A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Mixed emotions on the boys finding the letters – hopefully you agree with the way the story progresses!

XXX

Jesse stewed in stony silence for the majority of the night, not wanting to let even the tiniest hint of what he and Sam had discovered fall onto the table. Mary and Marshall were both so intelligent, they were sure to find out that something had gone astray, and the way Sam kept shooting him furtive glances didn't help.

When the two Marshals retreated to the linen closet to get Jesse some fresh sheets for the night, Sam pounced. Jesse was huddled in the corner of the couch with his knees pulled to his chest, and he just burrowed further having his cousin so close, threatening to break apart.

"Why don't you just ask?" Sam whispered urgently, throwing another glance over his shoulder to make sure nobody was going to stride back into their midst.

"You were the one who told me I couldn't," Jesse accused, chin resting on his knees. "You said Mary doesn't like to talk about…"

He couldn't say the word, couldn't start the chain of events that would make this all real.

"But even so," Sam argued, inches from his cousin's nose now. "You'll never know if you don't ask. And mom will understand…"

"No, she won't," Jesse insisted, but he wasn't sure this was true.

It was the truth that scared him. He was wishing, more and more with each passing second that his own mother was more like Mary. She always told Sam the truth; he was never left out of the loop. Brandi had shielded him somehow and it left him feeling like a complete dope.

"I don't know why you're being so dumb about this…" Sam pressed on, but this was an enormous mistake.

Jesse snapped and flung out of his stance, severely startling Sam. They hadn't fought in a long time, although they used to all the time when they were younger. And that didn't make any sense either. They fought daily as best friends, but hardly ever as mere acquaintances. Apparently, only when it mattered.

"I shouldn't have said…" Sam started to say, but Jesse cut him off.

"Don't call me that!"

"I'm sorry!" Sam pleaded. "Really – I shouldn't have said it! I just meant…!"

"Shut up!" Jesse screamed, and Sam definitely looked taken aback now, but it was this final out-of-range phrase that reached Mary and Marshall.

Both inspectors returned to the scene, Mary looking ruthlessly suspicious, Marshall simply probing, holding a pile of folded sheets and pillowcases. As they took in the scene, Marshall spied Jesse sitting on the edge of the couch and looking uncharacteristically fierce, Sam standing a good distance away and distinctly embarrassed in the presence of his parents catching them like this.

All Mary knew was that she was positive she'd heard the higher-pitched of the two boys shout; 'shut up' which meant the phrase had come from Jesse. She didn't know which she expected it out of less, but her nephew saying it was beyond unprecedented.

"What's going on?" Mary finally spoke as Marshall dumped the linens on the couch.

"You guys fighting?" Marshall added, noting the way they'd been so skittish at dinner.

Neither Jesse nor Sam answered. Sam knew Jesse might never forgive him for spilling the beans, but he wanted to help and he didn't know another way to do it.

Mary, on the other hand, was reflecting over her heavy conversation with Jesse from the night before and wondered if all that pent-up emotion had turned into anger and Jesse had finally lashed out. Marshall wondered the same thing.

However, Mary still didn't have the patience for beat-around and it had always been up to her to lay down the law.

"One of you, out with it," she demanded swiftly. "You've been squirmy since the egg rolls, so let's hear it."

Sam couldn't do it. He couldn't stand aside and watch Jesse shut himself away. He needed to know, for better or worse, he had to know.

When he looked back at his cousin, he saw the merest pinch of an understanding in the blonde boy's face, knowing his hand was going to be shown. But the compassion he viewed inside of Sam didn't ease his mind.

"Sorry Jesse…" Sam whispered before he turned around and faced his mother and father.

Hearing the prerequisite apology, Mary was definitely bewildered and waited for Sam to continue.

