A/N: I feel so lucky to have you few loyal reviewers! You are awesome!

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Wednesday morning brought Albuquerque a light dusting of snow, still trailing idly from the bottomless grey clouds at 7:30 when the kids left for school. Robyn and Alice bemoaned their exit, wondering why class was even going on with snow falling from the sky. But, it was so fine and refusing to stick in the brown patches of brittle grass; there was no way school would be called off.

Brandi went home to Peter as soon as the troops were gone, and even though Mary had risen from her bed in order to bid the kids farewell, she wished she'd felt more up to the part. The flu she'd contracted had seemed to be on its way out yesterday, but today left her sluggish and achy, like it might be sweeping through her system once more. She knew the lack of sleep hadn't helped, and when Marshall emerged fully dressed for the day, he definitely noticed.

"Are you feeling okay?" he prodded her where she sat with her head in her hands at the island. She had dressed as well, in a fuzzy blue turtleneck and her jeans. She'd thought attempting to rejoin the world of living would improve her status, but nothing thus far. "You don't look so hot…"

Mary wanted to snap at him for insulting her state-of-being while her defenses were so low, but knew she needed to save her energy. She was sick of this house, and she was sick of the gloom, and she was sick of having everything thrown in her face when she wasn't ready. Come hell or high water, she was calling the shots today.

"I feel fine…" she lied, trying not to flinch when Marshall put his hand on her forehead. "It's early; I'll perk up."

"Well, I've gotta go to the office for a couple hours…" he informed her, turning his palm back to front. "I shouldn't be long, but I just want to get everything squared away so it's handled when I take off for the visitation and whatnot…"

Mary tensed at the mention of the visitation, which had been scheduled for Friday. She did not know why they needed to have two events to mourn Jinx's passing, but Brandi had insisted, saying people needed more than one opportunity to pay their respects. Unfortunately, Marshall had seemed to agree.

"Why don't I call Joanna to come keep you company?" her husband offered. "Just until I get back; Mark's working this morning."

This suggestion was irksome, and it only fueled Mary's desire to get out of the house. She'd been slogging around for a week now, and the last two days felt like they'd lasted a year. She wasn't interested in staying home and moping, especially not after her disaster of a dream the night before.

"You don't need to call anybody," Mary informed him smoothly, sliding her stool out from underneath her and standing up. "I'll just go with you."

She'd attempted to be cool; to not play her hand or demand right off the top, but it was plain it made no difference. The way Marshall's brows crept together and hunched made him look dark and brooding – in other words, completely against such a notion.

"I do not think that is a favorable proposition," he dictated, still staring her down. "Just stay here; I told you I will not be long."

"There's no reason for me to stay here," Mary interrupted, her legs feeling oddly stiff underneath the boots she'd put on. "I can get some of this funeral and flower shit done at the office, and then I can catch up on work…"

Marshall clearly was not in the mood to argue and jumped the gun, "You are not coming with me, Mare."

Annoyed, "Why the hell not?"

"Well, for one thing, you're still sick. And it's like the arctic out there…" he inclined his head at the kitchen window where the flakes were still dancing toward the ground. "You'll catch pneumonia."

Mary had thought she might have to fight for this, but she was unexpectedly stung with Marshall treating her like such a juvenile. She could take his concern over her mind-set when it came to Jinx, but this nonsense about her health was too much.

"Is this you being my mother?" her voice bit with sarcasm and also pain. "Since I don't have one anymore?"

She did not know what made her say it, but it was completely unplanned and a little daunting to hear out loud. She had thought Marshall might soften with this development, but on the contrary. It made him angrier.

"That isn't funny," he said in a low voice. "And you know better. You have no business going to work when Jinx just passed away."

"My life doesn't just stop!" Mary exploded, suddenly more anxious than ever to leave and not be boxed into the quarters she'd been stuck in since she'd heard the news. Waving a wild hand, "How long constitutes 'just?' she wanted to know. "I have things to do! I've been at a standstill for a week now, and I've had enough. If you don't want me to ride with you, I'll take my car."

She would've done too, if not for the fact that Marshall seemed to cluing in a little bit. The light was dawning; he realized she felt confined and haunted staying here in the grey – either by herself or with another. It was more than obvious he still did not approve of letting her shut her emotions up in a box and trot off to work with a fever. But, he also didn't want her to get worse and he could bombard her later if he gave in now.

Staring at his wife, her eyes steely and arms crossed over her middle, he knew a lot of men would find her impossible to tend to day in and out. But to him, it was just another challenge; another hurdle they jumped through together.

"Get your coat and your gloves," he ordered, shaking his head even as he said it, wondering how much he was going to regret this. "Two hours – maximum."

We'll see about that, Mary thought, but she was smart enough not to say it and almost stampeded toward the door with the leeway.

Regardless of her mad yearning to feel constructive, Mary could tell the entire journey to the office that she definitely was not a hundred percent. She'd been indoors for seven days, and the toll the virus had taken on her body was obnoxiously apparent. It was one thing to build endurance around the house; it was another to actually depend on it.

