A/N: I really can't thank you enough for all the reviews. I am in the throes of a two-week teaching session with third graders, and while I am having a blast (I love me some kids) it is tiring, especially since I am not a teacher yet! The point is, it is so great to have all your kind words to come home to.

Anyway…bearing in mind, once again the, 'I am not a doctor' spiel from the last chapter (feel free to take another glance LOL!) here we go…

XXX

It was the longest night of Mary's entire life. Magnified by a thousand after she had possibly the worst conversation in the entire world with Carolyn, who was so excruciatingly kind and understanding it made Mary feel painfully awful.

She was sitting alone in her chair, Styrofoam cup of un-drunk coffee resting on her knee as she stared into oblivion when Jinx crept back onto the scene with the phone. Stan, with many apologies, had to go down to the police department to give a second statement about the case.

"Mary?" Jinx called softly to her vacant expression.

She glanced up, looking right at her, but also through her all at the same time.

"What?"

"Carolyn wants to talk to you," she held out the phone like a peace offering, a bribe.

Blindly, Mary took it, trading the cell for the coffee, which she thrust into Jinx's hands.

"You drink it," she instructed. "I don't want it."

Her mother merely nodded and headed across the room, trying to give Mary some privacy. Mary herself tried desperately to prepare for the discussion ahead before putting the phone to her ear. Even once it was there, she just mouthed soundlessly for a moment before she managed to work any of the words out her lips.

"Carolyn?" she murmured, sounding croakier than she expected. She'd only just accomplished getting the waterworks under control.

"Hi honey," came the warm, soothing tone of her mother-in-law. She covered pretty well, but Mary could still tell she was crying. "How you doing?"

Mary shut her eyes, trying to maintain her composure and said, "Been better."

"Foolish question," Carolyn conceded with a bitter laugh. "How's my boy?"

Mary hoped beyond hope that she had better news, not for herself this time, but for Carolyn. This wasn't fair. This woman, this considerate and compliant woman did not deserve for this to happen to her child.

"I'm not sure," Mary whispered. "Waiting to see if he's up for surgery."

"Your mother filled me in," Carolyn responded quietly, sparing Mary the task of having to repeat the information. "Have you seen him?"

"No," she admitted, the thought making her choke up.

She just wanted to see him. What if she never saw him again?

Carolyn obviously sensed the question was overwhelming for Mary, who was unable to hide the tears that were flooding her cheeks all over again.

"Okay honey; it's all right," she assured her gently, tears of her own sneaking their way through. "Here's the plan…"

She waited briefly while Mary pulled herself together for the tenth time, brushing her eyes with the backs of her hands.

"I'm on the first flight out in the morning; take-off is at 7:15," she reported. "I can take a cab to the hospital…"

"No," Mary interrupted, not about to let her put herself out that way. Her son was in Intensive Care for Christ's sake and she was catering to Mary. That wasn't the way the world was supposed to work – not for her.

"Someone can pick you up," she decided, grateful to have something to focus on. "My brother-in-law Peter," she decided, knowing he would step into the role once he knew what was going on. "He'll come get you."

"Thank-you," Carolyn accepted this appreciatively. "I'll let Griffin and Julian know; I'm sure they'll join me when they can."

Mary nodded even though Carolyn could not see her, guilt and remorse threatening to overcome her. She was supposed to keep Marshall safe. That was her job. She had botched it in the worst way possible; she felt more horrible and more wracked with sin than she ever could've imagined was possible.

"Okay?" Carolyn prodded when Mary didn't respond to her preparations.

She couldn't hold it in. She hated herself for succumbing to such weakness, but she'd completely lost control.

"Carolyn, I'm so sorry…" she wept unashamedly now, the buttons on the phone becoming slick with tears. "This is all my fault. Marshall's my partner; if I'd been there…"

She had to pause to take a breath; to avoid getting so worked up her mother-in-law might not even be able to understand her. Evidently, the onslaught of emotions made Carolyn well-up too, but her words were genuine through her tears.

"Mary, no. Nothing about this is your fault," she whispered thickly. "You and Marshall are always very smart about your jobs…"

Even without knowing what they did, she just assumed they were going about it the best way possible – forever seeing the good instead of the bad.

"If you'd been with him, you might've gotten hurt too and where would that leave Sam?"

