Mary POV

I headed for Steve-O's early because I really need a drink.

Alone.

I need to get my head on straight before the arrival of the masses.

Because this day has been…well, I really have no words.

Let's just say maybe I'll have two drinks before anyone else shows up.

Three, tops.

But honestly, I suppose the crappy day was to be expected, considering it actually started last night, when I got the call to go to Jennifer's apartment.

"Hey, it's Lupo," was the response when I answered the phone.

"I know. You think you don't rate being logged into my contacts?" I replied wittily. At the time, my mood was pretty decent. John and I just finished having drinks with Alex and Bobby, and the two of us were headed upstairs for early bed. One of my favorite things.

But in spite of my clever repartee, Lupo responded with seriousness, "You need to come to Jennifer's. There's been a…well, it's…"

"Is she okay?" I asked immediately, a sick feeling rolling through me as I pushed the next floor's button on the elevator so that I could get off and go back downstairs.

How long has it been since I got a similar call, one regarding Anna Holly, I thought with panic.

"She's okay," he confirmed. "Flowers came here. He spent some time with her, he got Lauren here, Mike showed up...and Flowers is dead."

"Out of everything you just said, those last three words are the only ones I like."

"Ditto. I called Ross, and he's sending IAB, but Jennifer insisted I call you, too. I'm guessing the marshals will want to do their own thing here."

"Who killed him?"

"Lauren. But it wasn't for Jennifer's lack of effort. And it was her gun."

"I'll be there in ten."

I hung up on him, and then explained the situation to John as he ran with me down the stairs.

And I have to say, I love that he did that.

Ran with me when he had no clue what was going on.

Anyway, I left him in the lobby and I hailed a cab, since I probably had about five beers too many for driving myself, and on the way to Jennifer's, I made a call to my boss.

"You need to stay away from it," he said.

"Not happening," I retorted firmly. "Just send someone to work with me, someone who doesn't know me or Jennifer. Shouldn't be too hard."

He relented rather quickly, likely due to my take-no-prisoners attitude, so I gave him the address and he stated an inspector would meet me there within the hour.

"Don't go in until he or she gets there."

I mumbled a sketchy agreement before hanging up, and of course, I promptly blew off that directive when I arrived at Jennifer's, hustling up the stairs and badging the officer stationed in the hall outside her apartment before barreling inside.

The sight was…terrifying.

Blood in places it has no business being. Furniture askew. Pictures broken. A dent in the wall. And of course, the dead body on the floor.

I just stood for a moment, my eyes tracking over every inch of the place, piecing together the struggle in my mind as it must have happened.

"She's in the bathroom with Mike," Lupo said quietly, having come up next to me. "Lauren's giving her statement to IAB, but as soon as the paramedics get here, they're both going to the hospital to get checked out."

I took in the sight of Lauren, her hand tightly holding onto Bernard's as she spoke with the IAB detective. Ross was lurking nearby, surely prepared to pull the plug if she utters any words that don't fully jive with a justifiable shooting, and if I didn't already love him, his supportiveness of her would've put me over the top.

I also appreciate that while Lauren looks rattled and disheveled, she's mostly keeping it together. And her clothes are intact. And there's only a little bit of visible physical damage.

That's when it hit me why those things are all true.

Jennifer would've protected her, as best she could anyway. Which means her condition is...what?

"Why's she in the bathroom? She knows she can't clean up."

And then my eyes fell onto the pair of jeans lying on the kitchen floor, and the bile rose in my throat again.

"Tell me that fucker didn't rape her, or I swear to God I'm going to…"

I trailed off because I don't know how to finish that sentence, since he's already dead, but still…I want to kill him again and again.

"I don't think so, no. But she went to put something else on, to cover up."

I could hear footsteps from behind me, so I turned to see the paramedics coming down the hall.

"I'll go get her," I said softly to Lupo, wanting to put eyes on my partner, my friend. I need to see for myself that she's okay.

I went down the hall and paused for a moment before knocking, not really listening, but mostly just fortifying myself. But I could still hear.

"I thought I would be happier," she was saying, her voice sounding muffled.

Happier? Happier than what? Happier about what?

"We don't have to think about it right now," came Mike's voice, a deep comforting rumble.

"I know," she responded, and I'm not sure because I don't know if I've ever seen her cry, but her voice sounds like it's thick with tears. "I love you."

I hated interrupting their moment, so I waited another beat until I heard him respond in kind, and then I knocked on the door.

"Jennifer, are you okay in there? The paramedics are here."

"I'm coming," she answered, and there was rustling for a moment, and then I heard their voices, but I couldn't distinguish the words, and I was about to knock again when I heard a loud thud, and Jennifer shouting Mike's name and mine consecutively.

I reached for the knob, and it was locked, but I didn't hesitate to shoulder my way into the room, busting through the door with ease, only to find Mike in a heap on the floor and Jennifer bent over him.

"What the hell happened?" I asked as I knelt next to her, and then I called for the EMT's as she answered, "I don't know, but he's bleeding."

Turns out the Flowers kill-shot was a through-and-through.

