A/N: I don't have any author's notes tonight (I'm sure I'll think of some later LOL!) Enjoy!

XXX

It was a very gloomy Saturday for Mary, not to mention Marshall once he showed up at the hospital after lunch. Rather than relieve Delia of the twins, he wrangled for her to spend the remainder of the day with them, which she was only too happy to do. Mary was grateful for the company after awhile, what with nobody but Holly's demure form to sit with.

Brandi and Jinx disappeared for awhile and Peter finally crashed out in the waiting room. Knowing she needed to let Peter reenergize, and forcing herself to believe Jinx had taken Brandi somewhere she'd snap out of it, Mary allowed both parties to do whatever they wanted. Suffice it to say, however, that Marshall turning up was a pleasant distracter from the otherwise lonesome afternoon.

It was almost four o'clock when Holly finally came out of what must've been very heavy anesthetic. Nurses had been in and out throughout the day to guarantee she was doing all right, assuring whoever was in her room that the overload of sleep was to be expected with how heavily she'd been sedated. Nonetheless, Mary certainly didn't expect to hear her rustle the sheets while she was having a whispered conversation with Marshall from across her bed.

"Did I tell you what happened with Brandi earlier?" she asked, her hand smoothing Holly's short hair without really thinking about it.

Marshall shook his head from where he had his elbows over his knees, hands clasped beneath his chin.

"Other than the knowledge that she was still rather a wreck, no," his voice sounded husky when he tried to keep it from rising.

"I took her down to the cafeteria when I first got here and she got this phone call…"

"From whom?" Marshall inquired, sitting up a little straighter.

"I don't know," Mary confessed, fighting not to become worked-up and noisy. "She said it was 'nobody' but does she expect me to believe that?"

"As it is rare for a phone to dial itself, I suppose not," he joked back with a jaunty smirk, earning him scrunched brows from his wife.

"Don't be a smart ass; this is important," she pressed on. "Anyway, when I bugged her about it, she totally flipped out…"

"Might that be because she is a little touchy given…" he spread his arm up and down Holly's body, indicating the adverse events. "What we're dealing with here."

Mary frowned, her hand coming to a halt, "I knew you'd say that."

"My intelligence is rubbing off on you," he whispered arrogantly.

"Yeah-yeah…" Mary griped. "I'm telling you, there was something fishy about it…"

"Well, I don't know anything about phone calls," Marshall cut her off as he shifted positions, mindful of not squeaking his chair or bumping the table, though if the constantly beeping monitors hadn't woken Holly up before now, it was unlikely this would. "But, if I may pick your brain on one facet when it comes to Brandi…"

"What?"

"Does she look thinner to you?" he remembered what a rail she had appeared to him in the waiting room the night before, Mary's additional misgivings bringing it to the forefront of his mind. "Mind you, it isn't as though she were heavy to start with, but…"

When he paused, Mary segued in neatly, "Not that I noticed. Why would she have lost weight?"

Marshall sighed very deliberately, "Isn't that the thing," what would usually have been phrased as a question was definitely a statement, and this didn't get by Mary for a minute.

"Something's going on with her," she declared with this development. "Something beyond Holly and Peter."

"Well, before you pull out your glock Rambo-style, you might want to try talking to her first…"

Mary was about to say that she'd tried talking in the cafeteria and Brandi had hardly responded well. But, this comeback was put on hold when she heard a low, yet high-pitched moan sound from between her and Marshall's investigative tactics. He jumped, startled, and his eyes immediately swiveled to what had seconds before been Holly's nearly-motionless torso. Mary glanced over her shoulder at the monitor, which hadn't gone off with any rapid-fire pings. That must mean Holly was finally going to join the world of living, however hazy her perspective might be.

Mary's instinct was to leap up and get the child's mother or father, but Marshall extended a hand, recognizing the look in her eyes. He motioned for her to stay put and raised a finger to his lips, as if Mary needed a reminder to be quiet.

"Wait a second…" he mouthed. "Give her a few minutes to get reacquainted; she'll be really inundated…"

Underneath her annoyance about being told to stay silent, Mary supposed this was true. She couldn't imagine what tiny Holly's memories of the night before consisted of, but it couldn't be anything very amusing. She had no idea when they'd finally given her the drugs designed to knock her out, but probably not until they'd already jabbed needles into every piece of skin they could reach. This seemed vastly unfair, but Mary put it out of her mind.

