A/N: I am glad some of you liked the Mary/Marshall warm-fuzziness, and at Christmas too! ;)
XXX
Much like the NICU and the Sunshine Building before it, the pediatric waiting room at Mesa Regional began to feel like a second home to Marshall. He knew every nurse at least by sight, if not by name, and several of the interns, the latter of which had shocked him when they'd shamelessly flirted with him during his first view days in residence. Apart from the fact that he was a happily married man with two children, he became rather atypically uncomfortable when such women sidled up to him because some of the interns, in particular, looked no older than fourteen. Their freckled faces and braided hair put him in mind of teenagers, and he had spent many days shooting them down as politely as he could manage.
Therefore, when Marshall found himself traipsing amongst the temporary holiday decorations on Thursday morning, he assumed that when he heard a woman's voice call his name that it was just another nurse. He'd been admiring the red and green paper chains that hung in front of the receptionist's desk, trying to make out the childlike words that had been marked on the construction paper. From a distance, the loops just looked like a simple direction; it was only up close that Marshall could see the lettering.
So engrossed and squinting to boot, the lady had to say his name twice before he glanced up.
"Marshall?" and louder this time.
Still in the mindset of bumming off the women in scrubs, he began jabbering without really giving the individual his full attention.
"Yes ma'am, I'd love to help you, but…"
His suave, debonair line came to a screeching halt when he saw not a young, enticing girl, but a woman with fair, flowing amber hair and a befuddled expression on her face.
"Oh…" he ended his turn-down early. "Rachel. Sorry, I didn't see you there."
Peter's sister gave him a look that clearly said she'd noticed as much, but was tactful enough not to say so aloud. Once Marshall adequately registered her in his inner circle, he realized that it was slightly abnormal for Rachel to be instigating any kind of a dialogue. The pair of them had mostly avoided each other. Indeed, Rachel had learned early on to stay far away from Jinx and Mary because of her opinion on Brandi, and had mostly stuck with Peter.
So, if she was here, seeking out some kind of conscientious endeavor with Marshall, it must be important.
"Can I do something for you?" the man tried to appear more dutiful than he had at the onset. "I'm all ears."
"Well…I mean…I hope I'm not bothering you with this…"
"Not at all," he could be quite the gentleman when he desired. "Go on."
"I just…I've tried talking to Mary and to Brandi's mom about a few other things, and they don't really want to hear what I have to say, so I thought I could come to you…"
Rachel, in her fuzzy crimson sweater, her sleek, dark jeans, and high leather boots, was of a different breed than the Mann-Shannon clan. When she'd first showed up on their doorstep, Mary had confided in Marshall that she found the woman to be pompous and self-serving, always gabbing on about her job and her responsibilities, acting like she was better than Peter because she was sober. While Marshall had found some of her personality traits off-putting, he was willing to give her a second chance because he knew her intentions were sound.
In any case, the vibe she was giving off now said she felt isolated and awkward, and Marshall was a last ditch attempt at making some unknown concoction a reality.
"Well, you know we all have had more hassles than usual to contend with lately," he used this as a way to brush over Mary's and Jinx's cold shoulder. "If there's something I can help you with, I would be glad to."
His steady, consistent responses to her waffling seemed to solidify. Rachel nodded and saw that this man was definitely her best bet.
"It's um…it's about Peter."
"Yes?" Marshall countered.
"I um…I think – actually I know – that there is something he would like to ask you guys – you and Mary – and he should, but I think he's too noble to do it, so I was wondering if…"
"You were wondering if we could lead him in the general direction?" Marshall guessed astutely. "I would be on board for that. Swallowing one's pride is always a hefty task – one Mary struggles with, I can assure you."
Rachel grinned at this, and it apparently invited her to go on.
"Well, you know that Holly is doing really well, and Doctor Banks thinks that she may be able to go home this weekend…"
"Yes, I had heard as much."
"But, I think that Peter is really worried about taking her home and not having Brandi there…" to her credit, she managed not to sneer at the mention of her own sister-in-law and kept right on moving. "I guess he thinks it would make it more obvious that she's run off, and he doesn't want Holly to have to deal with that…"
"Understandable," Marshall nodded.
"Plus, they live in that huge house and with Holly's leg the way it is, she won't be able to manage the stairs. So…" the favor part was coming, Marshall could sense it. "I mean…it wouldn't be anything permanent, but Peter has been tossing around the idea that maybe Holly could stay with you and Mary for a little while."
