Title: This Never Happened
Author: A. Magiluna Stormwriter
Feedback address: firstname.lastname@example.org
Date in Calendar: 25 June 2009
Fandom: In Plain Sight
Rating: Rish for language
Dates Written: 1-21 June 2009
Word Count: 1910
Summary: Who would ever believe that Mary and Eleanor would work together so well?
Spoilers: Episode 2x06 "One Night Stan"
Archive: This is a ShatterStorm Productions exclusive piece. Contact the webmistress for archive options.
Link to: http://f-n-c.shatterstorm.net/
Website: ShatterStorm Productions' Frisked & Conquered
Advertisement: Part of the FSAC:DD09
Disclaimer: "In Plain Sight", the characters and situations depicted are the property of USA Network, Universal Media Studios, and Universal Studios Home Entertainment. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "In Plain Sight", its owners, or any representatives of the actors.
Note: This is all racethewind10's fault. We were watching the episode of IPS and commenting on creating a Mary/Eleanor pairing. And damned if what we were discussing didn't basically happen on the show! We have the mad skills of creating fandom, yo! Fear us!
"How on earth do you do this?"
My brow furrows at the question and I grab the bottle of tequila to fill my glass again. Obviously, I need the fortification to figure out what the hell Eleanor is saying. "Do what?" I wiggle the bottle in her direction, but she shakes her head.
"Live like this." Her hand expansively takes in the destruction still rampant in my house, thanks to the asshole Feds. "There's nothing wrong with being organized."
"You've said that already, Eleanor." I wanted it to come out sarcastically, but right now all I can manage is resigned slurring. "If you're so damned organized about the office and all of us, you'd know that this wasn't my doing." I can't stop myself from looking over at Brandi. She fucked up, we all know that, but I can't really be pissed at her anymore. I mean, I could, but what's the point? She fucked up, she's trying to get herself turned around, she's got this great new guy…
"Have they been dating long?"
The sound of Eleanor's voice startles me. Fuck me! I really need to lay off the tequila…but I won't. Welcome to co-dependent dysfunctional family life in the Shannon house. Shrugging, I fill my glass again. "I think this was their second date. I don't really keep tabs on--"
"Yes, you do." Her tone is softer than I'd expected, and she pats my hand. "You act like nobody matters to you, but they do. You know every single move your sister and your mother make. Probably Marshall, too. Am I right?"
I stare at her, squinting to see if that clears things up a bit. It doesn't. "You have no idea what I do or don't do, Eleanor."
"And you do it more now since the incident," she continues, as if I haven't spoken a word to her. "You can't take care of all of their problems, Mary. They're adults, and I'm sure each of them can take care of themselves."
"Maybe Marshall can, but not my mom or my sister. They're pretty much fucked in the head…"
"Like you are?"
I forego the glass this time and just take a hit from the bottle. "Thanks, Eleanor, for that vote of confidence."
She grabs for the bottle in my hand, and I can't even fight her. Great. "It wasn't intended that way. I was simply finishing the sentence you started. Or are you going to try to tell me you were going to say something else?" I snort derisively at her, but say nothing, and glare as she puts the bottle back where I hid it. She doesn't speak again until she returns to the table. "We need to focus, Mary. Stan needs our help. And so does your sister."
Her words are a bucket of cold water and the haze burns off almost instantly. "Jeezus, I'm getting as bad as them," I mutter disdainfully. "I'm supposed to be the one that's got her shit in order."
"Then do it. Quit being a moody bitch." My head snaps up in shock; clearly, Eleanor is just as startled by her words. "We need coffee. And you need a cold shower to sober up."
As much as I hate it, Eleanor was right. The shower has done wonders to start waking me up again, and I'm sure the coffee will finish the job. The basic t-shirt and boxers will have to suffice for clothes until I can find some clean sweats. Walking out into my bedroom, absently toweling my hair dry, my mind is already on the phone call I'll be making to Marshall. I don't even notice her until she steps in front of me.
"Jeezus, Eleanor! Stalker much?"
She studies me with that faintly disapproving gaze I've grown accustomed to before finally pointing to my bed. When I don't move fast enough, Eleanor is dragging me to the bed and shoving me down. What the hell? With a deadly accurate speed, she yanks the towel from my head as I do a face plant into the mattress. And then, her hands are hot on my shoulders, even through the worn t-shirt I pulled on, kneading at the knots and kinks that are pretty much a permanent part of my life. Damn, she's really good at this!
"Relax, Mary," she grumbles without any venom. "You're harder than rebar." I can't help the childish giggle at that comment, and only giggle harder when she slaps the back of my head. "Are you quite finished?"
"Yes, ma'am," I murmur contritely, fighting valiantly not to laugh again.
Her hands continue to work down my back, turning my body into playdoh. The more tension is released, the harder I have to fight to remain conscious. Belatedly, I realize Eleanor's murmuring something softly, but the tequila and this lassitude conspire against my knowing what it is. When she finally straightens and pulls a blanket up over my body, I can't even figure out how my body works to get it upright. Just before sleep claims me, I swear I feel her lean over and press a gentle, lingering kiss to my temple.
