This is Love's Faber Lost from Marshall's POV with an alternate ending. I don't own IPS, the characters or the events in the original episode. I may actually be getting the hang of this one-shot thing. Lots of love to bujyo for being her and reading and reading and rereading until I was finished and happy with this story. Enjoy!
His head snapped up and he stared, speechless, at the man standing across the room. The day had started out with a rare act of kindness by Mary and Marshall realized that he should have known it was destined to go south.
000
After reading the paper and having coffee in the silence of her clean home, sans drama, she had swung by to check on Frank before work. He seemed genuinely happ,y and the change in his attitude had affected her so much that she willingly withstood the annoying niceties of the staff at Marshall's favorite coffee bar.
The shocked faces of her boss and her partner, as she placed the complicated beverages in front of them, had made the side trip worth it and she smirked as they tried to guess the reason behind her generosity. It wasn't until they were waiting for their order at Lumpy's Burgers that Marshall started with the third degree.
"Hell hasn't frozen over and the sky doesn't appear to be falling," Marshall mused.
"What are you babbling about now?" Mary asked, distracted by others picking up their orders and becoming increasingly impatient and hungry.
"I was just pondering the possible reasons for your uncharacteristic generosity this morning," he drawled, leaning back against the SUV and crossing one cowboy boot over the other as he shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Very funny, asswipe. Keep it up and you can be damn sure there won't be a next time."
Marshall feigned a pout, but their number was called before he could respond. They picked up their brown paper bags filled with burger-y goodness and found a spot to eat. He waited until Mary had a few bites in her and had sampled both their fries before broaching the subject once more.
"Seriously, what were you up to this morning? I thought you said you were going to check on one of your witnesses."
"And what makes you think I didn't?" Mary responded, stealing more of his fries despite the fact that she had her own sitting right in front of her.
"Well, you usually return from witness visits bearing teeth, not gifts," Marshall stated as he reached over to take some of her fries, only to have his hand swatted away by an annoyed Mary.
"I went to see Frank. Is that okay with you or do I now need your permission to do my job?" She sat back and folded her arms as she glared at her partner of seven years. She thought about how well he claimed to know her and didn't doubt it. What she did doubt at times was his intelligence and why he couldn't just appreciate her good mood without needing an explanation for it.
"Again?" Marshall questioned with surprise in his voice, "didn't you just see him a couple of days ago?"
"What if I did?" Mary snapped defensively.
"Don't you think you're getting a little too vested in Frank's situation?" He had mentioned his concerns about her redirecting unresolved feelings for her father onto Frank and she didn't seem to be taking him seriously. She was too close and he knew it wouldn't end well.
"Do you think you could possibly form an answer to a question that's not a question?" When Marshall had first talked to her about Frank and implied that her daddy issues may be surfacing, she dismissed his thoughts as those of a concerned friend. But for some reason, he kept circling back to it and now she felt as if he was questioning her professionalism.
"Mare…"
"You think I'm too close? That it may cloud my judgment?" she sneered, throwing her food back in the bag and standing up. "I treat all my witnesses the same. Some, like Frank, appreciate it and want to be helped, so I help. Others, like Lois, don't care and are just miserable, so I let them be miserable. It's our job to protect them, not to fix them. Oh wait, I forgot, you don't let anyone just be. You have to swoop in like a knight in shining armor and try to fix everyone. How's that working out for you?"
Marshall watched, dumbfounded, as Mary stormed off toward the SUV. She knew how hard the situation with Lois had been on him and he couldn't believe she could be so callous. After a minute, he recovered enough to gather the remainder of his lunch and follow; jaw set as he climbed into the driver's seat and turned the engine over. It was a silent drive back into the center of the city, and as they ascended in the elevator to the top floor of the Sunshine Building, both refused to give in to their inner voices and break the stalemate.
000
"Hello, kitten," Faber purred, "Coffee?"
