Just in case it isn't obvious, this operates on a completely different timeline then "Marshall's Guide". Mary still hasn't ever met, or even knows of Marshall's family yet.

Enjoy!

~SRDempsey

Fury and Flames

Chapter Five

There were many things Marshall never wanted to see in his life. Ever.

This was one of them.

It was not the first time he'd walked into the guest bathroom to grab toilet paper for his master bath. It wasn't even the first time he'd walked in on Mary in the bath. He did so with a grudgingly pleasing frequency whenever she stayed over purely by accident because even he wasn't that desperate for a naked woman. After working with her for a year, he even managed to stop blushing about it because it just wasn't worth the teasing she dished out on him in the end.

It was, however, his first time catching her flagrante delicto. With Raph. In the shower.

Marshall clamped down slightly on his toothbrush that was hanging out of his mouth, toothpaste foam forming a thin mustache around his upper lip. Yes, he was jealous. Who wouldn't be? Mary was a lovely, full-bodied woman. He was not a eunuch, nor was he immune. He did, however, have self-restraint – most of which he exercised all the time concerning said woman anyway.

Now, unfortunately, was no different.

The curtain of the shower pulled back enough for Mary to poke her head out when he opened the door at the same time Raph cursed a string of Spanish over the pounding of the water. "A little busy here doofus, you know?"

"Reverse positions," he said lightly, as if telling her the weather while bending to grab a toilet roll from under the sink, his gaze studiously staying averted. It would be very much like Mary to flash him, just to get a reaction. "Better pleasure and easier on the back for us tall guys." He left without another word, though Mary's raucous laughter was easily audible through the walls.

Now if only he could burn the image from his memories, it might even be the start to a relatively good day.

Raph was still cursing when she left him in his room, obviously irked, but Mary was amused…sort of. She was a little unsure of Marshall's reaction to this morning, and irritated by the uncomfortable feeling in her gut. It was the kind of feeling like she'd desecrated a sacred shrine without realizing it.

But mostly, she was just amused.

It's not like I'm cheating on him, she decided, shaking it off. But the feeling still killed that refreshing feeling of depressurizing she always had after good sex, which was annoying. And Marshall was still Marshall, his crooked grin in place when she met him in the kitchen while he pulled a Betty Crocker and whipped them up some breakfast.

"We don't really have time to eat," she pointed out without real conviction, eyeing the waffles and…was that homemade strawberry syrup? Christ, I need to crash here more often. Or maybe move in here. I'm sure he wouldn't care. Jinx and Brandi can have the house.

Of course, the reminder of her family killed her mood quicker then anything.

Not knowing was…annoying. Agitating. Frustrating. She wondered if her mother would stay sober – wasn't it in the WITSEC contract? Peter hadn't been happy about it when she'd called to tell him yesterday, before Marshall had come and found her in the hospital. But he ultimately wanted Brandi safe, so he hadn't complained. Much. He, at least, knew all the money in the world couldn't guarantee her safety – or his – and that any help was more likely to backfire and get them all killed. Well-meaning, but very ill-conceived.

Maybe he could convince Raph of that.

The sex is good, she lamented, but this lingering feeling was enough to guarantee that she wasn't likely to try for it again. It was…unsettling. Perhaps because it was Marshall's house. It felt like she was screwing him on Marshall's bed behind his back. It just…no. Hell no.

Great. A psycho trying to kill me and self-enforced celibacy. She scowled without realizing.

"Relax," her partner told her simply, poking her creased forehead with his forefinger and setting a steaming plate of freshly made waffles with fresh strawberry syrup on top in front of her. Mouthwatering didn't even cover it. "Eat. Pie makes everything better, but waffles cure the world." He kept a perfectly serious face as he said this.

"God, shut up," she groaned, toasting him with her fork in thanks before digging in.

She didn't notice when Raph came into the room at all…or the expression that flashed across his face.

"Hey! You didn't die!"

Stan glanced up at Micah's exuberant herald, relieved when his number one team walked through the glass doors as if it was a normal day. You'd never think Marshall was still recovering from burns or Mary had nearly been killed by the Molotov cocktails that had burned down half of La Carina Notte before the fire department had managed to put it out.

"We got a car description from witnesses," he told them point blank, rubbing his temple that was thrumming with a headache. "A non-descript white van. Old. No lead on the license plate."

"Joy," Mary drawled, about enthusiastic about that as Stan figured she would be. If nothing else, he knew his marshals well. "That should narrow it down to a couple thousand or so in the area alone."

