A/N: I'm so glad so many of you liked the Marshall/Norah bonding time, and that you all recognized that I want Norah to kind of have her own unique relationships with each of her parents or parental figures (I know there hasn't been much of Mark yet, but he's supposed to be in there too LOL!)
XXX
Trying to do two things at once was Mary's strong suit; sometimes even three or four things. The attempt was in full swing as she clamped her cell to her shoulder with Norah seated on the counter in front of her, sporting a spectacularly bloody knee. She was disturbed when it came to nightmares, but scrapes and cuts never caused a tear.
"No…Marshall, wait a second…" she said to the man on the other end of the line, not having heard properly. "Who's in the hospital again?" Norah kicking her feet against the cabinets reminded her to be mindful what she said. "You're not hearing this, right?" she posed to her daughter.
"Not hearing it," Norah replied as expected. "Only, I am; I'll just pretend I'm not."
"Yeah, whatever…" Mary waved her away while she rooted in the upper cupboards for some band-aids. Norah always kept quiet; it was Robyn they had to worry about. "Tell me again," she repeated to Marshall.
"It's Scott; your basketball kid," he reported swiftly.
"Well, he's not really a kid anymore…" Mary stood on tiptoe trying to listen.
"Regardless," Marshall cut in. "He's in the hospital because his appendix burst; his wife's there with him now."
"Is he okay?" Mary took care to ask, yanking the band aids down so roughly they tumbled to the floor. Until this moment she'd forgotten Scott was married. "That doesn't sound like a Wimbledon issue."
'Wimbledon' was their ridiculous code word for 'WITSEC' which they used when the kids – or anybody else for that matter – were around. Mary often wondered what they would change it to when one or all of the children figured out what Wimbledon actually was – and that tennis didn't mesh with US Marshals.
"Well, it's not," Marshall took care to answer her assumption while she bent with a groan to retrieve the band-aids. "But, you know some hospitals can be thorny with paperwork and he's not at Mesa Regional. Do you know where the copies we've got of his medical records are? The revised ones?"
"Why don't I just come down there?" Mary suggested. And then, to Norah, "Quick kicking. Kicking happens outside, not in."
Norah pouted briefly, looking a little sickened by her knee now, but also somewhat interested.
"You can fill out the forms tonight," Marshall placated his woman. "Speaking of tonight, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."
Mary tuned in a little better at this, "Like what?"
"Just something Norah mentioned to me last night," he threw off carelessly. "Nothing to worry about."
Mary's eyes fell to her daughter at that point, and she was disinterested in the discussion but Mary couldn't help wondering what she'd said. Maybe she could plumb her for facts later if she remembered.
"Okay…" Mary said uncertainly. "About Scott – his files should be in the third row of the file cabinets; you might have to root around but I'm pretty sure they're buried somewhere in the depths."
"Nice…" Marshall chuckled. "Thanks."
Mary heard the sound of the front door opening, meaning Brandi had arrived with Robyn and Max, ready to drop off her youngest child in favor of taking her elder to dance class with Jinx. Her niece was already bellowing something at the top of her lungs, which meant hearing much more from Marshall was out the window.
"I've gotta go…" she sighed. "Brandi's here."
Marshall acknowledged this and added his farewell before hanging up. A little too flippantly, Mary tossed her cell to the counter by the sink and it skidded with a bang. She hoped in hindsight she had not broken it, but was too worried about tending to Norah before she bled out right there in the kitchen.
"Bug, what happened here?" her mother asked exasperatedly as she eyed the gash across her knee, which was still dripping. "What were you doing in the yard?"
"I just fell…" Norah answered evasively, but the rest of her explanation was cut off by the true arrival of the Shannon-Alpert gang, loud and messy as always.
"I'm here!" Robyn announced, and Mary spared her a look to see her twirling inside wearing a pink tutu. It was hitched up in back and you could glimpse her underpants underneath, but it was plain nobody else noticed. "Mommy, count how many times I go 'round on my toes, and then I can tell Jinx when I get to class!"
"Honey, not right now…" Brandi muttered distractedly, trying to quiet Max who was screeching. "Hi Mare…"
"Norah, I'm gonna have to wash this out…" Mary completely ignored her sister as she got a better look at her daughter's abrasion. "Sit tight."
Norah sighed loudly, but turned to her aunt in favor of something to keep her occupied, "Can I hold Max?" she stuck out her arms from where she perched atop the counter.