The cold was abnormally bitter even though Marshall shellacked her with coats. The wind smarted harshly against her hot cheeks and made her bones throb. She was grateful to reach the security of the Sunshine Building, even though she already felt beaten-down from her jaunt.

After greetings and condolences from Delia and Charlie, Mary thumped down at her desk to get to work. Marshall warily saw himself into the office, an eye on her the whole time. Fortunately, she got caught in a phone call with D.C. and was able to block him out. It felt glorious to do something so ordinary, even though she was starting to feel dizzy from all the vigor she'd exerted. She buried it fast.

"He'll need a bigger stipend than that…" Mary barked at her D.C. representative, referring to one of Delia's newest witnesses. "He's got two kids; he's a single father…"

She waited while Delia herself wandered into her midst, looking skeptical but also unwilling to voice her concerns.

"I know what your policy is, numb nuts. I practically wrote it…" she informed him, firing up with all the protocol she had to get past. "Where's your supervisor? He'll tell you."

Delia motioned indistinctly and Mary put a hand over the mouthpiece to see what she wanted.

"I can handle that if you want to get back to your calls…" she presented quietly. "I mean, with the arrangements and everything…"

"I've got it," Mary shook her head, finding this interaction overly important for the sake of her sanity. "It's no problem."

Delia attempted to continue on, "I think Marshall's good with you just getting up-to-date on your paperwork…"

It was her way of talking Mary off the ledge, of admitting she was fully capable of resuming her duties – just not the battles. But, Mary ignored her, leaving her standing there to cop a plea with somebody else. In any case, the yahoo on the other end of the phone still wasn't budging.

"You don't want to get me your supervisor?" she jabbed when she heard D.C.'s refusal. "Then how about Deputy McQueen? He's always happy to hear from me."

Mary hadn't wanted to play the 'Stan' card too soon, but it was high time this underling knew who was boss. It appeared this wasn't going to fly, however.

"He's out of town," the man responded.

"Out of town where?!"

But, as soon as the thought entered her mind, she remembered. Stan – Stan and Lia – were coming. They were coming in today. The entire visit had been blown completely out of her head. Why hadn't somebody reminded her? They didn't even know what was going on, and they were going to show up in the midst of this chaos. She thought she might be having a stroke with something else unexpected getting plopped on her plate, but resolved to let Delia do as she was asking.

"Talk to Jeeves…" she stood up so fast her chair rolled from underneath her, and she practically threw the phone to the other woman. "I have something to discuss with Marshall."

Delia was giving her a, 'what now?' look as she strode the length of the office, but twisted the phone cord around and began dealing with D.C. and its funds. Mary's heart was beginning to thump rather uncomfortably; the overwhelming sense of entrapment was increasing tenfold. Stan and Lia had-had no plans to stay with her and Marshall, of course. But, it was one more thing; one more thing to take care of, one more person to answer to. She was starting to feel sweaty and warm, and the sensation didn't go away even after she got to the office.

He looked up at her with weary eyes from behind his desk, "Yeah?"

Mary's cheeks felt like they were on fire. She tried to motivate herself – practically berate herself – to calm down so Marshall wouldn't become her nursemaid once more. She breathed deeply a few times, but it was to no avail. She should not have worn a turtleneck. It felt like it was choking her.

"I forgot about Stan…" she declared recklessly, and so speedily that Marshall didn't catch on at first.

"Huh?" he put his pen down.

"Stan!" her voice went up an octave unintentionally. "Stan; I forgot he was coming! He and Lia are flying in today…!"

"Oh…" Marshall shrugged casually. "No, I remembered," he promised. "I spoke to Stan yesterday." He narrowed his eyes, assessing her skittish persona, "Is that a problem? Did you not want him to come?"

"No!" she was frustrated that he didn't understand. "No, I'm just – I just forgot and I was worried that…"

She did not even know anymore. She really wanted to chill out, but found her body was not going to let her. She was so mystified she couldn't ascertain which end was up. She missed her mother; she didn't know how to handle the kids. She didn't know who would be coming to the visitation or the funeral. She didn't know what her insane dream meant. She didn't know anything and it was frightening her out of her mind.

Marshall stood up while her eyes flashed and stepped around his desk. He placed a tender hand on the fleece of her sweater and tried to meet her frantic gaze.

"It's all right…" he whispered in reference to Stan, hoping he could take care of that one quickly. "You are entitled to lose track. You have an infinite number of items going on at the moment."

Mary was about to tell him that this didn't make her feel better; it made her feel scatterbrained and careless. But, she didn't miss his lids flicker upward through his window. Before she could inquire, Marshall had already explained.

"Speak of the devil…" he murmured with some degree of apprehension in his voice. "He must've gotten in early."

Mary whirled around and saw that the object of her current obsession was strolling through the office. Stan, in his brown trench coat and shiny black shoes, stopped to say a quick hello to Delia, before he sent a wave to the other two. Marshall waved back, feeding him a half-smile, but Mary's mushy mind didn't catch her extremities in time. How could Stan have possibly gotten in early with the snow? How would he know they were at work? Didn't anything go according to plan?

She had no time to dwell. Stan had abandoned Delia and made for his old residence, pausing to rap three times on the already open wooden door.

