Author's Note: I don't own iPod, or any of the other brands I mention in this story. I don't work for them. I'm not using this as product placement, and receive no compensation, monetary or otherwise, for their mention. Just trying to be historically relevant. Other than that, thanks for the reviews and support! Reviews are like chocolate, comfortable shoes, and jeans that fit: you can never have too many (and kudos to anyone that can place that slightly paraphrased reference.) This was another transition chapter that I hate writing. The next one will be better. More substantial. But it's two in the morning, I have class in the morning, and I'm going to sleep now. Also, I'm considering building an arc or obtaining some sort of life raft or other flotation device. It rains every fricking day in New England. What is with that?
Mary clenched her jaw and took a slow, deep breath as the screaming turned into wailing. Katie had been hollering for a good twenty minutes, and she couldn't find a place to park the car so her parents could appropriate appease her. She could see Marshall watching her as she tried to calm herself. Yelling at the baby wouldn't help matters any, she knew, but the volume was leaning on her last nerve. Lisa and Ben ineffectively tried what they could do, but it was to no avail. Katie would not be consoled, and apparently had decided to let everyone know all about it.
Marshall spotted a familiar blue sign alerting them to a rest stop in twenty three miles. He honestly wasn't sure if Mary would last that long, and the screaming was starting to get even to him. He pointed to the sign to make sure Mary saw it, and heard her whispered "thank God" in response. She was showing all the telltale signs of having a headache. Her eyes were pinched, her shoulders were hunched, and she was clenching her jaw. Okay, the jaw thing wasn't necessarily indicative of a headache. Mary clenched her jaw a lot, but this time he had a feeling that it was related, and the noise level in the SUV was most definitely not helping her right now. He kept hoping that Katie would wear herself out and fall asleep. His nephews did that sometimes when they were little, but this small girl apparently had stamina.
"Don't be closed. Don't be closed. Don't be closed." Mary muttered quietly as she approached the off ramp for the rest stop. "Yes! Finally." She jerked the SUV into the exit lane and pulled up short in the first parking space she came to, ripping the keys out of the ignition and thrusting them at her partner as she ran to escape the car. Her escape was short-lived, however, and she knew it had to be. After only a few short seconds of peace, she walked back to the vehicle trying to compose herself. She still had a job to do. Lisa was changing Katie's diaper, and Marshall was saying something to her.
Forcing her brain to focus through the fuzz that had settled in a while ago, she met his eyes with a questioning look of her own.
"You okay?" He took a step closer and spoke softly so no one else could hear.
"You were saying?" Change the subject. Smooth.
"You'll stay with her?" The concern had not abated, but he was willing to play along for a while.
"Of course, doofus." She smacked his arm, annoyed. She DID know how to do her job.
The men headed off in search of restrooms, and Mary tried to sidle herself as far away from the hollering as she thought she safely could. A lone tree, oak or maple, she wasn't in the mood to remember, served as a back support as she sunk onto the cool ground. This whole trip had been a glorious mistake. She wasn't cut out for babies or babysitting. This just wasn't her. She could handle unruly criminals. Rebellious witnesses. Alcoholic mothers, cheating boyfriends, and screwed up baby sisters. She could hit a moving target at twenty paces, and run a nine minute mile. She could keep up with the boys in a drinking contest, and outdrink many. Sitting quietly while a small child tried to burst her tympanic membrane was never going to top the list of skills she had mastered. She didn't even want it to.
The silence penetrated her brain slowly, and Mary looked up in surprise when she realized that the screaming had stopped. Whatever the problem had been, Lisa had fixed it. Mary realized in that moment that if she swung that way, she'd totally kiss the woman for making the quiet happen.
Marshall was silent as he approached her, knowing from experience or instinct that she wasn't in a talking mood. He sat next to her on the ground and reached a hand out hesitantly. He waited until he saw her slight single nod, then brushed her hair over her shoulder and used his fingers to massage the ropey muscles in the back of her neck. What he wouldn't give to be able to do this properly. He knew she carried her tension in her neck and shoulders. Over the years, he hadn't missed the way she'd work her back or roll her head around to ease the tightening there. Once in a while he could get her to sit still enough for him to work out some of the kinks, but he knew there were more.
