*** It's time for them to just take care of each other for a little while. Both haunted by regret and doubt. A chapter to just breathe. ***


The calm before the storm : a quiet or peaceful period before a period during which there is great activity, argument or unpleasantness


Mary didn't know how long she had cried into Marshall's shoulder, but his arms never loosened and his whispered assurances never ceased for the duration. She knew his tears were also falling as she could feel the occasional hitch in his breath and hear his sniffles. She hadn't intended to cause her partner pain, but the compassion demonstrated by the shared tears was comforting nonetheless.

It was time to pull herself together, Mary decided, knowing this release had lightened the burden enough to now plow forward with renewed determination, no longer weighed down by doubts about her partner's reaction. She consciously slowed her breaths and swallowed further sobs, concentrating on the sounds of Marshall's kitchen to reel her back into the present. The hum of the fridge, tick of the wall clock and occasional creak of the floor boards underneath them as Marshall shifted to keep them balanced. It was then that Mary realized how heavily she was leaning on him, and she settled her weight completely back onto her own two feet.

Her sobs had been heart wrenching, shaking her from head to toe, and he had tried to hold her as tightly as possible in order to absorb as much of her pain as he could. She hadn't said a single word, just cried while clinging to him, and he was thankful for her trust. Thankful that he could provide this comfort that she so desperately needed and would not seek from anyone else. Marshall wanted to keep her in his arms, but knew this woman would not show weakness for long and would need to climb back into her armor in order to survive. As if she read his mind, Marshall felt Mary shift away from him and loosen her grip.

"You all right?" he asked quietly.

"I've made a mess of your jacket," Mary noted as she lifted her head, grimacing.

Marshall grinned, "That's why I pay Mr. Kwon the big bucks. He's a wizard with the stains I bring in, and he never asks any questions."

He made the joke as he understood Mary's need to calm down and move back toward normal.

Mary smiled weakly with a quick glance at him before directing her gaze downward and ducking her head while tucking a few loose pieces of her hair behind her ear with a shaky hand. Marshall slid his hands back to her arms and steadied her on her feet as she wobbled slightly.

"You don't look too good there, partner," Marshall observed, concerned.

She didn't feel too good, as hunger, fatigue and injury all combined to sap her strength and tax her endurance.

"I'm going to have to skip the fine dining experience tonight. Got anything I can eat while lying down?"

"Not to worry. Chef Marshall will not disappoint," he assured her with a grin, then turned serious again as she grunted while shifting her weight.

"Come on, let's get you over to the couch. You're done for the night."

Mary would've protested his assistance if she had the energy, but even she knew when enough was enough. Her partner walked her over to the couch with his arm around her waist and let her hold on to him as she slowly and painfully manuevered herself into a reclining position. Mary blew out a slow breath while squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to will her body to relax.

Marshall felt every grimace, grunt and moan as if it were a knife shoved into his gut. He helped her get comfortable as best he could, coaxing her to place some strategic pillows to hopefully relieve some of the aches. Taking off her tennis shoes, he placed a blanket over her and sat carefully on the edge of the cushions in front of her.

"I'm giving you another pain pill with dinner. You can't rest like this."

Mary just nodded in agreement, eyes still closed, not trusting herself to be able to look at him without suffering another lapse in emotional control at this point. Her partner smoothed some hair away from her face and tucked the blanket a little more securely around her shoulders. She felt him shift his weight, and then he placed a light kiss on her temple before rising to head back into the kitchen.

For Mary, the gesture carried affection, acceptance and respect, and she knew she had done the right thing by telling him. She had to quietly wipe away a few more tears of gratitude provoked by his action, but her soul was definitely lighter. No longer having to debate the issue with herself, she could turn her efforts towards some physical healing and again tried to relax and get some rest while her partner prepared some food.

