A/N: I know, it's been awhile since you've seen anything from me. Life is like that sometimes. This was written for pip in the Secret Snowflake gift exchange over on LJ in response to her prompt requesting a "5 Things" fic. This isn't a typical 5 Things fic, if there is such a thing. I guess you'll just have to read and decide for yourself.

As for IPS, I own nothing even remotely related to the show other than some DVDs.

"I'm stuck out here because of you and if you're not going to let me sleep, then you're damn well going to entertain me."

Huffing in annoyance, Mary reached for the travel mug recently topped off from her partner's thermos. The sun had not yet risen to burn off the early morning chill and Marshall had killed the engine almost an
hour ago to conserve what gasoline was left. Clutching the warm beverage with two hands, she sipped slowly as she anticipated the reaction of the man in the driver's seat.

As his eyebrows slowly arched skyward, Mary forced her gaze to remain fixed on the coffee. It was an exercise in self-control, albeit a futile one since it did nothing to diminish the effect Marshall's inquisitive blue eyes had on her libido. She'd seen that look enough times to know what he was thinking and it elicited images of her partner that threatened to make her blush. Readjusting her position, she ignored her body's reaction and lashed out in typical fashion.

"Mind out of the gutter, Pervis," Mary snapped, finally making eye contact and feigning annoyance.

"Just checking out the view in your neighborhood," he threw back with that crooked grin that always caused her pulse to quicken.

The glare that answered Marshall's quip only caused his grin to widen, a cue to Mary that it was time to change the subject.

"I'm going to ask you questions and you're going to answer them," Mary stated unequivocally.

It had been weeks since the elder Marshal Mann had visited Albuquerque leaving Mary with an unprecedented interest in the man's eldest son...her best friend...and someone she realized she knew very little about. Mere curiosity? Maybe. Or so she would tell herself. But deep down she knew the truth. And what she also knew, was that the perfect opportunity to pry had just presented itself.

"Exactly what types of questions are we talking about?" Marshall drawled. "The Jeopardy! kind?"

"You imitating an Encyclopedia Britannica is not what I call entertainment." Mary rolled her eyes as she spoke letting them come to rest once again on the adobe ranch house that was home to Marshall's witness. After another sip of coffee she added, "Unless you've changed your mind about letting me sleep. Then, by all means, spout away, Rain Man."

"And why is it you think I'll answer?" Marshall's tone was more curious than annoyed as he placed his left hand on the steering wheel and turned to face her. The reddish-orange glow of early morning was fading as sunlight spilled forth from the horizon and Mary noticed him squint at the sudden change in the light. Undeterred, he held her gaze and waited for an answer.

"Because if you don't," Mary snapped, "I'll make sure the only stake-out buddy you get for the next six months is Charlie."

"You wouldn't?" Marshall questioned and Mary found the disbelief in his tone amusing.

There was no bad blood between her partner and the young marshal, but the one case they had worked together had not gone well. The combination of a whiny and demanding witness with Charlie's constant questions and eagerness to learn had left Marshall with a migraine that took two days to subside. Since then, Mary had encouraged Stan's mentoring of the boy which kept his interaction with them to a minimum. That didn't mean, however, that she wouldn't use it against Marshall to get her own way.

"I most certainly would," Mary confirmed in no uncertain terms. "It won't take much for me to convince Stan how much Charlie would benefit from your years of experience and vast knowledge of...well, everything."

Marshall sighed and shook his head in defeat.

"That's low, Mary, even for you."

Shrugging her shoulders, she smiled contentedly. Lazily, the smile morphed into a smirk as Mary watched Marshall turn away, pinching the of his nose as he mumbled, "Fine. One question."

"Oh, no. No limit." The long index finger of her right hand left the warmth of the mug and pointed to reinforce her words. "And no 'yes or no' answers either, Bub!"

"Three questions. Go!"

He's stalling. Mary recognized the attempt at subterfuge and countered.

"Pfft! Like I'd let you off that easy. Let's start with five and see where we end up." Attempting to get comfortable, Mary continued, mumbling more to herself than to her partner. "Okay, let's see. I already know about Katinka, although the whole exchange student thing is a little suspicious if you ask me."

"Mary," the low tone carried a warning.

"Relax, Doofus. I have no intention of prying into your sex life or lack thereof," Mary remarked as if the thought disgusted her...a lie and she knew it. The curiosity had always been there. Musings fermenting over time into fantasies about the man she shared every part of her life with except her bed. And as much as she worked to hide this information from Marshall, she couldn't resist the opening either. Tauntingly, she added, "Well, not at the moment, anyway."

