A/N: I am Mary-less in this chapter, but I know that many of my readers love a good dose of Marshall. And he needs some winding down too. ;)

XXX

Marshall hit rush hour traffic on his way back to the Sunshine Building, which meant it was looking like dusk when he swiped his badge at the double doors. The cloud cover and colorless quality to the atmosphere made it appear later than it was. He thought he'd heard thunder rolling in the distance, but figured it was way out west; caused by the heat. The flatlands had been dry as a bone for weeks.

He was surprised to find that Stan was still working in his office when he arrived; Delia was finishing up as well. While Marshall was happy to see his boss, he couldn't help feeling ill at ease with Delia there. He liked her very much and had the utmost reverence for her as an inspector. But, he wasn't sure Mary would enjoy the events of the day being broadcast all over the department. She'd seemed strangely embarrassed after the surgery.

To avoid being confronted by Delia, Marshall took the safest route and decided to inform Stan that he'd returned. He was writing rather intently at his desk, and didn't appear to have heard the door. The taller of the two knocked lightly, as he'd done hours before, and a bald head inclined upward to meet the sound.

"I'm back…" Marshall announced, though it was obvious at this point. "I'm going to finish those forms I was working on before lunch and see if I can catch D.C. before they all head home," a glance at his watch. "I hope you and Delia didn't have to head out into the field since you were two short this afternoon."

To his bewilderment, Stan appeared mildly exasperated. He put down his pen and jerked his head at the entrance.

"Marshall, shut the door," he instructed immediately.

Feeling sure this simply had to do with discussing Mary in private – because Marshall couldn't take any more bad news – he did as told, never one to disobey Stan. The hatch made a creak and a thud as it swung into the frame. Stan had his blinds drawn halfway already, keeping out the eavesdroppers.

"Have a seat…" he indicated a spare chair near his desk. "I've got a minute."

Marshall sat, trying to appear relaxed. Stan so rarely made him nervous. He had a sudden, minor inkling of how Mary might've felt all day with her trepidation. He crossed his legs and waited for Stan to go on; the latter leaned back in his seat and loosened the tie at his neck.

"So…" he began placidly. "What happened today? Is Mary okay?"

Marshall exhaled, trying to remind himself of the easiness of this question. There was only one response, after all; Stan wasn't looking for specifics. This wasn't an interrogation. Nevertheless, since both he and Mary had assumed Stan wasn't aware of the pregnancy, it was odd to speak to him now as though he'd been conscious all along.

"Mary is fine," he replied truthfully, stretching his legs as he did so. "Shaken and slightly overwhelmed, but fine."

This was a clue for Stan, who picked up on it at once, "What is this procedure she had to have? Did the baby make it out all right?"

Marshall couldn't stop himself from sighing again; knowing Mary would hate to think of them discussing this. But, it was a necessary evil now that the chief had been let in on the secret. Deep down, Marshall knew she respected Stan enough that she would concede he deserved honesty.

"She had a miscarriage," he finally admitted dully. "The procedure was a D and C; they put her under to remove the excess tissue in her uterus."

Stan managed to bury his feelings of awkwardness in favor of this heartbreak, but Marshall didn't miss the way he cringed; squeamish at the thought.

"So, she lost the baby?" he checked to make sure, but the somber tone of his voice convinced Marshall he already knew the answer.

"Yes," the other man answered shortly.

Stan took his turn at sighing, rubbing his shiny head; roving over the pate, seemingly at a loss for words. Marshall had nothing better to offer, allowing Stan to process the circumstances.

"Poor kid," the older eventually said, referring to Mary. "What a day she's had."

"Tell me," Marshall gave a bitter laugh, not trying to be amusing in the least. To divert from the subject of the miscarriage, he decided more was in order than just the rundown, "Stan, I'm sorry I didn't fess up about her being pregnant in the first place, I just…"

Stan held up a hand to silence him and shook his head, "Don't go there," he ordered. "It wasn't really your secret to tell. I know how Mary can be when she wants to keep something under wraps."

Marshall shrugged feebly, "She was just so determined – so worried that if people knew she was pregnant they would treat her differently," he tried to justify. "You know Mary. She wants to be one of the guys."

"Something tells me she didn't want this though," Stan commented forebodingly, still fiddling with his tie. Flashing his inspector a significant look, "How did she take things today?"

