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One. Déjà vu
Déjà vu (French, literally "already seen") is the experience of feeling sure that one has already witnessed or experienced a current situation, even though the exact circumstances of the previous encounter are uncertain and were perhaps imagined.
Before Abby had time to realize what was happening, Marshall was at Mary's side again, for the second time that day. She saw the color drain from Mary's face as she grasped her abdomen in pain. She watched Marshall trying to offer his partner comfort. Abby rationalized her boyfriend's behavior. He was trying to support his pregnant friend, his partner, who was in a lot of pain. This caring streak of his was what made her fall for him so quickly. But a nagging feeling would not let up: Marshall was filling the role reserved for the father of the baby. The scene unfolding before her eyes was painful to watch. Her heart was telling her that Marshall's concern for Mary went beyond ordinary friendship and partnership: the unshed tears of fear and unmistakable devotion in his bright blue eyes were impossible to miss. If the incident at the courthouse had not been proof enough, this definitely showed the true depth of his feelings for Mary.
Watching them, Abigail wondered if Marshall would be in as much distress had it been her on the ground instead of Mary. Even before this morning, she had her doubts about their relationship, but convinced herself that she was reading too much into Marshall's concern for his partner. Today, after watching the events unfold, Abigail was no longer certain she had misread the signs. Rather, it seemed she had deceived herself about Marshall's commitment to her. There was no question that he enjoyed spending time with her and cared for her, but did he love her like he loved Mary? It sure did not feel like it.
As soon as Marshall handed Abigail his cell phone, she let her training take over to handle the situation. Turning away from the pair on the ground she called the ambulance. Turning back she saw Mary holding onto Marshall's hand and begging for the pain to stop. The distress in their faces was breaking Abigail's heart.
They were now surrounded by a crowd people offering support. Mark and Jinx were among them, but Mary's gaze was locked to Marshall's, unseeing anyone else. Abigail wanted to approach, but her shoes suddenly felt like shackles, planted firmly to the ground. She did not know whether she should stay or leave. She had no doubt that Marshall would get into the ambulance with Mary, but her heart just refused to give up hope. "What if, what if, Mark stepped up to the plate, to assume the role that is rightfully his? Then Marshall would be forced to step aside…" she thought, clutching her purse to her side.
Abigail had her answer in the next few moments: the ambulance pulled into the parking lot of the country club no more than five minutes after she made the call. It took the paramedics another two to rush to the lawn where Mary was drifting in and out of consciousness under the Chuppah. Marshall was still crouching next to her, murmuring words of reassurance as the paramedics pushed by him to lift and strap Mary to the gurney. He was holding her hand, running next to the paramedics and broke contact only to let them get inside the ambulance. He followed them in before they asked if he was coming along. Mark and Jinx were on their heels, but not nearly fast enough, and had to follow in a car.
In a matter of moments after their departure, the lawn cleared, leaving only the staff of the country club, hustling about to take down decorations and chairs. In all the commotion, Abigail stood in the same place, by the Chuppah, unable to move or think. She was twisting her phone in her hand and chewing on her bottom lip, feeling hollow inside.
In the ambulance, Mary lost consciousness and started bleeding. Her fingers were still intertwined with Marshall's, but her grip on his hand loosened. Marshall heard the paramedics asking him questions, but was unable to fully comprehend them through the haze of concern for his partner. He was desperately whispering to Mary to hold on, praying for her open her eyes, to come back to him. She was pale and unresponsive. She did not regain consciousness in the ambulance. He felt like the trip to Mesa Regional Hospital took forever, although his mind registered that they did not stop at a single intersection blowing through lights and traffic.
Marshall did not let go of her hand when they wheeled her into the hospital. Tears were rolling down his face, but he did not feel them. Mary's last words were lingering in his mind. "Marshall, it's not time yet. I am not ready. Don't leave."
Marshall did not notice when the paramedics switched with the hospital staff until the scrub nurse stopped him from following the gurney any further. "I'm sorry, Sir, you have to wait outside," she said, putting her hand on his arm.
Before the doors closed he heard a voice call out, "Dr. Reese, O.R. nine is prepped and ready for you." and her controlled response, "Scrub in!"
Marshall was alone in the hall of the hospital just like two years ago, after Mary's shooting. The words of the nurse brought back a flood of memories that he was unable to suppress as he slid down the same wall.
"Mare, you cannot do this to me, not again," he prayed, words pouring out before he could stop himself. He did not have it in him to go into the waiting room and deal with either Jinx or Mark. He had no strength left to move. He was numb with pain.
Marshall did not know how long he was in that hallway, which is how Stan found him, grief stricken, on the floor. The sense déjà vu overwhelmed both men, as Marshall said, his voice barely above a whisper, "She was unconscious, Stan."
Two. Presque vu
Tip of the tongue (TOT or Presque vu, from the French for "almost seen") phenomenon is the failure to retrieve a word from memory, combined with partial recall and the feeling that retrieval is imminent. The phenomenon's name comes from the saying, "It's on the tip of my tongue".
A resident ran into the waiting area, clutching a clipboard with forms close to her chest.
"Marshall Mann? I am looking for Marshall Mann! Is Marshall Mann here?"
The woman's high pitched voice sounded desperate. She was searching faces of people in the waiting room hoping for a sign of recognition. Stan gave Marshall a gentle nudge, seeing that his inspector was unaware of his surroundings. Marshall rose from his chair and walked over to the young woman.
"I am Marshall Mann," he said, giving her a blank look, desperately trying to focus.
"Your wife developed a complete placental abruption. We have to get her into surgery immediately. I need your signature on the authorization to perform the C-section. I don't have any more details for you at this time, but someone will update you shortly."
The resident rattled the off words quickly and pushed the clipboard into his hands. Marshall wrestled his hand into cooperation, mind distraught by fear for Mary's life and anticipation of the birth of her child. As soon as he was done with the forms, the young woman sprinted back into the hall, leaving him in the middle of the waiting room. Marshall blinked, trying to break out from a stupor. Unable to move, he just stood there, frozen. He did not see anything or anyone around him, trying to come to terms with the gravity of the situation conveyed to him in just a few sentences. His perception of time had come to a halt.
Marshall did not bother correcting the resident in her mistake, conceding it would have been too painful. Generally, he did not like misrepresenting the facts, but in this situation saw no other alternative. This was not the time or the place to explain his relationship with Mary to anyone. Mary had put him down as her next of kin on all her pre-admittance paperwork during the first prenatal visit with Dr. Reese. So the error that the resident made was almost a given and did not surprise him. What had surprised him though, was the unbearable sense of loss brought on by her innocent assumption.
After she referred to Mary as his wife, Marshall felt pain grip his heart over what might have been if only he had taken a chance at pursuing his partner romantically. When dealing with Mary, he had always erred on the side of caution, afraid of spooking her, choosing a safer route of hinting at the proverbial elephant in the room. She had to have known he loved her with every fiber of his being, so he waited for her to make the first move.
Despite his reservations, he realized that Mary was not the woman who handled subtleties well. While she was able to read any witness like an open book, with a knack for ferreting out their hidden secrets, Mary preferred to stay clueless in her personal relationships. Marshall watched her make poor decisions year after year, yet did absolutely nothing to stop her. He convinced himself that he was doing so to preserve their friendship. But, as he thought about it in the waiting room, he had acted the way he did from fear of rejection. In all these years, he never had the courage to bluntly tell her how he felt. It was akin to jumping off a cliff and that sort of adrenalin rush had never appealed to him. Instead, he had given her a speech at the office, twice, figuring even if she did not make a move she would give him an opening had she reciprocated his feelings. She did not. She had chosen to run away instead.
