Less action, more all around drama this time around. The really fun stuff is coming...soon. Just be patient and bear with me!

~SRDempsey

Fury and Flames

Chapter Three

The silence was deafening and grating on Stan's every last nerve.

"I'm not apologizing," Laurence muttered stubbornly, arms crossed over his chest as he and his five remaining inspectors gathered in their temporary conference room, almost a day after the double arson case making the APD Chief go prematurely gray. Stan sympathized – really, he did – but he didn't have the time to linger on his sympathy either. Not with one of his marshals out of action, another still injured (even if he was cleared for duty against the doctor's wishes), and two more injured because of fits of ire.

"Did I say you had to?" He glanced at Mary, mildly concerned that her expression had remained stonily cold through most of it. Part of it was the obvious disdain Josiah Messing was shooting at her, but not all of it. His stubborn inspector didn't care about the older inspector's opinion of her that much. Something else was going on in her head – something bad – and he could only trust that Marshall would be there to handle it when it eventually came out. "Are we clear on your duties for the moment?"

Micah DiFranco, the second oldest inspector after Josiah at 37, whined a bit as he nodded. "Why do Shannon and Mann get to have all the fun? I get why Harper there gets to dive head first into this mess, but why them?" Facing Mary, he said without rancor, "No offense, Shannon, but your boy toy is the reason this fuck-head is trying to kill us."

"There would be no mess if she had followed the rules," Josiah huffed, his expression severe. "They are there for a reason – to protect our security and that of our witnesses."

"Now that's just harsh, Jossie," Micah grinned, touching his partner's arm, and the older man twitched and slid his chair away ever so slightly. "Aw, come on, you know you like it, sugah."

Clearing his throat, Stan took the floor before Josiah could blow a blood vessel or Micah went wild with his teasing. "Inspector Shannon's identity is the one that has been compromised at present. This could very well be a personal attack, or one against one of her witnesses, so she will need to be devoting her time to this for the time being." His lip quirked slightly. "And would either of you dare send her into anything without Marshall?"

They both eyed Marshall, his bemused smile, and eventually shook their heads. "No."

"We get it," Micah added, disappointed but accepting. "We can juggle all the witnesses for a while. You did say Denver WITSEC was going to loan us some people to help too, right?" He eyed the list of cases active pointedly. "Shannon and Mann juggle three times as much as either of our own teams on any given day. That's a total of about 100 people, including Harper and Hayner's loads."

"They will arrive some time tomorrow," he nodded. "For now, I want you to go around to every family and see if anyone has been getting into trouble that might've caused this crazy bastard to come after them. Understood?"

They nodded and left, though not before Josiah shot one last scornful look Mary's way. Stan just rubbed his temple, tired and frustrated. That fight would just have to simmer until after they managed to catch this asshole. "As for you three…"

"I ran the photos through all the databases and the license plates of all the cars in the area – no hits." Marshall didn't look surprised and, quite frankly, neither was Stan. He hadn't expected anything. "The bullet shot through the car was the same kind that hit Cassie – .338 Magnum." At this, he looked mildly more irritated. "Had I not passed out, it would've went straight through the back of my head. He was aiming to kill, just like with Cassie if her own clumsiness hadn't saved her at the last minute."

"HQ wants us to find this bastard. He's our top priority right now." He looked all three of them in the eyes, leaving Laurence for last. "I let you in on this because Cassie is your partner and I know you both are close. Do not pull a stupid stunt like that again or I will put you on leave as directed. Understood?"

"Yes boss." His eyes shined with a ferocious light that made Stan hope he wouldn't do something stupid. Again.

"Marshall." Always my most reliable inspector, thank god.

"Don't worry Stan," he chirped, far too cheerful then Stan would've liked. "I'll watch after them both."

Of that, I don't doubt, he mused as the three of them left. The matter of if you'll actually stop them is what worries me.

The first place they decided to visit, after much arguing, was the restaurant, though her phone rang before they could leave in Marshall's truck because her Probe was still being impounded for evidence, damn it and she listened to her mother's panicked voice before shutting her phone with a smack harder then was necessary and telling Marshall, "Drive to the hospital."

