A/N: Thanks again for the reviews! I can't tell you how much I enjoy reading them!
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Mary did not enjoy going to visit Maureen, other than the times she got to see Tripp. As she hoped he would not be present for this particular appointment so he wouldn't give his intentions away, it was unlikely to be any fun. She could assume Marshall had enough sense to schedule the meeting when Billy and Gretel would be in school, so they could get Maureen on her own. She hadn't stopped in on the floozy in quite some time. She doubted she even knew Mary was pregnant, a fact that didn't thrill the inspector. Most people tended to pull faces of amazement and shock at the sheer size of Mary's belly, something that got old very fast.
Marshall got things started once Maureen let them in, telling Mary to 'let him do the talking' initially. She agreed, knowing he needed to lay the groundwork before she ripped the woman a new one for throwing her kids to the curb like they were bags of trash. And breaking the rules of WITSEC to boot.
Mary lounged unattractively against Maureen's kitchen counter, examining her fingernails while Maureen bustled around throwing dirty clothes in a laundry basket. Marshall stood sentry while their witness scuttled all over the place, plainly not listening.
"I'm sorry the house is such a mess…" Maureen claimed absentmindedly, sniffing one of Billy's jerseys and finding it was definitely not clean. "The kids just throw things all over the place when they come home, and I haven't had time to do the laundry this week."
Mary had the strong, nasty suspicion that even Maureen's laundering was a show. If she hadn't known they were coming by, she would've let the clothes sit and stink for another week. The house bore many signs that she hadn't bothered to clean up. Stained milk glasses lay in the sink, along with plates that had not been scraped. A duffel bag of sports equipment was overflowing on the couch; baseball bats and gloves spilling out of it.
It wasn't the fact that the house was untidy that bothered Mary. It was the fact that it was noticeably not sanitary – beyond dust bunnies. There was a lingering smell; an air of grubbiness that didn't reside in their other witnesses' homes.
Nonetheless, Marshall played along with Maureen's game and let her get away with pretending to be a maid.
"It's perfectly all right," he told her courteously. "We did drop by unannounced."
He could see Mary glaring at him from her place by the counter, visibly displeased with his politeness. It was ingrained in him – the instinct to be sensible and kind. Mary had no such instincts, not when it came to self-centered individuals like Maureen.
"Was there something you wanted?" she inquired, still sounding harassed, shoving what looked like textbooks into a pile on the coffee table. "Honestly, how Billy manages to keep up with his schoolwork when he leaves all his books at home…"
Her admonition toward her middle child went unfinished while Mary gnawed her thumbnail and contemplated whether or not a true, devoted mother would know something like that. Shouldn't she be checking with Billy to see that he was, in fact, making the grade? Why did she take it for granted that he was?
"When you get a second," Marshall sought to respond to the woman's query. "Mary and I just had a few questions we wanted to ask you. I presume you have to be at work soon…" he glanced at his watch; Mary noticed the clock on the microwave said it was a little after one.
"At two," Maureen responded, blowing her fringy bangs out of her face and dumping the now brimming laundry basket on the couch. Mary guessed she must be suffering without Tripp living at home to tend to the housework. "But, what's on your mind?"
She did not even offer them a seat, not even Mary, who had indeed received the raised eyebrows and speculations about the bun in the oven from her wayward witness. She rarely corrected people, telling them there were actually two biscuits cooking, although most people seemed to guess given how big she was.
"Do you think we could…sit down?" Marshall asked cordially when Maureen gave no indication. "Mary's not supposed to be on her feet for long periods of time…" he ignored the dirty look his woman shot him. "You remember, I'm sure. It's not always easy being with child."
"Tell me about it," Maureen chortled, suddenly eager to share her experience. "Try doing it three times," and she gestured them to the kitchen table.
Mary was dying to snap that she was already working on two at once, and would have three if not for the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Jamie, but when she opened her mouth, Marshall motioned for her to keep quiet. Biting her tongue wasn't easy, but it was important to save her malice for when Maureen really needed to hear it.
