A/N: Goodness gracious! I had a slew of regular reviews last night as well as a huge influx of catch-up reviews, which bumped me about twenty overnight! I am floored, and so humbled by your comments. Thank-you so much to everyone for taking the time to leave such kind words. Thanks to last night's barrage, I have surpassed my review record, which was 333! I don't know if this really counts, technically, since this is a longer story and therefore has more chapters to review, but it makes me happy nonetheless!
XXX
Marshall knew everything.
If Mary hadn't thought as much long before this September Tuesday, she certainly did now. In truth, she had always admired his vast wealth of knowledge, the fact that he could store and recall so many different facets, whether they were helpful to the conversation at hand or just plain odd. Mary took in only the information she needed, and then cast it off when her use for it became moot once more. Not Marshall. He looked at every opportunity as one for learning, for some measure of growth, and now, as Mary labored erratically beside him, was no exception to his rule.
It was the small things that really caught her attention at first – the things he did seemingly without even thinking about them. Once they got over their initial weepy hellos, he had set to work at once, pampering her and tending to her every want and need even if she changed what she desired in no time flat. He fluffed her pillows, he scoured for ice chips at the nurse's station, he found the setting on the bed that reclined her just the right amount – he even called Jinx at the studio and had her tearing across town to be with her daughter. Even things Mary didn't know she needed, he foraged and found, showing her that he knew her much better than she knew herself.
And then there were the bigger things – the things Marshall was obviously putting more effort into, but that didn't make them any less special. Because Mary hadn't attended any type of breathing class and trying to learn the ropes at the last minute seemed to make her feel worse, he came up with a new method all on his own. It might not be doctor-approved, but they were breaking new ground together, and that meant bursting out of the box. Sometimes his instructions proved helpful, and sometimes they didn't work at all, but he chalked them up to the push-and-pull of childbirth – everything was unpredictable, even when you were infinitely more prepared than Mary.
Cross-legged on the end of the bed with Marshall seated much the same behind her, they had worked out a system, and the routine – messy though it was – gave Mary far more clarity than she could've ever hoped for. Between contractions, Marshall rubbed her back, kneading her shoulders tightly and then progressing to her inner muscles, all of which had grown very tense. The minute she was hammered with a contraction, he would stop, because she needed his hands for something else. Now was one of those times.
The constricted-sounding gulp that issued from in front of him told Marshall all he needed to know about what was coming up. Releasing his hold, he made sure of his next move before forcing it on Mary.
"Another one?"
She nodded, eyes already closed, hand flapping aimlessly in midair until Marshall grabbed it and held it tight in his own. He was careful to let her exert all the pressure, mostly because he was afraid of hurting her palms, both of which were still bandaged from the car accident. If she didn't care that she popped a stitch, that was one thing, but he wasn't going to be the one to sever those strings.
"Tell me what to do again…"
She asked every time, always with the same shaking tone, and even though Marshall thought his partner could remember his coaching without his words by this point, he was more than happy to humor her.
"Breathe in…right now; go ahead…"
From behind her, he kept an eye on the monitor, charting the course of the earthquake so he would know when, exactly, inhaling and exhaling would become too much for her.
"Good…" he encouraged once the sound of her air filled the room. "Good…now, breathe out; slow and steady, don't rush…"
The exhale was a little more pinched than the intake, which made perfect sense to the man because the contraction was only climbing in intensity. If he hurried just a little, never mind his instruction for her to take things at a leisurely pace, he might be able to get her to inhale one more time before the real boom was lowered.
"Perfect…you're doing great; breathe in again…"
Mary was able to manage for about three of her usual five seconds before the iron fist sunk square in her gut, the pain matched identically with the picture on the screen. The height of the wave had been reached, and this was where breathing went by the wayside. Marshall had learned very early on that encouraging his friend to muddle through a series of narrow gasps that really just made her more tired and frustrated was completely counterproductive. When she was slammed hard enough, they went for brutality, and Marshall was more than willing to be the punching bag.
"Okay – squeeze. Squeeze; squeeze hard, as hard as you can…"
Like the act of regimented breathing, allowing Mary to choke the life out of his hand gave her the opportunity to focus – it was simply easier than the alternative. It became a separate battle; by how far her nails dug into his flesh, he could tell just how much pain she was in and how much further he could egg her on.
