A/N: Thank-you very much for continuing to read and review!
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Mary slept very badly that night. She wanted to hit herself for having spent so much time napping the day before. The men could've claimed she needed it until they were blue in the face; she was paying for it now. It also didn't help that she was beginning to feel very trapped in the house. By the time Robyn calmed down, it was close to dinnertime and Brandi asked, as politely as possible, if they could stay the night. Marshall had checked with his wife first, but she'd known she couldn't say no. Peter returned home, but the kids jammed themselves into the girls' room and Brandi crashed on the couch.
Her sister might have the ability to shut down all the horrific thoughts that had entered into their midst, but Mary couldn't manage. She tossed and turned for hours, bursts of dreams exploding into her subconscious for only minutes at a time before she was jerked awake once more. When she finally did succumb for real, it was with a feeling of being careful what she'd wished for.
She was in a church that looked more like a cathedral. The ceiling was higher than the sky itself, stretching and coiling into oblivion above Mary's head. She'd never seen anything like it in New Mexico, and thought she must be overseas somewhere; basking in some rich and glorious culture she had yet to experience.
It was funny, as soon as the thought entered her mind that she wasn't anywhere familiar, she knew she was still in Albuquerque. She was home, although with that distinct sensation of being lost nonetheless.
There were candles flickering eerily near the pulpit, catching the stained glass in the high windows. The glass warbled, deep reds and blues bleeding into one another behind the black stripes that put the panes together. Mary thought perhaps she could see the sun beyond the glass, but the shades were too rich; too dazzlingly bright for her to determine whether there was warmth behind or not.
She was wearing black; black pants, a black button-up, and a black blazer. It was very formal-looking, almost too-formal, like she'd been headed to court. Her father's medallion swung lazily from her neck, and her hand reached up to clutch the metal against her knuckles. It spread a sense of peace from her fingertips to her feet, and she sighed.
Below her, Jinx lay motionless and static in a casket. She looked unnatural, even for Jinx. Her red lipstick stood out vibrantly against her whitish skin. Her cheeks had been smacked with rouge, like whoever had tended to her had gotten carried away. With a lurch, Mary realized her mother didn't look anything like she should. Mary was embarrassed, but knew she shouldn't say anything. She should pay her respects as she had been schooled.
Before she could begin to say a word, she heard footsteps. Surprisingly, they didn't startle her. It was as though she expected them, even if she couldn't say to whom they belonged. With a slow turn that lifted her gaze from Jinx, she revolved on her heels to see James striding boldly up the aisle.
Mary's breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. He was tantalizing, like the treat she'd been standing on her tiptoes for her entire life. She was finally tall enough to reach, and it was miraculous. He was beautiful in this unique way that rarely belonged to a man. There were his chiseled cheeks; his thick, coarse grey hair that curled into sideburns on his flesh. His cobalt eyes shone like the most elegant stars above. She wanted him, and he was coming just for her.
James stopped at the head of the aisle, paused momentarily, and crossed himself before moving on. He bent his head upward and smiled in that adoring way that made Mary's heart both clench and soar. She squashed the pain it was causing her and whispered to his graceful form.
"Daddy, you're here…"
Again, with the smile. He held out his arms and drew her inward; Mary loved this, this feeling of being taken in, of knowing there was someone who was going to handle everything. She couldn't say for sure why she trusted James just now, but she did. He'd shown up, hadn't he?
"I wouldn't be anywhere else in the world but here, sweetheart."
His voice was gruff, but deep in her ear. It was hard to let him go. After all, she hadn't been able to hug him when he'd shown up at her door.
"Poor Ginger…" he murmured sympathetically from where he could see over Mary's shoulder. "Such a future…"
Mary was about to agree with him when a shocked, shrill voice interrupted their grip. It was high-pitched and affronted; it was what was going to make this dream a very real nightmare.
"Mary, what are you doing?!"
They were forced to break apart, and Mary felt herself go weak in the knees when a second individual came tottering up the carpet. She blinked about six times, still feeling James' hand on her forearm.
