Summary: On the night Mary returns home after her kidnapping, sleep evades her, and she ends up in the arms of the one person she knew she could always count on. MaryxMarshall

So, this is my first 'In Plain Sight' fic, and I've been working on it for a few months, so hopefully it's good. Happy readings, dears!

Disclaimer: I do not own 'In Plain Sight' or any of the associated characters.

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Trust

Her mother's words rang in her head, even if she didn't want them to.

"Oh Mary, you don't have to open up to the world, just open up to someone."

Over and over again, the words held their space in her head. Mary rolled over on to her stomach, flopping her head back down on to the pillow and wincing. She groaned, almost forgetting about the throbbing in her head that just wouldn't go away. But no. She didn't forget, and she never would. She would never forget about...

The closed off US Marshal closed her eyes again and shook her head slightly. She didn't even want to think about it, let alone tell someone all about it. All she wanted to do was block that entire experience out of her memory, to forget about it. All she wanted to do was sleep.

The blond rolled over again, now laying on her back. She tried and tried to sleep, but she just couldn't get that line out of her head. Mary rolled over on to her side and glanced at the clock.

3:27 am glowed back at her in their annoying bright red color. She grimaced.

Throwing the covers back, she got herself out of bed and went into the bathroom, feeling slightly taken aback by the person staring back at her.

Their eyes were bright red from unshed tears and bags hung thickly below them. There were cuts on the cheeks, and a discoloration to the face. Although it was obviously hers, Mary couldn't believe that that broken, weak face staring back at her was her own. It had to be someone else's. It just had to be.

And suddenly, as she stared in to the blank eyes, a weight came tumbling down on to her, heavier then she thought she could bare. She gasped for air as she sank to the cold tile.

It was finally just too much.

It was just piling and piling up on to her chest way too much for her to handle.

Mary picked herself up off the ground and went back in to her bedroom. She grabbed an old sweatshirt and pulled it over her head as she slipped on a pair of Converses that she had laying around. The blond ignored all calls from her still-awake family, grabbed her car keys, and left the house, slamming the front door behind her.

She drove and drove, not sure of where she was going. She simply drove, desperate to get away from the suffocating memories seeping from every corner of her house. She thought that, maybe, if she drove far enough, then she'd be able to forget, that if she was far away from everyone remembering, then she wouldn't have to. She hoped that if she could escape from everyone else thinking about it, then she wouldn't have to think about it. She could simply slip away from everything, remove herself from all thoughts. She wouldn't have to stop and think or feel this new pain and ache inside of her chest.

Without realizing it, she stopped the car. Confused, she looked up to see where she was and found herself in front of Marshall's house. She sighed, cursing her subconscious. Because she knew, even if she didn't want to, that she wanted to talk to Marshall about what had happened, that when she set out in her car she didn't want to get away, she wanted to get to him.

She needed him.

Mary reluctantly stepped out of the car and slowly made her way up to his front door. Her raised fist hesitated in front of the door, not sure if she really wanted to knock.

She did anyway.

The US Marshal waited for a couple minutes, hugging herself in the suddenly cool air. She waited some more, maybe for longer then she should have. But the door never opened.

"I guess that's it then..." she mumbled to herself, heading back to her car where she wouldn't have to think. However, her mind had other plans. She realized, against her will, that Marshall would probably be at the office, working on the case, trying to figure out what happened. At the same time, she realized that she would end up there, no matter if she wanted to or not.

Sure enough, 10 minutes later, she was making her way into the office building, walking the hallways she knew she could walk through with her eyes closed.

She found him where she thought he would be, near the Interrogation rooms, bent over some paper with Stan. She cleared her throat, shrinking back slightly when both heads shot up.

"Mary." Marshall whispered, slowly making his way to her. From his tall height, he looked down at her, concern shining in his brown eyes. She looked back up at him, meeting his gaze.

And then she broke.

She collapsed to the ground in sobs that racked her whole body, suffocating her, taking up every space around her. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't see, she couldn't feel. She felt helpless, tired, alone.