"Knock-knock…" he called in his usual buoyant way, although with a little less optimism. "There room for three in here?"

Marshall managed a real smile and went to greet him, sticking out his hand and embracing in a brief, one-armed hug to pat backs and murmur hellos in ears.

"Good to see you, deputy…" Marshall said, having stuck 'chief' in a drawer now that they were so many years into it. "I didn't expect you until early afternoon."

"We got out before the inclement weather," Stan enlightened them, beginning to unbutton the coat as he made himself at home. "Lia is down at the hotel doing some unpacking. She wants to have lunch with some of her old studio friends."

Mary's stomach gave a sadistic pitch downward at the mention of the word 'studio.' She wondered, hazily, if she was going to start puking again. Lia and Jinx hadn't even taught in the same place – hadn't even taught the same types of dances, and yet Mary immediately registered the similarities. The harm was strong and she packed it in by closing her eyes and trying to clear her head.

"Well, we're just…getting some loose ends tied up…" Marshall informed their old boss in a poor segue, his concerned look darting onto Mary. "Before all the hectic matters begin on Friday."

It was apparent even to Mary, who had gone decidedly blank, that Marshall had filled Stan in. She knew it to be so when the latter nodded solemnly and stepped over to the other of his former inspectors. Despite Mary's inability to see straight right now, she could take in the soft, affectionate quality of Stan's deep brown eyes. They were kindly and swimming with empathy.

"I can imagine," he murmured, stopping dead in front of Mary's face. And leaving Marshall in the rearview, "How you doing, inspector?"

He didn't have to specify, and Mary certainly wasn't going to make him. She accepted his trying to hug her without pulling away, but she was too dim to reciprocate. Her throat was feeling scratchy and the muscles in her gut were churning. She barely felt the peck Stan left on her cheek.

"I'm…I'm fine…" she said, and it came out very timid, but they were lucky she'd managed.

She could see Marshall out the corner of her eye, lamenting his decision to let her in here. He was clearly fighting off the urge to sweep her up and take her home.

However, Stan was looking her up and down as well, and he spotted the anomalies, "You look flushed, kiddo; are you still not feeling good?"

Mary was about to say for what felt like the fiftieth time that she was perfectly fine, but Marshall who had more of his wits about him was swifter.

"Still getting over the bug," he supplied with something of an edge. He didn't want Mary to seem weak, but he thought she was starting to look really funny. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused and Stan was right; her face was blazing. He found himself contemplating just how high her fever had notched up with their little adventure. "We thought it had run its course but she hasn't quite beaten it yet."

"Ah, well…" Stan waved a genial hand, sensing where this might be headed. "You're a trooper to come into work," he winked in a gentlemanly way to appease the woman.

Marshall wondered if he could use Stan's compliment to his advantage. He could ask some WITSEC-related questions to make his wife feel like a part of the action; feel like her coming in today had been essential. If he was lucky, she'd bite and pack it in for the morning. Stan could accompany her until he was through.

"What's going on in D.C.?" he directed his investigation to Mary so Stan wouldn't get confused. "How's that stipend for Thomas and his offspring looking?"

Mary sighed, "Not so good. I left Delia to have a few words…" she waggled her fingers at the window.

"And Chelsea Cameron?" he referred to yet another new gal on Delia's roster. "You were going to call and see how that retail job is working out, right?"

"I haven't had a chance yet," Mary admitted, unable to hide her agitation much longer. She tried fanning her shirt open at the neck to get some air. "I was on hold with those pansy people for thirty minutes; they screwed up my schedule…"

Marshall frowned, "Pansy people? I am not following on that one; I do apologize."

"The florists – the ones we're using for the church!" she exclaimed irritably. "It took me an age to get enough ordered…"

He really couldn't stay silent anymore, not with Stan becoming totally bewildered in regards to Mary's attitude. She wasn't really talking to either of them; their eyes didn't meet and she still looked vacant, like she wasn't even in the room. Marshall was aggravated that she insisted upon reverting like this, as if he'd love her any less if she broke down.

"All they had were lilacs or roses or something…" she prattled on breathlessly. "Jinx hated purple flowers, so I got the roses, only…"

"Mare, sit down…" Marshall could see that she'd run out of room, that she was on the fast track to losing all feeling in her legs.

He snatched the chair from behind his desk and rolled it in front, but she ignored him and tried to make her plea understood, "Only, I didn't want the roses because James…"

Her ears were closing in; all the sounds around her were becoming fuzzy and incoherent. The sides of her vision pushed inward on her lids, closing the gap. It was bridging black with black before the spots of gold burst in eerie patches through the darkness.

"Take a breath, Mary. I'll get you some water…"

Her enormous green eyes, rounder than usual, finally faced the man who was trying to keep her in one piece. Before she could tell him she was sorry, before she could register that it was actually him amidst the gloom, her knees buckled. She heard Marshall and Stan cry out at the same moment before a pair of strong hands caught her, and the shadows turned to endless night.

XXX

A/N: What sort of Mary would she be if she weren't going to make this some kind of fight for Marshall? It's why he loves his girl. ;)