A/N: Once again, I just have to say thank-you to those of you that are still reading. It's a slower time of year (or maybe the story isn't so entertaining?) but I appreciate any of you taking the time to leave me such kind words.
XXX
Marshall was more discouraged than he was worried as he caught his wife seconds before she hit the ground in a fainting spell. This was a far cry from Stan, who pulled a 'Mary' himself and shouted out.
"Jesus!" he burst, sliding backward on the linoleum so he wouldn't be in the line of fire. "What's wrong with her; is she okay?"
"Damn it…" Marshall grunted, scooping Mary as gently as possible under her arms and lugging her to the chair. "She's fine…" he answered Stan begrudgingly, seating the limp Mary upright. "She passed out because she's way over her limit – over-exerted herself, in other words," he clarified. "Her immune system is run-down; it can't support the kind of stress she just put on it."
Stan nodded knowingly, and despite his status as a US Marshal and medical training, he still looked concerned. To his surprise, Marshall appeared highly annoyed as he set about adjusting Mary in the chair.
"Can I do something?" Stan asked, trying to be as calm as the other man was. "Should I call somebody?"
"No…" Marshall sighed. "See if there's a washcloth out in the kitchenette; soak it and bring it here, would you?"
"Sure…" Stan agreed, and without further ado made his way out the office door to do as instructed.
Marshall did his best to get Mary comfortable, even in his agitation. He had known this was a terrible idea; known she was not acting in her right frame of mind, and he'd let her come anyway. Now she'd probably be ill for another week, and miserable to boot. Though it wasn't easy, Marshall tried to push that guilt away in favor of getting his wife sprung to life.
Ideally, he knew she should be lying down, but the floor was hard and she was already under-the-weather. He settled for reclining her head as far back as it would go in the chair, and gathered two binders from his desk. He shoved them under her feet and took her pulse for his own peace of mind, and was relieved to feel the beat against his fingers.
"Mary…" he murmured, running a tender finger down her moisture-ridden cheek. "What am I gonna do with you?"
Marshall contemplated what her answer to that might be if she were awake when Stan returned with sopping fabric, close to dripping all over the floor.
"Here…" he offered the cloth to Marshall. "That was as cold as I could get it," he explained.
"Thanks," Marshall nodded and immediately started to sponge Mary's flesh as slowly and concisely as he could. He didn't want to startle or shock her, because the washcloth was definitely icy. Stan must've put the water on full blast. "Come on, Mare…" he coaxed as he worked.
Stan clearly thought it was prudent to get a few things straight before Mary rejoined them, "Has she been like this the whole time?" he asked curiously. "Since Jinx died? Acting pissed instead of upset?"
"Well, according to Mark, she was very upset…" Marshall informed him, transferring the damper to Mary's forehead. "And once I finally got to her that first day, she was still pretty shaken-up, but she was being so sweet…" he revealed, grateful his wife couldn't hear him call her as such. "But, I guess once the shock wore off…"
He shrugged and Stan picked up the phrase, "Same old Mary."
"Well, not entirely," Marshall decided to give her a little credit. "She's been wonderful with the kids," he didn't mention Alice's pop-tart-wet-pants fiasco. "But, get her alone and she just doesn't want to push it."
"Hard to blame her," Stan slipped his hands into his pockets and began to rock back and forth. "It's gotta be tough for her, especially with her dad gone…"
Marshall was about to agree, to say he had suspected James might have something to do with Mary's manner, when she started to stir. He halted the stroking he'd began with the washcloth and let her bring herself around, knowing she would be irate when she woke, not to mention feeling extremely under-par.
"Mmm…?" she vocalized, shifting her head to one side before blinking once or twice to try and acquaint herself with the room she'd just left. "…What…?"
She was still out-of-it, but when she batted her eyelids she caught a glimpse of Stan in the doorway, Delia looking on from her desk. Their shapes were blurry and indistinct, trilling and molding oddly at their edges like smoke. The snow outside the window made them appear greyer in the dank light of the office.