Marshall decided to grill some burgers as being outside would give him more of a chance to take out his anger on the utensils without his partner knowing about it. It had taken an iron force of will to calmly settle Mary onto the couch and patiently wait for her to get comfortable while his own emotions were screaming for release. Every bruise he could see on her, every catch in her step and exclamation of pain was a personal affront, and if he wasn't here taking care of her, he would be hunting O'Connor down for a private lesson in interrogation techniques. The FBI agent had no idea he had drawn the stand-in straw for Marshall's revenge, being the only living player in this saga within reach and not under Mary's protection.

The burgers got an extra dose of tenderizing as he threw them onto the grill with vigor, tamping them down with a growl. Marshall stood back from the grill with a deep breath, rolling his head to release some tension in his neck and shoulders. He needed to shelve this for a while until he had time to think without worrying about his partner. They'd only feed off each other's stress right now, and he definitely wanted her to have the chance to finally rest, the six hours of sleep she had this morning not nearly enough recovery time.

Gathering condiments and pulling some French fries out of the oven, Marshall set up the food and carried it into the family room. Mary was asleep, he could tell by her relaxed face, and he was momentarily loathe to wake her but then remembered she hadn't eaten in over twenty four hours. He took her plate and waved it under her nose while calling her name.

Mary's eyes opened slowly as the mouth watering smell of Marshall's special hamburger seasoning filled her nose.

"You are a god," she croaked as she levered herself up and reached for the plate. Her eyes fell on Marshall's scraped and slightly swollen knuckles.

"What did you do to your hand? It wasn't like that yesterday." She looked at him suspiciously, "You didn't punch O'Connor, did you?"

"Not yet," he drawled, avoiding her eyes and taking a big bite of his burger.

She narrowed her eyes at him as she swirled a fry in her ketchup. "Don't take this on, Cowboy. I'm pretty sure Stan would frown on more than one of us being in trouble with the law at any point in time, and I've already racked up assault charges, guaranteed."

"If O'Connor pulls another stunt like he did today, your assault charges will pale by comparison." Marshall gave her a meaningful look.

She sighed and shook her head, "He's a prick, nothing more. There's something hinky about his crusade against my sister."

"Well, other than Spanky and the tweakers from the hotel, Brandi is the only live body left to lay the blame on for the blown deal and missing merchandise." He watched her carefully for signs of distress, but she seemed to just be thinking.

Mary really didn't want to think about her sister as an accessory to anything other than poor fashion choices, but her partner was right. Brandi's role in this fiasco was going to be dissected a million ways to yesterday, and she should probably start trying to think about this like a marshal and not a big sister.

"We really need to talk to Squish about those drugs. I'm not entirely convinced she doesn't know where they are," Mary reluctantly offered, "She had them, or thought she had them, when Spanky called her."

Marshall put his burger down and looked at her hard, "What do you mean, 'when Spanky called her'?"

Mary looked up at him in surprise, "After they dragged Chuck downstairs. Didn't she tell anyone?"

"Why don't you fill me in?"

Mary squinted with recall, "They threw Chuckles down next to my chair, he saw me and spilled the beans that I was the wrong sister. Asshole. So Spanky called Brandi and told her he had us and wanted the drugs. I don't know what she said, probably tried to cry her way out of a tight spot." Mary took a few breaths before continuing in a monotone, trying not to stir up emotions, "She must've been dicking around, because Spanky suddenly drew on us and told her to make a choice…me or Chuck."

Marshall saw Mary's jaw clench and she dipped her chin to regard her plate of food, speech momentarily forgotten. He waited.

"She couldn't decide, apparently, and I guess I just got lucky when he chose to blow Chuck's head off instead of mine," the words were low and angry as she abused a fry.

Marshall was appalled. Mary's own sister, the woman who his partner would protect with her life, had carelessly left the fate of her older sister in the hands of a cranked up psychopath because she couldn't see fit to take the blame for her own mess.

"You're telling me Brandi knew where you were all that time and she didn't tell us?" Marshall was livid, and Mary could see the hardness in his eyes.

