Spoilers for Stan by Me and A Fine Meth

Albuquerque, we have a problem

Chapter 12 – You Can't Make an Omelette Without Breaking Down

By unspoken assent, the three of them gathered in the kitchen earlier than they would have normally. It was obvious to Mary that Ellen had not gone back to sleep either, after her nightmare. She sat at the table, the signs of strain showing now that Mary knew to look for them. Marshall patted his sister on the head as he walked past, simultaneously irritating and reassuring her, the way only a brother can. He made no comment as to why she was sitting at his kitchen table at 5.30 am when she was supposed to be on vacation. He and Mary at least had the excuse that they had to be at work at some point this morning. Even if it was only for a few hours, they were still expected to go in on a Saturday to catch up on all the things that slipped through the net in the week.

Mary took a seat opposite Ellen and slumped forward as she stared out the window. Ellen focused on tracing the wood grain of the table with her finger. Marshall took one look at his two women at the table and set about making breakfast as quietly as possible so he could listen to the conversation he knew was about to come.

"You okay?" Mary asked uncomfortably. She knew how much she hated it when people asked her that but could think of no other way to broach the subject.

Ellen gave her a sidelong glance and a wry smile as her only answer.

"Well, if you want to talk," Mary offered knowing that was what was expected and knowing how irritating it could be. She cursed herself, silently, for resorting to such a cliché.

"I can't."

"Can't as in it's classified, or can't as in just can't?"

"A little of both," Ellen admitted.

"Oh," Mary didn't know what else to say.

They sat in silence. The silence was slightly unnerving for Marshall who was used to his sister's constant chatter, the absence of which betrayed just how shaken Ellen was after her nightmare. More worrying was the fact she was allowing him to cook unhindered by her 'helpful' hints and comments. He couldn't remember the last time he had been allowed in the kitchen without having to forcibly remove her first. He was drawn out of his introspection as the conversation resumed.

"I had a near miss a while ago," Mary began slowly, uncomfortable at telling this to someone she had only met a few days ago and at dragging up the memories for the first time since it happened, "I was drugged, beaten pretty badly, held captive for several hours, almost raped and I...I killed a man," Mary kept her voice low and even through sheer force of will, but when Ellen looked at her face, she could see the remembered pain and fear written there all too clearly.

Mary continued, "Then I had to go home to my family," she closed her eyes as she tried to block out the events of that evening and the hurtful things that were said. "At least you get to come home to Marshall. I'd swap him for my sister, Brandi, in an instant," she sighed.

Neither woman noticed Marshall tense at Mary's words, too engrossed in their own personal trials.

"Yeah," Ellen flicked her eyes to Marshall's back, where he stood at the stove seemingly ignoring them. "Are you okay, now?" she asked.

Mary thought a while, "Probably not," she revealed, "I'm better than after it happened, but I still have the occasional nightmare, when I'm tired or anxious."

They lapsed into silence again. Ellen went back to tracing the wood grain, Mary sat watching Marshall.

"I've been on administrative leave for a month," Ellen announced, "I'm seeing a counsellor three times a week." She smiled briefly as Mary grimaced at that revelation.

She continued, "I was working undercover to bring down a child pornography ring." She drew a shaky breath and shook her head as she added, "Except, it all went wrong."

Mary cringed in sympathy.

"I'm not sure I like who I've become," Ellen confided, "I shouldn't be able to see the things I've seen and not feel horrified. I used to be racked with guilt every time I discharged my weapon. But now, I've seen things I know are much worse, things I know are horrific, but I just don't feel anything. And that's not normal. It's not right!"

Mary stared, at a loss for what to say. She could only imagine what Ellen had been through, just how the operation could have gone wrong and the consequences of those errors. Nothing she could say would help, she knew that, but she was a fixer and she desperately wanted to fix this. For Ellen's sake. For Marshall.

"It's not normal," Marshall said, entering the conversation for the first time.

He gave Ellen a while to consider his words, which were the opposite of what the psychologist had been telling her. They had just kept reassuring her that it was normal to become numb to suffering when surrounded by it, as she had been. They had made it sound like it was okay not to feel anything, yet here was her brother, telling her it wasn't okay.

Marshall placed an omelette in front of each woman. He put a hand on Ellen's shoulder, drawing her attention to him.

He reassured her with quiet certainty, "You're too close. Take a step back for a while. The horror will come back."

As he returned to the stove for his own breakfast, Mary leaned across the table and whispered in a voice loud enough for Marshall to hear, "Don't tell your brother this, but I think he's pretty smart."

"Yeah he is," Ellen whispered back, a slow smile spreading across her face as she announced, "Although he only got a C minus in women's studies at college."

Mary grinned and raised an eyebrow at Marshall, as he sat at the table with them.

He spluttered, "Yeah, well, that wasn't about what I thought it would be about."