He never expected to feel this way.
Five generations of U.S. Marshalls in the Mann family and not a one had ever fallen in love with a coworker. At least not one that would admit it. Yet here he sat in a room full of plastic chairs, sipping two dollar water and trying not to feel angry, hurt and just a little bit betrayed.
She had never given him any indication that she felt the same. Sure she loved him. In that backhanded, salted way of a woman who has only a passing familiarity with the emotion. And no real hope of anything more in spite of the engagement ring she carries in her pocket. She loved him like an eight dollar whore. Quickly and without strings. Anonymously without ever opening the doors of her heart. In brief, flirtatious glances that might look accidental if not for his own hopes. With nicknames that would piss off the casual observer but somehow were endearing and reassuring when the whole world was falling apart.
He had never intended to fall for her. She drove him completely crazy with her sloppiness and her calculating view of the world and everyone in it. She always saw the darker side of life and so rarely trusted anyone with even the tiniest piece of intimate information. Yes, she drove him crazy—in a way that made him lie awake at night. In a way that soiled the sheets and ran up his water bill because there wasn't enough ice water in the world to cool the embers she fanned.
He was angry. The sharp snap of the crinkling water bottle clutched in his right hand was the only outward proof of the emotion. Not having Brandi, Jinx, or heaven forbid, Raph, within his view at this moment was a blessing none of them would ever appreciate. He was angry and he had no right—and every right.
She let them in. Slowly and only one at a time, but she let them in. Brandi, the sister who had royally screwed the lives of everyone she touched, was on the cusp of becoming a confidant. Not someone Mary would reach for in deep crisis but someone she might tell a portion of her troubles to. After all, who had more experience with bad relationships and stupid choices than Brandi? Unless you counted Jinx, who seemed to desperately want the role of mother after a lifetime of running away from that responsibility. The idea that either of these women could form a portion of Mary's support system nauseated Marshall. He suddenly regretted the water and the way it lay in a cold puddle at the bottom of his gut. He was angry on Mary's behalf. At least that was the lie that fit the best.
Marshall rose and paced the length of the empty waiting room. He paused to study a painting on the wall. He listened with one ear to the announcements echoing through the hallway behind the closed door. Yes that was the lie he told himself while sitting in the chair at Mary's bedside. Brandi and Jinx did not deserve her loyalty. Being family should not be enough. It was never enough in his family. You had to earn loyalty, respect, even love—the Marshall women did not know how to do this. Not even where to start and yet, somehow, Mary had begun to let them in.
Then there was Raph.
Marshall sank into a different chair and briefly rested his forehead in his hand. Clueless, earnest, honest Raph. The man wanted nothing more than to love the version of Mary that she so blithely projected to the world. Where was Raph the day Mary ran out of the Sunshine building in the grips of a PTSD panic attack? The day she dissolved in Marshall's arms on the roof of the building unable to handle the thought that her father might have loved another family more than her? The night she was kidnapped, or the night he was shot and Mary sat with Stan in a hallway full of strangers. Marshall was not supposed to know about that vigil but Stan was more than a boss. He was a friend and he cared too much to pretend that Mary didn't. Where was Raph through all of these events and more… Marshall sucked in a steadying breath and leaned back in the chair. Raph was right where Mary intended; at arm's length and firmly focused on the woman she thought she wanted to be. Not the woman she was and had to be. Marshall had no right to feel hurt that Mary tried so hard to remake herself for the sake of her family and her fiancé: yet he did. The heart had no interest in right or wrong, fair or unfair, or even light or dark. It wanted what it wanted, cold showers and lonely nights be dammed.
"Excuse me, are you Marshall Mann?"
He looked up. Surprised and angry at himself for not having heard the nurse enter the quiet room. "Yes, I am."
"The officer outside of Mary Shepherd's room said I should inform you if there was any change in her condition."
