A/N: Dumb chapter title for this one…but, I guess you can't hit a homerun every time! ;)

XXX

Mary was beginning to feel quite invaded by the time she made it home that evening. She had forever been scornful of intrusive, officious behaviors and her life had been full of them on what had become a very long Tuesday – Mrs. Anders, Abigail, Marshall, Jinx. And the supposed fun didn't stop there. While she was indulging in her clichéd dinner – because it had been borne purely out of a craving – Brandi stopped by just as the sun was starting to go down.

Much like Jinx, she waltzed right in as though she had been invited. She looked put-out and ill-tempered, even if she wasn't completely going off the deep end. Sitting at the island, Mary couldn't have been troubled even if her sister had been in a towering rage. She simply didn't have the energy.

"What's up, Squish?" the older drawled around bites of her supper, not bothering to stand, especially since Brandi hadn't even bothered to ring the doorbell.

With a disconcerted sigh, Brandi dumped an armload of what appeared to be bridal magazines on the counter right under Mary's nose. At the slam, the taller was forced to look up, but it was out of dreary, sleepy eyes. She hoped this look would encourage Brandi to rectify whatever she was about to say.

"Mom told me you're bailing on your 'MOH' jobs."

Mary ought to have known this was coming, but to Brandi's credit, she did not sound all that disturbed – disappointed, maybe, and probably frazzled at the change in plans, but otherwise it was the best she could hope for.

"It was her idea. Swear," Mary dug her spoon through her meal once more, which attracted Brandi's eye and distracted her momentarily.

"Jesus, what are you eating?" she almost laughed, leaning in to sniff the concoction.

Mary shrugged, not about to be ashamed for her choice in food. She was eating for two, after all; no one could begrudge her too thoroughly.

"It's just peanut butter. You can't tell?" she waggled her spoon at the bowl in front of her, into which she had scraped half the jar of her favorite sandwich spread.

"What's in the peanut butter?" Brandi questioned further. "What are those little flecks?"

Unabashed, the older replied, "Lucky Charms."

"Oh my God, Mary…" now Brandi was definitely chuckling, shaking her head and looking highly amused. "That's gross…"

"It isn't any grosser than mom's stupid half-assed sandwiches," Mary defended herself. "Besides, with all the peanut butter, you can't even taste the marshmallows that much. I like it with the little grain bits."

"Uh-huh…" the baby sister just smirked. "Whatever. Maybe I should have that stuff on hand at the wedding as an appetizer."

"Wouldn't hear any complaints from me," the inspector claimed. "But, don't go giving it a kitschy name like Peanut Charms or Lucky Butter."

At this, Brandi's responses came to an end, and she flopped into the barstool opposite her big sister, which meant she was planning on sticking around. Mary couldn't say she was thrilled about this, but at least Brandi wasn't pitching a fit over the fact that she wasn't going to stand up for her in a few weeks' time. It was very mature of her – for the moment. There was no telling how she'd act once the big day finally arrived.

"So, did you come over here to rail on me because I won't post myself next to you all puffy and bloated in some emerald tent straight out of Oz…?"

Brandi wiggled her nose watching Mary continue to consume her makeshift dinner, but took care to answer the question.

"First of all, the dress would never be green," as if Mary gave a damn about that. "And, second of all, mom's been doing most everything since I got engaged anyway. You were really right when you said you just didn't have the time, and that was even before the baby…"

"I don't plan to be this workaholic and leave you in the lurch all the time, Brandi…"

A scoff escaped, "Well, I don't believe that you aren't throwing yourself into your work, but I don't think it's because of me. You've been that way for as long as I can remember. I should've realized you'd be too busy to go dress shopping and stuff."

Mary quirked an eyebrow at her startling understanding, "Peter and his philosophical side must be rubbing off on you," she observed. "Kind of frightening, Squish." And, noting his absence, "Where is your better half anyway? It's usually the both of you flaunting your love all over the place with the high school public displays of affection that would've gotten your ass booted to the principal's office."

Twirling a strand of hair around her finger, Brandi replied somewhat absently, "He's in China working on some big business deal. He'll be back this weekend."

"Mmm, four days without him," Mary quipped. "Sure you can last that long?"

"Very funny, Mary," she remarked dryly. "He actually asked if I wanted to go with him, but I said no. I wouldn't have the first clue about his negotiations over there – at the Autoplex, I know what I'm doing."

"For a change," the darker blonde just wasn't through with the round-about jabs, even as she sucked excess peanut butter off her spoon. "But, I've gotta hand it to you, Squish. Letting your man leave the country, acting like you couldn't care less that I won't be your sidekick of honor – I'm starting to think the aliens of Roswell have eaten your brains."

