Romance/hurt/comfort with a side of (slight) action. But, I could only pick two genres and since the first three chapters were like they were, those genres are what I went with. This one is mostly action, until the later and ending parts of the story. This is the last chapter for "Stay Over." (no really, hehehe) She is not staying at Marshall's house again in this chapter, they are actually in the middle of transporting a witness and trouble ensues. You'll have to read to find out! So, anywho, what happened was I got sidetracked and ended the last chapter early so I'm sorry to everyone who thought the last chapter was the last chapter. It was not. This has proven to be the one story I've written that I couldn't make up my mind about what to do with it. But here is the final chapter. *and the readers breathe a collective sigh of relief as I finally make up my mind* Sorry about all that. In the end, this chapter will tie up with the other three. It's going to be a long chapter though. I know, the way it starts, it probably won't seem to flow as well with the other three chapters, but it will come to a close with something tying it to the other chapters. Promise. Read on people...read on!
"Great, now it's going to pour down rain?" Mary rolls her eyes as the sky sees to come loose, having been threatening to rain all day long. Her partner, Marshall climbs into the passenger side of the car. The witness in the back seat shifts uncomfortably. Their latest witness to transport: Nichole Lamvern. A forty-year-old with long, curly black hair and chocolate brown eyes. One of the few and rare innocents that Mary and Marshall see among all of the drug dealers, mob bosses and hit men they come across on a daily basis. A poor dumb soul who had simply been in the right place at the wrong time. An unlucky looser whose life is now turned upside down, inside out and any other way it can be viciously ripped apart.
In a way, Mary finds herself feeling extremely bad for this particular woman. The crime she had witnessed was actually an ordered hit on her brother -whom she hadn't spoken to in years because she had never actually known she had this brother- by a mafia boss to whom he owed money to for, you guessed it, drugs. What the hell else would people kill over save for money?
Her brother, on the other hand, by some ridiculous and odd twist did know about her and had been trying to get into contact with her. He had finally found her for the first time and was about to reveal he was her brother when he was shot. A single shot with a sniper rifle at close range, to the back of the head. That is all it takes sometimes. Too bad. Life kinda sucks all around sometimes.
"Yeah Stan, we've just picked her up and we're on our way to the new location. It should only take an hour, maybe more, it's not that far from here." Marshall speaks quietly into his cell. For the last couple weeks any conversation he has around Mary, with her or not, is pretty hushed. His tone mimics that of a master who has been bitten by their pet. Even though it hurts, you still love your animal very much.
He hangs up after Stan finishes and stares quietly out of the windshield. No car ride has ever been this silent, not even after Mary had read his letter from Peterson Accounting. She had been pissed, but that could not even come close to comparing with the cold shoulder she has given him lately. In fact, everything about Mary has been cold since that night. It's like she's completely shut down, totally closed off.
He knew –no, he knows- that it had been a hell of a mistake to just kiss her like that. But, it could not be helped. Something in him had just reached its breaking point. He couldn't handle watching her be upset anymore. And I never have quite figured out my reason for linking kissing her to helping her. In my own mind, I guess that's just what I had wanted at the time. He glances over at his silent partner, who knows that she's being watched but will not turn and look at him.
He sighs. "Mare," Her eyebrows go up but that's all the more response he gets. Knowing that now is an extremely bad time for this conversation, Marshall is very grateful when Nichole speaks up.
"Hey, you guys have any stops planned? I'm starved."
Marshall glances at her quickly and then turns to face forward.
"Didn't you just eat?" Mary asks, shaking her head. The woman shakes her head in return.
"I didn't. The food on the plane costs too much and it's horrible anyway."
Rolling her eyes, Mary looks back in the rear view mirror just to make sure there's no one around. "We do not have any planned stops, no. However, if we do pass a fast food restaurant and 'fast food' lives up to its title, I think pulling through a drive-thru wouldn't be a bad idea." Marshall says before glancing at Mary. "You?"
She shrugs, nodding her head a bit. "If it's really fast, then sure." Mary isn't about to turn down food when she hadn't had much for lunch. Even if it's the crappy drive-thru food.
They pull into the lane and look up at the outdoor menu. "A cheeseburger with everything on it, a large fry and the biggest and most sugary drink that they've got." Says Nichole from the back seat.
Marshall glances at the woman.
"You buying?" Mary questions from the driver's seat. A question directed to Marshall. Rolling his eyes, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet.
She grins slightly and then turns back to the menu just in time for the clerk to ask: "What may I get for you today? Today is our special, you get two double cheeseburgers for the price of one when you buy any large diet soda and fries."