"How could you let him come here?!" Jinx hollered.
Confused did not even scratch the surface. Mary did not understand in the least. Jinx was dead – lying right here in the casket. How could she be standing in front of her as well? And all of a sudden, the idea that she'd just groveled over James was sickening. What had she been thinking?
Sickening in more ways than one. James – he was dead too.
The best she could do was defend herself, "I…mom, I didn't…" she stumbled over her words. "I didn't ask him to come…"
Dead or not, she didn't want Jinx to be mad at her. Didn't her approval matter more than her father's?
"I didn't invite him," she insisted. "How could you think I'd do something like that – that I'd let him show up after what he did to us?"
Her conviction wasn't going to have a shot with Jinx, who was plainly furious, "You have always loved your father, Mary," she stuck a hand on her hip and glared at both of them. "You have always loved him more than me."
"What?" the daughter could hardly believe her ears. "Mom, no I haven't – I don't…"
Did Jinx really think that? Mary had to make her see; had to help her figure out that her father meant nothing. Nothing at all. She'd just been thrown, was all. She'd seen a dead man walking toward her. She hadn't known what to do.
Unfortunately, James was making things infinitely worse. He caressed her arm now, and then his hand moved to finger the medal around her neck. He was grinning, seemingly not listening to a word Jinx was saying.
"You were my best little girl, partner…" he promised. "You were my favorite, sweetheart."
"How dare you?" Jinx hissed, jutting her finger out at the pair of them. "How dare you choose sides, after all the work I did trying to be a better mother. It doesn't mean anything to you; you still want him! Nothing replaces your father!"
"I don't care what he says!" Mary burst, whipping to face the Jinx in the casket, who was still just lying there.
Why were there two of them? She couldn't think straight with all this happening so fast. Which one was real?
"He lost his chance!" she went on, desperate to make Jinx believe her. "I'm not giving him anymore! Mom, I swear! If you come home…"
"You have your father," Jinx spat the final word, disgusted, and turned to leave them. "You don't need me."
She was walking away. Mary was losing her, and she was never going to come back. She had to stop her – she wanted Jinx, not James. She wanted Jinx. She wanted Jinx. She told herself that over and over again and finally her feet allowed her to run. She broke free and tried to bolt for her mother.
James' strong hand was still on the necklace and it caught the chain. He tugged backward to attempt to free himself, but the coils severed into pieces before their very eyes. They fell, like tiny golden diamonds, onto the carpet of this magnificent church. Mary wanted to pick it up, but she needed Jinx more.
She ran and ran and couldn't catch up.
"Mom! Mom, wait!"
"Come back, partner…"
"Mom! Please!"
Mary woke, twitching violently and gasping for air. The room was pitch black, and it took several minutes for her to realize where she was. Even then, she wasn't entirely certain, and the cavern-quality of her surroundings made her feel as though she'd fallen headfirst into a hole. Her breathing was so loud she was starting to squeak, and her hand was trembling, pasted to her chest where her necklace used to be. She even patted the space to see if she could find it, and then she remembered.
It was gone. It had been gone for ten years. James had sold it to that street vendor in pursuit of freedom.
When no light flickered into her line of vision, Mary began to feel desperate. She was clammy and moist and there was no one here to tell her what was going on. The last she recalled was screaming for Jinx, and she was still caught in that anxiety.
"Mom…?"
Her voice came out very croaky, and saying it aloud made her realize how ludicrous she was behaving. It had been a dream. Her medal was forgotten, James was dead, and so was Jinx.
The tone that came through the gloom scared her out of her wits; she'd been so certain she was fully and completely alone.
"Mary, it's me…"
She almost shouted out, but managed to reel herself in with a brutal leap of her heart that came out her mouth as a gasp. It made her sound like she was going off the deep end, and the voice returned.
"Mary, I'm right here…"
There was a rustling, but as the shapes and shadows came into focus, Mary started to lose a tiny portion of her fear. She could see her closet doors, and the navy tinge of the sky filtering in through her window. And that long, lanky form on the other side of the bed…
"Marshall?"
