Thanks so so very much for the reviews. It really inspires me to keep moving. I'm not the best writer, but I am trying to improve. I know a lil OOC was bouncing around in the reviews, and here is my take on it. Mary was already almost crying when she was talking to Stan and Marshall at the end, and it was because she was only almost raped. I feel, that since she was drugged twice, raped, etc, she should obviously be in a more devastating state. Please continue to voice your opinions, as it really does help me figure out where my strengths and weaknesses are. Did anyone see the show this week? Was the ending not horrible?
Mary was buckled safely into the passenger seat, looking out the window. Marshall was pretty sure she was crying, but he received no outward sign. So they sat in silence as he drove her out of the hospital parking lot (Stan had an SUV dropped off for them), and through the city of Albuquerque.
Mary wasn't crying, even though she knew that her façade would not last. She was watching the scenery change as they drove through downtown. People were pouring out of night clubs, laughing and probably very intoxicated. She didn't know how people could be so cheerful when she felt like crap. "That's how its been my whole life," she thought, "People have fun, and I am too busy being the grown up in my household." She didn't want to go home. Mary knew that the tenants would yell at her, and not give her the ounce of security or privacy she needed. Her mind drifted, almost seamlessly from her dysfunctional family to the events of the evening. She tried to block it out- she wasn't quite sure whether she would be able to process it. Mary decided that it would have to wait, owing to the fact that she didn't want to vomit in Marshall's SUV.
He got her home safely, and carried her into her house. With her still in his arms, he walked straight into her bathroom, set her down upon the closed toilet, and started warm water in the shower. Marshall stepped out of the bathroom with the murmured statement of, "Let me know if you need anything," as she started to shed the jackets and scrubs.
He walked into her kitchen and opened up the fridge. Marshall sighed as he saw a bottle of vodka and some suspicious looking leftovers. The story was even worse in the pantry. "What does she eat all day?" He questioned aloud. He called up Stan.
"Hey."
"How's the case coming?"
Stan gave a noncommittal grunt. "It's…sucking, actually. The FBI have no leads, we have no leads. We don't need Mary in here." Stan had given this last comment before Marshall could open his mouth. "Her statement can't really help us at this point. CSI is working some trace, but we won't have results for hours. Typical."
"Mary's alright. She's showering now. I planned on making something for her to eat. The girl is pretty much skin and bones at this point."
"Probably because the parasites."
"You mean the alcoholic and the druggie?" Marshall only hid his disgust when Mary was around about her family.
"Yeah, them. They probably eat all the food before she even sees it. I'm guessing this was why you called?" Stan said with a slight smile on his face.
"Would you mind? Just something like chicken soup, bread. Mild enough not to make her sick… saltines, Sprite, etc. I would, but I don't want to leave her here alone."
"Not a problem. You take care of her," and then Stan was off the phone. Before Marshall could marvel his bosses comment, he heard a clatter coming from Mary's bathroom. Gun drawn, he sprinted silently down the hall, his heart pounding wildly. What if Spanky had gotten back inside the house to finish her off?
Marshall creaked open the door and peaked inside. Within milliseconds, his gun was back in its holster, and he was inside the tiny blue bathroom. His eyes watered at the sight.
Mary, who had been in the shower, had thrown back the curtain and knocking off several bottles. Not having enough time to wrap her towel around herself, she had one foot inside the tub, and another standing on the shag carpet. Mary was doubled over at the waste, dry heaving into the toilet.
Marshall came over to her, and quickly gathered her hair out of the way. His free hand came up to rub her back. He whispered sweet nothings to her as she continued to heave. After what seemed like hours to Mary, she felt the sobs rise in her chest. Turning into Marshall and clutching fistfuls of his shirt, she released the unshed tears of the past day's events. His arms wrapped protectively around her.
Once her sobs had quieted down, Marshall reached over to her towel rack and grabbed a couple that looked the cleanest. Even though she wasn't wet now, he wrapped one around her body and another he used to drape over her shoulders.