He drove without question, though his face was concerned. "Is something wrong? I take it from her tone of voice that your mom didn't win the lottery…"

Mary sighed, slid her shades into place, and closed her eyes as she tried to counter the throb of a beginning headache. "Not wrong so much as ironic." Rolling her head to look at him and ignoring their temporary 'third partner', who was tuning them out with an ease she was thankful for,Mary said dryly, "The DOJ is offering to put them in temporary witness protection until this sniper-fuck is caught."

"Oh," was all he said, nodding as if it weren't the irony of all ironies, and pressed the gas pedal a little harder. "Raph too?"

She sighed, long and heavy. "Raph too."

The speedometer inched a little higher.

Mary had not planned to see him so soon after that little fight, but it was probably better sooner than later. She glanced into the rear view mirror and caught Laurence's hard-eyed gaze and arched her eyebrow once. "Behave."

"I will if he does," he grumbled, not whining but still managing to sound like a petulant child somehow. Go figure.

"Don't shoot him, regardless," Marshall added with his lips twisted into a wry smile. "It's messier then it's worth to explain."

"You be nice too, doofus," she said, only half meaning it. Mary felt that heavy weight of bone-deep exhaustion pull at her again and couldn't muster enough ire to even care on Raph's behalf for the moment. "You've certainly never been his fan."

"No I'm not, but I also know he's a good guy."

Mary stared at him, lip quirking. "Now, now, Santa won't bring you a new pair of wacky PJs for Christmas if you lie…"

Marshall grinned. "I am not lying. You didn't let me finish. Raph is a good guy, but he's not good enough for my best friend."

It was probably the first time he'd verbally put that thought to words, though she'd known it was his opinion of the other man in her life for a while now. Mary felt the weight of it like an anchor around her feet and shut her eyes to the almost tangible things in those words that she didn't want to face. They were like the dark and scary house on the street you walked a little faster in front of because you instinctively knew it was scary and you wouldn't like what you saw, but sang a siren's song that tempted you to look just once. Just one peek, but Mary resisted, because analyzing and observing those mysterious things just beyond that vine-draped iron fence would mean she couldn't turn a blind eye anymore every time she had to encounter them. She could not turn away and pretend it wasn't there.

If she didn't look, she could still believe the words were just his concern for his best friend.

If Mary refused her temptation to look, she could still believe without any hesitation at all that Marshall would always be there. Always. Without fail.

She had to refuse to look, because if she did, the idea of not being able to implicitly trust – trust he would remain her equal, trust he wouldn't have outrageous expectations of her that she would fail with, trust that she would never disappoint at least him – her only friend in the world after that hurt worse then any bullet ever could.

So Mary refused, ran as far from that ominous gate of temptation as her legs could carry her, and Marshall let her like always. Steadfast, understanding, and at her back Marshall.

We'll get through this, she thought, rubbing her fingers against the scratched and tarnished badge at her hip comfortingly. So long as he's here, I'll be fine, because that's just what we do. We survive pasty little accountant pricks and punk ass little gang-bangers and bullets that sting like a bitch. Her eyes met his that were gazing side-long at her habitual motion, that same leisurely smile she'd known for years now on his face.

We'll survive.

Marshall had a fair idea of what to expect when he stood behind Mary outside the hospital room belonging to her mother, but he was looking forward to it about as much as she was. And that wasn't much at all.

But Mary was no coward.

She pushed the door open with more force then was probably necessary, her eyes still hidden behind the wide-framed 'cop shades', as she so joked they were called. He followed behind her, their erstwhile 'third arm', as it were, off to see his own partner. Right now, Marshall felt like very little was holding his own partner together at the moment – as if every seam that held her together was coming apart under all the heat being thrown at her.

He laid a gentle, non-pressuring because Mary didn't respond to pressure well, hand on her shoulder, laying the support he offered out there for the taking if she so chose to accept it. Marshall felt Raph's gaze stare at his hand the minute his attention shifted there, but he ignored him largely and concentrated on Mary who leaned back against his hand, very visibly relaxing her shoulders slightly.

"Mary! Thank god you're here." Jinx Shannon looked about as sober as anyone did, though her flair for dramatic moments was as good as always. She motioned wildly at the DOJ rep who looked ready to bolt – or was that cry? – and exclaimed, "They're telling us this crazy person is after you? Honey, I told you this job-"

Mary's hand jerked up, halting whatever her mother was going to say mid-sentence.

