A/N: Still far, far away from home in cold, rainy New England. Why do people voluntarily live here? I don't get it. I like the sunshine. It makes me happy. I guess that's why I live in the desert. School sucks, but that's par for the course. Here's another chapter. I'm not sure about it, personally. I'm not at my best here. Sick. Exhausted. Irritated at family members. Happy with boyfriend, though, so that's a bright light in the darkness. The next chapter will be easier. I know where that one's going. And the one after. This one was...more difficult. They usually write themselves. This was like pulling teeth! Loving the reader/reviewer love that's been sent my way, though! I'd hug you all, but that could be weird. And time-consuming. Instead, I'll thank you, then go study for board exams. So tired of school. I still don't own the characters. Don't sue me. I'm just borrowing them for a few minutes.
Marshall sighed, and tried to relax in the bed. Mary's bed. Not that she'd ever slept in it, but still. The room was full of her belongings. The bathroom smelled like coconut, and in the absence of actually being in the same room with her, this was fairly close. He had spent a moment perusing her products before he climbed into bed. Smelled her shampoo. Opened her lotion bottle to inhale the gentle vanilla scent that he'd come to associate with his partner. He rolled over and flicked on the television, then groaned out loud when he saw the time. After six am. They were supposed to meet with the Portland field office at eleven, which gave him three, maybe three and a half hours to sleep. Of course he'd need to procure some sort of breakfast for both of them. Mary would be grumpy, with both the sleep deprivation and the morning's earlier emotional outburst dragging mood south. He would ply her with coffee and omelets if he could; make jokes, ramble on endlessly about the economic ramifications of the Marshall plan on Eastern Bloc countries in the early 1990s or the mating habits of the great horned owl. No. Scratch that. It was probably smarter to omit any ramblings regarding mating habits for a while now. Mary insisted that she was fine, that she was not affected by the engagement being called off, but he knew better. He wracked his brain to come up with another topic. Since his episode of "verbal impotence," as Mary had so thoughtfully put it, he had made a habit of reciting facts to himself at night, preparing lists, that he may have them ready whenever she required. It wasn't a chore, not really. He'd made a game of it, striving to find the most mundane trivia, and then regaling her with it as if it were the most interesting bit of information he'd ever found. A few weeks ago he had actually spent ten minutes explaining how the Carnot heat engine worked, and before that another twenty minute mini-lecture detailing the minutia of how bird beak morphology determined diet, habitat, and migratory patterns. He wasn't certain if she ever listened, or if she just liked the gentle droning cadence of his voice. Maybe she just liked to tune him out, make his spiel white noise, relieved to not be expected to listen or respond. She probably needed that, he reasoned, and he was more than willing to give it to her. Perhaps an explanation of how the rapid hyperinflation in post-World War I Weimar Republic helped pave the path for the rampant anti-Semitism that had been brewing since the early twentieth century, or how the nationalist movements in separate European countries in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries lead to a policy of isolationism not only in the US, but in Europe as well, only furthering the aforementioned anti-Semetic sentiment, and further helped set the stage for the atrocities of World War II. She'd like that one. Long, technical, filled with economic jargon, but still relevant. He'd try to remember to work in the word "aforementioned," too. She hated it when he used words like that. He thought that sometimes when he was able to tie one of his "rants," as she called them, into some bit of prior knowledge she already possessed that she liked it better. Listened better. Relaxed more.
There was nothing on the crappy cable television station except for infomercials, and as much as Marshall liked to stay in shape, he didn't feel that he needed Chuck Norris to sell him a Total Gym to obtain that goal. He lay motionless in the dark for a moment, and it hit him. He knew what was bothering him. He figured out why he couldn't turn off, relax, and go to sleep. Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? He'd left. Mary fell asleep, and he left. He'd left her. Alone. Upset. True, he was only a few doors down, but it was all the same to him. His memories drifted back to his drive home late one evening a few weeks ago, her silhouetted image burned into his brain. He imagined her face, sad and forlorn as she watched him drive away from her, and it had kept him up more than once at night. Unfortunately, the room key was locked in the room with her. As was his ID. Glancing around, he flicked a light back on and opened the door to the night stand. Inside he found her piece and badge. If he held up only part of the badge, the star, perhaps, he could get the goofy looking night attendant to give him another key. He could come up with a story on the fly that would sound convincing. He'd done it more than once. Sighing, he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and slipped his running shoes back on. Bundling up against the cold night air, he bit back a gasp and hustled into the office.
"Excuse me?" He was actually trying to be polite, but the kid was playing some inane video game and held up one hand to tell Marshall to wait. Wait. Not gonna happen.