There was a hand on her face; a temperate, soothing hand. Her skin was prickling and damp, and when she shifted her gaze the other direction, she saw Marshall kneeling before her.
Jesus. What had she done now?
"Hey…" he whispered, trying to put his annoyance aside to tend to his wife in her daze. "You okay?" the hand slipped away and he craned his neck to lay lips against her flesh, a reward for her waking up.
Mary was still a little lost, but was pretty sure she knew what had happened, "Did I faint?" her voice came out in pieces, each letter trailing inexpertly after the one before it.
"Yeah…" Marshall sighed, and she could tell she'd put him through the wringer in just a single morning. "I think you overdid it today."
Mary looked at him from where she was slumped in his chair, at the way he was working so hard to give her what she wanted; to not appear angry or slighted. He knew how difficult life was right now, and that she was making it even harder by resisting the circumstances. But, he just let her. He knew how she was. Once upon a time, she'd been worried her unattractive side would astonish him. It was why she'd been so afraid to marry him.
How could she have ever turned that down? The shame swept her fragile body and her green eyes turned doleful with his statement.
"I'm sorry."
Marshall tried not to let his surprise show on his face, but it was an effort. It wasn't everyday Mary realized the error of her ways and owned up to it. At the same time, he didn't see this as something she needed to apologize for. She was unhappy and unsure how to handle it; she just relapsed because the motions to resist change were still programmed within.
He gave her a small smile, "Passing out is not your fault," he swore. "But, Mare you are burning up. Face it, love; you're sick," he added the affectionate moniker without thinking. "I want you to go home, all right?"
He asked permission to make her feel better, but really had no intention of taking no for answer this time. Luckily, he had to Stan to back him up.
"I'll drive her," he offered genially. "I don't have to meet Lia again for a few hours."
Marshall didn't wait for a response, even a groggy one, before he stood and extended his hand to help Mary up. Fortunately, she was either too tired or too slow at the moment to protest. She sat up as well as she was able and allowed Marshall to hoist her to her feet. It was an almost nauseating act; her legs were unsteady and she was clammy and shivery all over. She couldn't work now even if she'd wanted to, a thought that thoroughly depressed her.
"I'll bring your car around, okay?" Stan continued, peering low to catch her eyes.
"Yeah…" Mary croaked. "My keys are in my top drawer."
"Sure-sure…" Stan nodded. "I'll grab your bag too. Take your time getting downstairs; there's no rush."
Mary could only nod at his generosity before Marshall thanked him and their former boss went on his merry way. This left the married pair alone in the office, Mary feeling foolish and humiliated all at once. She had to have scared Marshall with her spell. Why did she do this? She wanted to talk to him, to tell him she was baffled about Jinx and her dad – uncertain of how her mother had felt, and afraid she'd never be able to ask her about it.
But, the words wouldn't come right now; she was too focused on feeling like she could function again to bother right this second.
Instead, she proposed another confession, "I'm sorry I turn things into such a mess for you."
She had not expected him to grin, even merely for her benefit. But, that was exactly what he did, bestowing her with a second, tingling kiss.
"You know what they say…" he declared in a lighter voice. "Sometimes messy is what you need."
With this familiar, but nonetheless dismal thought, Mary gave in and let Marshall lead her to the elevator. Delia wished her well from where she was still on the phone, and Mary gave her a short, terse nod in response. Downstairs, Stan behind the wheel of the inspector's minivan, Marshall kissed her goodbye and promised he'd be home around lunchtime.
The car ride through the snow was silent and shaky; the thump the tires made on the wet ground made Mary's stomach churn. Her head hurt and she was mortified about having collapsed in front of Stan. What must he think of her? She opted not to ask and instead rested her head on the cool pane of the window, hoping it would ease the jittery feeling in her limbs.
The house was just as Mary had left it meager hours before, but no more inviting than she'd found it at dawn. Even with the lights on, it seemed dreary and dank – and lonesome. She hated when the kids weren't home because it was so quiet. She could use their boundless energy right now, which they were sure to have in spite of the news they'd received the day before.
