is that she rarely, if ever cries.
The light changes and I make a quick left onto her street, pulling up to the curb a few blocks away from her house.
"Mary?"
She jumps at the use of her name and turns to look at me. The feeling that washes over me when her eyes meet mine is indescribable. In all of our years together, I have never seen her look so lost. I reach a hand up to her face to wipe away her tears, and I'm shocked when she flinches. I quickly drop my hand and instead rest it over her clasped hands. "Sorry," I mutter.
I don't know if it is the feeling of my hand on hers, or my soft apology, but the next thing I know, her arms are around me, holding on to me as if I am her lifeline in a tumultuous sea. I bring my arms up to wrap around her, holding her awkwardly, although securely, in the cramped space of the car. "Shhh, it's alright. I'm right here," I whisper softly, trying to sooth her, even though I have a feeling that I am failing miserably.
In the dim lighting of the car, I notice a mark on her shoulder. I disregard it at first, her body is now covered with bumps and bruises, but when a passing cars headlight briefly illuminates the truck I tilt my head slightly, trying to get a better look without shifting her in my arms. When I finally piece together what it is my blood runs cold. The stark outline of a bite mark, a human bite mark mars her skin. "God Mary, what happened?" I pull back to try to meet her eyes. She stubbornly refuses, holding onto me tighter and burying her face into my neck. After a brief internal struggle, I decide to let it go. For now.
Her tears have soaked through my shirt and I have lost all track of time when she slowly pulls away from me. She still refuses to meet my eyes, instead focusing her gaze out the window, piecing together where we are.
"Marshall?" She quietly asks, her gaze focused over my left shoulder.
"Yeah Mar?"
"Can we…I think…I don't want to go home yet," She stutters her confession.
"Do you want me to bring you to Raph's?"
She shakes her head violently. "Can I—" she breaks off, unsure how to continue.
"You want to stay with me?"
Something flashes across her face, but before I can identify it, it's gone.
"If it's okay," She softly replies.
"Yeah, it's okay," I reply softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
"Okay," She whispers, trying her hardest to grace me with a smile.
Leaving our hands clasped, I place my other hand on the steering wheel and turn the truck towards my apartment. Our arrival doesn't register with Mary until I come over and open the door for her. Looping one arm around her waist, I help her out of the truck and lead her inside. Wordlessly I help her shrug out of my windbreaker, and allow her to lean on me and she toes off her shoes.
"You hungry?"
She silently shakes her head.
"Okay," I say, leading her towards the bathroom. I guide her to sit on the closed toilet seat, and then go over to the tub. Turning the knobs, I adjust the temperature until I can feel a warm steam begin to rise. Before turning back to her, I pull a few large towels out from the closet and set them down near the tub.
"I'll be right outside if you need me, okay?"
"Kay," She sniffs, wiping at a stray tear.
Regretfully, I pull myself away and leaving the door open a crack, I wait to leave until I begin to hear her get into the bath. While she is trying to soak away the memories, I hurry to my bedroom. The first thing I do is disable the morning alarm. There would be no need for an early morning. Next, I pull back my quilt, and tug the sheets from my mattress. I toss them into my hamper and grab a fresh set from the closet. I make the bed quickly, but then turn down the sheets so it will be all set for her. The next thing I do is head to the kitchen. I know she said that she wasn't hungry, but once some of the shock began to wear off she would be. I prepare a glass of water, and an assortment of crackers, knowing her stomach wont be able to handle anything else. I set them on the bedside table and decide to give Stan a call to let him know I won't be coming back in.
By the time I get off the phone, I am shocked by the amount of time that has passed. I head to the bathroom along with some clothes for Mary to get changed into.
"Mar?" I lightly tap my knuckles against the bathroom door, worry evident in my voice.
All I get in response is hearing the slight movement of water.
