Chapter 7 – You Make My Dreams Come True

Mary surveilled the assembled USMS agents gathered in the clear desert air of Albuquerque. Most she had been introduced to, although there were a few that hadn't been at the briefing this morning. Just additional backup, Marshal Jelen had told her, top notch agents that would be at the location for the op. Today was the day they would nab that motherhumper Willington. Months of work and chasing and frustration. Today was the payoff. Catch this asshole and then she could go back home to New Jersey. Not that there was much waiting for her there, but it was home and she was tired of being on the road.

Unbidden, snatches of her dream the previous night flitted across the screen of her mind. Another raid, another group of marshals.

Walking out of the target house with a spring in her step. The familiar feeling of accomplishment, of joy almost, that came with the capture of a fugitive.

"God that felt good. What is that?" Hands swinging, adrenaline high starting to taper off.

"Triumphing over others makes you feel better about yourself. But now you have a brother in arms that likes the sound of shackles clapping on flesh even more than you, if possible." The tall man gave her an assessing look as he walked beside her, the sarcastic tone not lost on her.

" Okay, seriously what is it with you two? Other than feeling completely exposed in my presence, which I'm really enjoying, I mean you guys are close right? You see each other every Christmas, talk every Sunday." She felt a small twinge of concern. The tall man wasn't himself. He was tense, muscles taut, even his stride was off. This visit from the parental unit was really upsetting him.

"Christmas we discuss the best way to brine poultry, Sunday it's Mom's latest yarn based hobby. We assiduously avoid any topic of substance. And I get the feeling..." He looked away, venting a low whoosh of breath before shaking his head.

"What?" She truly wanted to know; to know what was bothering him.

"He's here to study me." Frustration, resignation, hint of anger.

'Focus'. Her inner voice chided her. Her eyes scanned the tense agents waiting for the signal to commence their operation. It was a chilly day, but clear and the sun felt good on her face. There was something about the quality of the air here, everything seemed sharper in her vision, more vibrant. She stilled as she spotted a tall slender agent in a blue USMS windbreaker. Something tickled at the back of her mind. The color drained from her face as he turned and she was able to fully view his face. The figment. The man from her dreams. She took a step forward before catching herself. Oh my god, he looks exactly like the man in my dreams. Mary was unable to draw her eyes away. The figment was speaking to another shorter bald man standing next to him.

Marshall turned to inspect the gathered law enforcement agents one more time. He hadn't been able to attend the briefing this morning, but he had studied the bulletins, familiarized himself with all the names and bios of the participants. As his eyes flitted over the faces of the various team members he came to a tall blonde with green eyes. She was staring at him and he gave an involuntary start, staring back. The woman from his dreams. In the flesh. Standing not more than a few yards from him.

They drank each other in, first in disbelief, then in hunger, oblivious to everything and everyone else around them. Marshall had just taken a step towards her when Marshal Jelen gave the signal and everyone started falling into place around the ramshackle ranch house. Years of training and sense of duty and responsibility kicked in and Marshall fell back, moving to take his preassigned spot. He kept a careful eye though, on the location of the blonde woman. Mary.

At the signal, the tall blonde and two other marshals moved to the front door, one of the men kicking in the door, the blonde through it before Marshall had time to blink. When three minutes had passed and no one had emerged from the front door, Marshall circled around to the back, taking up position next to two other agents already stationed back there. The sounds of a loud scuffle taking place were clear and Marshall's grip tightened on his weapon.

"Hold still, asshole, you don't want me to make you," came the clear voice of the woman. She emerged a minute later, with James Willington cuffed and in her firm grip. Schwartz from the Philadelphia branch was in the lead, another marshal from the Lexington office trailed behind with a dark haired woman in cuffs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marshall saw movement, and turning, yelled before he even had fully taken in the skinny frame of the man emerging from the shadows of the back entryway.

"Mary!" The woman looked around wildly, saw the threat and smoothly brought her weapon to bear on his groin, never loosening her grip on her prisoner.

"One more step and you'll be a no-balled wonder," she said calmly, her expression showing no sign of hesitation. Skinny paused for just two seconds, which was all Marshall needed to come up behind him and pressing his gun to the man's neck, reach around and relieve him of his revolver. Mary lowered her weapon and met Marshall's eyes, giving a slight nod before continuing out of the back yard, tugging on the handcuffs of her latest collar.