The three of them settled into chairs at the tiny round table, chairs that were hard and very unforgiving on Mary's ailing back. She saw Marshall watching her, but averted her eyes to their charge.
"So..." Maureen started, clearly trying to give off the air that she was occupied and did not have a lot of time. "What can I do for you guys?"
She had some nerve, Mary thought, planning to skip town and acting like everything was status quo. Marshall played it cool.
"We were just wondering how you and the kids were doing," he began rationally. "Mary talks to Tripp from time-to-time, and he fills her in, but we're just looking for a second update," he was such an effortless fibber. "We like to have all our ducks in a row," he even smiled.
Maureen, for all the idiocy she displayed, was not entirely stupid. She sensed the interrogation coming on and looked from Mary to Marshall and back again before deciding to keep her secrets in the vault.
"The kids are fine," she declared unabashedly. "It's true that Billy's not exactly been a thrill ride, but he's a high school boy. High school boys are impossible. I should know – I remember Tripp at that age."
Mary remembered Tripp at that age too. Folding laundry, entertaining his siblings, trying to keep strange and dangerous men out of his home; stitches in his arm, trying to decide between gutting it out or entering the foster care system. Something told her that Maureen was not remembering the same Tripp.
"Nothing out-of-the-ordinary for Billy though?" Marshall pressed easily. "Or Gretel?"
"Oh no, Gretel's great," and something along the lines of a genuine smile graced Maureen's otherwise tense features. "She's her mommy's girl."
A fist struck hard in the pit of Mary's stomach watching Maureen glow with pride at having pulled an eleven year old girl into her web of catastrophe. It was plain from her throwaway lines about Tripp and Billy that they were old news. They were hip to her game and she'd given up on them. Gretel was her only shot these days. Come hell or high water, she was going to try and get that little girl to New Orleans right under the nose of WITSEC.
With enormous difficulty, Mary buried the need to say all this out loud and concentrated hard on what Marshall was saying.
"Well, I'm glad Gretel is thriving," he acknowledged solemnly. "But, Mary and I are a little troubled about Tripp."
In spite of Marshall's tranquil, pure blue eyes and his understanding, peaceful nature, Maureen did not bite. She jeered with something resembling scorn and rolled her eyes.
"Tripp? Why?" she questioned; he was clearly not on her radar. "He get himself in a knot that he wants me to pull him out of? He left me in the dust years ago. Five miles between us and we never even see each other," she twirled a strand of her hair idly.
Mary was seized with the sudden longing to smack this careless, thoughtless woman. Tripp had as much as kept her alive and this was the thanks he got?
By the way Marshall's eyes darted back and forth across Mary's angry face – her pursed lips and the taut lines on her cheeks – he had guessed she was reaching her breaking point. Rather than have her explode and risk both herself and the welfare of their unborn children, he hurried to his point.
"Tripp's doing very well," he informed Maureen quickly. "But, he's told us that you have plans to pack up your life here and move to Louisiana."
Mary scrutinized the merest flicker of panic in Maureen's eyes; the blink was too well-timed, the way she glanced toward the door too convenient. A million things were whirling in her head right now. Tripp had tattled to these meddlesome busybodies and now she was paying for it.
This did not come out her mouth, however.
"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you about that…" she waved a hand so flippant that Mary wanted to hit it out of the way. "I just hadn't gotten around to it yet. Tripp's just being dramatic – trying to tell me how to raise my own kids."
Mary narrowed her eyebrows, truly unable to fathom that now that Maureen had gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar, she was going to pretend she didn't know she'd been doing anything wrong. She'd been a resident of Albuquerque WITSEC for upwards of six years. She knew the drill. Her ignorance didn't fool Mary one iota.
"Is that to say you're not planning on going?" Marshall prodded, latching onto the comment about Tripp's melodrama. "Because, I am afraid that is the only response either Mary or I can accept."
Maureen looked from one face to the other – the woman's stony and oppressive, the man's sympathetic but firm. To Mary's utter astonishment, she threw her head back and laughed. Marshall clearly thought they were home free, but Mary knew better.
