A/N: once again, I got more reviews then I knew what to do with for the last chapter, so I decided to update again. Yup, one more chapter then this is over. (Yes I know some of you will be celebrating but oh well, I enjoyed writing this and that's all that matter to me, although reviews would be nice too.) So here you go, chapter 16.
Enmity
Chapter 16: Would You Believe...
Fin held her limp body up, not sure what to do for a second. "I could use some help," he called out, and Elliot came over.
"What happened?"
"She passed out. Help me get her into the crib." Elliot nodded and they carefully moved Mary into the crib.
As Cragen left the interrogation room, he was closely followed by Casey, asking loudly, "What the hell was that?"
"The correct phrase is 'who the hell is that,'" Cragen informed her dryly.
"Why do I get the feeling that I'm not being told the whole story?"
"Because you're not; none of us are."
A crash was heard from the interrogation room, and in the next moment Locke and Groves stumbled out into the precinct fighting like five-year-olds who wanted to fight each other, but didn't want to get hurt in the process. Elliot rushed out to see what all the commotion was about and saw Munch trying to separate the two fighting detectives. Munch couldn't get a firm grip on Locke because he kept squirming around trying to hit Groves anyplace he could reach. Elliot nodded to Munch. They each grabbed an arm and pulled Locke to his feet. Once Munch could restrain him, Elliot checked on Groves.
Groves had a bloody nose and a black eye settling in. Elliot helped him up and went to ask if he was all right when Locke yelled angrily, still struggling against Munch's hold, "You bastard. Do you want to go to her funeral again?"
"Damn it! My precinct is not a circus!" Cragen yelled out, red in the face. Locke stopped struggling and fell silent along with his partner, Groves. Cragen took a deep breath and ordered, "Anyone from London, go cool off. Everyone else, back to work."
As Cragen strode back to his office, Olivia called Elliot over while Munch let a calmer Locke go and asked, "What happened?"
Locke glared at Groves and spat, "Even the doc said it was a bad idea. Don't you ever listen to anyone?"
"Oh yeah, like I really thought that was going to happen when I suggested for her to go in there."
"Would you two get your heads out of your arses and think about her for a change?" Bridget snapped at them. "She didn't look very well, did she?"
They shook their heads and Groves scanned the squad room. "Where is she, anyways?"
"Who, Mary? She's in the crib," Munch told them, testing out his newest theory.
Locke and Groves nodded and head over to the crib, blissfully unaware of their mistake. Bridget, on the other hand, caught it and cursed them under her breath. She turn to a smirking Munch and her eyes narrowed. "Listen, you little smart arse, Mary tried very hard to keep the truth a secret. Why? I don't know. I assume it has something to do with her pride, so keep your cake hole shut."
"Don't worry, Bloody Mary's secret is safe with me." Munch tried to sound serious, but he couldn't hide his satisfied grin.
When Bridget reached the crib, she saw Mary laid out on a cot with Locke at her feet while Groves and Fin were conversing. "How long have you known?"
"Since yesterday. I found out when I went to get a statement."
"How did she handle it?"
Fin looked at the sleeping figure and realized she had acted fine, but was in worse shape then anyone could imagine. She had gone through hell in London, and in New York she was attacked again and then forced to go through hell again by confronting the problem she tried so hard to hide. Awake she seemed in control of her emotions, but asleep they ran free.
That peaceful look Fin had seen before was gone. It was replaced by anxiety and dread. Her eyes were trying desperately to open and awake from a nightmare, but failing miserably. Her hands were clenching into tight fists, her nails leaving dark ridges in her skin.
"She took it as well as can be expected," Fin lied.
Bridget sat down next to Mary and unclenched her hand. Little drops of crimson liquid were surfacing at the dark ridges. "Somehow I don't think this is handling it too well," Bridget muttered to herself. She stroked Mary's hair softly, trying to sooth her but failing and asked, "Did she cry? I know it sounds horrid of me to ask, but I need to know."
Fin pondered the question and answered, "Not around anyone here."
"No, of course she wouldn't. Bloody Mary doesn't have feelings."
"Not true," Groves objected. "I saw her cry once. Well, it was more of a single tear then crying. It was at Blizzard's funeral."
