Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been abused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Sonn of Mann – Chapter 21 – Down for the Count

MARY POV

A week has gone by and I'm still getting a strange vibe from Marshall. It isn't because I missed a training class either. God I hope he isn't starting to remember the night, that night, when I took advantage of him. Marshall's been going over budgets and parleying with his bosses and signing off on witness reports. Normal stuff. But once in a while I catch him watching me. Maybe he's just zoning out because Martin is keeping him awake nights. He hasn't mentioned it. Norah has been sleeping through the night, so I'm on my game.

I reamed little old Donny Danforth a new one and he hasn't called since. Despite Marshall's contention that Donny just wants to see me, I've continued running threat assessments, making sure no one bad for his health has shown up in Albuquerque.

ABQPD has been quiet. None of my witnesses have had run-ins with the cops and the cops seem to be giving the Marshal Service a wide berth. Works for me. Wonder if Abigail has anything to do with that? God, I miss Dershowitz. I could talk to him.

I can't believe I'm caught up on reports. None of my witnesses have called. Eenie meanie miney mo, to which witness should I go? Hmm. My phone chirps and the screen shows a call from Donny boy. He hangs up before I can get it. That's it. He's the lucky witness to get a visit. I gather up my gear and poke my head into Marshall's office. "Witness visit!"

Marshall is deep into some sort of spread sheet but he pops his head up and looks me in the eye. "Who?"

"Donny boy. He's been behaving himself. It looks like he just tried to call me but hung up before I could answer." I curl my lip and shrug. "I think he deserves a reward for good behavior." I give Marshall a shit eating grin.

"Be careful. Just because he's paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get him," he narrows his eyes, "or you."

"Sure thing, Chief."

Donnie's apartment building is an older two story that looks as if it used to be a motel. I'm circling my wagon looking for a place to park when a flicker of movement catches my eye. I twist to see out the back window. A move I perfected checking on Norah. There's my guy. Donnie is worming between the concrete block wall and the dumpster keeping his hedgehog hair below the wall. He wouldn't be wearing a white dress shirt and trousers for dumpster diving. Something is definitely wrong. Backing down the block, I park and heeding Marshall's warning, put my flak jacket under my shirt. Bullet proof vests - every minivan should come with one.

Clutching my gun next to my leg I crouch and sneak up to the dumpster. "Hey Donnie!"I whisper. He practically jumps into the dumpster. At least I get a chuckle from this visit. "What's going on?" He looks like a wide eyed hamster.

I join him in the space between the dumpster and the wall. "Remember that guy I told you about?" He pants. "The one I thought was from Minelli's gang?"

"Yeah."

"He's here. I saw him coming up the stairs when I pulled into the parking lot."

"Did you see where he went?"

"Well yeah." He rolls his eyes and turns his head. "He's in my apartment. Look you can see the door's open from here. You think I'm out here for my health?"

Actually, he is out here for his health. "Who have you pissed off?"

"Me?" He protests affronted. Well fancy that. "I haven't ticked off anyone. I'm a go-along get-along kind of guy." Sure thing buddy. That's why there's a mobster who wants you dead.

"He still there?" I'm watching Donnie's apartment. Sure enough, the door is open and there's a crashing sound.

"I think so. I didn't see him leave." Donnie jerked when the glass shattered and scrunched himself down further.

"Stay here. Stay quiet and don't move. Your life depends on it." I stare at him, willing compliance. He's shaking like a leaf.

"Okay, yes, yes."

"Good." I hand my phone to Donnie. "Here. It's dialing the office. Let whoever answers know who you are and where we are. I'm going to check on your visitor."

Donnie's apartment is on the second floor. There are two staircases, one on each end of the building. Donnie's place is in the middle. The door is open. I swivel my head checking. No cars, no movement, no people. It's the middle of the day and folks are at work or school. I crouch behind the bushes that pass for landscaping and ease up the north staircase. I look back making sure the little turd is where I left him.

Dammit. I see him, his white shirt is visible. Not good. The perp can see him too. Here's hoping the cavalry arrives soon.

As I get to the top there's more crashing. Doesn't anyone hear that? Maybe this isn't a good place to stash witnesses. I poke my head around the corner. The window's still intact. What could they be looking for? Did Donnie take something that didn't belong to him? If they were looking for him they would have left. Is there more than one?

I get to the doorway and follow my gun into the room. A dark grey smudge of a man pops up from the behind the counter of Donny's kitchenette. It's the big ole gun he's pointing at me that has my attention. "US Marshall" I bellow. And then... And then. . . Nothing. The next thing I know, my chest hurts and someone is desperately calling my name.

