Disclaimer: I don't own In Plain Sight. If I did, the finale would have ended very differently!

Author's Note: This is the Fix the Finale fic that's going to be pretty much ubiquitous. I'm just using it as a justification to nail Faber to the wall. Whee!

Warning: F-word occurs a couple times.

SPOILERS: Season 3 Finale!

Faber Piñata: A One-Shot Adventure

Marshall dozed in his living room. The flickering light of the muted television cast ever-shifting shadows on the walls, not dissimilar to the ever shifting shadows of nightmare that had plagued him of late and ultimately led him to take up sleeping in such a fashion with unorthodox regularity. Ever since Mary had left on vacation with the reprehensible Faber, four days prior, he'd slept fitfully or not at all.

Mary, his Mary, was gone… he'd missed his chance. Or maybe he'd only deluded himself into believing he had one to begin with. Maybe his Mary had never, in reality, been his at all. Such thoughts kept him awake and fueled his dreams when he managed to find the occasional brief period of sleep. Only the welcoming glow of the TV screen, bearing the friendly images of Mike Rowe or Adam and Jamie, was a comfort to him, a calming tether to ground him when he was, inevitably, jarred awake. It was all that kept him from being, literally, in a very dark place.

What woke him now, in the wee hours of the morning, was not the variety of dream he'd come to think of as usual. It was the buzzing of his cell phone, perched at the ready on the end table next to his recliner… just in case. It wasn't in case of his witnesses, though he'd always be ready if they needed him; no, it was for Mary. Always for Mary. He didn't really expect to hear from her, not even a call to see if he wanted her to bring him a souvenir or something, because she didn't do that. He absolutely hadn't been expecting her to call, and still, he waited. Pathetic of him, he'd come to realize, but nonetheless compulsory.

And there she was, her entry in his phone's registry displayed clearly on the brilliantly lit screen. It was like a beacon in the dark, and it took him a moment to process the significance of what he was seeing and answer the phone.

"Marshall? Marshall, are you there?" she pressed after he'd only managed to utter a tired grunt upon answering.

"Yeah, Mare, I'm here," he replied, his voice rough as his mouth was dry and sticky from sleep.

"Thank the freakin' lord," she said, managing to sound agitated and relieved at the same time. "At least something's going right, finally."

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just come get me."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Come get you in Mexico?"

"No, dorkus! I'm at the mother-humping airport!" she snapped back, too stressed to be amused by his lack of comprehension.

Marshall heard the strain in her voice; still dressed from the day before, he was already reaching for his boots where they lay on the floor.

"I'll be there in fifteen."

Mary was standing at the curb, looking agitated as he pulled up in the empty pick-up lane. There would be no flights out anytime soon; he didn't want to think what kind of flight in she must have gotten. He held no doubts that her badge had been shown and rank had been pulled, and for all he knew she'd gotten a connection home with the morning mail.

A more pressing unknown was the question of why she'd come back early, not how. He knew something had happened during her aborted stay in Mexico, and obviously it wasn't something that had gotten her arrested or he'd be on his way there with Stan to sort it out. That eliminated a lot of possibilities, but certainly not all; it was even possible that she was fleeing arrest. That was rather unlikely, he admitted to himself, but there were few situations in which Mary would be unable to handle herself, and the remaining possibilities were all equally bizarre. His stomach was in knots with worry over it, in any case. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

He parked and jumped out, but before he could ask what was going on, she roughly shoved her suitcase into his hands. She got into the passenger seat of his car, slamming the door and adopting a slouch that conveyed both her grumpiness and the fact that she was completely worn out. Definitely not good.

They drove in silence for a while before Marshall finally broached the topic that weighed on his mind.

"So… what happened in Mexico?"

"God. I don't even know where to begin," Mary said with a huff. "That fucking asshole Faber…"

"Faber?" he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble as his hands clenched on the wheel. "What about Faber? Did he do something to you? Because if he did…"

"Relax, he didn't get to do anything to me that I didn't want," she scoffed bitterly. "Not for lack of trying, though."

"Mary," he choked out, enraged, "I'm going to need you to be very clear here, because if we're talking about him trying to force you…"

"What? Jesus, no. He didn't try to rape me, if that's what you're asking," she waved her hand dismissively. "That's the part I was down with."

"Then what?" he glowered at her, trying to set aside the admission that she'd had sex with Faber long enough to get to the bottom of the matter.

