A/N: Time for some recovery, some sadness, and some sweetness....
You learn to like someone when you find out what makes them laugh, but you can never truly love someone until you find out what makes them cry. ~Author Unknown
Sometimes we make love with our eyes. Sometimes we make love with our hands. Sometimes we make love with our bodies. Always we make love with our hearts. ~Author Unknown
Mary had to be forced to leave the hospital to get cleaned up. J.P. tried pointing out that Raph had been shot, taken away in a bodybag by a coroner, and that there were Marshals standing watch outside Marshall's hospital room. He even reminded her that Marshall himself was out cold, a mixture of exhaustion and drugs finally giving his tortured body the rest it had needed for so long. None of this had cut any ice whatsoever with Mary. Finally, Thea had promised not to leave the room until Mary could go back to the Phoenix Dream for a little while, and everyone concerned had to be satisfied with that. Marshall, under the influence of heavy-duty pain medication, slept on blissfully unaware of the squabble. Only when she withdrew her hand from his own did he murmur, a frown crossing his face. Mary almost refused to leave, but Thea shoved her toward the door with a pointed, "Go. You stink and are filthy. Damn, girl. Do something about it."
Back at the Phoenix Dream, Mary stripped off her tattered and bloodstained clothing and made a pile of it in the corner of the lush bathroom of the penthouse suite. Everything she had on was covered in crud. She decided to take a hot shower, and she grabbed her favorite body wash. She absently noticed the scratches and scrapes, the bruises already making a rainbow of colors on her body as she walked past the long vanity mirror and into the tiled shower enclosure, its wall of glass bricks forming the boundary of it.
The hot water hitting her aching muscles from the multiple jets was pure bliss, and the smell of the body wash was relaxing. Jesus, I really am absolutely filthy, she thought as she noticed the dirt sluicing off her down the drain along with the bubbles of the soap. She intended to hurry through her bathing because she wanted to get back to the hospital before Marshall could awaken and find her gone, but she found herself reaching for the liquid soap she'd sat on tiled seat inside the shower area again, squeezing another dollop out onto the mesh sponge as memories of what she'd done to accumulate that layer of grime began to race in to fill the echoing silence of the tiled stall.
She rubbed harder, trying to remove the memory of everything that had happened, of Raph's hands on her. Her mind replayed his hard grip as he'd pulled her forward into that hellishly-eternal kiss, his hand sliding down her arm, his hand cupping her cheek, and then, suddenly there was the memory her mind had been blocking as a matter of survival: that of hot blood flowing over her hands in the darkness.
She looked down at her hands and saw the remnants of that dried blood still present even after all this time in the hot water. She laughed a little, a tiny bubble of hysteria. I'm having a Lady fucking Macbeth moment here... I can't get this shit out from under my nails.... She reached for a stiff nailbrush from a wall-hung rack, scrubbed hard, fast, skin turning red with her motion, but suddenly all she could see was the last expression of the guard at the door of Marshall's shed, the way he'd looked in the moonlight as she'd stabbed him, then the way his blood had looked black like ink as it had spilled out of the gash she'd opened in his throat. She sank to the floor of the shower, hot water cascading over her, and she dropped the nailbrush, heard the hard plastic clatter away into a corner. She covered her face with her hands as the tears came, then jerked them away again, held them away from herself as though they were alien entities capable of sentient action and free will, and she cried.
That was how J.P. found her an half-an-hour later when she failed to answer his phone calls, lying on her side in a fetal ball, weeping on the floor of the expensively tiled shower staring at her hands as the hot water rushed over her. J.P. cut off the water, grabbed a towel and drew her gently up and out. Once she was wrapped the huge soft towels of the suite, he gathered her to him, scooping her up like a child in his arms, and he carried her to the bed and tucked her under the covers. She instantly returned to the protective ball under the covers, and it broke his heart.
