Jinxed Redux

Disclaimer: Not mine

A/N at the end

Chapter 6: Mary'd

Mary?

Married?

Mary married?

The words bounced around his brain like a shiny metal pinball, being launched again and again by the mental flippers of his imagination. His Mary had been married?

Marshall and Brandi were still sitting at the table. Joanna and Mary had cleared the dishes. Brandi slowly rotated her wineglass, swirling the dark red liquid, and stared at Marshall. She no longer registered in Marshall's universe.

Mary married? Why? When?

At least I know who.

Like probing a sore tooth, his thoughts went again and again to the just revealed fact of his partner's life before they met. Why hadn't she told him? They had been together for a two months now – partners and more. Mary could have told him. But she didn't.

Marshall inventoried the dreams they had shared. No mention of marriage or spouse. Why not tell me? Marriage is a pretty big deal. Or didn't she think so? What could their future hold? He wanted to be married, dreamed of a wife, a family – with Mary. Did Mary share THAT dream?

Through heavy lidded eyes Brandi watched Marshall. She tried to pinpoint when Marshall had checked out. One minute they were getting to know one another, and the next he was just . . . just not there. Brandi put her hands on her head and groaned. Too hard to think with too little food and too much alcohol, and Jinx missing.

Mary and Joanna made quick work of the dinner dishes. The running water and Joanna's chatter masked Marshall and Brandi's conversation. Mary noticed his unfocused gaze but figured that Marshall was full. Sated. Who in the hell says sated?

"Joanna? That was the best meal I've eaten, the only home cooked meal in, in, well, ever." Mary hesitated, torn by her need to leave, but not wanting to offend. "We really have to get going." She headed for the coat closet, walking past a motionless Marshall.

"Marshall."

Marshall's head jerked as Mary's hand landed on his shoulder. Mary dumped his winter coat in his lap and started putting on hers.

Tucking her hair into her cap, she saw that Marshall's coat was still in his lap. Leaning toward him she quietly spoke directly into his ear. "C'mon Marshall. We need to get going."

Suddenly focusing on his surroundings, Marshall shoved his personal confusion and all his questions aside.

"Marshall? Let's go." He stood, donning his coat. He thanked their hostess, and gave Joanna a quick run down of does and don'ts. Mary nodded in agreement to the points he made, steps designed to keep them safe. Then she returned to the table and her sister and squatted down face to face.

"Squish? C'mon Squish." Brandi opened her eyes, but wasn't looking at Mary. Mary put both hands on Brandi's shoulders and gently jiggled.

"Mmmm?" Brandi responded, finally looking at her.

"What. Mary, what?" What had gotten into those two? Brandi seemed half asleep, relaxed by the alcohol and the maybe the reassuring presence of her sister. But why had Marshall spaced out?

"I need to make sure you understand something. This is important. It could mean your life, and mom's." Mary hoped mentioning Jinx would impress Brandi with just how important.

Brandi shivered at the mention of Jinx. Mary was forcing images of a bound and gagged Jinx out of her mind, hoping she wasn't broadcasting her fear. Brandi sat up and nodded, noticing that Mary held something in her hand.

"I'm taking your phone, and leaving you this burner. I've programmed our numbers. My burner is #1, Marshall's #2. The third speed dial is the New Jersey Marshall's office – if we aren't answering. The fourth is our boss in Albuquerque. Don't use any other phone numbers to contact us. Don't use any other phone period."

"Ok,yeah, I got it." Brandi responded looking at the tracfone Mary had placed in her hand.

"If you see anyone or anything odd, call me. Anyone repeatedly walking by this house. Any car you see again and again that doesn't belong here. Door to door salesmen. That made Brandi snort. No one went door to door, let alone in the middle of winter in New Jersey.

"Anything odd. Understand?" Brandi looked at her, eyes wide and nodded. She slowly repeated "1, you, 2 Marshall, 3 Jersey Marshals, 4 your boss. "

"Right," Mary exhaled, relieved that Brandi had gotten that straight. She couldn't stay any longer. Time to go. Past time. She felt guilty for taking the time to enjoy dinner. What did Jinx get to eat?

"Joanna tells me you've been staying in the basement," Mary continued, hoping Brandi didn't pick up on her fears .

"Yeah, it's . . it's nice – tv, bathroom, couch. I'm ok with it." Brandi clutched the phone like the life line it could be.

"Good, that's good Squish." Mary gently brushed back a strand of Brandi's hair. "The house needs to look empty when Joanna leaves. No sounds. You have a head set or ear buds, right?"

"Yeah, I got 'em." Brandi nodded slowly, her eyes drooping. Mary gave Brandi's shoulders a final squeeze, and what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Hang in there, Squish. We will fix this."

