Author's Note: You know, I missed most of finale because I was afraid of seeing the wedding that should not be happening in the first place but eventually I saw the last fifteen minutes and…oh, I just wanted to give both Mary and Marshall a hug. Poor babies. And even though she was all shot and dying and stuff, I couldn't help but squee a bit when he kissed her brow. I mean, it's not a kiss on the lips (or a "lipstick smear') but it's a start, right? Or is it an ending? I mean, Mary looked like hell…
That's one of the reasons I hate season finales…they always leave them open ended so they can get viewers for next season.
So in an effort to take my mind off of my bleeding M&M heart, I'll write. I'm going to incorporate O'Connor (even though I fucking hated him) and bring in Stan. He's my favorite character on the show, after Mary and Marshall, of course, and I want him to have some screen time in this story. I may bring in Eleanor later but I'm not sure yet. I'm playing it by ear.
Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"
"You ready for this?"
She sighed and replied honestly, "No. But, I want to get it over with, if not so I can get the Fed germs out of my house."
"Fed germs?" he chuckled.
"Hell, yeah, fed germs! I'm going to have to burn all the furniture and get one of those humidifier things and I'll even have to clean under the couch. I'll probably find the Holy Grail or maybe my mother's sanity." she grumbled as she fussed with the ties on her…his sweats.
This whole time she had been rotating between her pajamas and the emergency change of clothes she kept in the SUV. Since she had been summoned by the Feds, Marshall had insisted on her wearing something a little cleaner. Luckily they were close to the same height. His clothes were a little tight on her in areas (he was too goddamned skinny) but at least she looked presentable. And his t-shirt smelled good, a blend of sand, Gain, and a clean, natural Marshall musk. The looks he gave her when he thought she wasn't looking told her that he liked the sight of her in his clothes…and possibly out of them.
One good thing about Brandi getting tangled up with Chucklehead's drugs was that the few blinders she had were ripped off, particularly the ones pertaining to the man next to her. Marshall wanted her. Any idiot could see it by the way he took care of her, the way he looked at her, the way he always found excuses to touch her, and if the idiot still didn't believe it, all she'd have to do is bring up the look he gave her when she was in that black sequined nightie passing for a dress. He had looked like he wanted to haul her into the back of the truck and then give her a new, better reason to groan. And of course, the kiss in that nasty ass stable... lipstick smear, her ass! How could she have come up with something so weak? It was worse the vacuum cleaner accident excuse for hickies. It had been a kiss and a damned good one at that. Raph had kissed good, too but his had never made her toes curl or her heart go into double time and he had done it for many times for years. Marshall had kissed her once for like 10 seconds and she had felt like she was going to burst into flames.
Of course, she had to be her and blow it off as a fluke so things wouldn't change.
She hated change. Change sucked but perhaps now was the time for one between them…
"Mary!"
She jumped and looked at him with annoyance.
"Jesus, Marshall. What the hell?"
"We're here."
///////////////
The house was a disaster. Drawers thrown open, furniture overturned, and bottles of alcohol everywhere, along with empty pizza boxes. Apparently, the FBI had made themselves quite at home. Marshall felt the rage return stronger than ever and he barely resisted the urge to shoot the smug looking FBI blowhard standing at the counter, flanked by two other agents.
"Glad you could join us, Inspector Shannon. I'm Special Agent Robert O'Connor."
"You and the rest of the Mickey Mouse Club will be fixing my house or I will shoot you all in the nuts."
Marshall was now biting back his laughter. It was typical Mary: blunt, rude, and trigger happy.
"It will be fixed. Of course, that is after you answer some questions." O'Connor said while holding a stack of files like they were a weapon. To his horror, the files were neatly labeled with her father, mother, and sister's names. The bastard was trying to turn it into a witch hunt by pinning their crap on her.
To his surprise, Mary laughed.
"You really think you can faze me with my family's dirty laundry? I lived through it. Seeing it in ink and paper doesn't make a difference. Besides, my record's clean and that's the one that the head honchos really care about. So, go ahead and ask your questions."
O'Connor's face darkened and he asked, "What is your relationship with Charles Johnson?"
"He's my sister's idiot crank peddling boyfriend. I don't have a relationship with him. He's a sleaze and no better than the gum under my boots."
"Did you know about you sister's involvement in drug trafficking?"
"Not until 2 days ago."
"How did you come across the drugs in the first place?"
"Brandi steals not only my sanity but my clothes. I was looking for my boots and I figured she stowed them in the suitcase so she could take them back to Jersey. I opened it and there they were. I immediately called the police afterwords."
"And can you verify that?" O'Connor asked him, trying to trap Mary in a lie.
Instead of answering, Marshall merely pulled a transcript out of his own folder and read it to him.
"PD dispatch got her call at approximately 6:45AM and Inspector Shannon said and I quote: "There is a suitcase full of drugs in my house! My sister…my damned sister brought them in here and it's a lot, at least 10 pounds! Send someone to get it out of my house!" and after Ms. Sanford hesitated, she continued by saying, 'Look, if you're not going to do anything, then I will. I'm not having these drugs in my damn house for another second. I don't think the city would take too kindly to having a shitload of crank in the sewer system.' Now, I may be just a lowly Witness Protection drone but that doesn't sound like accessory to drug trafficking to me. What about you, Agent O'Connor?"
The man's jaw ticked and he snatched the transcript out of his hands as he stalked out of the house.
"Hey, Agent Asshole! What about my house?!" Mary hollered after him.
The screech of a truck angrily being driven off was her only reply.
"Well, that was rude." Marshall deadpanned.
"Ya think? Well, it looks like Tweedledee and Tweedledum will be helping us out, eh?" Mary replied as she tossed him a roll of garbage bags and headed to find a push broom.
One of the agents made to protest but Marshall reminded him, "You two helped mess it up and your ride just left you to have his hissy fit in private. Now, you two can start by getting all the bottles out of here. It looks like the bar from Cheers threw up in here."
//////////////
The pounding on the door made him look up from the stack of paperwork and draw his gun. Usually, deranged psychopaths didn't knock but it was better to be safe than sorry. After all, Albuquerque could pretty wild when it felt like it.
Funny that it always feels like it when my inspectors are involved…
The pounding became louder and Stan McQueen came into the bullpen, only to see O'Connor. He only knew him for a couple of days and Stan already knew that he hated his guts. The bastard was obviously making it personal and seemed to be determined to take Mary down with her idiot of a sister. What Stan didn't understand was why. Why was he so driven? Had Mary pissed him off in the past? It was highly likely but to his knowledge, they hadn't met until today.
"What do you want?"
"I need access to Shannon's file!"
"It's Inspector Shannon and you're not getting a damned thing without a warrant, which no sane judge would ever give you. Go home, Agent O'Connor."
"I could have you arrested for interfering in an FBI investigation!"
"And I could have your sorry ass back on the first thing smoking to Quantico for harassment and the fact that you're emotionally involved in this case! You've got Brandi, you've got her supplier, and you've got the biggest drug bust here since the 70s! What more do you want?!"
"She is involved somehow and I'm going to figure out how! You and that partner of hers won't be able to protect her, forever!" the agent snarled before stalking out of the office.
Yeah, well, we're here for now and you're not getting a fucking thing on her…not if I can help it.
Nobody would expect the little bald man to be fierce but when it came to the ones he cared about, Stan McQueen was not to be trifled with.
He would protect Mary and Marshall from all this hell if was the last thing he'd do.