Holly blinked slowly for a moment or two before fixing the ceiling with a confused, hazel-eyed stare. Another squeak sounded from deep in her throat before her lids grew wider and more fearful. The look was gut-wrenching; it was clear she did not know where she was or what was going on.

The first word that came out her mouth was predictable, but still heartbreaking.

"M-mommy?"

As she wasn't completely coming apart yet, neither Mary nor Marshall said anything, but when Holly glanced to the left and right and saw neither of her parents, reassurance came fast.

"Hey, Jolly Holly…" Marshall greeted her softly, reaching beneath the covers to take one of her little hands, which were covered almost entirely by tape from the IVs. "Nice of you to join us. I'm here. Aunt Mary's here too…" he jerked his head to the other side.

"Hi Holls…" Mary contributed, tousling her hair rather than rubbing it this time.

But, even the comfort of Uncle Marshall couldn't bring reprieve on this front. Holly's lip began to tremble; yes, she knew these people and knew they were safe, but they were not who she wanted. She'd woken up in a strange place with frightening machines, a leg she couldn't feel, and needles flowing in and out of her vein. Who wouldn't be terrified, two years old or otherwise?

"Where…where's mommy…?" she bleated pitifully, and the rush of tears brought on a nasty sounding cough. "Where's mommy…I want mommy…where's daddy…?"

Evidently, either would do, and the time for allowing orientation was past. Mary knew it to be so even before Marshall opened his mouth.

"Aunt Mary's gonna go find them, all right?" he promised gallantly, and Mary took this as her cue to stand up. "Last I saw, daddy was right outside; he was just taking a little nap…"

"I want mommy…" she repeated tragically.

"I know; it won't be long," Marshall swore, his voice as even and soothing as ever. The last thing Mary heard before she opened the door was a well-worded query, "Do you hurt somewhere? Show Uncle Marshall…"

In spite of the impending doom, Mary had the odd compulsion to laugh at hearing Marshall refer to himself in third person. But, Holly was still at that age where it helped to remind her who was in control, who was taking care of her, and who she could trust.

Just before the heavy hatch swung shut and Mary found herself in the hall, she caught a snatch of, "My head…"

Well, whatever hurt, Mary had learned one thing in her time as a parent – when you were two years old, mommy fixed everything. It didn't matter if your mother was a slacker, a deadbeat, crass, rude, or MIA, if they showed up when it mattered, it could go a long way toward making everything seem brighter.

Unfortunately for Mary, when she reached the waiting room after twisting and turning down the hallway, Peter was still the only one there. Exhausted to the maximum, he was slumped in what looked like a very stiff armchair, his head lolling onto his shoulder. Although he hadn't even been away from home for twenty-four hours, there were already five o'clock shadows on his cheeks. Between Holly's illness and Brandi's temper, he was wearing down already.

Thinking that perhaps he had been given an indication of where his wife and mother-in-law had ventured off to, Mary strode over to his resting place and tried not to shake him awake too abruptly, but it wasn't easy.

"Peter…" she jostled his shoulder to start out. "Hey…Peter…"

It didn't take much. He awoke with a start, eyes snapping open and head springing up as though a fire alarm had gone off. So much for not rushing things. In an effort to cover her blunder, Mary took a step back, not wanting to appear threatening after shaking him from his dreams.

"Oh…" he finally croaked, clearing his throat and shaking his head like a dog trying to rid its ears of water. "Yeah…what's up? Everything okay?"

Mary decided the second issue was better answered by a doctor and cut to the chase, "Holly's awake. For only about two minutes now, but still…"

It was apparent that she did not need to go on. Peter had leapt to his feet, smoothed his wrinkled jacket, and flattened his hair all in a matter of fifteen seconds and was off, Mary hot on his heels. As they walked, he began firing questions.

"How did she seem?" he wanted to know, a natural curiosity. "She's been under close to twelve hours, since about six o'clock this morning. She woke up once around nine, but she was really confused so they upped her dosage to give her some more sleep…"

This answered Mary's previous wonderings about how long Holly had been able to drift into the subconscious, but the tidbit about her having been lost that morning was unsettling. She knew it was best not to bring this up with Peter and hastened to reply to his string of thoughts.

"I…I wasn't in there very long…" she told him honestly. "She was a little upset…asking for Brandi…"

Though Mary internally cringed at having described Holly's behavior as 'a little upset' she knew Peter was going to find out the real truth soon enough, so it was irrelevant. More pressing was the fact that mention of Brandi did not prompt him to reveal where she and Jinx were. While difficult, Mary ignored this too.