Standing up Mary asked Joanna "Is there a back way out of here?"

"Right off the kitchen," Joanna replied. "There's the mud room, and a few steps down to the backyard. Go to your left, past the garbage cans. The gate sometimes squeaks. Made me jump last week it was so loud."

Acknowledging Joanna's directions with a nod, Mary got out her gloves. When Brandi stood, she enveloped her, shocking Brandi who couldn't remember the last time her sister had hugged her. Not as an adult. Mary thanked Joanna again and headed for the back door, trailed by a quiet Marshall.

The cold air snapped Marshall back to the real world, looking for real bad guys who were looking for them. From the porch, he scanned the neighbor's yards and picked out the path past the garbage cans. The night was crisp, quiet. The sound of a dog barking to be let in to the warmth of house and family disturbed the dark.

"Where are your geek goggles?" Mary mocked. Maybe she could distract him from his distraction by focusing on his new, night vision glasses.

"Not here," he muttered, "but I did take my bilberry." Marshall started down the steps after her. The snow squeaking under his boots. Mary skimmed past the cans and into the side yard. The winds had blown the snow off their path. The walkway to the street had been shoveled.

Mary took point but halted before heading to the car. Marshall stood, neck extended, scanning the area. No one seemed to be out in the cold. Except them. His hoarse whisper carried through the still air. "Clear."

"Doing your meerkat imitation?" Mary asked. Damn Animal Planet. Before he could reply she trotted toward their vehicle, Marshall a few yards behind. "The efficacy of bilberry was discovered during World War II," Marshall began softly.

Mary realized this wasn't just his usual spew of trivia. She could track him by his voice and concentrate on surveilling the area. Her Doofus was pretty savvy.

"Pilots and bombardiers in the RAF who had bilberry pie the night before a bombing run were reported to hit their targets more often. Bilberry and any blue fruit contain lutein, which makes up the liquid part of the eyeball."

Mary reached the driver's door. She got her travel flashlight and checked the interior before unlocking it. Marshall peered behind the car and checked under the car, front and back with his flashlight. He remembered the acid eroded brake fluid hose from the nightmare of the abandoned desert store. The fact that Mary had been married to Mark Stuber temporarily took second place. Mary was belted into the driver's seat starting the engine when Marshall got in.

"I say Jeeves, where to?" Marshall asked in a corny British accent that made Mary roll her eyes and turned up the ends of her mouth just a bit.

Mashall mentally high fived himself for scoring this reaction. He needed to approach the subject of her marriage carefully. Mary needed to focus on driving. Every hour Jinx was missing increased the pressure on her. Another night, another 8 hours without progress would kill her. Maybe not. Her loud yawn made him think she might rest tonight. And so would he. After they talked.

Mary checked the road ahead carefully as she doubled back before getting onto the highway. The concrete was clear, but she knew the threat black ice posed. It could derail them faster than the mob goons. She swerved right then left testing the steering. When they hit an open stretch she muttered "Let's see what this baby can do."

Marshall took that as his cue to tighten his seat belt. He hung onto grab handle just in time to be pushed back by the acceleration. Gritting his teeth, he was about to suggest she slow down when she took her foot off the gas and let the car coast to a reasonable speed.

"That get your blood pumping?" she turned to face him.

"While my heart is beating faster than usual, that could be attributed to your proximity," he grinned at her. If this was some sort of test, he was determined to pass.

"Awww, really? That's sweet." She stomped on the gas and then hit the brake to make him thump back and forth. She laughed when he gulped. She hadn't had a playmate in forever. There hadn't been anyone she could relax with, someone she could tease. Although Mary seemed to have been born with a gruff, prickly, no nonsense manner, most women in the old boys club of law enforcement adopted a serious attitude so they would be taken seriously. Mary's version of serious was just. . . .different.

With Marshall, that wasn't a problem. She knew, deep in her mind – her heart? –he had a high regard for her shooting, tracking and crime solving skills. She wasn't the planner he was, but her gut was almost always on target.

He relaxed hearing her playful teasing tone. They needed to talk, but not in the car. He had to see her face, to gauge her reaction to his questions about Mark, about her marriage. There were photos at Joanna's of a young man with brown hair and an easy smile. Probably Mark. He wondered how recent the photo was. He racked his brain trying to remember every detail of Mary's place in Jersey. Photos? He didn't remember any on her walls. He remembered the framed painting with mesas and cactus -the twin to the one at his house. Damn freaky.

Mary got off the highway near the city. She cruised through dreary snow plowed streets with barely enough room for the car. Moonlight provided better illumination than the dim street lights. When the car stopped, they were parked in front of the office of a small well lit motel.

