A/N: Hello friends! And a very happy holidays to you! I have been on break for almost a month now, and managed to whip out a story by burning the midnight oil! It is one I hung onto in my mind for months before I started writing it. It is the third tale in what I am now calling the 'holiday series,' which includes 'Independence Day' and 'By Thanksgiving.' So, that means Norah, Robyn, and Max are back – now with Alice in tow! I have shot four years into the future with the children aged ten, nine, six, and four. Mary and Marshall are married off as promised in 'By Thanksgiving' and now here they are.

If you read the story synopsis you know that I made a very sad decision for this story. Beloved Jinx (which may be subjective to some of you,) is going to leave us (not a spoiler if it's in the description!) I beg you will allow me some creative license in the way that she goes, but that is best left for later. I hope you enjoy the start!

XXX

Mary absolutely detested being sick. For all the ordinary reasons, yes. She hated the debilitating coughs, the runny noses, and the watery – virtually leaking – eyelids. But, that was not the kind of 'sick' she possessed at this particular moment. This was the feverish, sweating yet chilling kind of ill that often prompted vomiting spells and persistent nausea even after losing your lunch. It reminded Mary all too well of the days she'd been pregnant with Norah and Alice, and such memories could sometimes be haunting.

Yes, Mary was certainly not fond of the actual physical concerns that came with being under-the-weather. But, it was more the mind-set that tagged along for the ride that truly irritated her. She did not relish the lethargic nature, the inability to want to act; the pressures to stay inside and sleep all day. It was not who she was, but being sick made it harder to fight such suggestions.

Especially when you were married to a man like Marshall.

Mary was reminiscent of this fact early Monday morning when her husband of four years propped her on the couch with about sixteen pillows, not to mention just as many blankets. A glass of Sprite was waiting nearby on the coffee table, fizzing and popping while it crackled against three perfect ice cubes. The effect against Mary's fuzzy lids was that of being submerged underwater; she felt like she was looking at the beverage through a fish bowl. She wondered in the rear of her mind if she'd even be able to keep the liquid down for more than two seconds.

"You doing all right in there?" Marshall called from where he was puttering around in the kitchen, tie loose at the neck.

From where she lay on her side, Mary could see him remove two pop-tarts from a box and shove them into the toaster. No sooner had he done so than he was off again, head in the fridge and pouring orange juice before she could blink. He was remarkably quiet for a man so busy, but she almost admired that about him.

"Mare?" he prompted when she didn't respond.

"Saying I'm fine wouldn't stop you from thinking otherwise," she quipped in a low voice, closing her eyes as her head began to pound with the effort of speaking. She was doing better today, but ventured a guess her fever would probably hang on through at least mid-week.

Marshall bustled into the living room to join her, fastening the buttons on his cuffs. He looked particularly brontosaurus-like with the way he loomed above Mary's droopy form on the couch. He was cast in a very dull shadow; the sun was only beginning to peek its way through a mass of clouds outside the window. February, thus far, had been icy and extremely bleak.

"At least you ceased with the vomiting," Marshall sounded optimistic. "You didn't sneak off to the bathroom in the middle of the night and try to hide it from me, I hope."

Mary smirked through her pale complexion, "Yeah, 'cause I'm so good at getting stuff past you," she whispered. "Nope. I stopped puking around lunchtime yesterday. Guess that one's gone for good."

"Then you should be on the mend…" Marshall decided. He must've had a few minutes to spare before waking the girls, because he took a seat on the edge of the coffee table to look his wife in the eye. "I still want you to take it easy though," he cautioned. "You don't need a setback."

"Marshall, it's the flu," Mary groused with an irritable, early-morning huff. "Yeah, it's a bitch, but it'll go away eventually," she shifted a little more onto her middle as she said this. "We're just lucky Norah and Alice haven't caught it – even though I'm sure I contracted the thing from the little carriers anyway," she added as a grumpy afterthought.

"Elementary school is a virtual utopia for bacteria," Marshall dictated. "But I guess the Shannon sisters have the gut of steel. What do you think?" a little less poetic this time.

"Sure…" Mary whined with sarcasm. "Make me feel worse by telling me those two heathens can handle the virus better than yours truly."