"No. I don't need any of that. Just a simple cheeseburger with everything on it, a large fry and a soda. For me, a water and a grilled chicken sandwich." She turns to Marshall. The first time she's looked at him in probably two days. "What do you want?"
Well, if ever I've heard a question that I've attached a double meaning to... "Uh, just some fries."
"Ah shit..." Complains the witness from the back seat. Mary rolls her eyes. "This is cold!"
Glancing in the rear view mirror, the inspector can see that the woman is holding her drink and shrugs, looking incredulous. "For the love of...it's a damn soda. They wouldn't be any good if they were warm!"
"It's not that…the cheeseburger…god damn….and now I spilled the soda all over myself!"
Without turning to her, Mary replies. "Just as long as it's not all over the back of the car cause we have other people to haul around." Obviously, she could care less.
Nichole wanted the damn food. She got the damn food. Now she needs to shut up and eat the damn food. Why do just certain witnesses have to make these car rides seem even longer than they are?
"Really, you pay for these things at a fast food place, you expect it at least to be hot when you take a bite!" The woman drones on, grinding on Mary's thinning nerves.
Marshall's brow furrows as he notices his partner's hands tightening and loosening at the ten and two on the steering wheel. He knows that she's all ready past her breaking point and doesn't want to become involved anyway. It's really best to let some of the witnesses learn the hard way when enough is simply enough.
"And anyway…" The mindless complaints abruptly stop when Mary slams on the brakes real fast, staring out ahead. The woman in the back seat blinks once, soda dripping down out of her hair. "If you wanted to shut me up, you could have just told me to shut up." She grabs a napkin and sets to works trying to clean herself off, to no avail.
"Unorthodox yet ludicrously effective…bravo," Marshall claps sarcastically.
Mary shakes her head briefly at the both of them and then motions toward the road. Marshall's gaze pans slowly to the place she had been pointing out. There, not more than twenty yards ahead is a car that's just sitting in the middle of the road.
"Curious…" Marshall is reaching for his gun, while Mary has all ready pulled hers.
"What are they doing up there?" She questions herself.
"Dunno," Her partner shakes his head. "But we're about to find out."
Nichole looks between the two inspectors nervously and then out at the car ahead of them. She squints.
"Do you recognize it?" Marshall questions and the woman leans forward a bit, as if that would help her to see the vehicle better. But it proves vain.
"I'm sorry, I don't." Four simple and quiet words. They'll be the last for quite a while to come now. The engine of the car roars into life, the headlights gleaming through the rain. Mary tilts her head to one side, her eyes narrowing a bit in an agitated curiosity. She turns the car off and slides her jacket over her shoulders.
Marshall glances at her, concerned. "What are you doing?"
She shakes her head back at him. "Just wait here a minute."
Pursing his lip, Marshall shifts nervously in his seat. Once again, the childish curiosity has taken her over. She never can resist and she makes me so damn nervous. He knows that he shouldn't worry so much and yet he always does. This is their job and bad things happen to them just about every single day. Their situation is sometimes even more dire, for example: Mary being kidnapped and almost killed or him getting shot and being trapped in the middle of a dry wasteland with no help and no way out.
So Mary hops out of the driver's side, walking away from their Tahoe a few yards. When she's within ten yards of the other car, she can make out three figures in it. One of the figures is a small dark silhouette with long hair, probably a girl and two larger figures, most likely older men.
The lights on the car flick once and then she hears the mechanics clank as they shift gears. The engine revs, the car speeding toward her. Her eyes widen as behind her in the Tahoe, Marshall's eyes widen. He pushes the car door open and jumps out, shouting. "Hey!" She turns to look at him for a few seconds and then jumps out of the path of the oncoming car just in time to not get hit.
"Damn it!" Marshall turns quickly back around to the door and shouts in at the lady. "Down on the floor!" She ducks quickly as he pulls the gun from his ankle holster and begins shooting at the car. He can see Mary, as the small blue Chevy turns back in the other direction, also taking aim and firing at it. She's moving in toward him but he knows to remain with the witness, despite wanting so badly to know if she is all right.
The car takes a full turn and then comes back in Marshall's direction, a gun coming out of the passenger side window. He doesn't know how they hope to hit him in this downpour, but it is always best to air on the side of caution in these situations.
Just as he ducks for cover, a shot rings out, the gun falling to the pavement beneath the blue car. Confused, Marshall looks around to find that Mary has somehow gotten closer to their own vehicle again and is now staring angrily with her nine millimeter pointed at the passenger window. He smirks. She is obviously not in the mood for another of his near-death experiences.
