Disclaimer: I don't own In Plain Sight, I just spin nonsense about the characters. =)

Author's Note: Well... it's an update! And I hope you like it. This chapter is dedicated to all the people who are still reading this even with my horribly mangled update schedule. To you, from me, enjoy! =D

Fish Out of Water

Chapter 14

Mary awoke to bright sunlight pouring through an unfamiliar window framed by blue curtains. The light poured over the bed she found herself in, also strange and in more ways than one. For one thing, she didn't recognize it, and for another… she remembered as she examined the odd planet-and-comet space-themed print on the dark blue sheets that she had come home with Marshall the night before. Memories of the previous evening's events flooded back to her and she pushed them away, feeling uncomfortable.

She rolled over sleepily, stopping when she saw Marshall. He'd apparently fallen asleep sitting on the floor, flopped face-down against the bed. His back rose and fell with rhythmic, sleeping breaths, and his head rested on one of his arms atop the bedspread; the other arm lay as though he'd been reaching for something. Reaching toward him, Mary realized he must have fallen asleep holding her hand. She felt oddly touched by the gesture, a feeling that was followed by a pang of regret for the disruption she'd caused him. She ran her fingers gently through his hair and he mumbled wordlessly in his sleep.

He was exhausted, she could see plainly; Marshall, she felt, was not typically the sort of person who would be so unguarded around others, even in sleep, and she was genuinely surprised to have not woken him up. Reasoning that he must need sleep badly, she slipped from the bed and dressed quietly. Emptying his backpack, she grabbed the shirt she'd slept in and rolled the revolver in it before stuffing it inside.

Something in the contents of his backpack caught her eye; she picked the object up and examined it. It was a spiral bound notebook, labeled for a class they did not share. That level of math was far beyond her inclinations, if not her actual abilities. It wasn't like she had the time to put in for the amount of studying she'd need anyway, but what had really captured her attention was not the subject written on the cover but what else was written there. Flipping through, she found that the theme continued throughout. Once she found a blank page toward the back, she folded the notebook open to it and scribbled a quick note. She left it sitting on the bed, next to her sleeping friend, and quietly slipped downstairs, the backpack slung over her shoulder.

The wooden fence creaked under Mary's weight as she scaled it and dropped into her back yard, having approached her house from the back as discreetly as possible. No one would consider it that unusual for a girl to be walking down the street shortly before noon on a Saturday, but fence-jumping was another matter. Nonetheless, she hadn't wanted to approach her house from the front, even though she was reasonably sure they'd gotten away clean the night before; it was best not to take chances, especially on an errand such as this one.

She set down Marshall's bag and flipped back the doormat, revealing a key hidden not particularly well. She had left her own key behind when she'd dumped out her backpack and thrown some old clothes in it, trying to sell the marriage ruse to Brandi. It was shoved under her bed with all her school things; she hadn't thought she'd be coming back, and she'd seen no need to make it any easier for Mark to get to Brandi later on.

She entered through the back door and made her way through the house, realizing quickly enough that Jinx hadn't come home the night before. Thank heaven for small favors, she grumbled internally. She'd usually be inclined to wonder where her mother was, but right now, she didn't give a damn beyond the fact that Jinx's absence made her task easier.

Sitting on her mother's bed, she opened the bag and pulled out the bundled up shirt with her father's gun inside. Last night, when they'd arrived at Marshall's house, she'd stuck the weapon in her pants and brought it inside, and today, it was time to put it back where it belonged. First, though, she'd have to wipe it down. She distinctly remembered that Marshall had unloaded it when he'd taken it from her, and she did the same, carefully swiping every surface with the scarf it was usually kept in, retrieved from the bedroom floor. She made sure to wipe the ammunition too; no matter what might happen, she wasn't going to let Marshall be tied to what had happened by any meaningful evidence.