Marshall just smiled at the way she was finally able to joke again. She'd been annoyed as hell the last few days, no question, but illness put a damper on even her acidity. She just hadn't had the energy but Marshall knew, just as Mary said; time would take care of the bug. He just hoped she didn't get stir crazy waiting for that day to finally arrive.

"Speaking of…" the woman continued. "You better get their asses out of bed, or they'll be late for school."

"Too right you are," he sang as he stood up, more than happy to do his duty as doting dad and step-dad. "Wouldn't miss a little rise and shine."

"'Rise,' maybe…" Mary slid in as he moseyed to the door down the hall. "You'll have to work a lot harder for 'shine.' Especially when it comes to Norah."

Marshall's chuckle was muffled as he sauntered further away from Mary in his quest to rouse the troops. It amazed her sometimes, that the four of them were able to stay in this house – three if you counted the nights Norah spent with Mark. It had seemed huge when she'd lived in it by herself, but now it bordered on very crowded.

Mary always got a twinge in her heart, wondering if ten-year-old Norah resented having to share a bunk bed with a preschooler hinging on four-and-a-half, but she didn't usually complain. The mother wondered how long that would last, considering Norah and Alice could sometimes be as catty as Mary and Brandi had been in their youth.

"Up and at 'em, my lovelies!" she heard Marshall bellow theatrically. "Another beautiful day!"

Squinting at the window beyond, Mary saw that this was a great exaggeration. The smallest sprinkling of sunlight was trying to inch through the throng of puffy, grey clouds. She could tell just by looking it was colder than death out there. She never appreciated the few months out of the year Albuquerque actually felt like winter.

As it was, she heard the older of the sisters respond, "You said that yesterday, and it wasn't true."

Mary was hard-pressed not to laugh, and not the least bit surprised to hear Alice counteract in her high-pitched voice, "Daddy wasn't wrong; he just guessed different!"

She should've known. In the eyes of his one and only daughter, Marshall never did anything wrong.

"You'll never know for sure until you step out the door," Marshall informed them. "Time to get cracking!" and he rapped on the wall once to emphasize his point before leaving them to their own devices.

He was halfway back to the kitchen when Mary heard the loud thump that meant the younger of her daughters had leapt from the top bunk. In actuality, she had probably just climbed part-way down the ladder and jumped the rest of the way. Alice was too much of scaredy cat to attempt a full-fledged bound.

Still in her purple pajamas with the cuffs, the little one raced out, nearly skidding on the hardwood in her socks. Her dark brunette locks fanned behind her, uncombed and matted from sleep. She did not even notice Mary all laid-up on the couch, but skittered to a halt right in front of Marshall, who was removing her pop-tart from the toaster.

"Morning, sugar…" the father greeted her. "Got your breakfast hot and ready."

"Do I have to go to school today?" she asked; it was only preschool, but still. "Why can't I stay home with you?"

"Ah, Big Al…" Marshall sighed a little overdramatically, using the opportunity to take his daughter under her arms and lift her atop the counter. "You know I'm not staying home either. I have to go to work."

"You go to work every day," Alice whined in her typical four-year-old way.

"Pays the bills, darlin'" was Marshall's response, and Mary saw him drop a kiss on her dark hair, smoothing the more pesky strands with his fingers. Unlike Norah's and Robyn's stick-straight blonde, Alice's had always been curly and much harder to tame. Mary had refused to let it get as long as the cousins' had in their youth, because it would've been beast to brush.

"Eat your pop-tart," Marshall instructed when Alice pouted, but she abided and took a bite, swinging her legs and knocking them into the cabinets below. "Watch the noise…" he said upon hearing this. "Mommy's still not feeling very good."

Alice spared Mary the smallest of glances, as though to confirm her father's words, and Mary waved her fingers, but it made no difference. As far as Alice was concerned, there was no Mary if she had Marshall sitting right there.

"So, she gets to stay home," Alice figured, and Mary could practically hear the wheels spinning in her child's brain of how to work this to her advantage.

"She is ill," Marshall stated calmly, retrieving Norah's breakfast and setting the steaming treat on a napkin. "Besides, you know come sick or well that I always have to go to the office."

