*** Dun dun dun...Faber's in da house! How *does* crapweasel act after being kicked out of Mary's bed? And what does Marshall learn? Can Mary remain loyal? Well, read on! ***

*** I'm amazed by the wonderously generous reviews for my first chapter! You are all THE BEST! ***

"If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that"

– William Shakespeare

According to what they have done, so will he repay wrath to his enemies and retribution to his foes; he will repay the islands their due.

– Isaiah 59: 17-19

Special Agent Michael Faber stepped out of the elevator onto the sixth floor of the Sunshine Building to meet with a reception that made the January wind chill in Denver seem positively balmy. The anticipation of seeing Mary began to wane upon laying eyes on her partner. The one man entourage…the one man roadblock…the one man between him and the piece of ass that he couldn't stop thinking about for the last four months.

Marshall approached with a stony stare and a reluctant handshake. The greeting was just shy of being rude and Mike bristled as the prolonged, tightened grip that was delivered negated the false pleasantry which dropped from the tall man's lips. Immediately, the agent was looking past Marshall's shoulder to find something more pleasant to look at. She wasn't at her desk. Faber scowled.

Marshall watched Faber do a visual sweep for his partner with a barely concealed sneer. The man wasn't going to find fodder for his false affections today. Mary was hunkered down in Stan's office going over monthly stats and threat assessments for next month's trials. Marshall planned to have Faber in and out of the office before she emerged for even a fresh cup of coffee.

"We've got the conference room for an hour," Marshall said as he keyed the door for Faber's entry. "Shouldn't take that long to go over the case, and I've already done the prelim work for relocation so I won't keep you for that. A quick site visit to get the official agency okay, and I'll have you back on the road before dinner." His smile didn't reach his eyes.

Faber was now on guard. The frostiness from the marshal seemed to reach beyond the normal interagency dislike. More directed. Personal. Faber kept a wary eye on the man as they walked towards the far conference room. Mary had told him something…but how much?

"No need to rush, Inspector." Faber grinned without humor. "I don't need to be back in Denver for two days. Thought I might take in some of the sights while I'm here. Maybe visit a few old friends."

Marshall watched him flatly as he held open the conference room door. Stared hard at his back as the agent laid his files on the table. Mary had told him about Faber ferreting out her address. He envisioned himself sitting on the porch in the dark, shotgun across his knees. Locked and loaded. It was the first thought that had amused him all morning.

"Well, I'll make sure to point you in the right direction when we're done, Mike. Wouldn't want you to frequent any attractions that would be a waste of your time…or get lost."

"That's okay, Marshall." Faber's grin was tight. "I have a standing invitation for a personal tour. Just have to get in touch with the guide." The two men stared at each other for a brief moment, mental engines revving, before Marshall made a short gesture towards and open chair.

This asshole raises my hackles more than Eps, Marshall mused darkly as he took a seat across from the agent, purposefully positioning himself so the man would have his back to the main office. He was reminded of a cobra; smooth and seductive with that hypnotizing ability to charm its prey before it struck. He wondered if Faber ever realized it didn't work on other men. Probably not, as his career seemed to be the mongoose he continually fought…and lost.

After a few more aborted attempts at chit chat, Faber finally relented the higher ground to Marshall and pulled out his files with one last glance over his shoulder towards Mary's desk.

Twenty minutes later, Marshall's gaze was caught by Mary hurrying out of Stan's office with her cell pressed to her ear. The sound-proofing in the conference room kept Faber from noticing the activity, so Marshall watched his partner carefully while he kept his ears tuned to the agent's comments. She was now squinting at her computer screen while impatiently pushing keys. Irritated. Rushed. Still talking on the phone. Something was amiss.

At about the time he had decided to investigate, Stan emerged and signaled to him through the glass. Marshall stood and excused himself with an offhand invitation to Faber to help himself to coffee in the kitchen.

"Jesus," Mary hissed at no one in particular as she printed off some papers. "Does every adolescent male think with his dick instead of his brain?"

"Yes," answered Stan and Marshall in unison, their chorus causing her to pin both of them with one glare.

"Idiots," she murmured, shaking her head as she gathered the papers from the printer.

"Okay. Here's what I know. Tommy Forrest, son of Nathan Forrest, who is due to testify in six weeks at the Vago-Wood trial, has gone missing. Not just for a night, or a weekend, but for a whole week." She held up her hand as Marshall drew a breath to ask the obvious question. "No, I don't know why Nathan waited this long to call us…or anyone…but I suspect it has to do with the girl Tommy likely ran off with."

Marshall groaned and Stan rolled his eyes as Mary continued to spin a story of roiling hormones, family feuds and teenage angst inspired by authors past and present. At some point in her tale and appointment of duties, Faber sauntered out of the conference room, helped himself to a cup of coffee, and then stood with one hip against the kitchenette counter while he watched Mary. He waited until Marshall was involved in a phone call before he adjusted his tie and approached her desk.

"I knew you'd be mad for a while," Faber said softly, pitching his voice just for her, "but I didn't think a lover's spat would be grounds for the silent treatment for four months."

Mary froze mid-motion for just a moment, eyes narrowed, then resumed her note taking while refusing to look at him. "Agent Faber, as you can see, I'm fairly involved in an emergent situation at the moment."