Marshall waited patiently for Mary to emerge from Stan's office. Mary Shannon. That was her name. The fugitive was in lockup awaiting transport back to New Jersey. Mary would be escorting him back in the morning. Marshall listened with a grin as grunts and groans and several well placed curse words floated out of Stan's office. It would seem real life Mary was no more enamored of paperwork than was dream Mary. And this multi-state, multi-jurisdictional operation had a ton of paperwork.

She finally exited the office and came to stand in front of his desk. Her eyes flitted over his neat work space, each object in its proper place, no stray papers laying loose, breath catching slightly at the red origami crane sitting on his keyboard. Finally allowing her gaze to move up, Mary took a good long look at him. Yes, nothing had changed. He still looked exactly like the man from her nightly dreams. Marshal Marshall Mann she read on his nameplate. Her lips quirked up in a smirk.

"Are you kidding me?" Her finger pointed at the nameplate. Marshall halfway stood up and bent over to inspect the engraved plate. He unfolded himself to his full height and walked around the desk to stand next to Mary. To her chagrin, Mary found she had to look up to see his face. A grin was displayed as he shrugged.

" 'Fraid so. You'll need to take that up with my mother. She was rather hoping I wouldn't become a marshal." He had to still an urge to touch her. They studied each other. Marshall had never been one for rushing into anything, but he was damned if he was going to let this opportunity go to waste.

"May I take you to dinner tonight?"

Mary hesitated only a moment. She felt a level of comfort with him that she knew was unwarranted, that she was transferring her dream man's qualities to this stranger, but what if? 'What if' what you dolt? He is not the man from your dreams. Nevertheless, she nodded agreement.

Marshall leaned back in his chair, happily full of good food and good wine, seated across the table from the beautiful woman of his dreams...literally. She looked delightful in a casual pair of black jeans and form fitting green tank top that brought out the dark shade of her eyes. His eyes swept over her appreciatively. The evening had gone well so far. They were getting along fabulously, had fallen into an easy banter with each other. Almost like they knew each other. He swirled the dregs of his wine in his glass, looking surreptitiously up at Mary. Watching her watch him.

"Do you ever have dreams, Marshall?" The question caught him by surprise. She was focusing on her own wine glass, the slender stem feeling awkward in her rough fingers, venturing quick glances at him. "Dreams that seem real? About total strangers? That follow you into your day?" He felt the palpable anxiety that lay under the surface of her questions. This was something that was bothering her, was an issue of concern.

Marshall's breath caught in his throat. He leaned across the linen covered table and grasped her hand. The soft murmur of surrounding conversations faded into the background. All he could hear was the soft measured exhalations of the green eyed blonde. All he could see were the troubled eyes that looked at him.

"Do you?" He focused his gaze on her with an intensity that took her breath away, blue eyes like lasers boring into her very soul. She squeezed his hand back.

"Yes." Her grasp tightened. "I dream about you." Mary stilled, unable to believe she had just blurted that out. He was going to think she was crazy. Just like all the stories she was sure he had heard about her by this time. Her reputation preceded her. Or worse yet, he would think she was desperate.

Marshall gaped at her, his heart beating painfully fast in his chest. His lightening fast mind considering possibilities, rejecting and accepting scenarios. A smile spread across his mobile face and he started a caressing sweep of his thumb across the back of her hand.

"I've been having dreams too." He let that sink in. Mary's pulse quickened. Had he been dreaming about her too? How was that even possible?

"You dream...about me?" The question was hesitant, shy.

"Yes, for months. Every night. But I never knew what your name was. You are there every night, though,when I close my eyes. I feel like I know you. Crazy, huh?" He was holding both of her hands in his now.

"Me too," she whispered. " I dream of you every night."

Marshall pulled his GMC into the motel parking lot and took in the unassuming facade, the garish flashing light of the sign, the sad, droopy flowers in the planters by the office entrance.

"Marshals Service goes all out for its best doesn't it?" He chuckled at the sour look Mary threw his way.

