Thanks to obsessedwithstabler, this has been revised and put out there for the grammar Nazis trolling through!
Hope you enjoy! OOC- I know. They wouldn't be this dramatic.
She had convinced herself that loving Marshall was just a part of her life, like Norah, like Mark had become, but she never had intended to admit it.
Something sparked in Abigail's eyes and for a moment, Mary expected she would draw her gun from the holster on her hip, but nothing of the sort happened. The red head took to glaring at the marshal for several seconds, her mouth opening and closing as if she wanted to say some things, but chose not to. Mary would have loved to know what had been going through her head at that particular time; the long interval it took for Abigail to comprehend the words that had just come from Mary's mouth was long and excruciating. Quite frankly, Mary would have preferred to have been sitting down, at least she wouldn't have had to keep shifting her weight awkwardly from side to side to get comfortable. Then again, there probably was no possible way this moment could be comfortable.
Large tears began their descent down the detective's face and she didn't even bother to wipe them away.
"Just g-give me a f-few minutes t-to think about this, okay?" she whimpered, her lower lip trembling.
Mary shook her head, gulping at a familiar lump in her throat, similar to the one that had lodged itself in her airway that night Marshall and Abigail had unofficially split.
Detective Chaffee ran her fingers through her dark, nearly scarlet locks. She paced back and forth from the living room to the kitchen and back more than a few times.
Mary's stomach did flips as she watched the detective pace back and forth, but she swallowed hard and continued gnawing on the inside of her cheek. She didn't want to fall apart like Abigail had already done. She also didn't want to give in to the overwhelming urge to just run, to take Norah and leave Albuquerque, invent her own makeshift WITSEC. That really wouldn't solve a damn thing. For once, her feet were planted to the floor, and she would weather the raging storm, no matter how hellish life felt in that agonizing moment.
"H-He's my h-husband…" she began, as if Mary wasn't totally aware of that. "And we're married…"
"Now you're just stating the obvious." Mary croaked. "We're not getting anywhere by you staining my carpet with your tears and making me feel guilty for something I can't change."
"But can't you see? You can change this. We were happy!"
"Yeah, maybe you were for the first few years, but then you bailed! You just up and left him when things got tough! You packed up your crap and you took off while he was at work telling me how much he just wanted everything to be okay again. While he was pouring his heart out to me, you were probably shoving your suitcase in your backseat to hit the highway! Don't tell me this is exclusively my fault, or Marshall's fault, when you most definitely can share some of this blame!" Mary was seething with rage, her head throbbed, and she could feel her blood boiling and pumping through her veins.
"You have no idea what that felt like! Losing a child is like losing a part of yourself!"
"Yeah, and you act like it was only you that was hurt by it all. You wouldn't give Marshall the time of day, let alone a second to tell you how he felt about it all. You didn't even give him a chance. That's why he came to me, because I always give him a chance." Mary rolled her eyes. "I just didn't give him that chance when I should have" she huffed, plopping down on her arm chair. "I did you wrong, him wrong, but I can't make it better, this doesn't make it any better." She sighed. "I don't understand what you want me to do."
It was ludicrous for her to want this to be the last of it, for this to be the final gospel of Detective Abigail Chaffee-Mann. Even the most hopeful couldn't imagine that being so.
"Well if anything, you have to talk to him. Mary, none of us can work things out if you two don't. I don't care how pissed off you are, that's his baby too."
"You think I forgot that?" Mary whispered softly.
Abigail stood to leave. Slowly she made her way over to the front door, but before she touched the doorknob, she turned to face Mary, "You know, if you tell him what you've told me, there's no doubt in my mind he'll choose you." Her large eyes filled with fresh tears as she admitted out loud to the last woman she wanted to admit to, the last thing she wanted to admit. "He already chose you."
Mary bit her lip. Abigail may not have been right about a few things this evening, but it was true Marshall and her most definitely had to have a chat.
xxx
The WITSEC office was lonely, empty and dark until he switched on the light to his private office. Like a teenager he sat as his desk fumbling with his iPhone, attempting to find the right words to send to his partner- no, he was wrong there, she was his former partner. What began as a four page long, rambling mess of jumbled nothingness ended with, As your best friend- and no matter what you say I am stillyour best friend, I know you're not the biggest fan of talking, but I believe that's precisely what needs to be done. I'm at the office if you're in the mood for some nostalgia- or in my case a mound of paper work. Please consider.