"Sorry…" Brandi smiled at her niece, sympathetic but somewhat firm. "He's in a mood; better let him calm down first." And then, "Robyn, watch out! You're going to run into Mary."
For the younger girl was like a top, a tornado as she whirled through the kitchen, her long golden locks in a tremendously sloppy bun on her head. She had way too much hair to get it all in there, and so Brandi usually just threw it together as best she could, strands falling out all over the place.
"I'm practicing!" Robyn declared to the scolding. "For Broadway!"
Nobody answered that, and Mary reflected while she wet a washcloth at the sink that she lived in quite the funhouse these days. Part of it was embarrassing, but in some ways it was more demanding than WITSEC and that kept her feeling like she was working when she wasn't blasting the felons off their asses.
"Hi again, Mare…" Brandi repeated once the water stopped running.
"Hi…" she managed, wringing out her fabric.
"You feeling better today?" her sister pressed.
"I felt fine yesterday," Mary reminded her, choosing not to mention her vomiting spell in the middle of the night.
"Whatever 'fine' means to you," Brandi teased in an undertone. "Mare, I hate to dump him on you; I know you've got your hands full. But, I'm late getting Robyn to dance…"
"Never mind that her grandmother's the teacher and doesn't care…" Mary grumbled as she went back to Norah.
"And I need to get to work," Brandi cut through Mary's side note, referring to the retail clothing store in which she worked these days, something of an assistant-assistant manager. "I get off at six and Peter should be back by five-thirty…"
"I thought he was in Helena or Hampton or…" Mary couldn't remember as Brandi shoved squirmy, wiggly Max into her arms, forcing her to toss the washcloth to the counter.
"Hartford," Brandi finally helped her out. "He's in Hartford, but his flight left twenty minutes ago."
That was all Mary needed to know, and instead focused on getting Max to chill out, but part of her couldn't blame his need to flail all over the place. His hair had gotten so long in front it was covering his eyes, and she had to brush the waves out of the way twice just to get a glimpse of him. It was almost down to his collar in back and he wasn't even two yet. Where had he acquired all of it at such a young age?
"Squish, his hair is getting ridiculous…" Mary couldn't help herself from pointing out; using her three middle fingers to sweep it over his head, hoping it would stay there. "He looks like a hobo."
Brandi chuckled, "I know; my little sheepdog. I haven't had a chance to get it cut yet."
Norah seemed to enjoy her cousin's sand-colored strands and kept reaching up to pull them down and up again, playing some version of peek-a-boo. Max seemed to enjoy it too and giggled feverishly at her game.
"Love, come on; sit still…" was Mary's response to her daughter's activities, swinging Max out of her reach.
"Robyn!" Brandi called, nearly drowning out her sister. The little girl whirled back onto the scene, banging into a barstool on the way. "Let's go baby, come on! Say goodbye!"
Mary reflected that their tiny dancer hadn't even said hello, but she took her mother's words to heart and halted long enough to wave and blow several kisses on the spot.
"Farewell, dah-lings!" she sang, stretching out each letter in the second word. "I will return!"
Mary had already occupied herself poking some grapes into Max's mouth from Norah's abandoned lunch at the island, which he chewed up with much puffing of his cheeks.
"You like that?" she asked her nephew, and then recalled she needed to throw Robyn a bone. "Bye babe; see you later…" she muttered vaguely.
But, her niece forever expected more in terms of a dramatic exit, and Mary felt herself nearly bowled over as the child crashed into her waist. Her arms had flung out like a monkey around her aunt's rotund belly, causing Brandi to gasp in – Mary wasn't sure – perhaps horror.
"Robyn!" she scolded, not knowing what was going on. "That's why you have to be careful; you'll hit people," she dashed over to snatch her daughter's hand, but Mary shook her head, annoyed with Brandi's overreaction.
"Squish, it's nothing…"
Robyn ignored both of them, "I can't feel anything!" she pouted, hands crawling all over Mary's stomach, which made the woman feel very self-conscious, even if it was just Brandi and the kids. "When will I feel something?" she gave Mary her best innocent look, staring up with heartache and longing.
"You'll be the first to know…" Mary grumped half-heartedly just as Brandi yanked her away.
"Are you sure there's really a baby in there?" Robyn posed, her mother practically dragging her to the door as she spoke over her shoulder.
"See you later…" Mary just waved to her sister, unsure what to say to Robyn's inquiry, hitching Max up so he wouldn't fall.
"Bye Mare," Brandi laughed. "Thanks."