For a second, they catch one another's eyes and he knows that she is right. In confirmation, she gives him a little smile. Not today Marshall. There is no way I'm letting your ass get shot again.
She moves back across the road and up beside the SUV again as the smaller vehicle barrels toward them. In this moment, looking between her gun, the blue car and their SUV, she realizes that it is a much better weapon. So which will it be: Two guns against 1,500 pounds of metal or a much bigger, heavier SUV against 1,500 pounds of metal? The answer is too simple. She holsters her gun and then jumps back into the car, Marshall following unquestioningly; obviously aware of her plans all ready.
She turns the key back, the engine coming alive. The first thing is the brake, then the gear shift and finally…screech! With a squealing of its tires, the SUV barrels forward. When the other car stops in its tracks with more squealing of tires on pavement, Mary gives a pleased grin and stops the SUV as well. "Looks like 1,500 pounds just isn't gonna cut it."
Marshall smirks. That's my girl.
But just at the moment where they have a lapse in attention, the SUV is smashed into, Mary flying into the steering wheel. Marshall is thrown into the dashboard, hitting his head at completely the wrong spot for someone who wants to stay conscious. The witness in the back of the car cries out in fright, throwing her hands over her head and sinking as far as she can into the floor. The whole vehicle rattles for a few milliseconds, the interior lights and dashboard lights flickering into the off position. The engine dies. Marshall lifts his head, his vision blurred and tries his best to make out his surroundings. In a car, the first coherent thought. In our SUV, transporting a witness. Nichole…something…
His head turns now toward the driver's seat where Mary lay, her upper body sprawled out across the dashboard and steering console and her lower body pinned in between the wheel and the seat, pushed together from the force of the impact. She isn't moving and her eyes are closed. He may be slightly disoriented, but he does what he remembers. Reach out and feel for a pulse… His fingers contact the side of her neck. The pulse is alarmingly slow, however, there is a pulse, which to Marshall is a slight relief.
He lifts his head farther when he can make out a figure at the driver's side door. The door comes open with much effort on the other person's part and Mary is pulled out and out of his view. He reaches out haphazardly toward his partner, but can't seem to find her any longer. This means, obviously, that he will no longer know where she is or if she's going to be okay. The back door opens and another person takes Nichole quite forcefully from the floor of the back seat.
He however, is lifted out of his seat by a pair of tiny, gentle hands. The hands are shaking. A soft voice mummers words he can't quite make out. Only two thoughts are running through his mind in his last seconds of consciousness. One, of course being centered around the witness's whereabouts and the second, more prominent being simply: Where is Mary?
"Mary," He mumbles as he slips into unconsciousness.
"Carl," One of the men says to a guy who's name is apparently Carl. "Put the blond on the bed over there. This girl stays with me." He grabs Nichole's chin, bringing her face close to his and smiling acidly at her.
His eyes run down over the woman. "Maybe I won't make this completely miserable for you. Wha d'ya say sweetie?" She bares her teeth together and her eyes ice over.
Mustering up all of the courage inside of her she spits in the man's face. "Go to hell!"
His eyes looking dangerous, he moves his revolver up against her temple. His grin is venomous. "Now that's not a very nice thing to say." He runs the barrel of the gun down the side of her cheek slightly. "Do you want to maybe rephrase your answer?"
Her expression doesn't change at all; obviously she is unfazed by his threat on her life. For a moment there is nothing but angry silence between the captive and the captor. He smirks, the grin tugging upon one corner of his mouth as his eyes run down over her again.
"Tom," Calls Carl, just at the last second. "What do I do with the stiff?"
Tom turns to his accomplice, seeing that he is pointing to the still unconscious Marshall, laying on the floor in a young girl's arms. The girl's head shoots up, her ponytail of medium-length brown hair bobbing around lazily. Her blue eyes scan the two men, hoping they don't hurt her. The larger of the two, Tom, takes a few big steps toward the girl, who is currently huddled over the Marshal passed out in her lap.
"Just set him over beside the bed with the other cop. But take their guns and their phones," Tom tells his accomplice.
Carl nods at the order and then takes Marshall by the shoulders, dragging him over and laying him against the side of the bed. He searches Mary first, grabbing her gun, but not finding her cell phone anywhere on her. Then he moves to Marshall, removing both his gun and his phone. Finally, moving to the witness, he removes her phone as well.