Marshall considered before responding. In some ways, Mary had behaved quite unnaturally when you reflected on her usual attitude. She hadn't shouted at anyone or debated the diagnosis. She'd been jittery, but also strong. She'd been shuffled from one corner to another and had taken it mostly in stride. Aside from her tears once she'd arrived at home, she'd acted exactly as Marshall would expect – resilient and robust. She did what she had to do; end of story.

"I was proud of her," Marshall eventually conceded; the most honest answer he could provide. "She kept it together like a pro. Except that she blames herself for losing the baby…" he tacked on the back end. "Which doesn't really come as an enormous shock, but still."

His boss wagged his head side-to-side, "Jesus…" he remarked, sounding like Mary herself. "This thing is going to be hard enough without her adding guilt on top of everything else."

"Well, I tried to talk to her," Marshall interjected, running his fingers through his hair in agitation just thinking about it. "I have misgivings about how much it helped."

Stan was slightly shaky when it came to emotions and decided to segue into something else. He rolled his chair forward and folded his arms over his desk, peering at Marshall with scrutiny. His brown eyes seemed darker than usual in the dim light of the office, and slightly skeptical. The inspector endured without trying to look wary.

"It may not seem important now…" Stan started to say. "But, do you know who the father of this baby was? Is Mary seeing somebody?"

The look on Stan's face suddenly clued Marshall into who he thought it might be. A bizarre sort of jolt shot through his heart at having an inkling about this. Stan didn't really believe Mary and Marshall had been together. Did he?

"No, it was Mary's ex-husband – Mark," he revealed bleakly.

"Mary has an ex-husband?"

"Well, he's not an ex-husband in the typical sense," Marshall intended to clear this up. "Mary was really young – seventeen, she said. They were only married for a few days; he's a couple years older than she is."

"And he was here?" Stan raised his eyebrows.

"Yup…" Marshall murmured slowly. "He was in town for some sort of convention; he sells solar panels. Anyway, I guess he stopped in to visit Brandi and she arranged their little rendezvous," he didn't mean to sound so sour about it. "Dinner turned into dancing, as I understand it," he finished metaphorically.

Stan emitted a chortle, "I'm guessing she didn't tell him what came of the reunion."

"I don't think so," Marshall whispered, more to himself than to Stan, deciding not to divulge Mary's original plan of adoption. "I met him; Abigail and I had dinner with the pair of them. He seemed like a nice guy. Sure looked at Mary like she was a fox."

This made Stan laugh for real, and forced Marshall to replay what he'd said in his mind. He supposed it did sound odd, but he hadn't been thinking straight. It bothered him on some weird level that Mary had-had this part of her past he'd never known about; he'd been partners with her for eight years before she'd told him about Mark. Not to mention the fact this Mark would've, for better or worse, changed her life forever if the pregnancy had been viable.

"Well, this has been quite an afternoon for you too," Stan voiced in lieu of Marshall's strange statement. "Feel free to leave the forms until tomorrow; they can wait."

"No, I should probably get cracking…" Marshall disagreed, thinking he'd darted away from the chief far too much as of late. "It will give me some time to figure out what I'm going to tell Abigail when she asks how my day went."

A rolling sensation swooped through Marshall's stomach at the thought of Abigail – more specifically, the thought of Abigail having knowledge of what had happened to Mary. There was no question; he couldn't confide in her. Though he tried to deny it, he knew his best friend didn't care for his significant other. He avoided mulling it over at all costs, not wanting to deal with how those relationships might merge if he and Abigail grew closer.

"That shouldn't be too hard," Stan was saying. "You keep WITSEC information in the vault all the time." And noticing Marshall's blank face, "Right?"

He shook his head, not wanting Stan to think he was disclosing the undercurrents of their job, of all things.

"No, right."

Stan accepted that and picked up his pen once more, ready to resume filling out his paperwork.

"Any idea when Mary will be back on the job?" he asked absently. "Not to pressure her or anything; I would assume she needs some time…"

Marshall stood up, stretching his hands over his head and the kinks in his legs. Stan looked peculiarly far away from him now that he was upright.

"I wouldn't assume much when it comes to Mary," he was forced to admit. "I wouldn't be surprised if she wants to burst back onto the scene tomorrow; be prepared."