"Jesse and I were in your closet earlier – looking for a deck of cards – and we found this old tin in the back…"

Mary sighed, knowing her son did not need to go on. There was only one tin that occupied her closet, and one guess told her that they'd read the letters from her father. But even as she comprehended this, she couldn't quite understand why the snooping had prompted such a violent reaction. There was nothing in those letters that should concern the boys. Sam knew as much as he needed to about James. She could assume Jesse had-had the same exposure.

"Okay…" she replied before Sam could continue, trying to sound understanding.

Mary ventured over and sat on the edge of the coffee table, eyeing Jesse all balled up in the corner, Sam standing at his shoulder. Why did her nephew look like that? Like he was about to lose his low Mein.

"So…you must've seen the letters from my dad," she voiced. "What?" she scanned their faces for a read. "You feeling guilty 'cause you horned in on my stuff?"

She tried to make it sound like a joke, but neither of them cracked a smile. As it was, Marshall joined her on the coffee table, taking a seat at her back, steady and silent.

As Jesse considered the situation, he realized it was much-much easier to just let Sam dole out the details. It might get him what he wanted, even as much as he feared it.

But the words that came from Sam next diverted the topic of discussion somewhere Jesse couldn't have predicted.

"You told me you never talked to your dad after he left," Sam reminded her. "How'd he write you?"

It was Marshall's turn to sigh and Mary felt his hand on her shoulder. She didn't like to discuss her father. It was disconcerting and depressing, even all these years later. Although it had been put in her past and she had long since learned to live without him, those old feelings could come back and cloak her like a patchwork quilt. It was actually somewhat frightening how easily they returned.

"I didn't talk to him," Mary placed emphasis on the first letter. "He somehow kept tabs on me, but he never came back and I had no way of replying to him…"

"Seriously?" Sam became mildly curious. "How would he do that?"

"Smush, he was a skilled felon; God only knows…"

But Jesse had-had enough. He'd had enough of being left out, of being shuffled aside, and this conversation – this one right here – it was living proof. Why did Sam get to stand there and act as though the mere communication was the monumental aspect when the real problem lay in Jesse's pocket?

Marshall saw the flash of his green eyes, so familiar to his wife's, a second too late.

"What is this?" he hollered, prompting an untimely cough as he sprung out of his position for a second time and yanked the letter from the pouch of his sweatshirt.

Mary could only gape momentarily before he blasted on.

"He said in this letter that my mom was in jail and my dad was an alcoholic!" he waved it in her face, his heart thudding positively sadistically in his ribcage at losing control like this. "He's lying! He's a liar!"

Mary was stunned and couldn't even form the words to speak. She'd known Jesse all eleven years he'd been on the planet and she'd never once seen him scream like this. His face had reddened and tears had escaped his eyes, that sensation much more well-known.

And yet, she didn't understand. She hadn't a clue what letter he was referring to. James had never written to her about Brandi's legal ramifications. And where the hell did Peter come in?

"Jess, what are you talking about?" she murmured, trying to stay calm. "Give it to me; let me see it…"

He just let it hang there, limp and lifeless, until Mary had enough sense to reach out and slip it from his fingers. He was panting like he'd just run a race, and she was worried about his ability to stay upright considering that he'd recently had a fever.

Still, she left them to their devices and read the letter in question, knowing Marshall was doing the same over her shoulder.

She tensed with every single syllable; it was like being hit in the head with a sledgehammer. How on God's green earth had she not remembered this? It had arrived at the house just over a month after Brandi had been arrested, when her and Peter had started getting a little more serious. She had never showed it to anyone, in keeping with tradition when it came to James' correspondence. It had not come at a favorable time either. She and Marshall had been having a horrible week after she'd told Raph about her job – that explained why he was mentioned.

As the memories flooded and she tried to keep her breathing steady, she could not understand what had happened to her brain. How had this not penetrated at any moment in the last fifteen-odd-years? Why hadn't she remembered until now?

But that was when she realized she had to put all this confusion aside.

Jesse. Oh God, Jesse.