It came out even sadder than her prayer for Jinx, mixed and muddled with thick and heavy tears that hadn't even fallen. They were caught in her throat, choking her, making her quiver and whittle down into pieces.
"Just a sec…"
There he was again, attempting to turn around and snap on the light. But, Mary had tried wiggling closer to him to promote this sense of reality, only to bump unexpectedly with something blocking her way. Her fears climbed once more, her parent's faces still swirling in her subconscious, and she let out another throaty gasp against her will. She backed away; all the while Marshall tried to explain.
"It's Alice…" he whispered urgently; clearly he didn't want his voice to rise, but it wasn't easy. He was extending a hand with words and gestures meant to calm. "Mary, its Alice…"
His fingers brushed her pajama top at that moment, and her heart rate began to inch downward once more, though she was still breathing very deeply. She could see her daughter curled on her side, unmistakably having been snuggled with Marshall, still fast asleep.
"It's nothing…" she finally spoke, suddenly not wanting Marshall to see her such a wreck, heaving air between each letter. "It's nothing; I'm fine…"
"Shh…" he murmured. "It's all right; hang on…"
The lamp finally flew into life, bathing the three individuals in a beam of rumpled covers and sweaty sheets. Only Alice lay stationary, inhaling and exhaling serenely while her parents sat up halfway between her.
Marshall was alarmed by how bad Mary actually looked; he'd assumed the thoughts in her head would be worse than her demeanor. But no; she was as pale as a ghost and wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights-style. She resembled a skeleton; lids sunken and hair hanging limp. She must've had one hell of a dream. It had been a long time since they'd had to deal with this; almost four years, in fact.
But, Marshall was prepared, "Talk to me…" he whispered, so as not to wake Alice. "Come on; we'll go out to the kitchen…"
Mary adamantly refused, "I just need some water," her speech was so quick the words ran together and became unintelligible. "I just need some water; that's it…"
"I'll get it for you…" Marshall offered, already elbowing up to leave, but she beat him to it.
"No," she insisted. "No; stay here."
He really thought she might fall with how rapidly she was getting up. But, they were not going to play this game – not now, not ever. Marshall was fast too, and he swung his legs out to follow her, not about to let her get away. Unfortunately, she was so frantic in her quest not to seem weak that she was already in the hall before he caught up.
"Mary…!" he didn't want to yell, especially with a house full of people. He almost toppled forward sliding on the hardwood, grabbing her arm. "Mary, wait…" he gripped hard, forcing her to stop. "Look at me…"
She shook her head; "Marshall, I'm fine," the shaky sense in her voice could not have been more contradictory. "I'm fine; I just need…" she swallowed, eyes downcast away from him. They were right outside Norah's bedroom door. "I just need…"
He waited to see where this was going; what she wanted to say. But, it appeared she couldn't get any further. She quit resisting his iron fist, but he hung on anyway while she gulped and pulled herself back to earth. It was more shadowy in the hall; Brandi had left one of the lights in the kitchen on, bathing them both in a half-glow.
"I just need…"
Eventually, she raised her chin and stared into Marshall's big, worrisome blue eyes; Alice's eyes. She knew she was going to cry. She might already be tearing up; she wasn't sure. It was those eyes that were going to kill her.
"You need what?" he whispered sweetly, trying to give her a nudge after three tries.
Mary shook her head and gave up, "I don't know…" she felt him kiss her temple and little beads of dew began to dribble down her cheeks. "I don't know."
She turned around, grateful she wasn't becoming a total mess, although God knew what she'd displayed in the bedroom. She allowed Marshall to hug her, to wrap her up momentarily. She was still shaky and he rubbed her arms to get her to quiet. Behind her, she could hear his voice.
"Just let me know when you figure it out."
