Chapter 8 – Secret Dreams

Mary cast a gimlet eye on Willington, sitting far too smugly in his federally funded seat, and returned her attention to the magazine in her lap. She had been on the same page for thirty minutes, distracted by checking on her fugitive on the JPATS flight every few minutes. Distracted by the dream from the previous night. Distracted by her conversation with Stan McQueen that morning. Distracted by every minute of her time spent with Marshall Mann. Her lips compressed.

Mary Shannon was returning to New Jersey with more than a fugitive. She was returning with a job offer. An opportunity to join Witness Security. She was still feeling the shock that hit her when Stan told her the open inspectors position was hers if she wanted it. She would be partnered with Marshall. Something of which he was unaware. Stan knew a surprising amount about her. Was familiar with all her previous Marshals Service work. Knew about her difficult upbringing. Was well versed in her prickly personality. And he wanted her.

Mary swallowed with a suddenly dry throat. She had been forced to fight hard for everything in her life. To graduate from high school amongst three school changes her senior year and one very brief marriage. To scrape together the funding to go to college. To get accepted into the Marshals Service program. Her illustrious family had almost nixed that. Uncle Sam wasn't terribly keen on having the relatives of wanted fugitives on the payroll. She had to beg, plead, prove her worth before she even started. After completing training, she had difficulty getting an offer from any of the field offices in the east. Jeesh, few little fights in school and suddenly you're a pariah. Of course one of those fights ended with a hospitalization. Wasn't hers, though.

And now someone wanted her; Stan wanted her to come work for him. He thought she would be a good fit, both for WitSec and for Marshall. Stan had carefully explained that Marshall had been without a partner for some time, and that he needed somebody. And he intimated that Marshall would be an excellent teacher for her induction into WitSec.

She was torn. The temptation was large. A chance to get out of Jersey, away from her mother and sister. It's the only place I've ever known. A chance to do something new, something secret. I'm damn good at what I do now. A chance to get to be with Marshall. Marshall.

She closed her eyes, replaying the dream against the black screen of her eyelids.

Mary exited Stan's office, followed closely by Marshall. He threw a disgusted look back at the closed door.

"Whatever you want to do here, I'll back you." He leaned back against her desk, long limbs stretched out in front of him, as she sank into her chair. She sighed heavily.

"What I'm gonna do will probably get me fired, and if you get fired too, I'll have nobody to move in with and mooch off of." She scowled at her computer screen.

"Lucky for you my interests are varied, my career options infinite. If this whole thing goes horribly pear shaped, whatever's next for me, my coat tails are always there for you." The air hung pregnant a moment, the subtext of what he offered floating ethereal in the space between them. The soft tone of his voice caused her to stiffen briefly, before she smirked.

"Oh yeah? What's origami pay these days?" Dispelling the small moment with another jab at his favorite hobby, she glanced up at him, then back at her screen, not catching the small grin that flitted across his face.

Mary wondered if Marshall would really be that supportive of her. Why would he be? Nobody else in her life had ever been supportive. And he didn't even know her. Dreams couldn't count, could they? Fidgeting with her magazine, she considered the surprisingly vast amount of knowledge he had of her personal life, her personality. All obtained through the dreams. As she knew things about him also.

The plane touched down and Mary turned to pull her bag from under the seat. Catching sight of the smug face of her fugitive, she paused, alarm bells going off. He was far too knowing, too self-satisfied. Sharp green eyes traveled over his wrists once again. His hands were securely cuffed. She cautiously pulled out her phone and hit number '2' on her speed dial.

"Evan, we've just landed. Everything okay?" What was setting off her radar? She could see Pelman sauntering across the tarmac to the plane. Her frown deepened. Something wasn't right. A slight shiver ran over her, raising the fine hair on her arms. What was her partner doing here? He wasn't on this case.

"Things are fine, Mary, if a little weird," Evan replied, puzzled by the tone of her voice. Mary watched the flight crew prepare to open the door, noted the rolling steps positioned against the side of the plane. Pelman was waiting at the bottom of the steps, relaxed, joking with the ground crew. Mary stiffened, then frantically gestured at the flight crew to stand down.

"Stop," she barked, moving forward and gesturing sharply towards the door. The portly man sweating over the levers on the door looked up in surprise. "Don't open that door." The barked command brooked no argument.