She was being so rational. So rational when she had every right to completely fly off the rails. How the hell did she do it? Mary was too drained, too tired not to accept her words of wisdom.

"All right," she said with a nod. "All right."

"I'll see you soon, honey," she promised. "Hang in there. You take care of Marshall by taking care of you, okay?"

More lucid thought. Her husband wasn't gone after all.

"Yes," Mary replied, businesslike.

Knowing there was nothing left to hash out; she hurriedly hung up before she made a bigger wreck out of herself than she already was.

She was breathless like she'd run a marathon, like she'd taken a quick jaunt around the block in thirty degree weather. Her muscles were trembling and she took a deep breath in trying to wrap her head around coming together, even just a little bit.

"Mom?" she called, running her finger under her nose to keep it from dripping.

Jinx, it transpired, had engaged the night receptionist in light conversation as she drank Mary's coffee, but she turned at the sound of her daughter's voice. Mary waved the phone in the air, indicating that she was through and to come get it. Jinx pranced over at once, slipping the cell out of Mary's grasp and taking a seat beside her. There, she put her arm around the back of the chair and too fatigued to battle, Mary let her pull her head in so it rested on Jinx's shoulder.

"Carolyn on her way?" her mother asked, fingering Mary's hair.

"In the morning," Mary replied flatly.

"Good," Jinx nodded against Mary's temple. "Good."

Mary was waiting for the proclamation of good faith she knew was on its way, and Jinx didn't disappoint.

"He'll be all right darling," she promised unwisely, rumpling her honey-golden waves now. "He'll be fine."

"You don't know that," Mary nearly interrupted, shooting down the false hope in an instant. "Nobody knows if he'll be all right or not."

Sensing the sharpness of the tone, Jinx had enough common sense not to continue her shining beacons of positivity and kept quiet.

Mary did not have a clue how long she sat with her head on her mother's shoulder, hardly noticed the dull ache in her neck from sitting one position for too long, the digging from the blade cutting into her cheek. She didn't move, staring blankly through the room, long after she knew Jinx had dozed off unintentionally as the wee hours of the morning found their way into the room. Stan didn't come back; he was either hung up at the police station or had resolved to go home and get some sleep so he could be fit the next day.

All Mary could think about as she stared through the gloom was what to tell Sam. He would be so beyond devastated she couldn't begin to predict his reaction. He was Marshall's boy – his sheriff – and she didn't see how he'd get along without him.

He couldn't die. He could not die.

It was close to 6:30 in the morning – around the time Sam and Jesse would be getting up to go to school – when Doctor Seager, a man in his mid-to-late-thirties emerged for the first time since Marshall had been admitted. Despite the long wait for news, Mary suddenly felt an increased sense of apprehension with his reappearance.

Still, she stood without thinking about Jinx being asleep, knocking her head sideways. But it jarred her awake.

"Mrs. Shannon," Doctor Seager greeted her with a nod of his head and she did the same.

"How's Marshall?" she asked at once, straightening her top from her awkward sitting position, rubbing one of her eyes with her free hand.

Jinx was stirring as well, jostling her own clothing into place. Mary used this opportunity to get the introductions out of the way.

"This is my mother, Jinx Shannon," she indicated with a wave of her hand. "Marshall's mother is on her way in from Kansas. How's he doing?"

She said it all very quickly, nerves jangling beneath her skin which was prickly all over. Why was she so cold? She could feel every breeze that swept through the room giving her goose bumps on her arms.

"Still in pretty poor shape," Doctor Seager reported with a grimace. "But his numbers have climbed a little bit from where he was last night after we were able to staunch the blood loss."

"Okay," Mary nodded. "What about getting him in surgery? Do you think he'll hold up?"

Jinx, blissfully, remained silent next to her and let the pair of them talk.

"Not at this point," he admitted, and Mary's heart sank. "We've been doing what we can to build up his vitals but his system's too weak to tolerate very much. Right now, we're concentrating on preventing an infection from where the bullet entered his abdomen and hit his organs."

This was too much. How could this man just stand here and talk like he did this sort of thing every day?

Mary reminded herself that he probably did. Did that make it routine for her? It didn't.

"If we can ward off the infection and his numbers stay consistent, I may be comfortable putting him in surgery this evening," the man continued.

This evening? That was an eternity from now. What could go wrong in that amount of time? He could get worse.

Still, nothing was to be done from arguing and Mary resolved to press onto the next question.

