A/N: I have returned, folks! It's taken me awhile, but I am finally back with a new tale. It hardly strays from my norm – pregnancy is forever involved, but this time in an entirely different capacity, as shown on the synopsis. I want to say upfront that whatever way I choose to portray this story; I am in no way trying to diminish the circumstances. It is a topic not spoken about nearly enough, but it is never my intention to offend, especially if I have readers who have gone through it.
Anyway, this takes place in the middle of season four, roughly a week or so after the episode, "I'm a Liver, not a Fighter." That means Marshall knows Mary is pregnant, but no one else, as Stan isn't clued in until the following episode, and Jinx and Brandi after.
Hope you'll enjoy the start!
XXX
It happened on a Thursday.
To the naked eye, it was any old Thursday; just that simple day of the week prior to the welcoming Friday. It was the middle of June, and the southwest's burning heat had not yet reached its tipping point. Only at noon would the sun swing itself high into the sky and beat, strobe-like, against the desert plains. Otherwise, it was moderately warm; if not unbearably dry from lack-of-rain. The weather stations had been touting drought conditions for what seemed like weeks now.
This Thursday – Thursday morning, specifically – was deceptively mundane and routine. Mary performed all the ordinary rituals before she headed out for a long day of work. She woke at seven, and groped for her phone on the bedside table to see if there were any messages from Marshall. This particular sunrise, he had left her two texts regarding a witness in Santa Fe. The volume was a little under-average, but nothing to write home about.
She was off to the shower after dragging herself from the bed, and this prompted the first anomaly of an otherwise humdrum dawn. While she stood as the hot water rushed over her smooth, unspoiled skin, her lower belly started to ache.
Thinking of it as an 'anomaly' was really pushing it, Mary reflected as she reached for the soap. Much to her chagrin, she'd been experiencing more than the usual amount of pains with the child she was toting around. Although it irked her, it was certainly nothing she couldn't handle. She'd had a bit of a restless night anyway, finding it difficult to become comfortable. It was probably fatigue – and hunger – causing the twinges.
Unfortunately, the shower was the perfect place to examine her rapidly-protruding form. Unlike most pregnant women she'd observed – which wasn't many – Mary wasn't exactly round. She was more…thick. Or pudgy. Or paunchy. Those were the words she constantly used to describe her appearance to Marshall. In some ways, it was a blessing that her weight had settled across rather than all over. It just made her look fat instead of pregnant, which came in handy since she was trying to hide her condition from everyone imaginable.
In any case, she wasn't showing much at only sixteen weeks. Her plump quality was mostly contained to her face and midsection. To the unobservant eye, you would notice nothing out-of-place. It was her own damn bad luck that her Poindexter partner was as attentive as they came.
Abandoning her shower and pushing the aches out of her mind, Mary progressed to drying her hair only halfway, allowing the rest to air out on its own while she ate her breakfast. Perusing the newspaper, she munched pieces of toast in case the meal decided to come up later, thinking she'd been fortunate so far today to have escaped morning sickness.
Her phone buzzed with a third text while she pondered the day's schedule, and she glanced to see words from her sister. Lighting the little screen with a hasty roll of her eyes, she squinted to read the latest.
Mark and I chatted on Facebook for two hours last night. No way is he this happy from just one visit – if you know what I mean! If you don't tell me what went down, I may have to use other methods to figure it out… ;)
Mary gave an annoyed sigh, and changed her mind twice before she eventually palmed her Blackberry and dialed the digits to Brandi's cell. Ordinarily, she never would've given her the satisfaction, but she was tired of this game. It was time she minded her own business. Besides, she would figure out Mark's place in her life soon enough.
Brandi answered after only one ring.
"Hellooooo?" she sang girlishly, and much too coyly for Mary's liking.
"Cut the crap, Squish," was Mary's less-than-cheerful greeting. "The romantic, insinuating texts have gotta stop. I do have important stuff coming in on my phone, believe it or not."
"Well, then I think you should make it easier on yourself," Brandi suggested deviously through the speaker. "Meet me for lunch and spill your guts."
That, of course, was out of the question, and would've been even if Mary's day wasn't booked. She hadn't seen Brandi since getting knocked-up, and now wasn't the time to start. She'd go running to Jinx, who would have a complete fit. Telling them she wasn't keeping the baby wasn't a conversation she was willing to have yet.
"I'm supposed to reward you for poking your big nose into my private business?" Mary snapped with authority. "Fat chance of that."
"Oh, Mare; come onnnnnnn…" Brandi whined childishly. "Mark won't tell me anything either…!"
"Gee, you'd think that would give you some sort of hint," Mary slid in; taking a sip of her milk and wishing it were coffee. She contented herself that it was too warm for coffee anyway. It made it feel as though she was giving up the beverage for practical reasons.
"What are you so worried about anyway?" Brandi pressed eagerly. "If really nothing happened, you'd say so. So, it's like I already know that you and Mark did the nasty…"
"Squish, grow up," the older sister snapped sharply. "Get a life. Go to work. Leave me alone."
Brandi huffed impatiently, creating static through the phone, but seemed relatively undeterred by Mary's harshness. After all, they were used to one another. She'd fallen prey to Mary's ill-tempered attitudes many-many times in the thirty-three years they'd been sisters. It was plain she was simply trying to figure out if it was worth it to continue haranguing, and sending Mary on the warpath.
"You're even more sour than usual today," was her eventual response. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, did you?" she sounded impossibly superior.
