The jammies were a gift from his mother. It was an inside joke, actually - he kept building tiny model airplanes that he flew over the Nevada desert. Once, he attempted to fly a hamster, soared too close to an owl, and it ended in tragedy. That night, his mother presented him with his first telescope. Now, it was a transition - from airplanes to the sky.
He liked those pajamas; they fit comfortably and gave him a sense of comfort and connection, especially on this case with Lonnie. Marshall was raised to believe that ultimately everyone has good in them and that some people found the wherewithal to use it. Lonnie learned the opposite by age seven. While the Billups family overturned a lot of lessons the boy learned from his dad, it could all disappear in an instant if the judge reassigned custody. The thought made Marshall's blood run cold.
Lonnie also enjoyed pajamas, he could see, though likely they did not hold memories of fond support. The little boy in front of him eyed Marshall's choice of sleepwear with a disapproving glint reminiscent of Marshall's father. "Nice jammies," Marshall commented, retreating to the bedroom next door for the night.
He smirked to himself when he heard, through his bedroom wall, Mary tell Lonnie, "That's one badass law man." At least he knew he never needed to prove himself.
Mary, on the other hand, always had something to prove, and he could tell it was especially true on this case. The tip off was that she almost bought a gift for Lonnie's adoption party. Sure, she cared about all her witnesses, but Lonnie was special to her, maybe because of the three weeks he lived with her until she found a family enrolled in WITSEC to take him.
Pissing off Mary by then presenting a gift was just fun.
He melted right along with Lonnie over the Billups new baby. Marshall loved children, even if in good conscience he would never have any. It touched him deeply to see the baby help Lonnie turn back into a child. He wasn't as connected to the boy as Mary was, but he still felt protective about both boy and partner.
So, in Indianapolis when he went toe-to-toe with the boy's father and then the case immediately went south, he worried. Mary dealt with witnesses disappointing her badly, especially those that slid back into criminal habits. But this scenario, where neither she nor Lonnie held any cards, this might get ugly.
The bombing made it officially ugly, and Mary was worked up enough at the other marshal's casual attitudes towards caring for the boy. He understood this; the situation merited nearly twenty US marshals on round the clock service, and not one of them gave genuine thought to the situation. They were protecting a kid left alone by their own government. He silently awarded her points for not blowing up in front of Lonnie after the judge insisted on a morning meeting; demonstrating sensitivity took a little extra for her. He would have to reward her restraint indirectly.
He also knew Mary kept something from him about the witness that she didn't know earlier that day. Her disappearance into the night spoke volumes. Not pushing when she returned as mysteriously as she left was her reward. Marshall believed in the book, though the Marshal Service and WITSEC manuals allowed limited interpretation. Mary believed in the situation. Both approaches had their merits.
Her witness, her call. So when she did appear at 2 am, telling him she might refuse to turn Lonnie over, he said what he found himself saying to her at least twice a week. "Just tell me what you need."
As she said thanks and walked away, a feeling welled up in his chest and burst out. He said that to her a lot and he knew he would do anything she asked in those moments – and lately, there were more and more of those moments.
He also felt nonplussed at the final hearing the next morning. Lonnie had some questions in his role as a ten year old going on forty. He impressed Mary. "Finally, I meet a guy that gets me and he's ten," she said. Marshall did a double take, and stopped himself from bursting out with, "Am I not even here?"
As it was, he knew Mary's disappearance the previous evening had everything to do with McRoy abruptly dropping his case. He wondered how many protocols she violated.
At the Indianapolis airport he caught a moment with Mary while the other marshals circled around McRoy and Lonnie. He knew Mary did something, now that they had a whole new witness to protect. "I have to know…what did you do?"
Mary shrugged. "I made it clear I'd kidnap his son and go on the lam."
Oh Christ. "Then I'm glad it all worked out."
Mary muttered something about coffee, and he wondered what exactly to say to Stan when his boss asked. He picked up some pamphlets for tourists sitting next to the check desk – the one about the gun museum in New Alexandria, Indiana looked interesting. Huh, he never thought of Hoosiers as great shooters.
As he stood with Stan watching Mary explain to the Billups the presence of Lonny's father, he pressed his lips together. If Mary ran off with the boy, he would have stayed behind – if that's what Mary needed.