"I'm usually not when Mary is involved, but you know…" a scoff. "Roll with the punches."

As Marshall stood there, waiting to exit, he went over his last hypothesis a little more thoroughly. It would be just like Mary to pretend nothing had gone on; to try and resume business as usual. Part of him loved this about her; she was as durable as they came. On the other hand, he knew it was unhealthy for her to shut herself in, especially if she felt as much regret as she claimed. He was hard-pressed to determine what he hoped for in the days to come.

"Don't go burning the midnight oil or anything, inspector…" Stan said with a hint of authority, flicking on his desk lamp now that it was growing dark outside. "Finish what's necessary and head for home."

"I'll do my best," the other man swore, grateful to have a supervisor as understanding as Stan.

Nothing else to say, he proceeded for his own desk, earning a vague wave of his hand from Stan in farewell. To both his pleasure and surprise, Delia stayed where she was across the room and didn't fish for gossip right away. Marshall sat down and woke up his computer, taking an involuntary sip of coffee, which was cold and disgusting from having been left out all day.

His inbox was flooded with e-mails, all of which he was too spent to read. He was starting to think Stan was right; nothing much was going to be accomplished this evening. He was saved by the bell when his cell phone sounded in his breast pocket; he hadn't even taken it out.

Turning it the right way, he saw at once it was the aforementioned girlfriend – Abigail, probably asking if he would be getting off soon, and did he want to have dinner.

Resigned, he did pick up, and tried to remember how much he cared about Abigail. She wasn't second-best to Mary or anything like that.

"Good evening, detective…" he said smoothly, now with a good excuse not to bother with work. "Done for the day?"

"So they say, sugar bug," she replied merrily; chipper as ever, which was a glaring contrast in Marshall's current climate. "But, you never know. I am always ready the minute they sound the alarm."

"Well, I hope it is a quiet night for you…" he hoped the same for himself. "I may be an hour or so yet," he might as well admit it up front. "It's been a busy day."

"If you must…" Abigail sang from the other end, not the least bit offended; one of the things Marshall liked about her. "But, can you take a break for a hot second? Give those gorgeous eyes a rest."

Marshall chuckled weakly, rubbing his eyes with his hand. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad; it didn't mean he had to lie. Abigail was perfectly cognizant of the fact that he couldn't discuss work, and work included Mary. He was completely willing to listen to the tales of Albuquerque PD if it got him off the hook.

"I suppose I have time to spare," he conceded. "What was on your agenda today?"

"Oh, drug bust…grand theft auto…" she shared in a breezy voice. "Nothing special," following up with a rather cackling laugh.

Marshall tried to do the same, the mention of 'grand theft auto' taking him back to Brandi's dilemma at Alpert's Autoplex. He suddenly felt a twinge of regret for blaming Mary for not liking Abigail. It wasn't really her fault. Arresting her baby sister didn't exactly get them off on the right foot, and it took his partner awhile to warm up to people besides.

"Sounds like a winner," Marshall proclaimed in light of Abigail's events. "Was my luxurious lady out there all by her lonesome or did she have backup?" he didn't like to think of any of the women in his life facing bullets alone, though he knew all were quite capable of handling themselves.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Abigail batted back coyly; Marshall could almost see her fluttering her eyelashes. "I am here safe and sound – that's all you need to know."

Marshall sighed, leaning forward with his hands on his knees, trying to sound apologetic with his next words.

"Well, I am sorry we can't get together tonight…" he told her. "Perhaps we can engage in a romantic tryst this weekend."

Although Abigail giggled feverishly at Marshall's flowering phrasing and promises, he had to wonder in the back of his mind why he had said such a thing. He knew already he would want to spend Saturday and Sunday checking up on Mary, whether she let him or not. She didn't have anyone else to confide in; not with her mother and sister oblivious to everything going on.

"I'd love that," his girlfriend declared, making the man feel even worse for an avowal he likely wouldn't keep. "I'll mark your name on my calendar," her southern twang more prevalent than ever.

"Better not let the big wigs catch a glimpse of that…" he teased lightly. "They'll wonder why you're fooling around with the string bean from the Sunshine Building."