Until she felt Marshall's arms wrapping around her, pulling her into his lap. Until she had her face buried in his shoulder. Until the door quietly shut, and Stan was gone. Until it was just her and him. Until he was resting his chin on the top of her head, rubbing her back, not speaking because he knew she wouldn't want him to. Until all she could smell was his scent. Until she could cry and not be alone.

Then she felt like a real person, she could breathe, she could see.

She could be.

.............................

The clock on the wall was deafening, even if it was a quiet sound. Mary bit her lip and looked down at her hands in her lap. She could feel Marshall's gaze on her, not pushing her, just patiently waiting, just being there for her when she was ready.

Oh how she hated that.

But she loved it too.

Mary sighed. She truly did want to tell him what had happened, but every time she opened her mouth to tell him, those tough walls that she had built up stopped her. She knew that the second she told him, those walls would crumble, and she would be standing in the midst of the ruins. She didn't want that. She didn't want to have to break, be vulnerable. She didn't want Marshall to see that she was hurting inside, even though he already knew.

She knew that by telling him what had happened, it would make it real...and she didn't want to make it real. She wanted to pretend that it hadn't happened, because US Marshals weren't supposed to get kidnapped and near raped. They were supposed to know how to get out of those situations before they started. She couldn't help but feel like it was her fault.

And she wanted him to know that, all of it.

"I've never felt so helpless before." she whispered, finally looking up at him. He looked back at her, nodding slightly, knowing that was what she was waiting for. She took a deep breath.

"I tried to get away before they got me, I really did." she pleaded.

"I know you did, Mary." he assured, "I know you did."

Mary nodded.

"But they just...they overtook me. And that smell, oh gosh that smell. They held it against my nose, and it surrounded me. It became me. I couldn't smell anything else, and it...it slowly flowed throughout me, taking hold of everything that I once had. I couldn't see or feel or think at all. It was taking away my movements, and I was completely numb. And then...it all just went black.

"When I woke up, the first thing I heard was this deafening silence. All around me was just this silence. It was dark too. There was only a little bit of light, and the rest was just dark. No one else was there, and I...I didn't hear anything else upstairs so I figured that wherever I was, I was alone. My hands were above my head, chained by some hook thing to this wooden pole. I couldn't...I couldn't move, Marshall. I couldn't move."

She stopped and took a shaky breath. Marshall scooted closer to her, and he took her hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly. She looked up at him, his eyes telling her that everything would be okay, his warm hand telling her that he was there for her.

"Luckily, I remembered I had my gun on my ankle. However, I couldn't exactly get to it. So I just kept trying to get my leg up high enough to reach it, and I did, but then I couldn't use it, and then, gosh, and then they were heading over to the basement door...and my heart was just beating and beating and pounding and pounding and it wouldn't stop. And I barely got the gun back before they opened the door. And Marshall, they had someone else. They had Chuckles, and I just...I didn't know what to do. I just--"

Mary broke off suddenly, switching her eyes to the floor again. She felt a salty tear run it's course down her cheek, and she felt Marshall brush it away. His hand lingered on her cheek, turning her head slightly to make sure her eyes were meeting his.

"Mary. If it's too much, you don't have to tell me all at once." he whispered, sincerity in his eyes. The blond searched those warm pools of chocolate brown for something that would say that she had to, something that would tell her what to do.

She shook her head softly.

"No...I-I have to do this, Marshall...for me." And she knew she had to. These past years, she hadn't really done much for herself. It was always for her family or for some person who got put in the Witness Protection Program. It was never for her, and it was time that it started to be.

"They threw him on the ground next to me and took some bag off of his head. They wanted their drugs, of course. I guess that's what it always is.

Anyway, they thought that I was my sister. Can you imagine? When I was sitting there, in that cold, dark, musty, moldy, disgusting basement, it was because of her. Because they thought I was her. Let me tell you, I hated my sister right at that moment, more then I have ever hated anyone before. And, and when they called her to get her to bring them what they wanted, she, of course, messed up. And...they shot him. They shot Chuckles in the head, Marshall. They didn't even care. And, gosh...his blood. It was all over my arm and leg. Splattered on the side of my face. I was supposed to be able to do something about it. I'm a US Marshal dammit, and I didn't even stop a murder that happened right before my eyes."

