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


Sonn of Mann - Chapter 29 – Stan's the Man

MARSHALL POV

Focus! Mary has distracted me for years. I should be able to handle it. Our friendship changed and deepened over the years. Despite my attraction to Abigail, I had never stopped loving Mary. Abigail was the logical choice. Mary was the choice my heart made.

Mary barely ate at breakfast but at least what little I saw her eat stayed down. Good thing we drove separately. That kiss in her bedroom stirred my imagination. Thinking with my little brain won't do. After years of wanting her, to finally be able to touch her, to love her is exhilarating and frightening.

As I parked in my usual spot on the roof of the Sunshine building my brain stuttered back to life, to the reality of today, and WITSEC. I need to be Chief, not a lovesick Romeo.

Mary comes into the office a few minutes after me. I watch for signs of nausea. She's been at her desk for several hours with only one trip to the bathroom. I've been checking with DoJ, reviewing witness reports and verifying system updates for the entire office. The last task is the only one I'm totally comfortable with. There are so many bits that I know too little about. Stan was a great mentor, but he couldn't cover everything before he left.

Stan! He left me a message. It's after noon here, but not too late to call back east. Before I can dial his number the security gate beeps. Mary is letting in a visitor. We aren't expecting visitors. They would have to be cleared by me. Mary never goes to the gate. She's not exactly the welcoming kind. As if to make me a liar, Mary is hugging the visitor. As she turns I see Stan. His ears are turning red as Mary's warm embrace buries his nose right between the girls. I can't help smiling. Pregnancy hormones are in charge of Miz Shannon today. Still this is no laughing matter. Only something serious would bring Stan here.

I concentrate on greeting our friend, ignoring the alarm going off in my brain. We shake hands, and I pat his arm. Mary stands nearby, smiling. "Welcome back Chief," I salute him as Mary smirks. Bet she hugged him like that on purpose. She seems to be enjoying his agitation. Somewhere, well hidden, is her genuine affection for the man. "How's Lia?"

"Hey Marshall, Mary." Stan stands back, looking us over. Does he approve of what he sees? "Uh Lia's fine." He clears his throat and looks at his feet, suddenly shy. "Her dance studio has all the students she can handle." He stops and stutters. I'm sure the thought of other men handling his Lia gave him pause. "She's even considering a bigger studio."

Mary's eyes widen in genuine gladness. She pats Stan on the back. "That's great Stan. You must be proud of her."

Stan looks her in the eye. "Yeah, yeah I am but . . .

"I doubt Stan is here to offer us dance lessons Mare."

"Marshall's right, that's not why I'm here." Stan gestures towards his office, my office. Mary backs up to let us pass. I know she's curious but hesitant to intrude. At least she doesn't look nauseous.

"C'mon Mary." Stan invites with a wave of his hand. Mary closes the door. Stan and Mary sit side by side in the visitor chairs in front of my desk. It's wierd to see Stan on that side of the desk. Why does he want to talk to the two of us? He can't know about us, can he? We only figured it out last night. Was the fact that Mary got shot again enough to rate a visit? Is he here to chastise me for failing to protect her?

I try not to over think it. "Tired of your new job already, Stan?" I smile. "Or are you coming to check on me?" I jest. I lean back in my chair trying to appear confident, relaxed. Stan knows my question is in earnest.

Stan stalls staring at his clasped hands. His embarrassment - concern? - seems to be from something other than Mary's hug. "No, no," The lights reflect off his bald pate as he shakes his head. "My new position," he swallows. "Let's just say, there's lots to learn, and" he looks up and exhales, "more politics." He looks me in the eye. "You're the perfect Chief for this office." He fakes a chortle. "Couldn't have done better if I picked you myself."

"Of course he's not checking on you," Mary interjects. "He's here to make sure I haven't derailed your promotion and wrecked the entire WITSEC office." Right Shannon, it's all about you. "C'mon Stan. Your visit isn't a coincidence. Allison Pierson is due out here next week."

"Yeah, about that."

"She's not looking to close this office again is she?" I know Mary doesn't want to work anywhere else. Not now.

When Stan doesn't answer immediately, we both panic. He can't miss our worried expressions.

"No, no, nothing like that." He sits back, and shakes his head. Despite his denial something is making him uncomfortable. "The DoJ is looking at how well Witness Protection operates. Whether the government is getting enough bang for its buck."