"No, I don't think she knew where I was," she said cautiously, wanting to talk her partner down, "she would've told you that. She just knew Spanky had us…me. She was supposed to meet him with the drugs but apparently she never showed. Spanky was not amused." Mary concentrated on her burger, not wanting to think through the events any further at this point.

"Well this just gets better and better," Marshall mumbled darkly as he got up to get more fries. It was an excuse to channel anger into movement instead of words.

Mary just turned her mind to enjoying the taste of the burger and tried not to let herself be affected by her partner's rising anger. Tried not to think of how Brandi would react to an angry Marshall Mann. Her sister had never seen Marshall worked up, and Mary suspected Brandi would likely wet herself if subjected to his fury. She had to make sure she was with her sister when the questioning occurred in order to run interference.

"Why don't we go talk to her tomorrow at the hotel?" she suggested as Marshall sat back down in the recliner.

"Do you really think you'll be up for traipsing around town tomorrow?"

"I'm not even going to discuss that with you. If you or Stan think I'm going to sit back and watch you two do all the work…" she let the sentence hang with obvious displeasure.

Marshall rolled his eyes when she wasn't looking. "Your presence will only be inflammatory during this investigation, Mare, but," he held up a finger in her direction as she opened her mouth to protest, "I already told Stan you'd be with me. Easier to keep you out of trouble if I can lay eyes on you."

"Nice," she sneered at him with a chin toss, secretly pleased by his preemptive strike.

"And yes," he continued as she went back to eating, "we can go by the hotel to talk to your sister tomorrow. Now eat and take the meds. It's an early bedtime for you, young lady."

Mary just gave him a long suffering look and sigh, turned on the TV and did exactly what he told her to.

*** *** *** ***

Marshall watched the lights of the far away aircraft silently cut a path through the stars as he slowly turned the tumbler in his fingers. The neighborhood was quiet at this early morning hour, and only the distant hoot of an owl broke the stillness. He sat outside in one of the deck chairs, toes curled into the cool grass and whiskey bottle on the table next to him, trying to banish the remnants of the nightmare and redirect his dark thoughts.

Sleep had been elusive, even after he was sure Mary was comfortable and tucked in for the night. He had tossed and turned with attempts at slumber, finally falling into fitful dreams that woke him with his own yell. Luckily, he didn't hear any stirring from the guest room, so his partner had slept on. Deciding that fresh air and aged alcohol was the remedy for chasing away the cobwebs, Marshall had quietly retreated to the back patio to think.

He could still hear Mary's cries echoing in his mind from his nightmare. She had been calling for him, yelling at him to hurry, but he couldn't find her. There had been walls everywhere, forming hallways that led nowhere, and her screams had become more and more frantic while he ran. He began to yell back at her, asking her where to go, but she couldn't seem to hear him. Then there had been the sudden silence, and that's when his body jerked upwards in the bed as he awakened. The silence was more terrifying that her cries. The silence that meant she was gone.

He tossed back the alcohol and tipped the bottle over the glass for a refill, fingers shaking slightly as he again broke out in a sweat despite the cool, night air. Hours had been spent in mental gymnastics the night they had found her as Marshall had re-examined half remembered evidence for the clues he was sure he had missed. Replaying conversations, reconfiguring timelines and motives, reconnecting dots that had nothing to do with each other in the first place. Trying to make it all add up to finding her before the situation had spiraled out of control. Now he was at it again, but this time the regrets and self recriminations were wrapped with razor wire and every twist and turn was exquisitely painful.

Why hadn't he seen that license plate number on her notepad right away? Why hadn't he demanded to talk to Brandi right then to find out more about Chuck? Why had he tolerated the FBI dragging their feet?

He let his head fall back onto the chair with a curse, "Fuck."

The rational brain chastised him. Telling him it was easy to see all the connections now, but there was no way to have solved the problem any more quickly than they had originally. There was no way to have gotten to Mary even an hour earlier, much less when she truly needed him. He had dotted all the i's and crossed all the t's, his brain said reassuringly, and his best efforts were put into every action.