"You want anything to eat or drink?" Stan questioned once Mary had settled herself on the couch with a light blanket. "Maybe some water? Dry toast?" he was sticking his head in cabinets without really listening to her response.
"Not really…" she whispered, not wanting Stan to go to any trouble; she wasn't up for sustenance anyway. "I'm not very hungry."
"No, I suppose you wouldn't be…" Stan switched gears as he closed the cupboards and began to saunter back to the living room. "Maybe later this afternoon, then."
Mary was noncommittal, "Maybe."
She felt absolutely dreadful, and yet was still frustrated she was back at home. It was beginning to feel like a prison – the nasty weather and the empty confines. It may have only been three days since she'd heard about Jinx, but staying in park only enabled her to recount the experience over and over in her brain when she was stuck in the same place she'd been at the bomb dropping. It was like she couldn't get away from it.
Stan, seeing her vacant and despondent expression, sat comfortably at her feet on the sofa. It was true he was better at tending to an ill woman when the ill woman wasn't pregnant. Mary had to give him some acclaim for that.
"Boy, I'll tell you…" he began, looking fondly around the room. "I'm still not used to this place with all the girls' stuff in it," he made neutral conversation. "I remember it when it was just yours; so arranged and nice and neat. Very adult," he flashed her a teasing grin.
Mary didn't reciprocate, and alternated to looking around the room, trying to see what Stan saw. The toy box by the window that had been there since Norah's birth was now overflowing with Alice's dolls and stuffed animals. It had been red at its origin, but Marshall had painted pink hearts on the wood after Alice turned two. At one time, the development had displeased Mary, but she'd gotten over it.
On the coffee table in front of them were countless drawings, crayoned by both Norah and Alice; Mary even thought she saw a few with Max's name scrawled in the corner. Norah, even at ten, still enjoyed a little artwork, and also saw it as an opportunity to school Alice on shading in the lines. By the front door there were coats that had fallen from hooks, the entryway littered with forgotten gloves and hats, too small anyone Mary's or Marshall's size.
Underneath the lip of the outer counter was Norah's bag with her baseball equipment; shoved out of sight in favor of when the weather grew warmer. There was also a stray pair of ballet slippers that Robyn must've left at one time or another.
And the rolling in Mary's belly returned.
"Quite a funhouse I live in these days," she said to Stan in an attempt to cover the sensation. "Come one, come all."
"It's nice, though," Stan clarified. "Makes it seem like home."
It had used to, Mary thought, until all these haunting memories had started invading her sanctuary. She couldn't take her eyes off the misplaced pair of pale pink dancing shoes. How had she never noticed them before? They looked old, like Robyn had long since forgotten them. They might fit Alice by now.
"Well, not all of its ours…" was her way of voicing this. "Robyn and Max leave a ton of stuff. Like those…" she indicated the slippers, hoping that if she called attention, the bad feeling might wash away. "I think those are Robyn's. Norah never took ballet."
Stan seemed to have an intuition about where the story was headed. After all, he knew Jinx had been a dancer. She and Lia had gotten along quite well the few times they'd been able to spend with one another. But, that wasn't entirely what was on Mary's mind right now.
"I never asked her if she wanted to…" Mary continued inattentively, still zeroing in below the counter. "I just assumed, since she wasn't into that stuff…" a sigh, before forcing herself to look back at Stan. "I wonder if she would've liked going to class with Jinx."
For his part, Stan tried not to look too melancholy about the road they were down, "I don't know," he said truthfully. "I bet she was a hell of a teacher, though. Hell of a singer too, as I understood it."
Mary wasn't sure what he meant, "Hmm?"
"Didn't she have a part in a play once?" he wanted to know. "Sweet Charity? I know she got a callback for it."
Mary was thoroughly perplexed. She had not thought about that in ages. Jinx had indeed been assigned the role of Charity in the community production, but had never gotten to perform because she'd gone into rehab. But, more importantly, how did Stan know about it?
"Where did you hear that?" Mary asked skeptically, merely bemused and not critical. "I don't think I even told you."
