A/N: Thanks for those who have reviewed – and those who are reading! I know not everyone has time to review every day, believe me, so I am grateful whether you're giving me comments or not!

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Marshall was forced to return to the office after the excursion at the swimming pool, which meant he didn't get home until after Norah had already gone to bed. Mary was used to his late nights when he stretched himself too thin with a rare afternoon off, but it was almost eleven thirty by the time he walked through the door.

Mary had considered going to bed an hour before, but had opted to stay up and keep busy instead; paying bills, correcting Marshall's paperwork from the office, and anything else she could get her hands on. Sometimes, she didn't know how to stop. Marshall clearly thought the same thing when he ventured into the kitchen where she was working at the island, leaning her head into her palm as she wrote.

"Evening…" he greeted her tiredly, dropping a kiss on her head since she hadn't looked up from her efforts.

"Not for much longer," she replied, glancing to see they only had a half hour before midnight.

"Touché…" was Marshall's response as he went to the fridge and stuck his head in; he always needed time to wind down before going to bed. This was largely why Mary had stayed up to wait for him. "Norah go down okay?"

"Yeah; swimming wore her out," Mary said vaguely. "Her hair's gonna be a sight tomorrow, but I wasn't up to fighting her; you know she hates taking a bath because Robyn told her snakes climb up through the plumbing."

Marshall chuckled as a swigged from a beer bottle, "Right. I forgot."

Mary, concentrating on her calculations in the bills, didn't immediately respond after that; she was close to done and proud of herself for managing it before Marshall would want to turn in. Swiveling on the stool in her drawstring pants – which she could still get on thanks to the handy elastic in the waist – and one of Marshall's shirts, she presented him with the water bill.

"Check that will you…?" she requested. "I want to make sure I didn't make some ridiculous error. Last thing we need is for the IRS to come knocking."

Marshall took the piece of paper as asked and gave it the once over, "Looks fine to me. We do okay otherwise this month?" it had gotten a tiny bit tight with Mary no longer being on the clock, but usually nothing to worry about.

"It would seem we are going to live to see another thirty days without starving," Mary quipped. "Even with what it'll cost to get Norah off to school in September."

"We always do the proverbial scrimp and pinch in autumn," Marshall replied, stepping up behind her and rubbing one of her shoulders with his free hand. She was grateful, as her back had begun to ache after leaning over Max at the pool all day. "By Thanksgiving we're usually back on track."

It didn't hit Mary immediately. She was tired, after all, and thinking ahead to how nice her bed would feel after she finished up now that Marshall was home. He was halfway through his next sentence before she registered where he was going.

"I checked into it, and there's this little church down in Nob Hill – really private – and they said they could do something small for us the first week of December," he revealed, still rubbing, and Mary knew it was so she would not blow her top. "That way, we'll have had a week or two with the baby, but we'll get it going before Christmas and all the hectic, but nonetheless lovely pandemonium that comes with that."

Mary was pissed. Not so much at him, although that was certainly part of it. She was pissed she'd let herself get baited into this conversation. Here she'd been worried about it for days and the minute she let her guard down, there he was.

Whirling around on her stool caused his hand to fall from her back, but she didn't care.

"Why would you do that?" she stared up at him with her most dangerous glare. "Why would you 'check into it?'" her voice grew more snappish the longer she spoke.

Marshall was calm at first, "Because the other night you mentioned nuptials by Thanksgiving, and so I took you at your word."

She could kill him for that. He'd known she wasn't serious, that she was just trying to ward him off since the baby was due at Thanksgiving and there was no way they'd be able to manage a wedding too. But he'd played dumb and now she was paying – big time.

"Well, come to think of it; you were right…" Mary nodded his direction, not liking him towering above her. "Thanksgiving obviously sucks; we'll have this kid to deal with, and I didn't even consider Christmas so your wintertime, snow-covered, toboggan-style fantasy is going to have to be put on hold…" she turned back to her work, but Marshall had been tolerant long enough and drove onward.

"Mary, I am not going to have this discussion with you again," she sounded angry as well as upset from behind her.

"Then don't," she replied coldly, feeling her insides start to tighten at the prospect. "You brought it up, genius."

She about had a stroke when his hand closed hard and fast on her shoulder, so different from the rhythmic circles he'd placed there before. Now he was forcing her around, making her look at him, and when she did she was startled. His eyes had gone steely in their usual blueness, making him look harsher and more imposing than she was used to.

"What?" her voice was loud over the rapid beating of her heart.