"I…I just…I really don't know what to expect, you know…" Peter continued breathlessly; it seemed to be taking a lot of his energy just to get through the corridors of rooms. "The stuff they told us could happen after the fact…" Mary knew he was referring to those horrendous complications Brandi had detailed, and wanted to tell him he didn't have to go on.

"Yeah, I…" she interrupted quickly. "I mean, Brandi said something."

Peter did not decrease his pace in the least, "I can't even think about it," he asserted with a hefty gulp. "She's alive. That's all that matters."

This was precisely what Mary had wanted Brandi to focus on, and she respected Peter even more for saying so, though she couldn't fathom how hard it was to make believe that your child wasn't heading for approaching disaster.

They could handle hearing loss or a week or two in the hospital, not to mention a broken leg. But, brain damage was the toughest, bitterest pill to swallow. Brandi and Peter had to have gotten Holly to the hospital in time. Surely they had. The alternative was too ghastly to contemplate.

But, if Peter was pondering such a thing, you would never know it by the time he burst through the door of his daughter's room. Like someone had flipped a switch, a buoyant smile appeared in his lined features; putting on the perfect act for his little girl. A rush of admiration swept over Mary as she trailed in behind him, knowing Marshall would've done the same thing if this were Ben or Lizzie.

As it was, Marshall himself seemed to have scooted closer to the bed in Mary's absence, cradling Holly's blonde head in the curve of his elbow. She was definitely crying, but Mary could've sworn she saw a flash of recognition flit in her eyes at the appearance of Peter.

"Hey, see there!" Marshall boasted joyously. "There's daddy; I told you he'd come right in!"

He inched away to give Peter more room, who swooped down upon his child and laid a kiss in the center of her burning forehead.

"Hi pumpkin…" he whispered, as though afraid of disturbing her. "I wasn't far. I knew Aunt Mary and Uncle Marshall would take good care of you, but I'm here now."

"Daddy, my head hurts…" Holly reported at once, a crackling hand hovering underneath her bangs. "And I…I…I…" she had to stop to hack up what sounded like a hairball, furthering Peter's disquiet. "I…I cough…"

"Not feeling too good, huh?" Peter surmised. Quickly, he turned to the pair waiting behind him, "Would one of you mind grabbing a doctor or a nurse and letting them know she's up?"

Unable to believe they hadn't covered this before now, Mary made the offer immediately, "I'll go," she was more than happy to bully whomever she had to. "Should I call Brandi too?"

Of course she should call Brandi; the real question was: where was Brandi? But, once again Peter volunteered nothing, just gave his consent.

"Please," he nodded. "Thanks Mary."

She bobbed her head practically in unison with his, disappearing behind the door for a second time, prepared to flash her badge the minute she had to if it got somebody in Holly's room to figure out how she was faring. The aunt took some measure of comfort in knowing that she had seemed to recognize Peter and she had asked for 'mommy' so there were definitely glimmers of the Holly they knew and loved. Any bigger portions that were missing could be sorted out later.

Meanwhile, Marshall stayed behind, wanting to be present in case Holly or Peter needed anything, but careful not to appear overbearing. Holly was plainly trying to get a grip on things; even at close to three years old, she could tell something wasn't right. Peter took a seat in Mary's vacated chair, Marshall standing in the background near the sink.

"Holly…listen to me…" Peter started consoling. "Listen to daddy. Does anything hurt besides your head?"

"My…my…" but she was choking too vigorously to say much more than that, the sensation making her cheeks go pink; Marshall was afraid she'd expel fluid if she didn't manage to stop.

Intelligently, Peter abandoned his question and helped Holly sit up instead, hoping to clear her airway, "Go slow, honey. One of those nice doctors will be here soon; they might let you have some water," he rubbed her back, just as a doting father should.

Marshall kept silent where he was, though he was privately thinking that Holly probably did not consider any of the doctors 'nice.' Regardless, he was likely to have said the same thing to one of his kids and had to have a high regard for how calm Peter was being. It was apparent that he was jittery, but it was enough to fool Holly, and that was of higher import.

Once the coughing subsided, the little girl trembled for a moment before going after speech again.

"My…my leg…feel funny…" she rasped. "My leg feel funny, daddy…"

"Your leg feels funny?" Peter repeated, just to ensure he'd understood. For a split second, he turned to Marshall for an aside, "Well, better 'funny' than 'painful,' right? Small victory…"

"It's the little things," Marshall intoned in agreement.