It was not until the woman was almost finished speaking that Marshall really picked up on what he was being expected – or asked – to do. Part of him was flummoxed, because he and Mary certainly didn't have an extra room to house Holly in, not to mention that he couldn't imagine Peter would want to be apart from her for very long.
But, the more he toyed with the idea, allowed it to ruminate in his brain, the more it seemed to make sense. With Christmas and Holly's birthday occurring the following Tuesday and Wednesday, they were going to be seeing quite a bit of her anyway. When she'd slept over on other occasions, he and Mary had just turned the former office into a little alcove, which solved the problem of them being out of rooms. The two of them playing host would allow Peter to get his bearings without worrying about Holly watching his every move, and Rachel had said it would be temporary. Maybe just until the New Year and that would give them time to see if Brandi was going to return.
All in all, it seemed a good compromise. Marshall just couldn't be sure how Mary would feel with so much on her plate already.
"Peter's discussed this with you?" the inspector decided to get this chore out of the way first. "He's mentioned that he would be game for Holly not staying at their house?"
"Yeah…" Rachel bobbed her head. "I mean, I know he wishes they could be together, and they will be – just at first, I think he wants to figure out what he's going to do if Brandi…" she paused, and then picked up with the rest of her explanation. "…It would just give him some time, you know? But, he doesn't want to impose is the thing…"
"Well of course; wearing out your welcome is a surefire way to make one feel discomfited," Marshall promised. "I, for one, wouldn't mind keeping Holly in the least, and I'm sure Mary wouldn't either, but I'll need to run it by her…"
"Oh yeah, definitely," Rachel smiled hearing him agree, even on a trial basis. "And, like I said, Peter wouldn't just be dumping her with you guys; he just wants her with people she loves so she doesn't worry about Brandi, at least through the holidays."
"We could all use an escape now and then."
It seemed that Rachel, with her flawless line of bright white teeth, just couldn't stop grinning since he was being so cooperative. Marshall suddenly thought back to when he'd assumed she was a nurse over his shoulder looking for a good time. What was it that Rachel did for a living? Was she alone all the way out in Raton? Marshall didn't know how close that was to Peter's parents, but something had to be driving that ambition to throw herself into work. Did she have someone to come home to?
"It's been very kind of you stay for such an extended period in order to be a shoulder for Peter," the best way to needle the truth out of someone was by starting with a compliment. "You've been so generous with your time. Surely your profession must be missing you."
Rachel gave a modest shrug, "I'm easily replaced, especially around the holidays."
"I don't imagine anyone is easily replaced," now Marshall was flattering her. "We all bring something different to our line of work. What is it that you do?"
"I'm a tour guide," she revealed. "The company I'm based out of sends me to various geographical locations to do themed explorations for the people visiting. When I finished college, I wanted to be an architect and so I saw a lot of the world…"
"An architect," Marshall was dually impressed, and didn't hesitate to show it. "I had no idea. How did architect morph into tour guide?"
"Well…" Rachel danced around the issue for a moment before figuring out the simplest way to describe her change in careers. "I guess I realized that I was more interested in the history of old structures or ruins than in building new ones, so I found a job where I was able to travel and educate at the same time."
"Fascinating," the man meant what he said; it was amazing what you could discover about a person with just a little bit of poking around. "So, what's the most interesting place you've visited – should you be able to narrow it down?"
She chuckled, "I loved Athens – so much historical culture. But, I also was able to visit Santorini while I was in Greece; I don't think I've ever seen more breathtaking views in my life."
"It doesn't ever get to you?" Marshall was able to neatly turn the conversation aside now that they were chatting so pleasantly; she might not even spot the trap. "Living out of hotels and being away from home?"
And yet, the inspector ought to have known that any girl who'd dreamed of being an architect was well worth her intellect. Rachel fed him a kind of half-smirk, like she knew she was being baited into a deeper conversation. Might she be familiar with men who played psychiatrist and wished to burrow to the innermost gallows of her psyche?
"I think that question was code for, 'am I running from something?'" she deduced, crossing her arms over her chest and looking almost wowed by Marshall's craftiness.
"Well, you can't go spreading it around, but I do have expertise with women who use their jobs to shun dealing with their more tortured issues – although 'tortured' is a tad strong, I concede."
Marshall didn't have to mention Mary for both he and Rachel to know that's who they were darting amongst. Fortunately, she didn't press the point and instead tapped her booted foot on the linoleum, like she knew she could rely on Marshall, but didn't want to put herself too far on the line.