"I want to marry you," she'd never heard him so emphatic without raising his voice, but he seemed noisy nonetheless. "Either help me set a date or tell me why you are so resistant, because I am not going to spend another five years letting you dance around this."

"Letting me?" Mary was quick to scoff. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I've been patient long enough," he wasn't backing down in the least. "I have sat here waiting for you to be ready because I did not want to push you – you hate being pushed…"

"That's right; I do," Mary informed him through gritted teeth. "What do you think this is right now? Some sort of gentle tap in the right direction? This is shoving me into an avalanche, Marshall!"

"You know…"

He let out a bitter laugh as he stepped away from Mary, shaking his head side-to-side like he didn't even recognize her; like he didn't know who she was anymore. She waited for an explanation to this, but he just stood there, clearly trying to keep himself in check to at least a reasonable standard. It couldn't have been more evident; however, that he was willing to work a lot less the longer he tried.

"Are-are you testing me?" he asked directly. "Is that what you're doing? Because, I like to think my intelligence is honed enough that I already passed this test."

"Enlighten me, doofus…" Mary slammed the books she was working in shut with an almighty smack, so loud it might've made her leap if she hadn't been the one to cause it. Standing up and jerking the stool out of the way, she continued, "Enough with the philosophic shit. What test are we talking about? Because I guess my intelligence isn't 'honed' enough to know what the hell you mean."

Marshall threw his hands palms out, and she could see in his eyes that he was getting desperate; that he failed to understand how she could be so opposing for so long. But, she'd changed so much for him and this was a step she could not take; it would put her over the brink and she would change right back into the person she'd been before.

"Mary, are you afraid?" he pleaded, a little bit of whine in his voice. "All you have to do is tell me. But, haven't I proven to you I'm not going anywhere? Isn't that what this is all about? I am so devoted to you I want to show you I'm going to be here forever," he continued. "That's what marriage is."

Forever. Mary wanted to spit in his face. Forever was nothing. Forever was a promise that could never be kept, no matter who you were. Forever did not exist. It never had, and it never would. There was no point in binding as one because it could be severed at the drop of a hat. It was that easy.

"I am not your father, Mary," Marshall sounded eerily serious when she didn't respond, standing there with her arms crossed.

Now she scowled, "I know perfectly well who you are."

"Then don't make this so difficult," he was softening just slightly, but he was no less adamant. Walking her direction again, he swallowed as he tried to begin once more. "You don't have to drive me away just to see if I'll come back every time."

Mary was not a fan of this view and chose to ignore it, instead deciding to become riled again.

"Marshall, it's a piece of paper…" she didn't want to make him sound stupid as she pressed each word so distinctly, but had the shrewd idea it had given that impression. "It doesn't make any difference – signed or unsigned…"

"You're a US Marshal, inspector…" Marshall narrowed his eyebrows critically, and Mary was definitely thrown at the formal term being used; she didn't like it. "You cannot stand here and tell me you don't know what kinds of situations arise in court for couples who are not legally married – couples with children."

This was logical, and Mary wasn't in a logical frame of mind and so she blew right past him, "So, you want to get hitched because you knocked me up – to make sure I read all the fine print? Is that it?"

"No!" he shouted so loudly his voice echoed against the linoleum, seemingly reverberating in the walls around. "I want to marry you because I love you – you freak!"

There was a profound silence following his outburst, mostly where Mary stood there breathing hard and trying not to let her cramping stomach get the better of her; she again had the sensation like she'd taken in too much. It was uncomfortable and she hurt; she wanted to tell Marshall, to go back to where they were before this whole thing spiraled into motion. But, she couldn't because he'd think he'd caused her pain by letting her get worked up and it wasn't that at all. She was certain.

"We need to figure this out," Marshall eventually posed in the thin, swirling air that circled them in a voice of strained composure. "Are you…?" he held up his hands again, and then let them come to rest at his sides. "Do you not want to get married? Is that what you're telling me?"

Yes. No. Mary had no idea. Just that she'd known two Marshall's in her life – the Marshall who had pined after her for eight years; viewing her through some pair of rose-colored glasses despite knowing she was cranky and sarcastic and often unfeeling. And the Marshall who was like a giddy schoolboy when she'd returned his love; when she'd made such a hearty attempt to be better for him. But, she wasn't really that person; she never had been. And one day he was going to realize it; marriage would be so messy when he did.

"I just…like things the way they are…"she finally said in a low voice.

Marshall was not accepting, "Well, I want to move forward. I cannot stay in park forever."

"So, what then?" Mary spat. "You gonna thrust me down the aisle against my will?"

