Thunk.

The sound of the metal shovel in Mary's hand hitting the wall in front of the staircase made her jump back slightly-she had expected to hear the crack of a skull. She saw Stan, ducking from her misguided blow, and Marshall's shocked look as he came to back up his boss against the perpetrator with the shovel. His eyes met her eyes, as he understood what had happened.

Mary was numb and her heart was galloping in a desperate attempt to push blood through her extremities and brain. The adrenaline she had in her system from the fight was gone. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she felt the last of her energy leave her. Somewhere in the back of her brain she knew that she was safe, but her instincts wouldn't let her move or get help. They told her to run, but her body protested. Then she felt the arms around her body and inhaled the scent of the one thing that would calm her- Marshall. She leaned into his embrace, as her body slowed itself down more.

Marshall let her go; he knew she needed to get help, to be checked over. Her body was shaking, and her legs felt like jell-o. She took a step towards Stan and the staircase. The world wobbled, and arms-this time from Marshall and Stan- grasped her. Together they walked her up the stairs and out to the waiting paramedics.

She sat down in the back of the ambulance, with help from Marshall, and the medic started checking her over. Mary gave Marshall a look that said she needed a little privacy. He nodded and walked over to Stan who was waiting by his SUV.

"Did she say what happened to her?" inquired Stan McQueen.

"She didn't say. But I'm guessing it wasn't good," replied Marshall. His heart ached for her. He knew that this would have a lot of repercussions, both personally and professionally. Mary was going to have a long road ahead of her, and it had just begun. He made a promise to himself- that he would never let her walk it alone.

About fifteen minutes later, the medic walked over to Marshall and Stan.

"It doesn't look good. I suspect she's been drugged. She needs to go to the hospital." Marshall nodded his head to indicate that he understood.

The medic continued, "I also think she's been assaulted."

Marshall felt a wave of fury at this. His teeth gritted as he spun around and punched the window of his SUV. The glass cracked, and yet Marshall wasn't satisfied- he wanted to kill someone.

"She's not talking, so it would be great if one of you could come with…" The medic looked questioningly at both of them.

Stan spoke up, "You go. You know her best, and you're our best chance of her talking. And get that hand checked out." He motioned to Marshall's now swollen hand.

"You sure?"

"Yes. I can't have you around here. You'll be distracted. I need to get this guy, and we can't afford any screw ups."

Marshall nodded silent thanks, and followed the medic back to Mary. If he thought she looked bad when they had come to the basement, it was nothing compared to now. The paramedics had cleaned up her face, and now Marshall could see the bruises on her cheek and forehead. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were red and filled with an eerie blankness. Mary was shaking, but otherwise showed no indication she was alive.

"Mare?" He put a hand on her shoulder and instantly regretted it when she started. "We need to take you to the hospital. Is that okay?"

She just looked at him like the lost little child she had always been. The paramedic and Marshall helped her lay down on the gurney; they strapped her in as the ambulance took off towards the hospital.

Marshall held her hand through the doctor's examination, not watching what the MD was doing, but turned towards Mary's face. She kept a stoic appearance up, and refused to cry. Marshall was amazed at his exotic creature- she never failed to astound him. And yet, Mary refused to look him in the eye, instead choosing a spot upon the ceiling. He feared that his Mary- his beautiful, insane, witty best friend- was gone forever.

A silent tear slipped down his face.

The doctor approached Marshall while he was out in the waiting room an hour later.

"Marshall Mann?"

He nodded an affirmative.

"I'm sorry that I have to give this news. Ms. Shannon, she is your partner?"

He nodded again.

"She was drugged with GHB and LSD."

"But wouldn't the LSD effects cancel out those of the GHB?"

"You're a smart man. Yes and no. Her rapist gave her GHB to sedate her. It slowed down her heart too much. My guess is that he realized this, and then gave her LSD so she wouldn't go into asystole."

"So she'll be fine."

"That much drugs in a person screws with them. They don't cancel each other out- the patient will go through periods of anxiety and periods of lethargy until the drugs wear off."

"Ok. I'm guessing she's staying here for observation?"

"I wouldn't recommend it. She needs to be in someplace she feels safe. Hospitals don't instill a sense of calm for certain people."

"I'd like to see her." He was getting antsy. Marshall felt the need to be next to her and help her.

The doctor motioned for him to follow, and after a series of doors and corridors which left the Marshal slightly dizzy, they approached a room.

Mary was lying under the covers, in a hospital gown. She was curled up on her side and still not crying. By the looks of her hair, she had yet to take a shower.

"Mary, I'm going to take you home, okay?" He spoke softly. He turned to the young doctor next to him, "Can I have her clothes?"

The doctor mouthed the word "Evidence," and Marshall nodded back.

"I'll go get her some scrubs to go home in. And maybe a nice clean pair of socks."

The doctor left the room and Marshall walked over to Mary, who hadn't moved. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and was happy that she didn't flinch or try to push him away. His hand continued down her cheek and under her chin.

"We'll get through this Mare, we always do."

The doctor came back a few minutes later and set down the scrubs. Before he could excuse himself out of the room, Marshall asked his name.

"Dr. Corne."

"Dr. Corne, thanks for all your help." The doctor nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Marshall grabbed the scrub pants and walked over to her hospital bed. He helped her stand up, and looked into her eyes.

"Do you trust me?" He asked. The marshal didn't want her to freak out because this was so much more personal than holding her hand. She nodded and took a deep breath in. The first word that she had spoken to him all day spilled out in a whisper.

"Yes."

He nodded and squatted down by her feet while her hands came to rest on his shoulders. One by one, he placed the bare legs into the pants. He didn't look at her while pulling the pants up, knowing. Marshall knew that her underwear was collected for evidence and that she was naked and exposed under her hospital gown. He felt a pang of sadness hit him in the chest as he fixed his eyes on the ground and finished placing the garment upon her hips.

Marshall stood and tied the pants around her slender frame, careful not to seem as if he were lingering. He helped her turn so her back was facing away from him, again preventing her from feeling too bare. Loosening the knot, he observed the bruises along her back and tutted in disgust. She was topless now, and he saw the goose-bumps flare across her skin. Quickly, he pulled the scrub top down over her head, and helped her get her arms through the armholes. He removed both jackets from his own back and draped them over her shoulders, once again making sure she was situated and buttoned and zipped. She sat on the bed, and he placed the socks upon her feet.

"Come on, let's go home." One arm locked itself under each one of her knees, and almost out of instinct, her arms looped around his neck. Her head buried itself in the scent of his collar on his shirt. And like that, Marshall carried Mary out of the hospital.