It was like a damper had been put on the entire room when the door slammed shut from the breeze outside. Mary hadn't noticed until they'd left that it was Robyn who had been making most of the noise. Except for Max's whining for more fruit and Norah still banging her feet despite her mother's warning, it was quiet. Mary could feel her heart beating again. Sometimes, she was used to the chaos but other times it snuck up on her, giving her that trademark feeling she was living someone else's life.
Sighing a little dramatically, she picked up another grape to feed to Max, "Here you go, moppet. Chow down."
With that, she gave him the rest of the bowl and deposited him atop the island, hoping he'd be able to see long enough to get through the remainder of his food. Then, Mary turned back to Norah, feeling a little badly she'd neglected her daughter in favor of the circus reining in the house.
"Norah, how you doing?" she asked, retrieving the washcloth, which was dripping all over the counter. "Sorry this took so long. Does it hurt?" she tucked a hair behind her ear as she scrutinized her daughter's knee again.
"No…" Norah shook her head, but recoiled significantly when Mary touched the wound, smearing the blood across the skin. "That hurts!" she whined at once, not liking the press.
"I know Bug, but I don't want it to get gross; give me a second…" her mother was casual as she usually was about pain.
Norah accepted this without much complaint, taking Mary through washing out her scratches and securing the marks with a band-aid. When she looked up again, her child was gazing at Max, working her mouth side-to-side, cocking one eye like she was studying him. Mary was startled by how much it made her look like Brandi.
"What?" her mother prompted, sticking the skin as securely as she could. "You trying to turn Max into a frog, or what?"
Norah shook her head, but didn't bother to correct her, "He looks like one of those rock guys – the ones with the guitars – the kind you hate when they come on TV."
"Yeah, a heavy metal head-banger," Mary mused with disdain. "You've got Brandi to blame for that."
Norah was still looking skeptical, and Mary allowed her that while she tucked under her arms and lifted her down off the counter with a groan.
"Jesus…" she muttered quietly enough her daughter probably couldn't hear. "You're like a sack of bricks, Bug. When did you get so heavy?"
Mary knew her sense of how weighted Norah might actually be was a little off considering she was six months pregnant with a second child that made just about everything seem heavier. But, it appeared her daughter didn't care how much strain she was causing her mother, because she pranced right over to Max on her bad knee to get a better look.
And then, "We could take him to get his hair cut. And then you could see his eyes," she stood on tiptoe to try and touch said hair, but couldn't quite reach. "You could surprise Brandi."
Mary scoffed, "Like I'm footing the bill because Brandi let him look like a homeless person," she joined Norah and swept Max's bangs away, which prompted him to try and feed her one of his grapes, but Mary pushed it back into his hand.
Norah wasn't entirely sure what Mary had said, but pressed on, "Well, you could cut it mommy."
And Mary scoffed even louder, "Do I look like some salon stylist, N? Get real," she even rumpled her child's super-long-locks to reinforce the point.
Norah gave her-her best incredulous look, blinking with superiority and resembling Robyn rather than Brandi this time. Even in her red raglan shirt, denim shorts, and scraggly hair, she could project sass.
"Marshall says you can do anything if you try hard enough."
Mary rolled her eyes at the man's oft-used wisdom, having half-a-mind to tell him to quit putting such ideas in her daughter's head. And yet, she really couldn't fault him on this one, even if it didn't quite fit the situation as Norah was anticipating.
"And what if I screw up?" she asked her child, hardly daring to believe she was taking this at all seriously. "And he goes bald. You gonna explain to Brandi and Peter how he ended up looking like some little old man with no teeth?"
Norah giggled, "I don't think you'll mess up."
Oh, the faith her child could have.
"What about this is appealing to you?" Mary stuck a hand on her hip as she inquired, feeling a sharp kick to her gut, mourning Robyn's absence and unable to be quick enough to hide the wince that escaped.
Norah's deviousness suddenly turned to concern, "Did the baby hurt you?"
"No Norah…" she shook her head quickly to ease her mind, caressing the side of her belly to try and settle the being within. "No. I'm okay; just surprised. That's the kind of surprise we're gonna be giving Brandi if we end up having to shave Max's head."
"But don't you want him to look nice?" Norah seemingly forgot about the jab her sibling had given Mary and plowed onward. "It would make Robyn happy too."
Mary had no idea where this fit of inspiration had struck her child, but she was probably bored or else feeling particularly wily. She got that way sometimes; she sailed along, moderate and calm, but when the storm blew through she could rock and roll. She was Mary and Mark at the strangest of times.