"Squeeze-squeeze-squeeze; you're almost there…"
The compression against him only brought Mary so much relief, but that was to be expected. Marshall was cautiously curious about what happened to all her air while she was throttling him – sometimes he believed she was holding her breath, or else it was simply gathering in clouds in her head until she was ready to release it. Either way, her reactions to the stabs in her abdomen were always random. Sometimes she persevered extremely well, never making a peep, exerting all of her energy into bursting his hand into pieces. Other times, she didn't grip so hard because it didn't seem to help; during these times, she would usually tip over to cope that way, in which case Marshall would revert to rubbing her back again. Sometimes, she gave up and cried until the pain had passed. Marshall learned to expect nothing and be calm about everything.
Unpredictable, she might be, but she was also substantially more in control than he was sure she'd been before he'd arrived, and they couldn't ask for anything better than that.
When the vice on his hand began to loosen, he knew they had conquered another one, and he didn't forget the final word he always gave when he thought Mary could handle it.
"Okay…relax…" in spite of how much she hated that command, he said it anyway. "Deep breath…"
Letting go of his fingers, she did as he said, which gave Marshall the freedom to wring out his hand in the aftermath. From the beginning, Mary hadn't seemed to mind him expressing that his own limb was getting quite a workout. She knew she was killing every blood vessel his hand had – she just didn't care, and neither did he.
"Whew…" he whistled pleasantly now that they were in the clear. "You were a monster that time. Must've been a rough one, huh?" A nod was all he received and it wasn't sufficient enough to convince him she wasn't burying herself in a hole, "You all right?"
The response was the same every single time he asked.
"I want the epidural."
And, it was crucial he continue to be sympathetic, never once growing exasperated when she was aware of the rules, aware she would have to continue to solider on until it was time.
"I know…" like clockwork, his hands resumed their position on her shoulders and began to rub once more. "You'll get it; you just have to hang on. You made it to three centimeters about ninety minutes ago; Doctor Reese will be back soon and maybe then you'll have reached four…" Rather than give her the opportunity to argue about it, he peered around her frame to address something else, "Do you want some more ice chips?"
A grateful bob of her head was all the assent the man needed, and he rotated around on the bed to retrieve the cup, which he then passed into Mary's hands. She immediately threw her head back and crunched three or four cubes at a time, soothed by the constant massage from her partner, moving up the mountain whether she believed she was or not.
"Once you've got that epidural…" making it sound like a reasonable goal was probably a good idea, even if the prize was still far away yet. "You'll be able to get some sleep; reenergize for later…"
Later, Mary thought, was so hazy and depressing that she forced herself not to think about it. Fortunately, Marshall gave her the opportunity not to.
"Then I might be able to go out and give Jinx an update," she assumed he meant when she was snoozing, when she wouldn't know if he'd left the room or not; she'd so far banned him from disappearing, not even to use the bathroom. "Just how many nurses do you imagine she's strangling trying to figure out how you are?" keeping things light had worked in the past. "Maybe an even twenty?"
"Probably more like forty…" Mary murmured hoarsely, in a kind of trance thanks to Marshall's cadenced rubbing. "Not including the guys in lab coats and the receptionists, which probably brings the total to fifty…"
"That'll be the headline in tomorrow's paper," the man joked. "Can't you picture it? 'Unruly Grandmother Stages Coup.' The photographers will be trying to get their shot of her dismantling vending machines and stealing lab results in her wrath…"
Mary managed only an obligatory chuckle at this, try as she might to find the likeness amusing. Marshall's constant pressing in her back was a welcome relief, and she would never tell him to stop, but what he didn't know was that his movements were now so meticulously timed that she could guess when she was going to have another contraction. So far, she had avoided looking at the monitor because it just made her nervous, but her partner was acting as a kind of weather vane of his own. When his hands moved to her lower back, she knew she had probably thirty seconds before the pain began its ascent another time. Five minutes between contractions, where she had been stuck since arriving at the hospital, seemed so short.
