A/N: So after I finished publishing, "Look to the Sky" I had several reviewers respond saying they would like to see another story with those same characters. I've actually tried writing a few fics lately on stand-alone and it was really hard after that last one to pretend Marshall didn't have the family I created for him. So, here's your sequel folks, "The Girl You Are Today."

This takes place roughly sixteen months after the epilogue of "Look to the Sky" which makes Sam a year and a half. Honestly, I don't find the plot overly stimulating. It's just a story; no twists and turns. It's basically Mary's turn to experience what Marshall did in an entirely different way.

So, I hope even in married life our inspectors are not too far off from their original characters – and as parents as well! Carolyn and the gang will be back for more and I hope you enjoy seeing them too.

XXX

As Mary glanced up, out the window behind her desk, she reflected on the fact that people forever believed Albuquerque radiated heat twenty-four-seven. Even with the panes closed, she could see branches in the distance, bobbing lazily in a gentle breeze beyond the rooftop. The buds sprouting the ends were shades of palest pink and rich green, just inching into flowers ready to burst into bloom at any given moment. Thin wisps of cloud stretched the faded blue sky as the sun dipped beneath those branches in the empty expanse. Spring was definitely coming, Mary thought as she turned around.

Instead of allowing her eyes to stray back to the papers strewn on her desk, they found the photo of the little boy in a sterling silver frame. His hair waved on top in tufts, the color of maple syrup and molasses. His orbs sparkled their telltale forget-me-not blue; when she was so sure they'd be green. But best of all, the most mischievous of smiles played behind his pacifier.

Sam.

"You're looking pensive," said a familiar voice to her left.

Mary shook her head and averted her eyes back to the papers in front of her. She hated when he caught her like that. It pleased him way too much.

"What are you thinking about?" he pressed, just as he always did.

"Whether or not I packed Sam's pajamas," she replied stupidly, head still bent away from Marshall's.

"Uh-huh," he grunted disbelievingly, but he let it go at that. "Speaking of which, you'd better get a move on. Peter's dropping him off at 5:30."

"What? No Brandi the Blimp?" she chuckled sardonically as she wrapped up her document signature with a flourish.

"Now, is that any way to talk?" Marshall asked as she got up and reached for her jacket, folded on top of her tote beside her desk. "What would you have done if I'd have said that to you when you were pregnant?"

"Huh," Mary scoffed and shouldered her bag; she saw Marshall watching her with his eyebrows raised from his own desk. "Jammed my boot in your ribs? Slipped poison in your nightly glass of warm milk?"

"Now you're just being mean," he pouted as Mary clip-clopped over to him and stopped with her hands splayed on the right side of his table.

"I know," she shrugged, fighting not to let the grin escape. "I'm a cruel old broad. Never should've gotten mixed up with the likes of me. Better watch your tail, partner."

Marshall stood as though this had been an invitation, arms extended out in front of him as he swiveled slowly on the spot. When he stopped, his rear end was visible as though on display.

"Sure you don't want to watch it for me?" he prodded and Mary couldn't stop the laughing from forcing its way out this time.

"Doofus," she smacked his ass instead and he turned around with a smile on his face, kissing her quickly on the lips.

Mary never let him get away with just a goodbye smooch. She leaned in for a second one, wrapping her free arm around his neck and raking her fingers across his neck, into his hair. Not for the first time, she was glad they were alone; Stan out at a meeting in Santa Fe. Although he'd done a top-notch job of conceding that his inspectors were married, sometimes he still got, as Marshall said, 'scquiggy' when the pair of them brought their theatrics to the office.

When they parted, Mary still had one hand half on his shoulder, half around his neck.

"Don't be too hard on Brandi," he said more seriously.

"What are sisters for?" she cocked her head and flashed him a smirk reminiscent of the one on the face of the little man on her desk. "Blimp was putting it kindly."

She wouldn't let Brandi herself hear that and just the same, her size was nothing compared to what Mary's had been at thirty-six weeks pregnant. Other than her bloated face, it looked like her little sister was carrying a half-size basketball under her shirt to attribute to her gestational 'symptoms.' Mary found the whole thing disgusting and that was what she made sure Brandi knew on a daily basis.

"I'll see you in a little while," Marshall said, ignoring her comment. "Pick up some dinner?"

"Yeah," Mary agreed. "You didn't expect me to morph into June Cleaver did you?"

Marshall just chuckled and Mary unwound her arms, still gazing into his face, trying not to look like too much of a lovesick puppy. The eyes, the smile, even the stubble on his chin and his stupid, flat-top haircut – all of it did things to her she couldn't rein in. How she would've managed Sam without him, she didn't have a clue and mere gratitude fueled her adoration every single day.

"Gotta go grab Smush," she reminded him when she saw the longing in his own gaze.

