Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfic and my first time using the site, so I have no idea what I'm doing and no beta reader- So all mistakes are mine. Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples, I'm just using them shamelessly. I hope he doesn't mind. Reviews and encouragement (or criticism!) greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Mary couldn't help noticing the strange look on Marshall's face as they walked back into the office. He seemed to be taking in the tall stranger in Stan's office with a degree of great trepidation. Mary paused and looked at him as he stood frozen in the doorway. She opened her mouth to ask if he was okay just as the man stepped out of the office and gave Marshall a thorough once over.

"What are you doing here?" Marshall asked the man, confusion and apprehension both evident in his voice.

"Nice to see you too, son," the man responded, trying, but failing, to sound hurt.

Mary turned her attention to the man for the first time, taking in his appearance. He was in his late sixties, with steel grey hair, tall and thin, much like her partner. His piercing blue eyes and the line of his nose were both strangely familiar. Mary looked back at Marshall for comparison. There was definitely a family resemblance. This had to be Marshall's father.

Marshall seemed to be having a hard time deciding what to say, which was, to say the least, unusual for him. She took in his uneasy stance and wondered if Marshall and his dad were as close as she'd always believed. When she'd first met Marshall, she'd guessed that he'd come from the perfect family and Marshall had never corrected her, but she could sense her partner's nervousness now and wondered if perhaps he'd kept something from her. Finally, Marshall breached the space between himself and the older man, giving his father a tentative hug, and spoke.

"Sorry, Dad, I just wasn't expecting you. What brings you to town?"

"We tracked a couple of fugitives to Ruidoso and I got called in as part of the task force. Figured I'd stop by and see how my boy was doing, check in with Stan. I haven't seen him since he moved out here, you know."

Marshall seemed to notice Mary again for the first time since the exchange began and looked over at her, then back at his father.

"Oh, dad. This is my partner, Mary," he said, waving a hand in her direction. The older man took a sizeable step towards her, extending his hand.

"Mary, this is my dad…"

"Seth Mann," the older man interrupted. "Pleasure to meet you. Marshall was right, you're a knockout." Mary blushed slightly at the compliment, then looked over at Marshall questioningly. He wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Thanks," Mary said, returning her gaze to Seth. "It's great to meet you, too. Marshall tells me you're in Fugitive Apprehension?"

"Guilty." Seth said, with a smile.

"I was in the New Jersey office before I came to work here."

"Yeah, I think Marshall mentioned that when you first started working together."

"Oh, really? What else has Marshall said?" Mary asked, turning a mischievous grin toward Marshall. She noticed with pleasure that he colored slightly.

"Oh, don't worry. He's kept all the details private." Mary looked a bit taken aback, suddenly suspicious of his phrasing.

"What details?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at Marshall.

"You know, about what you two do on the job." Seth explained. Mary relaxed.

"Oh, right. So, Mr. Mann…"

"Seth, please."

"Seth, Marshall and I were about to get some lunch. Would you care to join us?" Mary ignored the pleading look on her partner's face, remembering how he'd thrown her to the wolves when Jinx had shown up in New Mexico.

"I've got a couple of hours before I have to be anywhere. Why not?" he said. Marshall visibly deflated as he watched Seth walk over to his desk. He picked up one of Marshall's more intricate origami creations and looked over at his son questioningly.

"What the sam hill is this?"

"It's an origami butterfly."

"Why the hell is there a paper butterfly on your desk?"

"I'm taking a class in origami. It's a Japanese art form, Dad," Marshall replied, defensively.

Seth sighed audibly. "You and your art classes. Next you'll be taking Intro to Interior Decorating."

"He already took that one." Mary said, under her breath, earning a death glare from Marshall. Seth seemed not to hear.

"I guess you get this artsy-fartsy nonsense from your mother's side of the family. God knows the Mann's aren't the type." Marshall looked down at his desk, still oddly speechless.

"Well, I'm starving," Mary said, breaking the silence. "How about that lunch?"

"Sounds good to me." Seth said, smiling at Mary. "If Michelangelo here promises not to fold my napkin into a flower."

Mary could see the poorly disguised anger all over Marshall's face and patted his hand amicably. Apparently his family life wasn't as rosy as he'd led her to believe.

Once they were in the parking deck, Mary headed for the blue Mustang she had, as Peter predicted, fallen in love with. Marshall willingly folded himself into the passenger seat. She was pretty sure Marshall loved her new car as much as she did. Seth decided to take his own vehicle in case he needed to leave suddenly, leaving them free to discuss what had just transpired in the office. Once they were underway, Mary glanced over at Marshall, who had barely spoken.

"So, your dad…"

"He's very 'old guard.' I think the fact that I wasn't a football quarterback in high school has been an endless source of disappointment for him. That and just about everything else I've done."

"Oh, come on. It can't be that bad."

"What you just saw? Much tamer than usual."

"Yeah, but you did become a marshal, right? I mean, it's not like you're a ballet dancer."

"True, but he thinks I took the easy way out. Witsec is, in his opinion, the least 'manly' branch of the marshal's service."

"Total bullshit. You've been shot! Can he make that claim?"

"Four times."

"Damn. Sounds like you picked the right branch to me. So," Mary said slyly, changing the subject, "You think I'm a knockout?" She treated Marshall to an impish grin.

"Dad was just being polite."

"Oh, " Mary said, deflating slightly. "So you don't." She tried to hide her disappointment, but Marshall sensed that she was stung by his response.

Sometimes, he thought to himself, she could be so unpredictable- she could beat up drug dealers and outshoot gangsters, all while looking better than anyone doing those things had any right to, but she still occasionally needed to hear she was pretty.

"I never said that," he said, giving her a slow smile. She smiled back as he set his jaw for what was sure to be a trying lunch hour.