The comment was answered with a roll of the eyes and a slight shake of the head, much to her satisfaction.

"Where to start...Let's see. What deep dark secrets are lurking in your closet, my friend?"

Marshall simply shrugged in response. And as she regarded him, Mary realized now that the time had come, she had no idea what to ask him. Images of a curious young boy, questioning all he came into contact with segued into those of a lanky teenager huddled at a library table absorbing information faster than he could read it.

The ideas that swirled around her head were based on the persona that the man in question projected as an adult. Mary, however, knew better than anyone that there was always more to the story. In fact, personal experience and her job had taught her that the most important thing to remember is that you can never judge a book by it's cover.

"How old were you the first time you shot a gun?" Mary blurted out, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "And I don't just want your age. I want to know what it felt like...how it made you feel?"

Marshall raised an eyebrow, the question obviously one he had not been anticipating.

"I was eight," he offered, gazing out the windshield pensively and Mary knew Marshall was focused on the past...a distant memory suddenly reanimating in his mind.

"My dad was very strict about guns. I probably would've had easier access to Fort Knox than I did to his guns," he remembered with seemingly mixed emotions as a small chortle accompanied the slight shake of his head. "It had always been made very clear that he would be the one to decide when my brothers and I were ready. And when that time came, it would only be under his strict supervision." The tone was one of mocking as Marshall recounted his father's opinion on the matter and the picture of a boy eager to please his father formed in Mary's mind.

"The summer after I turned eight, my friend Billy got his hands on a bb gun and we used to go out into the woods...," a small smile formed on Marshall's lips and he reconnected to the present as he glanced over Mary before resuming his tale. "We spray painted targets on trees. Ridiculous now that I think about it. I mean, bbs weren't exactly heavy artillery and we'd spend more time trying to figure out if we had actually hit the tree, looking for tiny nicks in the bark, than we did shooting."

Mary smiled warmly at her partner's reverie. It was nice listening to him speak about his childhood, but the smile faded away as she mentally berated herself for not asking these questions sooner. Had he ever talked about these things before? Did I just not pay enough attention? Did he take my silence as indifference...as me not giving a shit? Her reflections led her down a path of self-deprecation, cut short by Marshall's puzzled glance. Shaking it off, she silently prompted for him to continue.

"As it turns out, we weren't quite as clever as we thought and our neighbor, old man Withers, knew all about our little target practices. Since we weren't the types to make trouble, he probably would have taken our secret to the grave, but then he found one of the stray cats he used to feed dead behind his garage."

"Lemme guess," Mary interrupted, "shot by a bb gun."

"Next thing I knew, my father was dragging me out into those woods...madder than I'd ever seen him." Pausing, Marshall glanced down at his hands a moment. "He reached into the gym bad he'd been carrying and pulled put a pistol. I couldn't believe my eyes. My heart felt like it would pound through my chest as he shoved the gun into my hand. I'm still not sure exactly what he said...something about killing innocent creatures and if it made me feel like a man. As much as I tried, I wasn't able to get any words out. I just stood there...staring between my father and the gun in my hand.

He told me that if I wanted to be treated like a man, then I had to prove I was ready. Pointing to a target in distance, he told me to shoot. Again, I just stood there. Finally, he got in my face and ordered me to shoot. To this day I have no idea what came over me. Turning from him, I squared off against the target and bringing my left hand up to brace my right, just as I'd seen him do, I took a deep breath and squeezed."

Unknowingly holding her breath, Mary waited for Marshall to continue. It couldn't have been more than a few heartbeats, but it seemed much longer and she knew her expression gave her anticipation away. Well?

"That was the first day of my formal instruction." A slight smirk was present as he cocked his head to the side. "And one of the few times that I actually believed Marshal Mann to be proud of his eldest son."

"And the cat?" Mary asked.

"Wasn't us," Marshall confirmed. "Didn't even know about it until days later and at that point, my dad was already teaching me..."

"No reason to mention it," Mary added, finishing her partner's thought. "Were you scared?"

"Hell yeah."

"Would you say that was the first time you were truly 'shitting in your pants' scared?"

"Tsk tsk," Marshall scolded, wagging his finger at her. "I believe this constitutes as question number 2."