He couldn't have known about Brandi's former transgressions. He wouldn't be acting like this if he did.

"Jesus…" she fell into step automatically, shaking her head, shutting her eyes and trying to figure out the best way to address this.

Was it even her place to do so? Wasn't it Brandi's?

When she looked up, she saw that Jesse's tears had become full-blown and his lower lip was quivering dangerously. She was sure they came from the pent-up stress he'd been dealing with all afternoon and was about to reassure him when he bubbled over again.

"I yelled at you…" he trembled as he confessed. "I yelled at you and I…" he was feeling worse and worse at every moment. "I yelled at Sam too…"

"It's fine, buddy," Marshall assured him gently before he could get anymore worked up. "Don't worry about it."

"Yeah Jess," Mary reinforced, and Marshall speaking had recalled her to the fact that she needed a second with him before they went any further, and she couldn't do that with Sam and Jesse standing there.

"Calm down," one of her favorite phrases. "Both of you go get changed for bed and then we'll talk," she advised. "Jess, you can use our room if you want."

Jesse nodded agreeably, still obviously very shaken by having unloaded on his aunt, uncle, and cousin. Sam escaped without a word, and Mary took care to pat Jesse's arm as he exited too.

Once she was certain both bedroom doors were closed, she was up, off-and-running without even pausing to take a breath. She leapt from the coffee table and whirled around to face Marshall, waving the letter around like a white flag.

"I didn't know I had this!" she exploded in an undertone.

"How's that?" Marshall was calm.

"I don't know!" she was trying very hard to keep her voice down. "I have no idea! What's the matter with me – why don't I remember?"

Marshall had to admit it was very peculiar and he stuck out his hand in hopes that Mary would give him a closer look at the piece of paper. She thrust it in his face, eager for answers. The sooner she figured out why she'd had no memory of the occasion until now, the sooner they could figure out what to do with poor Jesse.

Marshall was quiet as he scanned the contents again, looking for a pertinent fact that might help him understand.

"Take me through what you've come up with since you saw it again," he instructed. "What was happening at the time?"

Mary sighed, sweeping her hair out of her eyes, and started to pace.

"It was a couple weeks after Brandi went to the hoosegow and got off…" she began. "Peter was around…" she babbled. "And you and I, we were fighting because I was a complete moron and blabbed to Raph about…" she didn't need to finish that sentence and pressed on. "It came the day after we got home from camping out in that hovel hotel with the fake Phillip Ashmore…"

But Marshall had it. He'd had it from the mention of Raph and the silent mention of WITSEC.

"It's dated July 28th which means, depending on where he sent it from, it got to Albuquerque around August 1st or 2nd, right?"

"I guess…" Mary wasn't tracking.

Marshall was obviously perplexed as to why she hadn't picked up on it and he stared right into her eyes upon revealing the blow.

"Mare, you were shot on August 9th."

And now it made sense. It all fell into place and it was both a relief and a travesty. That arrogant quack of a doctor had told her parts of her memory might never return, especially those surrounding the immediate days prior to the shooting. Near as she could dig up, she couldn't recall ever looking at that letter past her first encounter. Although she never would've said at the time, it had made her angry the way James had trashed Peter and acted like Brandi was an imbecile. It had gone in the box and never come out – literally or figuratively.

But what the hell was she going to do now that Jesse had found it?

"I can't believe this…" she muttered, covering her eyes with her hand. "Jesus Christ…" she repeated from earlier. "I never would've kept that thing if I'd known…"

Marshall's gentle and rational tone brought her back to earth, reminded her not to flip her lid and to look at him dead-on for guidance.

"Don't dwell on this and waste time blaming yourself," he advised. "What's done is done and you didn't realize," he emphasized. "We need to talk to Jesse. It's clearly bothering him…"

"Brandi needs to talk to him," Mary jumped right on board.