Marshall's eyes begin to open. He knows at the moment not to make any sound, simply because, now conscious, he has no idea where he is. He spies a man at a small dresser, placing his gun and his phone inside.
Damn. Now what? Marshall cusses inwardly, but holds perfectly still, closing his eyes when the man turns toward him. He makes sure to try and hold as still as possible. Another voice sounds now as well, a male. "We got to go outside and use the phone. No one better have disappeared when we come back or the remaining individuals get a bullet in the head. Have I made myself clear?"
Marshall now hears Mary's witness's voice. "Crystal," She says.
The door slams shut and a sob sounds softly as Marshall opens his eyes to survey his surroundings.
They are in what appears to be either a motel room- and a ratty one at that- or a small, abandoned cottage. The walls are rickety and mold is growing in some places, dust covers most of the remaining, dilapidated furniture, broken things such as glass and wood cover the floor. The air in the small room is musty and smells like- well, like a beat up, forgotten old home. Specifically, they are in the den or living room, where the couch has been folded out into a bed for quite some time. It, however, is the only thing in the room not totally covered in dust.
"Damn him. Damn him straight to hell!" Nichole says from her corner of the room, Marshall's eyes darting to the dirty, but still living and uninjured witness. "We can get out of this. There must be some way…"
Another girl cuts her off, Marshall now turning in that direction. The girl is a brunette, her hair pulled back into a little, bobbing ponytail and she has sharp blue eyes. She looks to be younger than Nichole, by quite a lot. "There isn't. Please don't make them any more angry."
He finally speaks up. "No." Both young women turn and look at him.
"Marshall? You're okay!" Nichole whispers excitedly. The young girl looks somehow relieved.
"Yes, for being held hostage, I am quite lovely thank you. But you are right about getting out of here. We've gotta come up with some kind of plan…" His eyes widen. A plan. Yeah, now all that's left is to actually come up with one. That shouldn't be hard at all.
He quickly makes his way over to the drawer he had seen the man put his gun in and tries it anyway, though it is locked tightly. His face scrunches up in frustration. When he turns back around, he finally notices Mary, laying motionless on the bed he had been leaning against. His heart about stops and he makes his shaky way over to her, reaching out and pushing a lock of dirty, blond hair behind her ear. She makes no move, nor does she respond. He feels for a pulse. It's there, a little weak, but there.
After a much needed deep breath, he turns back to Nichole. "How long was I out? How long have we been here?"
She shrugs. "Well, it was around mid-day when that car busted up the SUV. It's dark now so I'd say about six hours or so, maybe more."
His attention now turns to the other girl in the room, having ignored her until now. "Who are you?"
She looks at him, frightened and doesn't answer.
Marshall sighs and takes a few steps, kneeling down beside her. Maybe in his own nervous state, he seems rather threatening to her. He knows that if they are to come up with a tangible solution, that they all must trust each other enough to be able to work together. He places a hand tentatively on her shoulder, which she glances at before her eyes meet with his serious ones again.
"You want to make it out of this don't you?" Marshall questions.
She is silent for a moment and soon begins to nod.
"Okay. Then I'm going to need your help. I can resolve this, but only if you cooperate." His eyes shift between Crystal and her mom, whom the girl's eyes are also shifting toward. Nichole gives her daughter a firm look and nods. This gives Crystal the confidence she needs to cooperate.
Crystal looks back at the Marshall, and, now feel as secure as one can as a hostage, she nods at him again.
"So, I'll ask you again. What's your name?" It sounds a little impatient, but given the current situation, that's not at all an issue right now.
"Crystal Lamvern. Nichole is my mom."
He whirls around on the woman in the corner of the room, who is now nodding at Marshall.
"She's not a dependant. I thought I wasn't supposed to contact her, so I convinced myself that she'd be all right."
Marshall's eyes harden a bit, anger bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. "Does she look okay to you right now?"
Voices come from outside the door and Marshall looks up, quickly crawling back into his place beside the bed and looking warningly at the other two conscious hostages. They get the message: Stay quiet.
The two men walk back in the door just as Marshall shuts his eyes, opting to play "the stiff" for as long as is necessary, or at least until he can get a better handle on his situation.
Carl looks toward Nichole.
Nichole glares back at him icily. "What are you staring at?"
He tilts his head and smirks, slowly making his way closer to the woman. "You know," He touches the mouth of the barrel on his gun with his fingertips, warningly. "As much as I'd love to kill you myself…you're not going to die quite yet. The boss man wants you for himself." He says it as if she's supposed to be frightened or something like that. She is unfazed.
