Marshall is sitting in the hospital. He's in Mary's hospital room. She's awake.
Mary: Marshall, could you go get Raph? I need to talk to him about something. Or rather, he said he needed to. Marshall: You want me to be in here? Mary: No. I'll be okay. I'm sure. He then leaves. Raph comes in. He sits down. Raph: What is it, Mary? Mary: Raph, I've thought long and hard about what you asked me. Raph: What do you mean? Mary: You know what I mean. I'm talking about how we are. I'm talking about the fact that since I told you what I do every time my cell rings you make some snide comment about "which mob boss is calling me". Or, about how you decided to do research on what I do. It's the fact that we've been fighting non-stop lately. Raph, I can't do this. Raph: So, then quit. Mary, you'd still be a Marshal. You'd just have a nice court Marshal job where you wouldn't get shot. Mary: Raph, you know I can't. Raph: Why Mary?! Why "can't" you quit?! Mary: I…I…I just…can't. Raph: Well then I can't do this anymore, Mary. "I just can't". You wanted to talk about this, fine. We'll discuss what or who you want more. Which is it Mary? Which is more important, to be the type of Marshal that you are, or to be my wife? Mary: Raph, you know what my answer is. I just can't quit. It's…my job is the one thing that keeps me sane, keeps me stable. Raph: Why can't I be that one thing? Why is your precious job more important than your fiancée? Mary: I never said it was more important. Raph, my job doesn't make me choose. My job doesn't fight with me. My job keeps me stable enough to deal with people! Raph: And your job got you shot! Mary: God Raph! You still don't get it do you?! I always knew there was the risk of my getting shot. I knew it the moment I got my glock. And, I still wake up in the morning and go to work. I deal with it. Why can't you?! Raph: I guess I'm wrong. I guess it's wrong to wish that your fiancée was safe at home, not having the possibility of getting shot! Mary: It is when it's me! Raph, I can't do this. I've made my decision. I want you out of my house by the time I get home tomorrow morning. I know they didn't sell your old apartment yet. I checked last night after everyone left. Raph: Fine. He then left, within moments Marshall came in and sat beside Mary. Marshall: How was your conversation? Mary: Don't ask. Marshall could see that she had tears filling her eyes, ready to fall. Marshall: Mare, what happened? Did he do something to you? He now notices the tears falling from her eyes, and her not even budging to wipe them off. Mary: In a sense. Marshall: Mary, what did he do? Mary: He made me choose, between him and the job. Marshall: Mare, you can't leave the Marshal service. I mean who would spit paperwads at me? Or fake being a bi-sexual, sexually active teenager to catch scum. Or yell at Eleanor? Or… Mary: Marshall, enough. I'm not quitting. Raph and I broke up. He's leaving. He's gonna be gone before tomorrow morning when I get home. I just…I can't believe that just happened. I mean, I knew it would happen one day, but still. Marshall: Mare, you couldn't have known this would happen, not entirely. I know you, on some level you thought this would work. Also, this is not your fault. He knew what you would most likely choose, but still forced you to. This is not your fault. If you need anything I'll be right here. Mary: Thanks Marshy. It's just…I mean…Jesus! I tried. I really did. I thought this could possibly, actually have a chance of working. You know? Marshall: I know Mare. I know how hard you tried. I also know that he wanted you to be something you're not. I know that no matter how hard you tried unless you laid down your personality, and what makes you you down in the middle if the road, and ran it over with your Probe you couldn't have been what he wanted you to be. Mary: Maybe I should've done that. Marshall: And maybe I should go shoot up a bank. Mare, certain things shouldn't be done. They just shouldn't, and you changing because someone else wants you to is one of those things. Mary: Thanks Marshy. Okay, you'd better get going before they kick you out. I'll be fine Marshall. Now, get out of here before this mac' n cheese meets your face. Marshall: That's my girl. I'll take you home tomorrow so you don't need to worry about calling up your family. Then, I'll stop by your place after work. He then kisses her on the forehead, and leaves.