The pet name sent Marshall's blood pressure through the roof and he followed Faber's line of sight to his partner. He watched as Mary placed her hands on her desk for support blew out a frustrated breath as she stared at Faber in disbelief.
She sat down and began to instantly grill Faber about their newest witness. A small smile crept over Marshall's face as Mary ignored all of Faber's attempts to engage her otherwise. Although, the fact that the FBI agent had been trying to contact Mary for weeks and she hadn't mentioned it had Marshall more than a little concerned.
In order to get a better vantage point to evaluate the situation, he casually stood up and moved over to the file cabinets near Mary's desk. As he did so, he tried to tell himself that Mary hadn't told him about Faber's calls because she didn't consider Faber important enough to talk about, but his gut screamed in protest. The movement in his direction brought his attention back to the man in question.
"…and that you come with a one man entourage," Faber remarked as he walked over and handed Marshall a copy of the file. "Marshall."
"Agent Faber," Marshall said politely, pushing down his sudden urge to punch the man. "Welcome to Albuquerque."
They processed in the witness quickly, despite Faber's annoying commentary, because it appeared that Natalie apparently lacked any kind of personal life prior to entering the program. That, and her casual attitude about her new identity, set off all kinds of warning bells in the minds of the WITSEC Inspectors. They exchanged a knowing glance as Faber continued to be flip about the situation and Marshall felt the increasing tension in his neck and shoulders. He took a deep breath and restrained himself from being baited into Faber's game, hoping that the weasel's presence in Albuquerque would be short lived.
It only took a few sentences for Marshall to regret answering the phone call. If only he'd been away from his desk, they would have moved down the list and called the next Inspector, allowing him to stay where he could keep an eye on Faber. But it seemed as if the universe was conspiring against him and his recent string of bad luck was destined to continue, this time sending him across the country for more than a week and away from where his heart and head would remain. There wasn't even time to talk to her, especially not with Faber lurking in the background.
"You going to be okay?" he asked, knowing full well that she would be, but he wasn't so sure about himself.
"I'm fine," she mumbled. "Yeah, it's fine. Go."
"You sure?"
"Yes, Marshall," Mary replied and she tried sound annoyed as she launched into some spiel about him turning off his Nora Ephron chick flick thoughts.
Nora Ephron was the furthest thing from his mind and he told her so. The fact that she had started to defend herself against unmade accusations had him cringing. The lady doth protest too much.
"Well, this is where normal people say goodbye, be careful, I'll call you," he quipped.
"You still owe me $9 for lunch last week," she replied with her usual snark, "so don't get shot and die." It wasn't an emotional goodbye, but Mary didn't do goodbyes. He knew that. What he also knew was the real meaning behind the words, we're good, watch your back and come home safe, and he smiled.
"I'll do my best," he said, the small grin still lingering as he looked at her. It was that look, more than his words, that held his true feelings. Yes, we're good. Please don't do anything stupid and I'll come home in one piece. I'll miss you. There was something in her parting look that lacked the usual sentiment and again, he cursed Faber's presence. In the past, he never would have questioned if she understood, but this time he left wondering if she even noticed.
000
A prisoner transport was a fairly routine procedure and Marshall wished his assignment was something more complex in order to get his mind off of what was or wasn't going down in Albuquerque. After packing the last of the items he needed, he sat down at his kitchen table to look through his itinerary and saw that he was scheduled on a JPATS flight to Kansas City.
While it was common for U.S. Marshals to hop on these flights as needed to save on commercial airfare, he thought it odd that there was one conveniently leaving Albuquerque in an hour. The thought served to distract him momentarily until he pushed it out of his mind as he grabbed his bag to leave, believing that the availability of the flight must have been the reason that Allison Pearson had chosen him for the assignment.
He stood on the tarmac watching the plane taxi in from the runway. There was no one else waiting for the arriving flight, so he assumed someone would be disembarking. The plane came to a stop and as the door opened, he waited. A young man appeared and descended from the plane, waving Marshall over.