Stan hadn't known he would regret bringing this up, but a distinct feeling of awkwardness stole over him as he recalled where he had learned the information. He knew it would bug Mary if she had to harass him, and thought it was best to get on with it, no matter how ill-at-ease it made him.
"You remember when you were abducted?" his tone was hushed.
"Not an easy thing to forget."
"Well, when Marshall and I came to talk to Jinx and Brandi, we tapped your phones in case somebody called," he explained. "I let Jinx answer the one time it rang, and it was somebody from the theater saying they wanted her to audition a second time."
Mary tried to let the pieces slide into place as Stan laid it all out, but he was still speaking.
"I remember thinking that she had this air about her – like she shouldn't enjoy her accomplishment, not when you were missing," he went on. "I told her I'd come see her if she got the part," he smiled warmly. "But, I think she was too worried about you to care."
As he finished, Mary took herself back to that day a little more thoroughly. Her mother should've been worried, she reflected. She'd caused a scene in the middle of the theater, accusing Mary of being selfish and wanting to ruin everything. It had not been Jinx's finest moment, especially considering what happened minutes after the fact.
This wasn't the first time Mary had pondered why Jinx had said those things. She'd turned the words around on her in those days, but was there any merit to them? Had her mother really thought Mary was that unfeeling?
No, she told herself. No-no-no. It had been a hard day for all of them; tempers running wild, even more so later that night when the letters from James had come out. Nobody had been thinking straight.
Right? Right.
"Jinx wasn't very thrilled with me that day," she was going to find a way to tell Stan and get this weight off her chest without becoming a wreck. "I showed up at her audition – made her mad."
"Oh…" Stan breathed, shaking his head in a no-nonsense way. "She was probably thrown. It's scary when you try to get back on your feet; all the obstacles that might stand in your way look bigger than they really are."
Mary wondered if Marshall had ever recounted what had happened that morning to Stan. It seemed he knew a little more than he was letting on, but it enabled Mary to open up, at the very least.
"She said I enjoyed watching her fail."
It came out as soft as the summer breeze; so quiet Mary wasn't sure Stan heard right away. But the wind also made her choke up; made the clogged feeling return to her throat. She didn't like thinking about this. How had she let it invade?
Stan, meanwhile, was working furiously for a good response. He could see in Mary's deep green eyes that they had traipsed into a dangerous minefield. All the things he wanted to say didn't seem very appropriate, not when Jinx had just passed away. Delicately as possible, he leaned over and placed his hand against her knee. She swallowed hard and rolled her eyes skyward to try and get a grip on herself.
"Oh, kiddo…" he breathed, wanting desperately not to make her feel worse. "You know that isn't true," he insisted. "I…I don't know why she would say that, Mary, but it-it was just a mistake," he rattled on recklessly. "She just…must not have been thinking about how you might feel, is all…"
"I don't know…" Mary laughed ruefully, and the action made her sore in her gullet.
"Listen, inspector…" he turned on his boss voice, rubbing her knee now. "I really cared for Jinx – a lot. I did. She was very loving, and I was proud of her for stepping up and getting herself clean…"
This was a lot of preamble, Mary thought. He might be on the fast track to bestowing the woman with some unfortunate characteristics, and wanted to make it clear he respected her nonetheless.
"But, she was not as strong back then as you were – as you've always been," Stan resumed quietly. "Sometimes people say hurtful things when they're insecure."
Mary could tell by his eyes that he wanted to get off this subject, which only made sense since he was operating so quickly to make her quit fretting. She shouldn't have dragged him into her woes. He hadn't come all the way from Washington for this.
"I make everything so hard for everyone," she claimed, still fighting back the tears.
But Stan just smiled sadly and squeezed her knee, "You wouldn't be our Mary if you didn't."
XXX
A/N: Stan's recollection of Jinx's part in the play is derived from one of the deleted scenes from, "Stan By Me" on the season one DVD. Like I said, I hope this is holding interest! I concede the plot isn't as meaty as some of my other tales, but I do what I can!