Mary nudged him, urging him toward the office. "You go. They might remember me."Huh? He opened the door, slid out of the seat, hit the ice and nearly slid under the car. She watched as Marshall's gloves clawed at the door handle. Mary snorted softly. "You better be okay doofus. No way I can carry you," she whispered hoarsely. Marshall stood as if at attention, his back to the car. After slamming the car door, he gathered his dignity and long winter coat with a theatrical flourish, and paraded to the office ignoring Mary's chuckle.

A few minutes later Marshall returned with the room key. An actual metal key, none of those new fangled electronic cards here. She parked near the ground floor room, exchanged the car key for the room key, and tilted her head toward the rear of the car and their luggage. By the time Marshall entered the small surprisingly clean room, Mary had checked the room, and removed her jacket. Rifling through her bag, she grabbed her tooth brush and Marshall's toothpaste before heading to the bathroom.

Marshall sat, bouncing on the queen sized bed. Firm, no lumps. Nice.

"How did you find this place, Mare?"

Gesturing with her toothbrush from the open bathroom door, she began "Old man Woodson." Inserting the toothbrush back into her mouth, she continued. "He pays protection to the gangs. The rooms cost more, but we're less likely to have night visitors, and cash isn't a problem," she said around the toothbrush. Marshall's eyes widened at the mention of night visitors. Pausing to rinse, she nodded towards the bathroom. "All yours." She grabbed her bag and stripped off her sweater. He closed the door as she wriggled her bra off without removing her long sleeve thermal shirt. He was glad to see she barely winced.

Sighing and looking down at his hand, Marshall was surprised and pleased that he had remembered to grab his toothbrush. It took all his concentration to stay on task when Mary was in the room. She is the most distracting female I've ever met. And she's mine. Isnt she? He washed and brushed and left the bathroom, ready to talk.

Mary was lying under the garish quilted comforter, eyes closed.

Oh no, Sunshine. You're not getting out of this one.

Marshall jostled the bed to alert her. Bending down he whispered into her ear "Have I been consorting with a divorcee?"

"Consorting? Nuh uh," she mumbled without opening her eyes. "We've done lots of different things, she emphasized , but I don't think we ever did that."

Suddenly understanding the import of his question, her eyes flicked open. "What are you talking about?" I do not want to talk about this tonight. No part of what we need to do involves my past. She pushed herself up on her elbows, scooting back against the headboard.

Marshall straightened and stepped back from the bed. He needed the advantage of height and clarity of distance if he was to get an answer from her.

"So, you aren't divorced?" She closed her eyes and his gut quaked. Did you pick the Stubers because you are married to Mark? Is that why Brandi is there?

"Annulled," she carefully enunciated. "Not divorced. We got an annulment." Opening her eyes, she huffed. "I was 17 and stupid. He was 22. I thought he was my ticket off the Jinx and Brandi not so merry go round. He wasn't. That's it." Just leave it Marshall. Please.

"That's it?" he squeaked, outraged by her dry recitation. "Didn't it mean anything?" Did Mary take the commitment of marriage lightly? Was he really her Dream Mann? How well did he know her?

"So, your ex-husband is Mark Stuber?" He was working up to more angry questions when she answered.

Mary was watching him. She gritted her teeth. "Yeah, sort of."

She was trying not to lash out. Trying to make this usually perceptive man hear what she was saying. "Like I said" she continued evenly, "We had the marriage annulled. That means it's like there never was one. If there wasn't a marriage, there can't be an ex-husband."

"Jesus, Marshall," she exhaled, flopping back down on the bed.

When she looked at him, he seemed. . . What was that look? Hurt? Her usual response was 'grow a pair.' But not for this man. If I can hurt him without trying, he'd be better off without me.

Marshall could see her curling in on herself. An ache underlay his voice when he asked, "Why did I have to hear this from Brandi?"

"Brandi told you?" Mary's voice rose. "That little narc," she huffed. Looking up at him she snarkily asked, "How did it come up? 'You know, Mary did once find a guy who actually married her, but he came to his senses after two days?'"

"Mare, we were at the Stuber's home. Of course it came up. I want to know everything about you and I figured your sister would be a good person to ask. We naturally started talking about your old boyfriends."

"Naturally," she snarked.

Mary, sat up and swung her legs to the floor and groaned. Putting her head in her hands she muttered, "Great, just great. If she told you about all my 'boyfriends' you must think I'm a slut."

"No." he said quickly, loudly. "I don't think you're a slut." He paused and sniffed, raised his chin looking away from her. "I know you are passionate."

"Huh.," she saw his pose. He's teasing. Maybe there's hope yet. "Passionate. That's one word for it."

Mary waited till he turned to look at her. "Marshall, listen. The entire 'marriage'" she made air quotes, "consisted of 36 hours over 10 years ago." She shook her head. "I don't think of it. Why would I think to tell you?"