"Inspector Mann?" he inquired.
"Yes."
"Nice to meet you, Sir," the fledgling Marshal yelled over the noise from the plane's engine. "If you'll come with me, we'll get back in air asap."
Marshall nodded and followed, surprised to find the small plane empty. He tossed his bag in one of the overhead compartments and looked at the young man once again.
"There are no other passengers on this flight?"
"No, Sir. We did our last run to Los Angeles and were headed back to KC when we got the call to swing by and pick you up."
Marshall raised an eyebrow at the new information as the man disappeared from the cabin. He took a seat and buckled himself in, instincts telling him that there was something more going on than him being needed to assist on a prisoner transport. And for the first time since Faber's arrival, Marshall stopped obsessing over what was happening back at the office and concentrated on his own situation.
000
On ground in KC, in case ur interested. Natalie?
He had promised himself he wouldn't call and would wait to see if she bothered to contact him, but his curiosity got the better of him. Knowing he would read too much into her voice, he sent her a text instead.
'Thank you modern technology,' he thought as he hit the send button and waited.
He had spent half the flight mulling over the empty plane and trying to piece together why he was being sent to Kansas City. After not being able to come up with any logical reason, he decided to wait until he landed and could better evaluate the situation. His brain, not willing to remain idle, had immediately returned to Albuquerque.
Inspector Davis met the plane and half-heartedly welcomed Marshall to Kansas City. After several attempts at small talk, Marshall got the message and stared silently out the window for the remainder of the journey downtown. As he slid from the SUV and stretched his legs, his phone buzzed indicating there was a message. Not wanting to look too obvious, Marshall grabbed his bag and followed Davis toward the elevator before reaching into his pocket.
Tucked in at Hessie's. Don't trust her.
No mention of Faber. Marshall couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. He put the phone away as they exited the elevator and decided if he didn't hear from her again, he'd call once he was settled into his room for the night.
Davis pointed Marshall to a small conference room and disappeared down the corridor. Marshall entered to find two men chatting over coffee.
"Marshall Mann, here to assist with the prisoner transport to Chicago," he said, looking back and forth between the men, not unaware of the look that passed between them before they stood up and acknowledged him.
'Partners,' he thought, 'and not happy to see me.'
"I'm Moran," said the younger of the two. He looked to be in his mid thirties with sandy colored hair and blue eyes. Nodding in his partner's direction, an African-American a few years Marshall's senior, he added, "and this is Jenkins."
"Nice to meet you," Marshall said with a genuine smile as he held out his hand to each man, respectively. "So, which one of you will be on the transport?"
Again, Marshall watched as the partners shared a telling look. They unknowingly confirmed what he suspected in his gut; something about this assignment didn't add up.
"We're both going," Moran said. "This is our assignment."
"Then what the hell am I doing here?" Marshall asked, knowing full well it didn't take three marshals to move one prisoner.
"Honestly, we were wondering the same thing," Jenkins responded, finally speaking up. "When the chief was only given partial access to your service file, we figured you were sent here to evaluate us. Is that why you're here, Mann? Reporting back to D.C. on your fellow deputies?"
"Damn it," Marshall cursed, collapsing in one of the chairs and running his hand through his hair. "I knew it! And now, I'm sitting here when I should be back home keeping an eye on that douche bag."
It took several minutes for him to recover from the realization that someone was playing him, but he finally composed himself and explained to his peers that he was not there to spy on anyone. In reality, he wouldn't be there at all if he had been given a choice. He told them how his orders had come down that morning from his district's U.S. Marshal and it was made clear to him that it was an order.
Marshall Mann was the epitome of integrity and it radiated off of him, demanding the respect and trust of those around him. So while it took some convincing to win over Moran and Jenkins, in the end they believed him and agreed to help him get some answers in the morning. It was late and they all knew that nothing would be accomplished at that hour.