Her dark anticipation must've manifested itself somewhere in her body, because Marshall felt her tense unexpectedly.
"Are you okay?" he proposed sweetly, forgetting his joshes on Jinx. "You went rigid all of a sudden…"
"Mmm hmm…" she hummed through tight lips.
"Did I do something you don't like?" placing the blame back on himself. "If I did, make sure you tell me; we'll try something else…"
"No…"
The clues were going to be evident for him in seconds anyway. Thrusting the ice cup back in his hands so her fingers could be free, Mary tried to remember how to begin the race without asking, but her brain always seemed to jam the second she felt the slightest ache. How her uterus hadn't just tightened itself into fragments at this point was a mystery, but she knew it was going to hold up amazingly long as the day wore on – longer than she wanted it to, that was for sure.
"Oh, dear; I fell asleep on the job, wasn't paying enough attention…" when Marshall realized the reason for her abrupt tension by glancing at the seismograph another time, he quickly replaced the cup back to the table and got back to work. "Shame on me…"
The cycle was about to repeat itself for the umpteenth time, and yet on this occasion it was hampered by a new phrase from Mary, one that only heightened her partner's pity.
"It's a bad one…it's a really bad one…"
How or why the woman knew this, she wasn't sure, just that her body felt like it was rocketing into survival mode too early. Per Marshall's instructions, she'd been able to grab two or three breaths of air before she had to call it quits and go for their more medieval approach, but this time she'd be lucky to grab one. The horrific, slicing stab was cutting through her skin sooner than usual, which would only make the pinnacle that much more intolerable when Mary reached it.
"It's bad, Marshall…"
"Just do your best; I'm right here. Do you want my hand…?"
Mary didn't know. She felt like she was free-falling, even though her mind rewound to the same spot it always did, trying to achieve some semblance of normalcy, to take herself back to when she was in charge.
"Tell me what to do…"
And Marshall knew his lines, "Breathe in…right now; go ahead…"
But, the answering call wasn't the same. Instead of a fixed, firm inhale, he received a piercing roar that quickly descended into an agonized moan. These sounds were new and made the hair on Marshall's neck stand on end, but no matter – no matter at all. They would adjust. As Mary was still upright in spite of her grunting, he worked his hand into hers like he thought she might want. But, instead of pushing her to hold on as he'd been doing for the last hour, he let his palm rest in hers with only the most gentle reminder of what she might do for relief.
"Squeeze…" he whispered, which could barely be heard over her groaning, but he wouldn't rise. "Squeeze…you can do it…"
She could do it all right. Noting that he really shouldn't be surprised by her strength at this point, Marshall was still bowled over when she proved she was listening and, instead of clutching his hand, yanked on it with the force of a tow truck and almost sent him sprawling onto his back. This didn't bode well for either one of them, as Marshall wasn't going to be any help lying down, nor would he be if she wrenched his arm clean out of its socket.
He would worry about that later, "Hang in there, Mare; you're almost there…"
But, when the contraction piddled away and Marshall was able to pull himself upright once more, she seemed even more distraught out of pain than she had been in the throes. Tears were gushing from her eyes and one look into them told her partner that she knew she'd almost thrown him off the bed, and she wasn't feeling so casual about such things anymore.
"I'm sorry…" she sobbed, even as Marshall shook his head to quiet her down. "I'm sorry; are you okay?" he didn't even consider answering. "I'm sorry…"
"It's fine – you're fine…" Marshall promised, nudging himself forward a little so that he was more next to her than behind her. "Don't worry about me…"
"I'm going to end up killing you…"
"It's all right; don't trouble yourself," he insisted speedily. "You said it was a bad one and you were right. We'll have to figure out a new plan of attack for those beasts…"
It was Mary's turn to follow the script, although the request held so much more sadness and gloom this time than it had in the past.
"I want the epidural."
Marshall could only be quicker to respond, "I know…" now that he was nearer to her, he could pat her hair, which he did, smoothing it down and tucking it out of her face. "I know you do…" he mopped up a few stray tears with his hands, then cradled her weary features in both his palms, her green eyes as large as dinner plates. "It's getting sticky, but we'll figure it out. You and I, we haven't failed on a case yet, you know."