"That's not the best part!" Micah called. His partner was nowhere to be seen, which was probably a blessing. Josiah's opinion of Mary had yet to change much. "We got a lead! Or at least, a lead was brought to us." He was practically bouncing in his temporary seat, no doubt hoping he could get in on the fun.

When did my marshals all become so bloodthirsty?

"From who?" This from Marshall, ever cautious to believe in good fortune despite the hope in his tone. Always my most paradoxical marshal.

And then the shriek split the air.

"Marshy!" Her voice vibrated off the chamber walls like an echo, grabbing his most secretive inspector and smacking an exuberant kiss right on his lips. He didn't move, merely shot an exasperated look his way and whined.

Loudly.

"Stan~!" He looked rather petulant, really, and Stan cracked a slight grin in response. Mary's positively boggle-eyed expression was just as priceless as Marshall's half-hearted glare. "Really Stan? You just had to?" He looked at Mary and whined, the girl still hanging from around his neck, "Mary, Stan's being mean!"

Mary just stared at him, motioning with an expectant wave of her arms in his general direction. "Wanna fill me in, doofus? I'm obviously missing a key bit of information here!" She sounded a little irked too, eyeing the girl hanging from Marshall's critically.

Here it comes.

"Hi!" Positively bubbling, she flashed a replica of Marshall's usual grin, and Mary blinked, startled. Stan sympathized. He'd had the exact same reaction. "I'm Rachel Mann." She detached herself and grabbed Mary in a similar kiss so fluidly no one could stop or warn her about the proverbial NO TOUCH policy slapped on Mary's forehead, but Stan doubted the girl would listen, anyway.

None of Marshall's family seemed prone to listening much to anyone.

The other one chose that moment to sling a casual arm around Mary's shoulders, grinning the family grin but on a face that looked too much like Marshall's then was honestly comfortable. A Marshall clone, but with three times as much girth and all around body mass. Which was probably his saving grace, because Mary froze right before she would've brought out the pain. Her head whipped around between the three near-identical faces and dead on expressions before she finally turned on him, confusion and surprise making her irritable and annoyed.

"Stan! What did you do!?"

Her mind was going to explode.

It was Marshall times three, only one of them was a bouncy female and the other was a him on steroids and a body more closer to Raph's then the skinny and almost girly lithe figure she was acquainted with. Mary gave up following their simultaneous conversation, all spoken at once and somehow understood despite being said at the same freaking time.

She just stood back with Stan, Eleanor, and the ever-hopeful Micah, watching the entertainment unravel.

"Why are you both here?" she managed to make out, her put out partner looking quite exasperated.

It sounded like Rachel, the sister, said, "Well honestly, after we came down here and everything!" but Mary could've interpreted the jumble of words wrong.

Jared, the brother, tossed out very clearly, "Would you rather have had dad come? It's the only other alternative mom would allow," and the expression that crossed Marshall's face made Mary snort.

She'd have to ask him about that. Later. Much later.

The sister fussed at this point about the building collapse, his burns, and they both wrestled him onto a chair so she could yank up his pant legs despite his yowled protests and fruitless pleas for help at them. Mary was temporarily distracted as her gaze travelled to his legs, the red burns not as angry and starting to heal. The peeling skin was more noticeable then before and she twitched when Rachel somehow pulled off a piece nearly as big as her palm. Both siblings scowled, displeased, and Marshall seemed to give up his protesting with a heavy sigh, massaging his temples with a twist of his lips.

"I'm fine," he repeated needlessly. "Really. And stop feeling up my leg!"

Female-Mann pouted but acquiesced.

"Now what is this about a lead?" he stressed, getting them back to the point and rolling his pants back down before they could get distracted. Again.

Apparently, distraction really did run in his family. And the nose. And the eyes.

Christ, it was like she was on a hallucinogen but without the pleasantly disjointed and not-quite-there feeling.

"I found a person of interest for you," Rachel said seriously with a change of moods so quickly that it gave Mary whiplash, the young woman kicking back on a chair with her feet propped on the table, long legs crossed in a way that distracted Micah from her words to her shapely exterior. "It's my area of expertise after all. CIA and all that."

"Black hat," Marshall muttered with affection, grabbing the folder she dangled in front of him.

"Gray hat," she corrected, grinning, and Mary looked at Marshall for elaboration, utterly lost on the joke.