The irrational brain sneered and pulled him back into the muck. It led him back into that darkened hellhole and replayed vicious imaginings of his partner's assault over and over to remind him of how he had failed. He could further torture himself by wondering if she had called for him, expected him to come to her aid and found herself bereft of help when she most desperately needed it.

That was the thought that made his stomach burn, and Marshall leaned forward, elbows on knees, to place his head in his hands. She had fended for herself the entire goddamn time. Had managed to save herself in the end, and would've likely escaped had they not shown up when they did. The woman was no less deadly with a spade that she was with a firearm. She had said she worried what he would think about her now, he remembered, and chuckled humorlessly. He couldn't imagine what she thought about him.

A partner that not only couldn't save her from torture and humiliation, but didn't even recognize the pain for what it was. Unable to even defend her today when her honor was assassinated by O'Connor…because he didn't know. And now he was even prevented from avenging her; rendered impotent by bureaucracy and circumstance.

He hissed in anger, sitting up to pour another drink only to realize the bottle was empty. It a fit of pique, Marshall flung it against the fence, only slightly satisfied as it shattered.

"I'd come out there, but I see you have a few more projectiles within reach and I know you have good aim," the quiet voice came from the direction of the sliding door.

Marshall jumped, then turned in his chair to regard Mary standing in the shadow of the house.

"Mary. What are you doing up? Are you okay?" He knew the breaking glass hadn't woken her and now worried about nightmares.

"I think that's a better question for you," she replied as she padded across the patio to grab another chair and pull it over next to his, "Unless you've taken to abusing your property in the middle of the night."

Mary had awoken tangled in the blankets and spent a good couple of minutes in confused terror as she fought against them. Finally recognizing Marshall's guest room, she calmed her nerves and used the bathroom while debating with herself about sleeping in Marshall's bed again. Not wanting to give in to fear, but needing some small measure of comfort, she decided to just look in on him. Confused and slightly alarmed at his absence, Mary began to search for her partner. The open sliding door finally caught her attention, and she watched him sit and brood for a few minutes before he lobbed the bottle against the fence.

As Marshall watched Mary carefully ease herself into the other chair, all his previous doubts came rushing back. He hated seeing her move like that…hated knowing why she did. He clenched his fists in his lap and just sat back to gaze at the stars as he stewed.

"I think you're going to have to take some of your own advice, partner," Mary said softly, "and don't torture yourself like this."

"I should've been there sooner," his faint reply followed a few minutes of silence, and Mary's chest hurt for him.

He was slumped in the chair, staring at the sky, and Mary reached over to take one of his hands in hers.

"You got there right when I needed you to, and I'm alive to prove it."

He turned her hand over and lightly sandwiched it between both of his, "No. No, I should've been there long before that…before they got their hands on you."

Mary knew there was nothing she could say that would make the pain lessen. She struggled with it also. The self doubt and regret. Wishing you could do something to turn back the hands of time. She waited.

"It's killing me to know they got away with it," he growled.

"They didn't. They're dead, and we both got to mete that justice out."

"They should've suffered. Should've suffered for a long time." Marshall now stared at their hands, not really seeing them as his thoughts turned dark.

"I want to be able to make this right for you somehow, Mare. I want you to know that I would've killed them slowly with my bare hands for what they did. Something to make up for not being there," his voice caught and he looked away from her to stare out into the yard.

Mary remembered his whispered words from earlier as he had comforted her in the kitchen. Remembered his reassurance and encouragement as she fell apart in his arms, and felt tears well up as her partner's pain was now evident. She could offer him no less than he had given to her. Mary rose from the chair to stand next to him and lay her other hand on his head, gently pulling him over to rest against her hip. He hesitated, then allowed himself to lean into her.