"She never cried during York's funeral. Made everyone else cry with that eulogy, though," Locke said. "She just seemed to skip over the stage of grief where you cry. I just figured that was her way of coping."
"I feel kind of stupid now that I realize all those time she felt like someone was watching her and we just said she was being paranoid, she was actually right." Bridget and Locke nodded in agreement.
"It's not like we could have known," Bridget said with a sigh. "She was always keeping things secret from us. Her father, for example. I asked her about him and she told me he moved to America. Not once did she even indicate he was in a psychiatric hospital, let alone Ashworth."
"Never told us, either," Locke said. "I thought he was dead."
"I thought he was a drunk," Groves added. He smiled as a thought occurred to him. "That really explains a lot, though. Her father being loony and all; apparently it's genetic."
They couldn't disagree with the statement, but they didn't want to agree with it, either.
There was a soft knock on the door and Munch walked in. "Miss McCarthy, his lawyer is looking for a deal." Bridget nodded and headed out the door. Munch turned to Fin and said, "Cragen wants to speak to you."
Fin grimaced and started for Cragen's office. Munch turned to the two detectives and said, "Elliot wants to go over the cases and make sure everything's in order." Locke shot a glance at Mary and Munch reassured him, "Don't worry, she'll be fine. I'll look after her myself."
They were satisfied and left. Munch crept up to Mary tapped her on the shoulder. "Wake up, Mary. Wake up, Bloody Mary, I finally figured you out so wake up." Mary just shut her eyes tighter. Munch leaned in and whispered in her ear, "Mary, Mary, quite contrary. How does your garden grow? With sliver bells and cockle shells, and maidens all in a row."
As soon as the word "row" passed his lips Mary jolted up, looking around frantically. She saw Munch smirking at her and realized he was the one chanting the nursery rhyme. She reached out and smacked him across the face. That wiped the smug smile clean of his face.
"What was that for?" Munch growled, rubbing his cheek.
"For singing that stupid little nursery rhyme. I hate that bloody thing."
"You didn't have to hit me, Mary," he mumbled.
A chill ran down her spin when he said her name. He noticed and smirked again. "That's right, Bloody Mary, I've got you all figured out."
It was her turn to smirk. "No, you don't. You know what happened, but you haven't figured out me yet or you'd be blabbing it to the whole station."
"You have that little faith in me?"
"Yes."
"I do have more sense then to go around talking about a person's obviously painful past," Munch informed her with a peer over his glasses.
"And I have more sense then to let someone know about my obviously painful past," she said, unaffected by his look, "So if you're here to know more about my past, forget it."
"I'm here to make sure you are fine; I promised your little English friends that."
Mary stared at him for a while. Finally she said, "I'm fine. You can leave."
"Amazingly enough, I don't believe that," Munch replied dryly.
"What would you believe then? Would you believe I wished I had died that day along with Joe; that way I could rest in peace?"
"I would believe that."
"Would you believe all the guilt I felt for not being able to protect Joe or myself?"
"Yes," Munch answered somberly. He would let her use him for an emotional punching bag because it was better then her using a perp for a physical one.
"Would you believe I have this horrible fear of needles now and whenever I see one I want to pass out?"
"Yes."
"Would you believe that for the past four months all I wanted was go home to London and pretend like nothing happened, and now when I get the chance do that I don't want because I know it can never be the same?"
She was yelling now, but Munch let it glide over him. "Yes."
"Would you believe how incredibly stupid I am for not being able to make the connection between the Ethan who attacked me and the Ethan I helped all those years ago until now?"
"Would you believe me when I say you're a damn good cop, you're smart and the only reason I don't treat you that way is because I don't like you?"
Mary smiled weakly at him and nodded. She looked at Munch sadly and said quietly, "Would you believe how lost I felt having to answer to the name Daisy and how wonderful I felt when Fin called me by my name?"
"That I would believe without a doubt," Munch told her with a kind grin. "And I'd also believe he enjoyed calling you by your name."
"I guess the old are wise after all," Mary replied, smiling.
"I'm not that old," Munch protested.
"How many Americans drink tea except old men?" she inquired.
"This would be more fun if you were an American who drank tea."
"Life doesn't always work out like you want."
Munch stood up and said, "Let's go get some tea."
"Probably the best idea I've heard all day," Mary said as Munch helped her up.