"I'm going to come in, okay?" I pause, waiting for an answer. Not getting one, I hesitantly push the door open and step inside. When I see her, she is like the shell of the woman that she once was. I clench my fists in seething anger as I prayed for just five minutes with the assholes that did this to her. I quickly check myself though, my anger is not what Mary needs right now.
"Hey," I say softly, sinking to my knees beside the tub.
She is sitting in the tub, her knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped protectively around them, staring at a spot on the wall. Slowly she turns her head, resting her cheek on her knees, eyes locking with my own. It is then that I notice that she is shaking. Slowly, as not to startle her, I dip my fingers into the water, and I quickly pull back upon meeting with the icy water.
"Jesus Mary," I sigh, thinking in the back of my head how my Mary would have thrown in a Joseph with her patented eye roll. But this is not my Mary and I wonder when I will get her back. "You're freezing," I lay the back of my hand against her icy cheek.
Hey eyes never leave mine as I lean over to drain the water, and then wrap a fluffy towel around her shoulders. I rub the towel briskly over her skin, hoping the friction will help warm her. Her teeth are no longer chattering by the time the tub is drained. Being careful to keep the towel wrapped around her, I help her stand and step out of the tub. I point out the clothes that I brought for her, but when I remove the arm that had been supporting her, she stumbles, slumping weakly against me. My hand immediately goes back around her waist.
"Oh Mary," I sigh, shutting my eyes and dropping a kiss to her temple.
I have to call her name several times until she seems to hear my voice. I look at her steadily, "Can you stand for a minute?"
She nods; the raw look in her eyes scares me. Stripped bare, open, honest, one hundred percent trusting.
I tug one of my t-shirts off of the hook where I had hung it. Moving slowly, but deliberately I guide the shirt over her head, stretching the neck out so it doesn't rub against her cuts. An arm follows, first her right, then her left. After I have maneuvered her sore muscles into the t-shirt, I reach for the hem, gently tugging it down her torso. My knuckles graze against her skin, eliciting a shiver from her, but there is nothing sexual about this. Hey eyes still locked with my own, I help her step into a pair of boxers. They had trains on them. I held my breath, waiting for her to make fun of them, but when she didn't respond, I let the air escape from my lungs. I slide the boxers up her calves, her thighs, not stopping or slowing until I reach her waist. I rolled the waistband twice, ensuring a good fit. The damp towel drops around her ankles.
"Come on," I take her by the hand, leading her to my darkened bedroom. She sits on the edge of my mattress and I help her swing her legs up. I am tugging the covers up around her when she finally speaks.
"I killed a man tonight Marshall."
She sounds sorry and I feel a surge of anger. But not towards her. That bastard didn't deserve her regret.
"I know," I say simply.
"I. Killed. A. Man." She states slowly again, the words sounding foreign. "Oh, God. I…Marshall...I killed someone!" Her watery eyes plead with me to make it all go away.
"I know Mar, I know," My weight dips the mattress down and I cautiously reach for her, thankful that she accepts and leans into my embrace. "I did too."
It seems to all hit her then, and she is a shaking mass of flesh and bone in my arms. The sobs tear through her body and her anguish nearly kills me. I feel hot tears pricking at my eyes, but I blink them back, silently scolding myself. 'Not now. Right now she needs you. You can fall apart later.'
The sobs are no longer wracking her body, and her breathing has evened. She pulls back slightly, "You did too?"
I take a minute to catch up, and then I nod, "Upstairs."
"What," She hesitates, "What happened?"
"Mary," I sigh, pushing a tangled clump of damp hair out of her face.
"I need to know, please?"
So I tell her. Tell her how we were preparing to breach when we heard the gunshots. How I heard one of the men say that he wanted to have his fun with her, and then more gunshots. How I burst through the door, defying Stan's orders. How Stan headed down the stairs first, me being too terrified as to what I might find. And my utter relief at seeing her standing there, alive.
