Author's Notes:
Is you Is or is you Ain't?
Sequel to "Canary on a Landmine" - It had been a long week for Marshals Shannon and Mann and from the looks of things they were going to be dealing with the fallout for months to come. Story includes Marshall with an OC (the series will end being M/M but that is a ways down the line.)
Disclaimer time: I do not own, nor pretend to own the characters of In Plain Sight. This work is not intended to contest said ownership and no profit is being made from the telling of this tale. (I'm just having too much fun to stop)
Isn't/Fake Is/Emergency backup Is/Agent Elder on the other hand is mine, and ... it's complicated.
I hope you enjoyed Canary and I hope you will enjoy the telling of this tale as well.
I still have not posting schedule worked out, but I am trying to get at least one post in a week... we'll see how that goes.
Marshall wasn't aware he was holding his breath as he waited for Leigh to open her eyes. For a very long while she remained still, seemingly focused on simply breathing. Finally she opened her eyes and he found he could breathe again.
He rested a hand on her knee, a gentle reminder that she was not alone and that he was with her.
O'Conner had arrived far too soon in his opinion.
She had just started to deal with the memories the mere mention of the photo had brought up before he was there, showing it to her.
He'd almost snapped then, between his lack of sleep and Leigh's general state O'Conner's approach was the last thing he needed. Oddly it was Leigh who had kept him grounded. It was as if, at least for the time being, they were symbiotic organisms: each supplying the other with something they couldn't produce on their own.
Oddly enough, in both cases it was stability.
"Ms. Elder..." O'Conner said, pressing her for information Marshall was fairly certain she couldn't give him. "We need to know what this all about."
Leigh closed her eyes and let her breath out slowly. Marshall was getting ready to stand and remind O'Conner that Leigh was the victim here, not the person who'd set it up when he felt her hand on his.
She patted it gently before forcing herself to look at the picture again.
He bit his lip when she traced the outline of her husband, her hand shaking ever so slightly.
She had been so happy in the picture and Marshall hated himself for putting her through this.
"madina al kuwayt... " she said without thinking, the words running together. After a moment, she gave both men a startled look. "Kuwait City... The picture was taken in Kuwait City "
Marshall could hear the resigned tone in her voice: it matched the exhaustion he was feeling.
"What were the two of you doing in Kuwait City?"
It was a reasonable enough question, but there was something in O'Conner's tone that seemed to lack any emotion or compassion.
Leigh gave a sad, wistful snort. "He was on leave: I was on my way to Kandahar to help reel in a counterfeiting drug lord. I had a three hour layover..."
She shook her head and looked at O'Conner. "No one should have a copy of this picture. My partner took it and there were only two prints ever made. My copy is next to my bed. His is on the mantle of his grandmother's house."
Marshall felt rather than heard the emotional shudder as she spoke and moved his hand to her shoulder, effectively giving her a small amount of shelter from prying eyes.
"Are you sure?" O'Conner's tone was one of disbelief, bordering on accusatory.
Marshall frowned at him. He had known that O'Conner was lacking in the people skills department, but he'd always assumed it was just his own guilt and misguided anger towards Mary, but this... this interview was making his dad seem sensitive and caring.
"Can we... dial it down a notch," Marshall asked O'Conner, trying to give him every visual cue he could to indicate that Leigh was close to overloading.
He sighed heavily when O'Conner seemed to take his signal to mean she was close to breaking and pressed for the kill.
"When did you hire someone to kill your husband?"
"Agent O'Conner…" Marshall's voice remained steady, almost soothing as he spoke, but the angry warning was obvious. "You question witnesses… you don't break them…"
For a moment it was O'Conner investigating Mary all over again, but this time his 'suspect' was present and Marshall could read her body language.
"You break suspects…"
O'Conner frowned slightly as he tried to figure out where he'd misread Marshall.
"Everyone is a suspect," he answered lamely. "Or didn't you know that people have a tendency to die around Agent Elder?"
Marshall shook his head. Part of him knew that Leigh could be playing him, hell, she'd been someone completely different when he met her less than a week ago, but he couldn't get that smile out of his mind. You just couldn't fake that kind of look… could you?