She didn't miss Stan covering his ears though, not wanting to hear it and rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"Gunnery Sergeant Gregory Hollands, US Marines. Scout Sniper. Honorably discharged 7 months ago and diagnosed with PTSD 6 months ago. A real pride to our Marine Corps, actually." Jared pointed at something in the folder that made Marshall's eyebrow arch, and his eyes raised up to meet hers in alarm.

Crap. That couldn't be good.

"Gunnery Sergeant Holland's wife and sixteen year old daughter, Cheryl and Ana Hollands, were brutally raped and murdered two days before his return home in New York." Rachel stabbed at the folder pointedly. "According to my sources, all of which are quite reliable, Hollands nearly lost his mind and has drunk himself into a hole since his return despite interventions done by his old company and friends. As of right now, he's been visiting his sister-in-law, Linette Meyers, for the past two months." With a beaming grin, obviously proud of herself, she added, "And guess where Mrs. Meyers lives?"

Mary swiped the file out of Marshall's grip and looked, adrenaline making her antsy as her eyes focused onto the sister-in-law's location. "Well, well, right at our back door. Feel like taking a field trip, doofus? I suddenly have an urge to go pay my old home a visit."

And if I get to shoot someone, it's all the better!

"How the hell can you not know your own neighbors?"

"Why are you here again?" Mary glared, turning away from the binoculars briefly to scowl at their 'third wheel'. As far as third arms went, she was already missing the moody silences.

Micah DiFranco was about as different as you could get from Laurence. Marshall had to pause and recall if Mary's Glock had the safety on, nodding to himself when he remembered it was. That gave him about 5 seconds of playtime to keep her from shooting the guy if she drew it.

"Stan wants you to have a third wheel on this and Harper won't move from Cass's side since her eyes started twitching last night," he said gleefully, like a kid in a candy store. "So you get me."

Mary snarled under her breath before going back to her lookout duty. "Anything yet, doofus? I have an urge to kick a door down or two."

He checked his phone out of habit, but he already knew there was nothing. With Jared and Rachel poking and prodding the hard drive, they'd know if anything was on it within an hour or so. Rachel was one of the CIA's most versatile agents – both a techie and a first rate covert operative – and Jared was Nevada FBI's most tenacious investigator. He had a knack for finding obscure things too that his sister was more then capable of clarifying if needed.

"Not yet," he told her with the tone of a parent to their impatient and petulant child. "Patience is a virtue, Mare."

He ignored the finger she flipped at him for that.

"So how come you never told me you had a brother and sister?" She tossed out and Marshall grimaced slightly. Couldn't forget about that, huh?

Easily, he retorted, "It never came up, really. And they're…"

"They're clones of you."

"Actually, as I'm the middle child, I would be a clone of Jared, technically speaking…"

Again, Mary glanced away from her post to glare at him. "You know what I mean."

Somewhat wryly Marshall admitted, "My father has very dominant genetics. We all look like him…except the hair. Our hair is darker, like mother. I actually haven't seen them for a little over two years now." His phone rang then, as if on cue, and silence descended in the car abruptly. No shuffling or rustling or anything.

"We found it!" Rachel's loud voice sing-songed clear as day without him even having to put his ear to the phone. "A very deeply hidden Trojan Horse with an embedded keylogger. They went to town on the information for June, unfortunately, but those backup drives were still in tact. That's what they were trying to burn the restaurant down for I'd wager. There still isn't proof of any wrong doing, but a Mrs. Linette Meyers paid a seventy-two dollar tab about half an hour after one Mary Shannon paid for fifty dollars worth of drinks." Silence on the other end. "Can she really drink that much?"

"Yes," the entire car echoed, but it was a distracted sound if anything. He flipped his cell shut and locked and loaded his first gun. Not enough for warrants, but enough to warrant a trip to the courthouse for questioning. They were just going in to take her for a talk, but for all they knew the bastard would take a shot at them. Nothing was going to be left to chance.

That and the predatory gleam on Mary's face kind of scared him. A lot.

"We're not going in to shoot anyone," he reminded her, shaking his head when she pouted at him.

"Maybe we'll get lucky," she snipped at him with a grin.

Luck or not, Marshall still found it irritating when they didn't even get halfway up the walkway before the first shot pierced the air.

"MARSHALL!"

A/N: I don't know why I'm torturing Marshall all the time…oh yeah. That's right. There's a point to it! I swear I'm not a sadist. OK, I am, but it's not JUST because it's fun having Marshall in pain. Next chapter I'll divulge the reason too. And a gunfight! Mary-muse is just dancing in excitement.

So what did you think? Let me know!