"I didn't always look at it as running," she began very matter-of-factly. "I think I just liked being on my own; I liked seeing just how many people lived differently than I did. I mean, Peter and I had a pretty unspoiled childhood; we played sports and had piano recitals; our father worked and our mother stayed home because our dad made enough money to support everyone…"
"Doesn't sound all that different from my upbringing," minus the curmudgeon that was Seth.
"Frankly, once I got to be in high school, I thought the way we lived was boring – almost too idealistic, you know? I wanted some excitement, some adventure…"
All of this added up so far. Marshall had heard versions of this tale many times coming from witnesses who had grown up with privilege; they had broken out of their shell because they'd spent so many years in a box. Somehow though, he didn't think Rachel's story was going to remain so untainted.
"So, my parents sent me halfway around the world, and it was great. But, while I was gone…" the hesitation in her voice could not be missed. "…Peter started losing his way."
"The alcoholism, no?"
"My parents were ashamed of how he turned out," Rachel threw in rather bitterly, her eyes narrowing into slits. "I mean, they said and did everything they were supposed to – for the most part – but there was no hiding their disappointment. Their worst fear was that one of their country club friends would find out who they had for a son."
"Rough," Marshall would grant her such a term, and the one syllable seemed to be the catalyst for helping her move on.
"I actually quit my job for awhile because I wanted to get Peter into rehab; I thought he would need the support of his family…"
"A selfless act," Marshall was very good at saying all the right things.
"Well, not according to my parents. Hal and Dora Alpert didn't want two lay-about children that weren't bringing in the dough – making them proud," she adopted a kind of gruffer persona when the spoke her parents' first names, as though she were imitating their attitudes. "They insisted I go back to work, that I set an example for Peter – I'm older, after all."
"But, by this point weren't you…?"
"I was an adult – I'd already finished school. Peter was in his late twenties before any of us even realized he needed help," there was some resentment weaving its way in now. "He didn't need an example set for him – he needed AA. But there was no explaining that to mom and dad."
Marshall was pretty sure he knew where this was headed by now. Rachel had been an upstanding citizen, someone Hal and Dora had seen as going places, doing big things; striking while the iron was hot. When Peter had fallen short of their expectations, they had needed her to pick up the slack, to show that it wasn't their fault they had one child who was a drunk, because the other had turned out just fine. It wasn't very glamorous, but it was certainly human.
"It took a long time before my parents figured out that being an alcoholic is a disease," Rachel went on tiredly. "And sometimes they forget. They honestly meant well during all those years, and they never left Peter's side, but it was exhausting for me trying to uphold my end of the bargain – trying to make a name for myself so they could feel I'd accomplished something."
"That's a heavy burden to carry at any age," Marshall stated sympathetically.
"Well, I'm really not much better than they were sometimes. I'm constantly afraid that Peter's going to relapse, and I'm really stuck in a rut where that's concerned."
"How do you mean?" the man furrowed his brow, trying to grasp what she was going for.
"I don't know…" Rachel exhaled, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. "It was just a lot of years where he did relapse – setback after setback after setback, and it's hard not to assume the worst all the time. But, I know my concern comes out as condescension."
Marshall gave her a tiny smile to show that she was right about this, but that he forgave her.
"Part of its probably selfish on my part; of course I don't want him to fall off the wagon, but I also don't want to go back to that place where my mom and dad couldn't stand the sight of him and expected me to uphold the family name."
This ended on a kind of final note, and it was a lot for Marshall to process. Yet, he still didn't feel he'd really gotten an answer to his original question – although he'd gained much more along the way. Looking into Rachel's grey-green gaze, he was reminded of Peter; they both had the same forlorn look in their eyes when they strayed the path.
"So, in terms of working…" just to wrap it up in full. "You just stick with the globe-trotting to avoid those rockier memories, or what?"
"I do love my job," Rachel insisted. "I love feeling like I did turn out to be someone my parents could be proud of – and they're proud of Peter too, now that he's coping. But, the travel does help keep my mind away from some of the things I'm missing. Peter and I aren't really that close and I may have a great gig as a tour guide, but I'm not coming home to a spouse and a kid like he is."
The air suddenly turned heavy with this statement, as though an anvil had dropped between the two. Marshall was willing to overlook it, but Rachel simply tried to cover up her blunder.
"Well…I mean…like he used to," she finished lamely.