"Evan, did you follow up on our last conversation?" She lowered her voice and turned a hard eye back on Willington, who was no longer looking quite so smug. His sharp eyes took in the activity at the front of the plane and zeroed in on Mary's phone pressed to her ear. She turned away so he couldn't read her lips.

"I've done some checking. Nothing so far, but Pelman has definitely been acting off lately. Uptight, anxious, far more interested in your cases than he usually is."

"Has he now?" she asked, twisting her head around to give Willington a hard stare. "Well he's here at the airport right now. Did you know that?"

Marshall punched the numbers on his cell phone with trembling fingers. He was actually nervous. Over calling a girl. He shook his head as the phone rang. He was not in junior high. The connection he felt to Mary Shannon was real.

The dreams were continuing. He considered the previous nights dream as the phone rang.

They were at the office. Mary was grabbing her purse and heading towards the door.

"You leaving early?" Marshall asked, slightly surprised.

"I, ah, thought I'd go check on Mia, see if she feels like hanging out tonight." Striding purposefully towards the exit.

"Ah." The one word spoke volumes. He was looking down at his paperwork, avoiding her eyes.

"What. What's that mean?" She halted by his desk, watching him suspiciously.

" It implies understanding," he replied with a slight shrug, still refraining from meeting her eyes, focusing on a point straight in front of him. Mary closed her eyes in irritation.

"No, it implies that you think you know something. Something that even I don't know. 'Ah' is Marshallspeak for arrogant."

"You like her." He reluctantly brought his gaze to her face.

"I don't hate her." She made the face she always did when cornered about something.

"Which for you is tantamount to eternal fealty. Would you go so far as to say that, under different circumstances, you might be, dare I say, friends?" He was now watching her closely.

"What's your point?" Impatience flaring.

"No matter what you do or feel for her, she's not going to be here for long. And that you can't change." His eyes were locked on her now, the subtle undercurrent of emotion, of things they didn't discuss or admit, flowing between them. Mary shrugged.

"Yeah, well, what I can do is make it better. Thanks, Sunshine."

"I know, that you can make it better," he said, nodding his head, "just don't make it worse for yourself."

"I love when you talk to me in greeting card." A weak attempt to lighten the tone of the conversation.

"I'm serious, Mary. That's why you're so lucky to have me. Where you're blind, I see." A thin trail of concern was visible through the cover of his words.

"Where I'm smart, you're an idiot." Typical Mary response engineered to put distance between them.

"Symbiosis personified." Mary walked out the door, Marshall heaving a heavy sigh as the door closed. They did live in symbiosis; each dependent on the other, each sustaining the other. His face darkened. She had become as essential as breathing to him. He anchored her and she forced him to think wider. He was by the book, she was by the gut. He was the sensitive one, she was the sensible one. They revolved around each other, like the earth and the moon, gravity exerting the occasional force that drew them closer, then inevitably drew them apart again. But each necessary for the other to maintain orbit.

At the sound of Mary's low contralto, Marshall shook himself and quietly greeted her. "Thought you were going to call me," he said, a hint of reproach in his voice.

"I've been a little preoccupied." She sounded tight, and Marshall went on alert. "Willington was in cahoots with my partner," she said tersely. "Guy was supposed to have my back and instead was selling me out, tipping off my fugitive to my every move." Anger, hurt, betrayal vibrated in her voice.

"I've been dealing with that and my mother ended up in the clink again and my toilet sprang a leak while I was gone. I've been a little busy." He could hear in her voice that she was approaching a precipice, that it wouldn't take much to send her off the edge. Treading gingerly, Marshall went for the safest topic first.

"Toilet fixed?"

"Water is turned off until the landlord gets in here to take care of it," she responded tersely.

"Okay. What about your mother? Is she alright?" He got a brief summary of Jinx's bail hearing and subsequent model behavior.

"It won't last long," she muttered, "it never does." Marshall winced at the resignation in her voice, then took a deep breath.

"What happened to your partner?"

"He's been arrested. Aiding a known fugitive. Obstructing an investigation. We're still trying to work out his reasons. Pelman has been very tight lipped." She was silent a moment. "I can't believe I didn't notice anything, I didn't see this!" It burst out of her like an erupting volcano. "I should have seen signs. I'm supposed to have a gut feel for scumbags. I'm supposed to be able to read people. I'm supposed to know my partner. I'm supposed...I'm supposed..." Her voice started to hitch and Marshall closed his eyes, wishing desperately that he was there with her. His hand flexed with the urge to touch her, comfort her.