"Look, kid, I'm a US Marshal," He said in his most condescending voice. "I said excuse me, and now you're going to pay attention and listen up."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." The kid muttered as he spun his chair around so his back was to the desk.
Marshal very nearly came undone, and he credited the fact that Stan would kill him if he broke this kid's neck for his restraint. Hopping the desk and collaring the kid like a suspect was probably not the smartest move, so he settled for his patented "bad cop" routine. It worked on criminals, it would probably work a kid.
"Look, kid." He drolled, lengthening the words for effect. "I said I'm a US Marshal, and I don't have time to play games with you. You are going to get me a key to room two fourteen, and you're going to do it now."
"Hey, man, chill out." Marshall smelled the alcohol on his breath. And the room reeked of weed.
It occurred to Marshall only after the incident that he could get into serious trouble for abusing his badge, well Mary's badge more correctly, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. It was for Mary, so everything was fair game. Grabbing the blankets from the bed in Mary's room, he secured her gun and badge, depositing them in his own drawer. Now he had a predicament, though. Mary was still asleep, though now she was curled into a ball at the foot of the bed. He slipped off her shoes, a task made easier now that her feet were not planted on the floor. He could pull her up so she could stretch out; be more comfortable. Or he could leave her and ensure that he still had the ability to father future generations lest she awaken in the process. It seemed cruel to leave her to sleep in an awkward position and awaken with kinks and pains. It seemed unwise to awaken her and allow her to arrange herself more comfortably, and the question still remained as to where exactly he was going to sleep. Ultimately he decided to err on the side of caution, fixed the blankets around her more securely, and curled into a similar ball at the head of the bed, using the blankets from her room to shield him from the cool Oregon air. He watched her back rise and fall with her breathing for a while, hypnotized by the sight of her asleep. It had been a rough year for both of them. She'd been through the ringer and back a few times, and he knew it affected her more than she would ever tell him. He'd been close to a breakdown a few times himself, his worry for her all-consuming. He tried to not let on how much it had affected him. It would only irritate her to know, but somehow, being able to just lay here and watch her sleep, safe and warm soothed him and allowed sleep to finally claim him as well.
Mary woke up in a bad mood. She'd slept in a weird position, and now her neck was telling her all about it as she tried to stretch.
"Umph." Marshall heard the thud and shot up, straight out of bed.
"What the hell?" He heard Mary's confused question as she lay on the floor, twisted in covers.
"You okay there?" He offered her a hand up, but received a glare in return.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Apparently her mood had not improved with a few hours sleep.
"Helping you up." His hand remained outstretched, face open and devoid of mirth at her predicament.
"Why are you in my room?" She demanded. "In my bed? Didn't the taxpayers of this fine country pay to put you up in your own digs for the night?"
"Technically you fell asleep on my bed." He nodded to his luggage sitting on the cheap motel table. "So I was actually in my bed."
"Oh." She looked around her, then took his hand and pulled herself up. "Sorry about that."
"No worries." He assured her as he picked up the blankets and unwound. "It's about time to get up anyway." He glanced at the clock. "Wanna shower and see if we can find some chow?"
"Don't say 'chow.'" Mary chastised him. "This isn't a wagon train, and you're not a ranch hand."
"Would "grub" suit you more pleasingly, milady?" He made a show of thickening his drawl, and was warmed when she smiled and rolled her eyes at him. "Perhaps you prefer the more colloquial "vittles" to describe the…"
"God, you know what?" Mary slapped his arm. "You really are a dork."
"I aim to please!" He called after her as she grabbed her key and exited his room. "Be ready in forty five."
"I'll be ready before you are!" She hollered over her shoulder as she walked. "Better lighten up on your morning beauty routine there, Gladys. It could take you all morning." She opened her door and walked inside, turning to poke her head back out. "Last one ready's buying! And I feel like pancakes and eggs today."
He met her grin with one of his own and ducked back inside the room. Her mood had improved substantially, and he congratulated himself a bit for being able to bring that change about. Briefly considering dawdling, he remembered that she actually owned him a few meals. He didn't keep track. Not really. Not to make sure she was settled up to the penny with him. He just liked to make sure he didn't owe her too many. She was generally happy when she was eating, and he liked that. He enjoyed seeing her relaxed and pleased, even if it was just because the guy at the taco cart got her order right and added extra guacamole to her burritos. Still, it was good to see her smile again. She was back. He breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever anger she'd directed at him this morning seemed to have diffused, and she was back to insults and calling him girl's names. They were okay. His split decision to remain in the same room worked, and she was in good spirits once more. Well, good spirits for Mary. Some things have to be measured on a relative scale.