Marshall sank back into the chair. He did not know what hurt more, the thought that his love was unrequited, or that she would prefer anyone but him. He had no doubt she had picked Faber for no other reason but convenience. Marshall had overcome the pain yet again, determined to extinguish all hopes of ever being anything more than her friend, since she insisted it was all she wanted. He thought he had moved on finding happiness with another woman. Abigail. The events of this day shattered his conviction, as the sheer possibility of losing Mary brought all his repressed feelings back up to the surface, shaking him to the core.
The result of his actions, or rather inactions was staring him in the face. Not only was the love of his life pregnant with another man's child, but also fighting for her life on an operating table. Once again he failed to protect her. Only this time she had needed protection from herself. She had no business being in that courthouse in the morning. He should have taken on both her and Stan for suggesting it was appropriate for a woman in the last trimester of a high risk pregnancy to stay at the compromised location. As soon as they found out one of the jurors was missing, Mary should have left. The what-if scenarios swirling in his head drove him insane.
Marshall closed his eyes, wishing he could unlearn everything he had read in the last eight months about pregnancy and related complications. Complete placental abruption was a life threatening condition. He did not know enough about Mary's condition, but could not help recalling survival rate statistics. He hoped that they had caught the condition early to manage it, since Mary had no symptoms until earlier that afternoon.
"What the hell, man?"
Mark's words pulled Marshall out of his thoughts. Marshall looked up at the other man, surprised by the outburst.
"Why didn't you correct that woman? Mary is my wife, carrying my child."
"Ex-wife, Mark. Mary is you ex-wife. I am her partner and I'm listed as her next of kin. The resident's error is understandable." Marshall kept his tone even, watching Mark's reaction to his words carefully.
Mark pointedly ignored Marshall's response and shook his finger at the other man. "You are her partner, not her husband. You had to set the girl straight!"
"Why would I do that? She needed to return to the O.R. to help Mary. Why would I waste her time like that?"
"Because she carrying my child, not yours, mine," Mark said, taking a few steps towards Marshall and leaning into his space.
"I distinctly remember you agreeing to terminate your parental rights to this child," Marshall said, rising from his chair, towering over Mark. "Remember the adoption agency? This is hardly the time or the place for a pissing contest, don't you think?"
"Whether I did or didn't, is no concern of yours!" Mark slurred.
Marshall stood close enough to Mark to smell alcohol on his breath.
"Did you load up while Mary was taken into surgery, Mark?" Marshall asked, his fists clenching on their own accord.
"So what if I did? I am worried about my wife and child. I needed stress relief," Mark said, taking a step back from the angry marshal.
"Mark, you may not stay here under the influence of alcohol. You have to leave. If Mary wants to see you once she is out of surgery, I will let you know."
Marshall continued moving with the other man. Mark was unsteady on his feet and Marshall's words pissed him off. Against his better judgment he stuttered, "You have no right to tell me what to do," and attempted to take a swing at Marshall. But Marshall easily dodged the punch and pulled Mark into a wristlock in one smooth motion. Nodding Stan to call him if there were any news on Mary, Marshall led the inebriated man out of the hospital. Not letting go of Mark's hand, Marshall spoke slowly.
"I want you to listen carefully to what I am about to tell you. When you sober up, you will sign the paperwork Mary left at the agency. Then you are going to get in your car, leave town and never to return. Is that clear?"
"Who gave you the right…" Mark's sentence was cut off with a whimper, as Marshall applied more pressure on his wrist.
"Mary made it clear she wants you out of her life. As her best friend, it is my job to ensure her wishes are fulfilled. Should you to fail to accept the obvious, you will find your life getting infinitely more complicated."
"Fine, fine, I will leave. But can I at least talk to her before I go?"
"No. There's no need, unless she says otherwise. And, if I find out that you've tried..." Marshall let the words linger. Dropping Mark's hand, he turned around and headed back into the hospital.
Three. Jamais vu
In psychology, jamais vu (French, meaning "never seen") is the phenomenon of experiencing a situation that one recognizes, but that nonetheless seems very unfamiliar.
Abigail went the hospital from the country club having decided to be there for Marshall. She did not want to wait by the phone for news about Mary's condition. And badgering Marshall in the delivery room did not seem like a good idea either. She reluctantly got into her car and drove trying to stop mulling over the implications of Marshall's actions earlier in the day. She walked into the waiting room during his altercation with Mary's ex-husband. She could tell things were heating up before hearing the words exchanged by the two men. The rage rolling off Marshall was palpable. She watched in admiration the smooth movements of his body as he disabled the drunk.
Abigail could not help being proud of Marshall for containing the situation at the hospital waiting room. "That's my fearless Marshall. He is a kind, caring and affectionate man. The protector," she thought to herself. "So what if he loves us both. I love him, she does not. I can live with that. He makes me happy. I can make him happy. I could have done worse. If he is still willing to make this relationship work, I will fight for it, for him, for us. We have something that is worth saving."
Abigail was so wrapped up in her thoughts she almost missed Marshall's return to the waiting room. He walked by and did not notice her standing in the corner. She saw him talk to his boss and check in with the nurse at the desk. The slump in his shoulders told her there were no good news. It dawned on her, that something must have gone terribly wrong for Marshall to be in the waiting area instead of the delivery room. She heard him say something about a surgery and was concerned for Mary and the baby. She realized, should something happen to his partner, Marshall would never be the same.
"Marshall?" she called out softly to get his attention. When he turned to her, the pain she saw in his eyes was overwhelming. She reached for him, offering comfort that she hoped he would accept.
"I'm so sorry about Mary. What can I do?" she asked, pulling him close.
"Abby, there is nothing either of us can do right now," he whispered. He could not bring himself to return her hug, standing in her arms. She felt his pain ripping through her. She had lost the fight before setting her foot in the ring. His heart belonged to one woman, and it was not her.
"Abby, I…" He choked back tears, unable to continue.
"Hush, sugar bug." She pressed her index finger to his lips.
"Please don't say anything. I don't think I can handle it. If I am the one to say something, I can move on keeping at least a shred of my dignity… Not five minutes ago, I thought my love for you would be enough to sustain us. But it's not. I thought I could make this work, but I can't. Not when I know how much you love… her." She leaned in and placed a chaste kiss at his temple.
"I just wish I had realized this sooner…" she said, dropping her arms to her sides and stepping back from him.
"Abby, I tried, I wanted to be…"
"I know. But, please, stop. Don't say anything else. You have to let me go. I won't be able leave if I hear you tell me you love me."
"I never meant to hurt you…"
He couldn't find words to explain how he felt. His words were tearing her apart. The woman who loved him did not deserve to be punished for it. Nothing he could say mattered because he could not tell her that she was wrong because she was not. He loved Mary. He did not love Abigail enough to continue their relationship. Even if Mary was not ready to accept his love yet, he refused to give up hope. And that meant his relationship with Abigail was over.
"I'm sorry…" he murmured.
"Take care of yourself. Keep the new place. I'll move my things out as soon as I find something. I will stay with a friend until then."
Abigail pulled herself together, turned around and walked out. She refused to fall apart in front of him. While she was saying she understood what he felt, she still cherished an ember of hope that he would deny everything and take her home. His pity hurt more than his rejection, and his admission hurt more than her denial. She felt like a fool.
Marshall stumbled back to his seat and buried his face in his hands. He thought he would feel guilty for hurting the woman he thought he loved, but did not. He recalled a conversation he had with Mary a few months after Raph ended their engagement and was shocked by the revelation. Just like Mary then, he felt immense relief wash over him instead of hurt. It was as if weight lifted off his shoulders and he was free. His epiphany came at a cost of breaking Abigail's heart. In her pain, she was right about his feelings for his partner. Mary Shannon was his everything. It was futile to pretend otherwise. He needed another chance to make things right. He promised himself once Mary pulled though this ordeal he would make it count.
