A/N: For the sake of this story, we're going to petend that Mary and Marshall have been partners for more like 5-6 years instead of 3-4. I have no clue just how long this will end up being, as I don't write chronologically. I like to write the interesting parts first and then go back and fill in the gaps. So, I'm not entirely sure how it'll all play out, but I hope you enjoy the ride.
Inspired by the friendship Marshall shared with Norman from "Duplicate Bridge," and the idea that, every now and then, a witness becomes deeply enmeshed in a marshal's heart.
Reviews lure my muse out of hiding. =)
~Four Years Ago~
The phone rang. Marshall swatted at the nightstand in the dark till he found his prey. "Stan," read the illuminated display. Along with the time: 12:13 a.m. on a Saturday Marshall groaned—no way Stan was calling at this hour with good news. He finally answered on the third ring: "Hey chief, what's up?"
Stan didn't waste time with niceties. "Shit hit the fan at the St. Paul office. They've got a leak and an attempt was made on a witness. She's ours now. You and Mary are heading out there tonight."
"Goody," muttered Marshall as he got out of bed.
"Don't suppose you'd like to be the one to call you partner?" asked Stan.
"Nice try, Stan."
Stan sighed. "It was worth a shot. I'll meet you at the office with details."
"Be there in twenty."
Marshall heard rather than saw Mary's car as the purple heap rattled and wheezed into the parking lot. When she got out of the car he noticed her makeup was smeared and she wore yesterday's outfit.
"You weren't, by any chance, in the middle of something?" Marshall said with a smirk.
"It was more of an 'on top of' than a 'middle,'" replied Mary, tucking in her shirt.
Marshall opened the door and Mary led the way into the lobby of the Sunshine Building, still straightening her clothes. "Thanks for the visual—that was wholly unnecessary," he cracked.
Mary pushed the button for the elevator and smiled. "You're welcome."
On the seventh floor, Mary and Marshall met up with Stan, who was already in a conference room with a file spread out on the table. He explained that the St. Paul office had experienced a massive security breach and the entire office was in lockdown. Another witness in a separate case had been gunned down while picking up his dry cleaning. Marshals from outside the area were being brought in to look after witnesses until the source of the breach could be confirmed.
"Turns out that the same marshal, one Inspector Mark Andersen, was in charge of both witnesses," said Stan. He showed his inspectors a photo of a white man in his late fifties; hazy blue eyes peered out from amidst a thick coif of hair, plus a full beard and mustache, all of which were a suspiciously uniform shade of dark brown.
Mary tilted her head, studying the photo. "I'm sure it simply must be a coincidence."
"I bet," replied Marshall.
Stan continued. "Marshall's going to be in charge on this one." Mary opened her mouth to protest, but Stan stopped her with a look. "And we don't have time to argue about it now."
Marshall threw Mary a self-satisfied smirk. She returned it with a scowl. "What's her story?" asked Marshall..
Stan touched on the witness' history, pointing out relevant documents from the file. "Betsy Warner, age 23, originally of New Orleans. Her testimony's key to dismantling one of the largest prostitution, gambling, and counterfeiting operations in the US. Entered Witness Protection six months ago, has been living in St. Paul since then."
"Wow, that's one hell of a conglomerate," said Marshall, studying a long list of criminal charges filed by the federal prosecutor.
"Makes perfect sense," said Mary. "Lose money gambling, just go print some more. Lemme guess, she's a hooker?"
"Was a hooker," Stan corrected. "And until last night, she was Betsy Walters, department-store makeup salesgirl."
Mary looked up from a photo of Betsy. "One of those helmet-haired attack dogs with the perfume and the racing-stripe blush? I liked her better when she was a hooker."
~To be continued~