"What about his brain activity?"

Her throat closed up at the thought. She couldn't breathe, could hardly even think. This was the be-all, end-all. Nothing else mattered if Marshall's mind was no longer.

"He is in a drug-induced coma right now," Doctor Seager went on. "And on a ventilator to help him breathe. He cannot survive without either at this point"

Mary was going to start crying again. In a moment of compassion, the surgeon soldiered on in attempts to bring better news.

"If we can get him through surgery and his vitals improve, he'll be taken off both to see if he can function on his own," he detailed. "But it's too early to say whether that is a possibility at this point."

So, he was going to die. For all intents and purposes, he was already dead if not for those ridiculous machines. This was the only way that Mary saw it. Forever negative.

"He's going to die…" she murmured what was going through her mind, but Jinx spoke for the first time in minutes.

"Mary sweetheart; no he isn't," she said firmly, yanking her around to look into her face, trying to capture her gaze. "You heard Doctor Seager; it just takes time."

That wasn't what Mary had heard at all.

"There's a ways to go yet," he admitted, Mary tearing her eyes away from her mother's to listen. "But he could absolutely progress throughout the day and be stable enough to head into the OR tonight. We'll just have to see; there are a lot of steps ahead."

She was done with this. She'd had enough. Nothing good had come from this visit; nothing was going to be done. She'd sat around all night for nothing and she was going to be damned if she didn't even make the tiniest victory from her stretch in the waiting room.

"I want to see him," she demanded forcefully. "Let me see him."

Jinx cast the doctor an anguished look and he sighed. Clearly, this was against his protocol but he obviously felt badly he didn't have a better report and looked to be on the verge of wavering. Knowing how she had sounded, Mary decided to sweeten the deal.

"Please," she whispered.

After another moment of hesitation, the man finally nodded in defeat.

"Briefly," he held up a finger of authority. "He still needs to advance quite a bit to have full-time visitors."

This didn't matter in the least to Mary. Now was now and later was later and right now, she was going to see Marshall. Dead or alive, she was going to see him. Following Doctor Seager back through the double doors which he had come in, she didn't expect him to interrogate her down the dank hallway of other critical patients.

"Do you and Marshall have children, Mrs. Shannon?" he asked.

"Yes," she said immediately, curious as to why he wanted to know. "We have a son."

"How old is he?"

"Six," Mary reported. And then she remembered, "Almost seven."

She wanted to ask him why this was important, why it had any bearing on what was going on, but she didn't have the energy and he didn't volunteer anything else so she kept silent.

In what seemed like no time at all, they'd arrived at their desired destination and Mary suddenly felt increasingly anxious. It was a morbid curiosity, a longing she had to feed but was fearful of expelling all at the same time. Before she could wrap her brain around this, Doctor Seager opened the door and without another word, extended his arm indicating that she could go inside.

Soundlessly, she did just that.

And there he was. Marshall.

Only, he wasn't Marshall at all. He was deathly, almost ghostly pale. He seemed smaller somehow, even though his long, lanky frame took up the entire length of the bed. They had him in one of those awful hospital gowns, the fabric concealing his partially closed wound, blankets on top. The ventilator was making a steady chunk-chunk noise, a long tube protruding from his mouth. She'd never see him so still in her whole life.

Slowly, she stepped forward, legs shaking like they were made of jelly and didn't know how to hold her. Sitting down at his bedside, she refused to pretend he could hear her. She didn't know what she would've said to him anyway so she opted to take his hand, which was icy to the touch. Concealing his fingers in both her own to warm them up, she felt the tears sliding across her skin once more. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried this much.

"Marshall…" she whispered, not knowing why or what for.

Nudging herself forward in her chair, she gently laid her upper body onto his chest, careful not to place her weight on him. She clutched his hand as the tears wet his gown, the right side of her face pressed into the bones of his ribcage. Faintly, beneath them, she could hear the steady beating of his heart.

Thinking back to everything he did for her, all the ways he tried to make her feel better and help, only one phrase came to mind and she whispered it through the room, ethereal and filled with despair.

"Tell me what you need," she murmured.

She shut her eyes, daring anyone to pull her away.

"Please…tell me what you need."

A/N: Mary's become pretty tried-and-true as far as Marshall's concerned; loyal to a fault! Sam ahead…stay tuned tomorrow! XOXO