Marshall, peeking open an eye, must applaud her courage at this moment. Nichole doesn't back down when she's faced with a tougher adversary. Who does that remind you of now? The bed creaks slowly behind him and then he hears Mary's groan. She's in pain… He curses mentally. When we figure out some kind of substantial plan…the asshole who was driving the car is getting my first shot.
"You say that almost like I'm supposed to be afraid of you." Nichole raises her eyebrows at the balding man, making his round face scrunch up in a bitter sort of humor. Marshall is even more surprised by this response, knowing how different she had been in the back of the car and how she had complained through most of the ride. Right now, she sounds so much like Mary that he has to believe Mary herself would be impressed.
"What the hell is this?" Mary's voice comes from behind him and Marshall can practically feel all eyes in the room dart to her. She tries to move and must realize that she's too beat up to turn over.
Well, she was pinned in between the dash and the seat. I can imagine that she's probably not the most stable at the moment. He can only hope to god that none of her bones are broken. It probably wouldn't be possible to rescue a crashing partner while dealing with two hostile gangsters and maintaining a stable state of mind to care for the witness and her young daughter. Mary did the same for him when he had been shot, and grant it, Marshall is tough. There's no question about that. But, when push comes to shove and given that his situation is now very similar to how Mary's had been at that time, will he be able to handle it if Mary's condition turns out to be unstable? Or, more unstable than it is already, anyway?
One of the men walks over toward her, leaning down and moving her face toward him to get a good look at her.
Her brown eyes come to rest on his, now more pissed off than anything. "Hey…I asked a question! Does anyone plan on answering or are you all just going to stand around and look like idiots?"
The man with the gun at her face turns and looks to Carl, who is standing back a bit, making an assessment of the situation. Tom's eyebrows go up a bit, an impressed expression passing over his eyes. "This one's got a mouth on her too."
Carl crosses his arms.
"I think that it's time we teach these girls not to mouth off." Tom pulls his gun back a bit. Just as Mary can feel it coming, just as her body begins to revert to pure survival mode, just as Marshall is about to come to her defense, Carl speaks out.
"Are you crazy?" Tom looks at him, the gun lowering to his side. "The boss wants all the hostages alive and unharmed. We can't do nothin' but watch 'em."
Carl turns back to the Marshal and leans down, looking smug. "I guess that you're safe for now then, bitch."
She smirks at the man. "You wouldn't believe how many times a day I get that line." Marshall smirks as well now. That's his partner.
"Hey," Carl points to Marshall, still trying to play an unconscious man. "Wake this one up. I'm sure by now he's probably just sleepin'." Tom nods and then kneels down and basically shakes him senseless.
Marshall opens his eyes slowly. "There are less painful and more humane ways to wake one." He says it as if he were directing it at Mary.
"Wake up sunshine. There are things we have to do today." Tom says jokingly.
Marshall takes a look around at everyone and then turns back to Mary. "What just happened?"
She shrugs, looking in pain. He winces, a small, almost undetectable twitch, but it is there. She is hurting. "From how things look, I'd say that we've been taken as goddamn hostages. This happens too much you know."
He scrunches up his nose. "I know. And I had so much work to do when I got back to the office…" Mary smirks at him and he grins back.
For one second they can exchange a glance. His eyes deepen in question. Are you okay? It's like they can read one another's minds. She nods at him, for a few intense seconds, their eyes lock. But I think I may have broken something. He breathes out. At least he can tell to a fraction of a degree how serious her injuries are now.
"Full of wisecracks aren't we?" Tom's grin only widens.
"Yeah," Carl says from his corner of the room beside Nichole, who is still looking upon him like her glare alone will kill. "They're all full of piss 'n vinegar aren't they? Guess we got one of those 'heroes-with-witty-banters' bunches today."
Tom nods at his partner. "Yeah, should I tie 'em up?" Tom and Carl exchange a short glance before the bald man nods at the skinny one.
"Do it. Just be careful."
After binding everyone else's hands, Tom finally makes his way to Mary, who, seemingly, is only able to move her head right now. "You broke anything?"
Her eyes narrow a bit. "What do you think?"
His eyes narrow a bit. "Would you like me to find out the hard way or can you just give a straight answer?"
Glaring back at him for a moment, she concludes that this is not the time to be cracking wise. "Okay…okay. Possibly one rib…right side. It hurts to breath. If you tie my hands behind my back, I won't be able to breathe at all and I'll die. If you tie them over my stomach, you could possibly injure me further. Now, I may be taking a shot in the dark here but I'm thinking your boss isn't going to be too happy if I have any more broken bones." Not the time to be cracking wise, perhaps. But since when has Mary cared about that?