It scared Mary not to know how to fix this. She loved Marshall so much, and she loved being this near him. She couldn't help but admire how dependable and trustworthy he was, not to mention how steady. And yet, in spite of the overwhelming gratitude, it did not make the ache in her bones go away. It had been different when James had died; she'd been appreciative for every second she'd gotten to spend with Marshall because he hadn't been hers yet. She reveled in every moment; soaked in every inch she obtained. It was the rarity that made it special; it alleviated the pain.
But, this was not the same. No matter how close he held her, the sorrow engulfed her like a cloud of smoke; like a thick blanket. Was it his fault, or her own?
She'd shrunk in against him now, arms and hands curled in his chest so she wasn't even reciprocating their embrace. Nonetheless, he just hung on; no rocking, no forcing.
"I need to stop feeling like this…" Mary revealed in a choked voice, clamping hard on her tears to get them to dry. "When am I gonna stop feeling like this?"
Her timbre climbed in a little bit of agitation; she was so desperate for the answer. But, Marshall kept her enclosed and offered little on this front.
"Give it time…" he told her gently. "Give it time."
Mary was about to rebuttal; to say she did not want to do that, and she didn't intend to. That was why she pushed forward; why she ran away from those who wished to comfort. It put a damper on those feelings of fear and loss that took over if she waited too long. Even now, she was allowing Marshall to comfort her; she wasn't exactly letting herself be comforted.
But, none of this was going to escape, because a sleepy and worried little sound floated the direction from whence they had come.
"Daddy?"
They were close enough that Alice didn't have to yell, but she was undoubtedly befuddled about where everyone had gone. Marshall sighed and finally removed himself; Mary could see in his eyes that he was upset about having missed the opportunity to goad her about her dream. She still could not imagine how she'd appeared after that one, but had no desire to share.
"Daddy, where are you?"
If he didn't go soon, Alice was going to wander out on her own. He laid a hand on Mary's shoulder and squeezed lightly.
"If you want to talk in the morning…" he offered. "I'm really happy to listen, all right?"
He raised his brows, indicating that he found this the best course of action, but she could make no promises. She wanted to forget the nightmare; wanted to forget the kind of guilt and humiliation it had caused, whether it had been real or not.
"…I've just; I've gotta get…" he gestured at the closed door with the light peeking under the slats. "Alice was crying when I let her in bed with us; you were asleep, I didn't want to wake you…"
She wished he had, Mary thought. But, he was dear and kind to work so hard at tending to all their needs. She just nodded to show she understood, and took her turn at indicating the beyond.
"I'm just gonna grab a glass of water," she whispered, her voice still a little trembling.
Marshall bobbed his head, "I'll see you in a minute."
It would probably be longer than that, but Mary indicated her agreement and sent him on his way, not envying his job of putting on a cheerful face for a drowsy Alice. The woman simply sighed and made her way on legs that felt like jelly into the kitchen. Fortunately, Brandi was still dozing on the couch, wrapped up in an old quilt with her head sunk inside a fluffy pillow. The inability to get sleep the night before had obviously taken its toll; she was in no danger of coming around.
Mary settled herself at the table, watching her sister snooze with a gaze that was only half-focused. She pictured it as very similar to the stupor she'd gone into that morning, plaguing herself with real memories, rather than artificial ones. She wasn't sure which were the most crushing.
Her water tasted like nothing and her mind was anything but clear, even though she'd told Marshall the liquid was the only thing she required. Why would her brain go such an odd direction in such a subliminal way? What was a dream such as that supposed to be telling her? She still had some sort of veneration for her father that she'd never had for Jinx?
Had Jinx suspected that? Maybe even thought it without question? What sort of person did that make Mary? She only had eyes for a man who'd been nothing but trouble and nothing but grief.
She was still pondering her disloyalty when she heard the footsteps. At first, she thought it was Marshall, and so she sat up a little straighter and worked to appear perfectly offhand. But then she realized the pattern didn't match his deliberate stride, and the footfalls weren't heavy enough.
She was surprised, therefore, to see Robyn shuffle into her midst, jade eyes depressed and lethargic to boot.
She did her best to look impassive though, "Hey babe…" she greeted in a hushed voice. "What are you doing up?"