He couldn't believe how intimidating the Send button had become in those few short seconds after his fingers had stopped gliding across the touch screen. Marshall swallowed hard, and finally he tapped it gently.
Why he had thought this location would be a permanent sanctuary or personal hiding place, he had no idea. It was the first place anyone who knew even a shred about Marshall Mann would look. A short fifteen minutes later his wife poked her head into his office, hushing him as she entered and slowly peeled off her jacket.
When she pulled him into that embrace he knew he was in for it. Without warning she began ripping off his clothes, throwing them to the floor.
Her mouth was almost inside of his, her tongue, warm and probing. There were no words. Her hands trailed down his spine, but he no longer melted under her touch. When Abigail ran her fingertips along his stomach, he shuddered. He felt no urges to drag his own large paws through her long locks- nothing. That old spark wasn't there. It had faded with time and now as he faced the reality of Mary carrying his child, it had vanished completely. Still he feared leaving. He was afraid to walk out of that door, to betray her the way she had already betrayed him. He may have bedded the one woman he supposedly was not indebted to- a sin even Mary's conscience couldn't bear, but he would not throw his belongings in a suitcase and leave her alone. He hadn't been pushed that far yet.
They lay there afterward on the carpeting of his office floor. His boxers were sticking to his thighs with sweat, his chest inflated with oxygen and deflated just as quickly. He wasn't exactly sure what he was feeling, but he was positive it wasn't the same way he would have felt only four months ago when everything was... good. He recounted in his head the last time he and his wife had shared a moment like this. It had been when their child was conceived, but after she had lost the baby, any urges he had were put on a back burner.
It was slowly becoming awkward lying there, seemingly far away from each other after having done what they just did. His knobby elbows dug into the all but comfortable ground of his office as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Perhaps Abigail had figured spontaneity would rekindle the flame that had lost been a short time ago? Or perhaps it was just her one, last, desperate attempt at getting his attention. Her final plea for his unconditional love, a love that would be no longer distracted by the affair between him and his best friend.
If so, it was unfortunate she had to have been proven a failure so quickly.
xxx
Insanity. That is the only possible explanation for why she was stepping out of this elevator, and the only plausible reason she had dropped Norah off with the next available adult she knew with a spare moment.
Her heart raced, and the perspiration trickled down her forehead as she crept toward her desk to set her things down. She stood outside, giving herself a chance to turn back if she felt the urge to make a break for it. The blinds were down in Marshall's office; he was either feverishly scribbling at his paperwork or sleeping off whatever hell had broken loose at his place the previous night.
She turned the handle, letting herself in. As she closed the door behind her the mixture of a female and male voice shouting in tandem anger pierced her ear drums, and once again the contents of her stomach almost fell from her mouth. Once she turned around, the source of the commotion was clear, but the reason for her anger was anything but.
"What in the holy hell?" Mary screamed, covering her face with her hands.
Marshall didn't bother to grab his garments, only his wife's articles of clothing. Abigail was more exposed than Mary probably appreciated. He stood up, his handsome face scarlet with embarrassment.
"Mary, I-"
"Don't make excuses- none!" She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, and the other instinctively went to her lower belly. "I cannot believe this is happening!"
Her words were like daggers in his heart and he found himself apologizing immediately.
"Mary, please, this isn't what it looks like!" he pleaded, unsure of why having had a sexual encounter with the woman he was married to was such a big deal. Until he realized, he had beckoned her here. That text message was foggy in his mind after the explosion of sexual aftermath shook his noggin, but it came back to him slowly. "Mare, I didn't mean..." He had to bow his head in shame, how could he have been such a dick?