For the next two hours, Marshall sat in the chair staring at the tiles on the floor in front of him. He emptied his mind of any thoughts and focused on breathing. Stan brought him coffee, but he could not force it down. He pointedly ignored two fits of hysteria courtesy of Jinx. Without a willing audience, she fizzled out and settled in the chair next to Stan, uncharacteristically quiet. Stan knew Jinx could fall off the wagon without support from her family, especially with the temptation from her former son-in-law. So he did what he figured Mary would want him to, and offered his shoulder to lean on to her mother. Jinx reciprocated by telling him anecdotes from her daughter's childhood. She needed him to know that she did not drink away her entire life, just parts of it, when things were especially rough. Raising two girls without a husband or ability to hold down a job was no easy feat. She was so absorbed in the reminiscence she missed the doctor walking into the waiting area.
They still heard nothing from either Brandi or Peter. Stan contemplated tracking Brandi down, but was uncertain of her ability to help either woman in her current state of mind. While he thought younger sister needed to know what was happening to Mary, he decided to give Brandi a few days to deal with her own issues. Stan had no doubt that once she found out about Mary's condition she would rush back to her sister's side. However, he chose to give her time to regroup. Mary would need her support when she recovered from her surgery. He would find Brandi then.
Dr. Reese walked into the waiting area. Jinx was so absorbed in her reminiscence, she did not notice the doctor. Stan chose to give Marshall an opportunity to speak with Dr. Reese without distractions.
"Marshall, please come with me. I would like to speak to you privately." Dr. Reese said, waving him over.
Marshall followed her into the area restricted to hospital personnel with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. She led him into a small office.
"Please have a seat," Dr. Reese said, settling in one of the chairs by the door and gesturing for him to take the other one.
In all her years of practice, this part of her job has not gotten easier. Watching Marshall fold his tall frame into the chair, she wished she had better news.
"As you know, I had to perform an emergency C-section on Mary to deliver the baby. Mary was moved from recovery into ICU a little while ago. You can see her as soon as we finish this conversation."
Marshall acknowledged her words with a nod and waited for her to continue.
"At some point during the last 24 hours, Mary developed a complete placental abruption. It is a rare condition, where placenta peels away from the uterine wall before the delivery. It usually results in heavy bleeding, spike in blood pressure and severe cramping. Unfortunately, sometimes the condition is asymptomatic, which is what happened to Mary. Was she under a lot of stress lately? Did she fall or hit her abdomen?"
Marshall spoke softly, "This morning, Mary fell in the line of duty."
"That could have been the cause of the abruption. At this point, your guess is as good as mine."
Dr. Reese sighed before continuing.
"The abruption was progressing rapidly. Mary developed heavy bleeding during the surgery. The good news is that we were able to contain it and avoid complete hysterectomy. She went through two blood transfusions and will be kept under general anesthesia for another two to three hours. The next 24 hours are going to be critical. Barring any complications she should make a full recovery. I am cautiously optimistic about her condition."
Marshall nodded again unable to speak. The doctor pinched the bridge of her nose and braced herself for the most difficult part of the conversation.
"The bad news is the abruption deprived the baby's brain of oxygen. It is too early to tell how long it persisted and the extent of the brain damage. She is on the ventilator in the NICU. We will monitor her condition closely and someone will update you periodically."
When Marshall said nothing, Dr. Reese reached out and gently squeezed his hand.
"I can only imagine how difficult it is to hear what I just told you. Take your time. When you are ready I will have someone escort you to Mary's room."
She was going to give him some privacy to process the information. But before she could walk away, Marshall said, his voice raspy with emotion, "I don't need any time. I need to see Mary."
Four. The Awakening
The industrial lighting hitting plain white walls inside the endless labyrinth of hospital corridors was driving Marshall insane. He was following the brisk pace of the doctor focused on taking one breath at a time. "In, out, in, out, in, out." Abruptly, he came to a halt with the realization that he could not face Mary without seeing her child first. "What will I tell her about the baby when she wakes up from the anesthesia in three hours?"
The information Dr. Reese relayed to him about the baby was not something he was ready to share with his partner. Even if she was resolved to give the baby up before going into labor, it did not mean she still felt the same. If she did not… He needed to see the baby and talk to the neonatologist in charge of her care. He would not leave Mary's side after she woke up, so he had to see the little one now, if they would let him.
Dr. Reese felt Marshall's hesitation and turned to face him. When he saw her looking at him expectantly, he spoke, "Dr. Reese, I'd like to see the baby first. I'm sorry I didn't think of this earlier. You probably have other patients…"
"If someone needs me they will page. I can take you to see the baby and introduce you to her doctor. We only just passed the hall to NICU."
Marshall was overwhelmed seeing Mary's daughter in the incubator, hooked up to a ventilator, with multiple I.V.s and monitors. He stood next to the plastic covered bed fighting the urge to reach in and touch her wispy blonde curls. The little girl had no eye brows, a curtain of blonde lashes and a cute button nose. Her eyes were closed and chest was rising slowly with each beep of the machine next to the bed. Marshall could not help hoping she inherited the emerald green gaze of her mother that he adored so much. His heart ached for this baby, the one he so desperately wanted to be his, overcome with love and affection. She came into this world less than twelve hours ago and already had to fight for her life. He was so caught up in the moment he missed Dr. Reese return. When she spoke quietly, he jumped.
"Marshall, I'm sorry, I did not mean to startle you. This is Dr. Spear, neonatologist in charge of care for Ms. Shannon. He will be able to answer any questions you may have."
Dr. Reese gently squeezed Marshall's forearm and walked off.
Marshall stared after Dr. Reese, and then looked at Dr. Spear, unable to utter a sound. Only a few minutes ago he had a million questions, but now, standing next to Mary's girl, he was drawing a blank. Dr. Spear recognized the look on the distraught man's face. NICU environment usually overwhelmed the parents. He figured the man for a first time father.
"Why don't we sit down?" he asked, gesturing to the chairs in the corner.
"You'll be able to see your daughter from here and we can talk."
The room was spinning out of control and everything was fuzzy. Mary tried looking up at the white ceiling and focus on the hospital lights in the hall. "Wait, hospital lights? Where the hell am I?" Her hands dropped to her stomach and she tried looking down. An onset of nausea prevented her from getting a good look. She let her head fall back against the pillow and closed her eyes willing for the vertigo to stop. She tried recalling what happened earlier, but all she could remember was gripping Marshall's hand in the ambulance.
"Marshall?' she said softly, her voice not her own, raspy. She did not see him in the room, but hoped he was outside and would come in upon hearing her call him.
"Marshall?" She tried again. Her throat was parched. She swallowed, but had little saliva and felt another onset of nausea. Her eyes fluttered closed. She did not hear anything outside her room, neither a response nor familiar footfalls in the corridor, only silence and beeps of the monitor by her bed. She was in a hospital room by herself.
Mary opened her eyes again, relieved that the room had stopped spinning. She picked at the tape securing the I.V. catheter to her hand feeling both achy and itchy. Shivering, she pulled on her blanket, wondering why she was suddenly so cold. She did not remember feeling like this in recovery after her shooting. Since there was no one around to ask she had to assume she came to from general anesthesia. She touched her stomach again and felt empty. She had no more doubts, ready or not, she was no longer pregnant. Her breath caught in her chest. "Where's my baby? My baby, what happened to my baby?" Her pulse raced and the monitor picked it up. Next thing Mary knew, there was a nurse by her side.
"Oh, I'm so glad you're awake, Ms. Shannon. We expected you to be out at least another hour. How are you feeling?"
Noting the patient's inability to speak, the nurse held a cup up to Mary's mouth and offered, "Would you like some water?"
Mary took a slow sip.
"That's good, just like that, don't rush."
But as soon as water reached her stomach, Mary felt bile in her mouth and gagged. The nurse set the cup down, lifted up a pail with her right hand and supported Mary's body with her left while the exhausted woman vomited. When she was done, the nurse eased her back on the bed and adjusted her pillow.