Marshall swallowed hard and stood up. His legs felt like water and he braced them against the edge of the chair, trying to gauge the impending news from the look in the woman's hazel eyes. "Yes, and?"
The nurse smiled reassuringly. "Please relax, it's good news. Ms. Shepherd is awake. She's been asking for you. You can see her briefly if you like."
Four days of waiting to hear the news. If not for the chair, Marshall knew he would have collapsed quite unceremoniously to the floor with relief. He nodded to the nurse, not trusting his voice. She brushed cool fingers against his elbow and steered him gently towards the open door of the waiting room.
The hallway outside was crowded with people coming and going as quietly as possible so as to not disturb the rest of the patients in ICU. Marshall walked the stretch of tile leading to Mary's room without hearing anything but the soft squish of the nurse's shoes. Mary would be disgusted at his lack of observation skills. Call him an idiot for not being able to list the names posted outside each door or describe the faces of the people who passed him. Marshall could hear her voice as a low murmur beneath the pounding of his pulse. He clung to the sound, strained to hear it even when the officer outside Mary's door said a quiet hello.
"Just a few minutes," the nurse cautioned. "Would you like me to call her family?"
Marshall cleared his throat, reaching for professionalism under the watchful gaze of his fellow officer. "Yes, I'm sure they're waiting by the phone."
"I'm sure." The nurse pushed open the door to Mary's room and lightly squeezed Marshall's shoulder before turning away.
He never expected to feel this way. Cold and hot, elated and terrified, so relieved he would have cried if not for Mary's calming gaze staring out from a face too pale. "Hey, how come you look worse than I feel?" she whispered.
"When's the last time you went 96 hours without sleep?" he quipped weakly.
"Idiot."
Marshall forced a pale smile. She did not need to hear his fears, see his doubts, or know his feelings. No, not now. Now there was time for only one thing before he left and found a private place to quietly fall apart. He crossed the room and gently grasped her wrist, careful to avoid the I.V. line. "I'm sor…sorry, Mare." He stuttered and hated himself for it. Her mouth twisted in a quizzical frown that morphed into a pained grimace when she shifted in bed. Marshall squeezed the cold flesh beneath his fingers. "I'm sorry I left you there," he murmured fiercely. "And don't tell me that I'm not responsible. I'm a trained Marshall and I knew the risks. I should have been there whether you wanted me to be or not."
Her jaw moved, chapped lips parting as she struggled to find words.
Marshall shook his head. He did not want to be reassured or chastised, however comforting either might be. He released her arm, hearing the echo of a past conversation as clear as rain on the roof even as her words tumbled out of his mouth. "You better not die on me."
Mary blinked, reaching for the same memory beneath the fog in her brain. She sighed deeply and her eyes drifted close. "I will try not to die…for you."
Marshall stood for a moment and listened to the steady beat of her heart on the monitor and watched the rise and fall of her chest. He thought of that night 18 months ago when they had sat together in an abandoned diner and talked about what they meant to one another. Of the bond that had formed without either of them realizing just how important it was. So much had happened before and since that night. His five year anniversary with the Albuquerque office was fast approaching. The day he walked in and saw Mary sitting at her desk a host of thoughts had drifted through his head. She dispelled all but the most obvious with that first glare of greeting. "What are you staring at, numbnuts?" Marshall looked at Mary's face sallow and drawn against the pillows. Impulsively, he leaned down and brushed a kiss against her cheek. She did not stir when he reached out and pushed a strand a hair off of her forehead.
Marshall left the room a minute later. He told the officer he was going home to shower and change. In truth, he was going to a park not far from his apartment. It would be empty and quiet this early in the morning. He could sit by the fountain and watch the birds picking insects from the dry grass. There would be sunshine and warmth and the semblance of life in contrast to his lonely apartment. There he would vent the emotions now congealing his insides to a molten mess that seemed determined to burst from his constricting throat. He had never expected to feel this way. And he dare not ask if she felt the same—or ever would.
~E~N~D~