"You mean the usual cost cutting crap?" Mary accuses.

"Maybe, but more about the effectivity of protocols and procedures. The Albuquerque office has the highest retention rate of any WITSEC office, the fewest security breaches and the fewest witness grievances." His expression says he's thinking of our penchant for ignoring protocols and procedures.

I've never had the data to compare our office to other WITSEC offices. We always did our best. Mary's extra mile solutions were innovative and effective and sometimes expensive. We both gave our witnesses reasons to stay in WITSEC.

"I hear a but coming," Mary asserts.

"It also has among the highest expenditures of all WITSEC offices," he states. Aha. I there it is.

"The DoJ wants to know why this office's numbers are so good. They want to see if there's something that could be replicated at other WITSEC offices, preferably without increasing expenses."

I sit back, stunned. This could be an audit in disguise. Having your work reviewed is daunting. There are many opportunities for misunderstanding in the gray areas peculiar to WITSEC.

Mary doesn't hold back. "You're shitting me!"

I expect Stan to smile and admit it's a joke, but he doesn't.

"C'mon Stan. You and I both know you can't duplicate what this office does without duplicating Marshall. He's the reason our witnesses are sort of content."

I shake my head leaning over the desk. "That's not true Mare. You've done more than your share." And many times what she's done has involved spending a decent chunk of change. But she gets results. She gives me a barely there 'oh really' smile. "Is this a goddamn witch hunt disguised as a sort-of-but-not-really pat on the back?"

Stan gives us both an assessing look. "Could be. I'm not plugged into the organization enough to know."

"You wanna borrow our water cooler?" Mary pivots toward him, elbows on knees. He really could use someone like Delia, or Eleanor for that matter.

Stan stares at Mary as if he's actually considering it. He rubs his chin thoughtfully.

Mary's quick to volunteer. "I could ask Delia. I don't have to give her all the details, just enough. She won't spill the beans. Not if I ask her to keep it to herself."

My eyes widen. What happened to my cynical partner? She's vouching for Delia?

"You can trust her Chief. She knows a lot of people. There is a whole sweaterful of strings she can pull to get information."

What does Delia have on Mary? She must be blackmailing Mary to get that resounding endorsement. I thought I was the only one Mary trusted. Does she know Mary is pregnant? Does she have any idea that Mary and I are a couple? Stan's cough ends my wool gathering.

"We could be looking at this all wrong," Stan explains. "This could be a feather in your cap."

"Or a load of crap." Mary's always looks for the dark side. It's saved our lives plenty of times. She could be right in this case too. This is the worst time for headquarters to come snooping. Mary and I together at last. Mary's pregnant. My relative newness to the job means there is little to use to measure my performance.

Stan has no such limitations. "What do you think it is Stan?"

"Honestly?" He grimaces in disgust. "I think its professional jealousy. The peg that sticks up gets smacked down." He doesn't want me to be discouraged. "Maybe they think I juggled the numbers."

"Which means they underestimate you." Mary asserts. Stan's eyebrows rise at this un-Mary like compliment.

"And they're pissed because they can't figure out how you did it." I add. Stan had told me some of the political jockeying endemic to the Marshal Service. Promote Stan just to see if ABQ WITSEC continues to perform at the same level without him? It makes a sort of twisted sense. What does it really mean? And more importantly what should we do?

We're all quiet, assessing the likelihood of each motivation. What is Allison Pierson's visit really about? In any case, this is best discussed elsewhere. Little ears, big ears, electronic ears could all be listening. This office is supposed to be sacrosanct, bug free. I glance around doing a visual check. Mary knows what I'm doing and shakes her head. Not here, not now.

When in doubt, fall back on food. It works with Mary and will probably work with Stan. "It's good to have you back, Stan, even if it's only temporary. You must be hungry after your flight. Bet you've been missing Garcia's chiquitos. If we hurry, we can get there before they close." Garcia's only serves breakfast and lunch. They close mid-afternoon.

Despite his avuncular appearance, Stan is quick on the uptake. "Yeah, you know I've been craving their chiquito tacos. If you've got something to do before we go, I can, y'know, walk around. Check out the old office." He means look for bugs and possible spies.

I've already completed what was on my desk. I check my phone for no urgent calls or emails. "No, no. I'm good to go. What about you Mare?"

Mary is checking her phone. "Looks all clear. Let me ask Delia if she wants to order. I can bring it back."

