I am so. very. sorry! I can't believe this took so long! Please forgive the ENTREMELY late update. Life kinda took me for a ride for awhile, but I'm back now. Sorta.

But the good news is since I've been iced in the last three days with no school, I finally got off my lazy butt and wrote this chapter. So um...I love you all? :D

Warnings: Mary's bad mouth, some rather more blatant GAY in this chapter so y'all might wanna turn away if it offends you, though it really isn't bad. Just unbearably fluffy because I couldn't help myself.

And guess what? I finally know what the hell I'm gonna do with this story, so the next chapter should be filled to the brim with plot and also some rather more, shall we say 'charged' atmosphere between our boys next time? ;)

Thanks for sticking with me through this and as always:

Enjoy!


Mary hated not knowing things. Almost as much as she hated cold coffee, stale donuts, and her friends and family on occasion; but not knowing things? Definitely high up there on the list. In fact, Mary hated not knowing things to such an extreme degree that some might call it an obsessive compulsive disorder. Some people couldn't stop cleaning, some people couldn't enter a room without knocking every wall six time or whatever, and Mary; Mary couldn't stand not knowing what the hell was going on. It made her twitchy.

So when she suddenly finds a completely off-the-books witness dumped into her lap, albeit one with a sunny disposition and a mile-a-minute mouth, and a penchant for pulling long-lost relatives and 'acquaintances' from oceans away out of bumblefuck nowhere, with no previous association with apparently anyone, like he was just dropped in a cornfield on day, it stands to reason that a person as fond of knowing every last detail, about absolutely everything, about every person under her protection, would be a little bit peeved to know absolutely. Nothing. About them.

Long story short, when Alfred had first shown up in her office this morning, she had been irritated. When he'd announced that he'd pulled yet another person out of the clear blue sky, and gosh darn wouldn't it just be swell if his new marshals got to meet `em, she'd come close to blowing a gasket. But it was alright. She'd kept her cool and not riddled the beaming blonde man with holes, though it had been a close thing. She was fine. She was cool. She had decided to be completely zen about the whole thing. Ommmm…..

And then the man had walked through the door. And everything went to hell in a hand-basket.

Sitting across from the (tall) man, Mary would have been hard-pressed to actually tell you what it was about him that set her teeth on edge. Maybe it was his hair, which was a shade of, what blonde, gray, white, that she'd never seen on anyone under the age of sixty. Or perhaps his eyes, which she had finally decided had to be contacts because it was simply impossible for anyone to naturally have eyes that insane shade of violet. There was just no way. It could have been the fact that, despite his baby face, which was only barely set off by his rather prominent nose, he was built like brick house, as was obvious by the too small black turtle-neck he was wearing. He was also wearing a scarf. In 90 degree weather. The hell?

Or, just maybe, to go out on a limb, it could have been the fact that he hadn't stopped smiling. The. Entire. Time. Which, in her book, made him creepy as fuck. Since he'd first walked in (smiling) and it had become very obvious that whatever the two marshals had been expecting given their new charges previous track record with pulling people out of the woodwork, a six-feet-and-change (had she mentioned he was tall?), smiling, blonde (?), Russian man with a gratingly polite streak a mile wide certainly was not it. Maybe it was the politeness thing. Even though he'd seemed perfectly sincere when he'd introduced himself to them and said it was a pleasure to meet someone 'with enough patience to deal with Amerika for extended periods of time', all said in perfect only faintly accented English, it had made Mary's internal warning alarms go berserk.

A glance at her partner made her realize it wasn't just her; this man, Ivan Braginski, made Marshall just as nervous as he made her. That did not make her feel better. She'd kinda been hoping her over-active danger sense had been just that. Over-reacting. Apparently not. Joy. Her witness's voice abruptly jolted her out of her musings.

"Okay, so, now that we've all met and everything's hunky-dory, can we get outta here? Cause after all R-….Ivan here does have a plane to catch."

"Ah, but dear Amerika, I already told you I was not leaving yet."

Whine. "But why?"

Bright and yet completely fake smile. "Because I am having fun. You are entertaining when you are upset, Дa?"

Mary was starting to get a headache. This was the weirdest, friendship, rivalry, realtionship, whatever the hell it was, that she'd ever been privy too, and she kind of just wanted the world to go away for a while so she could get some sleep, or, barring that, at least let het pop a few more pain pills to take the sting off of her healing bullet would. Was that so much to ask?

Yes it was as Mary quickly found out after she and Marshall excused themselves from the glass-walled meeting area to have a powwow with Stan. There they found out that this was bad. Very bad. Which they already knew. Twins were one thing, but Russian nationals coming all the way around the world to check on the welfare of one kid? Something was definitely Up. And Stan wanted them, or specifically Mary, to find out what it was that was Up. Fun times.

So she dutifully, though not without some muttered swearing, set off for the lobby, since her witness and his 'guest' had seen fit to wander off. She swore sometimes it was like herding cats around here.


"Why did you want to come here Amerika? The scary marshal lady probably wanted us to stay put."

"I don't care, she can be mad if she wants. I just couldn't sit in that little glass box anymore, it was giving me the creeps."

"Ah yes, your irrational fear of enclosed spaces. I remember now."

"Shut up, 's completely rational. And ya didn't have to follow me ya know. You coulda stayed behind."

"But if I had done that, I have a feeling that Miss Shannon might have attempted to eat me for lunch. She did not seem to like me much."

Snort. "Like you'd be scared of her. And she might've liked you a little better if you hadn't done that creepy smilin' thing the whole time. I'm startin' to get the feelin' you're doin' that on purpose, just to freak people out."

Giggle. "You are not very bright, Дa? Why would you presume to know why I do anything I decide to do?"

