Chapter 10 – All I Have to Do is Dream
Mary strolled the streets of Old Town beside Marshall, her hand gently clasped by his. She had been given a thorough guided tour of the city and its surrounding environs. They had just finished a meal at a quiet, secluded Mexican restaurant, where Marshall had educated her about the difference between green and red chilies. Mary smiled as she considered her day.
The man was like a college professor, infusing her with a steady stream of Albuquerque and New Mexico history, geography and culture. He had pointed out the positives of the area and unflinchingly discussed the negatives. The various residential neighborhoods were driven through, the major law enforcement issues listed, the political climate assessed. He was meticulous and fair in everything he told her. Mary's head was swimming with all the facts and figures. She glanced down at their entwined fingers. Her heart beat a little faster just seeing his hand covering hers. Maybe this was all she needed to know. Her fingers wiggled inside his and he looked over at her, tossing her the goofy smile she was coming to love.
Marshall guided her back to his GMC and held the door open for her as she got inside. He drove out east of the city, leaving the streetlights and neon glare behind them. Turning off onto a side road, he pulled over and stopped about a mile from the highway. The silence of the night was palpable after the engine was cut. They sat a moment, Mary's ears gradually picking up some of the nights sounds. The occasional whoosh of a car speeding down the highway they had just been traveling. The wind rustling through bare tree branches. Something that sounded liked a howl in the distance. Getting out, Marshall gestured upwards.
"Look at that sky, Mary, at the mountains. Breathe that clear air. This is all it should take to convince you." His head tilted back to take in the panorama of the sky sprinkled with stars. Mary was a bit in awe. She had never seen the unfiltered sky before. Always there was bleed in of light from the city. This was spectacular. Creeping around the front of the truck, she sidled up next to Marshall and slipped her hand into his. They stood silently gazing upward until Mary started to shiver from the chill night air.
Marshall wrapped his arm around her and drew her in front of him, resting his chin on her head.
"Close your eyes, Mary and just listen. You can hear the silence." Mary snorted in derision, but complied, leaning back against the comforting bulk of his chest. She tried to hear the silence, but found herself concentrating on hearing sounds. There was the breeze, sighing through the sagebrush. There was the sound of Marshall's breathing, slightly fast but even and regular. Eventually there was the sound of her teeth chattering.
"Okay, Marshall, it's really quiet. I'm freezing. Take me back home." She broke from his embrace and headed around the truck, unaware of the grin that crossed his face at her reference to his house as home.
Marshall inserted his key in the front door and pushed it open, the dim glow of light from the lamp in the corner of the living room giving off a welcome sense of home. He moved into the house drawing Mary behind him. As he quickly started a blaze in the fireplace, Marshall waved Mary into a seat on the couch, then fetched out a bottle of wine and two slender crystal glasses from the kitchen. Uncorking the wine bottle, he let it sit on the coffee table, the leaping flames from the hearth catching the ruby hue of the contents. Settling back beside Mary he tucked some loose strands behind her ear, fascinated by the play of light against the golden tones of her hair, the paleness of her cheek, the sparkle of her eyes.
Crackling logs provided a comfortable background noise. Mary watched Marshall's face, the angular planes playing hide and seek in the shadows cast by the fire. His full lips drew her attention and she scooted closer to him, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on those sensuous lips. Amused eyes sought hers and he kissed her back, gentle and playful. Marshall reached over to pour the wine and handed a glass to Mary, relaxing back into the plush cushions of the sofa, drawing Mary into his side.
"So, what do you think so far?" They'd covered a lot the last two days. Marshall not wanting to waste any time in his eagerness to extoll the virtues of his fair city. His fingers lightly caressed the back of her hand.
Mary was silent a long moment, sipping her wine, carefully reviewing her weekend that had begun well before dawn the previous day when she left her Newark apartment. This whole weekend had been like one long application and interview process for the city, WitSec and Marshall. She tilted her head up to look at him. She'd never known anyone like this fascinating man. His depth of knowledge, his joy of learning, his cheerful outlook. All things Mary would have formerly derided. But now, now she also knew about his deep well of compassion, about his expertise with a weapon, about his gentle nature, but also about the spine of steel that lay underneath.