She was looking at him now, obviously not really caring that she had just hugged the man that she had feelings for while butt naked. Mary was just happy that he was able to be around her at all, let alone helping her cope.
"Thanks." She murmured.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He questioned cautiously.
"No." She stated simply, and he left it at that.
"Okay. I'll grab you some clothes." She followed him out of the bathroom and sat down upon her bed. Marshall flitted around in her dresser and closet and came back with a pile of clothes. She dressed in them without even waiting for him to completely leave the room.
Mary walked down the hallway and saw Marshall answering the door to Stan, who handed over a grocery sack. They exchanged a few low, worried statements, before her boss noticed her. He smiled. She pulled a smile that felt awkward upon her face. He shouldn't have to worry because she was being weak.
"You did us proud today, Mary." Stan smiled again at her, and gave a sign of leave to Marshall. The young man closed the door behind him, as he turned to Mary.
"I was going to make you chicken soup, but if you aren't that hungry or whatever, I think Stan bought some saltines, and pop."
"Crackers and pop sounds good." It was the first muti-word sentence she had spoken yet that evening.
Marshall, five minutes later, presented her with a plate full of crackers and a cup of Sprite as she sat upon the couch flicking through channels. He sat down upon the opposite end of the couch. She stopped on CNN, and decided that she was lucky to be alive, unlike some of the people who would be on the early morning report. Mary glanced out the window and saw that it was indeed morning- she could see the rays of sunlight pierce through the trees that lined the property next to hers. A piece of the reporter's monologue pierced her thoughts.
"…an agent for the FBI was kidnapped last night. Police are on the search for the abductor, but the agent has been safely rescued. No comments on what happened to cause this or why the same agent was later seen at the hospital…."
Mary hadn't moved, and Marshall hadn't dared to breathe.
"This abduction is under investigation as to the death of a …" the news reporter rattled off the name of Mary's attacker with an almost careless and fake voice.
Marshall reached for the remote and jabbed the power button once. Mary still hadn't responded to the television.
"Mare?" Marshall asked tentitavely. Her head slowly turned to him.
"Marshall?" It was as if she had finally seen he was there, "…I killed someone. I killed him and Chuck…I killed-", but before she could continue, her body was doubled over the end of her couch. This time, she didn't dry heave. Vomit splattered the floor, as Marshall crawled over to her and gathered her hair up. By the time she was done, she didn't have the energy to cry, or even wipe her face. Marshall removed his shirt and used it to wipe her face of sweat and bile.
"Maybe it would be best if you laid down for awhile?" Marshall lifted her up off the couch and carried her away from the stagnant smell. He placed her upon the bed and tucked her into the blankets. His hand came up to tuck a stray strand of hair out of her face. Mary's eyes flitted to his face. "I'm gonna be on the couch if you need anything."
"Marsh?"
"Yeah, Mare?"
"Could you…Would you…" she struggled to find the right words, "Hold on to me?"
"Not a problem." He removed his shoes and belt, set his badge and gun down upon her nightstand and climbed into bed next to her. She laid her head upon his chest, but it instantly came back up.
"This won't do. Change into pajamas. Raph's are in the drawer on the right. Farthest one down."
Marshall begrudgingly got out of bed and with a crinkled nose changed into a pair of stripped pj pants and took of his dress shirt, so he was in a wife beater tank top. Mary shifted so she was curled up on her side. Marshall formed his body to her's and his arm came across while his hand placed itself on her stomach.
"Where are Jinx and Brandi?" she asked, as if she had just known they weren't home.
"Down at the Sunshine building. Stan talked to them, and explained that the FBI was looking into you for this."
Mary's teeth clenched in anger. Marshall's hand rubbed her arm.
"It's okay. Tomorrow, or whenever you're up to it, we'll figure this out. Don't worry….Do you want me to call Raph? Let him know what's going on."
"No. He…won't get it."
"Goodnight, Mare. I'll be here when you wake."
Mary nodded and felt the rush of exhaustion sweep over her body. She was emotionally drained, but had no time to dwell on the past day's events. Her eyes were already closed.