But, Peter had already returned to Holly, "It might feel funny for a little while. You hit it pretty hard, but the doctors can't fix it yet; until they can, it'll feel funny so it doesn't hurt. Does that make sense?"

This was doubtful, and Holly just shrugged. Marshall was trying to picture how numbness in one's limbs would feel to a child so young, a child who couldn't comprehend how medicine was dulling the pain. It must be so frightening to experience the sensation that you had no leg and not have any idea why.

In any case, Peter didn't wait for Holly to give any indication that she knew what he was talking about and transitioned into something a little more pleasant.

"I'm so glad to see you, pumpkin…" he kissed her temple this time, lingering for a moment before sliding back, using the term of endearment once more. "I've missed you. We're gonna get you all better, okay? So, don't worry…"

'Don't worry' was probably the furthest thing from Holly's mind and there, in her droopy gown and bloodshot eyes, she proved just how much of a tizzy she was truly in.

"Where is this?" she whimpered, tears dribbling all down her front. "Why I here?"

"You're here because you're sick," Peter was patient, rumpling up her trimmed locks. "Very sick, but you're gonna be okay; mommy and I will make sure of it…"

Mentioning Brandi, which probably looked encouraging on the surface, ended up being a bad move and Marshall instantly felt for Peter.

"I want mommy…" Holly began to wail, no longer emitting timid whines, but full on bawling, proving her youth in every traumatizing note that escaped. "I want mommy…I want mommy…"

Sobbing, her voice only continued to climb, but Peter valiantly gathered her into his arms anyway, mommy or no mommy, sheltering her drippy face against his chest. He clucked and shushed her as best he was able, but little could be done for a girl who was so ill and so single-minded. Marshall was sure he was dying to ask his daughter if she even remembered the night before, but now was definitely not the time.

"Aunt Mary called mommy on her phone; she'll be here as soon as she hears…" Peter avowed.

Intuition told Marshall that it might be okay for him to step in at this point. Most men might feel awkward and want to leave at the display going on, but Marshall's nobility had him swinging in the other direction.

"Hey Holly…" he slunk over quietly, taking his seat again. "Guess what I have?" he tried to sound enticing.

"Look…" Peter coaxed, murmuring next to her ear. "Look at Uncle Marshall; he brought something for you…"

"Well, it's nothing too special…" he conceded, but was quick to take up his offering the minute Holly unearthed herself and mopped at her eyes, rubbing with her fists. "But, Lizzie reminded me that she can't ever sleep without Pretzel, so I knew you would need a friend to put you to sleep too…"

Fumbling on the night stand next to the bed, he groped and presented Holly with her treasured baby doll, the one she'd been clutching all day yesterday at Mary's and Marshall's in the midst of the decorating.

The doll was far more run-down and trashed than Lizzie's Pretzel, but she was certainly well-loved. Squishy and a shade of peach, she wore a pale pink dress and bonnet, her eyes stitched with black thread into her face. Though Peter had gone back to the house early in the day, Marshall was aware he'd forgotten this particular jewel, and he'd done the honors of going by to get it on his way into the hospital for the second time.

"Oh – look!" Peter put on a face of mock-awe. "Uncle Marshall remembered Chrissie! He is so smart!"

"Here you go, Jolly…" Marshall held out the toy for her to take, donning her cheerful even though she was the furthest thing from. "Give her some love."

Reluctantly, Holly did take beloved Chrissie, but her eyes remained dark. The way she continued to glower at her uncle seemed to say that a silly baby doll was hardly enough to advance her temperament, but that she'd take what she could get. In any case, she heeded Marshall's advice and pressed Chrissie to her chest, closing her lids and deciding she was unable to face the outside world for a mere moment.

"Thanks so much, Marshall…" Peter was grateful as he patted Holly's back like his life depended on it. "I can't believe I forgot her; she takes that thing everywhere…"

"You were otherwise occupied," the other man declared. "I didn't mind swinging by. If there's anything else you find you've misplaced, Mary or I can run back to the house and get it; it's no trouble."

"Thanks," Peter said again. "I'm just…kind of scatterbrained right now…"

"Believe me, it's understandable."

"If I could just get Brandi a little more involved…"

It sounded like Peter wasn't going to finish his thought regardless, but the door swayed inward admitting a doctor and nurse, preventing him from going any further. It was probably lucky for both of them that he hadn't been able to slight his wife, what with Holly around, and the physicians gave him a good excuse not to do so.