Their precious moments alone any more were usually invaded by the eighteen-month-old or witnesses run-amok. Although both had begrudgingly agreed to more desk-time and spent fewer minutes together in the field to reduce their risk of getting blasted simultaneously, they still ventured the occasional throw-down as one.

Still, Mary wouldn't change it and she knew Marshall wouldn't either. She still firmly believed his way with their son outfoxed her own by a wide margin, but they seemed to function just the same.

"Give him a kiss for me," Marshall requested as Mary pranced to the door.

"More like a punch on the arm and noogie," she told him, and Marshall knew she'd do it too.

She could still hear him laughing even after the elevator doors closed. It sang in her ears, rung like a bell against her ribcage, reverberated as though a steady drum in her heart.

Love.

Marshall's glance wandered to his own image of his boy perched atop the desk, displayed proudly framed in gold. Unlike Mary's, however, Sam didn't stand alone in Marshall's preferred shot. His mother sat with him, sprawled on her belly across the rug in the living room, trucks and horses scattered everywhere. She was wearing drawstring pants and a thermal button-up and had chided Marshall severely for broadcasting such a look for others to see. But he hadn't budged on removing it. She was holding Sam's hand as he sat cross-legged in front of her, as though examining all five fingers. The moments she let herself go with him as others watched were few and far between, and Marshall didn't intend to let such a thing go by unnoticed.

Even as Marshall finished his forms and double-checked an MOU, his mind remained full to the brim with his bride and his little boy, unable to push them to the back as the sun dipped beneath the just-blossoming trees against the clouds.

It was this, perhaps, that had him neglecting to notice that his phone was ringing. Snapping out of it, he picked up the receiver and answered.

"Inspector Mann," he said, businesslike as he continued to write.

"Oh…" said an uncertain and flustered voice belonging to a young man, maybe mid-to-late-thirties. "I must have the wrong number. I was looking for Mary Shannon."

"Yeah, this is her office," Marshall assured him. "But she's left for the day."

"Oh…" the man said once more, still sounding agitated.

"I can get a message to her," Marshall offered. "If you're able to share."

It was a standard stipulation to place on those who phoned the WITSEC office. If he was speaking with one of Mary's charges, it was likely he wouldn't feel like revealing who he was or what he was doing. He had the trademark voice of a worrisome witness.

"This is her husband," Marshall tacked on for good measure.

He could've just said partner. But he liked this so much better.

"Oh," he sighed in relief as he repeated the word for a third time. "Well um…Inspector…?" he tried to pick up his thread once more. "What did you say your name was?"

"Mann. Marshall Mann," he clarified, guessing this person was slightly confused since he and Mary did not have the same last name.

For anonymity purposes on the job, she'd kept Shannon as a precaution. He also thought it had something to do with Sam and wanting to tie herself to him since his surname was also Shannon. She'd yet to admit to such a thing, however.

"Well, Mr. Mann," he began again. "This is Jeremy Sullivan on behalf of Cornerstone Funeral Services and Cremation of Boring, Oregon…"

Boring Oregon? Marshall would have to remember to run that one by Mary.

"Three months ago, we buried a John Doe that passed away from severe injuries sustained in a car crash and after it was ascertained foul play was not a cause of death; the man's identity was uncovered…"

Marshall really did see what any of this had to do with him or Mary and continued writing rather absentmindedly, until he heard a name that made his heart stop dead against his ribs.

"…So sorry; we weren't aware James had any family…"

Marshall started and quit scrawling at once.

"What?" he said sharply. "James who?"

No. Oh, God.

There was a shuffling of papers on the other end while Marshall waited with bated breath, the bile from his stomach creeping into his throat. Somehow, his eyes found that precious photo once more but his vision blurred against the shapes now, unable to discern Mary's or Sam's figures.

He shut his eyes. He prayed…

"James Wiley Shannon," the man reported and Marshall immediately felt faint. "Mr. Mann, we do apologize profusely. When he was brought to us we were told – as I say – that he was a John Doe. Even after they uncovered his identity it was believed he didn't have any family. There were no records to indicate as such…"

"Wait-wait," Marshall interrupted, trying to get his head wrapped around this. "What happened, exactly? You said this occurred three months ago?"

"Yes, sir," Jeremy swallowed as he prepared for the rest of the story.

Meanwhile, Marshall's head was spinning. Five minutes before he'd been engaging in stupid, flirtatious games with his wife. And now…?

"Mr. Shannon was in a fatal automobile accident near the Oregon border. His body was found in a riverbed; the car had overturned. He had no identification on him and, seemingly, no contact information."

Marshall was hoping with every fiber of his being this wasn't right, that it was some mistake but for everything he'd heard about Mary's father, this sounded exactly like him.