He sat beside her on the bed, stroking her hair as he had when she was little and Jinx had had one of her episodes, when her father had broken another promise, and later when she was recovering from the damage Raph had done to her. She'd had to come back from too much in her life. And he could guess, based on the debriefing Thea had given him as they'd followed the ambulance back to the hospital, what the cause of these tears was, especially since he'd found her staring at hands scrubbed almost to the point of bleeding, hands she still held slightly away from her trembling body.
"Mary, my girl," he sighed. "So strong, always had to be so brave, so quick. I'm so sorry that this came to you. I tried to keep it from you, but even I can't protect you from everything."
She couldn't control the trembling, but just having him there helped, just having him know without having to tell him in that way he always had was a restoration of the normalcy she needed. "I had to do it, J.P. He...he...fought me, and...he was going to pull a gun....and...."
J.P. continued to stroke his hand across her hair in the same gentle motion. "And had you not taken action, allowed instinct to rule you, both you and Marshall would lie dead right now. It's as simple as that."
She looked up at him, just as she had as a child after one of the bad-dream realities of her life. "So if it's so simple, why does it feel so bad?"
J.P. leaned down and held her close. "Because you're not one of the monsters in the dark, little girl, and you never will be." And he rocked her back and forth gently until the tears stopped and she fell into a dreamless slumber.
---
The next morning when she awoke, J.P. was still there, asleep in one of the big comfortable chairs he'd pulled next to the bed. She felt stiff and sore, the exertions of the previous day making themselves known, but her mind was calmer, more peaceful. She shifted to sit up, and J.P. awoke, that simple change from slumber to wakefulness that was so much a part of him. He studied her briefly and smiled at her. She found she could return it.
"How about a little breakfast? I'm buying." J.P. was already reaching for the phone.
Mary's smile became cunning. This was an old game between them. "Well, as long at it's on your bill, J.P., how about a lot of breakfast? I'm starved."
He cut his eyes to her, amused but unsurprised, as the operator for room service picked up downstairs. He covered the receiver a moment, threw her the robe he'd retrieved while she slept. "Get yourself dressed then, while I'm getting food. I know you, and you'll be wanting to leave the moment you've eaten, so save some time now..." He turned away to deal with making the breakfast order and to give her some privacy.
Mary got up and pulled the robe on, headed for the closet and dressing area. He did know her altogether too well.
---
After Mary and J.P. ate, she packed two small bags, one for her and one for Marshall, to take back to the hospital and called Thea to check in. Marshall had slept through the night and had woken only briefly before falling back asleep again. Thea soothed Mary by telling her that he'd been pleased that she'd gone to take care of herself, and that he'd very specifically told Thea to tell Mary that he'd said, "Do not worry about me. Take your time."
Mary and J.P. were going downstairs to on their way out when an item in one of the shop windows caught her attention. She grabbed J.P.'s arm. "Give me just a minute, okay? There's something I just have to buy in here before we go, a get-well gift of sorts...." She darted into the Vegas-themed souvenir shop and a few minutes later, she came out with a wrapped package and a smile on her face.
---
Marshall was awake again when they arrived, and his color was considerably better. He was poking suspiciously at a tray of hospital breakfast, and Mary distinctly heard him mutter to Thea, "Nothing in nature is supposed to be that shade of orange," as he prodded the cubes of jello in their melamine bowl. He broke into a smile when Mary and J.P. came through the door, and Thea relinquished her spot in the big chair for J.P. Marshall pushed the rolling table with the remains of his breakfast and the frighteningly-colored gelatin away.
Mary took the brightly-wrapped box from behind her and held it out to Marshall. "Got you something." Her grin was one he recognized, and his eyes sparkled as he returned it.
"And is this the sort of thing I should open in front of others? Knowing you, I have to ask..."
She snorted, perched lightly at the end of his bed. "Idiot. Just open the damn box, or I'll take it back. And you reeeally want what's inside, trust me."
Marshall popped the lid off the box and pulled out a layer of white tissue paper to see what lay beneath. Then he laughed in delight and lifted the item inside out. She'd bought him a pair of royal blue flannel pajama pants with the famous "Welcome to Las Vegas" landmark sign on them interspersed with the words "What happens in Vegas...." in different bright colors along with tumbling dice, poker chips, Elvis in his white jumpsuit, and showgirls doing high kicks.