I need to make sure Marshall got the license plate of that Mack truck that just ran my ass over. I'm so gonna be pressing charges against that incompetent, idiot driver.
My body won't react initially, just lays there like a fucking lump of dead weight. Oh shit! Am I dead? Is that why the ground feels like it's made of something softer than asphalt? Is that whole thing about living on clouds in Heaven really true?
Wait. There's no way in hell I'm going to Heaven. Not with the life I've led. Oh, look! My arm's moving. Pushing up slowly, I blink open gummy eyelids and squint at the clock. Six a.m. Jeezus, that's… Do I smell coffee? Oh god, please don't let that be a dream.
More than a little work goes into getting my body vertical, and it takes several minutes for the room to stop spinning. Seriously, I need the plate on that fucking truck. With a deep breath, I pull sweats on over my boxers and stumble out into the living room.
"Sleeping Beauty has awakened."
Does Marshall always sound that damned irritating? And how in the hell did he get here? I never called him. My answer is obvious as a large mug of coffee is thrust into my hand: Eleanor. Smiling gratefully, I burn my mouth on the first enormous gulp. "Jeezus!" Eleanor shushes me with a stern look, and I almost feel like the chastised child. What the hell? Groaning in irritation, I turn around and see that the couch is empty. "Where's my sister?"
"Safely nestled in her bed, sleeping off her drunken binge," Marshall supplies. "Eleanor thought she should probably have some privacy to deal with that, so I helped maneuver her in there when I got here a few minutes ago."
Okay, that must've been what woke me up. "Yeah, thanks, Marshall. Um, I'm gonna go put on some clothes and… I'll be back in a minute, okay?"
I don't even let them reply before I bolt for the safety of my own bedroom. This is just too weird for me to deal with right now.
The rest of the day turns into one of those clichéd whirlwinds that you see on tv shows. Boy, when Stan gets himself involved in something, he really gets himself in deep, doesn't he? But something's still not adding up here. Stan couldn't have done this. There's just no way. But Dershowitz does have a point about the badge. How else could it have gotten into the gravesite? Wait, what's Malone doing here? Does Bobby really think this old drunk is going to give us any kind of decent information? He can barely hold his alcohol, let alone any kind of reliable memories or information that will help Stan.
He's droning on about his foggy memories of that case when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. What the hell is Eleanor doing here? And why are the unis giving her such a hard time? When she meets my gaze, I realize she's got something. Something important. I know I must be saying something to the men in the room, but I don't pay attention in my haste to get out to Eleanor.
"I'm with her."
Wow. That's an interesting statement, but I ignore what her words make me feel. Even her explanation of what I'm looking at kind of whizzes past me until the images and the words combine to give me the answer I need. I cut her off mid-word to press a quick, thankful kiss to her lips and race back into the interrogation room to offer up this new evidence to save Stan.
The boys club goes over the information with a fine tooth comb, comparing it to Stan and Malone's testimonies. Do they not get that Eleanor has broken the case wide open? Well, okay, closed it, but saved Stan's ass? Without realizing I'm doing it, my eyes seek out her face again. She's standing there, anxiety and confusion written clearly on her face. Once again, I'm on my feet, clapping Stan on the back before I head out into the bullpen again.
"You okay?" I ask softly, dragging her gaze from Stan to me.
"Is he gonna be okay? And what the hell is taking them so long? I practically gift-wrapped the evidence for them," she grumbles, pursing her lips in consternation. That simple expression, so often aimed at me lately, reminds me of the kiss. Damn, but her lips were really soft. "Mary, what aren't you telling me?"
"You know how boys are," I reply, fighting the urge to touch her mouth. What the hell is wrong with me? "They can't admit that a couple of girls beat them at their own game, so they have to have a pissing contest in there to make sure we haven't missed anything."
"And then they'll claim it as their own discovery?" She finishes the thought I allow myself to have. "They never do grow up, do they?"
At Stan's broad, grateful grin in our direction, I nod and smile back before facing Eleanor again. "Listen, Eleanor, about before--"
"It never happened, Mary," she smoothly cuts me off, something indefinable and deep sparking in her eyes. "Just like last night. Right?"
And there it is. The easy out laid bare between us. I want to say something, but before I can even formulate the swirling thoughts into words, the door opens to reveal Stan and Marshall coming toward us. When Stan actually hugs me and tries to thank me, I shake my head and motion to Eleanor.
"She's the one you want to thank, Stan," I reply with a smile. "She's done all the legwork. I just brought it in to you guys." When Stan turns to hug Eleanor, she actually looks shocked and mouths her thanks to me. "I mean, it's not like we'd ever get along to work on this together, would we?"
The words are no more than out of my mouth when she glances up to meet my gaze. Again, there's that sense of something I can't quite figure out, but she nods and mouths her thanks to me. "Perish the thought."
Easy out taken. For now.