That piece of crap can't even die right, I thought.

He had to let the bullet come out the other side, so that it went into Mike's arm.

Anyway, we found that out on the way to the hospital. It was me and Jennifer and Mike all in the back of the ambulance, much to the dismay of the paramedic, and once Mike's suit jacket was removed to reveal a blood-soaked shirt sleeve, the wound was easily visible.

"He's going to be fine," I assured Jennifer as the ambulance sped through the darkened streets.

As if on cue, Mike came around, and despite looking pale and disoriented, he immediately reached for Jennifer's hand.

"See?" I said with a smirk.

She didn't acknowledge me, but instead focused solely on Mike, one hand holding his while the other stroked through his hair, so I kept my eyes on both of them while my mind wandered through the protocol of what comes next.

IAB investigation by the NYPD. My investigation for the USMS. Flowers escaped prison and stalked Lauren for a month, then used Jennifer as bait, and when he ended up dead, somehow both of them are potentially on the hot seat. So yeah, it's my job to make sure she gets treated fairly. And it's my job to make sure she gets a damn medal.

But unfortunately, it's not just me working on behalf of the marshal service.

As we were loading Mike into the ambulance, my temporary partner arrived. I don't know what the hell my boss was thinking, sending me a kindergartner dressed like a marshal, but that's what I got.

"Inspector Strathmore?" she asked as I brushed past her, despite already noticing the USMS badge hanging from a chain around her neck.

"Halloween was eight months ago," I replied smartly. "And it's a crime to impersonate a federal officer."

"Impersonate," she repeated in confusion. "I'm not…I'm Inspector Payne."

"See, you didn't even come up with a realistic name. Go home, it's a school night."

And yeah, I was being a bitch, but come on…she's twelve if she's a day. I don't need to babysit during the investigation of an incident involving my friend.

I need street-smart. Seasoned. Savvy. I need an ends-justify-the-means kind of person because I still haven't heard the whole story, but either way, I'm set on what the outcome is going to be.

By that point, Mike was loaded, and Jennifer was in the back, and the paramedic looked like he was ready to close the door, so I really didn't have time to waste with the Barbie, or I was going to get left behind. I grabbed onto the handle and hauled myself into the back.

"Wait!" she called after me. "I'm supposed to work with you!"

I suppose I have to give her points for doggedness, as well as for tolerating my rudeness.

"You want to work with me?" I replied with attitude. "Get your ass up to the scene and go over absolutely everything. I mean pictures, notes, the whole shebang, got it? And then meet me at the hospital and bring me up to speed."

Again, I'll give her credit, because her response was confident and immediate, "Yes, ma'am."

But maybe I'll wait and give her credit after I hear what she has to say, I corrected as the ambulance approached the hospital.

Although now, sitting in Steve-O's working on my second beer, I've decided she deserves a lot of credit. And maybe I deserve to have my ass kicked for being so shallow, and judging her by her looks. Hell, based on my current group of friends, I've certainly learned that attractiveness and ability to kick ass aren't mutually exclusive. Maybe Inspector Payne won't be so bad after all.

She did do a nice job piecing together the sequence of events. And when she called me to find out which hospital, and I made an unorthodox request, she didn't even blink.

"Did the NYPD's CSU work the whole place yet?" I asked her, surprised that she had my number, but impressed with her resourcefulness.

"No, but they're in the hall, so it won't be long before they finish."

"Did you finish your assessment already?"

"Yes."

"So you saw the pregnancy tests on the counter?"

"I did. Four of them."

More points for not spouting out the results.

"Slip back in there and get rid of them. They don't need to be part of any crime scene documentation. They're completely irrelevant."

Jennifer and Mike don't need the NYPD or the USMS or the press knowing they had a pregnancy scare. It's not anyone's business, and I feel bad that she had to tell me, and I feel even worse that she didn't want to tell me on her own, but the bottom line is that the sticks have no bearing on what happened with Flowers.

"Yes, ma'am," Payne answered quickly. I told her which hospital, and she said she'd see me within the hour.

"Tests will disappear," I told Jennifer after hanging up with Payne.

"Thank you. I know it doesn't seem like a big deal, but…"

"I get it," I interrupted. "It's no one's business."

She nodded, leaning back in the hospital bed and closing her eyes. Mike had been taken down to x-ray, and Jennifer already endured having pictures taken of every injury, from head to toe, so for the moment, it's just me and her in the room.

"I was going to tell you," she said after another minute.

"You're under no obligation…"

"Mary," she said firmly. "I wanted to tell you because you're my friend. But I was too freaked out about it. I didn't even tell Mike until after."

"So it was negative?"

She hummed her response, nodding as she looked away, focusing instead on a spot on the wall.

"And you wanted it to be positive?" I ventured.

"No," she said after a moment, and then she finally brought her eyes back to mine, and she's weepy again. It's not something I'm used to seeing with her. Of course she was just attacked, I reminded myself with irritation.

"I was praying for it to be negative," she elaborated. "And I'm glad it was, after what happened, but…"

She trailed off, sighing and shrugging her shoulders, and I took a minute to look her over, her face now clean of blood but bruises cropping up everywhere.