They looked at each other, their eyes meeting and holding, and Thea suddenly found herself in need of a soda from the vending machine down the hall while J.P. recalled an important business call he wanted to step down the hall and make.
"Do you like them?"
"You know I do. They're great."
"Well, it's not Santa on waterskis, but.... I thought they might break up some of the puke green monotony for you," she said, genuinely glad he they'd made him happy. She laid her hand against the bright fabric, ran her fingers over the pattern. "I thought maybe some of the nurses can help you put them on when they come in. That way you won't have to be so cold. They looked nice and warm to me...."
Marshall reached out and took her hand in his, pulled it to lips. "Thank you, Mary." He was touched by the sweetness of her gift, by the silliness and the thoughtfulness of it.
Mary leaned down to press her lips to his, gently, softly, and then she leaned back with her wicked grin in place. "Besides, they'll keep you thinking of me until you get out of here and I can get them off you in a proper bed."
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Don't think I didn't notice the little showgirls. Subtle, Mary. You're very, very subtle."
She shrugged, totally unrepentant. "Like the proverbial ton of bricks. You know me."
He smiled, squeezed her hand, pulled her back down for another kiss. Just before her lips touched his, he murmured, "Yes, yes, thank God, I do...."
Thea, who had just been entering the room from her fabricated trip to the soda machine, rolled her eyes, spun on the ball of her foot, and stalked down the hall to find J.P.
---
Marshall was in the hospital for three more days, and Mary stayed with him the whole time. The nurses helped him into his Vegas pants, and they were the source of much amusement as he was taken from place to place for tests and as he walked up and down the halls with Mary for exercise.
He refused to be embarrassed, though, proudly smoothing his hand over the fabric and saying, "Hey, better this than my derriere hanging out, right?"
Mary had exchanged a speaking look with the nurse who was helping him into his wheelchair, and Mary had just shaken her head and shrugged, smiling wickedly. Maybe for you, Marshall. Perhaps some of the rest of us are missing a free showing of that fine, fine ass....
When he'd been discharged, J.P. and she had bundled him into one of J.P.'s towncars, and they'd whisked him back to the Phoenix Dream, up to the penthouse suite. Once they were settled, J.P. wished them well, told them he'd check in on them later, and discretely made himself as scarce as possible as quickly as he could.
For a few moments, they simply stood and stared at one another. There was so much to say now, so much to do, and with the threat of Raph no longer driving them, neither of them seemed to know how to act, where to go in this time of peace.
"So....what do you want to do first?" asked Mary, finally.
"First? Well....if I'm making a to-do list, then first, I want to take a real shower and get the hospital off me. Then, I want to eat a meal that has not been nutritionally balanced for my health and well-being. After that, ….I guess I'm up for anything you have in mind."
She smiled. "Sounds like a good plan to me. Why don't you tell me what you want to eat, and I'll order it while you get a shower? That way it will be here by the time you get out. Two birds, one stone. That sort of thing."
He gave her his order and headed for the big bathroom. She watched him go speculatively, watched as he tugged the tail of his shirt out of his pants as he reached the door, saw the shirt hike up a little to reveal bare skin as he prepared to unbutton it and cast it aside....
Mary hadn't been in the big shower since the night everything had come crashing down on her and she'd wound up in a ball on the floor. Maybe it's time to have a better memory of such a lovely space.
She gave Marshall a few private minutes under the pulsing hot water, and then she put the Do Not Disturb sign on the room door, slid out of her clothing, and walked into the steamy room and into the shower enclosure. He had his back to the opening, trying to work the shampoo into his hair as best he could without involving his injured arm. She leaned against the glass brick wall for just a moment and watched the water flow across the masculine, graceful lines of Marshall's body, spilling over the broad shoulders to run down the strong back and over the lean hips. God, he really is beautiful.
