Inspector Mary Shannon sat in the waiting area of the Albuquerque hospital, her head in her hands. In one of those rooms, which the bastard doctor refused to give her the number of, was her partner. And no matter how much bullshit everyone spewed at her, she knew one thing for certain.

It was her fault.

She hadn't warned him in time, because she wasn't focused on the job.

And why? Because of some bogus letter she couldn't stop herself from reading on his desk.

She shouldn't have gotten so pissy with him. It wasn't as if Marshall would ever have really left. She knew that. Even while she was being a bitch to him earlier that day, she knew that.

If she had just said something a few seconds earlier, it would've given Marshall enough time to get out his gun, and then those bastards who nearly killed her partner wouldn't have been an issue anymore.

Flashbacks of sitting in that damned diner, unable to do anything while her partner and best and only friend slowly lost strength assaulted her mind, refusing to leave her alone. She had never felt so helpless, so desperate. She needed to help him, but she couldn't. She didn't know how. And she hated that feeling.

It didn't even bother her that much anymore that Marshall had considered leaving. She just wanted him safe. Of course she still confronted him about it, but it wasn't her main concern anymore.

Her main concern was that her Marshall was far too close to death for her liking. And she had made sure to tell him so. He wasn't allowed to die. If he did, she'd have to kick his ass.

"I will try not to die. For you." he had said.

And hadn't that just nearly destroyed her? Even with a bullet to the chest, so far away from medical help and so close to dying, he was doing his best to do right by her.

What had she done to deserve such an amazing partner and friend? She couldn't think of anything, so she did what little she could to repay him while she waited for the opportune moment to try and save Marshall and her annoying ass witness.

She mopped the sweat off Marshall's face with the cleanest towel she could find in the filthy crap-hole of a diner, and stared down at him, concern and fear evident on her face.

He had stared back up at her, his piercing blue eyes boring holes into her green ones and asked in a cracked and weak voice:

"Do I look like a hero to you?"

Her heart broke then, and so many things to say to him came to mind, but she couldn't find her voice.

Yes, he looked like a hero to her. He was her own personal hero and savior, whether he was saving her from crooks, or doing her paperwork or even just listening to her bitch and moan about her fucked up family. He was more of a hero than he could ever know, and she didn't deserve him. She didn't deserve his care, his friendship, and she definitely didn't deserve to love him.

But she did, and that's what was making waiting for a doctor in that damn room so unbearable. She had to see him, had to tell him all the things she hadn't been able to in the diner because she hadn't the time or the courage. She had to let him know that he was most definitely a hero, and Superman could kiss his ass for all she cared.

And then maybe, after all of that was said, she just might tell him that she loved him.

Because even though his piece of shit partner didn't deserve him, or to love him, Marshall deserved to know what was going on in his best friend's mind.

He deserved so much better than her. And yet he always stayed by her side.

Always.