A/N: Thanks for the support! I've had computer complications lately, so I'm sorry this is posted later than I wanted. Thanks to everyone still with my story too! I may be wrapping this up soon, I'm thinking maybe one more chapter after this one. **And to comment on the engagement: I refuse to believe that the engagement is real!!! It CAN'T be! EWWWWW! I'm just going to pretend that it didn't happen…it's alllll in the producer's head….** (By Your Side, lyrics by Tenth Avenue North)
Beauty From Pain
And I'll be by your side
Wherever you fall
In the dead of night
Whenever you call
And please don't fight
These hands that are holding you
My hands are holding you…
Her body was being pulled apart. Pulled away from itself. Her eyes were sealed shut. Her throat felt as if someone were massaging it with sandpaper. Her fingers twitched against something cool, something metallic, but would only stretch so far. A cord around her hand? She couldn't feel her other hand. Fear shot down her spine.
She heard a chirping sound in the background spike suddenly.
"Shhh, you have to calm down Mary. It's okay," said a nearby voice. It wasn't familiar. It wasn't a voice she could easily recognize, but it was female. Her eyes fluttered behind weary eyelids. She wanted to see. She wanted to know about…
"Marshall?" she tried, desperately. The female squeezed her hand. Mary's heart monitor jumped unevenly again. She couldn't breathe. He couldn't be dead. Not after what had happened. Marshall was not dead. She'd kill him if he was.
"Mary, Mary you have to calm down. You don't want the doctors to have to knock you out again."
Again? What was this person talking about? She wanted to know about her partner, dammit, and she wasn't telling her anything!
"Mary, I'm ordering you to take it easy," came a second voice, one she was very familiar with. "You have us all really worried here."
Stan. It was Stan. Maybe he would tell her.
"Marshall?" she tried again. Effects of drugs seemed to be kicking in once more. Apparently she hadn't calmed down enough for the nurses.
"She should be fine in a little while. Her body is still adjusting. Let her sleep," came the voice of said nurse. Mary wanted to scream at the nurse. She didn't want to sleep anymore.
XOX
This time, her eyes managed to open. Staring blankly up at the atypical white hospital ceiling. How long had she been here? What day was it?
Marshall. She still didn't know where he was. If he was okay. If he was still…she couldn't finish that train of thought. She looked at her hands—all ten fingers still in place—nothing but severely chapped, red fingers stared back at her. She'd been sure they were frostbitten. She wriggled her toes as well, nudging the blanket that covered her. All ten toes. She touched her face; lacerations and scratches from the tree branches stung across her cheeks. She was black and blue all over—arms, legs, chest. She felt feverish but not awful.
She was okay.
She wanted Marshall to be okay. She saw Stan pacing outside the room, on the phone with who she could only assume was Eleanor. He looked exhausted, older than his years.
She needed to find Marshall. She looked at the IV in her hand, pulling the tape off, followed by the needle. She grimaced at that. No matter how tough she was, needles were just…creepy. Using the metal bed rails, she managed to pull herself into a sitting position as gently as possible. So many bruises all over.
It was only then that she noticed there was a curtain running down the middle of the private room. She never remembered having a roommate before. She pushed herself off the bed, gripping the rails and side table for support. Her legs were unsteady and shaky. She winced at the tingling sensation of muscles waking up, making her way towards the pale blue curtain.
Grasping it firmly, she pulled it back, all the fear and pain and exhaustion coming out in tears of relief. Marshall was asleep. Alive. Okay. He had more tubes in and out of his body than her. His skin was still pale, still feverish, still blue in places. She carefully reached for the hand closest to her, finding all cold fingers intact. He was intact. He would be fine. She couldn't have been happier. Mary wondered when they'd gotten to the hospital, how long they'd been here, how long they'd been asleep.
Before the nurses would come back and realize she'd pulled all of their monitors and contraptions out of her, she pushed back the covers on Marshall's bed, carefully climbing into it. They could yell at her later. Like she'd done in the snow, she curled into him, hand on his chest, above his still beating heart.
And she slept well for the first time in days.
XOX
The next time she awoke, it was because someone was pulling her hair. Not obnoxiously, not like when she and Brandi fought when they were kids, but enough to know that someone was running their fingers through her well worn bed head. She shifted, but hit a wall.
A wall that groaned.
Her eyes flew open, taking in her partners grimace.
"Oh my god, Marshall!" she half whispered, half yelled, throat parched and stuck. She pulled him into a tight, awkward hug instead, causing him to tense.