"Sometimes general anesthesia causes nausea, vomiting and shivers. It's uncomfortable, but normal. Are you feeling any better now?"
Mary shook her head in response, still unable to speak. The nurse adjusted the covers around Mary.
"If your nausea doesn't improve in an hour or so we'll get you something to ease it away. Do you think you can hang on for the time being?"
Not wanting any additional medication on top of what she was already getting, Mary nodded. She was still disoriented and wanted to know what happened, but did not have the energy to ask any questions.
"I'm going to get you some more water and ice chips. I'll be right back."
No sooner than the nurse was out of her room, Mary felt tears welling in her eyes. She felt dizzy, helpless and lonely.
"The last time I woke up from anesthesia, Marshall was by my side, talking to me, and holding my hand. Where the hell is he now? I need him. I can't do this without him."
A small voice inside her head sounded like an echo, "Do what exactly? Laying still is not exactly the most trying task in the world." she blinked back her tears.
"I feel ill. I need him. He would not leave me now, would he?"
But the voice was not letting her off the hook.
"Leave you? In order to leave you he'd actually have to be with you, but you and I both know that's not the case. You need him? Ever think about what he needs? He is your friend and partner, not your husband or the father of your child. It is not his responsibility to deal with your family drama that now may or may not include a kid. He is not here because he shouldn't be. He should be at home with his girlfriend. It is time to man up, Shannon. I have to let Marshall go and be happy for him."
Tears she could no longer hold back were rolling down her cheeks.
"I can't be happy when he is with someone who is so wrong for him!" she was fighting with herself and failing at it.
"Why is his girlfriend wrong for him? Be honest. And don't you dare giving me any more bullshit about her age or personality."
"She is wrong for him, because she isn't me. He needs to be here, because he should be happy with me."
Mary's inner dialogue was over. She was defeated, shaking and sobbing until she fell asleep again.
Five. The Awareness
The dream felt so real, as if it was not a dream at all.
The rain was pouring down so hard the wipers of her car had trouble clearing the windshield. Anxiety was fueling her desire to speed through the entire way to her destination, but she could not, hitting every red light despite being the only car on the road. Gritting her teeth and cursing under her breath she waited for the light to turn at yet another intersection. Her knuckles went white from her grip on the steering wheel. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw her bloodshot eyes and tousled hair from too many restless nights. Her disheveled appearance was an accurate reflection of her inner turmoil.
She felt bitter. Adrift. Hollow. Drained.
She desperately wanted acceptance and was filled with dread at finding none where she was going. She refused to think ahead but could not turn around. She had to find out tonight what laid ahead. Would she waver before jumping into the whirlwind of emotions? Would he catch her if she stumbled? Would she flail at the challenge? She had to know if she lost the game before having a chance to play her hand. She always prided herself in being a woman of action, relying on intuition rather than careful planning. But, tonight her intuition was utterly silent. Not knowing what to expect, she struggled with her fear, sitting completely still at the intersection, listening to a song by Adele that came on the radio and missing that the light had turned green.
"I heard that you're settled down.
That you, found a girl and you're married now.
I heard that your dreams came true.
Guess she gave you things, I didn't give to you.
…
Never mind, I'll find someone like you.
I wish nothing but the best for you too.
Don't forget me, I beg, I remembered you said:-
"Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead"
The song ended. Her eyes were bleary from unshed tears. Her fingers went numb from grasping the steering wheel. The light turned green again. She peeled off full throttle, hydroplaning on the standing water and regaining control of the vehicle just in time to avoid hitting a tree on the side of the road. Someone was looking out for her tonight. A hint of hope stirred inside. Three more turns and she was at the familiar cul-de-sac, peering through a foggy window at the house, noticing that only his charcoal truck was parked in the driveway. It seemed like her wish of finding him alone tonight was granted. Did she dare to see it as a good sign and find strength to follow through?
She killed the engine and sat in the dark. What if she misunderstood his promise? What if he only loved her as a friend? What if he was once in love with her but was not anymore? What if she was too late? Would she stand beside him as he did all these years while she ignored every chance at happiness that was within her reach had she been bold enough to accept it? Could she handle the reversal of their roles? Could she bear being a friend watching him build a life with someone else?
The words of the song came back in a flash flooding her mind with a myriad of images she could hardly bear. What if he found a girl that gave him things she couldn't give? Wouldn't give? What if his dreams came true with that girl? An impulse decision to talk to him about her epiphany no longer seemed natural, she never handled rejection well. The threshold of the house suddenly seemed too daunting to cross. She longed of the bliss of oblivion she lived in for the last eight years. She had to get out of the car, but her legs refused to comply, body tensed with fear, breaking out in cold sweat and tears flowing down unrestrained.
"Mare?" a familiar voice pierced through the veil of her sleep-addled consciousness. "Wake up, Sunshine. It is only a dream."
Marshall walked down the hospital corridor armed with hope. His conversation with the neonatologist had changed his perspective. While the doctor did not alleviate his concerns completely it was enough for the time being. The baby had a very good chance for recovery without developmental disabilities. Dr. Reese had given him the absolute worst outcome, but Dr. Spear was optimistic and painted a considerably brighter picture. The chances of permanent brain damage were low, given the preliminary test results. Nevertheless, the girl would have to spend at least three weeks in the NICU, to be tested thoroughly and closely monitored for proper lung function and development. It was as if an enormous weight was lifted off Marshall's shoulders for the second time that day. Even if Mary was still resolved to go through with adoption, he could now tell her that her daughter was going to be fine.
The good news put a spring in his step as he was approaching Mary's room. He saw a nurse carrying a plastic pitcher of water with ice chips. She lingered outside the door of Mary's room. She looked relieved when Marshall offered to take her place. He learned that Mary was already awake, and his heart soared with joy. He was unsurprised she was suffering from negative side effects of anesthesia, remembering a similar reaction two years ago. He felt a pang of guilt for not being there when she had woken up. He rushed inside, securing a promise to give them some time alone before the nurse returned to check on Mary.
Marshall quietly walked into his partner's room. It was eerily still except for low beeping of the monitors. Approaching, he heard her labored breathing and felt his chest tighten. He was relieved to a see fewer number of machines this time around. The sight of his partner in ICU after the shooting still haunted his dreams. He chased the thought away, focusing his gaze on the woman in bed. Mary was asleep, tangled in the sheets. Her face was tearstained and pale, the skin almost translucent in the unflattering hospital lighting.
Marshall moved the side table away from the bed. Watching Mary, unwilling to disturb her much needed slumber, he carefully slid onto the edge next to her. He felt her shudder in her sleep and saw tears rolling down her cheeks. Before thinking it through, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and whispered, "Mare? Wake up, Sunshine. It's only a dream." He reached up with his right hand and stroked her hair, knowing he was risking losing a limb.
Mary opened her eyes, disoriented. Her surroundings felt wrong. Wasn't she just in her car outside of her partner's house on the verge of a breakthrough? It took a few moments for Marshall's words to register in her drug addled mind. The realization dawned: she was in the hospital, after blacking out in the ambulance. Mary faintly remembered talking to the nurse after waking up from anesthesia, but could not remember what had happened to her child.
"Hey, Sunshine. How're you feeling?"
"Marshall, where's my baby?" Her raspy voice came out with a tremor. Marshall lifted a cup of water to her mouth.
"Here, take a sip. There," he said, watching her for an indication of nausea or pain. Seeing none, he continued, "The little one is in NICU. They told me you'd be asleep another hour so I went to check on her. How're you feeling?"
"Better now," she said, wincing from her insecurity and unable to stop herself she blurted out, "I thought you left."
Marshall pulled a tissue from the box to wipe away her tears.
"Me? Never. I told you, Mare, I will never leave you."
Her breath hitched, not trusting her voice she whispered.