"'Cause you're the boss. Right, daddy?" Alice murmured, blinking her eyelashes coyly.

"The one and only," Marshall played his role to a T, milking it for all it was worth. To get off this subject and not stray too dangerously into 'Marshal' territory, he veered, "Where's your sister? Her pop-tart is going to be cold."

"She wasn't up when I came out," Alice tattled obnoxiously. "I can't get dressed 'till she does."

In the back of her foggy mind, Mary reflected that Alice could barely dress herself whether the bedroom was occupied or not. She was a terror when it came to matching her clothes, and often put her socks on the wrong feet, something Mary didn't even know was possible. Even after four years, she still had trouble getting used to a child who relied so heavily on others. Norah had been so unique with her unrivaled independence – still was.

"Well, I would advise you think very hard about what to put on," Marshall narrowed his brows, and even from her spot on the couch, Mary could picture Alice mimicking him in deep contemplation. "So when Norah does emerge, you will be quite the speedy little fashionista."

Mary rolled her eyes upon hearing this, fully intending to tell Marshall not to put such ideas in her daughter's head. But, Alice kind of did the job for her.

"Robyn is the fashionista," she declared. "That's what Brandi says."

"Far be it from me to take that title away from her," Marshall shook his head. "My mistake."

With that, Mary shifted further into her many pillows, closing her eyes and rotating onto her back. It was one of the few mornings she was grateful that Alice was so attached to Marshall. Sometimes, it bothered her more than she cared to admit, but today she was just glad she had the opportunity to catch up on stamina. In any case, she reminded herself many a time that Marshall had Alice, and she had Norah. That was all there was to it; it was natural for children to be closer to one parent.

Ten minutes later, and with many insinuations that Alice was going to devour Norah's pop-tart if she didn't hurry up, the elder emerged. She was wearing jeans and a red sweatshirt, her shoulder-length blonde streaks tied in a low ponytail.

"Hey champ," Marshall greeted her from his spot at the counter. "All finished?"

"I guess…" Norah shrugged. "You can go," she nodded at Alice.

"That's our cue, sugar…" Marshall declared, and without waiting for approval, he lifted Alice into his arms, where she immediately wound her legs around his waist. To Mary, "We are off to find attire."

"Keep me posted…" the woman muttered, as if she especially cared.

Marshall and Alice made their exit as promised, and Norah ventured her way into the kitchen to collect her breakfast and orange juice. Proving how differently she treated her oldest daughter, Mary raised her head a fraction of an inch to greet her, something she had not done with Alice. She rarely did, knowing she was too occupied with her father.

"Hey Bug…" she croaked. "Happy Monday," a swallow.

"Yeah," Norah laughed, bringing her pop-tart and drink to the couch, where she took a seat on the coffee table. "I already heard Alice moaning about how she doesn't want to go."

"Give her a break…" Mary suggested, leaning onto her side once more. "She's little."

"Is that what Jinx used to say to you when Brandi drove you crazy?" she asked, munching on her pop-tart.

"Nah…" Mary was truthful, unexpectedly grateful for the company. "Hers was more along the lines of, 'Your sister loves you; can't you see that!'" she put on a falsetto to sound more like her mother, but it came out rather murky thanks to her bedraggled quality.

Norah started chuckling, "Yeah, that sounds more like Jinx." She took a long dreg of her orange juice and went on, "You still sick?"

Mary fed her a face of mock-annoyance, "Seriously, Bug?" she huffed as well as she was able. "You trying to tell me something? That I sit on my ass every day of the year and you can't recognize the difference?"

Norah laughed again hearing Mary swear; when her child was younger, she used to try and put a lid on such things. But, Mark slipped up with that particular word so often it really made no difference anymore. As it was, she just tried to limit 'Jesus' whenever possible.

"I just wondered," Norah claimed. "I mean, since you're a part-time inspector, and not full-time like Marshall."

"Don't remind me," Mary grumped. "And hey, you're demoting dear old step-dad. He's chief."

"Well, whatever," Norah shrugged.