He looks her over to the other man who shrugs. "I'll leave you go," He tells the woman. "You won't be a problem soon enough."
She shakes her head. "I guess I won't."
The phone rings, Carl pulling it out of his pack pocket. He motions to Tom and they head outside again.
Standing up, Marshall turns and looks at Mary. "Well, that makes one more thing he's not good at."
She tilts her head.
He grins and pulls the rope out from behind his back. "Tying knots."
Mary stares, looking absolutely stunned at this and he just shrugs at her. "What? I read a book once about the art of escape and I do have unusually thin wrists." She shakes her head, ignoring that.
"How are you?" He asks, preparing for a smart-ass reply.
"Well," She begins. "I am a hostage and I am stuck in some smelly, ratty room in the middle of god-knows-where, but I'm doing pretty good." She looks to the other two girls. "How about you guys?" They both shrug, either not knowing how to respond or not wanting to be involved in their banter.
"While I appreciate that you feel up to cracking wise, as it were, what I meant was-"
She cuts him off. "Hey…were there always two of them?"
Marshall glances over at the two ladies on the other side of the room. "No, the other one is a kidnap as well. Her daughter, Crystal."
Mary looks all the more confused. When Marshall tries to begin again, he only has to stop short once more. "What I was asking was…"
"She has a daughter?" She looks at Nichole. "You have a daughter? And you didn't think it would matter if you just kind of…left that part out?"
Shaking her head, the woman prepares to defend herself when Marshall speaks up again. "Well I -"
"Mare! Are you okay?" His voice cracks when he speaks, making everyone in the room stop and look at him. She is shocked at the directness of his question. Usually, even in these situations she has to ask two or three times before getting a response, or otherwise, that she is able to understand.
She slowly nods. "I thought we went through this all ready?"
He shrugs. "I'm only being thorough."
She swings her head to one side, jerking to the left a bit. Marshall jumps to keep her from moving, knowing that it very well could be a bad idea. However, he is too late. First comes the sound of the cracked bone grinding and then Mary's gasp of pain and very shortly thereafter, blood begins to run over her lip. Marshall quickly kneels beside her. He knows that it's a bad idea to move her, and he doesn't want to make her injuries any worse. "Listen, Mare…"
She glances at him.
"I know it hurts to breathe right now…but I need you to breathe deeply. It helps, trust me it does. Also, if you can, you need to cough as much as you are able to." He's actually speaking in a language she understands.
She takes a deep breath, wincing slightly and gives a weak cough. His eyes are wide with fright. He feels the unshed tears stinging at his eyes, Mary reaches up and touches his face lightly. He closes his eyes in relief. She's well enough to move. Well, it's definitely a start.
"Well," Nichole says, from her little corner by the door. "What now?"
Both Mary and Marshall look at the woman and then back at one another.
Marshall sits, tying the ropes back around his hands. "We'll figure something out."
Mary scrunches up her nose at the hard lump under her back. Smelly, disgusting and uncomfortable…I swear to god when we get outta this it's straight to massage therapy for me. After, of course running down the bastard who put me here in the first place. She reaches under back and into the musty, moldy old sheets to find something small and metal. Her eyes widen. It couldn't be, could it?
But here it is, her phone, hidden in the blankets beneath her. And here she had thought the abductors would at least be smart enough to search the blankets if they had taken all the phones.
She opens the phone, placing it behind her head. "Marshall, I've got a plan."
He looks back at her. "Well, feel free to share."
The others look at her as well. "I really hope this works. Don't get caught," Crystal cowers, now moved over beside her mother, who is sitting back, with Crystal leaned up against her.
"It'll be okay, we're very good at what we do."
Quickly finding Stan's number in speed dial, she knows she must make this conversation short.
"What's up?"
She laughs. "Minor setback."
He sighs on the other end of the phone. "How minor?"
Mary nods to herself before replying. "Major minor."
"Well," McQueen shoots back. "What happened?"
She proceeds to tell him a short version of their story. "Anyway, track and locate." She hears the men about to come into the room. "My phone, no calls, got to go!" She hears the disconnect, but knows that her phone is on silent, so there shouldn't be too much of a problem there.
"It won't be long now." Marshall mouths as one of the men comes back into the room. Nichole and Crystal nod.
"It should only be about another hour." Carl says, smiling at the group of people.
The other of the two men, Tom, is still outside on the phone. The door swings to a close behind the bald man.
