*** The morning after is never pretty, but when you realize you truly stand alone...***

Seal my heart and break my pride
I've nowhere to stand and now nowhere to hide
Align my heart, my body, my mind
To face what I've done and do my time

- Dust Bowl Dance, Mumford and Sons

Mary groaned and rubbed her temples as she tried to free herself from the sheets on the bed. Loathe to open her eyes, she peeked through her lashes only to wish she could slip back into unconsciousness. She was still in her clothes from the night before, jackhammers had begun to pound behind her eyes and she smelled like vomit. Breathing through another wave of nausea, Mary tried to piece together the events of the prior evening.

Faber had left, she was sure of that. She had finished the tequila, ordered more and…that was it. Blank. Thank God there wasn't another body in the bed with her. Mary moaned again as the jackhammers brought friends. The room was warm and humid, and she realized the balcony doors were still open. The fresh air was appreciated as soon as she began to lever herself out of bed. She needed a shower.

It took a few hours to regain her equilibrium. By the time she rose to clean up the room with thoughts of attempting to visit the restaurant, Mary was regretting the whole trip. Actually, she was regretting a lot of things. Choices, decisions, twists of fate. Her whole life seemed to be made up of events that later mocked her. Attempts to escape the chaos only resulted in being made to look the fool and hurt those that she never wanted to hurt.

"Case in point," she muttered, throwing away another empty bottle. Here she stood. Forty years old and surrounded by half empty bottles and dirty sheets smelling of stale sex. The Court Jester. Relegated to leftover wine and sleeping with the dogs.

"All right, that's enough, Shannon." Mary reprimanded herself as she threw her clothes into the suitcase. Marshall's damn speech had really thrown her for a loop, but it was time to put her shit together and roll back onto the tracks. What was done was done. The return to normal would be painful, embarrassing and possibly wrought with tearful apology, but it had to start somewhere. He'd be there. He'd be pissed and likely surly, make her work for her redemption, but he'd be there. She had the room until Monday, but paradise had already worn out its welcome.

Checking under the bed, Mary sucked in a breath as she spotted her cell phone. Two missed calls from Brandi and five from Jinx. A quick review showed them to be nothing but tearful rehashes of the fights before she left. Sighing, Mary looked at the last missed call. A pang of disappointment. An unknown number. Brow furrowed, she listened to the message.

"Inspector Shannon, this is Susan Haasl from Allison Pearson's office. Inspector Marshall Mann listed you as a reference on his application forms being processed by the Atlanta office. We're hoping to push these through rather quickly and need you to complete an online form and write a recommendation. Please call me back at your earliest convenience to finalize some details. Thank you."

Her gaze was focused on a small stain on the wall behind the television. The throbbing in her head matched the tempo of her pounding pulse, and a trickle of sweat ran down her cleavage. Application forms. Atlanta. References. Peterson Security. The tangled thoughts clogged her brain and she slowly sank onto the mattress. Mary was shaking her head slightly as rational thought tried to break through. He would've told her if he was looking at other positions. They agreed on that. Stan would've said something. It couldn't be what she imagined.

She thought back to the last few months and realized she hadn't spent much time keeping track of Marshall. Her efforts to keep him at arm's length had resulted in less information exchanged between them, and the high witness load contributed to keeping them apart. Had she missed it? Had he tried to tell her? Thursday's speech suddenly took on new meaning.

Had that been her chance to keep him there? Was he asking her to tell him to stay? Why couldn't the damn man just ask a straight up question? He demanded these mental gymnastics from her, and she always fell flat on her face. Guessed wrong and screwed it up. It was exhausting.

"Jesus." Mary was breathing fast as she looked back down at the phone. A flutter of panic. She needed to call him. The text icon in the corner caught her eye. When did she miss that? The day Faber arrived. From Marshall. Dread formed a ball of ice in her stomach as she opened the folder.

"Discussed Gabe's incomplete forms with Faber. As always, Mike is so enlightening. Stan will have the paperwork when you return. Good to know you're done thinking...don't drink the water...Kitten."

Mary moaned softly as she remembered words in a shower, "…just got out of some paperwork…"

The phone slid from her hands as she cradled her head and let tears fall to the floor. "Fuck."

/\\\/\\\/

She had hung up twice. It had been twenty four hours since she sent him the text message with the simple request to call her. One sunset, one sunrise, two high tides and more cheap plastic umbrellas than she cared to count. Mary had spent most of the time sitting in the lounge chair on the balcony; unraveling her life in her mind while trying to drown the resulting pain in a liquid rainbow. Any sleep had been alcohol induced; food forgotten. He didn't call.

She had tried to muster up anger…betrayal…outrage. Some emotion that would drive her to lay the blame elsewhere and blindly charge back into a life of avoidance and denial. Something to rally a charge back into Albuquerque with insults and threats at the ready. Demand that he have it out with her right then. She wanted to feel insulted…wronged in some way. Nothing. It was as though a switch had been flipped and the lights had gone out. There was nothing to blame but the inadequacy of self.

Mary dialed.

The tears began to fall again as she listened to the rings and chewed on a fingernail. Voice mail. Again. This time she waited.

"Hey," she croaked, then cleared her throat, determined to overcome the fear for this one time. "I…ran…and I'm sorry." But I'm terrified I'll destroy you. "I know why you have to leave. I get it. I can't hold you to a promise that you no longer want to keep...that I've made impossible for you to keep. But you're always expecting me to display some strength of character that I don't possess." Her voice broke. Why do you constantly demand more from me? Mary took a deep breath and continued, "I can't be the woman you want me to be, Marshall. I'm not enough. You deserve something more, so much more, and this is all I got." You'll always be reaching for more, and I'll eventually get left behind. "I can't watch myself fail anymore, and I can't come back to see…an empty desk." She stifled a sob. I love you. I don't want to leave you. "Stay safe."

Her hand shook as she placed the phone on the table and picked up her glass. The whiskey burned all the way to her gut and she gagged slightly on the taste. Words from past and present tumbled through her mind and she stood suddenly to pace. The balcony was too small…the room was too small. Mary jogged over to the bed and stuffed a few things into the pockets of her shorts. Debated bringing the phone for a moment, cursed, then shoved it in too. Just in case. Out the door without a destination…she just wanted to forget.

*** This doesn't seem like a good development. Mary is NOT in a good place. Drunk texting...never really the best idea. And what's going on with Atlanta? Your REVIEWS have been outstanding and I'm so excited! Thank you so much :) ***