And the fury came – it washed over her in droves, an encircling heat just like the recollections of James. What was the matter with Brandi? How could she not have told Jesse something as important as this – such a significant part of her past? If it were her she'd have told Sam as soon as possible, as she refused to hide anything prudent from her child. Her sister was delusional thinking she could guard Jesse from something of this magnitude.

"His mother should be the one who talks to him," she saw Marshall sigh but he didn't speak. "She should've said something eons ago. Now look where we've landed…"

"Don't do this," Marshall implored, but Mary was scarcely listening.

"This is just like Brandi…"

"Mare, don't…"

"Leaving me holding the bag…"

"Babe, Jesse trusts you; you can't sit here and act like his mother…"

But both of them shut up at the sound of opening doors – first one and then the other. They stumbled apart, not wanting to appear at odds. Sam wandered in slowly, looking as though he didn't really care to be a part of this any longer now that he'd set everyone off. Jesse was looking distinctly bedraggled and red-rimmed around his eyes, apprehension at in its highest form.

Mary didn't know what to do. She hadn't had enough time to discuss it with Marshall. This was so typical. James was still ruining everything, even decades beyond his time.

How little could she reveal before she got Brandi to fess up? How much would Jesse accept?

"I…I think I'm gonna go read before bed…" Sam suddenly interjected, proving Mary's thought that he didn't need to be here any longer.

"You sure?" Marshall posed as his son wandered in fully to say goodnight.

"Yeah," he nodded; content with the bits of information he had, able to live with the pieces about Brandi on another day. "Night dad."

Marshall reached out and cuffed his shoulder, "Sleep well, sheriff."

The last word had a pinched quality to it, like he'd caught it too late.

"Sorry, I forgot…" Marshall pulled away from him, but Sam shook his head kindly.

"It's okay," he assured him. "Goodnight mom."

"Love you Smush," was Mary's reply as she shifted from foot-to-foot awkwardly, eyes on the ground and letter stuffed under her arm.

Sam nodded then and made the walk back to his bedroom, passing Jesse on the way, who was leaning in the arch to the hall. Sam obviously didn't know what to say, but offered his cousin a meager half-smile before bidding the hasty retreat and shutting the door behind him.

The absence of Sam was met with an awkward silence for the remaining three. Jesse didn't move until Marshall simply raised his hand and beckoned him further without speaking. Slowly, he shuffled on the hardwood and steered himself onto the couch. Marshall couldn't help noticing he still had an oddly brutal look on his face, the green of his eyes somehow darker and more sunken. No eleven-year-old should look like that.

His uncle opted to sit at his elbow while Mary occupied the coffee table. With a painful jolt, she was reminded of when she'd told Sam that Marshall had been shot. Peter had been sitting where Marshall sat now, but Jesse's face was doing her in. There were too many horrifying memories for her brain to handle at the moment.

"I think we should call your mom and talk about this, man…" Marshall decided before Mary could open her mouth.

What good would that do? Mary wondered. This kid had been kept in the dark long enough and her instincts at wanting her children to have the whole truth and nothing but the truth were not being successfully squelched.

"No," Jesse's voice was soft, but he clearly had the same feeling.

"No?" Marshall repeated.

Jesse stared straight at Mary, pleading drawn in every single line of his confused face.

"Just tell me," seemingly, he did not even notice Marshall any longer and there were tears in his voice. "Please…" he whispered. "Is it true?"

Mary could not rein this in. She could not bury the need to tell him everything, even as she knew he needed Brandi to give him the details. It wasn't her place. But he was here in her house and he was begging for understanding. She'd never dealt with that face on Sam.

"It's not fair…" he whispered. "Sam knows everything and I don't know anything – I didn't even think mom had a dad…"

This was a good diversionary tactic and Mary grabbed hold at once.

"Did Brandi tell you that?"

Jesse nodded, "I remember asking her why she didn't ever see her daddy and she said, 'Some people don't have a dad that visits and takes care of them and loves them, and I'm one of those people.' Or something like that…I mean I was really little, but…"

His voice trailed away, his eyes darting back and forth across Mary's. She figured a little truth on this front couldn't hurt and decided to press on.