"I'm very glad to be kept posted on the countdown." Nichole mumbles smartly, her daughter trying desperately not to smile at the jibe.
Carl turns to her. "I'd shut that smart mouth of yours lady. Someone who's about to die shouldn't be so cocky."
Nichole shrugs. "If I'm going to die anyway…"
Suddenly Mary begins to cough behind Marshall. He knows she's not faking but this is staged. He's going to be the only one in the room that can help her. Carl comes over to the two of them, looking down at the woman and then at Marshall. The marshal looks back up at him. "What's wrong with 'er?"
Marshall's eyes grow fierce, becoming more and more pissed. "Well, she's coughing up blood and she's highly uncomfortable so I'd say she has broken her rib and maybe even punctured a lung."
Carl looks between the two of them once more. "Well, what should we do?"
Marshall shrugs. "I'm the only one in the room who knows the correct way to care for such trauma. She'll die if you don't untie me so I can take care of her."
The man shrugs at his captive. "She's going to die either way."
Marshall grinds his teeth together. "Aren't you guys the ones who said 'The boss wants them alive and unharmed?" Even if we are all going to die, then at least I can make her comfortable until such a time comes."
The two men stare coldly at one another for a few seconds before Carl shrugs and leans down to him. "Whatever, man," He tells Marshall. "Go ahead and take care of your girlfriend."
As he leans in to undo the ropes, Marshall reaches back and wraps it around his neck, knowing exactly how much pressure to add to make him pass out, all though he gives a half a second's thought to just killing him. "Thanks for your warm hospitality," Marshall sneers at the man as he is about to pass out. "But I do not believe my partner is the only one who will be in need of medical care today."
The marshal works quickly once his captor is out cold, removing all and any weapons he finds on the man and then turns to the other two women and releases them.
"Okay," Mary moves into a sitting position, fully aware that it's a bad idea. "Here's what we're not gonna do: We're not going to panic or get flustered. It's a sure fire way to get shot and die."
Both Nichole and Crystal nod at Mary. "I guess it's kind of hard to argue with logic like that."
Marshall smiles, making his way back toward Mary. "You shouldn't move."
Shrugging, Mary gets up and onto her feet, Marshall standing with his hands out, ready to catch her, should she have any more trouble.
"Marshall has put this plan into action to save your lives and I don't want to see either of you mess it up, got it?"
Again, both ladies nod.
Mary glances at Marshall and then back at the witnesses. "This is an ambush. But for it to work, we need you two to stay out of the way. So, when he comes in you two better not move." After clarifying, Mary gazes at Marshall. "If this works, I owe you a talk, and a thank you." He simply grins at his partner.
Tom peers into the quiet room. It's too damn quiet for a room full of tied up hostages. He pushes the door open a bit more, holding the gun out in front of himself a little and looking cautiously from side to side. "Hello? Where are the smart-asses? Carl?"
When he's in far enough that Marshall's sure, he moves in quickly toward the man and wraps an arm around his neck, placing the gun against his temple. Watching as the man's eyes flick to the three women in the room, Marshall calculates his move and tightens his hold on the kidnapper's neck. "You wanna shoot one of them? Go right ahead and try. You'll be the first on the premises to die if you do though, trust me."
Mary pulls her gun as well, also directing it at Tom. "I swear to god if you or your unconscious, idiot partner try anything I'll shoot out both your kneecaps and then leave you in the middle of the road. So, are we going to do this the easy way or are you going to make me leave you for the birds to pick apart?"
The man looks between the two marshals as he is also moved inside, tied up and placed in the corner with the still unconscious, Carl.
Mary looks to Marshall and smirks but begins to cough, blood flying from her lips. Not gushing blood, but enough to make Marshall worry for her. He moves in her direction, helping her to lie down on the bed. "Remember what I said." It rushes out as he tries not to panic. Hurry up and get here Stan.
Tiredly, Mary watches as her partner places a pillow under her head. She takes his hand, no longer breathing so well. "Marshall," His eyes dart to hers. "I'm not mad at you…I mean for...you know…"
She begins to cough loudly, each time hurting herself more and Marshall squeezes her hand tightly in his, forcing himself to not cry.
"I know Mare," Again, this Marshall marshal may be may be tough, but this is one of the few things that he has trouble dealing with.
A black Toyota 4runner pulls up outside the small shack where the supposed hostages are being kept. A tall, thin man in a dark Armani suit and black, blocker glasses gets out, along with two other men, who have small hand guns in their hands.