"He was brought to us and arrangements were made for him to be buried," Jeremy went on. "It was only recently that we found he was a…" an awkward pause followed and Marshall suddenly knew what was coming next. "…An FBI fugitive," he mumbled, sounding embarrassed.

"As I understand it, Mary is his eldest daughter?" he prompted to cover up his blunder.

Marshall nodded even though this person couldn't see him, his throat dry and scratchy. He was trying to figure out what to say and get the words out his mouth. The office was almost dark now. He'd forgotten to turn on the light in the kitchenette earlier.

"Um…to my knowledge, she is," Marshall said. "Mary hasn't been in contact with him for some time. As far as we know, James has five children."

His heart sank just thinking about Mary's face if she knew he'd said that. She'd never wanted to extend an olive branch, as it were, to Lauren or Scott and had never even met her other supposed half-sister floating around out there in the ionosphere.

"Mary's only full sibling is Brandi Shannon," Marshall found himself revealing. "Formerly Brandi Shannon," he corrected himself. "Brandi Alpert."

"Yes," Jeremy said, and Marshall pictured him nodding just as he himself had done. The inspector wondered if he had the information in front of him. "Are you aware of the whereabouts of his other children?"

"No," Marshall said at once. "That would be Lauren and Scott. I don't have a last name."

He could find out, but he didn't want to. Mary had never wanted to.

"Well…Mr. Mann," Jeremy seemed to want to wrap this up now. "I really just wanted to call to apologize. We never would've buried the body if we'd known he had a family. Please send my condolences to your wife."

Somehow, Marshall didn't think condolences were what he'd be sending but he agreed to do it just the same.

"I will," he said. "Thank-you for calling."

"Inspector, I'm in touch with the police department and if you or Mrs. Shannon have any questions or want to make arrangements to visit the cemetery…"

Marshall imagined him shrugging his shoulders on the other end of the phone.

"Please let us know," he finished lamely.

"I'll do that," Marshall said. "Thanks again."

Before Jeremy could say anything, Marshall hung up.

It wasn't two seconds before he buried his face in his hands, the darkness cloaking him now like a thick and very heavy blanket. His mind was working furiously trying to figure out what to do. Of course he'd have to tell Mary. But how to go about it?

She would die.

Not in so many words, no. But whatever she told Marshall about putting her father in the past, about not giving a damn about what he'd done to her anymore; Marshall had always known this wasn't true. He lingered in the deepest recesses of her mind, her husband caught the gaze as she snuggled Sam close in the shadows, he even plagued her nightmares when she thought Marshall didn't know she lay awake.

Other thoughts swirled endlessly on the edges of all this – he and Mary were supposed to go to Kansas the next afternoon to visit his mother. They hadn't been since Sam's first Christmas and things had been slow at the office; Stan had given their little getaway the thumbs-up. And then there was Jinx, and poor hormonal pregnant Brandi…

He still had his eyes pressed into his palms when he heard the badge swipe and the shoes shuffle across the floor.

"Marshall?" came Stan's voice from his left. "What are you doing? Why is it so dark in here?"

He let Stan walk over and snap on the light before he emerged, the glow strangely bright around his lids now.

"What's up?" Stan pressed, briefcase in hand. "Something wrong?"

Marshall sighed, but knew he would be able to tell Stan. He would understand. He loved Mary too.

"I just got a call…" the inspector revealed. "Apparently…about three months ago…they found…"

Could he say it? Was it fair to spill to Stan before Mary?

"…They found…Mary's dad…dead in a ditch at the Oregon border."

"Oh, Jesus," Stan said immediately with a low sigh of his own. "Wait a minute, three months ago? What the hell happened?"

"They thought he was John Doe," Marshall explained as he stood up and grabbed his own briefcase, instantly ready to go home and be with his wife.

And at the same time, he knew what awaited him beyond was nothing good. The thought of devastating the person he loved most in the world, in this entire vast universe, didn't endear him to the idea.

"Jesus," Stan repeated. "Mary's gonna be pretty upset. It's a good thing you guys are getting away for a few days."

"If she still wants to go," Marshall shrugged. "I imagine Jinx and Brandi will try to strap her down to stay while they wail out their woes."

Marshall knew he shouldn't have said it, knew that Jinx and Brandi deserved more consideration these days but he couldn't help wanting Mary taken care of at a time like this and anticipated the role-reversal as soon as word spread.

"You make her go, Marshall," Stan said firmly. "If you whisk her outta here, it might actually take the sting away."

Marshall nodded, understanding the truth of Stan's words, knowing it was time for him to bid his boss farewell.

"I'll let you know," he said, and headed for the door.

Just as he was about to reach for the handle, he heard Stan's voice again.

"You're a good man, inspector."

Well, it was only fair for Mary to have at least one good man in her life.

A/N: A dramatic start, but I wanted to get rocking and rolling! Review and I will love you forever LOL!