"You are not Wonder Woman, Mary, close as you may come." He heard the soft snort and imagined the small smile flit across her face. He continued cautiously. "How long had you been partnered?"

"For three months." She fell silent again. Marshall could hear the wheels turning in her head as she considered her partnership with Pelman.

"Three months isn't long to get to know someone," he offered.

"I know you," she said flatly, " and I only met you two days ago." Marshall caught his breath in surprise. Okay, let's go with this.

"Yes, but you had some help with that. If your dreams were as accurate as mine seem to have been, you've had far more than three months to get to know me. My personality, my work ethic, my likes, my dislikes, my dreams...my desires." He pictured her face, staring at his imaginary form in front of her. A long silence stretched out between them, palpable with emotion, confusion, uncertainty. Marshall listened to the mingled sounds of her breathing and the faint din of the television in the background. He reran their good-bye the previous day through his mind. Was it only a day ago?

He had shown up at her motel room, coffee and bagels in hand and given her a ride to Albuquerque PD to pick up her fugitive from his overnight accommodations. Walking around the GMC, he had opened the door for her, the look of surprise and wariness on her face touching something tender in his heart. She wasn't used to this, a man acting like a gentleman. He gave her a hand as she got out, the high riding vehicle causing little trouble for her long legs. As she turned to grab her duffel bag, Marshall had gently grasped her wrist and tugged her back around to face him.

"Call me when you get home," he murmured, warm fingers pushing wind blown strands of gold hair behind her ear. The winter sunlight was stronger here and burnished the brightness of her hair. Her eyes had darted to his for a brief moment before falling to focus on his chest, her free hand resting beside the line of buttons running down his shirt. As her thumb started to idly trace circles around one of the buttons, she tilted her head to the side, considering. Finally she looked up and nodded.

Marshall had grinned and bent down to whisper in her ear. "I'll be waiting." Then he had kissed her, generous lips moving languorously over hers, the fingers clasping her wrist moving up her arm and around the back of her neck to firmly pull her to him. His lips traveled over her high cheekbone and down her neck. He felt the pulse fluttering under his mouth and sucked on it, knowing he would leave a mark. His mark; mark with a capital M, 'M' is for Marshall. He smiled and placed his lips on her ear. "Think about what I said." Then he had nibbled on her ear until she pushed him away, flushed and beautiful.

"Hey, Doofus!" Mary's sharp voice over the phone line brought his wandering mind back to the present conversation.

"Sorry," he murmured, picturing how her irritation would be making the heat rise in her cheeks, her eyes snap.

"Where'd you go just now?" She was curious, he could hear it in her tone.

"Just thinking about yesterday." He chuckled at the soft whoosh of air he heard traveling clearly over the miles between them. "Are you thinking about my proposal at all?"

She was silent for heartbeat upon heartbeat, Marshall envisioning her twisting her hair around her finger, her face scrunched up in concentration as she tried to decide what to say. He heard the faint clink of a glass being set on a table and the creak of her mattress as she settled on her bed, back against the headboard.

"Yeah," she said softly, "I've been thinking." More movement as his sharp ears tried to identify the slightly muffled sounds. "Hold on a sec." She must have put her phone down and he heard more soft swishes and a low click. "Okay," she said, the mattress giving off its sad sigh again. "That's better. The girls like to be free." He heard more swishes and it fell into place as his brain went dead. She was undressing and was now pulling down the covers. He tried to visualize her, imagined the striptease as she pulled her shirt off, unclasped her bra. He wondered what her body looked like. Lips compressing, Marshall chastised himself. He had turned down an opportunity to see what she looked like. He had to keep his eye on the prize, though. Mary had to come to see that his interest in her was far more than just physical. He wasn't going to be like all those other men in her life.

"I've been thinking. I've got to deal with the Pelman mess and Willington, but I'm thinking. I've had a rough day and I'm going to bed now, but I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" The plaintive note in her voice broke his heart.

"I'll be here," he said, hoping she would understand he meant forever and not just tomorrow. "Sweet dreams." He smiled at her snort and ended the call. Staring at his phone, Marshall chuckled at the irony of his parting words. His dreams would certainly be sweet. Mary would prominently feature in whatever dream he may have that night.