But, Mary began to waver, as she was indeed sick of haranguing Brandi about Max's look. Since he was walking these days, he needed to see where he was going. Vaguely, she wondered if her haywire hormones were warming to the thought.
"Get me some scissors…"
Norah's tongue poked between her teeth, revealing the missing one on the bottom as she dashed over to the counter. She lifted herself onto her elbows, which didn't look very comfortable, and hung by her forearms trying to grope for the mug where all the office supplies were contained. Meanwhile, Mary started analyzing her subject, yanking every strand of hair Max had down over his forehead so he resembled something along the lines of Cousin It. Blissfully, the silent nature he'd developed with the girls around kept him quiet and he rotated his bowl in his fingers.
Norah returned with the scissors, "Here!" she presented them to Mary with a flourish.
Without further ado, she pushed one of the barstools to the island and clambered on top of it so she could watch, like it was a show. Mary didn't especially want an audience, but Norah was typically pretty good at containing herself when she had to.
"You're a bad influence, you know that?" Mary said as she raked her fingers through Max's sandy strands another time, trying to get them to lay somewhat the same direction.
"I don't know what that means," Norah informed her.
"Ask Marshall tonight."
"Okay, I will," she agreed with a nod, not about to be deterred.
Mary knew she was going to have to get a move on if she was actually going to do this, because Max was likely to start fussing if she kept him curtained too long. A bowl could only entertain for so much time. Pinching a thick strand between her fingers and feeling increasingly foolish, his aunt tried talking to him to keep his focus.
"Okay Max…guess your days of being the moppet are about to end…" eyes locked on the clump she'd secured, Mary snipped.
Norah's eyes fluttered to the ground where the stray hairs fell, swirling and spinning to the floor. Mary didn't spare her a look, because her heart had begun to thud seeing what a sight her nephew was now. A big tuft had been taken out of his bangs.
"Let me even you out here, man…" two more snips across the middle, and then two more spontaneous ones diagonally the other direction.
Against her will, Mary was stunned. Sure, it wasn't quite straight where his waves refused to smooth against his forehead, but she'd been careful and he actually looked pretty good. Probably for the first time since he'd been born – at which time Mary had not been present, not after Robyn – you could see his eyes. She'd never noticed the pure, crystal clear shade of blue they were in his round chubby-cheeked face. He stared at her with this unbelievable sense of wonder and discovery, like he'd never seen anything like her in his life.
Pointing in his mesmerizing gaze, "Berry…"
"Imagine that," Mary laughed with her usual sarcasm. "Amazing what you can see when you get the rug out of your eyes," she wondered vaguely what Max might've known her by before now; scent, touch, rarely sight.
"His eyes are so pretty," Norah declared. "They look like Brandi's."
That they did; Mary was surprised by how observant she was.
"I'm gonna get the back straightened out, Max; give me another second…" Mary chattered at him, taking the scissors to his collar now.
The hind end was harder. His locks gathered at the back instead of growing wispy as they did in front, and Mary did not do as spectacular a job. She had to cut through several times in order to level the strands out, which caused her to edit her handiwork in front so it would match. By the end, it was a tiny bit short, but Max just blinked at her like he was politely amused by what she might be doing.
She was pleased when she finished, feeling strangely accomplished, but also couldn't help praising Max for being so quiet.
"You're such a good boy…" she kissed his forehead, now visible. "You have your cousin to thank for your new look…" she gestured indiscriminately.
"I told you he'd look better," Norah declared arrogantly. "You can tell he's a people now."
"A person," Mary was forced to alter her speech. "But, yeah. I stand corrected, Bug. This was a pretty good idea."
"I know…" Norah was thrilled. "I have lots of them."
Mary laughed at her daughter's loss of humility but was unable to take her eyes off Max, who could not seem to stop staring at her. The look on his face was indescribable, one Mary had never really seen before.
There was so much awe there – a juvenile, who had been living in the dark for so long, had just had his existence opened to a whole new world of possibilities.
XXX
A/N: Okay, so I know the whole haircut thing likely seems random and silly, but it serves a small purpose; I promise. Hopefully it is somewhat believable that Mary would actually do something like that. I just remember Mary McCormack talking about how she went 'pregnant crazy' right before she had Lillian and trying to entertain guests, and this little scenario popped into my head! But, like I say; it does have significance (albeit minimal.)