Since when is Mary thoughtful? First she defends Delia's trustworthiness now she's offering to bring the muffin baker lunch? Maybe it's a bribe? Is this pregnancy hormones or PTSD?


GARCIA'S TAQUERIA

We settle into a booth, Stan on one bench, Mary and I on the other. Mary's at the open end making it easier to bolt for the bathroom if she needs to. The waitress comes and we place our orders.

Stan folds his hands on the table. "Okay you two, what is this about? Did Mary dig up another FBI corruption scheme? Do you think the office is bugged?"

"Well, the office might be bugged," Mary smirks. "We will check that out tonight. There's something personal we want to talk to you about." She gently squeezes my thigh under the table. I nod giving her permission to talk to Stan about us. We could use his help in navigating the minefield of regulations that could cramp our personal lives or end our professional ones.

Before we can answer our food arrives. Mary hands me my plate. Our hands touch and linger. Even though Mary must be starved, she takes a moment to savor the skin on skin contact before taking a huge bite of her breakfast burrito. It's good to see her appetite return. Stan brings us back to the reason for this 'meeting.'

"You're. . ." He makes a coupling motion with his hands. "together?" Mary gives Stan a questioning look over her mouthful holding the burrito possessively. "You two," he points to each of us. "You're a couple."

I always knew Stan had the skills. He never used them on me, on us before. At least I don't think he did.

Mary's eyes widen and she glares at me. She's still chewing and won't let go of her burrito so she can't yell at me or punch me. I hold up my hands in the universal sign of surrender. "Mare, honest, I didn't say a word."

Stan sits back and beams. "It's true. Marshall didn't tell me. I knew one of these days you two would get out of your own way. You were always more than just partners. Eleanor saw it from day one. I ignored it because it never affected your work, either one of you. What the hell took you so long?" How could he be so smug, so right?

He looks happy for us, but zeroes in on the problem. "So, now Mary reports to you. This leaves Marshall open to charges of favoritism and sexual harassment. Although if they know Mary they'd suspect her of doing the harrassing."

Mary pauses her forkful of black beans. "Eleanor told me there are five other married couples in the Marshal Service who work together."

I gawp at Mary. "You're in touch with Eleanor?" Of all the things I thought she might say, this wasn't it.

Mary shrugs one shoulder. "She's a friend. I don't have many friends. Why wouldn't we be in touch?"

His forehead unfurls as Stan relaxes and stares at Mary and I. Mary is still shaking her head in disbelief. She's pushes away her plate and takes a deep breath. I observe her carefully wondering if what just went down is on its way back up.

Wait, her head is down and her shoulders are shaking. Is she crying? I put my arm around her as she continue to shudder. Suddenly she throws her head back and guffaws. Tears stream down her face.

"God, you know what's really sad?" she asks. "That I was so incredibly blind. Blind and stupid." She breathes in wetly. "Remember, on that very first case," she faces me. "You asked if I had ever turned my 'spidey' sense on myself. I didn't. And look where it got me." Her cheeks are pink and suddenly she's mortified by her outburst. "Damn pregnancy hormones."

I hate to see Mary suffer. "No Mare, everything happens when it should. We wouldn't be together now if we hadn't gone through all that. You wouldn't have Norah. If you're assigning fault, it's me. I was a coward for not fighting you for you. I knew we were meant to be but I let you convince me otherwise."

Stan doesn't seem to have heard a word. "Wait a minute. Pregnant? You're pregnant?"

"Yeah but this is only the second one," she gives him a pointed look as she wipes the tears from her face. "You don't get to shoot me. Yet."

Stan rubs his bald pate. "Aiyiyii. I don't know a way you two can keep working in the same office even if you weren't pregnant. Now that you are. . . ." He trails off uncertainly. His gaze is sober as he asks me, "The kid's yours?"

I can't help grinning like an idiot. Mary pokes me in the ribs. "It's not funny Doofus." She's serious. "I told him Stan. I told him this could be a career ender."

"Not necessarily." Stan has the strangest expression. "Look I don't need details but I do need a timeline. It could affect what happens to both of you."

Mary looks away from me and starts scooting out of the booth. She stands and hustles toward the back of the restaurant to the restrooms. I hesitate, nodding to Stan and follow her.


A/N: I always liked Stan. Thanks for your patience in following this story and to Jojo78 for pointing out timing errors.