This Green Penguin Production is the labour of 30 days and 30 nights (mostly nights). Brought to you by two IPS fanatics, a few gallons of apple juice, a half million bottles of purple powerade, three time zones, two camping trips and over 1000 text messages. We hope you like it!

When In Doubt…

Act I, Scene I

Life had never been particularly kind to Mary Shannon, so she should have known something bad was coming when an entire year of holidays passed without a hitch. She and Marshall were happy, her mother had a new boyfriend who horrified her daughters but who also kept Jinx and her troubles out of everyone's hair most days, and Brandi and Peter had passed the three month mark living together without breaking up. Life was nearly perfect and it had lulled Mary into warm complacency. But life doesn't like to be ignored, and waited only until the New Year to rear its ugly head.

On January first, she woke up to the sound of someone banging around in her kitchen. It couldn't be Marshall since he was asleep beside her, one long arm still loosely wrapped around her waist. Groggy and pissed, Mary staggered from the bedroom, coming to a dead halt at the kitchen door.

"Faber?" her voice squeaked in surprise and she quickly adjusted her tone, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

The FBI agent stammered for a moment, a bottle opener dangling from his hand right. "I – well – you see –"

Marshall, who woke as soon as Mary pulled away from him to check out the noise, was instantly at her side buttoning up his pants as he watched the scene unfold before him.

"He's with me," Jinx's voice floated in from the living room.

Mary's head whipped around so fast that Marshall got a taste of her hair. Her shampoo did not taste like it smelled; he spat it out and followed her gaze.

Jinx entered the kitchen, a bottle of unopened wine in her hands.

"Jesus, mom!" Mary gestured emphatically in Faber's direction, "What the hell were you thinking bringing your boy toy here? Need I remind you that you don't live here anymore?"

"Honestly Mary," Jinx's voice was condescending, "Mike and I were just picking up the last of my things."

Marshall noticed Mary's shoulders growing more and more tense with every passing second and he moved to place his hand on her back.

Mary looked from the bottle in her mother's hands to her ex's face incredulously, finally throwing her hands up in surrender. "Fine, just ... get your stuff and get him out of my house."

Marshall moved his hand from her back to her waist in a protective gesture as he pulled her against him. He caught sight of Faber leering at Mary's bra-less chest and narrowed his eyes.

Jinx seemed oblivious to all of this as she grabbed one last box and they were out the door.

"Well that was," Marshall grasped for a word that would cover the experience,"… interesting."

Mary snorted with laughter. "You can say that again," she felt Marshall's chest hitch as if he really were going to, so she spun around in his arms and kissed him.

It was nearly a week before Mary realized the visit was more than interesting... it was catastrophic.

The atom bomb came in the form of an e-mail from Mike Faber.

It wasn't unusual for her mother's boyfriend to send her work related emails. They did occasionally have cases that overlapped despite Mary's best efforts not to. This email however, was of a different nature.

Mary,

Jinx tells me you have letters from James Shannon in your home. As a U.S. Marshal you are required to turn over any evidence to the appropriate authorities. I like you, Kitten, so if you send the letters to me by the end of the week I won't report you.

- Faber

Marshall noticed right off the bat that something had changed in Mary's demeanor. "Mare?" He could see her trembling and he stood so quickly his chair slammed into the filing cabinet behind him.

Mary's face began to turn red and he noticed the beginnings of tears prick the corners of her eyes as she turned to him. She stood up with one fluid motion and ran out towards the balcony. Marshall was right behind her.

He found her leaning against the wall, arms wrapped around her belly and he pulled her into his arms as if his strong chest could absorb whatever evil was causing her such pain. "Mare?" He spoke gently into her hair, "Mary? What is it?" She continued to sob and he could feel her tears soak through his shirt. He murmured soothing nothings and rocked her gently, letting her cry, his heart breaking a little with every sob.

She felt him rest his cheek against the top of head and he peppered kisses in her hair, but the tears wouldn't stop.

He didn't know how long they sat there, but eventually Mary's sobs quit and when she relaxed fully into his embrace, he tried again. "Mary, love, what happened?"

She muttered something sleepily against his chest but he could feel the vibrations but couldn't for the life of him understand what she was saying.

"Mary, you need to speak up, I don't speak mumble," he kept his tone light and teasing. He cupped her chin in his hand as he moved in to lightly kiss her lips.