"Shouldn't you be home with Nancy Drew? It's late, you should have left, not gotten saddled with cleaning up my life's mess once again."
Marshall watched his partner battle with vulnerability, trying to mask the pain with antagonism. As if she could, after all these years he saw right through it and tonight he refused to let go. She had not pushed his arms away, giving him hope. He reminded himself of his pledge to be bolder and took the plunge.
"I'm exactly where I should be, Mare. Abby and I… well, let's just say she saw through my 'instinct' speech for what it was. I would imagine she's packing right now..."
"Jeez, Marshall, I told you that would bite you in the ass."
"Mare, it's for the best. Staying with Abigail was just postponing the inevitable. That relationship wasn't meant to be."
"I want to say I'm sorry, but I don't think I am. I don't see the point in faking it..."
"Yeah, I can't even bring myself to be upset about the break-up. So it would be hypocritical to ask that of you."
Marshall paused, cleared his throat and continued.
"I told you once, that you are the best friend I've ever had. Could ever hope to have. I told you then, that I hoped you knew that I love you… and I still do. And I don't mean it like a friend, Mare. I've tried to tell you on more than occasion, but the timing never seemed quite right…"
He paused.
"And you thought I'd run," she said quietly, looking away from him.
"Mare… you ran when I came close to telling you last year… But now, after almost loosing you twice, I had to tell you how I really feel. I'm in love with you, Mare. I know you may not…" His voice trailed off.
Overcome with emotion, he could not continue. Focused on his confession, Marshall did not notice Mary turning in his arms, and staring straight into his eyes. She put a finger on his lips, shushing him, green eyes twinkling with something he could not quite place, mischief, maybe.
"Just. Stop. Not. Another. Word."
She leaned back into his embrace, inhaling his scent and lingering in silence realizing that everything was going to be all right. Remains of her dream cleared from her mind, she was no longer unsure or scared. The timing was awful, but she had come to accept that it usually was when it came to her life. She took a deep breath.
"Marshall, I've known how you felt about me for a while, but didn't have the balls to face it. You're the one I've always leaned on when everything got upside down and inside out. I didn't think I could risk it by getting involved with you, because when it imploded I didn't think I could handle the aftermath. Your leaving would break me in more ways than my father ever could."
She closed her eyes.
"And you know how damaged I already am. Your being with Abigail and this debacle," she said pointing to her abdomen, "showed me that I could lose you without ever having you and that was more terrifying than I ever thought possible."
Taking a deep breath she pulled his arms tighter around her, "Last thing I expected was to talk to you like this in a hospital bed, but beggars can't be choosers…" She smirked.
"What are you saying, Mare?"
Marshall expected to fight an uphill battle to get Mary talk about her feelings. He was afraid to read too much into the conversation, but had to be sure he understood her correctly.
Mary opened her eyes and locked her gaze with his, "I'm saying I'm in love with you too, Marshall."
Before he had time to process what she had said, Mary leaned in and kissed him.
Six. The Ambivalence
After Jinx and Stan briefly visited Mary, Marshall was able to coax his partner into getting some more sleep. She tried to convince him that she was too anxious and would not be able to fall back asleep, but he knew better: her body needed the rest to recover from the surgery. He promised not to leave her side and chase away her nightmares. Marshall stretched on the side of the bed watching her sleep. His arm was loosely wrapped around her shoulders and her head was resting on his chest. After she drifted off, he brushed her hair from her face, his long fingers lingering over her cheekbones.
Marshall was worried about Mary: a thought was nagging his mind that she was not quite out of the woods yet. In the wee hours of the morning, he was too shaken up to sleep, recalling how she clung to him after waking up from her nightmare. He was shocked Mary told him she loved him. His mind still reeled from that admission. Mary's trust issues stemming from abandonment at the tender age of seven, under ordinary circumstances, prevented her from making declarations of any sort. Although, the circumstances that led to her confession were anything but ordinary, the woman sleeping beside him appeared to have shed her reservations. It felt almost too good to be true, and with such things, it usually was. With constricted chest, he was picking apart every word she had said since waking up and every look he caught, to understand the cause for the change in his partner.
Marshall had to calm down and clear his head, if he was going to be able to analyze the situation rationally. If he approached it as though it was a case he might be able to keep his emotions at bay. He reminded himself that Mary was her normal sarcastic self at the courthouse and at the failed wedding of Peter and Brandi. She was scared in the ambulance, but was still flinging insults at the paramedics during her few brief periods of consciousness. After the surgery, when she came to from anesthesia, the snarky comments and sarcasm nearly vanished. She was apprehensive at first, then contemplative and hyper. He read somewhere that hormonal imbalance after delivery could cause mood swings in the mother, but seeing Mary off her game was beyond strange. He made a mental note to discuss his observations with Dr. Reese before succumbing to sleep.
The following morning Marshall woke up as Mary began to stir. He slid off the bed and helped her walk to the bathroom on her own for the first time since the surgery. Mary still did not act herself, as if her spunk was wiped out along with the baby bump. After breakfast and doctor's rounds, Marshall got her in a wheelchair, because he did not think she would be able to make it to the NICU on her own and took her to see her daughter. She sat by the incubator staring at the little girl without expressing any desire to hold her. They stayed for a half an hour at the most: Marshall was unable to watch his partner's withdrawal and took her back to her room.
Dr. Reese came by and ordered Mary's move from ICU into the regular hospital wing. Jinx fussed excitedly, still hanging on to hope of her daughter keeping the baby, while Mary could not have appeared to care less. Dr. Reese prescribed another drip of oxytocin and encouraged Mary to move about the room and the corridor as much as she could to help the healing process. Mary took in the information, but stayed in her bed lost in thought, staring at the wall in front of her. Whenever she caught Marshall looking at her, she gave him a soft smile that did not reach her eyes. When Marshall offered to take her to see the baby in the afternoon, Mary turned him down albeit in a tone lacking her usual bite. He ached to find out if she was going through with the adoption, but could not bring himself to broach the subject.
The next three days were a blur for Marshall: he was spread thin, roaming the hospital halls between the NICU and Mary's room, trying to be in both places at once. The Shannon women needed him, he knew, so he was making sure to be there for them. He hardly went home, living out of his go bag and catching a few hours of sleep curled up next to Mary at night. She did not seem to mind, but did not encourage it either.
On the fourth day after her morning rounds, Dr. Reese pulled Marshall aside, taking in the dark circles around the man's eyes and tired stance.
"Marshall, you've stayed by Mary's side since the delivery, right?" Noting his affirmative nod, she asked, "Have you noticed any changes in her behavior since the delivery?"
He raked his hand through his hair before responding.
"Actually, she has not been her usual self. She is having trouble sleeping, and yesterday I caught her flushing her food down the toilet. This morning, I brought her favorite pie, but the box is still untouched… and Mary loves pie…"
Dr. Reese pinched the bridge of her nose.
"I was afraid you'd say something like that. Mary was at a high risk of developing postpartum depression with the job related stress to begin with, and early delivery increased that. The lack of sleep and appetite are some of the classic symptoms of the onset. You are welcome to do your own research of course; however, I strongly suggest Mary to be seen by a specialist as soon as possible. If you like, I can recommend one."
Marshall briefly closed his eyes and nodded. Mary could not seem to catch a break. Recognizing the symptoms, he suspected she was developing postpartum depression, but knowing how Mary felt about head doctors, he had hoped she would be able to deal with the baby blues without seeking professional help. Marshall braced himself for the struggle he was about to face in order to convince Mary to talk to a shrink.
"Dr. Hamm specializes in postpartum depression and is a close personal friend. When I return to my office, I will call and ask if he could see Mary this afternoon."
"Thank you, Dr. Reese. For everything."
Marshall returned to Mary's room to find her in tears and Mrs. Anders in the corner of the room looking decidedly uncomfortable, even guilty.