He became aware of her presence and turned his head to look over his shoulder at her, hands still raised to push his wet hair out his face. He faced her fully, his lips quirking, his blue eyes heating just a little as he ran them appreciatively over her body, and he held his hand out to her.
She stepped forward into the spray, slid her hand into his. "Thought you might need some...help. You know...washing the essential bits and pieces, that sort of thing, especially since you're not really supposed to be doing what I just saw you doing, Marshall Mann...."
He tugged her lightly into his arms, pressed his mouth to hers softly. "Mmm...don't tell, okay? Those nurses might inflict more of that day-glow jello on me. Besides," he rested he forehead against hers for a moment, "I...just needed …to feel clean. Really clean. You know?"
She knew. "Come here then." She pulled him over to the bench seat of the shower and gestured for him to sit down. He looked at her warily and remained standing.
"Look. Don't make me leg sweep you. Sit your tall ass down. I'm trying to be nice here, trying to have a 'moment.' Help me out."
A crooked grin crept across his lips and he barely repressed the laughter that threatened to erupt as he settled himself on the bench. "Ah...far be it from me to interfere with a 'moment.' Will this be satisfactory?"
She narrowed her eyes at him, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "smartass," but took up the bottle of shampoo, put a bit in her hands, and began to work it through his hair now that she wasn't having to strain up to reach it. She was gentle, careful with her touch, mindful of the bruises he still carried, but thorough. His eyes closed, and he let himself relax into the simple human pleasure of letting someone else, especially this someone else, this woman he loved, take care of him for a moment.
"Now. Come and let's get that all rinsed away," she said, her soapy fingers finding his own, drawing him up from the bench and back into the luxurious downpour of water. He tilted his head back and felt the shampoo residue washing away, felt her hands helping to finish the process, felt her water-slick body sliding against his own as she reached upward. He gazed down at her through the falling water, and he slipped his hand around to cup the back of her neck. Let's have a moment, Mary. Let's have a real moment together. We're due.... She looked up at him and her hands stilled, curled in his hair, as she saw the light in his eyes, and he lowered his head to kiss her.
There was no urgency to the mating of their mouths. There was only her and him, the two of them in that primitive element, only the soft sounds of their murmured joy in each other as the kiss deepened. Finally, he pulled away to kiss her beneath her ear, still unhurried, still gentle. "See. To tell the truth, this actually was number three on that list you asked me about earlier...." She trembled, let out a little gasp as he brought his hands up her body slowly, and he couldn't resist bringing his mouth back to hers to taste those little sounds.
She smiled against his lips. "Oh, Marshall, you should never, never, never make this number three on any list..." She slid her hands up his chest to link them around his neck, careful to keep her touches gentle, trying to avoid the places she knew would cause him pain.
"Mmm..." he purred against her mouth, tasting her, tongue sliding in. "I'm re-evaluating my priorities even as we speak."
"I don't know," she murmured, stepping back, her smile appearing, becoming wicked, arch. "You're right. There is something to be said for cleanliness. In fact...what is that old cliché? Something about its being next to godliness? Let's see how divine we can make it, hmm?" She reached for the bar of soap and lathered her hands. The soap smelled of sandalwood, and the fragrance filled the air.
She walked around behind him to start with his back and used her hands caress him, careful to avoid the wounds still covered by their huge waterproof dressing. For a moment, she simply slid her hands around him and rested her head against his back, hugging herself to him from behind as the water ran over them. Then she relathered her hands and ran them over his chest making slow circles, fingers flexing lightly. She let one hand slide down and run over him where he was already hard, soapy fingers slicking down the shaft, immediately delighted with the hitch in his breath and with the response beneath her touch. His hands captured hers, and he turned to take her into his arms, running his fingers up her arms and into her hair, taking her mouth with his.
He stepped back to take up the soap and lather his own hands, smiling a little, eyes that hot blue that promised her pleasure. "I'm not the only one who needs a little divine indulgence, Mary. Come here." And he slid slick hands over her shoulders to her breasts. She let her own hands wander across the broad expanse of his chest as his fingers circled and teased, and her head fell back in pleasure at the sensation of his touch. Urgency was rising, but she still had the desire to touch him and be touched forever.