Careful not to touch the weapon directly once she was done, she slipped the bullets back in and snapped it shut. She rolled it up in the scarf again before she retrieved a chair from the kitchen and squirreled the gun away in its hiding place. With luck, Jinx would never notice it had been moved, and her visit to the house would go unnoticed, so no one would have reason to believe either she or Marshall had been in possession of the weapon the previous night. She was relatively certain it wouldn't come to that, but it was best to take precautions.

She'd called Brandi's friend's house before she'd left Marshall's, only to find that Brandi had been invited to stay another night. Mary smiled wryly; Brandi was completely capable of behaving herself under sufficiently dire circumstances and her friend's mother apparently believed she was sweet as sugar. One advantage to having a really messed up home life was that other people often couldn't imagine how bad it was, so it was easy to hide what was really going on. When Brandi had gone to stay with her friend, she'd told the mother that her mom was stuck somewhere and couldn't get home. While Mary held no illusions that people didn't know their mom was a drunk, she knew they would likely just presume that was all that was going on, and not bother asking too many questions. They certainly wouldn't think to ask if Mary had been kidnapped, and Brandi had the sense to keep her mouth shut.

Now that Brandi was assured of Mary's safety, she was eager to stay with her friend again, and when Jinx turned up she would probably be too drunk or hung-over to care, so Mary had given her permission. She didn't think Brandi needed to deal with Jinx in that state after what had happened, and she didn't want to either. Marshall had said his parents would be out of town until late Sunday, and Mary didn't think he'd mind if she stayed over again…

Marshall. Mary felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She had gone to sleep the night before thinking he would cut her loose first thing in the morning, and had she been less exhausted herself the thought might have kept her awake. Finding him there asleep that morning, however, had made clear the depth of his devotion. He didn't seem to be planning on walking away. She'd grown up vowing that she would never trust another man, and that belief had only been encouraged as she'd watched Jinx fumble through one failed relationship after another, but when she considered the events of the previous night…

She'd seen something in his eyes as he'd leveled the gun and steadied his shaking hands. It was for her; he was not so much ready to take a life as he was ready to do anything for her. She had never before seen that look in anyone's eyes, let alone directed at her. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. It was flattering to be sure, and it excited her, but it was also powerful in a way she didn't want. No one, and especially not Marshall, should be willing to throw away for her what he almost had, when her life would amount to nothing anyway. He was worth so much more than she felt she was herself, and the knowledge of his willingness to sacrifice made her afraid that she couldn't be trusted with such a responsibility. Moreover, she now owed him her life, and what was she supposed to do with that?

Nonetheless, though everything about that train of thought demanded that she run from him and spare him while his life was still largely intact, she felt instead a compulsion to return to him, so she zipped the backpack and made her way out of her house the same way she'd come in.

Marshall felt himself slipping back toward wakefulness, a sensation that left him feeling like a clam pried from its shell. His entire body seemed reluctant to wake up, and he was also sore, undoubtedly a leftover from the night's escapades. He scrunched his eyes shut even before he'd opened them, his heart beating heavily somewhere near his ankles and a nauseous feeling roiling in his stomach as the events of the night came crashing back to him.

His hand closed on his bedspread, the familiar texture in his grasp anchoring him to reality. Lifting his head and opening his eyes, he blinked as he looked around the room. He was sitting on the floor, he noted with confusion, leaning against the bed with the edge of his mattress wedged somewhat uncomfortably in his armpit… but his bed looked slept in. Oh, right, he recalled, Mary slept here.

As if the thought of her had conjured it, he registered the presence a notebook next to his hand. He stared blearily at the mostly blank page where a note was hastily penned. Taking care of something, back soon. I'll call to check on Brandi before I go. -M. His brow furrowed as he flipped the notebook back to its cover, curious as to which one it was. His eyes widened; it was his math notebook, the one he figured Mary would never see. It was, more importantly, the one on which he'd doodled her name all over the cover and throughout the interior as well. He groaned as he thought of her reading all the senseless scrawls, accompanied by more hearts of varying degrees of artistry than he would care to admit. Obviously she'd chosen this particular notebook for a reason, but whether it was to pardon his secret indulgence or to poke fun and thereby condemn him, he had no idea.