Moran dropped Marshall at his motel and confessed that whatever was going on reached far up in the political bureaucracy. Their chief, like most, was fairly well connected and had spent the entire day chasing ghosts for answers as to why an outsider was being brought in on the transfer of a prisoner when there was no security threat and it wasn't a high profile case.
Throwing his bag on a chair as he slammed the door shut behind him, Marshall was now left alone to ponder the day's events. 'When I find out who's responsible…'
They obviously didn't realize just who they were jerking around, but he planned to make damn sure his was a name they'd never forget in the future. Pulling out his phone, he dialed and waited impatiently as it rang. Once, twice, three times before finally going to voicemail.
"Hey Dan, its Marshall. Remember when you were supposed to report to the Academy and you had that small problem that I handled for you without Dad finding out. Well, it's time to return the favor, little brother. Call me as soon as you get this message, it doesn't matter what time. This is serious."
The call had barely disconnected before he was hitting the speed dial.
"Hey, Marshall," Mary said as she answered the phone and he felt his body begin to relax at the sound of her voice.
"Hey." He knew his voice sounded tired, but he didn't care. Kicking off his boots, he stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "Are the boys in Kansas City not playing nice?"
"Something like that," he muttered, not really wanting to get into all the details just yet. He had just needed to hear her voice, know that she was okay and think that, just maybe, she was missing him too.
"Marshall, it's late. Faber's witness went and got herself arrested already and the FBI has been withholding information again. And Faber's boss…the arrogant prick makes Faber look like Boy Scout of the year."
Marshall groaned at her last comment and Mary stopped talking. The idea that there was someone in the office making Faber look good made him queasy and he realized that maybe this call hadn't been such a good idea.
"Well, doofus," she began in that playful tone that he adored, "if you don't want to listen to me rant then fess up and tell me what the hell is going on with you."
"It's complicated."
"When is it not?"
"True," he admitted with a sigh. "Someone is screwing with me, Mary. There's no reason for me to be here. They already had a team assigned to the transport."
"What?" Mary barked, knowing he was dead serious. "What the hell is Pearson's problem? Is she really that inept at her job? I swear when…"
"This isn't Pearson," Marshall interrupted. "From the little I've been able to piece together so far, it came from much higher up the food chain."
"What are you going to do?"
000
The ringing pulled Marshall from his restless slumber and he fumbled for his phone.
"Dan?" he said hoarsely before attempting to clear the sleep from his throat.
"Yup, it's me. I knew I'd wake you," Dan said apologetically.
"It's fine. I'd be angry if you didn't. That's why I said it was serious." Marshall pushed the blankets aside and sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand over his face as he gathered his thoughts.
"Tell me."
Dan, like Marshall, had proudly followed in his family's footsteps and joined the Marshal Service after college. Only Dan hadn't remained a Marshal for long. When the Department of Homeland Security was formed in 2002, he had been heavily recruited and eventually joined the ranks of those working within the new agency. His family did not know what his job entailed and knew better than to ask because, like Marshall, he was not allowed to discuss it. What they did know was that he was extremely well connected.
Marshall explained the situation and his theories, then listened as his baby brother assured him that if there was something out there to find, he'd find it.
"And Marshall," Dan said, before his brother had a chance to disconnect the call.
"Yeah?"
"Don't go ruffling anyone's feathers until I can get some answers. I'll start making calls as soon as it reaches a decent hour, but I don't want to have to break down walls because someone's been tipped off."
"Dan, I can't…" Marshall interjected, attempting to interrupt and plead his case.
"You will continue on with your orders as if nothing's happened and wait for me to get back to you," Dan ordered.
Marshall sighed into the phone, knowing his brother was right. He just wished he had something to do other than think about his conspiracy theories or Faber.
"Fine, I'll behave," he relented, "but can you check on something else for me while you're at it?"