She emitted a soft grunt of appreciation as his fingers worked a particularly tight spot on her neck, but it turned into a groan as Lisa approached holding Katie out to her like an offering.
"Can you watch her? I really have to pee."
Marshall held out his arms to take the small charge, but Mary pushed to her feet.
"Give her to me." She ordered, sweeping the red-faced child into her embrace. "I have to go with you, anyway." Truthfully, she needed to avail herself of the facilities soon or she thought she'd blow a valve, but that looked like it wasn't going to happen for a while. They were two days into this god-forsaken trip, and hitchhiking back to Albuquerque was starting to look like a viable option for Mary. Katie sniffed and hiccupped in her arms, and she frowned down at the baby.
"Yeah. Go ahead." She muttered tiredly. "Keep it up. Maybe we'll all go deaf."
"Okay!" Lisa called brightly as she marched out of the lady's room before Mary could hand off the baby and get in line herself. "What a relief."
Marshall had moved to a picnic table under a group of trees, and Ben had taken up residence on top of a table a short distance away. Lisa left the baby with Mary as she made her way over to her husband. The growl Mary emitted was audible to Marshall even from a few feet away.
"Why do I always end up babysitting?" She spat at him as she stood Katie on the table and knelt on the bench.
"Cause you're so warm and fuzzy." Marshall teased. "Just brimming over with sunshine and love."
"Cork it." She warned him, even while she held each of Katie's hands in hers and helped her balance on her little baby feet. Katie took a few hesitant steps, and Mary grinned involuntarily. "How old are they when they walk?" She tried to think back and remember when Brandi started walking, but she couldn't. The memory just wasn't there. She'd had too much to do to catalog when her baby sister had taken her first steps.
"Around a year." Marshall shrugged, heart warming while his partner played with the baby. "Some earlier. Some a little later. It just depends."
"She wants to walk." Mary observed absently. "She's trying to stand."
Katie's mood had improved, her smiles and giggles now only interrupted by the occasional hiccup. Her smile brought a matching one to Mary's lips as well, Marshall noted as he moved to sit on the table and tickle Katie with one finger.
"It won't be long." He agreed. "She'll get the hang of it soon."
And older couple walked past, hand in hand, and commented to themselves on what a beautiful family they were, and once again Marshall's heart skipped beats. If this was going to continue, he thought with irony, he was going to need an antiarrhythmic. He watched Mary tenderly for a moment as she played and made faces at the baby girl in her arms. He wanted this. God, he wanted this. Marshall was a man who yearned for a family of his own. A wife. A kid. Hell, even a dog and a fence if necessary. But this. This woman. This woman who drove him crazy. Irritated him. Mercilessly teased him. Made him do her paperwork, and generally ran him ragged. Yet, she was the one he wanted. Even with no kids, he closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, even with no kids, to come home to her at the end of every day. To cook dinner and wash dishes. To fall asleep every night and know she'd be there in the morning when he awoke. That was this man's definition of heaven. He'd never considered a child until a few days ago. She'd never exhibited signs that she wanted one. He knew they got on her nerves. The screaming was bound to drive anyone to distraction after a while, but this. Here. Now. Tender Mary, hands carefully wrapped around Katie's torso, holding her as she bounced her up and down. This Mary he could easily see chasing after their child. Cleaning up scraped knees. Sitting beside him in bleachers cheering at a swim meet or a dance recital in an auditorium. This Mary was softer. And even more beautiful than he'd ever dreamed she could be.
"How's your head?" He asked quietly as Katie played with his fingers.
"Fine." She thrust her jaw up a little, and he saw her masseter muscles tighten. That was all he was going to get out of her for now.
"Mind if I drive?"