"Mark Stuber terminated his parental rights two days ago. I have the paperwork right here. Unfortunately, we've had a complication."
Marshall frowned at the adoption counselor and asked, "What kind of complication?"
"Since Ms. Shannon delivered at 32 weeks following a placental abruption the agency was compelled to disclose the potential health risks to the couple intending to adopt Mary's baby. The Templetons reviewed their options and chose to return to the waiting list. I have other couples for your consideration…"
Mrs. Anders' last words were drowned out by another wail from Mary.
Seven. Making the Decision.
Mary leaned back against her pillow, lost in thought. Her hospital stay was approaching a fifth day mark, which in her book was way too much. Marshall noticed her growing anxiety, so as long as she talked with Dr. Hamm, the shrink, her partner promised to spring her that afternoon, and the man always kept his promises. Grumblingly, Mary acquiesced, and now that Dr. Hamm left, she was alone, contemplating the meeting and waiting for Marshall to deliver on the promise. She tried to imagine what could have kept him from returning hours ago: between Stan, Delia and Phoenix Marshals their witnesses were covered, so she was out of ideas.
Mary's thoughts shifted to her conversation with the good doctor; she could not bring herself to call it a session. To say Dr. Hamm was nothing like she expected, was an understatement. Not that she had much firsthand experience: her encounters with the head doctors were limited to dealing with Dr. Shelley Finkle and the woman annoyed Mary to no end. Yet, she found Dr. Hamm pleasant enough not to toss him out of her room at hello, which spoke volumes not only about her state of mind but his disposition as well. What earned him Mary's respect was his ability to listen without assuming to know all the answers to her problems.
In the beginning of their conversation, Dr. Hamm said something that triggered a memory of her mother's words from what seemed light years ago, "You don't have to open up to the whole world. You just have to open up with someone." Mary could almost hear Jinx' voice as if she was back in her kitchen. Remembering her mother's advice compelled Mary to share her doubts with the doctor: doubts that she had aplenty. Thinking of him as a random guy lending her an ear, made it easier to bring her fears out in the open. After this meeting, unless she wanted to, she never had to see him again, so she jumped into the conversation with her two feet.
A smart woman, Mary was well aware of her issues on a good day; if she was honest with herself, since the pregnancy, the good days were few and far between. An expert in denial, she realized that strategy perfected over her entire adult life no longer sufficed. She now had a reason, or rather two to deal with her issues. She was well versed in masking pain with sarcasm and charging through life with guns blazing; learning to be open, taking a leap to have a shot at happiness was uncharted territory, and a precarious one at that. The stakes were too high for Mary to screw it up. So, if it required professional help, she would suck it up and follow through.
Mia was worth the effort, and so was Marshall. Mia. Mary rolled a name that popped into her head at the thought of her daughter. She contemplated it in her head and decided it fit. Mia Shannon Mann had a nice ring to it. She stopped that train of thought. Marshall loved her and promised his support, which she never doubted, but she was getting ahead of herself. Her track record with relationships was less than stellar and saddling Marshall with two Shannon women… No, four Shannon women, she corrected herself, just did not seem fair.
Brandi would be back in no time, despite her Stepford wife gig flopping of her own volition, the pity party awaited all involved. There was no telling if or when Jinx would fall off the wagon, so the chances of an unhappy family reunion at Mary's house increased after the wedding debacle. With Peter out of the picture, Mary was unconvinced she could handle Jinx's drinking… Shannon household issues smorgasbord. Not that any of her baggage would come as a surprise to her partner, her best friend… But she owed it to him, to them, to at least work through her own emotional baggage.
The pain, the drugs, the self loathing of the last three days took their toll: Mary Shannon resolved to seek help from a shrink, granted, one Marshall found for her. No matter how uncertain she was of that decision, she trusted Marshall had made the right choice for her: he had an uncanny ability to know what she needed well before she did.
Mary warily studied the man in front of her, before bringing up any subject of substance. Dr. Hamm appeared content to hear her small talk and that was it seemed all the encouragement she needed. Mary told him how she got knocked up by her irresponsible ex-husband, and despite not wanting to have his child, could not fathom an abortion. She told him how she went to the adoption agency, thinking her child deserved a chance at a loving family where the parents' lives did not resemble a train wreck or a ticking time bomb.
In her line of work, no matter how disillusioned about normalcy in life she was, her child deserved a chance at a life she never had. A life that was better than she was able to provide, or so she thought, until the moment when sharp searing pain pierced her abdomen on the country club lawn under the Chuppah. Until that moment, Mary knew that being a Marshal defined her in more ways than one and was the only thing that often forced to keep her head above water when the entire world was crumbling and yet, after the surgery… because she could not quite comprehend having given birth… Afterward… things were not quite as clear. Recovering from anesthesia, thinking the child she did not want was lost to her forever, she realized that something other than being a marshal mattered to her more than she ever thought possible. Having made a commitment to give up her child was tearing her on the inside, despite Marshall's support. Mary was at odds with herself, no longer certain that adoption was a right choice for either of them.
Dr. Hamm did not interrupt Mary's rant: he listened and took copious notes, somehow managing not to break eye contact, as she told him about her last three days of agony over having to honor the commitment to the Templetons. She explained that her refusal to visit her daughter at the NICU had nothing to do with a lack of desire to see or hold her, rather fear of not being able to survive their impending separation. The separation that she had convinced herself was best for her child, before realizing how devastating it may turn out to be. The dangers of her job and limitations of her family were less than ideal environment for raising a child, and yet, Mary found herself wanting to do just that. The near hysterical reaction to the adoption counselor's news about the Templetons backing out of the adoption was not caused by despair that she had to start over the adoption process, but a chance to avoid it all together. Mary realized that she was hoping child rearing and Marshal Service were not mutually exclusive and the thought scared her.
When Mary finished thinking over the conversation with Dr. Hamm, her head was surprisingly clear and her mind made up. His parting words were more meaningful than most of the session, because, as she realized, he had not said much during two hours they spent together. She vented through the session, organizing her thoughts out loud without fear of being judged or pushed. It turned out, she needed a friend more than a shrink to get through the ordeal and come to a decision. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her support system, between Marshall and Stan most of her bases were covered, the rest she would figure out as she went. But before she could make her decision final, she needed to talk to Marshall.
Eight. Following Through
Marshall was grateful Mary kicked him out of the hospital after her promised to spring her if she talked to a psychiatrist. He needed a break, but would never leave her side unless she insisted. She saw him dithering on the verge of collapse: the stress of the last few days finally catching up to him. She was not oblivious when she wanted to be, so she sent him home. Marshall noticed that Mary was more acutely aware of his emotional and physical state than ever. Which is why, when he brought up the subject of her seeing a professional, he was thrilled that she agreed almost as much as her giving him grief about it all morning. He never thought that he would welcome the return of her usual snarky attitude, but he did. It was a step in the right direction: a grumbling Mary was a normal Mary, and over the last couple of days she was anything but.
Marshall's mood had improved considerably since morning after the conversation with Dr. Reese, when he learned that Dr. Hamm would meet with Mary in the early afternoon and she would be discharged shortly thereafter. Marshall was excited to take Mary home. While they did not discuss where he would be taking her, he had an inkling she would want to go to her place. They did not talk about the change in their relationship after sharing their first kiss, but he had no intention of letting Mary off the hook. Not this time. They had their first real shot at being happy together and he was ready to do whatever it took to make it happen.
Ruminating over the plan to broach the subject of their relationship, Marshall pulled up to the Prairie style complex and killed the engine. When he saw that Abigail's car was not in the driveway, he felt relieved. Running into her today would have been awkward: he was not ready to deal with the aftermath of their breakup. He sighed and got out of the truck, pulled his go bag from the back and made it through the door of the house. Inside, it was eerily quiet. The sound of his boots on the hardwood floors echoed in the half empty space. All Abigail's things were carefully packed up and removed.