Yawn. "I'm pretty sure that didn't make sense but whatever. I'm plenty smart, jus' tired…."

Inquisitive head tilt. "Tired? Why?"

Jaw-cracking yawn. "Well I dunno. Maybe cause I was woken up at way-too-freakin-early o'clock cause somebody was just dyin' to know if I'd finally kicked the bucket, and couldn't wait for a later flight when they knew perfectly well time they'd be getting here, don't even try to lie to me about that one buster"

"Well then, if you are tired, милый, than you should sleep."

"Right, I'll just doze off right here in this uncomfortable plastic chair. Why didn't I think of that?"

"That brings us back to the topic of you intelligence, which I find myself questioning very often."

"Now listen here you…."


She'd lost them. How in the seven hells had she managed that? It's not like they could've gotten far, they'd only turned their backs on them for five minutes! At the same time, she had to remind herself that this was Alfred F. Jones she was talking about. He might've been half way to either border by now, knowing his certain brand of tenacity. Once set on a course, she doubted it could be swayed for any reason. The thought was a terrifying one, made all the more so by the fact that she had thought it with a certain weary affection she usually reserved for Brandi.

This was bad. Deadgummit, you weren't supposed to get attached to witnesses! Especially not witnesses you've only known for a grand total of three days! Something must be wrong with her. She was almost kind of glad Marshall wasn't there to read her thoughts in that irritatingly Marshall-esque way of his and quip that he'd personally thought that for years. Almost, since having someone to share her pain would've been distracting in the very least. But no, Marshall had been called back by Stan who'd apparently received some crazy-high security clearance he'd been trying for since he'd found out about their mysterious new witness and wanted the other inspector's opinion on something he'd learned. That fact that they may soon know something more than what they currently did about the kid (read: no. thing.), would be the only thing that kept her from wringing his skinny neck on sight. Hopefully.

Since she'd already check most of the first floor, she headed back up to the second, thinking maybe the kid had wandered off to 'catch up' with his guest and just walked around the corner where elevators were without bothering to go downstairs. Make sense. Although when she remembered the atmosphere in the room with the two of them earlier, she got the feeling that finding them sooner rather than later would be a really good idea if she wanted to prevent any bloodshed. Such a good idea in fact that she was practically sprinting through the halls by the time she finally swung around the edge of the wall dividing their office from the rest of the currently unrented building. What she saw stopped her in her tracks and almost made her stop breathing as well.

There was a large and completely unnecessary potted plant between her and the little sitting area that curved off from the rest of the hallway, and just beyond the leaves she could see her witness sitting with his guest against the far wall. Well, she said sitting, but what she really meant was sleeping. With his head on the taller man's shoulder. And when she said sleeping, she meant dead to the world kind of asleep. Her gaze sharpened as she noticed the dark bags under his eyes and the unreleased tension she hadn't even been aware of until it was gone. Was he sick? Or getting that way? Why hadn't she noticed? Guilt twisted her insides. Sure the kid could be a little hard to handle sometimes, but she should've noticed instantly that something was wrong with her charge, regardless of whatever roller-coaster he set her emotions on.

Mary was brought back to the scene before her as Ivan shifted slightly, and for a moment she thought he'd noticed her presence and was going to wake Alfred up so he could face her wrath like a man. But that was not the case, as he hadn't seemed to notice her at all. Indeed it looked to her as though a tornado could have blown through the room and he would've been none the wiser, so focused was his attention on the slighter male. His smile, which she would have though permanent, was gone, and he looked older without it, though not in a bad way, just less like he was trying to be something he wasn't; and his disconcertingly purple eyes were locked on Alfred's face, a mere handful of inches from his own. She watched as one pale hand came up to brush a stray lock of wheat-colored hair from Alfred's face, watched as his lips slowly curved up into a small smile, although this one looked different from the others, more…truthful somehow. Like he was honestly happy about something for the first time in a while and-

Cheeks flaming, though she furiously told herself they had no right to be doing so, Inspector Shannon turned on one booted heel and slowly walked back the way she came, telling herself that of course she wasn't making an effort to be quiet so as to not disturb the scene going on behind her, because that would be girly and ridiculous. And, maybe kinda-sorta, true.


Rubbing her forehead with something very close to exhaustion, Mary reentered her office thinking that if that was the way of things, then her witness would be perfectly safe for now, and she really needed some coffee or she was going to pass out any second now. She was brought up short however at the mirror looks of shock on Stan and Marshall's faces when she glanced at them huddled around the only working, and therefore ancient, TV in the entire building. Flicking her sharp gaze between the two of them, she asked the only question she could, though she knew she was going to regret it later.

"What is it?"

Dumbfounded expressions still in place, the two motioned her over to where they were still standing in front of the snow-filled screen of the TV. She approached cautiously, cause she'd seen a horror movie like this once, and came to stand between the two men and, not without some trepidation, took the wordlessly proffered remote and hit 'rewind' then 'play'.

It wasn't too terribly long before she could vaguely feel her own face changing to match theirs as she watched the events unfolding on screen.

Oh. My. God.


Дa- Yes

милый- Dear

(Correct me if I'm wrong!)

Teh cliff-hangerz!11! (Okay I'll stop). I am sorry for that, but really, I have no idea what's going on anymore. I know where I want this story to go, but it's like trying to stay on a particularly angry horse with the bit between it's teeth and a distinct inclination to ignore all your attempts to bring it back under control. Ya just gotta hang on for all your worth and hope you get where you were trying to go in the first place. You just may have a few unplanned detours along the way.

So uh, review? If ya want? Ya know ya wanna. -eyebrow wiggle-