He was ready before her, so he knocked on the door and grinned in a way that he knew would annoy her. She stuck her tongue out at him as she let him into her room and went back to fixing her hair. Her own beauty routine was basic. Minimal. And a constant worry to Jinx, he knew, who thought her daughter should try harder. Mary had sat through many a lecture telling her that she couldn't possibly expect to find a man if she didn't try harder. It had really never occurred to Jinx that Mary wasn't trying to find a man. Not a "for keeps, with this ring, I thee wed…and pledge to clean up after and fetch beer for and turn myself into a human baby-making machine" kind of man anyway.
Marshall made himself at home, easing into the cleaner of the two chairs at the table and flipping the TV on to C-SPAN. He watched her reflection in the TV as she carefully combed and – what, curled? –her hair. The attempt would be futile, and they both knew it, but she tried anyway. The humidity and omnipresent rain the Pacific northwest would most certainly ruin any attempt she made at taming her long blonde hair. Grunting in frustration as her hair refused to cooperate, she finally grabbed an elastic band out of the bag, and tossed it up into as neat a ponytail as she could manage. Finishing it off with a quick sheen of hairspray to keep the loose tendrils in place, she grabbed her belt, attached her holster, and turned to face her partner. He was keeping a carefully schooled face, eyes dutifully trained on the TV screen, but he wasn't paying any attention to the house vote being broadcast.
"I'm not spending more than ten bucks on your breakfast." She promised him as he stood.
He just grinned at her, opened the door, and gestured her through.
"I don't know." He caught up with her. "I kind of feel like steak and eggs. Maybe some biscuits and gravy on the side. And home fries. A real steak, too. Twenty two ounce, T-bone…"
"You're getting dry cereal from 7-11 if you keep this up." She warned him. "And I'm not springing for milk."
The banter continued all the way to the diner that Marshall had scoped out on their way to the motel earlier that morning.
"That's a baby." Mary stated the obvious – well, hissed, really, in Marshall's ear.
"You didn't read the…"
"I read it, smartass." She cut him off. "It said 'and child.' Never said anything about a baby."
Marshall wondered sometimes why Mary claimed to dislike children so much. He'd seen her interact with them in the past, and she was a natural. Perhaps it had something to do with being forced to raise her little sister. Maybe she'd just had enough kids in her life. Raised enough of them. He wondered if he'd feel the same if, rather than being the youngest, he was the oldest. What if he had had to raise his three brothers alone. It wasn't something he could really imagine, no matter how active his imagination was. His family wasn't perfect. Mary knew his family wasn't perfect. Still, compared to hers, his had to look like a fairy tale from the outside. She did seem to understand that his relationship with his father was strained. Ran interference. Stood up for him.
"Earth to Marshall." Mary was snapping her fingers in front of his face to draw his attention back to her. "Come back from the mother ship."
Smiling at her nerd reference, even though it was meant to incite him, he shook his head. "Yes, Mary?"
"Are we gonna do this?" She gestured with her head and made a face, indicating the family waiting nervously inside the conference room.
They'd already been briefed by the officers at the Portland office, had read the threat assessment, researched a bit on their own. They'd spent the last ten or so minutes observing the family from behind the one-way mirrored glass. It was something they liked to do, whenever given the chance. To observe a person when they are unaware of the act of observation- Marshall saw the poetry in it. The science. Too often the act of observation changed the nature of the observed. In this manner, though, unimpeded, he could gain insight into their behavior. Learn how they interact with each other. Mary always took the opportunity to judge whether or not she thought they would stay together. She told him once, after too many shots of tequila, that she could tell these things just by looking. By listening to the way people talk to each other. He had wondered offhandedly what she thought about the way he treated her. Talked to her. What did she read into that? The guys in the department ribbed him at nearly every opportunity about his relationship with Mary. Most were convinced he was sleeping with her. Why else would he keep her around? With her personality? Others were more convinced that she wore the pants in the relationship. Treated him like her personal slave. Her lackey. The rest just took pity on him. He saw the "poor Marshall" looks in their eyes. Heard their whispered rumors and flamed red from the accusations. His manhood was brought into question on more than one occasion, usually after Mary had taken part in some particularly physical bust. Beating the crap out of criminals, even when the occasion called for it, had earned her a bit of a reputation in the Marshal's service. So had her mouth and tendency to solve problems with her fists and feet. Marshall weathered it all, choosing to ignore most of the gossip, defending his partner when he felt her honor was in question, but generally attempting to remain above the fray. He hated the way the guys talked about her. Had even asked for her opinion on the subject once. Her response had been in typical Mary fashion, though. She didn't give a flying rat's ass what the guys thought about her. It was the rest of the statement that had Marshall wondering what she meant, though. "I only care what…I don't care what they think." She'd started to say something, then changed her mind. He wondered periodically if she'd meant to finish by saying "I only care what you think."