"Come on, it looks like the idiots let something happen." The man says, motioning toward the door. The tag-alongs sheath their guns in their belts and follow silently. Once at the door the man knocks twice. For a moment there is nothing but silence and then it creaks open to reveal Marshall, Stan and about ten armed police officers.
Right away the two idiots turn from their boss and try to run, only to be met with more armed officers.
"You, my friend, are under arrest for a list of crimes so long that I'm I'm just going to go ahead and tell you what you aren't under arrest for. Nothing." Bobby D. tells the man as he leads him to the car, reading him his rights. The other two men are led, after being disarmed, toward another squad car.
Marshall walks by Tom and Carl, who are being patted down and leans in-between the two of them. "Whoever's brilliant idea it was to smash up our SUV, I thought I'd let you know that Mary wants the money for the repairs by the end of the week and the driver gets to pay the hospital bills, just so you understand that." He stands straight and begins to walk away before turning back. "Cash not check!"
Walking over to stand beside his boss, the marshal crosses his arms.
"Hey," Stan says to him.
The deputy looks at his boss. "Yeah?"
"You were checked over by the medics I take it?"
Marshall nods. "Go see Mary at the hospital. Everything's taken care of here." He doesn't need to be told twice and is almost gone and in the car before Stan is done talking.
After a short drive, Marshall flashes his badge at the nurse's station. "Mary Shepherd's room, if you would be so kind."
The young lady nods and smiles. "314."
Giving a smile, he turns and heads up to the room.
She's awake when he walks in.
"Hey," He takes a seat nervously at her bed side.
"Hey." Her eyes still on him, she grins and asks, "So, are the idiots gonna pay for the car or what?"
Chuckling, Marshall nods back at his partner. "I think they got the message."
Her eyes turning toward the ceiling, Mary nods. "Good." Marshall knows better than to ask. He has to let her begin the conversation on her own.
"So, I'm thinking that kiss, it wasn't just because you suddenly felt the need to kiss someone and I was the closest."
He nods. "That assumption would prove correct."
Avoiding the topic for a minute, Mary looks toward the opposite wall.
Marshall's eyes never stray from Mary.
"I'm not mad at you, really…"
He can only stare for a minute. Marshall had simply thought Mary was saying that to clear the air in case things became any worse. But this is something she really does want him to know.
"And that means that you are feeling…what, exactly?"
She turns over slowly to meet his gaze. "You're my friend," She tells the man. "You're my best friend."
He nods. "Your only friend. I know."
Looking thoughtful, Mary shakes her head. "I just…I'm not…"
He nods. "You don't feel the same. I understand that-"
"No!" She cuts him off. "I'm not finished yet. I mean to say…I'm not ready to take it seriously yet. Having a real relationship with someone, isn't exactly something I'm all that good at."
Marshall is nodding as well. "I know you Mare and I know that you're not someone who commits so easily." Mary reaches out her hand for him to take. Slowly, as if he doesn't want her to realize it, his hand wraps around hers. He slides his chair a bit closer to the bed.
"So, then you're completely okay with my not taking it seriously?"
He nods. "Mare, we've been partners for three years. I know how you are. You know how you are. If you're not fully ready, I'll be patient."
Her eyes widen and then soften again. "Where do we go from here then?"
They look at one another for a moment or so while Marshall considers his response. His thumb, unbeknownst to him, gently rubs the back of her hand. His eyes are so gentle when they meet with hers. "For once, Mare, I don't know the answer to that question. I suppose we just go from here, taking it one day at a time and see what happens."
Their eyes remain locked for another few seconds before she begins to smile. This could really be a good thing after all. "One day at a time huh? I like the sound of that."
He grins. "Somehow, I thought you would."
Her smile remains in place for another few seconds before she looks at him again, scrunching up her nose.
"What?"
"You remembered to tell the idiot to pay my hospital bill too, right?"
His eyes widen a bit and then he just chuckles. She'll always be Mary. "So, you planning on making amends with your family anytime soon?" Marshall quips, attempting to lighten the air somewhat.
"Over my dead body." Mary shoots back and then, only after, realizes that it is very bad wording. They exchange a serious glance. She has to give in this time, knowing that look. "Okay...I'll think about it."
He smirks, pleased that he has won. "Good to know. Let me know if you need anything, I'll be staying over for the night."
She nods, finally able to rest peacefully.
Ta-da! Personally, my favorite chapter. Please read and review and yes I know this has taken forever for me to post. But now it is here for all of you to enjoy and I really hope that you all do! No flames.