"Knock yourself out." She shrugged. She really didn't feel like driving anyway. She'd been at it for six hour today already. It would be great to just lay back, close her eyes, stuff some cotton in her ears, and tune out the world. If only.
"Ready to get going?"
She stood rather than answer him, and so he eased himself off the table and watched as she walked over to Lisa and Ben. Katie was sitting securely on her hip again, and Mary unconsciously shifted as she walked, leaving Katie a place to sit securely. He watched the sway, the way the sun hit her windblown blonde hair. This trip might be the death of him. It was one thing to see her at work all day. She was all kick-ass and rough and tumble at work. Swearing at criminals one moment, then comforting witnesses the next. She was different since her cousin showed up. More quiet. Introspective. Really, though, she'd been more introspective since Ramirez broke off the engagement, but more so since the arrival of her diminutive relative. Now the baby. He caught himself staring right before she turned around, arms free of their warm cargo now that Katie was back with her parents. She made a face at him and motioned him toward the car. There was the Mary he knew and loved. Would she ever let him love the other Mary, too?
"We'll be by later with some groceries." Mary promised as she backed out the front door.
"Thank you." Ben shook Marshall's hand heartily. "Thank you for everything."
"Take care of them." Marshall's gaze landed on Lisa and the beautiful baby girl asleep in her arms. It had been a long drive, and they were all grateful to be in Albuquerque again. "This is a good chance for you, you know? You can start over. Give that little girl a good life."
"I will." Ben promised. "I'm not going to screw this up."
"Good." Marshall turned to Mary, but her eyes were elsewhere. He followed her gaze, and landed on Katie. Her face was sad, and he knew he needed to get her out of there. "All set?" He reached out and touched her arm lightly.
"Think so." She smiled at him crookedly, and he almost believed that she was fine. "So, you call me if you need anything. Really. Day or night. You're not on your own here. Anything you need, that's my job, and I'm happy to do it."
Mary never added "happy to do it" on the end of that speech, Marshall noted. Was it just the baby?
"Thank you, Mary." Lisa took a step closer, and Mary reached out and stroked Katie's back lovingly.
"Hey, it's my job." She smiled at each of them, then turned and stepped out of the apartment, pausing to wait for Marshall to follow.
"Wanna grab a drink after groceries?" He bumped into her on purpose, and she had to quick step to stay on the sidewalk.
"I just want a long, warm shower." Her eyes slipped closed for a second when she said "shower," and Marshall felt his stomach…and south of it…tighten in response.
It wasn't that late. Seven o'clock in the evening. Neither one had eaten dinner, and he wasn't willing to give up that easily.
"I can bring over dinner while you shower." He offered, not really wanting to go home to his empty house. Alone.
"And beer." That was Mary's way of agreeing, and Marshall smiled as she walked around to the driver seat. "Let's get some groceries!" She grinned at him, and he noticed that for the first time in a few days, the smile went all the way to her eyes.
"Inspectors." Stan greeted them Monday morning. "How was the transfer?"
"Everyone's tucked in tight." Mary sipped her coffee and rifled through some files on her desk.
Stan made eye contact with Marshall, but the taller man just shrugged. He thought he knew what was bothering Mary, but he'd be damned if he was going to divulge her confidence to anyone.
"So, uh…" He started again. "Your witnesses…"
"The Bailey's." Mary supplied without her usual snark.
"Right. The Bailey's. How are they liking Albuquerque?" That wasn't really the question, and everyone knew it.
"They won't be a problem. Don't worry." Mary looked at Marshall for affirmation, and he nodded.
"Easy peasy, chief." Marshall assured him. "They're your basic wrong place, wrong time happy couple. I don't anticipate them being a security risk." He considered adding in something about their daughter just to tease Mary, but thought better of it at the last moment. The last thing he wanted was to make Mary self conscious around him. The fact that she trusted him enough to put her guard down and let herself fall head over heels for that precious little girl told him more about the state of their relationship than any actual conversation ever could have. "Mom was right." He thought to himself, and not for the first time. "Actions really do speak louder than words."