This is what she needed, *who* she needed, to bring meaning into her life. This man would bring her back to life. One of her recent dreams had cemented it.
They were at the office, Mary at her desk, head slumped in her arms.
"You know," Marshall said, standing up and walking over towards her, determination in his stride, " you know, we can talk now, or we can talk later, but, ah, talk is a-coming." He sat down in the chair beside her desk.
Mary looked up and sighed. He could be like a dog with a bone. Refusing to let it go.
"I'm fine." Her standard trite response, that so rarely ever went anywhere with Marshall. He knew her far too well.
Marshall stared at her with his 'don't give me any of that shit' look and silently waited for her. She sighed again, resignation whooshing out with her breath.
"Okay. It's just," she paused, then tried again. "When you got shot," she looked at him and Marshall nodded, "Uh huh." His lips compressed.
"I mean you, you probably felt the same way, like you were stuck inside, like you couldn't move out of what happened. Like you see it over and over in your head, but none of it makes sense, none of it helps. And then the more you think about it the less clear it gets, so the more you think about it. You know?" She was watching him expectantly. Marshall was studiously avoiding her gaze.
"No, none of that," he said.
"Not a bit?" Surprise evident in her voice.
"Reason being," he swallowed hard, " when I got shot, my best friend was there for me. Yours wasn't." Her heart quivered with the pain she felt radiating from him.
"Marshall." She couldn't bear him taking the blame on himself.
"My best friend caught the shooter. Yours didn't." His mental self-flagellation was visible and Mary groped for the words to relieve him of his guilt.
Regardless of whatever else they may be to each other in their dreams, they were best friends. Best friends that were everything to each other. She brought her eyes back to Marshall, her thoughts back to the present, to his question.
"I don't care about the city," she said slowly, "I just want to be a U.S. Marshal and to be with you, wherever that may be."
Marshall watched the emerald spark in her eyes deepen and knew his own eyes were becoming smoky blue in response. One slender finger ran down the side of her face, hooking underneath her chin and lifting up. He kissed her, softly at first, then more firmly, desire ratcheting up as tongues caressed and hands explored.
Marshall gently redirected Mary's hands that had only one goal in mind. He chuckled as he murmured in her ear. "I am going to have to teach you about the joys of slowing down, exploring, anticipating." He nibbled on her ear until she squirmed.
Mary trailed one hand down his chest coming to rest lightly on his belt buckle. "I think we have the exploring thing down pretty well," she said, brushing her fingers over the stiff denim covering his zipper and chortling at the strangled noise he made. She let her hand rest over him and tilted her head, looking at him speculatively, challengingly.
Marshall's breathing became heavier and he cupped Mary's face gently. "Mary," he exhaled a puff of breath, " do you think the dreams will stop once we do this?" He felt a twinge of regret that the dreams may end. But look at what you're getting, Mann. His eyes cut down to her passive hand then traveled over her kiss swollen lips and locked with her gaze. A slow, lazy, seductive smile graced her face.
"I don't know," she whispered, lifting her lips to his ear, "let's find out." Marshall smiled, then stood up, drawing her with him. Mary gave a short screech of surprise when he bent down and swung her up, easily carrying her squirming form down the hallway to his bedroom, his boots echoing on the hardwood floor.
He deposited her carefully on his bed, then turned to pull off his boots before padding over to the windows to pull down the shades.
"Don't want the neighbors seeing what I have in mind for you," he said, eyebrows lifting suggestively. Mary propped her head up on one elbow and watched him appreciatively as he undid the buttons on his shirt and pulled it off, followed by his t-shirt.
She glanced around the room, noting again the same painting she had hanging in her bedroom. She had been intrigued by it last night when she first saw it. Standing in front of it with her head cocked to one side, she had studied it, looking for differences between it and the one in her bedroom, until Marshall had come up behind her and begun his own tactile study of her differences.