"But you're still friends. You told your sister to go to his house!" Marshall insisted, with considerable passion of his own.

"Not exactly" At his quizzical look she added, "Not exactly friends. And not his house either. His mother's." Marshall wondered if she was trying to convince him or herself.

"I knew his mom still lived there. It was close to where Brandi was. Someplace she could get to quick. A place she doesn't usually go. A place they wouldn't think to look."

Then so quietly he barely heard her, "I hope." Really, Marshall. I did think about this.

"I don't keep in touch with Mark. He sometimes calls Brandi. I don't have his phone number and he doesn't have mine." Mary had to convince him that this omission was a minor blip. She didn't want him to wonder if he needed to protect his heart, or if he could trust her. I wouldn't trust me.

"He's still in love with you," Marshall stated flatly. He could understand how a man could love Mary for ten years, even if he never saw her, rarely talked to her. He knew he could be that man.

"What?" she squawked. "You never even met him." Hello crazy? You missing a passenger on the looney train?

She snorted and looked up."Besides, if anything it was lust, not love."

At Marshall's quizzical look she added, "We were good in the sack. Some, some chemistry, I guess." She looked distracted, remembering those times.

She saw the pained look on Marshall's face. "You've had girlfriends. I know you have. I have first hand evidence." Her eyes softened with memory.

Marshall ducked his head. "I've had my share of encounters of the intimate kind. But we are different," he whispered hoarsely. "For me, with you, it's different. Isn't it different for you?"

Mary stood, close but not touching. Her gaze turned inward as she searched her memories of them, of their dreams. "You're right," she admitted. "There's something about you, about us I can't put my finger on. When we're apart, I worry. I need to know you're safe, and," she hesitated. "It hurts to think of you being hurt." The dream where Marshall got shot was painful, even though it was just the memory of a dream. "I don't think I would know love if it bit me on the ass. But. . . " she trailed off.

"Do you ever think of our future?" He had to know.

"The future," she echoed.

"Hmm," she exhaled. "The future hasn't figured in my thinking for years, for . . . ever," Mary responded. "Since I became a Marshal it's been one fugitive at a time. Until I moved to Albuquerque." Until you.

Marshall reached his hands out for hers only to have her jump back. "What the hell Marshall? Your hands are freezing."

He quickly withdrew his hands, lowered his head and explained. "I had to take my gloves off to check the wiring and hoses. That jalopy you got us has a lot of wires and hoses."

"C'mere." Mary tucked both his hands under her arms. They stood a few inches apart. Marshall was afraid he would lose a testicle if he tickled her.

Mary gazed over his shoulder, eyes unfocused and soft while his digits slowly warmed.

"Mare, where'd you go?" Marshall wondered if the events of the last few days had caught up with her, her mind and body refusing any additional input.

"Mare?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you thinking Sunshine?" he asked gently.

Mary looked at his caring face, surprised. She wasn't seeing the face she expected. The face she remembered.

"Tell me. Please."

It was the please that broke her silence. She cleared her throat, "The last time I did this, it was Brandi's hands. There were times when," she paused, wary of sharing the bad times. She didn't want to appear weak. She didn't want his pity.

"There wasn't any heat. Brandi loved making snowmen, but without mittens her hands were blocks of ice. I could use the oven mitts, but they wouldn't stay on her hands. She didn't seem to mind, but her hands were so pink they hurt just to look at."

Marshall pulled her close trailing his fingers down her arms. "Thank you for telling me." It must be painful to remember. He pulled her into a hug and whispered, "Time for bed, Sunshine."

Mary nodded and climbed in, scooting over and raising the pilled gaudy cover. Marshall followed, facing her. He gave her a quick peck on the lips, murmuring "Sweet dreams, Sunshine."

Mary turned on her side, away from him. Marshall relaxed in her warmth, her closeness.

"Are we ok?" Mary asked not turning to face him. The hurt was gone from his voice, but she needed to know. She needed to hear him say it.

"Yeah, we're ok." He breathed out gustily. "Once we have your mom back, the talk, THE talk is a coming. Got that?"

She let out a relieved sigh at the conviction in his tone. "Yeah, I got it."

"Good."

"Always gotta have the last word," she groused as she snuggled into her pillow.

"No, that would be you."

She snorted softly. The mattress squeaked as Marshall turned. His hand tentatively sought her hip. She grabbed it, pulling it to rest with hers over her hip. His long fingers trailed onto her stomach. As her eyes closed and sleep settled in, she dreamed of his hand on her belly, her very round belly.

A/N: Sorry for the long delay. Real life has intruded big time. Thanks to all who have reviewed. There's more. Eventually.