Mary could envision her in her mind's-eye; the short, coarse blonde hair; the blue eyes squinty and skeptical, with just a hint of a smirk on her perpetually innocent face. A hand would be fixed firmly on her hip, as though she had been denied some grand pleasure by Mary's inability to fess up.
"Funny. I was fine until you called," Mary insulted in response to Brandi's equally offensive remark. She took a chomp of her toast, the butter lukewarm on her tongue. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"
"Peter said I didn't have to come in until ten today," Brandi informed her.
"Guess you get to bend the rules when you're engaged to the boss," Mary griped, roving her taste buds over her lips to catch stray cinnamon.
It was a tantalizing breakfast; the butter was rich and creamy; the cinnamon so sweet her teeth tingled. At the same time, the combination made her feel faintly off-kilter. The aroma seemed to seep into her stomach and churn, prompting further aches; a strident cramp against her belly. Mary could only guess this became the norm the longer you were pregnant.
"Will you at least see me this weekend?" Brandi was pressuring incessantly, whining now. "Please? It's been forever. You keep telling me you're busy…"
"It's not a lie, Squish," the older sister cut in.
"If I promise not to pester you, can we at least have dinner?"
Mary contemplated as quickly as she could, trying not to give Brandi a pause that was too lengthy, lest she arouse suspicion. It was true she was not going to be able to keep her sister – or her mother – at bay for much longer. If she continued to expand as she already was, the whole world would be able to tell she was with child. She already had the feeling Stan and Delia knew something.
Maybe the right time to deliver the news was presenting itself, especially if Brandi swore not to harass her to death. All her questions would be answered by then anyway.
"I don't know…" she was noncommittal, swiping up adrift bits of cinnamon from her plate and licking her finger. "I don't know what'll be going on at work."
"Do you seriously work on Saturday?" Brandi was disbelieving.
"Criminals don't take off on weekends."
On that note, her call waiting kicked in with an obnoxious, shrill beeping that made her jump. For a hardened US Marshal, she'd been strangely skittish about such a routine noise. Maybe it was because she'd thought the somewhat well-balanced breakfast would provide relief from her twisting innards, but no such luck. Toast devoured, milk gulped, and she was still off-center. Perhaps she'd inhaled too quickly.
"Brandi, I've gotta go…" she said hurriedly, hoping to distract the sibling by sounding important and all-knowing. With a quick glance at her ID, "Marshall's calling."
"All right…" Brandi bemoaned childishly with a hugely theatrical sigh. "But, will you call me later? Please? Pretty please?"
More visions burst into Mary's mind; Brandi down on her hands and knees, fingers intertwined and clutched together, for starters. Like some praying, porcelain doll. She was desperate for a little bit of gossip.
"Fine, yes…" Mary relented, wanting to scream because the bleeping right against her lobe was giving her a headache. "If I have a second at lunch, I'll call back."
As she rarely pinned down specific time frames, Brandi seized her opportunity with glee, "Okay! Have a good day! Bye!"
To Mary's astonishment, she hung up first, leaving the more rational of the two to answer Marshall. He had to wonder what had become of her, because she hardly ever allowed her cell to ring more than twice. In their line of work, you had to be ready at the first sound of the alarm.
"Hey…" she greeted him flatly, draining the last few swirls of her milk and standing to put her dirty dishes in the sink. "Phoning me before eight o'clock – before I've even managed to get out the door. Pretty sad your life has come to such things, doofus."
What she meant by this comment was that she recognized they probably had a busy day ahead of them if she needed to be called before arriving at the office. She masked it by pretending Marshall did not have better things to do than sit by the phone waiting for the action to begin.
"Aren't you in a chipper mood this A.M…" her partner sang brightly from the other end. "Lost your breakfast yet?" being the only one who knew she was pregnant; he was the only one who knew about her morning sickness as well.
"It's only been down three minutes," she informed him snidely, clamping the cell between her ear and shoulder while she ran water on the plate and mug. "And, it's not going to be the food that makes me toss my cookies," even as her gut tightened uncomfortably. "It'll be my snoopy sister."
Marshall was rather unsympathetic and superior, "You can't expect her to lie in wait forever. She's smart enough to know when she's being avoided…"
"That's debatable…"
"And, once she gets a look at you, the jig will be up, my friend," he went on smugly. "Cat out of the bag. Indisputable…"
"That's really flattering," Mary interrupted his babble with great annoyance. "That you think I look so much like a hippopotamus at only sixteen weeks."
There was no denying it, however. She was definitely pudgy, and the continued soreness in her lower abdomen only reminded her of this fact. Instead of digging into Marshall though, she skated past the subject of her expectancy to more important matters.
"Is there a particular reason you called?" she asked before he could respond. "I'm gonna be at the office in fifteen."
"Actually, yes," Marshall admitted, seeing she was definitely through with the pregnancy talk, at least for the moment. "Would you mind heading out and checking on Simon and the troops?" he was their latest witness; a young father with a two-year-old daughter that had just gotten settled in Albuquerque. "Unless you feel the presence of child in the flesh would put undue strain on your already tenuous condition."
"Go suck an egg, Marshall," Mary snapped without mercy. "Yes, I'll drop by, and then I'll be in."
"Copy that," the man declared with nary a response to such insults.
And when Mary abandoned her cell, she reflected with some satisfaction that at least this portion of her life – the Marshall portion – remained as steady and consistent as ever. Ordinary.
As it should be, on this, the seemingly run of the mill Thursday.
XXX
A/N: Not a very long start, but it'll pick up! I'd love to know what you think!