"Don't change your mind right now," I said quietly. "You've been through a lot. Mike, too. It's something you need to talk about, when it's not imminent and neither of you are hurt or in danger, you know?"

"I know," she agreed, and then she chuckled self-deprecatingly. "It's just not something I thought I ever wanted to talk about."

"Yeah, but now you're in love," I said teasingly. "You're going to get married, move to the burbs, have two-point-two kids…"

She laughed fully then, and I felt such relief to see her seeming more like herself.

"You're already married," she reminded me. "Isn't it about time for you to be cranking out those babies?"

"God, can you imagine? Me, as a mother?" I said cynically, and then Mike was wheeled back into the room, so I thought the matter was dropped, but after greeting him, she turned back to me and said with a smile, "Yes. I absolutely can, without a doubt."

So damn her for planting the seed.

Because earlier this evening, after I spent the day with Payne writing reports and going back over the scene and briefing the boss, I was leaving the office, walking down the block towards my car, and I passed a woman pushing a stroller.

And I looked.

Into it, I mean. At the tiny little body dressed head to toe in pink. The tuft of blonde hair and the round cheeks and the big blue eyes.

I'm going to blame Jennifer entirely for the fact that as I continued down the sidewalk, I thought about what a John and Mary baby might look like.

And it's probably that preoccupation that made me unaware of the man behind me.

"Don't make me hurt you."

The voice was accompanied by a hand on my arm, gripping me tightly as I was tugged into a side alley.

The only reason why I didn't immediately rip the guy a new one and then pull my gun is because I recognized the voice.

Rocco.

Of course, that doesn't mean I'm going to let him bulldog me, either.

"You need to let go right now, or so help me God…"

He let go of my arm and took a step back as I turned around.

"Where the hell have you been?" I asked him, taking in his haggard appearance.

"Watching you. Why didn't you just leave him, Mary? I tried to warn you away from him."

"Why would I leave John?"

"Because he doesn't love you. He's still in love with Heidi. You of all people should know that."

His statement caught me off guard, and I guess I didn't mask my reaction very well, because he pounced.

"See, you do know. What do you think, if you hang around long enough, he'll forget about her? He mourned her for ten years."

I know that. But I also know that he's over her. And he does love me. It's just a bit of an Achilles' heel for me, I guess, and somehow Rocco knows that.

"You put out a hit on him," I reminded him. "And for what? Just to get me to leave him? You thought I'd be scared? And how would you have felt if the Albanians had actually killed him?"

He shrugged, looking down at the ground for a minute, and then he said, "You don't get it, Mary. Me and you. Four plus five. It's the base language of all things linear. We're destined. It's fate."

I stared at him in confusion, having no clue as to what he was talking about, but I could tell that it really meant something to him.

"Nine is universal love. Eternity. Faith. It's a soul mission, and you're my mission, Mary."

"I'm sorry, Rocco, but you know I need to take you in. The things you did, they're crimes. We need to get you in to see a doctor, and…"

"No doctors!" he shouted suddenly. "What, you think I'm crazy? It was those pills making me crazy. I'm sane as a…as a ...well, I'm as sane as you."

"That's not much of an argument," I said with a rueful smile. I reached behind me to get my cuffs, and he took few steps away from me.

"I'm not going with you," he said. "But I'll be back for you, I promise."

"Rocco…"

He turned and started running, and I took off after him, calling out for him to stop, but of course, I wasn't going to shoot him or anything, and once we were back on the sidewalk, he disappeared into the crowd.

"Or maybe you just didn't want to catch him," I said aloud as the waiter brought my third beer.

I mean, the whole experience creeped me out a little, but he doesn't want to hurt me. He was just trying to make me see his side.

But I also don't want to tell John.

Or anyone else, really. No one will understand why I didn't just flatten him and slap on the cuffs. I'm not even sure I understand except that maybe I feel sorry for him.

And his Heidi remark really threw me, I pointed out to myself.

"It's just you?"

I looked up to see my temporary partner approaching the humongous table. Because yeah, I'm a sucker and I invited her. She actually did do good work today, even more than just delivering the sticks and packaging on the sly to Jennifer at the hospital.

"No," I said, smiling at the rude awakening she has coming once everyone arrives. "So you might want to grab a seat before they're all gone, Payne."

"Maddie," she corrected. "And thanks."

She waved to the waiter, and I said, "They card in here," which made her laugh.

"I'm twenty-two."

I looked her over, taking in her long, shiny blonde hair and her big blue eyes, and I shook my head dubiously, teasing her of course, but wanting to see what she's made of. She rolled her eyes and said confidently, "Yes, I'm young, but I have my Bachelor's, and I finished the five months of training, and I might be fairly new to the job, but I'm working my ass off to prove myself, so can we move past my looks please?"

So then it was my turn to laugh, and I decided I definitely like her.

"Touché, Maddie," I said as the front door opened and four NYPD detectives filtered into the joint. "Squeeze that chair over here to make room. It looks like the party's about to start."

TBC...

Next Up: Connie