"It suffices," she said, casting a speculative look over his lanky form. The evening had taken a distinctly serious turn after the discovery of their integrated dreams. Marshall had talked about parallel universes and other dimensions and used big words until she had slapped him, called him numbnuts and told him to shut up. She needed some alone time to try and process everything. But not necessarily right this minute.

"Do you want to come in?" The question was more tentative in tone than she usually employed.

Marshall gazed out the window. What a loaded question. It was hard to judge just how much flesh and blood Mary was like dream Mary. So far, it was a fair match-up.

"I'm not going to go up with you." He was still staring straight ahead, but he could feel the disappointment rolling off her. He turned to catch her gaze. "I'm not going to be your cowboy." His tone was gentle and he reached over to take her hand, noting her flinch at the word 'cowboy'. "You deserve more than a cowboy. And I'm going to be so much more to you than that." His hand moved up to caress her cheek, fingertips grazing lightly over smooth skin, delicately tracing over the shell of her ear, sliding through her hair.

"Feeling pretty sure of yourself there aren't you?" Her tone was dry, but didn't completely mask the hurt.

"I know you, Mary. I know you from months of dreams. I can't explain it. But in one dream you told me I was your best friend, your only friend." Mary sucked in a gasp of air. Marshall stilled at the shocked look on her face. He shifted slightly in his seat, moving close enough he could feel her exhalations on his cheek.

"Did you have that dream too?" The exterior lights of the motel played on the planes of his face. A slamming door echoed, the sounds of an angry argument fading as it was continued inside the motel room. Mary couldn't breathe.

"You...you had been shot. I...I thought you were going to die. And we had been fighting." Her eyes slid away. She felt real shame, even though the episode had never taken place. She felt shame because she could see herself behaving the way she had in the dream. Her personality remained true throughout the dreams. Stood to reason Marshall's personality was true also.

Marshall slid his hand around the back of her head and he leaned in. "But we made up," he whispered before letting his lips close on hers, softly exploring, his breathe moist over her skin. Slender fingers maneuvered under the thick mane of hair and cupped her head. Gentleness, thoughtfulness, kindness exuded from him. Mary almost cried.

Mary sat in the WitSec conference room, fidgeting with her coffee cup. WimpSec. Her dream man was in WimpSec. Figures. She had seen him in action the previous day though, and he was no pansy. Marshall walked in, and gave her a wan smile. He leaned down, bracing his forearms on the table and spoke in a low voice.

"I want to stay in touch with you. Will you call me when you get back to Jersey?" Mary focused on his arms, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She nodded absently, thinking she'd like to do more than stay in touch. "Will you call me every day?"

The question caught her off guard and she looked up at him startled. Marshall glanced behind him, carefully tracking Stan's location, then turned his attention back to Mary. "Actually, I would like you to think about transferring to Albuquerque, to joining WitSec. I need a partner. You can't hold on to a partner." At her raised eyebrows, he grinned and brought his head close to hers. "I've read your file. You are very, very good at what you do, but you lack people skills. I think your lack of people skills applies to bureaucratic BS and people who don't get you. You don't play the games and you lay it on the line. We could use someone like that. And I get you. Down to the very core of your being." The blue eyes intently watching her were so very...blue. Mary felt herself drawn in, drowning in those azure depths. NO. She quickly whipped up some righteous indignation, distancing herself from the temptation she saw leaning on the table across from her.

"You think I should give up my life in New Jersey and come down here to nowheresville to partner you?" She crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Yes I do." He leaned even closer and placed his lips on her ear. "I'll make it worth your while."

Mary felt heat flood her body as his words sighed into her ear on moist breath.

"I am very good at what I do too. I can teach you. And unlike your previous partners, I won't let you intimidate me, chase me away. You could be very successful here, Mary. And it would give you a chance to get away from your family. I think you need that."

Mary's eyes narrowed. Just how much of a background check had he done on her? Or was it strictly from the dreams? She was still glaring at him when Stan motioned her over and into his office.

"I'd like a word, Marshal Shannon." Mary grimaced. "This isn't about your fugitive. It's a personal matter." She stood up to join Stan and brushed past Marshall whispering, "You don't know me."

His fingers deftly caught her hand. "I do." Simple, forceful, earnest. If she looked at those blue eyes, she'd be lost. She kept walking, attention focused straight ahead, feeling in her gut that he did know her.