"God, it's embarrassing," she hesitated, then leaned over, cupped her hand to his ear and whispered to him despite the fact that they were alone.

"Jesus!" Marshall shouted, his grip tightening on the wheel as he accidentally caused the car to swerve.

"Christ, Marshall, watch where you're driving!" she shouted, gripping her seat.

"That's disgusting! Does he know how unsanitary that is?" he continued as if they hadn't almost gone off the road, an appalled look on his face.

"I know, but that's not the worst part. Later, when we were in bed, he actually tried."

"Oh, that's so wrong," Marshall groaned, feeling slightly nauseated.

"Tell me about it," Mary replied, huffing again. "Also… I have a rash."

"What?" he asked, his face going blank.

"You know. A rash. All over my junk," she stated, looking away in embarrassment.

"That son of a bitch!" he barked. "When I get my hands on him…"

"Yeah, yeah, just be careful where you touch, and be sure to wash them afterward," she quipped. "Anyway, so much for vacation. I had to lie and say there was a federal emergency to get here this fast, but I sure as hell wasn't staying there. By the way, you might have to sort that out with Stan for me."

"Not a problem, I'll call him in the morning. You know he'll work something out."

"And don't tell him what Faber tried to do," she added. "Or about the rash."

"I don't think I could even bring myself to mention that act if I was alone, let alone to another person," he replied. "Your secret is safe with me… but you're going to get it looked at, right?"

"Duh, doofus."

They rode a few minutes more without talking before Mary spoke again.

"God, I'm starving. The last thing I had to eat was a carnitas plate yesterday at lunch."

"There's beer in my fridge and pizza in my freezer," Marshall offered.

"That kind with the cheese inside the crust?" she asked hopefully

"You know it," he said, cracking a smile for the first time since before she'd called. He felt the tightness in his gut ease when she smiled back.

A week later, Mary strolled into the office after taking her lunch hour.

"How'd it go?" Marshall asked from his desk, eyebrows raised in interest.

"Like it matters to you?" she snapped, stopping by his desk.

He grinned lewdly. "You never know, it might end up being of personal concern."

"In your dreams," she replied as she socked him playfully in the arm. "Fine, since you want to know, I have to put this cream on it twice a day for a few weeks."

"Whoa, pretty sure I don't want to know," Stan said, turning and ducking back into the office he'd just exited.

Mary rolled her eyes as Marshall snickered. Both looked up as they heard the elevator rumble to a stop and announce its arrival with a ding.

"Oh, what the hell," Mary hissed; Marshall pushed up from his seat and was out through the doors like lightning.

"Now, look, I don't want any trouble," Faber said, holding his hands up placatingly. "I just want to talk to Ma-"

He was cut off abruptly as Marshall's fist collided with his face, sending him to the floor like a sack of bricks.

"Jesus Christ!" he cried, holding his jaw and slurring slightly. "What the hell was that for?"

"You know damn good and well what that was for," Marshall replied, barely containing his fury.

"What in the name of God is going on out here?" Stan called as he bolted from his office after hearing the ruckus. He took in the scene before him, realizing that for whatever reason, Marshall had decked the man.

"Your inspector…" Faber began shouting at Stan and pointing to Marshall.

"Come on, let me help you up, Agent Faber," Stan grasped the man's hand and pulled him upright.

Then, to Mary and Marshall's surprise, their boss delivered a swift sucker punch to Faber's gut. The agent collapsed forward as the air was forced out of him, but Stan's grip at the back of his neck kept him from falling to the floor again.

"I don't know what happened to cause this, but if Marshall punched you, that must mean you did something to hurt Mary," he growled menacingly. "And believe me when I tell you, if you ever fuck with my inspectors again, you will deal with me. Are we clear?"

Faber nodded weakly, and Stan shoved him to the waiting elevator where Marshall had already pushed the call button. They muscled him inside, dropping him unceremoniously on the floor.

"Don't ever show your face here again," Stan commanded as they stepped out.

"You got served!" Marshall added gleefully as the doors closed and the elevator whisked Faber off on his merry way.

Marshall turned to their boss with a happy grin. "Way to go, Stan!"

Mary watched, flabbergasted, as her partner goofishly offered a fist-bump and Stan reciprocated.

A/N: Was Faber sufficiently dispatched? Let me know what you think! =D

And no, I won't tell you what he tried to do. I'll leave it to your imaginations! XP