Marshall immediately moved out of the way in the presence of experts, noticing only at the last minute that Mary was with them. The doctor was male, but looked fairly young; Marshall would guess him to be in his mid-thirties. The nurse was older, around Mary's age, but like Mary, she didn't look it. Only the few wrinkles in her face gave her away; her hair was styled in brunette waves cascading down her chest, her scrubs tinted a soft yellow and patterned with butterflies.

"Well, hello Holly…" the doctor greeted the father and daughter pleasantly, but Holly immediately shrunk inward under Peter's chin. "Good to finally meet you. I'm Doctor Banks, and this is my friend Shannon," he pointed at his nurse.

Much to Marshall's surprise, Holly actually spoke upon hearing this, "Shannon, Lizzie…" incoherent as it was.

"What was that?" Doctor Banks prompted, glancing to Peter for assistance.

"Did you say Lizzie?" he murmured at the child.

Holly nodded, "Shannon, Lizzie and Aun' Mary…"

"Oh, her name is Shannon, just like Lizzie's middle name – after Aunt Mary," Marshall caught on faster than the others, still shocked Holly had taken the initiative she'd displayed. "Isn't that cool? They all have the same name…"

"Lizzie is her cousin," Peter explained quickly. "And that's Aunt Mary over there…" he pointed to the door where his sister-in-law was lurking. "And Uncle Marshall; Mary is her mother's sister…"

"Ah, excellent-excellent…" Doctor Banks bobbed his head in recognition. "Splendid. Well, Holly I want to see how you're feeling now that you're awake; would that be okay?"

Mary, now that she'd rejoined the examination, couldn't help wondering why this guy was asking Holly for permission. He was going to do whatever he wanted no matter what she said or how she screamed. Mary knew that she could never be a doctor, inflicting pain on other people even if it did serve a purpose. With WITSEC, her job was to take the pain away, or keep it from getting closer.

Thoughts of pain made her think that perhaps this was a good time for her and Marshall to see themselves out, allowing Peter and Holly to have some privacy. She nudged her husband's shoulder before speaking to the room at large.

"We'll be outside, Peter…" she announced, backing toward the door and pulling Marshall along with her.

The mentioned looked up just as the doctor was about to start peering into Holly's eyes with a flashlight, "Did you reach Brandi?"

Disappointed not to have better news on this front, Mary could only hunch her shoulders, "I'm working on it."

Peter nodded, looking dismayed but not all together surprised, before allowing Mary and Marshall to go on their merry way. Mary couldn't help feeling appreciative that she was going to be relieved of the hospital room for awhile. Marshall had been right when he'd said the night before that she had an aversion to hospitals. The memories they brought on were not especially forgiving.

It was possibly this realization that made Mary feel she could speak more freely outside the door, as if all her clandestine endeavors had to stay in the vault while in Holly's presence. Given that what she was thinking was none too favorable, this was probably a good thing.

"I don't know where the hell my sister is," Mary hissed at her man, not even bothering to journey out to the waiting room, instead planting herself to the spot. "I called her, but she didn't answer, so then I called Jinx…"

"Did Jinx pick up?" Marshall broke in, an unwise choice, but too late for regrets.

"I was getting there, doofus," Mary snapped. "Jinx went to that barbecue place downtown because its Brandi's favorite; I guess she thought if she bought her some food she liked, she'd actually eat…"

"But?" Marshall sensed the tone.

"But, Brandi didn't go with her. Mom said she left her behind, here at the hospital, because Brandi said she wanted to 'get some air' or some such shit like that…"

Marshall sliced through her mutterings, "So, she's somewhere in the hospital."

"Not necessarily," Mary corrected him. "It probably means she's out wandering around somewhere, depending on what she means by 'get some air.' Jinx said she'd try calling her again. How far could she have gotten? Especially if she didn't take the car."

"Wouldn't the real question be: why did she leave in the first place?" Marshall presented, eyebrows raised so high they were in danger of vanishing into his hairline.

"It would be," the blonde would only meet him halfway. "If I understood any part of the kind of mother Brandi is, and that one's getting tougher to figure out."

XXX

A/N: Just as an FYI…Holly's dialogue is supposed to be disjointed. I haven't spent a ton of time around two/three year olds, but I know that a lot of them speak in fragments. I say this so you know her speaking isn't typos – although I have my fair share of those sometimes anyway!