"So, Inspectors…" Stan trailed off again. Mary was worrying him. She was being quiet. He'd always thought he'd love it if she was quiet. Prefer it, even. But now, it was just unsettling. Maybe her rants had become a compass of sorts by which he could view the direction of the world. "Mary. Marshall." He tried again. "I assume by now you've read the memo regarding the interforce law enforcement seminar."
He paused, and Marshall nodded, then gestured between himself and Mary to tell him that they both had indeed read the aforementioned memo. Clearing his throat, Stan started again. "And I am assuming that in the spirit of interdepartmental cooperation, you two will be eagerly attending and spreading your warmth and expertise among the many fine law enforcement communities of this country."
Mary choked on her coffee a little and turned her head, and Stan felt that familiar knot in his stomach along with something else…comfort, maybe? "Stan, are you seriously telling me that you expect me…us…to go make nice with the Feds and all their little mignons just because some baboon in a suit decides that we don't work well together? Why don't you just have us all hold hands and sing kumbaya? It'd be about as effective, and a hell of a lot less painful for all of us."
"I think the larger issue here is," Marshall interjected. "That Mary doesn't do "nice" or "warm." She's more like a cactus, if you think about it."
"Gee, thanks, asshole." Mary called from across the office.
"Anytime." Marshall assured her before continuing. "With Mary, it's not so much nice and warm, it's more bruised and bleeding. Maybe a little crying thrown in for effect, especially if you leave her in a room full of feebees unattended. And you may want to inform them to have a medic on hand to perform the testicular reattachments after she hands them their family jewels on Styrofoam plates."
"Aww, Marshall. Give me some credit." Mary joked. "I wouldn't waste Styrofoam. It's not biodegradable."
"You are interested in the environment." He loved this. The banter. The teasing. It felt normal. Was that a problem?
"Ah, Inspectors," Stan breathed. "I've been remiss. I didn't mean to imply that I was asking if you were going." He let the statement hang unfinished.
"Jesus, Stan." Mary pushed past him. "Do you hate us that much? Didn't your mother ever hug you or something?"
"Play nice." Stan said sternly
"Mary doesn't play well with others, Stan!" Marshall called. "You know that."
"How much is going to cost me?" Mary grumbled angrily.
"Marshal's service is picking up the tab, you just have to chip in for lodging. There are dorms, though they may have filled up already."
"I hate dorms." Mary grunted as she logged onto her computer to register. "Always remind me of college."
"And the debauchery therein, no doubt." Marshall supplied.
"Sure. Whatever." Then she looked at him. "Of course I'm betting my dorm room was a hell of a lot more fun than yours. Did you take your action figures with you to college? I bet you never even brought a girl back to your room."
"I…" He didn't want to finish. To take the bait and defend himself would only fuel Mary's fire. "I'm ignoring you now."
"Seriously, Marshall." She was sitting on his desk now. "How many. Give me a number?"
"A number?" He played dumb, even as his voice threatened to crack. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with Mary. Ever.
"Yeah. A number. If you were such a lady's man in college, then give me a number. How many?"
"How many what?" There WAS wiggle room here. She could be talking about anything.
"How many girls did you bring to your room? How many girls got lucky on your Superman sheets?"
He took a deep breath. They were not having this conversation here. Or ever, if he could help it. "Blue." Was his cryptic reply.
"Blue? Blue is not a number, numbnuts." She was leaning toward him now, and he knew that if he just turned his head a few degrees the view would improve substantially.
"Blue is a color." He agreed. "I had blue sheets in college. Two pairs. Navy and royal."
"Still waiting." Her voice was breathy in his ear, and moist vapor washed over the pinna and made him clench to control a shiver.
"Mary, I don't…" Thank god. Her phone rang. He knew he wasn't off the hook for good. She'd bring it back up, probably at the most inopportune time, too. That was just Mary. She took some sort of delight in making him blush. Then again, he enjoyed making her blush as well. They both just used such different tactics…
"I hate Virginia." Mary muttered the following Sunday as they waited in line at the desk for the rental car. Her hair was starting to curl at the tips. Marshall loved it. It made her look…more innocent. Like she hadn't seen so much. Been through as much. He wondered if she'd ever really been innocent. If that was a luxury she'd ever been afforded in her life. "Fricking humidity."