"You would think that instead of seeing how I'm changing," but Brandi didn't sound upset. "Since we all know you couldn't make a change if your life depended on it."

Now Mary deposited her utensil back in the bowl, willing to go toe-to-toe with her sister on this.

"Oh, really?" her voice pitched lower when she was shifting into argumentative. "The two-ton bowling ball I'm carrying around doesn't indicate change?"

"It might…" Brandi was sounding superior, her eyebrows inching upward. "Actually, it definitely would if you were going to keep the baby. Once the adoption goes through, it'll be back to life as usual, right?"

Mary had half a mind to tell the lovesick off for saying such a thing, but was cruelly reminded that she was the one who had tried to use her condition to indicate transformation. As it was, she was even more ticked off that Brandi had a point – how different could she end up being if Mango went to live with strangers for the rest of his life? Wasn't that part of the point of the adoption?

She liked her life the way it was, in spite of the obstacles provided by her job and her family. A baby just added to the turmoil, not to mention that she couldn't devote the time or the energy, or even certify she was 'mom' material.

It was what was best for everyone involved.

"Sure…right…" Mary ended up shrugging, no idea how to refute Brandi's conclusion. "Still, though. Mine or not, I've had to do a one-eighty since this kid came along. You have no idea how much time I waste on peeing alone."

Brandi laughed out loud at this, "Well, that's attractive. I don't care how hard it is, I still can't wait until Peter and I have kids. It'll be so fun."

Leave it to Brandi to describe parenthood as 'fun' as if being a mother was like running a soccer club or reading a story to a group of daycare rug rats for an hour. It was a game to her, Mary was sure of it.

"Please…" she couldn't resist voicing at least part of this. "Brandi, you're way too young to be thinking about that…"

"I'm thirty-three!" she all-but squawked. "Did you forget?"

Mary hadn't, not really, but she had always seen Brandi as the perpetual teenager. It was still hard to reconcile that she was getting married at all, let alone thinking about having babies. It was a task reserved for grown-ups, an image that the older sister still couldn't equate with the younger.

"I still think you should focus on getting through the wedding before you even go there," this was the best rationalization she could come up with for being remiss about Brandi's age.

This provided a neat transition, "Speaking of…" Brandi reached over Mary's arm to retrieve one of the magazines she had dropped on the island when she had first come in, the latter now grazing the plastic of her bowl to be sure she was getting every bite of cereal she could. "Since you're not actually going to be in the wedding party anymore, your dress isn't as big of a deal…"

"Hark, what was that?" Mary couldn't imagine this would be true come show time, but she was willing to take Brandi's word for it at this point. "Does that mean I can wear my jacket and drawstring pants?"

"You do, and I'll make sure mom has something velour or crushed velvet to go with it."

Not liking even the possibility of such a thing, Mary kept quiet this time and waited for the new rules that were sure to be imposed upon her as MOH-In-Chief.

"I earmarked pages in all of these magazines," Brandi explained, like she was talking to a six-year-old. "All the dresses are cheaper than the ones I had in mind when you were actually going to stand up front. Pick which one you like, and I can order a couple of sizes, that way you'll have a few to choose from depending on whether or not you've had the baby by then."

Mary had no desire to delve into her sister's little collection and frowned, her mouth feeling sticky and chewy from all the peanut butter.

"And, what if I don't like any of them?"

"Too bad," Brandi was short. "At least you won't be stuck up front anymore."

Given Brandi's staggering acceptance of Jinx being her new henchman, Mary decided that she wouldn't argue too comprehensively on this – at least not right now – and opted to accept her fate.

"Are you saying I should count my blessings?"

The shorter smirked deviously, "Maybe."

"Well, if you want me to have time to do that…" Mary snatched a magazine, feigning that she was actually going to give the contents the once over. "I think you should be hitting the road."

"Is that your version of being 'nice' about telling me I'm not wanted?"

"Ah, gee. You cracked the code," Mary was unapologetic, just glad that Brandi was standing up and preparing to leave as requested. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Brandi gave more of a cackling laugh than she had been all evening, retrieving her purse from one of the empty barstools and flouncing toward the porch in her usual carefree manner. Halfway there, she paused beside the sofa, as though second-guessing just how seriously Mary had taken her orders.

"You really will look in those, won't you?" referencing the new dress choices. "Because, if we're going to get more than one size, we'll need to order them by the end of the week."

"Who is this 'we' you speak of?" Mary wanted to know, deciding with some disappointment that she had probably gotten every bite of the 'Lucky Butter' she was going to. "I don't remember having much say."

"Mary…" Brandi sighed loudly, playing on her sister's sympathies – if she possessed any. "Please. Be serious about this, okay? It's important to me."