"Verdict?" He asked before entering the room.
"They're happy together." She assessed begrudgingly. It was always a little hard for her to admit it. The idea was foreign, even still, to her brain. She secretly hated them, all those happy people. Hated the ones that could be content having only each other, even as they walked away from their lives. She wondered what that kind of security would be like. What would it be like to wake up in the morning and just KNOW that you belong to someone? Someone who wouldn't walk out on you or leave you. Someone who always had your back. Your best interests at heart. Your happiness as their…she cut herself off from that line of internal dialogue. No reason to go there. Nothing good would come of it.
"Kid's cute." Marshall mused quietly.
She was, even Mary couldn't deny it. Light brown hair, just starting to curl into ringlets at the tips, blue eyes that sparkled, and precious dimples on each cheek.
"Let's get this over with." Mary pushed passed him and entered the conference room with authority, Marshall trailing close behind her trying to suppress a smile. He secretly loved it when she took charge of things, but appreciated it when she stepped aside and let him have the reins all the same. He knew she'd try to hurry through the paperwork to get away from the happy couple with the beautiful baby girl. Nothing annoyed Mary more than happy families, although Marshall understood that the dislike was really nothing more than barely concealed envy. She'd missed out on so much as a child, and watching two parents, happy together, lovingly dote on their daughter was bound to grate her and dredge up old desires and unmet needs.
Marshall quickly appropriated the child for himself, bouncing her on his knee and making faces at her. Mary rolled her eyes and tried to ignore him as he reduced himself to a nine month old's mental level. The man could entertain a baby, she had to admit, though. It wasn't until she heard him drop his voice low and start telling her a story that started out with "a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away," that she put her foot down.
"Marshall, give her back." She demanded, the corners of her mouth turning up in spite of her attempts to project a stern countenance. "You can't nerdify the baby before she learns to talk."
"Oh, do you want to hold her?" Lisa offered with a smile, assuming that Mary was jealous of her partner for hogging the baby.
"No." She said forcefully as she pushed a few more papers toward the parents. "Lisa, Ben," she made eye contact with each of them as she returned to her standard spiel. "Are you sure you understand? No contact. Not with your parents. Siblings. Old friends. No one. This has to be a clean break. It's for your safety. We can't protect you if you reach out to the past and try to touch someone."
"We understand." Ben Bradford, now Ben Bailey patted his daughter's back and kissed her cheek. "We just want to keep her safe. As long as we're together, we'll be fine."
Marshall bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling as he watched Mary's eyes roll back in her head a little. She hated sap, and he wondered how she was physically restraining herself from acting on what he knew was her instinct to strangle the man.
Mary groaned quietly and pinched the bridge of her nose as she leaned her head against the window of the government issue SUV. The ride to the motel was impinging on her very last nerve. Maybe she was just tired. Maybe she could take a nap when they got back. Marshall was watching her, she could tell. He glanced at her every couple of minutes with a hint of a frown. She could clearly see his reflection in the window. This sort of thing would have driven her crazy if Raph had been the one checking up on her. She idly wondered why it didn't bother her when Marshall did it. He was allowed to hover. Not too much, but she didn't mind him butting in sometimes, checking up on her. Making sure she was okay. Honestly, she found it oddly refreshing, but she was far too tired to spend too much energy figuring out why. Marshall was just…Marshall. He was her goofy partner. Her caring friend. The one person who knew her best in the world.
Mary stood back and let Marshall give the Bailey's the rules. They'd be staying another night, then driving back the next day. The drive would be long, and most definitely loud, as small children were not known for their ability to handle long periods of time in a car well. Marshall was already planning stops. State parks, rest stops, scenic overlooks. Any opportunity for little Kathleen to play outside in the fresh air. It would save him from watching Mary implode anyway.
Lisa yawned a few times while her husband and Marshall unloaded luggage from the SUV. They wouldn't need too much for the night, but travelling with a baby always complicated things. She was so tired. The yawns didn't go unnoticed, however.
"Would you like us to watch her so you can rest?" Marshall offered politely, ignoring the daggers he knew were being shot his way. Mary would kill him for this.
Lisa gushed her thanks, and shoved the baby in Mary's arms, grateful for a few hours rest. Ben handed the diaper bag to Marshall hesitantly. He hadn't missed the look on the female Marshal's face.
"You guys sure about this?"
"Of course." Marshall soothed, making a face at Mary. She stopped herself just shy of sticking her tongue out at him.