"You mean you didn't intend to bang your fucking wife at the same goddamn time you asked me here to talk? Is that what you didn't mean? Because it's a little too late for that now, isn't it? Christ Marshall!"Mary began to exit the room, but turned back. "To believe I fell for that happy ending shit! That total bullshit- I fell for it. You got me. Why would I even believe for a second, or even a millisecond that you would just all of a sudden take me for more than just your fling or your goddamn mistress?" She spat the word out with venom. "How could I even fool myself..." She was hysterical at this point, blinded by her own tears, and screaming at the top of her lungs. "Well, whenever you're getting fucking sentimental and decide to give two shits about what actually happened ,take a look at this!"She pulled out a perfectly intact sonogram from her back pocket, and with a flick of her wrist sent it to the ground. "There's your first and last picture of your kid! I'll have Delia bring me my things tomorrow. It was real nice knowing you Marshall." She stopped for a second after the cold utterance, wiping the tears from her face. "Enjoy your life, Abigail." She nodded toward the detective. "You can have him. I don't want..." She turned to Marshall once more, her expression a mix of agony and betrayal. "...or need that bastard."
"Mary, wait!" But the marshal had already left the office; her abundance of emotions trailing along with her. He stood there in disbelief. Abigail was wide eyed and just as speechless as he was.
"Marshall, maybe it's for the best..."
"The best?" Now he was yelling, matching the level of hysteria Mary had reached just seconds prior. "Before you came along, she was all I had here in Albuquerque, everything, she was my everything! I love you Abigail, but it's not hard to see you've had it out for Mary from the start! Guess what? Your biggest fear has come true; I am in love with my partner! And whatever the hell you told her today, whatever it was, you had to have known it was just gonna send us crashing and burning into the ground! This personal vendetta has reached its end point; I sure hope you're happy."He slid on his jeans, unable to comprehend his next move. It wouldn't be to see Mary; clearly that opportunity had passed. He would be alone now. Abigail certainly wouldn't remain his wife after all of this.
"She'll come back, she always does. But me, I think I'm- I know I'm done."
With his jeans loosely on his legs, his belt unbuckled and only his undershirt on, he went to find a bar. Marshall was never one to drown his sorrows in alcohol, but at this moment he was in no mood to think about the dangers of pouring toxins down his throat. After all, in just one day he had lost both his best friend and his wife.
xxx
"Stan, do you know of any good hotels in D.C.?" Mary was sniffling, having only returned home ten minutes ago. It was just the right amount of time to compose herself long enough to speak with her former chief.
"Why do you ask, Inspector?" Stan's suspicion was a little too obvious over the phone.
"I'll explain when I see you, but Norah and I need a little break from Albuquerque. Give me the name of a place close to you so we can pay you a visit," she insisted, switching ears so she could fiddle with her computer at the same time.
"Have you been crying?" Stan got noticeably quieter. Mary was certain he was at work surrounded my piles of papers and annoying D.C cops, but she couldn't think straight at that precise moment.
"No." What a terrible lie. Even Stan could tell she had just lied to him.
"Don't you lie to me Mary!" His tone was paternal. Unlike his normal, administrative demands, it was worry that filled his words instead of determined delegation.
"Don't you lie to me Mary!" he replied sternly to the little girl dragging her foot across the rocks.
"I'm not, Daddy." she insisted. Her blonde hair was messy, her clothes were dirty and her shoes were untied.
"What did I tell you about fibbing, partner?" he asked, crouching down so that he was eye to eye with his little girl. She was quiet, until she looked up to see the flickering anger in his eyes
"It's bad, and I shouldn't do it."
"Yep, so try again. And this time don't fib!" he replied softly.
The six year old huffed, her expression twisted into a full blown pout, and she began again…
"Yeah I was, but that's beside the point. Just give me a name of a goddamn hotel. I'll even fly Lia down with me!" she argued.
"First off, I feel like the reason you are upset is precisely the point." He paused. "And second, Lia has been living here for months!" He was silent for another second. "I'll tell you right now, I don't approve of you running away from Marshall, but I understand if you need some time to think. There's a Holiday Inn about ten miles from my house. I'll send you the address and you can go from there."
"Thanks Stan, I'll see you soon." She began to take the phone from her ear, but she realized he was still talking,
"Inspector?"
"Mhmm?"
"Don't think we won't be sitting down to talk about this," he said firmly, ending the call himself.
Mary sighed, disconnecting from the dead line and dialing Mark's number.
"Hey, would you mind if I took Norah on a little… vacation?"
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