"Fine, yeah, whatever," Mary glowered. "Just answer the damn question."

"Well since you asked so nicely..."

"If you like, this little game can move from truth to dare," Mary warned. "And I can assure you...any dares issued by me will involve divesting you of as much dignity as I possibly can."

"Forever the diplomat," Marshall chided before indulging her. "As far as being 'shitting your pants' scared, as you so eloquently put it, that would not come until much later."

***
By the time Marshall finished describing the first time he truly came to understand what it was like to be scared...really scared, Mary felt as if she'd been right there with him all those years ago. Not surprising, considering she'd been through a similar life-altering experience. You'd be hard pressed to find a member of law enforcement that hadn't. The differences came in how a person handled it. How it shaped future behavior...thoughts and actions.

Marshall Mann had been the youngest in his class at the Academy, having received both his Bachelor's and Master's degrees from UNM in only five years. Obviously, being a legacy and the son of the still active and infamous, Seth Mann, the Marshal Service had gone out of it's way to ensure that there was no question regarding a career path for the young Mann.

During his first assignment, fresh out of the Academy, Marshall had been appointed to the FTF. A couple of months of fairly routine recoveries and settling in had the young marshal feeling comfortably confident. It was then things went south. They'd received a false tip that led them straight into the crossfire of a gang turf war. Sitting ducks, there was no way out and very little cover.

In an alleyway, in a bad section of Atlanta almost 15 years prior, Marshall had believed he was going to die. Hunched down behind a trash can with shots flying in every direction, death was all around and it scared the crap out him. Young...way to young and he did not want to die. It took several terrified minutes, but logic did eventually break through the initial panic and his only choice became clear. In order to make it out, he would have to kill. It was that simple and that complicated all at the same time; kill or be killed. He didn't know which one had scared him more.

A heavy silence descended upon the SUV as Marshall's voice trailed off, leaving each passenger struggling to reconcile the past with the present. The decisions made that day had helped to shape her partner into the man he was today. A man Mary respected and trusted more than any other human being. In her mind, even though she knew it was selfish, the events of the past were well worth it if it meant getting Marshall to where he was today. She wondered if he felt the same.

"Well..." Marshall finally said.

Mary's head snapped up, her attention drawn away from the hands that wrung in her lap.

"Huh?"

"I'm waiting for your next question or have I bored you enough for one day?" His tone was sarcastic, but with a hint of something Mary couldn't quite place. What was clear is that he was looking to change the subject.

"I am by no means finished with you yet?" Mary answered playfully. "Based on that bb gun story, I know you weren't the angelical child you lead everyone to believe. You must have broken a law or two, so spill."

The look on his face...the sheepish grin, surprised her and Mary realized there was definitely a lot more to the man than she knew.

"Well, well, well," she needled. "Looks like there's a bit of the dark side in you after all. I'm impressed."

"I admit to nothing," Marshall replied innocently.

"Well, you're about to admit to something," she shot back. "At the very least, tell me about the first time."

"The first time, huh?"

Mary could see the wheels spinning in Marshall's mind.

"Oh no," she ordered. "Stop trying to put some spin on it or come with a different story. Cause you know I will call every single person you ever knew to find out the truth if I have to."

"I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh."

Mary's eyebrows went up in response and she looked at him like he was crazy.

"I know...you're you," Marshall said. "But you can't blame me for trying."

Her partner drew in a deep breath and Mary knew he was gathering his courage as well as his words. Expectantly, she waited. Honestly, how bad could it be?

"Public nudity."

The words were mumbled so quickly that Mary was sure she'd misunderstood. There's no way...Marshall?

"'I'm sorry. What was that?"

Refusing to meet her gaze, Marshall sighed and repeated the words more slowly. "I said public nudity, although I was never caught or charged."

Mouth hanging open, she was incapable of laughter as she stared at Marshall dumbfounded.

"Public nudity," she reiterated once she found her voice. "You?"

Finding the landscape suddenly very interesting, Marshall avoided responding, but Mary could see the red creeping up from under his collar. It only spurred her interest.

"C'mon, out with it!" she demanded. "No 'yes or no' answers, remember."

"That was not a 'yes or no' answer." Still no eye contact.

"May as well have been," Mary muttered. "You know I'll make your life a living hell until I get the details, so you may as well spare yourself the pain and just tell me."

"It was a high school prank," Marshall divulged, sounding exacerbated. "What does it matter now?" It was rhetorical, but left Mary the perfect opening.