"I just want a break…just for a few minutes…a half hour…"
"It's coming," he reiterated. "And for a lot longer than thirty minutes once you're given the green light."
"Swear to me, Marshall."
"I swear."
X
There was a time when the phrase, "four centimeters" would've meant next-to-nothing to Mary, but no longer. Lying on her back, entangled in sweaty sheets, the announcement from Doctor Reese at the foot of her bed made her want to jump up and down in celebration. She might've done, too, if not for the fact that she was so exhausted that even standing up seemed too strenuous. Instead, she settled for a weak, wan smile, Marshall her mirror image on his rolling stool, and sought to make sure this milestone meant what she thought it did.
"So…so I can have the epidural?"
Mary could barely see the doctor over her mountainous belly, reclined as she was, but she heard the snap of her gloves that meant she was taking them off. When she wheeled around to give her a proper view she, too, was grinning.
"I will page the anesthesiologist."
The sigh that followed the confirmation really wasn't conducive to just how relieved Mary really felt. Marshall chuckled, clapping her shoulder genially as she threw her head back on her pillows, ready to be so numb that she didn't know which end was up.
In a pesky little corner of her brain, the corner where all her pessimism resided, she reminded herself that this was hardly the end of the road. Epidurals came with side effects, there was no guarantee how effectively it might work, and it most certainly wouldn't last forever. Mary didn't care. Anything had to be better than what she'd suffered since nine o'clock the night before. The sun outside her drawn shades was swinging itself to the northernmost point in the sky, which meant it was nearing twelve o'clock. Mary was beginning to forget when she'd slept last and just hoped the meds would be strong enough to knock her out.
"Marshall, if you could help her sit up so she's sitting on the edge of the bed, that'll make things move faster once the anesthesiologist gets here," Doctor Reese instructed with a nod. "Can you guys manage that by yourself while I'm out or do you want me to grab a nurse?"
"I think we're good," Marshall assured her, knowing Mary would want as little spectacle as possible. "Thank-you so much."
"Thank-you…" the woman herself trilled after the doctor's retreating back, her voice high and chirpy. "Thanks…"
The physician just smiled; she was obviously noticing the enormous change in her patient since she had decided to ask for assistance. While the thought of the epidural was making her delirious with joy, she'd spotted long before now that she was slowly molding back into the no-nonsense Marshal she had been once upon a time. It had to be gratifying, even if Doctor Reese had only been the one to thread the needle.
"You're welcome," she said anyway. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
Once she was gone, Mary was unable to resist copying Marshall with a jingling laugh. Hers was loopy and much more drunken sounding, but the man certainly enjoyed hearing it. Giving her fingers a light squeeze, as she had been doing to his all morning, he tugged just enough to get her in mobile-mode, because he didn't think she was going to want to try getting into the desired position by herself.
"Oh, you are living right, inspector; you passed the test…" he praised excitedly, glad they had something to rejoice about. "Four centimeters – quite an accomplishment. Only six to go."
Mary didn't want to brood about what was going to happen when she reached that treasured ten, and instead focused on helping Marshall pull her upright into a vertical stance. It was more work than she'd thought it was going to be. Her arms and legs were full of tremors, like they were made of rubber, and she kept swaying in the dents on the mattress where she'd been sitting. Fortunately, Marshall was strong and gave her something to cling to, lugging her this way and that until she found her bearings.
"Why don't we have you face the window?" he suggested smartly, nodding that direction. "The anesthesiologist will have all his tools with him; if you're over here, he won't have to drag it all to the other end of the room…"
Mary was too foggy to really comprehend what he meant, but trusted him to know what was best. So, she managed to prod herself to the edge of the bed, legs dangling over the side, and then Marshall joined her, stool in tow.
"You okay? You want some more ice?" he must've thought all the movement would've taken it out of her. "I might be able to bully someone for actual water and food once that epidural is in…"
"It's fine…" she was still smiling feverishly. "I don't need food; I'm not hungry."
"You're ready, aren't you?" Marshall smirked back, reading her glee correctly.
"I'm ready."