Faber chuckled. "Oh, I see. Persona non-grata, am I? Okay, I deserve that, I suppose. But really, Kitten, don't you think we can be adults about this. Maybe talk? Over dinner?"

Mary put her pen down and shot him a dark look. "I have nothing to say to you. Not now, not ever. Get away from my fucking desk and put your ass back in the conference room."

Faber raised his hands with a patronizing wink and Mary clenched her jaw as she turned her attention back to the computer. She was more hostile than he had expected and he thought a conciliatory gesture may serve as an icebreaker. Spotting her half empty coffee cup, he reached over her file holder for the mug.

Marshall's head snapped up as Mary stood suddenly, one hand warding off Faber's reach while the other rested on her Glock. The agent looked surprised and slowly stepped back from the desk, hands held out to his sides. Marshall mumbled a goodbye into the phone and levered out of his chair.

"Maybe you ought to switch to decaf, Inspector?" Faber ineffectually joked. Mary's low growl was audible in the silence.

Marshall rounded his desk to herd Faber back into the conference room, watching Mary out of the corner of his eye. "Maybe you ought to let Inspector Shannon concentrate on the job at hand, Mike?"

Mary rolled her shoulders and stared out the windows for a minute before settling back into the chair. Glanced at him with a look of abject gratitude that he acknowledged with a minute nod. His attention was drawn back to the man entering the conference room.

"So," Faber drawled, "she's changed. A little more…uptight than I remembered."

Marshall set one hand on his hip as he rubbed his fingers across his mouth. There were pieces missing from this puzzle. Slowly dragging his gaze away from Mary, he chanced a glare at Faber, hoping his thoughts of dismemberment weren't too obviously conveyed.

"I think we're done for today," Marshall said, walking over to tuck papers back into folders. "Be back tomorrow morning around eight and I'll take you out to the safe house."

Faber shook his head and smiled faintly with the dismissal. The taller man's confusion was comforting, in a way. Mary may have given her partner a story, may even have painted him in a less than favorable light, but their parting conversation must've have left an impression. Marshall didn't know everything. Advantage, Faber.

He took the files from Marshall, ignoring the man's pointed look, and grabbed his coat from the rack. Turned to offer Marshall a grin and stir the hornet's nest.

"Any chance she'll be up for dinner later?"

Marshall gripped the back of the chair in front of him, wishing it was the agent's neck. Somehow, somewhere, he had lost the upper hand and it chafed unpleasantly. Faber could go to hell.

"I can safely say you'll want to make a reservation for one."

/\\\/\\\/\\\/\\\/\\\/\\\/\\\

Marshall was drifting off to sleep when the mattress dipped as Mary slid back into the bed. She fluffed the covers around them and he caught the scent of citrus, peppermint, and other olfactory reminders as to why he now lay in a supremely satisfied and liquidy lump on his side of the bed. He felt her breath on his shoulder, and her fingers briefly tangled in his chest hair before stretching out to rest over his sternum.

"I don't know, Cowboy," Mary murmured, smile evident in her tone. "I may have to go easier on you. Looks like I rode all the giddy-up right out of you."

Marshall grinned at the ceiling, then turned with a growl to grab her and pull her into his embrace. Mary giggled a sound meant only for him as he rubbed a light knuckle into her skull until she slapped at him. Tucking her head into his shoulder, he planted a kiss on her forehead as she wrapped one leg around his thigh.

"You going easy on me would be a crime against humanity. And when have I ever run out of giddy-up, missy?"

"We-ell…you are getting on in years," she teased slyly.

Marshall placed his hand over a sensitive spot on her rib cage and Mary grabbed a tuft of his chest hair. "This could get ugly," she chuckled.

He rumbled a laugh and squeezed her once to hear her squeak, then relented to just hold her against him.

The events of the day continued to weigh upon him, but the mundane irritations of witnesses behaving badly had faded with physical exertion and endorphin release. Mary's reaction to Faber's reach and her uncharacteristic brooding for the rest of the day, however, still irked him.

"Faber will be back tomorrow morning," he said quietly. She stiffened slightly. "Maybe you should just head out to Nathan's and skip the office."

"I'm not hiding from him, Marshall," she replied, offended. "He should be the one avoiding me, not the other way around."

He hummed agreement as he rubbed slow circles on her back. Replayed her reaction to the agent in his mind again.

"Are you going to tell me the whole story of what went down in Mexico, or am I going to have to imagine my own scenarios?" he questioned gently.

Mary pulled out of his embrace and he let her go. She propped herself up on her elbows and squinted at him in the dark. "I told you what happened in Mexico. It was disgusting and…embarrassing. The man makes me feel slimy and I don't want him near me."

"You flinched." He pushed.

"I was preoccupied, irritated, slightly on edge and he startled me." Mary laid on her stomach with her arms wrapped around her pillow and stared at him. Marshall rolled onto his side and stared back.

"Calling you on your BS," he prompted.

Mary took a deep breath, slowly closed her eyes and turned away from him. "Go to sleep, Marshall."

He was still staring at the back of her head a few minutes later when she reached back to pull his arm over her hip. He scooted in and tucked the covers around them with a sigh, his own eyes drifting closed as she leaned into him.

*** Hmmmm...I suspect there may be more to the story? Faber ought to tread lightly, but gauntlet thrown or not, I don't think he understands the precariousness of his situation! Please REVIEW to let me know how I'm doing! And what do YOU think happened in Mexico? :) ***