Despite making it sound like Mary had pulled rank, she'd actually moved up a few rungs in the last few years. She'd taken almost complete leave from the service after she'd gotten pregnant with Alice, bolstered only by the fact that Marshall was in fact chief and would not acquire a new partner. Delia and Charlie were in that build now. But, since Alice had started school she'd started weaning herself back into the fold. Since the girls were still young, she was able to bounce between WITSEC and home whenever time permitted. She felt better knowing Marshall had the most important bases covered.

"Yes, I'm still sick…" Mary finally answered the question as all of this coursed through her mind. "But improving. No more barf, so at least you can stand to be around me now."

"You would talk about puking while I'm trying to eat," Norah joked, her quick wit becoming more prevalent as she grew older. "I could spew my pop-tart. That'd be gross," the tomboy that still lived within seemed energized by the prospect; the nastier, the better.

"Get your bag…" Mary nudged her daughter with her foot, catching the cuff of her jeans. "Marshall's taking you two; you can't make him late."

"Yeah-yeah…" Norah sounded irritated, but she smirked nonetheless and stood to take her dishes and dirty napkin back to the kitchen.

She had just deposited the remains of her breakfast in the sink when a bang sounded from down the hall, so loud it made Mary jump. But, she knew she had no reason to worry when Marshall bounded out, trailing Alice on his hand.

"Record time!" he breathed excitedly, screeching to a halt so fast that Alice almost fell over when she tried to hang onto his fingers. "I bet Alice she couldn't get dressed in under two minutes," he revealed. "Proved me wrong, she did!"

Alice grinned adoringly, but she was as uneven as ever. She wore blue leggings printed with white polka dots, topped off with an orange and pink striped shirt. The contrast was glaring, but Mary knew Marshall was just glad to have shooed her along. They cut the time very close on occasion when the four-year-old couldn't make a decision.

Norah snorted as she finished the last of her juice, "They'll see you coming with that get-up."

"Like yours is any better!" Alice retorted, sticking a hand on her hip. "You look like a boy."

"Better a boy than a clown," Norah muttered, but Mary had heard enough.

"You all are really working to make me lose last night's dinner," the mother interjected in as sharp a tone as she could muster in her state. "Cut it out."

"Do cease fire, ladies," Marshall requested, much more magnanimously than his wife. "I don't have time to pull you apart this A.M."

Norah abided, but Alice continued to glower, always put-out when her insults didn't have much effect on her elder sister. Norah had a much thicker skin, and was often undeterred by whatever offenses came her way. Alice was far more emotional, and would frequently cry if her feelings were crushed too severely. This happened most often at school, however. Norah usually stuck to minimal sniping to annoy, rather than hurt.

This time, she even went the extra-mile, perhaps trying to make up for exerting her unwell mother.

"Come on, Alice," she beckoned with her finger. "I'll get your coat off the hook," she was too short to reach.

Alice reluctantly relinquished Marshall's hand and followed Norah to the door. Mary heard them chit-chatting about nothing in particular while they fastened buttons and shouldered backpacks. Content to have them busy, Marshall turned his attentions to Mary, settling himself in Norah's vacated spot on the coffee table in front of weary eyes.

"You sure you'll be all right for the day?" he asked skeptically. "I've been within driving distance for the last week in case you needed anything, but today…"

Mary shook her head side-to-side on the pillow, "I'll be fine," she insisted. "The worst is over. I just need to bulk up so I can get back to work."

"But, if you were to need anything…" Marshall tried to explain where he'd been headed before. "I mean, I'm going to be all the way out in Taos," he reminded her. "…Getting that junkie from last week settled. It's almost three hours…"

"I'm well aware," Mary even elbowed up, so as to seem fitter and more capable. "I'll survive. You'll be back tonight, right?"

"Around seven if I'm lucky," Marshall confirmed. "But, I just…"

"Marshall, come on," Mary was forced to really shoot him down this time. "I can take care of myself; I'm a big girl. Mark's gonna drop by around eleven before he heads to work; he's bringing me lunch," she just hoped she'd be able to eat it.

"You're sure?" Marshall seemed surprised by this development, but a little boosted. "You talk to him last night?"

"Yes…" Mary was definitely getting a little peeved and hoped to ward him away. "He said he had something that he needed to talk to me about," having no clue what that was. "He'll be here. So, I'll have a nursemaid after all," she fed him an aggravated smirk.