"It's Faber." She began shakily, "Jinx told him -" a fresh wave of anguish and betrayal cut off her words.

"What did Jinx tell him?"

Mary took a deep shaky breath. "Jinx told Faber I have letters from my father."

Marshall's face registered shock. "You've been getting letters from your father?"

There was a moment of silence while Mary tried to gather her wits and Marshall struggled to comprehend what he had just learned.

"From after he left?"

Mary nodded. She pulled away from him, turning her body so she could easily see his face. "The first one came when I was sixteen," she blew out a loud stream of air, fighting desperately for some measure of calm.

Marshall shoved the feelings of betrayal to the back of his mind so he could focus on his hurting partner. "Go on," he coaxed her.

"I've received more letters sporadically over the last twenty years." Mary wrapped her arms around her chest; preparing herself for the moment he realized she was a liar and a fraud and walked away. She should have told him. She should have told him six months ago, when their friendship had started to become something infinitely more precious.

He noticed her features harden as if she were bracing for some sort of impact. He drew her back into his arms and rubbed his hand up and down her back as he kissed her on the temple.

"Tell me what you need," he whispered into her ear. "I only ask that you tell me everything so that I can help you. It doesn't matter that you hadn't told me yet, what matters is that you're telling me now."

Swiping angrily at a fresh wave of tears that trickled down her cheeks Mary nodded. "They never had return addresses or any hint about how to find him." She shrugged halfheartedly, "I know I should have turned them in, but they wouldn't help the FBI and-" her voice cut out. The letters were all she had of her father. The thought of losing them was unbearable.

Marshall nodded in silent understanding as he pulled his handkerchief from his breast pocket and offered it to her.

Mary took the handkerchief and twisted it between her fingers, "They're all I have."

Marshall put a hand over her heart, "You also have what's in here," he moved to place his hand on her temple, "and here."

She rewarded his efforts with a watery smile. It was true that her memories of her father would last no matter what happened to the letters, but those letters were as much a part of her as her blonde hair; they defined her even more than her badge and gun. They were concrete evidence, tangible reminders, that her memories of a father who loved her were real. A touchstone she could return to when she needed reassurance that she was special and loved.

Marshall hugged her one last time before turning towards the door. "Come on," he said softly, "I'm taking you home."

The car ride passed in silence. Marshall kept Mary in his peripheral vision for the sole purpose of making sure she wasn't going to jump out of the car at her first opportunity. He clenched his teeth at the onslaught of guilt that overtook him at that thought. He should know her better than that by now. She's done with running from him. Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, he let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

The ride from the office to her home had been the longest of Mary's life. She was certain that Marshall was signing her up for suicide watch even as he drove her home, but she couldn't find it in her to be mad at him for it. If ever there was a moment she thought ending it all might be a possibility, it was now. They arrived and they made their way to her front door.

She climbed out of the car slowly. It was too soon, she hadn't had time to brace herself against the wave of emotions that threatened to collapse her entire world beneath a single wave. Somehow, the letters had become her safety net, the only thing apart from Marshall and WITSEC that she could always rely on. And now they were the trap that could, with one false step, snatch away her career and the only relationship that had ever meant anything.

If James Shannon had stepped into her path at that moment, Mary wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet between his eyes. At some point, this had to end; death was the surest way she knew to end it.
She made it to the threshold of her front door, but no further.

Marshall saw her tense up the moment before she began to crumple. He caught her on the descent and sat with her; his back to the door and her in his lap. This time, he was prepared to simply let Mary cry. He'd been expecting another breakdown. There had been the first one, which was about the initial shock and anger, and then this one. This one was more about facing the reality of these letters and the events that might unfold because of them.

He knew she wasn't worried about her job. She wasn't even worried about her family. Marshall knew her better than anyone did and he knew she was on the fence about her father. She didn't know whether to be angry with him or happy that he was alive. These letters seemed to have been keeping her in some sort of limbo; not allowing her to choose on which side of the fence she wanted to be.
They sat there for an indeterminable amount of time before he felt her draw in a shaky breath. He loosened his grip and she began to disentangle herself from him. Standing up with her, he grabbed her wrist as she turned to go to her room. She went limp in his arms as he gave her a reassuring kiss.

Their lips parted and Marshall held her face in his hands. Looking deep into Mary's eyes, he tried to convey the message that he wasn't going anywhere; no matter what.