He could not resist the elegant arch of her neck, and he pressed kisses there as his hands continued to tease little sighs and mewls from her as he stroked her breasts. He slipped one hand down her in slow, lazy circles across her abdomen leaving trail of soapy bubbles until he could cup her where she ached for him. He brought his mouth back to hers to catch her gasp as he slid one soapy fingertip between her swollen lips to stroke her slowly, featherlight and delicate caresses that made her thoughts spin away like water down the drain in the floor.
"Marshall..." she panted.
"Mmm...got to be sure you're clean everywhere....Still feels...dirty...here..." That slick fingertip flickered against her again, circling, rubbing, still maddeningly light, and she moaned her pleasure and frustration into his mouth, sliding her hands down to touch him in return.
She was rewarded with a growl as her hand wrapped around him, and he responded by sliding another finger between her legs, beginning to stroke her in earnest. He turned them so the water from the rainmaker showerhead was falling over them, washing away the soapy residue, cascading over every curve of their bodies as they caressed each other slowly, steadily. Their tongues were stroking, invading and retreating in another heated touch as the kiss continued. She finally broke the kiss as his fingers sent her over the edge, and she called out his name as she came, her knees buckling.
He maneuvered her to sit on the tiled bench seat, and he knelt in front of her, pulling her forward to the edge, pushing her knees open wide to accommodate him. Her hands braced behind her on the tiles of the wide bench to support her weight as she tried to put the world together again, but she was not even recovered from the first orgasm when she felt the wet roughness of his tongue lave her where she was still so sensitive and swollen, and her hips arched, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair.
"Again," he panted against her, his voice rough with need, "go up again. Got to see you, to taste you...feel you...go up again for me..." and he held her open with two fingers and ravished her with his hungry mouth. She fell backwards against the tile wall behind her, cradling his head, hips rocking against him, keening mindlessly as he slipped two fingers from his other hand into her, thrusting them hard where she was slick and ready, curving them to find the spot that would bring her instant pleasure. Her world exploded, her eyes going blind and blank, and she was beyond the stars....
When she opened her eyes, he was still on his knees staring up at her with eyes full of desire. She pulled him up next to her on the bench, kissing him. His hands slid through her wet hair to angle her head so his mouth could plunder her own, and she felt herself growing weak again as he feasted, heard the little noise of need coming from him as he kissed her. He leaned toward her, instinct taking over, driving him toward a position to sate their desires, but Mary pressed him back gently, a hand against his chest. He couldn't support his weight on that damaged shoulder.
"Let me this time," she whispered looking deep into his eyes, kissing him again. She stood briefly and straddled him, careful not to grasp his injured shoulder. His hands fell to her hips, and their eyes locked as she slowly took the length of him into herself, each watching the wonder of becoming one in the other's eyes. She slowly began to move, rocking herself atop him, bringing pleasure to them both.
One of his hands cupped a full breast, his thumb brushing back and forth across the taut nipple, and then he was lowering his head to engulf it in the wet heat of his mouth, sucking hard. She arched into his kisses, crying out at the new layer of sensation.
His other hand left her hip to slip down between them where they were joined and stroke against her there, finding her clitoris to press against the sensitized bundle of nerves, and she writhed against him, her hips bucking, rhythm destroyed as she neared climax again, body beginning to tighten around him. He gritted his teeth, determined to see her go up another time,determined to last once more, and he buried his face in her shoulder.
"I love you, my Mary, so much," he gasped holding her tightly to him.
She pressed a kiss against his throat. "My Marshall. Love you, too."
Their mouths, met, clung.
"Say it again," his hands held her hips, his mouth was urgent on hers again.
"Love you....oh God, Marshall..." her voice trailed off as he rocked his hips, and they both dissolved together.
It would be much, much later before they would be able to even think about calling room service.
Some key lime because it was requested and because after everything, they deserve it. There are still a couple more places to take them, folks. I hope you're not tired of them yet. R&R.