A/N: Sounds like I made a couple of you sick with my pizza talk LOL!

XXX

With Brandi's and Peter's departure, Mary settled herself on the couch to watch some mindless reality TV. But it only made her wish Marshall were there to make fun of the losers who auditioned for such a thing, like they did when they stayed in hotels together on the road. The longing made her grumpy and out-of-sorts and she dozed off watching, not bothering to get up and go to bed. Around 12:30 she came to enough to switch it off, but felt too heavy to move into the bedroom and slipped off to sleep again.

Around two A.M., something else woke her and she wasn't sure at first what it was. The light in the kitchen was still on, leaving her in semi-darkness as she squinted through the gloom wondering what had shaken her from her slumber. Leaning up on one elbow, she realized it was her cell phone vibrating, left out on the coffee table. She groped blindly, not wanting to move too much and closed her fingers around it. Choosing not to check the number, she leaned back into the throw pillows and answered.

"Hello?" she whispered, sounding croaky and rubbing her eyes with one hand.

There was no response at first, but she could tell someone was there. There was breathing on the other end of the phone, labored and trembly like the person might be crying.

"Hello?" she ventured again.

"Hello?" answered a small voice.

"Cassidy?"

"Uh-huh," the same voice this time, perhaps more timid than before.

"What's going on?" Mary was on the alert at once, sitting up all the way, fully ready to jump off the couch and into her car. As it was, her hand went immediately to the glock still strapped just above her swollen ankle that she'd forgotten to take off.

"Are you in trouble?" she pressed on.

A pitiful sniff came through the other end, followed by several more sobs, gut-wrenching and painful.

"Cassidy…" Mary tried to speak over her, tried to sound endearing. "Calm down," she implored. "And try to tell me what happened. Are you hurt; is something going on?"

The little girl took a moment to compose herself, not without a few more sniffles. Mary used the opportunity to lift herself higher into the pillows and knew immediately it was a mistake. Her innards shifted uncomfortably and she felt faintly sick. Maybe six slices of pepperoni and three glasses of Coke was a bit much. With this thought, the change in gravity brought the realization that she had to pee something awful and hoped Cassidy would spill soon.

"No," she finally said. "I'm not hurt."

"Then what's wrong?" Mary asked as sincerely as she could. People crying always hit her in a bad way but Cassidy was so innocent and defenseless she couldn't help but feel sorry for the kid.

"I can't sleep," she admitted quietly, her voice muffled under the tears she had shed. And then, "Mr. and Mrs. Bailey are really nice, but…"

She fell apart again and Mary could just picture her on the other end, shaking from the task of crying, all by herself in a pair of some garishly silky pink pajamas.

"Do they know you're on the phone?" Mary asked softly, wondering what had become of the foster parents at this hour.

Cassidy neglected to answer, too wrapped up in what she was about to tell Mary before she succumbed to the sobs.

"I want to see my dad. I need to see my dad - just one more time. He didn't do anything bad; I know he didn't!"

Mary sighed at the confession, her heartstrings dangerously close to severing right in two. The begging was killing her, and all for a man who may or may not be innocent. Suddenly, she had never wanted to come across a lawful human being more in her life. She hoped beyond reason this guy was decent and could come back for his little girl.

Before she could voice any of this, Cassidy was talking again.

"He's not bad!" she declared almost hysterically. "Grandpa was bad, but he isn't! He said after my mom died that he would never leave me and he would never lie!"

The certainty with which she punctuated 'never' hit Mary in the chest like a truck. She couldn't bear to tell this child her daddy might not be the hero she thought he was.

"Well…" she finally said, proceeding cautiously. "Dad's shouldn't lie. I know that."

Did she ever.

"Mary, he has to come back for me. He's all alone," she cried unashamedly, the sound starting to irk Mary now as she attempted to stay calm and not give in to the kinds of memories all this was evoking. She was the adult. She needed to remember that.

"Cassidy, listen to me," she began, soft but defiant. "Just listen for a minute."

She waited until she got herself under control again and continued.

"Your daddy isn't alone. Wherever he is, he's okay and someone's taking care of him. That I can promise you," she said definitively. "You believe me?"

In the back of her mind, she knew it didn't matter whether Cassidy believed her or not. Even if she did, Alex being taken care of wasn't the same as being with his little girl, wasn't the same as being a family or looking out for each other in a way that only families knew how to do. And from the sound of it, these two had only each other. What could replace something like that?

Nothing, Mary thought automatically. Nothing in the world.

"Are you sure?" Cassidy whispered, referring back to Mary's question.

"I'm sure," she nodded through the phone, her belly feeling full and tight now. She really wanted to get up and go to the bathroom.

"You gonna get some sleep for me?" Mary persisted.

Cassidy paused in thought; Mary could practically hear her considering her response.

"Could…we talk a little bit longer?" she asked politely. "Please?"

The manners did help, but Mary still had to pull in quite a bit of resolve to agree. Why, oh why, hadn't this kid called Marshall instead?