And, luckily for both of them, they didn't have long to wait. The process of getting Mary situated had taken so long that Doctor Reese and the nameless anesthesiologist arrived in a very timely manner, the latter rolling a cart cluttered with instruments, just as Marshall had suspected.
"Mary, this is Doctor Lawrence," Raquel called from her over shoulder, gesturing to a man in his early forties that was already assembling his utensils accordingly. "He's going to be administering the epidural for you."
This was all meaningless professional jargon that she was probably required to say, and so Mary bypassed it and settled for waving over her back where she imagined her savior must be standing. Seconds later, Doctor Reese reappeared in her line of vision with a whole handful of instructions that Mary wasn't expecting at all; she figured she'd made it to the easy part.
"You're going to arch your back forward as far as it will go, Mary…" she began, using her own posture to demonstrate. "It'll be tough with your belly in the way, but really stretch…" again, she mimed the actions, which looked foolish as she was standing. "Marshall can help you curl up if you need him to…" something told her she was going to need him to. "You'll feel the antiseptic being spread on your back, then the local anesthetic, and then the epidural needle should just be some pressure."
Thrilled as she'd been two minutes ago, Mary's mind began to whirl a little bit. How was she supposed to remember all this? What if she didn't hold herself the right way and she messed up the injection? When Marshall had described it to her several days earlier, it hadn't sounded so complicated. But, Doctor Reese was obviously waiting for some sort of confirmation, because she didn't leave her post until she received verbal recognition of the procedure.
"Okay?"
Not knowing what else to do, Mary found herself agreeing, "Uh…oh…okay…"
That was enough for her, and she began to venture back to the door, but trying to watch her go – perhaps so she wouldn't miss any more directions – was a big mistake. Doctor Lawrence was fiddling on his tray, which meant Mary got an eyeful of everything he planned to stick her with, including a needle so large it made her shudder where she sat. Quickly, she turned back around, not wanting to see anymore, and yet she couldn't forget what she'd already laid eyes on.
Breathing a few times might help to clear her head, but she ought to have known by now that the only thing that was truly capable of giving her respite was Marshall.
"You good to go? Feel like you understand?" he asked calmly, no doubt in response to her confused face.
"I…I mean…I guess…"
Even now, she was ascertaining something cold on her bare back, which made her tingle and caused goose bumps to rise on her flesh. Mouthing soundlessly for a moment while Marshall remained remarkably serene, she decided it was probably best to cut to the chase.
"That…that's a big needle…"
Marshall nodded, "Yes, it is," he acknowledged.
"Won't it hurt?"
"Maybe," he stayed still, and Mary suddenly realized that being able to look him straight in his eyes was a huge help; all morning he'd been behind her and so she'd caught very few glimpses of the man within. "The local anesthetic may cause a bit of discomfort, but you shouldn't feel the epidural needle at all."
How could that possibly be? How could you not sense something of that size piercing your spine? Another horrific thought suddenly occurred to her, and she blurted it out without thinking about how jittery she was becoming.
"What if I'm paralyzed?"
Her partner was too sweet to laugh, "Possible, I won't lie to you, but very-very unlikely. People have this performed every day without any complications whatsoever." He had statistics on his side, but still wanted to be open in case she'd had a change of heart, "Are you sure this is what you want?"
For a split second, and shocking even herself, Mary considered saying no. But, then she thought of how many more contractions she was going to struggle through, how many more tears she was going to shed, and how much more desolate the experience was going to become. She'd paid her dues. It just didn't seem fair that she had to be jabbed another time after the mayhem she'd already been through.
But, before she could vocalize her final decision to Marshall, she ran out of time.
"If you could lean over for me now please, Miss Shannon…"
An invisible hand seemed to be pressing on her spine, guiding her forward, even though she knew she was the one in command whether she felt like it or not. She supposed her actions served as her answer to Marshall's question, but he could obviously see that she was still uncertain and was right there to ease her mind.
"You're gonna be fine…" he promised, Mary trying to do as she'd been told and arch out as much as she could, which put her head over Marshall's shoulder. "After contractions, this is going to be a bee sting…"
Attempting to hold onto that thought, she waited on eggshells, her chin tipping downward from her odd hunched position so she was staring into her partner's shirt, rather than over his back. She was practically on top of him, but he pulled her in close, undoubtedly trying to help her stretch just a bit farther.