"Mare," he says. The voice sounds familiar. "Dammit Mare, you can't do this to me. You can't do this to Norah." Norah, oh yeah. Norah. I remember my baby girl, sweet little angel with the lungs of a blue whale. What about Norah? Why are my eyes closed? Why is my face wet?

"Marshall?" Oh I recognize THAT voice.

"Abigail?" That has to be Marshall. Why does he sound so . . . frantic? "Where are the EMTs? I can't find where she's hit."

"Is that Mary?" Jeez I must really look like crap if she doesn't recognize me. "They're in the parking lot. My guys are around back chasing a man in a baseball cap and dark t-shirt." How'd ABQPD get here so quick?

"Mare?" I feel myself being lifted onto his lap. "Where were you hit?"

I blink, cough and paw feebly at my chest. Without hesitation Marshall tears my good court blouse open. Dammit. He owes me a new one. He's holding me so tight I can feel him inhale. "If this is your idea of feeling me up you need to work on your technique."

"Thank God. She's wearing a vest." He bends down, his nose practically between my breasts. "It looks like a small caliber bullet."

"Yeah," Abigail replies, watching Marshall cradle me. "She does seem to have all the luck."

I hear more footsteps and a new voice. "Detective Chaffee?"

"Yes." Marshall's hold weakens and my head rolls toward the voice. I see one of the boys in blue with my boy in front of him.

"I found this guy hiding behind the trash bin. Should I take him in?" The uniform has Donnie in handcuffs. This just isn't Donnie's day.

"No." Marshall interrupts. "He lives here. Check with the apartment manager. That's his name on the mail box – D. Danforth."

"One of yours," Abigail concludes. Nice detecting, Detective. Glad to see you putting that training to work.

"Mr. Danforth," she addresses the uncuffed Donnie. "Do you have any idea who was in your apartment? Given the way this place was trashed they were looking for something."

Trashed. Just like you trashed Marshall's heart. It's a good thing I'm down for the count or I'd trash her. She hurt the man I lo. . . . love? What the hell? That bullet cleaned my clock but good.

"The paramedics are here Mare." He lifts his head to address the EMT. "This is Inspector Mary Shephard. I'm her Chief, United States Marshall Service." He must have his badge out. "Why did she pass out?"

"Has she had any other injuries recently?" the medical technician asks kneeling next to me.

I see Marshall wash his face with his hand. Is that guilt? "Uh yeah. She was shot on her right side" He points to my waist, "about two months ago. But she's fully recovered."

Marshall gently lowers me to the floor so the paramedic can examine me. I feel cold. I miss his warmth. What is wrong with me?

Marshall and Abigail go outside, out of the EMTs way. Too far for me to hear their conversation. She better not upset him. She doesn't deserve him.

The EMTs do their thing. I have a bruise where the bullet hit. ABQPD wants the vest, and the bullet. That's Marshall's call. Oh my God. What did they give me? I feel myself fall back, a hand on the back of my head.

Next time I'm conscious I'm on a gurney heading for the maw of an ambulance. Marshall? Where the hell is Marshall? Oh, right, he's not my partner anymore. He doesn't need to be here. Just as I close my eyes I feel a warm hand take mine. Two thumps and we start moving. Then it all goes black. Again.

I come to hearing a panic stricken male voice asking, "What's wrong? Is she in a lot of pain? Why did she pass out? "

I never faint. I'm tougher than that. The vest caught the bullet. What's wrong?

Marshall holds my hand and swipes my hair back. "Mary," his voice is high, tight with emotion, "you can't do this now. Our friendship is finally getting back on track. Marty and Norah are becoming best friends, like you and I. The Chief / Inspector thing is awkward, but that will smooth itself out in time. Hang on. Please."

It's the please that gets me. I've tried to keep an appropriate distance between us. After all, he's Chief. Sometimes I catch him giving me the strangest look though. Always makes me afraid he's remembering THAT night, the night his best friend betrayed him, took advantage of him, had sex with him.

Oh God. I can't think of this now.

I feel the EMT leaning over me. "Hmm. There's a streak of blood near her hairline. Maybe she hit her head when she fell. We'll check it out at the hospital sir."

I also don't want to think about relocating Donnie and finding the douche bag that trashed his place. If I play possum long enough, Delia will take care of it.

"The pain can't be too bad sir. She's smiling."

A/N: My apologies for the sporadic posting. The story is leading me where it wants to go. Thanks to all who are following it.