She whipped out her credit card to pay for the rental car since she'd called to make the reservation, but Marshall closed his hand over hers.
"Let me." He urged quietly. He knew she was buried under bills right now.
Ordinarily Mary would protest, but something in Marshall's eyes told her to just go with it. Let him do something for her. Be good to her. She watched closely as his eyes softened with relief and something else when she nodded in relent.
"Do you know where we're going?" He asked her as they stowed their luggage in the trunk. She hadn't sprung for GPS, yet another sign that she was worried about money.
"Just figured you'd already memorized the layout to the entire county." She shrugged. "Didn't want to be redundant."
"I did not." He stated flatly, then rummaged in his carryon. "But I did bring a portable GPS."
Her bright smile melted him a little. Right on the edge in that one place that was hard to get to. Her smile always made him melt. Not her snarky smile. Not her cocky smile. Her real, genuine smile. Mary probably hadn't had much need for that smile in her past, he'd realized a while ago. Legitimate happiness sometimes seemed a little foreign to her, even as she displayed it. Her eyes lit up like sunshine, and then, sometimes, there was this look of confusion. Like she didn't understand the emotion herself, even though she was capable of expressing it. There was so much about Mary's past that pained Marshall, and he had a feeling that if he knew the whole, ugly story that he'd have to be sedated. Then again, if she ever did tell him the whole story, he'd steeled himself already. He'd have to stay. He'd have to listen and be there for her in whatever way she'd let him. He'd have to suck it up, ignore his better sense, and keep his hands off her. Not hug her. Not hold her close to him. Not squeeze her tight in an effort to clean all the pain and ugly from her psyche. He'd probably have to settle for drunken musings on her life, and clumsy pats on the arm. That was what she'd most likely allow him, if anything. He wondered if she ever thought about her past sober. He'd had a friend in college that could only deal with his childhood if he was drunk. The haze of ethanol made the pain easier to bear. Dulled the cut of it somewhat.
Maybe that's why Mary only drank occasionally. She could drink him under the table, for certain, but there was a method to her madness. Drink only occasionally to get comfortably relaxed. He'd seen her chosen method of pain relief, too. Tequila would work. Or whiskey. Or beer. But the trick was to drink fast. She didn't draw it out. She'd done ten shots in forty minutes once, and he'd scraped her off the floor an hour later. He'd held her hair for her as she knelt beside the toilet to empty her stomach two hours after that. And for the next two and a half he'd gently wiped her forehead with a cool cloth, handed her cups of water to sip. Gum to chew to clean out her mouth. And a shoulder to lean on when he knew the tears couldn't come. She'd slept most of the next day, and that had been fine. They'd been at his house, so he just left her in the bed he'd struggled to get her into. He hadn't exactly been completely sober himself, but he knew when Mary was drinking hard that he had to slow down. Keep his wits about him. She did the same for him, and had definitely been the one to take care of his hangovers once in a while over the years. He didn't mind it when they drank together. His crowning embarrassment was having her drive him home from a bar after an evening of drinking alone. The thought that he'd reduced himself to Jinx's level grated him and left him raw on the inside. That and the thought that somehow he shouldn't have been drinking without her anyway. He was a man with ritual. Order. Discipline. They drank together. To forget or to celebrate or just because beer was good with pizza. They did things together. But only SOME things. Only some things.
"Turn left." The GPS beeped at him, and he steered the car onto the FBI compound with a shared grimace. They both really hated the Feds.
A/N: Must sleep now. Feel free to stay awake and review, though. Really. Unless you actually have nothing nice to say. If that is the case, then be a dear and feel free to be polite enough to not say anything at all, and I'll feel free to do the same if I'm not a huge fan of your work. Merci beaucoup.