Robyn dragged herself all the way over, stopping to look Mary in the face behind the chair across from her. She rested her hands on its back and shrugged, tangled hair falling in knots down her shirt.
"I couldn't sleep," she told her aunt bleakly. "I dreamt about Jinx and it made me too…" a sad, young-sounding little exhale eked in midsentence. "It made me too unhappy to go back to sleep."
What Mary knew she meant was that her mind had become too full with her woes to yield, something the woman could definitely relate to. She also saw that if she let this get any further, more hysterics might be on their way. She was going to have to be swift and delicate; a combination that worked with Robyn, but a combination Mary infrequently adopted.
"You want some milk, babe?" she asked tenderly, tacking on the nickname on purpose, so as to seem more sympathetic. "Would that make you feel a little better?"
Robyn nodded pitifully, satisfied to be catered to, and Mary stood to fulfill the order. This felt easy. She was good at this. She was experienced. She didn't have to think twice about taking care of somebody, even when she needed someone to take care of her.
In no time, Mary had poured a glass of milk, watching it settle and curdle for a moment in the clear cup she'd dug out. She quickly returned it to Robyn, who had pulled out a chair, but had yet to sit in its confines. Mary saw where this was going and seized the chance; she might not be much for a lot of touchy-feely, but if it got her mind off her issues, she was willing to take it.
"Come here, my little diva…" she even tried to joke. "Take a load off."
She slipped into the chair first, and then grasped Robyn around her middle to pull her onto her lap. It was a tight fit with her niece getting taller, but they still managed to snuggle in. It had been a long time since she'd nestled with Robyn, but it wasn't so bad. She wasn't quite as squirmy as she used to be, which helped.
She took her milk in both hands and sipped from the edge, Mary resting her chin on that magnificent hair.
"You're not the only one having crummy dreams tonight," she voiced out of nowhere; unsure what made her say it.
Robyn tried to turn to look up at her, "You too?"
"A doozy," Mary murmured, thinking she'd spilled because Robyn probably wouldn't pry. She would be too interested in telling about her own escapade. "But, I try to forget once it's over."
"I couldn't forget too good…" Robyn shook her head, getting back to her milk. "My dream wasn't sad, but it made me really sad because it had Jinx in it, and I miss her and she should be here…" she hadn't even paused to take a breath, trying to get through concisely. "I don't know who is going to teach the ballet now, or do my hair…"
"Your mom can do it…" Mary interjected, but Robyn didn't appear to have heard.
"…Or take me to see all the grown-up movies, or let me sleep-over…"
She had lost a lot in one day, Mary thought. She was only nine, and sleep couldn't come when you were considering all that.
"I don't want to forget Jinx," she switched gears a little abruptly. "I'm afraid I'll forget her…"
Even though Mary couldn't see her face, she could sense the trepidation there. It was a real concern for Robyn; something truly troubling. And, tragic as it was, the good times might fade with time. When you were only in the third grade, it was a lot to hang onto as the years passed. Mary knew well enough. She'd only been in first grade when James had left, and those recollections prior were few and far between.
James. Again.
Mary buried her frustration and told Robyn a better tale than the one in her head, "You won't forget, Rob," she rubbed the knee she could reach under the table. "And, it might sound stupid since Jinx isn't with us anymore, but she wouldn't forget you either. She loved you so much, babe."
She had. Jinx had loved her family dearly and deeply, with a passion and even with recklessness. She'd done her part after so many years of failing at it. Mary couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever given her a pat on the back for bringing herself home.
And as she contemplated this, Mary expected Robyn to say she'd loved her grandmother as well in reciprocation. But no, this was Robyn. Fully convinced she'd been adored, and if there was one thing she had no qualms about, it was that Jinx had realized she was beloved every step of the way.
"Yeah," she whispered definitively. "I know she did."
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A/N: Oh, our Mary! The guilt begins! And about the necklace – I was never sure what happened to it on the show. I know they found it, but I'm saying it still became evidence for purposes of this story, so she doesn't have it anymore.