"Yeah," she murmured, hoping she sounded okay with it. "No problem."

But even as Mary agreed, Cassidy didn't seem to have anything else to say. She exhaled quietly through the phone, punctuated every now and then with a shuddering cry, but her drama seemed a little more manageable now. Mary knew she must be exhausted between everything she was going through and not getting the sleep she needed. If they were going to stay on the phone, Mary wanted to prompt conversation and get things cracking so she could get off.

"Is there anything else you need to tell me?" she encouraged.

Another hang-up; Mary waited.

"Could I ask you something?" Cassidy wondered. She didn't sound like she wanted to pose the question, like it was embarrassing her for some reason, but maybe not. Maybe she just wasn't used to dealing with grown-ups or putting her heart on her sleeve. Mary knew enough about that to understand.

"Yeah, sure," she told her in what she hoped was an obliging tone. She stretched her back into the throw pillows, praying she wouldn't wet her pants while she sat. When the question came, Mary considered that a distinct possibility.

"What's your daddy like?" the little girl whispered. "Is he nice?"

"Oh…" Mary let that one word escape while her mind buzzed furiously.

Strictly speaking, it didn't really matter what she said. She wasn't supposed to talk about her personal life with witnesses, so she could lie through her teeth and she was pretty sure Cassidy wouldn't know it and be satisfied. But the thought of her father almost always put her over the edge. He was just some vague and formless being now, nothing real or definite. But she couldn't deny she'd thought about him a bit more lately with the baby coming, decisions of giving the little one up heavy on her mind as she considered left-behind children and the heartache it caused.

Cassidy was apparently tired of waiting for a response, because she plowed on.

"I don't get it," she said, sounding perplexed as though she were in the middle of some difficult homework problem. "My grandpa wasn't nice at all – he yelled a lot and never took me places or did anything because he was always trying to get more money. But, my dad is the best dad there is. How come he's so great when my grandpa wasn't?"

The thoughts weren't very coherent, but Mary was pretty sure she understood. If we come from strife and turmoil, we turn into our own personal whirlwind of chaos. If we are spawned from greener grass, it stands to reason we'll grow up better because of it.

"Does that mean I'm not good?" Cassidy inquired curiously. "Like…it switches around? Grandpa was bad, but daddy was good, so I'm not?"

"No," Mary interrupted sharply, refusing to let this kid blame herself at such a young age for something she had no control over. "It doesn't work like that, Cassidy. We are who we are. We learn to be good or bad because of…what happens around us. You don't have to be anything you don't want to. You get to choose."

A pretty funny statement from someone who knew this girl was living under a fake name, and would for the rest of her life thanks to a bunch of maiming, cash-hungry losers.

Mary's words seemed to have a profound effect on the child because she was pretty sure she heard her crying again.

"I try so hard to be good," she murmured thickly. "But it doesn't matter."

"No, that isn't true," Mary interrupted, sitting up all the way now, the pressure on her bladder long-forgotten or at least pushed to the rear of her mind for the time being. "It does matter. You are…" she cast around for the right word. "…Sweet and kind and that counts. Even if nobody else sees it."

"Nobody?" her voice was dejected and worn, hardly daring to believe she could be all those things and not have one person take notice.

"Not nobody…" Mary corrected herself hastily, perched on the edge of the couch. "I see it. And Marshall, I think he does too."

She figured it best not to bring Alex into it at this point, not knowing how stand-up or fall-down he might be. She knew all about little girls giving their fathers way more credit than they deserved. It was one thing she could definitely relate to.

But, however she tried to steer the conversation in another direction, it didn't waive Cassidy's thoughts one iota.

"I miss my daddy," she whimpered, tears fresh again. "I miss him so much."

Mary closed her eyes and sighed again, running a hand over her lids and trying to come up with any way she could to mend this fence. She was horrible with children and even worse with adults; nothing she said seemed to be helping. Somewhere deep down, she knew words weren't what this kid needed.

"Cassidy…" she whispered. "If your dad really loves you…he'll find a way to come back for you. I know it doesn't help anything right now, but I really hope you believe that."

The child sniffed and didn't answer.

"My daddy wasn't such a good guy," Mary decided to reflect upon her earlier question, hoping the insight would prompt some closure for the little girl. "But…I think I turned out okay anyway. What do you think?" she attempted a light laugh to maybe ease her charge's mind.

"What was wrong with him?" Cassidy wanted to know immediately.

"Who?"

"Your dad."

Now, that was a question. Where to begin? How long did the list span – transgressions of James Wiley Shannon.

"Well, he…" she paused and then continued, "He kind of had the same problems your grandpa did."

Cassidy gasped audibly, suddenly alarmed.

"Did he get killed too?"

"No!" Mary exclaimed, and it was under the precedence that she didn't want Cassidy to believe her father was going to end up the same way. But low in her heart she knew it was because she hated not knowing if James was still out there or not. His gambling could very well have landed him in a ditch somewhere and she knew it.