She stopped and shook her head.

"I guess you think I'm pretty pathetic, huh? Not capable of being a US Marshal, wishing I would just go away."

"Not at all, Mary." he said immediately, grabbing the sides of her face and bringing it up to look at him, his face mere inches away from hers, "You are one of the best US Marshals that this place has. You couldn't get away from them when they kidnapped you, and all that says is that they are scum. You did all that you could, Mary, and I don't want you to ever say that it was your fault, that you should have done something about it. Because you couldn't have, alright? It wasn't."

"Okay." she whispered back after a moment's hesitation. Mary sat silently for a moment, wishing that instead of having to speak what had happened aloud, having to form the words she couldn't find...she could just mentally tell him. It would at least make it easier for her. She sighed.

"After...after they killed him, they just...they wouldn't stop making it harder for me. They bothered me and then left, then came back, then left again.

"And then...they found out about me being a US Marshal from the news or something." Marshall cursed under his breath, but motioned for her to continue. "And the one guy, the bigger one, he told the scrawny one to kill me, to dispose of me. He said that I better be scattered in so many places that they would never find me. He was going to do it, too. He really was.

"And then the bigger guy left and...and the other guy he..." Mary broke off at this point, overcome with more emotion then she could take, then she wanted to deal with. She bowed her head and studied her palms, ashamed to even think about it. If she said what she had to say, it'd be real. She wouldn't be able to put it behind her, because upon speaking, she would be opening the door, letting out everything she wanted so badly to keep inside. She took a deep breath and said what she knew she needed to say, even if she didn't want to say it.

"The other guy...he almost raped me. Gosh, he almost raped me." she whispered, looking up at him with fear shining in her eyes. She expected him to look down at her with disdain and disgust, look at her like she was nothing more then the ground beneath his feet, nothing more then the gum on his shoe.

All she found in his eyes was anger.

"Are...are you mad at me?" Mary inquired sheepishly. His eyes immediately softened, and he pulled her in to him.

"Of course not, Mary. I'm pissed at those bastards who did all of that to you. You don't deserve to be the one so affected by this, they are. They should be the ones crying and feeling terrible. You should be yourself, yelling at me for doing things wrong. Gosh, Mary. They..." he trailed off and took a shaky breath, and she could feel him start to shake with anger. "Do you want to stop?"

"No...I mean, I want to, but I can't. The story isn't over yet." she whispered, but Marshall could tell that she didn't exactly want to share the rest of her story, she simply had to.

"Whenever you're ready." he told her calmingly, yet not in the way that was actually saying that they wanted you to speed it up. He said it in the way that told her he cared, that she could truly take her time.

"I got him to let me turn around a few times, which loosened the screw almost as much as I needed, but he just came at me, and I was almost too late. He was so close, so close to me. I could feel his breath on my face, see the look in his eyes. I've never been so scared before, Marshall. Never." she took a deep breath, "But I got the screw out just in time and got him away from me. And...and then everything else just happened too quick for me to comprehend. I was just hitting and kicking and shooting and then you were there and...and everything was alright again." she whispered in a finish to her story. She dared not look up at who she had confided to, for she feared what she might see. Instead she stared at her hands and mulled over what she had said.

Then it hit her.

"Oh gosh, Marshall. Oh gosh, I killed him. I killed a person." she muttered, the weight of it all slamming in to her as a ton of bricks.

Mary was up off the couch and in the bathroom in a flash, Marshall right behind her. As she vomited in to the toilet, he held her long blond hair out of her face and rubbed her back, trying to make her feel as well as she could. Even when her stomach was long past empty, she sat at the base of the cool white and dry heaved, squeezing her eyes shut to try and get the image of him out of her mind. She could tell that her body was trying to rid itself of this sick, impure feeling. She had taken a man's life. She, the one who was supposed to do everything in her power to save lives, took one, took away a life.