"Well, while I'm at it, why not?" the younger Mann replied sarcastically.
"I need to know what you can dig up, that's not public record, on Senator Faber's son, Michael. He's with the FBI."
"Oh, this is not only going to make us even, bro," Dan warned, "but now you're going to owe me."
"Get me something I can use against Faber," Marshall vowed, "and I'll be your whipping boy for life."
"I don't know what this guy did to rub you the wrong way, Marshall, but I'm glad I'm not him. You'll hear from me soon."
"Thanks." Marshall disconnected the call and knew that his brother would come through. He just hated the fact that he was going to have to pretend all was well while he waited.
000
Moran was at the motel to pick up Marshall at precisely 8am as planned. Throwing his bag in the back, he climbed into the passenger seat and said good morning to his colleague.
"I didn't know how you take your coffee, but there's a regular there for you if you want it," the deputy said, pointing at the cup holder nearest Marshall.
"You're a good man, Moran," he stated, reaching for the cup. Marshall had been unable to sleep after the early morning phone call from his brother and was grateful for caffeine in any form.
"So, what's the plan?" Moran asked. "We only have about an hour at the office before we need to pick up Moretti from Leavenworth. Do you want to talk to the chief about your situation?"
"I've been thinking about it," Marshall told him, "and I decided that I'm just going to tag along on the transport, if it's okay with you guys? Someone obviously wanted me here and maybe it'll be easier to find out whom if I just stay put."
"Got someone looking into it for you already, huh?"
"Something like that," Marshall admitted, taking another sip of coffee.
It was already after 9am in D.C. and he knew his brother would be well on the way to uncovering who was behind Pearson's orders. His eyes drifted down to the hot beverage in his hand and he wondered if Mary had had her first cup yet, hoping that Faber hadn't been the one to provide it.
The prisoner transport to Chicago went smoothly and Marshall was now hunkered down in Chicago watching over Moretti with Moran and Jenkins for the length of the trial.
It had worked out to everyone's advantage that there was an extra person on board, allowing each marshal some down time as they rotated shifts. Marshall used his time to follow up with his brother and check in with Mary. She had been keeping him apprised of the Natalie situation via text messages, so he knew they were going after the boyfriend.
He had no doubt that Mary had the case under control, despite having to overcome Faber and his boss, but he was still on edge. She had only mentioned Faber once, when she was complaining about the fact that she had to tell him how to do his job. And it was this lack of disclosure regarding her interaction with Faber that was twisting his gut into knots.
At the end of the second day of trial, and his fourth day away from home, he received a phone call from Pearson's office telling him that he was no longer needed and could return to Albuquerque the next day. Marshall knew instantly that his brother had finally put the puzzle together and used the information to get him sent home. And sure enough, by the time he reached the motel and logged into his computer, there was an encrypted message from Dan.
As Marshall read through the information on the computer screen, a wicked grin formed on his face. He pulled out his phone and typed.
Be back tomorrow bearing gifts
000
Even with the knowledge he now possessed, Marshall's stomach sank as he watched how Mary reacted to Faber. There was no doubt in his mind that the days of his absence had been filled with flirtation and he refused to let his mind think about what possibilities the nights had held.
As he watched Faber walk out of the office, he reached into his bag and pulled out the folder containing printouts of the information from his brother. He wasn't surprised that Mary had reacted to Faber the way she had because he knew that she would. Even after all these years, she was still falling into the same self destructive routine. Clutching the folder, he walked over to her desk and hoped that this time maybe the lesson would be learned.
"So, you and Faber got along okay?" Marshall inquired, trying to keep his own feelings in check.
Mary just shrugged and looked away, reconfirming his fears. Then right on cue, she changed the subject.
"So…where is it?" she asked.
"Where's what?" Marshall responded, playing along.
"C'mon, doofus, I know there's no way you came back from Kansas City without barbecue, so fork it over already."