"No…he didn't," she calmed slightly. "But what I want you to remember is that even though my dad didn't really know how to take care of himself, I still do. I learned on my own and you can too if you have to. You can be anything you want. I can promise you that."

Sure, she could learn to hold herself up, yank in the boot-straps, saddle-up and power through, but did that mean she'd be happy? Did it mean she wouldn't forget sunnier days and better times, still wishing for it when the shadows loomed and the darkness turned to black?

Miraculously though, she heard Cassidy yawn and relief flooded Mary's soul, knowing goodbye wasn't far away.

"You get some sleep, okay?" she requested. "You'll want to do your best at school tomorrow."

"Okay…" the little girl said tiredly. "Night-night."

"Goodnight Cassidy."

Mary hung up and was instantly off the couch and racing for the bathroom with a speed she didn't know she still possessed. After reliving herself, she exited and saw from the time on her phone that it was 2:30 in the morning. Although she was sleepy and drained, she wasn't sure much more rest was going to come tonight. Her stomach was all cramped up from the half-dozen slices of pizza and her back had a nasty ache from dozing on the couch. Not to mention, thoughts of her father were always the best method to keep her awake. Combine that with indecision and uncertainty involving the child dancing in her uterus and she was lucky she'd managed to get any winks at all.

Settling herself back on the sofa, she decided to call Marshall and give him the update on Cassidy so he wouldn't get any surprises when he dealt with her later in the day.

The phone rang three times before he answered.

"Marshall," he groaned groggily, still sounding half-asleep.

"Hey, it's me," Mary knew he wouldn't have had time to check the ID in his stupor.

"Hey…" he managed with a grunt. "What's up? There a problem?"

It was a mark of the strength of their partnership that he didn't find it strange she was calling in the wee hours of the morning and even seemed to consider it routine.

"No…no problem," she told him swiftly. "I just thought you should know that Cassidy called me about a half hour ago – nothing's wrong. The kid's just wiped and confused and totally messed-up. I did what I could to talk her down."

"Mmm, good for you," Marshall murmured approvingly. "Anything else?"

"Nope," she replied and there was an awkward silence on the other end of the line. "What?"

"No, I just…" she could practically picture Marshall shaking his head in disbelief. "This wasn't something that could wait till morning?"

So, she was infringing on his life. Keeping him from much-needed rest. And God knew what else with Abigail in the bed next to him.

"Why?" Mary snarked efficiently. "Need your beauty sleep?"

"Ha-ha," Marshall chuckled dryly.

"No, really," she went on. "Did I wake Snow White from her enchanted, peaceful slumber…?"

"Are you referring to Abigail?" Marshall asked immediately, yawning halfway through. "I'll spare you the trouble of responding. You did not wake her; I am in the living room."

This bit of information was strangely unsettling to Mary. Had they had a fight? Was Abigail making him sleep on the couch? Thoughts of their conversation earlier whirled through her mind and she wondered if Marshall had brought that up when he'd arrived home.

"I conked out watching some hilariously stilted reality crap…" he jabbered in her ear; she could hear him popping his neck as he stretched. "Abigail got home late; I was already asleep."

An odd sensation fluttered in Mary's heart knowing they'd been doing the same thing at the same time, maybe even closing their eyes at the exact moment. The thought was startling. How in-sync could you get without tripping over each other?

"So…Cassidy's good, then?" he prompted when Mary didn't respond to his explanation.

She snapped back in, shaking her head as though to drive the thoughts away.

"Yeah, she's fine," she told him. "Misses her dad."

The silence wasn't random and Mary knew it. Marshall was dying to know what the two of them had talked about concerning fathers but he would never ask. He'd learned a long time ago not to breach the subject of James anymore. It made Mary extremely tense and on-edge, often pulling her out of such conversations all together so that she could get a grip on her emotions. He knew it was different with Brandi and Jinx. She was able to gloss all that over since she was the 'adult' in those relationships, but with Marshall she never cared to put up the façade, and usually tried to shut him down as quickly as possible.

"Sorry if she woke you," Marshall apologized for something else to say. "She is my witness and you need your rest."

"Yeah…" Mary murmured absentmindedly.

Part of her really wanted to just talk to Marshall, not throw up the walls and block him out but she didn't really know how. These possibilities tossed back and forth in her mind for awhile before she realized Marshall was speaking again.

"Mare?" he called softly.

"Hmm?" she chewed her thumbnail, one half of her mind on Marshall, the other on things much more difficult to decipher.

"You okay?"

Not really.

"Uh-huh," she settled on. "Just uncomfortable as hell. Too much pizza and not enough stomach anymore."

"You do know the baby is not in your digestive system," Marshall reminded her and she actually laughed.

"That's what you think," she joked.

"Get some sleep," he advised. "I'll see you soon."

"I'll do my best. Night Marshall."

"Goodnight."

XXX

A/N: Oh, what is Mary thinking? You never know!