Mary finally sat up and rested her back against the cool wall, spreading her palms out on the cool tile of the floor. She squeezed her dull eyes shut and bit her lip, relishing in the iron taste of blood the seeped onto her tongue. She longed to feel anything physical she could, any pain because she knew she deserved to suffer just as much as that man had, just as much as the life she'd taken away.

She bit down harder.

Marshall sat beside her and placed his arm around her shoulder, offering a small cup of water. She shook her head, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. He pushed the edge of the cup against her lips, opening her mouth slightly, and he poured in the smallest bit of water. It burned against the inside of her dry throat and settled inside her empty stomach.

"How-how can you be so nice when you're looking at a murderer?" she whispered, looking up at the man who had single-handedly made her feel like a person when no one else could.

"Because I'm not looking at a murderer. I'm looking at a woman who fought harder to save people than I've ever seen someone fight. I'm looking at a woman who cares about everyone, even though she pretends she doesn't. I'm looking at a woman who can't stand the thought of harming someone as much as she did. Murderers don't feel that regret, Mary. You didn't kill that man because you wanted to or because you felt like it. You killed him because you had to, and I can guarantee you that if you hadn't killed him, I would have for what he did to you. You're not the one at fault here, Mary. They are." he explained, catching her dead in the eyes. She shivered under his gaze and looked away.

They sat together in silence for a few moments, toying with different thoughts running through their minds.

"Do you want to go home now?" he inquired. Mary shook her head.

"Let's stay for a little bit longer." she whispered, and he nodded. Truth is, the blond woman didn't want to ever leave the bathroom. That small, fairly disgusting room held inside of it the most love and care she'd ever felt. She breathed in deep breaths of it, taking in all that she could. It wrapped around her, a warm blanket in the cold, a safe haven from the world tumbling around her. It gave her a chance to sit down and rest, to catch her breath before running out again.

Mary looked up at Marshall, meeting his eyes, knowing all too quickly that the love she felt was radiating off of him. Without realizing what she was doing, she was bringing his head down to her level, placing a short, chaste kiss upon his lips. He gently kissed back, and it only lasted a few seconds, but it was the best few seconds Mary had experienced in a long time.

When they had parted, she bit her lip and looked away, blushing a deep crimson. He chuckled slightly.

"Wanna head off, now?" he questioned. She nodded. The brunette man heaved himself up off the ground and offered his hand for Mary to take. She gratefully let him pull her up off the ground and into his arms, resting her head against his chest, taking in the scent of him until it was all her lungs were filled with, until in was burned into her mind.

"Thank you." she mumbled. He smiled.

"Anytime, Mary, anytime."

The pair then grasped their hands together and headed out of the bathroom, through the halls, and out of the building. The car ride was silent, but it held with it a comfortable silence. As the pulled into the driveway, Mary spoke.

"Marshall?"

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to thank you, again, for everything you did for me tonight. I know you're going to say it was no big deal, but I'm going to tell you that it was." she began, right when he opened his mouth to speak, "You were there for me when no one else was. There hasn't been anything that has effected me as much as this has effected me, and that is saying something when you look at all I've been through. This is something I won't be able to forget for a long time, and I thought that I wouldn't be able to talk to anyone about it. However, my own mind led me to you. Although I've never truly realized it until tonight, you're always there for me, ready to lend a helping hand whenever I need it. I know there's nothing I can ever do to repay you for it, but I want to do anything I can to try. What you did tonight was more than I could have ever asked of you, so thank you, for being the person I could talk to when everyone else failed."

"There's no other way I could have wanted to spend tonight, Mary. I am always here for you, no matter what. Remember that, please." and that was all he could say. She smiled.

"I will."

"Good."

The two stepped out of the car and into the almost-morning sky. Mary stopped.

"Oh, and don't even think about telling anyone what I just said. I do have a reputation to uphold. You open your mouth, I bust your knee caps." she snapped. Marshall laughed.

"There's the Mary I know and love." he said with a smile, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She smiled back, letting him lead the way to her front door. He went in with her, slightly taken aback when he saw her mother and sister sitting in the living room together. Her mother's eyes widened with anger.