"You're not serious," Maureen stated baldly. "Come on. You can't expect me to stay here in Albuquerque forever. It's a ghost town…"
And this was where Mary lost her patience. What was it about certain people, where they didn't understand that WITSEC was permanent? Why did they think that the rules didn't apply to them? That they were somehow special or exempt? The concept was not difficult, and she'd been round-and-round on this ride with Maureen before.
The inspector flung herself forward so abruptly that the other woman jumped, losing her smile right off the bat.
"WITSEC is forever," Mary spat harshly. "Forever as in not temporary – everlasting, eternal, that kind of thing," she waved a wild hand as she explained for the fiftieth time. "Jesus. Your son got that better than you when he was sixteen."
"Don't you talk to me about my son," Maureen pointed a jabbing finger, completely missing the real root of Mary's words. "It's because of you that he hates me; you had your nose in our business from the very beginning…"
"Fortunately, that's my job," Mary reminded her coldly. "To make sure imbeciles like you don't flee the state after – what is it? – boyfriend number six hundred comes knocking on your door. You want to go – fine!" she swiped her hand over her head again, this time toward the door. "But, you can kiss WITSEC and our protection goodbye. Live life a little dangerously – see if Albert and his computer chip cronies are still looking for you and your three kids."
Following this speech, she slumped back in her chair because it bothered her back too much to lean forward like she had been. She didn't regret sacrificing her limbs to get through to Maureen, however, who was scowling heavily. Mary could see the wheels turning in her brain of how to refute the inspector's words. The Marshal simply sat with her arms crossed and waited for Marshall to detail the circumstances in a more lucid manner.
"Maureen, what Mary says is true," he emphasized with an almost pitying look in his pale blue eyes. "I'm sorry, but it isn't up to you. You can't live wherever you want if you wish to continue to rely on the safety WITSEC provides for you," it was as though they were in their very first meeting, a realization that infuriated Mary further. "And I have to tell you, for the sake of yourself and for the sake of your children, it is imperative that you stay here in New Mexico."
Maureen looked wholly unconvinced, and kept shooting Mary nasty looks. Mary knew the woman couldn't stand her; knew she resented Mary essentially mothering Tripp while he was in high school. It was her too bad at this point. The damage had been done.
But apparently, Maureen had a few more bridges to burn, and she wasn't going to waste time looking for matches.
"What if I went…you know…?" she shrugged in an attempt to look offhand. "By myself. Keith and I have already started looking at houses in New Orleans…"
Mary exhaled loudly at the mention of the boyfriend.
"The kids can stay in WITSEC and I can opt out."
The fury in Mary's chest bubbled to the surface so fast she couldn't stop herself. She was slightly liberated to see that Marshall was as flummoxed as she was, but he wouldn't take care of the beating Maureen needed to the side of her head at such an asinine idea.
"Are you insane?" she barked, though she already knew the answer. "You would jeopardize your safety – risk your children not having a mother – to run off to hurricane-central with some pimp?!"
"How dare you!" Maureen shrieked, and she stood up, expanding herself to her full height.
Mary did the same, though it was harder in her case, but no less impressive, "You are the worst excuse for a parent I've ever seen! You would really leave your kids to fend for themselves here in what you called a ghost town?"
"Tripp can look after them!" Maureen insisted, a statement that only spiked Mary's ire. "Well, he and Billy can look after each other. I'm not leaving Gretel here…"
Mary smacked her hands on the kitchen table in frustration, "So, now you want to put her in limbo too? Keep her from the two people who have done everything they can to make sure she stays alive? Because God knows she's not still breathing because of you!"
"I'm not having this conversation with you!" Maureen shouted hoarsely. She waved a finger toward the door just as Marshall stood up and tried to come between them, hands flapping pointlessly. "Get the hell out of my house! I'll do what I want – I'm their mother! Nothing will ever change that!"
Mary could see the whites of her eyes popping; she could also feel her own strain, particularly in her ankles, loaded down with extra weight and water, but she surpassed the feeling.