Marshall was not a man who was classically prickly with too much emotion or ill-at-ease topics. After everything Rachel had just told him, how could he be, especially when he had continually elbowed her to tell him more? But, this felt like the first minefield they'd come to. The way Rachel chewed on her lower lip and kept her eyes on the ground showed him that she did not want to speak ill of Brandi, but that it wasn't going to be easy.
He decided he would give her a bit of a head start – some leeway.
"We're all frustrated with Brandi," he came by it honestly. "It's just…you know…it's dicey for people like Mary and Jinx," this was not an excuse, but an explanation. "Jinx is going to show her hand early; she'll keep going to pieces until Brandi comes home."
He was very careful to make it sound like a 'when' not 'if' situation, but he doubted Rachel would pick up on it.
"Mary's going to pretend to be angry – and a lot of that isn't an act – but she's really wringing her hands underneath," this was as much as Marshall was willing to admit to, not even for a minute thinking about sharing his wife's meltdown from the night before. "You know firsthand what it's like to sweat over a sibling in peril, especially given what you just told me about Peter."
"Yeah…" Rachel's cheeks were still pink even under the harsh white fluorescent lighting, but Marshall owning up to the fact that Brandi wasn't a saint made her behave more magnanimously. "I mean…I know I make it pretty obvious that Brandi isn't my favorite person…"
"But, all that aside…?"
"All that aside, I hope I get the chance to know her better – to make up for any unfair judgments in the past. I know how much Peter loves her, and Holly needs her mother."
"Don't we all?" Marshall echoed. "For the record, I appreciate that you're trying to get in everyone's good graces – it's not easy being on the outside looking in. We're really not the type to alienate people – well, except Mary, but its part of her charm," he winked to show he was teasing.
Rachel scuffed her toes on the floor in response, "I'm not sure I got off on the right foot with Mary…"
"She'll come around," he swore. "Give her time. If nothing else, she doesn't want to make things more difficult for Peter, so that alone will have her leaving you be."
"Well…" Rachel put up her hands, signaling the close of their conversation, obviously glad it had gone smoothly and that she hadn't had to beg or get down on her knees asking for forgiveness. "Thanks for considering what I proposed with Peter. I know he'd really appreciate a few days to himself, to kind of figure out his next move, even if he's not up to asking."
"I'll see if Mary and I can put the idea in front of him," Marshall assured her for the second time. "We can be very surreptitious when we want to."
"As US Marshals, I would hope so."
Glad to have ended things on a positive note, the long, lanky gentleman slipped both his hands into his pockets and turned his attention to the hanging ornaments once more. The paper chains were draped high inside the loose ceiling tiles, and even though he was tall man, he still couldn't make out what was written inside the loops. Rachel joined him at his elbow and peered upward as well, and so he decided that if she was going to stay, he might as well find out if she had better eyes than he did.
"What do you suppose the kids wrote on the inside of these paper rings?" he queried quizzically. "I can't make it out, and I wouldn't think hospitals would assign homework to their patients…"
"They're Christmas wishes," Rachel declared, much faster than Marshall was anticipating. "For Santa Claus when he visits the hospital, apparently."
"Yeah?" the man rather liked the idea. "How do you know?"
"I was with Holly when a nurse brought hers – I helped her put it in words, obviously, since she's just learning how to hold a pencil."
"Huh…" Marshall now raked his gaze along the string, hoping to spot his niece's. "Think we can track hers down? What color was it?"
"Green…"
Though Rachel probably didn't need Marshall to find the hooked circle since she was already aware of Holly's wish, she helped him scout it anyway, and after a few minutes she pointed – three slots from the end where the decoration began to droop toward the ground.
"Right there…to the left…"
If Marshall stood on tiptoe, he could just make out the letters depicted with marker, Rachel's handwriting that of a scrawl. But, his breath caught in his throat as he read Holly's greatest yearning etched for all to see, strung amongst the aspirations of other sick children, many of which probably would not be home for Christmas. He reminded himself that even if Santa did not bring the little girl what she so desperately craved, at least she had that to look forward to – a home, maybe not her own, maybe her father's, but a home nonetheless.
But, there were some things a home was not home without, and Holly's wish was one of them.
10 hugs from mommy. XOXO.
XXX
A/N: I always wanted Rachel to be a character that you weren't sure whether you liked her or not. Peter's sister was mentioned a few times on the show, but obviously never seen, and I thought that given what we did see with Peter's parents that she might've turned out this way. My hope is that she is viewed as a good person at heart, even if she doesn't always carry out her "good deeds" the right way, if that makes sense!