"Young lady, where have you been?! Your sister has just experienced a highly traumatic event, and you go off gallivanting with that partner of yours?! Where's your head, Mary?"

Marshall was suddenly filled with rage, and the instinct to protect was too much for him to handle.

"Ms. Shannon. I don't know what the hell you're thinking saying that to Mary, but I think it's about time for you to look at what you're saying. You have a daughter standing in front of you who was kidnapped for hours, witnessed the death of a man, was nearly raped, and barely got out alive. I'm not usually one to judge, but if I were you, I'd be much more worried about that daughter than one who experienced the death of an ex-boyfriend who had it coming. She didn't sit there and watch it happen, she wasn't chained up with the body at her feet or his blood spattered on her. She wasn't the one who was almost raped nor was she the one whose life was threatened. Yes, it's traumatic for anyone to experience a death, but she did not have to watch it happen.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, Mary has had a very hard night and needs some rest." he finished, turning on his heel, grabbing Mary's hand, and starting to walk away.

"If you think that you can just say that to me and then walk away, you have a major reality check coming your way." Jinx snapped. He turned slowly to face her.

"Brandi may not have seen it, but she felt it. She felt that pain, that loss. Mary left her family in a terrible state. What does that say about her, huh? What does it say about a person when they abandon their family in the state we were in?"

"What does it say about a mother who has to lean on her daughter for support? What does it say about a person when they've been given everything in their life from their daughter or sister who actually had the guts to stand up and make something of themselves? What does it say about a person when they are so focused on not being at fault that they try and shift the blame to the person who has saved their life? What does that say?"

Ms. Shannon was silent.

"That is exactly what I thought." he shot, turning to leave once more but being stopped by Brandi.

"How can you stand here and say that to us?! You didn't have to go through what we did. But you don't even care, do you? All you care about is Mary. You don't care that her family is hurting. You're even standing here insulting us when we're most vulnerable."

"Don't even try that with me. Mary has does everything for you, and when she is broken and all you can think about is yourselves, that speaks volumes."

Mary watched the scene unfolding before her as a train wreck, not wanting it to happen, wanting to stop it, but letting it roll on. She gazed upon the anger and protectiveness shining in Marshall's sharp eyes, saw her mother cry, saw her sister try and justify what was happening, and she didn't do a think about it. No matter how much she wanted to yell at Marshall for fighting her battle for her, she was just too tired, too hurt, too grateful. So, she watched.

"Now, both of you need to back the hell up and let Mary get some sleep. She's been through more tonight than any of you have combined, in your lifetime." he finished, leading Mary into her room. He shut the door behind them and sat her on the bed.

"Listen Mary, I'm-"

"Don't be." she interrupted, knowing he was about to apologize for sticking up for her. "I'm grateful."

"Okay." he breathed. "Because I really didn't want to get killed tonight."

Mary smiled slightly, kicked her shoes off, and settled into her bed.

"Well, I guess I ought to be going now." Marshall commented, turning to leave.

"Wait." she stopped him. He turned.

"Yeah?"

"Could you...listen, I know I've asked a lot of you already, but...could you stay? Please?" she asked sheepishly. He smiled, slipped off his shoes, and walked over to the chair in the corned of the room.

"Sure."

Mary shut off the light and closed her eyes, trying to get to sleep. She sighed.

"Marshall?"

"Yes?"

"Could you...well...you see...could you..." she trailed off, suddenly feeling stupid. However, he knew what she was trying to ask without her even having to say that whole thing. Suddenly, he was easing himself into the bed, and she was burying her face in his scent with his arms wrapped around her. He kissed the top of her head gently, and she smiled.

"Goodnight, Mary."

"'Night, Marshall." she yawned.

Her breathing slowed, and just when Marshall believe she was asleep, he whispered the words he'd been trying to tell her for years.

"I love you." he murmured into her hair. She smiled.

"I think I love you, too." she whispered. She felt him stiffen, then relax, kiss her forehead softly, and fall asleep. Mary fell asleep soon after with a smile gracing her lips for the first time in years.