More giggles. Marshall thought it was nice to hear such happiness after such a dark day, but it only reminded him of how far apart his two worlds were. He didn't consider it treachery not to pass on something of this magnitude to Abigail. After all, she and Mary really didn't know each other all that well; Mary had seen to that. But still, if he was going to be running out and making sure his friend was well-adjusted, Abigail was going to wonder why. Mary projected herself as wholly independent. It wouldn't mesh.

"You are too much, Marshall Mann," the woman exhaled girlishly in response to his joke. "I better get off the phone before everyone sees me blushing."

"An excellent observation," he agreed. "I'll give you a call soon."

"Not if I call you first."

He hung up with somewhat of a forced grin on his face, which made little sense considering Abigail couldn't see him anyway. He could be as unconvincing as he wanted when it came to his features, and the detective need never know. But, Marshall knew it was his moral compass trying to play along for the benefit of an entirely lovely woman.

He wasn't lying. He would tell himself that over and over. In the end, it didn't erase the ill-at-ease feeling lingering in the pit of his stomach.

Stan must've noticed that he was looking unoccupied both in thoughts and actions, because he left his office and joined him. Marshall figured this was so he could be ordered to go home once more.

"Who was that?" he asked, tipping his head at the cell phone still held slack in Marshall's fingers.

The second shook his head, trying to get with the program, "Nobody. Abigail."

Oh my. He would have to be careful not to say that again. Abigail was not nobody.

Fortunately, Stan didn't seem bothered, "How's it going with you two?" he inquired, leaning a hand on the corner of Marshall's desk, visibly not endeared to the idea of work either. "You've been together a couple of months now; is that right?"

Marshall couldn't help feeling touched about Stan making an effort to acknowledge his employee had a personal life – a life outside of Mary – but his union with Abigail was difficult to describe. And getting more difficult with each passing day.

"Yeah, since January or so…" he disclosed, attempting to sound offhand. "Favorably enough, I suppose. I don't know – it has been some time since I acquired a significant other. I fear I'm a bit out of practice."

"I doubt that," Stan reassured him kindly. "You and Finkel had a thing going there for awhile, right?"

"Not hardly," Marshall refuted. "Her weeping ex called halfway through coffee and that was all the fat lady sang – so to speak."

Stan avoided that botched courtship and continued, "Well, but Abigail seems like a real catch," he offered. "You're having reservations?"

Marshall didn't think he could really solidify his worries when it came to his love life, especially when they had only swum to the surface so very recently. His qualms weren't very valid, and he couldn't imagine anyone accepting them as such. She simply forced him to examine a part of himself he'd long since tried to bury.

"Mary doesn't really like her," he finally said bluntly.

Stan immediately waved this away, "Does Mary like anyone?"

Marshall appreciated the tease, even given the fact that Mary had been through the wringer that day. However, his companion for the night obviously sensed he had put ideas in the other's head, and hurried to make his point known.

"I'm just saying…" the bald drove forward. "Don't let Mary dictate how you feel…"

Easier said than done.

"If she sees that you really care about Abigail, she'll come around," he insisted. "I would say that today is the perfect example."

Marshall frowned, too fatigued to decode, "How do you mean?"

Stan was just a shadow now. The sun had crept out from behind the thick mass of grey only to set beneath the Sandia Mountains. It cast the shorter in a purple kind of haze, making him appear indistinct and formless – like a spirit that wouldn't be there when you tried to reach out and grab it. Whatever he was, Marshall knew he had fallen into a bout of good luck indeed to have him here to unburden himself. Playing protector to Mary, however invigorating, took a lot out of him as well.

"Marshall, she trusted you above anyone else with what she looked at as a gargantuan secret…" his voice was soft and comforting; fatherly.

Would Marshall ever become the father figure he envisioned Stan as? He was afraid that day would never come.

"You don't think it says something that you were the only one she told she was pregnant?"

Marshall didn't enjoy having to correct Stan, but this was one of those times where it was essential. Gaze cast across the room to the little round table in the kitchenette, he pictured a night not unlike this one. Dark and murky; a world of uncertainty displayed, ruthless and brutal, in front of two partners' eyes.

"Expecting? With child? In a family way?"

"How'd you know?"

"She didn't tell me she was pregnant…" he whispered, faraway and distant. "I told her."

XXX

A/N: I have done so many chapters in other stories where Mary is without Marshall that I decided I needed to give the man his due here. Hopefully you enjoyed!