By the time I finish recounting, both of her arms are wrapped around me, her head leaning against my chest, long legs parallel with my own. She told me once that when she was little and she would have nightmares, she would curl up with her dad, resting her head against his chest so she could hear his heartbeat. The steady rhythm eventually lulling her back to sleep. I feel thankful that she finds comfort with me.
She is silent for a while and I think she has fallen asleep but then her exhausted voice startles me.
"I made him think I wanted it."
I don't immediately follow, a fact that she picks up on.
"That I wanted him," She clarifies. "That I wanted to—to look at him while he was—while he was…"
"You saved yourself," I prevent her from finishing.
She curls further into me, pulling herself practically into my lap. "The hook was loose. I tried to get loose but then they came downstairs. They figured out I was a marshal."
I mentally prepared myself to give that self-centered FBI agent a thorough ass whooping later.
"Spanky told him that it was his mess and he had to clean it up. He told me he wasn't a," She paused, choking on the word, "monster. That I would die happy."
I bury my face in Mary's damp hair, determined not to let her see the demons that I am currently battling. Stan hadn't allowed me in the room while she had given her statement and now I understood why.
"When I convinced him that I wanted him, he let me turn around. I head butted him. He started to come after me with the shovel, but I got loose. I got loose and I shot him." She had the extra material of my shirt balled into her hands.
"You're okay now," I whisper into her neck, thanking God that I hadn't lost her.
I can feel her tears as she confesses, "I feel so dirty."
She leans back slightly, bringing our faces even, foreheads touching. "I can still feel his hands…his mouth on me, and I feel so dirty."
I have no reply for her desolate admission and this time I can't keep my tears from escaping. Then her lips are dancing across my skin, kissing away my tears.
I try to pull away. "Mary," I resist and then I see the tears and the desperation etched in her features.
Her fingers lightly trace over my lips. "I don't want to feel dirty anymore," She whispers, leaning in, pressing her lips against my own. My body reacts on its own accord, lips melding with hers. Her tongue demands entrance, and my lips comply. It isn't until she shifts in my lap and makes a move to tug the t-shirt over her head that I realize what is going on. My hands cover hers, stilling them. She looks at me through teary lashes, a hurt look on her face.
"I can't do this," I take a deep breath, trying to control the tension in my body.
"You don't want me," She slumps down.
"Mary, look at me," I gently command, tipping her chin up.
"You don't want me because I'm dirty."
She is now straddling my thighs, knees against my hip, sitting down on her heels. If that man weren't already dead, I would kill him for making her feel like this.
"This is not me not wanting you. You are not dirty," I emphasize.
Her lips are on mine again, her tears mixing with my own. I pull back, cradling her head in my hands.
"Please Marshall?" Her eyes plead with me for absolution.
"Because I want you, I can't," I confess.
Her fingers toy with the hair on the nape of my neck, her breath hot against my flushed skin. "Please Marshall? Just for tonight. I just want to forget." She shifts again, wrapping her legs around me, bringing our bodies painfully close.
"Not here, not like this," I reiterate. "I would do anything I could to take your pain away, but I can't do this. You will end up regretting it, and I couldn't live with that. When you are ready, but not now."
She goes slack in my arms, her face buried in my chest as my words sink in. I feel more than hear the exhausted sigh that she lets out.
"You need to get some sleep," I try to disentangle our limbs.
She immediately tightens her hold on me. "Stay?" She whispers into the dark.
I hesitate and she knows why.
"I trust you, and I ne—I need you."
Wordlessly, I move our bodies into a position more conducive for sleep and tug the covers up around us. Feeling safe in my arms, she allows her exhaustion to take over and she quickly falls into a restless sleep.
Right then and there, I vow to be there for every night terror, every flashback, every time she needed someone to trust. It was a long road ahead filled with all sorts of detours and hazards but together we could navigate it safely.
It isn't until I am sure she is fully asleep that I allow myself to fall into a light sleep ready to be there when she wakes up screaming, needed someone to trust.
Finis!
8-18-08