Marshall dropped the bag on the floor in the utility room, intending to do a load of laundry, run an errand, and then return to the hospital for Mary. He stopped in the kitchen to grab a drink from the fridge, before heading into the bedroom to repack. A note was clipped to the corkboard next to the refrigerator. He skimmed over the words and swore under his breath. It was not like him to forget important things, but with Mary in the hospital he was not quite himself. It was aggravating.
Marshall raked his hand through his hair, uncertain what to do next. Perhaps, Abigail was right to take Oscar. But he could not shake off a feeling of loss. Abigail made the decision alone, and he resented that. It felt like she was trying to get back at him. He suppressed the urge to call his ex, thinking he should talk to Mary first. He was exhausted. He glanced at his watch: he had a few hours before he needed to be back at the hospital, and his bed never looked so appealing. Giving in, he stretched out on top of the covers, set his alarm and drifted off to sleep.
Insistent buzzing of his phone woke him an hour earlier than he intended. Bleary eyed, he reached for it, without checking the caller id.
"This is Marshall."
He heard sobbing on the other end of the line and recognized it immediately.
"Brandi, where are you? What happened?"
Mary was tired of introspection, tired of waiting. She made her decision and was itching to share it with Marshall, but did not have her phone to call him. She picked at the bandage covering the hole from the catheter, her wrist still sore from the drip pumped into her body. It was a relief to finally be free from the I.V. Earlier in the day, Dr. Reese had removed her sutures in preparation for her discharge; now if only she could just get her clothes...
Mary slid off the bed and made a beeline for the bathroom. She studied her reflection in the small mirror and decided it was time for a walk, speed up the healing process and all. She wanted to go to NICU with Marshall, but he was late, so she would do it alone. Perhaps, it was better this way.
Mary slipped out of her room, unnoticed. Making her way through the halls she remembered Marshall navigating with her in the wheelchair, she sighed. She was happy she had come to her senses before it was too late. Mary ambled into the NICU and stood next to the incubator with a pink label that read I'm a girl Shannon. She saw that her daughter was breathing on her own. The ventilator was disconnected and moved off to the side. Mary reached in over the plastic and ran her finger over her sleeping daughter's cheek. The baby sighed in her sleep, smacking her lips together.
"Ms. Shannon, would you like to hold your daughter?"
Mary jumped at the sound of the nurse's voice.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. She is doing really well. I just put her down. She is so good, falls asleep in a jiffy. I could get you settled in this glider with her if you'd like."
Mary nodded wordlessly and settled in the large chair. Before she knew it; her daughter was snuggled against her chest. Mary did not know how much time had passed: she must have dosed off rocking her daughter in her arms and awoke only when the infant stirred and yawned.
"Hey, you."
Mary whispered to the girl and was greeted by the curious gaze from a pair of emerald green eyes much like her own.
"How're you doing? I'm Mary, your mom. I'm sorry I haven't visited much. I haven't been feeling that great, you know? Not to worry, I'm fine now and I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Everything will be just fine. I promise."
The baby yawned again and closed her eyes, content to hear the soothing sound of Mary's voice. She smiled softly and looked up. Marshall was lingering by the door jamb.
"Hey."
Marshall's voice was soft, laced with concern.
"Hey, yourself. Where have you been? I got tired of waiting."
"Something came up. How're you feeling?"
Mary ignored his question and arched an eyebrow at him.
"I'll fill you in later. Your nurse was somewhat agitated when she couldn't find you in your room, you know."
"I didn't think I was under house arrest."
Her snarky response lacked its usual bite.
"You're not, but you were missing a couple hours. They tend to frown upon that around here."
"What time is it?"
"Six… ish"
"Oh, wow. Okay."
"It's a good thing I know you so well. Your discharge paperwork is ready, so…"
Marshall looked at her expectantly.
"Uh-huh. Let's get out of here."
She paused, looking down at her daughter.
"Well, Doofus, don't just stand there, help me up. Recovering from abdominal surgery here, remember?"
Marshall gently lifted her from the chair and noticed the reluctance with which Mary parted with the baby. The change in her disposition was striking. She had made a decision, he realized. But before he could ask her about it the nurse came.
"It's time to change and feed the little one. Dr. Spear is gone for the day. I am sure you have a lot questions for him, so it's best you come back tomorrow morning. You go on, get some rest. Trust me, save your energy, you'll need it when you take this precious girl home."
The marshals thanked the nurse and returned to Mary's room to have her discharged.
The nurse rolled Mary out of the hospital in a wheelchair. Mary balked at the hospital policy, but conceded not wanting to spend another minute inside. As soon as Marshall brought the truck around, she rose and climbed into the passenger seat.
"Mare, let me help you."
"Marshall, quit hovering, my sutures are out. I'm fine. I've been in this joint for so long, the incision is practically healed."
"Okay, okay. I just don't want you to overextend yourself."
"Marshall. You're stalling. Spill."
"What do you want to hear first? The good news, the bad news, or the disturbing news?"
"All of it, before I strangle you with your belt. I'd shoot you, but I don't have my gun."
Mary cracked a half smile at her partner, encouraging him to speak.
"Well, the good news is that Brandi is back. Stan tracked her down to Las Vegas and relayed the news to her about you and the baby. The bad news, she called me from the county lockup: she was partying hard and did not bother sobering up before getting behind the wheel… She is fine, if a little banged up, but you don't have a car anymore."
"Goddamn it. Brandi. You bailed her out didn't you?"
"Sadly, no. That's the part of the disturbing news. When I got there, Peter already took care of it. Abigail got wind of the situation and called him. He stayed on the wagon. Apparently, they are keeping in touch."
"Peter, really? The poor sap doesn't know when to quit, does he?"
It did not escape him, that Mary pointedly ignored the mention of his ex's name.
"It doesn't stop there, Mare."
Marshall hesitated, trying to decide how to break it to her gently.
"Brandi's pregnant. Seven to eight weeks."
"Pregnant?" Mary was incredulous. "She drank while pregnant?"
"Brandi didn't know. She found out at the hospital, where she was taken after the accident. Mare, she is a mess."
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph. This is worse than Telemundo." Mary muttered under her breath.
"Marshall, are you sure you want to be a part of this family? What sane man would want this?"
"Mare, stop. I want you, all of you. Your family is part of who you are. And I would be there for Brandi anyway because I am your partner and your friend. Remember?"
"Humph. I don't deserve you... But, there's something else you need to tell me."
"Abigail moved out."
He paused, seeing Mary tense up again.
"She took Oscar… I know you didn't want him…"
His voice trailed off unsure how to bridge the gap to the conversation he really wanted to have with her.
"But you love that dog. Why would she do that?"
Marshall reached into his pocket and wordlessly handed her Abigail's note. Mary quickly read the sparse lines written in a neat rounded cursive.
Marshall,
When I came to pack up my things, Oscar was alone in the house. It looked like you haven't been here for a couple of days. I signed a lease at a complex that allows pets, so I thought it would be best for everyone involved if took Oscar with me. I didn't think you'd mind, with the demands of your job, Mary and the baby, you won't have the time or the care to give that he deserves. If you and Mary decide you want him back, call me, we can talk about it.
A
Mary folded up the note. "That presumptuous bitch. I didn't think she had it in her."
The air in the car stilled for a moment, both partners were silent listening to the hum of the engine and tires hitting the road.
"She may be right, you know." Marshall said quietly.
"Why? You don't think we can handle Mia and Oscar?"
"Mia?" he shot her a quizzical look.
"You don't like it?"
"I do. It's just… you've decided? You are keeping her?"
"No, numb nuts. We are. You have the papers Mrs. Anders brought to the hospital, right?"
"Yes." Marshall's voice was even quieter now, cautious.
"If you sure about this… about us, sign on the dotted line. I've thought this through. It's time for me to take my own advice and allow for the possibility of something greater… for all of us."