"Yeah-yeah; I'll take notes and everything," a lie, but Brandi had to be smart enough to know that. "Hard to get started if you won't leave, though."

"Right…" Brandi remained unconvinced, but knew for a fact that there was even less chance of Mary skimming the slick pages if she were in attendance. "Call me tomorrow?"

"Uh-huh…"

With that, Brandi traveled the rest of the way to the front door, where she took her sweet time unlocking the deadbolt and fiddling with her car keys. Mary had not a clue what was taking her so long, as she had stopped watching her, instead flipping through several books without taking much in. She even heard Brandi's voice as she disappeared down the sidewalk. She must've gotten a phone call on her way out, but had she left the door open? The irresponsibility never ended.

Rising with the eventual goal of making sure that the front door had indeed been shut and locked, Mary busied herself depositing her dirty dishes in the sink and rinsing them out. She became absentminded in her movements and didn't glance up to determine if Albuquerque's late evening breeze was wafting through the living room. It was when she flicked off the faucet that she heard the voice.

"Hey there…"

Mary dropped her bowl with an almighty, earsplitting clatter, whirled around and found Marshall standing in her midst. There was no reason to give him the time of day, but since he'd nearly given her a heart attack, he deserved a few nasty words for coming by – and sneaking in – unannounced.

"Jesus, Marshall!" she all-but bellowed. "Christ. What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

"Well, I ran into Brandi on my way up; she said the door was unlocked…" jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "You didn't hear us?"

"I thought she was on her cell," Mary mumbled, immediately turning around and occupying herself in the sink once more. "I guess that gets you off the 'breaking and entering' charge."

"I appreciate your leniency," Marshall played along. "Do you…think we could talk for a minute?" it was brave of him to make no bones about his intentions. "I feel like we kind of left things hanging this afternoon…"

"For God's sake, Marshall," Mary huffed, knowing she wouldn't be able to hide forever, shuffling back to the island and hoping he would at least be quick. "Are we a couple now? We have to dissect every little boxing match that we have? Did you think I was gonna start giving you the silent treatment or something?"

"Maybe not that specifically, but…" he shoved his hands in his pockets, looking remarkably like Stan. "Well, you can be unpredictable sometimes. I don't like it when you're mad at me."

The woman scowled, "Aren't I always mad at you?"

She could see him stifle a grin, "For superficial things, I suppose. My index of what you would call 'useless' knowledge being the number one reason…"

"You better believe it."

"But, I kind of thought this was different," he rationalized. "I don't think what went down this afternoon is something that you or I want to leave in the open."

Mary was not in the mood for a lot of secret lingo, "I don't even know what that means."

If she wanted to strip down to nuts and bolts, then Marshall could do that. It was how Mary operated best, after all. And so, when she lowered herself into a seat, he followed suit and joined her without being invited. This alone might have her showing him the door, but all she did was glower and rake her fingers through her bangs.

"Look, I'm really sorry that Abigail – or I – upset you."

"I didn't say I was upset," Mary almost cut him off in her efforts not to be viewed as some hormonal whack job. "Is that what you thought I was? Upset? I was angry."

"I kind of thought you were both," Marshall admitted. "But, angry – fine. I'm sorry if we made you angry. Is it because you think I'm not on your side? That I would rather you didn't give the baby up?"

Marshall spoke very neutrally, never once raising his voice, never once giving Mary the indication that he was cosseting her or trying to pat her on the head, thus dismissing her problems. He didn't act like there had been anything between them but a minor disagreement that he wished to get to the bottom of. Because of this, Mary found it in her not to thrash him too violently for forcing her to discuss her feelings. Usually, she'd do anything to sidestep scrutinizing said feelings.

"You can't tell me you don't wish you were gonna be Uncle Marshall or something so horribly hokey…" Mary rolled her eyes. "Abigail pretty much 'outed' you where that's concerned."

He folded his elbows on the tabletop before continuing, "But, Mary…it's like I tried to tell you earlier…" she didn't remember what he'd said earlier, but was about to be reminded. "Just because I would care about your baby doesn't mean I don't understand why you're doing what you're doing."

"I don't think you do…" Mary whispered, averting her eyes, focusing on the granite pattern before her. "I don't think anybody does. But, I at least thought you might be better at pretending than Jinx and Brandi…"

The man couldn't help noting her skittish demeanor and, while risky, he couldn't hold back from asking something he had been wondering since the first, early days of Mary's pregnancy. Perhaps her flipping out on he and Abigail came from her own self-doubt – self-doubt she was then reflecting onto her partner and his girlfriend.

"Do you think there's something wrong with adoption?" he probed lightly. "That you have something to be ashamed of?"