"You only want to be a mother when there isn't some guy sniffing around your bedroom looking to get some…"
"At least I have a social life," was her weak defense. And before Mary could scoff, she'd beat her to the punch. "Some of us are so desperate to play mommy we'll sleep with the first warm body available…" her eyes flashed deviously to Marshall, then to Mary's belly. "Shame. I feel so bad for the child who discovers daddy only slept with mommy out of…pity…"
Mary had reached across the table and grabbed a fistful of Maureen's shirt so fast that she almost dragged the other woman facedown onto the table.
"You smug, self-serving bitch…"
"Mary! MARY!" Marshall grabbed her fingers and wrenched them loose of Maureen's collar. "Stop it! That's enough!"
Breathing hard, she obeyed, shooting daggers at Maureen, who looked arrogant and self-satisfied. Unfortunately, Marshall was livid that she'd lost her temper; she could see from how set his jaw was. His eyes had turned grey; steely. They flashed dangerously, his ire mounting as well.
"I want you to go wait outside," he ordered tersely, the bones in his neck jutting out. "Now. I'll be there in a minute."
Mary desperately wanted to fight him, to reprimand him for treating her like an infant when she had every right to throttle Maureen. Instead, she settled for glowering sinisterly, but she did as he said, back through the living room, and out the front door. There, she wrenched open the door of Marshall's SUV and eased herself into the passenger seat, sitting with her legs dangling out the door.
Marshall was gone longer than Mary expected him to be, which gave her time to mull over everything that had just gone down – and to sweat through her shirt in the excruciating heat. The sun was out, beating heavy and bright above her neck; she could already feel her hair dripping into ringlets around her face. She leaned her head against the back of the seat and tried to make sense of everything Maureen had doled out.
She knew she should be worried about Tripp, Billy, and Gretel – and she was. But, at the moment, she was fixating on what Maureen had shouted at her in her rage. Mary had-had plenty of people – witnesses and otherwise – spew unflattering facts at her, and she usually wasn't insulted. Still, this woman – this harlot masquerading as a mother – had definitely touched a nerve.
Ever since she'd miscarried and lost Jamie the year before, Mary had pondered whether Marshall was only with her because he felt sorry for her. Deep down, she knew this wasn't true, but it was hard not to wonder considering the circumstances surrounding their hook-up. After all, they rarely, if ever said that they loved each other. Granted, neither felt they needed to – it was implied – and their aversion to 'labeling' their relationship prevented them from doing so.
It had been Mary who had confessed her adoration on a rain-washed, stormy night. It had been Mary who had clung to Marshall when Jamie had gone. It had been Mary who had admitted she wanted to have Marshall's children. Could she count on him as more than a dear and loyal friend who didn't want to let his treasured partner down?
She was so absorbed in her thoughts she almost didn't notice Marshall return. She snapped from her reverie as he came marching down the front walk, with long and purposeful strides. She came out of it just long enough to turn around and buckle her seatbelt – a harder task than usual, given her earth-sized stomach.
She was still vacant when he launched in after shutting the driver's side door.
"I wish you hadn't done that."
She registered that he still sounded frustrated, but his initial rage had died. She couldn't even be sure what he was talking about – did he wish she hadn't hollered, or did he wish she hadn't tried to wring Maureen's neck?
Mary decided it didn't really matter.
"Sorry," she breathed softly.
Somewhat to her chagrin, Marshall seemed surprised she'd expressed any form of culpability. She could see him arch his eyebrows out the corner of her lids, though she was determinedly looking forward even in her inattentiveness.
"Sorry?" he repeated doubtfully.
Mary sighed, wishing he would start the car so they could turn the air on. She was beginning to feel gross.
"I wasn't thinking of the kids. I was thinking of myself. I let her get to me and I can't do that if I want my stress level to stay down."
It was all very matter-of-fact, and while she expected more surprise from Marshall about her sudden practicality, he backed down after hearing such sincerity. Mary turned her eyes a fraction of an inch to see his shoulders sink; he even shook his head, internally berating himself for trying to tell her what to do when she already knew the risks.
"That's very perceptive of you…" he patted Mary's shoulder gently. "But, it's okay. We're all allowed a slip now and then," referring to her escalated shouting match with Maureen. "All of this is not to say she didn't deserve your thrashing."
