Chapter Ten

Mary hadn't expected to fall asleep, so it came as a surprise when she was jolted out of her slumber by Brenden opening the front door. She glanced over at the time clock on the DVD player and saw that it was 7:12 a.m. She groaned and sat up, rubbing the stiffness from her neck. She had slept at most about three or four hours, but it wasn't the deep sleep she was used to. She was nervous, jittery, continuously turning in her sleep. She ran her fingers through her hair, but winced as she brushed past the newly stitched areas.

"Goodmorning, Mary. I'm sorry I woke you," Brenden said, looking contrite. He was dressed casually in cargo shorts, t-shirt, and sandals. He was in the process of stuffing his wallet and keys in his pocket when Mary woke up.

"It's alright, B, don't worry about," Mary said, getting out of the chair. "are you going out for the paper and bagels?"

A light blanket had been covering her body, so she folded it and placed in on the back of the chair. She hadn't gotten it herself, but figured Brenden or one of the girls provided it for her. They were also probably the ones who tucked the pillow between her arms so she would have something to hold onto, knowing that was how she slept best.

Brenden nodded and Mary continued talking. "Would...would it be okay if...if I came with you?"

"Of course, Mar, but shouldn't you tell Detective Goren? The General wouldn't like it if you ditched your security detail, especially this soon."

"I won't tell if you won't."

Brenden looked hesitent, but Mary instructed him to wait for her while she readied herself. She walked back upstairs and was surprised to see the bathroom door shut with the lights on. She tried telling herself not to feel guilty, that she did nothing wrong, but she couldn't help but feel like a naughty teenager getting caught sneaking back back in through her bedroom window. Before she could make a move, the bathroom door opened and Bobby emerged, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, his sleep clothes in his hands. Mary stood still, not knowing what to say, but Bobby smiled at her.

"Goodmorning, Mary. I'm glad you were able to get some sleep, even if it was in the chair. How is your neck?"

"It's fine, thanks. Wait, how did you...?" Mary stopped and suddenly the realization hit her. "you were the one who covered me and gave me the pillow, weren't you?"

"I woke up around three and when I saw you weren't in bed I went downstairs to look for you," Bobby said with a shrug. "I found you in the chair and you seemed pretty fitful, so...so I thought the pillow and blanket would help. You were holding a pillow when you were in bed."

"From the time I was little the only way I could fall asleep was if I was hugging a pillow," Mary said. "I...I know it's silly to still need a comfort item at this stage in my life-I am twenty-eight for God's sake-but...but I guess I just need something to occupy my arms. They just sort of flop when they're empty and I can't get comfortable." (**Author's note: I'm like this in real life, too. Not only must I hug a pillow every night, but it must be the same one or I can't sleep properly!)

"Everyone has a nighttime ritual, Mary, and trust me, after all the years I've been on the force, nothing about you is that unusual. You have your quirks, but I have encountered worse."

"Thanks," Mary said. "it's a great comfort to me knowing I am the least neurotic of the neurotics you have encountered over the years."

Bobby chuckled. "you are one of the sneakiest, though. Did you really think you could sneak out of this apartment with me?"

Before Mary could respond, he continued talking, leaning his head slightly as he spoke. "Brenden came up here earlier to get ready, which is what woke me up. We didn't speak, but I gathered he was leaving to get breakfast for everyone given the early hour and the likilihood no one would want to cook. You were already downstairs and as lightly as you were sleeping, I figured he would awaken you as he left. I just wanted to be ready when you were."

It was at that moment that they heard footsteps making their way up the stairs. They turned around and saw Brenden entering the bedroom. Brenden nodded to Bobby then looked at Mary.

"Are you ready, Mary?" he asked. "I don't mean to rush, but I would like to be back before everyone wakes up."

"Yeah, I just need to brush my teeth and I'll be right with you."

Brenden walked back downstairs and Mary walked into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, cleaned out the sink and walked back into the room. When she entered the bedroom, she saw that Bobby had laid out some clothes for her. She hadn't intended on changing her clothes, but somehow her psychic detective friend had picked up on that, so he set out walking shorts, a black tank top with a built in bra, and her favorite black slip ons. Mary couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfullness and walked over to her drawer to retrieve some other needed items.

"Thank you...for setting out my clothes, I mean," Mary said, taking out a hairbrush.

"Like I said before, Mary, I'm here to help you," Bobby said kindly. He noticed the brush in her hands, so he walked over and took it out of her hands. Mary looked over her shoulder, stunned as her took her hair out of its ponytail and started brushing her hair.

"Bobby, what are you doing? I am perfectly capable of combing my own hair," she said. She knew he was just trying to help, but the way he just invaded her space without permission was sort of annoying.

"Yes, I know you are perfectly capable, but your body is still recovering from what happened and I'm just trying to make your recovery as smooth as possible."

Mary said nothing and Bobby continued brushing, appreciating the softness of auburn curls against his fingers. The General had once described her hair as "an autumn day" and Bobby was thinking that as well. The color was lovely and based on how thick and healthy her mane was, Bobby summized she didn't dye or bleach it the way most other women did. He saw remnents of blonde highlights, but that was the extent of her experimentation.

"Your hair...from whom did you inherit your hair color?" he asked.

"My mother had red hair," Mary said quicky.

"Your mother?" Bobby asked, frowning thoughtfully. "Carolyn's hair shows no sign of ever being dyed."

Before Mary could respond, something caught Bobby's eye. He was looking at the drawer where Mary was keeping her items and among the items were two pill bottles. As he combed Mary's hair, he reached inside and retrieved them. Mary stared at him, annoyed and a little embarassed as he held them in his hand, studying them.

"Detective Goren, what the Hell are you doing? Who do you think you are, invading my privacy? Your job is to protect me, not to go through my things."

"Lanoxin and Oxcarbazepine," he said, reading off the labels as if she hadn't said anything. "you have heart disease and seizures?"

"Yes and not in years: my seizures usually only happen when I'm under a great deal of stress," Mary said pointedly, turning around so she could take the comb and pill bottles out of his hands.

"That explains why you don't like low cut tops," Bobby continued, tilting his head to the side as he continued speaking. "some forms of heart disease require surgery and the scars could be a source of embarassment for some people. Tetralogy of Fallot is the most serious of congenital heart diseases: were you in the hospital frequently as a child?"

"That is none of your business...and why are you tilting your head like that? It's off putting."

Bobby smiled and Mary out a sigh of frustration. She stomped over to the bed, where her clothes were laid in waiting. She picked up the tank top and looked back at Bobby, who was still watching her.

"Do you mind? I would like to dress in private-or would you like to watch so you can further psychoanalyze my every move?"

"I will wait for you downstairs," Bobby said, setting the pill bottles on the dresser before he walked downstairs.

Once Bobby was securely downstairs, Mary peeled off her night clothes. As she removed her tank top, her fingers lingered over the incision on her bare chest. The scar had faded, but it was still a very visable reminder of what she had been through, and what she had lost. Emotion welled in her throat, but she forced it down as quickly as it came. She didn't have the time or the interest for self pity-what was done was done and she couldn't dwell on that now. She pulled on her new top, thankful for the fact that it covered her chest, showing off only her clavicle. Once she was dressed, she put her clothes in the clothes hamper and made her way downstairs.