"I don't know…" Marshall shook his head, and he looked truly lost. "I don't know. But, I wish you would quit being such a child," the closest he got to an insult. "Tell me what the problem is and live with it."

How could she do that when the problem was her concealing her old selfishness underneath? She couldn't live up to the image he'd carried around for eight years; just as she couldn't be the perfect little girl James had needed. She was broken and always would be. In the end, Marshall would have to accept it.

"I'm going to bed…" he announced when she refused to answer. "Goodnight," it was half-hearted at best.

Mary did not return his farewell and he brushed past her, marching rather stiltedly toward the bedroom. Even from her spot in the kitchen, she didn't miss how roughly he shut the door, even though she had taken to leaning on the counter trying to get some of her stamina back. She felt sick, but was attempting to content herself with the fact that Marshall would not actually go anywhere. She felt badly about being so stubborn, but in the end things would stay the way they were and that was what was important.

Unfortunately, her issues had not ended for the evening when she heard a second, much more timid sound of a door opening and closing. Breathing deeply, she ventured around so she could see the hall and there was Norah in her roomy T-shirt and tattered extra-long locks. She was hanging on the frame of the door, eyes fixed on her mother, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Mary played it cool, kicking herself for allowing her and Marshall to get out-of-control with Norah in the house. She'd lived with fighting parents and had hated it; Norah didn't need the same.

"What's up, Bug?" she asked, journeying down the hall. Knowing she shouldn't but unable to resist, Mary lifted her up and into her arms, which squashed the bump a little, but it wasn't too bad. "You should be in bed."

Norah's voice was small, "I heard you and Marshall fighting."

Mary shrugged, "Well, you know us. We fight all the time."

Her daughter's face was remarkably close to her own, beautiful and innocent, drawn in lines of exhaustion, worry, wonder, and hope. It was a lot for a six-year-old – too much.

"This sounded different," Norah insisted. "You sounded pretty angry."

"Ah, well…" her mother refused to look the tiniest bit concerned. "Everybody gets angry. Come on, you know me, love…" she fell back on that again. "I'm always angry."

Norah actually looked a little befuddled, "Always?"

Mary chuckled, regretting being so blasé about that, not having anticipated Norah's reaction.

"I guess not always," she admitted. "Always is a lot."

Norah turned her fearful gaze to the closed bedroom door, blinking sadly at what lay behind it. Mary felt a pang of pity for Marshall, knowing he would hate to think of Norah fretting over the pair of them; it wasn't his fault they'd ended up here.

"Marshall won't stay mad for a long time, will he?" she wondered aloud.

"No Bug, I doubt it…"

"Because I don't want him to leave here…" her tone began to quiver and when she looked back at Mary, her chest was heaving up and down, making her harder to hold in the dim light of the hallway. "I don't want him to leave here…"

"Norah, Marshall isn't going anywhere," Mary turned as tender as she knew how, shocked her child worried about such a thing. "Why would you think that?"

The answer came quicker than she was ready for it, "Your daddy left you."

Mary was definitely thrown, wondering where on earth Norah had connected these very far-flung dots. Did she have more intuition about her mother than Mary gave her credit for? Did she think all fathers or father figures left eventually? Had she somehow instilled that in her?

"Well, I know…" she said softly. "But, that doesn't mean you're going to lose Marshall. And you have a dad, Norah; you know that…" it felt important to give Mark some credit.

"But…" the little one started to shake; strung-out from a busy summer day and muffled, irate voices beyond her bedroom door. The tears began to roll with her next string of words, and Mary was disheartened. "There's this girl at school – Heather – and she has a step-dad and she hates him, and I don't hate Marshall…" now she was crying for real; it was too late for her to see sense. "I don't hate Marshall; I love him…"

"Oh, Bug…" her mother whispered in a hushed voice, pulling her trembling form inward, even closer into her chest so they were no longer facing each other. Norah's legs wound around her waist as she clutched Mary's neck, weeping at the thought of what might be. "I know you love him; I love him too."

Norah nodded behind her, sniffling; even she knew she was not in the right frame of mind. She was confused and wiped out; it had been a long day.

"And Marshall adores you," she promised. "Everything's gonna be okay…"

Mary hated herself for saying that. It was a phrase that had destroyed her childhood when it turned out not to be true, but she didn't know where else to go right now.

"We have each other, all right?" she whispered, kissing Norah's hair. "That's all that matters."

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A/N: Eeeek! What will become of our pair? More ahead! Thanks in advance if you review!