"Well, Jess…" she began. "Our dad – mine and Brandi's – he was a criminal…"

"Sam told me," he interrupted, and Mary guessed he'd gleaned this not long before.

"And he left us when I was seven years old and he never came back," she continued. "Brandi was about a year old; she doesn't remember him."

"So, he didn't love her?" Jesse cut in unexpectedly. "He loved you and that's why he wrote you instead of her?"

He couldn't be sure Brandi hadn't gotten a similar set of letters, but some intuition inside doubted it.

Mary was looking distinctly uncomfortable at this, and there was no Marshall to help her this time. What did he know about the workings of James' mind? For that matter, what did she know?

"I…I really don't know, Jess," she offered stupidly. "But whatever he was thinking, it doesn't matter," she decided. "He didn't deserve either one of us."

Mary had started to believe that a little more freely with each passing year, but the fact that she still had the letters after all this time still said she was hanging on.

"That's what it was," Jesse declared, maybe not even having listened to Mary. "He didn't love my mom because she screwed up and was stupid and that's why I'm stupid…"

It was Marshall who shut him up.

"That is not true," his voice was dangerously low as he tried to catch Jesse's eye. This kid had not needed another blow to his self-esteem. "You are not stupid and neither is your mother."

"Stupid people do drugs," Jesse insisted. "That's what they tell us at school and that letter says my mom was in jail because she did drugs!" his voice climbed with every word.

"Jesse listen…" Mary began, but he was through being understanding.

"Tell me the truth!" he cried, looking increasingly sickened and desperate. "Please!" he begged. "Please, I want to know! You tell Sam the truth about everything; why can't you tell me?"

His green eyes met Mary's – a matching set – and he was breaking her down against her will. She was going to kill Brandi.

"Was she in jail?" he murmured, droplets leaking around the corners of his eyes.

Seeing him look so deeply miserable, Mary lost control of the buffer. Her disdain for her father, her anger with Brandi, it all came undone and she couldn't keep the facts from Jesse any longer.

"Yes, she was."

The horror on his face was paramount, but now that one admission was out there, a whole slew of others came with it.

"But it was for one day," Mary tried to ignore Marshall's sigh and the hand that covered his eyes. "One day, Jesse; that's it. And she was not on drugs – she wasn't, I swear to you man, she was not on drugs…"

"So she was innocent?" the terror washed aside so briefly so make room for the hope. "They had the wrong person?"

Not exactly.

"She was fooling around with the wrong people Jess…" was the best way Mary could describe it. "They tried to get her to do something – something that was stupid," she confessed. "And when she realized it was wrong she backed out but the chain of events had already been started…"

The chain of events that had led to two dead agents, Mary being abducted, her house ripped to shreds, dead Chuck, sweet blood, resulting in nightmares for years upon years afterwards.

"What happened?" Jesse pressed. "How did she…?"

He wasn't getting details because that involved Mary's job and they couldn't go there.

"She was released, Jess," Marshall attempted to brush over it.

"They didn't just let her go!" the eleven-year-old declared, proving he was in no way idiotic. "It doesn't work like that! Sam said…!"

But the realization hit him even as he spoke, all those thoughts of coming from the blundering side of the family and Sam the perfect one. It fit like a glove.

"Did you get her out?" he asked Mary. "Because you're a Marshal?"

It was easier not to lie when he came to the conclusion himself.

"I did," she told him.

This was not as reassuring as it might seem. Mary had saved her – that was all there was to it. It did not make her any less guilty.

Marshall, however, disliked this with every beat of his heart. It was Brandi who needed to give her version of events. When she found out Jesse had been clued in without her knowledge she was not going to be happy.

"Let's call your mom," he suggested another time, putting an easy hand on Jesse's shoulder in hopes of steadying him. "I'll talk to her…"

Him. Him – not Mary. He didn't imagine that was the best idea right now.