"My job is what pays the mortgage every month and keeps the food stocked in the fridge." She shook her head, rephrasing whatever it was she was planning to say next. "Besides the fact that I just love my job, which I told you when we first had this discussion, I will never quit my job. End of that discussion."

She didn't say it out loud, but in the brief silence that followed, Marshall knew what she was saying in her head.

And what would this doofus do without me?

It was almost amusing to Marshall, really. He was a 5th generation U.S. Marshal. He was fully capable of taking care of himself, and yet Mary truly believed he would be lost without her on the job. Emotionally, he almost certainly would be, but on the job? Really?

Brandi, who was oddly quiet during this whole scene, seemed aware in a way Marshall didn't believe was common place for her…like she had all the pieces to the puzzle in front of her this time instead of scraping conclusions from only a few pieces. Mary's little sister was smarter then anyone – herself included – gave her credit for being in certain ways…mostly emotionally ever since that drug fiasco. "They said it's best if we go into Witness Protection, at least temporarily." Her mascara-smudged eyes looked at Mary then in a way Marshall recognized only too well. In a way loaded with hidden meaning. "That they're willing to offer it to us because of what you do."

She knows. Or she at least suspects, but realizes not to ask. Marshall forced himself not to look at Raph. If only he could make the same logic jump BRANDI has. Brandi, who still believes lemons are really bright limes, but who gets that she can't ask Mary about her job.

Such was the ways of life though, it seemed.

"Marshals protect their own, Squish." Mary smiled slightly, ruffling her hair that was already frazzled six ways to Sunday. "Even if most of them aren't happy with me at the moment."

"I'm not one of them," he put in before their heads even completed the rotation to look at him.

"But I don't understand…" Jinx fretted, "They're telling me you won't join us?"

"The offer does not extend to Marshal Shannon," said the DOJ rep Marshall was convinced was an idiot and couldn't hide his cringe in time.

Here we go.

"Why not?!" Jinx Shannon sat straight up, motherly concern fueling her righteous anger. "That psycho is after my daughter! And you're telling me you won't protect her!?"

"Mom." Before she could launch herself bodily at the man, Mary stepped in and placed a hand against her shoulder and pressed her back. "I wouldn't even if offered. I have to help put this bastard down." She glanced at him then, her eyes targeting his legs that were covered but still blotchy with broken skin and nerves rubbed raw that hurt him enough that he had a slower gait then normal. "You and Brandi and Raph need to go. They'll put you somewhere safe until Marshall and I can get rid of him and you'll be back harassing me about my job before you know it."

Jinx was going to argue – it was in her face and her body language, but he was surprised that Brandi actually stood and grabbed her sister in a tight hug.

"We'll go," she sniffed, but with enough force that it stunned her mother to silence because it barred no argument. "We'll go but you have to be safe." Brandi's eyes found him then – pointed, pleading. Make her be safe.

Marshall only nodded his head, once. You didn't even have to ask.

Raph, however, shook his head – stubbornly. "No. No way am I going to leave Mary with this mucho loco…" He waved his hands, unable to iterate his point accurately. "The house is gone, Mary. Where will you even stay?"

Marshall did not smile when she jerked her thumb at him. She hadn't asked him about staying at his house at all, but he hadn't expected her to – would've wondered what was wrong with her if she hadn't expected to crash at his place. Because, honestly, when had she ever even needed to ask? It was just unspoken that his door was always open to her, the same way hers was to him. He just took advantage of that perk a lot less then she did.

"I'm staying with him," she said with a shrug, uncomprehending of why it might bother anyone, let alone Raph, but that was just Mary. Oblivious to the complexities of the male ego.

Which is why Marshall supposed he did the stupidest thing on Earth when Raph adamantly refused to go into Witness Protection. He regretted it the moment it left his mouth and pinned it as the only time in his life that his brain had not thought something through enough.

"Why don't you stay at my place as well then?"

A/N: So. Marshall, Mary, and Raph…all under Marshall's roof. Can anyone say fun days ahoy? =)

Hopefully, you liked this. Working on the next chapter already. Happy Labor Day all!

Let me know how you liked this. Come on, press it! You can do it!