At this, Mary faced him completely, and he was smirking from where he sat behind the wheel. Mary could've sworn there was a hint of approval in his weary, lined face. She recognized it in the way his blue eyes twinkled, like the first stars popping out in a velvety night sky.
"I like a woman who can hold her own," and still smirking.
Mary tried to smile back, but the motion didn't make it onto her face. The muscles in her mouth worked to create that grin, but the effort seemed unusually strenuous. She settled for a half-smile instead, submissive and reconciled.
But, when she didn't articulate anything to all his tributes, he tried to stimulate her a bit further.
"You're not feeling bad, are you?" Mary could guess he meant physically. "You turned it off pretty fast; I assumed you were fine, but…"
"No, I'm good," she nodded in what she hoped was a convincing way. "I'm just…I'm hot…" she tugged at the neck of her shirt as she said it, and this had Marshall zeroing in on other aspects of her roasted nature.
"Let's get going then," he suggested, inserting the key in the ignition, where the air conditioning blasts immediately sprung into life. "I have to go back to the office; I promised Stan I'd meet with a new witness. Do you want to come or do you want me to take you back home?"
He paused in leaving the drive to wait for her answer. In truth, Mary was surprised she got a choice. Given her outburst with Maureen, she figured Marshall would expect her to take it easy the rest of the afternoon. Maybe he thought that since she'd relaxed that morning, she was free to do what she liked for the remainder of the day.
"I can do some paperwork at the office…" she told him rather meekly, her mind still on Maureen's words.
To her displeasure, he picked up on her tone and tipped his chin downward, the better to probe her wide green eyes.
"Are you sure you're all right?" he wanted to know. And, cluing in a little, "Did Maureen upset you?"
"No," Mary said at once, but she knew instantly that she'd sounded defensive. "I mean…okay…" she backpedaled, trying to appear frankly aloof. "I don't love sparring with her and what she said wasn't exactly fun to hear, but…"
She'd been about to make excuses for why this wasn't a big deal, but Marshall stopped her in her tracks, "She's wrong," he declared boldly, looking her straight in the face. "She's wrong, and she had no business talking to you that way. I can assure you I let her know just how far a line she crossed by engaging that way with a federal Marshal – a pregnant federal Marshal."
Mary groaned at the thought that he had tacked that on the end, but it was classic Marshall. In hearing this, he went the extra mile to ensure that she was not dwelling on his reasons for shacking up with her.
"You have to know that we are not together because of anything even in the realm of 'pity,'" he promised graciously. "I am with you because I love you, plain and simple."
Mary ought to have known he'd wrap it all in a bow by throwing out 'the L-word.' It made everything nice and tidy; solved every problem. But, Mary knew that he'd loved her before they'd gotten together; him saying it now didn't prove anything.
Don't be ridiculous, she told herself. Of course he was in love with her. She was pregnant with his children. He fell all over himself and neglected his sleep schedule just to keep her happy. If that wasn't love, what was?
"Right," she nodded slowly. "I know you do."
Why didn't she say it back? Was she worried he had the same misgivings about her that she was having about him? Her brain was too fried to wade through that sort of logic.
"I'm just thinking about Tripp," she used this as a pretext for her behavior once again. "He's going to have a tough time pulling Gretel from Maureen. She's really gonna be pissed when she finds out he's trying to get custody."
"On the bright side, it looks like Billy will be no problem," Marshall concluded, accepting Mary's justification for how timid she was at face value. "Although, I do not know if most would consider that a bright side. The fact that she is willing to leave Tripp and Billy behind speaks volumes."
That it did, Mary thought. She knew all too well how it felt to have a parent abandon you on the doorstep. Perhaps that was why she was obsessing over Tripp, not to mention whether Marshall was with her for the right reasons, or the wrong ones.
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A/N: Mary wouldn't be Mary without her share of doubt – even if it was inspired by crazy Maureen! She was never a witness I took to, even though I love Tripp and the gang! And Marshall's always there to keep everybody in check! ;)