He sat back against his nightstand, rubbing his hand over his face. Last night, he hadn't thought there was a way he could screw things up even more, but therein lay both the unfathomable beauty and the inexorable horror of the universe: things could always get worse.

As his mind tumbled over everything that had happened, he concluded that Mary had gone to hide the gun, since he hadn't seen it anywhere. He didn't want to think about what would happen if she got caught out with it. He didn't want to think what would happen if they got caught for any part of it.

Her hand hovered at the door, poised to knock, yet she hesitated. Maybe she was reading too much into Marshall's actions. Was it possible that what he had done for her, he would do for anyone? What if he was just that kind of person, some over-glorified boy scout who was out to get a merit badge for rescuing people? And holding up would-be rapists at gunpoint, and burning down abandoned buildings? Get real, Mary, her inner voice spoke up. There's no way he'd do all that for just anybody. Stop trying to look for a reason to ignore this.

But nothing can come of it, a counterpoint voice chimed in. He's going to leave, you'll be stuck here, and then what? He'll go on to college while you're stuck here with Jinx and Brandi like you always have been. And don't you dare delude yourself into thinking he'll stay for you. College, Mary! You can't compete with that!

Mary growled low in her throat as she shook her head and tried to quell the voice of her doubts. She hated doubts, plagued by them as she had been for nearly the entirety of her remembered life. Every potential action brought up at least half dozen nagging thoughts of how it might lead to failure, and that number tended to increase dramatically with the importance of the decision involved. Then, even if she managed to set aside the usual worn-out worries, the events of the night had conjured up a whole new set of preoccupations.

Sucking in a breath and blowing it out hard, Mary rapped firmly on the door. She was tired after the night she'd had, just plain tired, and all she wanted was to enjoy Marshall's presence for the rest of the weekend without indulging those ever-present concerns.

He opened the door, wide-eyed and breathless and wearing a particularly geeky sweater that brought out his eyes, and for a split second she was thrown by how cute he looked, though obviously preoccupied himself. He grabbed her by the arm and drew her into the house so quickly that she almost stumbled; before she could snap out the what the hell that rose automatically to her lips, he was already explaining himself.

"Mary, you've got to see this. It's unbelievable," he rattled excitedly as he led her to the living room, where the TV was playing a news program. The nightmarish image of the burned-out bowling alley was splashed across the screen. "It came on just a few minutes ago, but… well, just watch."

She sat on the couch, no longer even listening to his directions as she focused on the screen. A reporter's voice spoke over the footage of the charred shell of the building.

"… it is believed no lives were lost in the fire. Again, our breaking story at the top of this news hour: the Bowl'n'Roll bowling alley burned almost completely to the ground last night. Three men were caught as they attempted to flee the scene; while sources say none of the men are speaking to police about the cause of the fire, it is believed they started the fire to destroy evidence of far more serious crimes. A car registered to one of the men, a Camaro, was found in the parking lot with incriminating evidence in the glove box, a series of Polaroid photos implicating all three suspects in a series of rapes that appear to have been committed inside the bowling alley itself. Victims are already beginning to come forward, and it seems clear to this reporter that silence will not save these criminals from conviction."

The scene shifted to an interview with the owner of the property on the scene.

"When I heard about the fire, I was upset," the rotund man stated, "but now that I know what was going on in there, I'm glad it burned to the ground. I don't want to own a place where such horrible acts were being committed."

"And now, back to studio," the reporter wrapped up as Marshall turned the volume down.

"Jesus," Mary breathed, staring blankly at the screen though she was no longer paying attention to it. The report had served to emphasize how close she'd come to disaster. "Well, it doesn't seem like anybody cares much about the fire. Even if those guys talk, it'll just look like they're trying to get out of the rape charges."

"That, and they won't be able to tell the police we were there without admitting they abducted you," Marshall added, feeling a small welling of confidence for the first time since the incident. "We really might be off the hook for this, Mare."

Mary nodded slowly, a faint smile turning up her lips at the corners. Maybe things were going to be alright after all.