"Okay…"

Her man still sounded doubtful, but he did stand up. He also knew it was time they put the WITSEC discussions to an end now that the girls had stopped jabbering, and were more likely to hear. Marshall chanced a glance their direction before conceding defeat.

"I can call Jinx and get her to look in on you," one last, brave attempt.

"No…" Mary shook her head firmly. "Not Jinx. She hasn't been feeling so hot either."

Marshall frowned from above, "Same virus?"

"I don't know what it is…" Mary murmured vaguely, no interest in such a conversation. "She's been talking about these dizzy spells she's been having. She probably caught some other flu from those swans she works with."

Marshall chortled at this, "Well, at any rate," he concluded. "Call Charlie if you change your mind. Delia will be with me; I don't know if our cells will pick up the signal way out there."

"Copy that," Mary placated him with a reminiscent smile at the old phrase sneaking through. "Be careful, doofus."

She distinctly heard Alice giggle at the less-than-flattering nickname being used, but everyone was used to it by now. It was routine. Marshall smiled as well and craned his neck to place a light kiss on her sweaty brow.

"Take it easy," he advised. "I'll see you tonight."

"Yes, master…" Mary mused.

Marshall pretended not to have heard and made his way to the door where the girls were waiting to leave. Mary couldn't see them from where she was stationed, but she picked up a few voices before they departed.

"Norah, where's your coat?" Marshall posed.

"I don't need it," she insisted. "I have a sweatshirt."

"You'll be cold…" the man warned.

Norah was probably shrugging, "No big deal."

Mary couldn't stop herself from grinning at her daughter's ritual habits; she always claimed she didn't need a coat – or a hat, or mittens, or anything that might keep her warm. Sometimes, her mother disagreed but she knew she had to choose her battles. Marshall had learned as much very early on; it was Mark who still tried to be the disciplinarian when it came to small struggles.

"Say goodbye to mom, you two…" Marshall instructed.

Mary heard nothing from Alice, but she did hear the front door open, and she felt the bitter gust of wind that swept through the house. She wasn't sure what happened next, because Norah's face appeared before her own a second time. Her brown eyes were somewhere between pleased and resigned. She was a generally happy kid, but it was Monday morning and school wasn't where she wanted to go.

"Bye mom…" she said kindly. "You said dad's going to bring you lunch?"

"Yes, Bug…" Mary sighed. "Don't worry about me, and get to school," she worked some of her old sarcasm in there, never truly able to forget that despite Norah's toughness, she still had a compassionate streak that lingered in the wings.

"Okay," she agreed this time. "See you later."

Mary reciprocated her farewells, and expected to Alice follow suit, but she must've already jumped onto the stoop. Marshall was repeating his direction.

"Alice!" he called through the chill. "Don't leave without saying goodbye to mommy!"

Mary wanted to tell him it was not worth the effort if the youngest was already on her way. But, she knew he did what he did because he didn't want Mary to feel like second-best in the eyes of their child. It was no secret, though. She preferred Marshall; she always had.

Nonetheless, Mary heard the thumping that meant Alice had returned. She caught only the briefest glimpse of the little one's face – of her shimmering blue eyes – before she swept out of sight again.

"Bye mommy!" And then, "Come on, daddy!"

Mary whispered her bon voyage, "Have a good day, Little Bit."

Mary was the only one who called her that – Little Bit. It fit right in with 'Bug' and 'Babe' for Robyn, even though Max had always been left behind, possessing only 'Moppet' from his shaggy-haired infancy. But, Alice scarcely seemed to notice the nickname. She was pulling on Marshall's hand, trying to edge him along.

"Love you…" he expressed with a sheepish smile.

Alice yanked him out of the door so fast, Mary didn't have time to spare for a heartfelt, 'I love you too.'

XXX

A/N: You know me – I start with a lot of 'calm before the storm' type chapters; I don't want to drop a blow right at the onset. I would ask you to please review and tell me what you think, but I have been absolutely dreadful about reviewing all of you that I don't know if I deserve it! Forgive me and please stay tuned tomorrow!