Epilogue. Eight Months Later.
Mary walked up to the bathroom door bouncing Mia on her hip and knocked.
"Hey, Squish, are you all right in there?"
"Mary, I think my water broke." Her sister's voice was on the brink of hysteria.
"Squish, do you feel any pain? Can you come out of the bathroom for me?"
"There's no pain, no… But, Mary, I'm scared." Brandi responded in a small voice.
Mary turned away from the door. "Mom! Marshall! Time to go!" she hollered. "Brandi, please come out of the bathroom. Don't make me break down the door. Peter and Marshall will have to fix it... again. And I like the way it turned out this time around."
"Mary, I'm not ready. I can't do it. I need Peter." Her sister whined.
Peter was out of town at the annual Detroit Auto Show, and while he hated leaving her so close to the delivery date, he could not miss the event with the economic climate being what it was in the last eighteen months. Marshall assured Peter, they would call immediately if Brandi went into labor, so Peter reluctantly left his wife in the care of her sister and brother-in-law. For the last week, Brandi was staying at the Mann's newly remodeled house.
"Squish, you can't hold him in, even if you try. It's time, the baby is coming. Trust me. I've been there eight months ago, remember?"
Before she could continue badgering her sister through the door, she felt her husband's long fingers brush her forearm.
"Mare, let me handle this," he said quietly, waving her away. Mary did not argue; instead she sauntered into the kitchen to rescue Rose, Mia's nanny, from Jinx' scrutiny. Before Mary had a chance to finish her conversation with Rose, Marshall ushered Brandi and Jinx out of the house.
After eight months of cohabitation and six months of marriage, not to mention nine years of partnership, the effect Marshall had on her mother and sister still baffled her. She had learned to take step back and let Marshall take care of her. She trusted him to handle situations requiring finesse she knew she lacked, and when it came to dealing with her family, his gentle touch worked like magic. Even Jinx was not immune to Marshall's ways, and while she was still prone to drama, it was more subdued.
Mary kissed her daughter, smiled as Mia waved to her from Rose's arms and rushed out after Marshall, promising to call with the news. In the car, Marshall told Mary that Peter was on the first flight out, so there was a good chance he would make it in time for the delivery. There was little cause for concern: Brandi's pregnancy progressed without complications and she was full term.
The Marshals spent the next few hours getting Brandi settled in the delivery room: Mary harassed the nurses and residents to make sure her sister was comfortable, while Marshall placated the same personnel after his whirlwind of a wife wreaked havoc on the entire floor. Jinx watched her eldest hover over her youngest, having every intention of staying with Brandi through the night or at least until Peter got to the hospital, so she kept her drama to bare minimum.
Despite a trying year for the family, Mary's decision to keep her daughter did wonders for her mother. Jinx' goal to stay sober was now fueled by the desire to be a part of Mia's life. She had no doubt that her daughter would cut her out without reservations, if she were to slip up. At some point after Mia was born, Jinx felt like she was given a second chance to be there for Mary. Jinx intended to make the best of it. She was hoping that one day her daughter would trust her enough to take care of her grandbaby, and was counting on her son-in-law to help the bridge the gap of trust.
When Mary decided she was ready to take the plunge into the relationship with Marshall, she feared it would change things between them. Some things certainly did, but to her surprise, these changes made their relationship better and the partnership stronger. Sometimes, she had a hard time believing it, but she was content with her life. Unlike with Raph, she did not have to search under a pile of emotions to figure out if she was happy, she just was.
Mary's little Toyota did not survive Brandi's drive back from the party binge. So, Marshall insisted Mary drove his Highlander, because it was a safer option than a two door coupe that she was considering. They bickered over the make and model of their second vehicle until it was time for Mary to return to work. After driving around in Marshall's SUV for five months, Mary was glad to drive a small coupe… for a week. Then she went back to Peter and demanded he took the damn thing back and get her into another SUV, because she wanted to ride higher and needed more room for all her junk. Turned out, having a kid increased the amount of stuff that had to be lugged around exponentially and Mary did not mind it much… most days.
After bringing her daughter home from the hospital, Mary took a three months' maternity leave, almost went stir crazy, and then surprised everyone by returning to desk duty on a part time basis for another two months saying she needed time to ease back into her work routine and requalify for active duty. She did not want to make public the real reason for scaling back her schedule: making peace with leaving her daughter in the care of a nanny was a trying task. The decision to hire one did not come easy to either of the marshals. Stan worked to keep their partnership intact, but that meant there was no one to look after Mia while they were on out of town assignments. Neither of them was comfortable enough to leave her with Brandi or Jinx yet.
The parents considered the daycare option for about five seconds, but decided to look for a live-in to have the flexibility required by the job. They interviewed a dozen candidates from a reputable agency and Mary hated every single one of them. The search became a nightmare: Mary drove everyone crazy, including Marshall and Stan. The solution came from an unlikely source. Peter's mother ran into an acquaintance at the country club, who mentioned that her grand children's nanny was available. The woman was in her fifties. Having spent most of her career as a caretaker, she came with perfect references, and ability to handle any issue a new mother was to throw at her. Mary ran a background check in every jurisdiction before letting the woman into their house, and gripped her holstered Glock while trailing her around during the first week of work. The nanny was undeterred by Mary's brash personality or occupation; in fact, she viewed it as a welcome break from the usual fare of women she was used to dealing with. It also helped that she took to Mia from the moment she saw her curious green eyes, blonde locks and pudgy cheeks.
Stan assigned Delia as a temporary partner to Marshall, while Mary was on maternity leave. Mary baited Delia every time, when she showed up on their door step on Thursday nights to talk shop and drink beer or brought muffins and complicated coffee beverages in the mornings when picking up Marshall for their shift. After two months, Mary bared her teeth at the younger marshal more out of habit, than anything else. Delia's sunny disposition still grated on her nerves, but Mary reluctantly admitted to Stan that Delia would make an excellent Inspector some day.
Marshall uncorked a bottle of vintage after they returned home from the hospital. Brandi had a beautiful boy, and Peter arrived just in time. Mary walked into the living room as Marshall was setting out the glasses on the coffee table. She flopped on the couch and reached for the glass. Marshall handed it to her before sitting down.
"Is Mia asleep?"
"Yep, out cold. Boy, am I grateful this girl sleeps as well as she does."
"Have you been reading the baby center message board again?"
"Um, no…?"
"Mare, most things on the message boards are medically inaccurate. This is not a good source of information."
"Yada. Yada. Yada. I got you, a walking encyclopedia, for information, the boards are just fun. But, if you tell anyone I said so, I'll smother you in your sleep."
Marshall rolled his eyes and smirked in silence sipping his wine. Mary had a look like she wanted to ask him something, but hesitated.
"You know, I was thinking…"
"Oh, Mare, you're scaring me. Did you hurt yourself?"
"Shut up, Doofus. Listen. Delia mentioned someone in APD is moving and cannot take their German shepherd pup. Mia would be psyched and Rose would not mind…"
"Wait, you, Mary Shannon, want to foster a dog? In this house?"
"Uh-huh."
"Who are you and what did you do to my wife?"
"Seriously, Marshall, you love dogs. We never got Oscar back, so I thought you'd jump at this…"
"It's official. You are possessed."
He leaned away from her, knowing a punch was coming. She managed to sock him in the arm laughing.
Marshall set his glass on the table and gathered his wife into a loose embrace.
"Thank you." He whispered into her neck.
Mary pulled back to look into his face, arching an eyebrow.
"For what?"
"For this. For being you. For giving me everything I've ever wanted since I've met you."
"I think I should be thanking you, but you're not that lucky."
"How about I get lucky tonight and we call it even?"
"Bad pun. Bad, bad pun. But it's the thought that counts."
She laughed pulling him off the couch and into their bedroom.
~THE END~