"You don't have to make up for anything, Marshall," she said the words slowly and gently while stroking his hair, "I know what you would've done…what you still would do if you could. And you're here now, and that's what really matters."

Marshall swallowed as he struggled to keep himself in control, Mary's words and actions causing emotions to rush to the surface. Her caress was more than he deserved, but the comfort was needed and he breathed deeply of her scent. Thoughts of O'Connor and Spanky tumbled through his head and he knew he would not be able to tolerate any further attacks on his partner. He didn't want them to talk to her or touch her and the surge of protectiveness was overwhelming.

"I need to keep you close to me for a while. Keep you safe."

A warm feeling suffused her unexpectedly, and Mary looked down at him with a small smile. "Nothing's going to happen to me, nitwit. All parties are accounted for."

Marshall sat back so he could look up at her, her fingers still tangled in his hair. His face was serious.

"Mary, please."

The simple statement was laden with emotion, and Mary sobered as she realized the seriousness of his request.

"Okay," she murmured as she nodded, then gave a crooked grin, "Guess I'll stick around for a while, then."

Marshall took a deep breath and smiled his thanks, then realized the night had become chilly and they were both outside in their pajamas and bare feet. He released her hand and stood to grab the glass then turned to place his hand on her back to guide her back inside.

"Let's see if either of us can get some uninterrupted sleep, shall we?"

Mary shook her head with a wry grin, "Somehow, I think that's a tall order."

They entered the house, and as Marshall shut the sliding door, Mary stared down the dark hallway to the guest room with uncertainty on her face. The same shadows would be there and the same dreams would recur, she was sure. Every time she closed her eyes she would see their faces, and Mary knew she'd lay awake in that bed until morning. Thinking.

Marshall touched her shoulder and she startled with a small gasp. He stepped back immediately and looked at her with concern as she apologized, then offered her another option.

"Why don't you take my bed and I'll sleep in the guest room? You were able to sleep pretty well in there this morning."

"I'm not going to evict you from your bed, Marshall. That's ridiculous," she argued.

He saw her cross her arms and shift her eyes sideways and he knew she wasn't going to ask for what she really wanted.

"Well, if you promise not to put your cold feet on me, I'll let you share my bed," he teased and saw her try to hide a smile.

"Deal."

Mary swore to herself this was the last night she would use her partner as a security blanket. She had to get herself back on her own two feet. That, and if Stan ever found out they were sharing a bed all hell would break loose. That made her chuckle as she walked behind Marshall to the bedroom.

"What?" he asked.

"Just thinking of our illustrious leader's take on our sleeping arrangements."

Marshall snorted, "It would just confirm his suspicions, I'm sure."

"Seriously?" Mary exclaimed as she crawled into her side of the bed and lay on her back staring at the ceiling, "He thinks we're sleeping together?"

"Mare, everyone thinks we're sleeping together," Marshall drawled as he looked over at her from his side of the bed.

She scrunched her face in confusion, "Hmph. I guess I should pay more attention to those things. I didn't know that. Interesting."

He watched her think about it and shook his head in disbelief. Sighing, Marshall allowed himself to relax, his partner's steady breathing a comfort. She had relieved some of his doubts, but he had no illusions that the road to recovery for either of them would be smooth. He would have a hard time letting her go, and she was going to have a harder time trusting again. He remembered the skittishness from a few minutes ago.

"Are you going to be worried about me getting too close?" he asked quietly.

Mary had been drifting off, and his question confused her, "What are you talking about?"

"You were okay with being next to me last night, but you're jumpier today and I didn't know if it was going to scare you if we bump into each other." He probably should've thought about that before extending the invitation.

In response, Mary rolled to scoot over to his side and ducked under his arm to put her head on his chest. "You're an idiot."

Marshall smiled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, "So I've been told."


*** Don't get used to the happy...it's only a brief reprieve. Reality returns with the sunrise, as it usually does. Please keep pushing that big 'ole button of REVIEWS!!! ***