He had reduced her to a quivering mass of need just with his hands. And he hadn't even removed any clothing. They had spent hours just exploring each other, discovering sensitive spots, learning what pleased the other. Marshall had surprised her with his boldness asking her in murmured tones how he should touch her, offering his hands to her so she could show him. But yet, he didn't take the final step, holding her off with a low sexy chuckle.
"All in good time," he murmured against the creamy curve of her breast. "Let a little anticipation build ."
Mary thought about the previous night as she watched her soon to be lover disrobe. He had been right about the anticipation. And tonight, she wouldn't be put off. His eyes told her he had no intention of making her wait another night.
Mary watched him moving lithely around the room, turning on the small bedside lamp and flipping off the overhead lights; moving a candle Mary hadn't noticed to the bedside table by her, the clean scent of pine suiting him; opening the closet door and pulling out another blanket which he set on the foot of the bed. He approached the bed, his movements reminding her of a panther. Long limbs, lean body, controlled power, muscles moving smoothly under his pale skin. Marshall stretched out beside her, the bed dipping with his weight. Mary looked at him critically. He was clad only in well-worn jeans, hugging slim hips. Her eyes were drawn to the long horn belt buckle. She let her gaze linger below the buckle, then move slowly up his torso, following the fine line of dark hair up his belly to the broader expanse of his chest. She focused on his flat nipples, wonderingly idly why men had them. Mary smirked, knowing that Marshall could probably tell her. Reaching out, she lightly circled one nipple with her index finger, watching it pucker and stiffen in response. Her own body mirrored his.
His slender build was misleading. He was a large man; tall, solid, all lean muscle. He was strong, she had seen that firsthand. All sheathed in a cloak of gentleness. And he would be gentle with her this first time. She felt that instinctively. She'd shied away from gentleness in the past. Gentleness implied emotions, feelings behind the act. She had always wanted sex to just be about sex. No getting away from it now; the emotions were there before the first time she had laid eyes on him. She was willing to give gentle a try.
His right elbow propping him up, Marshall lightly ran a finger down her torso before coming to rest on her hip. "This dance we're about to start needs someone to lead Mary. Someone to lead and someone to follow. Let me lead this first time. I need you to trust me, trust my instincts. I won't let you down." He leaned over to kiss her, gently urging her mouth open. "And you can lead the next time."
Mary opened her mouth to protest. She did not take a passive role in sex. Marshall placed a long finger over her lips and she stilled. Blue eyes begged and inexplicably, she acquiesced.
Marshall's long fingers flexed on her hip, his thumb smoothing over the exposed skin that peeped out between her jeans and her tank top. "Tell me about the dream you had last night." Mary's face was a study in confusion.
"I want to know," he whispered, nimble fingers starting a slow, seductive journey up from her hip over her ribcage, pausing to outline and caress each rib on the way. His hand came to rest just under her breast, the underside just touching the back of his hand. "Tell me," he urged.
Mary hesitantly told him how they met in their dream world, how she worked in the FTF and he worked in WitSec.
"And you came out to Jersey to get a witness. And I was awful to you. I teased you about your name and insulted you." She laid her palm flat against his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall. "We were assigned to work together to bring the witnesses back to Albuquerque. For some dumb reason it was felt the girlfriend needed a female marshal to escort her. Keep her virtue safe. I don't know. But we drove cross country together." She was silent a moment.
"We talked. In the car. About our childhoods. It was nice." Her voice was so low Marshall had to lean in closer to hear her. "You knew more about me after spending just one day with me, than most people did after years around me."
Marshall smiled as she finished. "You left out the part where you teased me about talking to Mom every day." Her eyebrows raised in a question and he nodded. " I do."
"Same dream I had," he whispered. "Symbiosis personified. Best friends. We are two halves of one whole Mary. And I think it's time to move on from dreaming in unison to living in unison." His hand moved down to rest trembling on the button of her jeans. "In my dreams, I think this is something I'd wanted for a very long time. I was waiting for you." Mary considered his words, thought about her own dreams and nodded. She covered his hand with hers, stilling the tremors.
"The wait is over Marshall. I'm here now. I'm ready."
"Come to Albuquerque?" They both knew he was asking another question entirely. She nodded wordlessly, and he smiled, reaching over to turn off the light.