***these are not my characters but they are fun to play with*** This is my first attempt at a chapter story. Hope you enjoy it.

"Marshall, I need you back at the hospital," Stan barked before Marshall could even greet him. Marshall tried to focus on the fact that Stan sounded angry and not upset but his chest seized in pain. What if she had died and he hadn't been there?

"On my way," Marshall said, clicking the phone closed. He didn't want to hear about whatever it was over the phone. Once he was there and could see that Mary was still breathing then he'd deal with whatever it was. Trying not to break every traffic law in the city, he managed to get to the hospital within ten minutes. Three minutes later had him outside Mary's room pushing past the gaggle of people there, not caring whom he moved to get into her room.

His heart began to beat normally and he let out a sigh when he saw that she was breathing, she was awake again and aware. It had taken a direct order from Stan to get him to leave and now that he was back that wouldn't be happening again. Then he took a good look at Mary's face; she looked lost, frightened and she was crying. "Marshall?" she asked in a small voice that broke his heart all over again.

"I'm here," he said, not realizing he'd taken the two steps from the door to her bed and reached out a hand to her. That was apparently not enough because her eyes were filling with more tears and her lips were trembling. Gingerly resting on the side of her bed, he gathered her carefully into his arms, shocked when he felt her try and borough into him, her hands clinging to his shirt. What had happened? Who had gotten her this upset? Was it his fault for leaving?

"It's all wrong," she sobbed into his shoulder.

"What is Mare?" he asked.

"They got so mad and it was loud and you weren't here," she whispered, not lifting her head up. "You promised never to leave."

"I'm sorry," he said, pressing a kiss onto her head. "I was forcibly removed. I won't leave again. Not until you kick my skinny ass to the curb."

"Can't do that," she sniffled. "I need you too much. Is that wrong?"

"No Mare, it isn't. I need you too," he assured her. "Want to tell me what happened?"

"I can't remember the man they all keep insisting is my fiancé," she said, finally raising her head. "I remember the shooting, I remember Peter, I remember Eleanor. I don't remember him."

"Anything else you're fuzzy on?"

"No," she assured him. "I remember you… the crazy pajama pants, the never ending trivia that spills out of your mouth. The fact that I shot you in your skinny ass the first day I met you. I remember when you were shot and talked me through triage. I remember your toast. I don't remember him."

"Take me through what happened?"

"I'm not a witness Doofus," she complained but rested her head on his shoulder again.

"There's a reason the techniques work Mare," he assured her. "And nothing you say goes further than you and me."

"The nurse asked me if I was ready to see my fiancé and I thought it was weird because you had just left. I couldn't figure out why you would leave only to come right back in," she admitted, not wanting to look up and see his face at that part of her confession. The pain meds and coma were making her tongue a little loose and she couldn't keep it from him. "I mean, I knew you were my partner professionally but she said fiancé and you were the only person that came to my mind."

Marshall was floored. He knew that blood loss and trauma could wreak havoc with memories but this seemed to be the only one that was missing. And to top it off, she had expected him and not Raphael to walk through the door as her fiancé. He couldn't stop the happiness he felt at that.

"But then he walked in and he was talking to me like people talk to a scared child. And he touched me, tried to kiss me and I think I screamed, calling for you. He started yelling, cursing at me. Said it was typical that I would want you instead of my fiancé," she shuddered. "I can't even remember his name. I've been told about a dozen times and I still can't remember it. Then Mom came in and started in, telling me that I was always so hurtful to him. Brandi tried to jog my memory and was sweet but I just… I needed you."

"How long ago was this?" he asked when she yawned.

"Two hours," she confessed. "Even with the drugs, I can't sleep. He might come back and… God, Marshall, I'm scared."

"I'm here," he said, pulling her a little bit closer. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You make everything seem right," she whispered, her body going lax. "Gonna sleep now."

She wasn't kidding. One minute she was conscious, the next down for the count. He eased her down and brushed a lingering tear off her cheek. He knew that there were people outside the door that needed answers but what they needed was nowhere near as important as what she needed. And she needed him.