"Exactly, it was high school, so what does it matter now."

By the way his jaw tightened as he stretched her neck, she knew she'd broke him. It had only been a matter of time. Why he didn't just save himself the headache each time, she'd never understand.

"It was homecoming my sophomore year and a few of the jocks, Seniors, bet the Chess Club that we didn't have the balls to streak during the half-time show at the game."

"And you did it!"

"I tried to talk them out of it. Said it didn't matter what those idiots thought about us." Marshall finally looked at Mary, the blush in his cheeks fading. "Turned out they had some very compromising photos of Henry's sister. They were twins, but she had somehow gotten all of the genes in the good looks department and was very popular. No way Henry could stand up to those guys...they were too big and had the entire football team watching their backs. So he did the only thing he could to protect his sister in hopes of them keeping their promise to give the photos back. And the rest of us, well...we had Henry's back."

Eyes locked, Mary conveyed her approval. The way her partner cared about others...helped them. It was something that never ceased to amaze her. Ever the protector, even at that young an age.

"And you didn't get caught?"

Marshall shook his head in response. "Most people knew, I'm sure, but nothing was ever done."

"Impressive. What about the photos?"

"We had Donald steal them out the morons locker while we had everyone distracted," Marshall told her proudly.

"Your very own Revenge of the Nerds," Mary said in a congratulatory tone.

"And the following Monday at school," Marshall continued smugly, "Katinka gave me her number." His grin widened as Mary choked on her coffee.

*****
It had taken several minutes for Mary to recover from the hot coffee she'd inhaled. As the coughing finally subsided, she silently cursed her crazy partner. And People think I'm the insane one. He has to be nuts, he puts up with me, doesn't he?

The meanderings turned to Katinka and Mary realized that it's very possible Marshall didn't make her up. And even if he did, there obviously had to be someone. Her partner wasn't bad looking. In fact, he was rather cute in a charmingly geekish sort of way. And as for his physique, he definitely took care of himself. When you combine all of that with his brains and chivalrous nature, how was it possible some geekette hadn't latched onto him years ago?

Images of Mark and Raph flitted into her consciousness. Even she had taken that leap a couple of times, doomed as they may have been. She did have her doubts, though, as to what exactly she felt in those situations. But Marshall...he was so passionate about so many things that there had to have been someone. He certainly had a lot more to offer as far as relationships go than she did. So how come he was alone?

"You've felt it," Mary said soberly as she felt his eyes come to rest on her. Leaning back against the headrest, she turned to meet his puzzled gaze. "That feeling everyone talks about...when you meet someone and you just know." She exhaled and continued, "Know that your life will never be the same and you don't want it to be."

Marshall's eyes narrowed on her. He was dissecting the words and evaluating their meaning, in order to understand what Mary really wanted to know. Only he ever took that kind of time with her. The problem was, even she didn't fully grasp the motivation behind her inquiry. Why it was suddenly so important for her know.

Watching as he took a deep breath and swallowed hard, Mary felt the knot in her stomach tightening. The look on his face was familiar, and not in comforting way. Racking her brain, she remembered. The impromptu and unwelcome engagement party in the office that day. Marshall's toast...oh God, oh God, oh God...

Voice unsteady, he began, "Someone said to me once that 'you have to go where your blood beats'..."

"Marshall," Mary interrupted softly. The conflict within her building and she wavered. Was it so wrong to think about the possibility? To want to know what it would be like? No! I can't...WE can't. It would ruin everything. Her head was swimming, no drowning. And she was convinced her eyes betrayed her as they remained fixed on her partner's, his soul laid bare as well.

The seconds that passed seemed like hours. And just as Mary thought her heart would explode from her chest, she saw movement over Marshall's shoulder. His witness...and he wasn't alone.

"Marshall," Mary called out in warning, startling him back to reality. "Look."

As they returned their travel mugs to the holder in the center of the console, hands briefly touched and Mary offered a reassuring smile that was returned in kind by her ever faithful partner. Bolstering their resolve, each reached for the respective door handles and exited the vehicle.

Walking around the front of the SUV, Mary met Marshall and together they headed across the street to the house. As they made their way, she glanced down from her partner's feet to his hands and realized she still had one question left.

"So Marshall, when was the first time you measured your hand?"

Happy Holidays everyone! I hope the season has been kind to you and all the best in 2011. The best gift you could give me is your review ;)