"Be good, Katie." Lisa kissed her daughter on the cheek before heading inside to take a nap.
Marshall noted the way Mary unconsciously shifted the baby closer to her and bounced her up and down. Katie. They hadn't called her that until just now, and he suspected that baby Katie would be getting fine care from his partner. Her surrogate Katie would be doted upon, even if she had to kill him to make sure he never told a soul.
As soon as the motel door was open, Mary shoved Katie into Marshall's arms. "I'm taking a nap." She announced. "This is your thing. You play baby sitter. It was your idea."
Maybe he was wrong. "Come on, Mare." He urged. "We still have to plan the route back to Albuquerque."
"Your idea." She folded her arms across her chest and frowned at him. "You watch her. I don't do babies."
"You were doing just fine before." He countered, curious.
"I don't do babies, and babies don't like me." She insisted, even as she smiled when Katie reached out and grabbed Marshall's collar, tugging it tight with her chubby little hand.
"Come on." He cajoled. "It could be fun."
"Ya know what else is fun?" She countered. "Napping so I don't snap and shoot you."
"Well, hold her for just a minute, will you?" He pleaded. "At least let me use the restroom first."
"Fine." She held out her arms to take Katie from him, and settled the baby against her. Katie reached out and grabbed Mary's long hair, pulling strands of it from her pony tail, and Marshall chuckled as Mary tried to extricate her hair from the baby's grasp.
He took his time in the restroom, not really needing to be in there at all. He brushed his teeth. Rewashed his face. Checked his hair. Organized his toiletries on the counter. It had been a few minutes, and still no yelling was coming from the motel room, so he peeked his head out. Mary was stretched out on the motel bed holding Katie above her as the baby smiled and chortled in glee. She was tired, he noted. But she was also very good with children.
"Your turn, doofus." Mary called to him, hearing the door creak open. "I need that nap."
"You seem to be doing okay." He made sure his tone was even as he grabbed his wallet and keys. "I'm gonna run out and pick up lunch. You want anything special?"
"You're not leaving me here with this." She warned him, sitting up a little, and placing the baby on the bed beside her.
"Relax." He smiled evilly. "I'll just be a few minutes."
"You owe me for this!" Mary hollered angrily, annoyance not even barely concealed.
"I'll get you a sandwich." He grinned as he closed the motel door. She might actually shoot him. It was a real possibility. "Worth it." He thought to himself.
"Mare, I got you a Rueben…" He stopped short, hand still on the door latch as his heart literally stopped beating in his chest. Mary had been tired. She'd barely slept the past few days. He just hadn't expected this. Mary was passed out, laying on her back on his bed, propped up against the pillows. With Katie asleep on top of her, snuggled close, wrapped in Mary's arms. And she said she was bad with babies. Mentally reminding himself to breath, he carefully walked in and shut the door quietly. There was a jar of baby food open on the table, the diaper bag was open. She'd fed her, changed her, and put them both down for a nap. It was just too precious for words. Pillows were piled up on both sides, barricading the baby in should she roll off or wake up first.
He dropped the bag on the table, and walked to the side of the bed, unsure of what to do. Reaching out, he tried to take Katie from her, but she tightened her arms around the baby, murmured something he didn't catch, and pressed her lips to the little girl's head in a sleepy kiss. Marshall had to close his eyes. This was the side of Mary that she never let anyone see. He'd never witnessed it, that's for sure. This maternal, tender Mary. He'd guessed that this side of her existed. Had on occasion wondered what kind of mother she'd be. He'd seen her with older children, but never a baby. Never seen her this affectionate, even in her sleep. The things this woman did to him. He stood, dumfounded, while she slept. Peaceful. Relaxed. This was the happiest he'd seen her in months. He'd been right about this. Baby Katie was well cared for in his absence. Smiling tenderly at them, he sat down at the table and watched while he ate his sandwich and most of Mary's chips. If only he'd thought to bring a camera. This would be such good blackmail later. At least she was getting some sleep, he reasoned. It would make her more agreeable.
A/N: Shoot. Now I need a nap. I'm jealous, tired, achy, and irritated with my school. Stupid left and doesn't know what their right hand is doing. Grrrr. Must stay conscious. Must study. Must...yawn. Maybe later. Nap now.
Hope you enjoyed. Hope I caught most of the grammar/spelling mistakes. I've had a headache for the past ten days, and it's showing no signs of letting up any time soon. No amount of excedrin is helping, although I am looking rather bruised all over. Perhaps I should let up on the NSAIDs for a few days...
The blue button? Go ahead. It'd make my day. Really. No sarcasm there. I need a pick me up.
Hugs.