"Ow, ow, Mary…can't breathe," Marshall coughed. She released him immediately, taking in his appearance again. Still pale, but his color was starting to return. She felt the knot of tears before she realized they were already falling down her bright red cheeks. "Hey, we're okay," he whispered, and somehow it sounded whimsical and curious and questioning all at the same time.
She nodded. "Yea, we're okay."
"I stayed…for you," he stated, broken by a cough, staring into hazel eyes fogged with confusion. "I fought."
Her eyes narrowed in thought, trying to recall what he was referring to. Sure, she'd threatened him before, but he'd had a bullet lodged in his chest, in an abandoned restaurant in the middle of nowhere. But this time…
Mary's eyes widened as the pieces fell into place.
Marshall, if we make it out of here alive, I swear, you and I will have a long chat about what this is. If we survive this, I will fight for us…I need you with me. I promise, if you fight, if you just stay alive.
At the time, she hadn't thought past the moment they were in, snowbound in a cabin with nothing but rabid dogs and crazy murderous brothers outside the tiny dream world. At the time, she thought he was unconscious. She opened her chapped lips to reply, but a nurse decided to check in right then—pulling the moment away from them.
Mary sighed, irritated.
"You two are quite famous around this ward," The young woman said as she moved about, adjusting monitors and checking the read outs of machines that Mary had no clue as to what each was. She seemed unfazed by the duo sleeping soundly in the same hospital bed. "Maybe infamous is a better term."
"Why's that?" Mary questioned suspiciously, deciding to play along.
The nurse stopped, smiled. "Well, I heard the paramedics say you were difficult, but I had no idea what kind of difficult they meant. When they tried to bring you two in, you may as well have been handcuffed together. Don't get me wrong, Bill is pretty strong, but even he couldn't get you guys to let each others hand go. Never heard anything like it. Had to put the two of you in the same room just to calm you down. Thought you would scare off the whole floor if we didn't," she shrugged, as if it happened all the time. "Rest up, by the end of the week you both should be good to go."
A long while after the gossiping nurse had disappeared, Mary finally chanced a glance at Marshall's face. He hadn't said anything, and she knew he'd drifted off to sleep again, but a small smile tilted the corners of his lips. This had made them different. Their lives were on the line everyday they helped hide a witness, but that they could die simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong second…that left her feeling more sick than she'd felt in the last week…because she had no control over a death like this.
"We have a lot to talk about, you and me…we have a lot to talk about."
XOX
Stan had observed his Marshal's for the past few years, watching as they grew, watching as they fell down and made mistakes. They broke rules, defied orders, forgot their place, tried to give up, lost faith in something bigger, saw the bigger picture, sacrificed selflessly, protected and served, fought to hell and always came back, a little bit smarter, a little bit tougher. He'd forgotten to observe them as people, though. And now he knew he'd missed what had started the moment he introduced the spitfire and the smart ass.
He'd missed it, until today.
"We rarely see something until we stop looking for it."
Stan smiled. "Yea, that sounds…about right."
Haley nodded. "I'm glad they're safe, I'm glad they found each other."
He glanced at Marshall's friend, eyebrow raised. "Me too."
XOX
Two days later.
"You have got to be kidding me!" Mary shrieked. Marshall cringed. Stan sighed, anticipating the outburst long before he walked into the room.
"Look, you two—"
"Stan, let me get this straight—we're in this mess, this hospital, right now, because we were forced to take a vacation due to extreme job related stress—and now, after being attacked, abducted, nearly frozen, held hostage and shot at, we have to take more vacation time! Who the hell comes up with these mother f—"
"I actually have to agree, she makes a valid point Stan. We should never be forced to take a vacation again," Marshall interrupted, throwing Stan a glare. Stan huffed, throwing his hands up in surrender.
"I don't make the rules! Look, when we get back to Albuquerque, I'll let you two take paperwork with you, how's that? You don't have to leave the state. You don't have to leave your respective houses, you just can't be in the office."
"Can't we just go back to work?" Mary whined. Stan crossed his arms, as if to scold a defiant child.
"I think we lose," Marshall commented dryly. He'd never wanted to see his desk more than he did now. Hell, he never wanted to see sand and feel the scorching heat as badly as he did now. But the extended vacation had its upside. He'd heard Mary at the cabin…he'd heard her request, and he had fought for her. Yes, as unnecessary as the extension was, it could be a healthier version of the previous one.
"Pack it up kids, we're going home."