"And then you two can get this cleared up, okay?" he finished.

"She won't tell me the truth!" Jesse was adamant, gaze still locked in Mary's. "Not like you will!"

Mary was weirdly touched by Jesse's faith in her, how genuinely he looked to her for the answers. Part of her obsessive need to give Sam the truth at every turn had to do with the fact that there was one very big aspect of her existence he would never know anything about. Therefore, she thought he deserved as much else as she could give him, but Jesse was different. He didn't live the same life and he never had.

"What do you mean she was with the wrong people?" he persisted before Mary could reply. "What kind of people? What did they want her to do?"

This was getting so dangerously in-depth Mary was now afraid to respond. He was so upset already, and she could tell by Marshall's continual attempts to get Brandi on the phone he didn't want her to keep at it.

"It was a long time ago," her husband interjected. "It was a long time ago and people make mistakes – they change and with enough support…" his blue eyes found Mary's. "They can lead a better life and that's what your mom did."

Mary would not have chosen to put it this way, too worked up about Brandi withholding the information to give her much credit.

"But what about my dad?" Jesse had forgotten all about him until this moment. "He's in there too…" he jerked his head at the note in Marshall's hand. "And he was an alcoholic like Jinx…"

"And you've seen Jinx," Marshall drove on rationally while Mary shifted uncomfortably. "You've known Jinx your whole life, bud, and she's a good person, right?"

Mary wouldn't have known how to respond to such a prompt, but Jesse just shrugged.

"Being an alcoholic is like being sick," Marshall explained when he didn't answer. "It's something you can't control, and those people can't drink at all because they don't know how to stop," he detailed. "They have to get help to learn how to deal with it and Jinx did that, and so did Peter."

Peter wasn't really an enormous worry for Jesse at the moment. Knowing Jinx helped put those pieces together in seeing him as a decent, law-abiding individual.

"When did Jinx get help?" he asked unexpectedly.

Marshall wasn't sure, and flicked his eyes to Mary's to see if she remembered.

Sighing, she answered, "I guess it was actually a couple months before I got that letter," she nodded. "She had to go to what they call a rehab facility because…her drinking had gotten her in some trouble."

Jesse hadn't known it could be that serious, and powered on with his questionnaire.

"My dad too?"

Mary shook her head, "I don't know," she was extremely direct. "I would assume so, but he had already gotten help when Brandi met him. I've never seen him drink."

Marshall thought this had gone far enough. They'd given their input and it was time to leave it to this boy's parents. He was their heart and soul and he deserved his answers from them.

"I'm going to call Brandi," he was much more firm on his third attempt, and he stood to make it even more thorough.

When he didn't receive an objection this go-around, he went to retrieve his phone from the counter, stepping out of earshot of the other two to relay to Brandi what had happened.

Jesse just sat there, weeping softly and looking so dejected Mary wanted to flood him with life and vigor. He had always been such an easy kid, just doing whatever anybody told him, pure and plain no matter how he got kicked around. She felt as she had with Sam when Marshall had been hurt. It was so unfair.

Without speaking, Mary brushed his gorgeous blonde hair out of his watery eyes and was disconcerted to find that his skin was warm. In all the chaos, his fever had ratcheted up again. She was sure he was fine, even for school the next day, but the added anxiety hadn't helped anything.

"I'm really sorry about all this Smoosh," she whispered sincerely. "It sucks – I know it sucks."

She did know. Having to fight through all this had brought that one fateful day back in a fleet – Brandi sobbing in the courtroom, Jinx frantic and distraught, her bawling on Marshall's shoulder on the roof of the Sunshine Building, being a complete bitch to Stan and to Eleanor as she tried to maintain composure, fix it, and make it all better.

Just as she had to do for Jesse now.

She absolutely knew.

A/N: Time will tell, huh? ;)