As he began to second guess his assessment, he found himself wishing Mary, with her 'built in B.S. detector," was there to analyze the situation.
By the time Mary made it home, it was all she could do to make it into the house. Somewhere between locking the door and the bedroom she ran out of steam, deciding instead to simply crash on her couch.
She was vaguely aware that she should put her pistols away, but she was simply too tired to move.
She never even saw the shadow that moved through the back rooms of her house.
"How... dare... you..." Leigh's voice was ragged with emotion as she funneled all the pain and loss Marshall had sensed just moments ago into a seething rage.
He turned slightly and on a primal level he felt satisfaction as he watched as O'Conner's smug expression fell. It was clear the FBI agent had meant to break Leigh, get a confession out of her, but instead she'd broken in a totally different direction.
Marshall wasn't sure if he should try and help her hold it together or simply hold the dust pan and offer to pick up the pieces what was left of O'Conner when she was finished.
In the interest of interdepartmental co-operation he opted to try and help Leigh keep it together, at least until O'Conner opened his mouth again. Then he found himself waging the mental debate again.
"And here I thought only Marshall Shannon could get this kind of mindless devotion out of you," he sneered at Marshall. "Or didn't you know that your friend here has a long history of 'losing' loved ones?"
The dustpan was winning.
He was about to say as much when Leigh pushed him away and tried to stand.
All thought of retaliation was shoved aside as Leigh wavered and tried to catch herself before her legs gave out on her completely: tried and failed.
Marshall caught her, but barely and as he tried to keep from overbalancing himself, he called for help. He shifted his weight slightly, trying to get a better hold, and noticed that she was holding onto his jacket, to him, for dear life.
Marshall shot O'Conner an accusatory stare before focusing on Leigh.
"Leigh?" He called anxiously.
As he tried to help her, members of the security team began to arrive. The first on scene was the orderly, who, judging by his actions, was also the team's medic and he was not happy with any of them.
He tried to pick Leigh up and put her back in the wheel chair, but she would not let go of Marshall's Jacket.
"Leigh," the 'orderly' called. "Doctors are on their way. We need to get you where they can work on you… you need to let go so I can ascertain your status…"
Although the orderly kept his tone soft, reasonable and soothing, Marshall could hear the worry in his voice. His own worry doubled when he heard answer. It was barely above a whisper.
"Status is I'm dizzy, disoriented… pissed…"
The orderly tried again to pick Leigh up, but he couldn't pry Marshall's jacket out of her hands.
Marshall gave him an apologetic smile and then gently picked her up.
"Where do you want her?
"I thought you wanted me to press her... good cop, bad cop..."
They were sitting in the hallway waiting for word on Leigh. He could tell she was fighting vertigo from the moment she stood, but O'Conner was convinced she was putting on an act.
"Why would I want you to press the victim?" Marshall asked enunciating each word.
"Suspect." O'Conner corrected him.
Marshall rolled his eyes and faced O'Conner directly. "Suspect? When did she become a suspect? Are you trying to say she cleverly hired an assassin to kill… her?"
O'Conner held his folder up. "Her background checks indicate…"
Marshall closed his eyes, doing everything to cut the man off before he lost any semblance of calm.
O'Conner stopped in mid sentence when he noticed Marshall was clenching his fist.
Anything he would have said was interrupted by the 'orderly'.
"Agent Elder wants to see you," he said shaking his head. "Both of you… " he added, but as they stood to follow he turned blocking their way.
"The doctor's say she's suffering post concussive syndrome and is prone to dizzy spells," he warned. "Upsetting her is only going to make it worse."
He stopped, but Marshall could sense the unspoken threat. 'Make things worse for her, and I will make them worse for you."
Marshall held his hands out to his side, as if to say he wasn't the problem. The orderly looked at him and gave a barely perceivable nod towards O'Conner as if to say 'he however is.'
Marshall's lips curled in a glum half smile of agreement. He was honestly beginning to believe the man simply had no people skills and considered everyone a suspect now that he was running the investigation.
"We'll keep this brief and non accusatory," he promised, although he was looking at O'Conner when he said it.
O'Conner frowned slightly at the exchange but followed quietly.
It was going to be a very long night.