Her breathing sounded loud in the enclosed space beneath his chin, a shadowy cocoon where she couldn't see the outside world. Marshall's hand was on her forearm, caressing it lightly, keeping her sane. How she would've handled this without him, she had not a clue. Thinking back to how she'd been acting before his arrival, she knew it wouldn't have been graceful in the least.
It was a few seconds before anything happened, and Mary began to get anxious, her heart thudding uncomfortably in spite of her friend's gentle pats for her to wait it out. When she least expected it, just when she was considering sitting up to see what was going on, she felt a sharp stick dig crudely right into the center of her back. It actually startled more than hurt her, but Marshall must've felt her cringe anyway, because he spoke from overhead.
"You okay?"
"It…it pinches…"
"I know, just hold on. You're doing great."
But, surprisingly, that was all there was. The pressure of the real needle came not long after, and within minutes Mary was permitted to reemerge and find her place amongst her pillows once more. Feeling that she had been highly overdramatic given what the epidural actually entailed, she stayed quiet to avoid further humiliation, trying to find a cool spot in her blankets as Doctor Lawrence saw himself out.
Marshall meandered casually back to the side of the bed he'd started on, swiveling around on his stool once more, and seemed to think that Mary's silence meant he could take a break from speaking as well.
She didn't know how long it really took for her to feel the numbness seep from her midsection all the way down her legs, she just knew that when she chanced a glance at the monitor and saw that she was in the throes of a contraction with nary a flicker of pain that she was in the clear. A gentle compressing sensation was all she could feel, which she assumed must be her uterus breathing in and out, but it was nothing but a kind of tick-tock motion. Any throbbing that came with it had vanished.
Turning her head to the left, she saw that Marshall was smiling, and there was no doubt as to why.
"Well…" he remarked, like he had just made an amazing discovery. "That girl looks like Mary Shannon."
A light laugh was expelled as she realized that with the absence of the pain came an abundance of lucidity. Coping with such intensity had forced Mary out of her usual shell into one belonging to someone entirely different. At least for now, she was whole again, and Marshall had obviously noticed. Reaching out and sweeping her bangs off her forehead, the smile never seemed to leave his face.
"You feeling better?"
The reply was a hoarse, but emphatic one, "Yeah."
"I'm glad," of course he was. "You should really try to get some rest, okay? The epidural will probably slow things down a little bit; you'll have plenty of time to recuperate."
What Mary meant to say, as she lay slumped on her side and blinking at him out of bloodshot eyes was, "okay." But, something different came out.
"What are you going to do?"
He seemed bewildered, "What am I going to do? I'm going to stay right here. I might go talk to Jinx in a little while if you get drowsy, but I won't leave."
"You promise?" her eyes were fluttering shut already; the clearance from her body to shut down was immediate. "Even…even if I sleep, you won't…"
"I'll be here the whole time," he avowed, planning to reassure her as many times as she needed it. "For the long haul, all right?"
A yawn, "All right…"
Suddenly, Mary couldn't imagine how she had ever stayed awake, even with the pummeling pain twisting its way in every five minutes. Her bones ached and her head hurt, both things she hadn't even noticed when the contractions had been the most powerful assailant. She felt like someone had chewed her up and spit her out and escaping the hazards of labor had never seemed like a better option, even if it meant leaving Marshall behind for an hour or two.
The recollection of her best friend – boyfriend, significant other, whatever he was now – made the woman utter a few last words before she dropped off into dreamland.
"Thank-you for coming, Marshall…" she sighed, picturing him behind her closed lids. "I do love you, doofus."
Whatever the reason she'd felt the need to say it again, Marshall didn't care, because he cherished hearing it. It she wanted to spitball it for the rest of her life, he wouldn't give a damn; waiting so long to capture the phrase meant he would never tire of it ever again.
"Thank-you, Mary…" his own gratitude was just as essential as hers. "I love you too."
XXX
A/N: Like I said, it gets pretty ooey-gooey from here to the end, but that's the way it turned out!