Stars, constellations, the cosmos, infinity. Mary stared up into a heaven of glow-in-the-dark star stickers, some of which were arranged into constellations she actually recognized. The other formations, though unfamiliar to her, were doubtlessly arranged with the same degree of accuracy. The decals would have been more appropriate for the ceiling of a boy half Marshall's age, but she couldn't help but smile at the realization that the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like the kind of thing her friend would like. She was reasonably certain he hadn't thought he'd get a girl up here and therefore wouldn't have to worry about it; he'd almost gotten away with it, too, because she'd been too exhausted the previous night to notice much of anything before she fell asleep. As it was, she found the gently glowing stars to be pleasant and relaxing in their utter lack of guile.

Showered and wearing another borrowed t-shirt, she was once more warmly snuggled in Marshall's bed. She was glad to be there, in his room; she still wasn't ready to go back to the grind of dealing with her mother's problems. She listened to the hiss of the shower, faintly audible from the hall bathroom. She had only narrowly been rescued from the most horrible of violations, and her rescuer was only a few rooms away. Wet and naked, too. Mary pulled the blanket up over her nose, hiding a blush that wouldn't be visible in the dark even if someone else was there to see it. The water shut off, and her heart thudded for a few beats. After several long minutes, a pajama-clad Marshall padded down the hall and tapped on the open door with one knuckle.

"Hey," he spoke softly, "do you need anything before I get settled on the couch?"

Mary hesitated, her heart racing and her mouth suddenly dry. "Uh… water, I guess."

She cringed inwardly; it hadn't been what she wanted to say, wasn't even close. Marshall vanished from the doorway only to reappear moments later with a glass of water in his hand. He entered the room and set the glass on the nightstand. Mary reached out and caught his hand before he could leave. He looked at her searchingly in the faint light cast through the doorway from the hall and by the moonlight from the window.

"Do you need something else?" he asked quietly.

"You don't have to sleep downstairs if you don't want to," she murmured hurriedly. "Your bed's pretty big so I think there's room."

"Twin beds are a little small for me," he supplied, looking unconvinced.

"So the couch wouldn't be that comfortable, right?"

"Yeah… that's right," he admitted.

"So… get in." She pulled the covers back and tugged on his arm.

He leaned onto the bed with one knee, then hesitated and pulled back. His hand slid from her grip and he wordlessly moved into the hallway. Mary's heart sank as the light went off… but then he was back in the room and closing the door behind him. He approached the bed and slid under the covers beside her.

The space between them seemed to echo as they laid side by side, staring at the ceiling. Mary snuck a few sideways glances in Marshall's direction and found him looking contemplative and nervous. She knew that look, the one that told her his mind was racing at a mile a minute.

"Marshall?" she whispered softly into the silence. He angled his head toward her, meeting her gaze.

"Yeah, Mare?" his hushed voice came back with a nervous edge.

She rolled onto her side and slid closer to him, settling against his side. She rested her head on his shoulder as he automatically snugged his arm around her; her palm came to rest on his chest, over his now-pounding heart.

"Is this okay?" she asked, her eyes still locked on his.

"Yeah," Marshall answered. Her gaze was liquid, laced with some emotion he hadn't seen in her before and therefore couldn't recognize. His eyebrows raised as she lifted her head and pressed her lips lightly and quickly to his.

"Was that okay?" she asked as she pulled back.

His brow furrowed as he considered her. "I don't understand, Mary… what… what exactly are you getting at?"

Mary sucked in a deep breath as she gathered her courage, finding it difficult to give voice to her desires.

"Marshall, I… um…" she replied hesitantly. "There was something else… that I wanted."

"Whatever you want, just tell me," he offered.

"Okay…" she murmured. "Marshall, I want you to sleep with me."

A/N: Whoa, Mary, what are you doing? Oh, right, you're being you. Carry on!

Let me know what you think, and hang around for the next update, which will hopefully be sooner in coming than this one was! And... maybe a rating bump? How do we feel about this? Let me know! =)