Now the woman drew rings with her finger, trying not to appear quite so passive when she responded. Marshall knew her way too well; there was never any hiding from him. It was a trait she both loved and hated when it came to his personality.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with it if you don't have the money to raise the kid," she shrugged. "Or if you're in high school. Or if some douche bag came after you in a dark alley and the only memories you're gonna have of the little one is how he came to be in the first place…"

"You don't seem to fit any of those criteria," Marshall couldn't help noticing. "So, are you saying that unless you do…?"

"Marshall, I'm just tired of everyone acting like this isn't hard for me," the blonde gave it up, shaking her head and trying to articulate further. "Everyone thinks it's so easy – that because I didn't plan to have a kid and I had him with someone I can barely stand, it's so simple for me to just turn a blind eye and give him to somebody else," she fought to keep her tone from going up, because that would make her sound hysterical. "It's not easy. It's tough. But, that doesn't mean I won't do it – or that I don't think it's the right thing to do."

A brief silence fell after her speech, a silence that Mary didn't welcome because it gave her – and Marshall – too much time to think. She had always felt that Marshall overanalyzed everything, and this probably wouldn't be an exception. Just by looking at him, she could see his eyebrows inching inward, his blue eyes turning soft and sensitive.

She hadn't realized, until recently, how sweet and handsome such a face made him look.

"Enough with the mime routine," Mary butted in so she wouldn't have to dwell on Marshall's attractiveness. "What?"

"No, I just…" he wagged his head, bringing himself back from whatever thoughts he'd been having. "Honestly…" Mary doubted he knew how to be insincere. "I've thought since the beginning that this would be difficult for you. My concern was that you didn't realize how difficult it would be for you."

Mary couldn't be sure what to make of this, and had very little interest in trying. Marshall was normally so expressive and coherent; she didn't have the compulsion to translate such speak.

Fortunately, he picked up the thread without waiting for her to answer, "Obviously, I was wrong. I'm glad you're so heads-up about it. It shows you've considered all the angles."

A guilty wrench erupted in Mary's gut at hearing him describe her so nobly. He wasn't as wrong as he'd thought. She'd basically run into the adoption headfirst, and had only recently solidified any part of it. She'd considered very few angles, and far from all of them. Instead of voicing this, she just decided to give him credit where it was due.

"I just…I know it isn't fair to expect you to keep things from Abigail…" she was going to have to bring it up sometime. "And, it's not like I can stop you. I think I'm just not used to you being so serious with a girl," she offered a small chuckle and half-smile to show that this wasn't as monumental as she truly felt it was.

"Well, it's new territory for me too," he confessed. "Abigail's kind of the guinea pig for us. If it makes you feel better, I'll try to keep things at a minimum – the things I share."

Mary sneered without thinking, "You really think she'll go for that?"

"I think it's merely you asking for your privacy to be respected, and there's nothing wrong with that," he declared without hesitation. "Abigail can understand that."

"It's not…everything, Marshall," his partner didn't want him to think she anticipated him closing her up in a little box that Abigail would never be able to open. "Mostly…the 'Mango' thing," she couldn't believe she was still using that name now that the detective knew about it. "And, that's not gonna last much longer, so…"

She tapered away, but luckily she could tell from the man's features that he got what she was saying. The baby was one of the biggest curveballs Mary had ever been thrown, and she wanted to hide even more than usual when she felt out of control. Marshall gossiping with Abigail about such a thing would drive her crazy, and he could see why. There were plenty of ways not to cut Mary out of their conversations; the baby would simply have to be left aside.

"We'll take the days as they come," Marshall was definitely easing up, probably because Mary was. "I think it'll be good for me and Abby to have a few days apart with our little road trip coming up…" he decided. "We can start fresh when you and I get back."

"If you say so," but, Mary smiled this time. "And, I know I didn't quite get through what I was trying to tell you at lunch, but…" she paused, and then knew she had to go on, especially when she'd been cut off that afternoon. "The Providence thing…"

Marshall nodded soberly, remembering, "You thinking about trekking some additional miles to break bread with Mango's budding mater and pater?"

She sighed at his terminology, but was secretly glad he was making light, "Don't say 'mater and pater.'"

"It's Latin."

"It's stupid," she informed him. "And…yeah, that's what I was hoping. Can't promise you'll get to be an usher or anything."

"Since when do you need an usher?" he grinned. "I'll be honored just being the chauffer. It looks like it's a good thing we'll be leaving a few days early."

Mary wasn't sure if she considered their departure time a good thing, but being back on steady ground with Marshall – that was as close to 'good' as her life got.

XXX

A/N: Yay, they made up, LOL. And I made Brandi diplomatic. Feeling generous, I guess. ;)