"No how are you, Marshall? Good to have you back, Marshall?"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she said, falling back into their usual banter.
Marshall took the folder and tossed on her desk.
"What's this?"
"Consider it a souvenir," he answered with a nod indicating she should open it.
She glared at him a moment before reaching for the file.
"There so better be barbecue or you're going wish you stayed in Kansas City." Her eyes glanced over the information on the first page and her expression grew serious. As she quickly flipped through the rest of the pages she inquired, "What the hell is this, Marshall?"
"The answer as to why Allison Pearson assigned me to the prisoner transport," Marshall stated. "Take it into the conference room, I'm gonna grab Stan. I think he'll want to see it."
The three of them sat in silence after Marshall finished explaining what his brother had found. It was a labyrinth of whispered threats, special requests and direct orders that eventually led back to one person; the only person that directly benefitted from Marshall's absence that week.
"That rat bastard," Mary cursed as she stood and moved to the window. She couldn't believe that she had fallen for his I'm reformed all because of you routine and it made her sick to her stomach that she had actually been considering seeing him again.
"Even though he doesn't talk to his father anymore, it appears he has no scruples about using his connections," Marshall added. Part of him wished he could comfort Mary in some way, but a voice in his head was telling him that it was about time she got a wakeup call.
"Well," Stan said, getting up from the table and picking up the file, "Agent Faber has messed with the wrong people this time. If you'll excuse me, I have a call to make to Allison Pearson." Stan smiled as he left the room, leaving his inspectors alone.
"He came to my house, Marshall," Mary confessed, "and I didn't send him away." She turned to face her partner and the look on his face revealed his thoughts. "No, nothing happened, but he certainly was persistent."
"That's an abuse of power, Mary. He had no right to call in favors in order to get your address. And as far as everything else, it's sexual harassment." Marshall walked around the table and stood next to her. "You have every right to be angry and shouldn't have had to deal with it."
"Somehow knowing that doesn't make me feel any better about it," Mary said with a heavy sigh. "Why the hell do I keep letting myself get sucked in by such assholes?"
"I don't know, Mare," Marshall lied, "but what I do know is that you, and only you, can break the cycle."
She looked up at him with a half smile and that lost look that never failed to make him melt.
"I know what will cheer you up," he said with a smile.
"Barbecue?" she asked in a voice filled with hope.
"Kansas City's best."
000
They sat at the island in her kitchen, waiting for the ribs to warm up when the doorbell rang. Marshall raised an eyebrow in question and she shrugged as she stood up to answer the door.
"Hey," Faber said as he put on his most charming smile. She saw the bottle of wine and knew he was looking for a repeat of the previous evening.
"Faber," Mary called out louder than necessary, causing him to look at her oddly. "It's so funny that you're here. We were just talking about you."
"We?" Faber asked, noting a change in her demeanor from earlier in the day that confused him and he waited for her response.
"Hey, Marshall, Faber's here," she shouted back over her shoulder as she opened the door wider, allowing Faber a better view as Marshall made his way toward them.
"Agent Faber," Marshall said calmly as he reached out and took the bottle of wine from a stupefied Faber. He scanned the label. "This will go very nicely with dinner. Don't you think so, Mary?"
"Definitely," she responded, smiling up at Marshall.
"Now, if you'll excuse us," Marshall said as he reached around Mary for the door, eyes challenging Faber to make a move.
Faber knew when he'd been beat and wondered if it was too late to bow out gracefully. His thoughts were answered by Mary as she stopped Marshall from closing the door.
"You're done in Albuquerque, Faber," Mary informed him, "and if I hear your name again, you'll be done period."
She turned and walked back into the house. And as Marshall closed the door in Faber's face, he grinned and took his parting shot.
"See you, kitten."
If only it would have ended that way. At least we can create our own little universe where is does. Considering I'm new at this one-shot thing, I would love to hear your thoughts.
So Please review.